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tacticalhimbo · 5 months ago

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REMEMBERING PULSE NIGHTCLUB - COMMUNITY COALITION AGAINST ONEPULSE

The only prominent post going around about the Pulse Nightclub shooting in 2016 is my own, and is unfortunately cursed to the fate of receiving reblogs of an inaccurate version. So, 8 years later, I'm doing the right thing and making a new post to properly honor the victims and their families.

May these beautiful souls rest in peace, and may we never forget their names (not in picture order, afaik):

Stanley Almodovar III, 23

Amanda Alvear, 25

Oscar A Aracena-Montero, 26

Rodolfo Ayala-Ayala, 33

Alejandro Barrios Martinez, 21

Martin Benitez Torres, 33

Antonio D Brown, 30

Darryl R Burt II, 29

Jonathan A Camuy Vega, 24

Angel L Candelario-Padro, 28

Simon A Carrillo Fernandez, 31

Juan Chevez-Martinez, 25

Luis D Conde, 39

Cory J Connell, 21

Tevin E Crosby, 25

Franky J Dejesus Velazquez, 50

Deonka D Drayton, 32

Mercedes M Flores, 26

Peter O Gonzalez-Cruz, 22

Juan R Guerrero, 22

Paul T Henry, 41

Frank Hernandez, 27

Miguel A Honorato, 30

Javier Jorge-Reyes, 40

Jason B Josaphat, 19

Eddie J Justice, 30

Anthony L Laureano Disla, 25

Christopher A Leinonen, 32

Brenda L Marquez McCool, 49

Jean C Mendez Perez, 35

Akyra Monet Murray, 18

Kimberly Morris, 37

Jean C Nieves Rodriguez, 27

Luis O Ocasio-Capo, 20

Geraldo A Ortiz-Jimenez, 25

Eric Ivan Ortiz-Rivera, 36

Joel Rayon Paniagua, 32

Enrique L Rios Jr, 25

Juan P Rivera Velazquez, 37

Yilmary Rodriguez Solivan, 24

Christopher J Sanfeliz, 24

Xavier Emmanuel Serrano Rosado, 35

Gilberto Ramon Silva Menendez, 25

Edward Sotomayor Jr, 34

Shane E Tomlinson, 33

Leroy Valentin Fernandez, 25

Luis S Vielma, 22

Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon, 37

Jerald A Wright, 31

Will it gain the traction it needs? Probably not. But I'm not as... distant, about today, as I have been over the years. Because let's face it... This hits close to home for me. I said this in my original posting, too:

As someone who lives relatively near Orlando, I remember this day so vividly and I still feel a lot of pain for the victims even five years later.

I remember biting back tears in my living room because I wasn't out of the closet, and couldn't let my family know just how much this hurt me. I remember breaking down that night while scrolling the headlines, watching as the number of fatalities kept climbing. I remember staring at the button on Facebook asking me if I was safe.

And to this day, even with those involved and responsible gone... I still do not feel safe as a queer man in this state or in this country.

More importantly, though, it's important to highlight the community impacted by it, and the way onePULSE and its founder (Barbara Poma), the city of Orlando, and the State of Florida have exploited and continue to exploit the deaths of these individuals.

Information from here on out will be taken from the Community Coalition Agaisnt a Pulse Museum's official website, which can be found at the following link: [ LINK ]

The Community Coalition Against a Pulse Museum (CCAPM) is a group of surviving victims, family members of victims, activists, and scholars who have banded together to fight against the onePULSE Foundation's privatized memorial and museum complex. Our position is that money raised in the name of the mass shooting should go to the continued care of survivors. A public memorial park that does not seek to capitalize on the mass shooting in any way is the only option for a just memorial.

In addition, we seek justice for mass shooting victims by exposing the history and scope of unpermitted renovations and code violations at Pulse, which impaired the escape and rescue of shooting victims. We believe that Pulse owners Rosario Poma and Barbara Poma should be held accountable for these violations, rather than continuing to profit from a tragedy that was exacerbated by their illegal business decisions. We also want to see the City of Orlando held accountable for their continued failure to enforce the law and bring the business into compliance.

So what are the prominent issues?

WE ARE AGAINST COMMODIFYING MASS MURDER

The onePULSE Foundation has placed a gift shop feet away from where 49 people were murdered on the site of the interim memorial. We firmly renounce putting any price tag on the murder of our loved ones. The proposed museum is also slated to have a gift shop and a price of admission.

WE ARE AGAINST TURNING A PUBLIC TRAGEDY INTO PRIVATE PROFITS

Pulse nightclub owner, Barbara Poma, refused to sell the property to the City of Orlando for a public memorial. Instead, she created the onePULSE Foundation and has taken an executive salary in her self-made position as CEO. Perks have also included national recognition, celebrity, political connections, and undeserved accolades as an LGBTQ+ ally.

WE ARE AGAINST TURNING A MASS SHOOTING INTO A TOURIST ATTRACTION

The onePULSE Foundation has received a $10 MILLION tourism development tax grant from Orange County for the building of a museum. The tax application shows how the proposed memorial/museum complex has been intended to increase tourism during the off-season. The corporate Board of Trustees also reflects the local tourism industry.

WE SUPPORT INVESTING IN THE CONTINUED CARE OF SURVIVORS

Money raised in the name of the mass shooting at Pulse is going to multi-million dollar buildings rather than the continued care of the people who were directly affected. Available services and organizations have not provided adequate care to survivors and the onePULSE Foundation has not stepped in to fill any gaps; focusing instead on cultural and "educational" programs, while ignoring the ongoing needs of survivors.

WE CALL OUT A CHANGING MISSION

For years, the onePULSE Foundation raised funds for community grants for victims' families and survivors. In 2019, "community grants" were removed from the organization's mission. According to the released 2018 990s, only $1k was spent on community grants. People have donated money to the organization thinking that they were helping survivors.

WE ACKNOWLEDGE CONFLICTS OF INTEREST

onePULSE Foundation CEO Barbara Poma is currently being sued by survivors and victims' families as part of a security negligence lawsuit. This lawsuit also alleges the illegal transfer of the Pulse nightclub property which was transferred via quit claim deed in the months after the shooting to two other LLCs owned by Barbara and Rosario Poma. Funds raised by the non-profit are being invested in the Pulse property that the Poma's still own.

As of 2024, this case is still pending, with the latest service list being posted on the docket as of June 11. The case number is publicly available (2018-CA-006102-O) and is searchable via the Orange County Clerk of Courts Record Search.

WE AFFIRM A PUBLIC MEMORIAL PARK IS STILL POSSIBLE

Public memorial parks have been the overwhelming response to mass shootings around the country, including Aurora, Columbine, Las Vegas, and Newtown. Most have been built by volunteers, with no executive salaries. The OnePULSE Foundation's proposed museum attraction seeks to unnecessarily turn the shooting into a spectacle and requires merchandising the tragedy. Mass murder is not for sale!

WE CONTINUE TO EXPOSE UNPERMITTED RENOVATIONS AND CODE VIOLATIONS

Public records affirm that Pulse Nightclub was a death trap due to its unpermitted renovations and code violations. Documents show that these issues affected the both the escape and rescue of Pulse survivors on June 12, 2016. We continue to collect, document, and uncover these issues since the City of Orlando has still not released all relevant records to the public.

Survivors of the incident, as well as their families and those who have faced similar tragedy, have also signed an open letter [ LINK ] calling attention to these issues, provided documented evidence of the above claims [ LINK ], and have also been running a petition since 2019 to call attention to the matter:

Of course, it is important to note that the individuals mentioned (Barbara Poma, the Orlando City Council, etc.) are not the only ones involved in making this state an unsafe place for its queer community.

As noted in my original posting as well, the unsafe nature of this state runs through its government. The fight for our rights, our recognition, and our safety still continues. Here are some facts from the original post (dated June 12, 2021):

In June 2021, the Governor of Florida vetoed an "item-lined budget bill" - that legally provides mental health, counseling, and compensation directly towards victims of the June 2016 Pulse nightclub Orlando shooting.

While they cannot be enforced, sodomy laws still exist in Florida to this day. Every year, we are still criminalized by a technicality.

In many places, same-sex domestic partnerships are still not granted. It is only viable in approximately nine counties, thirty cities, and one town.

It took until 2016 for same-sex couples to be granted the same parental rights during in vitro fertilization and surrogacy as opposite-sex couples. Before then, the non-biological mother and father was not the child's legal parent nor guardian.

The state's "hate crime law" only accounts for sexual orientation, and does not protect victims who were attacked for their gender identity.

Anti-discrimination laws for sexual orientation and gender identity are not state-wide nor equally applicable within each county/town.

On June 1, 2021, Governor of Florida Ron DeSantis signed a bill to exclude transgender women from participating in sports designated for female students. This bill passed because of a last-minute legislative "procedural maneuver". The HRC is currently establishing a campaign to try and stop the law from going into effect (called "nullification") on midnight July 1.

Gay-panic and Trans-panic are still viable legal defenses, resulting in these abhorrent hate crimes to be decreased from murder to the lesser charge of manslaughter.

Conversion therapy against minors is not banned state-wide, and is still legal within many areas of the state. In fact, in some areas, a ban on the practice is deemed "unenforceable".

And that is just the tip of the iceberg, because if you've been active in your advocacy for the community (or at the very least, following me for a decent period of time)... Then you know just how unsafe Florida has become. You know how, even under the Biden administration, people like Governor Ron DeSantis have gone unchallenged in their writing and enforcement of vile legislation. You know how this legislation has begun creeping its way up to the top, to the federal level, and remained unchallenged the whole way up.

Here are some more "fun facts" about just how much we must fight against in the wake of this tragedy:

States like Florida have eliminated 80% of all trans adult care (SB 254), adults can be thrown in jail for using the bathroom of their gender identity (SB 1674), and trans people with correct gender markers on their drivers licenses can be charged with fraud (Florida Dept. of Highway Safety and Motor Vehicles memo).

The State of Florida has had several travel advisories issued against it by local LGBTQ+ organizations (e.g., Equality Florida) and national organizations (e.g., Human Rights Campaign).

Likewise, many social media laws targeting "adult content and pornography" (HB 3) include sneaky, vague language that will very much target the existence of queer folk using the internet in this state.

More states within the United States are explicitly passing anti-trans legislation than not, and moreso now than ever [ source; dated June 4th ].

The time for relying on those above us is over. We MUST kill the plague of individualism and build community. If we don't support one another, nobody will. No amount of pinkwashing, placation, or sanitation will change that.

We are here. We are queer. We will never forget, and we cannot allow ourselves to.

#txt #tw homophobia #tw mass shooting #long post #orlando united #remembering pulse #lgbtq #lgbtq+#important #florida politics #no pulse museum #nopulsemuseum #justice for pulse #justice4pulse

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college-girl199328 · 2 years ago

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Critics dispute Surrey mayor's claim that police transition would lead to 55% tax hike

Mayor Brenda Locke said Friday that Surrey would need a one-time tax increase of 55 percent if the transition from the Surrey RCMP to the Surrey Police Service is not stopped.

However, the Surrey Police Service and a city councilor both said the claim was inaccurate and that Locke was using inflated budgetary numbers to make her case.

The city voted to keep the RCMP after a contentious municipal election made the police transition, which started in 2020 under previous mayor Doug McCallum, a defining issue for B.C.'s second-largest city. Locke cast the tie-breaking vote in a 5-4 split in council on Nov. 14.

A city staff report in November estimated the city would save $235 million over five years if the transition to a municipal police force was stopped. On Friday, Locke claimed a one-time tax increase of 55 percent—over existing tax rates—to recover the "funding gap" that the transition would cause.

"It is abundantly clear that a switch to the Surrey Police Service would create an untenable financial burden for Surrey taxpayers during these challenging economic times," reads Locke.

"Given the economic hardship facing Surrey taxpayers, if the transition continues and the city needs to finalize its budget, the province must move quickly to endorse Council's decision to retain the RCMP."

Locke told CBC News that the 55 percent figure was "extrapolated" from the city staff report and that the increase would apply to residential and business taxpayers. She said the figure was actually a "conservative" one.

"For an average house… that looks like $1,200 for the first year," she said. "It's about $7,700 for a business, and it will be applied." "For cities, we must balance our budgets."

Despite Locke's assertion that the transition would result in a tax increase, the city staff report does not mention that transitioning to a municipal police force would result in higher taxes.

The ultimate decision on whether the transition is halted is still in the hands of Public Safety Minister Mike Farnworth. In a statement, Farnworth said he hoped to release a decision "as soon as feasible" this year.

"I am in receipt of the City of Surrey's plan to return fully to the RCMP," he said. "I am also in receipt of the B.C. RCMP's staffing plan and a report on the status of the transition from the Surrey Police Service."

"The ministry's assessment of these plans and reports, as well as advice and recommendations from the director of police services, will inform my decision."

The Surrey Police Service, which was already partially operational and had over 300 officers, said Locke's claim was intended to confuse residents. In a statement, Chief Norm Lipinski said Locke was making "financial assumptions" to inflate the costs and savings of the police transition.

"These assumptions included a nine-month pause in the transition, which has not been previously contemplated by any party," Lipinski said, adding that no previous reports have estimated the transition from the RCMP to the SPS would take five years.

The force's report, issued in December, said it could be fully operational with more than 700 officers by mid-2024 if the transition continued.

"The costs to terminate the transition and almost 400 employees (estimated at over $200 million, including sunk costs) are also not mentioned in the mayor's statement," Lipinski said.

Linda Annis, a Surrey city councilor from the Surrey First party, said Locke's assertion was "fearmongering" that continued to confuse matters around the transition.

"We have numbers from the SPS, the RCMP, and the city, and these multiple versions continue to leave Surrey taxpayers on the sidelines and in the dark about the real facts," she said.

Annis told CBC News that there should be an independent review of the costs surrounding the transition. She also reiterated her stance from the October municipal election that there should be a referendum on the issue.

Ousted mayor Doug McCallum also condemned Locke's Friday statement, saying her proposed tax hike was "fabricated" and a bully tactic.

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stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland · 3 years ago

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I’m here since May 2019 and I’d like to brainstorm with you about the Big Proof of Love post if that’s alright, Stuck.

I remember that ask too, but I never believed and I’ll tell you why. Not only L warned us about the circus: she also was on board with them. The NY Pride 2019 picture from a CS account was a huge tip that things were fine between the girls even with the PR in it’s beginning stage. We also had several other hints like it while L kept interacting with the Diva. For me this 2019 fight didn’t happen, because they were simply sticking to their own plans.

I was a huge enthusiast of your MOM theory, but now that the PR is over maybe we should take another look at it. I don’t think anymore that her plans were to leave Epic to be independent. The Diva was never the savior like DaBaby plays in the mv and Camila’s image may have been stained a lot the last couple years, but not to a point of making her less profitable. At least until 2025, that’s when I think her contract with her management ends, I don’t see her going independent. I remember lots of asks about how damaged her image was and how her fans were leaving, but they started to repair that image and the fans came back even before the PR breakup.

In my opinion, her plan could be to leave Epic for another label negotiating a better contract that gives her a little more control than she has now. For me C&L parted ways with the Diva and his team just before or right after the pandemic started. I remember L’s first attunement live when she said no one needs to be seen right now, just after the first yawnmila stunts. Since then she’s being hell of shady and always pointing betrayals and fake friendships.

About L leaving Columbia, I think C could’ve helped, but not the same way you think. When Prelude was out she was emphatic that going independent and owning her masters at such young age wasn’t something she was expecting and that many artists dream about it, but can’t at the beginning of their careers and how she was lucky to be able to do it. So it wasn’t something they planned, it was probably a opportunity that came along and they took it.

You see, usually a label pays in advance from six to seven figures when they sign an artist. It’s not a lot of money for them to pay back considering the money they make with sponsorships and other incomes, but take look at Prince’s saga with Warner. Despite having millions of dollars, the best lawyers that money could buy and a huge fan base even he couldn’t get out of his contract. He did get away with certain loopholes, though.

And that’s what I think happened with L, she found a loophole. As much money as the PR could have brought C, still would be really difficult for her to leave Epic, and here I think her management plays a decisive role against it, because sometimes it’s not only about money. Camila signed her solo deal with them late 2016/early 2017, but for how long or how many albums? With what specifications? It’s yet to be discovered. I have a feeling the her deal with them ends before the one her managers. Hopefully 2022.

Lauren on the other hand, signed with Columbia in 2018 and with RECORDS CO in 2019. Maverick in fact played a huge role in her signing with them and you can see it in that picture from when they signed the deal: we have Tara, Larry Rudolph, Lauren, Barry Weiss and others. So they were not fighting over her, they actually got her. And even signed to both labels somehow she managed to change her management from Maverick to Brenda and later to Elena and now to Chantal. Which tells me she learned not to sign long terms contracts with any management.

With all of this info I believe two things could’ve happened: she found a loophole/breaches in the contract or she managed to get really important information from the big sharks. In both cases she could’ve had enough cards to negotiate with them to go independent, own her masters, but still with the condition to have Sony as her distributor, something she would need as an independent artist. She could have chosen a distributor outside Sony, so I don’t know if this was something she wanted or agreed to.

Also, in my opinion all 5 girls image contracts with Xfactor are still active somehow, because the others keep postponing their debuts. If it was just a matter of money why wouldn’t Beyoncé or Rihanna, huge N supporters (or anyone else with money really), help to buy her out from RCA or whatever label she’s signed to? You see? Remember the rumor that A’s label dropped her due to 5H contracts interference? I do and I think it’s pretty plausible. So clearly it’s not just about money.

For me Milamoon deactivated is more related to her management than with her plans to go independent. I really don’t think she can take this route for now. Do you know that the bald man is the lead investor in Olipop, right? Not another investor: the lead one. So it all comes down to her being tied to the deals he pushes. Regarding the big proof of love, as much romantic as it is the idea of C paying the labels for L to be free is not realistic, in my opinion. But she definitely could have helped L to find those loopholes in the contract and with the negotiations that ended up freeing her boo.

