#i know you people love your muscle mommys but i need something else. or ill die

[thatneoncrisis]

could you explain your reasoning for butch harrow? im asking this in a way a student asks a master

ok so. up top: do i think harrow is butch in canon? no. god no. absolutely not. secret third category of person. not butch or femme shes just like A Guy who really fucking likes black

however i do think that between those two ends of a nebulous spectrum, being butch would be way more comfortable for her than femme, if we think of it in the most traditional sense for both sides. there are literally exceptions to every rule femmes can have short hair and wear pants, butches can have long hair and wear makeup yadda yadda. but the way she interacts with certain elements of her presentation in canon just felt to ME, PERSONALLY, that being traditionally feminine would freak her the fuck out

ive seen people compare her compulsion to wear the skull paint to a need to wear makeup and i. very much disagree. id see it more as like, an overtly religious thing, like a nuns habit or a hijab, its modesty and how she shows respect for her god, also routine, its as natural as putting on pants for her. and also frankly if it was an analog for traditional makeup that would be uuuuh awful. like I genuinely feel terrible for women who cannot even leave the house without foundation or contouring or whatever i dont know shit about makeup but holy fuck. if shes femme in that analog id be shaking her by the shoulders GIRL. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE A NAKED ANIMAL

another thing is her hair. so many people read her having short hair and immediately went to a bob or a pixie cut. and between tamsyns inconsistent description of the length of her hair in book one (saying its stuck to her face with sweat despite them being there for like, a month) and the htn cover being The best image we have of her, i understand that conclusion. but in the beginning of gtn its said its close cropped, tamsyn said on her blog post describing all the characters its "cut short (as benefits someone in a monestary)" which is a very interesting choice of words tbh. like im sute she didnt mean harrow is completely bald in the middle with a ring of hair but that Is the monk haircut. and then finally harrow says to gideon outright "i wont cut you bald-even though your hair is ridiculous- because I know you wont shave it every day" which i always took to mean being shaved down to the scalp is just how the ninth is traditionally. in harrow the ninth its said "occasionally ticklish rasps at your ears or forehead would frighten you numb before you realized ut was your own hair" indicating that she is not used to that length at all. also theres the fact that ianthe made her hair grow faster particularly to fuck with her. in short harrows haircut is shitty and utilitarian and any fussing with it has only been described in relation to her direct discomfort

finally theres that goddamn dress scene. why did ianthe put her in that stupid fucking thing. humilation tactic (im exaggerating but it basically was explicitly and exclusively for ianthes own amusement). shes such a simple girl, she just wanted something that could cover her up. its not impossible to have a longsleeved formless dress, but beyond my own opinion that i think harrow would have been uncomfortable in anything, i think the fact this like, explicit symbol of femininity is used to further degrade her in some sense in a room full of people who font reapect her feels like. intentional on the authors end. it quite literally just isnt her, its not even a true black its like a deep midnight blue. you get the pretty woman makeover scene but harrow comes out of it more miserable and resigned than ever. augustines approval means nothing. she looks in the mirror and sees her mother, a woman she appears to not have a single fond memory about. its all very sad

tldr when i talk about butch harrow its less about her "being butch" and more about how unfemme i think she is. also i want more butch4butch dykes i think gideon and camilla should teach her how to tie a tie.

[windless-hurricane]

Sparks

Chapter Three: The Beauty of a Devil

A Reiner x Reader x (Eventual) Jean Fanfic

• ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •

SUMMARY: After the fall of Shiganshina, you joined the military along with your brother. You had hoped to bring peace to the world by doing so, but the world was a cruel place. You seemed to lose more than you gained, but there was always someone - someone who made losing just a bit…easier. You hoped you could keep them forever, but was there ever a guarantee in this world?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hi, all! I know it’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything, but I’m back to finish this series. I want to catch up to where the anime left off. Therefore, as an apology for taking awhile, I’m posting two new chapters today (chapter four will be posted an hour or so after this one)!

WARNINGS (for entire series): Language, explicit violence, talks of death, suicide, trauma, and mental illness, graphic scenes involving blood and/or death, and sexuality.

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

TAGLIST: @lovethemilkteasis @grayxblaze @theyoungblood13 @flowersgirl02 @noodlenerd101 @hanabihwa @drowned-pathetic-rat @bestgirlb @bleepop @miinnttyy @1-800-thanos @lovelime

SPARKS MASTERLIST

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• ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •

• ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •

“I need your help, (Y/N),” Eren proclaimed as he slammed his hand down on the table, causing you to look at him instead of your soup.

If you hadn’t known Eren prior to this, you would’ve been startled by his actions, but you practically grew up with him. You were both from Shiganshina and while you were good friends, you weren’t as close as he, Mikasa, and Armin were. You were closest to your brother.

“With what,” you questioned, your spoon hanging from your mouth.

“Learning the maneuver gear,” he explained, an eager look in his eyes.

“Well, haven’t you asked Mikasa? She was really good at it,” you recalled.

“I did, but it still didn’t work,” he sighed. “So, I thought maybe you had some advice, seeing as you were nearly perfect.”

You blushed at his compliment as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Well,” you breathed. “It’s kind of like a swing.”

“A swing,” he asked confusedly.

“It’s hard to describe…maybe Viktor knows how to say it. Hey, Viktor.”

You nudged your brother’s shoulder with your own, but he didn’t respond. So, you and Eren looked over and were surprised to see him in a deep conversation with Krista as Ymir glared at him from across the table. You both smirked.

“He’s going to die,” you remarked.

“Yeah,” Eren agreed with a chuckle, causing you to sigh.

“Well, I’ll try my best to describe it then. When you look at the seat of the swing, you can see that it is completely balanced. Then, once weight is added onto it, it still manages to stay upright. That’s because it balances the weight throughout itself equally. You have to think of your body as a whole and seek balance within yourself. That’s the best way I can describe it. Does that…sorta make sense?”

He gazed at you with wide eyes, not necessarily mesmerized by what you said, but how you said it.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he confirmed excitedly and you smiled.

“If you still need help, you can ask some of the guys,” you suggested. “A few of them did well too.”

“Got it, thank you so much, (Y/N)!”

“No problem,” you waved, watching as he made his way back to the table where Mikasa and Armin were sitting.

You noticed Mikasa glaring at you, but you decided to ignore it and focus on your food instead. However, you were only able to get two bites in until someone else came.

“Do you mind if I sit here,” a deep voice asked and you looked up to see a tall, blonde boy with a muscular build standing in front of you. You realized you remembered him from orientation.

“Yeah, go right ahead,” you said, motioning to the seat in front of you. He sat down with a small creak and you gazed at him for a few moments before turning back to your food.

“You’re (Y/N), right,” he questioned once more and you nodded.

“(Y/N) Bauer. I would introduce you to this oaf,” you gestured to Viktor. “But he’s too busy taking his final breaths.” Reiner let out an airy chuckle as your brother was now arguing with Ymir over something ludicrous.

“I’m-“ Reiner started to say, but you cut him off.

“Reiner Braun, I remember you. You’re the ‘save humanity’ guy.”

“Huh?”

“During orientation, when Shadis asked you why you were here, you said ‘to save humanity.’”

“You remember that?” You nodded.

Reiner hadn’t thought you noticed him, let alone even remembered what he said. The surprise made him oddly happy.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, playing with your food. “The only reason I did was because you looked just as scary as Shadis.”

“What,” Reiner laughed, causing you to smile.

“What do you mean ‘what?’ I mean, look at you. You’re a tall, muscly guy with a sharp face. Intense eyes and a deep voice. Who wouldn’t be scared of that?”

“Not you apparently,” he stated with a smirk. “If I didn’t know any better, (Y/N), I’d say you were flirting with me.”

Your cheeks reddened.

While you did find him extremely attractive, especially when you first laid eyes on him during orientation, you couldn’t let him know that.

You couldn’t let him know that you were taken aback by his strong and unwavering stature, the way the muscle within his jaw flexed with determination, and how his amber eyes burned when Shadis asked him why he was there.

When he answered with “To save humanity,” his voice was deep, but so sure of himself. It permanently caught your attention, but still. He couldn’t know that.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Braun,” you finally countered. “You only interested me because of how overachieving your goal was.”

“Really, how so,” he asked with half lidded eyes. He could tell you were bluffing. You had to save your ass.

“Well, don’t you think saving humanity is quite ambitious? How could one person manage to save millions of people,” you commented.

“Why does one join the military to begin with?” Your eyes widened.

While you were shocked, you were also impressed at his question. You couldn’t help the amused smile that made its way onto your lips.

