#i just still have this ingrained fear of meds from when i was a kid

[bugslug]

i want so badly to be able to Function on my own without relying on drugs despite having Executive Dysfunction Disorder so i keep not taking my Functioning Drugs and then getting frustrated with myself when it results in me Not Functioning Executively. why do i keep thinking maybe this time will be different

[thethirdwheel404]

Med Rewatch Series (#5)

S3 e3: Trust Your Gut. From what I remember this is a big one. I just remember this episode title honestly but we’ll see what happens.

-look at that! ava’s just casually in this scene, minding her own business, doing her job! you would never guess that this is a character who would later have a psychotic break and commit suicide.

-that’s really the point i’m trying to make. I hate all those posts where they’re like ‘i hated ava before, but season 4 has finally shown her true colors’ like not even?? no??? we’re trying to prove that that was never even a thing. i want to eliminate the possibility of s4 happening from your minds. nothing from s3 should ever be used as foreshadowing. that’s what the rewrite is about, ava being a good character. ava was never going to commit suicide. she was never gonna go psychotic. that should be ingrained in everyone’s minds.

-anyways, back to the episode.

-connor takes everything like a personal attack. relax

- i never realized how fun stoll was. like obviously not in the story but as a character he’s hilarious. unattached by everyone else’s drama

-awww. this maggie interaction is amazing. tapping sarah on the shoulder (neck actually but whatever) just to say hi. adorable. and sarah is already super jumpy. come on. her anxiety is already setting in. they really gave sarah two huge storylines in the same season.

-maggie... no one else would ever slash sarah’s tires. i mean honestly

-WHY DOES CONNOR HAVE TO CONTROL OF EVERYTHING - honestly ava was just reading off the chart and he can’t even let her do that he has to take over just to say the same things.

-and the way ava just takes it with her smug smile

-she is such a strong character there is no reason she would have gone crazy over connor she literally needs nothing from him.he has not ever had anything that she needed. 

- SHE’S JUST ROLLING HER EYES, SMIRKING, AND SHAKING HER HEAD AT THIS INSECURE MAN ava I love you.

-okay there’s no way i can explain it but after rolling her eyes at connor Ava turns and looks at the patient and instantly her face changes and you can see such pure concern in her eyes?? s4 ava could never (can someone please rb with a picture of what i’m talking about? it’s uncanny and so so sincere.)

- she’s in control of her emotions. she cares so much for her patients so don’t even try to play that card. the only thing connor has done literally since she got here is get in her way.

-AND CONNOR LOOKS AT HER WITH SUCH DISTRUST AND CONTEMPT. TELL ME HOW. this is insane. exasperating.

-and the way she smiles and comforts the patient. i mean come on. she’s just so amazing. AND COMFORTING. if ava really was as heartless as people say, she wouldn’t take the effort to do that. connor didn’t even do that, he just scowls at ava.

-which just proves my point, ava is only ever mean to people who she thinks deserve it. and, the more that I think about it, she’s never really actually mean. sure, she’s blunt and rude, but never cutting. she’s nice to her patients (and I know what you’re going to say, it’s not because she has to be. she’s a doctor, she still wants to help people). but when her patients are dicks, she’s not nice to them. she’s as snarky with as she’s professionally allowed to be.

-like, take this guy. he seems nice enough. he’s funny, polite, comes across charming, so ava is nice and is polite back to him.

-let’s move on.

-why is connor always so suspicious of ava. come on. he’s the one who should be sus. she literally said ‘Don’t worry, Ray, we’ll take good care of you’ and he’s giving her this weird side eye.

-ethan and will being in this board meeting is really adorable to me. like, just, bros.

-oh godddd sarah please relax. sweetie. please.

-sarah fucking tranqed him oh my god

-oh my god noah asking people for help literally shut the fuck up

-straight people are gross. not to hate but how does anyone sit through manstead

-connor literally needs to chill. I know this bit (they’re arguing over menial things in surgery) plays more to them just picking on each other, pulling each other’s pigtails on the playground if you will (i didn’t like that analogy but I used it anyway), but if you look at it, ava was only trying to help connor (suggesting a wider possible target and an easier to handle stitch) and connor took it wayyy to personally. sure the second bit of advise is just poking at him, but she suggested a better spot on the base and he shut her down without any thought.

-and then latham points out that there is no point in arguing, to which ava defers, then connor snidely says ‘Thank you, Doctor, Now, how about from here on out we keep the background noise to a minimum’ and ava just shakes her head, scoffing.

-at this point ava just likes annoying connor because its fun. it’s entertaining. he gets so upset. everyone’s done that, just be annoying for fun (its bad to say but i mean come on everyones done it)

-another point, ava immediately deferring to latham might read to some as her being a suck up but that’s not what it is.

-ava really likes seeing how close to the line she can get. she goes right up to it, but she never crosses it. the same is true with her interactions with other people outside of surgery.

-I really like this story of the girl who passed out and hit her head, and her brother’s a wreck, and her parents obviously think the brother’s a disappointment. and it was finals week so of course she wasn’t taking care of herself. and the brother knew that, and you can tell he cares so much and feels so bad. it’s nice

-complication on the surgery they were working on. ava comes in with a solution (off of connor’s mistake during surgery after not following her advice) but I have a sneaking suspicion that by the end connor will be back on top

-the effort it took connor to say ‘it’s a good idea’ come on man just fucking let it go

-i’m glad we’ve all agreed that connor’s just a dick

-aw look at that she even held the door for him. connor would never

-i don’t want to overly push the ‘med is sexist’ thing but how is it that in a storyline between nat and ethan, characters who have never been romantically involved, they still pull the woman thinks one thing, man refuses to believe it and is right dynamic. i mean come on med seriously. what the fuck is wrong with you.

-the look of annoyance and disbelief on ava’s face that connor hadn’t actually messed up. comedic, but also i get your pain.

-glad that latham sides with ava, ava advocating for a riskier procedure so they could ensure the blockage is removed)

-(something could be said about ava’s high-risk, high-reward ideals. you could even draw the parallel to events in s4 and s5, even though I really don’t want to. it’s an interesting and notable character trait to say the least)

-YOOOO I FORGOT HOW METAL THE PSYCH STORY GETS

-dude straight up cuts his abdomen open and his intestines spill out

-the fear and shock and emotion on sarah’s face make me feel so bad for her

-WAIT IS THIS THE EPISODE WHERE SHE LOSES THE END OF THE INSTRUMENT? IS THAT WHAT THIS IS? i am not prepared to watch an ava bekker breakdown rn.

-the shock on ava’s face when connor said nice job.

-ava actually tried to apologize to connor. well, not apologize but she feels a little bit bad for just how abrasive she’s been to connor. (connor didn’t necessarily have to make it super competitive). Ava said “Look, I know i have the tendency to step on toes. it’s nothing personal”

-and now they’re not arguing and are this close to actually working like a team

-and i cannot believe connor’s big one-liner is ��Murphy’s law’

-the emotion on april’s face when the girl’s parents won’t even let her brother grieve for her. I feel it. astounding. its so painful omg

-ava: “your optimism is enchanting.” when i was writing earlier I was worried I wasn’t being accurate with her dialogue and making it sound too overly formal but i guess I nailed it. also, this line reinforces how much I love her (so does every other line)

-connor just refusing to give ava anything, no credit, no nothing. doesn’t even give her credit for earning the surgery saying “you may have elbowed your way onto the case, but he is still my patient” (I JUST TRANSITIONED INTO A QUOTE SO SMOOTHLY WHY CANT I DO THAT IN MY LANG RHETORICAL ANALYSIS ESSAYS YOU’RE KIDDING)

-hey it’s joey!

- i can appreciate him so much more when he’s not chasing after reese

-do you remember their first meeting? bickering over who gets the last splenda? (real meet cute amirite)

-dr. charles remarking how all the scientific advances can’t beat human instinct, nice little tie in to the episode title

-ava just smiling while connor waits for her to apologize. she. takes. no. shit.

-i literally hate connor’s face so much. it fucking looks predatory like stop looking at her like that. it’s almost like you were planning her psychotic break

-ava’s cunning, saying ‘we’ instead of ‘i’ when talking about the decisions being made. she’s smart. she knows what to do. She knows how to present herself. (and yeah, a little hypocritical that she said to connor ‘when you fail, I will make sure that it is noted that it was your fault and not mine,’ but like I said, she just knows how to present herself)

-latham: “Dr. Bekker seems to enjoy this discordance.”

-rhodes’ face when changing his mind and saying ‘maybe I do’ when asked if he enjoyed it too - he literally makes the dumbest faces. please. stop. (is it a straight people thing?)

Alright. Another episode down. 17 to go. This was actually a pretty good episode all around. Ava took none of connor’s shit and you’d have to squint to find any sort of romantic subtext in their interactions, which is huge win in my book. reese’s storyline wasn’t too bad, she didn���t go through too much trauma, which, the bar for watching med is incredibly low i guess. This was a really good episode for ava. like I said before, very little romantic subtext, and she had a redeeming quality in the way she obviously cared for her patient at the beginning of the episode.

The main point is something I’ve been reiterating again and again. Ava cares about her patients. Ava is mean to connor because she knows someone needs to put him in his place, and she is glad that it is her.

All in all, this was a pretty good Ava episode. Very happy.

thanks for sticking with it.

-

read the rest here:

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Extra

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me - Chapter 1 (Six Months Later)

HUGE THANK YOU TO @tragiclyhip FOR THE AMAZING BANNER! BEAUTIFUL AS ALWAYS <3

WARNINGS: PROFANITY, Daddy Tyler (and not in the perverted way, so if that’s what you’re looking for, move along), fluff (is that a warning? lol)

TAGGING: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​

The school is two blocks from the centre of Cooktown; a one story U shaped building situated on a dead end with two acres of fenced in green space and a large, elaborate playground. It's four miles from home, and while normally the kids take the bus, Tyler finds himself parking downtown to avoid the crowded street and parking, then back tracking. Crowds still bother him; too many strangers, too much noise, too much activity. His hyper-vigilance still very much a nuisance; instincts and reflexes always on high alert when away from the comfort and familiarity of home. A combination of new meds have helped considerably; he is no longer as agitated, his temper doesn't flare up as easily, and his anxiety attacks were less frequent.

