#how pain medicine take away brain pain ??? how it remove fear response???????????

[teethands]

i was rawdogging these menstrual cramps because i was scared taking ibu would spurr on another panic attack but i finally broke and took a fucking. acetaminophen and brother i have not known a peace like this for the entirety of this past month. like i was sweating for fifteen minutes like "god fuck im just trading one pain for another" and then on the sixteenth minute i am getting sucked off by god. take a fucking tylenol brother

[bonkie-barnes]

Spoons

natasha romanoff x gn!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: chronic illness, mention of medicine, self deprecating thoughts

A/N: this is me 1000% projecting about my guilt that comes with my chronic illnesses. they're kicking my ass rn. this is a vent fic, but if you resonate with this at all, i hope you enjoy :)

- - -

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The alarm clock on Natasha’s bedside table has been going off for a full minute already. You merely roll over and cover your head with Natasha’s pillow. It smells like her.

You have absolutely no energy to get up, let alone reach across the bed to turn the alarm off. Your head feels heavy and your body aches something terrible.

The list of chores you have to do around the house today sits uncomfortably in the back of your mind. The list of friends who have texted you about making plans to hang out sits there too. The idea of staying in bed all day sounds more and more appealing by the second. You know this because the alarm is still blaring into the otherwise peaceful morning air.

Just as you’re gathering the strength to sit up and turn the alarm off, Natasha walks in. She looks at her watch and her brow furrows in confusion.

“What are you doing, sleepyhead?” she asks you with a little smirk. There is concern in her eyes, though she masks it well.

You’re both fully aware the alarm has been going off for seven minutes straight now.

“Just tired, love. You know how much work it takes to reach over,” you say in a joking manner, hopeful that you can get past this without worrying her too much.

Natasha eyes you suspiciously for a second before giving in.

“How was your workout?” you ask her sincerely.

As she starts rambling about her morning activities, you feel a sense of shame. You’ve barely managed to wake up in the time it’s taken her to complete a full workout routine. Hell, you couldn’t even find it in you to turn the alarm off.

You finally focus on her rant as it comes to an end. Natasha is looking at you expectantly. Shit. She’s asked you a question.

“Huh?” you grunt.

She chuckles before answering, “I asked if you were ever going to get up and get in the shower, stinky.”

You put on a fake smile but fail to meet her eyes, the shame eating you up. It has been a few days since your last shower, but it’s just so hard to find the strength and energy to get up and stand in one place for more than a minute or two.

If Natasha notices the far away look in your eyes and the grimace on your mouth, she doesn’t say anything.

After one of the quickest and most unproductive showers you’ve ever taken, you find Natasha waiting for you in the kitchen. She’s taken it upon herself to make breakfast for you both.

You kiss her cheek and thank her as you sit down at the table. The warm cup of coffee she sets down in front of you is a godsend. The warmth emitting from the cup helps to diminish the pain in your knuckles, if only slightly. You send up a silent prayer to whomever might be listening that the caffeine will help with the fatigue today instead of making you sick.

Natasha sits down in the chair next to you with her own plate. She runs her eyes over you in a scrutinizing manner. She wants to think you don’t notice, but you do.

Clearing your throat in hopes to take her focus off you, you ask about her plans for the day.

“Oh, you know, mostly just busy work. I have a ton of paperwork to get through,” she tells you through an exaggerated sigh. “What about you?”

The list of chores screams at you again. “Mostly just some things around the house. Grocery shopping, laundry, boring shit like that.”

Natasha hums around a sip of her coffee. It surprised you just how much cream and sugar she takes in hers. It’s just one of the many unpredictable things about her that made you fall in love.

“Super exciting. I hate to miss out,” she teases you.

You crack a smile to appease her. Inside, though, you realize just how little she understands. These errands seem so simple to her, when to you, they are the most daunting of tasks.

You’re brought out of your thoughts by Natasha standing up to take her plate to the sink. She comes back to kiss your cheek and let you know she’s going to go get ready, before walking out of the room.

You suspect the amount of housework you’ll get done today will be minimal, so you decide to at least make Natasha some lunch. Maybe it will lessen the disappointment she feels when she comes home to see everything exactly as it was when she left, you think.

Your plan is halted as you’re making her sandwich. The stupid cover on the peanut butter jar is stuck. You can’t open it for the life of you. The guilt comes in like a tidal wave. You can’t even do something as simple as make lunch for her, your brain supplies for you.

Natasha returns from getting ready to see you standing in the kitchen with a glare on your tired face.

“What’d the peanut butter do to you this time,” she jokes.

“I can’t.” Tears well up in your eyes.

She comes up to wrap you in a hug from behind. She softly asks, “What can’t you do?”

“I can’t open the jar,” you mutter softly, feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed.

“It’s okay, love. Let me help,” she tells you delicately before kissing the spot under your ear. She can tell this is affecting you more than usual and wishes for nothing more than to be able to take away your distress.

You mutter a thank you before continuing to make her sandwich. You pack everything into a bag and write a small note to finish it off. You know Natasha loves the little messages you leave her periodically, and nothing will stop you from trying to make her as happy as you can.

Goodbyes are said as you both wander closer to the door. Natasha makes sure to hold you longer and tighter than usual. You don’t comment on that.

The silence that encompasses the room as soon as the love of your life leaves is suffocating. You can feel the exhaustion from purely getting up and getting ready creeping up on you. Logically, you know that you shouldn’t overexert yourself, but the shame is eating you up. Already on a roll, might as well keep on going, you think to yourself.

You go back to your mental to-do list and debate what to start with. The grocery store doesn’t sound terrible. Some sun would do you some good. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen the world that exists outside of your house.

Wandering back to the bedroom to get your phone and shoes, you try to push the fatigue from your mind. In your attempt to block out the tiredness, you fail to recognize the ever-present pain in your joints increasing. It’s only when you sit down and bend over to put your shoes on that you register the feeling. Your hips ache severely; so much so, that you can’t hold your position long enough to get your shoe on your foot.

This seems to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back, seeing as you immediately burst into tears. The pain mixed with your inability to do basic, everyday activities completely overwhelms you as you break down.

There’s absolutely no chance that you’re going to complete this task, let alone all the other ones on your list. You let out a sigh as you stand up and shuffle to your room, phone and shoes forgotten in the living room.

You let the weight of your emotions crush you as you climb into bed and under the covers, your wife’s pillow clutched closely to your chest.

Your tears cease to stop, even as you succumb to the sleep you so desperately wished to hold onto this morning.

- - -

Natasha comes home to an eerily silent house. On any typical day, she would come home to the noise of your favorite show or music softly playing, whether it be from a speaker or from your guitar. Your shared house consistently was filled with life and sound. It was one of her favorite parts of her day; coming home to you in your own element, laughing or singing. You are her home.

This newfound silence has her exceptionally worried. Even on your bad days, there was at least a laugh track coming from the TV or the smell of hot chocolate coming from the kitchen. Now, there’s absolutely nothing. For a split second, Natasha thinks that you may never have come back from the grocery. Her heart rate spikes. The sight of your phone on the coffee table and your shoes strewn haphazardly on the floor puts those worries to rest.

“Darling?” she calls from the entryway. There is no response. She carefully removes her boots and coat before moving through every room in the house, calling out for you softly in each.

She makes her way to the bedroom, lightly knocking on the door as she lets herself in. She sees the rise and fall of your chest and is filled with a sense of relief she didn't know she needed.

"Love? Are you awake?"

You grumble out an answer that could be understood as a 'yes'.

Natasha carefully sits down on the side of the bed that you are facing.

"Can you tell me what's going on?" she requests softly, in fear of upsetting the quiet environment of the bedroom and making things worse.

The tears that started up again when you wife called out the first time get even heavier somehow.

"Oh love, come here."

She carefully gathers you in her arms and rests your head on her chest.

"Does this have anything to do with the peanut butter jar this morning?"

You nod. One of your favorite things about your wife is her ability to observe and understand what you're going through.

"I just can't do anything today. Everything hurts and I'm so, so tired," you whisper, followed by a heartbreaking sob.

"It's okay love. Please don't cry," Natasha whispers back.

"But it's not! It's not okay!" You sit up from her chest to let out your rant. "You've done so much today and I could barely wake up. You work so hard and I should be able to do stuff around the house so you can come home and not have to worry about anything," you finish with a sigh.

Your wife puts her hand under your chin, forcing you to look in her direction. "Love, look at me. Believe me when I say that I don't care about the state of the laundry or if the pantry has been stocked. All I care about is you. All I want is for you to be okay. It's killing me that you feel like this and I can't do anything to take it away from you. What I can do, though, is tell you just how proud I am of you. You are the strongest person I know, and I work with the Avengers."

You giggled at that. Natasha smiles at your small second of happiness.

"Are you sure? Because I was going to get so much done today and I was trying to-"

Natasha cuts you off with a soft kiss.

"My love. Listen to me. All I care about is your health and happiness. If staying in bed and catching up on sleep is what you needed today, then that's all I expect from you. I never want you to hurt yourself trying to do more than you can. We all have limits. It’s okay to need a break some days. I love you and I am so very, very proud of you."

With a long look into her eyes, all you find is love and adoration directed towards you. There's no disgust or disappointment as you had anticipated.

"I love you too," you utter quietly.

Natasha smiles and leaves a long kiss on your forehead. "What if we got some pain killers and some food in you? We can even put on your favorite movie. Does that sound good?"

You nod. Natasha gets up to get you some medicine and to order some food, while you get your favorite movie loaded on the TV.

Later that night, when both your stomachs are full and your wife is obnoxiously singing along to the songs in the movie just to make you laugh, you realize just how loved you are.

You don't know how tomorrow will treat you, or the day after that. What you do know, however, is that Natasha will always be there to support and love you. Your pain level and ability to function is always an uncertainty, but your wife's love will never be.

- - -

A/N: as always, i try to keep it gender neutral. if you find a mistake, please let me know! feedback is appreciated! to all my chronic illness buddies out there: i love you, you've got this :)

taglist: @007giu

[kaijudyke]

hello my friends! as you may or may not be aware i have a healthy obsession with the ballad of tam lin, and today i would like to talk to you about the abundance of parallels between tam lin and star trek deep space nine s02e22 the wire! i will be summarizing the ballad for you so you do not need to be familiar with it! strap in for a long analysis and join me under the cut 💖

1. a summary of the ballad in broad strokes

(all excerpts in this section from child 39A)

tam lin is a scottish folktale about a young woman named janet who goes to the forest of carterhaugh, which is known to be guarded by a fairy called tam lin.

O I forbid you, maidens a', That wear gowd on your hair, To come or gae by Carterhaugh, For young Tam Lin is there.

(janet is aware of this, and goes anyway. one of my favorite running themes in the ballad is janet being incredibly headstrong and cocky.) she picks a few roses, he appears and tells her to stop, she stands up to him, and they end up sleeping together (and, ostensibly, falling in love). she returns home to her father's castle pregnant. her father and the other men at the castle are very concerned about her pregnancy, but she defies them and tells her father that this is her own responsibility and that she'd rather be with tam lin than any human nobleman:

If that I gae wi child, father, Mysel maun bear the blame, There's neer a laird about your ha, Shall get the bairn's name. If my love were an earthly knight, As he's an elfin grey, I wad na gie my ain true-love For nae lord that ye hae.

janet goes back to carterhaugh to pick abortifacient herbs and terminate the pregnancy, since she believes she and tam lin will never be able to be together. tam lin reappears and asks her to stop, and she asks him to tell her more about himself (in many versions she asks him if he's a christian), looking for any reason not to give up on him:

"Why pu's thou the rose, Janet, Amang the groves sae green, And a' to kill the bonny babe That we gat us between?" "O tell me, tell me, Tam Lin," she says, "For's sake that died on tree, If eer ye was in holy chapel, Or christendom did see?"

he tells her that he's human like her, but was taken by the fairy queen as a child. he also says that the fairies pay a tithe to hell every seven years, and he's worried this time they're going to sacrifice him. he tells her how to save him: she must be at miles cross at midnight on all hallow's eve, when the fairies ride by, and she must pull him down from his horse and hold on to him as the fairies change his shape several times.

"They'll turn me in your arms, lady, Into an esk and adder, But hold me fast, and fear me not, I am your bairn's father. "They'll turn me to a bear sae grim, And then a lion bold, But hold me fast, and fear me not, And ye shall love your child. "Again they'll turn me in your arms To a red het gand of airn, But hold me fast, and fear me not, I'll do you nae harm. "And last they'll turn me in your arms Into the burning gleed, Then throw me into well water, O throw me in with speed. "And then I'll be your ain true-love, I'll turn a naked knight, Then cover me wi your green mantle, And hide me out o sight."

(the exact details of the transformations vary between versions, but some of the most common shapes he has to go through are adder, newt, lion, hot coal, and burning iron. if you're interested in the variations, i highly recommend this page!) once the transformations are done, he instructs her to wrap him in her green cloak, after which the fairies won't have a claim to him anymore. janet follows his instructions and successfully saves him, much to the dismay of the fairy queen.

2. janet, julian, and their relationships

whichever version of tam lin you are reading, janet is a character with a ton of agency. she has no qualms about encroaching on tam lin's territory (in fact she tells him in no uncertain terms that the forest is hers), and there is some indication that she might have gone to carterhaugh specifically because she wanted to sleep with tam lin; she's said to be wearing a green dress, and since the color green was associated with the fae, wearing green to a fairy wood is pretty clearly inviting their attention. (in medieval literature, green was also sometimes associated with love and sex.)

it's not hard to draw a parallel between janet's decision to pursue tam lin despite the danger he represents and julian's immediate fascination with garak in past prologue even though (or rather because) he suspects him to be a spy. also of note is that janet and tam lin's relationship begins with an argument, where her willingness to challenge him seems to be what draws him to her. one of my favorite retellings, by james p. spence, emphasizes this:

‘I'm here tae guard these woods, tae see that naebodie nor nothing disturbs their peace.’ ‘An was it ma father that gave ye such a job?’ ‘Naw it wasnae.’ ‘Weel, there ye are then. It should be you that's asking ma permission tae set foot in these woods, because it is ma father that owns them.’ Then the young man's face rose up intae a smile that seemed many a long year since it was last there. (scottish borders folk tales, james p. spence, p. 114-115)

i'm sure i don't need to tell you that this is reminiscent not only of garak and julian's fondness for debate but of the way cardassians show romantic interest. more than that, though, i think there's something to be said for the way these relationships are treated by other people in the characters' lives. janet's father and his knights are troubled by her pregnancy, and they clearly think she should be with a normal, respectable man, preferably one of said knights, given that she feels the need to remark "There's neer a knight about your ha / Shall hae the bairnie's name." (child 39I) in the wire, when julian tells jadzia he wishes garak would trust him, she replies "why should he? it's not like the two of you are really friends." julian's friends do not understand why he spends so much time with garak—a cardassian, a spy, an outcast, someone who can't be trusted.

in both cases it's easy enough to see where they're coming from; being pregnant out of wedlock with a fairy's child is certainly not an ideal situation for a young noblewoman to find herself in, and it's remarkably foolish for a starfleet officer to have regular lunch dates with someone he believes to be an enemy spy. but janet and julian are both stubborn, and more interested in what's adventurous and exciting than what's good for them. (remember that, like janet knowingly going to pick roses in a forest guarded by fairies, julian wanted the position on ds9 because he wanted to try his hand at "frontier medicine"; misguided as he may have been, his thirst for adventure is the reason he's even on the station to begin with.)

3. fairyland, the obsidian order, and enabran tain

in the ballad, tam lin is abducted by the fairy queen when he's a child. she takes him to a magical realm where he feels no pain and is far removed from human worries.

And we that live in faeryland, No sickness know, nor pain, I quit my body when I will, And take to it again. (j. holm, verse 32)

garak has been enabran tain's protégé since he was very young. as an operative of the obsidian order, he's been trained to be cool under pressure, to play his cards close to his chest, and to avoid sentimentality and attachment. the plot of the episode hinges entirely on a device implanted in his brain that keeps him from feeling pain. to save his life, julian has to remove the implant, metaphorically rescuing him from fairyland and the influence of the queen who stole him away from the human world. the fairy queen is very possessive of tam lin and very disdainful of his feelings for janet; in many versions of the ballad, after janet successfully rescues him, the fairy queen remarks that if she'd known this would happen, she would have plucked out his eyes and replaced them with wood, or taken his heart and replaced it with stone.

"But had I kend, Tam Lin," said she, "What now this night I see, I wad hae taen out thy twa grey een, And put in twa een o tree." (child 39A, verse 42) 'Had I but kend, Thomas,' she says, 'Before I came frae hame, I had taen out that heart o flesh, Put in a heart o stane.' (child 39B, verse 41)

much like tain tried and failed to mold garak into the perfect emotionless spy, the fairy queen very literally wants to remove tam lin's ability to feel love, because his emotions make him harder for her to control, and in the end are what lead him to escape her clutches entirely. garak and tam lin are both saved by the same thing: their transgressive love for their rescuer, and the fierce, unconditional love they receive in return.

4. hold me fast and fear me not

the central event of the tam lin ballad, of course, is the transformation scene. i'm sure it's what makes the ballad stick in people's minds; it certainly is for me. there's something so deeply romantic about the phrase "hold me fast and fear me not," and about the idea of loving someone so much that you'll hold on to them even as they turn into a beast in your arms. the wire doesn't have as literal a transformation scene as tam lin, but i would argue that it certainly has one.

after julian removes garak's implant (which we can equate to pulling tam lin down from his horse), garak goes through withdrawal. he becomes, by turns, depressed, and angry, and spiteful, and violent. throughout the episode, we see him try to drive julian away. he refuses his help; he insults him; he tells him contradictory stories about his past, all designed to shock him; when none of this succeeds at discouraging him, he physically lashes out.

julian, however, doesn't budge. he isn't fooled by the shapes garak contorts himself into. he takes every change in stride, never wavering in his determination to save him. every person garak claims to be, julian accepts. like janet defying the fairy queen for love of tam lin, he goes as far as to enter cardassian territory and seek out enabran tain in order to save garak's life. when he believes he's about to die, garak tells julian he needs to know that someone forgives him; "i forgive you," julian says, "for whatever it is you did." whatever kind of beast garak is—whatever kind of beast tain has turned him into—julian will not let go of his hand. he will hold him fast.

He grew into her arms two Like iron in hot fire; She held him fast, let him not go, He was her heart's desire. (child 39D, verse 31)

the basic structure of these stories is the same: the main character finds out that the person they love is in immediate danger due to something they went through when they were younger, which fundamentally changed them as a person and is also keeping the two from being together. unwilling to lose their love, they brave the wrath of a powerful villain who's controlled this person's life for a long time. there are undeterred by the frightening changes the person goes through. in the end, they are victorious, and their beloved is free.

5. my dear doctor, they're all true

a closing statement: tam lin is a folktale. like any folktale, there are many, many versions of it, often contradicting each other. there is no definitive version of tam lin (though child 39A may be the most famous). you're free to read every available version of the story, finding meaning not only in the most commonly reoccurring themes, but also in which parts of the text speak to you. like garak's contradictory stories about his life, while it's hard to say whether any one element is true, every element tells you something—about the story, or about the person who tells it. my view of these story parallels is heavily influenced by my own personal interpretation of, and feelings about, the ballad. as it should be.

