#i have to get yelled at by my therapist in the morning 8)

[ohnonononononono567]

Carry me - Simon "Ghost" Riley x m!reader (angst)

Games

Bit by Bit

(This was made after 1am and I projected my OCD onto a fictional character so that's on me guys, my bad. Any bad writing can be blamed on the fact I was watching chernobyl with my cat and eating the saltiest fried chicken sandwich known as i wrote this)

"Simon-"

"Don't." He grunted, leaving his position in your bed. Never his. 

The day he admits it's his bed as well, is the day he has the ability to sleep peacefully. And God knows when he'll be granted that right. 

He awoke to the sound of screams, his ears ringing. The feeling of water and blood rapidly running under his skin, as if his flesh begged to be free. 

You had rolled over to hold his midriff, and Lord help him with how much he's grown attached to you, with how much he wanted to pin you down as if you were nothing more than another enemy in his eyes.

He shot up, just to feel the familiar sting of a hook in his rib as he had sat on the bed.

Stepping out onto the patio with a grunt, a tank top and some joggers on with slippers. The apartment's patio serving as the perfect place to have a smoke, the dog yawning to join. Big fella, she was, nudging snout onto Simons leg.

Sitting down, he grabs a light, lighting the cigarette he had hiding cheekily in his pocket, when he had swore up and down he wasn't smoking anymore less than 8 hours ago.

Burn your wrist.

Shut up Riley, you know better than to act on that.

Do it now.

No.

He leaned back, allowing the nicotine to enter his system, and the tobacco to leave a lasting smell on the rough pads of his fingers. He watched you from the corner of your eye. Silent panic. Wanting to help him. But you can't. All he can do is lie to a therapist and come home to you.

He made this worse. Leave him. You're nothing, but he's worse. 

Stop.

He saw you at your worst. Why stay? 

Because he saw me at my worst. And he stayed.

He shouldn't have.

Stop.

He knows nothing about you and he goes to sleep saying bull crap about loving you.

"STOP!"

He yells, grabbing his hair in two fists on the side of his head, the cigarette between his fingers, lingering in the night air as the sound of the city stand beneath him.

He looks at you, and you seem to just be staring. Frozen. 

It spitballs, as he meets your gaze;

"Stop fucking staring at me like that yeah? You can't fucking help me! You deal with me, or you kick me out. Should've done that by now if you've ever known what's good for you!" He says, throwing his hands up in the air out of exasperation, the dog yelping a bit as she backs away. He heads back inside, putting out the cigarette, and snatching his blanket, heading towards the couch.

You gave him a look as he left. He knew that look. You've set boundaries, he was trying to be healthy for you. Honest. You wouldn't stand for verbal abuse, nor disrespect. But he was weak. Useless in the presence of a man like you.

He knew better than to immediately go to you. He left earlier for the gym that morning, called off work, went to one of those shitty manmade parks with more dog piss than a fire hydrant, and sat himself down. Right in the grass, watching a single dandelion. It was weak. But it still stood in the grass. It moved with the wind, even when it lost it's soft white petals. 

And when it was stripped naked, bare, with nothing left to offer, there was another dandelion there. Planted from the wind carrying it. Ready to repeat the cycle. 

Why is he doing this? He'll repeat what his father did. He was the end of it. No relatives to fall back on. God knows how much he's begged to bring his brother, Tommy back. 

But that's just it. He's the end of the cycle.

Get up. Nobody is coming to save you.

He stands before you now, with nothing to offer, but the willingness to move with you if you'd allow him. If you'd allow a weak man like him to remain with you. He'll continue to lose his petals, but you'll help him plant new flowers. To utter the words, 

"I can never truly tell you how sorry I am, love. You are the man I want. You are everything. And it's not enough. But I am trying."

Looking up at you, his bones brittle, his eyes heavy.

He wants to sleep. To feel his flesh settle, his mind quiet.

And as you embrace him, he can feel every molecule in his skin burning. 

And if you ever let reality hit that you deserve someone who could think like a bloody normal human for once, would he continue to survive for as long as he could without you to carry him. Until he allowed the world to end what it started. 

You are everything.

Laying in bed, your hands hesitantly rubbing his back in soft circular motions as he keeps his head in your tummy, soft breathing as the dog nuzzled into the crook between you two, soft kisses lingering on his tongue, it leaves him before he can chase after it;

"...Would you ever marry me?"

@tabloid-junki3 i dont think i cooked but i did heat it up in the microwave so

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight: Part 9 - The Woods

📜Hi..... It's been a hot minute. My mental health was not in a good space back in April when I last posted. I signed off because of it. And now I'm considering coming back because after countless therapy sessions and working on what I could, now seemed like the perfect time. Also, my therapist told me writing is my saving grace, so she and a few countless friends are the reason I'm back... for now... maybe on a trial basis to see how things go.

That's it :)

Now, Let's see how those two are doing, shall we?

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Angst, Description of injuries, banter, snark, getting lost in the woods.

#5.2k

Part 8 | Masterlist | Part 10

The first thing you can register is pain.

Not the dirt or the leaves or the twigs under your hands. Not the light mist of spitting rain leaving dewdrops on your face. It's the deep ache of your muscles and the crunch of your spine. You can't move, your body remaining locked up and in limbo. You couldn't dare move a single inch, even if you thought about it, attempting to shift yourself amongst the dirt.

But you can feel - that must count for something, right?

You focus on trying to open your eyes, using every bit of mental power you currently possess. The dark lull is too strong, enticing you to stay—stay and fall back asleep once more, stay and give into slumber, stay so its unforgiving grip on you can threaten to pull you under once more.

Something else, or someone else, pulls you out of its grip instead. A pair of hands suddenly gripping your shoulders. They gently but insistently pushed and pulled, attempting to shake you awake.

"Midge," a voice cuts through, sounding near and infinitely far enough away in the same breath. "Come on, Midge. Wake up."

Ah. I'm hearing voices. I must be in hell. 

Those same hands shift, one sliding down to your waist and the other to the side of your neck. While you couldn't feel the ground beneath you before, you could feel those hands, their touch, chasing the darkness away and bringing feeling back into your body. Unfortunately, each jostle or movement sends ripples of pain throughout your limbs, muscles, and bones. 

Stop! It hurts! Stop! Stop! Stop!

A thumb glides across your cheek, fingers curling into the back of your neck. "Midge, you need to open those pretty eyes for me," the voice urges again. "Let me see them, please!"

You were trying. Really, you were trying to listen to the voice. You wanted to open your eyes. Everything was simply too much effort. Your head hurt, your back, your injured wrist pulsing and throbbing. Even your lungs hurt, and awareness of each breath suddenly made every one that followed an effort. 

The voice grew impatient, and you clearly weren’t trying hard enough as they shook you a little more forcibly. 

"You're not dying out here, Midge! Not before I can... Come on! Yell at me. Insult me, tell me how much you hate me, just let me know you are okay!"

The person curved their hand into a supportive grip, the other now gripping at the back of your legs as they lifted you from the ground. You moaned at the ache it caused, pain shooting down the length of your spine.

"Midge?"

You're not sure where the strength comes from or how you managed to open your eyes. It's a quick flutter; all you can see is a blurry, white, cloudy sky. There’s also a shape of something leaning over you. You blink and then blink again, forcing yourself to twist in a pair of arms like you had awoken early in the morning.

The third time you blink, things are much clearer now, and you realize, half laying here in this forest bed of dirt, it's Jake leaning over you, holding you. There’s mud smeared across his cheeks, his beard covered in bits and pieces of leaves. His golden blonde hair seemed to have gotten the worst of it; clumps of dirt, leaves, maybe even a stick or two caught up in the strands, you couldn’t tell. 

You also couldn’t help but notice how panicked he looked —his eyes were usually so confident and teasingly wide with concern. Or how the lines of his face were furrowed, crow's feet creasing hard. 

This is so at odds with how the two of you normally act with each other, how he normally looks at you, that it disorients you further. As you're trying to figure out why you are on the ground and why he is holding you, you catch the words tumbling out of his mouth from above.

"Hey, Midge, can you hear me?" he asks, his voice cracking slightly. A hand pushes away your hair, almost covering your eyes. “Come on, talk to me. Please."

Midge. Annoying Nat. Nat. Natasha. The fight. The Bear, Jake... Falling...

Everything comes rushing forward, surging forth in a tidal wave of memories that has you gasping for breath. It's an adrenaline rush of panic and hurt that has you twisting out of his arms and landing on your stomach, face first in the ground. You shout out harshly, "Get your hands off me, you asshole! Trying to cop up a feel while I'm knocked flat out?" 

Jake only leaned forward, his hands hovering over you uncertainly, unsure whether to retreat or try to help you further. "Are you okay?" 

You laugh mockingly into the dirt. "We just fell down a fucking cliff. Are you seriously asking me that right now?"

Failing miserably to push yourself up, you accidentally attempt to place weight on your injured wrist, practically forgetting it was injured in the first place. A sharp stab shoots up your arm, causing you to cry out and fall on your shoulder. Everything is blending together at this point: your head, back, and entire body, and you know there's not much you can do about it. 

Jake's hands immediately grab onto you, finding a place on your back and elbow, gently guiding you to sit in front of him. You're in too much pain to protest, and that fact alone makes you want to give in to the overwhelming urge to hurl whatever is in your stomach out into the dirt.

Or on Jake. Yes, I should have thought that first. 

Once he gets you sitting on your butt, you shake your shoulders, trying to get him to let go. Jake listens to you for once, lifting his hands off you like your touch has suddenly burned him. 

You wish he had been. You also wish he didn't let go. His touch, even if it was his touch, had brought you some comfort as you battled the tears streaming down your face. You’d never admit it, though. 

His eyes search your body, seeking out possible injuries and bruises, until they snag on how you are clutching your wrist tightly to your chest. 

"Let me see," he says, shuffling forward quickly on his knees amongst the dirt and leaves. He reaches out gently, fingers just skimming the fabric of your jacket when you tilt away with a frown. 

"No, I'm fine," you lie. 

Jake pulls back, his hand still floating mid-air. "You honestly can't tell me you're fine after that? Miss, 'we just fell down a fucking cliff. Why are you asking me that?'"

No .

 "Yes! I'm fine!"

Jake’s eyes call you out on your bullshit lie. 

"And I'm the Queen of England. Midge, just let me see it."

You don’t fight him this time as Jake reaches for your wrist. You aren’t in that much of a position to fight him on this either. His grasp is firm but gentle, and he carefully extends your arm out for him to see. The clasps had popped themselves free with the fall, the bandage covered in dirt, small flecks of leaves, pieces of wood, and God knows what else. The end was hanging loosely off the base of your wrist, and Jake frowned when he touched it. 

"Did Mickey even look at your wrist?" he snapped as he started to unwrap it from your wrist. 

You eyed him carefully. "Yes. Why? It's more than I can say for you."

Yeah, Maeve, he probably just saved your life, and you're still spewing hateful shit.

Jake ignored you, unwinding the fabric from your limb. "Damn, asshole didn't wrap it tight enough.” 

“Why would you care?” you snap.

“Cause I asked him to.” 

You stiffened at his words, drawing in a sharp breath. Bunching the length of fabric on his lap once he got it off, Jake never took his eyes off your wrist as he prodded the largest bruise. "I'm the reason you hurt it in the first place. Why wouldn’t I care?"

Lies . Oh, you wanted to scream that he was lying. There was no way, no fucking way he had asked Mickey to look. There’s no reason he’d care. None that you can think of

Skeptical of his actions, you croaked out softly, "You're not exactly a medical professional, Jake." 

"Neither is Mickey. Clearly." He scoffed back, turning your hand so it was face up. 

You clenched your jaw, fighting the urge to snap back at him. But when he pressed on a tender spot, you hissed out, "Mickey asked Cora. She wrapped it."

Jake shook his head. “So he couldn’t even do it himself.” 

“He asked the professional.” 

“I should have done it myself.” 

“Do you think I would have let you?” 

"If you weren't so reckless all the time, then maybe you would have!" he snapped, his grip tightening on the bandage for a moment before he forced himself to relax. "Running off into the woods like that? What the hell were you thinking!" 

You bit your lip, slamming your eyes shut before everything snapped and broke free. 

"Reckless?! I was trying to get away from you!" you shrieked. "You were the one who followed me into that bush!" 

"Because I was trying to fucking apologize, Midge! And thank god I did! Who knows what would have happened to you! You’re always so fucking stubborn!"

“Do you think I wanted you to follow me? After everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours? You ruined Nat’s proposal, you fucking pranked me with those two idiots, and.. And…” 

You couldn’t speak, too caught up in every overwhelming thought and emotion. Jake took advantage of your moment of weakness to continue. 

“You think I can just leave you alone?! You don’t think I’ve tried?! I’m trying to apologize, damn it! For everything! For all of it! I have no idea what I did for you to be this mean to me, but can’t you see even that?” 

“I don’t want your apology!” you shouted, pain and anger mixing in your voice. “I just wanted you to leave me alone! I just wanted you to stop hurting me!” 

Jake took a deep breath, his jaw tightening as he remained uncommonly silent. 

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. "You can't just fix everything with an apology, Jake. Some things... some things can't be undone."

The forest was eerily silent, the only sound the distant rustle of leaves in the wind. The air was thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Jake's jaw was clenched as he carefully examined your wrist, his fingers gently probing the bruised skin. His eyes remained fixed on his task. You stared off into the trees, your breathing shallow and uneven, trying to mask the pain and the anger simmering just below the surface.

“Leave the bandage off,” he finally says after a moment, his voice quiet. “It’s making your bruise worse.” 

Jake avoided your eyes as he stood, your bandage in hand. He was quick as he worked, wrapping the fabric back into a roll. Still on the ground, you watched his fingers, realizing he was doing it correctly. A tiny voice somewhere deep within your hardened heart wondered where he had learned to do that in the first place. 

He held it out to you, head turned away. You only stared up at him, his hand holding the bandage, half stuck to the ground. When you didn’t take it right away, Jake faced you with an expectant gaze. 

You did eventually, weakly reaching for your backpack as it lay forgotten in a pile of leaves. 

Last you could recall, it had been on your back as the two of you had fallen. Jake must have taken it off you while trying to wake you. 

The state of your belongings within or your fragile paint brushes and paints were the furthest things from your mind as you worked the zipper of the front pocket first before blindly holding out your hand to Jake. He placed the bandage silently into your palm. You threw it in, not bothering to see if there had been space for it. Threading the straps through your arms, you settled your bag against your back, hoping you could walk like this. 

