#i just don't get dental trauma

[fourdiagnosesinatrenchcoat]

I cannot stress enough the value of having video games in a pediatric dentist's waiting room and a tv with your own remote for each exam chair. And the fluoride tastes like strawberry?? AND THEN you get to pick a sticker out of a wicker elephant at the end?? I fucking loved the dentist.

Sweet support dog who gives comfort to children at the dentist (via)

[okidenshi]

*does a split* guess who's gonna have to get a root canal

[quillyq]

Horrible thought:

Stan has dentures, canonically.

You don't just GET dentures when you get old..it's usually through no access for dental care (really easy nowadays, we have easy access and we can brush our teeth, which the stereotype was created when at home dental care was not accessible)

Even Ford doesn't have dentures.

Why does Stan?

My thought:

They got ripped out of his head when he didn't make good on borrowed money. Just to add to the trauma. He got dentures in his early 20s, during his *scamulous* days.

Like, he had them during "tale of two stans"

It's just a fan theory.

You're welcome.

Edit: sketches added.

First page says: 1 tooth per every 1 thousand you stole..

Second page: *2 months later*

*checking to see if they're still there*

His thoughts: fucking goddamnit...

His words at the end say: Hey, they're better than your old chompers.

Just did this on a sketchpad, I only have a PC drawing pad. Too lazy to turn it on.

[wri0thesley]

hopeless romantic - percy (yandere demon oc) x reader (4.6k)

valentine's day has snuck up on you. somehow you don't think this one is going to be as pleasant as last year's.

cw: this is primarily a horror work. kidnapped reader, captive reader, mental torture. food warning, claustrophobia. mentions of (non-explicit): insects, emetophobia, dental trauma. general hopelessness and manipulation. REALLY fuck this guy!

a/n: for a very quick primer on percy, please read this, and/or see this!

(also i mentioned this last time i wrote something for lucas but getting a commission for one of my own ocs is so WILDLY exciting and flattering. waaah!!!)

this was a commissioned work.

You didn’t consider yourself a hopeless romantic. 

Perhaps you consider yourself a bit of a romantic, in that you’d always enjoyed a classic love story; re-read your copy of Pride and Prejudice until it had fallen apart, had occasional daydreams of handsome suitors and the swirl of a masquerade ball, had perhaps watched Labyrinth too often as a young woman and wondered ‘what if’ about the Goblin King and his domain--

But you had thought you knew enough not to expect fiction from real life. No balls for you; no impassioned declarations of love soaked to the bone, no royal promising he would move the world for you if only you asked. You had thought you would be content with a bouquet of flowers - a smile, a squeeze of the hand whilst watching a romantic comedy, a kiss goodnight that was a little awkward with a clash of teeth and tongue. That was the kind of life, you told yourself, that waited for an average person like you - and that, too, would be enough. Because companionship would be enough; somebody to walk through life with, somebody who understood you, somebody who would cuddle up to you at night. 

And then you had met Percy. 

You hadn’t been able to believe your luck. 

A man almost exactly like you’d imagined? Someone who held the door open for you and smiled so softly it made you ache, who would sit with you and talk about books and whatever else passed through your minds for as long as you wanted? Always seeming to know what to say, always there for you - he’d brought you a bouquet of roses for your first date, for God’s sake. And though you’d been anxious about the ostentation of them, holding them at the restaurant, the way people seemed to be staring at you from every table . . . you had bit back the nervousness and given him a shaking smile and let yourself be swept off your feet. 

You wish that you’d seen the signs then. 

Maybe you had? Maybe you’d noticed them all and simply let them roll off of you instead, water off a duck’s back, because if you let Percy go you’d surely never find anyone like him again? And they had seemed such little things, too. Waiting just a fraction of a moment too long to comfort you when you were frightened or anxious - almost as if he was letting the moment shimmer in the air, develop as far as he could. Always being awake after you’d had a nightmare (you’d bought the chronic insomnia excuse at the time, but . . . surely someone who never seemed to sleep should be more tired than Percy ever seemed to be?). Nightmares, coincidentally, you don’t remember having so vividly or so regularly before you met Percy-- 

“Hey,” he’d murmured, soothing you, pulling you into him, warm hands rubbing up and down your back as he’d whispered sweet nothings into your hair. “Shh, sweetie. Just a nightmare. Nothing to worry about.”

And those nightmares - the ones where you thought you’d woken up, eyes as wide as saucers, body pinned to the bed by some unknown force . . . and slowly, slowly, the creature of spindle limbs and glowing eyes and sharp bright teeth had crept into your view, sharp fingernails running over the duvet and the blankets, Percy’s presence beside you in the nightmare non-existent--

You curl your body around yourself on the hard wooden floor; there’s a bed, in the corner of the room, but you preferred nowadays to stave off sleep for as long as you could. 

Looking back on it, you think you should have known. Should have run for the hills - your friends had loved him at first, citing his warm smile and the way he treated you like a princess . . . but before you knew it, your friends had dropped away, because you were spending all of your time with him instead. If you still had your cell phone . . . how long had it been since you spoke to your best friend? What was the last thing you said to her? 

Your stomach rolls uncomfortably as you think about how it was probably something about Percy. 

You were such a fool. 

You pull yourself off the bed, your body aching with the effort of it. You don’t get much exercise nowadays; this little room, with a bed and a desk and no windows and the strange sigils scrawled on the floor in paint (definitely paint, you tell yourself fiercely, though it shines strangely when the light hits it and is a dark, dried out red that makes your stomach roll) is all of the space you have. You can stride from one wall to another in fifteen paces. Thirty floorboards. 

You’ve counted all of these. 

You lower yourself onto the chair by the desk, your back crying out in pain. Even if you had been sleeping properly on the bed, it was hardly comfortable - and when one is as racked with nightmares as you are, tossing and turning and twisting and begging . . . Well. No wonder you hurt so much. 

You tread carefully. You have seen this room become a thousand things; have seen a dark pit open up in the middle of the sigil and all manner of creatures crawl out of it, crowding up to you with gaping maws and blood-shining teeth and great pits of eyes. Spiders. Bugs. Screaming. Three days when all of the light in the entire room - your entire existence - had gone from the world, and you had fumbled and stumbled around the room without direction. 

(Into Percy, a couple of times, who had laughed and held you tight and whispered sweet nothings into your ear that might have been romantic, once upon a time, but now just lilted with mockery. 

“Oh,” he’d murmured, soft and silky against your ear. “Poor thing. Are you scared of the dark?”

You had not thought yourself scared of the dark - but until those three days, you suppose, you had not known what the dark was. Had not known it could settle so thick and heavy like covering your entire world with ink; had not known it would muffle everything else so completely. Percy had kissed you demanding and hungry in the middle of the nothingness and you had hated yourself as you’d clung to his shirt in between the kisses and begged him not to leave you there. 

He had, of course). 

There is one other thing you’ve counted. 

As best you can, anyway; it’s hard to keep real track when Percy’s comings and goings can be so sporadic. He remembers to feed you, you think, most days - but with no window, no way to tell the time truly . . . days can blur into one another. And so, though you think it’s February, you wouldn’t have known for sure that it was the thirteenth of February, unless--

“Friday the thirteenth,” Percy had hummed, that what-might-have-been-morning, as he’d held you softly in his arms as you writhed and whimpered, the walls closing in on you. It’s a dirty trick, what Percy can do, you think; the hallucinations, the untruths . . . interspersed with the truth, just so you never quite know what is real or not. You’d known in some primal part of you that this one had to be one of the tricks - walls do not really cave in on you, you are not living in some ancient Egyptian-themed action movie where walls are booby-trapped to crush you into tiny pieces - but when the threat of death looms over you in such a way, you suppose that your mind cannot truly be reasoned with. 

You hadn’t thought you were claustrophobic before this, coincidentally. It’s amazing how Percy can somehow bring out fears you didn’t know you had. 

The times he uses whatever power he possesses to play with you like a spider with a fly trapped in its web are preferable. At least, you think, probing tenderly with your tongue the spot at the back of your mouth where you used to have a molar before Percy had shown you the glint of pliers and murmured for you to ‘be still now, sweetie, or it will hurt more - oh, don’t tremble like that, you’re making it awfully hard to concentrate--’. 

“February,” you’d told him, and he’d laughed. 

“Yes,” he’d said. “Valentine’s Day tomorrow, then? I’ll have to think of something special for us.” 

The very words had sent a tingling shudder down your spine. You hadn’t bothered smiling for him - for someone who had gotten you where you were with a faux tilt of his eyebrows, with pretty lies wrapped in sugar, with promises he never intended to keep . . . he doesn’t like artifice. He’d told you, that first night you had found yourself bound and gagged and trapped, that he had never found you so pretty - and then he’d smiled at you and pinched your cheek hard enough to bruise and promised you that you were going to be wearing that expression rather a lot. 

He’d been right. 

The fear of what he was going to do must have crackled in the air; Percy’s eyes had gone half-lidded and he’d sighed, pleased, before he’d pressed a kiss onto your forehead and let the walls recede back to where they were supposed to be. 

“Something very special,” he’d said, letting go of you; watching, amused, as you’d scrambled away from him. 

You’d tried to ingratiate yourself to him at first; had tried to be well-behaved, not to snap and fight back at him, in the hope it would make him ease up. You’d learnt very quickly that there was no point in doing such a thing; it doesn’t matter if you struggle. Percy will treat you the same either way. 

If anything, the outright shows of fear - the proof that you’re terrified of him - seem to please him more. The more scared you get the quicker, the sooner he usually ends the torment. 

Unfortunately, that’s not exactly something you can pretend. Not with a man - a thing - that can sense your emotions on the air, that hungers for the terror that runs cold through your veins. You can pretend to shudder all you want - and you’d tried - but Percy just clicks his tongue and pulls you back to him and murmurs; “Well. That’s not going to do, is it?”

So he leaves you, that Friday the thirteenth of February, to stew in the fear of what a Valentine’s Day with a demon might entail. 

You and Percy had begun to date, officially, at the beginning of January after meeting at a friend’s New Year party. Neither of you big drinkers (as it turns out, stimulants like alcohol have very little effect on a creature like Percy, but you had not known that at the time), you had found yourself feeling frazzled and frightened by all of the new people and the laughter and the whirling out-of-control dancing, and had been hiding out in that friend’s cloakroom amongst other people’s coats with a book you’d smuggled in in the pocket of your dress. Percy had found you there.

You know now you must have been a buffet; perhaps the most scared thing in the whole room, your anxiety leading him directly to you and setting your life on track for . . . this. But at the time he had recognised the battered old paperback in your hand and been all-too-eager to talk to you about it, smile on his face, his voice kind. You had thought him handsome - and when he’d told you he owned a bookstore, you think you fell in love a little bit right there and then. You’d shared a kiss at midnight and been found afterwards by the mutual friend who had invited you, who had effusively shared praise of the man - he’s magic, she’d promised, cured my insomnia with nothing more than a tea blend! Gave her a couple of nightmares for a few nights, but after that - poof! - and you had really thought . . . 

You had really looked at Percival Thacker and thought; oh. There he is. 

So of course, this wouldn’t be your first Valentine’s Day. 

Your last Valentine’s Day, Percy had gone all-out for - after you’d admitted to him that you couldn’t afford much, that you hadn’t been dating that long, that you were nervous about it . . . He’d told you earnestly that he simply liked you so much, afterwards, and he’d wanted to show it - but of course, now you know his true nature, you know that the shame that must have come off of you in waves and the fear that he thought you cheap and the nervousness that you could not match his energy must have all been a veritable feast for him. 

The gift of hindsight, you suppose. 

So you see, you had a point of reference for what a Valentine’s Day with somebody you thought you might love would be like; you had that thought of roses and a fancy dinner and a trip to the ballet and a first edition of your favourite book. That’s what you’d thought a Valentine’s with Percy would be like, perhaps for the rest of your life. 

