#i feel like total ass from the new meds. but letting myself sit in one spot all day isn't helping !!

[maraeffect]

past couple weeks have been hard.... been struggling to wash my face and brush my teeth (especially bc my mouth is practically torn to shreds rn and everything hurts). BUT. today i was able to do some cleaning, take a long warm shower for my joints, brush my teeth gently, do my skincare, etc ❤️‍🩹 im EXHAUSTED now, and it's gonna suck to wake up early the next 2 days when i can hardly get up before noon... but i'm done with a lot of the big stuff ❤️‍🩹

[tarlosprompts]

What about Carlos hurt on a call and TK freaking out and more or less moving in after Carlos gets home from the hospital bc he doesn't want to leave him alone for a second. Sorta a makes him realize how deep his feelings are and how much he loves him and can't live without him kinda deal

Claimed by Red💋

Part 2 of another prompt! Here’s Part 1

Warnings: past violence, high anxiety, slight dissociation

Anxious Nights

TK didn’t want to leave Carlos when the ambulance rolled up to the hospital. Carlos hadn’t woken up on the ride to the hospital and that had TK on edge. Michelle had tried to explain to him that the shoulder wound would heal up fine, it didn’t seem like there was much damage...except for the fact that there was now a hole going from his boyfriend’s front to his back. What if Carlos didn’t regain full motion of his arm? 

Michelle had also tried to explain that Carlos probably wouldn’t wake up on the ride to the hospital because of how hard he hit his head. She tried to explain that head wounds bleed more and that it wasn’t that serious. She tried to explain that Carlos would probably only have a mild concussion, but TK couldn’t listen to her. All he could hear were the bad thoughts, the what ifs. What if Carlos hit his head hard enough to forget him? What if Carlos damaged his brain? What if Carlos didn’t wake up?

Watching Carlos get wheeled through the double doors where he couldn’t follow was almost as bad as watching Carlos go down on the scene. TK didn’t really know what to do with himself. He stood in the middle of the floor, staring at those doors. 

A small hand rested on his shoulder, “TK, you with me?” TK turned his head to Michelle, a frown on his face as it had been for the past thirty minutes. “We need to get you checked out, TK.”

“I’m staying here,” he muttered, staying in place.

“As soon as they know something, they know to find me. Carlos would want you to get yourself checked out.”

“I’m staying,” TK responded. 

Michelle rolled her eyes at the stubborn man. “Fine.” She turned to her radio, “bring me an ambo bag, I need to check TK out after his escapades today.” Turning back to TK, she led him over to a chair that faced the double doors. “I need you to take your turnout off.” 

TK followed her instructions and proceeded to sit down as Gillian placed a bag next to Michelle. “Go ahead and head back to the station. Do you mind having someone bring over mine and TK’s bags?”

“You got it, Boss.”

Michelle pulled out a light and flicked it in front of TK’s eyes. She did most of the exam nonverbally as TK’s anxiety showed itself through his extremities moving rapidly. “Does anything hurt? And I need you to be honest, TK.”

His gaze snapped to hers. “I have a mild headache and some sore muscles. Nothing that won’t fix itself.” 

Michelle studied him a moment more before nodding to herself. “If anything starts becoming unbearable, you need to let me know.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

_____________

Three Hours Later

TK’s leg hadn’t stopped bouncing since he’d sat down. He’d tried pacing the room, but his dad had put a quick stop to that when he arrived with his and Michelle’s bags. Now he was stuck between the paramedic and his father as he waited for any news on Carlos. 

TK ticked his fingers as he looked up at the clock on the wall. How long did it take to let people know their loved ones were alright? It shouldn’t take three hours for someone to assess Carlos and let his friends and family know. 

TK tensed as a doctor walked through the door. “Family of Carlos Reyes,” he called. 

TK was immediately on his feet. “Is he alright? Can we see him? How bad was it? Is-”

“TK,” his father placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Michelle Blake,” the doctor turned to the woman.

“That’s me. Anything you want to say, you can say in front of my friends.”

“Very well. Carlos sustained a through and through in the right shoulder. We cleansed the wound and exrayed it to make sure nothing was broken. We sewed it up and it should heal fully in four-six weeks. Mr. Reyes also sustained a head wound from his fall. That required four stitches but should heal just fine. We also assessed for a concussion. Because he lost consciousness we have diagnosed him with a Grade 3 concussion. He will need to be monitored closely so we have admitted Mr. Reyes for the next twenty-four hours. If all goes well, he should be able to return home within the next day or two as long as he has someone to watch over him. If there are no questions, I can lead you to his room.”

Seeing no questions, the doctor turned and walked them through the double doors. As they walked, TK could feel his anxiety climb. Concussions were nothing to joke about. Would this affect Carlos later on? As they approached the room, the doctor turned to him. “He was awake thirty minutes ago but he may not be now. He does need his rest, so please, do not wake him up. Visiting hours are technically over, but I can let a nurse know that one of you will be staying the night. The other two would need to leave in the next thirty minutes”

Michelle smiled at the doctor, “would you mind informing them that TK Strand will be staying with him tonight?”

The doctor gave her a kind smile and nod. “Will do. He is in room 740. To enter and exit the building use the main entrance, not the emergency doors.” With that, the doctor was off. 

TK, Owen, and Michelle walked the rest of the short way to Carlos’s room in silence. Michelle was the first to the room. She quietly opened the door and peeked her head in. She motioned for the Strands to be quiet as they entered. Once in the room, TK could see Carlos sleeping peacefully on the hospital bed. He immediately went to Carlos’s bedside, hands fluttering once again, not knowing what to do with them. He didn’t want to wake Carlos as he did need sleep to recover. 

TK heard a quiet shuffle behind him before he saw a chair appear behind him out of his periphery. TK sat down, hands finally settling on clasping Carlos’s left hand. TK couldn’t take his eyes off of Carlos’s face and chest. Carlos was alive. He was breathing. He was resting. 

“He’s going to be okay, Son.”

_____________

Two Days Later

“Tiger, you don’t need to stay with me. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you a doctor? Hell, are you a paramedic? No? Oh that’s right, your a stubborn ass cop. We were told you needed to be supervised at home for the next week and that is what we are doing...unless you want to go back to the hospital?” TK raised an eyebrow as he parked the car in front of Carlos’s house. Seeing his boyfriend’s grimace, he responded, “I thought not.”

TK helped Carlos out of the car and into the house. He moved to take Carlos to the bedroom, but Carlos stopped. “I’d like to sit in the living room and watch movies with my boyfriend while he pretends like he isn’t trying to coddle me.”

TK’s glare held no heat. “Fine. Sit,” he ordered. “Don’t even think of getting up. Let me go grab our bags.”

In no time, TK had their bags in the house and pillows and blankets brought out from Carlos’s room and piled around the man. “Do you need anything? Water? Pain meds? Food? Should I get more blankets or-”

“Tiger, Baby, calm down. I just want to cuddle with my amazing boyfriend. That’s all I need.” Carlos’s brown eyes pleaded for him to concede. 

TK nodded quickly. “Yeah, yes. Yes, I can do that. I can totally do that.” TK quickly turned around before heading to the couch, “let me just grab some water and snacks. That way we don’t have to move. Can’t let you get dehydrated. I’ll bring over you meds too so that they’re in reach. We can’t stay on the couch for the rest of the day, you’ll need your rest in an actual bed to get better, plus the couch isn’t that comfy. Should we just go to your room? I can pull up movies on your laptop. It would be more comfortable and better for your recovery and we could still cuddle. We should-”

“TK, Tyler...Tyler I need you to breathe. I’m alright. If it would make you feel better, we can go to my room,” Carlos hated that TK was becoming more anxious by the second. He didn’t know what he could do to ease that anxiety. 

“Okay, yeah, okay. Let’s do that. Let me-let me come help you up.”

Carlos didn’t fight TK’s need to help him get up even though Carlos was seventy-five percent sure he could get up by himself. He let TK mother hen him into the bed and fortify him with pillows. He didn’t even object to the snacks that TK brought in, though Carlos never was big on eating things in bed. As TK straightened up to go get something else, Carlos caught his hand. “Baby, this is everything we need. Please lay down with me.”

Carlos could see the energy buzzing beneath TK’s skin. The last time he’d seen this much energy tightly coiled in his boyfriend had been the night he’d first called TK over for dinner that turned into a disaster. He didn’t like this side of his boyfriend. 

_____________

TK tried not to fidget in the bed, but he felt like he needed to be up and moving and making sure that Carlos was alright and bringing him anything he needed. He needed to be busy. After his hand started tapping on his leg for the fifth time, Carlos reached down to lace his fingers with TK’s. “I’m alright, Amore. I just want to relax with my boyfriend. I am fine, I’m going to be fully healed in a matter of weeks. There’s no need for you to worry yourself sick.”

“I’m not-I’m not worrying myself. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Babe, you literally can’t sit still. I don’t want you to be anxious over this. I’m fine.”

“But you weren’t! What if he had shot you in the head? He aimed for you and I couldn’t do anything and then I couldn’t see you. When I did-” TK’s voice cracked, “when I did see you, you weren’t moving, Carlos. You were not fine!” 

“In my defense, I did hit my head and I was unconscious.” Carlos was trying to lighten the mood slightly, but the look TK gave him, sobered him. “I watched you fly five feet through the air when the propane tanks blew. You didn’t move for a couple of seconds. I was worried about you, but you’re alright. You’re sitting here, talking to me. And I’m sitting here talking to you. Tyler, it’s alright to worry about me, but you don’t need to be in fight or flight mode because I’m not in danger. I’m healing.”

TK was silent for a while and all Carlos could do was look at him. He couldn’t tell what the man was thinking. TK extracted himself from the hold Carlos had on him. “I’m going to make some sandwiches and change clothes to be more comfortable in bed. Do you want to change or are you alright?” 

“Tiger,” Carlos sighed.

“Right, I’ll bring back a sandwich for you.” TK darted out the door.

_____________

Six Days Later

“I’m not an invalid,” Carlos sighed.

TK rolled his eyes in return. “I never said you were.”

“Yeah, you just treat me like one. If the roles were reversed, you’d be verbally fighting me about it.” 

“I just want you to heal correctly. Is that too much to ask?”

“You are allowed to go home now. You don’t need to watch me anymore.”

TK turned his back to Carlos as he pulled his shirt off to change. “What, so you’re kicking me out? For caring?” When Carlos didn’t respond, TK turned with his new shirt in his hands to look at the man. Carlos’s eyes were wide. “What?”

Carlos stood up, walking towards TK. “Baby, your back,” Carlos whispered, turning him around to run his hands over the healing bruises. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

“It didn’t really hurt. Must have been the blast’s force. I’m fine. I had more important things to think about.”

“Tyler, you should have at least told me.”

TK turned back to face Carlos, “so you could refuse my help? I don’t think so. It really didn’t hurt that much, ‘Los.”

Carlos shook his head. “We’re partners, Tyler Kennedy Strand. We tell each other when we’re hurt. That’s how this works. You need to think about yourself too, not just me and my injuries.”

TK broke eye contact. His breathing was beginning to become uneven. “You could have...If that gangster had better aim, he could have killed you, Carlos. And I don’t-I don’t know how to live without you anymore. You-you’re my rock and I don’t know if I could stay sane or-or sober if you were gone. I love you...God I love you so much. I didn’t even realize how much I loved you...I don’t want to live without you. I don’t like it when you’re hurt. I can’t focus on me when you’re in pain because I want to fix it. I love you so much that when you’re hurt, I’m hurt and-and not just this time because I was also hurt, but-but because I care so deeply for you that it scares me. I’ve been so anxious because I wanted-I wanted to make it so you weren’t hurt. I wanted to take your pain and your injuries because you don’t deserve them.”

There was a shine in Carlos’s eyes as TK stared at them. A small smile was on the man’s face. “I happen to love you just as much. I feel your pain because I care so much for you...but it’s not scary because I know that you feel the same way. With our jobs, we can’t promise not to get hurt, Tyler. But we can promise to try out best. I think-I think we need to work on your anxiety, though, because it isn’t healthy to spend seven or more days filled to the brim with anxiety. I love you, so much Cariño.”

TK licked his lips as he leaned closer to Carlos. “Does this mean I can stay?”

Carlos bit his lip as a smile began to form. “However long you want...you already have a key, Baby.”

[lokitrashfan]

A/n: I hope you all really like it, I will try to post a chapter every week. I promise I won't be super long. My limit is 15 chapters. Just say what you think of it!!

Warnings: Memory loss.

Summary: Winter can't remember her past as she tries to adapt to her new life.

Tag list: (Tag list is open, if you want to be tagged or untagged in this fic just sent me an ask!!) @twhiddlestonsstuff @gaitwae @lucywrites02 @fckwkndd @delightfulheartdream

She woke up in the same tiny room she had been sleeping in for a week. The same man in a white robe staring at her. The weird wires still stuck to her face and chest. She tried to remember. Where was she before the tiny room? But as always, her memories were muddied and confusing. 

“How are you feeling today?” The man asked, checking her vitals. It was like a routine now. She woke up and the questions started. 

“Good” She always kept her answers short. 

“Do you remember where you are?” 

“At the hospital?” She was not sure, but that man had to be a doctor right?

“Your brain is still closed. I don’t think we can do much to help you. You need time.” It was disturbing how calm he seemed. Like those words meant nothing. “I’ll talk to Director Fury about the next step, but you will have to be willing to cooperate.”

“I just want to know… to remember who I am'' It was one of the most painful truths she had ever said. Well, as far as she could remember. She just wanted to be certain for once of what she was, who she was. But trying to remember something felt like trying to listen to music with a broken cassette.

-------------------------

Director Fury stared at her with his only eye. Just one eye and she could feel like he was scanning her, tearing her apart to comprehend what she was made for.

“Well, Winter” That name sounded strange, she knew it was not hers, just a name to call her as she seemed to have no name. She could not remember if she had one. “The doctor has concluded that, even if in appearance, you are not dangerous, Hydra reached far into your brain and body, and you are strong enough to become a danger.”

Hydra was more familiar, but she could not remember why it was important.

“We can’t keep you in the hospital forever, nor we can send you to live on your own. It has been difficult to decide what we will do with you. There was some people that even suggested putting a bullet through your brain to solve all this mess.” He let out a small laugh but she was not sure if it was a joke or a warning. “But Maximoff has come to your defence and we reached an agreement. You are going to live in the compound. You can live with them, train with them and try to learn from them. But'' He said more seriously “you are not allowed to step outside the limits. You will talk to the doctor once a week and tell him of any new memory. And of course you will have to be a good girl, take your meds, and well… just try to be nice to everyone.”

“Are you sending me there because you fear I may become a danger to myself or to you?” She asked already knowing the answer. She was considered something dangerous, even if she didn’t know why. 

Fury looked at the papers on his desk and to her again. “Both”

------------------------

The compound looked enormous. She was not sure who Maximoff was, but she was pretty sure he or she lived there. The agent that accompanied her was a middle aged man whose name she had forgotten. How could she live with more people if she could not remember names?

“Hey you, “ said the man. “Move your pretty ass and let’s go, I have more things to do”

She walked behind him without saying a word, her guts were telling her that this man was more dangerous than he looked.Maybe it was the way he looked at her.

She entered a room full of people, all looking at her.

“Winter, I want to present the team.” Said a man offering a welcoming smile to her. The agent that brought her here walked away and left. 

The man with the welcoming smile offered her a hand and introduced “I’m Steve Rogers” She looked at his hand without knowing what to do until he let it fall into his side, visibly uncomfortable. 

“This is Bucky” A tall man with a metal arm and dark hair. 

“Wanda” A young woman smiled and waved one of her hands.

“Thor” A gigantic man with yellow hair.

“Vision” He was red and had a glowing thing in his forehead, but his voice sounded human. Her eyes grow open at the strange man.

“There are more of us, but they are not here at the moment.” The Tall blond said. Steve.

“Hey Steve don’t forget Loki'' Thor said pointing to a man that she had not seen at first. He was the only one sitting, with a book, totally uninterested in what was going on.

“Yes, Winter, that is Loki, Thor’s brother.”

“They don’t look like brothers” Winter spoke for the first time. 

“Unfortunately I am adopted, so I don’t share any dumb genes with my brother” Loki spoke with a low voice. 

Wanda ignored the bickering between the brothers and approached Winter.

“Don’t worry, you will find your spot here.” Her voice was tinter with a familiar accent that Winter could not place. “And Loki is a bit like you, he can’t go out of the compound either, so you might have to be alone with him when we go on missions. But as long as he has a book, it’s like he didn’t exist. 

Finally Loki came up to her. He stood as tall as his brother, but his hair was as black as raven wings. 

“Hey Winter, I’m Loki, it’s a pleasure to have another mortal around here” He said with a mocking voice as he offered her a hand. Why was everyone offering hands? “Norns, you just have to give me your hand too, like this” He moved his hand to wanda and she took it, shaking it briefly. Then, he released and turned again to Winter. “Want to try?” 

Before she could do anything Bucky spoke “Loki, don’t pressure her, Hydra fried her brain, you don’t know the thing you forget when they do that to you”

Loki just scowled and retired his hand. “Wait, you said Hydra, they did her the same they did to you?” 

“Kind of, all we could discover is that they were training her to become the next Winter Soldier, but something went wrong with her memory. That when we found her.”

“So…” Loki said with a smirk “ Her name is Winter, as in Winter Soldier? How original”

“She needed a name,” Wanda said “Enough for day one. Winter I will show you your room so you can get comfortable. And if you need anything just ask”

[orbitariums]

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟕)

note: omg YALLLLL this chapter took me so long to write and was lowkey frustrating i hope y’all love ittttt 

there’s some teaaaa towards the end y’all!! and i’m soooo excited to see where their relationship goes

this is i think the longest chapter of girls on film? BEAR WITH ME!!

playlist

warnings: age gap, masturbation, sexually frustrated steve!, feelingsss <3, mentions of weed & alcohol

word count: 10.7k

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 7: 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

    "Okay, now twirl around for me a little."

Aaliyah threw her head back with laughter as she followed through with your request and spun around, her dress lifting up while she turned, a smile on her face all the while. The light hit her just right against the brick wall she was posing in front of, and you chuckled as you snapped a photo on your cheap - but functioning - camera. You paused to look through the pictures and grinned as you scrolled through the selection.

   "I keep telling you my cousin takes pictures, she could've hooked us up with a photoshoot photoshoot, like a real one."

    "I know," you grinned, speaking quietly as you were still focusing on the results of the pictures you'd just taken. "I wanna do everything myself though, you know?"

You squinted through your sunblocked eyes as you looked up at your beautiful best friend, continuing,

    "Total creative control."

Aaliyah gazed down at you in admiration, and pushed up the sunglasses that you designed,

    "That's YN for you. Independent in every way. How'd the pictures come out?"

     Aaliyah bounded up next to you, unable to contain all her excitement to see herself in your clothes. Today was the long awaited photoshoot that you and Aaliyah had been organizing for the past week, a photoshoot wherein Aaliyah modeled for your brand. You organized it together, just the two of you, and put together a plan. You were always ready to organize something, which was why you performed so well at all your jobs - student, state rep office intern, and camgirl.

    But this was more than just logic and planning, you truly put your heart and soul into this, because even though you did a lot already, you were centering your clothing brand as your main focus as the summer and graduation drew closer. After college, you'd have to figure your life out. Aaliyah would be trying her hand at med school, but with your Environmental Studies major, you didn't figure that you would be attending grad school. You could get an entry level job somewhere, a place that was similar to your job as an intern at the state rep office, because you could advocate for environmental policy there.

     Or you could continue working where you worked, but you figured after graduation it would be best to shift. You already had your own place, and had moved out of college dorms at the end of your sophomore year, so you had no reason to move. But regardless of what you ended up doing as a career, you were excited for free time to continue your clothing brand.

You had already created the website, and you were going to be putting up listings following this photoshoot in which Aaliyah modeled all the clothing you had available. This was an exciting day for both of you, you felt like you were moving into the next step of your life and Aaliyah was so glad to be supporting you. You showed her the pictures while she squealed in awe, the both of you clamoring over which ones were the best. You felt grateful for this moment, and prayed there would be more like this to come. Right now was only the beginning.

     "Issa look!" you chimed excitedly, pointing at one of the pictures of Aaliyah in a pair of distressed jeans and a tube top you had sewn.

      "YN, I'm seriously so proud of you," Aaliyah said suddenly, and more serious than usual, making you look up from the camera.

You smiled bashfully,

     "Thank you, babes."

     "No, but really though. These past few months just watching you and being your friend has been amazing. Like you've grown so much, it's crazy. And now you're here finally starting your own brand. I know we're gonna be doing different shit once college is over but I'm so excited to see what more comes out of this, and who you become."

     You nearly teared up at Aaliyah's words. She had really been by your side ever since you met, but especially over the past few months, and without even fully knowing what was going on. She might have known about your toxic ex, but you'd hardly spoken to her about Steve. Before you found out who he was, it was just a fun thing, and you only talked about it in joking spirits - but not too much, because you didn't want it to seem like it was serious. And now that you knew who he was, you didn't talk about him at all - she didn't even know that he'd ghosted you.

     But the fact that she stayed by your side all that time, watching you crumble and watching you build yourself back up again, oblivious to the entire story, made you feel so grateful for her. You had done the same for her and she would always do the same for you. The reciprocation wasn't transactional, it was mutual and out of love.

     Now you were slowly but surely moving on to the next chapters of your lives. While that wouldn't change how close you were, it would mean that you wouldn't be on the same campus day in and day out, and that could make things different. But you were glad to know you had a friend like her to hold you down.

     Days like this where you were thriving, making progress, getting shit done, were days where you felt your best.

✺ ✺ ✺

     It had been a little over a week since Steve started talking to you on Snapchat, figuring the ins and outs of the ten second videos you would send to him or post on your story, how to customize his Bitmoji to look like him (something you guided him through), and even how to send snapchats himself. You were much more advanced than him when it came to that, though, and you never failed to make fun of Steve for his lack of knowledge on how to take a proper selfie. But as much as Steve loved the fun of Snapchat and the new way to communicate with you as just you, he couldn't help but feel like there could still be more.

And again, he thought that maybe it was possible he was getting eager and hopeful to the point of illusion. Like maybe he was only feeling this way because this was all so new to him and the euphoria that came with this new, exclusive friendship was leading to delirium. But it was a small part of him that felt this way, and he had spent enough time thinking about it to have logical conversations with himself about it. He wasn't letting it drag him down, nor was he drowning in his thoughts.

    No, that was what he would've done before. Like you, he had been through some sort of growth, even while he was in the slump that was induced after he stopped talking to you. He realized it was time to stop resisting out of fear and just communicate honestly with himself what he wanted, instead of just sinking into the same cycles he used to let himself go through when he was avoiding the truth.

And so that was why despite this small thought he had, that he was going overboard because he wasn't used to this kind of situation, he didn't brush it off completely. He knew that this tugging feeling at his heartstrings was there for a reason, that if he were to ignore it, he'd either give in dangerously, or miss a beautiful opportunity.

    He was taking things slow though, which was why he wasn't just diving straight into the feelings of more intimate attraction that he knew could definitely be there if the both of you just pushed the blinds back a little. What he knew he wanted now though, was the opportunity to continue talking to you on a deeper level. Snapchat was nice, but it felt a bit artificial.

There was only so much that you could do to communicate on a real level over the internet, seeing as you lived on the other side of the country from each other. Steve might have been old fashioned for wanting more, when there was only so much he could get.

     But he felt like there was an option for even more personal interaction, though having you on Snapchat felt incredibly intimate - seeing no one else on the cam site got to see your regular life like this. He started to think about the brief conversation he had with you in which you were trying to decide how to communicate safely and personally outside of the Girls on Film site. One of the methods that came up was texting. But for the sake of safety, Steve had denied that form of communication.

     Now, though, he was having second thoughts, spurred on by a moment he caught between Natasha and Tony while he was in the meeting room going through paperwork.

They had been sitting in the meeting room too, Natasha just scrolling through one of her many phones with her feet up on the table before her, a red twizzler sitting in her mouth.

     "Mind taking your feet off the table?" Tony asked shortly, glaring at Natasha and the way she was sitting.

     "Why?" Natasha droned, eyes slowly moving to meet Tony's.

     "Uh, how 'bout because it's incredibly expensive material and I just got it professionally cleaned."

     "No one asks you to get the tables professionally cleaned you bourgeoise ass," Natasha snapped back, but she put her legs down anyways, continuing to tap away on her phone.

Steve was just regarding their snapping at each other as background music, and not really paying much attention. Natasha sighed suddenly,

     "I don't understand why it's so hard for these buyers to understand that I can't give them my real number. Like, am I giving mixed signals?"

Tony chortled at Natasha's demise. Steve knew Natasha was referring to the fact that she sometimes used a blocked number for business or personal reasons, and that when she used it, no one could see the number it was coming from. It was basically an encrypted phone number which Tony helped set up. Natasha was in the habit of building up a knife collection as a hobby. Whether or not she would put those knives to use was unknown, but it was something she was doing for the time being.

    Steve hadn't thought much about it, but now that he was hearing Natasha actually talk about texting these people, he was starting to perk up and listen to her. Inevitably, thoughts of you started to trickle into his mind. Like, if Natasha could use her phone for personal matters such as this, there was a likelihood that Steve could maybe, just maybe, do the same thing. He knew that Natasha's personal matters weren't quite the same as his own, but it was worth a try.

    "There's something about a dominant woman that men can't resist," Tony commented, and Natasha rolled her eyes.

    "You'd think the fact that I'm buying knives from them would make them a little less comfortable," she grumbled, and Tony put a supportive hand on her shoulder, patting her arm.

    "You could scare 'em off, don't worry."

    Steve was leaning forward, listening closely to the conversation now. Natasha turned her head over to Steve with a devious smirk,

     "What's up, Steve? Think you could give us some insight on this?"

She was teasing him mercilessly, alluding to that forsaken time that Steve's guilty pleasure had been broadcast on the projector during one of their meetings. That hadn't quite been forgotten yet, and still got brought up in a teasing manner, though no one could figure out why Steve became so withdrawn when it was brought up. Steve was only lucky they didn't know the full extent of his endeavors. Steve stilled slightly, but didn't retract, only replying with a stern glare at Natasha before he continued.

    "You... text these buyers?"

    "Yeah. I have like, a bunch of numbers on one phone, Tony hooked it up. And I have a bunch of other phones. It's kinda hard to keep track. The only people that really have my number are like, you two, and some other people here. But it's rare that we even text for, you know, personal, kinda recreational stuff. Unless Tony wants my opinion on what movie we should watch," Natasha shrugged.

     "Huh," was all Steve said, but he leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin slightly in contemplation.

      "By the way, why don't you ever text me? Thought we were friends, Steve," Natasha joked lightly, but Steve was already focused on furthering what was just the beginning of his idea.

     "He doesn't need to text you, you routinely save each other's lives," Tony scoffed.

      "Tony, mind if I talk to you about something? In private," Steve turned his head to Tony and locked eyes with him.