You struggled to your feet, wincing as you braced yourself with your uninjured hand against the ground. Your other wrist throbbed, though, along with practically everything else in your body, reminding you exactly how you and Jake ended up in this situation. Or how either one of you would manage to get back to the rest of the group. 

That was until you turned to look up. 

“Oh no.” 

“Oh yes.” 

“No… No... No!” 

“I don’t think shouting no will change the fact, Midge.” 

“As if all this couldn’t get fucking worse.” 

“We just had a run-in with a bear. You see this as worse?” 

You clenched your fists, the reality sinking in with each passing breath. “I would have rather seen my life end as a pile of bear shit.” 

“Really, Midge?” he remarked with disbelief and frustration. “Is that how you see it?”

You glared at him, the anger still simmering. “Yes, Jake. Because being stuck here with you is worse than anything I could have imagined.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I get it. You’re angry. But do you honestly think dwelling on it isn’t going to help us right now?”

You let out a humourless laugh. “Oh, so now you’re the voice of reason? The guy who wanted us to climb up a cliff carrying all our stuff to save what? Fifteen Minutes? You want to climb up that ?”

And what did Jake do but grit his teeth? He offered you nothing else but a reddened face and steely eyes, clearly lit up in frustration. 

Silence fell, and tension was thick between you. The sounds of the forest seemed amplified in the absence of your bickering. You couldn't deny the fear creeping in, the realization that you were truly isolated.

Isolated. With him.

“I may not have all the answers, but sitting here fighting isn’t going to solve anything. We need each other to get out of this,” Jake tried again. 

You scoffed, shaking your head. “The last thing I need is more of your stupid plans.”

“Well, it’s either that or we both end up dead out here. Do you really want to risk that?”

You paused. It was a serious ask. Your anger didn’t completely fade, but the urgency of the situation was undeniable. “No, I don’t want to die out here.”

Jake nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Then we need to work together, whether we like it or not. At least until we find someone or something or a way to get out of here.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling a mixture of frustration and very reluctant acceptance. 

“Fine.”

“Fine,” Jake echoed, his voice resolute.

He gestured towards an opening in the bush, you adjusting the straps of your bag, taking a shaky step forward. Jake followed closely behind, and as the two of you trekked off into basically the unknown, you couldn’t help but think… The second I see poison Ivy, I’m shoving it down his shirt. 

—

"I hate you."

"No, you don't, sweetheart."

"I fucking hate you, Seresin. I'm not your sweetheart."

"Don't lie to me, Midge. I know you love me. I did save your life and all that." 

"Kiss my fucking ass, jackass."

"Are you offering?"

You let go of the tree branch you'd been holding out of the way, letting it swing back and thwack Jake in the face. "Oops," you called out sarcastically, not bothering to look back.

Jake stumbled back, swatting at the branch like a pesky insect. "Ow, what the -"

"Watch out for the low-hanging branches," you mocked, the corners of your mouth twitching upwards. Jake rubbed his face with his eyes closed, grinning despite the slight sting. "That branch hit harder than your insults."

"Practice makes perfect, right?"

You're not sure how long the two of you had been walking, though given how low the sun was, it was safe to assume it had been hours. The two of you followed the bottom of the cliff until you could no longer do so, hoping there might have been a slope or at least something along that cliffside either of you could climb up.

But the terrain became treacherous with each step, and the underbrush became impossible to navigate. More rocks littered your path, forcing you and Jake to veer off into a less dense part of the forest.

The further you went in, the less you knew where you were or how to return to that cliff. The forest swallowed any trace, everything the same yet different.

It was hard when you only had the compass and not your map. With a map, you could potentially figure out where you both were and where you should be heading. The compass only told you the direction you were facing, not where you should go. 

You aren’t sure if you’re even happy the tension back at that cliff had dissipated within an hour, the two of you returning to your normal back-and-forth banter. Jake hadn’t once brought up that question he had asked before the two of you ran into your little friend, and there were no signs he was about to either. 

It was simply the same old, same old, Seresin and Midge. 

Stepping over a fallen tree trunk, you looked up from the ground only to freeze. There, stretching vertically across your path, was a chain-linked fence. It merged and disappeared into the thicket, maybe even a few trees growing through the interlocking pieces of metal. Tackled to one section was a weather-beaten sign, the words and icon on it fading, though you could still make out the message. 

Keep out - Authorized Personnel Only.

You’re not sure if these types of fences were supposed to be out here, dead centre in the middle of nowhere, but the sight of it is less than comforting. 

Jake hadn’t realized you’d stopped, slamming himself right into your back. You tripped forward in a daze but caught yourself before hitting the fence. You spun on your heel, ready to give him a piece of your mind. 

“Look where the hell you’re going, Seresin!” 

“Hey, what’s the big - “Jake cut himself off when he saw what was behind you for the first time. “Oh… a fence.” 

You rolled your eyes, turning back to investigate its sudden presence. You pointed to the keep-out sign. “Look.” 

Jake squinted, then offered a shrug. “It’s probably just the park boundary line.” 

You frowned, peering through the mesh at the expanse of untouched forest that lay beyond. “Or something else. Maybe it’s a dumping ground. You know, where they keep the bodies.” 

Jake rolled his eyes. “Because every remote part of a national park is a crime scene or conspiracy,” he said, his tone dripping in sarcasm. 

You whipped around, pushing on his shoulder. Jake didn’t even move an inch. You felt stupid for even trying. 

"Well, excuse me for being suspicious of a big ominous-looking fence in the middle of a woods that has a keep out sign!" you snapped, your mind now racing with the possibilities, none reassuring.

Jake bit his lip. "You know, this feels a bit like Jurassic Park..."

You closed your eyes. "Jake... No...Don't say it..."

"When they find the raptor pen," he grinned. "And it all goes to hell a few hours later."

"Can you not?" You shudder. "I'm going to be fucking terrified now, thinking something is following us."

Jake rolled his eyes, returning the way you both came. "It's just us, Midge. Come on, scared a serial killer is hiding out in these woods?" he teased.

You murmured something under your breath, following him before turning off at the next apparent break in the forest, Jake having stopped to wait for you to catch up.

You called out into the trees in a sing-song manner, "Psycho Killer, que'est ce que c'est?"

Jake cocked an eyebrow at the back of your head as he followed you. "Ah, the artist listens to music."

"So does the douche," you shot over your shoulder.

"It's Talking Heads. Who hasn't heard them."

You laughed softly to yourself. "Not the Taylor Swift loving groupie's back at the camp."

You internally cringed as soon as the words came out of your mouth. The ill-fated Halloween party flashes in your mind, that girl and him in the bathroom—that damning orange dress. You're glad he can't see your face right now. 

Somewhere behind you, Jake let out a fake gasp. "Now, what do you have against T.Swift?"

You roll your eyes again, pushing away a branch and holding it back until Jake is close enough. "Nothing, personally. I just don't like her music. Or her fandom."

You let the branch go, the leaves rustling as it swung backwards. Jake dodged it just in time when it whipped towards his face. "Midge..." 

"I told you to keep an eye out." 

A smirk tugged at his lips. "You're enjoying this way too much." 

You shrugged nonchalantly, stepping over a fallen log. "Maybe. It's not every day I get to torture someone with my taste in music."

“But it’s Taylor Swift, Midge.” 

You made a disgruntled noise. "Why does every fan of hers like to shit on someone who doesn't like her music? It's not the only thing out there. So, I don't like her music. I'm not a fucking martyr."

You're not sure if you are surprised whether or not the remark didn't incite a reaction from him. From what you've seen online, her fans loved to attack those who didn't share their opinion. Sure, there were good ones. The ones you thought, like with everything, who existed in a minority. The ones who appreciated what she did or even does for music, not the ones who latched on to who she, and in their words, was destroying next. 

Jake seemed like the last person to be a Taylor Swift fan, but you weren't one to judge someone who liked works of art. Jake also loved to rile you up for no apparent reason. He would do this just to piss you off further. 

Realizing the rustling of leaves and branches behind you had ceased, you stopped, twisting to look over your shoulder. Jake stood motionless between two trees, staring at you with metaphorical gears grinding over his head. The sight was unnerving. It left you wondering what he was thinking or perhaps what he was waiting for you to do. 

Or what remark he was currently concocting. 

But no banter was coming from his lips: no eagerness or cocky smirk, horrible statement or condensing glare. The urge to fill this extended silence was building the longer it lasted. It seemed like not saying anything would make it that much worse. You're still trying to figure out why you even wanted to. 

"It's not that I don't want to. I did. Once upon a time," you offer hesitantly. "Things just change, I guess." 

"Didn't like it when she switched to pop?" he asked, offering no hint of emotion, nor did he try to move or lift his eyes. The moment that settled over the two of you was calm, no thick heat or fire in search of something of either of yours to burn. 

It’s perhaps why the following words flew out of your mouth so easily. "More like every mean girl started listening to her music, and suddenly she was the villain icon for everyone to excuse their fucking behaviour.” 

You visibly winced when you realized what you had said. Not because that haunting memory was always at the forefront of your mind when it came to Jake, but because you revealed more of yourself than you wanted him to know.  

You turned to face the path, taking a few steps forward, hoping Jake would take the hint and drop it. But when you didn't hear him try to follow you, you twisted back again to see him still standing in the same spot, his eyes now on you and lighting up with a thousand revelations all at once. 

Then came the shift. The subtle softening of his face gave way to one of regret. 

You hated it.

"You were bullied growing up?" the words come out of his mouth softly. 

You averted your eyes, staring at the ground. 

"Who hasn't?" you laughed ashamedly, shrugging your shoulders. "I mean, you probably haven't... Where do you think I got all this snark?" 

Lies, Maeve. He's the reason you got all this snark. You simply ran away back then. 

"So you don't listen to her music because you were bullied?"

You met his eye. 

Nobody had really asked you about this before. You hadn't offered to tell anyone about it either. Nat loved her, practically worshipped the ground she walked on, and it was apparent now more than ever that Nat would have never understood where you were coming from if you had. 

You're not sure why Jake is that person now, why it's suddenly spewing all out of you. He was the person you spent most of your life hating during and after school. Yet, because of that fact, you knew deep down you had nothing to lose by telling him. 

You didn't lift your eyes when you shook your head. "I didn't. At least, I don't really. Sometimes, now she's making new albums... creating songs that don't bear the same weight in memories. But it's hard to shake the association."

Suddenly, shame wracks your whole body, and you turn away, taking a few steps forward. You want to run. Run like you always have from him. 

This time, you know you can't. 

If you ran, it would doom you both. As much as you wanted to live, the one thing you refused to be responsible for was Jake's death. After all, if either of you got out of this place alive, you'd have no actual reason to be around him anymore. 

Waiting for Jake to follow, you watched a worm twisting its way through the mud. You focused in on its shape, letting your eyes glaze over a blur. Even as Jake finally moved and stopped at your side, waiting for you to step forward, you hadn't taken your eyes off the tiny, helpless creature. No eyes, no mouth that would produce a single sound and from appearance alone, it relied on touch to navigate the world.

A single, lone worm was wriggling in the earth, and you felt you had more in common with it than any single person back at that waterfall. 

You can feel Jake's eyes on you, waiting for you to continue explaining. You know you have to. 

"Sometimes I meet people who think she's giving them permission, sanctioning them, to be mean to people. When really, they're just passing off owning their own mistakes. Or want to get out of circumstances of their own creation."

You sniff, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. "Cause if she says it's okay, then why wouldn't it be?"

Jake's voice was low as he offered, "She can't help how people use her lyrics."

You closed your eyes, a tear streaming down your cheek. "Hasn't anyone ruined anything for you, Seresin? That's not the point."

Jake didn't say anything, merely staring at the side of your face. 

"Whether she knows it or intents it to be or not, she is an iconic Mean Girls Artist." You took a deep breath, opening your eyes and letting them glaze over. "And every time I try to make it better, I'm always brought back to the remarks whispered in the corners of high school hallways. Never being able to defend myself because first impressions are hard to beat. And word of mouth from a person who has their hooks in every person in your grade because you're the weird silent art kid with niche interests and they are the beloved popular girl matters more than any remark I could ever muster the courage to voice and prove them wrong."

Giving into the urge to hug yourself tight, you dropped your chin to your chest, a part of you wondering what Jake would do with this information. A part of you wanted to stop, but the fact that he was letting you speak, you weren't going to. With everything that had happened, you just wanted someone to listen. You just wanted to be heard.

Nat didn’t afford you that chance. But Jake was. He was here. He was listening. Perhaps for the first time since you don't remember when.

How fucking far have I fallen that Jake is suddenly now that person?

You sniffed again, wiping your nose. "I mean, it's not the fake ownership over them saying they might be the problem because of that one fucking song, but me, being the problem for saying anything, for being myself, walking the halls... existing." 

Holding yourself tight, you failed to notice the sad recognition in Jake's eyes. Or how his shoulders dropped or how he took his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“I only shouted ‘bear’ because I was trying to get Jessica and Veronica to leave me alone. Jessica’s… obvious... With her … attempts,” he admitted. “Well, unobvious to Rueben. I hate it.” 

You sniffed, wiping your eyes with the back of your arm. “You weren’t trying to scare me?” 

“No, Maeve, I wasn’t,” he replied earnestly. “It was stupid, and I should have just told them off, but I panicked. And a part of me wanted them to shit their pants… because of how they’ve been treating you. They seemed like the type who would…” 

You sighed, shaking your head, croaking out, “You really are an idiot, Jake.” 

He let out a small, humourless laugh. “Yeah, well... That’s nothing new.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh softly back. 

 "Thank you for telling me,” he finally said after a few moments of silence. 

 You reeled back, staring at him in shock. Out of all the things you expected him to say, that was not it. But Jake's familiar pattern of mocking you, hurling some insult, or trying to hit you where it hurts never came. Instead, he was looking at you like he was genuinely sorry. 

Another few seconds passed before you shook your head and swallowed. "I'm not entirely sure why I did. You're probably going to find some shitty way to use it against me or put it on that list you mentioned."

There was nothing mean in his voice when he shook his head, gently replying, "Not too bad to have on hand." 

You could hear the smile in his voice as he took a step forward, mud squishing under his boot as he took over leading the way. "If I ever do stand a chance of topping your wise-ass remarks."