And then he had shown himself to you, in all of his true colours, and there had been far more pressing concerns than making sure you remembered to budget enough to at least buy him a card. 

But what he might do, now, as a ‘Valentine’s Gift’ . . . knowing how much he likes you crying, whimpering, begging and frightened out of your skull . . . the very thought of it makes you want to bury your head into the thin pillow and sleep the day away entirely. What a pity that he’s just as capable of getting to you whilst you’re sleeping as he is anywhere else. 

You know that you’re feeding into what he wants by agonising over it; that he can probably feel your anxiety over what is going to happen to you from everywhere in the house, the force of it is so strong. But you simply cannot help yourself. Considering he’d been the first to admit, easy and smiling as ever, that his greatest flaw was a tendency towards laziness, he’s been ever-inventive when it comes to ways to make you feel like you’re going to die of a fear-induced heart attack. 

The whole day, you feel yourself hovering on a precipice; your throat ready to close up at a moment’s notice, your entire psyche balanced on a fragile tightrope ready to snap. Every tiny sound from somewhere in the house makes you jump, sets you on edge, straining for the sound of Percy’s footfalls. The house is not always so noisy, of course - it bends to whatever Percy wants. Sometimes you wonder if this little room is even a part of the cramped little townhouse Percy lives in at all, or if it does not exist in some other dimension - but you are not permitted to step foot outside of it, so it does not really matter. 

You even toy with the idea he’s going to do nothing. He’s going to let you stay here, stewing in might-have-beens and maybes, instead of letting it all build to a crescendo. 

When you do hear his feet on the floorboards, the click of a lock . . . you scold yourself for thinking that at all. Such an outcome would have been far too kind for Percy. 

He walks into the room with a smile on his face. You do not often see him without it; that soft-eyed, careful smile that had so enchanted you at first but has seemed to grow more and more mocking the more often he has used it as a weapon. The door clicks closed behind him, and though he does not touch the handle you hear the noise of locks clacking shut, one by one. Even if you tried to run - to overpower him and go for the door - you know that it would not open for you. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says to you, with that mocking smile you hate so much. He makes a great show of looking around the room; the bare walls, the floorboards, this prison cell of a home that he has engineered to be your own personal hell. “Oh, this isn’t going to do at all.” 

You’d had some thoughts about the idea of magic, before all of this. You’d always hoped it existed in some capacity - the problem, you suppose, with being a voracious reader and a fantasist - but whenever you had thought of it, you’d thought . . . Wands, or snapping fingers, or little incantations. Percy moves the world around him without blinking; the only feeling you get after he exerts himself to use a little of his power is a faint sickness in the pit of your stomach, the taste of iron lingering in the back of your throat. 

And then there is a little table in the middle of your room; two chairs, and a tablecloth, and silverware glinting in the light. 

“Well?” He asks, and your head bounces from the table and around to face him. In his arms, once more are a bouquet of roses - and you could cry, you could vomit, you could tear him into pieces. You recognise the soft rose hue of the tablecloth; the design of the chairs, the centrepiece in the middle of the table and the dozen red roses that Percy holds in his arms. “I thought we had such a wonderful time last year . . . we can’t quite replicate it, but I’ll do my best.”

It is exactly the same as last year - if last year’s Valentine’s had taken place in a jail cell. He takes your hand and guides you none-too-gently to the table in the middle of the room (it looks silly, there; the prison you call your life is too small for the ostentatious chairs and the dining table). Your eyes frantically scan over the chair and the table, just to ensure there are no secrets lying in wait there. 

(A scorpion, ready to crawl from underneath a plate. Rotting meat, ready to give you the worst attack of emetophobia you’ve had in your life. Some kind of venomous spider on the chair, waiting to bite you and paralyse you and have its poison destroy you from the inside out). 

You take your seat at the table - and nothing happens. You watch Percy warily as he takes his own seat, as he gently places the bouquet to one side - you’d been so rattled to see it, you realise, you hadn’t even taken it from his arms. He doesn’t say anything about it, though. Simply sighs and stretches, looking around your little bare room as if it is the restaurant you two were in only one year ago. 

“I didn’t think we’d need a menu,” he tells you, with a small smile. “I thought we’d simply have everything we had last time.” 

He’d ordered for you, last time - you’d felt so overwhelmed at the restaurant he’d made reservations at, by the class of people around you and the glimpse of the prices on the wine menu, that you’d been glad of it. Looking back, you know he did that on purpose - but at the time, you had only been able to gush about how generous he was. 

There is no waiter to bring your food. There’s that iron again, the tang in the back of your throat - and then the plate of appetisers is before you, your glass full of viscous red wine. It looks far too much like blood, now, for you to want to drink it. 

Through every course, you wait for the sting. 

This cannot be all of it. There must be something more; something hiding behind the sighs of pleasure that Percy makes and the attempts to call back to conversations you’d had. He doesn’t seem to mind you have very little to say in return - he’s happy to talk about how his cat is doing, how the bookshop is faring under this cost of living crisis, a new book he bought last week and is enjoying--

But nothing comes. Nothing happens. For all intents and purposes, the two of you are simply reliving your first Valentine’s date - only this time, in a windowless room, after your boyfriend has kept you captive for months and brought you to the brink of death and manipulated you and used you and hurt you--

The food looks exactly the same on the plate; beautifully presented, and delicious. Your stomach rumbles in hunger, but the thought of what still might come flashes through your mind.

You can’t bring yourself to eat a thing.

“My compliments to the chef,” Percy chuckles, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. “A pity you’ve barely eaten anything.”

“I’m not hungry,” you whisper, into the air between you, and Percy gives you a sympathetic look. How could you be hungry, when you’d feared everything you might put on your fork would turn to ashes or organs or worse in your mouth? When you’d spent the entire meal wondering about what he was going to do next, what he was going to say next?

He clicks his tongue, tutting at you sympathetically.

“Poor thing,” he says, voice dropping with that faux sympathy. “We can’t have you losing your strength, now. I’ll make sure you have your favourite tomorrow - just to see if we can tempt you into eating.” He leans forward, catching your chin in his hand, still smiling. “I’d hate for you to waste away into nothing.”

This close, you can see the slitted pupils of his eyes, and you know he must feel the way that you swallow. You’re so vulnerable like this - he could do anything to you, use this moment to break you in any way he chooses. 

The moment passes. He lets go of you. 

“Well,” he says, “that was pleasant, wasn’t it?” He sees you staring, helpless, and laughs. “Oh, sweetie. Did you think I would hurt you on Valentine’s Day? When you know how much I adore you? How I couldn’t bear to be without you?”

“It’s never stopped you before,” you whisper to him, a quiet, barbed little thing - and Percy lets you say it, and then throws his head back and laughs. 

“Ah,” he says, “but I’m absolutely stuffed. You’re a meal all on your own. You’ve been terrified of what I might do the whole time! Anything else would have just been greed, I fear.”

You look up at him, barely daring to believe it. He’s really just going to leave? He’s going to take what he did from the meal, from the trembling edge of fear you’ve felt all day, and simply . . . let you think that was enough? 

“Th-that’s it?” You ask, hating how small your voice sounds. You clench your fists atop the table cloth, the few bites of food that you did manage to get down churning in your stomach. 

Percy tilts his head to the side, and then laughs again. 

“How silly of me,” he says, and your throat constricts. “No, no. I have another present for you. I almost forgot!”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, crumpled, folded over and over. He unfolds it for you, and you see that it is a sheet torn from a newspaper - his smile does not budge as he leans over and places it before you on the table. 

You take a moment before you look down at it. You don’t know what it would be, after all; and it would not be the first time something that has seemed perfectly harmless has turned out to be anything of the sort. Percy waits, patiently, and you finally bring yourself to look down and read the small, cramped letters. 

That’s a photograph of you. 

You stare up from the page, caught in mid-laugh, your dark hair blowing across your face. In the background is a sunny day at the park; it takes a moment for you to remember it being taken. It takes a while, now, to remember you had a life before these four walls. 

There are other photos of you, too. One with your family. A baby photo, posed perfectly in a photographer’s studio. A picture of your graduating class, with you circled--

Your eyes scan desperately over the words. You can’t quite take it in. You try to read it properly, but your vision skims and sputters and spots, and only certain phrases make it through the haze of terror and confusion that you feel descending over you. 

‘Missing for eight months’ . . . ‘Every effort has been made to locate her’ . . .‘Family have called off the search’ . . . ‘Presumed dead’ . . . ‘Memorial service to be announced’ . . .

That’s it. 

They have been looking for you - apparently in all the wrong places. There’s something about a forest being combed over, a river being strained for a body. No mention of a townhouse owned by your boyfriend. No mention of a boyfriend at all. 

They’ve been looking for you, and now they’re not. They’ve thrown you to one side; they’ve said ‘that’s enough, we’d rather just act as though she’s dead’. There’s nobody coming to save you. 

You hadn’t realised how much the idea that someone might find you, that you could go back to your normal life one day, that people were out there looking for you had sustained you until you’d read in stark black and white that it wasn’t going to happen.

The future that stretches out in front of you now is simply Percy, and these four walls, and what it feels like to be afraid.

“Why do you look so frightened?” Percy asks, as you sit there, trembling. The table and the chairs and the remains of the dinner fade to nothing around you, and your legs buckle - before you know it, you are knock-kneed and awkward on those awful floorboards, the sheet of newspaper still crumpled in your hands. You can’t breathe. 

Any hope of escape, any hope someone was looking for you, any thoughts that perhaps they’d find Percy’s little house and break it open until they found your prison cell - gone, like that. Nothing to think about. No hope to cling to. 

And he’d called it a present!

He kneels down before you, reaching out - and his arms are wrapping around you, pulling you closer, holding you against him with a grip like a vice. 

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” he murmurs, against the top of your head, as the tears refuse to fall and the certainty that you are either going to be stuck here until you die, or until he wrings you dry, washes over you. “Isn’t it good news?” 

A kiss. From out of the corner of your eye, you see the red roses he had brought you; they’re on the floor now that the table and chair have been removed. A fat spider crawls from the inside of one of the roses, inching closer and closer to you both. Percy croons softly into your ear, fingers running through your hair. 

Is there a point, you wonder, where you will stop being afraid? Where all of this will become background noise, and you’ll be a useless shell of a person? Because at this moment, with the thought of who-knows-how-long stretching on in front of you and all of the things that Percy could do to you, all of the ways he could fuck with your mind and your heart and everything in between--

You think that perhaps being a shell would be better. Percy clucks, rocking you against him like he’s trying to soothe the fear out of you, though both of you know it is the opposite--

“It’s wonderful news, isn’t it? We get to have the rest of your life together.”

[doublejango]

I am already seeing virtue signaling posts from people saying "I don't care what you believe or how you voted..."

That's great. I care. I care a lot. The outcome of this election effects me, but so much more than me. I care. It matters. And if it really doesn't matter to you? Good for you. If you are privileged enough, safe enough, and entitled enough to truly not care about how the election will impact other people... I can't even imagine what that must be like. Nice, I guess?

I spent most of last night and this morning crying.

I'm done with tears now, and have moved on to rage.

And you know what? I promise not to let it burn out. Because smiles and positivity may work for many of us, and I'm not going to lose mine either, I promise not to lose my queer joy--they can rip it from my cold dead hands, not to get too damn dramatic here--but I'm also not in the mood to start forgiving and smiling and welcoming Nazis into the bar.

So. I will hold onto anger. I've been tolerant and accepting long enough in life... and have learned something important about what causes the worst harm.