And without a doubt no matter how hard C situation may be right now, she has L looking for and trying to come up with something to help her too. Otherwise we wouldn’t have so many things happening that doesn’t fit the narratives they’re supposed to sell.

Link: https://thatgrapejuice.net/2019/04/lauren-jauregui-signs-new-expanded-record-deal-with-industry-heavyweight/?amp

Wow... the long ass ask...

Thank you so much for your thoughts my friend. You not only made me remember a lot of things that I forgot about what happened with the girls but you helped me to think about this twice and I really loved it despite that you didn't believe in my theory.

It's absolutely fine. It was my idealistic heart talking there, not my realistic brain and I needed that. A hit of reality.

I need to read all of this again in Spanish but thank you. This helps me to understand everything better 😊👍🏽

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xxwritemeastoryxx · 3 years ago

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Enchanted Preview

"You seem rather uninterested to be here." The voice was familiar in a way that Y/N couldn't help but turn around rather quickly, her drink almost spilling over the rim as she turned.

The moment she had turned, there was no recognition of the person who spoke moments before. Even as her eyes wandered over the man before her in the three-piece suit. His brown eyes took in her appearance just as she had, but there was a gleam in his eyes that had screamed at Y/N that he was familiar with her. As if he knew her more intimately than she believed.

She quickly shook the thoughts from her head, before giving him a small smile. "Unfortunately any time I'm dragged to an event such as this one, I tend to grow bored with it halfway through the night. Attend one and you've seen all of them."

That caused a small smirk to pull at the man's lips. The smirk itself had caused something to stir within Y/N, but the source of it all was still buried deep within her. Something that she was questioning more as the minutes passed.

"And what of our hosts?" He asked curiously as he tucked one hand into his pant pocket. "I'm sure they'd be worried if a benefactor such as yourself was uninterested in this get-together."

"The Salvatores have the city's best interest at heart." Y/N knew that was a lie. She knew that it was the farthest from the truth. That this party was nothing more than to reach into the deep pockets of the benefactors of the city to ensure their organization was continuously thriving. "My continuous contributions don't mean they are aiming to please their guests once boredom strikes."

The smirk tugged at his lips for another brief moment before it left his lips altogether. The way her heartbeat had quickened had told him she was lying. Even if it was the tiniest of lies, he rather enjoyed that even she disliked the Salvatores' actions in their business.

"What if I could persuade you to turn your contributions to another organization that pull their efforts towards what the vampires of the community actually want?" His eyes never left hers as he said the words.

As she took in the words, they held familiarity, as if they had this exact conversation before. A small smirk had pulled at her lips. "And how do you intend to persuade me?"

He chuckled before his attention had been caught by the change of music playing. He tilted his head towards the dance floor before holding his hand out to her. Her eyebrow raised as she observed his hand.

"Give me this dance to provide all the information you need to make a decision. And if you decide to hear more, we can take our conversation elsewhere."

After a moment, she nodded her head before placing her hand in his. "One dance. You better start talking."

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#The Originals #The vampire Diaries #Elijah Mikaelson #Klaus Mikaelson #Rebekah Mikaelson #Damon Salvatore #Stefan Salvatore #Elena Gilbert #Bonnie Bennett #Elijah Mikaelson x reader #Reader insert #Enchanted Preview #Elijah Mikaelson request #Future fics #Enchanted #The vampire Diaries imagines #The Originals imagines

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spacedikut · 4 years ago

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Okay but Spencer getting kind of jealous whenever you go out with ur friends bc he only has work friends and part of him still only thinks the team is friends with him out of convenience but he doesn’t have any friends from school so you sign him up for like a local book club and he’s so so nervous to go but he comes back and he adores it🥰🥰 (he also later starts attending the knitting group which is pretty much just local grandmas doting all over him)

i have a book club fic in the works but GOD KNOWS when that’ll be posted but this idea....anon it’s so cute

the first time he goes, he makes you wait outside for five minutes just in case he steps inside, immediately regrets his decision and backs out. he scans the room and profiles because how can he not and spots some biscuits he likes and theyre serving expensive coffee and he decides you know what? one book club visit won’t hurt

he makes friends with an older woman called brenda. she’s lived quite the life (was she incarcerated once? yes.) but she likes the same books he likes and hates the writers he hates and when she walked up, jewelry jingling and twinkling a la penelope garcia and introduced herself by saying “i hate men but i’ll make an exception for you.” well... who in their right mind wouldn’t want to be best friends with brenda?

brenda knows everyone and everything about everyone and relays all the gossip to spencer, which he then relays to you. suddenly he gets giddy before every book club meeting because brenda chose the book this week! and she starts making him treats and gifts to bring home (when she finds out spencer has a significant other she gets SO excited and they spend the entire book club meeting secluded in the corner talking about you and all of spencer’s favourite things about you and his most cherished memories with you and basically. within the local book club there is Y/N fanclub consisting of the two most dedicated members: spencer reid and brenda.........spencer does not know her last name and he doesn’t need to know)

but its those treats that lead him to learning about the knitting club! brenda brings in some mittens for you because spencer mentioned the snowy trip you’re taking, and spencer asks her knitting questions? idk? how tf do people knit? and brenda is like honey... there’s a whole club. full of old women. if you think I have an interesting backstory...wait until you meet GALE

brenda drives him to gale’s house (where the knitting club is held. in her dead husband’s mansion) and presents him to the group of old women like he’s a TREASURE and they all dote on him so crazily that youre like....should i be jealous..... because he comes home with rosy cheeks from both the compliments they SHOWER him in and because they pinch his cheeks. every chance they get. any time he rambles they just coo and go “so smart!!!!!! youre so smart! how does one brain hold so much information!!!” while squishiing his face

but then one time you pick him up from the group and they see you in the car waiting and tell him to BRING YOU IN RIGHT THAT MOMENT they need to meet the love of their spencer’s life!!!!

the y/n fanclub extends and he’s the first people he tells when he wants to propose/to invite them to the wedding/if you get pregnant or if you adopt

#ask #headcanons #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer and old women: the most unlikely friendship #q

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theysayitscrazy · 3 years ago

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Chapter Three:

Once Kara had given the guys the all-clear to head into Clay’s room, they went in pairs, and Metal convinced Kara she needed to get some food. Jason had to marvel at the relationship between Metal and Kara. He’d never seen Metal act like he did with Kara, like he genuinely cared about her; and Kara seemed to let her walls down whenever Metal would ask her something or call her out on her selfcare.

Jason was headed down to the main entrance of the hospital with Ray, Metal, and Kara. As they walked into the waiting room of the Emergency Room, Hawkins called out to them from across the room. Kara smiled as he and Nic walked over. “Hey, how’s Clay doing?” Nic asked with a friendly smile.

“He’s doing okay,” Kara answered easily. “The guys are with him. I’m gonna head out with these guys for a few to get some food.”

Hawk tilted his head and looked at her. She stared right back him, clearly daring him to say something. “He’ll be fine,” Nic spoke up, looking between the two of them. “We’ll keep an eye on things.”

“Besides, Hawk,” Metal drawled, staring right at Hawkins. “Our girl here needs to take better care of herself, right?”

Hawkins nodded once but didn’t look away from Kara. “Right.”

As they were standing around in circle talking, Kara looked to the left and glanced at a dark-skinned man wearing a heavy jacket and talking on a cell phone. He was speaking a language Jason didn’t know. Her eyes darted back to Hawk as she tilted her head to listen better.

“What’s happening?” Hawk asked her, watching her intently.

“How’s your Swahili?” she questioned him.

“Not great,” Hawk narrowed his eyes on her. “You?”

“Fluent,” she shot back immediately.

“Alpha Seven, sit-rep,” Metal immediately demanded, voice low.

Kara snapped into action, her eyes stayed on Hawk as she spoke, a small smile graced her face. “Fighting age male, dark-skinned, wearing a heavy black coat, speaking Swahili on the phone. He specifically stated that he was wearing a vest and was ready. 2nddark-skinned, fighting aged male twelve o’clock, also wearing a heavy dark coat. It’s 85 degrees outside. There are 34 people in this room. 6 children, 15 women, including Nic and myself, and 9 men not including the four of you. Of the 15 women, 3 are geriatric.”

Jason was immediately on alert. The moment she started speaking and rattling off the statics of the room around them, Jason was able to zero in and see what she had seen in a moment’s notice. Sure enough, there was 2nd possible tango near the wall of windows that overlooked the parking lot beyond the hospital.

“You caught all that the moment we walked in here?” Ray asked.

“Kara can see the matrix,” Metal explained.

Jason turned to Metal and raised an eyebrow. Metal only nodded back at him. Jason looked down at Kara who was still looking at Hawk with a slight smile on her face, being completely inconspicuous. “Alright, how do we handle this?” Jason asked, differing to her and Metal for a plan.

“Hospital policy dictates in a potential hostage situation to immediately call 911 and avoid contact,” Hawkins stated and pulled out his phone from his pocket.

“We need to go into lockdown,” Nic said. “Keep people from entering the building. We could pull the fire alarm,” she suggested.

“We do that, and every door closes and locks, and we’ll be trapped in this room with two true believers and roughly 40 victims. No, we alert the staff and do a compacity close,” Kara turned to Nic. “Nic, send out a code 8 alert. Close the hospital to all incoming ambos and patients. It’ll lock all exterior doors.”

Nic immediately pulled out her phone and started texting.

Kara turned back to Hawkins, “Call 911, discreetly explain the situation,” Kara ordered.

Hawkins walked away, phone pressed to his ear and purposely going in the opposite direction.

“Won’t that draw suspicion?” Ray asked.

“Not if we play off the overcrowding,” Nic answered looking around.

“I’m gonna need you guys to blend in,” Kara said, and glanced at Metal.

He nodded once to her, clearly trusting her.

Kara glanced around the Emergency Department and sighed. They had gathered attention. Both men were watching them. Kara suddenly laughed and grabbed Nic’s hand in an exaggerated belly laugh as she doubled over. “Oh my god! You’re right!”

Nic immediately followed and laughed too, clutching Kara as they stumbled away from their little group over to the check in desk.

The girls finished what seemed to be a lively conversation in front of the reception desk before they both looked down at the check in sheet. Jason, Ray, and Metal headed dispersed amongst the crowded waiting room, looking for a seat that would allow for a clear line of sight in case they needed to do anything. Without weapons though, it was going to be hard.

Jason could see Nic talking to the check in girl who nodded once before she stood up and headed into the room behind the reception desk.

Kara picked up the sign in clipboard and looked it over before she then looked around the room. “Alright everyone, listen up!” she called out loudly over the noise of the waiting room. She waited briefly for the noise to die down before she continued. “Welcome to Chastain Memorial Hospital in Virginia Beach, Virginia, USA,” Kara drawled, adopting her best gameshow host voice, and letting her eyes make a slow and casual sweep of the room. “My name is Dr. Kara Spenser. As you can see, we are quite busy here in the Emergency Department. Yes, Emergency department. It is no longer classified as just the Emergency Room; we are a whole department. A whole department dedicated to ensuring you get the absolute best care you so rightly deserve. So, I have one rule, and one rule only here in my E.D. and that is, ‘My way or the highway. My word is law.’ If you don’t like that rule, I don’t really care. I’m not here to be your friend, I’m here to ensure that you do not bleed out. And there will be no blood on my E.D floor,” she smirked at Hawkins, who had walked back in the room with his phone nowhere to be seen. “So, this how we’re going to things,” she turned toward Nic. “This is Dr. Nevin, she’s going to take our children directly up to pediatrics. Why wait here, when you can wait there?”

There was a bit of a grumbled from the parents of the children, but they slowly gathered their things and their children and followed after Nic, roughly clearing out a dozen people.

Ray’s throat tightened when he saw Naima walk out of the back room behind the reception desk and glance around.

Kara glanced over at her briefly before she launched into her next spiel, “Next we have our lovely elderly patients. You’ve done a lifetime of waiting now, so we’re gonna get you up and out of my E.D. The lovely nurses Naima and Brenda here, are gonna assist you lovely ladies on up to our geriatrics ward.” There was a shuffle as Naima and Brenda helped the three patients to their feet and they shuffled out.

Kara started to pace the room as she continued. “The rest of you, I apologize for the wait. Dr. Conrad Hawkins and I will be with you shortly. We have your check in information. We will go down the list according to who checked in first.”

Jason had to admit he was impressed with Kara’s quick thinking. She managed to clear half the people out of the room, including Naima and the front desk woman Brenda. All the children and elderly were evacuated. All that was left was the four trained Navy SEALS, Hawkins, Kara, two armed men, and roughly ten others that they could hopefully get out of harm’s way before the men decided they were done waiting.

As she finished speaking one of the men, the one that had been talking on the cell phone, had decided he was done waiting and stood up managed to grab Kara as she was walking by. He managed to get an arm around her neck and pull out a gun before Kara could even move. She froze and flashed her gaze to Metal, as the gun was waiving around in front of her.

The gunman started yelling and chaos erupted in the E.D.

“Hey, hey,” Jason tried to call over the yelling of the room, but the gunman yelled louder.

A hush finally settled over the crowd in the E.D while the gunman assessed the situation around him. He was flighty and waiving the gun in front of Kara. His other arm was locked in a headlock around Kara’s neck. She was clawing at his arm to no avail.

“Come on man, let her go,” Metal’s voice was soft and gentle in a commanding sort of way.

Kara’s eyes left Metal’s and landed on the other man in a coat in the room. The man stood up, pulled out a 9mm and turned his back on the crowd behind him. With his back turned, it took Jason all of a second’s decision making to tackle the man.

His gun went flying out of his hand and scattered across the floor at Kara’s feet.

She made a split-second decision and a tossed her head back into her assailant’s head, with a sickening crunch in her ear, his nose broke. He broke his hold on her and she dropped her weight and lunged for the 9mm lying at her feet.

In a trained and liquid move, she grabbed the 9mm, rolled onto her back and with both hands on the weapon, fired off two shots into the extremist’s chest in a tight pattern. His body hadn’t even hit the floor before she turned her body and eyed Jason struggling with the man in the vest. With the gun trained on them, she watched the extremist knock Jason off his back and reach for his torso.

Kara fired off a single shot, straight through the skull.

There was a moment of deafening quiet in the E.D before Kara got to her feet, holding the gun down and aimed at the ground as she assessed the situation around her. Both assailants were dead, everyone else in the room was crouched down, except for the SEALS that were on their feet also looking around for a threat.

Metal slowly walked over and pulled gun out of her hands and flipped the safety into place before he pulled her into a hug. She didn’t even hug him back, just rested her forehead against his chest and breathed in deep, taking in his familiar and comforting scent. “Good work, Alpha Seven,” he stated clearly as he pulled her against him.

Kara had to chuckle softly as she shook her head. “Fucking hell,” she grumbled and wrapped an arm around his waist.

#Seal Team #Seal Team Fan Fic #Clay Spenser #Clay Spenser Fan Fic #Clay Spenser x OC #Sonny Quinn #Ray Perry #Brock Reynolds #Full Metal #Scott Carter #Trent Sawyer #Conrad Hawkins #The Resident

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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

Text

smoke and fire (04b)

word count; 7050

summary; you wait hours for news on the young boy, and when the results are finally in, it looks like a breakthrough with thomas might be on the horizon.

notes; this is the second half of part four since it got so long, hope you guys enjoy!

warnings; reference to injury.

Trying to make yourself a little calmer, and distract yourself from how you were feeling, you peeled the gloves from your hands, dropping them in the nearest trash can and searching to find some toilets. The mirror did not offer you a reflection you were proud to see, tear-stained cheeks that cut through sweat-caked dust in tracks, messy hair and red eyes; like picturesque misery.

There was blood on the clean fabric of your button-up shirt, and your medical bag held little that would be able to help, but you were sure you could at least make a start. Holding your hand under the dispenser for soap, the soft humming made by the machine as it deposited a small pile of foam into your hand was enough to break the rigid silence, and you let out a slow breath. Logically, you knew it wasn’t your fault that he was injured, the boy was almost an adult, he was old enough to make his own decisions, and yet you’d let yourself become attached, you’d tried to offer him advice that had backfired, and so you couldn't help but feel partly responsible.

The water ran pink as your skin was cleared, before shaky fingers were coming up to undo the buttons along your top. The long-sleeve top worn underneath wasn’t the warmest of items, but it was better than sitting in a blood-soaked shirt, and so you folded the crisp white uniform up carefully, tucking it into your bag and letting out a sigh. With hands cupped under the cold water tap, you let your palms fill, before leaning over the sink and splashing your face carefully with the water, rubbing away the grime and salt present on your skin until it felt fresh and clean once again.

Your eyes were still lined with red and your throat was still raw, but both of those would begin to fade as you finally began to get a hold of yourself once again. Your head was hurting, both inside and outside, the tight ponytail your hair was pulled up into made your scalp ache as you released it, and you rubbed your fingers gently through the strands to try and soothe that pain, making a note to find some water for your oncoming headache soon.

Finally, it was enough, hair flailing loose around your shoulders once again and skin clean, at least feeling a little more comfortable than you had, and as you patted down the pockets of your bag, you found your phone again, grateful that Newt must’ve tucked it in there when he’d gone back to the van for you, because you were sure you’d left it on the dash. There was a text from Newt, just having arrived back at the station, saying that he'd spoken to Vince and everything was cleared up, while Brenda had also left a text saying she was hoping that both you and the boy were okay.

A voice cleared in front of you, snapping your attention away from where you were trying to think of how to reply, clicking your phone off and looking away to find the source of the disturbance. Allison was standing before you, a gown on her body and a scrub cap on her head, but she’d shed the mask and gloves, for now, smiling a little as she began to undo the ties behind her back and neck.

“I came to give you a little update about what’s going on.”

