#i am immune to depression for the next hour at least

[vulpixelates]

NEW FIGHTMASTER

[californiannostalgia]

Processing identity as a child abuse survivor

Recently I had a huge revelation. Come with me on this childhood trauma realization journey (if you want).

This post was written for those wavering on the 'was it abuse' question.

Fair warning, each of these revelations were a whammy. I recommend you keep in mind that these revelations will transform the way you see yourself and the world. This took me out of commission for hours at a time.

Revelation 1: Was I Abused?

Read this Tumblr post. Go down the list. Check the 'yes'es and 'maybe's.

'Was I abused' is a yes or no question. I need you to really think about this if your answer is 'kind of'. If you could be truly honest with yourself, what would your answer be?

For years I've gone to the logic of 'it wasn't that bad,' and 'at least the worst didn't happen,' or 'others have had it worse'. This is such a low bar. You deserve better than the bar your parents set for you. The socioeconomic circumstances and the normalization of violence in your living area? Yes, influential. But not a justification.

At the end of the day, the veracity of these statements don't even matter. It's a yes or no question: 'Am I a survivor of child abuse?'

It may take a really long time to truly process, and even then it might feel uncomfortable saying it like it's truth. I need you to know your truth is truth. It's a yes or no question.

Take a break. I recommend you don't progress further until you've processed Revelation 1.

(Shameless plug-in of my fandom blorbo interests: Rick Riordan's Trials of Apollo series really helped me with this first revelation. It made me feel seen and less alone. It may not be perfect, but I personally liked it!)

Revelation 2: What does this mean? (health-wise)

Listen to this Ted Talk by an expert (medical professional).

This is the part where I got angry and really fucking sad. Let yourself be sad. Let yourself be furious. Our life is not our fault and we're still stuck with this lot.

Genuinely this was such a shock for me to realize. The thing that has the biggest impact on my life is not my anxiety, depression, ptsd, insomnia, blood pressure, immune health, etc. The root cause of my physical and mental illnesses is Adverse Childhood Experiences.

ACE is more common than you'd think. Acknowledging that what happened to you was bad will be beneficial to humanity's survival in the long run. Like any illness, ACE can be fought at a societal level.

Take a break. I recommend you don't progress to the next revelation until you've processed Revelation 2.

Take your time to be angry and sad. Take forever. You never have to forgive your abuser, even if they change their behavior. The chance at a civil acquaintanceship you might be willing to extend to your parents doesn't require your forgiveness.

.

Revelation 3: Why is your therapist recommending you retell your life story?

This one is mostly for when you have steady access to a therapist. Here are some things I wish I'd known before seeking out therapy in the US.

(Is it shitty that you can't get therapy on your own terms when you're underage? Yes, it fucking is. To those of us who survived to adulthood: holy shit y'all. At 19 I felt like absolute fucking bullshit, like my brain was a burning ball of tangled barbed wire. It does feel absolutely shitty. But reaching 19 is an achievement.)

The thing is, I do or say a lot of things that I later come to think of as embarrassing, inappropriate, or in certain circumstances, potentially abusive. Genuine trigger reactions happen. I will always have to live with a piece of my parents in my head. But I don't want to do to another person what they did to me. Self-awareness is what separates me from my abusers.

What to do about this? Number 1: chill out. You're not gonna be your abuser. Humans are unique and imperfect. They have not replicated themselves in you. It's okay to make mistakes when you're talking or reacting. Your brain is fucked up. You can do something differently next time.

Number 2: read this article about Overthinking, Over-apologizing, Oversharing, and Overwhelmed as trauma responses.

Then read this article on how to deal with Unresolved Trauma.

Yeah. It be like that. Isn't it fucked up? Recognizing the four Os in my behavior helped me realize I'm not an antisocial asshole by default.

Unresolved trauma is the root cause for my behaviors that I think of as unhealthy. This revelation happened very recently for me. Before this point in time, I couldn't understand why I would want to recount traumatic events in therapy.

At this point in time, I have regular access to a therapist I'm okay with. Going over memories and deconstructing the blame system seems like a reasonable thing to try.

What happened to you as a child is not your fault. You're not the one who landed yourself in your life. You've been given an unfairly difficult situation to be responsible for. You did not create your coping mechanisms for shits and giggles.

So yeah. Number 3: figure out your life with the help of a therapist. Let's see where we are ten years later or something.

Nothing is easy and everything is confusing. Take a break, hydrate, eat, sleep, do something nice for yourself. Do something you like doing. Thanks for reading.

[shmowder]

Honestly I put yulia in the neutral tier since I’m very similar to her in some regards and I’m having a crisis every other Wednesday so like I could get high with her we can have a crisis as a team! But no yeah in retrospect not really a neutral option unless you enjoy depression…or unless she mellows out while under the influence which isn’t probably likely

Oh yeah if you get high with Aspity some sort of horrific thing will occur to you during or afterwards that’s one where you dug your own grave now lay in and oh god the idea of giggly happy high Daniil is absolutely beautiful he’d absolutely demand you never speak of that to anyone ever as if anyone would actually believe you to begin with if you attempted to tell them that.

Thought of some more characters after sending the original ask so I’ll give those thoughts as well because oh boy did I start thinking a lot about this most of it while I myself was under the influence, I’d probably put Nina kain as well into the it could become a terrifying experience to be high/get high with her genuinely do not think that experience goes well for you that just seems like it ends poorly, Lara seems like she could go either way as well it might be a good experience or it could get depressing as all hell that or she’d become oddly productive no matter how it goes I love Lara so I don’t care which it becomes I’ll get high with her still. Including the executioners since it’s too funny not to, this assuming you could get high with them which would be a horrifying experience in which it would feel like you are dying….probably because you die afterwards or similar to Aspity something bad happens to you in some way shape or form but then again you dug your own grave buckroo. The last character I have any thoughts on how they’d be around to smoke with is vlad the younger and I think that’d be a miserable experience I don’t think it’d anything expect absolutely miserable I don’t know why you’d want to get high with him anyway but if you do it won’t be fun at least that’s my opinion.

-immune anon

honestly who am i to rain on your parade if the "half-empty glass" woman is your cup of tea. Pass her that joint.

For Vlad Jr, I understand where you're coming from.

But I don't think it'd be that bad. He's the type who thinks "this ediable ain't shit" five minutes later. "Can the kin worms communicate with the worms in the ground below?"

He remains collected for half an hour through the trip before it all hits him at once. He either freaks out or becomes the most mellowed out version of himself.

In both scenarios, he's the type to go full conspiracy theorist. Making connections between unrelated things, uncovering mysteries that were allegedly hidden in plain sight.

Vlad Jr. as your trip sitter is when his virtues shine through....kinda of. He doesn't let you wander off into the street in your current state, at least. But he mind put you through the "🐭🐭🐭🐭🐰🐭🐭 Spot the rabbit!" cocomelon quizzes type shit. Out of curiosity.

Casually bringing up the embarrassing stuff you did the next day. "Hey, remember yesterday when you showed me your animal print sock collection, then proceeded to cry on the floor in a fetus position when you couldn't find the other pair to the frog socks? Well :) I paid some people to break into your house and search for them, here you go. It apparently was at the bottom of your laundry basket. You must have missed it under the pile of clothes."

Or mentioning how he found some pebble shaped candy in the store, so you don't have to go and eat rocks like you kept talking about while high last night.

It's like he is trying to be helpful–but his definition of help isn't the most appropriate or useful.

[the-gamer-blog-for-anyone]

Hey, I figured I’d update y’all on why my posts have been few and far between. It’s a bit of venting but nothing terrible. Read if you want.

I’ll start by saying that I’m sorry for disappearing off the face of the earth every so often. I don’t mean to do that, life gets in the way a lot.

Now onto the stuff.

The major I was in (Music Ed) was a big factor this past semester. I got so stressed about things I had to get done that I got sick, not once, but twice in a row with the exact same illness. Mind you, this was within the span of a week or so, not a month; I have never had that happen before. My immune system is pretty good, so I usually heal pretty quick and am back on my feet, so twice with the illness, especially with it being almost worse the second time, is a problem. Even though it wasn’t something detrimental to my health (like pneumonia. Again.), I still know that if that stress had kept up, something like that could’ve happened.

Unfortunately, music education requires hours, and that moves into classes that need them for you to pass. I had already told the school that I didn’t have a car, but even that did not stop them from assigning me to somewhere that would require one. I thought I had it worked out because I was going to go during spring break, but that was when the illness I had the week before decided to make another impromptu visit. Yippee.

On the other end of things, I basically live in a glorified dorm right now at home. My mom, my brother, and I share a room (stuff and all). That leaves no space, which also leads to even more stress. Living with someone who wants us to wait on them every time we are home is not helpful either (meaning the three of us serve them), but we’re working on boundaries, even if they don’t want to participate.

The last thing is that I had already injured my leg before, but because of that injury and the surgery they did, I was informed recently that the increased leg pain I’m having is just something I have to live with until I can get it replaced (which can’t happen until you’re over 55). Considering I just turned 20 over a month ago, that already feels unusual; Most people my age are doing things I can’t do. It’s not that I hate that them for being able to do those activities, nor do I think that they are judging me for my lack of ability to do them (at least not logically), I just wish I could be a normal 20-year-old who can do them.

I’m mainly telling you so 1) you know why I may be somewhat depressed or go radio silent, but mainly because 2) things are getting better, and I plan to be back.

I’ve already changed majors- Bachelor of Arts as opposed to Music Ed- to take some of the stress away. Taking that off my plate already helped a lot. Plus, now I can actually get back on track for my Psychology minor (which has led me to question what my future goals are, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it).

In terms of housing, we recently heard from a friend about a better place to live temporarily until we can get a house of our own. That would help us a lot if that happens, but even if not, we can work it out. My family knows I need space, and I know they need it, too. After talking recently, we’ve figured out how to work it.

PT is doing good for at least keeping my leg stronger than it has been, and that’s a step in the right direction, even if I still have to get surgery within the next year or so.

Are there things that are still stressful and complicated? For sure. Here’s the thing though:

On top of all this, I know I have a good roommate for this coming year who knows me and my quirks. I also have, aside from my moots and friends on here, good college friends I can hang out with and know I can trust to understand if I need a break (love you @lovelyunknown and @joannaksworld). That makes life so much more bearable knowing I’m not alone.

Anyway, I plan to be back making plenty of happy posts very soon… Unless I have no ideas, which is definitely not impossible.

With that, I hope you have a great day. I love you all!

[thelostguardianau]

The Lost Guardian- Chapter Eight

“Heed the Silenced”

(Authors note: aha.. yknow I should probably stop making promises for this fic. Months later, w/ a chapter that doesn’t have Thomas in it, three different outlines down and i’m really just at the mercy of this fic at this point xD considering midway through writing this chapter I had to cut and rewrite an entire scene i’d spent a month on bc I’d decided that Dee had a chance at redemtion that added an actual direction and a tangable end goal to this story. So. Yeah. And!! A loud Thank You!! to @bumblebeekitten for helping me bounce ideas back & forth for this au and being my beta for this chapter!!)

Character Info & Art:

Patton | Logan | Roman | Virgil | Remy | Deceit | ??? | ???

Chapter Seven | Chapter Nine

Fandom: Thomas Sanders Sides

Pairings: Eventual Polyamsanders (LAMPR/CALMR-a.k.a LAMP/CALM + Remy ‘Sleep’ Sanders)

Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS KINDA DIALOG HEAVY!(sorry) Currently depicted as morally grey Deceit(subject to change in future chapters), though the side of Deceit from his first appearance doesnt make an appearance in this chapter and it is explained why, mentions of past betrayal and dark descriptions of bodily concepts, curses, limitations, and changes only really explained as possible through the lore of this au. Deceit speaks in riddles because he has to, ominous warnings. Virgil still isn’t okay mentally. Mentions of indifference to death, lack of selfworth or self preservation. (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

[[MORE]]

Brown eyes flutter open at the chilly breeze of a fan, and the ravenette’s mind comes to realize that he’s been moved from resting on his stomach to laying on his back. Groggy from his much too short nap, it takes a few moments to realize there are no warm bodies near him or under him, no breathing or chatter of familiar voices to sooth him.

The room, he realizes, is empty.

The room itself is, in fact, not Remy’s bedroom at all.

Shooting straight up, Virgil’s first clear thought is that he’s back at home. At his apartment, this time in his hoodie yet still roughed up from his latest ‘adventure’. The scene is eerily familiar, and yet he knows this time that work is not where he needs to be. It’s already daylight and his mind now knows this familiar scene, he should feel alone. Yet, this time he can hear the sound of honking cars and people, his loud neighbor from upstairs stomping around.

It doesn’t make sense as he walks to his window and peers out to see vague cars and people, he can’t even seem to make out any individual faces. It’s grey and raining outside, but there is no pattering sound against the foggy window. ‘What’s happening?’ Virgil wonders.

“Life seemed so simple a week ago, even months ago, did it not..?” A familiar voice drifts from behind him. Ice cold fear shoots down the ravenette’s spine as he recognizes the voice.

“I can hardly believe you were able to leave it, your routine. It was your everything, back when you came to terms with what you had left. Am I wrong, Virgil?” Whirling around to face the voice, Virgil finds the terrifying ex-Guardian sitting on his couch looking quite at home, if a little sheepish.

“What do you care?” He spat back, stepping back against his window.

“I am only looking out for you, you know. I have been protecting you all your life. Of all people I think I would know what is best for you, don't you think? We are connected after all, you and I.” The man sighed, making a surrendering motion with his hands.

“Why would I trust you?! You tried to kill me yesterday!” Virgil growled. “Why--h-how are you even here!?”

“False, my dear Virgil. I tried to warn you. Sure,” The guardian rolled his hand as he spoke, “I am forced to have a round-about way of speaking my truths, it is just part of my consequences it seems. But how else was I going to get you to listen to me after the others fed you lies about me? I do sincerely apologize for my other half being rough, though. I cannot quite.. Control.. Him.” The guardian tilted his bowler hat down to guiltily hide his eyes, regret briefly twisting his expression.

Finally the Guardian stood, dusting himself off as if his immaculate attire had acquired dust from just existing in his apartment. “I needed my physical body to reach yours and make our soul connection strong again, so that my soul could reach yours. However.. The pain I caused you was far from my intention. I am deeply regretful that it came down to.. That awful encounter.