I have been gay bashed before. Violently. Blood. Broken bones. Lost teeth. And you know what the worst part of the recovery of all of that was, the part that did the most psychological and emotional damage? It wasn't the actual bashing itself. It wasn't even the memory of exactly what it felt like to have something swung full force into my face with extremely violent intent. It was the denial from my "friends" and family afterwards. The people who wanted to deny that it was a hate crime. The people who wanted me to shrug it off and not be upset about it. The people who loved to say oh well it wasn't that bad. You know what helped? Letting myself feel fury. Letting myself name the attack as hate. "It wasn't that bad," though, they said, asif it was their judgment to make--endless hours of dental procedures, pain, wounds that never fully healed, the trauma, the lost work, the new experience of vomiting blood with broken jaws and knocked out teeth. Because it wasn't that bad. And there was so much self-reproach, because I could have avoided it. I wasn't the intended target. He was swinging for a lesbian with me. When the attacker burst out of hiding he was swinging for the side of her head, her temple. I jumped in between them. Didn't think. It was an impulse. Protect the people you care about. So I took it to the face. And I grabbed him. I threw him, and fell doing it. I remember being on my knees in the mud. Seeing my teeth in the mud. Seeing my blood just. Everywhere. And knowing I needed to push back to my feet immediately because it might not be over.

We were lucky. It was over. He hadn't expected anyone to fight back. He ran.

But the people who claimed to love me didn't want to deal with the idea that it was a hate crime. They wanted it to be random and meaningless. That made their world a little safer, I guess. And their denial made my world colder. And my recovery lonelier. Harder. They put me down for "bringing it on myself." As if it would have been more virtuous to let this woman take that attack to her temple, as if I would have been more valid for standing by and watching it happen.

There are so many more stories I can tell you, but the lesson is almost invariably the same: the ugliest hurt is often the one caused by the people who just turn away when you identify what happened to you. The hurts that cut the deepest and last the longest often come from the people we thought we could trust, because they want you to just get over it, don't talk about it, admit it could have been worse, don't call it That.

The betrayal from people who are supposed to have your back? That deepens wounds, deepens trauma.

I won't be that person. I won't tell you to smile and turn the other cheek when someone shows you they hate you. Do whatever you need to do to survive--physically, emotionally, psychologically. Just don't give up, and don't let the cowards force you into feeling shame for not giving up and letting the world break you.

Never be ashamed to refuse to break.

Never let someone shame you for choosing strength. For drawing your line in the sand.

I wanted the "exciting" times of my life to be behind me. But they're not--so be it. I'm not going to tone myself down to be safer. I don't care about my own safety anymore. Any self-preservation drive broke a long time ago when it comes to homophobia. I promise to always be ready to fight. To be a queer menace to "polite" society. I promise to be out and loud and gay, to be a shield however I can for those who can't be out, who can't fight back, who can't even speak up because it wouldn't be safe for them to do so. They are valid, too. And I love them. And I will have their fucking backs. I promise to, in my real off-the-internet life, be someone who will always jump in and speak up if I see queer people being harassed or shamed--especially if they're young. I am older. I will fight for my baby gays. I will love them.

And I will never, never put anyone down for refusing to welcome Nazis into the bar. We don't look the other way and quietly tolerate them. Not here.

I may not be around much for the next few days. I need to handle my own shit. My own fury. My own grief. Because right now, there is so much grief.

But I won't be going anywhere.

I will fight to stay.

Whatever it takes.

I'm not giving up.

If I end up on my knees in the mud again, staring at my own blood and teeth, metaphorically or in fucking reality, so be it. I will get back up. And I will keep getting back up. I won't let go of the anger. The spite. And I definitely won't let go of my love for every queer person, the ones I know and the ones I don't, because that love is what will give me strength to get through this. Whatever comes next.

I may not have much sense of self-preservation. But goddamn, I will fight for you.

[angryschnauzer]

January 11th 2024

Yeah its been a while since i updated. I haven't had the energy to if i'm honest, but here we go.

Hubby had his brain surgery end of November '23. The tumour they took out was a nasty one, somewhere between the size of a golf ball and a kiwi fruit. The wound has healed well with little to no side affects apart from some double vision, but he was checked out for that and it is a common after affect of brain trauma and was remedied with an eyepatch for a few weeks.

We met with the Neuro Oncology team at Royal Marsden Hospital in London. They are one of the best (if not the best) cancer treatment centres in the whole country, and we worked through a treatment plan.

Just before Christmas hubby was also cleared to have shoulder reconstructive surgery (he broke his shoulder bone in the original seizures back at the end of October '23). There was a really small window of time between it being enough time after the brain surgery that he could go back under general anaesthetic, but also enough time to mostly heal before he started Radiotherapy and Chemo, so just 5 days before Christmas hubby was in and out of our local hospital in a single day to have that surgery.

Christmas was a quiet and subdued affair. I also herniated a disk in my back the day Hubby had surgery (i was clearing the deep freeze out ready for grocery delivery), so it meant both he and I were dosed up to our eyeballs on strong painkillers for most of the holiday, and Little Dude spent the majority of the break either playing video games or building his new lego sets.

Two days before Christmas i also had to have emergency dental work (i had been grinding my teeth and had previously cracked a tooth) and whilst i was in the dentists office some utter idiot crashed into my car. That was the last thing i needed but i simply handed it all over to my insurance company (who are aware of my husbands situation) and they arranged a hire vehicle and sorted repairs.

Onto the start of 2024. This is the first week of Radiotherapy and Chemo for Hubby. He is getting very tired and fatigued already from the Radiotherapy, but thankfully no nausea from the chemo as yet, but that could change over time. He is scheduled for a full schedule of 6 weeks of this dual treatment, where we are having to visit Royal Marsden every day Mon - Fri for the six weeks, and then he also takes the chemo 7 days a week for the six weeks.

He'll then have 4 to 6 weeks 'off' treatment for his body to relax and recuperate, but will have scans and MRI's during that time to gauge what further treatment will be, but its likely to be just chemo but a stronger dose, but no radiotherapy. The chemo is to be 3 weeks off one week on, so a 4 weekly cycle.

The one thing we have discovered isn't done is prognosis's. When we first got to Royal Marsden we were shocked as they started talking about years, and explained that although it was a really nasty tumour, it was found very early and whilst it was still relatively small for its kind. They've discussed things like 'this years treatment plan then we'll look at next years', and also for a while Hubby was being considered for a clinical trial which candidates who have prognosis's of 12 months+ are only considered for. In the end he didn't meet the criteria (his cholesterol was too high). The Macmillian Nurses also have been talking to us about Mobility Car assistance schemes where you can get govt assistance financially and get an adapted vehicle on a 2 year rolling lease. All these timings are reassuring in one way, but worrying in another - we have no idea what the future holds and it really does cement in stone that our time is limited and could end any moment, and makes it very difficult to make any long term plans. You don't realise how much of your life is preplanned until you end up in this situation and aren't sure if you can book your kid onto the school residential trip in 5 months time.

Should anyone want the mundane daily day-to-day life updates you can follow me on my personal instagram @simone_with_an_e its generally a load of utter boring bollocks, but i try to keep it updated daily with updates when i can as its a lot easier to do 1 short paragraph than a big update.

For me my mental health is a little better now that i've had time to process Hubby's diagnosis and that he is getting treatment. There are still days or hours when i fall apart, and it could be something as simple as listening to a song on the radio as i drive back from dropping Little Dude at school and i realise the song would be lovely at his funeral. I end up having to pull over and have a cry whilst switching the radio off. I'm loosing weight and aging quickly, my hair is turning grey from stress and i realised i've aged about 15 years in the last 3 from stress. My appetite comes and goes, and things like red meat now turn my stomach and i can't digest it. But i also haven't drunk alcohol since the day before Hubby had his seizure back in October. I feel like i need to stay 'alert' in case i need to rush him to the hospital for something. I don't miss it as such, but I miss the ability to fully relax. Its hard to describe but i feel like at the moment i've lost myself and am just functioning to care for those around me, going through the motions as such.

Anyway, this has been a long update. I do still lurk here, you may see me pop up in notifications liking something, but at the moment i don't feel its right to start putting fandom stuff back on here yet. I do hope to get back to writing at some point. I miss it and the unfinished stories plague my mind as i have such lovely plans for story arc's and really want to finish them.

Take care all,

Schnauz

xxx

[naamahdarling]

MY medical update:

I am beginning to feel like I will never reach the end of anything. I am legitimately folding like a wet house of cards. My mental health is being profoundly negatively affected as my identity as "a unique and vibrant human being with a meaningful life" is increasingly subsumed into a deeply trauma-adjacent and depersoning identity as "a patient", with all the associated expectations that I will repeatedly and with minimal complaint allow people I barely know or have never met access to my emotions and my traumatized and marginalized body. That is not safe space within which to exist. Medical professionals, even the very kind ones, often forget the toll that "care" can take. (Bad ones disregard it altogether.)

My unusually high degree of emotional awareness allows me to see what is happening, and even allows me to cope with it very well, but "very well" is still not enough to make this sustainable over the long term. I don't actually know where to go or what to do from here.

I am torn between wanting to get all of these appointments out of the way as quickly as possible, so that I can relax without anything hanging over my head, and spacing things out just to give myself room to fucking breathe even though that means I will always have something lurking in the near future, causing me dread. I've run the math in my head over and over and I still can't work it out. There are too many unknowns, and too many variables, and too many ways things could go wrong either way I go.

I don't even know if there is a right choice. I don't know if there is a best answer. I've never been under this kind of pressure for so long before, I have been struggling with one thing or another since before the beginning of the year, and it is genuinely starting to do what I believe could turn into lasting harm.

I had a long and helpful talk with my boyfriend tonight, and while it did not fix much, it did help me to understand that the constant pressure on me is making it difficult for him to be here for me as much as he would like to be able to, and that's obviously distressing to him. That hit me really hard, because that is exactly the position I was in earlier this year trying to get his medication refilled and trying to help him deal with a deeply incompetent dental clinic.

I very much appreciate that he shared that with me, and I probably will try to find a way to slow things down and space things out, because even if I don't know that is what is best for me, if that is what is best for him, that's what I want to do. I've been so overwhelmed trying to manage my own emotional state that I sadly have not stopped to think about the effect this has had on him. I do feel guilty about that, but the important thing is that he let me know and I heard him.

I am very tired, and I'm praying that next week is uneventful. I don't have anything scheduled, but that doesn't mean that something annoying or even actually horrible might not occur.

Right now I'm going to have a snack and go to bed and hope that the pharmacy refills my meds tomorrow so that I can go back to having 30% less ADHD.

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

I have spend the past few days dying because of severe acute tooth pain. Legitimately convinced that this shit would be an extremely effective easy torture method, I'd rather break a bone over this shit ngl. That said what type of whump senerios do you think could come out with teeth as the focus?

Teef!! TEEF!!!!

We have the classic, the holy grail, of Whumper using pliers to pull out Whumpee's teeth for a myriad of reasons. Talking back? Biting? Making room for tubes to be shoved down their throat? The possibilities are truly endless, and of course, bonus points if the pliers are rusty <3

Whumpee losing a tooth from some kind of mouth trauma (a punch, a boot to the face, etc) is one thing. But what if that tooth only cracked? What if it chipped? Not only are they going to have to deal with the pain of an exposed nerve and jagged edge constantly being touched by their tongue, but literally anything is going to aggravate it. Food and water included. Yikes.

I've mentioned it before in my "gross and messy" whump post, but just general neglect would be enough of a catalyst for tooth pain. Months without brushing and constant vomiting can lead to rot and decay, which can lead to a further infection of the entire mouth. Whumpee practically feeling certain teeth disintegrate, spitting out blood and pus until finally they can pull out a blackened dead tooth from their inflamed gum for relief.

Got a vampire Whumpee? Why don't you just file those pointy chompers down, just in case :)

After Whumpee is rescued (or if...) and they finally get the care they need, they'll have to make peace with the fact their mouth is full of gaps that would cost a fortune in dental work to repair. And maybe they do and get the crowns or dentures they need. And maybe they don't. The one constant being they have to live with being self conscious over an imperfect smile. Not that they have much to smile about anymore to begin with.