Tony just smiled and got up instantly,

     "Steve, I never thought you'd be the one asking to step into my office."

      Steve cringed, thinking back to the time when Tony had asked to step into his office and had passed on the knowledge of Girls on Film to Steve, reminiscing on Tony's immense sense of pride and his need to act as a therapist.

     "We can just talk in the hallway," Steve suggested, but to no avail, Tony shaking his head and marching up to Steve, putting his arm around his shoulder.

     "No, no, step into my office," Tony repeated, leading Steve to his office where he closed the door, and gestured for Steve to sit in front of the desk while Tony settled into his seat behind the desk. Once they got settled in, Tony just grinned at Steve. "So... you need something."

    "It was really just a simple question, we could've even talked about it in the meeting room," Steve started to stammer, feeling a little less confident in his decision to try to talk to you on a personal level.

      When he'd heard Natasha talking about how she was able to text personally through a blocked number, he started to think of you and the conversation you'd had about texting him. Snapchat had ended up being the compromise for the two of you, but Steve was beginning to think texting might be better. He loved seeing your life on Snapchat, but social media could only be so real. And Steve wanted to be able to call you and FaceTime you. He could do all those things on Girls on Film, but he was taking a break from that. Besides, it wouldn't really be a friendship if he had to pay you to talk to you.

     "Well, you're here now. Let it loose," Tony shrugged, and Steve nodded.

     "I was just wondering exactly how Nat's able to text people personally without them seeing her number. I know you're kinda the one in charge of all our technology, and hell if I know how to do it myself."

    "Done. I can walk you through it."

    "Oh, really. Just- just like that?" Steve sat up, starting to get a little excited thinking of the now possibilities.

Tony shrugged, as if it were quite simple,

    "Pretty much. You seem excited." Tony started to sound like he was catching in, leaning back in his chair and resting his chin on his palm, raising an inquiring brow. "Wanna talk to someone special?"

    "Special?" Steve nearly choked on his own words, shaking his head and lowering it, not wanting to make eye contact with Tony. "No, no... nothing like that."

He laughed nervously, both because he was a bit of a newbie when it came to lying, and because he was thinking of you, which already made him appear a little dopey. He tried to control it, but in reality, thinking of you actually made him smile. It was confusing - he hadn't felt that way before, and he definitely didn't expect it from himself. He was serious, deep into his work. And you weren't distracting him from his work, but you were making his days just a bit brighter.

     And it was something that puzzled him, delightfully. It was why he knew he had to dig deeper, not recoil and be concerned. The confusion was actually pleasant to work through. It helped him sort through his feelings, because the confusion only uncoiled to show his true feelings of desire. He figured maybe the confusion just stemmed from the fact that he never allowed himself to give into these kinds of feelings. So he didn't understand them, not quite yet.

He just knew there had to be a reason that this situation felt so unique. If he didn't give into his feelings until now, there had to be something there. It told him that he should get to know you on that level. It gave him that push to finally test out the waters. Steve Rogers, actually catching romantic feelings - it didn't even sound right, yet it was exactly what was happening. Everyday, he seemed to go even deeper.

    "Special lady?" Tony guessed, making Steve compose himself and look up, folding his arms, crossing his legs and looking dead ahead at Tony.

    He shook his head and sniffled slightly, eyes breaking away from Tony as he started to lie again, this time as best as he could,

    "No."

    "You sure about that, Cap?" Tony began to pry, one raised eyebrow at a time. "I mean, there's gotta be a reason you've been all... cute lately."

    "Cute?" Steve scoffed, furrowing his brows and looking at Tony.

Steve wasn't exactly nervous to be having this conversation, but it wasn't exactly something he wanted to entertain with Tony. Again, he was keeping you, your relationship, private. Not secret, but private. Nobody else needed to know what Steve had been getting down to, and he didn't want them knowing the specifics of it - not because he was afraid of the fact that you were a sex worker or that you were younger, but because it would be best if he didn't have to explain himself and just how he'd gotten to meet you.

    It wasn't like he was forbidden from seeing anyone, in fact it was encouraged by almost everyone that Steve knew. He just figured there might be more hubbub if he had to explain that he hadn't actually met you in real life - he didn't want his team doubting the security of the relationship you two had, or passing along premature judgments. Besides, he wasn't even fully sure himself. He was really only just now looking into the idea. He didn't want everyone in on it before he even solidified anything.

    Tony rolled his eyes, waving his hand dismissively,

    "You know what I mean. You've been all, you know, nice again. What's goin' on champ, you can talk to me. Who's the girl?"

Steve shook his head. Surely people had noticed his shift in character yet again, and it was becoming more prominent everyday. Tony would be the first to meddle, try to figure out why. No one knew why he'd been so moody the past few months, or why his moods would suddenly change positively. And he wasn't wrong, it was a girl. But Steve wasn't ready yet. He shook his head, denying it one last time before getting up out of his chair,

     "It's nothing like that. I do want that blocked number, though."

    "Easy."

| | |

     Tony tried to pry again later on when he showed Steve how to use his phone to block out his own number, but Steve didn't give in, he just took the phone back and closed the door to his room, logging on to Snapchat so he could talk to you.

     You replied to him quickly, his name popping up on your screen. It was funny, you went through so many names for him on Snapchat (cap, captain, Mr. America, even Mr. Rogers), but you decided to keep it simple. Like Steve, you were also keeping this private - who would you tell besides Aaliyah anyways?

It would be wise for you to keep it private, and that's what you were doing. That's why his name on your Snapchat was just: "Steve ❤️ 💙" followed by a red and blue heart. Although, true to his nature, his username was: "SG.R0818", a username he practically randomized in order to stay incognito.

    He was glad you responded fast, from that moment and onward. Even though the both of you talked to each other on the app, you each had busy schedules and different time zones. So sometimes responses were a bit laggy. Still, your conversations always felt right.

Steve ❤️ 💙 Hey, I've got something I wanted to talk to you about.

YN ♡ shoot!

Steve ❤️ 💙 I was thinking about what you said, about texting each other.

YN yeah... are you tryna say something stevie?

     Steve's upper lip curved up at the nickname. You didn't know it, or maybe you pretended not to, but it spurred something inside of him when you used any kind of nickname on him. It was just in your naturally flirty demeanor to do so, and maybe this was how you showed Steve that you saw the romantic potential as well. You both obviously did like each other as more than friends, but neither of you had really acted on that yet, and that was fine with you. Just hinting at it, slightly, and being friends, was enough. You didn't think it was that serious.

Steve ❤️ 💙 I decided that I think it would be nice for us to try to text each other. I like Snapchat, but texting is a little easier. We could FaceTime and call each other if you want. I just think it might be a little more real - well, as real as it can get over the phone.

If that's something you're comfortable with. My number would be blocked out, but you'll know it's me.

     It was a good thing that Steve couldn't hear you, because you kind of made a weird squealing noise, and threw your hand over your mouth, eyes widened. You were used to talking to him by now, but it was still quite exciting to know who you were talking to. And the idea of actually texting him, and maybe even calling him and getting to see his face outside of your cam website? It excited you.

     And it made you happy to think that he really wanted this friendship to go somewhere. You didn't know the full extent of what he wanted to do just yet, but you were glad to see that he was trying, and that he actually enjoyed talking to you enough to want to text and call you regularly. So you steadied your fingers before you typed back, hoping to show your enthusiasm through a simple Snapchat.

YN i'd love to! i'm so glad it's something you've been thinking about. i agree, it feels better to text sometimes. and it'll feel even more normal, i guess. here, i'll give you my number so you can text me.

     And from that moment on, Steve was in. He was almost giddy saving your number as a contact. For him, for the both of you, this was another step forward in your relationship. It felt like you were slowly trusting each other more and more. You had already knocked down a major wall just by talking to each other after the reveal to begin with, and by having the reveal in the first place.

      So, he was glad that this was coming into fruition. He was satisfied with this. For now. For your name, he typed in your real first name, because that was how he knew you now. And your real name would stand out less if anyone got ahold of his phone messages somehow. He started out by sending a simple text, saying hello and making sure you knew it was him. And even though his number was blocked out, it was clear as day. You were both glad to have moved on to this, to have so many forms of communication between the two of you. It didn't seem like a big deal, but considering your situation, it kind of was. The littlest steps made the room shake.

✺ ✺ ✺

    The days seemed to flow by at this point. Like, you felt like getting through life was a breeze. No unexpected storm to knock you off your smooth sailing course to greatness. You were truly moving up, on and out. You felt like now, after all the time you took for yourself to heal, all the time you spent in a sort of neutral state - not going out much, staying to yourself - you could really celebrate.

      Even though you were growing all through that neutral state, you felt like now you could finally see through all the fog that had gathered. All the uncertainty that had followed you along your path was nonexistent. You were just glad that you were back on your feet again and feeling like you could take on more new things.

    Now that you were nearing graduation, you were really just focusing on final projects and exams schoolwise. For yourself, you were starting work on your online clothing store and camming even more. And you were enjoying your life, being a normal college student, who had Steve Rogers' number. Maybe you didn't actually have his number, but that was how you were choosing to describe it. If you didn't have the discipline that you had, you would be telling everyone about this. But you weren't stupid, so you kept it all to yourself.

    You and Steve often talked late into the night, or at random times during the day. Towards nighttime, your conversations often became a bit deeper, the kind of conversation that would've scared Steve off a while ago. But he was becoming more comfortable with you, and you could tell. You were moving slowly so as to be careful, but you didn't feel like you had to. You just figured it would be wise. But these deep conversations touched on the topics that you hadn't been able to get into that time when Steve left so abruptly.

    When the stars were peering into your bedroom window late at night, that was when you opened up about your past love life. He listened to you talk about your ex, give all the details about it, and he listened to you talk about how much healing it took you to get out of the nasty habits that had developed all through your life, but especially when you were with your ex. How you learned to be more independent, how you learned not that you couldn't trust, but that you had to be mindful about your relationships. You had always been driven, but especially after that mess of a situation.

    Your whole life you'd been surrounded by this sense of needing more in some way. Your parents were loving, but they didn't always show it - they supported you mostly, but there was no way you could really show them who you were, not entirely. There was always this air of dismissiveness that came from them, and you had never been close to either of them, not the way other kids were.

So you knew what it was like to be grasping for something, anything. You just wanted love in its unconditional form, you wanted a life that wasn't hindered by those around you.

   Sometimes this made your life even harder, because you found yourself doing things for people who didn't deserve it, hoping that they might see how much you were willing to do for them and maybe even reciprocate. But these days, your want, your human need for love and emotional support just pushed you further, blocked out the people who you didn't really need, and attracted you to the lifestyle that you deserved. And you turned out alright, but it took a lot to keep going. You buried yourself in work which you genuinely enjoyed. You tried new things, you moved out on your own, you created your own sturdy relationships. You knew how to make a pathway out of a rocky road. You were just glad that you felt like you were gliding through your life nowadays, and that the ship was sailing smoothly.

Steve was one of the people who you felt like the universe had somehow brought to you for a positive reason.  A strange and random decision, but positive, nonetheless. You thought of how odd the circumstance was and you figured, it must have been destined. You were glad to be having these kinds of conversations with him.

And you were also glad that you had the beach. California wasn't California without its lustrous, beautiful, palm tree filled beaches. You were on your way to one with a few friends right now, on a weekend with no classes, celebrating after an intense study week, preparing for finals. The radio was blaring, the windows turned down, the warm and salty sea breeze blowing in through the open windows.

     Around you was sort of this happy blur. You absorbed it, being jostled around by your friends dancing beside you, Aaliyah right by your side. You were laughing and smiling, a bottle of Capriccio's Sangria to your lips, babbling along to the song on the radio.

    "Y'all are way too hype right now," your friend Violet joked from the front passenger seat, sat next to her boyfriend Luke, who was the designated driver.

She was met with a chorus of voices singing along to the radio song, and just rolled her eyes playfully, laughing. It felt good to finally be celebrating, especially since you'd been very focused on school for the past week. The beach was one of your favorite places to be - you felt so much at home. You grew up surfing all through middle school and high school, and this area was quite popular for surfboarding, so you were giddy at the thought of that. The beach felt like home to you, a California native.

    Sure, it wasn't all sunshine and ocean waves, but you were pretty much the epitome of a California girl, and proud. So for you, it was a lot of sunshine and ocean waves. You felt a strong connection to this place, but you were always willing to explore. It was why you were so attached to traveling and hiking.

    "YN, you look literally so pretty today," your friend Cameron complimented you as you held up your phone, taking a very impromptu selfie.

Your closed, glossy lips were turned up in a smile, your cheeks full and eyes slightly glazed over from the combination of a shared joint and the liquor you'd been drinking on the way.

    "Cam," you pouted, leaning over and kissing their cheek. "You're literally so pretty, everyday."

You cooed over each other while you pressed send on your selfie, sending it to Steve on Snapchat with no caption.

    "Girl, who are you sending that to?" Aaliyah grinned devilishly, peeking over your shoulder as she caught your screen out of the corner of her eye.

Before she could see, you shut off the phone and narrowed your eyes at her playfully, poking your tongue out at her,

     "Nobody!"

     She smiled but didn't seem fully convinced, pointing at you,

      "It better be me. I need a new lock screen."

      "Oh, you flatter me," you teased, smiling and sitting back, laying your head on Aaliyah's shoulder and your legs across Cameron's lap, sitting in this blurry, noted happiness.

      You weren't thinking, you were just living in the moment, enjoying the smell of the ocean waves as you drifted closer to the scorching shore, focusing on the light scratch of acrylic nails massaging your scalp, the touch of a friend's arm resting over your bare legs, clad in shorts with a bikini bottom underneath, and a discarded shirt tied around your waist as you lay in your bikini top. You didn't know how your mindless selfie would inspire a confession.

✺ ✺ ✺

    "Finally, you dweebs chose a movie," Nat grunted as she sat down in between Steve and Sam, sprawling out and kicking her legs up on Sam's lap.

    "Not sure when I became your body pillow," Sam made a face at Nat, but he made no effort to push her away, his comment only making Tony scoff,

    "You're saying you wouldn't want that?"

    "Don't be a perv, Tony," Wanda reprimanded him, and he made a face, feigning innocence,

    "What? Is it so wrong to cuddle with a friend?"

    "I'm not understanding," Vision commented.

    "Can we just start the movie?" Bucky whined through his laughter.

Steve was entertained by the conversation, but he had other things on his mind. Well, really just you. Steve thought about you everyday. You came across his mind whether he meant for you to or not. Sometimes he saw something and thought of you, because he was learning something new about you everyday, ever since adding you on Snapchat. He learned these little things about you through your Snapchat stories, and you'd been texting each other every day since he got your number.

     He also learned things about you that weren't so little, and whenever you shared those things about yourself, he made sure to pay attention. When you shared these things with Steve, he found himself being mindful of what he said and how he replied - mindful instead of careful or hesitant. He was learning to absorb your words and turn them over in his mind. He was making an effort to try and understand you in the things you said that exposed your little quirks, your core beliefs, your history.

    He appreciated how open you were being with him, and he understood how he had a responsibility, being who he was, to keep you feeling secure enough to share these things, to constantly make it clear that he understood, or at the very least, that he was listening. He just wished he had more time to flesh it out, to talk these things out over the phone instead of over text, or even in person, something that he knew wouldn't be possible.

    And even though he felt so much closer now that he had your number, he couldn't help the small tugging inside of him that told him he'd be wanting more- and he couldn't figure out what "more" would look like for the life of him. You were so beautiful, it was overwhelming, and you gave Steve constant reminders of your beauty in every text, every goodnight selfie, every story you shared. Everyday he was falling harder for your beauty, inside and out.

     It was lighthearted still. It didn't feel serious because the idea didn't make him feel unsettled, it didn't make him recoil in fear. But it had the potential to be serious, without all the negative dread that usually came with realizations such as this. He was just flirting with the idea of forging this romantic connection with you, but this tugging in him was now asking him when? When would he tell you how he felt, when would it get to the point where he needed to tell you? For now, Steve was just living through it, letting himself be free and happy in the moment.

     He was satisfied with what he had now, when it came to you. He'd already taken the next step by getting your number and finding out even more ways to communicate with you outside of the site. He didn't want to feel ungrateful for wanting even more, for even entertaining the idea of telling you how he was feeling, especially when it wasn't anything deadly serious yet.

    He knew he liked you, the fact was clear as day. He knew the way he liked you had the potential to be romantic, otherwise he wouldn't be thinking about you this often, and he wouldn't be seeing you in such a beautiful light. He felt lighter on his feet any time you came into his mind, and in his mind, there was a golden aura around you, around everything you did.

The fact that he saw you in this way made him think hard. Would he feel even more than he was feeling? Would it become enough that he would have to tell you? And he wondered, if, and only if, he did announce it - when would that point come? He was in a daze, leaning back on the couch, his phone in his hand while he waited for the movie to start up.

     "What are we watching, again?" Nat called out, cupping her hands over her mouth.

     "Star Wars: A New Hope," Tony smirked, satisfied with the movie choice.

     "Is that the one with the dog monster?" Rhodey made a face, shaking his head slowly. "Not a huge fan."

     "Pretty sure his name is Chewbacca," Bucky corrected Rhodey, and Sam cackled, clapping in satisfaction.

     "The senile knows more about one of the most iconic movie franchises than you," he teased. "How does that work?"

Steve just shook his head and smiled, turning his head to Bucky who was talking to him,

    "You ever seen Star Wars?"

    "No, but I'm pretty sure Sam recommended it," Steve smiled lazily.

    He hadn't quite updated Bucky on his status with you, but they had talked about it briefly since the time Bucky had given Steve the advice that helped push him to talk to you again. Steve was purposefully very vague during the talk with his best friend, but he made it clear that things were patched up. Bucky probably could've figured it out before anyone else, could've made the connection between Steve and Moonrose first, because Steve had given him the most information about it.

    "It's pretty good, I've seen the prequels - that guy Darth Vader, he was actually pretty hot before he turned. You'll see, we should watch all the movies together," Bucky explained simply and carefully, as if it were common knowledge to him.

Steve was laughing, shaking his head.

    "Sure pal," he was beginning to say, before he diverted his attention to his phone as a notification lit up his screen. It read: Snapchat: YN. His eyes lit up, and he tried to hide his excited reaction as he opened the picture from you. And when he did, he wasn't ready for what he was seeing.

    You sent Steve a lot of pictures, and he thought you were gorgeous in all of them, even the ones with the filters that made your face look all distorted. But something was different about this picture, the vibes it gave off. He felt the same way he felt when he would watch your shows - like he was there with you, because he could feel your happiness emanating through the screen.

He felt like if he looked at it long enough, he might be there with you. And everything about this picture was glowing, especially you - it screamed young, college girl having the time of her life, and that made him feel so happy for you.

    And it also stirred a feeling in him, something that hadn't been awoken for a long time.

    Upon viewing the image, he immediately cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably because of the growing tent in his pants, trying to hide his phone screen so no one would look.

    The picture was so simple. You were in a car, sun shining through the windows, the light hitting you just right, and you were smiling. But Steve was hyperfocused on the way you had obviously been basking in the sun, the glow clear on your face. Your skin was dewy and fresh, and your lips were sheen in a pink gloss that only called more attention to them. Your hair seemed wild around your shoulders, but it only made you look more appealing, more free spirited.

And again, you'd sent him so many pictures like this, but for some reason, this photo in particular was somehow arousing everything in him. You were so beautiful it hurt- he felt a pang in his chest, and the sudden growth in his pants didn't assist with the pain.

   Your eyes, though vibrant and youthful, were glazed over, and all Steve could think of was how they looked when you blinked away tears after an intense orgasm. He thought about your soft, luscious lips against him, but this time he was thinking about what it might be like to kiss your lips, tainted with red.

And to add insult to injury, you were wearing a tight bikini top, and the picture cut off just where your breasts started to show, peeking out through the white fabric, the thin white strings against your sun kissed shoulders holding them up - just barely. He felt so fucking stupid. Like he shouldn't be feeling so much because of a simple image. But whatever was happening, this picture was stirring up something inside of him that he couldn't ignore. This had to be taken care of.

    He sat up immediately, trying to use his shirt to cover his boner, feeling juvenile and lightheaded, even a little giggly.

    "You okay?" Bucky asked, glaring up at Steve in concern - he'd been talking, but Steve seemed distracted suddenly.

    "Mhm," was all Steve could strain out from his throat.

    "What the hell, Steve? I'm about to show you one of my very favorite films and this is the reception I receive?" Tony barked, offended.

     "I've been telling you, that superserum is wearing off," Sam joked, something him and Tony loved to say when Steve acted out of character - like the times when Steve got caught smiling for no reason - or just whenever Steve annoyed Tony.

     "I- just- I'll be right back," Steve stammered, flustered, then he carefully walked out of the theater room and out of sight.

    It had been over a month since Steve had left and came back to you. In that period of time, he had been gloomy, neutral, then back to being light on his feet again, one after the other. And he hadn't viewed any of your content since then. A few times he tried to get himself off, but it was worth nothing. He could barely guide himself, and he didn't want anybody else to assist him the way you had, it was one of the things that made you so special.

So his attempts to satiate his pleasure came in the form of witless, rough jerks that didn't even get him anywhere near that point. And each time, he was back to thinking about you, but the thoughts could only get him so far.

    But now that you were friends again, Steve didn't let himself think of you in that way. Or, he tried not to. But this picture, for some reason, just reversed everything he was trying to avoid. He tried to understand his reaction in the short amount of time that he quickly walked to his room, trying and failing to ignore the stone hard bulge hanging in his loose grey joggers.

    Thinking, as straight as he could, he figured that his senses were overrun from thinking of how much he might like you and then having to see such a vivacious picture from you. It felt like a sign that it was time to finally fulfill the pleasure he'd been putting off. It was too much for him to handle- your beauty, the domesticity of the happy picture, in combination with his doting thoughts of you. And maybe he'd already been a little distracted to begin with, needing some form of release. It had been a very long time since he'd allowed that for himself.

     "Calm down, Steve," he muttered to himself, forcing a smile at Pepper, who was walking past him.

He finally got to his room and closed the door behind him, falling back onto his bed immediately. As he fiddled with the drawstrings on his sweatpants, he brought his phone up to make sure the image of you was still there. When he saw it still there on his screen, he sighed in dismay, thinking of what he was doing.

     He was almost embarrassed that you brought him to that point without even trying, arching his back off the bed to remove his sweats fully. He brushed it off and breathed out, eyes honing in on the image as he began to palm himself over his boxers. He groaned, feeling a sense of sweet relief already, just from his hands gently palming himself.

    He briefly thought back to the times when he had tried to get off by himself, tugging to no avail. This wouldn't be like those times. This would be gentle, and he already knew, by the burning feeling in his stomach, that it would bring him pleasure. He dipped his hand inside of his boxers, carefully guiding himself out. His hard length fell hard against his stomach and he grunted from his throat, his jaw ticking as he took himself in his hand and began to stroke slowly, breathing heavily through his nose like a routine.

    He was looking at the picture of you, but his mind began to wander to other things- flashbacks of you helping him get to that point through the screen, a sensation neither of you had experienced in quite a long time.

    "Fuck," he practically whimpered, the words spilling out of his throat so uncontrollably as he choked them out.

    He was missing those times dearly. As much as he was able to view you as a friend, nothing would compare to the way you made him feel. He didn't have you here to guide him at the moment, and for good reason - he didn't want you to, not now. You were trying to be friends for the time being, retain some sense of normalcy.

But, if you were there to guide him, he wouldn't complain. And even in this moment which was so unholy, he felt delicate, the light of the spring sunshine streaming through the window blinds and curtains, splayed across his room, painting the light blue walls with a sheen of pale yellow.

    At some point, he really wasn't even looking at the photo anymore, just focusing on the sensations and the visions of you that his mind made up. His eyes were closed, head to the side, his arm against his forehead. In his ears he heard your voice gasping out his name while you came, in his mind he pictured your slick pooling out of you as you finally removed your fingers, breathing heavily from an orgasm. Sure, you had been performing for him, but that didn't mean it wasn't truth. The sounds and images he imagined made him stroke himself quicker, pumping harder and faster than the slow, delicate strokes he'd started with. He tried to calm himself down, but the pleasure was unbeatable. He switched from those fast tempo strokes to the gentle strokes that felt so tantalizing. Your voice was fresh in his mind - but it wasn't all devilish. It came in your laughter, the sound of your voice as you sang along to a song on the radio and posted it on your story. Then it came with deep bass, the sound of you urging him to come, pleading him to come with you.

     The image of your eyes was prominent in his mind, coming in waves. Sometimes they came in strong, fierce tides as he pictured your eyes, staring into the computer screen while you wrapped your lips around a toy that you used to substitute for him, because he couldn't be there, but it felt so much like he was. Then sometimes they came in undulating, passionate waves as he pictured the crinkles that formed around your eyes when you smiled, the way you batted your lashes on screen.

   It was strange to have such fluctuating thoughts of you, ranging from filthy to innocent. Usually the thoughts when he was getting off were just filthy. This was new, and it seemed to pleasure him even more just to think of your smile, your innocent eyes. What was going on? He couldn't quite figure it out, nor did he care to in the moment. The thought of you, Moonrose, YN, and he came undone.

    He came groaning and panting heavily, weeks of unmet release painting his stomach and legs. His chest trembled as he took one last breath, took his hand off his eyes, and peeked out the window blinds at the dazzling, bright city just outside. He cleaned up silently, not thinking much because his mind was too excited to let him think.

And there were so many questions that lay unanswered: "why was he able to get himself to that point just by the thought of you?" "why had the thoughts been so strangely innocent and new?" And most of all, why did he even feel this way because of you?

    Then once he was all cleaned up, changing boxers in the bathroom, he took a good look at himself in the mirror, and the clarity hit. Firstly, he realized of course, he had to tell you. It wasn't like Steve to behave this way so suddenly and he felt like it was something he had to tell you. He hoped he wasn't being disrespectful, hoped what he had done wasn't weird. But he didn't let himself worry about that too much.

But not only did he have to tell you what he'd done, he realized he had to tell you how he felt. He had been wondering if it would get to the point that he would feel strongly enough about you that he had to tell you, and this incident seemed to be proof enough.

    All his sudden arousal, while valid and likely rooted in a need to get himself off, just meant one thing. He wasn't just frustrated sexually. His senses were running amok because he knew he liked you, and yet he wasn't expressing that fully. And maybe this release was what he needed to realize that. The feelings were only getting stronger and stronger with no real output. They made him happy, nearly giddy with excitement, but with nowhere to store it. He could have a crush and keep it that way, but Steve liked to find solutions. If he wasn't serious about you, maybe he'd keep it that way, with no outputs and no solutions.

     He was keeping something to himself, and it wasn't fair to him, nor was it fair to you. He felt so unhinged now because he wasn't realizing that yes, there would be a point when he had to tell you how he he felt. All of that frustration was built up tension physically and emotionally, just boiling inside of him.