“To answer your question though, Virgil, I am here because I created ‘here’. A realm made to form this illusion of being home, sweet home, just on the corner of the little street you had come to live on for the past year. It is all my doing. Where you stand is simply an illusion only you and I can access, a manipulation of your dreams and memories. The only place where the real me can talk to you mostly unhindered.” The guardian gestured to his surroundings.

“It takes only one person to flip your life on it’s head, a matter of hours to make the decision of a lifetime, and a matter of days to have completely changed your life’s direction,” He turned to Virgil, and looked him straight in the eyes, feeling distant and lost.

“And only a matter of years to succumb to the depression of the lonely consequences..”

Virgil blinked at that. The sad, longing tone had him thrown for a loop; it almost felt like the Guardian wasn't even quite talking to Virgil. “I-What..? I.. I don’t understand.”

The Guardian shook his head, snapping out of it and refocusing himself. "Nevermind that. It is time I talked to you for real, if you will have me?" The Guardian held out a hand politely, though there was no real expectation for Virgil to take it.

After a pause, Virgil gave a slight nod, still suspicious of the other's intent. The Guardian returned the nod, and his hand fell to his side.

“I am limited to the time that you rest and for now I will not be able to explain myself thoroughly, so, I ask you to understand that I do not expect you to trust me when I am done. I honestly do not expect you to ever trust me. With the mistakes I have made, I firmly believe I would not deserve it.”

Virgil blinked in surprise, not having expected his captor to admit to his faults straight off the bat.

“Okay.. Well, we’re here, might as well hear your side of the story. So.. Shoot.” Virgil said lightly, distrust and suspicion still evident in his tone and stance.

“I would assume at this point you are well aware of how the story you have been told paints me as the villain, a mastermind seeking power, immortality, and revenge? At least, that is what I am led to believe is still the story, it has been many years since I have heard the tale first hand… And... Well. Would that not be so lovely?” Virgil made a face, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“I am serious. Life would be so much easier if it was all black and white, true or false, good and bad, would it not? If those who meant well knew everything and those malicious few could not corrupt anything?” The Guardian frowned a bit, frustrated with his words that couldn’t seem to cooperate with him.

“Would it not be lovely if I could talk to you without fighting to keep from turning every honest thought into a question or theoretical statement just to let it be said? That my words could hold a meaning not forcibly disguised in the forms of fables and riddles?” The Guardian looked down lamely, his words tapering off in agitation. For a moment, Virgil waited as the Guardian was silent, contemplative. Then, the next moment the Guardian’s face scrunched up in sadness and his words were soft as he placed a hand over his golden wrist markings.

“My story is complicated, and twisted with shades of grey. One could say what I did was an attempt to keep you safe, another could say that what I did was outlandish and impulsive, and stupid. But no one will be able to tell you that what I did went according to the plan I had... at first. No one will tell you that my intention was to save you, to keep your fate safe. No one will tell you that my plan was ruined. Because there is no longer anyone who remembers what happened that night except for me,”

The Guardian’s eyes flicked up to meet the ravenette’s, a hurt look passing over his face as he continued. His steady voice now just barely trembled with uncertainty as he continued.

“No one but me and the soul who wants so desperately for everyone to forget. The soul who ripped my own in two to bury the secret, and ruin you and I both.”

“My final warning is this: Beware of the man who carries the world on his shoulders unflinchingly, he will be watching you closely. You have immunity to his power thanks to our connection, you might use this knowledge well to find the truth that lies in plain sight. However, your fate lies in the decisions you chose to make with this knowledge, I can only warn you of what might come.” The Guardian nodded solemnly, choosing to finish his cryptic warning there.

Virgil stood there, reeling with the information. Sure, he definitely wasn’t completely convinced he could trust this cryptic stranger, Guardian? Foe? Friend? Virgil wasn’t really sure what to call him anymore. But damn, his life was already so fucking crazy, this was all just fucking crazy! He could just be dreaming for all he knew.

But… Deep inside, he was hoping he wasn’t.

This was, well. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting to hear when facing the man whose, er, body? Had originally tried to strangle him? Now he’d heard his sob story and, well, Virgil wasn’t that easy to fool, but he’d also been told that it wasn’t expected that he’d trust the guy even in the end and he didn’t really want to.

He’d been on the path to death for so long, and then just two days ago everything had changed. So much was happening, it was frankly exhausting. What the fuck was he, some book protagonist? Couldn’t he get a little time to think about all this before he went crazy?

Still, something under all his incredulity begged to hear the guardian out. He vaguely wondered how Stockholm Syndrome worked before he gave in a little. What difference did a little more crazy make in his life at this point?

“Fine, I’ll heed your warning, or whatever the fuck. But only if you can tell me what you mean when you said that this guy ripped your, uh, soul? In two.” Virgil huffed, partially relaxing. It was odd how comforting he found it to be, floating in this weird feeling imaginary world, where he could interact with objects that weren’t real. It felt like he was really standing in his home, and yet it was just built from memory.

The guardian’s solemn expression formed into a grim smile, eyes distant once more before nodding. “I will do the best that my words will allow.” Virgil nodded, and waited for the now very familiar stranger to gather his words and take a breath. Then he began, his markings lightly flashing gold.

“You find yourself whole one day, as you have always been. To be whole of body, whole of mind, both human and guardian in nature. To have conscious thought and control over your whole physical being and soul..

“You find that yourself and others of the winged variety are capable of separating your soul from your being, though only the most Elite can do it well. You find out the family you made would soon be in danger. You then find yourself lost and alone when you once had a home to call your own.

“You find yourself knowing a truth, a perilous truth. Your home is in shambles now that you are gone, yet they do not know it. This truth is at fault, but the blame is not fully your own in a world built on lies.

“The source of truth tucks itself into blankets of grey, drawing itself further from discovery with each passing day. Now only you know the truth. The source of the truth finds you, it seeks to hide you too.

“You find yourself split one day, as you have never been before. Forced apart from the body, trapped within the mind. Guardian in nature, to have conscious thought and your dying soul trapped within, a false mind piloting the puppeteered confines of a broken body with a blind goal.”

“You find you cannot control what you used to, you are a prisoner to a body that is no longer your own, mostly unconscious to the world around it. Crazed by the false emotions that fuel it.”

“The you that used to be is no longer, and has not been for over a hundred years. The world that knew you knows not of what you’ve become. Knows not of the shackles that bind you.

“The you that used to be is no longer, and will never be again.” The Guardian finished, hesitant yellow eyes meeting Virgil’s carefully. Phantom goosebumps trail down Virgil's arms as the final sentence strikes a cord in him.

Virgil found he really wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, the rawness in the other’s tone spoke volumes of the sore spot they’d reached.

“Your body rests, but your mind also needs time to process today. I shall see you when you next rest, though only if you wish to seek me. Rest well knowing that you will not be scooped from your safety once more, as I hope I’m never to do so again. And...” The guardian paused, considering their next words very carefully.

“I know it is selfish to ask... but, I hope and wish that Thomas is alright, after all this time... Do take care of him, would you?”

Virgil paused and stared, finding only concern and longing in the guardian’s expression. And, well, fuck. What a way to pull at a guy’s heartstrings.

“Er, yes. Yeah. I’ll try my best.” Virgil gave his signature mock salute, the Guardian tipping his hat in return.

“Trying is all I could ever ask of you, Virgil. Rest well, you will need it.” And with that final sentence, the world around Virgil gently grew dark, and he sunk into the comforting arms of sleep.

Despite it all, Virgil still found his mind vaguely conscious. Sluggish at best, but awake nonetheless.

He figured it was likely some lingering effect from the Guardian’s dream realm, but didn’t dwell on it. His life had way too much else going on to be debating the side effects gained from Guardian powers.

First, he’d been pretty damn convinced two days ago that he was going to be a goner by the end of the month. Completely resigned to die believing that his very existence was scorned by the world he’d been unwillingly born into.

Then Patton had stumbled onto his shitty apartment’s roof, found him in all of his resigned and depressed glory, and changed his life forever.

They’d mostly skipped the whole ‘Human nature is a series of life, death, and rebirth’ spiel that guardians were known to give in these situations because... Well, It wasn’t like they’d really had time to address it before the truth about his soul had come out. That he wasn’t exactly human to begin with.

Virgil didn’t think that Guardians had ever had a situation like his before. There wasn’t a protocol for comforting a kidnapped guardian soul. It’d never been a possibility before!

So it wasn’t surprising then, that Virgil didn’t have any better of a time processing it.

His whole life, all that he’d known to be true, all that he’d believed in? Everything had been uprooted and turned on its head. He’d apparently been living a life that was not supposed to be.

Perhaps for the first time in two days, Virgil realized that the thought of his death at the end of the month had not been consistently worming into his brain. It had once been something he could never seem to stop thinking about.

The death indicated by his soul timer was now perhaps the farthest thing from his mind.

Perhaps the strangest thing so far was that he wasn’t alone anymore. He’d possibly had more physical contact with other people in the short two(three?) days since this adventure started then he’d had in the past 16 years.

And wasn’t it just the cherry on top that he’d also gotten nearly choked out by the very guardian accused of kidnapping his soul in the first place? And now he was considering trusting the damn guy.

Virgil hollowly wondered why he even cared.

Why did he care about staying alive now when he’s spent his whole life believing he never would? Up until two days ago, that belief had still been true. But now? Avoiding death was the goal, Logan had stated as much.

Really, would Virgil lose anything by trusting the banished guardian? Even if the guardian was trying to trick Virgil and got him killed, what difference would it make? That’d always been the goal before. What did he, Virgil, really have to lose?

If it happened that Virgil lived past his twentieth birthday, if he became a guardian like he was supposed to be in the first place. Would he want that? Did he want that?

He wasn’t sure. Didn’t know if he ever had been.

His life had been built on resignation to the inevitable. Nothing seemed to motivate him towards liking or hating that possibility. He was just that.

Indifferent.

And wasn’t that just the greatest revelation of the night? Finding out that you’re indifferent to living or dying.

Once this was all over, if Virgil lived that long, he would make a note to see a therapist. He knew very well that this kind of mindset was unhealthy to keep. It just couldn’t be helped that the nineteen years he’d lived with this particular affliction couldn’t be fixed by a few extra hugs and comforting words.

Even if he didn’t like the fact that death sounded like the more peaceful option.

His thoughts paused, mentally sighing at the downward spiral he’d caught himself in. It was tiring, and going nowhere.

‘For now,’ he decided, ‘I’m just going to see how this plays out. The Guardian said that none of the others remember the truth, or whatever. So, It’s a ‘he said-they said’ situation right now...’

‘I’ll have to keep an eye out for the guy that he warned me about, then. Who knows if he's as dangerous as The Guardian made him out to be. It’s hard to tell with the weird way he has to talk..’

Virgil paused again, a realization striking him. If he could have groaned, he would have. Not once had he been given or even remembered to ask for the name of said Guardian. What was he supposed to call the rogue Guardian now? He couldn’t just keep calling him The Guardian!

Amidst the disbelief of such a slip up, a foreign yet familiar feeling prodded questioningly at his conscious mind. Adding confusion into the mix of emotions, he returned the feeling with a questioning thought of his own.

He briefly heard the Guardian’s whispy voice once more, now acting with permission.

“You may call me Janus”

Then all at once, Virgil woke up.

.

.

.

Chapter Nine

[dietdrpepper4men]

RIP 2 My Youth

AN: I know I usually write for star wars but fuck it, twilight. I got inspired by @ssa-holmes for this story! Go check out their fic “My Forever” for more Felix content! :)

Warnings: Blood, character death, Edward fucking something up but what isn’t new, I wrote this at 6 am so it may or may not make sense who knows.

Maybe listen to this while reading :) 

WC: 1.5k 

Not my gif

You never thought death would be like this. No really, dying after your sisters boyfriend threw you into a wall in a vampire throne room in Italy? It seems like Edward may have a thing for getting the Swans almost killed, or in this case most certainly killed now. 

You were home for the winter semester from college with Bella during the pit of her depression, Edward had left her with a hole in her heart and essentially ripped out the foundation of her second family in Forks out from under her. It was great to see your sister adjust to life with a family outside of yourself and Charlie, considering you were only home for so long during the year. But hearing her speak about the Cullens so highly just made your heart leap, even if you were in agreement with your father that Edward was the bane of both of your existences. But what sealed the nail in the coffin for you with your hatred of Edward was him abandoning her after her birthday, in the fucking woods. 

But now, now this whole situation takes the fucking cake. You had decided to complete the spring semester online so Bella at least wasn’t cooped up only with Charlie, but so she could at least have someone else to support her along with her friends from and outside of school. You were finishing up a final paper on the couch one night when Bella came home one evening, you had let Alice in and was about to yell that to Bella as the door opened, but her small screech was enough to alert you that Alice had just stood by the door and waited for Bella to notice her. 

You had known about the whole vampire situation when Bella confided in you about it during the winter, you had ordered takeout for the two of you and watched a movie in the living room. Which the takeout was just bait you could spend some time with her, but you didn’t know that Dracula would strike such a nerve with her, especially when he was confessing his love to Mina. If just picking some other movie would have saved you from doing several hours of mental gymnastics and having to rationalize the Cullen’s as vampires you would have just put on Pirate of the Caribbean instead. Unless Edward somehow happened to also be a pirate, but that was besides the point. 

Now, now a whole other level of bullshit was happening. Which mainly involved flying across the world with your sister and Alice, and committing grand theft auto, to save Edward from exposing himself to some humans. Who knew indecent exposure in the vampire world lead to death? Anyways, now that Bella had run off, you and Alice had made it to the palace a little while after her. Just trailing behind enough so that Bella could make it to Edward in time. When you two arrived you took a second to marvel at the fact that Alice practically punched the lock of the door to open it, but then took a little bit of time to marvel at the two men standing in front of Edward and Bella. 

Though you only took a quick glance at the blond haired man, the man with the dark brown hair, who stood at least a foot and a half taller than you was mystifying. And for a split second when your eyes met it felt like a a rope around you was pulling you towards him, you hadn’t even noticed that you were moving util Alice grabbed your hand to stop you. With that, another shorter blond girl walked down the hall and ushered you all towards the elevator. The ride was awkward enough, but the tension was cut for you at least whenever you stole a glance at the man standing behind you. His gaze always met yours and the brush of his hand against yours was a welcome comfort, the flush in your cheeks didn’t die down the entire ride, and his gentle smile could have easily caused you to melt on the spot. But all good things must come to an end, and it did when the elevator dinged and you were led out. Alice stayed close to you, but it was most likely to ward off whoever just managed to flip your world upside down. 