This is purely aesthetic but I love the idea of a Whumper purposely replacing their own canine teeth with gold incisors to look extra menacing when they grin. Do as you will with that.

More aesthetic style, less scenario-based but:

Whumper with a mouth full of fangs that love to dig into Whumpee's skin

Teeth indentations all over Whumpee's body

Whumpee snarling with their teeth stained red from the blood pooling in their mouth

Spitting a tooth out, unperturbed by the hit

Open mouth gags being used on Whumpee that show their teeth on full display

Feral/Traumatized/Rescued Whumpee absolutely using biting as a defense on anyone that comes near them, including Caretaker

Whumpee with arms and hands full of scarred over bitemarks from where they've had to chomp down on their own skin to muffle their cries

[luulapants]

Do you feel as though war and genocide soldiers, like nazis or the idf or rsf, etc are all able to be redeemed? Is separating them from society more harmful than allowing them to be in it, alongside the population of people they wish to harm? Can a person that willingly and gleefully murders a child be changed? Is it worth the resources to try, as opposed to using resources for their victims? If therapy is not meant to deconstruct and dismantle white supremacy, can it even tackle their issues effectively? I am asking all /gen btw, I am personally terrified of the fact the once they finish duty, idf soldiers will be back with the general population.

Thanks for the question, anon. There's no straight or short answer, but I invite you to consider the following:

One of the all-time greatest challenges in warfare is soldiers who won't fight - now called the "ratio of fire." Military strategists after WWII studies were told to expect 75-85% of their soldiers to either never fire their weapons or intentionally miss, even when their own lives are in danger. The most effective way to "improve" the ratio is aggressively brainwashing soldiers to believe their enemy is evil and wants to torture, rape, and murder their families. We hear that rhetoric from the IOF all the time.

75 countries mandate military service, including Israel. It's not just to maintain a large army - which doesn't make economic sense when not at war. Young people tend to be progressive. Military service allows governments to impose on young people the nationalist brainwashing they perfected to improve ratio of fire. University professors actually struggle to teach military students in the US because they are so brainwashed to not question and not think independently, which is required in higher education.

In countries like the US that don't mandate military service, we find ways to force it on young folks, especially low-income and people of color. One of the biggest arguments against free college is that no one would join the military. That's also an argument against universal healthcare. Folks go into the military just to get access to basic dental care. Recruiters are allowed to lie to teenagers to get them to enlist. There was a proposal to reduce the US enlistment age to 16 because recruiters were struggling to find young Black men without adult criminal records.

The PTSD diagnosis developed during treatment of US Vietnam veterans. Often, it was not the things that happened to them that haunted them most. Rather, it was the horrific war crimes they themselves committed that made them ill. These were mostly drafted men who lacked the privilege to dodge the draft. They didn't want to be there. They were brainwashed, propagandized, and put in near-constant life-threatening danger. Every so often, one of them snapped and massacred a village of helpless people. Doing horrible harm to others, doctors found, even of your own volition in that moment, caused severe psychological trauma.

We very much do know what happened to Nazi soldiers after WWII. Retributive justice saw 8,000 starve to death in US POW camps. Between 1.5 and 3 million were imprisoned in Russian gulags where they were used as slaves until 1956. About a third died. Those that survived were released back to Germany where they lived traumatized but generally peacefully.

We very much have seen successful large-scale restorative justice work done between oppressed people and their former oppressors in the form of South Africa's Truth and Reconciliation Commission. It was a groundbreaking effort, imperfect, and its efficacy is a matter of some debate, but it did produce a functioning, non-apartheid nation, and it did not kill millions in concentration camps.

I try to look at most issues from a systemic standpoint. War, in my mind, is a crime committed by the wealthy and powerful. Its first victims are soldiers, and its next victims are the people those soldiers hurt. Your average soldier has no personal stake in a war, certainly not the way that politicians and oligarchs do. They are indoctrinated and brainwashed until they believe they do.

Many soldiers do work to deprogram themselves after military service. Many don't even know it's something that needs to be done. Undoing brainwashing is difficult but possible, given the right resources and environments. You also can't undo brainwashing while it's still actively occurring, and the brainwashing won't stop until the systems profiting off it are dismantled.

[gallusrostromegalus]

If you're still doing the fanfic asks: 20. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

Pretty much all my characters are some kind of queer and/or genderfucky because I am queer and genderfucky. All of them, even the ones I don't like, but Especially the ones I really like. Like. I don't think i could write a convincing Hetrosexual.

Pretty much all my characters are some kind of Neurospicy too because I am also Neurospicy and am the offspring of two people with psychology degrees so I'm crackin' those skulls open and seeing Just What Broke. Also being a Weird Little Guy And Appreciated For It is a great thing and I enjoy writing little freaks who are little freaks, love being little freaks, and are loved in turn for being little freaks.

I write a lot of "Character that needs help is given it, freely and the helper is relieved they asked/glad to help" because I got gifted kid burnout and struggle to ask for help with anything, AND because being in a position to actually help someone out like that is a major power fantasy of mine.

I reference memes when I'm stuck for a turn of phrase, regardless of how well-known that meme is. Like I quote "Rory Mor and the Gruagach Gaire" all the time but I think the only people who get it are members of my household that I have forced to listen to the thing. Also, click that link and enjoy a nice Celtic Fairytale.

Everyone gets an animal motif, but not because of the literary Heraldic Symbolism. They're getting one so I have an excuse to infodump about that animal. Hope y'all are ready to learn about Deep-Sea Thermal Vent Tube Worms!

Carnivorousness as a metaphor for Carnal desires and practices, and Carnal behaviors as a metaphor for food chains :) Somewhat relatedly, a lot of dental trauma happens :)

[rockabully]

Do you have any lsoh/Orin headcanons that you have hidden from the world?

this will actually be a super long winded answer that i will probably have to come back to in the future. a lot of my headcanons are actually very canon adjacent tbh.

- sharp teeth. shark like. why? dunno. if it ain't shark teeth and we're tryin to be more realistic he'll have naturally sharp canines.

- wore headgear as a kid. he should have dental trauma because i think it's a little funny for some reason, the guy who inflicts dental trauma has mild dental trauma from his childhood. also wore braces most of his life.

- speaking of childhood, i don't believe he was abused. or Anything. i think he lived a fairly normal life. he wore cute sweater vests and his mama cleaned up his hair real nice before school every morning. maybe more distant with his father, because he's absolutely a mama's boy. he liked to pull apart dolls and make his classmates cry.

- italian american. what part of italy? dunno. he is italian american.

- he's not rockabilly, he's greaser. there's a key difference between the two of those subcultures even though they overlap (please ask me, i have a special interest in greasers & rockabillies).

- very clean guy, very sterile. he's not messy unless it's blood. i think he likes blood.

- he's the way that he is because he's the way that he is. it's not traumagenic or anything, he's just like that.

- bisexual, i think he calls himself queer. because i think queer has a badass sound to it, as someone who uses the term queer to identify. bisexual is also badass, btw, no one take what i said out of context.

- somewhere on the aro spectrum. where? dunno. he experiences romance differently compared to the masses for sure though.

- for some reason i think he's anemic. this is not an important detail at all i just think he has an iron deficiency. ever since like 3 years ago that's been something i believed and i'm not gonna change it because it's funny to headcanon something that insignificant for a character's development. as an anemic person.

- 5'9" or shorter.

- he's muscular 🤯

- he likes to crack jokes a lot, he thinks he's a real comedian. no one else laughs at his jokes.

- he's a he/him all the way but i think he gets a real kick out of being called an it or a that.

i have a lot more but i also have to think of them and finally write them down, since this is the first time i'm ever doing that. expect a reblog of this in the future with more info perhaps :-)

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Code Blue Ch. 37- Little Boy Blue

Summary: A Lee and Josie chapter full of emotional revelations and a sweet love reunion. Craig plays hardball with a nemesis. Jo has another nightmare that shakes her entire soul. Lee comforts her and makes a promise.

*Warnings* Strong language, angst, supernatural occurrences, smut, mentions of murder plots and threats, mild violence

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Chapter characters: Lee, Josie, Craig, Ethan

Salem, Massachusetts

March 8, 2023

"Jason's what? I'm sorry, did you just say...hes' alive??" Lee asked with a raised brow and a tilted head as he peered down at your very serious and nervous face.

You were betraying your brother by telling his secret, but never again would you keep things from Lee, not even this and soon, you would also tell him about Jacob. Lee deserved to know that the woman he loves is also his son's aunt.

"Believe me, I know how insane this sounds but..."

"Jo...that's...not even possible...I...I saw him, treated him...h..how??"

"I saw him too...yesterday afternoon at my apartment, after I saw you. Well, he was at my landlord's apartment and I certainly wasn't supposed to see him. I came up the stairs and there he was in the hallway with Craig, both as shocked as I was. Let's go downstairs and get that wine. There's so much more I need to tell you."

You and Lee sat at the kitchen table for over an hour, sharing a newly opened bottle of red wine as you told him all you knew about Jason's resurrection and Elizabeth being Craig's ex wife, saving for the last, the part about your brother being Jacob's father.

"So then...who's in his grave?? I mean, there was a man in the ER that I tried to save Jo, believed to be Jason so who in the hell was it? Your mom, she identified him. She was certain it was Jason. She pointed out his necklace. God, this is mind blowing because you know what?...now it makes sense. He was unidentifiable. The man's head trauma was quite severe, his jaw crushed, including his teeth, probably from a beam falling on him I would suspect so a dental comparison was not possible and he was severely burned, including his hands, almost to a crisp so...no fingerprints. His DNA was not on file as well. Wow...it was all set up."

"Yeah...I don't know who we buried. The conversation didn't get to that but I'm going to guess it was either some innocent man that was just there that day having his lunch and is probably now considered missing, which is so unsettling. What if he had a family? I can't even imagine what they're going through if he did. This all pisses me off so bad that Jason did this and damn the consequences and whomever gets hurt all so he can get his revenge. I get it, I do, about that but he could have handled it without dying per se."

"I'm so sorry baby, that he did this to your and your mom. Does she know?"

"Oh believe me, if she knew, I would have heard about it by now. I wasn't even supposed to tell you, but there's no way I could, or would keep this from you, especially after everything we have been through."

"Thank you sweetheart. It means everything to me that you trust me with something so huge like that. And Elizabeth, I can't even. She's like a fucking plague. I remember telling you about how she got married and had a kid with the guy, but I never knew his name nor met him. I feel for this Craig a bit, considering he is possibly in the same boat with me, not knowing if his child is his child and the thought of her being Ethan's...I can't even...but at least he has an idea, where is I have no clue who Jacob's biological father is."

There it was. The moment you would have to break his heart all over again and it was making you sick to your stomach because Lee had been through so much already, especially today. What would this do to him? After everything, could you possibly lose him because it might just be too weird and too much to handle about you being Jacob's aunt? It was a risk you had to take so Lee could have some sort of peace over it all, although peace would be the last thing he was going to feel at first.

"Lee...I..."

You froze and Lee could see there was something you were dreading to tell him.

"Hey, baby girl...what is it? You know you can tell me anything." he sweetly said and reached over to lay his hand upon yours.

"I know." you smiled as tears began to well up in your fretful eyes. "It's just that...what I have to tell you, I...don't even know how to say it."

"Well, I find the simplest way to say something is to just say it. Just throw it all out there. Maybe try that, because...you're kinda scaring me here a little."

"I'm so sorry. Ok...I umm...I...I know who...Jacob's father is." you stuttered out and cringed while doing so.

Lee's hand slowly slid off of yours as he sat back and straight up in his chair, his eyes widened with instant grief.

"You...you know who? That...that means...it's actually true?"

"I...yes. I'm so sorry, I didn't want to have to tell you this. I..found out yesterday. Jason told me and.."

"Wait..Jason told you?? How would he even know?"