Keeping busy helps. There is always something to do with fifteen acres of property, five kids to help raise, and a small side business that he and Ovi started together. He doesn't have the time to be bored or to allow his mind to slip away to the 'bad place'; caught up with being domestic and the familiarity and routine that comes with it He finds that he thrives on those things. Craves them, in fact. More than he ever thought that he would. Night is when things get especially hard; when everyone else is at rest and the pain and the lingering sleep issues keep him awake. He has time to think then. An opportunity to think about the life he had before. It's not that he misses it. There's no desire to return; he doesn't miss travelling the world, spending time away from his family, hurting people, killing people. But after so many years, the job has become so ingrained in him that letting go is proving to be harder than  he thought it would.

When he arrives at the school, he lets himself into the property through the back gate, taking a winding cobblestone walkway to the side of the building; where he'd meet the kids instead of them being ushered to one of the waiting buses, joining dozens of other parents that wait for the dismissal bell. Half  a year later and he still finds himself scanning the crowd and the surroundings; eyes taking in everything around him, brain always at the ready to spot anything even remotely suspicious or could be considered a potential threats. Even on a school yard or at a park, he's always on alert, filled with that lingering fear and worry that there is always the chance that someone is watching or waiting to catch him off guard. So he notices -as he always does on the rare pick up day- the attention that he garners.  It's always from the mothers; the running joke at home that he's the 'insanely hot dad on the playground'.   He's heavier now; a total of twenty-five points since Dhaka six years ago. Ninety percent of the extra weight being solid muscle.  He carries it well; mostly through the chest, arms, and shoulders.  Even in a simple pair of weathered jeans and a plain grey t-shirt it's noticeable, and he sees the way a couple of mothers huddle together and begin whispering between one another, sizing him up the entire time.

Adeline begins to fuss in the baby carrier he sports. She's two weeks old; impossibly tiny -a mere five pounds, ten ounces when she was born- and so much like her mother. A head full of dark, wavy hair, enormous dark eyes and the splatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose. The 'odd duck' they often affectionately tease; the other four looking -and for the most part acting- just like him.  He lifts the corner of the receiving blanket shielding her from the sun, a palm gently cupping the back of her head, his thumb repeatedly brushing against her ear; effectively lulling her back to sleep before covering her back up. The only thing visible two tiny bare feet poking out from the bottom of the blanket.

The mothers take it as a sign to make their move, and soon he has half a dozen surrounding him. All wanting to see the baby, all asking questions at once:  Name. Age. What kind of sleeper? What kind of eater? How many siblings?.  Each of them reacting with wide, shocked eyes when he tells them that she's the last of five. It's surreal even to him sometimes.  A little over six years ago he was close to putting a gun to his head, now he's attending soccer games and dance recitals and getting up in the middle of the night to change diapers and fetch bottles.

Millie is out shortly after the bell rings, chatting and laughing with classmates as she steps through the door. A My Little Pony backpack over her shoulders and Spiderman sandals on her feet; another drawing for the fridge clasped tightly in her hand. Out of the three older kids, she's the one that has adapted the best. Easily making friends, impressing the teacher with how intelligent and athletic she is, but never taking any shit from the bigger kids and the bullies on the playground.  And she gives him a bright smile when she sees him, stopping momentarily to remove her shoes and stuff them in her backpack, then racing over in her bare feet.

“Hi daddy!” she chirps, and he wraps an arm around her waist and effortlessly hoists her up onto his hip. She takes his face in her hands, kissing him noisily before peeking under the receiving blanket. “Hi Addie,” she whispers, and then leans in to give her baby sister a peck on the nose. She'd been relieved when she hadn't gotten another brother. There'd been no need to trade this one in for a puppy.

“Let her sleep,” Tyler says, and places Millie on the ground. “Don't wake her up.”

She begins waving her classmates over to see her baby sister, and he finds himself crouching down to give the curious five and six year old's a look. His oldest proudly boasting about her 'brand spanking new' sibling and instructing them not to wake her up 'or else'. Tyler isn't sure what 'or else' means, but usually at home it's a warning to her brothers that she's about to kick some ass.

When he stands up, Millie's teacher is approaching. Young -late twenties to early thirties at the most- all long legs and torso and tiny waist; long blond hair always pulled back into a ponytail or tossed up into a messy bun. Always friendly. If not a little too friendly. Way too chatty and a little too 'touchy feely' as far as he's concerned. And he wonders if maybe that's just her personality; flirtatious by nature.

“Oh shit,” Millie grumbles, and rolls her eyes before giving a fake smile and an overly sweet, “Hello Miss Pence,” as her teacher arrives on the scene.

“Amelia,” she greets, and the soon to be six year old glares at her. “How nice of you to bring your dad along.”

She issues a sigh of exasperation. “I didn't bring him. He came to get us.”

“Don't be mouthy,” Tyler scolds, and she gives a pout and then wraps her arms around one of his thighs, her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed as she stares daggers at her teacher.

“We haven't seen you in a long time,” Miss Pence gushes, and Tyler moves his arm away when she attempts to place her hand on it.

“I've been busy.”

“I've heard. Baby number five! Is this her?”

“Don't touch her,” Millie snaps. “My sister is sleeping.”

“She's sleeping,” Tyler confirms, and plucks the edge of the blanket out of the woman's hand before she can pull it back.

“And just so you know,” Millie continues. “My daddy is married. To my mom.”

“Okay...that's enough...” he gently admonishes his daughter. “Watch your tone with people. Easy now.”

“We're having problems with that,” Miss Pence sighs. “She's so smart but she gets....well, you know....so mouthy.”

“Only to people who deserve it,” Millie defends herself.

Tyler lays a hand on the back of his daughter's head, giving the teacher a polite smile. “My wife and I will take care of it.”

“If you ever want to call me so we can chat one one one about it, I can give you my...”

“My wife and I will take care of it,” he repeats, and the young blond holds her hands up in surrender and slinks away.

“What?” Millie asks innocently when he looks down at her. “I don't like her. I don't like how she looks at you, daddy.”

“Yeah? And I don't like you talking to her like you did. That's your teacher. You don't talk like that to your teacher. To anyone.”

“Well I don't like how she looks at you and I don't think mommy would like it either. And she was going to wake Addie up! What...” she places her hands on her hips and glares at him “...if she asks you out on a date?”

“I'm married. To your mom.”

“Miss Pence doesn't care.'

“Well, I do. I'm married to your mom and I'm staying married to your mom. So....”

“She probably wants to kiss you,” Millie huffs “And do other things. That make babies.”

He frowns, opening his mouth to reprimand her, only to be interrupted by the twins -already bare foot- racing towards them, accompanied by their teacher' a short, portly woman with shoulder length grey hair. A surprisingly  tender and sweet woman despite her harsh appearance and constant stern expression.

“We had another one of those days,” she sighs, and lays a hand on TJ's head. “Not as bad as the others, but bad enough. Threw a chair, turned over a desk. I know things have been hard on him over the past few months. But we're running out of options and the principal is running out of patience.”

He wants to say 'fuck the principal'; the kid had just turned five, and was still struggling to adapt to a new life, in a new country, thousands of miles away from the only home he'd ever known. They're all struggling. In one way or the other.

“Dylan Patterson called me stupid,” TJ explains. “Twice! So...” he shrugs. “...I got mad.”

“Mad is never a good option,” his teacher says, and lays her hands on his shoulders. “And violence is never the answer.”

Tyler smirks. He wants to ask her if she's ever heard of killing two people with one garden rake. But he decides against it.

“I heard him say it, daddy,” Tanner speaks up. “I heard him call Teej stupid.”

“You just saying that because he's your brother and you want to protect him, or...”

“No! He really said it!” Tanner insists. “I heard him. I wouldn't lie about that.”

It's true. The kid never lies. Always coming clean and fessing up for things that he does.

“Daddy,” Millie tugs at his arm, and motions for him to lean down, then presses her mouth to his ear once he does. “Dylan Patterson is a dick head. He's mean to everyone.”

He frowns. “You're sure?”

Millie nods, then bounces up and down on her heels, obviously proud of herself for solving the problem.

Tyler decides to dismiss the teacher and her concerns. For now. TJ's problems are no secret. Behavioural issues that had seemed to start out of nowhere and just escalating; a hair trigger temper that he can't seem to control and doctors seem at a loss when it comes to treating.  They -parents and physicians alike- keep hoping it will pass; that being in a new house, new school, new country will just get easier on him and his problems with pass as quickly as they developed. Or that as he matures, he'll mellow out.  

“Okay guys...we gotta go...” he checks backpacks; making sure they have everything they need to come home with them and there won't need to be any trips back. Lunch bags, shoes, homework. The latter seeing absurd for that kids that young. “...we gotta pick some things up for mommy.”   He lays a hand on the back of Millie's head, gently moving her in front of him, the twins sidling up beside him, each grabbing a pocket on his jeans.

“I hope you and your wife will talk about this!” TJ's teacher calls after them. “We need to get a handle on this!”

He gives a polite, tight lipped smile over his shoulder, then looks down at the kids and grumbles, “Let's get the fuck out of here.”

All three kids burst into hysterical laughter.

****

They run errands in town; picking up a small load of groceries for that night's dinner and breakfast in the morning, and a special treat for mommy at her favourite store in town:  a small cafe that caters in cupcakes and nothing but. Afterwards Tyler takes them to the park; a chance for them to expel any excess energy that school didn't flush out of their systems. It's empty and he's grateful for that; even the smallest of interactions at the school have him feeling anxious. All the mothers that had flocked around him, the 'too friendly teacher', having to listen to someone fake sincerity when talking about his son's issues. He prefers keeping to himself; the occasional trip into town for groceries or prescriptions or things at the hardware store more than enough to fulfill his desire to be out in the public. Craving solitude; perfectly content to just stay in his own or on his own property.  He knows that isn't logical; he needs to be a functioning member of society and the only way to heal some of the past pain and trauma was to get out of his comfort zone. To challenge himself.    And he hadn't even realized just how deeply his mental issues effected him until one day the mere idea of going into a grocery store was enough to bring on a panic attack; the thought of the crowd and the noise and having to actually talk to people.