“A good portion of the kids here are either looking to live comfortably within the inner walls or wanting to earn bragging rights as they slack off in the Garrison Regiment. Why do you think the number of people joining the Scouts every few years is so low? ‘Cause in the end, most people don’t want to leave the walls to fight for humanity. They just want to stay back and watch others do the work.”

“Is that why you joined?” You snorted.

“Course not.”

“Then, why’d you join?”

‘Why did I join,’ you thought to yourself.

Then, it hit you. Their words.

Mommy loves you so much. She loves you. Please just do this last thing for her and hide.

Get my brother and sister out of here! I’ll take care of the Titans! Just go!

I’m sorry, (Y/N).

You clenched your spoon tightly as you gazed into Reiner’s eyes with a newfound intensity gracing your own.

“I joined because-” but you were cut off by a large thud and your brother groaning right after.

You and Reiner looked over to see Ymir pushing his face into the table.

“How’s that for a rude awakening,” she sneered, tearing herself away from him soon after. “C’mon, Krista.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Krista whined, but Ymir had already grabbed her by the arm and led her out of the mess hall.

You sighed.

“What did you even say to them?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled, holding onto his head.

“Honestly, you’re either great at talking to girls or extremely poor at it. There’s no in between,” you commented as you pulled him up by his hair.

Reiner hissed shortly after and you winced at the sight of his face.

“We’re going to need bandages for that.”

__________________________________________

“What’re we doing out here,” you questioned, following your brother through the dark forest. “Can’t we get in trouble for this?”

“Not if we aren’t caught,” he mused with an almost crazy smile on his face.

“I think Ymir hit you too hard. Are you seeing double right now?”

You glanced at the bandages around his forehead and were becoming genuinely concerned that he had a concussion.

“It’s because of Ymir I’m doing this,” he revealed, chuckling breathlessly. “She’s going to hate it when I prove her wrong.”

“You still didn’t tell me what you told her,” you mentioned.

“I tried comparing Krista to a lotus flower and Ymir’s convinced that no such thing exists.”

“Really? Then, what was the whole rude awakening thing?”

“I just told her she was in for a rude awakening and she did that. The audacity.”

“You’re a real idiot, you know that,” you stated, causing him to gasp offensively.

“What?!”

“So, you’re trying to find a lotus flower to prove her wrong.”

“Yeah.” You came to a stop.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“If I’m remembering what we read as kids correctly, those only exist outside of the walls,” you exclaimed in disbelief.

“I mean, yeah. They’re from Asia, but the Asian clan lived here for some time anyways,” he mumbled to himself.

“Huh? You’re talking too quietly.”

“Oh, well, what I meant to say is that humanity once lived outside of the walls, right? So, they had to have brought some with us!”

You watched your brother in confusion as he turned away, moving forward once again. That was weird, you thought.

As you followed behind him, you heard rustling nearby.

“Do you hear that,” you asked and Viktor shook his head.

“It’s probably just a deer or something.”

“I don’t know…”

The rustling grew louder and you both stopped.

“I don’t know if that’s a deer,” you murmured, grabbing onto his jacket.

Then, the both of you could make out footsteps and started to tremble in panic.

“What if it’s Shadis,” you whispered. “I didn’t plan on bothering him today. I’m not prepared to swim again…or worse. Clean the restroom after Sasha’s used it.”

Viktor nearly gagged at the idea.

“This was your idea, Viktor.”

“Well, you’re the one who decided to follow the kid with the possible concussion out here,” he retorted.

“You, idiot. Let’s just find a hiding spot, but move very quietly.” He nodded as you led him through the trees, tiptoeing carefully. You turned the corner of a tree and unexpectedly bumped into a firm chest.

You didn’t get the chance to see who it was as you and the owner of that chest started screaming.

You fell back into your screeching brother and heard three more masculine yells follow suit.

You opened your eyes and saw Reiner, Bertolt, Eren, and Armin all huddled together, panting with terrified looks on their faces.

“Huh,” you gasped, but they didn’t hear you as your brother was still screaming. “Shut up!” You elbowed him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

“What the hell are you guys doing out here,” you questioned, attempting to recompose yourself.

“We could ask you the same thing,” Reiner countered, clearing his throat.

“Uh…good point. This idiot behind me wanted to find a flower to win a bet against Ymir.”

“Bertolt and I just wanted to show Eren and Armin the lake.”

“That’s a better reason than ours,” you chuckled, finally having calmed down. “I’m just glad you weren’t Shadis.”

“You and me both.”

__________________________________________

“Wow,” you gushed, staring at the moon’s reflection from the water. “It’s like a mirror.”

“I know. Isn’t it insane,” Reiner smiled.

It was. It really was. The moon was big and bright, while the water was still and black. They complimented and contrasted each other all at once. It was like a painting that lit up the night. It was stunning.

“I honestly never pegged you to be a softie, Braun,” you teased with a smirk.

“Well,” he smiled. “I thought Eren could use some inspiration for tomorrow.” And you felt your lips lift into a sweet smile.

You meant it. You didn’t expect Reiner to be so caring or considerate, yet he was and you found yourself liking it a lot.

He was big and strong on the outside, but gentle on the inside.

“Well, Eren. Are you inspired,” you asked softly and he nodded with a big grin, causing you to giggle.

“Ah hah,” Viktor shouted and you sent him a glare.

“Hey, why are you ruining the moment,” you questioned.

“I found it, I actually found it!”

“What?”

He sprinted to you in an instant and your eyes widened once you saw a lotus flower resting in the palms of his hands. It was pink and gentle with mud underneath it. It really was…beautiful and the rest of the boys gathered around to witness its beauty.

“It only blooms in mud,” Viktor stated excitedly and you smiled. It had been so long since you had seen him this way and you didn’t want it to end. You wanted him to continue being happy.

“It’s beautiful,” Reiner commented. “A true beauty.” You all hummed in agreement, listening to Viktor’s rant that followed.

However, Reiner never started listening. He was still too focused on what, or rather who, he had actually been looking at when making that comment.

He was looking at you - admiring the way you shone just as brightly as the moon and thought…

How could a devil be this beautiful?

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 87

Warnings: none

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

She dreams of the first Christmas in Telluride. That old farmhouse long before the extensive renovations that had transformed it from drafty and ill kept to a beautiful, warm place perfect for a growing family. It had had promise. High ceilings and original hardwood floors that could be refurbished. Thirty acres of property that backed onto a creek and woodlands and came with an incredible view of the snow capped mountains. After months of living with her mother and step father while getting their underneath them, the home represented the official start of their new lives in the States.  Set a thousand feet from the main road and surrounded by towering trees, it had provided peace and quiet and a sense of safety and security; two things they both craved and believed would be the perfect setting for raising children in. At the time they’d had no plans of ever returning to Australia, and while Tyler had initially struggled with the culture shock and the enormous change he’d made in his life, he’d actually adjusted  quite well to the change of scenery and the colder climate.  There hadn’t really been anything for him back home; aside from a couple of old friends. His relationship with his father had always been toxic, and only became more so with each passing year. A change will be good, he had said. And his words had quickly been proven right.

There were no memories haunting him in Colorado, and a drastic change came with the trading in of the beach and sweltering heat for the mountains and the forests and the cooler air. He was noticeably happier; smiling and laughing more and possessing a much more positive outlook on their lives and their future. The ghosts of his pasts didn’t follow him there, and he started sleeping better and rekindled the passion for working out religiously; putting on the weight and the muscle -and the some- that he’d lost during that long and often agonizing recovery after Dhaka. They’d just had Millie then. Ten months old and chubby cheeked; thick and wavy sandy blond hair and enormous blue eyes framed by impossibly long, dark lashes. An extremely happy and healthy baby. Full of curiosity and wonder and in love with the world; always giggling and smiling and in turn making their lives even brighter. The twins hadn’t even arrived yet; a month before they'd make their rather dramatic entrance into the world.

He’d gotten up in the middle of the night with an uncharacteristically unsettled and grumpy Millie; a mixture of teething and a stubborn cold that was making it hard for her to sleep. And when an hour passed and he still hadn’t returned to the warm confines of their bed -either alone or with the baby- yet all was silent in the house, she’d gone looking for them.  She’d expected to find him passed out on the couch with Millie on his chest, but instead discovered him standing in front of the Christmas tree. The lights on and their daughter in those strong, protective arms; voice soft and quiet as he talked to Millie about her very first Christmas that was quickly approaching. About how spoiled she’d be and how he was happy that she got to experience the extra bonus of having snow; how he’d always dreamed of experiencing a white Christmas when he was a kid.  