All of the excitement, confusion, and intrigue he felt towards the prospect of maybe liking you romantically, of taking that step to a real relationship, had boiled over. He wasn't realizing that he had to tell you sooner than later. This was more than just a release. It was more like an epiphany.    

    And while the realization may have been sudden, he had done his thinking long and hard, even before he started talking to you like this. He could wait and milk over it for a little while longer, or he could tell you, and soon. But even though he knew he had to tell you, he had to choose the right moment. At least now he knew he had to tell you at all, instead of spending too much time wondering whether he even should, wondering if what he was feeling was real.

     Maybe it would be different if he got off to you and it was purely sexual. But this was more than that. He was genuinely overwhelmed by your beauty, inside and out. The thought of that was what brought him to orgasm. All those lighthearted, innocent thoughts of you made Steve feel so strongly, in both a physical and emotional sense.

     It was why he'd had an emotional response to the picture first, then a physical response. He thought of all the times he'd looked at pictures you sent with a smile, and felt genuine happiness bubbling up inside of him. No one else did that to him.

      If what had just happened said anything, it said that his feelings for you were real, they weren't just born out of naivety or because of the fact that Steve had never felt something like this before. It wasn't just about the sexual gratification or the physical, it was about why he felt so strongly towards you at all. If he could stir up these kinds of emotions, this kind of confusion, just by thinking about you, just by looking at you? He'd be surprised if it was all for naught.

✺ ✺ ✺

    You were surprised when Steve asked to FaceTime you that weekend. You were clueless about the events and feelings that had spiraled for Steve since you sent that picture, and thus curious to see what he was going to talk to you about. It had been a little over two weeks since you'd started talking to Steve ever since he showed you who he was, and you were so comfortable with each other already.

    Steve gave himself some time before he decided it was time to tell you. He knew he had to, but he was giving himself time to think it out, to decide whether or not this was really of the importance that he was holding it to, to decide, and really decide, if it would just be getting in the way of a good thing. But after much contemplation, he knew it wasn't a waste, especially because he didn't feel sick when he thought about it - aside from the butterflies.

    You on the other hand, were clueless. But you were excited. He was so formal and so busy that he scheduled a call. He also kept your schedule in mind. You had just finished finals and you were about to close up with school, a fact which you kept forgetting and surprising yourself with when you remembered. So, mindful of that and mindful of his own schedule, Steve made sure the time would be good for the both of you.

     And when the time came, you were excited. You hadn't heard Steve's voice conversationally in a long time, because texts and Snapchat weren't really built for that. And whatever it was he wanted to talk about, you were excited to hear, and you were glad that he was the one initiating these things all the time.

It made you feel like he really put effort into the friendship you were building, curating slowly like a sacred collection in a language only the two of you knew. You felt so close to him in such a short amount of time, but it made sense because you had known him for a long time - but you were only just now getting to know him.

    You got all cute for the call, because why wouldn't you? You were attracted to Steve and you couldn't lie and say that you didn't feel all girly at the thought of getting even closer to him, being more than friends. Like a little crush was budding, but it was playful and innocent. You felt like he was such a good example of the perfect man, and you were so glad to call yourself your friend. In Steve's eyes, it wouldn't take much effort for you to look pretty anyway, but you got all dolled up because you wanted to.

You were wearing a simple white dress that you made, and you put on just a pinch of makeup. You were sitting on top of your kitchen counter by the window, sunlight and a nice breeze trickling through your apartment when the call came in. It felt surreal to see his name on the screen each time, no matter how used to him you became.

    "Steve!" you exclaimed as soon as you picked up the call.

Finally you could see him face to face through the screen again. It reminded you of your times together on Girls on Film, but the circumstances were much, much different.

    Steve, once again, was struck with your beauty, and he felt his knees go weak just at the sound of your voice. This was no mistake.

     "Hey," he grinned, genuinely from ear to ear.

You both wanted to bask in the moment, talking to each other live, after quite some time. Steve wasn't showing it now, but he was nervous. Again that just told him he was making the right decision in telling you this. He was getting worked up over what to say to you, and you seemed so calm and control. Unbeknownst to him, you were also a little jittery, all for good reasons. It was just so exciting and nerve wracking to truly see him and hear his voice again, to truly talk to him.

       "You look so beautiful," he complimented you, his voice going a bit deeper, his eyes glistening as he took you in. You were basking in the sun, the sun's rays seemed to want to be around you, you drew them towards you.

     You blushed and smiled,

     "Thank you! You look really nice too."

      You giggled, becoming bashful as he smiled gently, and he continued,

     "How have you been? Finals over yet?"

    "Yeah, I just finished. It's weird, there's really not much else to do. We have one more week of classes to kind of just wrap everything up, but it's pretty much done," saying it out loud made you think of it again, gave you that weird feeling that everything really was about to be over. You would graduate in a few weeks, and start your life.

    It was crazy, four years had gone by so fast, but they had been so lovely. Your college experience was the most formative part of your life. You'd moved on from your life at home, gotten out of an abusive relationship, met your closest friends and gotten even closer to your best friend, started a brand, got your own apartment. started camming. You had really found your life. And you found Steve. It was crazy to think of, that in just a few weeks, that experience would be over with.

     "You okay?" Steve chuckled, because he noticed the deep sigh that you let out as you thought about it all. You were of course glad to move on with your life, but it made you think.

     You laughed too, shaking your head,

    "Yeah, sorry."

    "Don't be. What's on your mind?" he asked, leaning into the camera, making you feel like he was there with you.

    You grinned, glad that you could talk about this in such a way, without feeling the need to break down or be upset. You were simply moving on to the next stage in your life, and you couldn't be more excited.

      "I guess I'm just thinking of how crazy it is that I'm finally going to be finished with college. Like, I'm not going to any more school after this. When you've been in school your whole life, it's..."

      "I get it. It's like coming to something you're not used to, but it's just normalcy."

     "Yeah," you shrugged. "You know that better than anyone else, I bet."

   Steve laughed - it was true. He had to get used to things that everyone else found normal. He felt so out of place. These days he was getting used to it all, but certain things still surprised him or made him think he didn't completely fit in. It was part of the reason he hadn't given in to what he wanted with you, not completely, at least.

Because if he didn't fit in to the world around him, he figured he wasn't ready for a relationship. But maybe that was just what he needed to fit in better, to get along better. It wasn't fair to him to resist something he truly wanted because he felt like he didn't fit in. It was silly.

    "It comes and goes. But hey, I'm glad we're talking."

     "Yeah, me too," you smiled, and you bit down gently on your lip, furrowing your brows together out of curiosity. "Hey, you said you wanted to talk about something?"

     You watched as Steve seemed to brace himself, but you couldn't even begin to imagine the amount of thoughts swarming his mind right now. He was nervous for good reason. He had never expressed romantic feelings for someone before, which was also a reason that he took so long to give in, took so long to realize it was time to express those feelings. He felt innocent and small, almost timid. He had spent so long formulating his thoughts and what he would tell you, exactly how he would announce these feelings for you.

    "Yeah, I uh..." Steve folded his hands and just let himself try to focus and calm himself down. It worked, and he relaxed, enough to actually speak at least. "Listen, I've been thinking about this since we started talking. I think maybe I've always known it, but I'm only just realizing I should tell you about it."

"Yeah?" you prodded him, getting a little nervous yourself, only because the last time Steve got into a speech like this, you found out that he was Captain America. You wondered what else he could possibly have up his sleeve.

"Well, I should tell you that I've always resisted when it comes to you... to this. And I want you to know why. I think I just haven't felt this way for someone in a very long time, and it's never been like this. And I was afraid because we didn't know each other and being the person that I am, I just felt like I wasn't allowed to feel the way I was feeling. Like I shouldn't, like it might be dangerous or like I couldn't trust you fully. It's why I left. It's why I took so long to realize this."

     Your cheeks were heating up the more he spoke, your mind buzzing with ideas. You wondered exactly what he was getting to, but for some reason the butterflies in your stomach grew stronger. You started to stammer, wanting him to get to the point,

    "Steve, I-"

    "I'm getting there, just..." he took in a deep breath. It was time to finally say it. He was trying to explain himself, but started stumbling on his words. "It's um... it's hard for me to say things like this. I-I guess I never really have. I just- I... I... sorry, I'm—"

       Steve pinched his eyes with his fingers, shaking his head. It was endearing how it was hard for him to spit the words out- Captain America, stumbling over his words while he spoke to you.

    "Take your time," you giggled a bit, and the calm of your voice brought Steve back down to earth.

     "Gee, I guess I'm not that great with words. What I'm trying to say is — I like you. And I don't just like you, I mean, I have feelings for you. And I know we're trying to be friends and I'm happy with that, being your friend has been an honor to me. We've created a connection that is completely new to me— I've never known somebody the way I know you. But, I think... I think there's more there. I think that we both know that there could be more there. I don't know what that looks like, or if telling you will really change anything, considering our situation. But I see you as more than a friend. And it's about time I told you."

    Steve looked up, catching your reaction just in time. And to his relief, he felt confident in his confession. He didn't regret it, there was no reason to hide away, to cloak himself in fear. Yeah. It was about time he told you.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans Are Space Orcs, “Black Hole.”

I was walking, I tended to do that when I had to think, and today was a thinking kind of day. I’m not exactly a thinking kind of guy if I am being honest. Most of the time the inside of my head is a wasteland of song lyrics, movie clips, and microwave noises, but right now I had to try and figure some things out.

First and foremost I had been thinking about the spiderlings  a lot lately. It hurt e all over to think the things I was thinking now, but it had to be done. 

The spiderlings, when it came right down to it, were just kids like toddlers. They were still learning how to interact with people, they were still growing up, and admittedly, I wasn’t doing a very good job at parenting. First and foremost, however, was the fact that they shouldn’t even be on the ship in the first place. Children weren’t allowed on UNSC ships unless there was  rescue mission going on, or they were being transported for some reason.

No one else on the ship would be allowed to take their kids with them, so why should I. It sort of wasn’t fair if you thought on it for a little bit.

Number two, it wasn’t exactly fair to the spiderlings either. They needed some sort of education if they wanted to live in this universe as it was, and right now I didn’t have time to sit them down and teach them anything. I honestly couldn’t really do anything for them at all know that I thought about it. I was horrible at discipline and even worse at teaching them  the things they should know.

They needed a preschool or something where they could learn how to read and write, though I had no real idea where to do that.

I had been thinking about this a lot lately based on some of the things I had come to realize while I was gone on leave, the number one being that I took too much on my shoulders. N o one here except for me was expected to father and run a ship at the same time.

If anything I was doing the spiderlings a disservice by keeping them here.

It hurt me to say all of that because the aggressive controlling part of me doesn’t want to admit that I can’t do all of it all by myself.

But I can’t.

However, I do know someone who potentially could if she was going to do what she said she was going to do.

A part of my, however, didn’t want to contact Eris.

We hardly knew each other and to ask for favors would be a bit much. Arguably the adaptids were older than she was, meaning that choosing her to help me in this endeavour wasn’t fair to her either, but who else was I going to get to take care of them.

One thing is for sure, they needed a lot of things that I just couldn’t provide, and that meant I was going to ave to let go.

Made me sick to my stomach but there you had it.

I admired it.

I Can’t do it.

I turned the corner onto the bridge my mind made up. I would have to Call Eris when we were out of warp and see if she would take another couple of hybrids.

I made myself feel a little better by promising I would call and visit as often as I could, though it hurt me to think how the spiderlings might respond to me just up and leaving them.

I tried to remind myself that I wasn’t up and leaving them, I was doing what any other father in the UNSC would have to do and that was find them a place to stay and learn and grow and all of those other things, but a part of me still felt horrible.

To take my mind off of that decision, I turned my head towards  one of the bridge crew members, “Grab a tablet and follow me.”

They did as told, bot up and followed.

It honestly still surprises me when people follow my orders. Like I expect to have to explain or justify my reasoning to them, but instead they sort of just get up and walk over like that was supposed to be how it worked.

I  wasn’t totally convinced.

I motioned them to follow and together we walked down the hall.

I took my first stop in the medical bay where  Krill and Katie working quietly to deep clean the med bay while there were no patients to work on.

Krill looked up and his antennae buzzed slightly when he saw me. A frown crossed his face as he looked me over, expecting some sort of injury. I have him a smile and almost winked but then remembered that when you have one eye winking just looks like blinking.

Katie straightened up, “Good morning Commander.” She said with a wide smile.”

That would always surprise me to, when your friends call you by a title.

“Morning Doctor.” I responded in kind walking over with my assistant at my heels.

Krill seemed to relax, “how may we help you this morning, commander.”

I took a seat on the edge of one of the beds and bounced my foot up and down a bit as i thought, “I was just thinking about the ship and how it’s run.”

They looked at each other.

I held up a hand, “Don’t worry it’s nothing like that. I just realized the other day that I don’t really know how things work on my own ship despite trying to control everything all the time, so I am going to go around to all of the departments get and idea of how they work, and what they do, and how they might need my help if anything.” I motioned back towards my assistant, “Lt. McKinnon is going to take notes for me, and then later on I am going to meet with the Jedi council, and we are going to decide how best to delegate and meet the needs of the ship more effectively.”

Katie raised an eyebrow, “The Jedi council?”

“Yeah, that’s what I am calling it, and you can’t make me decide otherwise.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled and I smiled back.

If they thought my idea was dumb, they at least humored me.

As far as my involvement, there really was none, though I had to make sure that everyone was up to date on their medical evals and vaccinations, which was probably a job I could delegate to someone else, or at least give Katie and Krill the power to do, so I would have to look into that later.

I stood from there and together me and my assistant moved to the other departments before slowly coming around to the rec hall where I knew I might find a particular grou pf of people.

Cannon was there as I expected he would be playing pool with a group of other Drev.

Cannon was a good shot while the others were a couple seconds away from poking each other in the eye with the cues, but they were laughing and talking rapid fire in drev, fast eough that I was having trouble understanding just exactly what they were saying.

Cannon leaned over the table and took a shot sending one of the balls into a corner pocket with a satisfying clatter.

The other Drev groaned and he raised his fist in triumph.

I approached once Cannon won the game, and the big guy saw me coming  raising the pool cue in greeting like he might raise a spear. The other Drev did the same 

“Zhad tsak Hajee lasan jirhaat.”

I raised my hand and returned the greeting.

May your spear be sharp or something similar.

I kept the conversation mostly in Drev for the sake of the clan, “Cannon how are you this morning?”

He lifted his head to me, “Won seven duels and tested some of Chalan’s new weapons.” 

I smiled, “Ben busy than I see.”

“I always try to keep it that way.”

Cannon was the defacto clan leader. Technically it was either sunny or I, but Sunny wasn’t reall the clan leading type and I had everything else to run so that gave Cannon most command over the Drev, which is why I was here.

“Just coming in to make sure you guys have everything you need and see if there is anything that you guys need done. Cannon obviouly you are on the jedi council, so you’ll figure this out later, but I want to make sure eveyrthing is running smoothly. Is there anything your clan needs to discuss.”

Cannon tapped his fingers agaisnt his carapace beore pulling me aside by the arm.

“Tatazan is…. Pregnant so, what should I do about that?”

A ton of bricks for Commander Adam Vir.

I blinked blindsides by that afformentioned rockslide, “I uh…. Hmm that is complicated.”

I turned to look at the floor. I suppose it should ahve occured to me that when we took on an entire Drev clan that we were also taking on mated pares. Now the UNSC guidelines about being in relationships didn’t cover the Drev considering that their battle partners were always thir significant other so hiring a Drev would be impossible if the rule was followed.

But I had failed to recognize the ‘mated’ part of a mated pair.

“Well shit.” I muttered 

“This isn’t exactly ideal.”

Cannon nodded, “I think it might be best if the child is raised off the ship on Anin.”

“I tend to agree with you there.” I leaned in a bit, “I have been thinking about the same things for the spiderlings.”

He nodded knowingly.

“A ship is no place to grow up.”

I agreed no matter how much child me would have disagreed.

“We can discuss that in meeting tonight, though as clan leader you have the most say in this.”

He nodded his large head, “Where is my sister?” He wondered looking around for where she might be.

“I sent her off to play with making new weapons.”

“Sent her off?” Cannon chuckled in amusement

“Yeah, I think she worries about leaving me on my own, like I am going to set something on fire or something.”

“Have you set anything on fire/” He wondered wryly.

I smirked, “No but I’ve been thinking.”

“For you, that is actually worse than setting things on fire.”

The two of us laughed and I patted him on the arm as I returned him to the pool table and a second round of him kicking everyone’s ass.

Cannon was a good clan leader and had thrown himself into the work wholeheartedly. They respected him, and he got along with them. Not a day went by that you didn’t see him leading the Drev in some new sort of activity to broaden their horizons. I sortof wished Sunny would join them more often.  I think it would be good for her to speak her own language and have friends er own species, but I get why she tended to distance herself.

These Drev were from the same clan that mistreated her entire life, and memories lie that were difficult to forgive at times. Still, they had to be better than me, and I worried about her.

Sure spending her time being beautiful and nobley aloof all the time gave her an heir of…. Hmmm how shall I say…. Excitement and intrigue, but still…. I wanted her to be happy.

And as much as the greedy part of me wanted my friend all to myself I recognized that probably wasn’t a good thing.

I’d talk to her later about it I decided.

“Commander Vir to the  bridge, commander Vir to the bridge.”

I motioned my note taker to follow, and we hurried back to the bridge taking our seats. The captain’s chair was familiar at this point, but I still couldn’t shake off that tiny moment of thrill as I sat down.

“Report.”

“Warp ends in five minutes, commander.”

My heart pounded nervously in my chest. This was it, this was the big moment scientists had been waiting for forever. A real live real time picture of a black hole. Now it was important to keep away from the edge or risk time dilation, spegetiffication, and instant death. 

The kid in me was about to pee himself in excitement, but the Commander in me was intent on not letting everyone die.

I picked up the com on the rest of the ship inviting them to prepare for warp exit, and then told them to get their asses up to the observation deck to see something awesome.

When I put the mic down I was back in commander mode ordering the crew to ready themselves for this moment.

My eyes were fixed straight ahead.

This was going to be insane.

If we came out of this wrong, we could be caught in the event horizon and be…. 

Goners.

“Exiting warp in ten.”

I prepared to take manual control of the ship breath held trying not to imagine what would happen if we appeared at the edge of the event horizon sailing on a dust cloud of light as we plunged towards our death, a black pit of nothingness.

“One”

The warp drie disengaged, and we jolted violently as the air warped around us.

I slammed back in my seat taking immediate control of the ship waiting for any warning bells to go off signaling extreme  gravity,

I took a relieved sigh when there was none and lifted my head to the viewing window.

‘“Ho-ly shit.” I muttered 

The rest of the crew gasped.

It was…. Well it was wow.

IIf you guys have ever seen interstellar, I would go so far as to say that was pretty accurate.

From this distance the thing didn’t look so big, but the very marrow of my bones knew what it meant. The massive disk of light and dust that surrounded it slowly spiraling inward towards a pit of nothingness.

The halo ring of light that surrounded it glowed upward as unbelievable gravity refracted the back of the black hole towards the front.

It was like a dark eye in the middle of space staring outward at us unblinkingly as it lurked in the darkness...

This 

Was the center

Of the Milky Way. 

[yikesharringrove]

Hello! i don’t think i’ve given you any of my weird headcanons in a hot minute so here’s a new favorite! Steve with ADHD, at first nobody notices it, he gets along well enough as a young kid people just think he has an active imagination, when in real it y he just can’t pay attention. He’s in 5th grade when his teacher pulls him out of class and tells him he needs to start paying attention, Steve almost starts crying as he tries to explain to her that he just can’t, that it doesn’t work (pt.1)

(pt.2) so the teacher tells him to stay back after class that day, he totally forgets and almost ends up leaving just further probing her suspicions. She asks him to extol in what he means, he doesn’t know what to say, says that too many things are happening for him to pay attention in class, and that sometimes if he hears another teacher he’ll end up listening to that, or if he can look out a window he’ll get distracted, and she already knows what’s going on, calls his parents for a meeting

(pt.3) So his mom comes in, his dad “could make it” but that works out for steve because his mom actually gets him tested, and his test comes back positive so he has to take meds now and sure his grades aren’t the best but they are so much better and he can actually sit in class and focus, but randomly in his sophomore year tommy finds the pills and makes fun of him and he gets so embarrassed that he just stops taking them, and his grades drop bad and he can’t focus and he feels like shit 

(pt.4) he goes around like that for a while feeling lost and distracted but refusing to take his meds and be lame, he only starts taking them again after nancy breaks up with him because he needs to focus on something that isn’t the break up, but they aren’t working well which is to be expected he hasn’t taken them in more then a year, so he ends up totally freaking out and that’s how billy finds him, sitting on the bathroom floor with the WORST headache he’s ever had and he takes pity on him

(pt.5) billy and steve were kind of friends after the fight they had talked and worked things out, not super close but enough to not be so weird around each other anymore, so billy takes him home and makes sure he gets new meds and makes sure he keeps taking them and on days when he can tell steve is space and distracted and clearly forgot he’ll drive to his house and make him take them, and steve will bitch and moan but he actually loves that someone cares enough to make sure he’s ok

(optional pt.6) billy realizing he really likes steve when steve is talking about a special interest and getting super happy and he just can’t help but feel in love with him (is this totally based off my expletive with adhd? yes it is! is this the exact way my hug said she realized she love me? yes it is 🥰)

Hi! I have another one of your AMAZING headcanons in my drafts still, I’m working on it I’m sorry I’m the slowest writer ever.

So, I think I’ve said this, but ADHD makes A LOT of sense for Steve. I don’t have ADHD, so I’m sorry if this is in accurate, I did some research, didn’t want this to be like, bad.

Also, I put him on Ritalin for timing purposes and bc it can cause panic attacks. 🤷‍♀️ and his favorite animals are giraffes, goats and lobsters, 3 of my favorite animals.

Read on ao3

When Steve was little, he could never focus on something for longer than ten minutes.

He would be running through the house, leaving toys on the ground when he remembered a game he could play in another room. His nannies would roll their eyes, picking up after him.

When he got to school, it was more of the same. He would get distracted by every bird that he could see outside. He would be in the middle of class, the teacher would say something about giraffes and his mind would race about animals, would think about every country in Africa he could name, would think about whether or not Lithuania was in Africa.

His grades would slip, tests were a nightmare when he got caught up watching a bee buzzing near the window, only to realize he had answered three questions and only had eleven minutes left.

He was always a poor student, until fifth grade.

Mrs. Wilson had called him up after class, had noticed him zoning out and was about to chide him when she noticed the tears in his eyes.

“I just, I don’t know what happens, sometimes, my thoughts go too fast for my own brain and I can’t focus.” He was sniffling across from her.

“Steve, I’m going to have a chat with your parents. You’re not in trouble, but I think we can help you.” She smiled as she pat his shoulder, letting himself get collected before going to his next class.

She called his parents in at the end of the day, his mother sitting in the seat next to Steve, the principal joining them.

“I’ve noticed some trends in Steve’s school work and his presence in class. We think it may be in his best interest to test him for attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. We feel that pinpointing the problem for him may be more helpful moving forward.

Mrs. Harrington agreed, waved her hand in a way that said she was bored of the conversation. Steve spent the whole next Saturday going through various tests, was wrung dry by the end of the day, but left with a clear diagnosis.

He began taking a low does of Ritalin, began focusing in class. His grades skyrocketed, getting the very first B+ he had ever gotten on his English essay.

He was okay until sophomore year.

He was an okay student, could focus in class, but not necessarily retain or understand the information.

But then Tommy found the pills, had laughed at him and called him retarded, the word that had haunted him his whole life, spat at him by the father that didn’t care about him.

So he flushed the pills, never refilled his prescription.

His grades slipped immediately. He wasn’t able to focus in class, had gone back to the days of staring out the window and getting confused about why it was called a square root.

He was constantly moving, would bounce his leg, would tap his pencil, would sometimes take the hall pass and just walk.

He knows taking his meds would fix the problem, but he had Nancy know, didn’t want her to know this weakness of his, this shameful secret.

But then he didn’t have Nancy, and his thoughts were racing, jumping from Nancy to demodog to Barb to Billy to his dad to Nancy to demodog to Barb to Billy to his dad to Nancy to-

He broke down February of senior year.

Graduation was soon as Steve’s grades were ass. He needed to focus on something that wasn’t Nancy, demodog, Barb, Billy, his dad. So he filled his old prescription, took the same does he had two years ago and went to school.

When he was first put on the meds, he was told panic attacks and anxiety could be a side effect. He had never experienced that before, but now, now he lived in constant anxiety, and with his Ritalin, he was a mess.

He had locked himself in the bathroom above the gym, the one nobody uses. He was on the floor, trying to ground himself against the wall, trying to think of anything other than Nancy, demodog, Barb, Billy, his dad, Nancy, demodog, Barb, Billy, his dad, Nancy, demodog, demodog, demodog, demodog-

“Pretty Boy?”

Billy was in front of him, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at Steve.

“B-Billy?”

“You okay? You’re kinda, kinda losin’ it.”

“I, I went off my meds for a, a few years, and I put myself back on them, and it’s, I, I know it’s lame, but they usually help and now-” he sobbed as Billy pulled him into his chest, soothing him softly.

“What meds?”

“Ritalin. It’s for, for ADHD.” Billy huffed a laugh.

“I fuckin’ knew it. The way you talk a mile a damn minute.” Steve’s heart sank. “And it’s not lame. Some peoples’ brains are just, wired different.”

Steve was starting to calm down, the anxiety shoving over into a raging headache. He groaned into Billy’s shoulder.

“What’s up?”

“Head hurts.”

“Want me to take you home.” Steve just nodded, his eyes squeezed shut. Billy drove him home, sat with him while Steve called his doctor, made an appointment for next weekend.

Steve had gotten a new medication, adjusted to his current state. The new meds were like magic, allowing Steve to focus when he needed, wouldn’t let him fall into hyperfocus on something that wasn’t productive. He finished senior year on a good note, with okay-enough grades to score his diploma.

He spent the summer at Scoops, working alongside Robin.

Billy came in every day. Would sit with him on Steve’s break. On the days Steve seemed more spaced, he would marrow his eyes, would say you didn’t take your meds today, would drive to Steve’s house to get them for him, would make sure he took them, would take drinks out of Steve’s hands at parties, would make sure he wouldn’t do anything to interfere with them, would dread the days he would find Steve nauseous from the meds.

Bonus:

Steve realized he was in love with Billy when he found out Billy starting keeping a small store of Steve’s meds in his car, would update them periodically to make sure they were safe, effective.