[pips-fics]

ask: can i request minho getting sick, making him super clingy to jeongin and needy to any members

for almost three years, jeongin has had a human shadow almost constantly.  it’s shape was inconsistent, but most often took the form of seungmin or hyunjin.  he’d like to say that he’d grown used to having various members trail him around, and sometimes it was the truth, but other times… it was just suffocating.

the fact that minho had been following him since he’d twisted his ankle earlier in the day didn’t sit well.  jeongin was an adult, and had been for quite some time; not to mention, he wasn’t that much younger than the others to begin with.  knowing their concern always stemmed from love wasn’t a fully effective salve to his stung pride.

“hyung, just sit there–“ jeongin pointed to the empty space, “this couch is big enough for both of us, you don’t need to sit on top of me,” jeongin complained.  he wasn’t lying.  the couch was probably big enough for three or even four people, but minho insisted on sprawling over jeongin’s chest even though they were the only two occupying it at the moment.  jeongin wriggled around, hoping minho would get off of his own volition before jeongin had to forcibly remove him.

“don’t wanna,” minho protested smugly, “you’re much more comfortable.”

jeongin tried to be understanding.  he tried to be accommodating, sympathetic to the genuine concern.  he liked to think that he was relatively indulgent with his members, who he loved— but sometimes, it really did get to be too much.  jeongin did what he could to rein his temper back in and find his patience, but he needed some space.

with a gentle shove (but a shove nonetheless), he pushed minho off of him and onto the empty part of the couch.  jeongin stood up.

“i’ll see you in a bit to record some of the chorus parts.  go find jisung or felix, hyung, they won’t mind cuddling.”

minho whined, sniffling.  “how cruel, yang jeongin!  i’m sick and you won’t even let me cuddle you.”

ah, that would explain minho’s sudden clinginess.  jeongin flinched away.  “you might be contagious, hyung, i don’t wanna get sick, too.  drink some water or something - chan-hyung probably has medicine you could take.”  jeongin looked at minho a little more closely, but other than a sniffle and a slight rasp to his voice, he didn’t seem to be doing too poorly.  “you’ll feel better soon,” he said, and then he left.

he felt a little bad, walking to the cafe on his own, but mostly he felt relieved.  the ambient noise, which didn’t require any sort of response from jeongin, was comforting.  after ordering a drink, he dropped into a chair, and was grateful for the hard plastic against his back.  it was grounding, a cool contrast to the stifling warmth of another human’s touch.

jeongin was savoring it all when, not more than 5 minutes after he’d sat down with his drink, warm arms wrapped around his chest, quickly followed by a weight on his shoulders.  he nearly choked on the urge to groan - and his drink - and elbowed the offender in the gut on instinct before spinning around.

minho was doubled over, wincing.  jeongin’s eyes widened - he certainly hadn’t meant to hurt him!  he hadn’t thought he’d used enough force for that.

“hyung, are you— i didn’t mean to,” jeongin’s mouth was moving too quick for his brain.  he’d stood up and now hovered at minho’s side, unsure how to help.  minho waved him off.

“i’m–” he coughed.  “i’m fine.  just wasn’t expecting it.  i shouldn’t have,” minho took a labored breath, “shouldn’t have snuck up on you.”

minho looked very distinctly not fine - but jeongin of all people wasn’t about to call him out on it.  after all, he knew best how double-edged that kind of concern could be.  jeongin nodded.

“still,” he said.  “i am sorry.”

at that, minho cracked a grin.  it looked kind of like a grimace, but jeongin figured that was more an effect of the lingering pain than intent.  “no, no, you were right,” minho said, and there was something in his voice that jeongin didn’t like.  “i’ll go find someone else to bother.”

jeongin frowned.  it was what he’d wanted, after all.  but something didn’t sit quite right.  the sincerity - it was rare for minho to sound so honest, especially about the vulnerable pieces of himself.  especially about things like shame, and regret, and hurt.

then again, if minho was going to find another member, it would be fine.  jeongin was fairly confident that most of the others were just as capable at handling whatever mood minho was in - and most of them were probably more suited to that task, even.  he spared a thought to hope that minho would find chan and let the matter slip from his mind.

it wasn’t until they were setting up to record the chorus parts of the title track that jeongin really thought about minho and his weirdness again.  it wasn’t minho’s presence that reminded him, but his absence.  chan was already looking for him by the time jeongin showed up.

“the last time i saw him was a few hours ago,” jeongin said.  “at the cafe.”

chan checked the clock, and even though they had five full minutes before they were scheduled, his frowned deepened.  “he’s usually the first one here, after me.”

that was true.  jeongin looked around and saw that all of the other members were already present, and something like guilt sank heavy in his gut.  “has anyone else seen him?”

chan grimaced.  “felix did, but it’s been some time since then.  he said minho was acting a little strange, but that’s kind of…”  chan trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish his sentence for jeongin to hear it.  that’s kind of normal.

the truth was, of all the members, minho was still a bit of a mystery.  they’d all grown up together, so of course they knew bits and pieces of him inside and out, but the rest of the members wore their heart and soul flayed open at all times.  jeongin could probably describe felix’s character better than felix himself could.  even seungmin, who had seemed on the reserved side for the first few months, had grown into regular displays of openness.

minho was different.  he guarded his heart like one would a fugitive on the run - by pretending it didn’t exist.

“i’ll go look for him, hyung, don’t worry!”  jeongin said, the words out of his mouth before he realized what he was promising.  and yet, he didn’t care to take them back.  chan blinked, hesitated, and jeongin knew it was that troublesome, unwarranted concern again.  it struck him that, in a list of members with their shutters closed, jeongin himself probably ranked second.  he softened slightly.  “i’ll have my phone with me,” he said.  “if you want me back, just call me.”

with a wry smile, chan nodded.  “send me a text if it takes more than 15 minutes?”

jeongin nodded, and and then he was off.

it was an aimless search.  he really had no idea where minho was - he hoped he was in the building, at least, but for all anyone knew minho could have gone back to the dorm, or literally anywhere else.  he really was an enigma.

jeongin’s phone rang and he checked the time.  it had only been 10 minutes.  his heart lept at the thought of good news, that maybe he was overly worried for nothing.  “did you find him?”  jeongin asked immediately.  chan sighed.

“no, but he texted and said he’s fine.”  chan went quiet.  jeongin chewed his lip.

“do you think he is?”  jeongin asked.  he already knew the answer.  he could picture chan’s frown - the one where he was worried, but trying to be reassuring to anyone who looked.

“i guess we just have to trust him.”

trust.  the word lodged itself and rattled around in jeongin’s mind even after he hung up and started making his way - slowly - back to the rest of his members.

as closed off as minho was, jeongin trusted him.  all of them did, he knew.  jeongin trusted all of his members, completely, but minho especially.  for all of his guarded emotions, minho would never allow harm to come to those he cared about, and everyone knew it - except maybe minho himself, who didn’t like to acknowledge that he cared at all in the first place.

the thought that minho didn’t trust them back made jeongin feel clammy.  it drove him to take the longest way back he could think of, and it made him backtrack immediately when he heard the quietest gasp coming from the direction of the bathrooms.

he found minho in an open stall, seated firmly on the ground, his upper body wilted over the toilet seat.  vomit stained the corners of his mouth.  tears ran down his cheeks.  he didn’t notice jeongin immediately, which gave the younger boy a much appreciated moment to steady himself, to acknowledge and accept and acclimate to the sharp ache the gripped his heart.

“oh, hyung, you’re really sick.”  the words came out like tears, seeping.  minho startled, and scrambled to the side of the stall that was furthest from jeongin.

“jeongin.”  fear flashed across minho’s face, like jeongin hadn’t seen on his face outside of their survival show and experiencing high altitudes.  jeongin stepped back, hating to be the cause of it, when minho spoke again, sounding choked.  “you were right, it might be contagious.  you should go.”

jeongin shook his head so hard it hurt.  “no, i didn’t mean– hyung, here, let me help.  please.”  he approached slowly, wrapping his arms around minho’s shaking back.  minho sucked in a breath, and then released it, relaxing into jeongin’s embrace.  then he tensed up and lurched over the toilet with an unproductive heave.  jeongin shifted to rub the sick boy’s back.

minho groaned.  “you should leave,” he said.  “i’m gross right now.”

“no,” jeongin said, as gently, as firmly as possible, addressing both statements at once.  “i’ll stay, hyung.”

minho didn’t have a chance to protest before he was being sick.  he was shaking so badly that jeongin worried he’d slip to the ground if he stopped supporting him.  he brushed a hand through minho’s hair.

“it’s okay,” jeongin said, and he wasn’t really sure why.

minho gasped and another stream of puke splashed into the dirtied water below him, unrelenting.  his whole body was tense below jeongin’s hands, so much so that it made jeongin’s own muscles ache.  suddenly, in the dim lighting of the bathroom, face covered in barf, minho looked very small, and fragile.  like he might shake himself apart.  jeongin’s grip on his shoulder tightened as another heave wracked minho’s body.

jeongin’s phone ringing startled both of them.  minho looked up during a brief reprieve.  “you can answer it,” he said, his words torn apart and raw.  jeongin shook his head.

“it’s just chan-hyung.  i’ll text him.”

minho didn’t respond to that, jaw clenched very tightly shut.  jeongin gave him a stern look.  “you should let it out, hyung, you’ll feel better sooner that way.  then we can go home.”

it was unclear whether minho took the advice to heart, or if his body simply overcame his willpower - both options seemed unlikely - but soon he was throwing up once again.  he didn’t have a breather for so long that jeongin started worrying at the choked sounds.  he was about to send a text asking chan if someone could drown this way when it finally tapered off to dry heaves and small dribbles of bile.

minho looked like a soft breeze could break him.

his eyes were sinking shut and his skin was washed out.  he’d given up holding himself up and slumped heavily onto jeongin.  jeongin wiped sweat and sick from his face with toilet paper, and then flushed the mess away.

“are you done?”  jeongin asked quietly, with half a mind to just let minho sleep.  the sick boy nodded.  jeongin hummed.  “we should go home.”

minho nodded, but didn’t move.  “c’mon, hyung, it’ll be better for you to sleep in a bed.”

jeongin started to stand, but minho grabbed his sleeve with a strength jeongin wouldn’t have expected him to have at this point.  “hyung?”

“don’t leave.”  minho’s voice was so, so small.  jeongin smiled.

“i won’t.  we’ll go together, okay?”

sure enough, minho refused to let go of jeongin’s arm as they walked.  chan had texted that they’d cancelled recording for the day, so the other members were waiting in the car already.  even as the rest of them fussed over minho, jeongin stuck close.  his arm was finally freed when minho fell asleep upon returning to the dorm, but jeongin stayed nearby anyway, even when the other members tried convincing him that minho would be fine if he left.

that was the thing: minho would be fine.  jeongin knew that minho was strong.  they all did.  but something protective had started growing in him since he first saw minho in the bathroom - before that, maybe, too.  something protective and urgent, a need that had to be fulfilled.

jeongin trusted minho fully.  he needed to know that minho trusted him, too, and he thought this was as good way to start working towards that.

——

feel free to send more asks! | rules

[the-cry-of-youth]

Bad Transmissions

Pairing: Captain Rex x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.1k

Rating: General

Warnings: Mentions of Torture, Angst, a little bit of fluff, obi wan being a responsible man, anakin- not so much

Summary: y/n is kidnapped, and it's up to Rex and co. to rescue her.

Gradually, you awaken from your induced slumber, only to notice that you could no longer feel your arm. Shit, did this bastard really cut off my arms?!? You thought in your comatose state, not fully in your senses yet. Once you get your eyes open you notice, to your relief, that you indeed still had your arms. They were suspended above your head, bound in force cuffs, effectively dulling your connection to the force. The room you were contained in was dark, the only source of light being emitted from the cuffs.

The sudden hiss of the door opening captured your attention. Blinded by the sudden light from outside the door, you are unable to see who had entered the room, until a very distinct voice was heard throughout the room.

“Not so tough now are you, jedi.” sneered Ventress. A moment of shock overtook your thoughts, but was quickly overwhelmed by pain as you were suspended higher into the air, dangling from your already numb arms until you were just on your toes.

“I must say ventress, I thought you had abandoned the Separatists after being betrayed by Dooku.” you chided to the woman that was now circling your bound body, “but I must say, you have gotten smarter with your strategies against the republic. Tell me how you got a hold of clone armour and a republic transmission signal?”

“You think that I’m still working for the fool Dooku? That's adorable,” Ventress scoffed, “you are simply a bargaining chip for me, either the republic or separatists would love to get their dirty little paws on a jedi. But an intact Jedi is a little less appealing than one that has been through a few rounds of tourture, don't you think? The more helpless you look, the higher the price you’ll be worth. But I must say, you talk far too much. Let's change that.”  

The lights in the room suddenly turned on, blinding you even further. When your eyes adjusted, you noticed Ventress standing beside a table covered in different instruments of torture. At first you believed she would reach for a vibroblade to make good on her threat of silencing you by taking your tongue, but instead she grabbed a gag.

Once the gag was fitted in place, she tapped away on her wrist comm. The doors then hissed open and four people walked in wearing clone armour. You knew that they were not clones (most likely as you could not see their faces). Ventress simply left the room with a quick wave and a perky “have fun.”

As the ‘clones’ closed in, all holding different devices aimed to inflict pain, you knew this was going to be quite the time.

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The council was in full discussion after receiving a rather disturbing transmission from the same location that they had sent Y/n a week earlier.

The transmission in discussion featured a rather smug Asajj Ventress standing beside a rather defeated and beaten Y/n. It was evident in the different shades of bruising that she had been held there for the entire time she was supposed to be helping with a distress call from a lost republic transport ship.

“Were we able to trace the location of this transmission?” asked Mace Windu, rather concerned for his former padawan.

“It appears to be coming from a moon of Felucia.” voiced none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi. “I believe it will be most efficient if Anakin and I go with the 501st battalion to felucia on this mission, as we have had an extensive past working with Y/n previously.”

“Save Y/n, you must.” encouraged Master Yoda. “be quick, you must. Much time, you do not have.”

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Anakin and Rex quickly break from the strategy briefing for the rescue mission with Obi Wan. After Rex rounded up his brothers to board the transports, Anakin pulled him aside.

“I know that you and y/n have a past, I’m not quite sure as to just how close you two are, but I need you to be prepared. Obi-Wan has shown me the transmission, and I must say Rex, she isn’t looking good.” warned Anakin. An expression of concern and worry overcomes Rex’s face as he thinks of his friend in pain.

The entire trip to Felucia, it is apparent that Rex is deep in thought, with worry across his body posture as he is in full armour. He remembers all the time you both spent while on shore leave goofing around and having genuine conversations. Other times it was quiet time spent together enjoying caf and reading in chairs beside each other in the café just around the corner from the senate building that she introduced him to. He is unsure if his feelings about her are strictly platonic or if they’ve evolved into something more.

As soon as that thought came into his head, he instantly pushed it away. Of course thinking of her in any other way than platonic could just not happen. She was bound to the order, forbidden to form attachments, and he was in the GAR, he could be court marshalled for having a relationship, let alone a relationship with a Jedi.

Little did Rex know, but his thoughts were projecting across the transport, of course though only two other people could read them. Obi-Wan, being the gentleman that he is, respected Rex’s privacy and ignored them. However his former padawan had different ideas, being the nosey little man that he is.

Anakin felt as if his captain needed a little push towards taking the right actions. He projected the thoughts of his secret marriage to Rex, careful to not over project them to Obi-Wan. As intended, he met the cold stare of Rex’s helmet across the transport and knew that his thought sparked the right ideas in his commander's mind.

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The fight to make it to the room that Y/n was held captive was fought quite quickly, as Ventress no longer had the support of the separatist droids, but instead had a small group of four bounty hunters fighting for her while she was elsewhere, most likey with y/n in an unknown room.

As they walked through the halls, Fives pointed out a pile of discarded clone armour to Rex and Anakin.

“That is most likely how Ventress was able to get secure contact with y/n and the council.” stated Obi-Wan. “She was sent here for either an aid mission or a rescue of a small number of clones. I’m assuming it just led her to ventress and the hunters as this vessel is quite outdated, as well as the armour.”

The search for the room that y/n was held in ended up being relatively short, as they just had to follow the sounds of screaming once reaching the main hallway.

At the sound of pain, Anakin, Obi-Wan and Rex all started sprinting towards the sound, the rest of the battalion following behind quite quickly. More screams followed the frist few and rex’s heart clenched at the thought of y/n being hurt. Is the screams were anything to go by, Anakin's warning would be living up to the worst scenarios the commander had thought up on the journey to the base.

They reached the room only to find the door opening and Ventress stepping out of it, taking off in a sprint the other way down the hall.

“Anakin, you go in with Rex, Fives and Kix to free y/n and ensure she is well, I will go after Asajj. You come find me once you are sure y/n will be okay.” Obi-Wan commanded before he took off after Ventress.

The breath was knocked from Rex as he entered the room to see and bruised and bleeding y/n dangling in the middle of the room. She looked so defeated, yet a look of pure fear overcame her features as she looked up to see the three clones entering the room.

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“Please, no more, please” you begged as your eyes locked on the clones. In your battered state, you failed to notice the different markings and colours of the armour, as well as the Jedi leading them. “Please, I can’t take any more. Just please make it stop.”

“Y/n, please, we aren’t here to harm you. Let us help get you out of here.” you heard Anakin state as he walked more into your sight line, blocking your view of the clones, and your best friend.

“But the clones are here to hurt me, that's all they've done to me, is hurt me.” you cried out as Anakin stepped forward. The closer he got, the more you pulled back. Once he was in front of you, he used the force to release the cuffs, causing you to be set on your feet.

As soon as your feet touched the floor, your legs gave out and you were caught by Anakin. He set you on the ground as he looked over at his clones.

“Rex, Fives, Kix, remove your helmets. It may help is she can recognize your faces.” Anakin suggested.

Rex instantly ripped off his helmet and slowly walked toward you, Fives and Kix staying further back. Kix taking out the medics pack and getting bandages and medicine ready to treat you there.

“Cyar’ika, It’s me, Rex.” he called soothingly to you.

You rolled over in Anakin's arms, eyes widened. “Rex?” you exclaimed, surprised at his presence where you used to see simply the clones intending to hurt you. As you locked eyes you exclaimed a little louder “Rex!”

Trying to reach your best friend, you scrambled out of Anakin’s arms, only to tumble to the floor. Rex quickly ran to your side and scooped you up into his arms.

“It’s okay ik’aad, I’m here. I won’t let anyone else hurt you.” Rex soothed as he

Held you close to him, rubbing your back as you cried into his shoulder. “I’m never going to let anyone touch you again cyare” Rex locked eyes with the other clones and Anakin and nodded, they would bring you to the transport to be healed to relieve you from this environment.

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Two days later you awoke in a hospital bed, but there was a strong warmth surrounding your right hand. As you were jogging your brain back to consciousness, you opened your eyes to see Rex hold your hand, head resting on the bed as he sat beside your bed.

“Rex, wake up” you attempted to say but came out raspier than intended. He jerked up at the sound of your voice, used to sleeping light due to his years as a soldier.

In an instant he was out of his seat, cradling your head in his hands, rubbing his thumb against your cheek bone as he looked over your face, tears slowly streaming down his face.

“Cyar’ika, you had me so worried. I thought I had lost you when they had received that transmission.” he stated as he leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and bringing your right hand to his lips, kissing it lightly.

You bring your left hand up to cradle his cheek, not unlike how he had yours in his hand.