And he’d told her about what the holidays were like when he was growing up. How his mum put so much time and effort into making it amazing for him; sharing the traditions she’d grown up with and creating her own that he’d hopefully one day continue with his family. It was the one time of the year his father wasn’t drunk. When he stuck to only one glass of wine at dinner and never raised his voice or his hand to either of them.  For twenty fours hours, they were a normal family, and that night he’d go to bed and pray for one last Christmas gift: that he’d wake up and his father wouldn’t go back to his ‘old self’. That wish never came true, and once his mother died, Christmas lost any and all meaning or importance for  him. Relegated to just ‘another day’ in his life; another chance for the old man to beat the shit out of him and degrade him and try to break his spirit.  

He’d tried with his first marriage and child. Attempted to get into the Christmas spirit and bring back some of his mother’s traditions; wanting to make the time magical and beautiful for his son. But he could never seem to totally commit to it; too many bad memories holding him back. The pain of his mother’s passing and his father’s treatment of him still too raw, even though it had been more than fifteen years prior.  But he was determined this time, he’d told Millie, as he stood there with her in his arms. Things would be different. HE’D be different. Because she and her momma and her soon to be born brothers deserved that; a husband and a father who was ‘all in’. Someone totally committed to making every second of every day matter. He wanted to be a better person this time around. A better man.

It had been a beautiful thing to hear. And see. This big, strong man covered in scars and tattoos, looking at his little girl with so much love and awe in his eyes. And Millie caught up in looking at him with pure adoration AND at the tree; amazed by the multicoloured lights and her little hands exploring the branches and the decorations.  Esme hadn’t had the heart to disturb them, and she’d never told him about what she’d witnessed. That moment had been reserved for father and daughter. Instead she’d just gone back upstairs and returned to bed; pretending to  wake up when he finally climbed back in beside her a half an hour later.

She stirs to the ring of her cell phone; muffled by its resting place under the pillow next to her. She had somehow managed to drift off, her body and mind finally giving in to exhaustion; lulled into a restless sleep by the continuous beeping of the  EKG machine and her husband’s soft, slow breathing. The room is dark; illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through the window above her head and the glow of the bedside monitor. At first she’s disoriented. Blindly reaching for that solid, warm body that is usually beside her, but  finding nothing but cool, crisp hospital issued sheets.  It effectively snaps her fully awake and plunges her back into reality. The dream had been so vivid; as if she was experiencing that tender, beautiful moment for the very first time.  

It’s heartbreaking to wake up to. Her children thousands of miles away, her husband’s life still teetering on a very narrow and dangerous ledge, the sounds of hospital life just beyond the closed door; bells routinely going off signally patients -or their families- need help, the quiet chatter of the nurses at the central workstation.   And for a moment she doesn’t move; lying on her back in the middle of that little pull out couch, tears filling her eyes and a tremendous ache inhabiting her chest. She feels empty. Lonely. All of the fear and the worry and the anger sitting so heavily on her heart.  And when her phone stops ringing and then immediately starts up again, she gives herself a pep talk: “You can do this. You HAVE to do this. He needs you to do this. He needs YOU.”

She reaches under the pillow and snags her cell, frowning at the word HOME emblazoned across the screen. She glances at the illuminated wall clock across the room; it would be just shy of five am in Cooktown. She can’t help but think the worst; that the situation isn’t over after all and troubled has followed them home.   And she tries to keep the panic out of her voice when she answers.

“Hello?”

“Mommy?” That little voice greets. A harsh whisper; neither tearful nor scared.

“Amelia.”  She hasn’t used that name in years. Adopting the moniker Millie when the then three year old decided that was what she preferred to be called. And she quickly sits up and swings her legs over the side of the bed; shoving her feet in the pair of flip flops that  sit on the floor next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Well...yeah...there IS something wrong.”

“What’s going on?” She rakes a hand through her hair as she stands, then grabs the hoodie off the chair beside Tyler’s bed and shrugs into it. “Are you okay?”

“I guess.”

“It’s five in the morning, doodle. What are you doing up? You should be asleep.”

“Is daddy there?”

“No,” Esme lies, then steps out into the hall. Giving a small smile and a nod in greeting to the armed guard -one of Anil’s people- that sits next to the door. A precaution; in case some loyal and overzealous fan of Asif’s or Mahajan’s attempts to cause trouble.  “He’s not.”

“Where is he?”

“He had to go and do some things.”

“Work things?”

“Yeah. Last minute stuff. Things that couldn’t wait and he had to get done.”

“Do you know when he’s going to be back? I tried calling his cell but it just went to voicemail. I want to talk to him. I want to talk to daddy.”

“He probably has his phone turned off. It’s important work stuff.”

“I’m important,” Millie reminds her. “And daddy always says that us kids are more important than anything else.”

“Well you guys are. You ARE the important thing to him. But I don’t think he was expecting you to call at this time of night. Not when you’re supposed to be in bed. Sleeping. And why aren’t you? Sleeping?”

“I had a bad dream. So I went into your room to get daddy. I forgot you guys weren’t home yet. Daddy always helps me after a bad dream. Always. He makes me warm milk and oatmeal and then he lies on the couch with me and rubs my tummy until I fall asleep.”

“Maybe you can ask Ovi or Uncle Kyle to do that,” Esme suggests.

“I don’t want Ovi or Uncle Kyle. I want daddy. That’s what daddy does for me. Not anyone else. I don’t want anyone else doing it. Just daddy.”

“Millie, we are thousands of miles away. Even if he was here, he wouldn’t be able to do anything for you.”

“But I could hear his voice and it would make me feel better. Remember how sometimes when he’s away for his job, I’ll call him and he’ll talk to me until I fall asleep again?”

“But he can’t do that, sweetie. Because he’s not here.”

“But if he’d turn his cell back on, he could do it. Can you call him on his other phone? His work one? And tell him I need to talk to him? If you tell him I had a bad dream, he’ll turn his other phone back on and call me. I know he will.”

“Millie, I can’t call him. He’s busy. And not even I can talk to him right now. I’m sorry. I wish daddy COULD talk to you. But he can’t.”

“Is he okay?”

Esme blinks. “Why wouldn’t he be okay?”

“You sound sad. Why are you sad? Is daddy okay? Did something happen to him? Is that why you’re sad?”

“Nothing happened, doodle. And I’m not sad. I’m just tired. It’s only one in the morning here.”

“I’m sorry, mommy. I didn’t mean to wake you up. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I miss you so much.”

“Will you and daddy be home soon?”

“I hope so.”

“I hope so too. Will you tell him I called? I left him two messages. On his cell. Will you tell him to listen to them?”

“I’ll tell him. I promise.”

“Ask him to call me later. I want to talk to him, okay?”

Esme nods, then swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in her throat. “Okay.”

“I love you, mommy. Tell daddy I love him. That I miss him. Today is Saturday. The sun will be up soon. We always watch the sunrise together on Saturdays and then we have breakfast and go surfing.”

“I know you do,”  she brushes away the tears that finally manage to escape. “I know you guys do that together. And you’ll get to it again when we’re home, okay?”

“Are you sure you’re not sad? You sound sad, mommy.”

“I’m okay. Just tired. And homesick. I miss you. I miss all of you. So much.”

“I miss you too, mommy. I’m sorry I woke you up. You can go back to sleep now. I’m going to take Saju out to pee; he can watch the sun come up with me.”

“That’s a good idea. I’m sure he’ll like that. I love you.”

“I love you, mommy. Tell daddy I love him. And give him a hug and kiss from me.”

“I will,” Esme promises, and then disconnects the call.  

Her hands violently tremble, making it nearly impossible to tend to the simple task of slipping her phone into her pocket. The ache in her chest worsens and her legs feel numb; threatening to give out from under her And she slumps back against the wall as the first sob escapes a pitiful, choked sound accompanied by another she attempts to to stifle with her hand.  All she can hear is her daughter’s voice; tiny and beautiful and so innocent. Millie’s words replaying over and over again in her mind. About wanting to talk to her daddy...NEEDING to talk to him...because he’s the only one that can make things better. The one she relies on to chase away the monsters and make her feel safe and secure again.  Six years old and her father is her entire world. That precious little girl who’d inherited his eyes and his smile.

The tears finally come.

****

When the return to sleep fails her, she heads to the family kitchen. It’s spacious and modern and stocked with free ‘goodies’ donated by the hospital; various flavours of teas and coffee, pastries and other desserts, and a selection of non perishables. Each family is given a small pantry and  bar fridge marked with their last name; safe places   to keep things purchased with their own money. It’s the small comforts that make a difference; those tiny details and touches that somehow manage to lift some of the stress, fear, and worry that have become your driving forces.