You began to choke up as you lightly gulped before continuing.

"He umm...Lee...it's...he knows because...it's...him."

Lee's entire body noticeably stiffened and you swore he stopped breathing for a moment as he gazed at you like a deer in the headlights.

"That...that can't be...I mean...how? Wait...what????"

"Elizabeth....she knew Jason, probably because of Ethan, I don't know really. She was in love with him I guess and well, Jason loved Britt as you know, so one night, out of her jealousy and drunkeness, Elizabeth told him the truth before Jacob died. From what I understand, she let Jason spend time with Jacob from time to time but Jason didn't want him to be a part of his life, only to protect him from the life he lived and then...when Jason ended up choosing Britt, Elizabeth snapped and Jason feels, just as you do, that....Jacob's death was not an accident. Jason thinks she did it to get back at him and he...he even thinks she had something to do with his so called death and...."

Your words were cut short by Lee abruptly shoving his chair back to stand and he just stood there, staring with gaping eyes darting around as his breaths accelerated.

"Jesus christ....that... that means...you....you are his.....THAT'S what he meant..he knew and was trying to tell me." Lee whispered loudly as he walked off into the other room.

"Lee, wait...that's what WHO meant?? And knew what??" you frantically asked as you hurried after him.

"Yesterday...." he gasped and paced about. "God, you're going to think I am fucking nuts. It..it was at the same time, the same time Jo, that you found out. I..I saw him...I saw Jacob..."

Lee paused as he panted, staring at you with desperation for you to believe him.

"Ok, ok baby, slow down and breathe. I believe you and would never think you're nuts. How could I not believe you after all the other things you have witnessed...what I even witnessed the day the windows blew out. Tell me what happened. Take your time. It's ok. I promise. Do you trust me?"

"Yes, of course...I...I was going to tell you...but..everything else happened. After I left you at Gordon's work, I decided not to wait for him to get back and I...I went to the house...I needed to stay busy and try to get more of Jacob's things. I..I just keep putting it off ya know....and...anyways." he said as he shook his head in frustration. "I...I was packing some of his tuff in a box, some books and...and his favorite stuffed animal, a monkey...he loved monkeys and..I always called him monkey cause he liked to jump in the bed in the mornings and wake me up and fuck I'm rambling."

Lee rubbed his hands down his face and sucked in a deep breath.

"Hey, look at me, look at me. It's ok. You can ramble all you want. I'm listening. I'm right here. Focus on me ok?" you assured him and took his hand.

Lee's eyelids fluttered a bit as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts and then he softly nodded and gulped before continuing.

He began to tell you as the look on his face told you he was reliving it in his mind.

"As I was packing, I..I had the music on...the song I put in your gift...time in a bottle...it was playing and I was thinking about you and...just as I was putting his monkey in the box....I felt like someone was there and when I looked up...he was there Jo. Jacob was standing right beside me and he pulled the box down and got out his toy airplane, the began running all around the house, holding it in the air like it was flying, just like he always used to do. I...I couldn't even believe my own eyes. I thought I was having some kind of break from reality due to all my stress. Especially when....when he ran through a doorway and then all of a sudden he was coming down the stairs on the opposite side of the house. I then...I...tried to touch him as he sat and played with the plane and...it shocked me...it shocked me Jo, like...it knocked me back on my ass. And then...he just looked at me and said...'where's mommy.' And then, he was just gone. "

(Enjoy the small clip below of that scene Lee is remembering. I added "Time in a Bottle" to it)

"After that, I went and took a long hot shower to wake up. I hadn't been sleeping well and literally thought I was hallucinating. So it was either the shower or I was going to drink myself to death. I...I wanted to call you but...I couldn't tell you something like that over the phone when I couldn't even understand what happened to even be able to try. Anyways...after my shower, I got dressed and I went into Jacob's room, looking at all of his things that I left just as he had left it. I couldn't bring myself to continue packing after what I believed I saw, because why? Why was he there? The way he took his toy out of that box, it was like he didn't want me to pack his things or maybe he just didn't understand what I was doing with them. So instead, I found myself straightening his room up, dusting off the bed and stuff, and then...he was there again. Right by his bed. Again, he said 'when's mommy coming back.' and then he got distracted by his tent fort that he and I built out of chairs and sheets and he ran into it."

"His smile...Jo it was so real. He even had the little chip in his front tooth from when he tripped over that same divot in the backyard that you tripped over. I...I just kept staring at him ya know? His baby blues sucking me right in. I used to also call him little boy blue, you know, the nursery rhyme? I would read it to him from one of his books that had a collection of all the old stories. You know, I don't see one ounce of Liz in him, strangely, I never did and his blue eyes, I thought he got them from me....that is until I was told he wasn't mine. I would look at him more often after that, wondering if he looked more like his father because I couldn't see myself in him anymore. Crazy to think I ever did when his blue eyes are of Jason's."

"He's your son, no matter what Lee. I mean, look, he comes to see you, not Jason. He sees you as his father and you are and always will be. He don't even go to Elizabeth, just you. Well, unless he really did cut her seatbelt because he knows what she did."

"But then why was he asking for her like he missed her?"

"I...I don't know baby, I wish I had all the answers. So, him asking for her, is that what you were talking about? That you knew what he meant and that he knows?"

"No...no...I mean, I thought that's what he meant then, until now....I...I crawled into his fort to see if he was still there...and he was, playing with some toys."

Lee's emotions were building as he closed his welled eyes and had to place his hand horizontally over his mouth.

Immediately, you pulled him down to you and held him so tight, laying your cheek against his. His arms reciprocated so fast and he held you even tighter.

"Heyy my beautiful sweet guy. You can take a break. There's no rush. I am not going anywhere, I promise. You can even stop completely if you want to."

His whimpered warm breath grazed your ear. "No...I...I need to tell you this...now. Jacob...he wants me to...You'll understand why in a minute."

You kissed his lips softly, then his forehead as you stroked his hair before he released you and resumed his supernatural story, although his hand still clung to yours.

"I watched him for a few moments while he played with his dinosaur figure and wooden train engine that I carved him as a birthday gift when he turned 4. And then I asked him if he knew why he was here. He said because he lived there as he continued playing."

"I then asked him if there was something he wanted or needed. He said...he said..."

Lee choked up and sighed heavily. "He said it was me that needed something before he rode the train back to his papa and mama. I asked him what he believed I needed and he said....you. He said you make me happy and him happy and then he randomly asked again about Liz, when's mommy coming back? I remember smiling at his words about you, but at that time, I thought you may never come back to me so I told him, I'm sorry monkey but I think it will just be me and you for awhile buddy."

"He said...'No. Mommy will come back. She's just afraid.' Can you believe a 5 year old little boy said something so grown up?" Lee aid as he lightly chuckled. "So...I told him that mommy did some not so nice things and wouldn't be coming back. I didn't know how else to explain it to him. I mean, I'm seeing a fucking ghost Jo. My son, he's a ghost. How do I make him understand, ya know? About what Liz really was and still is. But the thing is, that I realize now...he wasn't talking about her. He then said 'yes she will. The nice lady who loves you. She's family.' And then... he just... looked at me....and I just looked at him in confusion...and then, he was gone again."

"My god Jo, he was talking about YOU. I thought at first that when he said family, that he meant that he saw you in that way, and I believe that to be true but now I also know it was because you ARE family. He knew, he knows you are his aunt but...I think he sees you as a mother figure, even when he didn't even know you in life. He came to me at the same time you were finding all that out...God, this is all so damn crazy that I can't even wrap my head around it! I mean, what are the odds that you and I were brought together??? And you finding the bracelet I lost that he gave to me and you saving my fucking life when I had given up all hope. It was him, it was ALL him. That's why he is here Jo. For us. He wants us to be together. Look how that song came on in the kitchen that night we danced and almost kissed. The fucking radio was not even plugged in! And the windows blowing out in Liz's presence as we argued...He knows what she did and my god, that evil sadistic bitch fucking knew all along that Jacob was Jason's...and I...can't even speak about her right now because I want to tear her head off.... and...ALL that wasted time, if you and I had only met sooner...we all could have been a family Jo, you, me and Jacob and he would possibly still be alive because I would have left Liz in a heartbeat for you and we could have taken him from her. You could have been his real mother. You could have had the child you couldn't have...and it would have been with me and....and...."

Lee was so worked up at this point that he became very distressed.

"Now that I've seen him, I'm afraid if I leave that house with his things and don't go back, I'm never going to see him again!"

He then began to heavily sob and now you were too. You reclaimed him in another embrace and you just held him and gently rocked him, as if you were dancing again. Now you knew. Your fears had been chased away. Lee was not going to leave you and he had confirmed that by his wishes that you all could have been a family. God how you wanted that with him. He was your forever, til death shall you both part.

"Lee, I am soooo sorry for what I have put you through today when you were holding all of that inside. God, this hurts so much that you're hurting like this. You're right though. I believe he is here for us. He is team JoLee." you laughed and sniffled as you gently wiped his tears from his broken eyes. I remember that nursery rhyme very well. i don't know if this will make you feel any better or worse but I feel it's another sign. My aunt Olivia, my mom's youngest sister who I would call Olive because I couldn't say her name right, used to watch us kids when we were little while mom and dad worked and she read that to Jason and even called him that too."

Lee actually smiled as he was now starting to relax, for you were truly the only one that could keep him grounded.

"It does make me feel better because it's all part of our story, our destiny, Jacob's too. You...you always make me feel better. No matter what I am going through, you make it all go away with your witchy magic spells that I have helplessly fallen under. Team JoLee huh? I love it...I love you...so fucking much. If you only knew."

"I do know." you softly squeaked as you tenderly traced his bottom lip with your thumb.

"The first time....ever I kissed your mouth..." Lee softly sang in a whisper and then brought his lips to yours.

It was done. The desire, the longing and out of this world love for each other eliminated everything else as your lips pushed firmly back into his. Lee's arms locked around your back and he he lifted your feet from the ground, holding you against him as he trailed butterfly kisses down your neck as you kicked your boots free. Once they dropped, Lee took one hand and grabbed behind your thigh, pulling your leg up his side as he backed you through the air and against the wall. Your other leg then followed suit and clasped with your other one behind his back in which he groaned intensely as he instantly grinded his solid length over your entrance that dampened your thin leggings.

Your fingers found his shirt buttons and undid them in a swift perfect sequence until his bare sculpted chest was exposed to your wanting hands. You gazed at his beauty as your palms ran down his pecks and over his rippled abs that sucked in to your touch followed by his deep gasp of yearning. His lips came back to yours, your tongues making love as you glided his shirt down his arms, letting it flow to the floor. Your shirt was next and then your bra. A heavy sigh released his lips as they found your aroused nipple while his hand graced your other breast with a soft caressing motion of his thumb.

You then unhooked your legs and stood up for him to yank your pants down and clean off. He buried his face into your stomach, kissing every inch, working his way down until you felt his tongue delve between your folds with a long slow lick from bottom to top, sending a sonic boom through your core as he grazed over your bud.

Your head arched back and your fingers dove through his locks as he teased a swirling flicker over the highly sensitive spot. Suddenly, his arms bent up under your thighs and you were lifted and held firmly in a leg spread seating position by his muscular limbs as he knelt on the floor with his palms planted on the wall and then...his tongue thrusted into you, dancing about in your heated taste. The combination of his darting plunges and bellowing moans broke your unstable dam, sending a flooding rush of climatic pulsating waves over him.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!! God Leeeeeeeeee!!!"

Your scream was so insanely high pitched, you wouldn't be surprised if Lee's distant neighbors heard it. His back heard it alright as your nails dug right up his shoulder blades.

"Damn baby." he panted as he licked his lips and smiled up at you with a curled pouty lip, then let your shaking legs rest on the ground while he still supported you, or you would have fallen smack dab on your ass in your weakened state.