It's disheartening, to say the least. When you look in the mirror and no longer recognize yourself. He'd thought that it would be different; the job and the horrors that often came with it turning him into a tougher person, not a weaker one.  It doesn't matter how strong he was on the outside; on the inside he often feels weak and vulnerable and absolutely fucking hates it.  Even at an empty park he can't fully relax; eyes constantly scanning the treeline instead of concentrating solely on his children, attention diverted from them with each car or pedestrian that passes by.  He despises it; the seemingly constant state of alertness. By now he'd thought it would be getting better; it's been six months since he's left the job. But it only seems to be getting worse.

Still, he toughens it out; planting a smile on his face, trying his best to acknowledge every time one of the kids yells 'daddy look!', resisting the urge to constantly survey his surroundings.  

He's sitting on one of the park benches -baby laying along his as he feeds her from a bottle he'd brought with him from the car- when his namesake saunters over, yawning loudly as he plops down beside. Lying down on his side with his legs tucked into his core, head resting on Tyler's thigh; reaching out to take hold of the bottle, so his dad can drape his arm over him.

“What's up?” Tyler asks, as he rubs his son's shoulder. “Tired?”

TJ shrugs.

“You wanna talk about what's going on at school? Because what the fuck, mate?”

TJ looks up at him, grinning.

“Don't tell your mom I say that word around you guys, okay?”

“Okay,” TJ agrees, and once against rests his cheek on Tyler's leg.

“You can't do sh...things...like that at school. You can't do them anywhere. Not even at home. I know you get pissed off but you can't freak out like that. Throw chairs and desks and sh...stuff...like that. You just can't.  You hear me?”

“I can't help it,” his son says. “I really can't.”

“What do you mean you can't? You know what you're doing, yeah? Well if you know what you're doing, you can help it. You've got to calm down. Take a breath when you feel like that. Ask the teacher to leave the room. We talked about this. More than once.”

“I can't help it,” TJ insists. “It just happens. I just get so mad. I get so mad and I just do things.”

“What makes you mad?”

“I don't know. Lots of stuff. When there's too much noise and I can't hear the teacher. When someone chews their food too loud. When someone says mean things. Not just me but to other people. Makes me want to punch them right in the face!”

“Well let's not go around punching people in the face, okay? You need to learn to calm yourself down. You can't act like that. Not at school, not at home, not anywhere. Do you see me throwing stuff around when I get mad?”

“No. You just yell a lot. And really loud too.”

“Okay, well that's not exactly the best way to handle things either,” Tyler admits. “I shouldn't yell like that. Especially not at your mom. And especially not at you guys. It's scary, yeah? When I yell?”

“A little,” TJ says. “It's a little scary.”

It hurts his heart to hear that; he remembers being a scared little boy hiding in his bedroom closet as his father went on rampages. But he never stopped at just yelling; he took things that extra step, using his fists and his feet and anything he could get his hands on to terrorize Tyler's mother. And eventually Tyler himself. And he swore he'd never be like that. That he would never, ever cause that same kind of torment.

“I hate my brain,” his son laments.  “I hate how it works. It doesn't work right.”

Tyler sighs. He can understand that feeling; his own brain is a fucking disaster.  He can't help but wonder if maybe some of this is his fault. If maybe he's always been messed up but it didn't surface until he was older. If maybe Austin's cancer and his abandonment of him had been what kick started the whole thing.  And if maybe he's the reason why TJ is the way he is. That he's passed down some damaged gene that is causing his namesake the issues he's going through.  

There it is. Guilt. It always finds him. Regardless of the situation.

“You'll fix it, right daddy?” TJ asks, those blue eyes full of tears as he looks up at him. “My brain? You'll fix it right?”

Tyler gives him a reassuring smile and leans down to press a kiss to his son's forehead. “I'll do my best, mate.”

****

She's in the kitchen when they arrive home, engaged in a heated discussion with someone over the phone. Leaning stomach first against the island, cordless phone pressed to her ear, a pad of paper in front of her, alternating between twirling a pen between her fingers and angrily tapping it against the granite.  Declan on the floor between her feet; busily -and happily- emptying out the entire contents of the pots and pans cupboard. And she glances up as they all enter, giving a small, weary smile before turning her attention back to the phone call at hand.  

He sets the baby carrier on the floor and tends to the kids' usual after school routines. It's something so simple and seemingly mundane, yet he likes the simplicity of it. The same thing, every day. Nothing unexpected. He'd spent too many years dealing with that kind of bullshit; things going wrong, having to think quick in order to keep himself (and sometimes others) alive, always having to 'expect the unexpected'.  Now even the simplest of things gives him a sense of stability and calm. Even if it is unpacking school bags and cleaning out lunch pails, getting the kids to take their homework outside onto the back porch, and setting them up with the snacks that Esme has already laid out on their favourite coloured plates.

“They put me on fucking hold,” she whispers to Tyler as he steps back into the kitchen, laying a hand on her hip and pressing a kiss to the side of her head in greeting. “Twice! Fucking twice! You should talk to these assholes.”

“You're way scarier than I am,” he teases, and crouches down to clean up the mess that Declan has made; it's the OCD tendencies that have cropped up with the PTSD; a need for cleanliness and organization, which are extremely hard things to achieve with five kids in the house.

“They're such dicks,” Esme grumbles, and then giggles and directs a kick in his direction when he presses a kiss to the back of her neck, the scruff of his beard scraping against the sensitive skin.  “Do you mind?” she squeals and wriggles away when she feels the scratch against the back of her other knee. “And would you get your son out of there? He's been a little shit since we woke up. Getting into everything. Dumping the dog food, dumping the water bowl, getting into the toilet.”

“He's a ginger, what did you expect?”  he scoops Declan up off the floor, a hand on the back of that strawberry blond head as he presses a kiss to the toddler's cheek. “Aren't they all trouble?”  

“Well if you hadn't have left me alone with the cable man, he would have been yours,” she retorts, and then gives him a wink and a playful slap to the stomach.  

“Who are you talking to anyway?” Tyler asks, as he slips Declan into his high chair, tightly securing the straps. The kid is fearless and way too smart for his own good; able to get himself out of even the toughest of situations. Tall and solid. Impossibly strong for someone so young.

“Well I'm not actually talking to anyone right now. But it's the school board. About your son.”

“Yeah....apparently he had  'one of those days',” he makes air quotes around the last four words, then grabs a bottle of water and a cup of juice out of the fridge; handing the latter to Declan.  

“He's been having one of those days three times a week for six months,” Esme sighs, and begins tapping the pen even harder against the counter top. 'And you're telling me that they can't help him? Like that's their bloody job.  Hi...yes...hello...” she rolls her eyes as someone finally comes back on the line, her voice sugary sweet but her facial expression clearing indicating she's ready to commit a homicide.

He unbuckles the baby from the carrier and lays her along his forearm, body swaying back and forth ever so slightly as he stands at the sliding glass door watching the three oldest as they huddle together; more chatting and giggling than doing actual homework. He can vividly remember each one when they were as young as the one currently in his arms. It seems like a lifetime ago; bringing Millie home from the hospital, to that little apartment just outside of Sydney, scared shitless about being a father again. He'd never thought he'd get another shot at it; his first time around had ended horribly and he didn't think he deserved another chance at being a dad. He didn't sleep for months after she came home, terrified that something would happen to her if he dare closed his eyes. Obsessively checking on her every on the hour to make sure she was still breathing.

It had gotten a little easier with the twins; he wasn't as anxious and paranoid once Tanner was well enough to be released from the special care nursery.  And by the time Declan arrived, he;d hit his stride; much more comfortable with being a dad to a newborn, not panicking if the baby slept through the night, no longer having nightmares of something bad happening to them.

Addie is different though. Impossibly tiny; much more fragile and vulnerable than any of her siblings had seemed. She looks up at him as he holds her, those huge dark eyes locked on his, as if burrowing into his very soul. And he adjusts his hold on her; placing her against his chest, a forearm under her bum, a palm on the back of her head. Pressing a kiss to her cheek and closing his eyes ; enjoying that small moment between him and his daughter. His last child. The smell that clings to her clothes and hair, the feel of her soft breath against him, and how those tiny fists clutch at his t-shirt and she nestles her face into his shoulder.

“I understand that the school is getting frustrated,” Esme says behind him, and he turns to watch her, amused by the way she multitasks; easily moving between activities, never losing her stride. The phone held to her ear with her shoulder, pulling things out of the fridge for dinner, grabbing Declan goldfish crackers for a snack, snagging a bottle of water for herself. “But believe me, no one is as frustrated as we are,” she continues. “We've been waiting four months to get into a developmental pediatrician closer to home and we are not taking our five year old all the way to Sydney to see some biased hack that the board has in its back pocket.”

Tyler grins as he listens to her; feisty, tenacious. Two of the things that he'd initially attracted to. She'd walked into his place in the outback as if she'd owned it, not the slightest bit put off by his dismissive demeanour or the sight of the bottles of medication and booze. A five foot nothing spitfire that weighed a buck twenty soaking wet and handled herself with a confidence most men twice her size didn't possessed. She'd been unlike any woman he'd ever known before. A challenge that needed be solved. Sometimes she still is. Even six years later.

And she's still as beautiful. Even in a simple pair of black leggings and one of his t-shirts, hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. She's heavier now; breasts larger, hips wider. But she's had five babies. His babies. And that fact makes her even more beautiful in his eyes.

“Listen,” she huffs in exasperation. “You are not going like it if my husband starts handling all this. Because he doesn't have a filter and he won't be as polite as I'm being. So if you'd rather deal with him, that's fine. But the last time didn't go so well for you, did it.”