She boils water; thumbing through the wide selection of flavoured teas that sit in an ornate basket on the counter. And she freezes when she hears it; blood running cold and the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. The distinct sounds of wailing and sobbing coming from somewhere on the ward. At first it makes her heart skip a beat, then causes it to pound furiously in her chest. It’s gut wrenching; the harsh reality of someone else’s grief.  Someone else’s loss. It makes you sympathetic towards them but also fearful that you just may encounter the same situation. You can prepare yourself for it; the chance that the person you love may not make it out of a place like this. That they may never improve and will only experience setback after setback and never find themselves well enough for the ‘step down’ unit. It would be foolish NOT to consider that.

But you’re never fully prepared for when it actually does happen. The loss enormous. Sorrow profound. Seven years ago, the loss would have been tremendous;   robbed of what ‘could have been; and left to go through a pregnancy alone and then raise a child that belonged to a dead man. Now it would be catastrophic.   Years of  giving everything of yourself to someone; loving them with every bit of your body, heart, and soul and getting that same love in return. Having someone that looks at you as if you’re the most incredible and beautiful being on earth; their devotion and faithfulness unconditional and going hand in hand with their willingness to protect you at all costs. And having a family together has only elevated things ever further; creating life together and then getting to share in both the joys and the tribulations of raising them.  It’s a partnership; working side by side and each bringing out the best in the other. And all of a sudden that is taken away…

She refuses to think about it. What life would be like without him. The enormous hole that would be left behind. Losing her father as a teenager had been bad enough; a loss that she still mourns even decades later. But to lose your entire world? The love of your life?

“Stop!” Esme  orders aloud, and then inwardly scolds herself for letting her thoughts go to that dark, horrible place. It almost feels like a betrayal; counting him out at the very beginning of the fight. He’s never given up; no matter how dire a situation or how exhausting -whether physical or mental- the battle is. Always the one to keep her going when things seem hopeless. If the situation was reversed, he wouldn’t give up on her, and she feels ashamed for even considering doing it to him.

She turns away from the counter, mug of tea in hand then gives a small start and a   ‘fuck!’ when she discovers she’s not alone. A man younger than herself; smooth, dark skin, a shock of black, curly hair, and kind, chocolate brown eyes.

“My apologies,” he gives a sheepish smile. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t even hear you come in. Lost in my own little world, I guess.”

“Sometimes it’s nice to have that little world. A place to escape to. To get away from this The smells, the sights, the sounds. That machine...the beep, beep, beep...drives me insane.”

“I hear you. I think the sound is permanently etched in my brain. It’ll be a long time before it disappears. And I just got here.”

“What are you in for?” he asks, as she moves towards the door. “Sorry. I try for humour; when things are difficult. It’s how I deal with the stress. How I cope.”

“I hear you on that, too. I’m the same way. I guess I try cracking jokes or making light of things because I’m hoping it will make ME feel better. It drives my husband crazy sometimes. Especially when a situation definitely does NOT call for it. Or I ramble. Kind of like what I’m doing right now. Only about ten times worse. He’s the strong, silent type. I’m the chatty one. Even during moments I shouldn’t. Like right now for instance. Sorry. I ramble. Like  I said.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind. We all have our ways of coping. Is that why you’re here? For your husband?”

Esme nods, then leans back against the doors, eyes riveted on her cup as she repeatedly dunks the tea bag into the boiling water. It’s nerves; the fear that those threatening tears will let loose. She’d thought there were no tears left  after her emotional meltdown following her conversation with Millie. That she’d cried herself dry. At least for the time being. And the last thing she wants is to lose it in front of a complete stranger.  

“He got hurt,” she says. “At work.”

“He works here? He’s from Bangladesh?”

“He’s Australian, actually.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

“We are. A very long way. Or least it seems like a very long way. I know; I don’t have an accent. Or if I do, it’s just starting and not very noticeable. I’m originally from Colorado.”

“And you married someone from Australia? How did that happen? You met on vacation?”

“Through work. We were assigned to the same project.”

“And he’s hurt? Bad?”

“Bad enough to be stuck here. It’s going to be a long road. Something tells me we’ll be here a while. He’s in pretty rough shape.”

“Must have been one heck of a workplace accident.”

“Someone tried to kill him,” she admits, and then quickly adds “He’s in private security. A job got out of hand. There was nothing he could have done about it.  There was no way he could have expected things to turn out THIS bad.”

“I’m sorry. That he has to be here. That YOU have to be here.”

“So am I,” she gives a small, sad smile. “But thank you. Why are you here?”

“My wife.  She’s been here for almost two weeks. She had a stroke. While giving birth. Our first child.”

Esme’s eyes widen, and one of her hands slides inside of the open hoodie and instinctively  rests on her baby bump.

“The doctors say there is no brain activity, but I’m not giving up hope. Sometimes, miracles happen. I can’t just give up on her.  She wouldn’t give up on me.”

“I am so sorry. I can’t even imagine what it’s been like for you. And the baby? Did the baby make it or…?”

“Baby is fine. Very healthy. Very beautiful.” He pulls his cell phone from his pocket, then turns on the screen and holds it out towards her, showing off the display. A beautiful infant with gorgeous dark eyes and little pink bows in her coal black hair.

“She’s beautiful. Congratulations.  It must be so bittersweet; having a new baby while your wife…” her voice trails off, unsure of what to say next.

“You have children?”

“I do.  I have five of them.”

“Five? Forgive me; you don’t look like a woman with five children.”

“Thank you, but believe me, I feel like a mother of fifty right about now. It’s hard; being so far away from them. They have no idea what’s happened. I feel terrible for lying to them, I do. But I really don’t know what to say. They’re so little; the oldest is only six. How do I NOT traumatize them? How do I tell them? I’m just so lost when it comes to this. To a lot of things, actually This is...hard Very hard. Having to trust complete strangers with the life of the person you love. To just put his life in these peoples’ hands. I’m not having a good time with it. At all. I’m sad. I’m angry. Mostly sad, though.”

“Angry?”

“At the person who did this to him. They’re dead, and believe me, there’s a special place in hell for them. But I’m still angry about it. And I’m angry at myself too. Because I made a mistake. And I guess in a way I feel guilty; that my mistake led to this.”

Her companion gives a sympathetic smile. “I don’t think he’d want you to blame yourself.”

“He definitely wouldn’t. Tyler would be pretty mad about it, actually.  He already thinks I’m too hard on myself in a lot of ways. That’s his name, by the way. Tyler. My husband.”

“My wife is Priya. I’m Sanjib.”

“I’m Esme,” she shakes the hand offered. “I should get back. I know he’s not conscious and probably won’t be for a while, but I still don’t like leaving him alone. I like to think he knows I’m there. He has PTSD; hospitals trigger it. He will not be happy when he comes out of sedation, that’s for sure. This is the last place he’ll want to be. It was nice to talk to you, though  Thanks for tolerating me.”

“We should meet. Every day. At a certain time. For tea. I would be nice to have someone to talk to. Other than doctors and nurses”

“It would be,” she agrees. “And someone other than my six year old who called me from Australia and should be sleeping. She had a bad dream and daddy always takes care of her after a bad dream. She’s missing him. A lot. But whenever you feel up to it, just come and find me. It’s hard to miss our room; it’s the only one with the armed guard sitting outside of it.”

Sanjib arches a quizzical brow.

“It’s a long story that needs a bit of time to tell. One that definitely calls for more than one tea. But it was nice talking to you. And I hope your wife heals. I hope a miracle DOES happen.”

“I hope for the same for your husband. That he’s awake sooner, rather than later.”

“Yeah,” she says, and opens the kitchen door. “So do I.”

****

When she returns to the room, Julie is stepping out; slipping the patient chart back into the holder on the door and then turning to greet her

“Is everything alright?” Esme asks, unable to stop herself from fearing the worst. Even the warm smile on the other woman’s face and the gentle hand that first touches her cheek and then lays on her shoulder. “Is he okay? Nothing’s happened, has it?”

“Everything is fine. I was just checking his vitals.”

“And they’re good? He doesn’t need to be intubated or…?”

“He’s doing all the breathing on his own. Doesn’t even need the nasal cannula anymore. And his oxygen level is still staying over ninety four.”

“And that’s good? That’s what we want it to be? Or better?  It’s a good sign that he doesn’t need any help?”

“A very good sign. He’s a lot further along than anyone thought he would be, that’s for sure.  Usually in cases like this, when someone has experienced that level of trauma AND so much of it, it takes weeks, sometimes even months, to see even a glimmer of progress. There are people who have been on this ward for a long time, with less done to them, that aren’t where he is.  He’s got a strong will to live, that’s for sure.”