"Hold on to me." he quickly said and hoisted you onto his lap, then stood up as you squeaked out a giggle. Lee then carried you to the couch and gently laid you down, unable to move for a moment as he took in the radiant vision before him. The vision of him was quite mesmerizing as well as he stood above you, shirtless and the head of his seeping cock breaching the waistline of his jeans.

Watching him remove them was another joy all in itself, causing your core to relight like a match strike. He lowered himself over you, kissing you deeply and passionately, letting you taste yourself as he took his knee and pushed your leg up, then without warning, Lee thrusted into you, ripping your mouth from his as a squealed gasp came powering out.

Your wetness allowed him to fill you up instantly and he wasted no time rocking into you hard and steady with his foot propped on the floor and his other one stretched out down the couch. His arm slid under your other leg and pinned that one up too, bringing every inch of his straight to your sweet spot with his grinding sways. His bursting gasps and groans were in sync with his magical movements, bringing you both over the edge together.

"Leeee...I....oh my...g..god..." you cried, bucking your hips up like a rabbit.

"Jo...fuck...J..Jo baby...ah...ahhh...AHHHH!!"

He slammed against you, his hips vigorously jerking, his arms flexed and shaking profusely as he released into your release. The magic this man had to easily unhinge you in such ways was like no other ever had or could. He was meant for you and you for him...forever.

Lee kissed you tenderly, toying with your hair as you stroked his perspiring face.

"I'm sorry about today." he whispered.

"I'm not." you replied and smiled, making him smile and kiss you again, then you both shared a a gaze of looking into each other's souls.

"Jo...I did not wait for you. I wish I had but I didn't know you were coming. When you walked into my life, I didn't know it was you because I didn't know there was a you. You were never a list, a goal, or an expectation, only a dream. You were a surprise, a gift, an adventure, a beautiful new beginning to a story I never thought I'd have. As cheesy as this might sound, you complete me. I was empty before I found you."

"Right back at ya babe."

Lee chuckled, as did you, at the short but meaningful phrase you and he always spoke, then he kissed you again and got up, handing you a blanket.

"How about some dinner and music my girl. I'll go see what I have on hand to whip up. At least we got it right this time and made love first so the food don't burn like the last two times."

You wrapped up like a burrito in the large plush material as you laughed at his remark.

"Mmm yes please, I'm starving. Lee?" you called to him before he left the room.

"Yeah beautiful?"

"You don't have to leave or sell that house if you don't want to."

Lee softly smiled in awe of your understanding. "God I love you."

He blew you a kiss, clicked the music on and went to dress, then make dinner as you laid there for awhile in the afterglow of his love and during that time, you fell asleep with your relentless nightmares returning.

"Have you successfully picked up the package?" Craig asked into his phone as he steadily stared at one of his unfinished art pieces due to his lack of inspiration.

"Good. Bring him up." he continued in a wicked tone and hung up, then sipped his wine while anticipating the arrival of his guest.

The door opened and in stumbled an extremely agitated Ethan being shoved by Craig's men. Corinthos may have been his Kingpin employer, but Craig handled his own business in his own way.

"What the fuck Parker??!!" Ethan reeled when he saw the calm and cool Kiwi enjoying his usual blood red vintage paired with the eeriness of dried paint on his hands resembling the same murderous hue.

"Well, here comes the blushing bride...or should I say groom, one of them anyways."

"What the hell are you talking about and why am I being drug here and man handled by your thugs??!! I don't have any business with you!"

"Oh on the contrary, yes you do. Man handled, that's kind of your thing yes? And thugs? Hmmm, pot calling the kettle black don't ya think? Considering what you are? Don't be rude now. They can hear you." Craig quipped as he gave the two brawny men a grinning glance.

"Cut the witty bullshit Parker. It's like nails on a chalkboard and it would seem you're the one in black, taking over Jason's role. The new, but not improved Stone Cold wannabe. You're no better than me."

Craig sat motionless with a locked on predator glare at Ethan as he gritted his teeth, wanting to paint him red for knowing of his part in Jason's hit, but he couldn't reveal that he knew. As far as Craig being like Jason, he was in one particular way. He could be just as stone cold as him. Stone Cold Jason Morgan, a well deserved epithet given to him by the moniker making Damion Spinelli, a geeky, undetectable computer hacking genius and loyal, good friend of Jason and Craig's who aided Craig in this little treasure hunt.

"Jason's name will never cross your lips in my presence again or I'll remove them with a box cutter and display them on one of my art pieces. And as far as you are concerned, that is where you are wrong. You see, you and I are not the same. The reasons for my madness are for the greater good where is yours are solely that of being both a masochistic and sadistic piece of shit. So now, let's get down to business. You're stinking up the place."

Craig went over to his desk, put his glasses on as he sat down and searched for something.

"Now where is...ahh yes, here the little sweet bit is."

Craig picked up an envelope that was sitting in clear view on the edge of the desk, for if there was one thing he enjoyed doing, it was toying with people like Ethan.

"Here ya go. This will probably be worse than nails screeching down porcelain enameled steel." Craig daunted as he eagerly handed his dug up skeletons to Ethan with confidence.

"What is this??"

"Well, unless you're psychic, you'll have to actually look at it."

Ethan pulled out the single 8 x 10 folded paper and began to scan it. As he did so, his chocolate eyes slowly widened. Craig then walked over to the coincidental chalkboard that hung on his wall and ran his nails over it, Freddy Krueger style as he leered at Ethan with an ominous raised brow while chanting a one liner from the notorious Elm street tune..

"One, two, Craigy's coming for you."

"H..how did you know..."

"How did I know about that little tidbit of juicy info?? Well...you can thank my ex ball and chain for that, for she told me something long ago about you, knowledge that I believed to be totally useless to me at that time, but you know Beth and her big mouth, always blabbing people's business and always sucking your cock with it, etcetera etcetera."

"Now hold on a..."

"I'm not finished." Craig snapped, then sat in his painting chair and continued his taunting tale with great satisfaction.

"Seems you have a big trap too and should be more careful what you relay to loose lips Lizzy and believe me, there was completely a pun intended there. Anyways, I suppose since her and I had just gotten hitched, she thought she would share your happy news as well of how you married HER ex and then he filed for divorce soon after. What was the matter, you couldn't get it up? They have drugs for that you know? SO...recently, it all struck my urge to go digging through the dirt since I now know who your ex is. You see, slugs like you always leave a slimy trail. But that's all irrelevant really. What matters here is that I found out your dirty little secret that you kept hidden after the fact."

"What do you want? Why the fuck are you doing this?? This has nothing to do with you."

"It's always the same old questions, what do you want, why are you doing this blah blah blah. To be clear, it has everything to do with me, maybe not directly, but hopefully your measly mindless brain will soon catch on. Does the name...Josephine March ring a bell?"

Ethan's eyes rolled up from the damaging document to meet Craig's dilated devious ones.

"What does that little whore have to do with this?"

"Easy..." Craig snarled though his clenched teeth as his entire body stiffened up like a cat ready to pounce.

"Ohhh...I get it now. You know her because of Ja...umm...her brother. You're just another sucker that's fallen under her spell. So again, what does she have to do with this?"

"For a second there, I thought the light came on but it would seem there's an electrical short somewhere most likely due to your man bun being too tight. Let me spell it out for your grade school mentality. I learned that your ex is her man and that you're terrorizing her. She's off limits to you from here on out. If you even so much as look at her, I'll be there....and I'll gladly offer this info to her boyfriend...whom according to one mysteriously missing document...is still your husband. A divorce certificate that does not exist. It all just vanished, poof, into thin air, along with any records of Lee's filing and by whom? After some light digging, it would seem it's none other than your big wig attorney, one E.J. Dimera. Yeah, I know about his dealings with you and your butt buddies, the Zacharra's. Everyone in Salem and the entire state of Massachusetts clear to Boston know what the Dimera's are capable of accomplishing. How many zeros did you pay for it all to go away as if it never happened? I mean, I am sure a judge must have finalized it with his signature and seal of the courts so Lee had a copy. Is the judge in your pocket too??? And better yet, what I can't wrap my head around is what exactly are you hoping to gain out of going to all the trouble? Are you that pathetically desperate just to keep a man bound to you that don't want or love you?? Are you saving the little time bomb for some opportune moment of some sort?? If you think he despises you now, well...I think you can see how it will all play out if he learns the truth. Such as, say...he tries to get married again. This only prolongs the inevitable. What is this all going to DO for you?"

"You can't prove any of this. It was obviously just carelessly overlooked. Maybe Lee forgot to file with all he was going through because I was never even served. Simple as that."

"News flash. Avoiding being served, which is what you did, does not stop a divorce. And fucking please, is that how you're really going to try and get out of this with that dumb ass explanation?? The good doctor did not forget something of such importance. He was too determined to end it before it ever began and he's far too intelligent to make such a mistake. I guarantee you he has copies of everything after he filed, including the final decree but of course he probably never thought he'd actually need to prove anything because things like this only happen in books, movies and soap operas. More importantly, the courts don't just carelessly overlook these things. Not without a hefty bribe or blackmail from someone of high threatening stature, which is where we once again come back to E.J.. Simple...as...that." Craig retorted as he nonchalantly multi-tasked with organizing his art supplies to distract his intense urge of having Ethan take a swan dive off the roof.

"You really shouldn't go around tossing those kinds of accusations about someone like E.J....."

Craig's cocky laughter cut Ethan's words short and only proved even more to him of Craig's fearlessness and that he was up shit creek without a paddle.

"Someone like E.J. Ooooo I'm shaking in my ass kickers man. How bout this? I'll just give the good old Englishman E.J. a call and accuse him myself then. I'm not a pansy ass coward like you are....obviously. I'll also be sure to let him know that you ratted him out as well. Three, four, better lock your door." Craig jested, trying not to smile as he turned around to face a confounded Ethan.

Ethan momentarily dropped his head, knowing Craig had him by the balls, but kept on with his lame argument.

"Again, you can't prove it. There's no trail. You have absolutely nothing."

"The wheels on your short bus go round and round, yet you still can't comprehend that I DON'T NEED TO PROVE IT! The proof is all right fucking there in black and white, a marriage certificate that has no supporting divorce decree ANYWHERE and THAT PROVES your farce of a marriage is not legally dissolved, which is all that really matters here and it's all that WILL matter to your clueless hubby. I'm not out for E.J. unless he gives me a reason to be and I'm not looking for legal action upon you, I mean, you and I both know things don't get handled legally in our world. Simply comply with my terms. Stay the fuck away from Jo or Lee learns the truth and goes all Satan on you. Five, six, grab your crucifix."

"Ok, enough man. You ask what's in this for me. Well what the hell is in this for you Craig??? Josie will never want you if that's your end game somehow. First of all, she's so fucking far up Lee's ass and vice versa that nobody can tell where one begins and the other ends and second, what do you think she will think of you if she knows you kept this information from her just to torture me huh??"

"Now see, that's none of your concern because SHE is none of your concern anymore. It's not to torture you, you self-absorbed Shirley Temple haired sleaze! My end game is simply to keep her safe from the narcissistic likes of you and that's ALL I care about. The last thing she needs right now is to know about this, which I just know you're itching to tell her. I mean, I COULD just do her and Lee both a favor right now and wipe your ass all over this floor and then have my men dispose of you down in the boiler room where your dying embers will forever remain, which THAT don't only happen in movies, BUT..." Craig sighed. "Karma wants and deserves that honor more than I do."

By karma, Craig was referring to Jason. As bad as he wanted to make good on his threat, he would not deny his friend the long awaited and carefully planned take down of Ethan Bloom, just as Ethan and his goon guild had done to Jason. But the fact that Jason was biding his time in doing so was getting under Craig's skin because it allowed Ethan all the more time to torment you and he wasn't going to allow it to continue, even if he knew he was going about it the wrong way by keeping Lee's marital status a secret from you, especially when he swore to you he would do everything in his power to earn your trust back. It didn't matter though really. Craig knew he would never have you, but what ever feelings he had developed for you still made him want to keep you safe.