“Rex, look at me.” you instructed. You made eye contact with him, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay right by your side, always.”

Rex simply nods in response. The air then turns tense suddenly. He closes his eyes and crashes his lips against yours for a long overdue kiss. As you break apart, you see nothing but love and admiration in his eyes.

“How are we to do this Rex? I am bound by the code and you are in the battalions, we are forbidden to have this kind of relationship.” you voice your concern about the relationship after your first, earth shattering, passionate kiss.

“It's simple really,” he replied, “ we can just have a secret relationship like Anakin and Padme.”

“WHAT?!?!?” this revelation brought out a surprised response from you. “Anakin is with Padme?!? How long has that been a thing?!?”

“Oh, they’ve been married for quite some time, although I believe that we are now the only people to know of this pairing.” Rex chuckled out after your response.

“Well then, if that idiot can manage to pull off a secret marriage, then I suppose we could figure out a relationship.” you state. “ It's not like we acted much different from a relationship before this.”

Rex simply smiled in response to this, and then kissed you with all the love he could give.

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Winter Whumperland Day 7: Delirium

Summary: Written for Winter Whumperland Day 7. Set in a Modern AU, follows up on Day 6 'Mistakes'. Frozen and suffering from hypothermia, can Hiccup successfully escape from Viggo or was he a fool to think he could?

Rating: Mature

Characters: Hiccup, Ryker, Viggo

Pairing: Vigcup, past-Hiccstrid

Words: 3 266

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: “Hallucinations”

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: Here is Day 7 and I have absolutely no idea how to write hallucinations. Dream sequences? Sure! I have plenty of experience with those! Hallucinations, however? Eh, not so much.

Constructive criticism is appreciated! Including on the tags!

Enjoy!

@amonthofwhump

Ao3

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When Hiccup wakes up after his confrontation with Viggo and Ryker, it's with a splitting headache. Without a doubt, it's there because of his encounter with the frying pan and the kitchen counter, but he doesn't quite remember that. All he knows now is the pain inside his skull, foot, and the brand on his back.

It's agitated by something. Now that he thinks about it, his entire backside is cold and wet. Is he lying in the snow?

The darkness of the night is the only reason why he can open up his eyes. He sees nothing by the vague outline of treetops above him. So he is outside and this must be snow that he's lying in. The layer is thick, his fingers and ears are already freezing.

A whine leaves him at the pounding in his head and he brings a hand up. Gods, he wishes that would stop. It's centered mostly in the back, but his temple seems to be hurting as well.

What happened to put him in such a sorry state? Or rather, in even sorrier of a state than usual. What did he do?

He can hear the sound of shoveling.

Hiccup looks to the side, vision blurry and double what it's supposed to be, the pounding worsening with the slightest move. He can see Ryker, though there appears to be two of them, and he's shoveling dirt. Why would he be digging? He supposes it's the middle of the night.

He sits up without meaning to, like he doesn't realize that's what he decides to do until he's already upright. A wave of nausea overwhelms him, the world spinning all around, but somehow he manages to steady himself before he vomits.

No, he can't throw up, that's about the last thing he wants to do. Throwing up hurts.

Besides the groaning, he's quite silent and he doesn't feel like he's entirely there, like he might pass out again soon. He holds his head in both of his hands.

"Alive, are you? I'm not surprised, you do have a thick skull." Of course, Ryker notices that he's awake, speaking to him without even bothering to turn and face him. He figures the double blows to his head must be enough to keep him from picking a fight for now.

Gazing at what Ryker is digging, an uneven rectangular hole vaguely registers in his mind. It's not as deep as it's supposed to be, not at all, but it's just right for a person. And suddenly a memory sparks alive in his mind, this hole is meant to be his grave.

At this, Hiccup attempts to get up, his movements slow and sluggish, but the want to stand on his feet and run away is certainly there.

Unfortunately, he doesn't get very far before a wave of vertigo hits him and he all but crumples back down again. Ryker laughs at the sight, amused.

"You're not going anywhere, not with a concussion like that. I'm surprised you even woke up!" He informs him and continues digging. Did either of the two even bother to check whether he still had a pulse or not?

Unresponsive, Hiccup looks towards the cabin, which he can only just see through the trees.

"Viggo is still inside. You left a mess back there, head bleeding all over the place, you know he hates filth. So he's leaving the pleasure of getting rid of you to me." Ryker gleefully tells him, he's been waiting for this day for what felt like ages! Having Hiccup around was a torment!

But all Hiccup can do is wonder how much blood he could've lost if he's still bleeding and awake. He can feel his hair sticking to his scalp, can feel it running down his face, and stain the clothes on his back.

Gods, he needs a hospital and fast.

He brings a hand up again, attempts to will the dizziness and the fog away. He can't properly think while they're there.

"So you're going to kill me now?" Hiccup asks, blinking slowly. With every beating of his heart, he feels a new surge of pain inside his skull. Thought is nigh impossible.

"Yes, I am," Ryker responds with a smirk, finishing up the grave and throwing the shovel aside. He straightens, stretches his neck, shoulders, and back before facing the young man he intends to kill.

Hiccup tries again to get up when he approaches and he does get to his feet, but only because Ryker grabs him by the hoodie to pull him up. It's something that doesn't quite agree with him after that pan broke his toes.

"Oh no!" That seems to wake him up a little, Hiccup yelps as his foot isn't able to hold his weight at all. He'd wonder what it looks like now, feels the impending fear of his right foot suffering the same fate as his left. Broken bones can sometimes lead to amputations, too.

"And I've made sure your grave is shallow for when you're dead. They can't find a corpse if it's been torn apart by scavengers and spread all over the forest." Ryker lets him know, face once again uncomfortably close. Now it's not just the movement making him nauseous, but the thought of never being found even while dead is.

Of never properly being buried, of forever remaining the missing person until he's forgotten, an unsolved case without closure, his loved ones forever wondering and never knowing they die one by one, too.

He wants to be found, he doesn't want them to suffer like that for years and years just because some rich, arrogant ass couldn't keep it in his pants.

"No, I can't... I can't let that happen," He breathes out, head lolling to the side.

"Haha, I'd like to see you try and stop me!" Well, Ryker is about to.

Though his brain is pounding, Hiccup headbutts him in the face, forehead to nose, and he's promptly dropped.

"ARGH! Bastard!" Ryker lets out what can only be described as a yelp while Hiccup holds his head and regrets worsening the pounding inside his skull. At the very least, he manages to stay on his feet somewhat.

"Oh, why did I do that?" He asks himself, tongue looser than it's been all day.

Well, he's not broken, for one.

Ryker composes himself, nose bruised and bleeding, and lungs for Hiccup with murder in his eyes.

Hiccup is slow and can't respond in a timely manner because of the concussion possibly brewing, he can't quite fight the bigger man when he's grabbed and thrown back to the ground. Hands once again wrap themselves around his throat and this time they squeeze to kill.

"No!" Hiccup squeezes out before his airways are forced shut for the second time in two days. And unlike Viggo, Ryker isn't trying to control his temper enough to not accidentally murder him. Murder is exactly what's on his mind.

The pain in his body doesn't matter anymore as he grabs Ryker's hands to remove them from his throat, his splitting headache worsening with the lack of oxygen. His throat already sore, it undergoes another bout of torture and Hiccup fears his windpipe caving in underneath the pressure.

No... No! Against all odds, choked to unconsciousness once and two killing blows to the head, he's still alive. He can't lose his life now!

Sudden alertness returns to him and he takes a hand of Ryker's.

During all of these long months, they've been cheating. They've used every dirty strategy in and outside of the book to destroy him. The basement, their stronger physiques, the shock collar, his father, White Spot, Astrid, what if he gives them a taste of their own medicine and cheats at their own game?

Well, he's got long arms, and Ryker can't pin him down and choke him without making himself vulnerable. So Hiccup grabs his face and with a strangled noise pushes his thumb in Ryker's eye.

The man recoils instantly with surprise, natural reflex not allowing him to push onwards through that horrible sensation.

"You fucking brat!" He yells angrily, holding his eye. It's still there, his reflexes were quick, but that doesn't make the subsequent numb throbbing any less alarming.

Hiccup manages to crawl out from underneath him, kicking Ryker in the chest to get him away from him, and hurries to his feet again. The fog seems to have lifted enough, his response time is quickening.

He's grabbed by his painful foot and dragged back down to his knees. He turns and this time kicks Ryker in the face, further injuring his nose and a cry of pain leaves him.

But he doesn't have the time to enjoy it. He's managed to fight him off and Ryker is now on the ground. In a hurry, he struggles again to his feet and grabs the shovel.

What he does is purely on instinct to survive, not a single second or thought wasted on his choices.

Hiccup grabs the shovel as Ryker stands to finish what he started and with a wide swing whacks his head with it, hitting his temple dead on.

Turning on his axis, Ryker falls to the ground, eyes rolling back, and landing right in the grave meant for Hiccup.

Minutes go by in a blur. The fog in his head now entirely gone, Hiccup stands there, panting and frozen as he watches the blood pour out of an ugly wound and stain the dirt and redden the snow. Ryker's temple has caved in.

Just to make sure what just happened actually happened, Hiccup glances at the spade and sees both red and bits of... something.

Oh Gods, there comes the bile again.

But he's not getting back up from this, Hiccup's almost certain he's not even breathing anymore.

Even so, he checks. Forcing his frozen body to move, Hiccup limps over and kneels next to Ryker. Laying two fingers on his throat, he feels for a pulse and finds none. His hand quickly retreats.

He's really dead. That blow to the skull killed him.

that doesn't make him happy somehow.

"Oh no... Oh no!" Hiccup jumps back up, his own injuries and the freezing chill momentarily forgotten with the shock of what he's just done.

He killed a man, but for some reason, the first thing on his mind is how Viggo is going to react. Not whether or not this is going to hurt the remaining brother, but how he's going to punish Hiccup for it. And this after it's already been decided he should die for proving to be too much trouble in the end.

It's a twisted way he's been conditioned to think. He's done something wrong, what will his kidnapper think of this?

They've done many things to him, made him do many things, turned him into many things, and now he's a murderer, too.

He has to leave.

He can't breathe, his mind races through a million thoughts, and the pain from his injuries return to him. His heart's pounding reminds him that he's alive and he should run while he still can.

After one last glance towards the cabin in the distance, seeing the lights still on and no Viggo on the way, Hiccup tightens his hold on the bloodied shovel and turns in the opposite direction. Leaving a dead Ryker behind, he makes his escape.

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So that is most of the story that's brought him to this point, alone in a forest covered by winter's snow, underdressed for the cold, and hurting.

It's been hours since he's left the cabin and the brothers behind him and hypothermia has without a doubt set in.

Struggling through the snow, Hiccup can't tell for how long it's been around. The fog resettled in his mind. For some strange reason, he's stopped shivering and he's too confused to realize that this might mean something troubling.

He's still holding onto the shovel, but this time not just for support. He clings to it like his life depends on it. Both hands on the long shaft, he clutches it to his chest as he inches forward. The blood on its edges has been mostly rubbed off because of the snow.

He's losing sight of his objective. Growing more confused as the minutes pass, he's gone from walking into a straight line to wandering aimlessly instead. He's forgetting that he's supposed to be heading for a road or the town at the shore.

Sometimes he stops, broken foot strangely not as painful, or maybe he's just not paying attention. He can't feel his fingers either, they've gone from red to a pale white.

Looking around, Hiccup wonders where he should go next. He's already switched directions so many times and even got turned around and walked right back to where he'd come from. Now, he's not sure which one to take.

There's another snowfall, the wind howling past his ears. A thin layer already blankets his hair and shoulders.

He feels like he's searching for something, but what? Is it Toothless? But why would Toothless be in a forest? Why is Hiccup in a forest? What's he doing here?

His feet drag him forwards again, he doesn't know in which direction. If he's going forward, backward, left, right, he just can't tell.

Trees pass and so do bushes and other plant life, whatever little that's still around in the cold, most of them are empty of their leaves.

The snow falls as Hiccup continues, sinking further away, and out of the corner of his eyes, he thinks he can see someone standing in the distance.

He comes to another halt, looking over, sucking air in through his teeth, eyes blinking slowly. There's nothing there.

But he could've sworn... Is it a figment of his imagination?

"Hel... Hello?" He calls out, voice soft and slurring. There is no answer, he must've imagined it.

Dragging himself forward, his energy saps faster and faster in this fruitless mission.

The figure reappears between the trees and Hiccup stops to look over, but it's not there.

"Oh, come on..." He groans and turns, taking another path without realizing it.

So now there are strange, pitch-black figures at the edge of his vision? He doesn't want to deal with those.

It's there again, popping up in the distance. So long as he doesn't look, it stays there.

Hiccup wants to ignore it, he doesn't like it, he hates it. But as he inches forward, he can see it coming closer and closer. Anxiety creeps up his spine and settles in his stomach. There it comes.

Whispers fill his ears. He can't understand what they're saying, the words barely register in his mind. In the penetrating cold, he's quickly becoming more delirious with time.

Hiccup doesn't trip a second time, but his foot does give out beneath him and a great jolt of pain breaks through the numbness plaguing his tingling extremities. The injured bones grind against one another.

And then, the figure is standing right next to him.

"Oh, Gods, no..." He whimpers, feeling it staring down at him with malice.

He dares to look up, finding nothing. Where has it gone? The snowfall is becoming thicker with time.

"No, you... How did you find me?" Hiccup asks no one, but he swears someone he knows is standing in front of him now.

That suit... It's Viggo's.

His face is blurry, but the expression he wears is one of disappointment.

"I've seen what you've done to my brother, Hiccup. You've murdered him."

He has? Hiccup looks at his hands and finds them stained.

"What? No!" He gasps and attempts to rub them clean with the snow, but it won't come off. He tries rubbing, he tries scratching, but the blood won't go away.

Hands grab his and he pulls them free sluggishly.

"No... No, go away." Without the shovel, he stands only to slump back down right after. He wants Viggo to leave him alone.

"I won't go away, Dear. I will never go away." His hands are on him. They're on him and they're touching him where he doesn't want to be touched, pulling him down into the snow, intent on pinning him. He hasn't felt anything in the past hours or so, even the cold has disappeared, but those hands he can still feel.

"No, please... Not... Viggo, not here!" He pleads, coming to believe himself somewhere other than the woods he's in.

His chin is grabbed and gently lifted and there he is. Viggo is staring into his blinking eyes with a malevolently arrogant face.

"Hello, my Dear."

Finding the shovel, Hiccup swings slowly, clumsily, but he's not there.

"What?" He wonders out loud, looking around himself. Where did he run off to?

Hiccup looks up, finding the sky clearing of the clouds, the snow falling less and less. He can see the stars. Are they real? Or will they disappear like Viggo just did?

They do, but not in a way he dislikes.

The shape that makes them disappear is familiar to him, it's that of a dragon in flight, a Night Fury to be more precise. Even in his delirium, he can recognize a Night Fury from anywhere. He's making the stares disappear and he loves seeing it in the sky.

His Bud.

The cold, the pain, his dirty hands, Viggo, everything is forgotten and all that exists is his best friend.

"Toothless," He breathes, smiling from ear to ear. His call echoes in the night, filling his ears with something pleasant.

His eyes are wet and then his face, skin too cold to notice. Though out in the snow for hours and hours already, he feels warm. So warm, he wants to take his hoodie off.

"TOOTHLESS!" He shouts at the top of his lungs, knowing that the shape in the sky couldn't possibly be anything else.

It disappears along with his hope and the stars reappear.

Eyes closing, he falls to the side and lands in the thick carpet of white.

Body sapped completely of everything, energy, strength, warmth, all that remains is his life and that is quickly draining as well.

Hiccup doesn't realize it. As his hypothermia grows more severe, he believes he's warm, he believes he's lying in a bed, and he's daydreaming of his Bud and him together in the sky.

If he falls asleep now, alone in the middle of nowhere, he won't wake up again.

"My Dear,"

So maybe it's not such a bad thing that he's found, that a pair of hands settle on him once more. He can numbly feel one on his shoulder and another on his back. He can't even tell Viggo to go away this time, too tired to.

"Hiccup!"

"I'm here, my Dear."

One of them runs through his hair and lips press themselves on the top of his head, minding the blood.

"No, Viggo, please... I just..." He just wants to... what? "I want to sleep... So tired.."

"What? No! No, you can't sleep!"

"Sleep? But there will be no sleeping tonight, Sweetheart."

Hiccup can't stop Viggo from turning him over onto his back, the hands warming his face.

He sinks further away, can briefly open his eyes to see many shadows surrounding him before they close. They're like an omen announcing his end.

Someone picks him up from the snow and he lets it happen. What's the point of fighting it? It would seem he can never truly escape and thinking that he could was just foolish.

[firewoodfigs]

into each life some rain must fall 

Six times he stands before a grave in the rain, grieving. But this time, courage is reborn. [5+1 Things] 

read on ao3 

i.

Riza Hawkeye is terrifying. This is the first thought that crosses Roy’s mind when he sees her slicing up the carcass of a chicken (or is it a duck?) without even flinching. So when it rains that day, he doesn't think it’s necessary to find her, in hopes of passing her an umbrella. Truthfully, he doubts someone like her is even capable of catching the common cold.

Perhaps it’s childlike bravery, or sheer stupidity, but Roy decides to search for her anyway. He can think of many reasons why this is an awful idea. First, Roy knows he’s kind of good-looking, the same way he knows he’s sort of ingenious and incredible. But he also knows his aunt is paying a lot of money for his lessons, and that he’s here to learn; not to chase girls or get a girlfriend. Second, he knows from his sisters’ stories that the female imagination is capable of unimaginable things, and he most certainly does not want her, of all people, to get the wrong idea.

If word ever gets out about the little stunt he’s about to pull, his sisters would never let him live it down.

But thunder rumbles in the distance, and rain pelts down incessantly, relentlessly. It’s enough to make even a grown man shiver. So he jogs over to her school in quick strides, searching for a socially awkward urchin with messy golden hair and a terrifying glare.

Roy only manages to find her in the end, after what must have been hours of searching. She’s not at school, no. She’s kneeling in front of a tombstone with a bunch of wilted freesias and roses, staring blankly at the inscription written on it.

He says nothing, only lifts his umbrella over her grieving form and lets half of himself get drenched.

Miss Hawkeye glares at him when she finally notices his presence, but accepts the umbrella begrudgingly nonetheless. As she turns around to face him, he sees rivulets streaming down her cheeks, and Roy wonders if it's the rain or her tears.

She rubs her eyes impatiently. “It’s just the rain,” she insists, even though the umbrella shields her from the raging storm overhead.

ii.

Master Hawkeye dies in his arms after begging him to take care of his daughter. He’s only twenty, halfway through the academy and still unacquainted with death. He’s too stunned to care about decorum and propriety and honorifics at the moment, and ends up yelling for Riza to come.

She appears a moment later, hair still a dishevelled, dampened mess; knuckles white from gripping the doorframe so hard. Her eyes are hollow and she’s too numb, too shocked to say or do anything as she stares at her father’s unnaturally still form.

For a long while, nothing he says seems to elicit any kind of response from her. It’s almost like she’s catatonic; trapped in another dimension where he can’t reach her.

He ends up taking care of the burial and the estate and everything else.

The funeral passes by in a haze. It’s a small, quiet affair. His master has never had many (or any, actually) friends to begin with, anyway, given his eccentricity and preference for seclusion.