“Already? It’s only been, what, forty minutes?” Panic flared up inside of you once again at the speed at which she was emerging, but the soft smile and a chuckle she gave to you was reassurance enough.

“Don’t worry, the kid is doing alright. Doctor Hale is great at his job, and it’s all going smoothly.” You rubbed your hands down along your pants, clearing sweaty palms and standing up to be the same height as her. “He’ll be going into the ICU after this, so why don’t you walk with me now and I’ll take you up to that waiting room, it's a little more comfortable and private than the corridors.”

“He’s going to be alright, then?”

“He’s going to be just fine.” She confirmed, waiting a second for you to grab your bag and swing it onto a shoulder, before she was setting off through the halls again, guiding you as she made her way towards the elevator. “He lost a fair amount of blood, but we’ve got him on some bags now, and his levels are steadying again, he’s starting to get some colour back, so we’re happy with that process, and his heartbeat is stronger.”

You watched as she pressed the button to signal the machine, silver doors reflecting back at you, and you felt positively exhausted as you slumped upon hearing the good news, tensions and adrenaline finally being able to slip away. “What about his legs?”

“Well, we won’t know much about any of it until he wakes up, and we can test his response to stimulus when the drugs in his system wear off and we can replace the anaesthetic with general medication, but the shattered leg has been set and is due to be wrapped in a cast, it’s all we can do, but it isn’t looking the best on the outcome.”

You winced, knowing there was nothing more you could have done, but you still hated to know what the repercussions might be. The elevator ride was silent, as was the walk to the waiting room, and yet none of it was uncomfortable, she was simply a companion at your side who had brought you a little peace, and when you were of a more stable and clear mindset next time, you’d thank her properly for being so kind to you, and make a better effort to get to know the nurses here, but right now, you didn’t have the right headspace for anything other than taking it ten minutes at a time.

“There’s not much more we can do now, it’s all about recovery, really. You did some great work out there, we’ve cleaned and applied new stitches to his wounds, I did it myself, and I promise they won’t burst any time soon.” You nodded your head, trying to absorb all the information that you could, but your mind was spinning, only focusing on the fact that he was going to be okay. “We’ll keep him in the hospital for a while, and check on him, his head has been patched up, luckily it was a crack and it hadn't splintered, so we’re happy with that.”

“When he comes out, will I be able to see him?”

“Yes, you can.” She turned to smile at you now, holding the doors open to a much nicer, and empty waiting room, you being the only person here, nobody flying past busily, phones ringing and conversations being had, it was calm and serene, and exactly what you needed. “Doctor Hale is going to come and talk to you more comprehensively himself while they get him all set up, and it shouldn’t take too long for the anaesthetic to wear off. As soon as he wakes up, we can get him started on some real painkillers that won’t knock him out.”

“Excellent.” You sighed, brushing yourself off for invisible dirt a story anxiety took over, before looking back to her. “Thank you so much, I can’t even tell you how much it all means to me.”

“It’s no trouble, truly.” She placed a comforting hand on your arm, squeezing lightly. “You’re one of our own. Derek, uh, Doctor Hale, he feels like he really owes the fire department, so he would do pretty much anything for you all. House ‘21 was one of the firehouses involved in saving his family when there was a house fire. He has a big family, and he almost lost them a few years ago, this is the least he can do, he feels.”

You had no idea, you’d never been anywhere long enough to reap the seeds of good acts so far down the line, but you felt proud just to be able to associate yourself with the team, to be a member of Firehouse ‘21, even if you hadn't been there for that event. They were a great team, a wonderful group of people, and you were proud to be associated with them. You weren’t sure how long it would last, but for the first time in a long time, your first thought wasn’t the next immediate escape route.

“I’m going to head back in there, now. It shouldn't be much longer.”

You nodded, watching as she walked away, and leaving you alone in the peacefulness of the waiting room. There was a table, stacked up with magazines and a water machine in the corner, chilled and humming slowly, and you made your way over towards that firstly. Taking one of the flimsy little cups, you held it under the nozzle, pushing on the button of the cold water, and watching as it filled up, the temperature making your fingers cool as it moved toward the top.

Taking it back over to one row of chairs, they were much more comfortable than the others, the hard plastic being replaced for soft cushioning, warm and inviting, and you slumped down into it. Shuffling through your bag, you were grateful to find the half-used try of painkillers you'd hidden in there for personal use, thanking a past version of yourself for thinking ahead, and popping two of the small tablets out, placed on your tongue and reaching for the cup. Several swigs of the water, until the cup was empty, washing them down and enjoying the cool feeling washing along your throat and soothing the burn, and you felt a little more refreshed immediately.

This time, as you filled it up, you took a moment to observe the room you were in. A small, ornamental water fountain sat on one of the counters, soft sounds of trickling water as you neared it, and it was relaxing just to be around, stacks of little pebbles to create a water fountain, and blue lights to make the pool of water seem clearer, you lips flicking up at the sides. There was a radio, it wasn’t turned on and you didn’t intend to do so, but you admired its place here, the room filled with things all around so that there was something to calm and relax every type of person, no matter what their comfort was, and as you settled back down into the seats, you found you weren't quite so stressed anymore.

Producing your phone from your pocket once again, you sipped at your water, the headache you had finally beginning to recede, and you replied to Brenda, a thumb swiping rapidly across the screen as you thanked her for her concern, and gave her an update that he was due out of surgery any time now. You replied to Newt too, once again thanking him profusely, as yet another batch of unrelated guilt began to make itself known, surfacing as you realised you’d just abandoned your partner to do all the work.

Neither of them replied, both messages being left on ‘read’, and you simply hoped that they were having fun with the team, getting to relax and destress after a long day, and they weren’t torturing themselves in the same way that you were.

The elevator chimed, not too far away, the other end of the corridor, and you paused. Following it, there was the sound of wheels, moving along the corridor, squeaking a little as a bed rattled, before fading away, and your heart leapt in your chest as you resisted the urge to stand up and look out, staying sat where you were. Your suspicions were confirmed, however, when the doors opened up, the doctor who you’d seen only a couple of hours ago appearing once again, and you pushed yourself up to your feet as fast as you could, meeting the doctor, who looked a little frazzled and worn out, but optimistic nonetheless.

“Doctor Hale, hi.”

He smiled a little, ducking his head. “You can call me Derek. I’m not your doctor.” Your cheeks heated a little bit, mumbling his name as you grew used to the feel of it in your mouth, and he cleared his throat. “So, you ready for that update?”

“Absolutely.” You confirmed, and he turned his body, placing a hand on your lower back and guiding you back towards the doors.

“How about I tell you on the way to the coffee machine, because I’m desperate for a double espresso, three times over.” You grinned, laughing lightly as you agreed, just the thought of such a drink making your mouth water, and you grabbed at your bag, swinging it onto one arm and letting it dangle as you followed behind him. He held the door open for you, guiding you through the halls, and you followed after him, falling into a comfortable pace beside one another. “First of all, do you happen to know his name? We can’t get anything up on file, and we can’t put him on medications until we know if he has allergies.”

“All I know is that he’s called Aaron, I think. He’s been here before, though, should be on file. I brought him in a couple of weeks ago for the injuries on his stomach.”

The man beside you nodded, taking the pen from his pocket and writing down the name on the back of his hand. “Alright, well, I’m pretty optimistic about how Aaron is doing. He’s all set up in an ICU room now, and as soon as he starts to come around, we can let you in to visit him. While you’re in there, we need you to try and get some contact details, his parents, anything like that, so we can try and get him on file, if we can’t find him in the system, but we have a lot of Aarons’.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“His leg is now in a cast, we set it as best we could, but there was more damage along his spine, so I’m not overly optimistic about that. I don’t know how bad the paralysis will be, but there’s definitely going to be some loss of movement there, he won’t make a full recovery, not from a fall like that with his injuries.” It wasn’t a surprise, you had been anticipating the worst, and so far, everything beyond being told he didn’t make it was just a blessing. Stopping before the coffee machine beside a nurses desk, the screen flashed to life as he swiped his card through the holder, greeting him with his ID on screen, and he began to program a selection of shots and syrups into the blend. “What are you having?”

“Oh, I don’t have a-”

“My treat, let me buy you a coffee. I get a doctor discount on it anyway.” You couldn't resist the charming smile he gave you, shrugging a little and laughing under your breath. “Alright, Derek, surprise me. I’m not that fussy.”

“I take that as a challenge.” He confirmed, setting to work on making your brew, and as the machine hummed to life, he returned to the topic of your patient. “We pumped his stomach, we ran a few tests and flushed his system out. You might not like me too much when I tell you this, but with the contents of his stomach and the harm he got into as a minor, with nobody here to explain it, I have contacted the police and child authorities.”

“I don’t blame you, Doc. I really don’t. All I want for this kid is the best in life, I encouraged him to get out of that whole gang-lifestyle, I feel responsible for him even being here, and I-” You cut yourself off as you realised you were rambling, your lips pursing shut, and the coffee maker beside you beeped. He grinned, picking up the second coffee and handing it over to you, but only after pressing a plastic lid onto the top of the coffee cup. Bringing it up to your nose, the sweet smell of delicate spices and warm coffee filled your nose, and you hummed happily at the delicious blend. “Thank you.”

“Just so you know, you saved that kid’s life. You brought him here and he’s safe, you’ve done the best you can, and you did great.” You sighed, blowing at the steam on your coffee and taking a moment, a few deep breaths, settling yourself in the moment. “When he wakes up and starts to surface, we’ll let you know. If you give me your details, I’ll keep you updated on how he does.”

“Sounds like you’re asking me for my number there, Doctor Hale?”

“I thought I told you to call me Derek.” He beamed, both of you knowing it was only a joke, before he was holding the pen from the pocket of his coat out for you and grabbing a piece of paper from the nurses stand. Placing down your coffee, you wrote down your name and number, handing it back over to him, and he looked at it for a moment, repeating your name, before putting it into his pocket. “You can head on back to the waiting room, and I’ll come and get you in a little while when he’s awake, and we’ve got him on something to keep the pain off.”

The device on his belt beeped, calling him away to another case, and he was leaving, a wave on his fingers as he picked up his coffee, and you were left to try and navigate your way back to the waiting room alone.

There were signs up along the walls, but every turn you took felt more confusing, muted coloured walls and total silence feeling more like your new norm as you navigate the maze of pathways, letting out a relieved sigh as you finally caught sight of the same doors you’d come through earlier. There was movement behind them, your heart sinking a little as you realised the peaceful loneliness you had was broken, but you knew other people would be here to visit their families.

Your bag would still be laying on the floor, where you’d left it before leaving to find coffee, and as you made you way back along, the people behind the glass became a little clearer. Blond hair, brown hair, strawberry and jet black. Pushing the door open, your jaw dropped a little as you looked across the group, all eyes turning to face you, and your heart raced in your chest.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“We’re pausing movie night!” Chuck was almost yelling, his enthusiasm getting the better of him, and several members of the team shushed him, while others snickered. “Sorry. We’re pausing movie night.”

“I see that, but, uh, why?”

A few looks were shared among the team, and Newt sighed, standing to his feet from where he’d been lounging in your chair. “Because we’re your team, and we care about you. You’re here for the kid, and we’re here for you.”

He took your coffee from your hands, sniffling it, and winking a little before raising it up to take a sip. His eyes widened a little, before he was gulping down another mouthful, and you snatched it back with a protesting noise.

“That’s good coffee. Where can I get one of those?”

“Doctors only.” You mumbled, a sweet smile on your lips as you took a sip, and he stared at you for a second.

“Are you telling me you made a friend other than me? You really are getting comfortable here.”

You shook your head, pressing it back into his hands after another mouthful of coffee, gifting it to him. Brenda was holding her arms out to you, a sweet smile on her face as you paused for only a second, before falling into her arms and letting her wrap you up tightly. The moment you squeezed her back, there was another body wrapping around you, making the pair of you giggle as Chuck joined the hug, and you whined at the overwhelming heat that was encasing you when Newt joined in too.

Elbowing yourself free, you wriggled out, popping free and finding the rest of the team still wearing sweet smiles, all standing around and waiting patiently. “Thanks for coming, you guys, it really means a lot to me.”

Settling down with the company of your team, Newt slumped beside you, a backpack of his own on the floor, and he picked it up, roping it down on your lap, and the weight of it winded you a little.

“What was that for?”

“I brought you the clothes from your locker.” You raised a single brow, opening the bag and finding your hoodie and leggings inside, as well as your more comfortable trainers than the ones you wore to work, a little sigh leaving you. “Figured you’d want to be comfy, and you smell a little bit musty and bloody.”

Lifting the edge of your top to your nose, you took a whiff, faint traces being picked up, nothing overwhelming, but it certainly was present. Everybody else had changed their clothes as they left their kit at work, or went home to shower, but no matter what, you appreciated it all.

“So, you gonna’ give us a little update on the kid?”

“Oh, yeah.” You wiped at your nose, feeling yourself get a little emotions, before pulling one leg up under yourself and turning to face him. “So, he’s doing alright. They’re worried about his legs, and they pumped his stomach, but they’re confident about his recovery and they’ve put a cast on his leg. He’s out of surgery now, they’re waiting for him to wake up.”

“What about his parents? They got in touch with them, right?”

“They haven’t got any information on him yet.” You sighed, rubbing at your forehead. “They want me to go in and ask him to give up his information as soon as he wakes up.”

“Well, look alive, because here comes a white coat with determination. A good looking one at that, dark hair, tall, I would be all over that if-”

“Newt!” You hissed, the door opening, and he laughed himself into silence as he brought the coffee to his lips. Standing up, you gave him the bag back, making sure to drop it into his lap with equal the force he’d dropped onto yours, and he spluttered a little, glaring at you and kicking his leg out at you as you walked to meet the doctor. “He’s awake?”

“Yes, he is.” Derek spun on his heel, the two of you walking away towards the main doors, and you turned over your shoulder to scowl at your partner for the kick, a sugary-sweet and sly grin on his lips as you scoffed. “A lot of your friends have shown up, huh?”

“They’re my team, they came to support me.”

“Hey, I think it’s sweet.” He shrugged, guiding you along the halls. “So, he’s in a little pain, nothing awful yet as he’s still waking up, so he’s a sort of woozy. Focus on asking him his last name, if we can pull up his account we can see his allergies and get him some meds, but if he doesn't want to give it up, we need to know about the medicines.”

“What do I tell him when he starts asking questions?”

“We’re going to test his reflexes as soon as we get his medicine sorted but before it kicks in, though they may not be fully comprehensive on the total movement and reflex he can get back.” He stopped outside of the door, and peering in through the glass, you could see the young boy. The hair from the top of his head was shaved away, around the sides too, black locks were gone and bandaging wrapping his head. He was clad in a gown, and the blankets were tucked up around his body, staring up at the rod as he frowned, looking entirely displaced. “Press the button on the side of his bed when you’re ready for us to come in, I’ll wait at the nurses’ station.”

“Thanks, Derek.”

He dipped his head in a nod, taking a step back, and you entered the room. He lifted his head slowly, confusion on his features for a second as you clicked the door shut, before he was huffing again.

“Hey, kiddo, how you feelin’?”

“I don’t know.” He mumbled, words a little slurred, and you took a seat beside his bed, pulling the chair over, and his head rolled from one side to the other, cheek pressing to the pillow to look at you, but his gaze was unfocused. “My arm is itchy.”

“That’s just your drip line for meds, you’ll be fine.” He made a shocked face, as though you’d reveal the secrets of the universe to him, before his face was screwing up again.

“I hurt a bit too. Everywhere.”

“I know, and we can get you some meds, alright?” He nodded his head, silence falling around you both again, and he was using one hand to scratch at the bedding, toying with the loose thread in the beige blanket, and sighed. “You gonna’ tell me your last name, so we can get you registered and checked in on the system?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll call my foster parents.” Your heart stopped for a moment in your chest, and just when you thought it couldn't get any worse for him, you found out the poor kid was in the system, no wonder he’d turned to family wherever he could get it. “I don’t want them to know.”

“Don’t you think they’re worried? You’re going to be here for a while.”

“They’ll be disappointed in me.” He whispered, and you reached out, taking the young boy’s hand in your own, and squeezing lightly. “They’ll bring my little sister, she thinks I’m brave and strong.”

“And she’ll still think that!” He huffed, rolling his eye sin denial and tuning to stare back up at the ceiling. “I get how it feels to not want to let someone down, and to feel alone. I have moved between so many firehouses to find my home, and I’m still looking. I have, like, no friends outside of work.”

“What about your blond friend?”

“He’s a work friend, that doesn't count.” You teased, and he turned to look at you again.

“Do you hang out outside of work?” You paused, thinking on the people who were filling the waiting room right now, simply to support you, and you wondered if that counted, but the boy seemed to be going on anyway; “See, outside friends.”

“Alright, smart ass, the point is that I understand how you feel, and you should let me call your parents, so that you can have people who love you here with you. What do you say?” He was quiet, the moment dragging on, and as the cogs in the clock ticked loudly, the ‘second’ hand moving around, and as the third minute of silence passed you by, you gave up on any hope, You wondered if he’d fallen asleep, his eyes having slipped shut, and you squeezed his hand a little, his hand squeezing back after a few moments, signalling he was awake.

“Edge.”

“Huh?” You perked up a little, your elbow having been resting on the bed to support your head on your fist, before you were moving to look up at him.

“My name is Aaron Edge. I’m already in the system, I had asthma as a kid.” You cheered a little, reaching around for the handle instantly and pressing the button for the nurse’s desk.

“I’m so proud of you, kiddo.” The door opened a second later, a short red-head nurse escorting Doctor Hale, his brows raising a little as they came in, and you gave him a subtle nod. “This is Aaron Edge, and he’d love some painkillers now.”

“We’ll get that sorted out. This is nurse Martin, she’ll be looking after you, Mr Edge.” She left the room a second later, heading away to get it sorted out, and the doctor took a step closer to the bed. “How are you feeling, big guy? You gave us a scare there, but you're brave, and I know you’re going to be just fine.”