He smirks and sips his water.

“In fact, he's right here if you want to talk to him. I'm sure he could manage to get through to you. Because you aren't listening to a damn thing I'm saying.”  She frowns, then removes the phone from her ear and stares at it. “They hung up on me. Those fuckers.”

Tyler grins. “You just had to drop the big and bad husband card on them, didn't you. You just had to make them shit their pants.”

“Assholes,” she grumbles, and tosses the phone down onto the counter. “I'm tired of dealing with their shit. You deal with it from now on. They'll listen to you.”

“They're not listening to me. They're scared of me. There's a difference.”

“Well scare them then. First they treat our kid like complete and utter shit, then they hang up on me?”

“Want me go down there and kick some ass?”

“I'd say yes if I knew it would do something other than getting you arrested. Ughhh....” she places her hands on his hips and rests her forehead against his chest. “So frustrating! This is bullshit having to deal with this. Why can't they just help him?”

“Too much work, I guess. Too many kids need help and there's not enough people to help them.”

“Now is not the time to be diplomatic, Tyler,” she sighs, then looks up at him. “Hi, by the way.”

He presses a chaste kiss to her lips. “Hi.”

“How was she?” she places a hand on the baby's back, rubbing softly.

“Perfect. She was an angel.”

“So was Lucifer.”

“Are you seriously comparing my daughter to the devil?”

“Oh so she's just your daughter now, is she?”

“When you talk shit about her like that she is,” he teases.

“I thought Millie had you wrapped around her finger. This is even worse.”

“She's the last one. Last time we get something like this. I figured I have to enjoy every second of it.”  There would be no more. Their home and their hearts full.   And it was medically impossible, unless his surgeon had entirely fucked up the procedure.

“You really are very good at the big, strong man with a baby thing,” she muses. “It's a very attractive look on you. Especially now that you look like a sexy lumberjack.”

He smirks. “You and this sexy lumberjack shit.”

“It's true! It's exactly what you look like now.”  Almost a full thirty pounds heavier than when they'd first met; thighs thicker and more powerful, wider through the chest and shoulders. His hair short and unruly; the quintessential 'bed head' look. His beard fuller yet not untamed. “I like it,” she says. “It suits you.  And you were okay? While you were out?”

Tyler nods.

“I was surprised when I woke up and saw your text. That's brave of you. All those thirsty moms on the school yard. They haven't seen you in a while. I'm surprised you made it home. That no one scooped you up and took you home with them.”

“Were you hoping someone would or...”

“Baby, I'd miss you way too much. Who else would get the spiders and the snakes out of the house?”

“So that's why you keep me around.”

“Well there's other things too. I mean, you are pretty nice to look at it. Every woman deserves her own eye candy. And you're very easy to wake up to in the morning.”

He drops a kiss on the top of her head. “You're kinda okay, I guess.”

“Kinda okay,” she laughs, and then smacks him on the ass before heading back to start dinner. “You'd miss me if I was gone.”

Tyler nods in agreement.  She has no idea just how much.

[an-ace-phoenix]

Whumptober Day 8

8. Stab wound.

 Pain is relative.

 That's the most important thing you can ever learn. A paper cut to you, could feel like a stab wound to someone else. You must never measure someone based on your own pain threshold, because everyone has different experiences.

 However, the second most important thing, is to never measure yourself based on someone else's pain threshold. If it feels like a stab wound it's a stab wound.

 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 "Ugh." Peter groaned before he flipped the knife and slashed the tires of the car in front of him. The car rumbled to life before stopping in its tracks, the blown tire refusing to allow the getaway.

 Before the people even have a second to react, the Avengers had pounced onto the car and dragged them out, cuffing them and handing them off to the police.

 Peter took a deep breath and looked down at his side, the knife had barely even grazed him, and he knew his super healing would sort it out - probably before they even got home - so he just staggered to his feet and went to talk to Tony.

 "Good Job kid!" Tony said with a smile, "they would have escaped if you hadn't slashed that tire!"

 Peter nodded. Tony looked so proud, his face alight with a job well done and no one being badly injured, it was infectious and within seconds, Peter was beaming back.

 "Thanks Tony, glad I could be a help."

 "You always are." Tony assured, patting him on the shoulder before leading him to the car Tony arrived in - which was also going to be Peter's lift back.

 They rest if the team were staying for a bit longer - or longer than just getting changed and leaving - but Peter had school the next day and still had a bit of Chemistry homework to finish.

 Tony dumped their bags into the backseat and practically collapsed into the front, still smiling even while he grumbled about sore muscles. Peter slid into the passenger seat and quickly wound the window down, leaning out to yell bye to the team before Tony was driving off down the road.

 There were many times when Peter just looked around and wondered, how did I get here? And this was definitely one of those times. He was in a sports car, with Tony Stark at the wheel, having just completed a mission and said goodbye to the Avengers, and he had school tomorrow.

 Sure, the last one wasn't a good thing, but it was a shocking thing. They were like two separate worlds - school and Spiderman.

 "Peter?" Tony said, sounding extremely concerned, leaving Peter to wonder how many times Tony had said his name.

 "Sorry I zoned out, what is it?" He makes sure not to look up as he says it, the bright light shining through the windows starting to hurt his eyes. In fact, it's so bright it's starting to give him a bit of a headache, and he doesn't feel all that great. The gnash - because it feels slightly more like a gnash than a graze - is starting to throb. But it doesn't matter, everyone else has had worse than a paper cut, hell just grin and bear it.

 "I was asking you how school was going."

 "Oh, yea. School is going well. I had a physics test last week, I'm getting the results sometime this week." Peter said, he was sure something more exciting than a physics test must be going on, bit all he could focus on was the test. He scrunched his eyes up to try and block out the overly bright light and leaned forward slightly to try and stop the wound from throbbing.

 "Kid, are you ok? You seem" Tony waved his arms around instead of trying to use words to describe how Peter was acting.

 "Yes, I'm just tired." Peter said. It wasn't fully a lie, he was tired, bone tired. But it didn't feel like the kind of tired you can just sleep off and be fine, it felt deeper than that, ingrained into his very soul.

 "Why don't you try and get some sleep? I'll wake you when we stop for some food." Tony asked, blissfully ignorant of how Peter felt.

 To be perfectly honest, Peter felt awful. His head hurt. He felt nauseous. He felt too hot and too cold. But it was probably just cold, or just his body healing his would so making him feel like this - he was fine and after he slept, he would be even more fine.

 "Ok." He said to Tony before leaning against the car door and almost instantly falling into an uneasy sleep.

 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 "Peter!" He heard Tony's voice call as a hand roughly shook him

 "Hghh" Peter replied, trying to stay in the feeling of sleep.

 "Wake up!" Tony's voice was panicked

 "Hmmm." Peter said as he slowly opened his eyes. Tony looked as panicked as he had sounded and as soon as they made eye contact, Tony let out a deep breath.

 "W'ts wr'g?" Peter mumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He looked around and noticed they were pulled into a diner car park.

 "You - you wouldn't wake up! I thought - never mind. But are you ok. I’ve been trying to wake you for 10 minutes!"

 "I'm fine." Peter said, but even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true. Everything that had hurt before, had increased tenfold.

 “really? I'll repeat, it took me 10 minutes wake you!"

 Peter looked up at Tony's face, Tony looked so worried, Peter couldn't leave him looking like that.

 "I may have been grazed ever so slightly with a knife." Peter explained, at Tony's shocked and hurt look, he tried to sort it out, "but I'm fine, see it's just a scratch!" He amended, pulling up his top to expose his side, showing the completely normal cut with not so normally black veins coming off it.

 Wait. What?

 “Peter!” Tony gasped in shock and fear, “I thought you said it was just a graze!”

 “It was!” Peter replied before the answer suddenly came to him, “Oh, it could have been poisoned?” At Tony’s shock stare he explained, “It would make sense!”

 “Yes, it would make sense, I'm just wondering why you didn’t say anything, that must have hurt as it slowly started poisoning you” 

 Peter could tell that under Tony’s factual exterior, he was panicking.

 Peter opened his mouth to reply, to reassure Tony that he didn’t feel that bad, but darkness engulfed his vision before he could. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was Tony’s panicked face as he sprang forward to catch Peter.

 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 Ughhhhhhh

 Peter felt awful.

 Everything hurt, and that was only what he could feel from wherever he was. He couldn’t tell where he was, but it felt like he was floating.

 He really hoped he wasn’t dead. That would not be pleasant. Ok, to be fair, pleasant isn't quite the right word for how Peter would feel if he was dead, but that’s not important.

 From just beyond his haze, he heard a beeping noise. A beeping noise just like - yes! Just like you would hear in a hospital or the med bay, if you are not dead.

 Peter carefully gathered all of his will and all of his strength and gathered it right in his middle, he held tight and started swimming through his mind, towards consciousness.

 He started getting more and more of his senses back.

 He could hear the beeping of the machine.

 He could smell the hospital smell.

 He could feel a hospital bed beneath him.

 He could sense someone sitting next to him.

 He gathered up all his strength one more time and forced his eyes open.

 “Peter!”

 He turned his head towards the voice, it was Tony. Tony was here.

 “Hmmmmm.” he mumbled in response, not quite able to form words yet.

 “You’re awake. You’re ok!” Tony said, as though he hadn’t expected Peter to get through it, like he had expected Peter to just lay down and die or something.

 “Don’t be silly.” Peter mumbled out quietly, “I’m not that easy to get rid of. I’m like a cockroach, just when you think I’m gone, bam, I’m back.”

 “I’m going to ignore the fact you just called yourself a cockroach and focus on the fact you’re ok.” Tony replied with a huge smile plastered across his face.

 Peter nodded, he was still exhausted, but he was alive, Tony was here, and everything was going to be ok.

 “Go to sleep.” Tony said gently, “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

 Peter nodded again, already feeling sleep sneaking up on him. He knew he could trust Tony, if he said he would be here when Peter woke up, he would be.