Billy realized he was in love with Steve when he was talking about every animal he could name. He showed Billy the small library of books he had bought for himself about animals, could explain the difference between kingdom, class, phylum, and genus. Was throwing out Latin names for his favorite animals, giraffa camelopardalis, capra aegagrus hircus, nephropidae. Billy couldn’t help himself, had just leaned over and kissed him, left Steve giggling as they made out.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 75

Warnings: none

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

Koen arrives shortly before ten in the evening. A paper bag full of bottles of booze under one arm and a tattered and weathered backpack slung over the other; looking slightly worse for wear, even for him. He’s always been dishevelled and unkempt at best, but the pace and the intensity of the job has taken its toll on him; his beard thicker and and boasting more strands of gray, his face and body remarkably thinner and marred by both old and fresh bumps, bruises and contusions that will definitely scar. But that old familiar glitter is still in his eyes; the one that speaks of mischievousness and trouble and gives away his quick and sometimes cutting tongue before he even opens his mouth. The last three weeks have been hell on everyone involved; physically AND mentally. Bodies being consumed by near constant pain, little sleep and poor diet while their brains are subjected to fear, stress, and the overwhelming worth that comes each step out the door and onto the street.

But it’s almost over; the finish line finally in sight. With the list complete, only Mahajan himself and Asif’s people remain; the latter extra hurdles they never expected to confront. No one ever stopped to consider that Mahajan’s reach extended further than India, or that anyone would be able to get to Neysa and Aarav. Nathan is nothing more than a ‘tag along’; extra weight that has to be carried. And his true involvement and whether or not he IS the mole, is yet to be determined. To an untrained eye, it would be easy to see Nathan as another victim; the multitude of injuries and the defiance caught on video. But there’s too many unanswered questions to just let him off the hook. Too much suspicion and things that can’t be explained revolving around his disappearance and sudden reappearance, and it would be foolish -and possibly deadly- to let your guard down around him.

“Am I ever fucking glad to see your ugly face,” Koen says, as he sets both bags down on the kitchen table and then tightly embraces Tyler.

This isn’t one of his usual hugs. It’s warm and genuine; filled with enormous relief and a little gratitude that they've both survived long enough to get a moment like this. And when he pulls away -holding Tyler at arms length, a hand coming up to clasp him on the back of the head before tightly cupping it- there’s something even more unfamiliar in his eyes: a shimmer of tears and honest, pure affection. Normally Tyler would jump on it and rib his old friend about something like that; in the same way Koen would do to him if the situation was reversed. But now is not the time. The last three weeks have felt like three years; everyone involved is exhausted and hurting and relying on nothing more than adrenaline -the hope of it all sending soon- to keep them going. And there’s the strong possibility that someone -or more than one person, even- won’t make it out alive. The realization that the person standing in front of you might not survive and this could very well be the last time you ever see them.

“You good?” Koen ruffles the hair at the back of Tyler’s head. “How you feeling? You sure look a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

“I’m alright, I guess. Could be better, could be worse.”

“What’s the pain like? That guy fucked you up pretty good.”

“I’ve had worse.” It’s not entirely a lie. When he’d woken in the hospital seven years ago, the agony had been intense; there hadn’t been a single inch of his body that hadn’t hurt. Since then he’s lived in chronic pain. Some days he’s able to manage and others he can barely get out of bed in the morning. This is a new level of discomfort; increasing and worsening mobility issues, the pins and needles in his right hand, the need for more and more meds to just take the edge off.

“Well you look good. Hell of a lot better than the last time I was with you. Which doesn’t take much, considering you were covered in your own puke and piss and I had to undress you and toss you in the shower.”

Tyler smirks. “I remember when that used to be a sign of a really awesome Friday night.”

Koen cracks a grin at that. “We’re both getting way too old for that shit. And you’ve past it, thank Christ. I honestly thought one day I’d show up at your place and find you dead. About time you smartened the hell up and got your shit together.”

“Guess all I needed was a kick in the ass.”

“A kick in the ass from the right person, you mean. ‘Cause I spent years kicking you in the ass and it did nothing but make you worse. I guess the kick had to come from a hot little brunette to have any effect on you.”

“Yeah…” Tyler grins. “...I guess it did.”

“Can’t say I blame you. She’d be all the motivation I’d need, too. Figure we should be both thanking our lucky stars that she came around when she did. Had it even been a couple months later…”

“Trust me; every day I’m grateful for that. Every goddamn day. For the past seven years.”

“Good. Because you should be. Because even though you were a fucking wreck, she stuck around. She could have easily taken one look at you and thought ‘damaged goods’ and hauled ass on out of there. And to be honest, I wouldn’t have blamed her. You were a lot to handle. She must be made of tough stuff, because she wasn’t afraid of your shut or to put a foot up your ass.

“She’s still not afraid of that. And she is. Tough. Strong. A lot stronger than she gives herself credit for.”

“That’s exactly what you need,” Koen declares. “A strong woman. Someone to challenge you and to keep challenging you. Although I do question her sanity. No one in their right mind would hook up with the likes of your sorry ass.”

“I lost my sanity a long time ago,” Esme says, as she descends the stairs. “Why do you think I have five kids? Do you think anyone with a shred of sanity left would do that to themselves?”

“I thought it was because he couldn’t stay off ya and you don’t know the word ‘no’.”

“I admit, it IS hard. He’s devastatingly handsome and can be very persuasive.”

“Devastatingly handsome?” Koen scoffs. “Sweetheart, you are blind as shit. How’s it going, kiddo?” He embraces Esme warmly, then presses a kiss to each cheek. “Looking lovely, as always.”

“Now who’s blind as shit? I look like the offspring of a dumpster fire and a train wreck. But I appreciate you trying to feed my ego.”

“Don’t even argue with her,” Tyler says. “For every good thing you bring up, she’s got five bad things that exist only in her own mind.”

Esme sighs. “In case you haven’t noticed, Tyler is either completely blind, or totally biased. Koen, if your wife asked you if she looked like a mess...and not a hot one...would tell the truth?”

“Telling the truth is the reason I have so many ex wives. But in all fairness, my ex wives WERE messed. Had any of them looked like you, I’d probably still be married and the happiest sonofabitch on the planet. Now tell me…” he slings an arm across her shoulders and pulls her into his side. “...he been treating you right? Because if he hasn’t…”

“He’s been a complete gentleman. Except for the times I don’t want him to be. And those are X rated and not for your precious little ears, so…” she presses a kiss to his cheek, then moves towards the fridge.

“I do not need to know about all the kinky shit you two do. You been keeping him in line? Making sure he pulls his weight? Because you tell me just one bad word, and…”

“He’s been amazing. Even more amazing than usual. Sorry, Koen; I’m not leaving him for you. Not yet anyway.”

“So you’re saying there’s a chance?” He grins, then nudges Tyler with his elbow. “You into sharing, mate?”

He scowls. “Fuck you. That’s my wife. What’s wrong with you?”

“Remember that one girl in Melbourne? About twelve years ago? The blond with the big…”

“There’s a woman in the room!” Esme pipes up, and snags a vitamin water from the fridge. “I do not need to hear these things.”

“You didn’t mind sharing her,” Koen points out.

“That was a random at a bar. That…” Tyler nods in Esme’s direction. “...is my wife. The mother of my kids. I don’t share. Not when it comes to her.”

“As much as I’d love to stay down here and listen to raunchy and disturbing stories from my husband’s sexual past, I have a bubble bath calling my name,” Esme says. “And quite frankly, I prefer to pretend he was somewhat innocent and virginal when we met.”

Koen snorts. “There’s been nothing innocent or virginal about him since he was about fourteen.”

She frowns. “I’m ignoring you now. I’m turning my ears off. Because I do not need to hear or know about these things. I’m going to go upstairs and pamper myself and do girly shit and you two can stay down here and talk about your sexual conquests. But I swear to God, if my ears start to burn, I will beat the hell out of both of you.”

“I would never do that,” Tyler assured her. “Talk about you like that.”

“He lies,” Koen speaks up. “He talks about you like that all the time. The things I know about you…”

“Fuck off,” Tyler snarls. “I’ve never talked about her like that with you. That’s wishful thinking on your part.”

“I’m just warning you both.” She places a hand on her husband’s hip, standing on her tiptoes as he leans down to press a soft, brief kiss to her lips. “I am in no mood for fuckery.”

“What are you in the mood for?” Koen quips, the mischievous glitter back in his eyes as he bounces up and down on his heels. “I hear chubby, balding guys can really get shit done.”

Tyler glares at him, then slaps him upside the head. “What the fuck is wrong with you? That’s my wife.”

“Sorry Grandpa Koen,” Esme smirks. “I’m a one man woman.”

“Grandpa Koen?” He feigns insults, a hand clasped over his heart. “That’s harsh. Why do you have to break a bloke’s heart like that?”

She grinning over her shoulder as she climbs the stairs. “Goodnight, boys.”

****

Two hours and a bottle and a half of scotch later, they sit at the kitchen table, reminiscing on days long past. Military missions served together and the camaraderie and the rare laughs and lighthearted moments while overseas. Hiking and camping and hunting trips that they’ve taken -along with Rata- and the handful of times they’d simply packed up and travelled for weeks on end; nothing where they ended up or how they got there.

He was nineteen when he first met Koen; fresh out of basic training, too cocky for his own good, and in desperate need of an attitude adjustment and real experience to knock the chip off his shoulder. Koen had been a staff sergeant then; already grizzled and combat weary and sick of the ‘little shits’ like Tyler that passed his way; the ones with their heads shoved up their own asses, who thought they were something special for getting through training in one piece. Koen had made it his personal mission to make his life as miserable as possible; treating him lower than dirty in order to rid him of what Koen had called ‘pukey personality’. He’d seen something in that nineteen year old kid; the promise of becoming a damn good soldier. And it had worked; all the physical and mental punishment completely broke him; transitioning him into someone he no longer recognized. It had unknowingly led to the worsening of some things; the toxic masculinity that had been beaten into him thanks to his old man, and a propensity to drink way too heavily. Being that good of a soldier...as nothing more than a killing machine in his eyes...had made him feel invincible; each successful tour leaving him feeling ten feet tall and bulletproof. And had eventually led him to the job and that sick and twisted desire to seek out one suicide mission after another.

“You alright?” Koen asks, as he pours himself another drink. “You got a little quiet on me there.”

“I’m alright,” Tyler confirms, and runs a palm along the side of his glass. It’s only his second of the night. Starting off by promising to pace himself; not wanting to drink too much considering the amount of painkillers -well beyond the prescribed amount- he’s been taking. But he’d quickly realized it was more than that. He simply didn’t enjoy it anymore; all the cravings and the need and the taste for it somehow disappearing since the incident a week and a half ago.

“You sure? Haven’t seen you look THAT serious in a long time. What’s going on?”

“I need you to do me a favor.”

“Sounds intense.”

“About as intense as it gets.”

Koen sips his drink. “What’s it about?”

Tyler pushes his glass aside and reaches into the side pocket of his cargo shorts. Pulling out a handwritten letter -two pages long- sealed in an envelope. And he issues a heavy, shaky sigh and offers it to his friend.

Koen’s eyes narrow. “What the hell is this?”

“If anything happens to me, you have to give this to Esme. I need her to read it. She HAS to read it.”

“Fuck you, Tyler,” the older man snarls. “I’m not taking no death letter.”

“You have to. You NEED to. If anything happens to me…”

“Stop talking that shit. I won’t listen to it. I won’t…”

“I need you to fucking do this!” he snaps, then roughly grabs his friend’s hand and shoves the letter into it. “She needs to read it. And I need you to give it to her. You keep it and if anything happens to me, you make sure she gets it. This is important to me, okay? I need her to read it. And I need you to promise me that you’ll make sure she does.”

“Why wait? Why wait until it’s too late? Why not tell her these things now? So she knows. Wouldn’t you rather she knows before? Why the fuck…?”

“She knows. She knows I love her. She knows I love her with everything I am and everything I have. But there’s things in there I can’t say. Or I feel like I can’t say properly. And I NEED her to know those things. If something happens to me, it’s important she knows. I need you to do this.”

Koen downs half of his drink and then stands up, reluctantly sliding the envelope into the back pocket of his jeans. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that? The things I don’t fucking do for you. Taking a goddamn death letter.”

“Just promise you’ll give it to her. If I don’t make it out of here, promise me you’ll make sure she gets that. You have no idea how important it is to me.”

“I’ll make sure. What about your kids? They might like something from their daddy. You know...if…”

“I already did something for them. A video. Ovi has it. He’ll make sure they see it. And that Addie will watch when she’s old enough to understand.” It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell him about the new baby, but mere though of it...the realization that he could leave a pregnant wife behind and there’d be a child he’d never get to see- is just too fucking painful. Ovi knows; he’d made the kid take a vow of secrecy after telling him to make sure all the kids saw the video when they’re old enough. Even the one that’s still inside their mother’s belly.

“Well let’s hope she never has a reason to read it,” Koen says. “And that those kids never have to see that video. You do whatever it takes to get your ass out of there. Alive. And I’ll do whatever I have to on my end to make sure it happens. This isn’t it. It CAN’T be it. Not when you just found all of this. A wife and kids. A family. A REAL goddamn family. This can’t be it.”

“I sure as fuck hope it isn’t.” He doesn’t bother to hold back the tears that manage to escape; hot against his skin as they slip down the sides of his nose and his cheeks. His chest burns and aches. Not the kind of agony that comes with anxiety, but the suffering that comes with heartache and grief and tremendous loss. Not even the swallow of scotch -in an attempt to clear the lump of emotion from his throat- helps, and he places an elbow on the table and his palm against his forehead. Eyes closed as he struggles to keep it together.

“It’s alright,” Koen’s voice is surprisingly quiet and calm, and there’s an audible creak as he leans forward in his hair; hand both heavy and comforting against the back of Tyler’s head. “It’s alright now, son. It’s okay to be like this. You can be this way with me. I got you.”

“If it was just me, I wouldn’t give a shit,” his voice cracks with emotion as the tears continue to fall. “Seven years ago, I wouldn’t have cared if I made it out. But now I have her and I have my kids and I can’t...I can’t leave them. I’m not ready to leave them.”

“No one says you’re going to. It’s not a sure thing. You’re a tough, stubborn bastard.”

“I don’t want to die. I don't want this life to be over. Before her, I was ready. I wanted to die; I wanted all the bullshit to be over. I hated my life and I hated myself and I didn’t fuck care if someone put a bullet in me. And I then I met here and everything changed. I changed. She didn’t look at me like I was a pathetic, cowardly piece of shit and she made me feel things I hadn’t felt in a long time and I never thought I’d feel again. And maybe it was wrong; how things happened, where they happened. But it felt right. For the first time in a long time, something felt right. Something felt good. It felt fucking amazing. And I should have pushed her way. I should have stopped it. But I didn’t. Because I didn’t want it to stop. I didn’t want to lose her.”

“It was a weird situation maybe,” Koen says. “But it doesn’t mean it was wrong. Look how things turned out. Look at the life you made. Together.”

“I don’t want that life to be over. I don’t want to leave her. Or my kids. I want to grow old and gray with her and I want to see my kids graduate high school and go to college and get married and have kids of their own. I want ALL of that. But I’m fucking terrified none of will happen. That when I left my kids this morning, that was it. That I’ll never see them again. That I won’t even get to see Addie take her first steps or celebrate her first birthday. There’s so much I don’t want to miss and I’m scared I will.”

“I know…” Koen’s fingertips dig into his scalp as he firmly massages it. “...I know…”

“Everything that is good in me is because of her. Because she found it and she brought it out. And she’s the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. Her and those kids. And I’m not ready to leave them.”

“And you’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn’t happen. And so will I on my end. I’ve got you. I’ll bust my ass to make sure you get back to your family. You hear me?”

“Yeah,” he nods, and uses his elbow to push his friend away. “I hear ya.”

“You good? You get it all out?”

“I think so. I guess I needed to do that; get it out.”

“You’ve been trying to hold it together for her,” Koen reasons, and returns to his seat. “But even guys like you need someone you can fall apart with. And I guess that someone is me; lucky bastard that I am.”

Tyler gives a small laugh, then uses the back of his hand to clear the remaining tears away. “There’s something else.”

“Jesus Christ. Are you trying to kill me?”

“Esme knows what she has to do; if something happens to me. She knows to take the money and the kids and leave. But I need someone to keep their eye on them. I need someone to make sure they’re okay. No matter where they end up. And I know this a hell of a lot to ask…”

“I’ll do it. You know I will.”

“Wherever they go, I need you to go with them. You don’t have to stay forever. Just until she’s doing alright and the kids are settled and doing okay. And if you could do that for me…”

“I already said I would. I’ll make sure they’re alright. Nothing will happen to them. Not on my watch,”

“But I swear to God, if you even think of making a move on her, I will come back and haunt your ass.”

Koen laughs at that, then reaches across the table to tousle Tyler’s hair. “You’re going to be okay, you hear me? You’re going to get out of this. You’re going to walk in there, get shit done, and you’re going to walk back out and go back to your family. And then all of this...all this talk...will have been for nothing.”

“I hope so,” Tyler says, and downs the remains of his drink. “I really fucking hope so.”

****

It’s just past one in the morning when he steps into the master bedroom, moving about it’s darkened confines with the aid of the moonlight. Removing the holster and gun from his hip and placing it in the top drawer of the nightstand, then slipping out of his shorts and t-shirt; tossing both on top of the open duffle bag that sits in front of the closet. And he briefly lingers at the side of the bed, listening to her soft breathing and watching as her body rises and falls with each inhale and exhale. Sound asleep; on her side with her back towards the door.

The pain in his chest and the knot in his stomach return with a vengeance; those thoughts of possibly never getting those moments with her again. He can’t get it out of his mind; how close he’d been to ending things only to find someone -when he hadn’t expected to- capable of snatching him off that ledge. Seven years. Spent with the person that saved him in every way a person can be saved. Who has proved time and time again that she loves every inch of him; all the good, all the bad, and everything in between. Every imperfection, every scar; both inside and out. Who taught him what it was to love again; to actually laugh and smile. And who has helped him make even more life; selflessly giving up her own body to do it.

How do you ever tell that person how you feel? Especially when you don’t think there’s words that can even come close to describing it?

Slipping into bed behind her, he presses his front to her back; lips in her hair as he trails his fingertips across her shoulder and slowly down her arm. Over the curve of her elbow and down to her wrist before moving along the top of her hand and then each finger. Memorizing every inch through touch; her skin soft and beautiful. Pressing a kiss to the back of her head when she pushes her fingers through his and tightly squeezes.

“What time is it?” she sleepily inquires.

“It’s late.”

“How late?”

“Just after one.”

“You been drinking?”

“Just had a couple,” he admits, then moves their joined hands down to her stomach. Smiling at the feel of that little bump. It’s smooth and it’s soft and even after four others, it’s incredible. The mere thought that there’s a living being in there. One that he had a hand in making. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“I shouldn't have had any. Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic, yeah?”

“Honestly, I’m surprised you HAVEN’T drank. That you’ve fought as hard as you have. I wouldn’t have blamed you or thought less of you if you’d slipped. This has been hell on earth.”

“I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I NEVER want to be him again. You deserve better than that. So do our kids.”

“You’re a good man, Tyler Rake. Regardless of what you think about yourself sometimes. I knew it the moment I met you; that you weren’t like everyone else. It was in your eyes. There was this softness and this vulnerability and it was unlike anything I’d ever seen in any of the other mercs I’d come in contact with. You were different. I remember the first time we were here, and we’d have those long, serious talks that went into the early hours of the morning and I’d wonder how the hell someone like you ever got mixed up in a world like this.”

“Yeah, well we both know the reason behind that. I didn’t exactly hide it from you.”

“But you could have. And you didn’t. Right off the hop you were so honest and raw and it was...I don’t know it...it was beautiful.”

“Oh fuck...not THAT word.”

“It was, “ she insists. “It WAS beautiful. Because you were just so out there with everything. You didn’t hold anything back. There’s nothing you DIDN’T tell me. You told me about your mom and you dad. Your ex. Austin. You were just so breathtakingly real and honest and it was refreshing. To be with someone like that. Who didn’t try and pretend to be something he wasn’t. It was raw and it was emotional and I SAW you. And you let me see you. That was definitely not just two people using each other for sex. Now, had you just rolled over and gone to sleep…”

He laughs into her hair. “I never wanted THAT.”

“It was surprising. Not the things you told me, but the fact you told me at all. I didn’t expect that from you.”

“I didn’t expect that from myself,” Tyler admits.

“Why did you do it? Just open up like that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just trusted you. Guess there was something about you that made me feel comfortable doing it. A lot of what I told you? No one else knows that stuff. Not even Koen. Guess my instincts told me you were good people. Very good people.”

“You thought you could scare me away didn’t you. When you told me about Austin. You thought that would make me think less of you.”

He nods.

“You made a mistake. You were younger and you were scared and you made a bad decision.”

“Worst possible decision.”

“It didn’t even come close to scaring me away. It made my heart hurt for you. And him. But it didn’t make me think less of you. I could never think less of you.”

“So no matter what, you’ll always think the sun shines out of my ass?”

She giggles. “Always.”

He raises his head to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then rests his cheek against hers. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s okay. I hadn’t been sleeping for very long. I’m having a hard time. I miss the kids.”

“So do I. But Koen called and checked up on them for us. Everything’s fine. They’re happy and they’re safe and they haven’t beaten the shit out of each other. Yet.”

“Yet,” she laughs. “That’s the key word. And we both know who the one beating the shit out of people will be.”

“Yep. Your daughter has quite the temper.”

“She’s just my daughter now, is she? And who do you think she gets her temper from?”

“You.”

“Oh bullshit. She’s just like you and you know it. And you’re proud of it, too. Don’t even try and deny it. I know you how much like that fact that she’s your mini me.”

“She’s my baby. My first. Well, my first after...you know…”

“Your miracle baby.”

He smiles and places a kiss to her temple. “Exactly. She’s one that made me a dad again. Never thought in a million years I’d get another chance at that. And then she came along. I mean, you did have a little part to play in all of it.”

“Just a little. I only carried her for nine months. And then what happens? She comes out just like you. Even the nurse in the delivery room had to point it out; how she had your eyes and your nose and your ears and your hair. I was like, well fuck you too then.”

Tyler laughs and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“I remember when the nurse gave her to you and you just tucked her into you and she stopped crying and she just looked up at you with those huge eyes.”

“And I cried.”

“Yeah…” she smiles and tightens her hold on his hand. “...you cried. And it was beautiful. You were so happy that she was finally here. I think it was the happiest I’d ever seen you. It was like all the pain and all your past was just gone and your face was so soft and so perfect. Nothing existed outside of her. And you looked at her like you couldn’t believe she was even real.”

“She was beautiful. She still is.”

“I think at that moment...seeing you with her...I fell so in love with you. Even more than I already was. And it was kind of crazy and scary, because I already loved you a hell of a lot. I didn’t think it was possible to love someone THAT much. Sometimes I still don’t. I’ll watch you with Addie or playing with Declan or helping TJ and Tanner with their homework and I’ll think ‘God, I love him’.”

He grins against her ear. “And you have the nerve to call me sappy?”

“I can’t help it. I’m feeling all sappy and emotional. I think it’s the fact we’re back here. Of all places. It makes me think about us. How we started and where we’ve ended up. All good things. All very good things.”

“I was thinking about when I woke up in the hospital and you were there. How you were the first person I saw and I was so fucking relieved you were there. I didn’t know if you even made it off the bridge. And even if you did, if you’d stick around.”

“Of course I stuck around,” she releases her hold on his hand and rolls over onto her side to face him. “I went to all that trouble to keep you alive. You really think I wouldn’t stick around to see the result of my handiwork?”

“I guess not.” He presses a kiss to the tip of her nose then drapes a leg over her and places a hand on the small of her back.

“You okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re worried, aren’t you. About tomorrow. Or today. About me going out there.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“You know how you always say you’re not a rookie? Well neither am I.”

“I know. But it doesn’t make me feel any better about it Especially when you have my baby in there.”

“I’ll be careful. I’ve had seven years of learning from the best. And Koen will be with me. He’ll make sure I’m okay.”

“He better. Or it’s his ass.”

“You have to trust me. I’d never do anything to put myself...or this baby...in harm’s way.”

“I do. I do trust you.”

“What if I can’t get the information? What if no one will give me any? Then we’re totally fucked. And not a good, fun way either.”

“If that happens, we go to plan B.”

“You let them know you’re here.”

Tyler nods.

“What’s plan C?””

“There is no plan C.”

“Maybe there should be. So we don’t have to rely on plan B.”

“Baby…” he skims his knuckles up and down her spine. “...we talked about this.”

“I’m allowed to change my mind And I’m changing it. That is NOT a good idea; letting them know you’re here. What ever happened to the element of surprise? It goes a long way. They want to lure you here, but they don’t need to know you’re here.”

“I’ll only go to plan B if you can’t get me information.”

“Okay…” Esme frowns. “...that is a lot of peer pressure. I haven’t done this in awhile. Since before Addie.”

“Addie’s only three months old. It’s not like she’s a year or a couple years.”

“So what? Ten months? Since I did this kind of thing? We found out about her during all of that.”

“Who’s the one that found out where Ovi was?”

“That took me four days.”

“It took Nik a week just to narrow down Dhaka,” he points out.

“Four days is horrible. My track record was way better than that before. Four days is embarrassing.”

“You’re too hard on yourself.”

“I should have had it in twenty four hours. Thirty six at the most.”

“I’m kind of glad it took as long as it did. I had a pretty good five days.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that much. It wasn’t a TOTAL failure. But four days? For me? That is shameful.”

“If it makes you feel better, it only took two from the day you showed up on my porch to convince me to sleep with you.”

“Oh, I had to convince you now, did I? You admitted you would have done it the first night had I wanted a booty call.”

“Well then you should be very proud of yourself. It only took you a couple hours to convince me to give it up.”

“Sorry if I don’t feel my ego inflated because you were horny and desperate.”

“Hey, if I’d been desperate, I would have fucked Nik.”

“That…” she scrapes her nails along his jaw and then taps a fingertip against his chin. “... is a very good point actually. I’m glad you held out an extra couple of days. I hope it was worth it.”

“It was SO worth it.”

“I was very impressed. When I see you naked. I had expectations.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You did?”

“I did. Very high ones, actually. You lived up to them. And then some. You definitely fit the old ‘big hands, big feet’ adage. I wanted to see if it was a myth. I quickly found out it was not.”

“You also thought the G spot was a myth.”

“I found out pretty quick that it isn’t. You were really on the ball those five days.”

“Had to leave a lasting impression,” Tyler reasons. “Wanted you to come back for me.”

“You left a lasting impression, alright. One that lasted nine months and weighed eight pounds, three ounces. That’s quite the impression to leave.”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really not. That’s the one good thing...the one amazing thing...that came out of all that bullshit. Besides us.”

“Nice to see you finally admit we’re a good thing,” she teases. “I think we’re pretty amazing. But hey, that’s just my humble opinion.”

“We are. We are pretty amazing.”

“And we’re stronger together than we are apart. You’ve always said that. And that’s why we need to trust each other. With this. We have to trust each other more than we ever have. That’s the only way we’ll get out of here. That we’ll BOTH get out of here.”