“I have a headache, and I feel itchy. Is that just my nerves?”

He tried to push himself up a little in the bed, his arms giving way under the pressure, and you moved, helping him sit up so you could position his pillows behind him to help him sit up. “Well, actually, that’s the beginning of the withdrawal. It’s not going to be great, but you’re young. We can get you in a great rehab program, and whatever you were on we can get you off. You’re young, you still have prospects ahead of you. It’ll be a tough road, you think you can do it?”

His hand tightened around yours once again, and he turned, vulnerability written on his face. You gave him a nod, and he stared at you for a second longer, before returning to give those same gestures to the doctor.

“Now, I just need to run a final test, alright?” Producing the pen from his pocket, he lifted up the blanket to reveal both of the boy’s feet, and held the end to the pen, never popping the button to reveal the inked tip. “Relax your foot for me.”

He did so and he dragged the tip of the pen up along the sensitive underfoot, everything still for a second, before his toes twitched, and you let out a little cheer, the boy in the bed jumping in shock. “What?”

“You still have movement in that foot?”

“Did I not before?” He panicked, sitting up further to peer down at his legs, and it seemed that in his drowsy state, he was only just becoming aware of the cast wrapped around his leg. “What about the other one?”

The cast sealed over most of his foot, but Derek reached down with the pen, dragging it along the space under his toes, and there was no movement. He did it again, still no reaction, and you nibbled on your lower lip. “Tell me when you feel something?”

Moving the blanket from his body, his leg was exposed, the cast ending just below his knee. He poked at the knee cap, then a rough inch further up, moving in inch segments as you waited, before his leg finally flinched just after the pen pressed over his mid-thigh.

“Well, we can get you into some physical therapy, and see how the healing of your leg goes, and what happens after that.”

Tucking the pen back away, the red-headed nurse entered the room once again, a needle and a small glass jar in her hand, and she was ready to add some medicine to the bag for him. “I’ve called your family, and they’re on their way. I’ve got some medicine for you now.” You squeezed his hand again lightly, letting go as the nurse moved to start setting him up a new line for his medicine, and Derek was busy filling out details on the chart that sat at the end of his bed.

“I’m going to go back to my team now, alright?” The kid turned to look at you, nodding his head slowly. “You keep your promise this time, alright? I believe in you, do it for your little sister. Be better.”

“Thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.”

You ran your hand over his cheek, giving him a gentle smile. As the medicine began to kick in, nurse Martin began to talk to Aaron about his family, and what had been said on the phone, and for the third time tonight, you were navigating the ICU wing halls. Stepping back into the waiting room, all eyes turned to you again, brows raising, and you nodded, shoulders slumping in relief.

“He’s going to be okay, and his family is on the way.”

A chorus of cheers took up around the room, and you nodded your head watching as they all began to get to their feet, coming over to offer their congratulations and comforts about how worried you’d been, and how much better you must be feeling, which was completely true.

Newt cupped your face, pressing a large and wet kiss to your forehead, and you scowled, wiping the mark on your skin. “I think you need a drink, love.”

“Kenny’s Bar?” Gally offered, and a series of acknowledgements and agreements going up around the room. You’d heard them talking about that bar before, it seemed to be a house favourite but you’d never been along with them before, and it felt like some kind of initiation ritual or rite of passage.

“You should go and change first. Get comfy, I’ll wait for you.”

“Actually, if you guys go on ahead, I’ll wait.” Thomas stood to the side, scratching at the back of his neck as he met your eye, shrugging a little before looking around the small group gathered around you, who seemed equally as shocked as you were. “Seriously, I mean it. We have some things to talk about.”

“We do?” You questioned dumbly, and he fixed you with a pointed look, before you nodded your head. “Right, sure, yeah, okay. I can work with that, I guess. I mean, if you don’t see me in the next twelve hours, you know who I was with last.”

“Uh-huh.” Newt eyes his friend sceptically, the two seeming to have a silent conversation all with that eye contact, before Newt was rounding everyone up. “Go get changed, don’t take too long, we’ll see you soon.”

He hugged you gently, before guiding the rest of the team out of the building, pats on your arm and squeezes of your hand as they all passed by and discussed who would be designated drivers and drop everyone else at home, each discussing driving their cars home and coming along to collect them as they went. You waved Newt’s bag at Thomas a little, jabbing a thumb over your shoulder, and he nodded his head, tension forming between you both as you slipped away to find the bathrooms.

You were already learning your way around the halls of this building well, locating them easily enough, and stepping inside. Pulling out the contents of the beg, you sealed yourself inside one of the cubicles, putting the lid down and taking a seat on top of it. Toeing off your shoes and leaving them on the floor, you were wiggling out of your crisp uniform trousers, slipping into your leggings, bouncing as you tugged them up your legs and wiggling as you got comfortable. With some simple sneakers and your hoodie on, you were feeling much more relaxed and comfortable.

Stuffing everything else inside of the bag, you zipped it up, heading back to the waiting room, and finding Thomas with his hands shoved into his pockets, your bag on his shoulder, and he offered you what looked only mildly like a forced smile as you made your presence known.

“Ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He nodded his head, letting you go through the door first as you stepped into the halls and back towards the elevator, total silence sitting in the space between you both. As he pressed the button, it was almost immediately ready for you, and you stood on opposite sides of the box as you waited for the doors to close again and sink back to the lobby. “So is this the part where you decide the hatred is too much, and actually kill me?”

He laughed, a lightweight and short, but genuine, laugh. Looking up to you, he shook his head a little, amusement still sparking in his eyes. “I don’t hate you. I mean, I don’t necessarily like you, but that's because I don’t know you, and I didn’t really give myself the chance. We got off on the wrong foot, and that's partially my fault.”

“It’s mostly your fault.”

“It’s, like, fifty percent my fault!” He argued, and you clicked your tongue, shaking your head.

“Ninety.”

“Seventy-five.”

“Fine.” You huffed, surrendering to the deal again, and he gave a toothy grin. “Go on with what you were saying.”

The doors chimed as they opened up, and you fell into step beside him as the two of you began to head towards the doors to the building, letting him guide you as he headed towards his car, trying to form his words, and you waited patiently. “Look, the point is, I know you’ve been a good partner to Newt. Especially today. You went down there to look after that kid because you knew Newt couldn't take it, and while he’d never admit that to either of us, we both know it’s true.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We flipped a coin, and I lost.”

“Do you always flip winning sides over to take a loss?” He questioned, clicking his keys as the sleek black car came into view, and your face flushed with warmth, not having known anyone else had seen that. “Exactly my point. I know I’ve given you a hard time. I have my reasons, okay? It fucking sucks, and no, I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe you understand, maybe you don’t, but I’m trying to apologise, okay?”

He held the door open for you, the passenger seat readily available, and you dropped your bag into the footwell, standing in the way but not taking a seat as you stared up at him. “Okay. I forgive you. I probably shouldn't have been so uptight, but I was hurt too, and I didn’t take that well, so I guess this is me apologising as well.”

“So, we’re cool, now?”

“Sure.”

He nodded, the two of you staring at each other for a moment longer, and that same dreadfully awkward tension settled over the part of you as neither of you knew quite what to say. Just because you’d called a ceasefire, didn’t mean that there was a sudden connection, it didn't mean that pain and resentment were gone immediately, it just meant that you had agreed to process and move on from it together, instead of dwelling and letting it fester. “Her name was Teresa.”

“What?”

Your eyes snapped back up to his face, but he was staring at the ground, arms resting on top of the door, and he was picking at his nails. “The last paramedic, the reason I was so mad.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“I owe you an explanation, so I guess I’m forcing myself to.” He sighed, running a hand through already messy hair. “She was.. a wildcard. Passionate and funny and just this real source of energy, you know? Kinda’ like you. She skipped out on us all of a sudden before shift one day, a better offer somewhere else, she didn’t tell us, but she just up and left. I was hurt, I thought I meant something to her.”

“I’m sorry, Thomas..”

“No, I am. Because all my suffering was emotional. She was Newt’s partner, he had to try and handle a case on his own because we couldn't get a replacement in before a call came, and that's the day he injured his leg. He fell through a couple of burning floors, top to bottom of the building, shattered his leg like that kid. Nobody knew where he was, he had no partner to call it in. Minho found him, unconscious from smoke inhalation and carried him out.” He let out a shaky breath, and you dared to reach out, placing a hand over his as they sat joined, and squeezing lightly. “I don’t blame myself for the accident, it had nothing to do with me. But, for whatever your own reasons are, I know you’ve jumped between houses a lot, and I was worried about Newt again. He’s my best friend.”

“I promise you, I won’t ever do that.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think Teresa would either, but then a better offer came along.” He sighed, lifting a thumb to rest over one of your fingers and stroke lightly as he sought his one comfort from your touch, and you squeezed his hands once again. “I shouldn't have compared you to her, and I’m sorry. It was unfair, I don’t even know you.”

Quit consumed you both once again, and there was nothing else to be said, only the weight of his confession hanging in the air, before you were perking up a little, realising how to gently move on and bring his mood back up. “You any good at pool?”

“Uh, what?”

“You know, pool. In bars. Does this bar have one?” You encouraged, his eyes meeting yours again and brows furrowing with confusion.

“Yeah, it does.”

“Well, you said you didn’t know anything about me. First thing to learn is that I’m amazing at pool.” He stood up a little more, smiling softly as he took your bait to move on from the conversation, and there was a slight twinkle of mischief in those honey-brown eyes. “Winner buys drinks?”

“Alright, I’ll take that deal, but only if we play darts afterwards. At which I will kick your ass, because I am fucking great at it.”

“You’re on, Thomas.” He chuckled, letting you step into the car and shutting the door behind you, the conversation being stored away for now, to think about when you were alone and process the details, but for now, you had bonding to do, with your teammates; for the first time yet, you genuinely considered the possibility of setting up roots somewhere, and making real friends that would last.

#thomas #firefighter!tommy #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #smoke and fire #SAF #tommy month #tomuary #tom-uary #thomas the maze runner #thomas x reader smut #thomas/reader smut #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner

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thominho-incorrectquotes · 3 years ago

Text

Can’t you hear me screaming?

This is my entry for Thominho Week 2021, Day 3 “ Fake dating ”

Characters: Thomas x Minho

2933 words

Tags: Modern Au, College Au, Fake Dating, Childhood friends, Friends to lovers, mention of harrasment and bullying, Fluff and angst, demisexual Thomas, demiromantic Thomas

Summary: “Kiss me.” Those were words Minho never saw coming for Thomas’s mouth, especially not in a party celebrating their success at the track meet. Not that he was one to complain that his lifelong crush suddenly wanted to be kissed by him. But coming from Thomas, it just didn’t make any senses.

Note: This was supposed to be published yesterday, but I got busy. Hope you like it!

You can also read it on AO3 and ff.net

_____________________________

"Kiss me."

Those were words Minho never saw coming for Thomas's mouth, especially not in a party celebrating their success at the track meet. Not that he was one to complain that his lifelong crush suddenly wanted to be kissed by him. But coming from Thomas, it just didn't make any senses.

"What?"

"Kiss me!" He repeated over the loud music in the background. "Please~"

"I heard the first time! It's just… why?"

Thomas looked down in shame. "It's Gally…"

The young Asian sighed. "He did it again?"

Thomas only nodded.

Of course. Ever since Gally discovered Thomas never had been in a relationship, he made his duty to find someone for his friend. Because that's what friends do, right?

But it wasn't that simple.

In their group of friends, Minho, Thomas's best friend since childhood, was the only one who knew that Thomas was demisexual and demiromantic, which meant that the young man could only develop sexual and romantic attraction to someone if he had a deep emotional bond with that person. Along with that, the boy was extremely uncomfortable with everything that has to do with romance and sex, which made Gally's attempt at finding him someone extremely unwanted and unpleasant.

However, telling the tall blond boy about Thomas's sexuality wasn't an option, at least in Thomas's mind. And Minho perfectly understood why.

Back in High School, when Thomas first discovered his sexuality, a dude named Eric overheard a conversation between the brunet and his best friend. He then proceeded to mock Thomas, saying that he wasn't a real man for having no interest in sex, suggesting to pay someone to have sex with him to "cure him", saying he was sick and needed to go to a psychiatric hospital, and other horrible things. Worst, he got the whole school into it. If some people didn't care at all, many, mostly Eric's friends, bullied Thomas to no end, pushing him, mocking him, touching him in places he didn't want to be touched… The day Minho had to save his friend from being assaulted was the day Thomas had enough and changed school. The Korean followed him to this new school where they met their actual group of friends with whom they later on went to college with.

But the experience was traumatizing enough that Thomas kept his demisexuality and demiromanticism hidden. He didn't want to face something like that ever again.

"Please~" Thomas said again. "I can take it anymore! If we pretend to be boyfriends for a while, Gally would drop it."

Minho felt a headache coming up. The alcohol he had been drinking didn't help.

"That's your solution? Fake dating?" the runner mocked. "Thomas, we're not in a shucking romance movie. People don't do that in real life. May I also add that kissing is not something you like doing?"

"It's the only solution!" Thomas argued. "I tried to tell him I wasn't interested! So many times! But he didn't listen. Just now, he introduced me to that girl - Brenda I think - and she practically threw herself at me! You know how much I hate it…"

Minho gritted his teeth in anger. Some people never learned. He pushed back memories of a younger Thomas, face wet with tears, in the school washroom, after another harassment.

"Do it for me…" Thomas pleaded once again, knowing the Korean would eventually give in.

Another sigh. "Okay…"

That was the worst decision Minho ever made. He was in for a broken heart.

Ever since he laid eyes on Thomas back in elementary school, he knew what he was feeling was special. At the time, he didn't know how to distinguish romantic and platonic feelings and sure wasn't aware that two boys could be in love since LGBTQ+ rights weren't as advanced. But he still knew that he wanted to be around that boy forever.

It's been years know, and he was falling in love with his best friend more and more each days. When Thomas told him he was demisexual and demiromantic, it had been a big hit for Minho because they were best friend, they had the strongest bond ever, and if Thomas wasn't in love with him still, he would never be. He tried to stay strong, dated few girls and guys, but nothing that lasted because he could not get over his best friend. He was the only one…

And now? Thomas wanted him to pretend to be his boyfriend?

That was life laughing at him.

"He's looking at us!" Thomas suddenly urged, looking at the sea of people, forcing Minho out of his thoughts. "Kiss me now!"

He wasn't allowed a second thought, wasn't allowed to change his mind. He quickly grabbed the brunet's hips, bringing him closer, and leaned in.

Once he touched Thomas's lips, something broke inside of him. Why did it feel so right? Why did it feel so good? From that moment on, he knew no one else could ever replace Thomas.

Minho wasn't going for a deep or passionate kiss, but to his surprise, it was the boy in his arms who put more pressure into the kiss, who moved his mouth. He guessed it was only to make this whole thing more realistic.

They parted few seconds later. Thomas was smiling.

"Thank you."

He left Minho there, going back to the party. As if he was in a shitty romance movie, sounds came back to his hears. He looked around. Nobody had apparently seen them. Except from a tall blond man.

He saw Gally coming his way and immediately felt the need to leave that party. But he was supposed to go back with Thomas, so he couldn't yet.

"Park!"

Minho felt a headache incoming.

"Would you care to explain?" Gally asked as if he had just been slapped in the face.

"Explain what?" the young man replied, annoyed.

"That!" He basically yelled, pointing at Thomas who was now talking to Newt and Alby. "Since when are you two a thing?"

Minho hesitated a moment. Should he tell the truth? But this thought was pushed back. He couldn't betray his best friend.

"Since a while, shuck-face" He replied, harshly, annoyed at everything and everyone, including Thomas who always had a way to make him do anything.

"But why did he not tell me? I wouldn't have tried to find someone for him if he did!"

That was the last straw. Minho was now furious.

"He did tell you! He told you to stop!" He shouted, not caring that some people were now staring at them. "But did you listen? No! If someone don't want a relationship or don't want to talk about theirs, you should respect that, asshole!"

He couldn't stay here any longer. Spotting his best friend, he heavily stomped towards him before taking his arms, forcing him to follow. "I've had enough, were going back home."

"But…"

"No."

Okay. He was that mad. Over the years, Minho had learned to control his hot-temper and knew when to leave before doing things he would later regret. Thomas understood that if they stayed, the Korean would probably beat the living out of Gally. So he followed, waving at Newt and Alby, before going back to the small studio apartment he was sharing with his friend.

"I'm sorry" he said on their way back, "it's all my fault."

The dark-haired boy seemed calmer, but he still pressed his temple before answering, an old habit that helped him calm down. "It's not your fault Tommy, it's Gally who's an asshole and can't get a hint."

"But I still kinda forced you to-"

"Stop that. I made my decision, okay?"

Thomas was relieved. He hated when his best friend was mad, especially at him.

"So…"

Another sigh. "Yeah, I went with your idea… I'll pretend to be your boyfriend…"

The boy almost threw himself at his friend, thanking him by a hug.

"You're the best! Thank you so much Min!"

"Yeah, but you have to do all the dishes from now on for that."

Thomas pouted, but he only got a glare back.

"Okay, okay, I'll do that. I guess it's the least I can do…"

…

The next day, they were bombarded by messages from their friends. They were freaking out, asking when everything started, why they didn't tell them and how they should totally tell the whole story. There was also Newt saying it was about time and Minho didn't know how to feel about that.

But for now, everything was a mess.

On their usual Sunday brunch with the boys, all those questions were popping off again. Minho, who was busy massaging his temples, let Thomas, who was sitting next to him, closer than usual, do all the talking. He didn't say much, only the basics, about how they just didn't feel like sharing this information yet, that they wanted to explore that new thing between them without anyone interfering.