The next thing you knew was that Edward was being interrogated, then subsequently Bella. The man in the center of the room, Aro, was taking great joy testing Bella’s immunity to different gifts that his guard had possessed that he barely left you with some time to enjoy Edward getting his ass handed to him by the same small blond vampire, Jane, from before. Though after that Aro turned his attention to you, Alice let your hand go as he beckoned you forward, 

“May I?” His ruby eyes were blown with curiosity as he held out his hand, though waiting for you to place your hand in his. 

Though the demand was posed as a question, denying a millennia's old being a simple request to read your mind seemed like a one-way ticket to being drained like a capris sun in front of your sister. 

“Uh, sure, no problem” you chuckled awkwardly, compliantly placing your now clammy hand in his, and watched as he covered his other hand on top of yours. 

It was an odd sensation as her probed your mind, it felt like you were put in a small daze while he poked around at your memories and thoughts as he please. But nearly as soon as the sensation started it was over. 

“My my,” he tutted, “Another human has found a mate among us” He clapped after releasing your hand, “Felix, its so wonderful that you’ve found someone”

Felix, that was it, your lips perked up in a smile as you walked back to your small group. The name fit him well, you remember one obscure memory from your high school Latin class, you were picking latin names at the beginning of the year and one name that stood out to you was the name Felix, it meant happy. So maybe that smile he had when he first saw you was the first taste of happiness he had for the first time in years, or maybe even centuries. 

While you had been too entranced in your own thoughts, you didn’t hear Aro give the order, nor did you see Felix walking towards Bella, but what you did notice was a hand on your shoulder and a quick yet forceful push to said shoulder. And the next thing you knew you were slammed into a wall. Marble no less, and not to mention you had the privilege of listening to a symphony of your bones breaking and your skull cracking. The rest was a blur, you could feel your velvet soft blood coating your nose and matting your hair together. Your vision was blurry and your hearing was fuzzy. But you could make out Bella screaming your name, and the warm touch of her hand in yours. But as soon as you felt it, it was gone as Bella ran away from you. Everyone else was standing still. And Felix was holding Edward down as Bella pleaded for his life. 

The only thing keeping you warm now was your blood enveloping you in a pool, it was enough to keep the vampire’s disinterested as most of it was laying stagnant and cool on the floor. The betrayal you felt was unmatched, but understood. If Bella’s established bond was as strong as yours was with a passing glance? You would sacrifice everything as well to keep Felix safe from harm. 

Your heartbeat, once pounding in your ears was slowly dying out, the blur of someone running to your side once you saw the shapes of Bella and Edward embracing was enough to keep your eyes open for a little longer, no matter how heavy they felt. 

“Cara mia, just please stay here a little longer.” Felix pleaded. 

He was bundling you up in his arms, a hand on the back of your head to keep you supported. His voice was so soothing, so warm despite his freezing hands holding you close. Everything was so dark now, your vision was fading like a tunnel. Maybe just a short rest and this would all be over. Bella again had rushed to your side as Felix pulled you to his chest. Edward was trying to pull her away desperately, knowing that your death was now under the jurisdiction of the Volturi. And that he and Bella would have to explain to Charlie that his oldest child went missing on a beach day on their little trip to Italy and was never recovered. Even though he would be staring their killer straight in the face when they returned to Forks. 

Your vision finally blacked out, and the last thing you remembered was the feeling of teeth sinking through your flesh. 

-Fin-

[summahsunlight]

Worth the Risk, Part 12

Rating: Mature(18+only)

Word Count: 1707

Pairing: Army Pilot!Poe Dameron x Nurse!Reader (1940s AU)

Summary: It’s the 1940s, Army pilot and Captain Poe Dameron is flying on missions for the United States Army in Europe.  After being shot down off the coast of France, Poe wakes up in an Army hospital in England, to find you, a nurse, taking care of him. Throughout the process of his recovery, Poe finds himself falling for you, and even though you, for the most part, maintain a professional relationship with him–you’re falling for him as well. Both of you know the risks of falling in love during a war, but then again, both of you have never cared much for being cautious.

Warnings: Angst, Holocaust imagery (not graphic)

Start from the beginning!

Taglist: @fanfic-addict-98​, @thescarletknight2014​, @blushingwueen​, @americasassromanoff, @ginger-swag-rapunzel​, @spider-starry​, @totelpoedameron, @captain-america5, @liadamerondjarin​, @m1rkw00dpr1ncess​, @paintballkid711​, @justanotherblonde23​, @castiel-barnes​, @itspdameronthings​

Hello readers, I am so sorry that this part took this long. I hope you enjoy reading it! Remember the taglist is open, just comment here or send me an ask/message if you would like to be added!🥰 As I mentioned in the warnings there is some mention of the Holocaust, however it is not graphic imagery but I wanted to warn readers. 

August, 1944

It was quiet now. Earlier that day the streets of Paris had been lined with citizens cheering the Allied Forces as they rode into the city. Poe had collected so many roses from the adoring crowds that he had enough to give you two dozen.  You’d found a glass jar and they were now sitting on the small table besides your cot, the sweet smell permeating the air. 

Currently your head was resting on Poe’s bare chest, listening to his heart beat, as well as the drunk Frenchman singing outside your window.  In a few days he’d be moving out of Paris with his unit, while you would be staying behind and treating the wounded. You knew that this was coming at some point--the Army was going to station your unit in a more permanent place--and Poe would be on the move. Because of this you clung a bit more tightly to one another tonight.

“I’m gonna miss Paris.”

“Why? Because all those random girls wanted to kiss you?”

Poe chuckled and pressed his lips to your temple. “It did give a whole new meaning to French kiss.”

You playfully hit him on the shoulder and laughed. Someday, you would get to lounge in bed like this, without a care in the world--without the war right outside your window. “You’re an idiot.”

“Arana says I’m a lovable idiot.”

“True. And you’re my lovable idiot.”

His finger ghosted over your cheek, his brown eyes softening as he gazed at you with so much love in them. “Do you know for the first time since this war began I actually feel hope that we might win this? That I might actually walk away and be able to go home to the ranch and build a life with you.”

It was so easy to feel hopeful when he talked like that, you realized. Softly you played with his hair. “What’s the ranch like?”

Poe smiled, softly. “Hot.”

You returned his smile. “Hotter than the South of France in August?”

“Much hotter.”

“Can you see for miles?”

“Miles and miles of blue skies and rolling hills.”

“Are there horses?”

“Lots of horses.”

Closing your eyes you tried to imagine the ranch where Poe had grown up. You’d grown up in the city--there had been no wide open spaces or horses--other than the ones pulling carriages or police officers rode. “I always wanted my own horse when I was a little girl.”

Poe ran his fingers through your hair, heart softening at the thought of you as a child wishing for a pony.. “Do you know how to ride? I could always teach you.” 

Even thought you had not been able to have a pony when you were growing up, your parents did provide you with riding lessons. “I know how to ride but it’s been a few years--I might need a refresher course.” 

“Something to look forward too then.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I know the perfect spot on the ranch to ride out to.”

Placing a kiss on his shoulder, you smiled. Tomorrow morning both of you would be back in the thick of the war, but for now, it was just the two of you, dreaming about the future. 

Poe wrapped you tightly into his arms and kissed your temple. He was dreading having to say good-bye to you tomorrow morning but he would at least have peace of mind knowing that you were safe in Paris while he pressed on with the Army deeper into Europe.  Since taking back France there was a new sense of hope resonating with the boys--they were going to see this through to the end--they were going to win.

You fingers brushed his hair back. He’d gone back to trimming his curls since he’d left the hospital in England, but you still loved how incredibly soft his hair was. “What are you thinking about?”

A gentle smile spread across his face as he looked at you. “Just feeling incredibly hopeful.”

“Me too.”

“A year from now we’ll be on the ranch--you’ll see--it will be over, finally.”

--------

September, 1944

It wasn’t often in the last few weeks that you got to leave Paris. There was still heavy concern about Nazi troops inciting guerrilla warfare in the forests and along the country roads that led to towns and villages outside of the city. You had already been injured thanks to one sniper before--you didn’t want to go through that experience again.

However, a few volunteers had been asked to assist with the medical needs of some prisoners that had recently been freed from a Nazi camp. 

There was far less destruction out here in the countryside, although there was still evidence of war, of the Allies heavy bombing runs. Poe couldn’t talk about those, at least not with you and you weren’t sure if it was because he was sworn to secrecy or if the very idea that he could kill innocent people rendered him speechless. You surmised it was both. 

His letters that last few weeks had been short, upbeat; he would let her know if Arana was fine--still a pain in my ass, but I love him--Poe had written. 

“Lieutenant,” the driver said, pulling your attention away from daydreaming. “Did the Army give you any forewarning about what you’re going to see?”

“No,” you said with a shake of your head, suddenly feeling a pit forming in your stomach. “Is it that bad?”

“Treated them worse than animals,” the driver mumbled as pulled down a long, narrow drive that led to a stone farmhouse. “And they’re not soldiers ma’am--civilians, French civilians. The French Red Cross has been caring for them, but with the war still going on, it’s overwhelming. They asked for some help.”

Something inside of you sparked, the conversations you’d heard your father have with other men in the neighborhood when he thought you were not within earshot.  What had you agreed to expose your nurses too? Already they had seen so much--too much. 

The jeep came to a stop in front of the farmhouse. You glanced at it for a moment, a picture of the French countryside at the onset, but you knew inside.... it was a much different story. Stealing yourself, you took a deep breath and got out of the jeep. With your medical bag in hand, you headed inside to find the doctor in charge. 

It was eerily quiet. Beds lined walls with far too thin men, women, and children.  A French nurse handed you a mask, told you to put it on because they were dealing with an outbreak of influenza. Judging by the condition of the patients, this came as no surprise to you; they had no immune systems to combat even a cold. 

Slipping the mask on you, you buried your emotions and got to work. Later, when you sat down to write a letter to Poe, you’d let them all out. But for now, you had work to do.

------

Eight hours later, you found yourself hugging a toilet bowl. In all your lifetime, you had never seen people so sick, so frail, or so thin. Not even when you and your mother had traveled to rural parts of New York to help people in need during the Depression had you seen such horrendous conditions.

The Army private that had driven you to the farmhouse had been right--these people had been treated worse than animals. 

“Lieutenant?” Jess called from the other side of the door. “You okay?”

“No,” you answered, truthfully before vomiting again.

“Can I come in?”

“Enter at your own risk.”

Slowly, the. door to the bathroom opened and Jess stepped inside. She closed it behind her before speaking. “I know this probably means nothing to you--but the way you held it together today, it really helped all the girls. I don’t know how you did it.”

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you answered her, honestly, “I’m not sure how I did it, either. My parents helped several families get out of Germany before the war began, they told us stories but I never...I never thought it would have been like this.”

Jess sat down next to you, pressing her back against the vanity. “I don’t think anyone could have imagined it was like this, Lieutenant. How could anyone sane imagine this?”

You had to agree. Dropping back on your feet, you glanced exhausted at your friend. She looked just as drained as you; the pair of you had spent the entire day helping treat patients and listen to the ones that could communicate with you what they had been through--ripped away from their families, losing everything they owned. None of them were sure if members of their families were even alive--they had been sent away to other countries--you had heard the word Auschwitz a few times. 

“Do you think Captain Dameron is right?”

“About what?”

“The war being almost over.”

“I think he wants it to be almost over.”

“Me and him both.”

Sighing, you swallowed the sour tasting bile in your throat, wishing you could unsee the sick and dying people today. Suddenly you were feeling Poe’s absence harder than ever--you wished he was here so he could pull you into his arms and just tell you that it was going to be okay. 

Jess reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze. “Maybe you should go write to him.”

You glanced at her, incredulously. “How did you know I was even thinking about him?”

“Because if the man I was gonna marry was that good looking--I’d be thinking about him all the time as well,” she said, with a big smile.

“He is pretty cute,” you said, returning her smile. And then you both started laughing. When the laughter had died down, you rested your head on Jess’ shoulder. “Thanks, Jess. I feel better.”

“Anytime, Y/N,” Jess said, softly. “You don’t have to shoulder all this alone, especially if we’re going to be here helping these poor people for a while. We’re going to need each other to lean on.”

[fanmoose12]

“Hange!” Levi shouted, as he banged his fists against the piece of offending furniture. “Open that goddamn door!”

“Levi…” Hange sighed wearily. Levi didn’t like the tone of her voice. Hange never spoke like this. “Just leave me alone.”

“The fuck I will!” Levi almost growled. “Open that door or I swear I’ll break it down!”

“There is nothing you can do!” Hange screamed. A moment later, she started coughing, and Levi heard as she slid down to the floor. “There is nothing you can do,” she repeated, her voice raspy. “It’s best if I stay here, alone, until… Well,” she laughed bitterly. “You know.”

“I’m not letting you fucking die, Hange!”

“And what are you going to do? You saw those people, you saw how they’ve died! You know you can’t help me.”

“Well, the least I can do is try,” Levi slid to the floor as well, not caring about his pristinely white coat. He leaned against the door. “Hange, please…” his voice was quite, almost a whisper. “Just let me help you.”

“No, Levi, I can’t. This thing is highly contagious, I can’t risk you becoming infected as well.”

“Bullshit,” Levi answered, getting angry again. Why Hange wouldn’t listen to him? Just for once in their goddamn lives? “I’ve been treating those patients alongside you. And I still feel fine, so let me in.”

“Fine, maybe you aren’t infected, or maybe you aren’t as susceptible to the disease as I am, but Levi! Remember those patients. They’ve died before we could do anything! I don’t think I have much time left.”

“And if you continue to sit here, wallowing in self-pity, you’ll have even less time. Don’t be an idiot, Hange. You’ve told me yourself that this new bacteria has a very short lifespan. What exactly you’ve told me?”

“I said they probably live for only 24 hours, but Levi—!”

“Don’t ‘but Levi’ me,” he grumbled, cutting her off. “I know that this is just your theory, but more often than not, your theories are correct, Hange. I’m willing to bet that this one is correct as well. So if I manage to keep you alive for just a day, I believe that you’ll be able to fight off the disease.”