He gives a small smile of agreement, then runs his palm up her back and all the way to the nape of her neck; squeezing lightly as he pulls her into a kiss. Long and slow at first; closed mouth upon closed mouth and their bodies brushing against each other. It’s her that takes the first step towards turning it into something more. Fingers pushing into his hair and tightly gripping it; pressing her body against his as her tongue pushes its way past his lips and teeth. Quickly transforming the moment into something much more desperate and needy.

“I want you,” she breathes, her lips finding the side of his neck, teeth scraping against the tattoo and the scar that mars the skin. “I want you and I need you. I need to feel you inside of me.”

He shudders at her words, then leans his weight into her and pushes her onto her back. Her fingers still in his hair and her eyes fluttering closed as his hands and his mouth behind their slow, torturous worship of her body.

[horansqueen]

AM Conversations : chapter 50

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34 || CHAPTER 35 || CHAPTER 36 || CHAPTER 37 || CHAPTER 38 || CHAPTER 39 || CHAPTER 40 || CHAPTER 41 || CHAPTER 42 || CHAPTER 43 || CHAPTER 44 || CHAPTER 45 || CHAPTER 46 || CHAPTER 47 || CHAPTER 48 || CHAPTER 49

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -3.9k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- if you want to be notified when this is updated, please message me or leave a comment!

- note for this chapter: sooo im sorry. forgive me. the worst is to come. :X

no request for this chapter: SEND ME SOME ASAP SO I CAN ADD THEM I NEED THEM! can be ideas that will make things bad between them too. or good. or fluff. or smut. just send me a few :)

Chapter 50 : His chapter

NIALL

I heard her wake up all night and every single time, I waited until she was asleep again to do the same. She was not sick often, except for migraines, but this time, it was bad enough for her to beg me to stay with her the next day. She turned around in bed and wrapped one of her arms around my waist, making me smile as she groaned.

"Please don't leave me alone here all day."

I brought my hand to her face, caressing her cheek gently before pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

"You want me to stay here with you and watch you snore all day?" I joked, smiling more when I saw her nose raise up in a grimace.

"Yes." she let out firmly with a baby voice, making me chuckle this time.

"You're such a child, I swear!"

I felt her grip tighten around my waist and I rolled my eyes with a smile. I had no idea why but I actually enjoyed the fact that she needed me so bad. Our relationship was just getting better and I didn't want things to change. She was still insecure and I was still not totally good at not making her jealous but we managed and we were both making efforts, which was the best we could expect from each other.

I never thought it would be so tough to date my best friend. I didn't regret it, but I was still unsure of so many things that sometimes, I ended up backing away from her and hurting her. That's when she'd become even more insecure and we would just end up being trapped in a vicious circle. The fact that I was so busy was an obstacle to our relationship too. Every free moment I had, I would spend with her and I couldn't hide the fact that I missed hanging out with my friends, spending a day playing golf or just having some time for myself.

"Please, Nee."

"You're warm... you clearly have fever." I pointed out, pressing my palm on her cheek. "You need to get in the shower, darling. Stay under the lukewarm stream for about minute and come back in bed.”

"Mm no, it's too cold."

"You may feel cold but you're burning." I explained. "Come on, do that and i'll make you some tea."

"And stay here today?"

Her eyes were now half opened and she was looking up at me through her eyelashes. She was pretty and endearing and it brought an other smile to my lips.

"And stay here today."

Her lips curled and I bent down to kiss the top of her head before pulling the covers away from her. She groaned but finally let go of me to get up slowly. She took her shirt off, her back facing me, and I stared at her as she did the same with her panties. I knew she was sick but that didn't mean I couldn't enjoy the view.

"Hurry up." I said, smacking her bum playfully and making her jump a bit.

"Be nice! I'm siiiick!" she complained again before walking to the bathroom.

When I heard the shower, I got up but stopped myself and sighed, picking up her dirty clothes and throwing them in the laundry basket. I searched through my things and put one of my shirts on the bed along with a pair of boxers and finally walked out of the room to reach the kitchen.

As I waited for the water to boil, I grabbed my phone and sent a text message saying I was taking a day off and just turned it off to be sure not to be disturbed. I walked upstairs with her tea and put it on the bedside table right before going to the bathroom. I rolled my eyes when I saw her soaked towel laying on the floor and cleaned the shower a bit before doing the same with the sink.

"You left your towel on the floor, Liv. Again." I complained before realizing she was already asleep.

I sighed and closed my eyes, knowing she was sick and it was wrong of me to be mad for that, but it was not only on that day, it was all the time. I never thought it would be so tough for someone as clean as me to live with someone as messy as she was. Sometimes, it was driving me insane.

I let her sleep for a while and ate toasts and eggs for breakfast before washing the dishes and going to sit on the couch to watch the golf channel. Staying home got me slightly bored and after a while, I grabbed my notebook and started scribbling a few words, feeling suddenly inspired for a new song. I didn't know how much time passed since I was concentrated on my writing but she finally appeared from the hall. Her hair was a mess and she was yawning but despite all this, my lips curled at her sight.

"Come here, are you hungry?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

She walked up to me, her feet brushing against the carpet, and let herself fall on the couch next to me. As soon as her ass hit the couch, she cuddled me, curling up against me, her leg over my thigh and her head leaning on my shoulder.

"Have you ever heard of personal space?" I joked with a chuckle.

"I'm part of your personal space, Horan."

I laughed at her words, knowing she was going say those exact words since it's always what she answered me. I liked the degree of intimacy we had reached but I realized we had it even before we started dating.

"Oh yea?"

"Oh yea."

I laughed and kissed the top of her head again, pushing my notebook away and sitting better on the couch so we could be more comfortable. We remained in silence for a while until I sighed low.

"Are you hungry, do you want something to eat?"

She grimaced and groaned, shaking her head.

"You're gonna have to eat, you know." I pointed out, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

"But i'm siiiiiick!"

"Told ya not to go out without a sweater. It's getting colder, especially at night."

She groaned again and buried her face in my neck.

"You're such a mom." she mumbled against my skin, making me laugh.

"And you're such a child." I replied for the second time that day.

I felt her lips brush against my neck and it made goosebumps appear on my skin. I brought my hand to her back and caressed her over her shirt to soothe her and after a while, she let out a low whimper that made me smile. She was still a bit warm, probably a sign that the fever was slowly coming back, and I finally got up quickly.

"Okay, enough." I let out, looking down at her as she sent me puppy eyes. "Soup for you, and meds, and then you rest."

"Nooo no no no!" she argued in a begging voice.

I pretended I didn't hear and just laughed as I walked to the kitchen to make some soup. When I came back, I noticed she was playing a video game on the tv and rolled my eyes with a smile. She had been a bit obsessed with Mario Kart recently and I just put the soup on the coffee table before going to the bathroom, looking through my stuff to find something against the flu. I got back with pills and a water bottle and she put her remote down to swallow the pills I gave her. I glanced at the tv and smiled.

"You know if I play with you, you won't be first in any of the races?" I pointed out with a laugh as she started eating.

She looked up at me and chuckled before grabbing an other remote and handing it to me, staring in my eyes with a small smirk.

"Don't hold back and cry."

"Challenge accepted."

We started playing and I tried hitting her gently with my elbow from time to time to distract her. She kept laughing whether she was winning or losing and that was something I loved about her. She didn't care if she won or not, she just wanted to have fun. We joked a lot about who was the best but in the end, It never really mattered to us as long as we had a good time together.

"Ex eaquo." she let out, putting the remote on the coffee table before turning to me and crossing her legs on the couch.

"Fair enough." I laughed a bit but it faded away quick enough.

She tilted her head while staring at me and I could swear her eyes fluttered. She sent me a warm and fond smile and it made me smile back. There was always something in the way she looked at me... something that made me wonder how I missed all the love in her eyes for all these years.

"Thank you for staying home today." she started, making the left corner of my lips raise up again. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"You don't have to thank me, I knew I was staying home with you the first time you woke up in the middle of the night. You didn't even have to do all that begging this morning."

She chuckled and raised her shoulders up and bit her bottom lip.

"Are you gonna take care of me like that when we'll be old? When our kids are out of the house, when there will be only us two again, when I can barely walk?"

My smile fell slightly and it hit me suddenly that she had thought about our future when It never really crossed my mind. It's not that I didn't want to, I just didn't know what I wanted. I preferred to live one day at a time instead to plan years ahead. I stared at her a few seconds, blinking a few times and trying to hide the fact that my heart was beating harder and faster suddenly. I didn't want to hurt her, I've hurt her enough for a few lifetimes already, so I just sent her a smile.

"Come here." I whispered, opening my arms.

Immediately, she moved closer and I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight against me. I felt her lips travel again on my neck and up to my jaw.

"Will you?" she insisted in a murmur, making me press my lips together.

I turned my head her way and looked down, my eyes roaming on her face. I brought my hand to her cheek and let my fingers graze her skin softly. I picked my words carefully and licked my lips.

"I promise i'll always be there for you."

                                                           ----

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" I asked, raising my eyebrows as I looked at her.

I wanted to go out, I wanted to go for a few pints with my friends, and I didn't want to stay between these damn four walls tonight, but I still asked her.

"No, of course not, i'm fine!" she argued with a smile, grabbing her tissue box and bringing it on her lap. "I'll watch a few movies and go to bed so stay as late as you want."

"If you need me just call or text okay?" I proposed, putting my phone in my pocket. "It's on vibe, i'll feel it."

"Then I may just text you a lot." she joked with a laugh, making me chuckle too.

The discussion we had had in the afternoon had left me with a bittersweet feeling. For some reason, it made me want to run away so when my cousin called for an evening at the pub, I couldn't say no. I loved Olivia, I knew I did, but this whole thing was a bit too much for me and I didn't know what to think and how to feel anymore. She told me herself after all, didn't she? Love is not all you need, no matter what we've been told.

Apparently, a bunch of people I knew and didn't know were invited and I took a seat next to Louis who pushed a pint in front of me. I grabbed it and after a few seconds, I had swallowed half of it.

"Mate, you alright?"

I glanced at him and shrugged, focusing on the glass in my hands as I turned it slowly. I didn't want to share my feelings and thoughts with him if only because he was so close to my girlfriend now that it would make things awkward. It's not that I didn't trust him but I didn't want to put him in a position where he'd have to keep secrets from her or feel bad to be around her.

"Just tired." I lied with a shrug.

"Liv's still sick?"

"Yea, t'was worse this morning but she wasn't really in the mood to come."

"Legit."

I felt someone sit next to me and without thinking, I turned my head only to face one of the most gorgeous girls I had ever seen. She smiled more, maybe because of the way I was looking at her, and extended her hand to me after pushing a lock of her dark hair behind her shoulder.

"Hey, i'm Gia."

"Niall." I replied, shaking her hand slightly.

"I know."

I sent her a smile and my eyes moved down to check her out until I felt Louis nudge me on the side to get my attention. My eyes lingered for an other second on the pretty girl and I finally turned back to my friend who was raising his eyebrows at me.

"You're drooling." he pointed out in a low tone.

I could hear a hint of blame in his voice and groaned low. I knew I shouldn't be flirting but it seemed like I hadn't done something like this in years. I was not used to hold back, I was not used to stop myself from doing what I wanted... I was not used to be in a real relationship, or at least not for that long. Louis stared at me for a few more seconds before moving closer to me.

"Don't do that, Niall." he let out in a sad tone. "I promise it's not worth it."

I sighed low and nodded slowly before he sent me a small smile and got up. I watched him leave and was ready to do the same when I felt a hand on my arm and stopped moving completely. I felt a shiver run up my spine but it was more because of the thrill than because of her touch.

"Are you leaving already?"

I stared at her for a few seconds before sitting back down. I should leave, every fiber of my body was telling me to run away and go back to Olivia, but I couldn't. Instead, I remained quiet for a few seconds and finally smiled more.

"No, i'm staying."

We talked for a while and the way she looked at me made me believe I could bring her home if I wanted. I kept thinking about Liv but tried to push the thought away when a feeling of guilt would invade me. I was not really doing anything, and I didn't plan to do anything, but I couldn't pretend it didn't bother me that I couldn't enjoy this a bit more. I swallowed my third beer and chuckled at something moderately funny she said.

"Look, Gia, I need to tell you something." I let out, licking my lips. "I already have a girlfriend."

"Oh I know, and I don't care." she admitted with a shrug as she laughed again. "Heidi told me it was not serious."

"Heidi?" I asked with a frown, looking around the table to finally meet her eyes.

She sent me a smirk and I felt suddenly totally stupid. Did Heidi do that on purpose? Was I just fooled like a fucking loser? I turned back to Gia and sent her a smile, shaking my head.

"Was nice meeting you, but I need to go now."

I pushed my chair and got up but she grabbed my wrist and it felt wrong. I could feel the way Olivia wrapped her fingers gently around my wrist sometimes and my heart skipped a beat as I took my hand back, feeling Gia's fingers slide on my skin and making me grimace. It was ridiculous. I was ridiculous and no matter what excuses came to my mind, I was the only one to blame.

"Don't leave, I really don't care that you have a girlfriend."

I sighed again but louder this time and bent down to look in her eyes.

"I do."

I walked away in the direction of the door and glared at Heidi for a few seconds. Quickly, she jumped off her chair and followed me.

"Niall." she said, making an annoying noise with her heels on the wood floor. "Niall!"

She grabbed my arm and made me stop walking. I turned around and shook my head at her, talking before she could say anything.

"You set this up?" I asked, a bit mad. "You asked this girl to come and flirt with me to see if i'd cheat on my girlfriend? What kind of fucking sicko are you?"

"No!" she frowned, shaking her head a bit too quickly. "She said she thought you were sexy and I said you were taken but it wasn't anything serious, that's it!"

"Heidi, I've literally been dating Olivia for almost a year, how can this not be serious?"

She stared at me and raised her eyebrows, taking a lock of her hair and twisting it around one of her fingers. I remembered she always did that whenever she wanted us to have sex and took a step back without realizing it.

"Didn't seem serious when your eyes were literally glued to Gia's cleavage."

I closed my eyes, knowing she was right and swallowed hard.

"You got me there, i'm human." I let out, pressing my lips together as I felt anger invade my insides. I just wasn't sure if I was mad at Heidi or at myself. Maybe a bit of both. "A sad, poor excuse of one, but a human being nonetheless."

"Oh please, Niall." she added, rolling her eyes. "You're 23, it's not like you were going to spend your life with her. I mean okay, she's your best friend so this little masquerade you're doing lasts a little longer. I know you don't want to hurt her but seriously? Can you imagine having sex only with her for the rest of your life? Get married? Have kids? You're not ready for that, Niall."

She looked at me in an amused way and chuckled meanly, putting her hands on her waist. I hated her words and felt something burn inside me. I hated it because every single word she said seemed so true it made me want to puke. I was not ready, no matter what I tried to make myself or even Olivia believe. Clearly, my girlfriend was a step ahead in our relationship and it was scaring me. I was not going to let Heidi know, though, simply because it was none of her business.

"You have no idea what you're talking about." I just said rudly, walking past her and reaching the door.

She followed me quickly but remained close to the door as I walked out.

"I'm right and you know it, Niall!"

I stopped and turned around, walking back quickly to her suddenly angrier than ever.

"I love her! I'm in love with her!" I could feel my hands shake and I placed them into fists as I tried not to let anger consume me.

"Oh sure you do. But you two started dating too fast. You clearly got a lot left to live and you're too young to settle forever." she explained with a small shrug.

The fact that she remained so calm annoyed me and I groaned low, raising my nose up. Why was I even listening to her anyway? I should go back to Olivia and make sure she was okay. I should get a cab and go back home to join her in bed and cuddle her. But what I shouldn’t do is stay there, in the cold, listening to a girl I thought was my friend tell me that the relationship I have with my girlfriend was a mistake.

"And if you need me to help you relax, she let out, taking a step closer and running her hand on my chest. "I'm always here, whether you're still dating her or not.”

A bit roughly, I pushed her hand away and took a step back. I watched her, her arms around herself, shivering because of the cold, and I realized that I didn't want any of this.

"October's a cold month at night." I just pointed out a bit meanly. "You should wear a sweater."

Without an other word, I turned on my heels and left quickly. I heard her yell behind me and held my breath.

"You'll call me back sooner than you think!"

I started running for a reason I ignored and when my throat was burning and I couldn't seem to breathe anymore, I stopped and held myself on my knees, panting. Perhaps I hated this and everything Heidi had mentioned because I knew, deep down, that she was right. I felt the few beers I drank make me want to puke and turned to my right, vomiting slightly in the grass. I closed my eyes and breathed slowly and deeply, trying to get my heartbeats back to a normal pace but It wasn't due to my run but more because of all the guilt running inside me. I loved Olivia, I loved her more than I had ever loved anyone. It was scary and troubling and I was not really sure what to do with those feelings.

I kept walking around slowly, knowing that I should get a taxi but not really sure I wanted to. I didn't feel ready to go home and see my girlfriend after everything that happened, even if she wasn't aware of anything. I couldn't stop thinking about what Heidi told me and about how Liv said that love was not all that was needed in a relationship. I loved her and she loved me, shouldn't it be enough?

Before I realized it, I stood in front of my house and sighed, taking one of my hands out of my pocket to look at the time on my watch. It was already 2am and I just stood there a few more minutes before walking in. All the lights were off and I blinked a few times until my eyes got used to the dark. I walked to my room and quickly undressed before getting under the covers with my girlfriend. She didn't move and I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her to me until her back pressed on my chest. I loved her, I couldn't see my life without her, and I had to stop letting doubts get the best of me.

"I love you, Olivia." I whispered, burring my nose in her hair and closing my eyes. "I'm in love with you."

[all-things-are-nothing-to-me]

Descending into Madness An Anarchist-Nihilist Diary of Anti-Psychiatry

Just sayin’... The opinions expressed in this text represent no other than my own. My position against psychiatry is based on my own personal experience and should not be taken as an authority on the subject. Psychiatry, medications, and or psychiatric incarceration is considered helpful by some, and I wish them the very best experience with it.

But also... To the ‘freaks’, the ‘weirdos’, the ‘delinquents’, and the unruly... To those who embrace these words like daggers drawn against civility, To the insubordinate youth who refuse to tranquilize their play with meds, To those who riot in the asylums, and those who dare to escape from them...

Let the moonlight illuminate our iconoclasm, witches and savage animals spellbinding fire in the night, for the destruction of society, with the courage of unmedicated confrontation.

Any society that you build will have its limits. And outside the limits of any society, unruly and heroic tramps will wander with their wild and virgin thought — those who cannot live without planning ever new and dreadful outbursts of rebellion! I shall be among them!” — Renzo Novatore

I’m sittin’ at a big round table with about three nurses and two doctors. My eyes are sensitive to the light cus I haven’t slept in days. A nurse directly beside me has been gently nodding at me with the same look of concern for about an hour. My vision keeps blurring and then re-focusing. My hands are slightly trembling. I’ve been fighting the urge to lay my head down since I sat down. It appears this awkward meeting is almost over, and I have some papers to sign. The doctor who has been talkin’ since I got here is still talkin’ and I admit, I haven’t really been paying much attention. Finally the talking stops and everyone stands up. The nurse beside me helps me up by my arm. I start to feel dizzy. We begin walking down a long hallway and eventually enter a room. Another nurse in the room greets me with a pillow, a blanket, and a pill to “help with rest”. Before sittin’ down on the bed I’ve been assigned, a nurse calmly requests my belt and shoe laces. I comply and decide while I’m up I might as well take a shit before I go to sleep. About five seconds after my ass hits the toilet seat I hear a commotion - frantic pounding and demands to unlock the bathroom door. Confused and startled, I jump up, trip over my pants, and unlock the door. Apparently I’m not allowed to lock the bathroom door - or have it totally closed while I’m in there. I quickly finish shitting in plain view of a nurse and walk back to bed. I notice a different nurse has pulled up a chair right beside it and sits down with a clipboard and pen. I lay down and try to get comfortable while accepting the awkward close watch by this nurse beside me. As I start drifting off to sleep I reflect on everything that’s goin’ on. Oh that’s right. Earlier today I tried to hang myself in my apartment and this is my first night in a psych ward.

**** INDIANAPOLIS, March 18 th 2018 — Resource Treatment Center Riot Nearly a dozen Indianapolis police officers were called to respond Wednesday night to a riot at a juvenile psychiatric treatment and addiction facility on the city’s east side.

Eleven officers were dispatched to 1404 S. State Avenue just before 11 p.m. Wednesday on a report of a disturbance at the facility. The location is home to the Resource Treatment Center juvenile psychiatric facility, as well as Options Transitional Living, which provides sober housing for homeless or at-risk youth.

Police arrived to find that a group of juvenile residents had done more than $50,000-worth of damage to the facility and assaulted four staff members. Officers took nine juveniles ranging in age from 13-17 into custody on preliminary charges of vandalism, rioting, battery and disorderly conduct.

****

During my time at this psychiatric prison I was subjected to what’s called ‘one on ones’ which basically means I’m at risk to myself and therefore require 24 hour observation by staff. Two different nurses watched me shit, sleep, cry in my sleep, and eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I was required to take meds and a sleep aid everyday. I had face-to-face therapy once a day. I was only allowed one 15 minute phone call per day. I wasn’t allowed outside at all. I was told to “set anchor” because the faculty had no intentions on releasing me “anytime soon”.

All the reasons I was originally depressed took a backseat to this new horror show I found myself in. Everyone in my ward talked about one day gettin’ out, despite being told they would “never make it on the outside”. I couldn’t help but notice the striking similarities to incarceration at a prison for criminals. This was a prison. The more I heard stories of attempted escape, violent physical repression, and hopeless isolation, the more I realized this was not a place to ‘get well’, nor any hospital I ever been to. These prison guards wore scrubs, enforced order with chemical warfare and physical restraint jackets. “The hole” was the padded room. Those who resisted were tackled to the hard floor causing cuts and bruises. And to the nurses and doctors, we were all just “case files” or “subjects” to be talked down to and humiliated. We were in their world now and it was their rules.

“We need a program of psychosurgery and political control of our society. The purpose is physical control of the mind. Everyone who deviates from the given norm can be surgically mutilated. The individual may think that the most important reality is his own existence, but this is only his personal point of view. This lacks historical perspective. Man does not have the right to develop his own mind. This kind of liberal orientation has great appeal. We must electrically control the brain. Some day armies and generalswill be controlled by electrical stimulation of the brain.” - Dr. Jose Delgado, a Spanish professor of neurophysiology and author of the book ‘Physical Control of the Mind: Toward a Psychocivilized Society’

The era of institutionalized ‘care’ for those with ‘mental illnesses’ began somewhere around the 19th century with heavy support from the state. Public asylums were built in Britain after the passing of the 1808 County Asylums Act. This created an upsurge of asylums being built everywhere. These asylums were known for inmates havin’ to live in filthy conditions with bars, chains, and handcuffs.

The Lunacy Act 1845 was known to have changed the status of ‘mentally ill’ people to ‘patients’ who required treatment. This led to the eventual chemical treatment of people as ‘medical patients’ – despite the fact that lab tests, X-rays, and brain scans have never verified psychiatric disorders as medical diseases or brain damage. Over time, this inspired the emergence of psychiatric medical experiments on ‘patients’ in order to chemically ‘cure’ their ‘disorders’. The 20th century saw an explosion of psychiatric drugs. The first anti-psychotic drug, Chlorpromazine (brand names: Thorazine, Largactil, Hivernal, and Megaphen) was first synthesized in France in 1950.

Psychiatry, asylums, and prescribed drugs contributed heavily to reinforcing social order and individual submission through fear. As the years went on psychiatry and asylums expanded, re-defining and strengthening the power of state repression and civilized control.

Along with this came an ever-expanding culture of publicly calling out those who were considered ‘disturbed’ or ‘mentally ill’. The first to be targeted were those who didn’t fit the narrowly defined behavioral expectations of society. In the 18th to early 20th century, individuals assigned female at birth were often institutionalized for damn near everything including unpopular opinions, social unruliness or a politicized refusal to be controlled by patriarchal society. Other individuals of various assigned identities who sexually deviated from hetero-normativity were institutionalized and considered “confused” and in need of being converted.

One major marketing scheme deployed by the pharmacology industry was the social construction of an ideal emotional state that every ‘normal’ individual was expected to experience. Today this same ideal can be found everywhere – from televised entertainment to billboard advertisements and so on. The ‘happy’ and ‘depressed’ binary was used to create social pressure leading people to feel isolated or out of place for not happily accepting the conditions of society on a daily basis. Being “sad all the time” was, and still is frowned upon and ridiculed – regardless of its complex nature and the reasons behind it.

Despite being emotionally fluid by nature, the individual human (animal) is expected to fulfill the civilized role of positivist supremacy. This normalized obsession with positivity plays a key role in suppressing emotional responses of outrage to the multitude of oppressive experiences. The obsession with - and normalization of - positivist performance also encourages people to overlook the deep-seated trauma caused by civilization on a daily basis. Everything from the fear of flying, car wrecks, workplace injuries, to being late on bill payments – all examples of fears attributed to trauma. But because civilized life requires wage-slavery and commitment to continue, these forms of trauma are trivialized and written off - usually followed by something like “that’s life” or “it is what it is”.

As techno-industrial society advances, new laws are constructed to create new definitions of ‘criminality’. This means there is an ever-narrowing idea of legalism. The same can be said for psychiatry. As more labels and identities for ‘disorders’ are created, the pharmacology industry expands. And as the conditions of capitalist, industrial society continue to worsen, more misery becomes available for exploitation with the sale of “feel good” prescriptions.

Under capitalism, where there are ‘correctional’ facilities, there is a profit motive to keep them filled. Where there are ‘inmates’ to fill those institutions, there is financial gain or cheap labor. And where there is any potential for social unrest, there is an ideology and identity to categorically define an unruly individual as ‘anti-social’. Society turns ‘disorders’ into categorical identities assigned to those it considers ‘undesirable’ in order to reinforce the social conditions that pressure people into behavioral uniformity.

Today, within the realm of identity politics, psychiatric-assigned identities garner social capital where ever victimhood is glorified for social benefit. As with any form of identity politics, I have seen many individuals exploit psychiatric identities by brandishing them as reasons to rid themselves of responsibility for their actions. And as this plays out in the all-too-familiar social cannibalism of identity politics, individuals personalize these psychiatric- assigned identities and create inverted hierarchies of social entitlement.

Ultimately, a new identity-based movement is formed, gaining media recognition and becomes assimilated into the broader prison of society.

****

Thursday, September 4, 2014 Riot at Central New York Psychiatric Center A dozen staff members were injured when several inmates started rioting in a kitchen area at the Central New York Psychiatric Center on Wednesday.

Four people were hospitalized for their injuries, authorities stated. The fight broke out at about 11:45 a.m., when five to six inmates started attacking staff in one of the kitchen areas using kitchen utensils as weapons, according to the state Correctional Officers & Police Benevolent Association. The inmates tried to fight their way into the mess hall.