For someone who always claimed to be uncomfortable with romance if he wasn't romantically attracted, Minho was really surprised at how at ease Thomas was talking about it. Maybe he prepared a speech?

And when the boy suddenly kissed him on the cheek, it took all his will power to not jump in surprise. Hoping no one noticed his stiffness, he took the brunet's hands in his and smiled, pretending to be a good boyfriend.

"Aww, look how cute they are~" Frypan teased.

"Yeah" Zart added with a wink. "I now understand why you guys wanted your own apartment, you must do it a lot, right?"

Oh. Minho didn't about that. Of course that now they were "dating", people would assume they're having sex. And sex was a hard topic for Thomas, even if he once told him that he really wanted to do it one day, if he ever get sexually attracted to someone. The Korean looked at his friend, worried about him, guessing he hadn't anticipated this comment too. He saw him blushing and looking down, probably embarrassed, but he didn't say anything. Minho lightly squeezed the hand he was holding, showing his support.

The conversation thankfully drifted and Minho was finally able to relax for a bit.

…

They kissed again at another party thrown by someone Minho didn't know. His friends just told him the track team was invited so he kind of felt obligated to go. And he was annoyed as hell.

So many people, some he didn't even know, commented on his "relationship" with Thomas, some dudes even saying low key homophobic shit, and some girls commenting on how "hot" it was that too attractive guy were dating.

This was hell. Of course it wasn't the first time he received those type of comments, as he has been out as bisexual for a while now, but it was just getting on his nerves and he so desperately wanted to leave this party.

Finishing the cheap beer he was drinking, he was suddenly pulled by Thomas in a secret-not-so-secret area.

"Kiss me."

"What?"

It was a repeat of last time. When Minho had agreed to this masquerade, he didn't thought he would have to kiss Thomas again. The first time had been painful enough.

"Gally doesn't believe in our relationship, he thinks it's fake…"

"And we have to kiss to prove him? Should I remind you that this whole thing is indeed fake."

"I know, but please. For me?" He seemed desperate.

Looking around, he realized that Thomas chose the perfect spot. It was intimate enough to seem like they wanted some kind of privacy, while also allowing anyone who was looking to see them.

Spotting a tall blond looking at them, he sighed.

"Okay."

And then he pinned Thomas to the wall and kissed him. At least, Gally would get a show and would maybe let his friend alone.

Ignoring the pain in his chest, ignoring the thoughts that he would never get that again, ignoring that it was all he ever wanted, he lost himself to Thomas's lips.

Going deeper, pressing their bodies together, he kissed Thomas like he always wanted too. It was passionate, filled with sparks along with a warm feeling in his guts. He never wanted it to stop.

Realizing what he was doing, he released the boy. Thomas was blushing hard and was looking everywhere, but at Minho.

Klunk. He fucked up.

He made his best friend uncomfortable, which was the least thing he wanted to do.

"U-uh, t-thanks" the brunet said before leaving Minho there, going back to the party.

Let's just say, the way back home was very awkward.

...

They acted like nothing happened. It was better that way.

However, in the eyes of their friends, they were still dating. And Minho couldn't take it anymore. They still went on with it, hugging, stealing a kiss or two, adding PDA to their already existing friendship.

And Minho felt so bad about it. It felt like taking advantage of Thomas. He hated how much he enjoyed having his "boyfriend" in his arms, how much he enjoyed kissing him, how much he enjoyed everything.

Because he knew Thomas didn't and that was the worst feeling.

So when he proposed Minho to go the party after their track meet, like tradition obliged, the young man refused.

"But… why? Gally will be there and-"

"No." Minho interrupted him. "No. I can't."

"Can't what?"

The Korean pressed his temples before answering, knowing his heart would shatter in few seconds.

"I can't do it anymore."

"Can't do what? Fake date me?"

"Yes."

"B-but…" Thomas stuttered. He was agitated, panicked even. "W-what about Gally-"

"I don't shucking care about Gally, Thomas." He interrupted again, speaking louder. "I. Can't. Do. It. Anymore. Do you understand that?"

The brunet was now distressed.

"B-but, please!" He begged. "Please Minho! Don't…"

"NO! Stop! I can't, okay?! I can't!"

"Why!?"

"Because I love you!"

The words left his mouth involuntarily. Realization hit him as Thomas's eyes widened.

"Shit." He said. "Shit, shit, shit."

He grabbed his head into his hands, pressing hard, clenching his eyes shut, hoping this was all a dream and that he didn't just confess to his best friend.

"You… you love me?"

Minho was on the verge of tears. He was going to lose his best friend. "Yes…" he still admitted softly, because he could not deny it any longer.

"And I can't pretend to be your boyfriend anymore because it just feels like I'm taking advantage of you whenever we're hugging or kissing" he added. "It feels so good, yet so wrong because I know you don't like it, I know you're not attracted to me, and I'm here taking advantage of the situation while making you uncomfortable and-"

"You're so dumb."

Minho raised his head, finally looking at Thomas who was definitely calmer than before.

"You're so dumb" he repeat. "I would've not asked you to do that if that made me uncomfortable. In fact, I was feeling bad because it was like I was forcing you to do all that, but I couldn't stop…"

He paused, biting his lips as his friend looked at him with surprised eyes.

"In fact… I thought that maybe if we pretended to date, it was my only chance at dating you because I never thought you could love me…"

At that, Minho was immediately at the brunet side, stroking the few tears that were on his cheeks, tears the boy probably didn't even noticed.

"Oh Tommyboy…"

"I'm sorry… I should've told you before. You're my best friend. The most important person for me. We have the strongest bond. Of course I love you…I can't see myself with anyone but you… but I thought that if I told you, we would lose what we had and I didn't want that… I'm so sorry…"

"Shh, stop…" Minho whispered while taking the young man in his arms. "It's my fault too… I was scared of losing you too, so I didn't say anything… I'm sorry…"

Thomas pressed his face in the Korean's chest, and Minho almost died. He was allowed to hold his friend in his arms. He was allowed to hug him, kiss him… love him.

"I'm sorry…" he murmured again. "I love you so much…"

They ended up on their couch, cuddling, with Minho pressing soft kisses on top of Thomas's head. Because now, he could.

He could drown him in affection if he wanted too.

"How long?" Thomas asked, breaking the silence. "How long have you been in love with me?"

"Since forever, shank."

The boy beamed. "For real?"

"Yeah…"

It was now Thomas's turn to kiss him passionately, and this time, there was no holding back. Tongues danced with each other, hands were everywhere, feeling everything. It was desperate, needy, and so earth-shattering. It was everything they need.

When they separated, breathing hard, only love could be seen in their eyes. And their smiles shined like the sun.

"You know" Thomas started "I love kissing you…"

Minho raised an eyebrow, and by his smirk, the brunet knew he shouldn't have said that. "Oh yeah? Does that mean that I'll also get to have sex with you?" he teased.

Thomas rolled his eyes, but the Asian knew that it meant yes.

"Now?"

That got him a slap on his chest.

"I'm joking! You know I'll be fine with just being able to kiss and hold you and that I would wait forever for you."

"I know."

"Great. Also know that I'm never letting you go, sorry shank, but you're stuck with me."

Thomas winked at that "That's what I want."

____________________________

Thomas's experience about his demisexuality and demiromanticism in this fic is heavily inspired by my own and does not reflect all demi-aroace experiences.

Thank you for reading!

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go-redgirl · 3 years ago

Photo

Britney Spears Sobs in Court Describing Dad’s ‘Abuse’

Three weeks ago, Britney Spears delivered an internet-breaking testimony about the horrors she has been forced to endure for the past 13 years under her conservatorship largely controlled by her father, Jamie Spears. Now, the pop star is finally being heard.

Spears was granted permission to hire a lawyer of her own choice on Wednesday afternoon by L.A. County Superior Court Judge Brenda Penny, who had 15 petitions and motions before her at the court hearing.

At one point, Spears suddenly addressed the judge, pleading once more to have her father immediately removed from the conservatorship immediately, saying she was “extremely scared” of him.

“This conservatorship has allowed my dad to ruin my life,” she sobbed, reported NBC. “I’m here to get rid of my dad and charge him with conservatorship abuse.”

Wendy Williams Owes Britney Spears a Major Apology

The monumental development of Spears being able to hire her own attorney comes more than a decade after a previous judge sided with court-appointed attorney Samuel D. Ingham III, who claimed Spears was not of sound mind to hire her own counsel in 2008.

Spears is now being represented by former federal prosecutor turned Hollywood-go-to man Mathew Rosengart. He was spotted outside the courthouse hours before the scheduled hearing.

Judge Penny also granted Ingham’s motion to withdraw from Spears’ case after he was reportedly upset with Spears telling the courtroom that he never informed her that she could have requested to dissolve the conservatorship entirely. Ingham, according to court documents, was allowed to bill Spears’ estimated $60 million estate up to $10,000 per week, raking in an annual salary of $520,000 to represent the star.

Britney Spears’ Conservatorship Lawyer Has a Very Mysterious Past

“I didn’t know I could petition the conservatorship to be ended,” Spears professed in her 23-minute address to the court. “I’m sorry for my ignorance, but I honestly didn’t know that.”

“My attorney says I can’t—it’s not good,” she stated at another point. “I can’t let the public know anything they did to me. He told me I should keep it to myself, really.”

Although the court shuttered its remote audio broadcast program, largely in reaction to audio recordings of Spears’ testimony being shared on social media, many of the #FreeBritney supporters gathered outside Stanley Mosk Courthouse to stand in solidarity with the singer, including, in a bizarre act of political opportunism, embattled Florida congressman Matt Gaetz. “One thing we can all agree on is that Jamie Spears is a dick,” he told the crowd. (Gaetz will soon likely face his own legal battle.)

Rosengart and his high-powered firm being given the OK to represent Spears is the first step in what is expected to be a long and contentious fight to have her conservatorship completely disbanded.

In addition to Ingham stepping down, there have been other major shake-ups following Spears’ June 23 bombshell hearing. Last week, her longtime manager Larry Rudolph resigned, stating it had been more than two years since he last spoke with Spears, who at the time had informed him she wanted to take an “indefinite” hiatus from work.

“Earlier today, I became aware that Britney had been voicing her intention to officially retire,” he said in a statement. “As her manager, I believe it is in Britney’s best interest for me to resign from her team as my professional services are no longer needed.”

Days earlier, Bessemer Trust—the estate-management company tapped to be co-conservator in Spears’ estate—also requested to withdraw from the case. In court papers, the firm cited its decision was a direct result of Spears’ testimony, declaring it had “heard” Spears’ anguish and wanted to “respect her wishes.”

_____________________________________

OPINION: Why is her father handling a ‘grown women’ business affairs. There is no law that says that she have to put up with her father as a grow adult. He needs to keep his hands out of the money cookie jar. In other words, it not his money and when a child turns 18 in our country (i.e. this country) they are legally grown and can choose their own ‘faith’. Daddy or mother cannot control their life. Her Daddy is just trying to control this ‘Grow Women’ affairs. It doesn’t matter if he is the biological farther. The law is she’s grown. If she can make this money its her money and she can control the money.

Send ‘Dad’ stepping and let him stop piggy backing off of his grown daughter hard earn money. Its her money she earned its, not the Daddy.

Kick Daddy to the curve.

Better still just get married to someone for a few yeas and let Daddy find another job.

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blazehedgehog · 4 years ago

Note

i bet you could do a kickass video on sonic xtreme

I dunno.

I talk big about Sonic X-treme, but the truth of the matter is I kind of stopped paying attention to a lot of it after a while.

For those who don’t know, here’s the whole story:

Around 2000 or 2001, I was deep in to, like, The Secrets of Sonic Team and other websites that covered lost beta elements in Sonic games. This was right after the big Sonic 2 Beta discovery, and the Sonic community was working overtime documenting all kinds of discoveries and lost stuff from every Sonic game ever made up to that point...

...except Sonic X-treme. That information was fragmented and spread across the internet and nobody really seemed to care. I saw a niche I could fill, so I started up a website and combed the web looking for every scan, screenshot and video I could find. I collected all of it at a modest website that was something like sonicxtreme.tk or sonicxtreme.cjb.net or whatever. One of those free domain URLs.

And once I’d collected everything that could be found on Sonic X-treme... that was, uh, it. It’s not like there was anything more that I could do. Once I had all the magazine articles and screenshots of the game, I had reached a dead end on what that website could accomplish. I had completed the known snapshot of what was Sonic X-treme. And so it sat for like, a year. Maybe longer. Just gathering dust.

By now, people at in the community were making efforts to contact the English-speaking members of Sonic 2′s development team. People like Craig Stitt, Brenda Ross, so on and so forth. The Sega Technical Institute folks. And it dawned on me: the entire development staff for Sonic X-treme was American, weren’t they? With Sonic 2, they were stuck talking to artists who were trapped in the tunnel vision of only working on small, specific parts of the game. Brenda Ross could only speak about the couple levels she worked on, y’know? They couldn’t interview the larger members of Sonic Team directly -- they were celebrities, which made them hard to contact, and on top of that there was a language barrier. There were a lot of hurdles to cross, and many of them were borderline impossible.

But with Sonic X-treme, everything was way more accessible and local. So I started skimming the magazine scans I had. Ultra Gameplayers had run a monthly feature called “White Glove Diaries” about the development of the game, speaking to people who were working on it, and it was the best source of information for the game at the time. Within moments, I had a name: Mike Wallis, the game’s producer. Inside of maybe thirty minutes and some skillful Google searching later, I had an email address. It really was that easy.

I tried to be as polite and respectful as I could; I asked him if he was the same Mike Wallis that worked on Sonic X-treme and wondered if he would be willing to answer any questions.

The first thing he wrote back to me was “How did you find me?” along with confirmation that yes, he was that Mike Wallis.

The second thing he wrote back to me was “Would you be willing to speak over the phone?”

And I panicked. This guy was, at least to me, a pretty big deal. I was still deep in my pit of despair, so the idea of interviewing this guy rattled me. I couldn’t do it. I posted on on the Sonic hacking community forum, relaying my inability to go through with this thing. Here I was on the cusp of a big breakthrough and I was acting like a deer in the headlights. Leaped before I looked and got exactly what I wanted, at the cost of now feeling deeply over my head. I was in no way mentally prepared for this.

Somebody on the forum stepped forward and said he’d do the interview for me. His username was Pachuka, and he was gaining notoriety in the Sonic hacking community. Pachuka seemed confident and knew his way around the important terminology, so I figured sure, he can do it. We talked over IRC, ran through some questions we wanted to ask, set the whole thing up for the appointed phone call. We were a team.

The call happened and Pachuka recorded the whole thing. Said he’d release the MP3 on his new website, The Sonic-Cult.

I was incredibly nervous even just listening to the MP3 of the phone call. They’d have to mention me, right? Acknowledge my existence? Talk about how I set the call up? It was hard not to feel incredibly self-conscious.

The call opened with Mike Wallis referring to my website. And Pachuka... had no idea what he was talking about. He never mentioned me by name, and barely even acknowledged that he knew me. Heck, Mike Wallis seemed to know more about me than Pachuka did, and I’m the one who set the whole thing up for him.

Looking back in retrospect, I probably didn’t do that much. From getting the idea, to finding his email address and sending the email, contacting Mike Wallis took what was likely less than an hour’s work, and I was mainly following the example of others in the Sonic community. But in the moment, it felt like I had done a lot. This was as much my discovery as it was anyone else’s. I was the only person who cared enough to set this up. I ran a whole website about this stuff -- the only website for it on the entire internet. And yet, Pachuka couldn’t even remember my username. I felt worthless.

From then on, the community treated this as Pachuka’s discovery. It was his interview. He made the discovery. His star rose, and I remained a nobody. No one cared about my site. Sonic-Cult is where you went if you wanted to learn the real deal about Sonic X-treme.

With Mike Wallis on the line, Pachuka started contacting more people from Sonic X-treme’s development. Soon, that lead him to Chris Senn, and the floodgates were blown wide open. Chris Senn was the key to everything.

I was never a part of any of those conversations. Not even once. The whole community took off without me and I was left in the dust. The handful of screenshots and magazine scans I had collected now looked absolutely pitiful.

I paid attention to the information that came out, of course. I was still interested in the game, and I mirrored what I could on my site. But on the inside, it was hard not to feel hurt. I never looked at it with quite the fervor I once had. It wasn’t mine anymore. I let myself get scooped and the door was slammed in my face without so much as a “thank you.”

After that, the magic and mystery of Sonic X-treme wore off pretty quickly for me. As more and more and more concept drawings and videos and music files and sprites and everything else burst out of Chris Senn, my interest began to wane. It stopped being special.

Petty? On some level, maybe. But for a brief window of time, Sonic X-treme research felt like my baby. I was the guy you talked to about that. Why bother keeping up appearances when somebody else was getting patted on the back and now one of the game’s developers was practically uploading the entire design document to the internet? They apparently didn’t want me involved, so I took a hike.

Don’t get me wrong: it was my fault. I handed this to Pachuka on a silver platter, and he ran away with it. It was a decision that haunted me for years. Made me start realizing I needed to be more confident and less shy.

I am in no rush to relive that mistake.

So when it comes to Sonic 3, I could recite a lot of that from memory. When it comes to Sonic X-treme, I remember the details of the Mike Wallis interview and some basics that came from Chris Senn, but a lot of the finer details of that weren’t really committed to memory, because I didn’t pay super close attention to all of it. And where would you even go to fill in those blanks? Last I checked, The Senntient website isn’t what it used to be.

So, again... I dunno.