[neirawrites]

Five times Adam met Death

The First Meeting

Death didn’t look the way Adam though it would. The image ingrained in his mind, one of a scary, human shaped figure, dressed in all black with satchel in his hand and crimson in his eyes was far from reality. The woman pouring tea in his polka dotted cup was far from what he had imagined.

She could have been in her 60’s; short, plump, with dark skin and a friendly smile; someone's nice grandma who knitted socks and baked awesome cookies. The moment he found her in his kitchen that morning, he knew exactly who she was. How was a mystery, but he did, and, despite her offerings of blueberry muffins, he had never been this terrified in his 18 years on this planet.

      "So, I will die today?" he repeated his question, desperate to keep his voice from cracking, like she didn’t already know exactly how he felt. The beads of sweat rolling down his forehead and the sickly green tint of his skin would have been enough of an indicator, even if she wasn’t an all knowing, immortal being.  

"No, no, not today sweetheart. In five weeks. Today, a bat will bite you and you will contract rabies. It takes a while for it to kick in."  "So, I'll just get vaccinated now that you told me." The smile she gave him was the kind usually reserved for children asking silly questions.

"Oh, sugar, I wish it was that simple. You see, I don't make this offer to everyone, just those who could do far better dead than alive." Adam bit his lip. Even if his heart still threatened to beat itself into oblivion, he didn’t like her tone of voice. He was an adult, not some kid who knew nothing of the world.

"Gee, thanks." he said. She shook her head, still smiling.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way. The thing is, my boy, if you die, you will save hundreds of thousands lives. Millions in a long run. Do you think you could do that alive?" she asked.

"What happens if I die?"  With every passing moment, the fear that only minutes ago seemed so all encompassing began to dissipate, only to be replaced with something unexpected: curiosity.

"It would be a heartwarming story, if you ask me. Your death would devastate Masha. Such a sweet soul. She really does love you so very much. She would dedicate her life to help others in your name. She already wants to be a doctor, but your death would give her a clear direction. College, med school, specialization in epidemiology. After that, the real fight would begin. A long, ungrateful one, full of ups and downs, tears and blood. But, after 76 years, thousands of lives saved and a Nobel Prize won, the world would be 100% rabies free. All in your honor." she explained. Adam didn’t answer her right away. Her words danced in his brain for a few moments. How did he deserve someone as kind as Masha?

"She would do that? Because of me?" he asked. Death took a sip of chamomile tea.

"Yes. She is a wonderful girl, she really is. So brilliant. She will go places, do great things. All this and you just have to die."

"Easy for you to say that. I’m the one dying." he said, and she nodded in agreement. 

"I have to admit, death by rabies is one of the most painful there is. I'm reaping one man just now. He doesn't seem like a happy camper." she admitted. Adam scratched his head in confusion.

"Why didn't he get this deal?" he asked. Death shrugged. All of this was far too common for her to give too much thought to.

"His life was far more significant than his death. You all have some say in the future of the world. Some less, some more. It's rare for someone to be able to change the world almost on their own and even rarer when they get to do that by dying." She explained. He stopped himself from answering immediately. An obvious question came to his mind.

"What happens if I say no?"

"World will continue to roll on; people will die and be born, life as usual. Just more work for me. I do know I will never bother you again. You are supposed to die now. If you don't, I have no business with you anymore. I'm a busy being, my child, and I don’t have the time to nag someone who refused my services."

"So, I become immortal?" he asked. The wheels in his head slowly turned, in the opposite direction of where he wanted them to go, but he lost control of his though long time ago. A bad idea. Even before it fully formed in his mind, he knew that much already. 

"For all intents and purposes. You will never age, you won't get hurt.  But, you won't be able to interact with what's destined." she added "After 5th of September, we don’t have a matrix for you to follow and you can basically do whatever you want. No destiny, no plans. Just your own free will. But, you won't be able to have children. You will be able to interact with others, but you won’t leave an impact on them. They will remember you, but you will just be someone they know, not someone they truly care about. You will be a bystander of time."  A bystander of time. Some part of him knew that mere though should have been enough to bathe him in cold sweat, but in that moment, everything was better than the alternative.

"I can die a horrible death and be the hero or live and be a shadow, but free?" he asked before he could stop himself. Death nodded again. "What happens to Masha? In this version?"

"She will lose her destiny and become something similar. A silent, unchangeable witness of humanity. It’s more difficult to say as we do have bigger plans for her. She could probably do more than you. But, it's hard even for me to know what lies ahead, especially since she will live forever, just like you."

"So, we could be immortal together?" he asked.  He and Masha were a couple for 9 months now, ever since his first day at the new high school, where she was the first one to wish him a warm welcome, with a warm smile on her face and a blueberry muffin to sweeten the deal. Ever since that moment, he knew this was the real deal. And last night, with his parents out of town and hers thinking she was at Stacey's, they made love for the first time and Adam was sure, now more than ever, Masha was the one he would spend his life with. But, why settle for just one life?

Death titled her head. Her impossibly dark eyes, overflowing with the wisdom of billions of years, stared at him, able to read every connection the neuron in his brains made, but still caught off guard by the though they came up with.

"Are you really considering this? That is...unusual." she said. Adam barely managed to look at her. She should have been angry, kill him right here and there and them, but when he averted his eyes from a cacti plant on the window sill, he found her still staring, her eyebrows raised high, like a scientist observing an experiment not going the way they planned.

"No one ever choose life?" He searched for an answer that didn’t really matter. She shook her head.

"Oh, no. They did, but usually people go for a nobler rout. When I see something like this could happen, I make this offer that guarantees you a spot in heaven. You would be saving the world, after all." she explained "And most are happy to accept. Living in the world without any purpose drives people crazy. Most can’t handle it for too long. I have seen some say no only to go mad in the matter of few years. The loneliness they face is too much for most to handle. It’s quite sad, to be honest." But Adam wouldn’t be alone. He would have Masha.

"And in that timeline where I die, is she happy?" She frowned for a moment.

"Happy? Happiness is not an emotion that gets a person to eradicate a viral disease on their own. She will have happy times, and she will achieve her goal, but she will never be completely over it. You are her first love now, aren't you? " She had more to say, but Adam interrupted her. He had the answer he needed.

"Dying? Is it painful?" he asked his last question. Death smiled again.

"Dying is a calm and peaceful event. But, the time before you die... Well, my boy, it's not pleasant." she admitted. Too honest. Why couldn’t she sugarcoat it? "But those few weeks of suffering are nothing compared to the entirety of bliss and the impact you will leave on the world. It will be worth it in the end." She made her argument and it was a compelling one indeed.  

They both sat in his kitchen in silence, sipping tea. Her aura of calm, collected powerful being permeated the room, but Adam’s thoughts were in a disarray. His brain turned into an inferno, like it was already fighting the virus that would kill him, if he gave it the chance. Die a hero or live forever? If only she hadn’t given him an alternative because the wrong future seemed too appealing to refuse. 

Death put down her empty cup.

"So, what will it be?" she asked.

Adam never claimed to be a brave man. In fact, he knew he was a coward like no other. But, he did think himself a good one. Until now. The old lady awaited, her smile reassuring and sincere. It would all be ok, she knew that much, just like he knew the right answer. He really did. It wasn't the one that came out of his mouth.

"I can't go through with it. I'm 18, I can't die. And if Masha will be sad, I can't put her through this." Death stared at him with eyes too wise for this world, eyes that knew everything. In that moment, she knew how it would end.

She knew how full of crap he was. Fear of death was a powerful motivation, but it didn’t force him to make this choice. The opportunity of immortality did. He and Masha could be together, forever, invincible and unchanging. Forever young and free. 

"Well, I can't say I expected this. You seemed like a guy who would say yes, but the choice is yours." She didn’t seem mad, only disappointed, like she expected better than this. At least they saw eye to eye in that department. -When you walk Masha back to her house tonight, a bat will fly into her hair and you will try to get it out. It will bite you." she said "If you decide to do the… well, the thing expected from you, just don’t react and I will see you in September. I wish you all the best."

"Adam, who are you talking to?" a female voice asked from the other side of the doors. When he turned around, they opened and a short young woman walked in. When she smiled at him, he knew he made the right decision. Masha, his angel, dressed in his shirt and her dark hair in a messy bun, obviously just woke up. Her smile was all he could ever ask for. And he will get to see it until the end of time.  

"Hey, I hope I didn’t wake you up." he said. The chair opposite of him wasn’t empty for long, as Masha took the cup once again full of warm chamomile tea into her light brown hands.

"No, no, you didn’t. I was just worried your parents came home early." she explained.

"Don’t worry, sugar. It’s just us. I made you some muffins. Blueberry, your favorite." he added.

"Oh, my, you are so sweet." she said "I didn’t know you can cook."

"Well, these are my special muffins. You could say they are to die for." He chuckled at his own bad joke. 

"I have a feeling I missed something." she said, but didn’t push it and just continued to eat her muffin. 

"When you’re done, we need to get to the hospital, if that’s ok with you." he added.

"Why? Is everything alright?" She dropped her muffin and her dark eyes widen in horror. He just smiled.

"Yeah, don’t worry about it.- he assured her -I just thought I should check up on my vaccination plans."                               

                              *******************************

Author’s note: This is a pretty old piece I wrote a few years ago (when i was attacked by a dog and developed a bit of hypochondria). I fixed some of the writing issues, but the plot will basically stay the same.

If you are interested, i can publish the rest of it. Let me know if you want to be tagged

Other stories:

Sarajevo winter

WIPs

A Better World

Phantom limb 

[fauvehoof]

tenaciousteddylupin​:

Teddy fell silent as Remus ordered him to wait. He was starting to realise no matter how old he got, he was always going to be his child first, and an adult second. Always going to listen to what he said. It was instinct, something ingrained within him from the very moment he was able to speak. That didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of pushing back. And as Remus continued to explain himself he knew he would because how could he not? It was complete and utter insanity. Remus never spoke about his previous experience with the Order but Tonks wasn’t shy about admitting how terrible it had been, how broken it had left him after the war. He knew that much, at least, and that was enough. “You’re what?” He demanded, shaken by how casual the sentence sounded as it fell from his father’s lips. It shouldn’t be so easy to admit, it should be difficult, and painful, because as far as he was concerned, Remus was talking about leaving his family for a mission he might not come back from. Anger bubbled up within him, and he did what he could to suppress it. He had been taught well by his parents to think before he reacted. He wasn’t always successful when it came to practising their advice. 