“You really believe that?” Hange’s voice was quiet and unsure.

“I do believe that,” Levi replied. “I will do anything to save you, Hange. You did the same thing for me, after all.”

“I did?” Hange chuckled, surprised by his words.

“Of course,” Levi nodded, even though Hange couldn’t see him. “Remember our college days? I’ve gotten a bad case of stomach flu, and have been puking my insides for three days straight. And you haven’t left my side even for a moment. Or, that time,” Levi closed his eyes, feeling the old wounds reopen. “When I got into that car accident? When I was lying in the hospital bed, all broken and despaired? When I have been grieving and mourning Isabel’s and Farlan’s deaths? When all I wanted to do was to curl up and fucking die?”

“Levi… I—”

“No,” Levi continued, ignoring Hange’s words. “You have to listen to this, Hange. I wanted to die back then, there was no reason for me to live, but you… you gave me a reason. You haven’t left me even then, you found this job for me, and—”

“Erwin got this job for you,” Hange reminded. “I just gave him your resume.”

“Whatever. Erwin gave me a purpose, but you… your kindness and friendship gave me a reason to get up in the mornings. I know it sounds fucking pathetic, but…” Levi trailed off, rubbing his face. “You make me happy, Hange. I love my job and I love helping people, but even more so, because I can do this alongside you. So, Hange, please, let me in. Let me help you, because I don’t think I can live, if I lose you as well.”

For a long moment there was silence, and Levi already prepared to say something more or to act on his promise and break the fucking door, when it finally opened.

Hange stood on the other side, leaning against the chair and breathing heavily. She was pale – cyanotic, the doctor in Levi said, but he didn’t listen to it. Cyanotic meant… no, cyanotic meant bad things, awful things, but Levi wasn’t going to focus on them. Hange was just pale, she had two night shifts in a row and she was understandably exhausted. A good night sleep was all she needed to feel better again.

“Let’s get you in bed,” Levi hugged Hange by the shoulders, leading her into one of the wards for the infectious patients.

“Are you saying this to all of your patients?” Hange giggled.

“I’m glad to know that the disease hasn’t affected your sense of humor. It’s still as horrible as it always have been.”

“Oi, it’s rude to talk to your patient that way!”

Levi shook his head in exasperation. “Just change your clothes and lay in bed. I’ll go and bring the needed equipment.”

“Levi,” Hange touched his arm. When he looked at her, there was a tiny, fond smile on her lips. “You don’t need to tell me all this stuff. I’m also a doctor, remember?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Levi nodded. “Sorry, just a habit,” he took Hange’s hand into his and briefly squeezed it. “I’ll be right back.”

After Levi brought everything he needed, connected Hange to the numerous tubes and wires, injected her with the strongest antibiotics their hospital had, there was nothing left for him to do rather than to stay by her side and watch every change, hoping for Hange’s fast recovery.

“Levi…” Hange slowly began. Levi turned his gaze away from the monitors and looked at her. But just as soon, he averted his eyes – Hange seemed so frail, so feeble in that bed. “If I d—”

“You won’t.” Levi instantly cut her off, refusing to hear what she wanted to say next. “You’ll survive this shit and will be back on your feet in no time.”

“But those patients!” Hange protested.

“Those patients were already weak. Their immune system was compromised, and they had a dozen of concomitant diseases. You, on the other hand, are young and healthy. You’ll be fine, and I don’t want to hear another word from you about death or some other depressing thing. Better yet, stop talking and get some rest.”

“That’s doctor’s orders?” Hange grinned weakly.

“You’re goddamn right,” Levi showed a small smile of his own.

Hange stared at him for another moment, before closing her eyes and falling into a restless slumber.

 ***

When she woke up, Hange's condition had considerably worsened. Her Sp02 was rapidly decreasing and Levi even had to put an oxygen mask over her face. With his heart in his throat, he watched how Hange was desperately trying to breathe, her chest heaving up and down.

“It hurts, Levi,” she croaked out. “It hurts so much.”

“I know,” Levi’s one hand held Hange’s and another one was softly playing with her hair. “I know it hurts, Hange, and I’m sorry. But you are strong, you can endure this. Soon it will pass, and you’ll feel better, I promise.”

“I…” Hange had another coughing fit, which shook her body. Levi shuddered as he saw blood on the white sheet of her bed. “I… need,” Hange continued when her coughing had subdued. “I need a reason… to survive.”

“Alright,” Levi gently caressed her palm. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

A small smirk appeared on Hange’s bloodied lips. “That’s a dangerous promise, doctor Ackerman.”

“I’m a dangerous man,” Levi shrugged, his eyes darting to the monitor beside Hange. It showed that Hange’s Sp02 almost returned to normal. Levi let himself relax. “So what do you want?”

Hange looked away from him, as an almost shy expression appeared on her face. “A date,” she whispered so quietly, Levi had to strain his ears to hear it.

“A date? With whom?”

“With whom do you think?” Hange glared at him. “Of course, I’m asking you to arrange me a date with Mike.”

“Mike?” Levi raised his eyebrows. “But he’s married!”

“You’re lucky,” Hange took a deep, shaky breath. “You’re lucky I’m weak now, Levi. I would have kicked you otherwise. I was talking about a date with… you.”

“Oh,” Levi’s eyes widened. “You want to go on a date with me? Alright, y-yeah, okay. Yes, I agree.”

Hange gave him a critical look. “Are you agreeing just because I’m on my death bed?”

“Idiot,” Levi growled, resisting the urge to smack her head. “You’re not on your death bed, and I didn’t agree out of pity or anything. Actually…” Levi trailed off, feeling his cheeks redden. “Actually I wanted to ask you out for a very long time. Just couldn’t find the courage to do so.”

“You wanted to go on a date with me?” Hange asked quietly. Levi didn’t know if her voice was so weak because of her illness, or she just couldn’t believe him.

“Of course, I did, four-eyes. I still do. I… I had a crush on you… for a while.”

Truth be told, Levi had a crush on Hange for as long as he knew her. However, something always stopped him from confessing his feelings. Maybe, he just didn’t want to make a fool out of himself, or maybe, he was afraid of her refusal. He didn’t want to destroy their friendship with his stupid, inappropriate feelings. Levi had never been so happy to be proven wrong.

“You have a crush on me?” Hange’s lips curled into a smile, and Levi’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. He loved that smile so much…

“I think we’ve already established that,” Levi hid his blushing face, lowering his head. Well, one of his fears did come true. Talking about his feeling was the worst. “Better tell me, where do you want to spend our first date?” Levi began, trying to keep Hange’s mind away from her pain. “I would have thought of something myself, but,” he shook his head. “You know I suck at this kind of things.”

“I want to go to the amusement park,” Hange sighed dreamily. “I want to go on a Ferris wheel. We’ll be holding hands and looking at the night city. And cotton candy! Yes, we will be sharing a cotton candy.”

Levi made a face. “I hate those things. They’re sticky and way too sugary.”

“Too bad, Ackerman,” Hange smirked. “You’ve already agreed to this.”

Levi sighed, admitting his defeat. “Alright, what else do you want to do?”

“Mm, then we should take a ride on a roller coaster, the biggest one they had. I hope, you’ll be screaming like a little girl.”

“Keep dreaming, four-eyes,” Levi softly chuckled.

“And then I’ll drag you to the shooting range. I’ll make you win me the biggest plushie they have.”

“And the ugliest, no doubt.”

“Ah, you know me so well,” Hange softly smiled.

“That I do,” Levi agreed. “Now, c’mon, stop talking,” his eyes slightly narrowed, as he saw Hange’s saturation begin to decrease again. “Save your breath and go to sleep. I’ll be there, when you wake up.”

 ***

Levi was slumping in his seat, watching every rise and fall of Hange’s chest. Hoping that movement doesn’t stop.

“Are you watching me sleep?” Hange mumbled without opening her eyes. “Creep.”

“I’m not a creep,” Levi answered, feeling his lips involuntarily twitch into a smile. “I’m a professional.”

“Mm, that’s what all creeps say.”

“Are you feeling better?” Levi got to his feet, deciding to inject Hange with another antibiotic.

“Not really,” Hange answered, avoiding his eyes. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“For a few hours.”

“Have you gotten any sleep?”

It was Levi’s turn to avoid Hange’s eyes. “I’ll rest when you get better.”

“Levi,” Hange chided. “You have to get some sleep.”

“You know I don’t need it much.”

“Alright, maybe, you don’t need to sleep,” it looked like Hange wasn’t going to give up easily. “But what about your other patients? Don’t you have to take care of them?”

“Who are you taking me for, four-eyes?” Levi rolled his eyes. “I’ve asked Mike and Erwin to look after them. Besides, I’m helping hundreds of patients right now.”

“Huh?” Hange’s face scrunched into a confused expression.

“I’m saving your life, dumbass,” Levi said in a far softer voice that he intended. “And by saving yours, I’m saving lives of other patients you’re going to help after you get back on your feet.”

“Levi…” Hange searched for his hand, and when she reached it, she took it in hers and squeezed. She looked deep into his eyes, not knowing what to say. She wanted to say so much, but she couldn’t do it. Not now, not until she actually gets better.

“It’s been almost fifteen hours since you’ve become ill,” Levi changed the subject, feeling the strange tension in the room. The look in Hange’s eyes was so intense and almost unreadable. “Ten more hours and you’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve told you already – I am a professional,” Levi huffed. “And I never give my patients false hopes.”

“So, I’m your patient, huh?” Hange looked at him with that mischievous glint in her eyes. With that expression on her face, she seemed almost healthy, almost normal. “Say, doctor Ackerman, am I your favorite patient?”

“No,” Levi replied curtly. “And let’s not make a habit of it, four-eyes.”

“Let’s not a habit of what? You taking care of me?”

“Let’s not make a habit of you getting dangerous diseases, idiot.”

“Can’t promise you anything, but… I’ll try.”

“With you, four-eyes, I couldn’t have hoped for a better answer.”

“Jeez, that’s so embarrassing,” Hange chuckled quietly. “But I’m getting sleepy again.”

“Drugs make you sleepy. Besides, your body needs as much energy as it can get. And I don’t think I need to explain it to you, Doctor Zoe.”

“Maybe, I just wanted to listen to the sound of your voice,” she showed Levi another one of her gentle smiles. “I’ll rest my eyes then,” she said, closing them. “Just for a while.”

Levi nodded and leaned in, kissing her sweat-covered temple. “Take your time.”

 ***

Levi didn’t know for how long he was sitting there, watching Hange and the monitors beside her bed. Her condition wasn’t improving, but it also wasn’t worsening. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad either. She was… stable. It gave Levi hope. That Hange had defeated the disease. That she would be alright. That she wouldn’t leave Levi alone.

Levi checked his watch. It’s been almost 24 hours, since Hange had contacted the disease.

He decided to perform an experiment of his own.

Slowly, with his heart pounding in his chest and his hands trembling, Levi took off Hange’s oxygen mask. His eyes were glued to the monitor, looking for any change. He scanned each parameter again and again – Hange’s Sp02, heart rate, blood pressure, and temperature – everything seemed to be normal.

He waited for a minute, than two. Nothing changed. Levi almost breathed out in relief.

And then Hange opened her eyes.

“You know as much as I like to see your face after waking up,” she drew out, smirking. “You’re looming over me like some kind of murderer.”

Levi didn’t reply, he said absolutely nothing, staring at Hange with wide, almost unblinking eyes.

“Um, Levi?” Hange called, feeling slightly uneasy. His gaze was quite unnerving. “Is everything alright?”

Again, Levi didn’t speak, but Hange suddenly noticed that he was holding something in his right hand. She squinted her eyes, trying to take a better look. “Oh,” she breathed out, as she finally understood what he was holding. “Is that my oxygen mask?”

Levi nodded, still staring at her.

“And I can breathe without it?”

Levi nodded once more.

“Oh,” Hange couldn’t quite wrap her head around. “So does that mean that I…”

“Yeah,” Levi sighed, letting go of the mask and leaning closer to Hange. “You’re getting better, Hange.”

“Well, that quite unexpected turn of events,” she chuckled.

Levi slightly pulled at her hair. “What the fuck do you mean? Did you doubt my skills as a doctor?”

“Maybe, the tiniest bit?” Hange giggled, making an innocent expression.

Levi scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Idiot,” he scolded her fondly.

“Mm, but I’m glad I’ve survived. Because that means we can go on our date!”

“Let’s start with getting you back on your feet,” Levi reminded. “And Hange?”

“Yes?”

“Please, take a shower before going on a date with me.”

Hange burst out laughing. “For you, my clean freak, I’ll even wash my hair!”

“What an honor,” Levi grumbled with a smile on his lips and a soft look in his eyes.

[stark-tony]

Signor Antonio Carbonell

summary: In which Peter gets sick at school and has to get Tony to come and pick him up, except it’s not exactly Tony’s name on the emergency contact list.

word count: 1,439

rating: G

Peter should have known that he was ill the moment he woke up at five am with an aching headache. But despite how lousy he felt he somehow managed to convince May (and himself) that he was perfectly fine. His immune system didn’t seem to agree, however, because by third period his headache was now a hammer pounding into his skull and he was using all his concentration to keep his stomach contents within his body.  

He swallowed convulsively as his teacher droned on and on about the roaring twenties. Peter moaned and laid his head down on his desk, hoping that the coolness of it would somehow make him feel better. It didn’t. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ned staring at him, worried. Peter wished that he could send a small smile his way, but he didn’t think he had the energy to blink let alone smile.

“Mr. Parker!” His teacher shouted, causing Peter to practically jump out of his seat. 

“Huh?” He mumbled, barely lifting his head up to blink wearily at the teacher standing firm in front of his desk.

“Would you like to tell us how the events of the roaring twenties led into the great depression, or shall I.” The teacher questioned, a grimace souring his face.

“I-” Oh no. That was a mistake. Peter jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over his neighbor’s laptop in his haste. Something was about to come out of his mouth, and it wasn't a detailed response to what his teacher had asked him. 

He fled out of the classroom and into the empty halls, the corridor feeling longer than he could ever remember as he hurried his way to the restroom. Peter barely had time to be thankful that he was alone when he slammed down near the closest stall, not even bothering to shut the door behind him as his breakfast and his dinner from the night before made an unwelcome reappearance in the toilet. 