At the same time, another fight broke out between inmates and staff on the floor above the kitchen, officials said. The emergency alarms were raised, and security personnel inside the facility were able to break up the two fights, with help from the state police.

****

After careful planning, I was released from psychiatric incarceration much sooner than originally set. The walls were closing in on me and the monotony of daily under-stimulation, medicated numbness, and confinement started breaking me down. Witnessing the prison cannibalism of infighting between incarcerated individuals, I began spiralling worse than I had prior to being there. On top of that, my two attempts to secretly organize a rebellion had failed miserably; the wards or ‘bunks’ were so small that an artificially constructed bond was easily created between most staff and patients. Snitching was heavily rewarded.

Nobody wanted “any problems”. So instead I turned to another method of emancipation; using my own high school knowledge of psychology to convince my therapist I was merely suffering from “a broken heart” due to a “recent romantic breakup”.

Despite the full spectrum of my hatred for society, the life I was living at the time, and the complex emotional storm that raged in my head on a daily basis, I was able to convince my therapist and the other nurses I was just upset over a breakup. The humiliation of having to role-play such a lie paled in comparison to my desire for freedom from that place. Released into my mom’s custody, I was required to continue taking my medications three times a day and seeing a counsellor once a week.

Against the wards request, I went back to living in my apartment. I could see where the police had went through all my notebooks as well as a pocket book of phone numbers. The noose I worked so hard to construct and attach to a wooden beam along my ceiling was gone. To this day I don’t know if my landlord took it or if the police did. My rent was overdue indicated by the notes in my mailbox. Luckily I was working a self-managed painting job at the time so I couldn’t get fired. I could start back up the next week.

That night I masturbated for the first time in what felt like years. But I couldn’t orgasm. The next day I called the doctor who dealt my meds. According to him, my impossible orgasm was common with people on psychiatric medication. A week went by and I continued to feel numb. Nothing was interesting to me. I often found myself watching the hands on clocks move or staring out my window at passing cars. I didn’t feel sad. But I didn’t feel good either. I just existed.

After about a month of being out of the psych ward, I decided to stop taking my meds. The hassle of getting them filled as well as keepin’ up with taking them everyday just wasn’t worth it. And neither was feeling numb. I didn’t know what would happen. Would they find out and send the police to take me back? A couple weeks went by without meds and I started to feel slight changes. I was scared but prepared for the hellish withdrawals I had heard all about. I got dizzy a bit, and some headaches but nothing more. Soon I stopped gettin’ calls from my counsellor. I expected her to be upset and leave me angry voicemails. It never happened. Eventually I felt my appetite change and I could experience emotional reactions to things easier and more frequently. And I finally had an orgasm!

For the next couple years, I reflected on those experiences and began exploring the origins of my suicidal thoughts, the origins of the morbid depression that caused them, as well as the consumerist life I lived as a wage-slave law-abiding citizen.

****

A Riot on Thanksgiving Morning 2016 at Springfield Hospital Center (a regional psychiatric hospital and former slave plantation located in Sykesville, Maryland) In the early-morning hours of Thanksgiving Day, Catherine Starkes and April Savage huddled in an office with several other employees at the Springfield Hospital Center in Carroll County as patients rioted around them.

Starkes and Savage said patients threw chairs, knocked over file cabinets and tried to break into the staff's Plexiglas-enclosed refuge. The patients poured cooking oil over the floors, making them slippery. One patient tried to crawl into the office through the suspended ceiling, Starkes recalled.

It was like no other night she could remember in 22 years of working with dangerously mentally ill patients at Maryland state hospitals.

"They wanted to take over the unit. They seized the unit," she said.

****

“What we say is the truth is what everybody accepts. ...I mean, psychiatry: it's the latest religion. We decide what's right and wrong. We decide who's crazy or not. I'm in trouble here. I'm losing my faith.” -Dr. Railly from the movie “12 Monkeys”

Similar to religion, psychiatry assumes a powerful role in defining “right” or “wrong” in terms of “normal” vs “abnormal” behavior. The standardization of a particular, socially expected behavior is essential for creating categories of people defined in terms of their contribution to the collective success of society. With psychology as a basis for analytically outlining ‘problems’ and suggesting “potential cures”, mass society becomes dependent on its authority for deciding who is “normal” and who isn’t. Certain behavioral characteristics unique to an individual become outlawed in order to maintain this social conformity.

Speaking from my own experience, psychiatry and all its theories, roles, and chemical prescriptions at best aims to merely manage ‘symptoms’ of ‘disorders’ - not eliminate the sources of their creation.

By ‘symptoms’ I am referring to any set of behaviors or emotional responses that indicate an individual’s struggle to conform to societal expectations or ‘normal’ behavior.

By ‘disorders’ I am referring to the set of behaviors or emotional responses that have been selected and condemned by society, and therefore declared a ‘mental illness’ by the authority of psychiatry.

By ‘sources’ I am referring to any and all prisons, societal forms of coercion, and civilized society – all of which pressure individual subservience and ideological conformity.

The conflict of interest in ‘curing’ the ‘mentally ill’ becomes apparent when acknowledging that successful cures to particular behaviors and emotional responses would require the abolition of civilized society all together - the same civilized society that creates trauma, followed by the concept of mental illness and subsequently a ‘solution’ via many forms of emotional anaesthesia.

Another factor of social control built into psychiatry is its ability to distort and control dissenting information. Social systems that require the subordination of individuals are always sharpening their ability to suppress or demonize information – especially information derived from rebellious experience. When it is individuals themselves who are considered living examples of this information, those seeking total control will portray them in such a way that renders the nature of their rebellion a mere product of mental illness. For example, the Soviet Union responded to rebels with psychiatric wards called “Psikhushkas”. One of the first Psikhushkas was a psychiatric prison in the city of Kazan. In 1939 it was transferred to the secret police. Psychiatric incarceration was used in response to political demonstrations and attacks. It was common practice for soviet psychiatrists in Psikhushka hospitals to diagnose those who rebelled against soviet authority with schizophrenia.

Just as religious authority figures speak of purging people of their sins and demons, psychiatry seeks to purge people of their ‘sickness’ and ‘bad’ habits. In the church of psychiatry, only those most committed to social conformity (or emotional suppression) can enter the heavens of being socially recognized as ‘sane’ or ‘normal’. Normal or civilized behavior is rewarded with social capital and easier access to survival resources. And in the eyes of those who fear unbridled freedom, without the church of mental psychiatric authority, ‘the masses’ just might descend into madness...

****

Sept 5 2016 John George Psychiatric Hospital Riot Nurses at Alameda County’s embattled mental hospital say three patients tried to incite a riot overnight and escape the facility. Staff members are blaming chronic overcrowding at John George Psychiatric Hospital’s emergency room. It’s the latest in a string of troubling incidents at the hospital uncovered by 2 Investigates.

Nurses – who didn’t want to be identified for fear of jeopardizing their jobs – tell 2 Investigates that two male patients and one woman demanded to be discharged from John George’s Psychiatric Emergency Services (PES) department Sunday night. But when they were refused, they turned violent, according to staff.

The patients allegedly tried to encourage others to help them push the facility doors open to escape.

****

“The Law, social expectation, and psychiatric tradition and practice point to coercion as the profession’s paradigmatic characteristic. Accordingly, I define psychiatry as the theory and practice of coercion, rationalized as the diagnosis of mental illness and justified as medical treatment aimed at protecting the patient from himself and society from the patient.” - Psychiatrist turned anti-psychiatry, Thomas S Szasz, M. D.

While reflecting on my experience with psychiatry, including being on three different medications and my stay in the ward, I started asking myself questions I had never thought to ask before: what are the social conditions contributing to my feelings of misery? What type of behavior is characteristic of ‘mental illness’ and ‘normal’ functioning? Who enforces these definitions as universal truths to begin with? Is it the same psychiatric authority that at one point considered homosexuality a mental illness – then changed their minds in 1973?

I couldn’t help but notice that despite all the therapy, meds, and psychiatric hospitality the world outside my head was still the same. Poverty still dominated my hood, rich billionaires were still playin’ golf while the government continued bombing other countries. Millions of non-human animals were still bein’ mutilated in slaughterhouses on a daily basis, and the environment was still bein’ devastated by industrial expansion. I still needed to wage-slave away to pay my rent. And like everyone else, I needed to do this until I got too old and eventually live out my days in a nursing home. But somehow I was supposed to be ‘happy’ - or at least apathetically accepting of it all without a fuss. Obedience without incident. Without question. Or as the others in the ward had said to me “no problems”.

Currently in my life, I am still angry, still depressed, and still sometimes suicidal. But rather than seeing these things as what’s broken about me, I see them as a reflection of how fucked up the world is around me. I find little things to help me channel the anger, depression, and suicidal thoughts. I exercise, practice mixed martial arts, enjoy a walk in the woods at night. I star-gaze from park benches, rooftops, and moving freight trains. I indulge in stolen food and cherish the excitement of criminal activity. Managing my emotions is a daily activity coupled with observation and growth. I listen to the stories of others and learn from their experiences. I listen to my emotions and source their origins, making it easier to understand my needs and desires. My emotions – my madness - manifesting as anger, depression, and so on remain sharp and act as the best tools for understanding the effects of this imprisoning society on my well-being.

My disposition lacks evidence of being broken or brain damaged – if anything, it would suggest the contrary. My emotional state is a complex response to the anxiety that occurs when recognizing society for what it is – a prison propagating itself as ‘normal’ life. And integrated within this prison is a web of altered realities that materialize the logic of control and domination: Wage-slavery masquerading as productivity and personal responsibility. Coerced submission and obedience to law and order in “the land of the free”. Pictures of happy cows on packages of mutilated body parts. Borders, bio-technology, cyberspace communities of friends interacting with the emotional vacancy of digital communication.

And it is here, in this same social prison society, that the word insanity is used to describe an individual person rather than industrial civilization - the epitome of mechanized social control.

“The stars up close to the moon were pale; they got brighter and braver the farther they got out of the circle of light ruled by the giant moon” ― Ken Kesey, from the movie One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

I believe deep down all people are ‘insane’ - not in terms of mental illness - but in terms of individual, unique differences that remain defiantly incompatible to behavioral order. In society, some people hide these differences better than others. And many people I have come across express frustration with having to keep themselves locked up inside, aching to break out. The fear of being socially labelled insane or crazy keeps people passive and submissive. But some people experience difficulty assimilating themselves. And while society attempts to frantically control and eliminate certain undesirable people and behaviors, natural responses to environmental conditions continue to produce both.

If one were to really examine the social interactions between individuals, one can see the subtle tip-toeing of animals peeking from within the wardrobe of humanism. It is the fear of being too loud, too angry, too sad, too imaginative – the fear of allowing oneself to exist at full bloom – that incarcerates the animal individual. It is the fear of exhibiting any personal qualities or characteristics that would violate the boundaries of socially expected behavior. Breaking the laws of psychiatry could be punishable by chemical injection, imprisonment, or even death.

This fear also plays a vital role in creating an obsession with relying on institutional specialization rather than peer to peer support. This obsession is normalized when, in response to someone reaching out for emotional support, friends suggest ‘professional help’ as if to surrender themselves ineffective by default. It says something about the nature of one’s confidence, ability, and will to support another when that support is often outsourced to an elite group of ‘professionals’. I’m not tryin’ to say that every individual has the capacity to support others at all times: I am suggesting an examination of the inferiority complex internalized by people in the face of institutions, and how individuals often find themselves too busy obeying the demands of capitalism, or too distracted by consumerism to make time for supporting their loved ones – let alone themselves.

If one were to examine society as a whole, one can see how over-simplified, quick-fix solutions to complex problems is built into it. If one were to examine this even on a personal level, one can see how everything about industrial society reduces personal time to the point where one often neglects their own emotional health. Against the demands of technological addiction and wage-slavery, making time for supporting one’s self and or those they care about is, however under-rated, nothing less than an act of personal revolt. “You need professional help” is often the quick response to an individual simply looking for support from close friends. Not all people (including myself) enjoy being pathologized or assigned a diagnosis like a broken machine. It is this ‘professional help’ that replaces intimate support with capitalism where someone struggling is treated as a profitable ‘case file’ and dealt a bottle of pills.

From a vibrant friend struggling with a unique history of complex emotional experiences, to a patient branded with an over-simplistic set of psychiatric identities – the individual becomes merely a unit of diagnostic measurement.

Diagnoses act as identity configurations defined in terms of symptom-based sameness. These identity assignments are constructed by the specialists of psychiatric authority, and are enforced socially by those who uphold its power. The same way that leftists are quick to use statist terminology to publicly label and shame “undesirables” or those unwanted by The Movement (for example, using the word “terrorist” to describe proponents of anarchist attack), they are equally quick to call people ‘mentally ill’, or ‘toxic’- demanding they seek ‘professional’ help. Perhaps without realizing it, leftists socially reinforce the validity of the state and psychiatric authority by reducing the complexity of individual behavior to mere psychiatric constructs and moral condemnation.

Psychiatry provides a comforting sense of order in the refusal to accept the chaotic nature of behavior. By asserting psychiatric terminology and morality many leftists seek control over social interactions with the intent to sterilize and homogenize them. This attempt at behavioral uniformity goes hand in hand with the treatment of individuals as members of monolithic, identity-based groupings. Behavioral uniqueness and variety are often discouraged or condemned when they don’t fit neatly constructed scripts. One’s behavior or emotional expression could be trivialized by being socially called out as ‘problematic’ - a label which itself requires the conformity of a generalized consensus to define and enforce.

Society and all its defenders require the dam of psychiatry to subordinate and control the tidal waves of individualist variety and social unrest. I can only imagine what would happen if the mechanisms of control failed on an individual level - if freedom of emotional expression took aim at the crystal castles of psychiatric authority, shattering the illusion of sterilized permanence. One after another an individual cannonball weakens the continuity of the structure, an ungovernable individual compromises the strength of collectivized subservience.

****

Jan 31, 2006 Riot at the Riverview Hospital For Children and Youth Five male patients at a state-run psychiatric hospital for children face rioting charges after they ripped out a phone line and tried to steal a worker's car keys before barricading themselves in a room over the weekend, a state official and other sources said Monday.

The incident at Riverview Hospital For Children and Youth occurred less than a week after employees protested over conditions in the facility, contending that the hospital is increasingly unsafe because of the volatile mix of patients.

Sources said that between 11 p.m. and midnight Sunday, a group of boys in the hospital's 11-bed Lakota Unit came out of their rooms and started confronting and arguing with staff. A male clinician and two female employees were assigned to the unit at the time.

Sources said the boys surrounded the man and tried to get him to turn over his keys but he refused. When one of the female workers tried to use the phone to call for help, the boys pulled the phone line out of the wall, sources said. The youths then barricaded themselves in a room and tried to smash a large exterior window, which broke off its hinge.

Sources said the boys intended to escape through the window but were stopped by a Connecticut Valley Hospital police officer who was called to the scene and was outside near the window .

Authorities would not release the names or ages of the boys involved. All face charges of inciting to riot, disorderly conduct, criminal mischief, unlawful restraint and threatening.

****

When, in expressing themselves, individuals let their emotions rupture the confines of psychiatric authority, and fan the flames of their contempt for social control, psychiatry begins to resemble the shell of a burnt out police car. If psychiatry is the agent enforcer of mental law and order - let it die along with every cop and agent of the state. As with identity politics, I refuse to participate in the use of psychiatric terminology when describing other individuals. As with all other socially constructed assignments, I reject psychiatric labels as they seek to limit the horizon of emotional complexity.

When, in expressing themselves, individuals become wild with nihilist hostility toward all ideological roles and identities, what is left of a society without individual conformity? What is ‘male’ or ‘female’ without being fixed to an aesthetic or performative role? What is ‘black’ or ‘white’ without the social construction of race? What is the sane/insane binary without the commanding authority of psychiatry? What is social law and order without anyone willing to obey?

My anarchy is found in the obliteration of these social constructs and the rejection of their ‘social contract’ that universalizes their false existence. I use the phrase social contract because that is precisely what accepting these identity assignments is. It surprises me to see such little prisoner solidarity with those incarcerated at psychiatric facilities. I imagine total anarchy looking like all prisons - including every manifestation of the educational-industrial complex, every zoo, and every asylum – being burned to the ground.

****

On New Year’s Day, 2018, 10 Children as Young as Age 12 Riot and Escape from Strategic Behavioral Health Center in South Carolina During the New Year’s Day incident, patients broke furniture to make weapons. The state report suggest Strategic staff missed warning signs that patients had planned to escape. They did not question residents who were wearing multiple layers of clothing that would allow them to change what they were wearing when they left the hospital.

In a less than five-hour span beginning in the late afternoon, there were seven “Code Purple” incidents in which workers are alerted to trouble. A state investigator reviewed video showing patients going from room to room, throwing a trash can, tearing up paper and tearing schedules off the walls. When one employee arrived, according to the report, he heard loud noises and cussing and saw trash all over the floor in the hallway. Patients had barricaded themselves in a room and had weapons he described as boards with six-inch screws.

“There was no staff trying to get into the room and he was told by staff, ‘They have weapons. Don’t go in,’” records say. “The nurse described the situation as a ‘riot, complete breakdown.’”

By the time police arrived, the south Charlotte psychiatric hospital had descended into chaos. Patients at Strategic Behavioral Center — some wielding wooden boards — attacked one worker, barricaded themselves in a room and escaped through a broken window.

**** For many years I paraded psychiatry as a valuable scientific instrument for understanding the inner workings of human behavior. I no longer find it useful after learning to recognize people as complex beings with unique emotional responses to this civilized nightmare. I have come to recognize psychiatry as, at best, another form of identity politics that ultimately attempts to force the infinite complexity of emotional expression into rigid categorical boxes.

Individual people are far more than ‘bipolar’, ‘psychotic’, etc could accurately express. While a person may experience combinations of emotions socially identified by a psychiatric category, their emotional state can not be summarized or represented by any list of fixed terminology.

My refusal to define a person by the emotional struggles they experience is similar to the reasons I refuse to identity people struggling with intoxication as ‘addicts’. An individual's struggle in coping with society is complex and unique. Psychiatric labels and identities are tools of the state – an entity which I reject. As a tool of civilization, psychiatry creates alienation and violence by treating people found to be emotionally unfit for society as ‘broken’, and therefore socially inferior. I personally refuse to disregard an individual’s struggle for survival by assigning them a psychiatric identity that puts blame on them as ‘mentally ill’ - rather than focusing attention on industrial society itself. Like prisons for ‘criminals’, the ‘correctional’ facility of the psychiatric ward seeks to condition submission through coercion and confinement. Solving or curing ‘mental illness’ in the societal sense often ends up becoming a re-defined ability to condemn, suppress, or sterilize emotions.

Like all governments, presidents, and authority, psychiatry never gave me freedom. Assigned psychiatric labels didn’t help me – they only filled me with an internalized sense of victimhood and inferiority. Medication didn’t ‘cure’ or ‘fix’ me – only damaged me, numbing me to my own senses in order to create an emotional void between me and the fuckery of civilized life. So instead, with nihilist celebration I descend into madness, taking aim at social order and civilization. With armed animalism I realize now that there was nothing to fix - my natural contempt for domestication and social control reminds me that I was never ‘broken’ to begin with.

With maniacal laughter I mock the conventional standardization of human behavior. I reject the authorities of psychiatry, their holy book (The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM–5)), and their prisons. I refuse to continue being a test subject for their ever-expanding pharmacotherapeutics. I am an individualist against the collectivized consensus used to materialize institutions of psychiatry. I am a nihilist - hostile to the ideological sane/insane binary and all social constructs that, with pathology, attempt to categorically subjugate individuality. I desire nothing less than a feral revolt against civilization. If civilization and psychiatry marry at the church of morality, then let my anarchy be a fiery black smoke that chokes their gospel of social control.

[andiandyandee]

We Are Going to Be Friends Pt. 4

Okay I’m going to apologize in advance for this chapter It’s like the third saddest chapter in this whole story and the next one is even worse. 

Tag list: @datfearlessfangirl @cas-is-a-hunter @princemesscharming @illogicalthinking

Here’s the last part if you missed it and heres the whole series on Ao3

Here’s the Story:

  True to expectations, Remus arrived twenty minutes later, looking tired and slightly upset. He ordered a drink, stood at the counter until it was made, then headed over to the table. He glanced around, looking for an available seat, and perked up a bit when he saw the one between Roman and Logan was open. He dropped down in the chair, not saying anything, but fluffing Roman’s hair as he sat. Roman rolled his eyes, but looked at his brother with a questioning look, that clearly conveyed ‘you okay?’.  Remus nodded, then said in a hoarse voice,

      “Dr. Picani wants to try a new med. Says the current one doesn’t seem to be working right.” Roman winced sympathetically.

       “Did you already pick up the new prescription or do you want to walk over to the Pharmacy?”  

      “I have to pick it up, but I can go by myself, I know you still have homework left.” Logan glanced over at the two, debating whether or not to say anything.

      “I don’t know if it’s a great idea for you to walk over there alone, Re. You don’t look so great.” Remus went to argue, gesturing at Roman’s half-finished homework when Logan interjected.

      “I can walk with you, if you’d prefer. I’ve finished my homework for the day.” That wasn’t exactly true, but he had finished most of it, and he could do the last few questions when he got home. Roman nodded encouragingly at Remus, who glanced at Logan and gave him a small smile.

      “That sounds great, Logan. Thank you.” Logan just nodded, standing up with Remus. He dropped his mug off at the counter before following Remus out the door.

      The walk was mostly quiet, Remus humming what sounded a lot like the villain song from The Princess and the Frog. Logan was shrinking more into his jacket with each step. Was this a bad idea? Did Remus not want him to come? He should have realized that Remus wanted to be alone, or wanted one of his actual friends to come with him. Oh god, did he already ruin his first actual attempt at friendship-

      “Thanks for coming with me,” Remus mumbled. “And thanks for not asking.”

      “Asking?”

      “About what the meds are for. People tend to ask, and it always sits weird with me.” Remus shrugged, pulling the pharmacy door open for Logan. “I don’t mind talking about it but I hate the way people look at me when they ask.”

      “Remus.” Logan placed a hand on the older boy’s arm, stopping him from walking forward. Remus looked at Logan, confused. “You don’t need to thank me for respecting your privacy, and you don’t owe anyone, including your friends, or family, for that matter, answers to questions that make you uncomfortable.” Remus paled, glancing down to his feet. “And, for the record, if anyone makes you feel like you have to tell them, or like you have to do anything you don’t want to, let me know, and I’ll kick their ass for you.” Remus laughed at that.

      “Thanks, Logan. You’re a good friend.”

      “Damn right, I am.” Logan grinned, pretending to not be shocked by the softness in Remus’s voice. Or the sincerity.

      When they got back to Starbucks, Roman was arguing with a barista. The barista looked amused, arguing back casually while making drinks. When he saw Logan and Remus come through the door, he grinned brightly. “See! I TOLD you I have a twin brother!” The barista looked up, then groaned.

      “Okay, fine. So you haven’t had three drinks in an hour. You’ve still had TWO, which is more sugar and caffeine than and one person should have.” Roman pouted at that.

      “Ugh, fine. Are you ready to go? I think we’re going to head home and chill for a bit.” Roman asked, looking at his brother and Logan. “Oh, uh... I guess I didn’t actually ask if you wanted to come, Lo. Do you want to-” Logan bristled at the way Roman hesitated before asking.

      “No, thank you, Roman. I think I’m going to head over to the mall.” Remus glanced between his brother and Logan, obviously trying to figure out where the sudden tension had come from.

      “Oh, are you sure? We have plenty of room-” Logan shook his head, grabbing his bag from where he had left it when he went with Remus and waved casually as he left the building. Clenching his fists and rolling his shoulders, trying to push down the wave of disappointment at Roman’s hesitation. It made sense that Roman wouldn’t want Logan around, but it still hurt a bit to have his suspicions confirmed. He wondered if Roman had only sat with him out of pity. Poor Logan, he doesn’t have any friends, we should try to include him like some weird, ugly duckling adoption program. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the oppressive wave of apathy that was settling on his shoulders like a protective blanket. Better to feel nothing than to be drowned in disappointment, right? He walked into the mall, nodding at his brother as he passed the food court kiosk that he was working in, and wandered towards the hot topic. He wasn’t thrilled about buying anything from such a corporately owned establishment, but he figured if nothing else, they would be playing halfway decent music. He wandered around for a few minutes, finding a Nasa tank-top he actually liked on sale, and setting it up on the counter. The cashier, a teenager probably L’s age, smiled at him.

      “Is this everything for you?” Logan didn’t answer, just nodded disinterestedly. Her smile faltered at his dismissiveness, so she rang him up and told him his total- $9.10- and handed him his bag. He nodded at her, wanding back through the mall, quickly letting his brother know he was just going to head back to their parent’s house. Not home, never home, just “Mom and Dad’s place”. His brother nodded, telling him to be careful, and Logan left the mall quickly.

      With his headphones on, and his eyes trained on the ground, he didn’t notice that the crowd of preps that seemed to be everywhere he was (Perks of a small town, he supposed. It was hard to miss a crowd of twenty teenagers.) were all sitting in a yard to his left. He also didn’t notice the way several of them called him over, or the way they looked both confused and mildly offended when he walked right past them without even acknowledging their existence.  He turned the corner at the end of the block, cutting through his parent’s yard and onto the porch. He hadn’t even made it through the door before he could smell marijuana and alcohol. He groaned, knowing that while his father would almost certainly be calmer now that he was high, his mother would be drunk, which meant she would be far more aggressive than typical. He opened the door and started coughing at the smoke. His father raised his head, vaguely acknowledging his son. Logan looked around, trying to figure out where his mother was, only to figure it out when what was at one point a beer bottle shattered against the wall directly behind him. He jumped forward, turning towards his mother, astonished.

      “What the hel-” He started, but cut himself off. His mother was standing, swaying a bit on her feet.

      “Where’s your brother?” She was slurring her words.

      “He’s at work, mother. He told you that before he left.” He could feel his throat tightening when she stepped towards him. His boots crunched glass as he stepped away from her, his back now against the wall. He was trying to figure out if he could make it out the door before she made her way to him when the second bottle came flying towards him. It, like the first, hit the wall, but the glass shards flew into his face and neck, most of them harmlessly hitting him and falling to the ground, but a few scraped him, and even fewer stuck into his skin.

      “Don’t talk- don’t talk back to me!” Logan swallowed around the lump in his throat.

      “Yes, ma’am. Sorry, Ma’am.” She nodded before coming forward to stand in front of him. Her eyes narrowed, and before Logan could apologize again she slapped the side of his face that didn’t have glass in it. Logan, who was admittedly not expecting that, fell at the impact, his hand that reached out to catch him sinking into the glass. “Fuck!” He groaned, the combination of blood and beer on his skin made him feel nauseous. Or, perhaps, it was the pain. His mother had already left, going back to her previous seat in the kitchen, and Logan was left on the floor, bleeding and trying to keep himself from crying.  

[annoyedlord]

What would you consider your defining life moments?(if you feel comfortable sharing of course!)