“No shit she’s upset.” He snapped. “She might have told you she isn’t angry but I bet it’s bullshit, Dad- I bet she’s being noble or something, trying to protect you-” He shook his head, his hair flashing a brilliant red. “Maybe she thinks if she stays calm you might see how- how-” He broke off, struggling to find the right words. He couldn’t articulate how ridiculous the idea seemed, so he changed tactics. Trying to make Remus see how much danger he would be putting himself in. Greyback was still out there, the events of the debate proved as much. He would rather die than let that man near his father again. “What if he knows who you are? Greyback?” Usually he made an effort to avoid speaking his name, but it felt important to make an impact now. To stubbornly stand his ground. “You know as well as I do most werewolves-” He stopped talking, aware his dad held a very strong disliking for the word. “People like you,” he corrected himself. “You know it’s rare anybody makes it to your age. I mean, you may as well walk around with a fucking nametag. And what about your cane? What about your meds? What about us? You can’t just leave your wife, and kids because some Death Eaters acted like Death Eaters… you have to know that.” 

Remus didn’t know if it was his older age, or just the state he was in, but if Teddy’s intention was that his outburst would unsettle Remus, knock him out of his certainty, it had the opposite effect. The fire in him wasn’t dampened, in fact, it flared more brightly still.

“Teddy-“ Remus cooed, voice soft and even.

He could see the fear in his son’s eyes and hated it. This already, Remus thought as he sat there, watching his son panic, was what war had done to them. Anger gripped Remus tightly at the thought like a vice around his chest. Teddy may not have lived through war, but his life was now eclipsed between two- and it wasn’t acceptable.

Remus winced as Teddy’s hair shone crimson, feeling the intensity of Teddy’s emotion like a stab in his side. “Teddy…” Remus tried again, his voice a low rumble. “Please-“

But it had no effect, Remus watched as his son became fully possessed by fear. He sat there, taking in Teddy’s words, swept up in empathy and so angry that the start of the war had already done this to Remus’ family. It felt like a bruise welling up in the pit of his chest, spreading with every raised word, every curse.

Remus’ jaw went slack- What about his notoriety? His cane? “Alright-” Remus tried, holding up both of his hands in a low, loose gesture to stop. But Teddy didn’t, he pushed.

And then something shifted, or broke. Remus wasn’t cognisant of having stood up, commanding his full height as he looked down on his son. He hadn’t been aware that he was leaning closer to Teddy, bowing over the table to stare into his son’s eyes, his own expression grim, eyes bright with challenge.

There was a long break in conversation as Remus’ jaw ticked with agitation. His gaze bore into Teddy, as Remus tried to keep himself from speaking. He was tired- beyond tired. Remus felt as if his personhood, his humanity, was worn thin, was being worn through by this, by Harry’s death, by what he was going to leave behind, what he was heading towards.

His son didn’t understand that if death eaters were acting like death eaters, then Order members needed to start acting like Order members. Letting Harry and Kingsley die, pulling political stunts, all of it was folly. They needed to be embedded in the death eater’s spaces, they needed to participate in what was really happening. He didn’t and wouldn’t expect Teddy to understand him, but this would be a lesson in it.

“Who else, Teddy?” Remus asked, his tone biting. “Who else does the Order have that they’d throw into those forests, eh? Who they don’t have to worry about getting bitten and becoming a monster? Who else has learned what people like me will tolerate and what they won’t? Who else could survive a night on the full moon among them? Go on Teddy- give me a name.”

“Oh yes and- Greyback.” Remus spat, his eyes widening, pupils dilated, and in a flash, Remus’ expression turned wolf like, shadowed, starved and wild. “I was 5 yeard old, Edward. FIVE!”

Remus drew back, face transformed with disgust by the memory. “He would not, and has not, known me. I can assure you. Now listen to me-“ Remus pushed himself out from behind the table, approaching Teddy with heavy steps. What did he look like? Remus couldn’t think how close he was to a complete loss of control, couldn’t bear to. Would Teddy fear him? He should, Remus thought intrusively, they all should. He couldn’t handle going down that line of thought right now.

Lightly, Remus placed his fingertips against Teddy’s chest, over his heart. “I know that you’re trying to protect me.” Remus’ voice cracked as he said it, his brow trembled as it arced upwards in pain. “And mum, and you, and Mia. I know.” The line of Remus’ mouth was still stern, still set straight and tense. He shook his head. “I don’t expect you to understand Teddy, I don’t expect you to accept this. That’s alright. But you-” Remus’ face darkened again and he forced himself to breathe. “Happily, you don’t know what I know. Luckily, you haven’t seen what I have. And I won’t let you. I won’t let it happen, Edward. I won’t. I can’t.”

[nuclearmu5hroom]

*cracks knuckles*

Get comfy kittens, we’re gonna be here a while (THANKS GUYS I LOVE YOU)

1. What do they smell like?

Chell smells like hubflower and gun oil.(hubflower smelling an awful lot like Cannabis)

Drake: No matter what he always smells clean.

2. What is their voice like?

Chell’s isn’t very girly to be honest; it has a little bit of a lower end to it (alto at least) which works well when talking to troops or trying to scare Raiders.

Drake’s voice is a high baritone, slightly nasal but flips the tone to his chest when he needs to be more persuasive.

3. What is their biggest motivator?

Chell didn’t really have any motivation at first; she was actually ready and waiting to die for the first 6 months but she just kept going anyway. Eventually she found out her kid was still alive so that pretty much consumed her to the point she amassed an army to burn the Institute to the ground.

Drake’s got a strange motivator really. After the events of his Pre War back story he ends up back home in Boston and works his way into the Institute after finding out about it from Harkness. His goal once he’s there is to take the Directorate himself and bend the surface world to his ideals. Once the Institute blows up, his primary goal is to hunt down and murder Chell for robbing him of his success.

4. Most embarrassing moment?

Chell once experimented with changing the Mentat formula in college (the precursor to Grape Mentats) and accidentally dyed her mouth purple for a week.

Drake’s was the one and only time he tried to express affection and was rejected by the boy in Pre Med.

5. How do they deal with/react to pain?

Chell wont hesitate to slam 3 vials of Med X and bump a line of Buffout to get to the next hospital if she gets hurt. She likes getting into physical fights though and enjoys the adrenaline more than any chem.

Drake….um….he likes it. Too much.

6. What do they like to wear?

Chell wears a few things; green shirt with combat boots, the Disciples wrap with ripped jeans (when she’s out traveling), or the Pack sweater with socks if she’s just at home.

Drake wears the standard SRB Institute uniform while working. Once that becomes too high profile though he opts for a clean labcoat.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively?

Chell and Hancock are inseparable. They share the same ideals of helping people and liberating people and their relationship is a huge influence on her drive to make the Commonwealth a better place.

Drake has very problematic relationships, nothing that could be considered positive. He is incapable of feeling love or romance but he is exceedingly possessive and co-dependent.  

  8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten?

Chell ate Bloatfly once. She hated it, never again. What the hell is wrong with you people.

Drake once had to eat Cram and nearly hurled cause of the texture.

9. Describe the way that they sleep.

Both have nightmares - Chell dreams about her dead husband guilting her over her lifestyle and choices post war and Drake has nightmares about THAT PLACE (how he got to the year 2260)

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food?

Chell’s favorite food is Razorgrain oatmeal with tarberry

Drake’s is spite Brahmin steak as rare as it can get.

11. What do they feel most insecure about?

Chell feels really insecure about what other people think about her. She often feels the need to please everyone unless they’ve made themselves hostile or stupid to her.

Drake can’t stand to feel like he’s failing in some respect and if he does he tends to get more belligerent and abusive.

12. How do they like to dress?

They both tend to stick with what’s practical, although I think Drake has more of a sense of hygiene so he will be more careful with his clothing and poor traveling conditions. Chell doesn’t give a fuck and will plunk herself head first in Lake Quannapowitt if given half the chance.

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt?

Chell doesn’t cope with guilt. She will binge on chems until she passes out, or get black out drunk instead of actually dealing with it.

Drake never feels guilty about anything. Ever.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal?

Chell tends to go quiet and reacts very minimally outwards. Internally though it feels like her brain is on fire. Depending on the type of betrayal, it ranges anywhere from fury to crushing depression.

Drake handles betrayal violently every time, but he will find people who aren’t involved in the issue to take it out on. Not many people survive intact.

15. What is their greatest achievement?

Chell’s greatest achievement would be helping Sturges build that damn Molecular Relay. That boy is a genius; she’s just glad she could help.

Drake’s would be crossing Siberia into the former US and trekking his way halfway across the globe in 10 years.

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep?

Chell’s pretty grumpy but she was used to the sleepless nights Prewar when she had Shaun. She functions pretty well considering and can go on about 3 hours of sleep a day if needed.

Drake is such a bitch about it, but likewise doesn’t sleep much. Its hard to tell if hes miserable from that or other things.

17. What are they like when they’re drunk?

Chell loooooves being drunk; life of the party kinda behavior. Prefers Whiskey but will slam a bottle of Bobrov’s if there’s a special occasion

Drake detests being under the influence of anything so he wouldn’t indulge.

  18. What kind of music do they enjoy?

Chell likes Rockabilly, jazz, and swing

Drake prefers Classical

19. Are they right or left handed?

Chell is right, Drake is lefty

20. Fears?

Chell fears being abandoned and left behind

Drake fears failure or being humiliated.

21. Favorite kind of weather?

Chell likes thunderstorms, rain and if she’s in the mood Radstorms are guaranteed to have her rip your clothes off. Hates the heat.