Roy stays by her side before a gravestone again afterwards. It’s a sunny day. She doesn’t kneel this time; only stares quietly at the name engraved on it like it belongs to a stranger rather than a father.

To his dismay, he learns that, unlike him, she has no other living relatives or family to turn to. How lonely must it be, then, being trapped in this nondescript, deserted town all by herself?

So he offers her his contact details; his dreams and aspirations for the future as an excuse for them to maintain some semblance of a friendship. It’s probably closer to an acquaintanceship, given that they hadn’t really spoken much even during his stay at the Hawkeye manor. Either way, it’s better than being all alone, he thinks.

In exchange, Miss Hawkeye simply responds with a small, sad smile before asking if she can entrust her back to his dream; offering her own naive ideals and hopes for a better, brighter future.

And then, she unbuttons her blouse as soon as they return to the manor to unveil an intricate array begging to be deciphered. For all his brains and talents Roy can only stare, shell-shocked.

What the hell had his master done?

The sky begins to weep for the abuse she’s endured for the sake of bearing an alchemist’s legacy. But the misty rain can’t wash away the ink splaying out like blood on her back; the pain she must have suffered during the excruciating procedure.

“I’m sorry,” is the only thing he can say to break the silence that hangs over them like a death sentence, as he crosses the distance between them to ghost his fingers over the apology inscribed onto her back.

Miss Hawkeye offers him an impassive shrug. “It… it doesn’t matter,” she mumbles, but her shoulders are quaking and her hands are trembling as she grips on to her blouse for dear life.

iii.

The war finally ends. Rain descends from the heavens like drops of silver after what must surely have been hell on earth. A rarity, Roy thinks, where condensation in the air is caused only by blood, not water. A gift from the gods (do they exist?), perhaps. He lifts his palms heavenward, as if begging for the rain to wash away his sins; his scars and his very soul.

It doesn’t. A soldier like him now inured to violence and gore doesn’t deserve such a reprieve.

At the very least, though, the Hero of Ishval is grateful that it renders him useless. A hero. The title sits uncomfortably on his tongue, in his gut. He’s nothing more than a murderer; a monster, and he doesn’t want any medals of gold or glory emblazoned across his military garb. Not when they’re just symbols celebrating death and destruction.

Roy watches from the distance as a sorrowful silhouette with a familiar tuft of blonde hair kneels over a makeshift grave.

“An Ishvalan child, shot and left to die on the roadside alone,” she explains reverently with a forlorn smile, when he inches closer to ask whether it’s a fallen comrade.

He swallows thickly. God, if only he’d kept his ugly mouth shut back then. Then maybe she’d still just be shooting birds and rabbits and antelopes. Maybe she’d still be making chicken soup for dinner now (imagining the smell of cooked meat is enough to make him nauseous). Maybe she’d still be stuck in the raffish countryside; in that countrified, eerie manor all by herself.

Being alone, he thinks, is still infinitely better than being surrounded by cadavers in a deluge of blood-stained sand.

The… sniper (The Hawk’s Eye leaves an awfully bitter taste in his mouth, like he’s biting a bullet) clenches her fist when she’s done, before asking him for the impossible.

“I have a favour to ask of you, Mr. Mustang,” she begins. “Please burn and crush my back.”

“There’s no way I can -” Roy replies immediately, almost yelling. How in the world could he burn her flesh, with the alchemy he’d learnt from her back?

“Please,” she says, begging for him to liberate her from the bonds chaining her to a deceased man so that she can be her own person. Just Riza Hawkeye, not the keeper of her father’s secrets.

“Damn it,” Roy curses under his breath. She makes it sound like it’s her fault for entrusting her father’s research to him. But isn’t he the one who had abused the power entrusted to him; defiled her trust, destroyed her hopes of everyone getting their happy ending somehow?

And yet... endings like these only exist in grand castles and fairy tales. Not in arid, scorched deserts, and most certainly not in their horror stories of ruthless murder and bloody genocide and endless strife.

If only he’d been a little less foolish back then. If only.

Roy relents.

iv.

Rain pours down in heavy, roaring torrents when he burns her back. Roy wishes it could fall through the roof somehow; douse the fire eating her at her flesh so he doesn’t have to hear her suppressed screams that come out as whimpers as she bites down on an old, ragged cloth. It breaks his heart to burn her, a friend he’s come to cherish and appreciate through all the hell they’ve endured together over bland coffee and stale bread.

But he does so anyway. Because it’s what she wants - no, what she needs. He lets the massive downpour swallow the sounds of their cries; lets the wind carry away the lethal secret that has killed hundreds (or thousands?) into the dark, endless void.

“It… it’s done,” Roy whispers breathlessly at last. He removes the burnt tissue carefully, mindful of her quivering frame before covering them with sterile dressings. Then, he gives her the painkillers he’d gathered from the apothecary, which she eagerly swallows.

He doesn’t dare meet her eyes while she’s still conscious, fearing that he’ll only see hatred swimming in them. How could she not, after all that he’s done? He wouldn’t blame her, to be honest. She has every right to, and he deserves every ounce of it.

Fortunately, the medicine kicks in quickly. Roy kneels before her half-lucid form as her eyelids begin to flutter shut. God, he wants to beg for forgiveness, but...

“I forgive you,” she murmurs sleepily even before he says anything, before finally falling into painless oblivion. Roy stays by her side, nervously close and gentle as he wipes her forehead with a cool, damp cloth to make sure a fever doesn’t develop.

Afterwards, he goes to her parents’ grave to beg them for forgiveness; to repent for all that he’s done to their daughter.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t fulfil your last wish, Master,” he cries, filled with regret that he hadn’t listened to his warning back then. The stones only stare back at him wordlessly. Self-reproach swallows him whole, the way squalls of driving rain completely engulf him.

A little less than a month later, Riza Hawkeye marches into his office, stoic and stalwart with an unrivalled expertise in guns and an unyielding duty to the living and the dead. He’s inclined to believe that maybe, just maybe, he can make the necessary reparations and restitutions with her by his side. And so he makes her his personal adjutant; gives her the right to shoot his back if he steps off the path.

It’s the least he can do after he’s defaced hers, after all.

“Will you follow me?” Roy asks apprehensively.

“If that is your wish, then even into hell,” she states, not flinching in the least. He wants to tell her that she’s already been through hell with him, and she doesn’t deserve anymore of that.

Instead, he grits his teeth and looks on ahead resolutely, determined not to let her down this time.

v.

Brigadier General Maes Hughes is buried on a relatively bright afternoon. The sun shines as birds sing and flowers begin to bloom. The spring sky shimmers overhead in a vibrant, cheerful shade of blue like it’s paying an ode to his sprightly nature.

And yet, the ceremony is distinctly somber: it’s filled with soldiers who aren’t allowed to break protocol and say their eulogies and prayers; a wife whose heart is torn asunder, who still yearns for him to return home, and a child who���s far too young to understand that he’s not coming back.

Colonel Mustang stands at attention as the soldiers lower his best friend six feet under. His stomach coils as his heart wrenches. He feels like throwing up again. A part of him wishes his body would stop behaving in this manner so that he can at least attempt to convince himself that this isn’t real; that it’s just a feverish dream which will be chased away by the morning light.

But it’s real. It’s not a dream. Because Elicia, darling Elicia is crying for her father. “Why are you burying Papa?” she yells. “He has to return to his work!”

Roy only barely manages to stop himself from grieving aloud. Years of military training, perhaps. He continues watching quietly as the bugle sounds off in Hughes’ honour instead, and waits for everyone to leave before saying his piece.

Well, almost everyone.

“... Are you alright?” His Lieutenant asks.

“Yes,” he answers unconvincingly. “It’s… it’s a terrible day for rain.”

She looks up at the vast horizon above them, a pretty pastel pink with tender ribbons of lilac streaking across. “It’s not raining -”

“Yes, it is,” he whispers, before donning the military cap once more.

Thankfully, Hawkeye understands. She gives him a moment to grieve, not bothering with senseless platitudes or empty sympathies. A crow caws in the distance, calling for the departed soul of his friend as he stands, uniform dry but cheeks inexplicably damp.

“Let’s go, sir. It’s getting chilly here,” Lieutenant Hawkeye calls gently. Colonel Mustang nods and obliges, leaving his best friend behind in the setting sun.

Daybreak arrives once more, like clockwork. His eyes are raw and red and swollen shut as he mulls over the consequences of ditching work for the day.

Hawkeye turns up at his doorstep with freshly baked bread and a warm cup of coffee just then: the morning light that offers him a brief respite from grief.  

vi.

It’s pouring this time as he stands in front of Hughes’ grave. Somehow, it always does whenever he stands alive before death.

The sky and rain are like sackcloth and ash, Roy thinks, as it falls on his shoulders and shrouds him from the rest of the world in a sad, pearly grey. But he’s been so scared and frustrated and exhausted over the past few months - from losing his closest friend, to dealing with a government corrupt to its very core and an impending nationwide catastrophe - that it’s a welcome relief.

“It’s almost time, Colonel,” comes a gentle voice in the midst of the gloomy darkness.

The downpour gradually lessens into a soft drizzle.

It’s impossible to miss the scent of her, lavender and petrichor masked beneath gunpowder even in this graveyard reeking of death. And it finally dawns upon Roy then, why the time they’d spent apart had felt like an eternity; why it’d pained him so badly like someone was ripping his innards out. Because he loves her. He loves her so much that it pushes out through every fiber of his being; that he almost can’t contain the urge to kiss her; hold her, keep her in his arms forever.

Behind him, he hears her feet shift subtly. Her breathing is weary and slightly laboured. A well-timed reminder that she’s very much alive, not buried underneath soil like the other rotting corpses in this god-awful place.

Roy bites on his lips, hard, to restrain himself from crushing them on hers. They don’t need any more fires between them when they already have enough to extinguish.

But she’s here now, at least, and that’s more than enough. It’s enough for him to keep moving forward despite having buried a part of himself alongside the man he’d seen as a comrade, a friend and a brother. It’s enough for courage to be reborn; for him to face another day with strength and hope.

“Let’s go, Lieutenant,” he says at last, a genuine smile crossing his features for the first time in months. She hesitates for a moment before trailing behind him, footsteps quiet and steadfast. And when they depart the land of the dead (together) to meet the maelstrom awaiting the living he’s not afraid anymore.

[morrisuniverse]

The Chase (MC, Ieyasu mostly)

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Featuring:  The Oda warlords x MC (Naoki), 

Synopsis: MC gets confronted with an assassin and nursed back to health my Ieyasu.

Disclaimer: All characters are the rightful property of Cybird and I do not claim them as my own. This is just for funzies. 

WARNINGS: angst, death

Also, I have not read Ieyasu’s storyline yet, I just like to imagine him as the medic... 

Wet footsteps running through the woods. The sound of my breath and heartbeat seemed to echo in my head as I ran. The rain was pouring down and not even the tree crowns made much of a cover. My body didn’t notice anyway, all I could think of was to get as far away as possible. I ran until I collapsed on the forest soil, out of breath and out of strength to carry on.

I looked around for followers but I couldn’t see any. I still couldn’t hear anything but my own heartbeat inside my chest so I crawled behind the nearest tree and put my back towards its trunk.  I leaned my head against its rough bark and closed my eyes to try and focus on sounds. Nothing. I focused on taking deep breaths. Nice and slow Naoki, nice and slow. But the monster lurking in the dark did not agree. Adrenalin was pumping through my body and the fear stabbed me in my chest and made my breath ragged. 

…..

What felt like moments ago I had been on horseback. I had felt free like a bird soaring through the sky only I was soaring through an open field. The wind blew in my hair and smelled of flowers and rain. I was happy. Then there was a sound of lightning and something hit me hard in the shoulder. I was knocked off my horse but managed to make a roll and landed flat on my tummy. My horse took off without me wildly whining.

From the edge of the forest I could see the dark silhouette of a man. As he walked closer I could see the rifle in his hand. I touched my shoulder. There was something wet and sticky coming from it but I couldn’t feel it. My brain did a mental note that I had been hit and probably should try to have some first aid done quite soon but for now my focus was on the man walking towards me. What did he want with me? Was he going to kill me? Why? 

He didn’t seem to bother to reload. Instead he drew a sword from his belt and held it towards me. 

“Oda princess! You will give me the pleasure of seeing the face of the warlords of Azuchi when I hold up your head in front of them. Finally I will avenge my family!” 

No thanks. I gathered my strength and stood up to meet him, drawing my katana. 

“Not if I take yours first!” I glared at him and took a stance. 

“So the rumors are true. Azuchi’s princess can fight.” He had a wicked smile on his face and his eyes narrowed. 

Never had I been more thankful for Mitsuhide and Masamunes training. It was like they stood behind me, their voices reminding me of the tactics. I felt calm and collected, just like people describe when put through accidents or life threatening situations. I faced my enemy and decided that this was not my day to die. I would show him that this Oda princess indeed was a force to be counted with.

It felt like forever. The sound of metal meeting metal. My own laboured breathing. Suddenly there was a mistake made and I used it. My sword ran straight through his chest and he gave up a small sigh before his body slumped to the ground. As he fell I let go of my sword and stared down at the lifeless body. I just killed someone. I stood there for what felt like hours until I heard voices screaming something from the forest. All the focus and calm I had felt during the battle fell off me with the raindrops running down my arms and body. I felt panic swell in my heart and throat and I ran the opposite direction from the sound. 

….

My hand moved towards my shoulder. It hurt now, a searing pain that spread out to my hand and fingers and back to my neck. It was slick with blood that had bled through the fabric of my kimono. I closed my eyes and imagined being back in Tokyo, in the office, designing clothes in a nice, warm room with aircondition and soft chairs. I felt surreal. Maybe it was all a dream? I mean, me, a princess in the Sengoku era, fighting with swords and riding horseback. Surrounded by seven awe striking warlords that adored me. Come on Naoki, does this sound like reality to you? Well, now it turned into a nightmare and it was time to wake up. 

I pinched myself, knocked my head back into the tree trunk, kicked with my feet and screamed. Nothing seemed to help with the waking up. I even thought of the genius plan to poke my wound. The pain almost made me faint but I was still here, in the woods with the rain pouring down around me. I started to feel hopelessness grow inside me and tears dimmed my sight. Within short I was sobbing and wailing in desperation. Was this the end for me? Here in some distant time in the muddy soil? 

My concerns about enemies following me were long forgotten when I suddenly realized there were people moving in the woods. I gasped for air and tried to swallow my tears but then I heard what the voices were calling. 

“Naoki! NAAOOKII!” 

I couldn’t even answer properly. Tears flooded my eyes and my throat only voiced a hoarse whining. I didn’t want them to see me like this. I forced myself up from my hidingplace and just as I did I saw Kuybei’s familiar face show up behind the trees. His eyes met mine and he ran towards me only to have me collapse into his arms.

“My lord! I’ve found her!”

…

When I opened my eyes again I was lying on my futon in my own room. A pair of big green eyes gave me a grim look. 

“You should sleep some more…”

“Ieyasu?” 

I felt his hand on my arm as I tried to move. 

“Lie still you idiot. You are far from healed.” There was worry in his voice.

“I’m sorry”

“You better be… riding so far off all by yourself and not telling anyone about it! You are lucky Mitsuhide found you when he did.”

I felt ashamed and looked away. Maybe it had been a bit reckless but sometimes you have to live a little as well. And it surely wasn’t my fault that some revenge mongering moron happened to strike at just that day. I felt anger grow within me, anger for the injustice of being the one to blame but I had no strength to show it, it was only my eyes that blazed.

Ieyasu cleaned up my wound. I must have fainted again from the pain cause when I opened my eyes the next time there was a neatly done bandage around my shoulder and arm. 

“Why are you so stubborn? I’m still not done here, you’d do better just to go back to sleep.”

I looked at him, my eyes still blazin from the anger within.

“Fine. Drink this and try to relax ok?” Ieyasu helped me raise my head a bit and held a cup of something warm next to my lips. It smelled strongly of herbs and it made my eyes sting a bit. I gave him a look, he just nodded at the cup and I decided it was best to follow the doctors orders. As I swallowed I could feel that warmth of the liquid spread to my body and with it a sense of relaxation. Ieyasu gently laid my head back on the pillow. 

“I’m going to see that you have no other wounds that need taking care of, okay.”

I felt how he carefully undressed me, wiping away the grime with a warm cloth, looking for wounds. His touch sent weird sparkles throughout my body. It must have something to do with the drink he gave me. I felt hot and a bit dizzy. As his hand moved up my thighs a light moan left my lips and I got a puzzled look from Ieyasu before he looked away. 

“It’s just the medicine talking…” mumbling, perhaps to himself while his cheeks turned adorable red. 

---

Just pretend she is a soldier. He told himself. Of course, if she was he wouldn't be doing the washing and aid of the small wounds but he didn’t want to leave her in the hands of anyone else. He needed to see for himself that she was safe and that he had done everything he could. He had seen small wounds fester and cause seemingly healthy men to die in front of him. It would not happen to her and it was his responsibility. 

It was with a medic’s eyes he undressed her legs and started cleaning them. Removing the grime and dirt and making sure nothing was left to infect the abrasions. Her skin was so soft. For a moment he lost himself in the feeling, that’s when he heard a sound leave her lips. He woke up from his thought only to realize… he blushed and looked away. You are the medic Ieyasu. Focus! He covered her legs with blankets to keep her warm, then he took a deep breath. He needed to check for wounds on her upper body too. Just pretend she is a soldier… 

He took a new cloth and wringed out the water over the steaming bowl. Slowly he started with her hand and healthy arm. Finding a few scratches he carefully applied salve to them before continuing to her shoulders, neck and her chest. She was so beautiful, so small yet so strong. There were marks on her body where she had been hit by the sword, bruises and cuts. He felt anger towards the man who had done this to her lovely body but she had already avenged herself. He was still as astonished as when Mitsuhide had told him. That they’d found her sword deep impaled into the thug’s chest. A bit of him wondered how she was going to handle her first kill. But she was strong, their princess, both in body and mind. She would find a way, like they all had, and they would be there for her.

[spacegaywritings]

Of shared Passions and shed Tears - Oneshot

Ship:  familial Remile x Virgil Summary: Remy and Emile have been married for a long while but it has not been that long ever since they adopted Virgil. Remy comes home one day to find their child a crying and sniffling mess but instead of just comforting them, they cherish their family together and bond because Remy is the opposite of a neglectful parent. Virgil uses he/him + they/them and is genderfluid (as well as a stimming ADHD nerd) ao3 ; Words: 3051 My KoFi  - Support me ♥ or Commission me

Story under the cut:

It was a rather comfortable Thursday afternoon in a cozy suburban area. Everything was peaceful as you would expect and want it to be. The sun was lazily stretching itself over the horizon in its warm bath of orange petals and reddish flakes.

The houses seemed to be in a late autumn slumber, barely moving and in a half daze. Everything was slow, moving not at all or just lethargically so. The world was captured in a film playing in slow motion.

But there was movement, there was trouble. It was just hiding away like a sneaky snake, planning and conspiring against them all. Ready to destroy the peace, ready to hit each stable emotion and crash it into pieces. The predator was waiting to strike at the right moment when its prey was falling victim to its own trust in the comfort of a world that was colder and crueler than it seemed to be, despite the warmish glows the sun spared on the area.

It felt like an idyllic scene. Clearly, this was painted to be someone’s desktop background. It had a great resolution and spiked harmony within the observer.

But hidden in one of the warm houses, an emotion was stirring up. There was a world, a whole storm of feelings. Intensity, depth, wails and waves of rapid changes in mood and situations.