“Dude!” Peter heard Ned exclaim as he entered the restroom with Peter’s laptop and backpack, having followed Peter out of the classroom. “Are you okay? You looked like you were about to hurl all over your-” His eyes fell toward Peter’s shaking form. “Oh my god, Peter are you okay.” 

Peter spat into the toilet and shook his head. “No. I think I’m sick.”  Peter told him, accepting the fact like he should have done at the crack of dawn. 

“But I thought that spider bite prevented you from getting ill?” 

Peter sighed and got up off of the dirty floor tiles, grateful that the nausea had quelled at least for the time being. “Apparently we were both wrong.” He stumbled his way over to Ned, who handed him his stuff that he’d forgotten in the classroom.. “Thanks.

“No problem. I’ll take you to the nurse.” Ned offered as they walked out of the restroom.

“No, no, no. You should probably get back to class. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, just tell the teacher I got sick and I’m going to the nurse, okay.” 

Ned hesitated. “Okay, but text me when you get home.” 

“Yeah, I will.” Peter reassured him as he turned around and began to make his way to the nurse’s office. 

By the time he’d got there his headache had returned with a vengeance and waves of nausea were starting to roll his stomach once more. “Um, I think I need to call my aunt.” He said, sitting down in one of the plush seats and setting his stuff on the floor beside him.

The nurse looked up from her desk. “Okay sweetie, what’s wrong, are you ill?” She asked, digging a thermometer out of her drawers. 

“Yeah.” Peter managed to choke out as she walked over and took his temperature.

“One-oh-one.” She tutted and walked back over to her desk.

“Okay what’s your name?” She asked as she began to look through the files on her desk.

“Peter Parker.”

“All right, I’m gonna give her a call. You just sit right there.” 

Peter moaned and put his head in his hands, focusing all his energy on not puking on the floor. 

“Peter. Peter!” Peter jolted and looked up. “Your aunt isn’t answering. Is there anybody else I can call?” 

“Yeah, um, try Tony. I’m really sorry but can I …” He trailed off, pointing towards the bathroom. 

“Yes, go ahead.”  Peter was out of the seat before she even finished that sentence, running to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him this time.

He sat in front of the toilet for what felt like an hour, the only interruption being the nurse coming by the door and telling him that Tony was going to come and pick him up. His only response to her had been more vomiting.

After a few more minutes he heard voices outside the door, and Peter turned his head as it began to open.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Peter groaned as he looked up at the doorway from his safe haven that was the nurse's toilet. 

Before him stood Tony Stark. But it wasn’t Tony Stark like he’d ever seen before. His hair was a light shade of blond and blue eyes were hidden behind wire-framed glasses. The trademarked beard that he’d possessed since before Peter was born was nowhere in sight. 

Peter stared and blinked and just when he thought that there was no way that things could get any stranger Tony opened his mouth and began to speak. In a flawless Italian accent.  

“Hey, kid. You ready to go or do you think you’re gonna upchuck anymore?” Tony asked. 

“I’m-,” Peter shook his head, trying to clear it because what he was seeing and hearing could not be real. “I’m confused. Am I hallucinating right now?”

Concern immediately washed over Tony’s features and he sprinted towards Peter’s side. “Are you hurt?” He asked, dropping the Italian accent as he felt his head and looked into his pupils. “They just said that you were sick. They didn’t say anything about you being injured. C’mon follow my finger.” Tony slowly began to move his index finger in front of Peter’s face.”

“What? No. No!” Peter exclaimed, jerking away from Tony’s hold. “I’m not hurt. It’s just . . . you’re blond. And your beard’s gone.” Peter remarked, dumbfounded.  

“Oh yeah that.” Tony said, as if he’d forgotten about it. “It’s part of my disguise.” 

“Disguise?” 

“Yeah, I can’t just walk into your school as Tony Stark, now can I.” Tony replied, sitting down beside Peter.

“Tony,” Peter said slowly. “You are Tony Stark.”

Tony snorted out a laugh. “Not to your school I’m not. To them I am Signor Antonio Carbonell, an Italian engineer who’s a friend of your aunt.”

Silence hung over them, allowing Peter to clearly hear the sound of several students rushing to their next class. “What?” 

“Well me and your aunt agreed that it wouldn’t be a good idea to have my name down on your emergency contact list. God could you imagine what the press would do if they found out about it? They’d be on you like a pack of dogs. So I suggested to her to put a pseudonym down for me. So now I'm officially Antonio Carbonell to your entire school. Well, except for your principal. May said we at least had to tell him.” Tony frowned and Peter knew that if it’d been his way absolutely no one would have known about this arrangement.

“But . . . Why is your beard gone?” Peter inquired, still stuck on that one aspect.

Tony laughed. “I’m glad that that’s what you’re concerned about in this entire situation. “You see this.” He pointed at his face. “This is going to be the biggest sacrifice I'm ever going to make for you. I can’t go out in public for weeks now. Weeks.” 

Peter didn’t know how to respond to that. “I’m sorry?” 

Tony shrugged and stood up. “Nah, it’s fine. It’ll grow back in no time anyway.” He clapped his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Now what do you say we get out of here? This wig is itchin’ like crazy and I’m pretty sure that having a combination of contacts and glasses over your eyes can’t be good for your eyesight.” 

“Uh, yeah, sure, ok.” Peter stuttered, not making any indication that he was about to move. “Uh, I guess I’d ought to get up now, shouldn’t I?” 

Tony nodded. “Yeah that’d be a smart idea.” He held out his hand. “C’mon kid, let’s get you outta here.” 

Peter took it without another word.

[akatsuki-celeste]

I can feel my anxiety medication wearing off so before I re-up it, because if ever there was a day that I just need to keep it going - I feel the need to scream into the void first. 

I haven’t talked about my personal life that much save for a few depressive, anxiety-fueled rants before, and maybe this is just one more of those but longer. But today was the last day in a long saga of days that has just made me....really question *everything*. It’s probably the closest I’ve ever felt to being absolutely done. 

So the last year and a half has been quite the roller coaster and occasional hell for me, as I imagine it has been for everyone else on the planet. Everyone has their own 2020 story to tell, everyone’s is important, so I haven’t made a huge deal out of mine. I’m luckier than most. So this isn’t a post where I’m going to go on and on about how rough I’ve had it, etc, etc. This is just going to be about...me. The facts, as seen by me. 

In March 2020, my work began efforts to roll out a remote work plan that I qualified to start early due to being immunocompromised thanks to a fun little auto-immune disease called ulcerative colitis. I’ve been diagnosed since I was 18, so basically half my life, and the medication I had been on then, Remicade, was one I’d been using for the last decade with absolutely no issues except maybe I get really tired and like naps afterwards. All of that went smooth. I felt relieved that I, at least, was going to be at home. One of my roommates, also a co-worker, was able to work out the same situation so we didn’t even need to deal with transportation for her until the official lockdown. 

And then a week - possibly less, my memory is hazy - my roommates (my then-best friend and her brother) got into a screaming fight of such epic proportions that I had an actual mental breakdown in the middle of (first for me). I remember hiding in my room with my laptop - I was still trying to work for some reason, I do remember eventually telling my boss I had a family emergency so I could log off - I remember calling my mother in a panic, and then I remember waking up at my parents’ house about 6 hours later and finding out that my mother had told my former roommates to gtfo, which I did not attempt to rescind (not at the time, because apparently I was there when it happened but I don’t remember this, and not later) because I knew living with them was no longer feasible for a number of reasons which I will not go into. I’m still dealing with five years of mental abuse and trauma on that one. 

By the first week of April they were gone, and I was able to busy myself for the next few months with making my place habitable for one person again, which was a good distraction. And then September came around and I started to notice these, well, patches on my skin. At first I thought it was just eczema or dry skin irritation, it happens sometimes. But with each month they got worse and worse, until December finally rolls around and the only conclusion anyone can come up with is that my trusty Remicade, which had successfully kept my UC in check for a decade, had finally decided to stop playing nice with my body and I was having a “psoriasis-like” reaction. So for the first time in a long while I was starting the medication shuffle again, steroid creams and a new UC medication that took nearly 4 months to get approved. I’m still not recovered even though I’ve been off of Remicade for 7 months now. It takes 6 months for that stuff to fully work its way out of a system, so the reactions didn’t stop until a few weeks ago and I’m still struggling to heal. I’d say it’s about 75% better than it was, but showers still suck, pants also suck, and I can’t tolerate temperatures higher than 70 degrees (hi summer, you suck). Also during this time I got the COVID vaccine (woo!) but seriously, if not for remote work I probably would have lost my job. I used up most of my sick leave in the beginning of the year because I couldn’t move without pain, even to sit at the computer for 8 hours. I also have a ton of PTO, but my boss told me that I couldn’t necessarily use it for sick leave (news flash for me) and again, could lose my job if I tried to use it too much. So trigger my anxiety. A lot. 

Fast forward. In one week my office is reopening for 50% capacity, which apparently means to upper management that we have to all work 3 days a week in office, 2 days remote, which doesn’t match the math but whatever. They’ve also stopped screening temperatures, have nixed the social distance requirement, and are only requiring masks for the unvaccinated - but aren’t requiring anyone to say whether they are or not. Needless to say, not exactly the best reassurance for my still-immunocompromised ass, not to mention the dress code will murder my skin. So I ask about continuing remote work and get told I need an ADA accommodation. Okay. I get the paperwork and pass it on to my GI; I was already on FMLA for my UC, figured this wouldn’t be that different. 

Except my GI has refused to sign the paperwork, saying there’s no medical reason for me to continue remote work. Despite still not being recovered from the skin reaction I got back in December from the Remicade, despite finding information that Remicade potentially interferes with the vaccine, I’ve been told to just adhere to social distancing and mask-wearing despite my employer not requiring that of anyone else. And with all the information about the delta variant coming out.... yeah, I’m scared. Probably paranoid, probably anxious. I have no idea how I’m going to get through a work day without having to medicate and I won’t be able to function if I have to do that. i see my psych before RTW-Day, but only a few days before. 

My last chance is that the dermatologist I’m seeing on Wednesday might be able to fill it out based on my condition, but at the moment I’m in a cycle of panic that I’m going to be told it’s Not That Bad and not get taken seriously. Which is a feeling I’ve been having a lot lately. I know it’s partly the depression and anxiety ramping itself up, but I just don’t know what to do now. All I want to do right now is press the restart button. Sell my place, relocate to a new place so radically different from where I am now that I can’t even compare it, start over. Get a puppy, write a novel, not be in $33k worth of debt. This wasn’t where I’d hoped to be at 36, and now it feels like it’s going to be another 5-6 years before I can get there. If I can get there. It seems like another lifetime. 

Anyway. That ends my void screaming. TLDR, I have to start working in the office again in a week, I’ve been told by my GI that my auto-immune disease doesn’t qualify me for an ADA accommodation to keep working from home, my anxiety is now living with me instead of me living with it, and my last shot is a dermatologist I’ve never met before. 

[anonthenullifier]

So…how’s that next chapter of post hoc going?

It’s coming along. I’m 2/3rds into it. Ideally it’ll be done in a week (or so), but until then, here’s a small look at the chapter. 🙂

________________

The composed email lazes on his computer screen, so carefree and unassuming despite the threat inherent in its existence. “Just click send.”

“I am working my way to it.”

Wanda’s raised eyebrows doubt his resolve, the ring on her right index finger clinking out her impatience against his You know what gets on my nerves? Myelin mug. “Want me to do it?”

“No, because then you will see the recipient’s name.” They had established in their original IRB that he alone would have access to the names of their participants, a necessary risk since someone has to code for individual level characteristics and be able to connect the gifts with the RSVPs. Once data collection is completed and all data coded to Wanda’s liking, he will deidentify it all so she can analyze it without compromising any personal information of their participants. Given their current predicament, he even had to remove her access to the email account. Regardless of this agreed upon protocol, it has not stopped her from slyly trying to get him to slip up. “I will have the courage any moment now.”

A pointed sip of her tea actually helps, marginally, his nerves splitting between the email and her undivided attention, though one is more pleasant than the other. “Treat it like a bandaid.”

Not psychologically unsound. The fact he is cogitating so much on sending the email is itself a cognitive issue of impact bias where he presumes (wrongly) that it will be emotionally negative enough that he is now seeking to avoid it. In reality, he knows it will be much like the bandaid Wanda is suggesting. If he just sends it and then seeks out distraction or some other task, the negative emotions will not only be less intense but have a shorter duration. He just needs to trust his psychological immune system. “Very well,” he accepts this is the best path forward but he still reads the email one more time, making sure that the tone is one of sharing information and not desperation given they are informing their participant of the fact that a scheduling error has led them to move their wedding to a state park pavilion an hour away. This will not ruin their study, and even if it does harm the data, they have strategies to ameliorate the impact. The world will not end, even if his heart seems to think it will. “All right...” Vision slowly clicks the send button “here we go,” and there is no taking it back now.

“I’m proud of you.”

The hand patting his shoulder is already activating his coping mechanisms, his right leg crossing over his left as he swivels his chair to face her. “Before I stumble into the depths of rumination,” something she finds far more amusing than he does, “perhaps we can find something not related to our study to discuss.”

Whenever faced with a task, Wanda’s eyes wander in thought. He always imagines she is tracing the threads of topics and trying to find the one farthest from where he thinks she will go. “I’m beginning to suspect my work with Hank is an attempt to rekindle his failed marriage.”

“Fascinating.” Of the core group he spends time with, Vision is always the one absent any gossip. In a way this should be uplifting to his moral standing and staunchness to not belittle others, but then it leaves him in the quandary of wanting to remain aloof while also very much fascinated by what Wanda is dangling before him. Information gathering does not have to be synonymous with gossiping, as one is passive and the other active.  “What makes you reach that conclusion?”

“Okay,” the mug descends onto his desk with an excited thud and Wanda leans forward, hands ready to gesticulate her way through the information, “so Janet van Dyne, his estranged wife, is one of the foremost quantum computing minds and has started doing a lot of work on quantum time travel.”

“Oh I dislike time travel.” Because the rules are never followed and the consequences are rarely sensical.

“You’ll be happy to know she hasn’t achieved it yet.”

“I am much relieved.”

Wanda scrunches her nose for a half second before continuing, “But what she has been working on is a computational model of whether the butterfly effect would actually exist in quantum time travel.”