“He has five reasons to stay alive back home.  There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for them. No fight he wouldn't fight. If it was seven years ago, you wouldn’t be seeing what you’re seeing right now.   Before the kids? He wasn’t the person he is now. Once our daughter came along, everything changed. HE changed.”

“I think you’re underestimating the role YOU played. That you DO play.”

“He is so strong. The strongest person I’ve ever known. And if anyone can defy the odds and prove people, it’s Tyler. So I hope you go and tell that one doctor...the neurologist...exactly what you’re telling me. Because he has been nothing but doom and gloom. He even told me not to expect much. Not even long term. I basically told him to go screw himself. No one is going to talk about my husband like that. No one is going to count him out. I don’t care how many degrees they have before or after their name. I know Tyler. And he doesn’t give up. He doesn’t know the meaning of it. And he is stubborn as hell! You’ll get to see that soon enough, I’m sure.”

“He’s already showing it. And so you know, he did wake. Very briefly, but…”

“Wait? What? What do you mean he woke up? How? Is that even possible? How can he? The surgeon said it would be a few days before they’d start bringing out of it. How…?”

“While it’s heavy sedation, it is still only sedation,” Julie explains. “It isn’t a medically induced coma.  So brief periods of wakefulness and some level of lucidity are common. He likely won’t remember experiencing it, but it will happen.”

“And he was fully awake?”

“Fully awake in terms of all the drugs continuously being pumped into him. But he did open his eyes and ask ‘who the hell are you?’”

Esme gives a small laugh. “That sounds like Tyler. He hates hospitals. They trigger a lot of bad things. It’s good he’s doped up. If he knew where he was and he had the energy, he probably would have lost it. He has pulled out many an IV. He won’t think anything of pulling out a central line. Did he say anything? Did he ask about his kids or…?”

“He asked for you. Seemed worried. I told him you were fine. That you just stepped out for a minute. I asked him how he was feeling and he said sick. So I gave him an anti nausea med through the line. The pain medication he’s on is notorious for making people sick, And he asked for water. So if he does wake up and wants something to drink, that’s what he can have.”

“I can’t believe this even happened. Especially so soon. I didn’t think there was a chance of something like this.  The way everyone was talking, it sounded like even after he was brought out of sedation, he might not come to right away. That it could take weeks, even.”

“Well between you and me, hun, doctors aren’t always right. I’ve seen a lot of patients they’ve been plenty wrong about.  Now don’t get your hopes up; it might not happen again right away. That might have been all the energy he had to spare for a while.”

“But it’s a good sign, right? That he DID wake up? I don’t care how long it takes for him to be okay. Just as long as long as he is in the end. And this has to be a good sign.”

“It’s a sign that his brain is working the way it should. And I’m going to make sure I tell that neurologist, too. There is nothing wrong with that man’s brain; not when he can call his wife by name and answer me when I ask him how he’s doing.  Everything’s going right for him, I promise you. And he’s in good hands. Very good hands. I’ll see that he gets everything he needs And that that mean old brain doctor gets put in his place.”

“You have no idea how much I needed this; to hear this. It’s just been a nightmare; I’m still trying to wrap my head around what went wrong. How could it go so bad, so fast? And then our daughter called and she’s six and her daddy is her entire world and they have this amazing bond.  I mean, he has a bond with all of them, obviously. But it’s different with her; he calls her his miracle baby. He lost a son. From his first marriage. And he never thought he’d be a dad again. And then we met in a crazy way and we made her and he then he survived what he did and…” Esme takes a deep, shaky breath. “....it’s just different. What they have.  She thinks the sun shines out of his ass and they’re so close and she misses him so much. I don’t know how to tell her. It’ll break her heart regardless.  All she wants is to talk to him and I don’t know how to tell her she can’t. I don’t know what to say to any of them.”

“What do they think they can handle hearing?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Millie is so smart and so intuitive for her age. TJ is tough on the outside but a total softie on the inside; he has a huge heart and feels and loves so deeply. And Tanner is crazy intelligent and an old soul. But they’re still babies, practically. She’s six. They’re five. What do I tell them other than daddy got hurt and can’t come home for a while? I don’t want them knowing details. You’ve seen him. Would you want your children knowing how bad he looks?”

“No. I wouldn’t.”

“And the one person I have to talk me through things like this, I can’t turn to because he’s the one that’s hurt. He’s the rock, not me. He’s the one that talks ME down. I have no clue what I’m doing right now. Other than lying to my children.”

“Just tell them the parts of the truth you know they can handle,” Julie suggests. “They don’t need details Especially ugly ones. Tell them that daddy is hurt and unfortunately can’t come home for a while. But as soon as the doctors say it’s okay, he can be sent to a hospital there and then they can see him as much as they want. It’s what I’d tell my kids And my grand kids.”

“It’s just so hard; being away this far from them. Especially the baby. She’ll be four months old next week and I’m thousands of miles away from her and I‘m afraid she’s going to forget me. The farthest away I’ve been from her is a few hours.  And that was only for two days! I could be here for a few WEEKS. I can’t go home; I can’t leave Tyler alone here.   I just can’t.”

“Is there anyone that could bring her to you? A friend that wouldn’t mind doing that?”

“Our oldest would do it In a heartbeat. He’s technically not ours, ours We’re his guardians. We’ve had him since he was fifteen. He’s twenty one now. I trust him with my kids’ lives. He’d do it. No hesitation. But then that leaves my brother alone with four kids and I don’t think he can handle that. And I’m not asking him to do it. He and Tyler do not get along; my brother thinks my marriage is an epic disaster and the worst mistake I ever made.”  Esme sighs and pushes a hand through her hair. “I can’t believe I’m rambling to you like this. I’m sorry; I’m sure you have a lot to do. I shouldn’t keep you like this.”

“Part of looking after patients is caring for their families too. And you’re a long way from home and you’re going through a hell of a horrible thing. You can lean on me. I’ve got broad shoulders. Why don’t you sleep on all of this? Or at least try and get some rest. This is  only the end of day one; you don’t have to have everything figured out . Get some sleep and hopefully something will come to you in the morning.”

“I’ll try. It’s hard. Sleeping alone. You get used to someone being there. I tell you, I will NEVER complain about his cold feet and snoring every again. It’s so weird; the rest of him is a furnace, but those feet!”

“My husband is a snorer. You know how many times I’ve wanted to smother him with a pillow over the years?”

“Oh, I’ve had those moments, believe me. But apparently, I talk in my sleep. Tyler says he can carry on full conversations with me. Apparently my favourite thing to talk about is grocery lists. I always talk about peanut butter, ketchup, and kitty litter. And we don’t even have a cat.”

Julie laughs at that.  “Try and get some rest, okay?  You got a little one in there that’s depending on you. Come here…”   she draws Esme into a tight embrace. “...you’re not alone. Remember that.”

“I’ll try,” she promises. And that pure, affectionate, and comforting moment once more brings tears to her eyes. And it’s sad. That harsh realization that this is the time in decades…maybe even ever…that she’s felt a hug like that Unconditional. Compassionate.

Motherly.

*****

“Your daughter called,” she says, as she parks the chair beside his bed. Gathering the hoodie around her as she sits, then putting down the safety railing  

He’s succumbed to the mixture of sedation and the heavy duty anti nausea meds, and with his head  turned towards the door, the facial injuries are hidden. No stitches -sixty altogether, thirty holding together the damaged muscle and tissue, the others closing the skin- or swelling, or bruising visible. A slight smile curves his lips; no furrows present across his brow, features bathed in the soft glow from the bedside monitor. It’s the first time in years she’s seen him this peaceful. Where he isn’t hampered  by the demons and the mistakes of the past; his brain unburdened and at rest. His body pain free. Breaths slow and even. Relaxed. Right arm resting across his stomach, left lying flat on the mattress. And that’s the hand she takes; holding tightly as the fingers of her other hand repeatedly drift along his forearm.

“She wanted me to tell you that she loves you. And she misses you. She left you a couple voicemails; I’ll play them for you when your phone charges. I don’t know what to tell her. To tell any of them. I’ve never had to give this kind of news. You’re so much better at this than I am. This whole parenting thing. You always have been. You’re a ten; I’m hovering somewhere  around...I don’t know...a six. Although you’d probably tell me I’m full of shit and that I’m being too hard on myself. I just wish I could talk to you about all of this. You’re way better at figuring this kind of stuff out than I am.”