#questions #sonic x-treme #sonic the hedgehog #sega #sonic team #mike wallis #chris senn #Anonymous

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aeipcthys · 4 years ago

Text

╰ ❛ 💉 — › brenda song. cis-female. she/her. ╯ have you met margot moore yet ? this twenty nine year old virgo has been living in the seattle area for one month. she makes a living as executive assistant to the chief of surgery, which is best suited for their observant, loyal, picky, and judgmental personality. hold on by wilson phillips is one of their favorite songs.

trigger warnings: mental health, mental illness, bipolar disorder, racism, microaggressions, gambling addiction mention, addiction mention

full character page here

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: margot moore

Nickname(s): moore

Age: 29

Date of Birth: august 23, 1992

Hometown: lake placid, florida

Current Location: seattle, washington

Ethnicity: hmong, thai

Nationality: american

Gender: cisgender female

Pronouns: she/her/hers

Orientation: she has only ever slept with men. that being said.......how y’all doing

Status: technically in a relationship

Religion: christian

Political Affiliation: democratic socialist

Occupation: executive assistant to the chief of surgery

Living Arrangements: she wants a roommate so if someone breaks into her apartment she won’t be the only target

Language(s) Spoken: english, hmong

Accent: american

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Face Claim: brenda song

Hair Color: brunette

Eye Color: dark brown

Height: 5'2

Weight: 113 lbs

Build: slim

Tattoos: anchor, writing on her finger, cross on her knuckle, writing on her wrist, bee on her wrist, cross on her side, symbol on her wrist

Piercings: ears, cartilage

Clothing Style: cute, fashionable kind of thing

Usual Expression: resting bitch face probably

Distinguishing Characteristics: laugh

HEALTH

Physical Ailments: none.

Neurological Conditions: has a form of bipolar affective disorder, doesn’t talk about it much, and is strict about her medications

Allergies: none.

Sleeping Habits: sprawls out across her bed when she eventually passes out with the tv on

Eating Habits: vegetarian except when she’s not

Exercise Habits: she actually attends those soul cycle kind of classes, and is really into it, but she would definitely make fun of them to everyone else

Emotional Stability: 9.14

Sociability: chatty, definitely can be nice, often judgmental but with good intentions, will gossip with you

Body Temperature: runs cold yet often wears outfits she’ll definitely be cold in

Addictions: stupid dumb men

Drug Use: we’re not necessarily opposed, but not a regular thing

Alcohol Use: bottle of wine everyday when she gets home kinda thing

PERSONALITY

Label: tbd

Positive Traits: observant, loyal, analytical, hard-working,

Negative Traits: picky, judgmental (with love), cynical, bossy

Fears: people in mascot costumes

Hobbies: being tupperware for other people’s messes (i stole this from an astrology site but legit her okay), girl can internet stalk the HELL out of someone for you if need be

Habits: eavesdropping on conversations, accidentally cutting people off when she has a better idea, zoning out when a whole lot of boring is coming at her

FAVOURITES

Weather: if it’s not humidity, she’s cool

Colour: shades of peach

Music: anything she can dance to in her apartment or every once and a while something at her desk that would make lachlan uncomfortable

Movies: no movies, movies are long

Sport: uh

Beverage: wine

Food: too many things have been described as her favorite to keep track

Animal: no thanks

FAMILY

Father: cye moore

Mother: mai moore

Sibling(s): elias moore

Children: none.

Pet(s): n/a

Family’s Financial Status: middle class

EXTRA

Zodiac Sign: virgo

MBTI: estj

Anything Else:

BIO

Margot Moore grew up in Lake Placid, Florida...a very tiny place in the sunshine state. Lake Placid had a population of just about 2,000 people, and Margot felt the smallness of it all ever since she was young.

Her parents, Cye and Mai, were good and loving parents to Margot and her brother, Elias. Both her parents were immigrants to the United States, so they were among the many who worked tirelessly to provide a good and stable life for their children. Her father worked his way up to being a branch manager at a manufacturing company, and her mother worked at a bank. All in all, her life could be described as pretty normal.

However, growing up in Lake Placid wasn’t always a walk in the park. Lake Placid was a largely white town, and because it was small, everybody knew everybody. Which meant people talked. You never wanted to be on the wrong side of that talk. As she got older, Margot started to see that she looked different from a lot of her classmates. Her classmates noticed it too.

TW racism, microaggressions She began to experience racism and microaggressions at the hands of people who were her friends. A lot of it was unconscious, but there was a definite bias. Margot’s parents knew it too, but they didn’t want to rock the boat. They encouraged Margot to ignore it. To try and blend in as much as possible. So, that’s what Margot learned to do. She tried her best to just blend in with it all. She didn’t talk much about her family’s culture or traditions. She tried to make herself look more like her friends, even dying her hair blonde for a period of time to try and make herself into the ideal standard of beauty.

TW mental illness, mental health, bipolar disorder During this time, Margot also began to struggle with other things. Her mood swings were unpredictable. She experienced racing thoughts and an inability to focus. She started sleeping less and making some risky decisions. At first, Margot didn’t want to get help. She didn’t see a need. But when she started to fall back into a depressive episode during her junior year of high school, her parents said enough was enough. Margot started going to regular therapy appointments and met with a number of psychologists. She was diagnosed with a milder form of bipolar affective disorder, and she has been on medications ever since.

Margot has done extremely well keeping up with therapy and her medications. Therapy is the one thing she’ll never reschedule. Not even for work. Old habits die hard for Margot, though. It’s hard for her to talk about her mental illness because in her mind, this is just another thing that separates her from everyone else. And remember what her parents always said: assimilate.

Margot went on to college, and she had a strong desire to get herself out of Lake Placid. She decided to study business at the advise of her dad at the University of Central Florida, but it wasn’t something she was exactly passionate about. It was a thing to do while she enjoyed her college years. She wasn’t bad at it, she just didn’t give as much effort as she probably should have.

Out of college, Margot had little money of her own, but she was determined not to go back to Lake Placid to live with her parents. She started temping at an agency, and she would get moved around from business to business, mostly doing administrative work or bookkeeping. It wasn’t overly exciting, but it gave her some money to live off. Plus, Margot lived off of learning about each place she worked at...all of the office gossip and drama.

Somewhere in her post-grad life, Margot met Holden. Holden was, in fact, an idiot who probably had a (TW gambling addiction, addiction) gambling problem that Margot funds. Margot and Holden just kind of ended up together. It wasn’t that they were madly in love. They just kind of...stuck. Margot was the one who pretty much kept them alive. She for some reason has a soft spot for the dumb ones...it was the only thing that kept her from kicking him to the curb through the years. Their relationship isn’t solid, or even necessarily exclusive...it just kind of exists. And no one understands it.

When she was about 24 years old, Margot started temping at a private practice in Florida. This is where she soon met Lachlan Covington and Andrea Martinez. Both the doctors worked at the private practice, and Margot started actually liking her job. Of course, it was a temp job, so she had to work her magic. Sure enough, she was eventually able to persuade Lachlan into taking her on as an assistant.

Margot has been working for Lachlan ever since, and she’s built up a good friendship with Andrea. She was shocked when Andrea left for Seattle, and high key disappointed to see the couple split up. She always hoped they would be endgame. Margot stuck by Lachlan, but she often told him that he needed to get Andrea back. Because he did. Eventually, Margot watched Lachlan leave too. She initially had no intention of going with him, considering her life was all in Florida. However, after a few weeks him being gone, she realized how boring most of her other co-workers were. When he reached out to see if she’d come to Seattle, she said yes almost immediately. (She tried to be casual about it though). She assigned herself the title of executive assistant, just because she thought it sounded more important with the word executive in it.

Margot didn’t exactly break up with Holden before she left, and by the sounds of his texts, he may still think they’re still together. She’s just kind of letting that be for the time being. After all, they’ve been together for so long.

Margot is liking Seattle, but she hates living alone and is still trying to get her own lay of the land. She likes to have resources...people she can go to when she needs something, people she can squeeze information out of, the good restaurants she can order from and charge to the hospital credit card when Lachlan’s inevitably working late and she stays in solidarity...that kind of thing.

PLOTS

y’all know me open to anything

probably looking for: roommate!!! folks she always goes to for info, people to gossip with, a friend she often grabs lunch with, that one doctor she hates and always tells them that lachlan is in a meeting when really he’s completely free

#traumaintro #she was not meant to stand still ( margot moore. )#sup #( character intro. )

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nothingbutfangirlsmut · 4 years ago

Text

The Trials of Emi

Pairing: A little Minho. A sprinkle of Frypan. Gally x Emi(OC)

Summary: Emi, her twin brother Thomas, and a small group of gladers had been rescued and taken to a safe haven. Or so it seemed. It doesn't take long for Thomas to realize something is wrong. What happens next is a true trial for all of them but Emi's trials began the moment she was ripped away from a dying Gally. Watching someone you love die right before your eyes truly takes a toll.

Finally meeting the right arm could have been the end but betrayal leads to even more chaos and loss. A new mission to rescue those taken from them leads them to a city. The last city. After Emi finally comes to terms with everything that's happened something unfolds that changes everything again. She will have to not only deal with helping her brother take down WCKD and save their friend but also deal with all the new problems in her head and her heart.

Rating: As of right now it’s at most PG13. Some strong language that’s about it but it could change.

(This is the 2nd part/book to my other story "The Maze trials: A Gally Fanfiction". This will cover the events of the scorch trails and the death cure.)

Chapter Twelve

Six months. It took six long months for us to finally reach the place Vince had told us about. We immediately made the place our base. Vince and some others made the decision to see if they could get one of the old docked ships fixed up enough to use. We needed a way to the safe haven after all. If we had a ship we could get far away from WCKD but we had other things to get done first.

I was currently sitting next to Fry watching Jorge and Brenda argue over what was needed to fix one of the jeeps. Over the past six months, I had spent most of my free time with Fry. He’d been there for me on all my bad days and nights. He comforted me and made me laugh. I could feel the two of us growing closer but I was careful to keep the line drawn. As much as I adored Fry I couldn’t give him more than my friendship. Not yet anyway. He knew that and was incredibly good-hearted about it. He had his arm over the back of my chair as I leaned against him.

"We got it!" Thomas and Newt both shouted as they ran out of one of the old buildings.

I jumped at their sudden outburst. The two boys sat down in front of us looking excited and out of breath.

"We found them!" Thomas said excitedly.

The four of us shared a surprised look as we starred at Thomas. We'd completely lost WCKD for months. The trail was completely cold and now they suddenly knew where to find them?

"What did you find?" Jorge asked.

"We got a transmission. There's a train coming threw about an hour or two from here. It's hauling a bunch of the immunes to a new location." Newt said quickly.

"How do we find this train?" I asked them.

"We passed the track on our way here." Thomas smiled.

"So what's the plan?" Brenda asked.

"We'll need a few more hands. I'm thinking Harriet and Vince. Maybe a few more." Thomas said.

"I'll get Harriet," I told him.

He nodded.

"I'll get Vince. Fry and Newt see if you can get us a few more hands." Thomas ordered.

We each nodded then hopped up to do as he said. I found Harriet in one of the buildings going threw supplies.

"Hey H," I said to get her attention.

She looked up at me and smiled.

"Emi, what can I do for you?" She asked setting down the supplies in her hand.

"We found them," I told her simply.

Her smile grew even wider as she laughed.

"Where?" She asked quickly.

"On a train that's gonna pass close by," I informed her.

"What do you need?" She asked walking around the table she was standing at.

"Thomas has a plan but he said he needed a few extra hands. Thought we'd see if you were interested." I explained.

"Hell yea! Let's do it!" She cheered.

Harriet followed me out of the building then back up to where Jorge and Brenda were working on some of the trucks. Fry and Newt were there with about four others. Thomas hadn't made it back with Vince yet.

"Who are they?" I asked pointing at the newcomers.

"I'm Alex," one boy said with a charming smile as he extended his hand to me.

"I'm Emi," I told him as I shook his hand.

"You're Thomas' sister right?" He asked.

I nodded.

"It's amazing none of us realized it immediately. You two look like the same bloody person." Newt chuckled.

“That’s Ashley, Drake, and Eric,” Fry said pointing to the other three.

"Good you're all here," Thomas said from behind me.

I turned to see him and Vince with two other boys. They joined the group.

"Here's the plan. Jorge and Brenda will take one jeep. Vince and I will take another. Brenda and Jorge will be our distraction as Vince and I get on the train. Newt, you and Emi will be close by with torches to get the compartment loose. These two, Daniel and Greg, will be with Newt and Emi for added protection. Harriet, Fry, and the rest of you will be our hidden backup to jack the aircraft they will most likely send in for help. Brenda, you and Jorge will need to lead that aircraft to them. Once you take it you need to come back to the train to get the compartment and us." Thomas explained.

"When is this going down?" I asked him.

"In two days around midday. We will discuss more details once we have all the equipment we need." Thomas said.

We all nodded then went our separate ways to gather what was needed. Over the next day, we went over every small detail of the plan. It seemed we had every possible outcome thought up and dealt with. When the day finally arrived Brenda and Jorge took Fry, Alex, Ashley, Drake, Eric, and Harriet to where they needed to be while Thomas and Vince dropped me, Newt, Daniel, and Greg off to hide close to the tracks.

"Be careful out there," I told both Vince and Thomas as they climbed back in their jeep.

As they drove off Newt and I took cover behind a larger boulder. Daniel and Greg each hid behind their own boulder. Thomas would signal us when he needed us.

"How are things going with you two?" I asked Newt as we sat in the dirt.

He chuckled.

"Pretty great actually." He smiled.

"I'm glad things worked out for you two," I told him happily.

"Thanks Em" he chuckled.

"Are things getting better for you?" He asked.

I thought about it for a second. Things did seem better. I was sleeping threw the night and didn't feel like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. I felt like I'd finally made my peace.

"Yea, I'm good. It's been rough dealing with losing him but I've finally come to grips with it. I have enough memories of him to keep me going." I smiled at him.

"Maybe one of these days you can completely move on and give all that love you have to someone else. Maybe Fry.” Newt said softly.

I chuckled at that.

"I doubt it. I may have come to terms with Gally's death but I don't think any other guy, even Fry, will ever be able to make me feel like he did. If I happened to meet a guy who did then maybe but I don't think that will happen." I shrugged.

“What is going on with you and Fry then?” Newt asked.

“We are friends,” I said simply.

“Looks like a bit more than friends to me and Tommy.” Next chuckled softly.

“No, just friends. He’s been there for me while everyone else has been so busy. He did confess to me that he’d like to be more than a friend to me one day but he knows that’s a while down the road.” I explained.

“So he is your friend for now until you’re ready to completely move on?” Next asked with a smirk.

“Yea, sure” I chuckled softly.

A train whistled in the distance instantly gaining mine and Newt's attention. We righted ourselves to wait for the action to begin. We could hear the train getting closer and closer. It was traveling pretty fast from the sound of it. I barely peeked around the boulder to see the engine not far from us.

"Brenda and Jorge should already be close to it," I said aloud.

It didn't take long for the engine to reach us. I couldn't see the end of the train but I knew that was where Thomas and Vince were.

"They're on top," Newt said.

I could see two shadows running across the top of the train.

"They have company," Newt said worriedly.

On the opposite side of the train, coming from the engine, was four or five people running towards Thomas and Vince.

"What do we do?" I asked him trying not to panic.

"Nothing, we wait for Tommy's signal," Newt said slowly.

I watched as Thomas and Vince's figures dropped between the compartments. I could hear shots being fired in the distance then a loud explosion. The back half of the train came to a screeching halt. We stayed hidden until Thomas called for us.

A loud whistle rang out. Newt popped up to check it out.

"Newt!" Vince shouted.

"Let's go! Move!" Newt said gesturing for me and the other two boys to follow him.

We ran over to the train as fast as we could. I could hear Thomas on the other side shouting for Minho. The kids inside the compartment we're shouting back. Newt went to the side Thomas was on while I dropped down on the other side.

I pulled my goggles on over my eyes as I pulled out my torch. I got to work as quickly as I could to cut through the thick metal. Thomas and Vince climbed on top of the compartment to start hooking the ropes together. Daniel and Greg were standing on the ground trying to hold off the WCKD guards.

"Newt, how you doing?" Thomas asked loudly.

"Don't rush me!" I heard Newt shout.

"Emi" Thomas said coming to my side of the train.

"Working on it!" I shouted up to him.

Shots rang out in our directions making me jump. I kept my eyes on the torch but I could hear the bullets hitting the metal all around me.

"Newt! Emi! Get up here!" Thomas shouted.

Daniel and Greg were already climbing on top of the compartment.

"Almost done!" Newt shouted back at him.

"Newt! Go!" I heard Vince shout from the other side of the train.

"Emi get your ass up here now!" Thomas shouted down at me.

I finished cutting threw the metal then shoved the torch back in my bag. I slung my bag over my shoulder as I started to climb up the ladder. The boys were lying down and I was quick to join them as a bullet zipped right past me.

"Where the hell are they?" Newt questioned loudly.

"I don't know!" Thomas shouted back as he tried to shoot down some of our attackers.

The sound of a large aircraft had me and Newt rolling onto our backs as Thomas, Daniel, and Greg kept shooting. The aircraft hovered right above us then the bay door opened. I could see Brenda and Fry smiling down at us as they released the large hook. Thomas, Newt, and I jumped to our feet to grab it.

"Come on!" Thomas shouted as he tried to jump for the hook.

"Lower!" Newt shouted.

Thomas grabbed the hook. He and Newt tried to pull it down faster. When we could we quickly hooked all the ropes onto it.

"Go! Go!" Thomas shouted up to our friends inside the craft.

Slowly the ropes started to lift.

"Vince! Get up here!" Newt shouted.

The compartment started to lift off its frame.

"Now Vince!" Thomas shouted.

Vince jumped grabbing the bottom of the ladder. He climbed up quickly as we rose higher into the air.

"Yea!" Thomas shouted excitedly.

We did it. We actually did it. We just stole a whole damn train compartment full of immunes from WCKD. Damn this felt good.