"Karma wants me huh? Well, aren't I getting that now? I will say, I do like the part about you wiping my ass all over this floor. Maybe we could come to some...agreement. I could enjoy that." Ethan stupidly offered with a sly grin as he randomly envisioned a shirtless Craig holding wolverine claws due to all the Freddy talk.

"Did....you just...fucking hit on me????? The only hit you ever send in my heterosexual direction better be the kind that fucking kills me. I'm into God given tits and warm cherry pie, not a shit stained cock that even your precious Lee didn't want anymore!" Craig fumed as he picked up a long and thin paintbrush, then rushed over to Ethan.

"I can only imagine this when I look at you! This...this isn't a cock. It's like your limp little dick!" he then loudly raged with every bone and vein protruding from his neck as he held the brush up in Ethan's face.

"You talk a whole lotta smack about dick's for someone who claims they don't swing that way. Why don't you just kill me instead of all this huh?? I can tell when someone is afraid to leave the closet and..."

A gasping grunt was heard as Craig grabbed the back of Ethan's neck and hurled him across the floor with one swift shove, then he graced Ethan's gut with a hefty football kick.

"You audacious little fuck. If I was ever into men, I still wouldn't touch you even while wearing a fucking hazmat suit!! Now get the fuck out of here before I shove this paintbrush so far up your dick hole, you won't need Viagra anymore! You're the one who should be afraid. Seven, eight, better stay up late. Nine, ten, never sleep again!!!"

Craig then sat back down at his desk and put his glasses on as his flushed face slowly regained it's natural tone. He then looked over at his lackeys, becoming highly annoyed.

"Why are you still here??? Get him the fuck out of here! Out the back."

Once Ethan was removed from his sight, Craig resumed his wine consumption as he cranked his music, wishing to release his frustrations out on a new canvas. As he stood, staring blankly at the white board, trying to take your advice and find inspiration through his daughter, nothing came to him as usual. So, in his anxious state, he headed out to his terrace with a new bottle of wine and drank his frustrations away instead.

After Lee had dinner cooking in the oven, a quickly mixed up meatloaf and potatoes, he noticed you had fallen asleep, a vision he could look at for hours upon end, but he decided to pry himself away and go outside to tend to his small garden so he wouldn't do what he wanted to do instead, call Liz and cuss her ass out, although he wanted to do much much more than that. The rage he felt inside over what she had done to him and Jacob sent his mind spiraling to a very dark place and if you hadn't been there at that moment, he would be downing a bottle of Jack, then stupidly driving to confront her and most likely winding up in jail. Once again, you kept him grounded.

As Lee began to snip a few scarlet red roses, you were succumbed in a nightmare that seemed far too real to only be a dream.

You could hear a train's horn in the distance and the railroad rumble of the wheelsets nearing closer by the minute. Standing alone in the foggy dark night, you could see a blurry vision of the hospital cutting through the murkiness and the word 'emergency' lit up in bright crimson letters that flickered as if it had some kind of short.

"Lee!!!" you called out, your voice echoing into the night as you slowly turned in circles in your search for him but he was nowhere in sight. The pale moon was full and cast only enough light for you to see a few feet in front of you.

You felt the anxiety creeping over you as your voice became muffled out by the roaring but invisible locomotive quickly approaching.

"LEEEE!!!!" you screamed as tears flowed like a waterfall over your chilled cheeks, but no sound came from your trembling lips, only a cloud of your warm breathe escaped them into the crisp air.

You could suddenly see movement in the distance, shadow figures appearing within the mist. Faint laughing soon meshed together into howling cackles and they sounded so familiar.

Something touched you and as you spun around screaming, you saw Ethan with these steel razor like nails, wiggling them at you and then another touch was felt, a hard poke in the rib cage of your back. Spinning around again with a squealing gasp, there was Elizabeth, holding a knife. Both had you sandwiched and both were glaring at you with terrifying frozen full toothed grins, like something out of the movie Smile. You were then touched again on the back of your leg and as you spun around once more, this time you saw the blinding light of the train. Ethan and Elizabeth squinted and ran as if they knew what was coming and then, there was a tug at the hem of your shirt. Gasping, you jumped back a step to see.....Jacob with the train's light glowing all around him like a fiery eclipse.

"Don't be afraid Mommy. Daddy likes to ride trains. It will come soon."

"J...Jacob?? What...what is happening?? Where...where is Lee?"

Jacob gazed at you in silence with his big blue eyes, then turned and walked away into the light to stand beside someone. A very tall someone who's face became visible, also from the train's light....it was Lee.

What sounded like a crack of thunder exploded through the air, only you soon realized it was not thunder, but the familiar sound of a gunshot and you then saw Lee holding his bloodied abdomen just under his ribs in which he was staring down at in confusion. He then raised his head, releasing a sharp gasp and looked directly into your eyes, his brows furrowing.

"Who are you?" he whispered.

The train horn blared again, so deafening you had to cover your ears as you screamed for Lee once more and then... you woke up screaming his name for real.

Lee came racing in the door and came to a surprised stop as he saw you standing there, partially wrapped in your blanket and crying and shaking like a leaf while looking as if you had seen a ghost. And in your quivering hand was a steak knife.

"Baby...you alright??" he calmly asked, hiding his fear for your sake as he slowly approached you and carefully reached for your hand.

"Jo, sweetheart...It's me...Lee....I don't know what's happening..but... can you give me the knife baby?"

Your gaping eyes darted down to the knife that you didn't even realize you were holding, nor did you recall picking up.

"I...I...I...I....I..." you sputtered. "I...don't...I don't know where I got this...or...or how...I got..."

You paused and gulped in panic as you dropped the knife and leaped into Lee's arms, whimpering and clutching him like a vice grip.

"Shhhhhh....shhhhh baby. I've got you. Sweetheart, you were asleep on the couch when I went outside. I...I think you may have been dreaming. I..I heard you scream for me. Do...you remember?"

You planted your eyes shut as you cringed.

"Uh..huh....E...Ethan...E.E..E..Eliz...they...were...I saw them....I saw them and...I saw you an an an an and J..Jacob...A train...blood...oh god, Lee, let me go, I think I'm going to be sick."

You slapped your hand over your mouth and ran up the stairs, tripping over the blanket and then you just dropped it and kept going.

Lee stood there for a moment, quite befuddled as he gazed into the living room where you had fallen asleep. There, on the coffee table was a plate with an apple core on it where Lee had sat the day before, cutting up his favorite fruit up with the knife that now laid upon the foyer's floor. He then could hear you gagging and bolted up the stairs.

"Jo! Babe...can I come in?" he asked in concern as he tapped on the bathroom door of his bedroom.

You began to cry so he hurried right in to find you huddled up on the floor beside the toilet.

"Heyyyyy sweet girl." Lee softly and sweetly whispered as he knelt down and stroked your hair from your face. "Talk to me. Are you alright?"

"I...I think so now...I...god I'm sorry. I feel so stupid."

"Nope. No feeling stupid. Something scared the hell out of you and that's nothing to feel stupid about my love. Come on. Take a hot shower and relax, gather your thoughts. I'll wait right here in the bedroom for you so you feel safe and then we can go downstairs and you can tell me about your dream while we eat. Yes?"

His smile....god you could never resist that, especially this one, the soft closed lip grin that had a slight upward slant on the right side.

Lee wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up to stand, kissing your forehead upon completion, then he leaned into the walk in shower and turned the water on.

"There baby, plenty of soap and shampoo in there. Take as long as you want and need. I'll lay on the bed and read out loud so you can hear my voice. I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you and I'll help you through this like you always help me. I...I won't let you fall."

You kissed him long and soft as you held his face, then entered the sizeable shower.

You stood motionless under the hot steam, now remembering ever bit of the day terror. You've had your share of nightmares in your 30 years but never one quite like this, so realistic, so vivid. Was it Jacob? Did he visit you with a message? Jesus christ, was Lee in some kind of danger? How would you tell him about it??

Your mind raced with all these thoughts as Lee's voice of beautiful words danced around them, making it all go away. Of course, you had to cover your mouth as you burst into laughter over what he was reading. It must have been one of Jacob's books.

"How do you spell love Pooh?" Piglet asked.

"You don't spell it Piglet, you feel it." said Pooh.

You walked out to Lee while towel drying your hair to see him propped against the headboard with his cute wire rimmed reading glasses on and his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles with one of his button down shirts at his feet, most likely for you to wear.

Lee had been in the middle of reading when his words were abruptly interrupted by the sight of your bare form before him. You had to giggle at him lowering his glasses down his nose to view you in his state of awe.

He flipped the book up through the air and whipped out of bed to scoop you up into a swing around, making you squeal in laughter.

"God you are sexy as hell." Lee raved and then kissed you deeply. "Now, with that said, I suggest you put that shirt on or I guarantee you dinner will burn again."

He watched you with great resistance and a half smirk as you slipped the way oversized shirt on that came down to your knees, but to you, it was a perfect fit once you rolled up the sleeves.

You and Lee shared more wine, a white one this time as you devoured three helpings of the mouthwatering meatloaf and potatoes, for the only thing you had eaten in the past twenty four hours were Orlando's piece of toast and two bites of your ham sandwich. Once you had finished, Lee started a fire in the living room as you slipped on your leggings due to the chilly evening and then you cuddled on the couch with a blanket and wine and Lee's arm of safety around you as you then reluctantly told him all about the dream.

Once you had gotten it all out, you gazed up at him with welling eyes.

"Please...please Lee. Stay away from Elizabeth and as hard as I know that it is for you, please don't tell her or anyone even that you know the truth about Jacob's paternity. She only told Jason as far as I know and if she knows you know, she'll figure out he's alive and she'll run to Ethan about it and it will ruin whatever plan Jason has and it will even put him in more danger. As mad as I am at him, I don't want him to die for real. Just please, for now...promise me you'll stay out of it all. I..I know it was just a dream but I'm still scared nonetheless because I think Jacob was warning of something.... I...I can't lose you, I just can't. One week without you damn near killed me. Please promise me Lee!" you begged as your building tears finally flowed over.

"Hey, hey...I promise, I promise baby. I can do that for you to give you some kind of peace. All I really want is just to be with you, just like this and shut the fucking world out. Liz and Ethan, I believe, will be handled by karma and in the meantime, I will never ever let them hurt you." he sweetly assured as he wiped your tears.

"Here...I'll give you a symbol of my promise and my love for you." Lee continued and then reached over on the side table to pick up one of the red roses he brought in. He tore off a single petal and began to fold it into the shape of a heart as your hand laid gently upon his. Once he finished, he laced his fingers into yours.

"I think you can spell love." you told him as you peered up in his sapphire eyes. "For you just did with that beautiful heart."

Lee laid the heart petal down and pulled you against him where you laid your head over his own heart and listened to the distinct soothing sound that no other could match.

"How about a movie my girl? Maybe something funny or...romantic?" he said with the cutest smile.

"Ok. Anything that will keep me awake because I...I don't wanna dream any more."

"Well then...how about a Lord of the Rings trilogy marathon. There's some comedy in them and some love here and there."

"Perfect. My favorite movies are fantasy ones anyways and I love this one...the Hobbit too. You know? You'd make one damn sexy elf."

Lee bellowed out a hearty laugh. "Is that so? Even hotter than Legolas, Haldir or Thranduil?"

"Oh...waaaaay hotter babe."

"Mmmm. Alrighty then...I'll go make some popcorn!"

@redeemer46

[cubezart]

Hi!! You totally don't know me at all, I'm a complete stranger >:) And I'd love to hear about Jim's mental world!!