She laces their fingers together,  thumb brushing against the side of his.  “And just so you know, I’m kind of pissed you had the nerve to wake up while I wasn’t here. I’ll try not to be offended that you woke up for another woman and not me.  Unless you’re just pretending to sleep; hoping that I’ll just shut and you leave you alone. Sorry buddy, you’re stuck with me. For about another fifty years.”

She lightly scrapes her fingernails along his forearm, watching his face for any sign of impending consciousness. “And speaking of being stuck with me, I went through your things and your wedding ring has mysteriously disappeared. No one has seen it. Not in the ER, not in the OR. So it looks like you’re finally going to have to upgrade. You’ve only been talking about that for HOW long? I know you hate change; I know you’ve got a connection to the first one. But it looks like you’re going to have to suck it up and get a new one. Or, I could just go ahead and pick one out for you and surprise you with it. Our anniversary in three months, you never know. Looks like you’re not going to be getting your normal gift, sorry. You’ll have to settle for something else.”

She had been surprised at how much it had hurt; realizing that the ring was in fact gone. She had searched  the bag of blood soaked clothes; rummaging through every pocket  in hopes that he’d either taken it off before going into the storage facility of someone else -maybe Koen or Rata on the way to the hospital-  had removed it and tucked it away.  She couldn’t imagine hospital staff NOT giving it to her. But just when she thought her heart possibly couldn’t break even more, it had.  And instead of tears, she’d felt anger. An all consuming rage towards Nathan. It was his fault, after all. He was the only one to blame for all of this; her husband’s battered and bloodied body,  the weeks and months and maybe even years of recovery that lay ahead of him,  the thousands of miles separating her and her children. Now the missing ring. There was only one  person  to blame for all of it. And while he was dead and that should be enough to give her a sense of comfort, satisfaction, and finality, it only made her even angrier.

She’d called home about it. Preferring to speak to Ovi or Nik or even Anil. Someone with at least an ounce of compassion in their bodies. Instead she’d been relegated to talking to Kyle. And while he’d listened to her long winded, rambling rage towards Nathan and the world in general, and her whining and complaining about the ring being lost,  he hadn’t been the most sympathetic when it came to  advice giving.

“It’s just a cheap piece of jewellery. Put on your big girl pants and get him a new one. No big deal. It’s your own fault you’re in this mess anyway. If you had just listened to all of us and left him a long time ago, you…”

She’d hung up. Not even giving him the chance to finish.

“I miss you,” she says, and issues a long, shaky sigh. “I know that sounds weird because you’re literally right here. But I do. I miss you. I miss you so much.  I miss how we sneak the good snacks after the kids go to bed; sit on the couch eating ice cream right out of the carton.  I miss how you tease me about being so short but never complain when I ask you to reach something at the bottom of the washing machine or on the top shelves in the kitchen.  And I miss those talks. You know the ones.  In the middle of the night AFTER we’ve done other things.   We’ve always had those talks; right from day one.  I can’t remember who started it, but do remember you complaining about how cuddly I was. It was a half assed complaint, mind you. I saw the smile on your face; you didn't mind it one bit.  And you were a pretty good cuddler for someone who said they hated it so much. Maybe you secretly liked it and you just had never found someone you WANTED to cuddle. I know, it’s not very bad ass mercenary; being a cuddler. I’ve always loved that about you. That you’re such a study in contradiction.  Everyone else only gets the one side of you; the mercenary side.  But you’ve always let me see all of you. Even seven years ago. After that first time, you never hid it from me. Who you really are. For some reason you never felt a reason to hide it from me. And I think that’s one of the things that made me fall in love with you as fast as I did. That you were so honest and real and you didn’t pretend to be someone you weren’t. You didn’t hide the fact that you were a mess. And you didn’t care that I was either.”

Esme   reaches out to move his hair off his forehead, then uses a fingertip to trace the scar that curves over the bridge of his nose.  “I really do miss you, Tyler. And I know it probably sounds stupid to you because you ARE alive and you ARE going to be fine, but I can’t help it. I’ve spent seven years with you. Being able to hear your voice  and your laugh whenever I want and seeing  you smile and that cute little frown and pout you get when you’re really focused on something.  Or when you’re trying so hard not to laugh when one of the kids drops the F bomb in the correct context. Remember that time in Telluride when we were in town and someone was texting and driving and turned into the crosswalk while you were walking with the twins? And TJ flipped him the bird and called him a stupid fucker? I wonder where he learned THAT from? You didn’t know whether to give him shit or be proud of him. I know you don’t think being adorable can go hand in hand with being a bad ass, but you manage somehow.”

She runs her knuckles along his jaw, then lowers her head to press a kiss to his forearm.  “I just need you to be okay,” she says, and struggles to hold back the tears.  “And I don’t want to hear any of your shit about how strong I am and I’m more than capable of doing this by myself; raising five kids.  And maybe I am. Maybe I could handle it. Maybe I could handle them and another one. But I don’t want to do this by myself.  That isn’t what I signed up for six and a half years ago. We’re supposed to do it together. And I’m not letting you back out on me. Ever. So I really need you to be okay.  Because I need you.  More than you realize. And probably more than I’ve ever let on. Why do it alone when you have someone so amazing to do it with? So you have to get better, okay? I need you to get better. Besides, you still owe me a trip. You have this really uncanny ability of getting out of taking me on trips, you know that?”

She releases her hold on his hand, then wraps both arms around his and lays her forehead in the crook of his elbow. Staying there for several minutes; eyes closed as she desperately holds back the flood of tears.  And she almost doesn’t feel it; that light brush of fingers against one of her arms.  Wondering if she actually just imagined it. Or perhaps his body had given an involuntary shiver or jerk; a known side effect from the meds.

“Don’t cry, baby.”  His voice is barely above a whisper.  Quiet and weak. But very much him.

She raises her head to look at him. And the tears that threaten now are ones of relief.   “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“So you WERE pretending to be asleep.”

“I was listening.”

“Always the strong, silent type.”

“Please don’t cry. I hate when you cry.”

“It’s happy tears, I promise.  Can you see me properly?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well you’re pretty doped up. You could be seeing five of me for all I know.”

“Just one.”

“Out of both eyes or….?”

“Not so good out of the right. But yeah. Out of both.”

“I don’t think you’re really supposed to be awake right now.  The doctors sort of said you wouldn’t be for a while.”

“Fuck ‘em. I do what I want.”

Esme  grins, then pushes the chair away from the side of the bed and stands. “Yeah, you always do.”  She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay.”

“Are you in pain?”

“No. Just tired”

“Well you’ve had a hell of a day,” she reasons,  combing her fingers through his hair and resting her hand on the top of his head. “As happy as I am that you’re awake, you really need to go back to sleep. That’s what you need right now. Sleep.”

Tyler nods. “You okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“The baby?”

“The baby’s fine. You don’t need to worry about us. There’s a lot of people that are stepping up to take care of us. Time to worry about yourself for a bit. Just close your eyes, okay?”

“Cold.”

“You’re cold?”

He nods once more.

“I can go and find you another blanket. I can…”

“No,” he quickly objects. “Stay. Don’t go.”

“I won’t,” she promises. “I won’t go anywhere. I’m right here.”  She places a hand on the side of his face and presses a kiss to his temple. “I’m not leaving. I’m right here.”

“You’re warm.”

“It’s your sweater. I always steal them. They seem to keep me warmer than mine do. Here…” she shrugs out of the hoodie and gently lays it over him. “...that’ll help. You really need to sleep, Tyler.  That’s the only way you’re going to get better and get out of here. You need to close your eyes and get some rest, alright?”

“Alright.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up. However long that is.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too.”  She presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose,  then rests her forehead against his. Eyes closed as her fingers continue to run through his hair.  It is soft and comforting. Soothing.  Quickly helping  him drift off once more.

[zankivich]

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 12.5

*Shawn’s point of view*

There’s no snow on the ground in Georgia is the first thing he notices. The second thing he notices is that y/n and him have polar opposite upbringings. She takes him to a house that he has to bend down for his head to clear the doorway. The length from the driveway to the front door is a shorter distance than it took for him to get to his room growing up, and the neighborhood of houses looks nothing like the acres of land his father owned. But the second they enter the house there’s music playing. Al Green seems to blast from every corner in the kitchen. Despite the fact that there’s no snow on the ground, the house couldn’t be filled with more warmth. There are voices that carry from the kitchen with laughter and joy and snarkiness. It’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced in his life.