—

#nothingbutfangirlsmut #fanfiction #gally #gally imagine #gally smut #gally x reader #the maze runner #the maze trials #tmr gally #original character #the trials of emi

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hellyeahheroes · 5 years ago

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Orphaned: How The New 10s Have FAILED Cassandra Cain

As we approach the end of “the New 10s”, how we came to call this decade (a term I will be using in the common usage, referring to all years with 201X number, not the proper one which ends with 2020), I took a look at one of the characters who I really feel got the short end of the stick through all of it - Cassandra Cain.

There were some good things for the character in the decade. Writers like James Tynion IV, Bryan Edward Hill actually gave her as much respect as they could in given circumstances and she even made her first-ever appearance in animation. However, looking back I cannot say that it has been actually kind time for her . The bad just outweighs the good. I have isolated five reasons why I believe that to be the case.

1. The Erasure

This room is full of New 52 Cassandra Cain stories.

As always, everything boils down to New 52, the reboot that defined the New 10s for DC Comics. A reboot that asked us to assume Cassandra no longer exists and never existed, even if this did not mesh with the supposedly intact, just compressed, Batman continuity. The only writer who seems to have ignored it was Grant Morrison, whose Batman Inc. was caught by the reboot in the middle and seems to exist in a Schrödinger's relationship with two continuities - both part of the old and new DC Universe.

What is worse is that DC editorial has been silently stonewalling writers who wanted to use the character with vague excuses of her supposedly being toxic and little explanation beyond that. Scott Snyder was denied the use of her in Batman and had to create Harper Row as a replacement. Gail Simone’s pitch for a Batgirls book featuring Cassandra, Stephanie Brown and Barbara Gordon was rejected in favor of a solo Barbara book. In which both characters have been banned from appearing. The only exception was the Future’s Ends special, which was literally Simone’s final issue. It feels that this was done due to higher-ups' desire to push Barbara as the One True Batgirl. Which manifested in some of the editorial changes made to the book, like an artist being told, behind Simone’s back, to make a new villain look like Stephanie. Or Batman flat out calling Barbara “Only Good Batgirl” despite this making no sense in a continuity where she is literally the only one to ever use the name. The fact this ended up doing more harm than good to Barbara is a topic for another list like this altogether. The crux of it is, DC did their worst to make people forget Cassandra ever exists and alienate her fans for years, hoping to get rid of them entirely. As the very existence of this article proves, their attempts were less than successful.

2. The Alienation

Once DC actually gave in and allowed Snyder to bring Cassandra back, other problems arose. The first one has come in the form of her new codename - Orphan. That name was supposed to allow her establishing her own identity instead of being defined by Bruce and Barbara. However, this argument seems dishonest when it is an identity previously used by her villainous father. The idea of Cassandra redeeming it has some merit, I admit. But this decision does send a message of her being defined solely by her abuser. It also serves to separate her from the rest of the Batfamily. Originally Cassandra has been portrayed as a member of the group and an adoptive sister to all of Bruce Wayne’s fellow sidekicks. Now it feels like her very name serves to single her out, an orphan among orphans.

This problem is not limited to the title. In general, Cassandra is now written as more isolated from the rest of the Batfamily, excluded from as many things as possible or having her role limited to nothing but a cameo. It has been 5 years and DC did as little as possible to reestablish her relationships with any people she was close with previously. In fact, with characters like Stephanie or Tim Drake, they seem to be betting on fans remembering their bonds from the previous continuity and act like they do not need to put in the work to rebuild them. Even if such measures have been taken for things like the reveal of her mother again. Her relationship with Barbara is as quickly cut as it was reestablished, without giving us anything but one or two scenes that work mostly as a reminder of what the two have lost from old continuity. She is not allowed to form new bonds with major characters either, her interactions with Jason Todd and Damian Wayne being kept to a bare minimum even more than before New 52.

What’s worse is that new connections that she does form end quickly broken and undermined. After a big buildup of her friendship with Harper that girl gets completely written out of Batman comics altogether. Her relationships with Clayface and Batwoman were shattered with the former’s death. Not only that but DC seems entirely unwilling to follow on plot threads like this. It has been over a year by now since Kate was forced to kill Basil to save Cassandra’s life and not a single interaction between the characters seems to be allowed to ever bring that up, despite the effect it should have on both of them. I’ve gotten an impression they aren’t allowed to interact at all anymore, just stand awkwardly next to each other in group shots. Even Cassandra’s currently established bond with Duke Thomas feels constantly undermined by a looming threat he will end the story broken and turned into a villain. All of this sends a message that Cassandra is not a real part of the Batfamily, more a hired muscle than a real member of the group.

Even the relationships with her villains have been taken away from her by simply erasing said villains. The same goes for many characters who once were her supporting cast, like Brenda or Onyx. Even her father had to be killed despite how many great scenes past writers could work out of confronting the two and exploring both how twisted his view of her is and what extent of the damage he has done to her. It gives an impression of outright spite, as if DC only agreed to bring her back at the cost of stripping her away from all interesting story threads.

3. The Jobbing

The less is said about Thomas Wayne vs Entire Batfamily, the better.

One of the problems with Cassandra’s portrayal is jobbing. For those who do not know, jobbing is a term in wrestling where a wrestler is made to lose a fight to put their opponent over with the audience. The bigger the reputation of a certified badass the jobber has, the more likely people are to buy the other guy as a genuine threat. A quote attributed to veteran wrestler Christian goes “If you can make the other guy look good you will always find a job, but you will have to do the job”.

Sadly, since her return, Cassandra has been reduced to a jobber. A character who is known as the best martial arts fighter in the Batfamily, if not in the DC Universe as a whole, is constantly made to lose to make someone else look good. In fact, between 2015 and 2019 the character had literally a single clean victory. By “clean” I mean a fair one on one fight. Every single one of her other victories was immediately being retconned as her opponent holding back (Dick Grayson) or undermined by her having the help of other characters (Lady Shiva, Azrael). Even the one opponent she was allowed to beat, Ismael, was a new character introduced just a few issues prior and his only show of skill to speak of was beating her in a previous fight. Meanwhile, she is constantly made to lose against opponents who have never been shown to possess skills or abilities that could make it believable, like Jason Todd, Helena Bertinelli or Karma. Thomas Wayne, a character whose use of guns was justified as compensation for his horrible hand-to-hand skills, is likely the worst example of them all. Cassandra is allowed to beat unnamed minions, be it Colony soldiers or League of Shadows ninjas. However, these do little to establish her as a force to be reckoned with she once was. After all, every single hero takes down hordes of minions constantly. Overall her status as a great fighter is at this point nothing more but an informed ability and DC has killed all credibility she once had.

There are painful and insulting implications that come along with Cassandra’s jobbing. This is because her skills as a martial artist have always been something she took great pride in and formed a lot of her self-esteem around. She finds comfort and relief from living with her disability in them. Her story is not one of a person “overcoming” their disability or have it nullified by superpowers that comic books are sadly full of. It is a story of a disabled person learning to live with their disability by finding solace in other skills she has and proving herself a true master despite said disability. By making her be beaten by everyone and their mother, DC turned that character arc into a cruel joke. Cassandra who is losing every fight is Cassandra that DC wants you to laugh at. Mock her for being delusional to think disabled people can be heroes and not just helpless victims. An ableist position very in line with a company that erased Barbara Gordon’s disability and history as Oracle, and to this day has editorial personally offended by the idea she could be anything but helpless in a wheelchair. As a result all Cassandra stories since her return just feel mean-spirited.

4. Shiva

Since Cassandra's return, the only two stories to focus on her have been about her mother, Lady Shiva. This has been a larger problem that has existed since Dan DiDio started meddling with the characters. We could see it in a classic story Destruction Daughter as well. There seems to be a desire on an editorial level to repeat and outdo the classic fan-favorite fight between them from Batgirl #25. Which is by many considered the best Cassandra story and the pinnacle of Kelley Puckett's run. But the editorial does not want to simply “top” that fight. They also want to somehow integrate it into a bigger story that ties Shiva with League of Assassins. I mean no disrespect to James Tynion or Bryan Hill or Anderson Gabrych, but none of them managed to truly make it work. The stories, while still well-written, seem to be inherently contrived. And I believe the future attempts will never truly work no matter who is writing them. The whole premise is nonsensical. Shiva that works with Ras Al’Ghul and his League is by definition out of character as the two have no aligning goals to speak of. There is nothing he can offer her and she doesn’t care for his goals. And the idea of sticking with him to fight challenging opponents is undermined by a fact she could get a good fight by simply slaughtering his entire organization. I started comparing this to Street Fighter to easily explain my issue with this. For Shiva to work with Ras makes as little sense as for Akuma to be M. Bison’s lackey. DC is constantly trying to sell to us a story that does not work and then angrily try again when it is not hailed as better than Batgirl #25. It seems that Cassandra has become a means to an end in all of it. That she exists solely to get Shiva over as a minion to a bigger villain she has no good reason to follow in the first place.

This does nothing to make Cassandra less of a jobber either, as Shiva has been stuck in the same position for the entire decade herself and at this point is no more threatening than a Teletubby. Especially if the same stories that are supposed to reestablish Shiva as a threat are the stories where she fights her daughter. It feels like the two characters are trying to each regain their credibility by beating the other one because DC did such a good job of undermining them they wouldn’t be allowed to defeat anyone else.

While I want Shiva to be an antagonistic force in Cassandra’s life and she is a great villain, the way it is done does nothing for either character. Their complex relationship and clashing philosophies don't need to be violent or even physical at all to be compelling. It effectively squanders all potential the two have, seemingly for no other reason than to put Ras Al’Ghul over.

5. No Focus

Some of you may have caught on the prevailing theme of these points. Cassandra is no longer being written as a character in her own right. She is erased or pushed in the background to not overshadow Barbara. Her relationships are not being built upon and her plotlines are being dropped in favor of focusing on other characters. She is isolated from her new family and her membership is undermined even by her own codename. She keeps losing so that villains can look strong and cannot score a victory to not make someone “more important” look weak. She keeps being dragged into fights with Shiva to push Ras Al’Ghul as a bigger deal. She is constantly on team books that are always about other people first.

This pattern speaks for itself. Despite an ever-increasing number of her fans and even writers who adore her, DC does not care about Cassandra Cain. This whole decade the company has shown the only role they see for her is someone used to push characters the editorial wants people to like instead. DC’s treatment of her betrays their arrogance, the belief the editors know better what the fans want than the fans themselves. Sadly it seems to have spilled onto other media as well. From what we know about her appearance in the upcoming Birds of Prey movie, Cassandra is the only character the creators did not care to get right, just somebody to make others look good. This is also why I am not holding my breath for her upcoming appearances in DCeased and Harley Quinn and the Birds of Prey books. At the end of the day these are still not her stories, just someone else’s books she was allowed to be in. Do not get me wrong, I hope we really get this “Cass Renaissance” the fandom is getting excited about. But outside of Shadow of the Batgirl, which will actually be a story about her, I do not trust DC to treat her as more than a glorified prop for other characters. If there is one thing I learned is that you can never expect good things from the Big 2. You can hope for the best and prepare for the worst. But they will very rarely offer you a surprise that is actually pleasant.

- Admin

#Batgirl #Orphan #Cassandra Cain #DC

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anerdinallherglory · 5 years ago

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Approaching Sun (24)

Author’s Note: Surprise! New chapter out much, much earlier than I had anticipated. 10 pages, too. Everyone should thank these reviewers: brenda sianipar, theborutosdadtrashanime, mcornilliac, caroacunas, LIMH, Crystalstarize, and rivercocytus because they have been pretty consistently, if not always, reviewing or commenting on this story. I have been a slow roller with Approaching Sun, especially in taking too long with the whole romantic progression, and there have been several times when I thought it’s just going to take too long to write this properly and I just don’t have that sort of time anymore. So thank you guys, because your support has kept me wanting to finish this story. And to everyone else who takes time out of their day to show their support, I’m doing it for you!

P.S. Sasuke will make an appearance shortly, I promise <3 It’s time for my girl to shine!

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23

Chapter 24: Sicknesses

When Sakura spotted Isao slouching tiredly in an olive chair across from the welcoming desk, she almost stumbled in her happiness. Across the room, she offered the boy a friendly expression as he met her direct gaze and he blushed shyly and looked away from her and down at his feet. When she announced his name to come back, the boy nervously rubbed his wrists as he stood and then placed his hands behind his back in a manner of such mature politeness that had Sakura smiling widely at him. As they walked to the exam room, Isao continued rubbing at his wrists and Sakura frowned at the behavior because it was the first time she was seeing him do so.

“Is everything okay, Isao?” Sakura asked, wondering why he was suddenly exhibiting nervousness in her presence. Just like today, Isao had been weary when she saw him last, but this time, his tiredness didn’t hide the anxiety.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded after a second’s hesitation. Sakura had the gut wrenching feeling that everything was notokay. When they entered the assigned room, Mako was waiting for them with the child’s chart; Sakura assumed this meant he wanted to be present for the child’s examination. After checking vitals, she wasted no time before diving into the assessment.

The child was half-asleep by the time she finished checking his blood pressure and Isao snapped awake when she spoke.

“We missed you yesterday, but I am glad that you could make it today.”

To Sakura’s disappointment, Isao only nodded and did not offer up any more information, so Sakura tried a different question. “How have you slept the past couple of nights?”

Isao yawned ironically before saying, “Not good. I’ve had an episode each night.” The boy looked away from Sakura then, embarrassed, as if admitting this truth to her was shameful in some way. Sakura looked more closely at his facial features, noting the dark circles under his eyes. It wasn’t just that he was waking up in the middle of the night; from the looks of those dark eyes and his exhausted state, it seemed he was staying awake throughout the night.

Sakura wanted to immediately send him home to get more rest, but she was afraid that if she did so, she might not get him back to the clinic again. The child was practically falling asleep in the chair across from her and when she asked questions, he’d rub his wrists nervously. She noted how they were starting to chafe now but had been untouched during his last visit. This was a new behavior, which told Sakura that there was a new variable to this sleepless situation.

“Isao,” Sakura asked, casually writing this observation down on a clipboard on the counter beside her, “It says on your record that you had a sleep study done with us. Who did this study?”

“I did,” he replied immediately, “Or, well, my dad did after we were shown how.”

Sakura couldn’t help but look over at Mako who narrowed his eyes too at the child’s words. Isao’s primary care physician hadn’t told them that the sleep study was self-performed. When Mako had finally found Isao’s doctor, the man said that “stress” had been the deciding factor because the sleep study had ruled out other medical factors. Sleep studies were sometimes done this way, but in this particular case, Sakura believed that it was necessary for herto complete another. Maybe removing him from his home for a night would help the child sleep anyway.

“Isao,” she began, already making up her mind about the situation. “Would you like to stay here for the night? We need to do another sleep study in this facility with our doctors.”

The child’s eyes widened, and he gawked at her as if she had just requested him to commit murder. He stumbled over his words as sweat began to bead on his forehead. “I don’t... uh... think so,” he stuttered, “I don’t think that would be… good. My dad,” he began, but then stopped himself instantly.

After a minute of not receiving anything else from him except shaking, Sakura made eye contact with Mako, silently communicating to him her wishes. Sakura wouldn’t force Isao to stay, but she wanted to emphasize the importance of the suggestion. But if Isao was displaying such nervous behavior around her, then perhaps this negative response to the idea was because of her too. She was a foreign ninja after all; maybe there was mistrust there. Isao did mention something about his father. Maybe if Sakura stepped out of the room for a moment, Mako could help him understand. As if reading her thoughts, Mako nodded and Sakura stood to leave.

“I’ll be right back,” she spoke softly. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide while Mako-san finishes up your chart.”

Again, Isao bowed without a word. He only continued to rub his wrists and tap his foot. Sakura frowned to herself and exited.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A message had been sent to Isao’s absent father after Mako was able to convince Isao that an overnight stay was in his best interest. Mako had informed her that the child had been anxious at first for unknown reasons, but Mako had explained to the adolescent that Isao would barely see them during the night; they just wanted to re-check his heartrate, blood pressure, and breathing while he slept. When insured with a good night’s sleep, the child finally conceded.

Sakura had Mako write down everything during the conversation, so she could look at it on her own later. The child was definitely stressed, but Sakura couldn’t yet pinpoint why. Maybe these notes would help her put some puzzle pieces together.

In the meantime, she prepared a room for Isao in the children’s clinic. Sakura had helped pick the design for these rooms. She had explained to Gaara and the other head medics that it would be best to have quarters that didn’t look like the exam rooms in the hospital. Children were often afraid of hospitals, so Sakura described that these apartments should be made to look like common Sunagakure living spaces that these children were used to seeing frequently. It was always best to help kids feel like they weren’t in a medical facility. When the decision was unanimously in favor of this idea, Gaara had ordered it to be so and had toys and book shelves brought in. They decorated these rooms as calmly as they were able: flowers in a large windowsill, white curtains and matching bedspread, a Sunagakure rope rug on the floor, and small pastel paintings of the village on the walls. Besides the newly invented machinery in the corner needed for medical purposes, the rooms were relaxing and varied slightly depending on age.

Isao’s room, one of the bedchambers for young adolescents, had books with legends and entertaining stories instead of small toys; even in the Leaf, Sakura wanted the spaces to be free from historical documents or anything else that might trigger an emotional disturbance due to the warring past. Sakura wanted children to feel like regular kids when they were here, because most of the time, it was the shinobi life that was affecting them in some way.

Sakura believed this might be true for Isao as well. The child of 11 was beginning to pursue being a ninja here in Sunagakure. Maybe it was this change that was causing Isao anxiety. If his mother had died in the war, maybe he associated her death with the ninja way of life; perhaps his father pushed him toward this goal. This was all speculation of course, but Sakura didn’t have much to go on here; she hoped she’d learn more during Isao’s stay.

Mako had escorted Isao to his room and told him to make himself at home. When Sakura had brought him dinner, the nervous behavior began again so she set the tray down and departed quickly with a kind smile.

“He’s cautious of me, I think,” she told Mako after making her way down the two stories of stairs and back into the reception lobby.