Drake would rather not be outside at all, but if he had to pick it would be overcast and cool.

22. Favorite color?

Chell’s is yellow, Drake’s would be transparent because “what kind of question is that anyway? I don’t care.”

23. Do they collect anything?

Chell likes to collect the little robot model kits and assemble them when she’s really high.

Drake used to collect small animal skulls when he was a kid but he doesn’t have time to waste on collections.

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more?

Both prefer it cooler. Summer just sucks all around.

25. What is their eye color?

Chell has blue eyes; Drake’s is dark brown/almost black

26. What is their race/ethnicity?

Both white. Drake is the whitest, white bread mayo motherfucker ever.

27. Hair color?

Both blonde, although Chell’s is a shade darker

28. Are they happy where they are currently?

Chell is actually pretty well adjusted and content. She’s very much in her element. Drake….not so much.

29. Are they a morning person?

NO.

30. Sunrise or sunset?

Neither one have a preference; Chell appreciates both equally where as Drake doesn’t give a shit about either.

31. Are they more messy or more organized?

Chell’s a mess; her house has paperwork everywhere, empty Jet canisters and beer bottles and dirty clothes on the floor.

Drake has panic attacks if there’s anything too out of place. He will be vocal and obnoxious about it but doesn’t lift a finger to fix it.

32. Pet peeves?

Chell can’t stand smugness despite being cocky herself. She also really dislikes bigoted statements or people who feel superior to others.

I could literally write a master thesis on all of Drake’s pet peeves but I will just include that he cant stand idiocy, kindness, or empathy.

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance?

Chell managed to save one baby picture of Shaun so she keeps that close to her, even after the events of the Nuclear Option.

Drake feels that personal objects only weigh a person down and the sentimentality of them is childish and irrelevant.

34. Least favorite food?

Chell - Bloatfly (as answered above)

Drake - Cram or potted meat

35. Least favorite color?

Chell - isn’t real into pink but I guess it would depend on what it is

Drake’s least favorite color is all of them

36. Least favorite smell?

Chell really has a hard time with the smell of death or decay so she is really hesitant to go places where Raiders are holed up.

Drake thinks the whole Commonwealth is just the worst in regards to odor.

37. When was the last time they cried?

Chell cried when she found out that Shaun was the head of the Institute.

Drake cried when ******* ******* **** ***** ****** ****** (you’re never going to know unless you were there.)

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried?

Chell was alone, Drake was….not….

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured?

Chell almost died fighting Sinjin; she had been so hopped up on Psycho she didn’t realize she caught a bullet in her hip and she started to bleed out. She flatlined by the time she got back to Goodneighbor and had to be resuscitated.

Drake only has to open his mouth for 3 minutes before the threat of being injured is a very real and present danger. He antagonizes the shit out of his assailant though because he likes getting hurt.

40. Do they have any scars?

Chell was burned by the cryostatis chamber on her right cheek; she also has a sizeable gouge that starts above her left eye and trails down to her lip and chin.

Drake’s a pretty boy with no scars.

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues?

Chell suffered from PPD after Shaun’s birth and some PTSD from the war when she was in Anchorage. At the moment she has survivors guilt and suffers from addition.

Drake…….Narcissistic Sociopath. *think Ted Bundy*

42. Do they have any bad habits?

Chell’s got every bad habit. She bites her fingers and tears the skin, she drinks and does way too many chems, she forgets to eat, she hates drinking water, she doesn’t sleep, she falls in love too easy.

Drake��s habits are so ingrained into him that if his routine is disrupted he gets irritable. He can’t stand disorder so he will meticulously try to straighten things.

43. Why might someone dislike them?

Chell is cocky and sarcastic with no respect for authority (IM LOOKIN AT YOU MAXSON)

and everyone should hate Drake. That’s not really a question for him haha.

44. Why might someone love them?

Chell wears her heart right on her sleeve and would move heaven and earth to make sure your safe and secure. She loves so deeply and compassionately that its hard not to love her back.

as for Drake go ask Clint cause I have no idea…. he doesn’t deserve any of your love and affection because he will absolutely use that against you to his advantage as soon as he can.

45. Do they believe in ghosts?

Chell absolutely does. She studied the occult when she was a kid and while she doesn’t have a particular religion she believes that there is definitely something beyond the mortal coil.

Drake just rolls his eyes and tells you to stop asking stupid questions

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives?

Chell trusts Preston, Hancock, Mac, Deacon, and Nick completely.

Drake literally can’t go anywhere without Clint but at the same time is constantly wondering when Clint is going to kill him.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone?

Chell: Hancock and Glory

Drake: is incapable of romance (hes aro) but he will fuck any guy he thinks he can manipulate easily.

48. Are they dating/married to anyone?

Chell: Dating Hancock (not sure if she wants to get married again)

Drake….can you call it dating if you’re bound to someone hell bent on murdering you?

49. Do they like surprises?

Chell likes certain kinds of surprises but not major ones (hey I got you flowers! :D \ Hey your kid is the head of the Institute D:)

Drake will hit you if you try to surprise him.

50. When is their birthday?

Chell: February 21st 2045 (32 at time of cryo)

Drake: November 8th 2041

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday?

Chell makes a big deal out of her birthday and will buy everyone drinks at the Third Rail or at the Dugout for weeks before and after

Drake forgot when his birthday was during the trauma of his backstory

52. Do they have any family?

Chell had a sister who had moved overseas before the bomb fell. She never knew what happened to her but at this point all of her immediate family is dead so she created her own family.

Drake was an only child. No kids.

53. Are they close to their family?

Chell was. She was particularly close to her Oma as a kid.

Drake could’ve cared less. He pretended to be a nice boy but he really felt nothing towards anyone.

54. What is their MBTI type?

I’ll be honest I’m kinda crap at assigning these so I’m gonna skip

55. What is their zodiac sign?

Chell’s Pisces

Drake’s Scorpio

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in?

Meh, not really feeling this question tbh.

57. What D&D alignment are they?

Chell is CG; Drake is NE

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about?

Answered above already.

59. What are their views on death?

Chell is afraid to die alone. She hates to think about dying and will take steps to end suffering when she can.

Drake can’t WAIT to die. Its all he’s wanted to do since he was a kid.

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at?

Chell is easily amused and laughs easily at mostly anything.

Drake only ever looks satisfied when someone else is uncomfortable or in pain

61. When bored, how do they pass time?

Chell plays checkers, draws, or reads comic books or builds models

Drake reads if he can. Old textbooks, history books mostly. He laments the lack of text that survived and misses the Institute archives.

62. Do they enjoy being outside?

Chell does, Drake no

63. Do they have an accent?

Not really

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction?

Chell gets heart eyes motherfucker.

Drake would only eat some if no one was around because he would be that guy who tells everyone he hates cake.

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say?

f Chell could help it she would want to just spend it at home at Red Rocket. In a perfect post apocalyptic world, dying in bed is a blessing so she’s aiming for that.

Drake would mouth ‘I love you’ to his murderer and die happy.

66. How do they feel about sex?

Chell - yes please. Anytime

Drake - We’re gonna do it and you’re not gonna like it

67. What is their sexuality?

Chell is Bi/Pan

Drake is Gay Aro

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood?

Both went through rigorous biology courses in College and worked in a biochemical research for the US Army. Blood isn’t an issue for either.

69. Is there anything that they find really gross?

Chell hates the giant fucking bugs everywhere like seriously what the fuck?

Drake hates when people try to be affectionate to him.

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them?

You assume I watch TV! I cant really think of appropriate answers to this question really.

71. Do they enjoy helping people?

Chell lives for helping people.

Drake serves no one but himself

72. Are they allergic to anything?

No neither one has any allergies

73. Do they have a pet?

Chell has two dogs - Dogmeat and Daisy

Drake should stay away from animals

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper?

It takes a lot to get Chell mad but sure fire ways would be being openly bigoted or just unnecessarily cruel. She also hates being taken advantage of so if you pulled a Bobbi No Nose you end up pushing daisies.

Drake is always in some state of discontent; it doesn’t take much to get him to lash out. He talks you in circles first then gaslights you until you doubt what you said. 

75. How patient are they?

Since the bombs fell Chell got a college education in patience and it bent her in a much less rigid direction than she had been Prewar.

Drake is much less patient but can appreciate the need to be if the means justify the ends. Hes only patient when he wants to be.

76. Are they good at cooking?

Chell is very good

Drake could probably cook with a recipe but cant cook beyond boiling an egg without one

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often?

Chell only insults BOS to their face if they run their mouth about Ghouls or Synths while she’s around. Otherwise if its a random skirmish she makes kissy faces and calls her opponents endearing terms while she’s clearing them out.

Drake is sassy all the time and cant go more than 5 minutes without telling you he can hear the way you breathe and you should close your mouth. 

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy?

When she’s genuinely happy shes affectionate af. If you’re traveling she will walk close and bump into you a lot. Shes giggly and bubbly when shes high, she’s highly motivated if she feels loved or happy.

Drake doesn’t really feel ‘happiness’ but he does get satisfaction

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears?

Chell can empathize with a good deal of trauma and fear so she will be as supportive as she can. She tries to encourage them to face it and to overcome.

”I must not fear, fear is the mindkiller…”

Don’t let Drake know what you’re afraid of, please. He will try to find out and he will use it against you.

80. Are they trustworthy?

This is an interesting one for Chell because in the grand scheme of things she is, but due to her chem usage she sometimes avoids or deflects responsibility until it becomes overwhelming to deal with.

Drake should never be trusted. Why would anyone do such a thing?

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it?

Chell has no problem expressing most emotion with the exception of her abandonment issues which she over compensates by trying to make herself indisposable.

Drake has like 3 emotions and he doesn’t really want to waste any of them on you.

82. Do they exercise regularly?

Does sex count as exercise? cause then yes for Chell

Drake has a really high metabolism so he always appears thin but its a softer kind of thin, the kind that has no muscle definition.

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look?