She holds his hand and pulls him deeper into the house towards the sound of the music and the laughter. In the kitchen there’s a group of women all sitting around a table cooking various foods. One’s got a potato peeler and sweet potatoes. One is busy mixing butter into flour with her hands. Another seems to be chopping vegetables. There’s an older lady who sits at the table simply overlooking everyone else. But none of them are y/n’s mom, and he knows that immediately because they look just alike. Her mother was at the stove with a big spoon and an even bigger pot mixing what smelled awfully similar to y/n’s famous greens. They had the same cheek bones and the same smile and the same hips, though her mom’s were fuller. If the similarities in likeness didn’t do it, the way each of them screeched upon eye contact surely would’ve connected the dots.

“MY BABY!” She cried dropping her spoon into the pot and making a b-line straight for y/n.

“MOMMY!”

They embraced and squeezed and jumped and cheered just to each other. It was the happiest he’d ever seen her. And he loved every second of it. All of the nerves from the car completely faded away as he watched his girlfriend get this special moment with her mother. And he knew immediately that they’d done the right thing in coming. This is exactly what she needed.

“You look beautiful.” Her mom giggled squeezing her cheeks and moving down to prod at the rest of her body. “And...thin. What they feeding you in that city girl?”

y/n rolled her eyes. “Momma I can take care of myself. I been telling you that for years.”

“Mhm and I been telling you for years that there’s no pain in letting others help your stubborn big head out.”

He chuckled at the joke, alerting the room to his presence. And that’s when everything shifted.

The entire room turned to look at him. The lady with the sweet potato stopped peeling. Her mom’s eyes widened. The older lady at the table stares at him in a way that makes him feel small, smaller than he ever has in his life. Suddenly he’s sweating. Has he always been sweating? Oh God. Thankfully y/n comes to the rescue.

She steps back over to him and wraps her arms around one of his.

“Everyone this is Shawn. He’s my boyfriend. If you break him, you deal with me. Shawn this my auntie Debrah, my auntie Janet, my auntie Carolin, and my grandma Gina. And that’s my mommy Audre.”

He cleared his throat and threw on his best smile holding up the peace offering he brought in the form of alcohol.

“Hello. Thank you so much for having me in your home for the holidays. I think if I tried to cook for the two of us I might have burnt the place down, and y/n surely would’ve killed me before the fire did.”

Grandma Gina laughs. It’s a big belly laugh for such a tiny woman. She was the same complexion as Audre except with silver hair that went all the way down her back in a neat braid. Even if she was small, she was far from frail, her hands resting on a cane that she knocked into the floor as she laughed. Everyone else turned to her, and it was as if once he received her approval the rest of the room dissolved into laughter as well. He released a big breath and leaned into y/n’s side. They might not hate him after all.

Audre walks over to the two of them and gives him a look over from head to toe. He feels small again. He never needed to be liked so much in his life. He peered over at y/n who was smiling hesitantly at her mother like she was just begging her to like him. He wanted to ask if he should get on his knees or something.

“This one hmm?” She asked.

Y/n looked up at him and smiled warmly before nodding at her mother like a child picking out their pet at the pet shop. He smiled at Audre and nodded too.

Audre snorted. “Oh lord. Okay. I’m Audre. You can call me Audre.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you Audre.”

He moved away from y/n just long enough to hug her and was surprised at the warmth that she could bring to a touch. Like mother like daughter apparently.

“Oh y/n, this boy is just as bony as can be too!” Audre complained poking at his stomach. “Even more so!”

He chuckled. “Ma’am I have forty-two percent muscle mass.”

“Good for you. We’ll make sure to change that today. Pull him up a seat y/n before he wastes away.”

“Oh lord.”

“Yea, y/n pull me up a seat before I waste away.” He grinned.

She unabashedly punched him in the arm and went to take off her coat.

“Boy yo legs ain’t broken. Get your own chair.”

Ah yes. He’d forgotten completely who he was dating. Woops.

He finds that “home y/n” is one of his favorites. She pulls up her sleeves and joins her mom at the stove and it’s like she’s completely in her element. He learns that in her family the women all come together to cook. It’s always at Audre’s house every year, and no one is allowed into the house until all the food has been cooked and is ready to eat. By the time the night was over, the house would be full of every family member in town and all those who could make it from out. They assured him there would barely be space to sit, but they all found a way. For them Christmas day was spent with immediate family and then everyone would come together for a meal. It wasn’t about presents, but just being able to be together.

They all love her so much. Auntie Carolin and Auntie Debrah just ask her questions about work and the city and all the incredible things that she gets to do. And y/n couldn’t be more humble. She stays away from the after parties and the jets and focuses on what matters. She told them the story of Normani crying in her dressing room after the VMAs, how she was the first black woman to win her award in nearly a decade. She told them about being in the studio and watching people create, getting to be apart of something bigger than herself. And he can see it in their faces. There’s no jealousy, or ill will in anyway. They’re so incredibly happy and proud of everything that she does. It makes his stomach and his heart feel full to watch people who know just how amazing she is. And she is.  It’s overwhelming even more so than usual.

“Here, taste this.” She hummed plopping down on his lap with a big wooden spoon.

It was the sweet potatoes from earlier in this wonderful concoction of brown sugar and cinnamon and butter. He groaned around the spoon.

“That’s amazing.” He sighed. “When can I eat it?”

“How your forty-two percent muscle mass ass eats so much I will never understand. Let me see if I can sneak you some.”

“K. Love you, sweetheart.”

“Yea, I love you too bighead.”

“I heard you got a big head too.” He argued.

“Yea and if you ever wanna see anything besides my big head I suggest you forget what you heard. And swiftly.” She smiled.

“Sounds like a plan!”

“That’s what I thought!”

God he loved her.

***

*Y/n’s point of view*

Fifteen minutes. You left for fifteen minutes to go to the bathroom and scrub the pie crust from underneath your fingernails. Only to come back to your boyfriend Disney prince-ing your whole entire family! Tina Turner’s greatest hits had matriculated into the line up of music and Shawn was taking turns twirling every woman in the kitchen around the room. You watched as he somehow managed to get your grandmother out of her chair and into his arms so that he could waltz her slowly around the kitchen table. Every single one of those women had turned into gushing teenaged girls. It was absolutely pathetic. And incredibly on par with your reaction to him as well. Where had they made him at?!

You stepped gently up to your grandmother, fingers easing softly onto her shoulders as she leaned back to smile at you.

“Can I steal him for a second grandma?”

She nodded warmly. “Girl go on ahead. My hip was starting to hurt.”

He helped her back to her seat and accepted the kiss on the cheek that she gave him before coming back to you. His arms, long and warm, tugged you into his hold as he twirled the two of you gently back and forth. Neither of you would notice the way your nosy ass family watched every second, but that’s okay. You ran your fingers through his hair and played with the curls until they were big and fluffy the way you liked.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” You asked him.

He grinned. “I told you I’d win them over. I’m charming, honey; what can I say?”

“The ego on you.” You snorted. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Me neither. I question how I managed to get you just about every day.”

Okay that one was smooth.

“I think it was when you let me sleep over for the first time.” You hummed.

His eyes widened at the revelation of you actually having an answer to his question.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you remember?” You paused to lower your voice. “When we did the ropes for the first time? You let me stay. We did something totally new that  neither of us had ever done before. And it was amazing and we took care of each other, but it was still a little overwhelming. I didn’t even have to say anything, but you let me stay. And you pretended to cook too many eggs the next morning so I would have breakfast. I think that’s the first time you really got me.”

He smiled warmly and pushed his head deeper against your fingers.

“I was terrified of hurting you. I just wanted everything to go right, and I wanted you to feel good and only for it hurt if that meant it still felt good. And also you looked so cute when you were sleeping I couldn’t just let you leave without breakfast.”

“See? You cared about me.” You grinned.

“I always cared about you, y/n. Always.”

“Yea. Now that I think I about it, I think I did too.”

“Good.”

He presses your lips together like it’s nothing. Like your whole matriarch isn’t there. But when his lips are soft and warm and moving against yours, it’s hard to care about much else.

***

It should have come as no surprise that the rest of your family would love Shawn just the same. He happily jumped into the rough housing of all the younger kids, carrying two of your cousins on either of his arms through the living room while another one held onto his leg. Everything about him was perfect. And it’s not that you didn’t know that, didn’t know that you loved him and loved all of the things about him besides the parts that you didn’t. It’s just that he fell into your life so easily. He made himself at home and he picked up right where everything else left off. And you didn’t know how but it made you feel good.

You were standing at the entraway way of the living room by the kitchen watching him with your arms crossed when your mom came up to lean against you.

“Hmm...He’s a nice one isn’t he?” She hummed against your shoulder.