An effect he knows she dislikes and yet she is invigorated at the thought. “To make sure I am following, you are saying that she is trying to mathematically establish whether going back in time and fiddling with the past would actually impact the future?”

Wanda nods, the sheer enjoyment she gets from the topic leading to an antsiness that shifts between turning her mug a couple degrees at a time, pushing her hair behind her ear, and varying the positioning of her legs. “So far she’s found evidence that if we view time with a quantum lens, it actually might correct itself when small changes happen and that the original timeline might remain resilient enough to outlast the change.”

“Does this not inherently contradict your own work?”

“Not entirely,” an ounce of uncertainty shoulders into her voice, “quantum chaos still exists but she seems to suggest it acts differently with competing timelines and reality could have a self-correcting mechanism.”

It all seems a bit too muddled for his ability to comprehend the difference. “What is it that you and Hank are doing that is meant to fix their personal timeline?”

“He’s been insisting on us doing a lot of different quantum walks,” she explained this to him some time ago, complete with a diagram of a quantum tree. It is all about the pathway photons travel to get from one point to another, but not linearly. All of the branches intersect and so their studies are about predicting when jumps between branches occur and how to determine movement. In his mind it is like the subway, how there are various lines that intersect at any given station and that you could take four travelers from station A and ask them to find their way to Station F. They could all take the same series of trains or switch between lines, maybe even one travels by bus or foot for a time. Most people would only ever consider the start and the end and determine the journey must be linear, even when it might not be, especially if there are delays or lines shut down. No doubt it is far more complicated than that.  “I mean a lot of different ones to try and disprove her findings. I only found out because I noticed he’d been publishing commentaries to her articles and using our data as support for his arguments.”

“How precisely is challenging her work meant to win her back?”

Wanda finishes her tea but doesn’t let go of the cup, her fingers tracing the glossy raised letters, “Hoping she’s intellectually turned on by it?”

There are researchers in his own niche area that have a similar, albeit non-romantic (he presumes) dynamic of obsession to always counter each other, to always craft a study meant to disprove the theoretical underpinnings of the other’s work. It’s why conferences can get dicey when the alcohol is free flowing and debates erupt over empathy and selfishness and how to delineate the two movitations. “I cannot speak for Janet, but it seems a bit more depressing than romantic.”

“At least it’s distracting him from his ant obses—-“ The tell tale chime of their study’s email disrupts her, “What do you think we got this time?”

“Let’s see,” he switches to the tab and in place of the usual notification from their wedding website there is an email sitting there with the sender as Tony Stark. Physiologically his heart remains firmly in his chest, but figuratively it plummets through the floor, “It is from our participant.”

In the time it takes for the comment to be processed and her, “That participant?” Vision has already read the response twice, his eyes going back for a third read through to make sure he has not found himself in some alternative universe created by his neurons firing too quickly.

[flowerpowell]

Unexpected (Drake x MC)

PART ELEVEN

A/N: Another chapter, yaaay! I thought since it wasnt uploading for weeks, I should post two chapters in a week, so I scheduled this one too. I hope it’s okay! As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts about it! And also I am so happy you all liked Dani! She’s like my baby and I’m so happy youre loving her character! Characters belong to Pixelberry (except for my OCs)

Rating: M (mentions of emotional abuse/manipulation, suggestiveness)

Word count: 2870

Tagging: @gardeningourmet​ @delightfullypinkglitter​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @desireepow-1986​ @dcbbw​ @kingliam2019​ @the-soot-sprite​ @mskaneko​ @thequeenofcronuts​ @dr-ethanjramsey​ @badchoicesposts​ @burnsoslow​ @annekebbphotography​ @alesana45​ @addictedtodrakefanfic​ @walkerduchess​ @ao719​ @texaskitten30​ @lodberg​ @cordonianroyalty​ @emichelle​ @siriusxxvideos​ @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​ @samihatuli​ @choices-lurker​ @i-miss-trr​ @drxkewalker​ @nikkis1983​ @innerpostmentality​ @msjr0119​ @bascmve01​ @mind-reader1​ @edgiestwinter​ @drakesensworld​ @queenjilian​ @princessleac1​ @saivilo​ @yukinagato2012​ ♥

“Are you sure it’s gonna work?” Liam asked when Dani was setting up the table.

“I am! Riley loves cooking too much to pass and she’s always softer when she’s cooking. It’s a perfect plan!”

For the past few days since their deal, Liam and Dani kept in touch, exchanging ideas for how to bring Riley and Drake together. When she told him about her plan, Liam immediately agreed and bought all the necessary things.

“So how exactly this is going to work? We call them to come to the kitchen?”

“No, look,” Dani started gesticulating when explaning and Liam thought it was the most adorable thing he ever saw. Pull it together man, she’s only here for a few weeks. “You call Drake saying you found something important and need him and Riley to see it. They come here and will be informed by someone that they should come here. They will come to this,” Dani motioned the table, “and Riley will hate that because I set the table in the way she hates it. Also, the dish that will be served is overcooked because I know Riley wouldn’t eat it but also because I’m bad at cooking. She’ll hate it but just as she will be about to go full on Gordon Ramsey, she’ll see all these ingredients laying here, exactly what she needs to make pasta à la Nana, her favorite dish. She hasn’t made it since Nana died but because I decorated this kitchen so cozy with all these candles and the music you picked is so nostalgic, she’ll do it and Drake will help her. Riley once told me she always dreamed about a man who would cook with her so I know she will fall in love, I mean, admit she is in love because let’s be real, they are so in love. Ta-daaam!” She finished and Liam chuckled. She looked a little crazy as she was talking about all those steps but for some reason he found it cute.

“They’re gonna kill us when they realize what we did.”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “But Riley’s my sister so she won’t do anything to me.”

“And I have immunity so Drake can’t touch me either. Okay, let’s do this,” Liam pulled out his phone and called Drake.

“Hello? Drake, yes, it’s Liam, are you busy?” He asked and looked at Dani shaking her head. “What?” he mouthed and she whispered, “He has to come even if he’s busy!”

“You know what, it doesn’t matter if you’re busy or not, you need to come,” Liam quickly added before Drake could reply. “Yes, it’s urgent. I know it’s very late but it’s important. And it can’t wait. You and Riley need to see it as soon as possible,” he looked at Dani again and she showed him two thumbs up.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting. Please, hurry.” Liam hung up and turned to Dani. “They’re coming.”

“Eeek, that’s so exciting! We need to hide somewhere before they find us! Does Bastien know what he’s doing?”

“He does and he can’t believe he agreed to help us set these two up,” Liam chuckled. He still remembered his guard’s face when he told him about that top secret mission.

He led Dani to one of the guest rooms that were the closest to the kitchen.

“I hope you don’t mind but I brought some snacks for us in case we get hungry. And some cider made from our apples,” he motioned the table with the food prepared for them.

“Man, you really do like your apples!” Dani laughed trying to hide her nervousness. Even though, Liam acted like a normal person she still felt that wall between them, the wall reminding her of his status and her inferiority. She smiled as he poured them cider and handed one glass to her.

Maybe I can pretend we’re equal for a few hours, just this once.

~~~~

“Liam?! Liam! Where are you?” Drake called out as he entered his friend’s office.

“Maybe he’s in his room?” Riley suggested.

“I don’t think so, Liam never invites anyone to his bedroom so he’s not there for sure. Something is weird though, the whole palace seems... empty.”

“Do you think something happened?”

“No but--”

“Ah, Drake, lady Riley, there you are.”

“Bastien! What’s going on? Where’s Liam?”

“In the kitchen. I got instructions to tell you to go to the kitchen,” Bastien said, his face not expressing anything.

“Kitchen? If he found another apple tea for me to test out I’m gonna kill him,” Riley groaned. Drake took her hand and led her to the kitchen.

“Maybe something bad happened to him, maybe he was--” he stopped seeing the candles and the table set for two. “--preparing this all along.”

“Coral roses, my sister’s favorite,” Riley smelled the flowers on the table. “My sister was helping him.”

“I can’t believe they made me leave the house so late,” Drake groaned looking around.

“And what exactly did you have planned? Whiskey drinking? Watching football? Bartie’s with Madeliene and Barthelemy and Bianca is staying with them,” Riley rolled her eyes. Despite being mad at her sister and Liam she found the situation to be quite funny.

“Don’t tell me you’re okay with it,” he narrowed his eyes and she shrugged.

“Oh, no, they are going to pay but for now, I’m happy I don’t have to cook dinner for tonight. Let’s see what they—what on Earth is that?!” She raised her voice when she took a look at what was inside the pot.

“What? Did they put rats in it?”

“Worse, look! It’s severly overcooked! And not seasoned enough,” Riley spit out the food back to the pot before throwing its content to the trash can. She looked around and noticed fresh ingredients.

“Maybe I can cook something? From these things I could make...” she examined all the products before realizing it, “Pasta à la Nana.”

“What? The one you couldn’t make for years?” Drake asked noticing Riley had tears in her eyes. “Let’s just order something, you don’t have to make it.”

“No... I-I can do it. I just need someone to help me because this is a job for two,” she sniffed as she wiped a tear from her eye.

“Riley...”

“No, really. I think it’s time to finally make it again. I think... I think Nana would want that.”

~~~~

“Okay, my turn! Never have I ever had a sleepover at friend’s house.”

“I did spent a few days in Texas at Drake’s when I was still a Prince, does it count?” Liam asked and took a swig of cider when Dani nodded.

“You never had a sleepover?”

“Nope. My father wouldn’t allow,” she laughed but Liam could hear the saddness in it.

“What was your childhood like?” he asked, studying her face.

“Normal, I think. My parents aren’t monster or whatever everyone thinks they are. They took us on trips, to the cinema, for ice cream, they were just very demanding. Well, only my father and only to me. Riley could always do whatever she wanted because they didn’t pay too much attention to her,” she drank a little cider before continuing. “When I was ten I already spoke two foreign languages because instead of meeting with my friends like Riley did, I was stuck at home with a tutor stuying languages. My childhood was good but it didn’t feel like a childhood, if that makes sense.”

“Wow. Only two? When I was ten I already spoke three,” Liam shoved her playfully. “My father was very demanding too. Even though I was the spare it was me who obeyed him, not my brother. He never cared about any rules.”

“Ugh, our fathers suck. Am I allowed to say that about a King?” she asked him and he laughed.

“I’ll allow it.”

“You know what sucks the most?” she asked as she emptied the glass and poured some more cider, “Everyone, including my sister, thinks I had it better. She thinks that at least they loved me, they cared about me and paid for my education. And yes, it’s true but I feel like I had to work for their love, you know what I mean? I had to be their perfect daughter because if I wasn’t, our family would fall apart. I never did what I wanted, never did anything crazy that most people my age would.”

“You never rebelled?” Liam asked remembering his little rebellions. If running to the maze for hide and seek counted as rebellion. He never was good at it, not as good as Leo.

“I did once. I... My father wanted to me to apply for law school. I didn’t want it but I couldn’t argue with my father. So I just... didn’t send the documents on time. When my father found out, it was the worst time of my life. He didn’t scream or anything. He just said he was disappointed because he wanted the best for me and I didn’t appreciate him. The next day my mom told me he was in hospital with severe depression. She yelled at me for ruining my father’s health. I was a mess and I didn’t know what to do. Riley’s younger than me and I didn’t want to bother her with it so I applied for finance even though I hate everything math-related. I went to hospital and I cried in front of my father, apologizing to him and telling him I applied to college. The next day he was back home and told me to never disobey him like that again. And I never did. It was a terrible experience.”

“But that’s manipulation! How could he--” Liam bit his lip before he’d say something he would regret. He heard something about Riley’s parents from Drake but hearing that from Danielle made him sick. Neither Riley, nor Dani deserved such parents. “I’m really sorry. My father was awful but he pales in comparison to yours.”

“I got used to it. Trying my best not to irritate him. I’m working in a bank where he wanted me to work, bringing the money and we’re good.”

“I’m sorry,” Liam repeated and raised his glass. “To problematic childhood, bad fathers and living a life designed by parents!”

Dani laughed as she clinked glasses with Liam. He understood her, which was new to her.

To unexpected allies, she thought to herself. I’d drink to that.

~~~~

“Drake, no, you have to be gentle,” Riley took Drake’s hand and moved it slowly as he was stirring the sauce. “Circular moves, gently, just like that. The other hand holds the pot, good.”

She took some ingredients from the table and started adding to the sauce. “Keep on stirring slowly, I’ll be adding these pinch by pinch so it blends nicely.”

Drake nodded as he kept stirring. There was something special about them cooking together, being so close. It was nothing like Drake knew before, most of the food he made was quick and simple. That pasta was taking ages to make but for some reason he enjoyed each step.

“Okay, now be careful cause I’ll be adding pear puree.”

“I never thought pear and tomatoes would go together,” he noticed.

“Me neither. Nana told me she came up with it when she was pregnant and craved tomatoes and pears. The secret is, you need to caramelize the pears before mashing it and the sweetness goes super well with the tomato. And then Parmesan gives it a bit saltiness but we add it at the end so it’s not too overbearing.”

“You’re really good at this,” Drake turned to her, realizing they were only two or three inches apart. “And you really love it.”

“Well, yeah,” Riley said quietly, “thanks to Nana. She taught me everything.”

“Can I try it?”

Riley nodded and quickly took a spoonful of the sauce and topped it with the cheese before feeding it to Drake. She looked at him, at his mouth, as he was swallowing. “Good?”

“I’ve never eaten anything as good. You have a real talent, Riley. I’m really happy you’ll have your own restaurant soon, you deserve it.”

“Thank you but if you’d rather keep the bar, it’s fine,” she said, surprised with herself. Why did she care more about Drake than about her dream?

“It’s yours, Riley. You’ll prove everyone who never believed in you once the restaurant will become the most famous one in the world,” the certainity in his voice made her shiver. Did he really believe in her or was he just nice? She looked at him as he took a spoonful of sauce, added Parmesan, just like she taught him, and brought to her mouth. She parted her lips and felt that familiar taste, the one that reminded her of her Nana, of home, of love. It was perfect.

“Can’t you see how amazing you are?” Drake whispered and without thinking, Riley stood on her toes and kissed him. He dropped the spoon, and brought her closer to him, deepening the kiss. She put her arms around his neck, trying to bring him even closer but it wasn’t enough. She needed more, more of him, more of that, more.

They were kissing like crazy, like they were waiting their whole life for that moment. Drake pinned her to the stove, knocking out a few plates that fell on the floor and broke. He moved to kissing her neck as she moaned, running her hands through his hair. He pulled back for a second as he realized they were still in the palace.

“Let’s go home,” he rasped and she nodded, kissing him again as they slowly exited the kitchen, locked in a kiss.