It was the fictional world of Stellaris. Virgil was sitting on the couch, clutching a pillow and watching the latest episodes. He watched them. Again.

One of the protagonists was going through a lot of issues and they were having a breakdown. Virgil mirrored the issues on the small TV as they hugged the pillow close to them and wailed silently.

“But why would you do that?”, he asked.

His words echoed through the emptiness of the universe. It was like speaking in an abandoned church and he was just as likely to receive a response. Another sob wrecked through his body, shaking his ribs and making his throat vibrate as he let out another pained whine.

It was just fiction. HE knew it. His brain was convinced that he had just put on the same DVD again so it was clearly not reality. Hell, the whole world this was playing in was so far from reality that it was clearly impossible for these events to replay but still.. Still, his heart was bewitched to believe all that was happening before hi eyes to be the one and only truth he had ever known.

It was heartbreaking, agony-inducing and absolutely nerve-wrecking .. but at the same time, it was cathartic. In some way, at least. His emotions seemed to receive a ritual of purification as Virgil started sobbing once more, actual tears glistening in his greenish eyes.

“Please don’t go”, he begged.

Their voice was miserable and the pleads elicited nothing more than a one-sided conversation. He would never get an answer, not that he wanted to or had to. Virgil already knew what would happen but they did not like it.

The protagonist went. Oh fuck, they just went along. Why did they do that.

“Nu!”

Virgil cried out and took ahold of a nearby tissue box just to swing it at the TV. His motivation was just weak enough to just let the box mildly grace the screen before sliding down miserably. Even his attempts at rage were extinguished by the sheer hopelessness of the scene.

“Why would you go, you dumb fuck! They trusted you!”

The blonde flopped down onto his back. Painful squeezed rattled his body as his heart sulkily beat in a special rhythm made for heartbreak only. It was like the running engine of a dying car. Virgil would be terrified if his whole attention was not focused on one of the main characters leaving the country - as well as their potential lovers.

The whole light of the show, the colour and all heart left the show and it made Virgil’s soul suffer sympathetically. It was like autumn, all life was sucked away in fear of winter taking it all away. A bit like getting sick, energy was scarce and every bit of feeling and movement seemed to immediately use up all the last pieces of stored energy.

The love interests were talking by now. Dejected and fearful, they hugged and Virgil could not help but curl around his friend-shaped pillow and make sure he was hugging the remorse out of himself. It was not like he had committed the mistake of taking it too far at once but at the same time he had and he blamed himself along with the protagonists.

The tears slowly started making their way through. When the interior monologue of the leaving character started, Virgil could not help but let out another tirade of helpless sobs and silent pleads.

It hurt so much to go through all this rejection just to reject others... to protect oneself.

They were crying so much, they did not notice dad #2 come in until he was being shaken by his shoulder.

“Virgil? Virgilius Thanathel Picani, what the fuck is wrong?!”

The kid flinched and pulled the pillow off their face. Remy was instead their, a face of tragedy right there.

“Dad?”

Virgil hummed and nudged the other so he could sit up. Once dad #2 made space, the teen cuddled up next to him and grabbed the remote to stop the show. The heartbreak was too intense and he could basically taste the worry from Remy’s face in his own thoughts. It was tangible.

“m okay”, they mumbled as they let their head rest on Rem’s shoulder. If it was not for them to be all curled up, their heads would bonk together since Virgil was a bit taller than his dad #2. Dad #1 was just tall as fuck and it was illegal, to be candid.

“Virgil, what is wrong, why are you crying?”

The blonde hugged his dad from the side and he did not hesitate to return the hug and give the child a bit of the sweet medicine that is physical love and affection. It was warm. Their heart felt warm.

The teen mumbled something incoherently into his shoulder and shook his head. It felt like rubbing the bad feelings out of Remy’s chest when he knew that his child was crying.

A cold fear was scratching within him and it was rough, used and abused.

“Can you repeat that maybe? I promise you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to but you can if you want to.” Remy gently brushed the hair out of his face, some of these blonde strands sticky with saltiness and sadness. “I just want to help, darling.”

Virgil’s arms around him squeezed him a bit more and Remy’s heart was about to shatter like a thin cup of glass that was to be dropped onto the hard surfaces of the roads.

“People are so dumb”

The teen’s voice was faltering a bit, squeaky in a sense that the cries made it sound raw and somewhat ... on edge. It was neither composed nor soft and careful as always. Virgil’s voice sounded much like a wound someone just re-opened and rubbed over instead of applying something to speed up and support the damage done to the skin.

A part of dad #2 just cherished that Virgil did not the instinctive nickname he had given him. Another part of him was stricken with the worry of him the blonde suffering from bullying and other issues. And it had been so long after school and here he was, suffering and sobbing.

“Well, of course they are, Virgil.”

Should he say more?

The kiddo cleared their throat and shifted a bit but remained in a rather curled up position, still compressing their actual height. They were just a small ball of soft pleas and little sniffles at the moment. With all the weight and closeness, Remy felt as if he was holding a treasure, a living miracle in his arms. A wonder of creation he needed to protect at all costs but the responsibility and conditions were vague at best.

“Why are people so dumb?”

Virgil sighed and rubbed his eyes, allowing themself to retreat to the corner of the couch once more. The adult let him go, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses which he quickly removed in favour of properly looking at his kid.

“It is just, like, you know. Is that drama there on purpose, do they do it just to make it even harder?”

Remy blinked. That sounded like a very deep conversation. This, indeed, seemed like a situation in which he was all in the mess already and now had to figure out how to soothen out everything that has happened so far. It was like taking over the wheel for someone who did not drive quite as well as yourself but they actually are in a sort of complex situation so you have to figure out where they stand and how to best get out of it without hurting anyone.

If he said a wrong word, that would be like straight-up driving into a truck. Without even looking. Without insurance either. Or about anything to cover up for the damages and other consequence he might cause with his inconsiderate and hot-headed behaviour.

“What happened, what is wrong?”

Virgil curled up with his blanket by now, offering one end to Remy who hesitated just for a moment before taking it and shifting closer. They were sharing a blanket. This was a real deal. This was a higher level of parenting by now.

This was some big big trust level.

“You know, so, there are these people and they would make such a good ship and they are made for one another and one of them is just so scared that they all up and left and the others are left aside and what if they will not get together at all? I mean, I mean”

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. The kid was cuddling a pillow again but still leaning their head against his shoulder. Brushing the pillow, they breathed with more ease. They sounded less hasty, less as if they were running away from a big stone rolling after them.

Was that stimming?

Em had talked about it...

His fingers fidgeted a bit more and the blonde shifted his head over to Remy’s chest. It just stayed. It stayed in trust and silence.

“Look”, he pointed at the screen and pushed a hard object into Remy’s lap. A DVD case.

“They could be so happy together and they just gotta be so dramatic about it. I mean, I get it but they have so much trust and shit and why are they freaking out so much over words. It is just a word, it will not change a thing, why would it change a thing after all?”

He patted the pillow with both hands and let out a deep sigh.

Remy clicked his tongue.

“Are you talking about a show?”

He glanced over the case and read the title.

Stellaris.

Huh, he remembered Emile talking to him about it. He probably just had gotten it for them since they talked about ordering it online. But were those not some books?

“It is not just the show! The show was just released and it is now on terms with the books! Look, look!”

Virgil shifted up again, their head removing itself from Remy’s chest and he spared another peek at his kid as they flapped their hands a bit. When they leaned down to grab something, their body was slightly bouncing up and down like a dull bouncing ball.

The blonde got up and pushed a whole stack of books into Remy’s lap. With all these pastel books and a whole case of DVDs on his thighs, dad #2 had to act quick and pull these items closer, making sure his arms prevented them all from falling.

“Books, oh yes. I remember you getting these books from the library not too long ago. You read all of them?”

Virgil’s head bopped up and down in rapid succession.

“Of course! They are easy to read! This is not a maths textbook or anything!”

Remy chuckled at the statement and let his gaze travel down to the moving toes of his kid. It was adorable to see physical signs of him getting passionate about certain things. Whenever they were happy, they would flap their hands or bounce and it was a delight to the eye, no matter what other people would say. It just made Remy want to hug them. He was blessed to see actual indicators of Virgil’s mood and be able to help him when he needed it or know that he did a good thing and made them incredibly happy.

It was also an amazing implication of nervousness every now and then. Again, some people might be annoyed but for Remy, it was facilitated communication. He did not understand it all but he got the cues most of the time and only needed to react and figure it out from there.

As he did at that moment. Sure, dad #2 did not know what Virgil had felt at first but he now knew he was excited, happily even so ! Now, the man could make sure to attend to whatever the teenager hyperfixated on.

He glanced over the DVD and flipped it so he could read the description. Huh, a fantasy world. Rebellion. Oppression. No wonder Virgil liked it. For a moment he wondered whether his friends Remus and Eden had inspired him to like this..this piece of entertainment.

“It sounds interesting”, he commented and put the case aside.

“I still don’t get much of what this show is about - or the books.”

He shrugged and picked up the books so he could identify the right one to pick. There, volume 1. The smaller man started reading the back of it.

“In a postw-”

“Nooo”, Virgil whined and pressed his whole body against Remy, effectively blanketing dad #2 with his whole weight. “You need to look insideeeee”

“Okay okay! Gee, Virgil”

The man couldn’t help but chuckle again and he surrendered the book to the human piece of blanket on him. Blonde blanket kid took the book and skipped through it they were a few pages into it.

“Okay, now lookie here, Ri!”

Virgil cleared his throat and actually stayed still for long enough so Remy could take his turn of holding the book. There were illustrations of characters. Probably the ones from the show/books. After all, upon glancing at the TV, he could see a person with similar facial features as the person in one of the drawings.

“That is one of the protagonists and they are fucked up!”

Remy blinked.

“I see.. In a good way?”

Virgil pulled back and shrugged casually, their lip dragging into a lop-sided grin. Dad #2 nodded thoughtfully and focused on the next the illustration provided by the wise pages of insight into his kiddo’s new interest. It was a wolf next to a person, a tall person.

“Who is this?”

Virgil let out a loud, intense sound. It was high-pitched, it was a persistent squeal and Remy was sure that his husband could hear it at his work place. He was also convinced this sound would never get out of his system and would visit him in his sleep. …The sound was also worth it. It was the sign of the teenager being excited.

It was not the funky stimming but it was a part of them becoming gradually more and more immersed in something they relished in.

“That is one of the love interests, dad!”

Virgil patted the illustration of emphasis.

“She is one of the protagonists and they are dating the other one you just saw - wait wait!! We can watch the show together!”

Remy shook his head with a smile and pulled the teen into his lap.

“How about we make some snacks and watch it together? Or we can wait for Em to come home and watch it with us”

Virgil rapidly patted Remy’s chest with his hands and nodded.

“Yesyesyesyes!! We can watch it with dad!!”

Dad #2 inhaled sharply and tugged the teen closer.

“I am so happy you are here”, he mumbled as he slung his arms around Virgil who immediately eased into his touch and wrapped his arms around him as well. They were engulfed in the luck being bound, of being united.

They carefully nudged their dad in reply and curled into the warming hugs of comfort and support. If it was not for Virgil to be a light blonde dude, he was sure that he would pass as biological kid to either Emile or Remy at least. Sure, they could not have gotten him together but he was there and he was their kid.

“mhm”, Virgil hummed and fidgeted with his fingers behind his back once more.

“I…I … I am glad too, you know..”

Their voice was silent but composed and every word rolled of their tongue with meaning. It did not drop as much as strive into the world in order to fulfil a certain purpose and find a specific end where it was needed.

Remy breathed out.

“I know, I know. We both know”

He felt tears well up in his eyes.

“It is just nice to hear that you still think we were the right choice after all.”

Virgil was the next to sniffle and shift his upper body closer against Remy. He looked ridiculously gigantic in the lap of Remy, who was smaller than him. Sitting in his lap and clinging o him while he was sniffling once more was just an odd sight to walk in on but Emile did not mind that.

When he came home, he just joined the cuddles.

No matter how old, he would try his best to support Virgil along with Remy.

“Hey dad #1, two said we will watch drama tonight.”

Emile smiled.

“As long as I am with my two favourite people in the world, my life is complete.”

Virgil returned the gesture.

“I know, I think so too.”

[cutmyhairabovemyjaw]

Heaven and Hell Bound - Tommy Shelby ~ Part 4

Part 1

Part 2 

Part 3

Hi guys. Thanks for liking and commenting on the previous parts. Apologies for the slight delay but I hope you enjoy this chapter none the less. I realise that in some series’ the authors tag certain people in each update to ensure they get notified of it so if you would like me to do the same just let me know. Feedback is always welcome and Part 5 is on its way. <3

Part 4 - Bandages and Blushes 

Y/N’s POV

Tommy had been sleeping for nearly two days now. My heart jumps to my throat every time I walk past. I fear that the sleep he is receiving now shall be the only slice of peace he may experience for years to come. I selfishly couldn’t help but to prolong my time with Tommy. A typical 5 minute vital check and bandage replacement turned into more of a 15 minute endeavour, filled with stolen stares and gentle touches. My fingers danced over his skin, like a water kipper over a pond, fragile movements as to not break the surface below. I’d whisper to him, let him know I was there. Perhaps I could lead him to sweeter dreams. 

It seems my emotional brain had conquered my rational one at the point for I find myself counting every minute Tommy spends in slumber. My lower lip partly swollen, painted with a rubier shade of red from my insistent nervous biting. The mechanisms of my pocket-watch as worn as the bottom of my shoes, scratched and strained from my obsessive need to watch time pass. It seems that my anxieties resonated off me like the sound of the air-raid sirens bellowing across the fields. Either that or Rosaline hunts down panic like a bloodhound to a body. She had been watching me for the past few hours now, observing my distressed ticks and decided she had seen enough. “Y/N,” she spoke gently, her hand in mine, “he’s going to be ok hon, trust me. He’s a soldier and a strong one at that. What he does not need right now is you working yourself up over him.” We both knew she was right, she was always right when it came to this kind of stuff. “I’m sorry Ro, I only just got him back I can’t bear the thought of him leaving now” I blurt out, heart thinking before my head. “Come on, go have a rest on the hill, you've been working all through the night and into the morning. I’ll watch over him hey?” I listen to her request, my body  aching, it celebrates the idea of a break. I take a deep breathe, closing my eyes, listening to reason. I give her a small nod and in return she smiles wide and gives my hand one last squeeze.  I head towards my hill, walking past the unconscious Thomas on my way. I pause just as I am about to leave the tent, closing my eyes in frustration at myself. Just walk out Y/N he’ll be fine. Come on just take another step. Just go outside. He’ll be in the exact same spot as when you left. Just go Y/N...Fucking hell. I seem not in control of my feet as I walk towards Tommy’s bed. Once I get there my eyes trace him over, not believing the beauty which lay before me. I gently place my hand on top of his and whisper to him, “Hey Tom. I’m still here don’t you worry. I’m just going up the hill for a little. Once you’re up and about I’ll show you hey? That sounds nice doesn’t it? Now you wake up soon hey and I’ll be right here.” I lean over, placing a light kiss on his forehead. “Come on Tommy, please wake up.” I force my feet to walk away and lead me outside the tent. My lips can’t decide which one I crave more right now, a cigarette or Thomas Shelby.

Tommy’s POV

Ringing. A mad fucking ringing in my ears that’s all I can hear. It feels like my blood has been replaced with cement, the heaviest of weights flowing through my veins. The ringing has turned into muffled voices and sounds, my eyelids and muscles still stuck in unconsciousness. My senses seem to be awakening alongside me as the smell of antiseptic now flooded my nose. I try to make sense of what I’m hearing, ignoring the ocean-like muffling filtering my eardrums. “...up the hill...come on Tommy” I hear a light female voice say. I feel a warmth leave my hand, perhaps she had been holding it. My heart yells to me, Y/N, it speaks. It had to be her with me. With all my might I try to reach my hand out, to move my lips, to open my eyes. Please come back. With her distraction gone, the pain which rippled through my body finally came to my attention. Fucking hell. I try to think back to what had occurred before I slept, only receiving flashing segments of memory. Both the enemy’s and our own tunnel had become one and chaos had ensued, next thing I was in this bed staring at Y/N angelic face as the nurses began their work, and finally, screaming in pain as my pretty girl removed the bullet and stitched me up. I had to wake up for her, I need to know if she is ok. It took me another 10 minutes to open my eyes, another 5 to speak. Seeing as I had just woken up, various different nurses had looked over me and to each of them I said, “Please I need to see Y/N”. It wasn’t until the one who I had seen standing with Y/N the first time I met her came to me. Rosaline, I believe Y/N told me her name was. She listened and she followed. “Right away Mr Shelby.” I breathe in, nervous excitement swelling over me. Tommy Shelby, I said to myself, you haven’t been this nervous over a girl since giving one a squashed, half-dead flower when you were 7 years old. I will act calm and collected and pray the blush on my cheeks does not give me away.

Y/N’s POV

“He’s awake!” My eyes fly open and my head turns to Ro. I take in her smile and giddy hands. He’s ok. I knew he’d be ok. My mind begins to turn at a million miles an hour. I look horrible, what do I say, did he hear what I said to him as he slept, my brain ticks faster and faster. “Hey!” Rosaline speaks, now crouched down to my level, “Don’t worry about anything, ok? He specifically asked after you. And don’t tell him I said this, but he looked kinda nervous too.” Her addicting smile lighting up each word. I felt a shy tug pulling at the edges of my lips as she revealed this to me. “Well? Get your ass in there!” I laugh at her, rising to my feet. I look to her, giving her my silent gratitude. 

My heart moves as fast as my feet, I can feel the other nurses and patients looking to me, confused as to why such a contagious smile plagues my face. And finally I see him, and he sees me. We look to each other. He smiles and laughs. I do the same. Oh Tommy. I walk to him, sitting in the chair next to his bed. “Hello, pretty girl” He smirks. “Hello, pretty boy” I look down a shy blush painting my face. He reaches out, tucking a finger under my chin, lifting my gaze back up to his. “Not exactly how I planned our next meeting to go,” he says. “What? You in a hospital bed and me with blood on my apron isn’t your idea of a perfect first date?” I reply, sarcasm lacing my tongue. He laughs, a perfect melody escaping his lips, “As long as I’m with you, I think we could make hell pleasant.” I giggle, placing my hand upon his. We sit in silence for a few moments, his thumb moving back and forth on my soft skin. I see him close his eyes and gently fall back onto his pillows. I wonder what he’s thinking of. I don’t realise I’m staring until his eyes open and he pulls me out of my trace with a few gentle words, “Is there something on my face?”. He asks in obvious jest, making playful fun of me for staring. “No no no, I just, there wasn't, I-i” He laughs. “Shh, it’s alright Y/N. It’s just funny that out of the both of us, you’re staring at me.” I smile, butterflies engulf my stomach. “How do you feel?” I ask, a fragility to my voice. “Like shit. But, nothing I’m not used to at this point” he says sadly. I squeeze his hand, hurting over the idea of him in pain. He smiles at me in response.