Despite yourself, despite knowing you'd never see him again after you got out of this park, you let out a small smile as you followed after him.

"Keep dreaming, asshole."

Not so mean, are we now, Midge?

Tag List:

@desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @kmc1989

@fanficfandomlove @hookslove1592 @dakotakazansky @cherrycola27

@teacupsandtopgun @lynnevanss @dizzybee03 @keyrani

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And for those who've been following along:

@i-wanna-be-your-muse @djs8891 @gigisimsonmars @blue-aconite

@wildlyfreemoon @eli2447 @rascallyrascalreads @djs8891

Taglist -> I've been off on here, so if you've messaged or commented and I haven't seen it, please let me know, and I will add you as long as I'm still on this trail basis thing.

-Lucky ☘️

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 19)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing. Trigger warning: discussions of trauma surrounding ‘desirable’ victors.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18

“Tell me about the stairs,” Dr. Aurelius says.

Y/N stares at him blankly, the stairs.

He waits a moment, tapping his pen to paper. “At the request of your husband, you will be issued a nightlock pill, to use in the event that you are captured.”

Y/N nods. One of the stipulations to Haymitch agreeing to her deployment, on this mission to rescue Peeta.

‘Show me you can reach it with your mouth.’ He tested the accessibility of her suit’s pill pocket, rigorously. ‘Show me you can still reach it with your hands behind your back.’

It isn’t something he wants her to use, but knowing that whatever Snow has planned for her would make Peeta’s captivity look like child’s play…

“By President Coin’s orders, I cannot release this… medication unless you are of sound mind.”

“You have reason to believe I’m not?” Y/N asks.

“One of your former guards told me you asked if anyone had ever jumped from the elevator.” Aurelius purses his lips.

“It was one time!” Y/N waves a hand, “and it was a joke.”

“You have a dark sense of humor.”

“You would too.”

The therapist affords her a soft smile, “you may be right. Even still, you are my patient. I need to act in your best interest. So please, tell me what happened on the stairs.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, “it’s kind of a blur. Everyone was pushing, yelling, especially after the upper levels were damaged and the rain started coming down.”

“How did you feel?”

“I felt…worried, I guess.”

“In what way?”

“About Haymitch, Madge and the kids. Worried about what was happening to Peeta. Worried about getting Katniss into the bunker.”

He jots this down.

“That was a normal response.” Y/N snaps.

“Very much so,” the doctor agrees, “not every note I make is a bad one.”

Y/N crosses her arms.

“Did you worry for yourself? Your own safety?”

You’re supposed to say yes.

“There is no right answer, Y/N.”

“There’s an answer that gets me to Peeta and one that doesn’t.”

“True,” he shrugs, “but I trust you not to lie.”

“You shouldn’t.” Y/N narrows her eyes. “I’m a good liar, I’ve been doing it since I was fifteen.”

“How do you feel about death? Is it something you long for, or run from?”

“If I die, my kids lose their mother, my husband loses his wife, my sister loses her sister. The list goes on. So it really doesn’t matter how I feel about death. All I know is that I cannot die.”

“Yet you think you could bite down on this pill?” He presents the dark purple capsule.

“As a last resort. If I have fought tooth and nail and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I can’t get free? I could.” Y/N decides.

Dr. Aurelius nods, holding the nightlock out to her. “Best of luck.”

————————————————————————

Haymitch curses Katniss’ name, as he shuffles through the crawl space she’s gone to hide in, after refusing to make the propo saying thirteen survived Snow’s attack.

Have kids, they said. It will be fun, they said.

Though none of his biological children have forced him to squeeze in such a tight space, parenthood is not for the faint of heart.

He plops down beside her with a sigh, “so this is the end, huh? I guess we’re just gonna hide down here forever.”

“I can’t be the mockingjay,” Katniss chokes out.

“Not the mockingjay,” Haymitch tosses a bit of hair away from her face, “just Katniss.”

She blinks at him, warily.

“Look, I know I’m not good at this pep talk stuff. That’s Y/N’s department.”

“She doesn’t want to see me,” Katniss understands.

“She spent the morning getting cleared by her shrink.”

“Cleared for what?”

“They’re going to rescue Peeta.” Haymitch tells her.

“What?”

“The dam went down in district five, took out most of the power to the Capitol. Knocked out their signal defense, Beetee’s inside their system, reeking all kinds of havoc. The window is open to us, for how much longer? I don’t know, I guess until the Capitol can get the power back on.” Haymitch explains.

“And Coin?”

“I can never fully support that woman. But Plutarch got word that Peeta and the others are in the tribute center. With the power out, Coin sees this as an opportunity. She knows that Peeta is the Capitol’s weapon, the same way you’re ours. And as opposed to having you two pointing at each other, she’s going to get him.”

“I have to go help them.” Katniss springs to life.

“Woah, hey,” Haymitch reaches out a hand to stop her. “What’re you just gonna jump out of the vent and go storm the Capitol? Besides it’s already underway. Six soldiers went in, volunteer only. Y/N, Gale, Boggs and three others.”

“You just let her go?” Katniss frowns.

Haymitch admits, “she’s not the type of person you ‘let’ do things. But you know how that is, sweetheart. Between the two of you,” he lets out a low whistle, “I’m exhausted.”

————————————————————————

Madge breaks her dinner roll in half. Splitting it between Everest and Arista, the same way she’s watched Y/N and Haymitch do since they got here. Making sure little bellies are full, before their own.

Pollux approaches, motioning to the seat across from Madge, at the metal mess hall table. He sets down his tray and pulls out his note pad, to jot a message down. “Is this seat taken?”

“No,” Madge greets him, “please, sit.”

“Hi, I’m Pollux. You’re Y/N’s sister, right?”

Madge nods.

“She keeps your picture in her pocket.” Pollux smiles. “And them.” He points to the oldest children.

Everest’s eyes scan the page. “Our mom told us about you. What happened to you in the Capitol…I’m really sorry.”

“Honey,” Madge runs a hand over his hair.

“Thank you, Everest. It’s nice to meet you. Your mom talks about you all the time, she is so proud.” Pollux turns the page quickly, for more room. “Arista and Daisy too, of course. Your mom loves you all very much.”

With that the children turn back to their meals.

Madge smiles, stabbing at her food with one hand, while patting the baby in the sling. The tray moves and Pollux holds out a hand to stabilize it. “Oh, thank you. It’s ok though, you eat.”

He draws the hand back, long enough to scribble, “I’d offer to hold the baby instead, but I don’t think we’re there yet.”

Madge laughs, “funny.”

“It’s really no trouble.”

Madge shrugs, as he grips the edge of her tray, loosely. Managing his own dinner just fine.

Cressida calls him away, after a while, for Finnick’s live propo, to help jam the Capitol’s airwaves.

“I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll see you.”

————————————————————————

“This is Finnick Odair, winner of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games, coming to you from district thirteen, alive and well. We survived an attack by the Capitol, but I’m not here to give you recent news.”

“Why is Finnick doing a propo?” Katniss wonders, watching the split screen of the control room. The large, right panel is an image of Finnick. Just outside the rubble, where they asked her to film earlier, the sun has set and the lights are trained on him. The left hand side is home to six smaller panels, with the soldier’s helmet cam footage.

“It’s a lot more than that,” Haymitch informs her.

“Beetee’s commandeered the system,” Coin says, proudly.

“They’re down to generator power, so there’s a more limited range of frequencies available to them. I’m filling them all up with Y/N and Finnick. It looks like they’re both live.” Beetee assures Katniss.

“Snow will think she’s still here?” That’s brilliant.

“Not many will see it, but those who do will assume they’re just propos.”

“What they don’t know is that these broadcasts are jamming their entire system with noise. Early defense warnings, internal communications, everything. As long as one or both of the broadcasts are going through, our team should be able to get in and out without being detected.” Beetee assures her.

“You can survive the arena, but the moment you leave, you’re a slave.” Finnick narrates. “President Snow used to sell me, or my body, at least.”

“Mockingjay one, you are twenty seconds from perimeter defense.”

“I wasn’t the only one. If a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward, or allows people to buy them. If you refuse, he kills someone you love.” Finnick presses on, looking straight at camera.

“Ten seconds.” The hovercraft pilot begins counting down. “Nine, eight, seven, six.”

“Just because a victor is married doesn’t mean they’re safe.”

“Five, four, three…”

“The Capitol’s more generous patrons paid dearly to watch the wedding night, even more to witness the conception of the most beloved children in Panem.”

“Two, one.”

Katniss freezes, surely he doesn’t mean- it couldn’t be. The dress, that stupid dress they crammed her in. Why it upset Y/N so badly. Snow was taunting her.

“No response from perimeter defense, we’re inside Capitol airspace.”

“Yes,” Beetee rejoices.

Haymitch is watching the smaller screen, his jaw tense, doing his best to ignore the eyes that fall on him. Twisting his wedding band around and around. It doesn’t matter what secrets Finnick reveals, so long as he keeps jamming the signal. Keep Y/N safe.

“To make themselves feel better, patrons will offer presents of money or jewelry. But I found secrets to be a much more valuable form of payment.”

“Gear up,” Boggs orders the soldiers on the hovercraft. They are just seconds away from the tribute center. “Masks on.”

Their lenses are tinted for night vision, the red light inside makes Y/N’s heartbeat faster.

“Open the door.” Boggs says, his voice echoing through her headset. “Command, this is team leader, preparing to deploy gas. We will confirm once inside.”

“Such a young man when he rose to power, such a clever one to keep it. How, you may ask, did he do it?” Finnick is captivating, well spoken.

Katniss is hanging off every word.

“One word, poison.”

The timer for the gas grenadines finishes, on Bogg’s stop watch, “get ready to drop.”

Y/N secures her harness to the wire, giving it a firm tug. Descending through the open loading dock, releasing the wires as they reach ground.

“Clear.” Boggs, informs the team. “We’re inside, headed for target number one. Cell B forty-five, lower level two C.”

“So many deaths to well known adversaries, even allies who were deemed as threats.”

It’s dizzying, giving equal attention to Finnick’s message and the feed from inside the tribute center.

Haymitch is glued to that screen, her screen. Like he wants to reach through and bring her back with him.

Once Peeta’s holding cell is gassed, they are cleared to enter.

“Snow would drink from the same cup, to deflect suspicion. But antidotes don’t always work, which is why he wears roses that reek of perfume. To help cover the scent of sores, in his mouth, that will never heal.”

Poison, Katniss shakes her head to clear it. He’s still talking about poison.

Inside the room is a lab, full of jars, experiments. Cages. Medical equipment, some with blood still visible.

“What the fuck?” Y/N whispers, reaching out to try and make sense of it.

“Abernathy, on me.” Boggs warns, they need to stay focused.

“What is this place?” Gale asks, venturing deeper.

Their screens lights up, all of them at once. Too bright to see.

“Ahh.”

There is a collective hiss, from those in the tribute center. The power’s back on.

“Beetee?” Katniss has a hand flat against her belly, where the worry eats her alive.

“Ma’am, the Capitol air defense is rebooting. It’s coming back online.”

“They must be diverting power from another source, filtering transmissions. Another sixty seconds and we’ll be cut off.” Beetee scowls, typing furiously at the control panel.

“Get them outta there,” Haymitch demands.

“Madame President, should we call back the hovercraft?”

“Broadcast me,” Katniss decides, “if Snow’s watching this, maybe he’ll let the signal in, if he sees me. Put me on the air so he can see me.”

“Yes,” Plutarch snaps a finger. “Yes.”

“Put her on,” Coin agrees.

“Can we still do this?” Haymitch’s hands are shaking as he positions the camera in front of her. “Can we still get in?” Can we still save her?

“Yes, for the moment,” Beetee replies. “The line’s open, he will only see you.”

“Ok, Katniss,” Haymitch steps away. “Go.”

“President Snow.” Katniss says, “President Snow, it’s Katniss.”

The static continues to crackle. No more Finnick, no more footage from the tribute center. Just her.

“President Snow, can you hear me?” Katniss repeats, hoping for a miracle. “I need to speak with you, are you there? President Snow.”

“Miss Everdeen,” his voice is distorted for a moment, until the signal hones in. “What an honor. I don’t imagine you’re calling to thank me for the roses.”

“I never asked for this. I never asked to be in the games.” Katniss reminds him. “I just wanted to save my sister and keep Peeta alive. Let him go and I will stop being the mockingjay. I will disappear and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“You couldn’t run from this anymore than you could’ve run from the games.”

“Please, you’ve won.” Katniss says, “release Peeta and take me instead.”

Snow shakes his head with a smirk. “We are long past the opportunity for noble sacrifice.”

“Then tell me what to do, I’ve always kept my promises. Haven’t I?”

“You said you didn’t want a war, and that’s just what happened. I told you what a fragile thing peace was and still, like a child, you took pleasure in breaking it. I know what you are, I know you can’t see past your narrowest concerns. But please, Miss Everdeen, I doubt you know what honesty is anymore.”

“You asked me to convince you that I was in love with Peeta,” Katniss challenges. “Haven’t I at least done that?”

Snow takes great pleasure in what he’s about to say, it’s written all over his twisted features. “It’s the things we love most that destroy us. I want you to remember I said that.” He pauses. “Don’t you think I know Y/N and your friends are in the tribute center?”

Katniss feels the floor fall out from under her.

“Cut them off.” Snow says, turning away from the screen. It returns to the static hum of nothing.

They had comms back, but now Beetee’s lost them again.

“What happened?” Katniss sobs.

“Boggs, do you read me? Boggs, come in.”

“He knows they’re in there,” Katniss calls to Haymitch. “It’s a trap.”

“Katniss, calm down.” Haymitch whispers.

“We have to get ahold of them, tell them to get out. He knows.”

“There’s no signal, we can’t contact them,” Plutarch sighs.

“No, Haymitch.” Katniss crumbles, “he knew the whole time, he was taunting me! No, Haymitch-”

“No, no, we don’t know that.” Haymitch hushes her, because he has to be strong. He has to be steady, even with his world falling to pieces.

“Did I lose them all tonight? Did I lose them all?”

Haymitch pulls her into a hug. “Shhh,” he smooths down her dark waves, the same way he would his other daughters.

She holds fast, allowing him to comfort her. “Did I lose them?” The cry is muffled against his shoulder.

“Shh,” he sways them, gently.

“No, no.”

“Katniss,” Haymitch breathes, “listen to me. I need you to listen.”