~~~~

“I’m not kidding! My mom did tell me to get a plastic surgery once,” Dani laughed as she drank cider.

“What? Why would you need it?”

“She said my boobs were too small.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with your--” Liam composed himself trying not to think about it, “I’m sorry, that’s definitely not anything a daughter would want to hear.”

“Well, she said they were too small and making me unattractive,” she shrugged and realized what she just said. To the King of Cordonia. “Oh my goose, I’m sorry I’m taking about my boobs to you.”

“Goose? Your grandma really loved animals, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, a lot,” Dani answered, relieved Liam changed the topic. “Should we check on Riley and Drake? It’s almost midnight.”

Liam nodded and they tiptoed to the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible. Liam peeked from behind the door to see if they were still inside but the kitchen was empty.

“Drake? Riley?” he called out but no one answered.

“They made the pasta!” Dani took the pot from the counter and tried a little. “So good!”

“Why didn’t they eat it? I’ll leave it in the fridge so they can take it tomorrow,” Liam offered.

“I think they went straight for the dessert,” she giggled and Liam blushed.

“Well, mission accomplished. I’ll be heading home then.”

“I’ll have my driver drive you back to the hotel.”

“Thanks. And thank you for helping me arrange this and for the snacks and cider. And for letting me rant about my parents.”

“Hey, Danielle,” he asked when she was about to leave, “Would you like to come here in the morning? I would like to show you something.”