I decide to check his report to see when was his latest administering of medicine was, perhaps I could lessen his suffering. I see that he’s due for a bandage change and vitals check. “Ok Tommy, seeing as I am a nurse and they don’t feed me just to talk to my patients, I’m going to change your bandages ok?” He smiles at me as I stand up, moving towards his wrapped shoulder and chest. As my fingers begin to peel the old bandages off, I notice how close we are. My fingers are tracing his bare chest, our faces barely a few inches apart, he’s looking at me, his eyes flicking from my fingers, to my lips, to my furrowed brow. I’d only done this while he was asleep and I’m beginning to wish he was as his eyes burn through me. My fingers brush against his neck, I hear him sharply inhale. I watch as he closes his eyes and drag his bottom lip through his teeth, perhaps as a way to prevent any noise from happening again. “I’m sorry Tom. Does it hurt?” I ask secretly wishing it wasn’t hurt making him react like this. “No no no... Y/N you’re alright...just keep going”, he quickly replies, his face flushed a warm shade of pink. I continue with my procedures, his eyes avoiding mine whenever I look up. Oh Tommy, what are you doing to me.

I finish up, discarding of any rubbish and taking my seat once more. “All better now hey?” I say softly, my tongue forgetting all words and means of conversation. “Thank you Y/N. For all this and for keeping your promises,” he says sweetly, gently grabbing my hand and placing it in his “looks like Arthur and John are gonna have to deal with me for a little bit longer then eh?” I chuckle. “Speaking of those brothers of yours, I had word sent down when you arrived to let them know you were ok. Couldn’t have them going off and celebrating prematurely now could we?” I smirk to him. He laughs, rolling his eyes. “They’re gonna love you Y/N. I sometimes fear maybe too much” he explains, kindness glazing over his bewitching blue eyes. “Do you think I will get to meet them soon? Properly I mean. Last time I met John he was throwing up in a bucket and all I know about Arthur is what you tell me in your stories which perhaps don’t show him in the greatest of lights.” I ask, wanting to further delve into Tommy’s life. He thinks for a minute, smiling at the mention of his brothers. “Well the Christmas Ball is coming up soon. It may be the case you see them soon.” As he speaks he reaches over to the cigarettes that lay on the nearby table. He picks up two and hands the first to me, which I then place between my teeth. I reach into my pocket, retrieving my matches. As I begin to take one out, ready to light, I feel Tommy’s hand over mine as he gently takes the matches from my hands, lighting one as the match’s head explodes into flame. He carefully moves his hand towards me as he offers to light my cigarette. Naturally I lean down, watching and inhaling as the flame moves from the match to my cigarette. Our eyes lock for a brief moment, a new type of air filling my lungs and it’s not just the smoke. I relax into the chair as he lights his own. “Christmas Ball?” I speak, cutting through the thick air, “where on earth have they found a place and time during this bloody fighting to hold a Ball of all things?” He begins to speak in response, but I find myself encapsulated by the new sight in front of me. Thomas Shelby smoking was a whole other level of beauty. “Well a 2 day ceasefire has already been agreed upon by both sides and orders have been made for drinks, food and music. Arthur’s already laid out his formal gear and John has given himself a horrible home haircut in preparation” he explains, his words shaping the smoke which framed him. “And what have you done to prepare Tommy?” the question slides of my tongue. “Well you see Y/N,” He taps out the burnt ends of his cigarette into the ashtray, “I think you’ll find I’m preparing right now. It is my goal to take the prettiest girl to this Christmas Ball and she’s already fallen head over heels for me”. “Oh really?” I play along, trying to hide my smirk, “Poor girl. She must be delusional.” He hums in agreement. “Or blind” I continue. He gasps, “Y/N! My poor feelings” he jests. “Well by the sounds of it you’ve already got a date so I better work on finding mine. Shall my next letter be posted to Arthur or John?” He laughs, his now classic smirk and eye roll taking my breath away. “Now that's a poor girl. Some say it’s harder to be Arthur or John’s women than it is to be in the trenches.” I laugh, his dark humour suiting his face well. 

“Ahem.” I hear from behind me. Oh no. Come on why now. I look to Tommy as he now begins to try and hide his smile by rubbing his bottom lip. “Ahem!” I hear once more. The distinct sound of the old, grumpy, hunched over, goblin-from-hell creature that takes the form of Matron Nurse Beatrice. Bloody fucking Beatrice. I quickly rise to my feet and turn to face her. “Yes Matron?” I ask, not ready for the grilling I’m about to receive. “It seems I’ve caught you once more frat-er-niz-ing with this soldier,” I try to hold my tongue as she over-enunciates every syllable in every word, “you are under gods watch young one and he wishes to see you do good work, not whisper silly things into this young man’s ear.” I can’t believe this is happening. Of all the times. Tommy’s never going to let this down. “Do you understand me young lady?” she grunts out. “Yes Matron” “I don’t have to beat you over the head with my bible again do I sister Y/N?” I hear Tommy laugh, quickly trying to cover it as I cough. I close my eyes. Can this get any worse. “No Matron.” “Good. Well get on with it.” She turns and hobbles away, I swear I can see devils horns on her head and hooves on her feet. I turn around in silence, not even daring to look at Tommy for fear I might explode from sheer embarrassment. “You’re under gods watch Y/N” Tommy says, now deciding that what I need to hear is a wonderful Beatrice impression just to kick me while I’m down. “Don’t you dare Thomas” I look up to him. “Where’s my bible I need to give Sister Y/N a good beating” he continues, for some horrible reason he sounds exactly like her. “I’m gonna kill you Shelby.” I begin to walk away. “Not before I kill you Y/N! Let’s hope I don’t die of old age first.” he goes on with that stupid fucking impression. By now I’m nearly out of his sight, quickly shouting back “Shut up Tom”. I can already tell that little bastard is still laughing about it. Some luck I have. 

A fair amount of time had passed since my last interaction with Thomas, yet I could not help but play it out on repeat in my head. I had already gushed out to Rosaline what had happened, mind you leaving out the Matron bit for I think I may jump off a cliff if i have to deal with anymore teasing. She responded with some giddy girly screams and jumping up and down. Classic. I continued my duties until the next day, having small conversations with him, feeling bubbly after each one. However, I knew that our time together would soon come to an end. Whilst not yet fully fighting fit, he was needed back down in the tunnels. I busied myself as he was getting dressed back into his gear and cleaning his bed. I was so scared in fact that it was him who came to me, lightly grabbing my arm and spinning me towards him. “Hey pretty girl” he says. “Hello Thomas” I reply, not bothering to hide the sadness in my voice. “You know, while I was asleep I heard you speaking of a hill and you’ve also mentioned it in your letters. I was wondering if, for the last 5 minutes, you wouldn’t mind showing me? It is the sunset after all” He smiles wide, his hand moving down from my arm and into my own, our fingers interlocking. I smile at him, “I would love nothing more pretty boy.” I lead him outside and onto the hill. Mother nature had sent us a gift with the sunset painting she had provided us tonight. “It’s beautiful up here” he breathes out. “Yeah it is isn’t it” I sigh with him. “Y/N” “Thomas” we say together, laughing at our nervousness. “Thank you Tommy, for everything” I look up to him, taking a step forward. “Likewise Y/N” he steps forward as well. As I dance within his eyes, I hadn’t noticed that he lifted up one of his hands and placed it upon my cheek. We move closer. This has to be heaven. He places a delicate kiss on my skin, just beside my lips. My eyes flutter shut. This has to be a fairy tale. He rests his forehead on mine. Tranquillity had never felt so tangible. But like everything perfect it has to end. “Tommy Sir. I’m sorry Sir but it’s time.” A soldier speaks from the foot of the hill. We open our eyes and smile to each other. “Write to me” he whispers. “I will. I promise. Pinky promise.” We lock our pinkies together, I promise to write and he promises to stay alive. I feel his warmth move away, leaving me in the coldness of reality. I stand by myself my arms wrapped around my body. Just before he enters the tent he turns to face me once more. He waves, as if we were neighbours, guaranteed to see each other tomorrow morning. I smile and wave back. I pray I have not sent him back to his death

[all-things-skam]

Prompt! Elu arguing and eliott lashing out and saying something really mean to Lucas. At first Lucas pretends its fine but eliott later hears him sobbing

Title: Lost and found

Ship: Skam France | Lucas Lallemant and Eliot Demaury (Elu)

They knew it was going to happen one day or another.

While cleaning up the appartement, Lucas had found Eliott’s bottle of Lithium under a pile of dirty clothes. He picked it up to put it on the nightstand when he saw that it was still full despite the month touching to its end. Lucas had promised to not spy on Eliott regarding his medication but, it raised his concerns.

“How long?” Lucas asked when Eliott came back from work, holding the bottle of medication in his hand. He knew Eliott would get mad but medication was serious matter and Lucas would feel guilty if something happened to Eliott because he hadn’t taken his medication and he knew about it.

Eliott’s face hardened when he saw what Lucas was holding. “I thought we agreed that I was responsible enough to take my medication, we said no spying,” he said, sounding bitter.

“I wasn’t spying one you, I found then while cleaning,” Lucas corrected. “And, clearly, you’re not responsible enough because you didn’t take them, Eliott. The bottle is full when it should be almost empty.”

This angered Eliott, he didn’t like being controlled. He just didn’t get why he needed to take medication when he was feeling alright. Being around Lucas stabilized his mood and made him feeling good all the time. It just didn’t make sense for him to take it, especially since the medicine ended up decreasing his feelings and creativity. “This isn’t any of your business Lucas, I can handle them on my own!”

His tone was raised and Lucas hated picking fight with Eliott. Sometimes, he would slam the door and yell and it scared Lucas a bit.

The brunet bit his lip, trying to not flinch. “Sorry to care about your health and well being… I’m just trying to look out for you.”

Eliott shook his head in frustration. “I don’t need you breathing down my neck. I can’t live with someone who feels like they need to check over me all the time. It makes me feel like I’m suffocating Lucas! I’m not a child and I shouldn’t be treated like one! You know what? You’re just like Lucille. I thought you were different but you’re not, you’re just mothering me just like her.”

Closing his eyes, Lucas tried to stay composed but, he could tell from the lump in his throat that he would break down any time. He never thought that he’d hear those words from Eliott. Lucas was always careful to not act too controlling like Lucille was and simply look out for his boyfriend but, this time, it rubbed Eliott the wrong way and caused him to lash out at Lucas.

Lucas shook his head and walked away from the situation. He didn’t want to cry In front Eliott and he just didn’t want to argue anymore. “Come talk to me when you decide to grow up, Eliott. I was only asking for your own good. If you don’t want to take care of your own mental health then, that’s on you.”

Not letting time for Eliott to say anything, Lucas locked himself in the bathroom to prevent Eliott from following. And…seeing him cry.

Lucas wasn’t one to sob in a corner like a crybaby after a fight or argument, he prefered to sulk. But, Eliott’s words had gotten to him and he couldn’t hold his tears anymore. So, he let them flow, salty water cascading down his cheeks, crying in silence with his back resting against the door, trying to contain his sobs so it wouldn’t alert Eliott.

It took a couple breathing exercises to get Eliott to calm down, descending from his sudden burst of anger. He sat on the couch and waited for Lucas to return but started to get worried after a few minutes. What was he doing? Eliott went up to the door and knocked gently. “Lucas?”

He quickly wiped his tears with the back of his hand, sniffling. “I’m fine, Eliott. I just…I need some time alone,” he said, voice a bit hoarse from crying, holding his next tears so he wouldn’t be betrayed. Lucas couldn’t let Eliott know that he was crying. It would break him to know that he caused him enough pain to make him cry.

Eliott almost walked away, going to prepare dinner when he heard a sniffle on the other side of the door. Fuck. He had hurt him. This is exactly what Eliott feared would happen. He tugged at his hair in anger. This is why he was so hesitant to be in a relationship with Lucas. Eliott could easily hurt people without even realizing the impact of what he was doing, all because of his mood swings. He would yell, slam doors and say hurtful things on a whim. Lucas was the last person that he’d want to hurt. He couldn’t bear the thought of putting his kind hearted boyfriend through so much pain. Tonight though, he had hurt the boy he loved and he was never going to forgive himself. Lucas rarely cried and Eliott had driven to him to tears, it was all his fault.

Drawing an intake of breath, Eliott knocked a second time on the door. “Lucas… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He slide down the door and sat down, staring down at his lap as he felt the guilt building up inside him. “Come on, please, just open up, Lucas. I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you. Can we please just talk it over?”

“I’m fine, Eliott. I’m going to shower.” Lucas turned on the water but didn’t remove his clothes or got inside. He sat on the toilet lid and cried some more before actually getting the shower, realizing Eliott won’t buy his lie if he doesn’t come out of the bathroom with wet hair.

Eliott didn’t leave the door, he sat there and waited for Lucas. His heart was beating fast and a part of him feared that Lucas would come out of the shower, pack and leave. Eliott was always afraid of being abandoned because of the things he unpredictable behavior and, as much as he knew that he deserved it, he loved Lucas too much.

A few minutes later, when the bathroom door finally opened, Eliott jumped up to his feet and pulled the small, wet haired boy into a bone crushing hug. Water was dripping from Lucas’s hair onto Eliott’s shirt and his towel didn’t feel too secure around his waist but neither of them minded. It took Lucas a couple seconds to hug back. But eventually he did, wrapping his arms around Eliott’s torso as he pushed his face into his chest.

Eliott gently pulled back so that he could get a good look at Lucas, “I’m so sorry, mon amour. You’re [not] like Lucille, I should’ve never said that, I-”

Lucas shook his head. “It’s okay. You were upset-”

But, this wasn’t convincing Eliott. He knew that what he did was wrong and let Lucas brush it off as if it was nothing. “No. It’s [not] okay. Being upset isn’t an excuse to say hurtful things to you. You were only looking after me and being a caring boyfriend, nothing like Lucille…and I wasn’t being truthful with you. I’ve been feeling so good lately and you know I avoid taking it when I’m feeling well.”

Lucas bit his lip. “Do you remember what the doctor said? Medication isn’t going to ‘heal’ your brain, it’s only going to only going to stabilize your mood and prevent you from going from an extreme to another as often. But, you have to take it continuously or else it won’t work. I know you’ll be forced to take these for the rest of your life and it must suck but, going off the meds without supervision from a doctor is dangerous for your mental health and safety, Eliott.”

Eliott nodded in understanding. “I’m gonna try, okay? I’ll try for you. I don’t want this to interfere with our relationship. Maybe if I had taken my medication I wouldn’t have lashed out on you…maybe I wouldn’t have made you cry. I’m gonna do this for us, especially you.”

While Lucas could see the good intention in Eliott, he couldn’t let him do that. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You have to try for you. Not for me.”

Lucas was right. Changing for other people doesn’t work, you have to change and do thing for you if you want results.

“I’ll try for me. I promise.” Eliott held his pinky up, waiting for Lucas who chuckled at the childishness of the action and locked their pinkies together. “Now, can we start on dinner? I’m starving.”

“I’m gonna go get dressed first,” Lucas informed, still standing there in only a towel and damp hair. He made a move to head to their bedroom where his clothes were when Eliott pulled him, demanding a kiss first.

[fixxofvixx]

POSSESSION - TAEKWOON AU - Chapter 3

Well.........since @beforeyouleapoverthink and @roses-and-absinthe and others have shown this little fic so much love, I decided to post another chapter.

As always, I love knowing what you think~ 💖

🏰🏰🏰🏰🏰

You woke up screaming. Your body was soaked with sweat. You couldn't remember exactly what you were dreaming about but you just remembered running from something trying to kill you. It was different than the nightmares you usually had.

A hand touched your cheek in the darkness and you screamed again. You tried to crawl away to the other side of the bed but hands stopped you. They pulled you back to your previous spot on the bed. You kept struggling but whatever was pulling you back was stronger. The light came on in the room and you could finally see around you.

"Stop fighting. Relax." The voice sounded unfamiliar and you looked back at your captor. You renewed your fight when you saw their face. Huge, bright red eyes stared at you. Horns sprouted from their head and long fangs protruded from their mouth. You screamed and pushed at the creature trying to hold you down.

The door to the room opened and you could see Ken running in.

"Ken! Help me, please!" You tried to reach for him but he looked so confused.

"Y/N, what's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?" He came to stand next to the bed but made no move towards you.

"That's the least of my worries right now! Get this demon off me!" You still struggled against the hands that held you against the bed.

Ken looked around the room, serious now. "Demon? What are you talking about? Where?!"

"Right here," you pointed to the creature that was still trying to restrain you.

"Y/N, that's Leo. There's no demon there."

You finally stilled for a moment and then looked at the creature. Your vision was slightly blurred due to the tears streaming from them. Blinking, you now noticed the necklace around its neck. The same necklace that only the six wore. Slowly, the horrific features faded and you could see Leo's annoyed face again. You stopped struggling and he released your arms.

"His face just changed. He was a demon with horns and fangs a minute ago."

"I only saw Leo's normal face when I came in. I mean, I know he's not as handsome as me but, I wouldn't say he looks like a demon."

"But--"

"It's probably the poison making you delusional."

"But you looked normal. Why did only Leo change?"

Ken spared a glance at Leo and hesitated as if he didn't want to say it. Leo turned and walked out of the room. You settled back onto the bed and tried to calm your nerves. Your leg was on fire now caused by all the movement. Once Leo was gone Ken stepped closer.

"The red snake poison works on fear. Although I took the poison out, you will still experience some side-effects. It's designed to take your brain apart. But it can't make you fear new things. The poison just enhances what you already fear. Are you really that scared of Leo?"

You didn't know how to answer him. You couldn't put into words what you felt.

"How long will it last?"

"A couple of days at least. Then everything will be back to normal." Ken came forward and sat on the bed next to you. "I know he's not the best at showing emotions but you needn't fear him. He would never hurt you, trust me."

"Can I really not go home?" Ken sighed at your blatant attempt at avoiding the subject.

"I'm afraid not. Leo was right when he said other demons would seek out your house. While you were asleep, I took the carriage and brought everything here from your house. At least you don't have to make the long journey here when we are injured!"

"You brought all of my things?"

"Yes, Leo offered to go but I am more skilled in stealth so I could slip in and out undetected just in case the demons were already snooping around. I even brought all of your medical supplies. I put everything in the medicine room but I will let you arrange them how you want. You are welcome to use anything else there, too. In all honesty, we should have invited you to stay here long ago. We should have known it would only be a matter of time before demons sought you out."

"Thank you for getting my things. You didn't have to do that." Ken only smiled at you so you continued. "Where are the others?"

"They are wrapping things up from the last trip. I was charged with bringing Leo back since he'd been injured and I was supposed to send for you but he took off saying he would sort it out. He's kind of difficult to argue with once he's set his mind on something."

You nodded, agreeing with his assessment.

"Ken.....isn't there another room to sleep in?"

"You don't like this one?" He chuckled slightly, already knowing your answer. "We all have a room to ourselves but the others are in slight disrepair. They don't have beds and they are filthy. Just wait for a bit and we'll get one nice and cleaned up for you."

"I don't really need a bed. I could sleep on the floor or something." You looked down at your still shaking hands. Everything had seemed so real a moment ago. Now you couldn't even trust your own eyes.

"It won't take long for us to get it sorted. In the meantime, just try to relax. The more your heart rate rises, the more hallucinations you'll see." Ken rose from the bed and started for the door. "We have food in the kitchen, of course, if you're hungry. Ah! I brought in your clothes earlier. They're in a bag by the window over there. And the bathroom is just through there."

Ken pointed towards a door on the opposite side of the room and then quietly left, closing the door behind him.

Opting for cleanliness first, you carefully slipped off the bed. Pain shot up your leg and you hissed in response. You could at least walk now, although it hurt and you were limping.