Mh.... the date might be inaccurate but time/dates doesn’t work well with me haha Also bear with me: it’s long and not the happiest.

Tw: Suicidal thoughts, Surgery, Scariffication, panic attacks, parental abuse/father abuse

2000. Kindergarten. I go to the psychiatrist for the first time. I don’t have many memories of it aside of managing to get my psychiatrist to buy more toys for the sessions because there was only one dinosaur and it was unfair. I’m what I’ll call “A girl by default” but I hate it.

Somewhere in 2008/2009. I have suicidal thoughts and depression but don’t know what it is, I have literally a whole month where I don’t shower because I cannot, it’s physically and psychologically impossible. I’m starting my teenage years with the need to kill myself, the impossibility to do basic tasks and for the first year since my 6yo without any kind of therapist or psychiatrist. My friends at that time don’t deal with it, I’m kinda left behind. (But I’ll meet a better group later ✨). No one is alarmed by my comportment, nor the teachers, nor my parents who aren’t home. I write my first suicide letter. In a more happy note, I get some good ass friend 🐾!! In the following years I’ll date few girls, labeling myself lesbian or bisexual, but never liking it. Got into my very first and quite terrible unhealthy relationship.

2010. I meet my forever best friend, Matthias. I will die for this man.

2011. I discover Don’t hug me I’m scared. This will shape a lot of who am I today, weirdly. At this moment I’m also a huge weeb boy. Totally a huge UwU trash. Absolute garbage. I start to draw digitally by tracing over anime pictures of google. I do a lot of RPs of my OCs. I am also already talking of “becoming a boy when I’ll be an adult”. My mental health is going worst and I made few suicide attempts. I have my very first panic attack, very violent. I’m confused? But I’m fine. I cut myself for the first time.

December 2011. I get my second surgery. At the age of 15, I have to learn again how to stand, sit and walk. My body feels even less like mine, everything hurts and I spend most of my days on codeine and morphine to ease the pain. I stay two weeks at the hospital and I’m sent back home with the authorization to go back to school. I couldn’t stand or sit for long. To this day, I cannot sit, walk or stand for long, sometimes even laying down is painful. From disabled with a deformity to disabled but without the deformity. I have a huge scar going through all my back. I hate it.

2012. I get my cat Tacos Mozart and I will explode the world for him.

From here there is a huge gap of memories.

2015. I come out to my mom in the car. “Mom, I’m a boy.” to which she just “Okay but are you still going to pay McDonald’s?”. I start more officially my quest on “how to become a boy”. I find the term transgender. I don’t like it (for me) but I use it because that’s the only way I have to explain myself. The guy I’m dating at the time supports me (too bad he will cheat on me later haha), so it makes me feel confident. I get a LOT of refusal from many psychiatrists. In the meanwhile, I made even more suicide attempts and survive, get a therapist who will make me hate therapy and a psychiatrist who will basically tell me to go fuck myself. I leave the therapy center where I was crying of anger, frustration and more.

2016. Awful year, and yet, I survived????? @linkedsoul and I start to date I THINK?? because we actually don’t know?? when?? how?? , which is by far the best thing that ever happened to me tbh. Despite living in the same house than I, my father stops talking to me.

2017. I get myself a job at L#sh at the end of the year. First job where I am respected as a man, called as so... unless the customers call me a woman. No one corrects them. They let it flow. I have an awful manager but hey, that’s work. I see @borderline-rat in the shop one day and decide that he will be my friend. I manage to befriend him and now he’s stuck with me FOREVER. Good luck you bitch >:) for the first time in my life, I live alone (for 3 months).

2018. After years of psychological abuse and manipulation and after drying my mother’s bank account, my father kicks us out of the house. We are homeless haha. My mom and I end up living at my aunt’s for a while. My mom realizes that my father used her for so many things and start to heal. I start T. My depression get worst. I’m introduced to Jerome to who I say in our very first meeting “French dicks are ugly.” and with that he became my therapist.

2019. We find a new home. I get a new cat. I get diagnosed with bipolarity and PTSD. I start meds. My meds want me dead twice. I go so often to the clinic that the staff knows me lol I get my first tattoo in December. I’m slowly very very babily starting to heal. A brand offers me to work with them and I say no. Fuck u. I tattoo.

2020. I get my boobs off my chest with @borderline-rat . My kitten stinks like hell. My meds sorta work. I’m doing better. I have 26 tattoos or so? and at least 3 more coming soon.

I’m not a good person at all, but I’m kind because of what happened to me, I’d say—

Edit: I can’t find when but whenever I met @mother-of-all-monsters shaped me as a person because this fucking moron is my best friend for who I’d roll over a grandma if it was needed

[jess-rewatches-prodigalson]

Episode 13: Wait and Hope

Here are my thoughts

SPOILERS AHEAD

1:00 - I love this scene. I know it’s all in Martin’s head but I really wish Malcolm was this honest with Martin all the time. Plus it shows that Martin is aware, on some level, that he’s been hurting Malcolm for years. 

2:19 - Okay. A couple of things here: 1) Something about having Under Pressure play right now is genius. It’s fun yet truthful. 2) Listening to Mr. David and Martin’s exchange is really interesting to me. It’s almost like Mr. David is friends with Martin. I mean Mr. David is being way nicer than a professional respect requires. AND 3) Watching Tom Payne do planks/yoga is very attractive. Dang. 

3:00 - So, we get a close up of 5 thin, tall pill bottles here. In about 4 seconds, when Malcolm is throwing pills into his mouth we will see 4 pill bottles of varying heights and thicknesses. So one of two things is happening 1) these scenes weren’t filmed on the same day and someone in the props department goofed or 2) Malcolm takes 9 different pill bottles worth of meds and this is just round two. BUT considering the 4 bottles of varying thicknesses reappear when Jessica shows up - I’m going to assume this is some minor on-set goof that they figured no fan would be neurotic enough to care about. They were wrong. I care deeply. In fact - I really want to know exactly what pills Malcolm takes. 

3:11 - So is Malcolm’s fridge empty because he just got out of the hospital? Because there was definitely food in there during 1x5 when he made grilled cheese with Dani. And there were frozen foods in his freezer in 1x8. Does Jessica stock the fridge/freezer? Is that why there’s usually food? Because it’s cannon that Malcolm doesn’t eat much... I’m way too invested in the contents of Malcolm’s fridge. Furthermore - I love the fact that Malcolm reaches for a handful of of licorices from that massive container - it’s just weird enough to be completely endearing and totally in character for Malcolm. It implies that there is no other dry, perishable foods in his loft - because you know, he could’ve eaten some dry-cereal or instant oatmeal here. But nope. The boy goes for candy. Why do I love this dysfunctional lunatic? He can barely keep himself alive.

3:21 - I love that Malcolm watches Ainsley’s reports like a Good Big Brother. I mean, given Malcolm’s job, he probably would watch the news daily regardless of who was reporting it. But there’s something just so sweet about the fact that he watches Ainsley instead of any of the other reporters. Ugh - something about it just warms my cold, dead soul. 

3:41 - hahahaha Ok. We all love the white suit because it’s weird, funny as hell, and just the right amount of attractive - but why does no one talk about the shoes? Malcolm isn’t wearing socks. He’s become one of those hipster dudes who wear fancy shoes without socks. I’m loving it. ALSO why is no one admiring Jessica? This woman is so extra that she knows her grown-ass son’s suit measurements and goes to buy him a suit that fits perfectly without his knowledge. Then she forces him to wear the white suit out of the house. It’s just. Wow. I love her. 

3:50 - I love that Jessica totally only bought that suit for Malcolm because she didn’t think he would be caught dead anywhere near the precinct in it.

4:09 - Check out the look that Malcolm gives Jessica here. He’s sad. He’s sad and feeling guilty that he’s worrying his mother. That’s why he put on the ridiculous suit for her. That’s why he’s not getting mad at her for waltzing into his apartment unannounced (again). That’s why he’s letting her fuss over of him. Because he wants to make her feel better. 

4:28 - This. This is why Jessica is being extra. She knows that if Malcolm is left alone he will skip his flight in order to achieve a “staycation in New York”. And if he takes a staycation he will inevitably end up hanging out at the precinct; working. She’s being extra but it’s justified - she’s trying to ensure that Malcolm takes care of himself. She said it herself - she doesn’t need him to love her, she just needs him alive. Right now - Malcolm is scaring her because she’s not so sure he wants to live. She’s not an idiot, she knows that Malcolm won’t take care of himself unless she literally removes him from the country, effectively taking away all of his opportunities to work. So. She. Does. 

4:31 - Soooo is no one going to talk about the fact that Jessica is pushing Malcolm out the door - with luggage - while his meds are sitting on his counter?!? Has she checked that he has meds packed in secondary containers? Just seems like something that Jessica would stress about, especially in Malcolm’s current mental state.

4:46 - I love this. Jessica called Gil to come and pick up Malcolm. The one person she knows Malcolm won’t fight about his vacation. He’ll whine but he won’t fight Gil - not after their fight last episode. This also implies that Gil and Jessica had a long discussion about forcing Malcolm to take a vacation due to his current mental state. They totally had a parenting conversation about their grown-ass child and I am living for it. I also want to hear it.

4:54 - I’m not sure we’ve seen Gil this happy since he greeted Malcolm during the pilot. It’s precious. When Gil says he’s proud of Malcolm I’m pretty sure my heart grew two sizes. Why can’t we have more soft moments like this? 

5:00 - This scene in the car is awesome. Malcolm is pouting like a petulant child and Gil is doing everything in his power to convince Malcolm this vacation will be good for him. It reminds me of a parent trying to get their toddler to eat vegetables. 

5:06 - “We all just want you to be happy.” Did you hear that? It’s the sound of my heart racing with joy. Malcolm looks confused and hurt after Gil says it. Almost like he’s not sure how to be happy or who this “we” includes. Gil can see right through it - look at the concern on his face.  

5:15 - hahaha When Malcolm hears the word “DOA” his face lights up like a Christmas tree and Gil’s contorts with annoyance. You can almost hear an Gil think “This is why we can’t have nice things” in an exasperated voice....also it is JT’s voice on the radio right? 

5:22 - I love how Gil caves here. He starts the conversation stern but you can see that the minute that Malcolm says “I’m taking care of myself” he starts to waver. Even though you can tell that Gil knows Malcolm is lying through his teeth it’s the sincere desperation and hope in Malcolm’s eyes that make Gil cave.

6:04 - haha this is so great. I love watching Dani and JT tease Malcolm because a) it’s funny but b) it’s making Malcolm happy. Look at Malcolm’s smiles. He’s so happy to be included in this banter and he knows they’re teasing him out of love rather than hatred. Plus look at how amused Gil looks watching his kids interact. ALSO - side note - JT’s outfits are awesome in this episode.  

6:45 - Can we all just take a minute to appreciate how far JT and Malcolm’s relationship has come? JT couldn’t stand Malcolm in 1x1. Now they’re casually squatting next to each other talking about guns. JT even looks impressed when Malcolm mentions owning a gun like the one they’re looking at. You can see that this conversation will continue later. JT wants to know more about Malcolm’s weapon collection. My heart is full. 

6:47 - Edrisa teasing Bright is a real turning point for her character. It’s hilarious. Plus, watching how amused JT, Gil, and Dani are at Malcolm’s expense is awesome BUT 1x1 Edrisa would’ve never made jokes like this about Malcolm. She’s getting over her school girl crush and their relationship is developing past professional and into friendship. I’m a fan. 

7:14 - How much time has passed since the end of 1x12? Malcolm looks a lot better than he did last episode. He looks happier, more relaxed, way less manic....and you know, no cast on his hand. 

7:18 - Look at Gil when Malcolm says “The Tale of Monte Cristo”. That’s a look of recognition. Gil knows that Malcolm loved that book. I want to know why. We know that Martin was the one to read the book to Malcolm. In about ten minutes Gil will ask Malcolm to tell him about the plot because Gil doesn’t seem to be familiar with it. Did Gil watch a mute Malcolm read it countless times after Martin’s arrest? How does Gil know that Malcolm loves this book?

7:55 - Look at Malcolm’s face when Gil tells him that he’s still going on vacation. He looks so annoyed at the fact that Gil is going to take away his fun. I almost feel bad for him - but Gil is right, our boy needs a vacation.

8:00 - I don’t care if it’s crazy that Malcolm would hear the click of the landmine and react before our US armed forces veteran JT. I don’t care if it’s insane that the whole room didn’t blow up while shaky hands was holding the unstable landmine. I don’t care that there is no way JT got that vest on Malcolm without having Malcolm accidentally trigger the mind. I don’t even care that the fact that Malcolm answers his phone without blowing up is ridiculous. I love this scene. It’s amazing. 

8:24 - Look at how panicked and scared everyone is. Look at how our sweet, neurotic Edrisa takes charge of her medical staff - this is a side of her I’d like to see more of. Check out the fear present in Gil, JT, and Dani. They’re not scared for themselves - they’re scared for Malcolm. 

8:40 - Gil’s fury and concern here are perfect. He’s scared out of his mind that everyone in the room is going to blow up but he’s still present enough to be pissed that Malcolm is making jokes about his own life. Even though Malcolm often uses humour as a way to mask his pain and fear. It’s just confirming Gil’s belief that Malcolm’s mental health is in shambles, that Malcolm needs a vacation, and that Malcolm is seriously depressed right now. 

8:43 - Malcolm’s brave mask is slipping. He’s looking more and more scared as this scene progresses. Look at the utter disbelief and horror on Dani, JT, and Gil’s faces when Malcolm suggests that they all leave him to die. They know he’s in a bad place mentally but they’re still shocked that he’s being so caviler about the importance of his life. They’re horrified that Malcolm still doesn’t truly understand how important he is to their team. 

9:00 - Are JT, Gil, and Dani even processing what Malcolm is saying? They all look so shocked and concerned that Malcolm is still trying to talk about the case when he’s literally holding a live mine that I’m pretty sure they aren’t truly processing to Malcolm’s words. But seriously, look at the terror and concern in their eyes. It’s heartbreaking. 

9:20 - Look at the way that Gil has to lead Dani out of the room. She’s frozen in panic and fear. Gil sees it and thinks “Oh hell no. I’m not losing 2 kids today.”

9:26 - Malcolms eyes here. That is mania. That is terror. That is the beginning of a panic attack. My heart is breaking but I’m also living for the whump. 

9:34 - More proof that Malcolm is suicidal. He thinks he’s going to die but he picks up a call from his serial killing, manipulative father who has, for all intents and purposes, scarred Malcolm and emotionally abused him? Yo. That’s not right. ....but I will say that the fact that Under Pressure starts playing again does something good to my heart. 

9:49 - More proof that Martin is a monster. His son tells him that he’s holding a live mine and Martin is more excited than concerned. Hell - Mr. David looks more concerned about Malcolm than Martin does. It takes a minute for Martin to realize that Malcolm might die. I will give Martin some credit here - once the realization sets in he does look a little scared that his son might die. Once again, I’m having a hard time figuring out if Martin actually cares about his son. 

10:33 - He. Jumps. Out. A. Window. What a move. 

10:48 - I love the team’s reaction to Malcolm falling on the Le Mans. They all look concerned about Malcolm BUT they also each have different secondary reactions. JT looks impressed. Gil looks like he can’t figure out if he’s panicking more over his car or his kid. Dani just looks shocked. 

11:00 - That’s pure unfiltered relief on the team’s faces when they see that Malcolm is conscious, lucid, and talking. I’m in love. The only problem I have with this scene is that no one even mentions any injuries that Malcolm inevitably got from this for the remainder of the entire episode. 

11:22 - Why is Martin allowed in these therapy sessions? They just feed his narcissism and give him an audience. He doesn’t let anyone else talk. 

11:40 - I love that even the other serial killing prisoners look done with Martin. 

12:12 - 1. Poor Hector. 2. Hector is “always Malcolm” OMG. How often does Martin turn these therapy sessions into a fantasy production of his relationship with Malcolm?!?! THIS IS NOT HEALTHY WHY IS THE PRISON ALLOWING THIS!?? 

13:30 - Can we all just take a moment to revel in the fact that Martin Whitly is such a bad person that even Hector - a prisoner in a serial killer prison - is afraid of Martin. I don’t blame Hector either. Look at how downright nasty Martin gets when things aren’t going his way. 

13:48 - soooo everyone changed between the crime scene and coming to the precinct? JT used to be wearing a burgundy shirt, Gil was wearing a black (maybe navy?) turtle neck and Dani was wearing a green T-shirt (not the green blouse she’s wearing now). With Malcolm it makes sense. Did everyone else just change because they were dusty? At 18:26 you can see that they all have different jackets too...Ok. I’ll accept it....WAIT. I assume Dani, JT, and Gil have changes of clothes at the precinct? Does Malcolm too? Or is Malcolm wearing what he had packed for his vacation? 

13:53 - Poor Gil. He loved that car. Look how sad he is. :( Look at how guilty Malcolm looks about it in the background. He looks so sad and scared. He’s looking at Gil like he’s waiting to get screamed at. :( I mean Gil’s obviously also upset that he watched Malcolm throw himself out a window but I don’t think Malcolm sees that.

14:15 - hahaha Malcolm is getting so excited about this story and Gil just does not have the patience for one of Malcolm’s manic rants right now. Check out Dani - she is living for Gil’s annoyance at Malcolm’s rant. 

14:44 - “It’s my father.” This is concerning on a couple of fronts. It’s concerning because of how completely drained Malcolm looks when he says it. Malcolm just looks done which is scary because not 2 minutes ago he was bouncing around with energy. That dramatic of an energy change that quickly is not healthy. Our boy needs a vacation. Also, check out the fear and concern in Gil’s eyes right after Malcolm tells him that Martin is on the phone. Gil is scared 1) because of Malcolm’s behaviour but 2) because he doesn’t think Malcolm can handle Martin right now - it’s part of the reason that he and Jessica were trying to get Malcolm into a different time zone and country for his vacation. Finally, Dani looks concerned too. I’m honestly surprised she didn’t reach out and hug Malcolm because it looks like she really wants to. 

15:00 - Gil was scared before now he’s panicking. You can see that he’s worried about why Malcolm would answer Martin’s phone call when he thought he was going to die. The “I was in a weird place” comment is not reassuring. You can also see that Gil is scared of what the phone call’s effect was on Malcolm’s already fragile mental state. I have a feeling that Malcolm’s current behaviour is reminding Gil of when Malcolm started visiting Martin in prison at age 11 which is scaring Gil too. Gil’s probably just waiting for Malcolm to completely shut down and go mute again. 

15:06 - I love this move. JT and Dani are concerned and a little scared to talk on the phone with Martin Whitly but Gil stands firm. He’s not letting his emotionally fragile kid speak to Martin Whitly alone one more time today. He’s too afraid of what Malcolm might do to himself if he’s alone with a Martin phone call. I love the gentle but firm way that Gil reminds Malcolm that he’s not alone. That the team is here for him. I also love that Gil is honest with Malcolm - he doesn’t know if this is a good idea because he’s not sure he should be letting Malcolm talk to Martin at all right now. 

15:24 -  I want to point out that Martin is not chained to the wall here even though Mr. David is in the room. Is that allowed? You can actually see his restraints lying on the floor, unattached to him at 16:43. Martin is technically staying behind the line though. I just want more details about when Martin is and isn’t chained to the wall. 

15:30 - This conversation is really interesting to me. Malcolm looks uncomfortable throughout the whole conversation. It’s as though he doesn’t want the team to see how dysfunctional his Dad and their relationship truly is. I love how confident and calm Gil acts and how freaked out JT acts. I love that Dani gets over her fear really quickly and is casually looking up stuff on her phone in the middle of the conversation like nothing weird is happening. This woman is a treasure. I find it interesting that Martin is peacocking. He’s having the time of his life because he’s talking to a larger audience and Mr. David looks so done with him. I love that when Malcolm starts showing obvious signs of discomfort and frustration the whole team starts shooting him concerned looks as they watch the effect that Martin has on his son. It’s heartbreaking and perfect. I’m in love. 

17:01 - hahaha Malcolm hanging up on Martin is amazing. Malcolm is so scared that his dad is going to ruin his relationship with one of his only friends. Look at Malcolm’s face right after he hangs up - he looks detached and scared. Dani sees it too - check out the way she jokes with Malcolm afterward. She’s trying to reassure him that they’re good and it’s not his fault. Hell - JT and Gil given Malcolm some concerned looks at the end of this scene as well. I think the whole team is riding the “Malcolm is more depressed than usual and he needs a vacation” train.

17:38 - Look at how proud Jessica is here. It’s sweet. I wish she were this affectionate to Ainsley more often. Ainsley needs it. 

17:55 - This is heartbreaking. Jessica is so lonely. She misses her social life. She really lost everything except Malcolm and Ainsley when Martin was arrested. 

18:25 - This is such a messed up, convoluted set up. The dude is going to die by sword. Dang. This show is weird. Why do I love it so much?

18:55 - When Malcolm takes off his coat, the team looks very concerned and confused. I’m genuinely surprised that Gil didn’t have JT take Malcolm outside with force. They all had looks on their faces that said, “Our boy is passively suicidal. He’s going to try and kill himself again. He must be stopped.” And when Malcolm tells them that he’s going to “save this guy” they look so shocked and resigned like “of course that’s what you’re doing. You are a giant moron with no sense of self-preservation.”

19:37 - “Who are we going to call? The department of falling sword death?” hahaha Gil looks so done with Malcolm’s bullshit. 

19:42 - I want more information on this one. Malcolm throws axes...competitively. Why? When and how did he get into it? It’s the most obscure hobby I can think of. 

19:56 - Am I supposed to believe that JT and Dani carry wire cutters on all of their cases? Because I don’t. 

21:00 - The way that Malcolm looks at Gil here is concerning. It’s almost as though Malcolm is just realizing that Gil is still in the room. Malcolm has become so consumed by the case and his mania that he forgot that Gil was in the room. 

23:08 - This is so freaking cute. JT is going to watch the wedding with his wife. She’s going to wear a hat. JT looks so happy and excited about it. I don’t think he cares about the wedding but he cares about his wife and that just makes me happy. And Gil looks like “I work with weirdos. All of them.” My heart. <3

24:16 - Gil is so annoyed that Malcolm is lying to his mom. You can see that Gil is also grateful though - it was his responsibility to make sure Malcolm got on that plane and an angry Jessica is a scary Jessica. 

25:00 - William called the George Taylor? Dick move.

25:50 - For once can Gil please just call out Malcolm for projecting his personal issues onto suspects? Can we please just see Gil confront Malcolm about it? 

26:20 - Why does Malcolm know so much about bootlegging? 

27:00 - “They’re thinking Ecuadorian” hahahahaha OMG. Malcolm needs to stop using humour to hide his pain and fear but it is damn funny.

27:50 - Dang. Gil is a badass. Malcolm looks so grateful to Gil here. <3

28:30 - Gil has had it with Malcolm avoiding his vacation. This is full on dad mode right here. Gil is worried. Malcolm isn’t taking care of himself. Look at the way Gil guides Malcolm out of the precinct. Ugh. I’m in love with the father/son moment here. 

29:00 - I love how vulnerable and honest Malcolm consistently acts around Dani. Look at the pain in Malcolm’s face as he admits his problem with going on a vacation. Dani looks sad and concerned for Malcolm but she doesn’t judge him. She just comforts him with a stupid joke and lets him skip his flight. That’s true friendship. I stan this woman.

30:30 - This whole interaction between Martin, Dani, and Malcolm is awesome. Martin is ecstatic with the extra large audience. Dani looks a little scared at first but she really holds her own against Martin. She’s feisty, brave, and determined to do her job. Plus the concerned looks she’s giving Malcolm when he starts talking about the camping trip are A++. 

32:05 - I love how angry JT gets during interrogations. This boy really supports the law. 

33:15 - Ugh. Martin is so shady. He has a history of acting like a happy, sarcastic, manic dude who may or may not be lying to you. But then in the same conversation he will become either a) angry and threatening or b) serious and kind. It actually looks like he’s trying to convince Dani that Malcolm is the bad guy here - not him. That look of pure hatred that Malcolm shoots back at him is worth it though. Also - hell of a lot of foreshadowing for the next couple of episodes. Like dang.

33:45 - “You can take her shopping my boy. On me!!” ....I’m sorry does this mean that Martin has money somewhere? Jessica was rich. Martin was not. Something tells me that all of Martin’s money should’ve been spent on defence attorneys. Is he getting paid for his consultation work? Is that even a thing? OMG. I have so many questions about this. 

34:00 - That is a very angry and disappointed father. Malcolm is in so much trouble for not going on vacation. I’m living for it. I also love that even though Gil is so angry at Malcolm he still reluctantly helps him because Gil is a Good Man of the Law. 

34:30 - hahaha this is precious. Malcolm looks so shocked by Dani’s beauty here. Almost like he’s noticing that she’s a woman for the first time. AND Dani’s reaction is so cute. She’s flattered, a little awkward, and a lot happy that he thinks she’s pretty. Also - can we please take a minute to admire how respectful Malcolm is to Dani here. This boy has manners. Dani is not his girlfriend and she’s not an object to be catcalled at. So he calls her “amazing”. Not beautiful or sexy or hot. Amazing. A completely respectful compliment from a man who is not dating Dani. I love this. 

35:00 - Well Dani - he was going to tell you that you’re really pretty and he has feelings for you..and you probably guessed that...sorry. I ship Brightwell.

35:17 - hahaha Malcolm is like “Damn. I’ve been exposed.”

37:50 - I feel really bad for Jessica here. Can’t this woman go to one (1) social event in 20 years and have to be judged for Martin’s misdemeanors?!? This poor woman just wants to enjoy legally herself and no one is letting her. 

38:06 - JT sent Dani those pics....soooo he’s at home with Tally watching this right? Somehow I think JT’s night has become more interesting than he thought it would be. 

38:45 - OMG. This speech was hard to watch. Malcolm is awkward, manic, and totally projecting about his daddy issues. Despite all of this, all I can think about is JT and Tally watching this on a TV somewhere staring at Malcolm in horror/amusement. 

39:06 - Poor Jessica. She had one request. “Don’t embarrass me.” She looks utterly mortified. 

41:30 - I love this. I love how happy Malcolm just made Jessica. I love watching Jessica be proud of Malcolm. It’s so sweet. 

42:10 - This conversation between Malcolm and Ainsley is precious. Ainsley isn’t a bad person. She makes some bad decisions but she loves her family and I’m so proud of her for doing this for her Mom. My heart grew about 6x watching Malcolm be proud of his little sister. 

Sorry....this one got REALLY long. Thanks for hanging out if you have. Happy Prodigal Monday!! :D Hope you’re all going to watch 1x19 tonight! 

[justjessame]

A Little Ass and A Lotta Sass: Chapter 8: Decisions Made...Oh Dear God...

When the man you’re still trying to decide keeps popping up with more and more reasons, in his mind, for you to run away with him what do you do? I’m not sure what other people do, but me? I get more and more uncertain.