She nods, unable to calm her erratic breathing.

“If Y/N died, I would feel it. I would feel it in my heart, if she was gone and I don’t. If she’s alive, Peeta is alive, Gale is alive. All we have to do is wait.”

————————————————————————

“Systems are back online.” The pilot informs them.

There’s nothing they can do. Communication with thirteen is shut down, no way to get through to Beetee. They’ll either shoot them out of the sky or they won’t. The only way out is through.

Y/N doesn’t mean to, but she holds her breath. Waiting until they clear Capitol airspace to resume a normal pattern.

Of the five other soldiers on this rescue mission, there is one medic. She begins tending Annie, Johanna and Peeta in turn. Starting IV fluids, as they are all dehydrated; unconscious from the gas.

Annie looks like herself, maybe a bit gaunt, but recognizable. Peeta is thin, so thin and covered in bruises. Johanna’s head has been shaved, cheeks hollow and ribs showing. Y/N tosses off her helmet, running both hands over her face.

“Soldier.” Boggs puts a hand to her shoulder. “You did good. We accomplished our goal. Now we can all go home.”

Y/N nods, blinking away tears.

“Take a breather, there’s a separate compartment through there,” he motions to the rear doors. “He’ll need you when he comes to.”

Peeta does not wake for some time, beginning to struggle at his bindings. No, he realizes, it’s not a binding that holds him. It’s a hand. Just one wrapped loosely around his.

It feels familiar, soft. Someone he knew once, it smells of artificial air. She is warm, the space around her is warm, gentle and kind. A second hand strokes his hair, the way he once wished his mother would.

His eyelids begin to flutter open, daring to reveal that he is conscious. If he’s wrong…if it’s not her and they’ve tricked him again, it will be his own fault.

“Peeta,” Y/N says, staring down at him.

He blinks up at her, in the too bright light. His breathing heavy as she tries to move away, to give him space, but he holds her. Squeezing her fingers.

“Peeta, do you know who I am?”

His throat is sore, voice hoarse, from screaming. “Y-yes.”

“Good,” Y/N smiles.

“Where am I?”

“We’re in a hovercraft, on the way to district thirteen.”

Peeta studies her face. There was something…something is missing, something’s wrong. “What happened to the baby?”

“She’s fine.” Y/N assures him. “Keeping her siblings and Haymitch company.”

“You’re all ok?”

Y/N nods, “yeah, honey, we’re all ok. Now we focus on getting you healthy. Ok?”

He doesn’t flee from her touch, only the occasional flinch when he forgets where he is, until she reminds him that he is safe. “You came back for me.”

“Of course I did.”

Y/N leaves him briefly, with the doctors, upon arrival in thirteen. She needs to find Haymitch, tell him she’s ok. And she is running, searching, colliding into him, with such force that they are both sent off balance.

Down to the floor, the dirty, cold floor. But no place has ever felt better. To hold him, for him to hold her and inhale the scent at the crook of his neck.

“Never again.” He pleads, massaging the back of her scalp, like he does when she’s falling asleep. “Never do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry, Haymitch.” She nuzzles the delicate skin of his throat.

“Don’t make me live in a world where you don’t exist.”

‘All I know is that I cannot die.’

Part 20

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @daisydaisybilly

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

my favorite scully moments from s2

after the x-files are shut down, she gets moved to teach at the academy, and in episode 1 she does a little monologue on how a person’s body is a physical manifestation of a lifetime, which one of the students describes as “spooky”

when mulder sneaks off to puerto rico in the same episode, she goes into his place to try and figure where tf he went, and prevents his sneaking about being caught by the investigators who broke into his home with the power of feeding his fish

lecturing about the dangers of eating raw steak in episode 2, then getting lost down a rabbit hole of worm science

when no one was answering the door in episode 3, she just walks in. this made me laugh hysterically, i cannot explain. both of these guys WILL enter your home.

every single time she is a bit of a medical nerd, like when she learns about the surgery that allowed people to survive without sleep in episode 4, which she describes as “incredible”

(and the freckles + flower earrings combo were also a fave)

when she scans the piece of metal that came from duane barry in a grocery store in episode 6, and the cash register goes crazy. and she denies involvement and just walks away LMAOOO <- honestly i'd do the same!!

she wakes up from her coma in episode 8 and wants to write a thank you note to the nurse that took such good care of her, only to learn no such nurse ever existed. scully got to witness the paranormal for once!!!!

in episode 9, someone brings up a volcano scientist in conversation, and she says she had heard he was brilliant, which means that somehow she is keeping up with volcano news. she is a woman of many layers.

being deeply worried about this scared looking grad student she just met, and once again not waiting for an answer to enter her room and figure out if she is okay

(and when said grad student is being consumed by a fungus, scully thinks quickly enough to get herself locked behind a door, keeping herself safe, despite being handcuffed and otherwise looking death by fungus in the face)

in episode 11, mulder walks into his office, only to learn she has been there and has been going through his stuff since 6 in the morning. queen of getting results!

in the same episode, an old man overdoses on mushroom pills, and she shifts into Doctor Mode, yelling about “ventricular fibrillation” and “milligrams of lidocaine” and it was, like every other time she goes Doctor Mode, so deeply satisfying to watch

when she meets the two cops in episode 12, and can immediately tell they are having an affair and that the detective is pregnant, and despite the detective pleading with her not to tell a soul, the absolute MILLISECOND she is reunited with mulder, she spills the tea. and he is SHOCKED! <- arguably my favorite moment in the entire series so far

(and, to make the woman feel more comfortable, she confesses to also having had feelings for coworkers before which. elaborate on that, please)

but she really does care; when the detective ends up in the hospital, scully brings her a change of clothing <3

when she is so shaken by what she sees in episode 13 that she goes to the FBI’s onsite therapist; she’s too scared to tell mulder how she feels because “i don’t want him to feel like he has to protect me”

(as if there was ever going to be a choice; he is the protector and he Will protect, it's just his nature)

((and then later sobbing into his arms, realizing she doesn’t have to always put on a front))

toads start falling from the sky in episode 14, so she rationalizes that they likely came from a nearby tornado. this is a scully-approved theory.

they’re investigating a murder in the same episode, and a teenager starts pouring her absolutely horrific trauma out to both of them, scully holds her while she sobs into her jacket

honestly any time either of them know weird information, i love it. she says that it would take hours for a snake to eat a man and then weeks for it to digest in episode 14, and mulder makes some funny remark but it’s sooo endearing to me. she knows her snake facts.

then in episode 15, she notes poison in someone’s blood, but specifically that the poison comes from pufferfish eaten in Japan… girl i’m crying, she just knows stuff!

during that same case, they get rooms near each other like always, and she knocks on a door thinking it’s mulder’s. he doesn’t answer. she walks in and hears water running, so she just talks to him through the door to the bathroom. and i love this so much. i love that they are close enough to just walk into each other’s rooms and talk from behind the door while the other showers. it’s such married behavior.

working on the case in episode 16, we see her at home wearing a flannel, checking her computer, still serving looks but now giving casual

(and seeing the art she keeps on her walls- little postcards of beach scenes <3)

in the same episode, she knows mulder left to go get himself in trouble, so she bursts into skinner’s office to ask for help. but she feels bad for barging in on skinner, so she apologizes to him. which was very sweet.

when mulder is gone, she goes to his apartment to look for clues, and falls asleep on his couch

(and when X knocks on the door, she knows he is hiding something, and screams at him to tell her where he is)

this whole monologue from episode 17, which i loved more than life itself:

“several aspects of this case remain unexplained, suggesting the possibility of paranormal phenomena. but i am convinced that to accept such conclusions is to abandon all hope of understanding the scientific events behind them. many of the things i have seen have challenged my faith and my belief in an ordered universe, but this uncertainty has only strengthened my need to know, to understand, and to apply reason, to those things which seem to defy it”

(and that is just Her, isn't it? the need to understand, to rationalize. the worldview shaped on science- if she doesn't understand something, it's because a key piece is missing, and she'll find it. because the world Has to work that way, has to be bound by a greater logic, even if it is yet to be understood. to imagine otherwise would be impossible, to imagine otherwise would be to abandon hope in everything, and she cannot abandon hope)

((and maybe the idea that the world being something she cannot perfectly comprehend is a failing of her own understanding makes me a little emotional. but still))

she says that the whole loaves and fishes deal was a parable in episode 21; she is not a biblical literalist

(she then makes some sassy remark about things generating spontaneously, and mulder laughs in the corner. good to know he thinks she is funny)

every single time she answers the phone, she says “mulder, it’s me”, and idk i just think it’s so endearing

she thinks she might have been infected with a killer disease in episode 22, but mulder calls, so she tells him she’s okay and to take care of himself out there.... those are the last words she chooses, just in case they never talk again </3

and every time she says unsettling things, like “could be the residue of burnt human flesh” or “darkness covers a multitude of sins”, both in episode 23, i eat that up

reassuring her student who has just become a detective that she is doing just fine!!!

and then going to said student's funeral when things do not turn out fine... she loves her students that she taught for like 3 months so much :(

getting pulled aside by skinner and her bosses after mulder just acted wild in episode 25, and denying that she had seen any top secret files even though they say they will fire her if she lies lmaooo <- she is a ride or die!!!

but also going to his place, demanding assurance that she is doing the right thing by assisting him, and i love that. i love a character who will break all of the rules as long as they believe they are doing the thing that is morally Right, and that definition is so deeply her own, but she is committed to it, and she'll do anything to stick by it. and he just says something about getting the code that he wants broken, and despite how awful he's being, she goes through with it anyway because it's the Right thing to do.

later, her being the one to realize that mulder should not leave the house after his father was killed because he will be the prime suspect (he does not listen to this sound advice)

he stumbles into her place with a million degree fever, and she carefully lays him down in her own bed, despite the fact that he is soaked in his dead father's blood. and she takes care of him.

this one honestly deserves its own post because it is so incredible, but: shooting mulder with enough precision to get him to knock off his wild behavior that was going to make him look like he killed his dad, but not actually HURT him, then finding out krychek was putting LSD in his water, knocking him out, and driving 2 days to New Mexico to get him where he needed to be. AFTER he had been acting wild because he was inadvertently drugged, and had accused her of spying on him and being a traitor. that level of love is deep. very very deep. she is a Lover.

[wannab-urs]

Carry Me

This is a request fill for @atinylittlepain <3

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x student therapist!reader

Summary: You’re overwhelmed. Being a student at a very rigorous university and interning as a therapist for the local DV clinic is all getting to be too much. You’re on the verge of a nervous breakdown for real, but Dieter is there to lighten some of the burden.

Warnings/Content: hurt/comfort, a rare non smut fic, general anxiety and frustration about being a student therapist, Dieter being kind of an idiot, brief mention of SA and DV (literally just the acronyms, no description whatsoever), Dieter is able to pick you up, Dieter calls you Shrink and baby, you and Dieter are roughly the same age, brief mention of oral f!receiving, no use of Y/N, WC: ~1200

Notes: Thank you so much to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @theywhowriteandknowthings for the beta read <3 Love y'all bunches. I was so excited to write this fic AHHH

Dieter Bravo Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

But you can carry me / I’m not heavy / I’ll grow extra arms / To hold onto your body Dig my fingernails / Into your shoulder / And you’re so steady /And you don’t tip over - Carry Me by Crooks and Nannies

You get home and look up at the stairs which have quite possibly never felt so daunting as they do right now. You had class from 8 this morning until noon, a 30 minute break in which you scarfed down some trail mix you found in your car and drove to the clinic, and then an extremely emotionally draining 4 hours of leading group SA and DV survivor therapy sessions followed by another 2 hours of paperwork. 

So now, roughly 12 hours after you left your apartment, you’re standing at the bottom of your stairs, feeling weighed down by your bag and by your life in general and dreading what you might find at the top. 

When you finally do make it upstairs, slip the key into the lock, push the door open, you’re desperately (delusionally) hoping to find a clean apartment. Maybe he cooked you dinner? Maybe he cleaned the living room and lit a candle? Maybe the bed is made and the laundry is put away? 

Of fucking course not. 

Dieter is sitting upside down on the couch, feet in the air and his head dangling off the cushion. He’s got a paintbrush in his teeth and a canvas propped against the coffee table. There’s a pile of laundry in the corner by the bed, dishes stacked precariously in the sink… 

“Dieter. What the fuck are you doing?” He drops the paintbrush from his teeth and you watch it clatter across the hardwood. Add paint on the floor to the pile of bullshit being heaped onto you today. 

“Painting!” He looks positively gleeful for a moment, but then he takes in your sagging shoulders, your wobbling lip, the way your eyes glint with tears. “Shrink? Baby, you okay?” Dieter does a surprisingly agile maneuver, rolling off the couch and onto his feet just as your chest starts heaving and the tears start to spill over. 

He crosses the room quickly, takes your bag and sets it on the floor of the entryway, wraps his big arms around you and pulls you into his chest. You crumple into him, letting him finally take your weight. He buries his nose in your hair, cradles your head to his chest and supports you with an arm wrapped tightly around your waist. Broken sobs and gasps for air are all you can manage, but he doesn’t ask you questions. He just whispers that everything is going to be okay, that he loves you, that you’re so strong. 

After a few minutes, you’re more sniffling than sobbing, and he grabs your face in his big hands. He swipes away a few tears, presses a kiss to your lips. You squirm away “Dieter I’m all snotty!”

“I don’t care, Shrink,” he kisses your tear streaked cheeks, your now fluttering eyelids, your forehead, then he sweeps you off your feet, picking you up bridal style. You shriek and stifle a giggle. 

“Oh my god, Dee, put me down,” you yell, trying to contain your giggles. 

“Sure thing, baby!” He dumps you on the couch, grabs his fluffy brown coat off the table and wraps it around your shoulders, sinks to his knees and pulls your sneakers off for you. He goes to the bed and pulls your favorite blanket from the tangled pile and tosses that over you too. “Here’s what’s gonna happen.”

“Di-”

“Nope, you’re listening to me, for once.” You roll your eyes and throw your head back into the soft velvet cushion of the couch. “I’m gonna make you a cup of tea, okay? You’re gonna drink the tea and you’re gonna make a list.” 

“A list?” You arch your eyebrow at him, a skeptical look in your eye.

“A list. You’re gonna write down everything you need to do for school AND everything you want to do this week. When you finish that, you’re gonna make a list of ways you can cut your workload. Can you do that for me, shrink?” You start to nod, but then you catch a glimpse of the laundry. 