You carefully took a bath and re-bandaged your leg with the materials Ken had left. You hobbled out of the room and down the short hallway. You followed along the wall, using it for support. After a bit of effort, you made it to the kitchen. Then, after twenty long minutes, some semblance of food sat before you. You had just finished with your meal when you caught movement out of the corner of your eyes. Scared that you would start hallucinating again at whatever you saw, you froze. Since Ken said that your heart rate was connected to the visions, you tried to focus on your food.

"It's just me." The realization that it was Leo didn't help your heart rate. Your grip on the fork in your hand tightened. You could feel the metal biting into your skin. He passed behind you and grabbed something from one of the cupboards. Using this as your chance to leave, you tossed the fork onto the plate and turned suddenly to leave.

Unfortunately, you ran right into Leo's chest as he turned at the same time. He released a grumble of pain and his hand went to his ribs. Remembering he was injured, your fear subsided.

"I'm sorry! Are you okay?!"

"I'm fine. Go back to the room if you're finished." You almost did but you noticed a dark stain spreading from under his dark grey shirt that he now wore. He was bleeding, most likely from a busted stitch.

"I think I opened your stitches!"

"It's fine."

"No, it's not. It could get infected or something. Let me fix it." Your fear of him all but forgotten, you grabbed his forearm and led him to the room where Ken had treated you before, albeit limping the entire way.

"I told you, it's fine. I'll get Ken to fix it."

"You know Ken can't do stitches. Sit down and remove your shirt."

Thankfully, he complied but complained under his breath. You didn't make any attempt to understand what he'd said. Grabbing everything you needed, you turned back to Leo. You gasped at the state of his stitches. Almost every one had been broken. They looked clean as if he had just washed but they were bleeding and he had extensive bruising.

"Lie down, this might take a while."

"I will stay like this. The last time I did that, you knocked me out."

"It was just to help with the pain." You said quietly, justifying your actions. You knew he was mad that you'd done that. Nonetheless, you worked on the stitches quickly, closing them one by one

"And if I hadn't woken when I did your soul would belong to that demon."

"Well, I had no idea the sheriff was a demon. When he came into the house and looked around, I feared that he might be looking for you. But when I looked at my bed, you were gone."

"I was still there, you just couldn't see me."

"You have the power of invisibility?" You looked up at him in surprise and froze. You suddenly remembered that you were speaking with Leo. For some reason your words had flowed freely while you were treating him. Now your words died in your throat.

As if to answer your question, Leo vanished before your eyes. Your entire body froze. After a moment, you lifted your hand to reach out in front of you to see if he was still there. You jumped when you felt a hand encircle your wrist. A second later, Leo materialized again. But he didn't release your wrist. You pulled against his hold but even injured he was stronger.

"You feared for my safety before with the sheriff even though you fear me yourself?"

You couldn't answer his question. You had no answer. You couldn't even look at him.

"Answer me." He tugged on your wrist but his hold wasn't painful. "Why do you fear me?"

He didn't get to press further as sounds came from the hallway outside. From the sound of it, you guessed the others were home. Leo released your wrist and you limped as quickly as you could out of the room.

[pgoeltz]

Thomas F. Kline MD, PhD                                                    JATH                                                                    Carolyn M. Concia, NP

David John Williams                          EDUCATIONAL CONSORTIUM, LLC **                 Jaime James Sanchez

                                                                                       6409 Pernod Way

                                                                                                Raleigh, North Carolina 27613

                                                                                                             919-561-0144

                                                                               Pain Refugee Statistics

                                   DATA PERTAINING TO THE PAIN REFUGEE CRISIS

April 1, 2019

A crisis ten times the size of opioid epidemic has begun to occur and is worsening daily.  I am observing it with horror from my position as an independent chronic and rare disease specialist with more than 40 years experience and no ties to anything but my responsibilities to care for all of the patient, especially when suffering.

I have never seen a health care crisis develop of this magnitude without anyone seemingly knowing it is occurring.  I could never have imagined this happening within the United States of America.

The opioid crisis has nothing to do with office pain patients with one of many permanent, painful disease disorders.  Cardiac disease needs cardiac medication.  Painful disease needs pain medication.

On March 15, 2016 the CDC issued the “Guideline for Prescription of Opioids for Chronic pain” which started the cascade of disenfranchisement of potentially millions of legitimate innocent patients with very nasty painful rare diseases.

The “Guideline” has grossly interfered with the doctor-patient relationship by implying primary care doctors needed education in safe (read reduced) prescribing, as over prescribing by doctors was responsible for the opioid epidemic.  This is a terrible accusation and needs substantial establishment of validity before a federal agency would issue such serious statement.  To this date they have not provided the needed validity.  But regardless, the “Guideline” provided the accelerant for the wildfire that is actually getting worse each day as access to medical care for painful diseases is closing rapidly.

There are 10 million patients with painful diseases (Dr. Volkow)  such as:  Ehlers-Danlos, CRPS or Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, Adhesive Arachnoiditis from spinal injections, failed back surgery, Trigeminal Neuralgia, Chiari Syndrome of the brain being displaced, advanced inoperable multi-joint destructive disease, Central Pain Syndrome with Chronic Brain Inflammation (old title “fibromyalgia), pain syndromes following trauma, especially in Veterans with war wounds, Interstitial Cystitis, and about 25 more rare disorders.  None of these can be treated with Tylenol or with CDC “alternatives”.

No one has shown prescribing “too much” is the real reason behind the “overdose deaths” in street heroin addicts, a fact the CDC failed to disclose.  Of the 40,000 overdose deaths reported by the CDC 39,500 died from heroin addiction without medical care. None of the studies looked closely at Cause of Death, just association. Association may or may not be causal, which possibly could drop prescription overdose death rate in general population to near 0. Of 64 million people prescribed opiates 500 or less possibly died of OD.

In fact “opioid exposure” is like “demon exposure.”  It actually has nothing to do with genetically driven opiate addiction or Chemical Receptor Disease.  If it were true the $600 billion spent on substance control (CRS) would have worked by now.  The reason it has not worked and will not work is the pathophysiology of type 2 addiction or classical Heroin addiction is different from other addictions where exposure to substance is a factor.

Mass hysteria or Fear of Addiction Phobia has exploded pre-existing prejudices into a destructive mythology harming a large number of innocent bystanders – the pain refugees. This national fear is as bad or worse than previous fears of being possessed by the devil leading to hangings in 1692,  fears in the 1950’s communists in every walk of life,  fear in the 1980’s with “crack cocaine dope fiends” raiding communities in the 1980s, and the fear of catching HIV on every toilet seat.  

This mass hysteria is worse now, actual deaths are occurring from suicides to relieve pain caused by forcibly stopping effective, safe medicines.  Potentially millions of lives are being ruined people unable to function without proper treatment of the painful disease.  No one is counting these. No one really is seeking the truth.

CDC may say they didn’t really mean it that way, but they published a “Guideline” that looked much like a regulation when only the FDA has congressional authority to publish concerning any prescription drug.  I was and is taken with the zealousness of a real regulation – which it is not. Internally the “Guideline” does not discuss when to use opiates with the implication that they should never be used.

The “Guideline” is written as corrective actions for the wrongs of primary care doctors.  The doctors responded by stopping the opioid prescriptions as they did after federal narcotic police arrests in beginning in 1915 after the Harrison Act, a federal attempt to control pain medicines deemed by the police to be dangerous causing “highs’.  In the last three years two thirds of primary doctors have done the same thing – “send ‘em to pain management,” whatever that is.

CDC and their opioid avoidance consultants have tried to walk back the idea of forced tapering  in a futile and illogical attempt to reduce the heroin street deaths, a ludicrous, dangerous notion that cutting based on flawed thinking that back on substance exposure is what causes heroin addiction.  This is not true. It is doesn’t even make sense.  How can taking frightening sobbing people off medicines they know have saved their functional lives stop overdoses in street addicts.  There is something very wrong with logical thinking.  It sounds more polemic and it sounds policy based on fear of medicines for pain.

Whether the CDC regulations are valid is a moot point.  As a result of demonizing 50 centuries of the opiate pain medicine, and as a result of blaming primary care doctors, and as a result attempts to remove opiate pain medicine as the drug of choice, we have nearly annihilated the use of “God’s Medicine” in the words of Sir William Osler, father of Internal Medicine.

The following descriptive data is taken from my twitter following.  There are approximately 25,000 people in this group of chronic painful disease patients.  The data is sidewalk interview type data with those choosing to respond providing the data.  Each question had between 200 and 500 respondents.  This information is offered a beginning point.  We need to further define this serious and widespread injury to potentially millions of people.

The CDC was tasked by its Scientific Advisors to follow up to see if any unintended consequences were occurring. It has been three years.  No reports have been seen.  The unintended consequences of destruction of lives and suicide deaths remain unknown but until proven otherwise the estimate remains in the millions of American citizens, mainly women. These are people who did nothing to deserve being caught in the crossfire of opioid zealotry.  

Some facts:

1.  Ten million people in the US need to take daily opiate medication, of the 25.3 million with daily pain lasting longer than three months with 15 million already trying alternatives.

2.  Four different surveys, including my own Twitter poll indicate 60-70% of the ten million are being actively tapered off opiate pain regimens without medical reason.

3.  When asked why the doctors were tapering for no reason patients reported they were told it was due to the CDC and DEA.  (“I cannot lose my license over this, you will need to deal with your pain”)

4.  Fifty percent of the ten million with legitimate long term, incurable painful diseases are completely taken off medicines that should never have been taken away lacking a medical reason.

5.  Two thirds of primary care doctors have quit prescribing opiate pain medicine in the last three years

6.  Picking up the slack, pain specialists now bursting at the seams to help those denied access for their disease, are being raided by federal and state drug squads for “having too many patients”, and “prescribing more than any other doctor” – a crime I never heard of.  Punished for helping out.

7.  This data to follow is informal and should have been obtained by the CDC.  But, the obvious is not always an illusion>  Reading the stories of 28,000 pain patients makes me believe these these probes are more than likely portray the truth.

These statistics are from those patients who have been tapered down or off their pain medicines:

--After tapering 89% had more pain, 11% less pain or no change 302 12-27

--Sleep was worse in 92%  (sleep deprivation is a new secondary disease from tapering)

--70% were forced to taper against their will with their strong protestations and tears ignored

--Dependence or having withdrawl is pretty much the same as addiction. 18% yes 2-4 82% no

-- 2/3 of patients require more than 90mg Mme per day (CDC never checked if 90mg would work)

     (FDA, the rulemaking agency for opiates has not recommended tapering and by law and regulations  has no maximum amount or dose)

--Those doing “fine” after the tapering  15%

--negative impact on parenting – 78%

--negative impact on sexuality – 88%  (78% stopped having sex altogether)

--negative impact on  social activities like PTA, church, civic activities:  57% stopped activities,  major reduction 36%, no change 3%

- -“big” problems with relationships – 92%

-- weight gain 45%, weight loss 35%, no change 20%

--considered an addict for taking pain medicine- 50% said yes

--Flagged in computers as “drug seekers” – 43%

-- agree or disagree with the statement made by opiate opposed doctors that long term opiate medicine is ineffective:  82% disagree

--Percentage of painful disease patients refused medication because they did not have cancer -69%

--Statement by CDC Director Thomas Frieden MD that “doctors are the cause of the opioid epidemic” – 82% disagreed

--Veterans: after two months off meds or tapered are you better for it? Yes better 13% worse 29% a lot worse 58% 112 1-17

--Antidepressant helped: quite a bit 9% maybe helped some 22% did not help 69%

Side effects of antidepressant: major 53% mild to moderatle 26% none 26%

--Do you know a vet: 12% no tapering 51% Stopped, 37% reduced 141 1-14

--Percentage receiving “adequate pain medicines”  17%

- suicide numbers - unknown.  CDC is reporting sharp rise in suicides especially in women.  About 70% of the population of chronic painful diseases are women, reflecting similar weighting in autoimmune disease.  CDC has not reported and data on why the increase in suicides.  It must be assumed to be related to pain so great as to make life  not a life until proved otherwise. One CDC person interviewed indicated the notion of medication tapering suicides said they were not studying this.  Google “medium suicides” for case reports.

--Problems filling their doctors’ prescriptions at the pharmacy -33%

--Major “life changes” – 68%

--Tapered off or down on pain medicines  but still doing “ok”    6%  94% worse

-- Forced tapering without a say so-  76%

-- tapering effects on employment- no change 3%, negative effect 36%, had to quit job 61%

--once tapering was found to increase pain and decrease functioning how many had their original doses restored- - 13%, 76% of practitioners refused to restore  to previous effective levels

-- Percentage of “doctor shoppers” who are addicts – 40%, percentage who are pain patients -60%

-- Percentage of patients currently looking for doctors but cannot find one--- 65% (of ten million presumably)

CDC recommends using alternative, second line treatments first, not a standard medical practice I am familiar with..  Generally we physicians like to treat with the most effective first, back ups if the drug of choice fails.  As a result of the stampede to more expensive, higher risk and reduced effectiveness we asked several questions in each poll--

--Back surgery, was it “worth it”? – yes 23% , 77% no

--Neck surgery, was it worth it?  - 68% no, 32% yes

--Physical Therapy helped – 10%,  PT made it worse 43%

-- Alternate medicines worked as well as the opiates:  5%  yes, 95% no

--Lyrica - effective in only 8%, noticeable side effects 72%

--Neurontin, side effects in more than half, worked in only 13% little or none 35% side effects bad 46% side effects minimal 6%

--Spinal Stimulators implanted by surgery, “was it worth it”? – no in 86% (40-50K dollars)

--ketamine infusions – effective in 50%  

--Morphine pumps “did it relieve pain”? – 50% yes, 50% no (30-50K dollars plus monthly fees, surgical risks)

--Injection treatments, “would you recommend to others with the same diseases?”  47% said no (high risk of addisonian adrenal suppression and adhesive arachnoiditis, a disastrous lifelong disease)

--Radiofrequency ablation, “was it worth doing?” – 79% said no, 21% said yes  (extremely painful and expensive procedure)

--of those without addiction how many felt euphoria when starting: 16%, euphoria later

--euphoria from gabepentin: heard of this? 24% yes 296 1-2

Most patients are referred to pain clinics.  The status of licensing requirements is unknown. People who no longer are treated for their pain by their regular doctors, traditionally the ones who treated pain prior to 2015, who now go to “Pain Clinics” are asked to respond on twitter polls.

Contracts, pill counts, urine-analyses were traditionally reserved for opiate addicts.  It is not clear why these methods are forced on the pain patients abandoned by their primary care practitioners.  They report the following:

--forced to sign addiction style pain contracts -80%  restricting what pharmacies to go to,  forced birth control, etc  one person committed suicide after an ER relief prescription was refused by the pharmacy due to restrictive pain control (google Medium Suicides)

--numbers reporting good care at the pain clinic- -25%, not so good in 25%, “terrible” care 50%

--Number of pain clinics not prescribing actual pain medication – 25-31%

--Number of pain clinics offering “injections only” – 41%

--Number of pain clinics refusing to prescribe pain medicines until patient agrees to injections first--34%

--Number of pain clinics prescribing pain medicine according to FDA guidelines- 18%

--Number of patients that were not sent to Pain clinics by their primary care and followed in the office for the pain treatment – 19%, with 63% were “referred out”

--50% have to pay $100-$300 for each pain clinic visit after insurance pays

--Forced to have addiction type urine tests  in spite of no one ever reported to addict already on pain medications with false positive and negative rates leading to discharge from pain clinic and labeling as drug seekers on EHR records damming the patient for ever in receiving pain medication for any reason.

--How many have problems getting your pain meds at pharmacies: at chain pharmcies 55% at independent 1% 115 sample of 15k 12-16-17

-- repeating the poll in a different way: now many in general have had problems filling your prescriptions at pharmacies- 33% have had a problem 31% at chains 2% at independent pharmacies 225 sample from 15k 12-17-17

-- “honestly now, pulling no punches do you believe over prescribing by doctors is contributing to overdose deaths Yes 18% No 82% 284 votes of 15k 12-22-17

--the CDC and PROP Believes long term medication continues to be taken after three months just to hold off withdrawal Agree 18% Disagree 82% 273 votes of 15k 12-20-17

--of you looking for new doctors to prescribe pain meds how many docs/np’s/pa’s have you contacted 1-10 34% more than 10: 9% eventually successful 15% still looking 42% 122 votes

--are you getting proper and adequate treatment for your painful disease? yes getting good treatment 21% No not getting adequate treatment for your painful disease 79% 175 votes 12-23-17

--Reactions by doctors and practitioners when telling you are going to be tapered against your will: neutral 41% vindictive 29% nice or sad 24% gleeful 6% 228 1-22

--How many of you have been denied pain medicine because you don’t have cancer 69% 251 votes

--Medical society with plan for board protection 23 votes 17% yes

In general painful disease patients are also reporting:

--34% take both benzodiazepines and opiate with no problems reported in  87%, problems in 13%

--Two percent report benzodiazepines work best to relieve pain, opiates work best 52% and the combination of benzodiazepines and opiates work best in 36%, with neither working in  10%

--Outcomes with opiate pain medicine:  89% reporting “good”

--Numbers of patients in the universe of twitter followers officially disabled from their painful diseases: 53%

--requiring more than 90mg MME for pain control: 63%

These twitter polls were conducted by JATH over the last two years.  Many of the polls were validated by other polls outside of JATH.  The polls cannot be dismissed by saying they were not properly done.  The obvious is not always an illusion.  Are these randomly stratified samplings – no.    This information is provided to issue an alert.

Opiate drugs have an addiction rate of 0.5% - a major side effect but which can be managed easily if caught early.  If each prescriber would merely ask their patients if they have ever had an opiate we would stop new deaths from opiate addiction.   With this simple question no more teenagers will die due to ignorance of the pathophysiology of opiate addiction and the different types.  There is no such thing as “addiction” or “drug abuse”, but there are types of addiction  which are very different and need to be treated differently just as we do with the two types of diabetes.  

If the answer to the critical question “ever had a pain killer before” is YES the person will never opiate addict.  If the answer is NO they will have < 1% change for genetically determined opiate addiction.  The prescriber needs to warn “no” patients to report back if they have other than a sedative effect from the narcotic especially if they “go on a magic carpet ride”   If they do,  they have opiate addiction disease, type 2.   They need not seek out heroin and die.  No new cases of addiction need to die.  Ninety percent of opiate addiction occurs in teenage years.  Why? - First exposure.   Opiate addiction differs from other forms of addiction as it is triggered by the hidden propensity for immediate addiction.  This is why the news stories report the addiction from the doctors prescription – first exposure, not “substance exposure”.  

Thus identified, the patients can be medically treated in the office. Opiate addiction is serious side effect, but it is not fatal like many serious side effects of other prescription drugs.  We need to ask more about the facts of the two types of addiction and why they are different.  We cannot apply one solution for both.  This is where the mistakes have been made, and money wasted for 100 years.   We need medical facts, pathophysiological facts before we subject millions of people to the withdrawal of medical treatment without rhyme or reason.   It is their choice to take the risks or not take the risks, not the government, not doctors cowed into harming their patients, not the drug police.

Of any new idea,  Einstein said that some things are easy to understand but hard to believe.  This is offered in that light.  I have seen it.  Heads are in the sand. A nationwide tragedy  is really happening on a scale no one could ever imagine.  