What if, like Judith and something new and shiny, Negan gets me back to the Sanctuary and suddenly he grows bored? What guarantee do I have that the chase isn’t what has his motor running at full throttle? And no, I don’t fucking care that there are no money back guarantees with relationships. I want more certainty, especially since, well the truth of it is I don’t trust his followers.

Somehow, I trust him and his bat naming insanity, far more than I do the roaches he surrounds himself with. I’ve noticed, while he visits, that some are very clearly loyal to him. Those people I may learn to trust, maybe. Then there are the others. Like the man who had taken Daryl’s clothes, bike, and crossbow. Do I really believe that a man punished with a hot iron to the face really calls it fair and square and suddenly becomes the perfect foot-soldier? No, no I don’t. And if I don’t trust him, then I know there are bound to be more just like him. Men and women who do what Negan says, strokes his enormous fucking ego, but behind his back where he can’t see? That’s where they plot.

I know that’s how people work. Hell, take a gander at Spencer and what happened to him. He wasn’t the first, and he won’t be the last that I encounter in this harsh new reality. The thought of dealing with a bunch of angry housewives, that would be sharing him with me-gag, and also the uncertainty of the disloyal was a hard pill to consider swallowing along with the fear that I was just the girl of the week.

The fourth visit was shorter than the last. I felt the sigh on his lips when he kissed me goodbye. And I wondered, if eventually he’d just fucking give up and never come back. I hate to admit it, but the thought of not seeing him again caused a flinch of pain run through my chest. A normal woman may have analyzed that reaction, but I’m fairly certain we all know how much of me is normal.

 While I killed time between this visit and the next, I caught Daryl still studying me. Fuck it, I thought, approaching Dad’s best friend. Let’s see what the quiet one thinks about the entire fucking situation.

“Hey.” I offered, sitting down on the lawn beside where he was tinkering with his bike. “You gonna tell me if you’ve figured out that puzzle you seem to be working on?”

I heard him grunt, but his face was currently buried in the metal he was working on. I waited. Daryl took his fucking time on everything, sometimes even his words. A couple minutes passed, and then he finally spoke. “You gonna do it?” He didn’t look at me, focusing on some part of the bike that I couldn’t name. “You gonna go with him?”

As if I needed that clarification. “Not sure.” I answered, wondering what Daryl’s opinion on the situation was. “You had to stay there, I have a feeling it isn’t Club Med.”

He snorted. “Yeah, ya could fucking say that.” He finally looked up and through the curtain of his bangs I saw his eyes were focused on me. “Figure your accommodations are bound to be better than mine were.”

“Yeah, but I’d still be a prisoner wouldn’t I?” That was a near fear that had popped up. If I left with him, if I agreed, would I ever get to leave and visit my family again? Would I get to see Judith grow up? See Carl finally become the man he was teasing about becoming? And watch Dad and Michonne grow into their relationship? And the others? Enid, Maggie, Sasha, Rosita...These people were all my family. Leaving them and never seeing them again was terrifying.

He shook his head as the pain of the mere thought of never seeing anyone again rushed through me. “Don’t think so.” He tossed the tool he’d been using into the box at his feet. Moving to sit next to me, he glanced over at my profile. “He don’t treat ya like he treats ‘em.” The wives, so Daryl had seen or met them. “Hell, they don’t wanna be there with him, not really. Just like the perks.” I nearly snorted, considering the perks of Negan I fucking enjoyed. “Can’t make up your mind for ya, Callie, but he’s fucking different with ya. Didn’t think your dad and Michonne knew what the fuck they were talkin’ about, until that mornin’.”

I looked down at my hand, it still bore the marks of the fork tines. “Yeah, that morning was a real eye opener, huh?”

He chuckled. “Thought he was gonna fuckin’ blow a gasket when you stabbed that fork into your hand. Shit, that would have been a good video to have on repeat.” I giggled at Daryl’s amusement. “Callie, I watched him burn a guy’s face with a hot iron, and not flinch at the screams. You stab yourself with a fork and he nearly fucking died.”

I bit my lip, Daryl wasn’t telling me this because he wanted me to go. He may see the upside of me going, but in the end, he knew it was entirely up to me. And knowing Daryl, he’d be just as ok if peace didn’t come and he could kill every last Savior up to and including Negan. Which is why I took his words as they were offered.

I sat next to him, thinking about what he’d told me. Wisdom, I suppose, since he’d actually been inside with Negan. Adding it to what Carl had told me about his own visit there, I watched the scene before me without seeing it. Thinking about what I could negotiate with Negan to make the entire idea more livable. And then I sat back and waited until he popped up for another visit.

He waited longer this time. A little over two weeks had passed. Two weeks for me to hammer out the details for my own piece of the pie that would make the whole fucking arrangement worthwhile. To both of us. At least I hoped it would.

I wasn’t paying attention to the rest of the world, not closely. So I barely noticed that Michonne kept giving me weird side eye looks. Very weird side eye looks. Before Negan showed up, she finally cornered me. And that’s when I realized that the asshole may have fucking called it on his last visit.

“Callie, when’s the last time you-” Michonne began, then stopped, took a breath and started again. “I noticed when I took out the trash yesterday that there weren’t any-” And another stop, and I swear I could feel the heat of her embarrassment.

The trash, empty of something that seemed to bother Michonne. Fuck. I closed my eyes. Ever hear that thing about women who live together having their cycles sync? Well, in a weird twist of fate, Michonne and I synced before meeting. And she usually took care of the trash during that week, because honestly listening to Carl bitch and moan about bloody anything was annoying as shit. I swallowed hard.

“I haven’t.” I opened my eyes to hers. “Not this month.” Then I shook it off. No fucking way. It was too soon, for one. And I doubted highly that I would know this early. Not fucking possible. “Stress.” I let out a swoosh of air in happiness and hope. “Has to be the stress of deciding. That totally throws off a period.” I nodded, convincing myself and hopefully Michonne.

“Are you sure?” She asked, watching my face so carefully that I swore she memorized all my fucking tells. “It only takes one time, you know.”

I nodded. I knew that. Every woman over the age of ten should know that. I also knew that there was no fucking way that God could possibly make that huge of a joke out of my situation. Nope, not fucking possible. “Of course I know that. It wasn’t long enough ago, Mich. I mean, what three weeks? Too fucking early to even think about that.”

I heard her clearing her throat, almost fighting a laugh. I looked at her and she smiled. “Actually, that’s precisely how long it may take to be sure.”

I felt my back press against the wall behind me. My head knocked against it as I smacked it back. No, that couldn’t be fucking right. I couldn’t possibly be. No. I refused to accept the idea of it. I shook my head and finally her laughter broke. I couldn’t even focus enough to glare at her. My stomach felt twisted with nerves. Fuck. Shit.

A few days later, there he was. Whistling up the steps to the front door of our house. I was sitting in the living room. Dad and Michonne were out on a run, hoping that they could find some kind of mattresses. Carl and Judith were playing upstairs and I was on the couch, trying without success to read a book. My mind was still whirling with the idea that I could possibly have a baby inside me. I heard the knock, and the whistling and nearly hid. Not now. Damn it. Not now.

He opened the front door, because of course he would, and strutted inside. Finding me on the couch, I heard him groan. “Damn, is it just me or do you get fucking hotter every goddamn time I see you?” The couch dipped as he sat down beside me. His hands, glove free, took the book from me and sat it on the table in front of me. “Gonna say hello to me, princess?”

I looked up at him and bit my lip. “Hey.” It was a weak greeting, even by most weak standards.

“Something wrong?” His brow was furrowed, looking at me with worry and a hint of fear. Of course he was thinking I was turning him and this asinine idea down.

I swallowed, my mouth felt like the fucking Sahara. “No, nothing’s wrong.” Except you may have fucking predicted the immediate future you weird fucking asshole. “I suppose you’re here to remind me of all the amazing reasons I should be upstairs packing so I can run off and join your harem?” My voice sounded off even to me. And he clearly noticed it.

“Callie, what the fuck is wrong?” His hands cupped my face, staring into my eyes with such intensity I wondered if he was trying to delve into my thoughts. “Tell me.”

I sighed. Fuck it. Why not? “Apparently,” I swallowed again, and realized I needed a drink. I stood up and he followed me to the kitchen where I got a glass of water. Drinking it, all of it, I finally continued. “Apparently, I’m late.” I felt the blush burn my face. Dear God, let the floor swallow me now.

“Late?” He stood back and studied me. “You’re late.” A nod and then that fucking smile. And the fucking dimples. “Shit. That’s either the funniest and best fucking news I’ve had in my fucking life, or the most fucking terrifying.” Ah, that’s why he wasn’t barking with glee. “A baby?” He moved closer, and cupped my chin in his hand to tilt my head up to look at him. “Our baby?”

“I haven’t confirmed it.” I said, sighing. “I haven’t really accepted the possibility.” I could see the hurt in his face. “We haven’t really come to terms with our situation, Negan. Adding a baby to the mix doesn’t exactly make it easier.” I felt his thumb grazing my lips. “I was actually hoping to sit down with you and talk about my stipulations, and then this.” I moved my face from his hands and glared at my flat stomach. Traitor body.

“Then let’s fucking hammer out the details, Callie. Any fucking thing to get you home with me.” He sat down at the dining room table and motioned for me to take a seat. “Tell me what you want. Let’s fucking negotiate.”

I rolled my eyes, clearly my default reaction to Negan. I sat down and reminded him that I could very well NOT be pregnant. So he shouldn’t let the possibility of a baby cloud our talk. He nodded his understanding and I began.

 It took around an hour for me to explain my wants, and especially my needs if I agreed to be with him. He listened, only asking a few questions to clarify things before letting me go on. Then it got down to the nitty gritty.

“OK.” He said, grinning at Carl when he came down with Judith for lunch. He watched as my brother threw together something to take back upstairs, waiting until they’d gone before continuing our discussion. “You want monogamy, visits with your family, and to get to choose the Saviors that guard you?” I nodded, figuring two out of three might be agreeable to him. “Done.” I felt my eyes go fucking wide. “What?” He asked, feigning an innocence he probably had never possessed. “I thought about what you’d said about the others, why do you fucking think I was gone so fucking long?” Huh, well look at that. “I thought about it, and I discussed it with-” He stopped and flashed me a look. “Well, I got a little feedback from some people. They’ll be put back where they came from, be it their former men or wherever the fuck they crawled to me from.” I was reeling. It couldn’t really be this simple. Could it? “Besides, Callie, I fucking hate being there without you. It feels weird to be here with you, but if that had been a fucking stipulation, then I’d probably have figured out a fucking way to relocate my base here.”

I sat back in my chair. Fuck me. What the hell do women actually do with this type of power of men? Because honestly? I was fucking stumped. “So, I get everything?” I was so fucking confused that I almost started looking for that fucking fork again. “That I asked for, I mean.”

“You didn’t really ask for much.” He shrugged, looking supremely unconcerned. “No side pieces, easy, fuck the way we go together I don’t need other variety.” He smiled at me and I felt my heart lurch. “Visits with the family? Simple, I can’t fucking wait to see Rick’s face when you tell him about MY fucking bun inside your hot fucking oven.” I fought rolling my eyes at his certainty of my possible pregnancy and at his childish need to irritate Dad even now. “And as for choosing your own guards, fuck that’s the simplest. I won’t have you surrounded by any fucking one you don’t feel comfortable with. Period, done, finished.” He sat back looking pleased as fucking punch. “How long is packing gonna take?”

I laughed at him. Long and hard. Shit. “Dad and Michonne aren’t here. I can’t go until they get back, Negan. Even with visits, I want to say goodbye.” He huffed an annoyed sigh. “You know, you wouldn’t find it so unbearable here if you could spend the night in my bedroom, on an actual fucking bed.” He shot me a look. “Your fault, not mine, buddy.” I held my hands up, reminding him that in this instance, at least, I was the innocent party.

“How fucking long is Daddy going to fucking be away?” He was pouting, I fucking swear, he was pouting.

“No fucking idea.” I answered honestly. Runs were planned, of course, but who fucking really knew. Shit goes bad constantly. I stood up and walked to his seat. He pushed the chair back automatically and I sat down. “I could always keep you company until he gets back.” I offered into his jacket and I felt his entire body go stiff. “You know, out of the kindness of m-” I never finished my sentence, but that didn’t mean that I never finished.

[spoonie-swiftie]

Having a really hard time lately, I’m so stressed and dealing with so much health stuff and I have almost no money because SSI is a joke and I can’t work because I’m too sick. I cleaned my room for almost 5 hours yesterday and today I’m stuck in bed. I really try not to compare myself to others, comparison is the thief of joy and all, but it’s so hard to see people who I love who are “popular” and have been chosen for secret sessions or loft ‘89 or rep room be the only ones who ever get a chance to interact with @taylorswift.

I feel like such a bitch and like such a whiner and like I don’t deserve anything because I technically have I technically have a follow but I’ve never once been noticed on anything. And I’ve technically met Taylor 10 years ago for actually less than 30 seconds but I wasn’t even able to explain to her how much her music has done for me and I’m in a point of my life where I’ve been full blown disables for 9 years and she has truly helped me through my worst times, and times I’ve never wanted to give up and throw in the towel more.

She’s gotten me through countless hospital stays and procedures and surgeries and trauma and night of pain or nausea filled insomnia.She’s gotten me through watching my hopes and dreams dissolve into thin air and being too sick and depressed to come up with new dreams.

She’s helped me stay (stay stay 😋) on this earth when I was being gaslit and going from dr to dr being told everything from “you’re doing this to yourself” (yeah cause that’s totally how genetics diseases work), to “you’re too complex of a case, I can’t take you”, so I had to drive to drs actually truly say that “you can’t be in that much pain, you’re exaggerating” and “your ____ joint can’t be dislocating or subluxating (a partial dislocation) in your sleep or walking around, it’s just not possible, see?”-proceeds to actually try to pull my hips out of the sockets.

She’s gotten me through moving from Illinois to Nashville TN because I know if I was to stay then I would most likely have died.

She’s gotten me through eating disorder and self harm treatment recovery and has kept me alive for years by always having something fun and exciting to look forward to and want to stay on the earth to see/hear it.

I’ve been trying so hard and working my ass off for 13 years to be able to tell her how grateful I am for her and it just hurts and sucks that even though I’ve done the same things that SS/M&G people have done but because I’m invisible nobody notices or cares that I exist so of course neither does Taylor. I know the chances of her saying my name excitedly and giving me a huge hug like I’ve seen so many times from my friends or getting a reply, reblog, or even just a like so I can see she read it are slim to none at this point cause I’m just an invisible nobody that very few people know or care about (especially the most popular ones) so it’s not like I ever get the help (totally not their fault that I’m so forgettable, ugly, and invisible! I love most of them!!!)I just wish things were different. And I’m tired of the universe shitting on my head constantly and not having enough reach or enough friends with reach to help me through this hard time since I’m really hurting for money and when it rains it pours... if anyone is even reading this, thank you, and please consider reblogging. I can’t be the only one feeling this way and as much as I H A T E asking for help, I have no choice in this matter anymore. Shit has hit the fan in my house and I need help. I know we’re all going through shit right now but I don’t know who else to ask. I need to get a gofundme started ASAP. Like I said, As much as I hate hate hate asking for help, especially monetary help, I have to do something. One of the issues is I can’t write well at all so I don’t know what to say to attract people to donate. So for now all I have are my Venmo, cash app, and PayPal that I can link. But here’s just a snippet of what we’re going through and why I’m asking for money. We just found out that our water heater is not only broken and needs to be completely replaced but the whole closet it’s in is full of mold (which is NOT GOOD for someone on oxygen with an immunocompromised body and lots of medical equipment attached to me 24/7) on the walls the floor everything is going to need to get torn out and replaced and I have no idea what it’s doing health wise to me when demo starts since I share a wall with it. My family can barely afford this EVER let alone this time of year. On top of that I think my “service dog in training” Flynn has an eye infection so I’m gonna have to take him to the vet which I can’t afford AND my car needs an oil change and I don’t have the money for that either and I still need to find a trainer for Flynn so we can start the process of becoming a team where I can reply on him. On tops of all that, I still need money for gas to go to the doctor all the time, medication co pays, over the counter meds, pedialyte for when I’m running feeds, dog food and training treats, and stuff to distract me from the massive amounts of pain which used to be semi useful like watercolor or planning but since I can’t even sit at my desk anymore it mostly consists of choosing between Netflix, Hulu (free), amazon prime and now Disney+. Flynn is officially over a year old and I’ve never taken him to a trainer because I haven’t gotten the money to do so. I’m so overwhelmed and broke and I’m terrified to even apply for rover or something like that to make some extra money because if social security finds out I could lose everything (which is only less than $200 a month that I’m supposed to survive off of. I’m really sorry for this long post about me whining about being invisible and Taylor never noticing and now asking for money. Y’all are gonna hate me. I know you all have so much going on and if you can’t help it’s okay I’ll figure something out. And if I end up on an anonymous hate account, I truly don’t care anymore, I just needed to get this out there and figured I’d owe it to Yall to at least let you swiftie fam know what’s going on ♥️

If you read all that, you’re the real mvp and thank you.

Love love love,

Mandie

[thebestoftimes]

If I understand correctly u have mi, and if you have something that might be similar to what sander might have, do you think this was realistic, I mean the way he acted before he ran out naked?

I was originally scared to answer this because i’m normally very closed off when it comes to talking about my mental health. But I also want to destroy the American stigma that it shouldn’t be talked about and that it’s something to be ashamed of so FUCK IT let’s talk about it.

LONG ASS POST BELOW

I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder when I was 16. I won’t get into my symptoms and my life with depression because that isn’t relevant to wtfock yet unless you count Sander’s sad ig post as a possibility of a depressive episode. When I was 19 the therapist I was seeing posed that maybe I had generalized anxiety. I didn’t buy it because I had never had a full-blown panic attack. I’m just an extremely high-strung person that is stressed 24-7 and tended to spiral quickly into worry. I didn’t think that constituted an anxiety disorder. Especially because I’m still very high functioning under stress. Me being anxious normally just triggered my depression rather than anything else. Not very exciting. I went to a psychiatrist to get my meds adjusted for like 4th time in my life because yet again, my anti-depressants stopped working after a six month period even with a dose change. This psychiatrist was brand new to me so I had to give a short spiel on my mental health history and symptoms. Immediately she said I was bipolar. I DID NOT BELIEVE HER. I still don’t kind of. But I’m starting to. I just want a second opinion from another doctor really. Here’s why she said I was bipolar and here’s why I was an idiot for thinking I didn’t have anxiety.

My thoughts go a hundred miles a minute. I get overwhelmed quickly by them and it makes it difficult to sleep 99% time. It also means I spiral VERY QUICKLY. Point A leads to point Z in 0.05 seconds and suddenly I’m stressed and then depressed.

I feel uncomfortable in my skin a lot. Leg bouncing 24/7. I started to pick at my skin so bad I have scars all over my back and shoulders from it. Blood underneath my fingernails. Blood on the straps of my prom dress because I couldn’t stop. Hugging myself so tightly I hope I collapse into myself. Stretching out my arms because I feel so off and strange in my own body. I’m too hot and I’m too cold and I toss and turn because I can’t get comfortable and I can’t get my thoughts to just shUT UP FOR ONCE. If there was a camera in my room you’d see me groan into my pillow a lot in frustration.

I’ve only ever had one real episode of mania, and it was actually hypomania (which sounds worse than mania but it’s not it’s actually more stable). And that was when I was put on a mood stabilizer after being told i was bipolar ii (non-cyclical, mostly depressive). Psych meds take about a month to properly enter into your bloodstream and for about two weeks I was... really interesting. I laughed at my own jokes for deadass ten minutes. I thought everything was funny. I talked a mile a minute and I already talk extremely quickly. The best way to describe it, according to what my mother witnessed, was that I was myself on steroids. My brain no longer filtered how quickly my thoughts moved to my mouth. She said you could actually see how fast my brain works because that’s how I was talking. I changed subjects very rapidly and was quite jumpy. I was also very agitated. And even more on edge than normal. I thought people would think I was just in an abnormally good mood because I have a rep for being very bubbly and animated but friends I wasn’t even that close with would be like Jess are you okay..? I’ve never experienced anything quite like that since then. 

So yes. Sander was extremely accurate. I was upset watching the clip because it was like watching myself. His giddiness and then his quick breathing and clawing at his back and he couldn’t sit still and he needed air but he needed to go back to sleep but he COULDN’T sleep and so he needed to get OUT and do SOMETHING. Yes, maybe food will help. Food and some water and fresh air. That will make him feel better. I didn’t see him leaving as a super manic episode and impulsiveness, I saw it as him desperately trying to make himself calm down. And that shit hurted. What really sucks is that a lot of us don’t have a Lucas or a Robbe. We have to talk ourselves down. Calm ourselves down. Plead with ourselves to try and get more sleep. Tell ourselves to slow down because we’re going too fast and people are thinking something is off. 

Idk if I have bipolar disorder. I was born “””gifted””” so my mind has always worked very strangely and quickly and I’ve always presented myself in public as very bubbly and animated and so I wouldn’t know what a hypomanic episode in me would even look like besides that one time (hypo-mania is different than regular mania! It’s probably what Sander was actually going through while a character like Even or Eliott was truly manic. Hypomania is a bit more toned down) esp because I’m not impulsive, have mood swings, and I’m not an impulsive spender. I do sometimes devote myself to things in totality for crazy amounts of time. Like spending a whole day on one thing and ignoring everything else or deciding I’ll do a whole project at 2am and not finish until 7 so maybe that’s hypomania? IDK I’ve always done shit like that! I know I have depression. I know i have some form of anxiety. I know that Sander and I were identical for a hot minute. So yeah. Pretty damn realistic.

If anyone wants to ask more questions or just talk then go ahead.

[anincrediblelife-blog]

A “new normal?” I don’t think so...(?)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I remember the day like the back of my hand. I had just been admitted to the Johns Hopkins hospital, hooked up to oxygen and IV fluids. I was meeting with my new team of oncology doctors.

They went over my plan of treatment and what to expect. Naturally, as many would also probably respond as, I blacked out. I’m sure it was the lack of oxygen and the mix of pain killers, but I honestly don’t remember any of it. The room went dark, I could hear them— feel their pressence, but my mind had basically burst into a million pieces. So much information given to me in...in what, maybe 30 minutes, tops?

Chemo was a drag, as most would expect. I handled it well, quite honestly. I got sick maybe once or twice my first round, but it was smooth sailing the rest of the way. Fatigue and the emotional sobbing was my biggest problem. It would come out of nowhere. I became sensitive to everything. The sun, the moon, and the stars would pop out and I’d be sobbing. I’d watch my 600lb life... and sob. I’d sit down for morning coffee, and sob. I didn’t fight the tears anymore.

Chemo does weird things to your body and your mind— you’re literally morphing into this lifeless, non-recognizable body. My hair fell out everywhere. My beard fell out. Christmas Day I was in the shower and globs of hairs were just falling out. A few days later I said fuck it, took my clippers, and pulled a 2007 Brittney Spears.

I began to look like my pubescent 11 year old self. It was weird. Just totally taboo.

I was facing a huge challenge now. This really hadn’t hit me yet.

But in all honesty, it wasn’t until my eyelashes, my eyebrows, and the hairs on my legs and arms began to fall out. It wasn’t really until I began to puff up like a fish from all the steroids; and gain the “Freshman 15” that I never did in college. That’s when it really hit me.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Holy shit, I have cancer.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This “new normal” mentality was brought up so many times to me by so many people in the last year that I have learned to just ignore it...or at least try to.

Uh...Yeah, of course my life is going to change. I was just diagnosed with late stage metastatic ball cancer. I’m 24 fuckin years old, are you kidding me?

I was pissed, so mad at the world. What did I do to deserve this? Everything was finally falling into place for me. My career was taking off, I began to work on my masters degree. I was eating healthy and taking numbers. I had what I wanted. I had security.

I might have struggled financially, but I had begun to get my life together one step at a time.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I tried and tried to get back to my old self after finishing chemo, going through all these surgeries and getting back to my daily work life and weekend fun.

I was fighting this “new normal” mentality.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As of recently, I think I’m starting to get what they meant.

I was doing so well, health related. Tumor markers were returning to a normal range, lung mets were still shrinking. I wasn’t worried.

But as I look back from the last few months, I see it now. Something was wrong. My mood fluctuated, my emotions were all over the place. I emailed my urologist to ask for bloodwork for T levels. My hormones went through quite a bit over the last few months— a lot of hormonal changes. T levels came back normal. I started working out again, getting my ass into shape at kickboxing. (What a great stress relief, by the way. I highly recommend.)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I mean, yeah, I knew I was sorta depressed, but I was back to at least a little bit of what we say ~thriving~ nowadays.

“Living my best life.”

Or so I thought I was...

But then I began to run myself into the ground. I started drinking a lot, being reckless, putting my roommate and my friends through hell. There would be times she would come home and I’d be passed out on the floor from having too much bubbly by myself on a Sunday morning. It wasn’t healthy— for me or for her. I had to get my shit together or I was out. Never did either of us even imagine I’d be struck with cancer. The tension was high. We both knew it, but, at least for myself, I’m not afraid to say I like to avoid conflict.

I was self medicating because thats what seemed what was best for me. In reality, I was self-destructing. And a steady decline I was taking.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

For the last couple days I’ve had a lot of time to think. (Maybe too much time, to be honest.)

I guess what I’m trying to say is.. I can sorta admit that I’m learning to accept these changes— this “new normal” mentality. I didn’t want to at first, but I think it’s ok. Instead of fighting to try to find the old me, maybe this “new normal” is a change that I needed.

A life style change? A new outlook? A restart button? Shut down, and reload.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Two and a half weeks ago, I had a brain tumor removed. Yeah, the cancer came back. Six months post chemo, six months post surgeries, six months getting back to work, getting healthy— a brain tumor. Surgery went well. They got it all out and I’ll meet with oncology next week for further details and a plan of more treatment if need be. (I’ll be sure to update.)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

What...What I’m trying to say is that this brain tumor and this brain surgery and all that has opened my eyes even more to the “new normal.” The depression seems to have subsided, although I’m not afraid to admit I’m on antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds and sometimes I feel like maybe we all should just be on them. I truly feel happier. Everyone wants to be happy— and I can honestly say that I’m getting there. I’m working on it. I have my days. We all do. So I don’t let it bother me.

It’s made me wonder— this latest occurance— to think of it as a learning experience. Some higher power put me in this situation to really challenge me...again. And I’m succeeding.

I refuse to lose. I never was a loser. My competitve side really comes out sometimes, catching people off guard. I’m usually the sarcastic wise-ass in the corner cracking jokes.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I need to start setting life goals. I want to travel more, I want to experience life like there’s no tomorrow. It’s easier said than done, I know, but it’s turning in a necessity now for me. Tomorrow is not promised. As cliches as it sounds, I want to carpe dium.

And that’s my plan. Carpe the shit out of that dium.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Enjoy your day, my lovely friends ❤️