Mako looked up from his work at the tall, ivory counter with an expression of worry. “No miss, I’m sure it’s just nerves.”

Sakura leaned over the counter next to him and reached for a small jug of water that had been given to her at the beginning of the day. She took a long drink of refreshing water before replying dejectedly, “He only displays that jumpy behavior when I’m near.”

Mako started to shake his head, but Sakura waved a hand in dismissal. She knew Mako was just trying to reassure her. The entire staff treated her as if she were a miracle worker and Mako didn’t want her upset while she was working with them. Perhaps he was afraid that she might not return again after she departed Sunagakure, or maybe it was because she was a guest of the Kazekage’s. Or, she thought again, he just genuinely liked her and didn’t want her to feel out of place here.

“I have a suspicion that it might be because I’m not from this village,” she announced, tapping her fingers on the counter in thought. “Do we know anything about his family? Their sentiments towards other villages or outsiders? Anything about his mom?”

“I will look into it immediately, Miss,” Mako replied, and then with a comforting beam, announced, “I am certain that the boy will warm up to you soon.”

Sakura wanted to tell him he wasn’t being much help while trying to spare her feelings, but she only grinned back in return as he worked.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

This was day three in Sunagakure, and Sakura’s routine was still rather busy. After dinner, Isao sat up in bed trying to read a book despite how tired he was. Mako stopped by in the hours between sunset and nightfall, making sure the machinery was functioning properly in preparation for his sleep. From what Sakura was witnessing in the brief check-ins she was conducting on the youth, he appeared to be much like a toddler that was fighting sleep. Sakura sent Mako in before seven o’clock with some hot tea that Sakura hoped would soothe the boy. He wouldn’t drink it, but the pink-haired medic refused to try the sleeping concoction she had made for Isao. She didn’t want to try anything new until after the study was completed; using it now would hurt their efforts instead of helping because they needed to observe his typical sleep habits, however bad they may be.

While Sakura waited for Isao to fall asleep, she worked with the machine expert to monitor the data that was being sent to a very large box that took up an entire wall in the observation room. The device was printing out various numbers on ivory pieces of paper that the machine was spitting at her feet. All these numbers were telling Sakura what she needed to know about Isao’s sleep such as his sleep stages, body and eye movements, oxygen levels, and breathing rate. Mako was by her side throughout the entire process and collected and organized the papers for her while she evaluated some new information Mako had gathered for her.

Mako had investigated Isao’s family through sources in the village and Sakura went over his hand-written notes after he had explained them to her. Both Isao’s father and mother, Tokoro Souta and Tokoro Rina, were shinobi in the last war. Souta, Isao’s father, had been injured during the war but had made a recovery. Rina, on the other hand, had been one of the many that had lost their lives in the war. Sakura wracked her brain desperately for any recognition of the name. If the Sand kunoichi had been sent to Sakura in the war to be healed, wouldn’t Sakura have seen her? Or for that matter, if Souta had been healed, perhaps Sakura had treated him in the war. Both of the names were unfamiliar to her; Sakura had helped thousands of patients in the war.

The longer that Isao fought his sleep, the more concerned Sakura became. It was almost like he was afraid to sleep; didn’t want to sleep. Maybe he had lied to her about dreaming during the night terrors. Perhaps he did in fact have nightmares that he didn’t want to face. Nightmares of his mother? Something else?

Sakura decided that the child needed to be reassured considering that he might be fearful, and so she made the two-story climb and knocked lightly on his door. Mako had insisted on coming with her, but she asked him to stay behind to evaluate any data her interaction with him might reveal.

“Isao?” she called softly, “Do you mind if I come in?”

“No ma’am, please come in.” Sakura recognized the hitch in his voice and resolved herself to be patient and kind to this confused child who treated her with such uneasiness.

“Isao,” she began, pouring him a cup of tea from the kettle that he had yet to touch, “we cannot help you if you refuse to sleep. Why are you frightened?”

Without a second of hesitation, the child asked, “Is my dad here?”

“No,” she responded calmly despite being taken aback by this question. “He is not.”

“Does he know that I am here?” he asked immediately after her response.

Sakura couldn’t help but tilt her head at his concern and answer honestly, “We sent him a notice that said you were going to stay with us tonight. He hasn’t responded.”

Isao began rubbing his wrists again, and whispered, “He won’t like that I am here.”

“What do you mean?” Sakura inquired quickly, worried that he might shut down at any moment.

“He won’t like that I am in a hospital. It means that I am being ‘weak.’”

Sakura’s motherly instincts kicked in at this confession, and she couldn’t help but reach towards him. She felt foolish the moment she did so, because Isao pulled back from her in terror and flinched as if she might do him harm.

Raising her hands in front of her in apology, Sakura did something that she recurrently did in circumstances like this. Instead of leaning towards him in a chair, she adopted a spot on the floor, a tactic to make her appear less threatening and more humble. Frequently, when people are anxious, having someone stand over them or talk down to them—even if that person is being humane—causes more involuntary stress for the individual. It was a basic, inherent instinct that many people weren’t even aware was in play. Touching or any sort of physical contact would also not work for comfort. When Sakura witnessed children have negative reactions to certain behaviors, it was often safe to conclude that they were reacting negatively because they were recognizing the pattern of behavior that lead up to the treatment they were often used to receiving. Sakura realized that Isao must have often dealt with someone of authority standing over him and possibly engaging in bodily contact. This meant that in order to reach him, Sakura would have to do the exact opposite of that.

She crossed her legs, leaned her back against the side of his bed, and broke eye contact. She yawned and took a drink from the glass of tea that she had offered to him. She could feel the shock radiating off of Isao at her unusual behavior, and so she decided to address his confession and wait for him to make the first moves of opening up.

“You know Isao,” Sakura began, taking another calming sip of tea, “There are many sicknesses. Sicknesses of the body and many sicknesses of the psyche, or a person’s mind. And it certainly doesn’t mean that you are weak.”

“Really?” he murmured tiredly in question at the back of her head.

“Actually, it means the opposite,” she continued, “It means that life has dealt you something that others do not have to struggle with and that battle makes you stronger. You are having to fight every day against something that many people are free of.”

There was a small silence before Sakura recognized the clinking of the teapot behind her. Sakura smiled as she heard Isao finally reached for the kettle at his bedside and poured himself a cup of the steaming liquid. He reached over her shoulder for her cup too, refilling it to the brim before handing it back to her.

When he readjusted himself on the bed, Isao sat with his back against the headboard and admitted, “You remind me of my mom. Before she died, she was compassionate like you. And knew a lot about things.”

Sakura briefly made eye contact again, just long enough to show him her sympathy, and then looked back into her tea as she replied to that statement with: “I am sorry that your mother died in the war. She must have been a very brave woman.”

“She was,” he confirmed after taking a very long drink of tea and leaning his head back against the headboard.

Sakura took her chance to say something else before the effects of the tea took its course on his body; he was so very tired, and it wouldn’t take much of the hot beverage to lull him into a doze. “Just like sicknesses of the body,” she began, “sicknesses of the mind are sometimes caused by something. Our bodies fight against viruses, against things that it has been exposed to.”

In her peripheral vision to her right, Sakura could see him nod in understanding. She continued. “We want to help you, Isao. But to beat a sickness, we have to figure out what it was caused by.”

Sakura paused, but there was no answer. She kept her head down as she asked calmly, “Do you know what’s making you have these terrors? What is making you sick, Isao?”

She waited a long a minute, a very long minute. Sakura almost thought that the boy had fallen asleep. When the kunoichi rotated her back to look at him, she realized that she was mistaken. There were silent tears sinking down his cheeks and a few of them dribbled into his half-empty cup. Through his shaking sobs, the boy choked out the words: “My father.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sakura was able to get the rest of the information out of Isao before he slipped weepily into slumber. The child hadn’t rested in two days. His father had punished Isao for going to the hospital on his own for his night terrors by keeping him awake. Souta had articulated to Isao that if he reallywanted to be cured, then he just wouldn’t sleep at all and had forced the child to stand awake the previous two nights. It was why Isao hadn’t arrived at his appointment yesterday; he hadn’t wanted to make his father angrier. The child had changed his mind this morning, it seemed.

Isao had also confessed to her that his father hated Leaf Shinobi. This particular detail explained why the 11 year old had displayed concerning conduct when she was near. Before she parted from the room, Isao said, “My father believes that the last war was Konoha’s fault. If the Kazekage hadn’t been so close with the ninja called Naruto, then Sunagakure wouldn’t have gotten involved and Lord Gaara wouldn’t have played as big of a part as he did. He blames the Leaf for mother’s death.”

Everything was beginning to make sense to Sakura now. Everything except the night terrors themselves. If Isao believed that his father was making him sick, then in what way? Obviously, his father was the stressor in his life, but the unjust discipline that Isao received was after the night terrors began. Sakura supposed that it didn’t really matter in regard to finding the cause; however, in order to develop a treatment, she would need more information.

The last thing Isao confessed before slipping into sleep, was that, “When he finds out, my father will come to get me. He knows about you and that you are a Leaf medic. You must not let him see you Miss, or my punishment will be worse.”

Over my dead body, Sakura thought to herself. She wanted to offer this man a piece of her damn mind. She wanted to give him a thrashing that he deserved for treating his son in such a beastly way. But Sakura had to remind herself that it wouldn’t be uncommon for resentment to exist after the war, especially concerning lost loved ones. Oh, she’d be ready when he came. He would either have to talk to her—or fight her if he tried to penalize Isao for seeking medical attention. It was time for peace to begin for everyone: children and adults.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sakura had stayed up all night to conduct Isao’s sleep study. The terror had happened early on and witnessing the episode broke Sakura’s heart. There was no dreaming that occurred according to the data; the attack happened in NREM sleep where dreaming did not occur. Isao had not been lying about not recalling dreams. Mako had insisted that they let the night terror run its course, so they could have the most complete data, but after 10 minutes of non-stop screaming and thrashing, Sakura concluded that it had been long enough for their purposes.

When she finally woke him, Isao clung to her and sobbed afterwards, questioning her repeatedly “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” and Sakura had rocked him back and forth, whispering soothingly that nothing was wrong with him and she would figure this all out; she would make the terrors stop.

Sakura realized after she positioned him back down on the bed and secured the blanket around him, that perhaps he was always punished for these episodes after they happened and never got any real sleep. Sakura decided to sit next to him on the floor for the rest of the night, holding his hand as he fell back asleep. The night terror didn’t come back.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

When she woke the next morning before sunrise, Kankuro was crouching down in front of her grin`ing. Mako peered down at her too, standing just behind Kankuro’s shoulder. Sakura realized that she must have fallen asleep here on the rug beside Isao’s bed. The child’s arm hung off the bed, his fingers brushing the rug where Sakura’s own hand had been. They had held hands with each other and had let go at some point in the night as Sakura, too, had fallen asleep.

Kankuro was whispering something to her, obviously not wanting to rouse Isao too. When he offered her his hand, Sakura took it appreciatively, allowing the puppet-master to raise her onto her feet. When the door was closed behind them, Mako passed a mug of Sunagakure coffee to Kankuro, who in turn, fit it snug in-between Sakura’s sleepy palms as if he had done so a thousand times.

“You really do over-do it don’t you?” Kankuro probed entertainingly, tossing her a laugh over his shoulder as they made their way down the stairs to the lobby. One of the female medics—a well-mannered young girl named Hisa that reminded Sakura of her own apprentice Kirai—fetched the kunoichi a chair.

After she planted herself onto the stool with another yawn, she groggily explained to Kankuro what she had been up to recently and even articulated to him everything she had learned about Isao. This included the treatment he was receiving at home and his father’s sentiments towards Konoha. Kankuro frowned, clearly forming a mental picture of the man described.

“The man you speak of was sent on a mission just yesterday,” Kankuro informed her, “I’ll let the Kazekage know what you have found out about this situation. He might not be able to change that man’s opinions about the Leaf, but he certainly won’t tolerate abuse. In the meantime, let’s keep the boy here until his father returns.”

“Yes, sir,” Sakura promised him, somewhat hopeful for the boy’s future. At least something would be done about this.

Kankuro crossed his arms as he turned to lean his back against the counter beside her. “I came to tell you that I am being dispatched on a mission of my own just outside of the village. I’ll be gone for a couple of days and wanted to make sure that you would be okay here without an escort.”

“Oh,” Sakura started, “I’ll be fine. I’m in my element here.”

“I can see that,” he replied in kind, standing and making for the exit. “We cannot tell you how thankful we are for the role you have played in our facilities.”

Sakura smiled in response but then scowled when Kankuro placed a hand on Mako’s shoulder and proclaimed, “I’m passing duty on to you. Make sure she rests please.”

Sakura wanted to say, “hold on just a minute” but the words couldn’t come out before Mako bowed with a “Sir!” and Kankuro left with a slight wave.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sakura spent the day checking on Isao. It seemed that the child needed to catch up on a lot of sleep apparently, because at noon, he was still out of it. Sakura didn’t dare wake him. If he was in deep sleep, Sakura would not disturb that since the REM sleep cycle was free from terrors.

Isao had been right about his father, because at around four o’clock, Satou made his intense appearance. Mako had been updating Isao’s chart while Sakura demonstrated how to create gelatin capsules and pack them with herbs to create “prescriptions” that patients could take home. Sakura had packed twenty-four pods with powdered chamomile, valerian root, and magnesium, all of which would help Isao sleep and hopefully help the boy pass on to REM sleep more quickly; maybe they could try it while Isao was staying at the clinic, so she could observe the medicine’s direct effects for herself.

Just as she finished labeling the prescription bottle, Satou slammed open the doors of the children’s mental health clinic. Seeing Hisa first, Satou growled and made a beeline for her, shouting, “WHERE IS MY SON?”

Hisa, the youngest staff member of the clinic, gaped up at the man in astonishment as he bellowed down at her. Sakura had always been respectful and polite when talking to her elders and had wished that when she did finally encounter Satou, she would be able to receive the man with some civility. But witnessing him charge in with the same mannerisms she had been envisioning him using with Isao, made something in the kunoichi snap. Sakura was usually the calm and collected one in situations like this, but when it came to children, inner-Sakura sometimes took the stage. Sensing this shift in attitude, Mako instinctively placed himself in front of Sakura, but Sakura scooted him out of her way and yelled back, “If you’ve got a problem, you take it up with me!”

When Satou revolved his head in her direction, a glower permanently stitched to his face, and stomped his way over to her, Sakura bared her teeth in response. What a bully! How could such a mature, kind-hearted child come from such a terrible person? Sakura tried to get a grip by reminding herself that this man too had been affected by the war. Maybe things had been different before the death of his wife. Maybe he used to be a loving father to his son and a caring husband to Rina.

Or maybe not, Sakura thought as he came to stand over her, steam practically coming out of his nostrils and curling across the planes of her cheeks. Sakura squared her shoulders and glared back at him with equal venom, saying nothing with words but with body language alone. Sakura had faced giants; had defeated foe after foe in the Fourth Shinobi World War and had even stared into the eyes of Kaguya herself; she sure as hell wasn’t afraid of him. Sakura would be damned if she let this man past her and up the stairs to where Isao slept.

She noted suddenly how Mako and the other staff stood around them in a semi-circle, ubale to be anything but spectators as the two ninja narrowed their eyes at one another. Sakura wouldn’t be harassed by him here. How could she ever expect Isao to stand up to this jerk, if she didn’t model that now?

“Sir,” she bit out between teeth, “I suggest you have a seat, so we can talk.”

A big meaty finger jabbed her in the chest, hard enough to bruise, but Sakura didn’t flinch. The fury and hatred in Satou’s voice rang in her ears as he snarled, “I want my son back NOW, and I’m not going to talk to a Leaf Village bitch about it either.”

Sakura was tempted to break the man’s fingers that dug sharply into her chest. She could feel the chakra vibrating beneath her skin in response to her own emotions, but she tried to stay level-headed; she really did, but her inner-self was cursing in rage at this sort of disrespect. Thankfully, Sakura didn’t have to teach him a lesson because someone else broke his fingers for her.

Blinding sand abruptly encased the man’s fingers that were jabbing into Sakura’s collar bone. The crack was the sound that precluded Satou’s blood-curdling scream at the sudden unexpected pain of his joints being popped out of place. The brute of a ninja fell to his knees in pain.

Sakura spun to see Gaara, the Kazekage dressed in all his regalia, standing in the entrance of the clinic, his voice unusually calm despite the wrath that flashed in his eyes. “Touch her again,” he drawled in that raspy voice of his, “and you’ll have more than your fingers to worry about.”

“Lord Kazekage,” Satou hissed out through his pain. “This woman--she took my son--”

“From my report,” Gaara interrupted collectedly, “your son came here on his own looking for medical attention.”

Satou regained himself and stood up straight despite still holding his injured hand. He started to say something, but the Kazekage spoke again. “Sakura, Sunagakure’s honored guest, was generous enough to treat your son personally and has gone above and beyond for him. The only thing you should be doing is thanking her.”

But Satou did not thank Sakura. He glared at her instead, a look of more malice than he had shown her a second ago.

Sakura expected the refusal to enrage Gaara; it certainly would have made Naruto fuming mad. Naruto would have twisted his face up and pointed a finger Satou’s face with impractical threats. But like many kage, Gaara was wise and had quickly checked his emotions, reigning with calm again in this situation. Sakura knew the type of Kazekage that Gaara was. He certainly wouldn’t allow Satou to treat her with insult (that’s what the broken fingers were for), but he didn’t have to use fear to govern his people or keep them in order. Gaara had proven himself over and over again to the citizens of Sunagakure and they loved him for his sacrifices and devotion. They also knew of his unmatched power and skill, and as a whole, respected him as their leader.

Even though Isao had told her about Satou’s particular feelings toward the Kazekage, Satou did not hesitate to obey when the Kazekage ordered, “Have a seat like she asked, Satou. We need to talk.”

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