Thomas F. Kline MD, Ph.D

Chronic and Rare Disease Specialist

Raleigh, North Carolina

Web: thomasklinemd.com

Email: thomasklinemd@gmail.com    Intelligent discussions are welcome

**JATH Educational Consortium LLC is a Raleigh based research group providing unrestricted data to the medical community and the general public for policy making and improvement of medical care

[yellowind-writes]

The Dark Wave: Prologue

Boku no Hero Academia Male!Reader-Insert x Various

Rated M for violence (blood, gore, general villainy) and language. Link to intro post + index.

“BASTARD!” The glint of a dagger reflecting neon lights. The scrape of shoes against wet concrete. The damp smell that lingers after a hard rain, an unpleasant, oily scent that’s particular to the city and it’s rotting streets. Senses are on high alert but it’s all a blur. Like the vague residue of a long, troublesome dream. Some flashes vivid and others a mesh of color with no apparent connection or meaning. “FUCKING BASTARD!”

A sharp bark of laughter, insincere and mocking echoes through the dark alley. “I’m surprised it...you’re a fool...two and two...” There are pieces missing. Important pieces. It’s as if you’re listening to a record skipping over beats in a song. “I...once...and I’ll take...again...”

“YOU LIED TO ME!” A surge of darkness, even darker than the surrounding shadows, rising like an inky curtain and rushing through the small space like a storm contained within a snow globe, swirling furiously when it’s shaken. “YOU FUCKING LIED TO ME!”

There’s a woman crying outside the door. Her grief is the only thing to listen to besides the heart monitor, beeping out a calm rhythm to remind you that you’re alive. You’d love to go and tell her to shut up if it wasn’t for the fact you’re cuffed to a hospital bed and woozy from whatever medicine the staff has been giving you (mostly to ensure you don’t try to escape rather than because you’re in any pain). Whoever she is, she’s been at it for a while.

Your head hurts, throbbing in time with your pulse.

“A necessary evil...I...you...so sad it’s turned...” A scream that could’ve been yours, could’ve been someone else’s. Raw and tormented, nigh beastly. Sirens.

A gaunt man enters the room holding a scuffed up shoe box in his large, bony hands. He looks like he needs bed rest more than you do with how exhausted and frail he appears. He says nothing as he shuffles across the linoleum and settles himself in a chair beside you. The corners of his mouth pulled into a frown and his shoulders tense.

“[Name], right?” It’s not a real question so you don’t dignify it with a response, just wait for his raspy voice to continue. There’s a glint of hope in his startlingly blue eyes--

“I. AM. HERE!” A crashing boom. There are windows breaking. A car alarm going off. You aren’t on your feet anymore. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

--but what he wishes to gain from this little visit is beyond you. “I’m Yagi. I’ve brought some things for you to look at if you wouldn’t mind.”

You would mind, actually, but the lid to the show box is already being removed with slow care. It’s almost as if he’s worried any sudden movements will startle you. Inside the box is a pile of photographs and some worn old action figures with chipped paint.

You can’t help but scoff when you recognize one of them as Endeavor. The model is from earlier on in his career and manufactured cheap but it’s impossible to mistake that flaming hair for anyone else. The painted eyebrows are furrowed to mirror his signature glower. What’s this stranger doing bringing you toys and mementos?

He hands you one of the pictures. It proves difficult to hold up for examination due to being restrained but there’s no helping it. As timid as this man is acting one doubts he’d be comfortable aiding their removal. The metal around your wrists is cold and the skin irritated.

It’s a glossy capture of two boys sitting side by side on a park bench. They’re eating slices of watermelon as big as their heads. One of them has a mop of dark curls and freckles dusting his round cheeks. He’s staring at the camera with a 1,000 watt smile while the boy with [color] eyes is oblivious, munching on his summer treat and focused on something out of frame. His [color] hair is messy and there’s dirt on his chin like he’d rolled around in the bushes moments prior. They’re wearing matching All Might t-shirts.

“I’m disappointed...so young...villainy is...” You’ve seen many different expressions on heroes and wannabe heroes alike. Shock, disgust, even fear. But pity has never been one of them. You like pity even less than contempt.

It means nothing to you. Nothing at all.

“What’s the point of this?” You ask, staring blankly at the photo and then turning a glare on this Yagi fellow. He let’s out a deep sigh, deflating even more into the baggy clothes that pool around him. You try to wrack your brain to understand the situation. Try to get why you’re still chilling out in the recovery bay of some nondescript hospital instead of wearing a muzzle in maximum security.

Villains that get caught are put away and never heard of again.

“[Name], how...how far back do you remember?” He leans forward in anticipation of the answer, fingers tented and elbows on his knees. Something tells you he already has an idea of how you’ll answer. It throws you for a second. This entire thing is like a lead up to something else. “The doctors said the head trauma from the fight might’ve caused...” He trails off and waves a hand, no need for further explanation to understand what he’s trying to get at.

“What’s it to you old man?” You find the vase of daisies on the nightstand suddenly very interesting. The sun coming through the window lights up the white and yellow petals in a warm, almost ethereal glow. That woman, the one no longer sobbing out in the hall, brought them into the room earlier. She had pretty, long [color] hair but you don’t know her. You’ve never seen her or anyone similar in your life though she acted like she knew you.

At the very least they’re a much needed decoration in this sparse room. Everything else is in shades of grey. It’s terribly clinical even for a medical setting. A prison cell would be just as inviting.

“His quirk is strong...we could...be a shame to...if it failed...a waste of...”

The heart monitor picks up the pace, green pixels jumping across the screen to draw higher, steeper mountains.

Shadowy figures closing in, faces obscured. The room is dark but there’s a blinding light in front of your eyes. You can’t move. There’s something stuck in your arm (get it out, get it out, get it OUT). You want to throw up.

Your head hurts.

There’s a long silence where Yagi simply waits for you to give him an actual answer. With what little mobility you have you flick the picture into his lap. You’d been aiming for the box now perched beside him on a tray but missed.

“I remember getting my skull cracked open by All Might, if that’s what you mean. You some sort of reporter digging for a scoop? Because I don’t think there’s a story here.” You’d have the spirit to be snarkier if you weren’t drowsy still. You feel like your body is a lead weight that’s about to sink into the hard mattress and down further still into the floor. The bandages wrapped around your head itch too.

Yagi seems disappointed by this. He faces the floor, his blond hair hiding most of his face. The strands look as dry as straw. Does he even use conditioner? Or maybe he just uses too much hairspray?

“[Name], I don’t mean your recent fight with your former ‘colleague’ and resulting arrest. I mean your past. The life you had before crime.” It strikes you as he’s saying this that his sunken eyes are the most alive part of him. They’re tremendously intense as they bear into your own.

“I didn’t have a life before crime. I grew up on the streets, learned to look after myself the hard way.” It’s not entirely a lie. Your nails scrape against the stiff cotton sheets as your fingers curl into fists. “I’m pretty sure you can figure out how it went from there.”

. . .

Yagi slides the door closed behind him with a huff. This case will be a tough one. Seeing as he’s the one who apprehended you he feels a certain amount of responsibility. Not to mention learning of the tragic circumstances regarding your status as a criminal and...

He’s been aware the world is an unfair place for quite a while but it still feels like ripping open a painful wound every time he learns it anew.

“I think,” It’s hard to say. Especially to the woman standing rigid and forlorn against the wall. Her eyes bloodshot and her nose red. To have waited for so many years for a phone call only to get the news that she did. That they found her son but he wouldn’t be coming home. “I suspect his formative memories have been wiped in order to brainwash him...he doesn’t even recognize himself as a child in pictures.” He says what both of them already suspected was so.

A second before the woman draws in a shuddering breath, “What are you, or they, going to do with him? With my boy?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.”

Hopefully.

“Hey kid...use...from now on...for me.”

[wind0wg0blin]

[Some random jason x reader stuff just cause I like to write little self indulgent stuff like this now and again I usually dont post ti though so maybe dont expect this too often cause i feel embarrassed lol] 

[enjoy anyways i suppose] 

You had stupidly agreed to go on a trip with your friends to some abandoned camp site that was believed to be haunted by those who had been killed there. Though it turned out it wasn’t haunted it was just occupied by a big ass murderer who was now chasing you and your friends through the forest with a machete having already killed one of your group you all ran for your life towards the road despite it being a solid mile and half run through dense woods to get there.

Though despite your efforts you slowed out of breath leaning against a tree to catch your breath as your friends took off a head of you.

Gasping for breath you slid down the tree trying to quiet your breaths hoping at the very least since you could no longer run you could at least hide slightly in the thick under growth around the trees.

You could hear bushes rustling around you as you see a friend of yours bleeding from the arm sprint past screaming as they do so, clearly being chased. You held your breath hunkering down listening to ever sound around you.

The rustle of footsteps quickly subsided and you rose from your hiding spot glancing around before turning to head back towards the camp convinced you could make it to the car and drive for help.

You almost jumped out of your skin when you turned around a large tree coming face to face with the murderer.

Instead of screaming you spun fast on your heel planning to make a quick escape into the forest though you slammed head first into a low hanging branch. Falling to the ground you lay their unconscious as the masked murderer looked over you entirely confused as to what the fuck just happened.

You groaned as you slowly came to your head aching as you slowly blinked to regain your vision in the dim lighting.

You were laying in the bed of one the cabins. Glancing around all of yours and your friends things were there making you at first believe that everything had been a dream of yours. Though as you stood and stumbled out to the living room and saw the fire poker still embedded in the wall you knew that it had all been real.

You only took a few steps into the living room before you collapsed to your knees head spinning and vision blurring as you felt terribly light headed.

A strong hand rested on your shoulder before you were scooped up and hauled back to the bed. You gratefully laid down closing your eyes as you held your head in pain. You could feel the blankets be pulled up around your shoudlers but you didn’t dare open your eyes afraid youd only make it worse.

You feared you had a concusion as you slipped out of consciousness again having odd dreams of foggy people running from you as you were being followed by a large shadow that never strayed or grew closer no mater how fast you ran or in what direction.

You were pulled from your dream when you were awoken abruptly by someones hand on your shoulder. They helped you sit up and pressed a glass to your lips and upon realizing it was water you drank happily until the entire glass was downed.

You opened your eyes not really sure what you ecpected but it sure as shit wasn’t the guy who had tried to kill you and your friends hours before.

You just stared at him as he stared back at you only one of his eyes was responsive as you glanced back and forth before settling on the one which seemed to burn with an intensity you had never seen before.

“H-Hi” You said dumbly and he nodded in response.

He pointed to you then motioned to his head.

‘Oh he doesn’t talk, that’s not fucking terrifying.’ You thought as you deciphered, he was asking how your head was.

“Uh, Im dizzy and it hurts.” You said and he looked at you with an almost stern expression before he stood and walked away with powerful and confident strides which was a lot less scary now than when he was chasing you in the forest.

You looked around you and saw his machete on the side table of a near by bed as he had clearly been staying there while he watched over you.

Well you were thankful you weren’t dead but your future wasn’t looking too bright at the moment.

The masked man returned and held out a medicine bottle to you. It really wasn’t helping settle your nerves when you realized the label had been removed so you had to blindly trust this guy you weren’t about to drink bleach or some shit.

Welp, bottom up you thought really having no other option than to do what the guy said seeing as there was no way you were gonna beat him or run in your state.

You only took a small sip and the bitter taste had you making some apparently humorous noises as the guy actually laughed seeing you crinkle your nose from it.

He took the bottle and set it on the table beside the machete and waited occasionally asking how your head was feeling as you both simply waited. To your surprise you were actually feeling better over time.

Though whatever it was you took only made you drowsy so as you sat there you didn’t even realize your head started to bob and dip as you started to fall asleep. That was until his hands slowly pushed you down into the bed and covered you watching over you as you slept off the medicines effect.

At this point you had essentially slept through a whole day with this guy as when you woke up this time it was bright and early in the morning birds could be heard chirping out side as you once again attempted to stand and walk out into the living room.

To your surprised you made it al the way to the couch before you got dizzy and the fire poker was no longer embedded in the wall returned to its proper place albeit bent.

You laid down on the couch as you rubbed your temples trying to clear your vision as the door to the cabin swung open and slammed shut. You could hear a surprised grunt as your murderous savior glanced over to see you on the couch.

You had no idea what he was doing but it was loud and you thought your brain was gonna explode.

He must have noticed your discomfort as he came over to you and placed the medicine bottle at your side along with a glass of water and…Toast? Where the hell did this guy get? Ohhh.

Siting up you looked to see that he had been making breakfast. Homemade bread, eggs, and some kinda bacon though It looked odd cut so thick.

You felt your stomach gurgle as the smell hit you. The man chuckled deep in his chest as he motioned for you to take your medicine first. Easily taking a swing of medicine and then downing what was placed in front of you, you wobbled over to the kitchen having almost collapsed before you could get there but thankfully the guy wrapped his arm around your waist guiding you the rest of the way to the table were he served you a plate as you laid your head on the table trying to calm your swimming vision.

It was here at breakfast that you actually talked to the guy. Turns out your friends did get away though no one would be coming to save you even if they called the police as it was illegal for any one to enter the camp, seeing how it so often ended in death.

You also learned that his name was Jason and heard a bit of his backstory as to why he was here though coming off as upset you told him he could wait to tell you.

He nodded thankful as you both just enjoyed the others company as you both ate.

[makku-ruko]

Chill pill series

These characters all work at a clinic for faster and more efficient medical care. It’s quite obscure but the workers get the job done...most of the time. Killing/murder is strictly prohibited.

Paracetamol: Two sides to the same coin. On the clock, he’s rather brash, cold and bitter— strict and condescending with patients. He says it’s because of protocol as the rules state that in order for the patient to safely take the medicine, they must be in a certain frame of mind to do so— he just takes it too far, much like a switch in his brain. It may be an alter ego or a disorder. None of the clinic founders have been able to find out as of yet. When he isn’t working he’s: polite, welcoming, friendly and very reliable but there is only so much he can do. If the patient displays reactions to pain of a much larger scale, they will be transferred. If Paracetamol has too many patients however, he can become susceptible to overdosing on...himself. The limit hasn’t yet been gauged so his breaks are based on his behaviour. If it seems like he’s becoming slower mentally and physically, he’ll be ordered to close up for the day and rest.

In order to take paracetamol, the patient is asked to sit, close their eyes and open their mouth as wide as possible. There, Para will insert two or more fingers without touching the patient in any way and disperse his powder down their throat. This makes it easier for the drug to go straight into their bloodstream and take effect.

Vaccine: Vaccine is germaphobic bookworm. He prides himself on being knowledgeable and more reliable than the rest, however as he is more significant to saving a patient’s life, he was sentenced to private medical schooling in order to unlock his full potential. He is rather studious and quite proud but also timid and paranoid. His childhood friend is Heimlich as they were born around about the same time.

As he takes after the form of a syringe, he has fangs. In order to give patients their vaccinations, he is to bite them in the area they would otherwise be injected.

Heimlich: The Heimlich manoeuvre. His sole purpose is to save choking victims. His past however is rather dark and so had to be covered up lest the clinic be branded with a bad reputation.

As Heimlich is different to his other colleagues/siblings in the sense that he is essentially a method Process. Verb. Not a medication— His make up is rather unique. Kinetic energy runs in his veins so he will not bleed. The issue with this is that kinetic energy in large amounts can be catastrophic.

When Heimlich was born, he was basically a bulldozer. He knew nothing but action and couldn’t speak yet. He’d destroy everything in sight and so had to be ‘put down’ or ‘redone’. This left a scar on the tip of his left shoulder. (Lethal injection scar.)

Upon being reborn, he was tamer...too tame. When coming into contact with a choking dummy, he only watched it struggle and writhe until death with a blank expression. And so, another do-over was needed.

Next rebirth had him almost completely normal. He was obedient but begun developing his own personality. He’d become flippant and soon rebellious. The clinic founders overlooked it as a phase and allowed him the chance to have his first try at saving a choking patient as he’d managed to convince them that he was ready. Bad move. His first patient was violent and erratic. They wouldn’t let him touch them and continued running. Irritated by this, Heimlich grabbed them, growing violent himself. Trying to hold them still, he used his built-up energy too quickly and managed to break their neck. No remorse. This sent a wave of bad news through the press and the clinic begun to sink.

As a result, Heimlich was locked up in a freezer room in the hopes that the cold would slow down energy storage system. The founders thought it a good idea to leave this experience in his memory banks as it would deter him from doing it again once he was let out. Another wrong move. This caused a lot of animosity and resentment to grow within him as he was made to play back those events within his subconscious during his comatose period. 2 weeks. When he was let out, he wouldn’t speak or look at anybody but behaved himself up until he was permitted another attempt at saving a patient. This was his plan.

Once presented with another choking patient, he displayed signs of sociopathy. Grabbing a scalpel, he held it up to their face and asked them “Are you scared of me?”. Of course, the individual couldn’t answer but their response was no less than fearful. He continued all the while slowly approaching them. “Do you want me to help you? Will you run away? Does it hurt? Are you suffering.” The founders grew suspicious but were too slow to act.

“Don’t worry. I’ll save you.”

With that, the patient’s throat was promptly slitted opened. Yes, the item that was lodged in their throat was removed but only through swimming in a pool of their blood. Mission accomplished. At this point, he was well aware of the consequences and so accepted his punishment with a grin. His memories were completely wiped along with his knowledge of his own abilities. He was taught The Heimlich manoeuvre and nothing else. All he knows is to save choking patients without damaging them unless it’s necessary but only to the least degree i.e. bruising if force necessary. The rest would be taught in a controlled environment by a highly trained professional— medical school.

Despite his memories gone, he held his personality and ability to speak. As a reckless and rebellious personnel, he found a loophole and so if patients struggle in any way or make it difficult for him, he’ll use force which sometimes ends in vomit but bruising is more common. In case he goes rogue again, a security implant was embedded in his chest during his last rebirth which can shut him down and burn him out if absolutely necessary.

He is a delinquent and will skip class almost constantly but he has a soft spot for his tutor. At this current moment, he’s been schooled for a year.

—————

On his first day of class, he came in late. After being scolded, he challenged the tutor but wasn’t taken up on the offer and was put in his place. Sulking, he sat and listened to the teachings. As he was listening however, there were things he’d picked up on.

The scolding wasn’t degrading and he admired how this tutor was able to render him without a comeback. The way he spoke. It was unusual to him as he himself didn’t take seriously anything academical, but this was different. Fascinating. He’d find himself staring, forgetting to keep ignoring the lesson as to emphasise the fact that he didn’t care. His face. Could he call it handsome? He wasn’t sure. He just remembered the word but wasn’t sure where he’d learned it from. He knew he liked to see his tutor though. But one thing he was absolutely certain of was that he enjoyed being scolded by this person— causing trouble would always be worth it if this person would be the only one to reprimand him.

When Vaccine is praised for being a good student, Heimlich displays obvious signs of jealousy and so will act up just for the attention. His tutor is like a game he’d constantly want to play with and never grow bored. Next to that, he’s curious about his own attraction and so wants to push it whenever he can, so he will flirt casually without any regards to the mood. More often than not, that’s during detention.

Ethanol: (rubbing alcohol). Really shitty at flute playing. Helps patients by puking alcohol on the wounds or into a cloth to wash the wound. As a result of this, his fluids get drained quickly so he becomes his version of anaemic. From there, he’s to be transferred to ‘farm/hospital’ having his fluids replenished for over a period of a few days to weeks— it depends. Anaemia can occur sooner or later.

He’s also Heimlich’s best friend.