“Dee the house–”

“Nope! That’s my problem, okay? Focus on your list. Tell me when you’re done.” He drops another kiss on top of your head and gets your bag for you, laying it on the table before running off to the kitchen. 

You pull out your journal and start making his stupid list and a few minutes in, he brings you tea, just the way you like it and in your favorite mug. He puts on a record at low volume and you can hear the water running in the sink. Dieter Bravo is doing the dishes. You never thought you’d see the day. 

You finish the first list of all the things you need to do for school and add Write and Watch a movie to the bottom for the things you would do if you ever had the fucking time. Dieter appears in front of you, reading your list upside down. 

“Knew you could do it, shrinky dink.” 

“Please stop calling me that.” 

“No. Now what can you do to reduce your workload?” He heads over to the bed and starts making it while you talk. 

“I could take this class as pass/fail instead of for a grade…” Your face pulls into a grimace at the thought.

“And why do you sound like that makes you want to die a little?” He says as he wrangles the sheet back onto the bed. 

“Because it feels like failing. Or cheating? I don’t know, D! Gina will hate me for it.” You toss your journal onto the coffee table and burrow into Dieter’s coat a little more. 

“Ok first of all, that woman adores you, but also,” he trails off as he focuses on stuffing a pillow back into its case. He sleeps like a tornado. “Also! There has to be something else you can do. Is your internship mandatory?” 

“I need to do it!” you drag your hands down your face and bang your head repeatedly into the soft cushion behind you. 

“Can you reduce your hours?” He’s next to you now, plopping down on the couch and pulling you over to sit across his lap. 

“Technically?” You bury your face in the crook of his neck, drape yourself over him and soak in his warmth, his steadiness. 

“Then that’s what you’re gonna do. And tonight, we’re gonna watch a movie. And then I’m gonna toss you onto our freshly made bed and I’m gonna eat you out til you’re so delirious you couldn’t think about your ‘workload’ if you tried.”

“What about the laundry?” 

“It can wait.” He kisses you softly again. You make an exasperated noise, but you let him grab the remote, pull up Netflix, put on a movie. You let him cradle you and kiss you.

Dieter isn’t perfect. He’s messy and forgetful and can’t hold down a job to save his fucking life. But he’s steady, soft, comforting. He’s understanding and kind and silly and a little bit brilliant.

You know that when everything gets too much for you to carry, he can carry you. 

[poltergeist-coffee]

SLIMERIANA IN MY MERMAID AU!!!

*points to @unqualified-therapist* you asked so you shall receive i hope u enjoy sdanvajsdn

SO!!! Slime is a human and Mariana is a mermaid. Mariana specifically is inspired by a banana eel because it's yellow kinda like his mc skin's suit. also he's got a red-ish gradient going up his arms + claws because it's my favorite character design thing + matches his mc skin more. Mariana doesn''t have glasses but he does have impaired vision as far as mermaids go.

Mermaids can see super far because the ocean is vast and they need to be able to see if someone is coming to kill them u know? Mariana can still see that far but everything is just blurrier for him especially the more far away it is. his other senses are slightly heightened to make up for it + she probably uses something like echolocation underwater if she really can't see shit. i mentioned mermaids have claws as well and i need you to know that he paints them black. it's important to me (thinks of cc!mariana always having black nail polish).

Mariana has probably found a lot of junk in the ocean including some jewelry that people lose. she wears a few rings she's found as well for fun :)) she thinks they're neat. Mariana loves to people watch. he lives closer to the surface so he's about human sized and understand human speech very well but not how humans work. he never goes close to the beach when there's so many humans around but he likes to watch them and pick up on words they yell and say a lot.

Slime is not just some guy, he's some guy who also has a cousin that he's basically parenting and her name is Juanaflippa (he always takes care of her bc its like rich aunt/uncle who are always on vacation). Early in the mornings Slime usually runs along the beach to exercise and has captured the eye of our local mermaid Mariana.

Mariana’s favorite word to yell is "SHARK" because the humans in the water yell it so much. its funny. i bet one time after slime and marina know each other mariana yells SHARK and then drags slime into the water with her laughing. (her favorite thing to do is drag slime into the water). a different time she's hanging out with juanaflippa and she is teaching her swear words. Slime shows up and mariana yells "FUCK" with the enthusiasm of an 8 year old. he's so fucking happy and has zero clue what he just said. Juanaflippa is delighted. Slime needs a few seconds.

Mariana likes Slime because he usually talks loud and clearly so it’s easy for mariana to understand and he thinks he’s ✨pretty✨ but that comes secondary to messing with him. He'd also consider Juanaflippa to be apart of his "pod" aka family so he's basically like her parent (the other one being slime). Mariana took one look at Juanaflippa and got attached, plus she loves him so ya they get along well :))

[thefanboyhub]

I said I could make an essay about why Cleaning/Organizing is one of my strongest coping skills so I am going to because I can.

(Writing and explaining myself are my other coping skills 😔)

Uhhhh TW: Trauma ✨(?)

For starters one of the things I've been forced to do since a young age— mostly due to the whole gender standards but also because of lazy fucking adults in my life— is clean. I would clean anything and everything, all they had to do was ask and I had to follow. It wasn't really that bad until after foster care. One of my mom's boyfriends at the time was a lazy piece of shit, claimed to be disabled but he wasn't, he was just extremely lazy and obese (not fat shaming but he was very clearly the unhealthy kind of fat, y'know the kind that actually does kill you) plus he didn't want to work. He'd have me and my brother do the laundry, have me clean just about everything (all at 8 years old by the way) except vacuuming because I wasn't tall enough to do it right.

That's wasn't the bad though I honestly didn't mind it unless it was a massive mess and made me wanna kill myself with how gross it was. The part that really traumatized me is a two parter and involves my oh so lovely Gran (she can fucking die and I'd be leaping with joy).

First part is the fact that if I didn't do a chore (which of course as the only "girl" and because girls "do things better than boys" I had to do the dusting, cleaning the table, vacuuming, and the bathroom I shared with my brothers, plus mopping once a month, my laundry and help my Gran do everyone else's laundry, AND CLEAN NY ENTIRE ROOM.) right or her way, I would have to redo it. I would have to redo it until I did it right. If it looked like I didn't vacuum, I was forced to revaccum the entire house again. If I didn't clean the baseboards right she would make me move everything off the walls and clean it entirely. When we had stairs, if I didn't clean them right I would have to redo them again. On top of repeating these chores over and over again I also got basically all my privileges taken: Phone, TV, Art supplies, my books a few times, going outside, and other stuff I can't remember.

Which led to the second part of this. I would clean and organize my room for fun when I had stuff taken from me. What else was I gonna do? I couldn't just sit there and daydream or sleep, I would be yelled and and grounded longer for that. So I daydreamed while I cleaned and organized my room. Sometimes I'd reorganize our kitchen and stuff, anything to be busy and not get yelled at or get brownie points so I can have something back.

This slowly became a habit for me. Grounded? Time to rearrange my stuff. Stressed? Clean the bathroom. Trying not to cry because she's right there yelling at you for attitude again for the tenth time this morning? Time to deep clean my room. Anything negative would trigger my response to clean and organize. Even if it's already clean I would clean it. It even got to the point where I clean myself too. I developed germaphobia. I was almost diagnosed by this one therapist I was forced to see at one point with OCD because of the cleaning habits. Fun times.

But some other stuff that contributed to the whole cleaning coping skills would be that it gives me control, a blank start, and physical activity. Moving furniture around, cleaning the walls (oh yeah she made me clean a wall with a toothbrush once. Halfway up the wall she let me switch to a rag so eh.) on my hands a knees scrubbing the tile floor of the kitchen. It helps me get the aggression that my mom and I worked so hard to keep under a tight hold out of my system. It makes me feel as if I have a new start when I'm in a clean space, specifically if I cleaned it. On top of that I also feel on control. The act of cleaning is controlling the environment. I have control over what I clean and how.

Anyways. This was all started because of today. I lost a friend (they aren't dead they just don't want to be friends with me anymore). I struggle with social situations and for 7 years I only had one friend and she left about a year ago. I was 15 when I finally started to have more than one friend. I've basically lost everyone at this point minus one maybe two but even then they get along better so yeah. I suck at making friends, socializing, and all that stuff. Which also means when I lose a friend it causes me great distress and makes me freak the fuck out. I started cleaning my room at 9 pm and I only got done with it at 10:23 pm so yeah. Coping skills yuh.

[crinkled-emotions]

Oh I LOVE the sick prompts. I've loved the Jake and Bob ones you've posted here and on AO3, but im a Rooster girl through and through so if you could do 8 34 38 from the sick prompts list for Rooster with Maverick to the rescue please I'd love that xx

Okay I think my wifi is fixed so I am BACK! Here we goooooo!

8. "Weren't you sick just last month?", 34. "Let me just swim through this ocean of tissues first" and 38. "When were you planning to tell me you were this sick?"

We took a different direction on this one! Maverick comes in toward the end.

-

Now that he’d survived nearly dying at least twice in a matter of hours, Rooster was ruthless in the air. The uranium missing alone would have earned him his promotion in rank to Lieutenant Commander but the way he flew afterward really cemented it for Cyclone and Warlock. With the offer of a promotion came the offer of a teaching position at TOPGUN; he’d taken it without hesitating, very on-brand for post-mission Rooster. The other Daggers had formed a new squadron, Phoenix at the head. Rooster would never admit it but he knew he wasn’t going to fly in combat ever again if he had anything to do with it. Instead, he was going to share everything he’d learned from the last fifteen years with a bunch of snot-nosed, over-confident, stupidly-cocky TOPGUN students.

When he’d revealed the plan to the Daggers, Hangman (who had actually already taught at TOPGUN years ago) had burst out laughing with a good luck.

Thanks, Bagman.

His first class had been awful, and he felt like every afternoon he spent in Cyclone’s office explaining himself. He knew that now that the connection between himself and Maverick had been made there would be all eyes on him but he hadn’t expected to be pulled into Cyclone’s office after the first day and reamed over the coals for his lesson plan. Day two hadn’t gone much better, and by the time day three rolled around he was wondering if the Navy was still the best place for him. That afternoon, Cyclone had looked over his lesson plan and simply nodded. Good. That was all he said; like that was enough to satisfy Rooster’s need for approval (he would talk about that with his therapist about six months later).

His current group were... look, all of them were shitheads, and when I say all I mean all, but they had a good sense of humour and they occasionally listened to him if he asked nicely (threatened them with pushups). The group of seven were still playing as though they were individuals; Mac would yell at Paws, then Buddy’s wizzo Horse would yell back, and then-

Listen. It’s complicated.

-

Rooster was not feeling it that morning. He’d gone out for dinner the night before with Penny, Mav (who’s still refusing to admit he’s retired)  and Amelia and he got home later than he usually tucked himself in. He dragged himself out of bed eventually, huffing and puffing and trying not to think about how shitty he felt the whole time. The first coffee he downed tasted like ass; the second one he’d shoved in a travel mug to drink on his way to base. His breakfast bar wasn’t particularly appetising either but he had to have something in his stomach to settle the Tylenol he’d taken before running out the door.

“Sir-“

“-Mac, it’s Rooster. What do you need?”

The Lieutenant straightened his back in front of Rooster’s desk and Rooster silently begged he wasn’t about to say what he was going to-

“-Rooster, I respectfully request that I get an individual session today.”

“Kid, we’ve talked about this. TOPGUN isn’t for individual sessions; it’s about improving your dogfight skills and honing your teamwork skills which should already be razor sharp.”

“Lieutenant Seresin would give me individual sessions,” Mac said and his eyes widened when he realised what he’d done. Not his smartest move, yet Rooster couldn’t even be bothered scolding him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Mac, the answer is no. I’m very aware Lieutenant Seresin is some kind of god among new students, but I’m not him.”

“Rooster-“

“-Mac.”

Rooster glanced up from his paperwork, eyes heavy as he rubbed at his temples to ease the ache, and Mac furrowed his brows.

“Weren’t you sick just last month?”

“What kind of- I swear to god- you’re still here?”

Rooster ushered him out of his office, pausing when he realised one of the quieter aviators, Jelly, was standing near the doorway.

“Please don’t tell me you want private lessons too, Jelly,” he huffed. She kept her eyes firmly on the floor.

“Can we talk in your office a moment, sir?”

Rooster opened his mouth to protest; he had a lot to do and he still had to see Cyclone at some point before his hop in about an hour, but the way she held herself concerned him. He stifled a yawn into the back of his hand, stepping back into his office.

“Of course.”

-

She was pregnant. She’d cried the entire hour Rooster had available and then some more, hysterical about how she’d messed up her career. Rooster had been firm when he reassured her that if he had anything to do with it, it wouldn’t detriment her career, and then gently congratulated her. She’d confided that she didn’t feel comfortable flying; not even at TOPGUN, not until after the baby was born, and Rooster had understood.

It did mean he was down a single seater but that could wait until he got to Cyclone later that afternoon. His phone had been buzzing on his desk the entire time but he was more focused on making sure Jelly was okay.

After getting her off to the infirmary to make sure they could sign her off he jogged back to his office only to find Cyclone waiting for him.

“Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw-“

“-sir, I’m sorry, I-“

“-are we going to make this a habit?”

“I had some team politics to fix; one of my aviators is having a meltdown about private lessons like he’s an eight year old wanting his piano teacher to hang around a little later, and another has some personal issues to sort out. What did you want to see me about, Cyclone?”

“Rooster. You came highly recommended, both for your promotion and for this teaching role. Might I remind you that paperwork is just as important as team politics?”

Rooster met Cyclone eye-for-eye. With anyone else this could be considered insubordination, but Rooster was feeling particularly brave (fed up).

“I’m aware, sir. The paperwork will be on your desk by the end of today.”

The pair stared for a moment. Rooster’s nose twitched and he pulled away at the last minute to sneeze. Cyclone snorted.

“Paperwork, lunch time, Rooster. Last chance.”

-

He’d opted out of the hop in the end, preferring to instruct from the ground, simply because his headache hadn’t subsided at all and his sinuses felt like they were backed up into his brain. Watching his team in the tower, he used the radio to call out and make minor instructions, but then blared a horn when they were behaving like they were all out for each other.

“Racket, what would you tell Tickle’s family if he died because you pulled a stunt like that?” Rooster warned through the comms.