HI ok so erm this is mostly just gonna be a mess of rambles and vague ideas smushed together barely in order but

(old/outdated concept sketch, but it's a good start)

for starters, the prime issue(s) to help resolve in his mental world (or this version at least) is jim's fear of burdening his friends and family, and his resistance to reaching out for help, as much as he really needs it. it doesn't get too deep into his trauma, it's just giving jim the push he needs to seek out help again

after jim's recent divorce with bettie, he's been trying to give his family "some space to process" ...which didn't take long to sink back into old self isolation habits. he's been putting his all into his job to repress and distract from everything else going on with him, and it doesn't seem like it'll work for very much longer

first area in his mind is a boring + extremely tiny office room, the other cubicles are all empty and open except for jim's, which has a big metal door attached to the entrance. you can try and talk to him or ask him things, but it won't get you much . he insists he's happier in there really !! its so nice and safe hes fine :) its ok :)

when asked why he's locked in, he'll insist it's for his own safety, saying some vague stuff while the clairvoyance hints become even more obvious. when you use clairvoyance on him, his POV shows the cubicle door and everywhere around it surrounded by nightmares clawing and staring at him from the other side. (something something these are all just his own perception of things and he's really not in danger)

afterwards, his dialogue tree gets pretty short and limited, leaving raz to explore !! there's a few doors you can interact with, one being just a simple archetype-required door with a little collectible or somethin. the other is an old n dusty storage closet filled with memory vaults piling up to the ceiling. you can't really interact with any of those individually, (maybe some raz line along the lines of "i can't punch through all those :( ") but there's one or two real ones that just seem to have completely mundane and normal memories inside. weird! cuz with cpstd n trauma memory loss/repression, it can repress a lot more than what's necessary

there's one last door to try, leading out into the next phase ! raz says goodbye to jim, and jim happily waves back as the door shuts n locks behind raz, and the hallway distorts and extends, distancing raz away too :( sorta like the effect in the pn2 office construct !! im taking a lot of inspo from that world tbh heehe except for the obvious yknow. dental stuff

the next phase is kind of a messy stub for now, still sorting n planning out everything in my head lol but it's called Jim's Judgement

it centers more around jim's trauma and Issues TM and a lot of it is more vague concepts than any real gameplay ideas for the more dark story elements bc i don't want raz to have to see that and like to think after raz gets him a head start, he gets into actual professional Psychonauts therapy (and for my own silly oc/canon interaction fun, its sasha and milla assigned to help him. perhaps. maybe. they almost assigned oleander but he yelled too much and scared him away /hj) ANYWAY!!

all that being said i honestly have 0 ideas how to tone shit down for raz and im still trying to plan out the smaller in-game per se variation on it so i will simply. wait to talk about it. there's a lot of cool symbolism and motifs i prommy i swear </3 but the main "boss fight" final moment thing surrounds his whole paranoia of being a horrible person who others only tolerate + he constantly has to "make up for it" by putting everything and everyone Before him. i really wanna end it back in the small office space with jim having the key on his desk this whole time, making it literally In His Hands to get himself out. he just needed the support! he's definitely scared and slow, but he opens the door and steps out of his cubicle. the room grows a little bit. its a start

i was gonna ramble more about the darker version of the second phase but this post is already gettin Long and kinda incoherent i think so ermm. ill split it off into a second post probably if anyones interested in hearing more . i hope this all made sense lol i have too many thoughts about him to keep together honestly

[dreamtigress]

Oh hai, weird past trauma thing

When a mutuals post about a child vomiting makes you have an entire mental crisis for a moment while you reflect on your own relationship with that, and how you were treated for it as a child...

CW: processing/discussion of nausea+, childhood trauma, and CPTSD below.

I used to get carsick and motion sick. Horribly. Like, any drive longer than 45 minutes was going to equal me having vestibular issues, nausea, and more. I got sick on boats and planes, too. My plan sickness lasted DAYS afterwards, and is why I don't fly to this day.

Out of the three different family members who usually had to deal with my motion sickness...

My mom was the most understanding. I can look back now and say, yeah, she is also AuDHD (undiagnosed), and she got motion sickness, so she grokked it. It was an inconvenience for her, but I don't remember her guilting me for it. A little bit when my being sick for days after we flew to Florida wrecked out plans, but mostly, she fussed at me to try and feel better.

My father, on the rare occasions he took me anywhere, was NOT capable of empathy for a sick kid. I have a distinct memory of him taking me out on a fishing boat twice. (He fished every Sunday for the most part. Cue my life long dislike of eating fish by being forced to eat whatever he caught on Sundays for dinner.) I got boatsick, vomited off the side of the boat. Vomited into a bucket. Was ABSOLUTELY miserable. The captain told my father the second time not to bring me out again. I was an inconvenience for everyone. It was horrid.

My sister... Whoa, here the unpack... She would come with us to the horse and livestock auction we frequented for a while. It was an hour drive. Cue me, getting carsick when we were almost there. The way she would fuss at me for making us late. For us having to pull over. Gods forbid I didn't get my head out the car window in time. And even then, "Look, you made a mess of the car. Now we have to clean that." I was a nuisance, for being unable to prevent myself from getting carsick.

I would nurse a bottle of cola syrup (Anybody over 35 remember ACTUAL cola syrup for nausea? No HFCS.) like it was a lifeline, trying desperately to not get nauseous enough for us to need to pull over. I HATED throwing up. Not just because it is violently unpleasant for my body, but because of the reaction it would gain me. To this day, even when I have had food poisoning or a bad food allergy reaction, throwing up is last on my to do list. In the last 24 years, (since I got my dentures, which adds a WHOLE extra thing to vomiting, because you have to TAKE THEM OUT beforehand, lest you projectile several $1000s of dental acrylic into the porcelain throne), I can count on one hand the number of times I have vomited.

And reading that post, wherein said awesome mutual was kind and understanding to the kid doing the vomiting... I realized I barely had an adult do that for me. (Mom.) I had enough other adults treat it like such a terrible act that it imprinted on my damn psyche. Don't vomit. Don't be nauseous. Don't be an inconvenience. It can't possibly be that bad. And then all of that ties back into living as an undiagnosed autistic and being told everything you experience is not nearly as bad as you experience it. Sweet muppety christ the damn trauma of it all.

Sometimes, you don't put all the pieces together on something, even after years of therapy, until ONE little thing makes you look at a puzzle piece just the right way. So yeah. Tadah.

[timetravellingpaperbag]

I don't know where else to put this so I'm putting it here because no one here knows me IRL. So I was raised in an abusive home. Neglect was part of that abuse and part of that neglect was dental care. I didn't go to the dentist; there wasn't a bedtime routine beyond getting the hell out of sight and staying that way. You weren't called for dinner, and if you didn't show up, you didn't eat and it was your fault. So I had a real thing for snacks, usually the cheap sugary crap, wherever and whenever I could get it. A bag of Cheetos could be lunch. I could have popcorn for dinner if I didn't get to the table in time. It was super easy to scrounge change from around the house and hit up a convenience store. Sometimes, my mom would give me money to go get her a coffee, and I'd get a bagel. Anyway, a bunch of my childhood teeth rotted out. Parent's didn't care because I would just get my adult teeth in most of their places. But by the time I was 12, I had this horrible toothache. My parents are divorced. I told my mom about my toothache, and she told me I had to ask my dad for insurance paperwork. I only saw my dad every other two weeks, for the weekend, so two weeks later, I'd go ask my dad. Nope, your mom has the paperwork. Essentially, they were using me to try to make one another look bad. Meanwhile, the toothache got worse. I was in so much pain I was in tears all the time.

I can't remember how many times they sent me back and forth, only that my step mom started getting involved and getting really upset. I think my children's lawyer appointed by the courts got involved. Honestly, I can't really remember after the pain and crying and begging for someone to do something. Finally, mom was court ordered to take me to the dentist. They filled in a lot of my teeth. One of them they could just barely save. I didn't have much of a concept of what was happening at the time, only that I was in pain.

When I looked in my mouth for the first time and saw all the silver-black fillings I sobbed. I asked my mom, how could you let this happen? Why didn't you just take me to the dentist? She said, "I told you to brush your teeth." After that I had extreme dental anxiety. I mean, again, not that we fucking went. The next time I went to the dentist, I was in college having my impacted wisdom teeth taken out. My sister worked as a dental hygienist and I got the work for free because her boss loved her. The dentist told me I would lose my teeth if I didn't start taking care of them. It was the first time in my life I was starting to have control.

So I started flossing. I started putting money aside to go to the dentist, even if it meant not eating. I'd be the one college kid in the shroom trip excusing themselves to brush their teeth at 4AM.

I'm 30 now but the trauma is not gone.

This year I realized I had pain when biting down. I went for a check-up. Apparently, these fillings expand and contract and over time, because they were so big, caused a fracture on one of my teeth. I needed a root canal. At first, I was horrified. I'm self employed, don't have insurance, and just had a fucking root canal a couple years ago.

The financial aspect had me asking, how long am I going to suffer from their abuse? How long is the trauma going to take from me?

I booked my surgery. I paid out of my credit card. I cried as I was sitting in the seat before they put the needle in and could barely make myself talk when the nurse pinned it on the head, asking if I had anxiety, then gave me a shoulder hug that I honestly really appreciated. I calmed myself down and we did the surgery.

When I opened my mouth after paying the 1.2k just for the root canal (Which may not actually help, the fracture was quite deep and if the pain continues they may suggest just pulling it) I looked and saw that white composite filling, right next to my other new white composite filling.

Two of my old fillings are now white. I have two white teeth. And I hate to say it, but I did cry again. I cried because I was happy.

It feels like I'm rebuilding what they tore down. I'm taking back what they took away. I'm the adult now and I can take myself to the dentist and I can make sure I eat and I can look in my mouth and see that I am doing all of the things that they were supposed to. I wasn't my fault; because if I had have been in control, and been the adult, this wouldn't have happened. I know, because I won't let it happen to myself now - no matter how dire the straits, the circumstances. I needed the surgery, I got it. And now I have my tooth back. Literally, this dentist changed my whole tooth. It looks so normal.

Yes I will struggle to pay it off - but I will pay it off. Yes it hurts that something so simple has made my life so difficult and painful and expensive when it didn't have to be. And it hurts that to this day, I can't bring up my teeth without my parents simply blaming the other, blaming me, and putting it to bed.

It hurts that I will always have bad anxiety when it comes to dental work.

But the feeling of taking back my life is indescribable. I feel like I'm taking 12 year old me by the hand, rolling my eyes, and saying, "Come on, kid. These people are fucking nuts. Call them once at Christmas, and let's go have a good time while we can."

[ofallthingsnasty]

I have to put this somewhere because it's been on my mind, shitty thought process incoming: Sir Crocodile has an incredibly weak jaw -> decades long teethless mandible, possibly maxilla too?? -> scar looks like the typical fracture line of a le fort 2 fracture -> shoddy surgery after a major facial trauma??? Although the usual operative accesses to the le fort fractures are intraoral, nasofrontal, infraorbital, or even glabellar for le fort iii -> the scar is probably not related to any possible dental issues... Or Oda gave him shit medical care. Considering Luffy's gigantic scar, it's possible 🤔🤔🤔 What if he got socked in the face so bad he lost a majority of his teeth and suffered a pyramidal fracture?? Is the scar just the result of a soft tissue injury and does he just have shit teeth (from smoking, possibly?)?? Questions upon questions

My case:

Weak jaw Crocodile

Look at that. It's like a smidge of bone there. You could snap his mandible with two hands, if he wasn't a logia.

Bone loss after tooth loss

source / source

Bone continues to weaken/gets reduced the less it's used -> i.e. no tooth, no force on the bone, bone reduction over time

Le Fort fractures and his scar

source

Maybe it was a panfacial trauma??

The operative accesses to these fracture don't jive with this but just a thought.

A panfacial trauma case under the cut (graphic gore!!)

Look at that, all three Le Fort fractures! Still, access was made via infraorbital and intraoral incisions.

Source

???