Chell is self conscious about the burn on her face but otherwise she’s alright.

Drake takes great pride in his appearance.

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people?

Chell likes eyes. They’re the windows to the soul and all that jazz.

Drake likes teeth. If you have a nice set he might be more willing to talk to you.

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive?

Chell prefers carefree, non judgmental people who can be both sweet and vicious. She needs someone in her life that can make their own decisions and be their own person but still stick with her through the thick of it.

Drake likes easily manipulated people to surround himself with but if hes confronted with a strong personality he panics because he’s rendered much more defenseless.

86. Do they like sweet foods?

Chell gets munchies. All your sugar bombs are belong to her.

Drake is indifferent really.

87. What is their age?

Biologically Chell is 32; Drake is 36.

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between?

Chell is about 5���4″ Drake is 5′7″

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts?

Chell wears glasses and is nearly blind without them, Drake has no vision problems.

90. Do they consider themselves attractive?

Chell does not. She wonders what the hell anyone even sees in her.

Drake knows hes is and it comes through loud and clear whenever he speaks to anyone.

91. What is their sense of humor like?

Chell is a sucker for a good pun and makes them often and in inappropriate situations. She doesn’t shy away from dick and fart jokes. She is 85% sarcasm.

Drake will find people getting humiliated amusing.

92. What mood are they most often in?

Chell might never be always happy, but she’s a positive realist.

Drake hides his psychopathy behind a thin veneer of distain for literally everything after the Institute was destroyed.

93. What kinds of things anger them?

Chell hates when people talk down to her, when they try to suppress peoples natural way of life. She hates the idea of coercion and brainwashing. Torture is right the fuck out.

Drake scorns compassion like the plague. If you’re kind in any way it just means you’re weak and who has time for weakness? His possessiveness of Clint also causes him to get extraordinarily hostile.

94. Outlook on life?

”Shit’s good, man.” - Chell

”Why are you bothering me again?” - Drake

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed?

Chell’s heart is with her love so losing that would crush her.

Drake has difficulties with feeling sadness but there is a definite emptiness if he finally ever finishes what he set out to do. At this point Drake’s only reason for living is to cause harm to everyone.

96. What is their greatest weakness?

Chell’s would be love.

Drake’s is his ego.

97. What is the greatest strength?

Chell’s would be love :)

Drake’s is his ego.

98. Something that they regret?

Chell carries a world of regret from her former life; regrets for joining the Army, regrets for getting married to Nate, regrets for feeling sorry for herself.

Drake regrets allowing himself to get close to anyone but he is and now he’s in it for the rest of his life (which hopefully wont be too long)

99. Biggest accomplishment?

She managed to keep and maintain a peace with 3 out of the 4 major factions and mostly everyone gets to live.

Drake has yet to accomplish what he needs to do, which is to kill Chell.

100. Create your own!

How about I don’t, but if anyone has any HC for either one of them please let me know I would be so freaking happy to have them interact with your ocs.

[twopintsandaprayer]

i’m going to mainline some tylenol and forget that this whole afternoon existed

I see a therapist, like a real live person, at the beginning of may. I’m so utterly petrified that I’m going to say the wrong thing and undermine the help that I need. I wish, like I always do, like I have always, always wished that I knew the right thing to say and the right way to act. I need to be honest, and calm, and somehow condense my 20 plus years of medical history and my fucked-up family life into a succinct, half-hour session. I have to trust this person immediately, be open, be attentive. that’s ...a tall order. like I said, I’m petrified that I won’t say what I’m supposed to in order to make my case and I’ll be dropped from priority. I come across as....well, as not really that ill.  My psychiatrist called me defensive and combative. which I am. it’s not a pleasant trait but my god its firmly in there.  I’ve been living with depression since I was about 10 but it’s not...not very visible. It takes a very long time for that sadness to be apparent to someone else. It comes across as hostility and nihilistic humour, to be honest. I don’t like admitting it to myself, how deeply this combination of futility/self-loathing goes. It comes on like it’s never left. I think I failed my exam today. I’ve been contemplating dropping out of school completely because I don’t really see the point in continuing. the margin for error is so so small and I am unforgiving towards any mistakes when I could have tried so much harder. I don’t really know how to fight, you know? And it’s all so horrible, self-reinforcing. I know, point-blank, I have no reason to be like this. Yeah, emotional abuse from my father and my mother probably is autistic and is entirely too logical and judgmental for a fuck up like me as a daughter. also she was horribly horribly emotionally abused for like, a long ass time. - like I learned no coping skills or emotional regulation and I have like, negative self-worth and I have always been super super intense, childish, and the last to pick up on any emotional cues. that’s all pretty small stuff though, like everyone has a shitty childhood? my life has been pretty privileged, I cannot deny that at all. my psychiatrist keeps looking for trauma, reasons for me being like this. I don’t...really know how to explain to him that there’s no real reason, I’ve just always been this way. too loud, too close, too possessive, too needy, too young, too slow, too judgmental, too constantly seeking validation. Wholly, completely self-centered. Emotionally manipulative. I look into my memories and there is barely anything real, it’s all just a miasma of anxiety and talking over people. like, I don’t remember what things were like when I liked myself? I must have, at some point. I don’t remember when doing stuff didn’t fill me with fear, when the memories of good times weren’t tainted by my fuckups. And the constant, constant need to be liked, to have some kind of purpose, connection, something real. Some reason to keep getting up and putting myself through all this. The amount of friendships I have ruined or that have slipped through my fingers, or I have undervalued, or I have strained, just by being me. I never, ever, know it’s going to happen until it does. There’s an inevitability to it. I mean, my father was a lovely person, until you got to know him. He would give you the shirt off his back but he’d never, ever apologize for anything. We were all happier when he lived on a separate continent. IK mean, we talked all the time and we saw him a couple times a year. But the day to day living? That’s...that’s the kind of distance my presence requires. He knew he made us that unhappy. He was so terribly unhappy himself. He had plenty of reasons. I miss him a lot. We’re basically the same person. Unhappiness just kind of oozes out, infecting everyone around us. It’s hard to see at first. But it’s there. You feel it once you get to know me. 

How do I describe that to someone I don’t know? I can barely describe it to myself. I can barely type it without crying. How inevitable and ingrained this unhappiness is. And there’s no reason for it. It’s just...it’s like I’m missing something. Some piece of humanity that would make me real. That would make what I do sincere and normal. I know I have an issue with boundaries. I know I come across way way way way too much way too quickly.  It’s been a constant refrain since I was about 10: if only I didn’t need people, I would be all right. I don’t know what I’ve done until after the fact, until its too late. Needless, endless apologies should be my tagline. 

it’s just so horribly lonely. I’m so tired of being alone. I’m constantly trapped by and surrounded by my own self-hatred. It’s so cliche it makes me sick of myself. I don’t have any reason to be this hard on myself. I don’t have any reason to be this depressed. I can barely qualify as having depression. I just ...don’t see any point? Of living? Of trying?  I don’t remember what it was like not to feel this way. I don’t think I was ever normal. 

it’s this constant struggle of ‘I have a mental illness’ and ‘no i’m just lazy and entitled and I don’t want to do the work I just want perfect results’ and ‘I don’t have a legitimate reason to be this way’ and ‘I really cannot handle this for another second’. My whole family is the type to say they’re fine when they are literally crying their eyes out/in severe amounts of pain/ready to collapse/at their limits. everything’s fine, fine, fine, always fine. 

i do know that in the end, the only one who can save me is me. i just don’t really see any reason to. Like, I keep grasping at straws? I can’t kill myself though, I can’t do that to my mother or my brother. The thought of living for another 40 years (I mean, my diabetic complications will probably get me sooner than that) just feels me with dread and exhaustion though. The primary reason I don’t want to have kids (other than medical, cause I’m on too much medication that’s rough on a fetus) is because I don’t want to be resentful towards my kid for having to stay alive for them. Who can I say that to? How horrible does that make me sound? What a fucking load of shite, I’m so full of it. For some stupid reason, I thought things would just be better? I thought being on meds, and having a stable life, and being back at school after fucking it up so badly the first time, that I’d be better? 

It’s a wasteland, though. The space between not wanting to live and not being able to die. It takes such constant effort to keep all my shit in check. everythin just spilling out everywhere. 

But I’m just...like this. This is just the way that I am. I’m so sick of myself. I can’t fully put it into words how much I hate myself. All these opportunities and possibilities and a life that’s been free of trauma and responsibilities, and I’m just ...kind of a waste? A big ole burden on my family and friends? It’s...the weight of that makes it hard to breathe. It makes it really hard to try to do anything and it’s so fucking stupid. Just this big old cycle of never ending uselessness. I don’t really believe I can do anything. Everything, friendships, communication, school work, organizing shit, engaging with things, meeting up with friends, keeping my life together. All of it is ...more than I’m really able to handle. Everything’s a bit too much? Like i was supposed to tell my bank that I’m a student by november. I got the letter and everything. 

I just never went with it to the bank. 

Still haven’t. 

Thats such a microcosm for my life. All the materials, all the ability, all the chances, all the ducks lined up in a row and then...nothing. Just a disappointment and a missed chance. 

I can’t believe I’m 32. Nothing but my own self-hatred to keep me company from here on it.  Well. And my cats. I am though, a bad cat owner. keeping these hellbeasts inside is more than I am capable of. Haha, that’s pretty low on the priority list though. 

This is the work that I need to do. I don’t have a clue how to approach it. That’s what I need help with. Finding something to hold on too. It’s getting harder and harder as I get older. It shouldn’t, because my life is actually so much better now that it was. The bad stuff just gets harder and harder to walk back from. I think it’s the loneliness? I wish I wasn’t so horribly horribly lonely. My choices are always, do it alone or don’t do anything at all. Reach out and be rejected. Reach out and panic when someone reaches back. Reach out and alienate the person forever. Reach out and be told it was not my place. Fail, again and again to differentiate. Fail, again and again to learn. 

anyway. Tylenol. sleep. one more week of exams. 

my marks are going to be so horrible this year.