“Sir, I-“

“-Mac, go anywhere near the Hard Deck again and I will put your ass in front of Cyclone, I’m not playin’. Adhere to the rules for once and I’d consider using more of my time to help you out of hours.”

“Are you talking about the bar or the- oh, damn.”

“Mac, you’re out. You can answer to Cyclone, I’ve had enough of your bullshit.”

He rubbed a hand against his chest, grimacing as he pulled away to cough. Warlock appeared right as Rooster reached for the box of tissues and Warlock cleared his throat.

“Well, I was going to- let me just swim through this ocean of tissues first...”

“There’s not that many,” Rooster frowned but Warlock pointed to the bin on his right side which was indeed overflowing and there were a couple on the floor. Now that Rooster thought about it, his nose hurt. Had he been blowing it too hard? Hm. Ooh, and he felt a little warmer than he remembered feeling earlier... had the Tylenol worn off?

“Rooster, son, I think you ought to get yourself home,” Warlock suggested gently, “you let me deal with these monkeys.”

“Sir-“

“-you’re not in trouble, you’re learning just as much as they are and quite frankly I think it’s time they understand the consequences of their actions aren’t always push ups or apologising to the class for getting them killed.”

“Am I fired?” Rooster asked, grimacing at the way he knew he had to find another tissue. Warlock shook his head.

“No, Rooster, you’re not fired. Take the rest of today off, it sounds like you’ve been burning the candle at both ends for a while.”

He gestured to the jets preparing to land.

“As I said; those monkeys can answer to Cyclone and I, really put the fear of God in them.”

Rooster chuckled.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Go, I don’t want to see you before oh-eight hundred hours tomorrow morning.”

-

Arriving back at his place, Rooster paused before he got out of his Bronco to rest his head on the steering wheel. A part of him was humiliated, couldn’t believe he’d been dismissed for being unwell by Warlock, but another part of him was glad because he was just starting to get dizzy as he pulled into his street. He took a deep breath, pulling away from the wheel to stifle a sneeze. He knew it was a man-flu, most likely something that would knock him out for 24 hours and he’d be fine, but another part of him kind of wished he had a significant other right about now to crawl into bed with.

He had one, a long time ago, but that’s a story for another time. Reaching into his pocket he knew he had to get groceries but he wanted to take a covid test just in case before he went back into public, especially because he was dizzy. He managed to get out of the Bronco eventually, using the hood to guide himself around and to the steps. He fumbled with his house keys for a solid thirty seconds before managing to get the key into the lock and open the door.

“Honey, I’m home,” he called to the empty house. Sighing, he dumped his duffel bag on the floor and stripped his uniform off, leaving it on the armchair of the couch. The best part of living alone? He could walk around in his boxers and no one was there to comment on it. The beauty of being single. The bathroom didn’t offer anything different to the medication he’d already taken so he collapsed on his couch and closed his eyes. Just for a moment, he told himself. He’d get up and do the washing or something... in a minute...

-

The next time he woke it was because he was coughing so hard he was gasping for air and it was pitch black. Goosebumps had risen on his arms and his entire body shook as he got up to get to the bathroom. Rooster doubled over the toilet, the coughing non-stop and he put a hand on his stomach when it felt like he was going to throw up. Spitting phlegm out, he moved to the shower and flicked the hot tap all the way on, letting the water heat to steam the room. He glanced at his watch, realising it was almost midnight, and then decided he couldn’t bother anyone at this time of night. Granted, the Daggers were all out and about at the moment, on some mission in god knows where, but they were all stationed primarily out of North Island. Maverick was five minutes away, he could text him, but Rooster didn’t want to disrupt his sleep. He’d always had trouble sleeping, Rooster knew that.

Huffing, he stepped into his double shower but stayed away from the hot water, allowing the steam to work it’s magic.

The coughing eventually subsided. His chest finally expanded properly and he felt like he could breathe again. Rooster hauled himself off the shower floor with a grimace, making his way down the hallway to his room. He managed to find a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that wouldn’t make his skin itch, pulling it over his head and curling up on his bed despite the way he was still mildly sweaty from the intense heat of the shower. Rooster buried his head into his pillow- he knew he was going to need more than just yesterday afternoon off with the way he was going.

-

Maverick woke to his phone vibrating on the edge of his bedside table, about to vibrate so hard it fell off the top. He reached over and grabbed it, frowning firstly at the time but then at the caller ID.

“Who is it?” Penny yawned, rolling over to glance at her partner. Maverick frowned.

“It’s Bradley.”

“You better answer it,” she suggested, resting her head back on her pillow. Maverick held the phone to his ear.

“Bradley? You good kid?”

Maverick frowned immediately after.

“Slow down, what? When did this- yeah, okay. Hold tight, I’m on my way. Do you- mmhmm. Yeah, I’ll grab it. Stay there, Roos, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Maverick got out of bed and searched for his jeans, hanging over the back of the chair in the corner of the room. He wriggled into them, Penny finally glancing up.

“He okay? He’s not still having those attacks is he?”

“No, nothing like that. He’s sick; the way he coughed on the phone told me all I needed to know. I’m going to check on him; I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Okay, honey. Let me know if you need anything.”

Maverick paused, leaning over the bed to press a kiss to her cheek.

“Love you.”

“Love you too, drive safe and don’t get whatever he’s got.”

“Yes ma’am,” Maverick replied with a grin. He headed out of the loft and carefully made his way downstairs, sneaking past Amelia’s room with practised expertise. He grabbed his Jeep’s keys and locked the front door behind him, just in time to see Amelia’s bedroom light flick on from her bedroom window.

By the time he got to Bradley’s place he’d decided he regretted leaving his leather jacket at home, it was fucking cold, but also that he was going to kick his ass if it was just a man-flu and he only wanted someone to notice him. Maverick knew the rest of the Daggers were gone, they were due to be back on base in a couple of weeks, but for the time being Rooster did sometimes get lonely. It made sense; he was sociable, and having none of his friends around made it a little more difficult. Using the key Bradley had taped under a windowsill at the front of the house, Maverick let himself in. Immediately he could hear the harsh sound of coughing and went straight into the kitchen to grab water before he went to see the damage. He paused at the kitchen counter, recognising the test in front of him.

I’m not talking about a pregnancy test either.

“Bradley!”

The coughing increased and Maverick filled a glass with water before jogging down the hallway. He hesitantly opened the bedroom door, wincing.

“Congratulations kid, it’s not covid. On the other hand, I do think you’re pretty sick...”

“Thank god, I didn’t even think to check,” Bradley said between coughs. Maverick frowned, carefully making his way over to feel his forehead.

“When were you planning on telling me you were this sick?”

“Honestly, Mav? I wasn’t.”

Maverick snorted, shrugging slightly as he passed over the glass of water. “Fair enough. Get this down and we can see what I can do.”

[cognitiveleague]

Ughhh I hate when clients are wrong about whose fault a problem is

Like buddy. I am not your insurance company, which exists to screw us both out of money, made your plan have a stupidly convoluted way of calculating your copay / coinsurance ($20 PLUS 10%? Why???? Pick a struggle??????), misquoted that copay to us on at least 2 occasions I could find a record of, and took so long to correct the issues with some claims for 7-8 months ago that we only just got the approved versions back from them this week.

I am not your therapist, who is the person clicking the “collect copay” button, who apparently just sorta quietly collected the back balance from the discrepancy between the projected and actual recent copays at SEVERAL points last year without ever shooting Billing a quick email to the effect of “hey, I know I’ve been collecting at every appointment but this case keeps ending up with a balance, it looks like he should have a flat copay, could you check what’s up with that?”, resulting in us not getting a prompt to check on things more closely and the default copay (and the projected copays for appointments with unprocessed claims) STILL being wrong when I reviewed the case this morning

I’m not even the person who reviewed your EOBs when we received them for the past year and a half and apparently never thought to check if there was a consistent pattern and update the default copay accordingly, OR the insurance biller who’s been working on the weird claims from early this year and evidently didn’t look at anything else on your account hard enough to notice the inconsistency

I’m the person who took your call yesterday at 5 minutes to quitting time, said I’d take a closer look and reach back out within 2 business days because I wanted to take the time to get you the right answer to your questions, followed up within 1 business day with an explanation, a corrected statement, an apology for the confusing situation, and a note on the steps I’d personally and immediately taken to prevent this issue going forward

Like if you want to quit therapy over an unexpected balance from a weird accounting situation adding up to slightly more than the cost of two of your copays over the course of 7 appointments / half a year, that’s your prerogative, my guy, but it’s a little unreasonable to yell at ME about it????

Thank fucking god it’s at least Friday.

[theperfectblonde]

Sorry I’m going to aggressively rant on main for a minute cause I don’t have a therapist atm and tumblr is the next best thing :’)

So like… I live with my boyfriend’s family. His mom his sister and his nephew. I’ve been here for 6 months, and I can’t STAND the way they live/think?? (Yes I’m already planning on moving out lmao)

But like his nephew is 10. He doesn’t wake up on his own, because he’s fucking 10 and he still needs an adult to help him... because he’s fucking 10. This is a concept they have yet to grasp, and believe him to be a fully grown adult who is capable of making smart and well informed decisions of his own volition (they tell him he should be able to do this, all the time). He doesn’t do any of that, OBVIOUSLY, because I can’t stress this enough, HES TEN.

His mom will come into our bedroom, WAKE ME UP (my bf and his sister are already at work in the morning) to GO WAKE HIS NEPHEW UP, and say that she’s been trying to do it all morning and he “hasn’t woken up”.

Their version of “waking him up” is calling his name ONCE from the bottom of the stairs. His mother, every single morning without fail, is SHOCKED that a ten year old isn’t getting himself out of bed. Wonders why he doesn’t get himself up and dressed and ready when nobody tells him what to do or lays it out for him.

And when he sleeps in?

THEY DONT SEND HIM TO SCHOOL.

ALL. DAY.

The school is LITERALLY 100m walking distance away, by the way.

And my bfs mom doesn’t entertain him - she watches tv all day and lets him play video games!!!

But he also argues with them - he’s like “oh it’s too late for me to go to school” and they BUY that??? Like!!! What kind of house is letting a fucking ten year old call the shots! They want him to make his own choices and well obviously he’s going to pick that 😂

And then he calls his MOM who AGREES (he’s late to school by ONE hour, by the way. A two minute walk away from the school). WHY IS HIS MOM SAYING YES TO THIS, knowing full well he’s bullshitting, that he’s not going to do his homework (because he never does), and then yelling at him for not going to school that day BUT BITCH YOU SAID NOT TO!!!!

What a miserable fucking existence. Like for me and for everyone else, but they create their own problems lmfaooo.

Like I feel bad for the kid and do the best I can, but jfc. What an awful childhood, to have nobody raising you, and then everyone yelling at you when you’re doing it yourself and failing and also not a fucking mind reader (because again, you’re ten, and what ten year old isn’t going to fake sleeping in so they can play video games for 8 hours all day instead of doing school?).

My bf says we’ll raise our children differently, but holy fuck man. Like just absolute brain rot from his family sometimes. A kid needs structure and discipline, but also guidance and help.

The thing that makes me angry though is that I have to hear yelling ALL FUCKING DAY. not only does the kid not learn (and I don’t blame him) but their solution is to just raise their voice to get his attention. They talk over top of me constantly. Llle it’s fucking ridiculous. You won’t parent your own kid and then want me to do the hard parts of it?? Like I have shit to do man. I can’t fucking sit here and listen to you yell at him all day because YOU didn’t try hard enough to wake him up. Like fucks sake. Never mind they the poor kid is bored, so then he’ll disrupt ME for an entire day. I can’t get fucking shit done man. I just have my fucking life here, and I can’t catch any slack.

Oh yeah, the reason why he sleeps in? Because he stays up late. Playing video games. Fucking ridiculous man.

[melissawebb-avocado]

1: Name

Milinda

2: Age

24

3: 3 Fears

Losing everyone, being alone, people seeing me for how i see my self

4: 3 things I love

My daughter, my husband, my sister

5: 4 turns on

Fatherly, back rubs, asking about my day, takes charge

6: 4 turns off

Dosent listen, trys to take without asking, yelling, procrastinating

7: My best friend

Brianna my sister

8: Sexual orientation

Straight

9: My best first date

Went to make pottery and then to dinner and an arcade

10: How tall am I

5"9

11: What do I miss

My home in chandler

12: What time were I born

2 pm

13: Favorite color

Teal

14: Do I have a crush

My husband

15: Favorite quote

"Most of us are gifted with the

ability to see the monsters hidden

within another, but are unable

to see past them.

It takes a special kind of person

to see the light inside of every

living being."

- Lynette Simeone

16: Favorite place

Oceanside beach

17: Favorite food

Sushi

18: Do I use sarcasm

Yes but only with those im close with

19: What am I listening to right now

Always AJR but the trolls 3 music

20: First thing I notice in new person

How they mingle with new people or stick with the person they know ignoring new people

21: Shoe size

11

22: Eye color

Hazel

23: Hair color

Brown, waiting to dye mt hair a copper red brown

24: Favorite style of clothing

Graphic t and baggy jeans

25: Ever done a prank call?

Yes.

27: Meaning behind my URL

Its my first ever book i wrote in middle school

28: Favorite movie

Howls moving castle

29: Favorite song

AJR object in motion

30: Favorite band

AJR

31: How I feel right now

Depressed

32: Someone I love

My daughter

33: My current relationship status

Married 💍

34: My relationship with my parents

BFF with my MIL and FIL call them every other day. Talk to my mom whenever i can. Forgave my dad but wont ever forget.

35: Favorite holiday

The days before Christmas

36: Tattoos and piercing i have

C section scar

37: Tattoos and piercing i want

None

38: The reason I joined Tumblr

To find more fans aboit the series i loved

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?

I dont talk to any of them.

40: Do I ever get "good morning" or "good night" texts?

No because we say it to each other when we go to bed together

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?

My husband?

42: When did I last hold hands?

Last night

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

Im a stay at home mom so i wake up and thats it.

44: Have I shaved your legs in the past three days?

Yesterday

45: Where am I right now?

Siting on the couch watching my daughter play

46: If I were drunk & can't stand, who's taking care of me?

My husband but my sister is taking me to him.

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

LOUD

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad?

i live with my husband now

49. Am excited for anything?

To get pregnant with my 2nd kid in summer!

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?

My husband

51: How often do I wear a fake smile?