“I’d love to,” she smiled and left. Liam looked after her until she disappeared completely. He sat down on a chair and put his head in his hands. He needed to stop, whatever that little feeling he had, before it would be too late. Danielle was leaving soon and besides he already lost his chance at love. It was time to stop dreaming and face the reality. He sighed as he decided him and Danielle must remain friends. Now, it was only his heart that needed to follow through with that decision.

~~~~

Drake and Riley were kissing as they entered the cabin, barely closing the door. Drake picked up Riley and brought her into the bedroom, not stopping kissing her even for a moment. He laid her on the bed, his eyes searching hers, looking for something and she nodded, silently answering his question. He pulled off her dress and his shirt.

“Are you sure? I know it’s your--”

“I am,” she silenced him with a kiss and pulled him close to her. It wasn’t the time to pretend she didn’t like him when every inch of her body and soul needed him. It was the time to face the truth.

And the truth was, she was falling in love with Drake Walker.

[haikyuu-matches]

🦚 3/3.) Um so I believe in soulmate. I'd like to have someone who can understand me and love me as a whole. Someone that will treasured me, spoiled me, basically just showered me with their love. Honest- loyal- funny- kind, those are the thing that I'm looking for in a partner. I'm a touch-starved person so I always want their full attention, I won't ask for it first tho- I'm just gonna wait and sulk 😅 Wheew thats it, hope you don't mind with long desc, thank youuu ❤ p.s : I can't anon this:(

🦚2/3). Move on to my personality, I'm an enfp, taurus and gryffindor. I love to talk, and yes I am loud (I can be sarcastic sometimes) 😅 Despite being a happy go around type of girl, I actually have a lot of insecurity. I hate myself and got depressed easily, but I'm good at hiding it behind my clownery haha. I love singing, playing games, sleeping and tarot reading. I'm shy to people that I found attractive and I'm a hopeless romantic. So to sum it up I am pretty childish wheeee 🤸🏻‍♀️

#🦚 1/3 ). Hey hey! can I ask for a romantic match up ? 🥺 I'm an 159cm omnisex asian girl. I'm chubby so I look smol. long black wavy hair and I always let it down. People say I look rude and cold so they are afraid to befriend me first (some even hates me for no reason), istg its only my resting bih face (but yes I can fight, verbally and physically.) I don't care about style or brand, I only wear comfortable clothes that looks good on me. I love perfume, so yes I smelled good.

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hey, you lovely bean !  just wanna say that i’m so grateful for your patience & i truly hope you like your match !!  (´｡• ▽ •｡`)

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i match you up with . . . 𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐔 !!

firstly, i just want to say that i really think you’d fit kuroo’s type -- with your long wavy hair & your smol stature. right off the bat, he’d think you’re adorable.

the fact you smell good all the time?? like, not to be creepy but he legit can tell when you’re around because he notices the exact perfume you’re sporting (he’s observant like that) & honestly the scent becomes comforting to him-- 

i headcanon that once you guys become that cute couple, he will for sure initiate that back hug, which consists of him pulling you, from behind, so very close to him & the next thing you know, he’s resting his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling you & slightly breathing in your scent at the same time??

you smell irresistible okay, how could he not-

on a different note, kuroo is the type to look beyond any preconceptions surrounding anyone, including you; he has high interpersonal intelligence (surprise surprise jk), so he’ll disregard any badmouthing & see for himself who you truly are. like, people hating others before they even know them? yeah, that’s lame. 

to sum it up, kuroo doesn’t regret meeting you. he’s still a little taken aback by the fact that people are hating you & saying you look rude ‘n cold?? just . . . how is that possible? last he checked, you seemed shy. . . at least to him, but overall, a total happy-go-lucky sort of girl!

in all reality, maybe you do have a resting bih face, but the thing is he’s kind of immune to that? kuroo doesn’t really take it as you look irritated; he’s used to kenma’s apathetic-looking face & he knows that sometimes people can’t help but look the way they do? he concludes that even if you did have a rbf, it’s unintentional & doesn’t represent you as a whole by any means.

he’s not one to judge appearances anyway-- he gets a lot of shade thrown his way for his “rooster head” & the belief he’s a “sly and scheming captain.” he can relate to the fact of being kinder or just overall different than what the exterior image seems to show. with that said, however, he will be mildly surprised by the fact you can fight?? in his book, that’s pretty neat & he’ll probably try to flirt by saying he can fight, too. fight for you that is- 

back to the topic of appearances, even if you do see yourself as “chubby”, kuroo would shower you with love regardless. 

kuroo doesn’t discriminate & he’d treat you like a queen that you are. you’re looking for someone who will treasure you? spoil you? understand you? just love you for all that you are worth?? look no further, kuroo is your guy !!

kuroo really checks off all your boxes for what you’re looking for in a partner because he’ll definitely make you feel whole. also taurus x scorpio is cute. as mentioned before, he’s observant & while he’s not, by any means, perfect, he’ll strive to put you first & put a smile on your face. 

he’s still kuroo, so i mean, at times it’ll be a trial and error kind of thing (perhaps his provoking nature being the perpetrator in fights), but he’s more intuitive than he may appear?? so, he’ll reconcile & apologize when it’s needed; he’s not that kind of prideful to refuse to talk things out.

kuroo will also take note of your insecurity & how you use your clownery as a mechanism to hide this aspect of yourself. you best believe he will be that supportive boyfriend. especially when it’s just the two of you, he won’t hesitate in speaking his truths whether it be saying how you’re amazing and you’re beautiful and he’s so lucky to have you or just gushing about your overall being, from your endearing personality to your cool hobbies (like the fact you sing?? so darn impressive--)

he’s actually more sweet than people give him credit for--

in any case, he simps hard when you’re smiling or just laughing or just have that joyful look on your face-- he wants you to always be in happy spirits. . . at the very least when you’re around him, but for now, he’ll lightheartedly tease you & basically relish in you fighting back with your own words & sarcastic comments.

it’s his funny way of showing that he cares about you.

you two never shut up by the way. like, the art of conversation? you guys take it to the next level. you probably engage in the most randomest of conversations, and yet you two just don’t tire of speaking to one another?? like the flow of conversation just works with you two & you’ll find yourselves talking for hours but it feels like not a minute has past! 

this is probably due to kuroo being like a lowkey nerd with big-brain tendencies & you being so gifted at talking (because you love doing so).

side note, kuroo will even be open to talking about tarot cards with you despite his initial suspicion- it just goes to show he’s not that well-versed in the subject, but he’d be eager to learn since you’re into that.

since you won’t outwardly ask for affection or attention, he’ll end up picking up on those small cues over time. if you seem at all restless or have that sulking expression, he’d have that smirk of his grace his features because you look so flipping cute. but not to fear, he’ll then be quick to draw you in for a cuddle sesh if you’re hanging at home or if you’re out in public, he doesn’t mind initiating that kind of pda where he just embraces you, wrapping his arms around you tightly because it’s a way for him to showcase how much he truly loves you.

do it back to him & he melts-- he’ll basically combust if you surprise him like that because he doesn’t realize how much he loves you showing your affection toward him, with his heart beating irregularly and such. 

i feel like kuroo can be kind of doting?? even if you’re pretty childish, he honestly wouldn’t mind because you just give him a sense of purpose. like, he can naturally fulfill the role of protecting you & giving you the love you deserve. it’s not to say he’ll baby you per say, but he harbors a sense of protectiveness when it comes to you, which he may not even realize at first.

basically, under the veneer of his teasing personality lies his caring & warm nature. the kind that you are looking for!

he’s totally soft for you & he’ll admit that he would probably do anything for you if you’d say the word. 

you probably won’t (at least at first), but that’s okay because he’ll figure it out.

honestly your relationship with kuroo would just consist of you two hanging out, enjoying each other’s company, and just doing those cute couple things. you two probably learn new things about each other every day... but anyway, you two could honestly just be out and about & people will be out here jealous of that because you two look like soulmates adjksdljgl. it’d be so cute !

possible runner-ups:

daichi sawamura

osamu miya

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— lily ! ♡

[thingsifindinthedark]

Some thoughts about: Anger, Illness and Imagination

Good morning

It’s 11:30 am in Los Angeles and the sky is finally looking blue again even though fires are still raging close by.

Living in the smoke reminded me of winters in West Virginia. When the sky was just a heavy gray blanket from November through April. It felt cruel at the time.

I never got used to that winter.

My moods are so connected to the weather and what I’m looking at outside.

California is the perfect place to live if you’re pretending to be happy all the time.

The weather always tells you you should be hiking, and laughing as you wash your face with some sort of foaming organic cleanser like you’re in a commercial.

Setting aside the horrific reality of the fires, purely for the sake of metaphor, there’s a poetry in being here in this moment.

Just as I learn to make room for anger, and embrace it, and leave the cult of fake positivity, things are going up in flames.

Something that therapy and illness has taught me, is how much freedom and power we have to make sense of certain things creatively in whatever way we want. It’s just hard to let ourselves do it, it feels almost indulgent. Or maybe silly. Or we feel it will take away from our ability to grasp harsh truths or do something about them. I think we need both versions.

The places where I have most desperately wanted certainty and facts but not been able to get them- those are the places where finding meaning with my imagination helps my life.

I remember being in 3rd grade, newly dealing with the reality of being in pain all the time. Something had changed in my stomach.

I was now late for school every single day, a trend that would continue, because of the mixed messages my gut sent me every morning that sent me in and out of the bathroom, or cause me so much paralyzing stress that I would try to talk my out of attending.

My 3rd grade teacher, tired of my lateness, but with good intentions, once told me to picture a cool liquid in a soothing color, to pick my favorite color - I chose turquoise, filling the inside of my stomach. Calming the pain.

I was annoyed. Imagining a color in my stomach was not going to fix me. I needed cold hard data. I needed medication or a replacement set of internal organs. Even if this COULD help, the moment I admitted using my imagination helped my symptoms? That would be the moment doctors took my pain even less seriously and dismissed me outright. Many had already because I was a young girl. If I weren’t a young white cis girl from an upper middle class family i guarantee the dismissal would have been even worse.

So I was defensive to my teacher. The same way I would be defensive for years when people told me to try xyz lifestyle choice or simple solution to address years of pain that had confused doctors.

The same way I would be insulted when I was told it was “just anxiety” by doctors. I was defensive, and I became avoidant of sharing about my life in order to not, inevitably, come off as defensive.

But there is a weird sort of privilege in my being sick this long, over various stages of life; childhood, adolescence, young adulthood. Don’t get me wrong, I would rather not be sick, but what I mean is, this isn’t my first rodeo.

Science may only just now be really starting to understand the microbiome and the conditions that plague it, but I have been here, waiting in the wings, doubled over but still trucking along, learning how to make sense of things where there is not enough information for them to literally make sense.

I’ve found I truly need both the antibiotics AND the stupid turquoise liquid mind exercise, the lab work and the therapy that looks to address my anxiety and traumas. The idea that it was one or the other, in my mind OR in my body has been a barrier to my coping skills for years.

I came by that “either or” idea organically. It’s the way we are taught to think and the way western medicine tends to view things, though that is improving. Trauma also makes it harder to grasp nuance instead of black and whiteness.

I couldn’t have gotten to this point without learning to recognizing the way my brain got organized in childhood: don’t get angry, always appear positive, put others first, men’s emotions and needs are generally more important than yours.

I have a lot of anger. I have anger at my illness too. About the symptoms. About being on a restricted diet (again) and taking all these supplements. About feeling like I have to do everything perfectly or my body will collapse for days.

It becomes so much more livable though, even by simply acknowledging that in writing; I am angry. I am still sitting here calmly on my red velvet pillow on the floor at my short Japanese tea table by the window, but I am also angry.

There is something in anger that is self-preserving. An acknowledgment that you deserve better than what you’re facing.

When I can trust myself to meet my anger, to neither stuff it down or express it in a way that is harmful to others or myself, I feel a new freedom. I don’t have to walk around ready to spring into a defense posture. Because I know how to regulate that emotion and I’ve made room for it to show up. Even though it is still uncomfortable.

When it can’t show up as itself, for me anger shows up as; looping anxiety or guilt, obsession over food and health that leads to tunnel vision, impulsive decisions, various other forms of self sabotage. Oh, and physical pain.

My therapist once told me it was “like my body rejects it, when I feel angry.”

It made sense to me perfectly in a way that is hard to explain, but that I’m sure someone out there reading this also feels and understands. I think a lot of our bodies, women in particular, reject anger. Or maybe reject some other emotion. Whatever you weren’t allowed to feel growing up. Whatever emotion was deemed too much, or was monopolized by a different family member in a toxic way.

But that pain, rage, sorrow- it has to go somewhere. We learn to point it at ourselves for the benefit of other people when we don’t know what else to do.

This is the last thing you probably want to think about if you have a chronic illness. Or even if you don’t, it is not stuff we as humans tend to embrace; trying to better regulate and sit with our least pleasant emotions.

But while you are waiting; while you’re waiting for your lab work to return or your doctor to call you back, while you’re waiting for your new anti depressants to kick in, while you’re waiting for the incessant busyness of your pre-Covid life to return, experiment with stopping yourself from going down whatever avenue it is that you go down when things are out of your control, the one that harms you. The one that is probably fueled by anxiety - constant googling? Obsessing over something small? apologizing constantly for reasons you don’t understand? The list goes on.

Instead, try to feel the physical sensations of emotion in your body. Are your physical pains saying anything to you?

Is there a totally unscientific but spiritual interpretation of what’s going on that can help you get through the day or the hour or the minute, WHILE you’re on the meds, or waiting for the next step?

Here’s mine:

Science: My body has been overwhelmed for years by bacterial overgrowth, pathogenic yeasts, mold spores, fungus, mycotoxins. As I have been wiping out these beasts, I’ve also had to build up my body’s detox pathways, my ability to take in, process and effectively get rid of what is harmful. I’ve had to get my immune system stronger, and build up my good bacteria so it will fight these monsters off and not let them take over again.

Creative connection: My biggest roadblock in relationships, of all kinds, and in my career, aside from being sick- has always been with boundaries. I used to never have them, and feel the need to say yes to everyone. When that burned me out, I was resentful. I’d built up a lot of resentment that wasn’t the fault of others. I let everything in and it built up and I had no methods of getting it out. So I am detoxing here too. I have gotten rid of so much of what doesn’t serve me. And my ability to notice and honor anger as a messenger and protective force will help keep the harm away, just as a healthy immune system and functional microbiome keeps the pathogens away.

That’s an oversimplification of both my illnesses and my point of view on it, but it helps me to find these ways that healing from (and just improving in dealing with) sickness mirror/compliment the other areas of my life. I used to push illness into it’s own separate corner of my brain as if it weren’t really a part of me.

It is. And I both accept that, AND feel certain that I won’t always feel the way I do now, and that I can keep getting better, or at least befriending these parts of me. I’m building a relationship with my illness. Weird as that sounds.

When something is awful and out of our control and makes us feel we lack agency, deciding your own interpretation of it can be a way to seize a little bit of a feeling of autonomy. I will wait for my doctor to tell me what to take next, but not to tell me how to feel.

[ladyfawkes]

That awful time you’re 95% sure you have COVID-19 AND pneumonia and you were right

The Bad News: I've had COVID-19 sometime during the past several weeks and didn't know it until late this afternoon.....

The Good News: My immune system has already successfully fought it off. (My exposure was over a month ago and I had a good concentration of COVID-19 antibodies in the blood sample they took and they specifically told me I'm no longer contagious and haven't been for quite some time.)

The Bad News: I do still, however, have a nasty case of pneumonia -- a secondary infection, for which I am being given antibiotics, steroids, and...more steroids.

The Good News: The meds I'm taking to fight that off are working.

NO WONDER I'VE BEEN SUCH A MOODY DISHRAG OF A PERSON LATELY. Sheesh!!!  I have been convinced for over a month that it was “just” my summertime SAD (seasonal-affective disorder) or it was “just” quarantine blues on top of SAD/depression.  WHY AM I BOTHERING TO MENTION THIS....2 main reasons. I think a few people are worried that when I pulled back from a certain group, it was because I had a problem with them and that’s not at all true.  I thought I was going crazy. Or something to do with mental health. Definitely not that I had freaking COVID-19 and pneumonia. I know I’ve been all over the place the past month or two and I probably will continue to be like that for at least the next month or two. Point being....if you got caught up in the waves of whatever I was experiencing, I sincerely and humbly apologize. I don’t even remember half of what I’ve said or done the past while. While on a good day I might jumble up some events, it’s only around 10%-15%, not the 40%-50% it’s become. I only know that I still want to be friends and fans. I’ll still be out here though, as I’m still very much recovering and kinda out to lunch in the “total wellness” department. Second reason..... I think it’s important that y’all know as many symptom patterns as possible when it comes to this cray-cray ‘Rona thing so here’s mine below the jump.  The following symptoms can be indistinguishable between COVID-19 infection itself AND/or secondary pneumonia/bronchitis infection. You can't know if you've got a secondary infection unless you get the COVID antibody test. Point being -- if in doubt, the answer is YES -- GET TESTED. Don't wait. My doctor told me the sooner they know, the better because you need to know and get treatment started, either way.

List of known symptoms; subject to re-editing at any time as info becomes available.

1.) Utter exhaustion that I couldn't attribute to anything else over the past 10-20 days. 2.) Sleeping for 8-9 hours in a stretch and still being unable to keep my eyes open just 2 hours after I awoke.....and needing another 4-5 hour nap after. 3.) Sore jaw....where my tiny lymph nodes are at. Those always get sore when I have an infection. 4.) Extra pain in my nasal passages/center of my face. It's in the exact areas as where I've been complaining about my most recent septum surgery, so I thought it was just that....now I'm pretty sure it wasn't. 5.) Saturday, I woke up with a rattle in my chest. I mostly got rid of it. Or so I thought. 6.) Woke up with a worse rattle Sunday and Monday. 7.) Random, **not constant sharp PAINFUL abdominal pains. Originally attributed to endometriosis or PCOS but it's the wrong time during my cycle and the pains got gradually sharper with time. 9.) Random **not constant general upset stomach/intestinal feeling that cannot be attributed to something else. 10.) Random **not constant loss of appetite that cannot be attributed to anything else. 11.) Couldn't get out of bed until almost 8PM Sunday. 12.) I've been around somebody in the past 2-4 weeks who has since tested positive for COVID. 13.) Everything tasting weirder than usual. 14.) Bizarre smell that something is dead around my nose/throat area. 15.) Vice-grip migraines that feel like I'm wearing a metal headband so tight that I can't think straight. And there's NOTHING on my head. 16.) Hair loss. Lots of it. Just recently learned this one. 17.) Memory loss. 18.) Confusion. 19.) Forgetfulness.  20.) Scratchy throat that will not go away. 21.) Dry annoying cough/tickle. Persistent chest rattle.  22.) Mild occasional low-grade fever. 

I have NOT had:

A.) No extreme fever spikes that I know of... B.) No extreme joint pains. Keep in mind these symptoms can occur (or not) at anytime during your COVID-19 illness AND anytime during its recovery. 

[cluz1babe]

*** Strong Tongue and Slender Fingers ***Episode 1 Chapter 3: *** A Hidden Power ***

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2

Summary: You share some flashes of your past with one of the boys.

Notes: I'm sorry it took so long. There has been marriage, illnesses, and death in my family the past month.

I have been trying the story format. I hope it is good. If not, I will go back to "script" format. (I know it's not proper script.)

With the exception of characters who are "dead" on the show, it's as canon as possible (I try to fact-check as much as possible). Taking place after season 14 (up to a few years after). I wrote it kind of like a script because that's just how I am. Reading this version, you will miss some information, but check my "Works" for the others. I also have alt scenes ready to go when the series gets to that point.

      Inside the motel room, Castiel walked around the bed you were lying on, carrying a mirror. Sam and Dean talked near the sink. Sam sighed. “She could just be immune to that stuff. For all we know, she’s human.” “Maybe.”      Castiel appeared next to Dean. “We don’t need to worry. I’m not detecting anything unusual, other than the voices.”      Sam went to the table, now displaying various items from your bag. “So, she’s really hearing voices.” “It’s more troublesome than that, and I made it worse.”        “How?”      “When I touched her earlier-”        Castiel was cut short by Dean. “You mean when you attacked her?”        “I didn’t attack her.”        Sam shifted. “You kinda did.”        “Anyway, she understood Enochian.”      “Is that how she picks up the languages?”        “I don’t think so. However, I may have unintentionally given her access to Angel Radio. There’s something unusual under it all. She’s not only hearing Angel Radio. She’s hearing a few languages that I don’t recognize.”      You stirred on the bed. Glancing at you for a moment, Castiel changed his tune. “We should figure out what’s going on with her.”

     “We came here to deal with weird crap happening at some old park, not to decode crazy chick radio.”      You groaned and pushed yourself up.      “Hey,” Sam walked over and sat down on the opposite bed. “Are you okay?”      “I’m great.”        Dean grabbed a glass of water and brought it to you. “There are still a few details we need before we can help you.”        You took a drink of the water. “Did you call any of them?”      “Yeah. I’m sorry about all of that.” Sam motion to Castiel. “It’s just… We’re very protective of our people.”      “Understandable.” You grinned at him, weakly.      Dean crossed his arms. “Are you an angel?”        For a moment, you were puzzled but abruptly started laughing. Everyone else in the room just stared at you.        “What’s so funny?”        “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever been asked.”        Sam frowned. “Why?”        “Come on, angels aren’t real.”        Dean and Sam looked at Castiel, then Sam turned back to you.        “You believe that?”        You leaned back. “Of course. I mean, none of that God or Angel crap is real. If it were, I’m sure at least one of them would’ve listened to me at some point.”        “What do you believe in?”        “Demons, gods, various monsters, spirits, elementals… But the God? Angels? No.”        Sam lifted his head to Dean. You followed his gaze. “What?”        Dean nodded to Castiel. “There’s one standing right over there.”        “One what?”        Sam rose and walked over to your things, now displayed on the table.        “Angel,” Dean said.        You looked at Castiel and scoffed. He looked offended.        “Yeah, okay.”        You took another sip as Sam picked up a vial of clear fluid sitting on the table. Castiel grabbed a book and flipped through it.        “Cass?” Dean tried to talk him into showing off.        “No.” Castiel leaned back, trying to appear uninterested.        “Come on, man. No epic wings or glowing eyes?”        “Technically, I’m no longer affiliated. Remember?” Castiel sighed, “She won’t believe anything she sees or hears right now, anyway.”        “I guess we don’t have a way to prove he’s really an angel.”        Castiel rolled his eyes, tossed the book he was peeking through on the table, and spun toward you. Disgruntled, he walked to the bed and stood next to you. He reached out his hand. You flinched, so he changed his tone, slightly.        “I’m not going to hurt you.”        He bent his knees and sank next to the bed.        “My name is Castiel. I’m an angel.”      “Castiel?”        “Yes.”        “I see.” You studied him. “The angel Castiel?”        Cass nodded.        “Uh-huh. As in Wings of Desire?” You teased.        “What is that?”      “Is that a porn?” Dean’s grin was unmistakable. “What have you been up to, Cass?”      “It’s a depressing movie about bored angels who are obsessed with humans. They sulk around in trench-coats, being creepy, and wishing they were mortal. But you got the name wrong.”        “Excuse me?” Castiel was vexed.        “His name is Cassiel.”        He stood up, looking like he was about to pull out his hair. “We need answers. Now.”        “You want to know what I know about myself?”        “That’d be nice.” Dean included.        After trying to avoid the interaction, you finally decided that divulging this particular secret wasn’t dangerous.      “I need saltwater and someone to connect with. One of you.”        “For what?” Sam inquired.        “Telling you will be more difficult than showing you.”        Dean smirked, “Lucky for you, we always carry salt.”        “No. I need natural saltwater.”        You pointed to the vial of fluid in Sam’s hand. “I need that.”        Sam passed you the vial. Castiel was about to sit on the bed, but you stopped him, turning your face toward your knees. “Not you.” He tried to give you an apologetic smile and stood.        Dean stepped forward. “Alright. I guess I’ll volunteer.” He sat on the bed in front of you and smiled flirtatiously. “Hi.”        You glared at him for a second but still winked. You opened the vial and put some water on your hands.        “What is this, like dream walking?”        “Absolutely not.”        You realized your chest still had a puncture wound and wiped it with the water. It healed, which surprised everyone else. You drank the remaining liquid.        “If you see them… Just pretend that you don’t.”        “Who?”        You grabbed his hands and held on tight.

       There was a sudden swirl of images being shared between them: Someone running through a swamp. Demons being exercised. Puppies. Vampires. The Mark. You looking in a mirror. Dean meeting Castiel.        Before either of them realized it, they were being forced out of the trance. Out of instinct to defend yourself, you grabbed on to the hand touching your shoulder. As if a jolt of electricity hit, you jumped off of the bed. “Shit!”        Dean fell to the floor. In a daze, he laughed, “You gotta be kiddin’ me.”        You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your back against the wall. When you opened your eyes, Castiel was standing right in front of you. You reached out and sort of poked him with your fingers. He leaned back when your fingers made contact due to the little bit of force you put behind your hand. “Fuck. So… So you’re real, and you really are a—” You wobbled to the side.        Cass tried to steady you, but you avoided him, swatting his hand away. “Stop. I know why they don’t want me interacting with you.”        Sam stood over his brother. “Dean?”        He smiled up at him. “That’s one of the weirdest things I’ve ever done.”        Sam’s head whipped around. “What did you do to him?”        “That can happen sometimes. He’ll be better in an hour. Maybe.” You turned your attention back to Cass. “Why would you do that?”        “You were both out of it for nearly two hours.”        Dean sat up. “Really? It seemed like we barely started.” There was a hint of slurring in his speech.        “It works like sleeping patterns on some people. Only instead of having a dream that seems like hours when it was only five minutes, it can seem like only five seconds over a long period of actual time.”        Dean dragged himself onto one of the beds and lied down.        Sam looked miffed. “I thought you said it would be easier.”        “It usually is. I’m not exactly an expert on any of my abilities!” Your hands started shaking. You made your way to your bag and took some money out of a hidden pouch. Dean began snoring. “Maybe he was just tired.” Looking at your cash, you sighed. “Is there a soda machine somewhere?”        “This place doesn’t even have an ice machine, but it’s just a few hours until morning.”        You sat down and cupped your forehead. “Great.”        “What’s wrong with you?”        “Lately, if I use my powers, I sort of crash.”        Castiel looked out of the window. “I think there was a diner a few blocks away.”        Sam shrugged. “You like pancakes?”        Dean suddenly stopped snoring and sleepily looked up. “Pancakes?”

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