Not as much anymore. I used to be very good at hiding my emotions no one knew but after years of therapy my face is easy to read.

52: When was the last time I hugged someone?

Last night

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?

I hope it would be my daughter. But i would probably cry since i dont feel pretty anymore since ive gained weight after birth.

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?

Nope. All the people i used to trust that were toxic i dont talk to or give them anything from me anymore.

55: What is something I disliked about today?

My husband is working and theres no wifi

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

My old therapist.

57: What do I think about most?

The future, where im not stressed about bills, healthcare, or living somewhere i dont. Planing my future home.

58: What's my strangest talent?

Imagination

59: Do I have any strange phobias?

Speaking in public

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

Behind!!!!

61: What was the last lie I told?

Im fine

62: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

Phone

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

Ghosts are real. I beilve there is other life in the universe but they look like you and me. Not movie aliens.

64: Do I believe in magic?

No

65: Do I believe in luck?

Yes. Sometimes you just wake up with a good start and it keeps pulling you forward.

66: What's the weather like right now

It snowed yesterday

67: What was the last book I've read?

The last olympian percy jackson

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline?

No

69: Do I have any nicknames?

Mina

70: What was the worst injury I've ever had?

Tore my esophagus from throwing up so much for months

71: Do I spend money or save it?

Spend on temu

72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue?

No

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me?

My daughters strawberry baby blanket

74: Favorite animal?

Axolotal

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

Watching tik tok

76: What do I think is Satan's last name is?

Hellboy

77: What's a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?

Trolls 3 better place

78: How can you win my heart?

Random acts of kindness

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?

The hardest thing she did was survive and she lived through it all.

80: What is my favorite word?

Cascade

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr

Basbardbin, moringmark, buggachat,

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?

Just a reminder that by the time your child is 18, they will already have spent 93% of the time they will spend with you in their lifetime. So go on that adventure, because you can always get your money back, but you'll never get those years back.

83: Do I have any relatives in jail?

No

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what's even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?

Read peoples minds

85: What would be a question I'd be hesitate to tell the truth on?

86: What is my current desktop picture?

Me and my daughter in the sand at the beach

87: Had sex?

Uh yeah.

88: Bought condoms?

Nope

89: Gotten pregnant?

Yep

90: Failed a class?

Nope

91: Kissed a boy?

Yepppp

92: Kissed a girl?

Nope

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?

Yep, my husband

94: Had job?

Yep. 5 jobs

95: Left the house without my wallet?

Yeah util i atached my keys and my wallet together

96: Bullied someone on the internet?

No

97: Had sex in public?

In a car parked on the side of the street.

98: Played on a sports team?

Soccer, volleyball, swimteam, softball

99: Smoked weed?

No

100: Did drugs?

No

101: Smoked cigarettes?

No

102: Drank alcohol?

No

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?

No

104: Been overweight?

Still am.

105: Been underweight?

No

106: Been to a wedding?

Yes, mine and my best friends and SIL

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?

Yep

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?

Yep, just watched avatar 1 and 2

109: Been outside my home country?

Mexico.

110: Gotten my heart broken?

Yep

111: Been to a professional sports game?

collage games?

112: Broken a bone?

Broke my radias of my wrist riding my bike

113: Cut myself?

Tried to. Kept to scratching.

114: Been to prom?

No

115: Been in airplane?

Yes. Terrified

116: Fly by helicopter?

No

117: What concerts have I been to?

None

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?

No

119: Learned another language?

No

120: Wore make up?

Try to at least.

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18?

Nope

122: Had oral sex?

Yes

123: Dyed my hair?

Not yet

124: Voted in a presidential election?

No

125: Rode in an ambulance?

No

126: Had a surgery?

Yes, c section

127: Met someone famous?

President uchdorf

128: Stalked someone on a social network?

My exs and their girlfriends

129: Peed outside?

Yep, road trips

130: Been fishing?

Yep with my dad. Hoping to have a better experience one day

131: Helped with charity?

In high school and middle school. Worked for toys for tots.

132: Been rejected by a crush?

Yeah. High school asked a boy out to go bowling.

133: Broken a mirror?

No

134: What do I want for birthday?

Dnd table or 3d printer.

[loudinmyhead]

I’m worried I have a personality/mood disorder, I can’t control my anger and my emotions, I just yell and lash out for no reason. I might have undiagnosed OCD, for months (7-8) I’ve been scrubbing and washing my hands if I touch anything. I can’t even shower anymore, I can’t go in public without feeling like everyone is judging me, I don’t know what to do. My therapist quit on me, and I don’t know what to do anymore.

I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I really hope you find another therapist who’s a better fit - if that’s something you’re comfortable with. You’re not to blame for their inability to help you - it just means they weren’t qualified to have you as a patient. Be gentle with yourself; you’re doing your best and that is enough. Proud of you for getting up this morning! Best wishes x

#ask #venting #vent #share

[the1975attheirverybest]

Yeah they're putting me on iron supplements, as well as vitamin D supplements because I am also vitamin D deficient as well. I also have to go back in 8 weeks to test my blood again. So yayyyy more needles I'm soooo excited (not). I am glad I finally found out why I'm so sleepy all the time, and now my parents can't call me lazy because I'm tired. So I guess a win is a win.

-🦝

Yaaaayyyy. I remember when I first started seeing my former therapist she made me get a blood test cuz she said that some physical things could be contributing to/ affecting my mental health. I thought it was absolute bullshit and tried to ignore her advice of getting a blood test. In my head I was like “just fuckin do your job and fix my brain. Let me worry about the rest.” But she KEPT ASKING ABOUT IT over and over. Every session she’d be like “so did you get that blood test done?” So finally I just caved and did it to shut her up. Turns out I have ALL THE PROBLEMS lmaoooo. So. Yeah, tell your parents to CHILL OUT.

and also as an expert in the field: laziness is a construct made up by puritans in the 1600s. Before that it didn’t even exist. It’s not a thing. Can we stop calling people lazy ? Obviously nobody WILLINGLY wants to rot in one place all the time and ignore everything around them. If someone is tried and stuff….check on them. They might need help.

I don’t know why I’m yelling at you and your poor parents. Lmao. ……anyways good morning guys, lol.

[mangyraccooon]

<you have one new message>

He punches the play button already annoyed

“I- uh, hi it’s been awhile-“

The phone slips from his fingers and drops to the floor with a clatter.

Sabo pokes his head in “you ok?”

Crocodile doesn’t speak, eyes fixed on the phone as his mind scrambles around that familiar voice that had spoken in his ear.

“Uhh pops? Is this a stroke?” Sabo pushes the office door wider. Trying to get the attention of the man sitting at the desk.

With still no response, Sabo starts yelling “Marco! Something’s wrong!”

—

“I’m fine.”

His brother blinked at him. “Sureeeee, so the catatonic state I found you in this morning was a new form of what l? Meditation?”

“I was just.” Crocodile groans “I was caught off guard.”

“So was sabo” says Marco a bit snidely “but also what the hell caught you that off guard? You’re pretty unshakable.”

Crocodile doesn’t trust himself to speak, just hands his brother the phone.

Marco among many other useless talents had a habit of memorizing any and all phone numbers he ever had used.

You could tell the recognition hit when the man’s eyes bugged out suddenly. Marco smacked the phone back at Crocodile with a little less prejudice. “Oh fuck no,” he swore “you know what I think of that whole thing. You dug it you deal with it.”

“I just-“ crocodile felt a bit lost “I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh now you don’t know what to do?!?” Marco shrieked “now you are unsure? Not when you left you left your fiancée and dumped your baby on his secretary?”

“Fuck I already know it was shitty.” Crocodile gritted his teeth. “I already apologized.”

“To ME!” His brother was getting into now. “You said sorry to Me, not dragon, not luffy. And that’s only because I stumbled ass backwards into the truth! If I hadn’t I would’ve been under the impression you lost the baby and dragon called it off like everyone else in this goddamn family.”

“What was I supposed to do!” Roared crocodile. “Say, hey guys I don’t know if my fiancée loves me at all, but hey at least he loves our baby! At least he loves something I made right? He has to at least love the part of me that made him luffy right?!”

Marco gapes slack jawed “oh, Oh.” He slumps into a nearby chair. “We should unpack that, Like seriously unpack with a therapist present but right now I need you to go comfort sabo.”

There’s so much to say but crocodile takes the exit offered. Leaving the office and pretending not to hear a loud swear emanating from its walls.

Sabo is sitting in his bed quietly fiddling with the infinity rings thatch had bought him.

“Hey can I come in?”

Sabo nods

Crocodile takes his place beside him. The little boy leans in hesitantly. Crocodile opens his arms in invitation and sabo climbs into his lap, tiny arms around him shaking like a leaf.

“I’m ok, I’m ok.” He brushes at blonde curls.

“You were all stiff and frozen and-“ sabo hiccups.

“ I know, Im sorry. You did so good calling for marco when you did.”

Sabo pressed his face into crocodiles chest just like when he was 8 years old.

With a pang that was less of a stab and more of a gunshot through the heart, crocodile realized that Luffy would be turning 10 this year.

“Sabo?”

“Mnnn?”

“There’s a story I never told you… many years ago I met a man who had many faces.”

“Was he nice?”

“Sometimes.. I like to think he was always nice but didn’t understand how to express it. He had so many many faces it felt hard to keep track. We became close and he decided to gift me a face, one that he would wear when it was just the two of us…..”

—-

The phone picked up on the second ring, “you don’t usually call me at this time?” The low voice crooned

Marco sighed staring up at the ceiling. “Dragon made contact.”

Borsalino was silent for some time. “That could be for the best he’s better now, happier...”

“Oh goody.” Marco said “cause this is about to turn into a shit storm.”

Thoughts about Modern day Dragon him being a late diagnosed autistic

Dragon would be one of those people who knew they were different from a young age but never could figure it out because either parents (who didn’t want a ‘different’ child) or becoming so high masking that it was very difficult to tell. (Probably a mix of both)

When Dragon is 40ish he takes luffy to the doctor for a routine checkup.

The doctor tells him his son is most likely autistic.

She also tells him it’s an inherited trait

Dragons reaction is “ah.”

He never thought luffy was different. That wasn’t true he understood luffy was different but it wasn’t a bad thing in his eyes.

Unknowingly at 7 years old dragon put on a mask. It starts to crack 33 years later in a doctor’s office.

The doctor gives him some pamphlets and online resources to go through. He spends the next 24 hours going through it all + several online quizzes.

Only the next morning when he opens his closet fully prepared to go into work: when he sees all his shirts and suit jackets. That he realizes he has no idea who the fuck he is as a person.

Luffy finds him crying in a mess of ripped silks and cotton.

Luffy crawls into his lap and starts telling him about a new beetle species found in South America.

Dragon calls them both in sick and lets his son decide the schedule for the day.

Later that night he goes through old boxes in the attic. Trying to find who the fuck he is- was- could’ve been.

He finds a couple old albums, his guitar, luffys baby blanket and…

Crying is natural and normal, he has to tell himself. You are not weak for crying twice in one day.

The ring is old, it was his mother’s. It had been left with his secretary along with luffy asleep in his bassinet.

“Sometimes I feel like you just put on this face and I don’t even know which one is the real you; or if there is a real you”

He would never know how right he had been.

Dragon quits his job; he can’t stand it anymore. The partners beg him to stay, he’s the best lawyer they have. But the feeling of a suit collar now feels like a noose.

Borsalino is the only one who still contacts him after.

Dragon has money; so much money. Other than luffy and silk shirts that didn’t scrape his skin there was very little dragon spent money on.

So he glides, spends more time with luffy. Falls into a depressive episode so bad he has to stay with his mother. Tsuru purses her lips when he tells her and dragon can’t help but feel a little angry.

“You knew.”

“I suspected.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You seemed to be fine.”

But dragon hadn’t been fine, he had been miserable. It was only now he could see how miserable he had been.

He cooks with his step mother who teaches him how to make a puff pastry. Luffy meets a boy down the street who also loves bugs. Life goes on.

Luffy gets a assessment and official diagnosis

The adhd part wasn’t that surprising to Dragon or anyone within 5 seconds of letting luffy. his son is (affectionately) a human bounce ball.

Dragon gets an official diagnosis and sends a photo of him posing with it to borsalino. Borsalino sends a photo of himself and an online quiz. And dragon understands not everyone needs the word of a doctor to know who they are.

Garp barges into his life and demands he “stop being a freeloader and get a job.” Before flopping on the couch and doing just that.

Dragon gets the drag bar gig out of spite. Iva is the best worst thing that has ever happened to him. After finding out he knew guitar the queen needled him until he started practicing again out of spite (once again he had to stop using that as motivation)

The guitar strings cut at his fingertips.

Garp sets him up on a blind date, which ends with both him and rouge laughing themselves silly. Apparently garp had taken dragons “I like dick” comment to mean anyone who was in possession of a penis (even if it was silicone.)

He turns 42 and has to valiantly fend off Luffy, Ace and Rouge from eating his rack of ribs.

Iva gets him up on stage eventually (he was fine behind the bar)

He did like the eyeliner though and how his shoulders looked in the dress (but that was a thought for another day)

The band thing was a joke (or started as one) rouge sang, dragon played bass, iva played electric and kuma drummed his heart out.

Then it became less of a joke.

It was late, the porch was empty and the moon twinkled. Dragon cradled the phone in his hands. They had gotten a record deal.

He punched in the number slowly.

He was 45 now, he could do this.

The phone rang as he held it up to his ear.

His palms were sweaty.

Voicemail

“I uh-“ what was he supposed to say? “Hi, it’s been awhile. A long time actually- fuck I think I could tell you the exact date if I wasn’t drunk. But- you probably dont want to hear that huh?” He laughed, his breath coming out in a small cloud in the autumn air.

“So a lot happened, since you left. And I don’t blame you for leaving- just so we are clear. Yeah uhmm. So the band. I’m part of a band now surprise! We got a record deal and it made me realize I still- well that is, when I was told. I realized, your the only one I wanted to tell”

“And not in a bragging way!” He added hastily

A beeping noise, indicating the end of the message

“Wani I-“

But the message ended

-should I make this into an actual thing? Lemme know

[blackspoon99]

The Empty Hearse Pt. 1

Sherlock x Female! Reader

TW: minor Violence, Mentions of suicide and mental illness, Spoilers if you haven’t seen season 3!

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

A/N: This is a reader insert of season 3 of BBC Sherlock. If you haven’t seen season 3, I would definitely skip this series because it wouldn’t make sense and there are definitely going to be some spoliers!

Saturday - 8:37 pm

“Take it outside! Not in my shop!” The café owner yelled while pulling John off Sherlock and into the street. John walked a few feet away, pacing and trying to control his anger. Mary sympathetically handed Sherlock some napkins. He leaned his head back and tried to get his nosebleed under control.

“I don’t understand. I’ve said I’m sorry, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

Mary laughed to herself “Gosh, you don’t know anything about human nature, do you?”

“Hmmm Nature? No. Human? No.” He said with an ironic smile.

John walked back over to talk to Sherlock “I’m going to take Mary home. I’ve had enough of you for the night. Have you seen y/n?”

“Not yet. Do you think the fake mustache was too much? I’d bet y/n would like it.”

John scoffed to himself. “Oh god, Sherlock. What is it going to take for you to realize this isn’t a joke? Don’t you dare do whatever this was to y/n. She hasn’t been the same. You–” He paused and clenched his fists by his sides. Mary put a hand on his shoulder. “You- were not here Sherlock. You didn’t see what it was like. What she was like.” He closed his eyes and turned away. “No, I can’t do this. All I have to say Sherlock is be nice, be kind. For her.” John hailed down a cab while Mary stayed behind.

“I’ll talk him round.”

“You will?”

“Oh yeah,” She said with a smile before following John to the cab.

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Sunday - 10:16 am

The next morning, Sherlock slowly approached the apartment. He was most excited for your reaction. John was still furious with him, but he’d come around. Mary had promised. Sherlock liked her already. You would be over the moon when he came back into your life. Everything would go back to the way it was in time: you, John, and him. Together again in Baker Street.

He walked into the living room. He didn’t see you. Mycroft said you were to come here to pick up a book. He thought it was oddly fitting that your first meeting would be back in Baker Street. It didn’t seem like you were there. Perhaps Mycroft’s surveillance had gone downhill. Sherlock was about to leave when you emerged from John’s old bedroom, holding a book in one hand. You stared down at it, walking over to the bookcases by the fireplace. Sherlock anxiously waited for you to see him standing in the doorway. How happy you would be. He would finally see your face again, hold you in his arms. He’d have you back. You turned to leave and finally, you noticed him.

You let out a startled breath, but you didn’t even look surprised. You just looked sad. Sherlock was silent with anticipation as he waited for you to react. Your face was almost glazed over. Something was wrong. You suddenly dropped the book to the carpet. Sherlock watched as you turned away and with shaky hands, dialed a number on your mobile.

“H-hello? Michelle? I’m sorry to be calling, I know I stopped seeing you a few months ago… it’s just that I-I can see him again. I thought they’d stopped, but he’s back and you said I should call if I…”

His stomach dropped at the realization that you didn’t think he was really there. That’s why you didn’t seem surprised to see him. Sherlock watched as tears formed in your eyes as your voice quivered and stammered on the phone with your ex-therapist. John had said his so-called death had been hard on you, but he hadn’t expected this. You hesitantly looked over your shoulder at him before quickly turning your head back to your phone.

“No, he’s like he was when he was alive this time. It’s not like– you know– when I used to see him there on the pavement.”

Sherlock could feel his heart break a little as you cowered from him near the fireplace. His instincts were screaming at him to say something, to walk towards you, but he was paralyzed. Sherlock stood there for a moment until he realized you were wrapping up your call. He slowly and as quietly as possible backed out of the flat and down the stairs.

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You hung up the phone and slowly turned around. The image of Sherlock was gone from the door. You sighed in relief, leaned against the wall, and slid to the floor. You tried to take a deep breath, but you felt sick to your stomach. You tasted salt and became aware of the tears streaking down your cheeks. You were certain you were over this, that you were strong enough not to feel this way anymore, not to see him everywhere. Maybe it was too soon to come back to Baker Street. Then again, it had been 2 years.

Or maybe this is just the way it had to be from now on. You’d go about your business, feel your wounds begin to close but no matter how close you’d think you were getting to healing, no matter what you do, you’d always be just one moment away from falling apart all over again. You figured you should take your therapist’s advice and call John.

You went to pick up the book when you could have sworn you heard the creak of a floorboard on the stairs followed by the sound of the front door closing. Hallucinations don’t make noise. A hot flash ran through you. Your body moved before you could even think. You clambered over to the window, tripping over a loose pile of books. You flung open the dusty curtains and frantically looked out the window. You immediately scanned the crowd on the street below. Just down the block, you spotted a head of curly black hair and a long wool coat.

You snatched up your coat and ran down the stairs, not even bothering to put it on. You threw open the front door just in time to see him turn the corner. You started running, pushing past tourists and pedestrians. The cold air felt like it was burning through your lungs as you sprinted down the sidewalk. Tears were now steadily pouring from your eyes, blurring your vision. You finally rounded the corner and spotted him again.

“Sherlock Holmes!” You yelled, your voice strained and breaking. Sherlock turned around just as you reached him. Still unsure if it was just your mind tormenting you once again, you hesitantly reached for his hand. The moment your ice-cold hand felt a leather glove, a real hand, beneath its touch, you let out a choked gasp. The realization was quickly replaced with blind rage. Without thinking, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face as hard as you could. He barely flinched from the impact and looked at you with pure pain in his eyes.

“How could you!?” You screamed, tears uncontrollably pouring down your face. You threw half-hearted punches at his chest. He reached out and gently grabbed your forearms, trying to stop you.

“Y/n I’m so sorry”

“How could you?” You repeated over and over, fighting him. “How could you? How could you? How could you?” Eventually, the rage faded, and you leaned into him and just sobbed “I needed you” You said weakly.

“I know, y/n. I know. I’m so sorry” He said, wrapping his arms around your shivering body.

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A/N: Part 1 of god knows how many. This story will take us through season 3 and end with his last vow. Just getting back into writing and I will try my best to upload the parts semi regularly! 

[riofann]

Redemption Ch. 6

Redemption Ch. 5

“Hi Felipe” You greet as you enter his butcher shop

“Hola Y/N” “I brought you tres leches cake” “Thank you mija!” You watch as he returns to wiping down his counter “So how you been?”  “Good!” You look around “do you need help? I can sweep” “Sure the broom is there” He wasn’t going to turn down a chance to close up faster  “How’s business?” if anyone knew how hard it was to have a successful business in Santo Padre it would be him

You sigh “it’s going most of my income comes from special orders” “Well if it gets too hard, don’t be afraid to take a break sometimes it's needed” “Thanks Felipe” “Pop where’s my...” EZ walks in front from back of the building “oh Hey Y/N” “Where’s what EZ?”  “Hi EZ” you greet throwing the items from the dustpan into the trash can “My helmet, it’s not where I usually put it ” “I put it in my office, hanging on the back of the door ”  EZ nodded and went back to retrieve his helmet.  “Well I’m gonna get going, I have an early morning tomorrow. Let me know how you like the cake, I’m trying a new recipe” “Will do Y/N, have a good night” “Buenas Noches Felipe” 

When EZ walked returned to the front he looked around for you   “She left” Felipe commented knowing what he was looking for  He lowered the helmet in his hand “Oh okay”  Felipe stopped wiping the counter “What is it?” “Nothing Pop, she just left that quickly?” Felipe sat down and looked at EZ “EZ do you like the girl?”  EZ tried to hide his blush “What makes you ask that?” “Because you have a sly smile every time you talk about her which isn’t much but the smile is still there”  EZ smiles “Then I guess I do a little”  “Well what’s the hold up? Are you waiting for another man to get to her?” EZ scratched the back of his neck “It’s not easy Pop”  “Nothing in life is Ezekiel come on son! Pull yourself out of this!”  EZ nodded “right right, I’ll be back”  EZ rushed out the door and looked both ways before he saw you walking down the street towards your store

“Y/N!” He calls to you jogging towards you. “Y/N!” he yells a little louder  His voice sounds distant until he gets closer causing you to turn around “Hey EZ”  “Hey” he says gasping for air  “Need something?”  “Yea actually...”   You interject before he finishes “Okay cake order?” He smiles at you “No something else”  “Okay?” you look at him confused as to what else would he need  “Are you off this weekend?” You hold a questioning look on your face “No next weekend is my weekend off” He nods, scratching the back of his neck “So I was wondering if you would like to go to dinner with me next Saturday?”  You smile “Oh sure!”  “Sure?  “Yea!” there’s a brief moment of silence between you two “This is like a date?” you ask your voice becoming more faint with each word He nods at you “yes like a date” You smile at him “I would like that” “Okay I’ll come get you around 8?”  “Sounds good!” EZ smiles “have a goodnight Y/N” “Good night EZ”  You keep this information to yourself. Following the advice your therapist gave you about only involving others if you felt like you were in an abusive situation. You can’t wait for next Saturday night to approach you have picked out an outfit and planned to flatten your curls for the date.

“Pop you okay?!” EZ asked as he rushed into his dad’s butchery  Felipe was sitting down rubbing his hands “Yes son” “What happened?” EZ asked looking around to make sure everything really was okay “I heard some guys went around destroying property, luckily didn’t get to us got arrested as soon as they hit our street”  EZ relaxed  Felipe slapped his hand on the table “Fucking bastards, people work hard in this town to make ends meet and they just come destroying our things” EZ rubbed his father’s shoulder “It’s okay Pop, just try to relax” Felipe rubbed his temple “I heard the street Y/N’s shop is in got hit bad” “Shit I’m gonna go check on her, okay?” Felipe nodded, waving him off. EZ quickly got on his bike and made his way towards your store. Pop wasn’t lying there was glass all over the street 

You hear the doorbell jingle “Oh I’m closed right now, sorry for the incon...” You stop when you see EZ standing there “Y/N” he calls to you, taking in the damage.  Your glass displays were broken and the floor is littered with a mixture of glass and pastries “OH! EZ!” You quickly wipe away your tears “You okay?” You sniff “Yea just cleaning up”  you motion to the mess around  “Here let me help you” EZ says grabbing the broom from you  “No it's okay” you try to grab it back  EZ looks down at his hand feeling a wet sensation only to see blood “You’re bleeding?” He looks down at your hand that was wrapped, it just registered to him then that you were hurt “Oh it’s nothing” you say putting it behind your back  EZ drops the broom “Let me see”  “It’s no big deal really EZ”  He keeps his hands open and you give in placing your shaking left hand in his  “This is a lot of blood Y/N” he states taking in the blood soaked towel. “I’m okay”  He looks up at you “What happened?”  “I don’t know I was pushed and then this happened”

EZ looks around again “where’s a sink?”  “Oh there's a bathrooms towards the back”  He doesn’t say anything to you just carefully guiding you with his right hand on your back pushing you towards the bathroom  “Got a first aid kit?” he asks as you both stand in the bathroom “Uh yea in the kitchen against the wall it’s the Red box. The white box is for burns you’ll see it as soon as you walk in”  EZ nods and returns quickly “Let me put on some gloves” you nod and step back slowly he unravels the towel, he finds a deep concave cut accompanied by shallow cuts along the sides is revealed. “This looks pretty bad Y/N I think you need to go to the hospital” “I was planning on it after I cleaned up” you shrug  “I think you should go and get it looked at, don't worry about your shop, I’ll help you clean up.” “I guess you’re right” you respond looking at the wound. It wasn’t going to stop bleeding anytime soon. It seemed like a vein was cut in the process or the cut was just too deep. EZ wraps the gauze around your hand and grabs a clean towel. “Thanks, I’ll put pressure on it” “Where are your keys?” he asks “Oh in book bag under the counter” 

He grabs your things and ushers you out the door and into your car. You smile when you watch him readjust the driver seat moving it all the way to the back. “Sorry short” “Can’t apologize for what God Blessed you with carino”  The ride to the hospital is short due to EZ speeding all the way over there. Because you worked there, you were prioritized, there weren’t any urgent emergencies so you didn’t feel bad for jumping the line.  “Okay let’s see” Dr. Johnson says as he unwraps your hand “oooh that looks bad” You sigh “I know”  “What happened?” “Uh some guys came into the store broke the display glasses and pushed me I fell on glass” He examines  “Oooh looks painful let me get you some lidocaine before we start cleaning you up.” “Thanks Johnson” “They pushed you?” EZ asks finally realizing someone put their hands on you “Yea I was telling them to leave and one of them pushed me” you explain  He clenched his jaw 

Dr. Johnson quickly returned and got to work on your wound. EZ watched closely, smiling at you when you looked up at him. “Well all done, doesn’t look like any veins were cut, that's good. The stitches will dissolve after 4 days try moving your hand wiggle your fingers you don’t want your hand to become stiff” “Thanks Johnson” “Yea no problem if it still bothers you by next weekend let me know we can have you less urgent cases.”  “Thanks again.” you smile at him  “Yea no problem Y/L/N” EZ and you return to your store and you watch as he finishes cleaning up for you. There wasn’t much left, just one last round of sweeping and mopping.   “Thanks EZ” you say as he locks up for you “Don’t mention it, let's get you home. Follow me okay?” You do so as he basically guides you back to your house frequently looking back at you making sure you were still there.  When you arrive EZ stands back as you open the door and flick the light on. When you look back at him and notice his hands tucked into his pockets. “You can come in if you want” you offer and he nods and walks past you. “This is me” you say, placing your keys on the console. EZ smiles in return taking in your home  “Do you want something to drink?” you offer “You got water?”  You nod “Yes” 

You quickly retrieve the water and sit next to EZ “Thanks” “Welcome” you sit next to him  “Sorry about this weekend didn’t go as planned”  “It’s okay EZ it’s not your fault”  “How’s your hand feeling?” he asks rubbing your wrist  You give him a sympathetic smile “It’s okay throbbing now” You don’t know why but you start to cry “Hey, hey, hey”  EZ quickly shrugs off his kutte and pulls you close wrapping his arms around “sshhh carino, what’s wrong?”  “I’m just upset”  “You want me to take care of it?” he offers and you knew he could take care of it You giggle  and shake your head no “Just want me to hold you”  You nod snuggling further into his chest. Nothing else is said between you two until he gets ready to leave “Good night let me know you got to the clubhouse safe” You tell EZ as he gets on his bike your door putting on his helmet “I will carino if you need anything call me I don’t care if its the middle of the night”  “Okay”  He smiles “Goodnight carino”  “Goodnight EZ”