You nodded. “He really is.”

“Is he...the one?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh momma!”

“I’m just asking. Girl, I want some grandbabies. And the last person you brought home to meet me was in high school. I might not get another chance.”

You let your face fall into your hands in mortification. Dating in your thirties was tough. No matter how progressive the country might--or might not--be, family always complicated things. Your mom was of an era where marriage was a thing that you did no matter if you were in love or not. Cue the fact that you hadn’t seen your father since you were eight. You in all of your confidence and all of your womanhood, didn’t see marriage nor children as requirements. They didn’t even exactly scream appealing to you. You’d be happy with your apartment and maybe, at some point, a cat. That was really your goal, your happy place. It just so happened that maybe Shawn complicated that a bit for you.

“He’s young.” You murmured watching him get tackled down to the ground by children. “He’s not even twenty-five yet. He’s got no idea what he wants.”

“Is that so? So y’all are really just playing around huh?”

You paused and looked over your shoulder at your mother. You shook your head hesitantly.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

She tilted her head in question. “Then what would you say, y/n?”

“I...I don’t know. I’d say we’re really enjoying each other’s company. I’d say we’re very serious about actively making each other happy and working to co-exist together because we enjoy each other so much. But it’s not like he wants to move in with me, or start a life with me. I don’t want to ask that of him.”

“Now which is it? Is it he’s not ready, or you don’t want to ask him if he’s ready?”

“It’s...It’s...dammit momma, why you always gotta ask questions?” You whined.

“Because I am pushing sixty child and I want some grandbabies! Before I die.” She huffed.

You rolled your eyes again and turned back over your shoulder only to catch Shawn staring at you with a similar level of fondness that you had for him. He tilted his head in ask that things were going okay. All you could do was nod and smile. He didn’t need to stress about your mother being crazy. That was your job.

***

Aretha Franklin plays in the background. You’re sat on the floor together with the tree in the background. It’s quiet with all of your extended family long gone. Your mother fast asleep, it was time for you and Shawn to finally share presents with one another. You, in one of his sweatshirts and leggings after the long day. Him in another and those plaid sweats of his that you really liked. His hair is pulled back with a headband and it makes you smile. He hums Natural Woman to you as he sets a box in your palm.

“This one, I just thought was pretty. It’s not a big deal, okay?” He murmured.

“Okay, okay. Gimme!” You whined.

They were hoops. Big ass hoops. Big ass, rose gold diamond encrusted hoops. It was like he knew the way to your heart and had every intention of nestling himself there.

“Wow. They’re beautiful! Jesus, Shawn.”

“You like ‘em?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Of course I do, are you kidding me?”

“Good. That makes me happy”

You kissed him in thanks, his arms wrapped tight around your waist.

“I love you.” You murmured handing him a gift of his own. “I hope you like this. I thought it was pretty too.”

Shawn’s watches were one of his most important accessories among many.  You’d grown incredibly fond of the sound of his watch hitting the dresser when he undressed for the night. It always meant he was there to stay with you. And it always meant he was yours for the night. So, getting him a watch felt like the obvious choice. But, this wasn’t just any watch. Shawn’s watches were usually bulky and flashy, an ode to his father no doubt. This watch on the other hand came with a fine, black leather band that was more classic and refined. The face was large in a similar fashion to more contemporary brands. It was rose gold and this beautiful rich navy blue color. It was so gorgeous you’d thought about keeping it for yourself. Instead, you figured you’d rather look at it on his wrist instead.

“Shit, babe this is beautiful. This must’ve cost you a fortune.” He gasped. “This is for me?”

“‘Course it is. What other bighead is sitting in this room?”

He whined. “Damn, you bought it for yourself? That’s tough.”

“Rude!”

“What, you can call me bighead, but I can’t call you bighead?” He smiled placing his watch to the side so that he could stalk closer to you.

You pouted at him. “Exactly.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair, my love.” He chuckled before sobering. “Thank you. It’s amazing. I love you.”

He kissed you again. You decided to not be mad at him anymore. For now.

Amongst the other things you’d gotten for each other was an envelope. He pulls you into his lap and wraps his legs around yours in warmth and protection. His body seems to touch yours at all points, and when you lean into him it feels like home. More so than being home. How could that be?

“Promise me you won’t freak.” He murmured when you went to reach for the envelope.

You raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Promise.”

“No! What are you trying to get me to promise? What’s in there?”

He smiled. “Nothing bad.”

“I told you no islands, Shawn.” You whined.

“It’s not an island, sweetheart.”

“Or a country. Or any ridiculously large piece of land. Or anything more than my rent.”

He rolled his eyes and nuzzled his head into yours until his curls covered your face and you couldn’t speak.

“I actually didn’t spend anything at all. Now will you hush and open the damn envelope?”

“Hmm. Give it here.”

You reached for the envelope, your finger sliding under the paper to rip it open.  Inside was just a piece of paper. No island. No car. No country. You frowned down at the sheet in confusion. It was a listing. And at first you thought he’d bought you a new place to live, which truly would have been quite ridiculous. But, no. He was right; he hadn't bought anything. He actually sold something instead.

“You--you sold your place.” You mumbled in shock.

“I did.” He nodded. “Part of our trip wasn’t just about us getting away and having fun. I also needed the movers to be able to have access to my apartment.”

“Oh Shawn. You really, really didn’t need to do that for me.”

“No, I--I very much did. And I didn’t need you to ask, okay? What happened there, what that guy did...I could never ask you to go back there. And I don’t want to. It was easy to leave. Trust me. I couldn’t stomach living there anymore either way. It was really for the both of us.”

You turned in his arms so that you could better view him. He immediately reached for your cheeks just as you reached for his. You each seemed to sigh in relief at the touch of the other.

“I can’t believe you’d do that for me.” You whispered eyes dampening against your will.

He smiled, eyes big and clear and so warm. His oversized thumb wipe at a tear that trailed down your cheek before he kissed any traces left behind.

“I’d do anything for you. I thought I’d made that clear by now.”

“You have. Come here.”

His arms around you tug until your more in his lap then on the ground. His lips find yours and your arms tangle the two of you further together. He kisses you so sweet that you’d be weak in the knees if you even attempted to stand. His tongue is soft, and it feels like a dream when his hands trace your body as well. It’s not the usual charge of lust and trying to crawl inside one another. This one is just sweet, just feels like holding each other close and nurturing each other. It feels so perfect. It’s a very merry christmas.

“Thank you.” You told him when it was all set and done. “I think this is the best christmas I’ve had in years.”

“Good. Just wanna make my baby happy is all. Seems like you make me happy every day, least I can do is repay the favor, right?”

“Yea well you do that and then some.”

When all the paper has been torn and your gifts have been open, all that’s left to do is drink hot chocolate at your mother’s kitchen table and sneak pieces of pie and left over ham. It’s without a doubt the best christmas you’ve ever had. And it’s entirely because of him.

“Hey...Where are you gonna live now?” You asked around your mug.

“Oh, you know that high rise over by the coffee shop you like to go to in the morning?”

Your eyes widened.

“You didn’t.”

He shrugged. “I did. It’s like ten grand cheaper than what I was spending, and I heard really hot women hangout at the coffee shop. There’s a gym there too. So you know, I was really being selfish.”

“Shawn I could...I could walk to your place.”

He nodded and reached for your hand.

“Is that...okay? I don’t want you to think I’m encroaching on your space. I know how much that means to you. I just want you to know that my space can be your space too ya know? If you want. I’ll be around.”

“Uggggggggh! You gotta stop that!” You whined quickly butting your head into his shoulder.

“What?! What’d I do?”

“You can’t be so sweet that you make me feel things like I’m thirteen again! It’s gross. It makes me feel all fluttery and bubbly. I am a woman dammit.”

He only laughed at you like the jackass that you were and tugged you deeper into his arms across your chair.

“You’ve made me feel fluttery since I met you, and I’m not ashamed of it. I like that I can make you feel good. That’s all I wanna do.”

There was simply nothing else you could say to a man that looked the way that your boyfriend did saying the things that your boyfriend said. All that one could do was to pick up the leftover pie from the table and shove it in his face. And run of course. That you could do too.

“Oh you are in so much trouble!” He huffed from across the table where you now stood, poised and ready to leap. “And not the kind you like!”

You leaned on the chair laughing at the whip cream that covered Shawn’s face and eyes.

“You look pastier than normal!”

He shook his head and wiped the remaining pie off of his face before reaching his hands out towards you.

“Come here, y/n.”

“No.”

“Come on. You know what’s coming.”

“If you touch me, I will tell my momma.”

“You better call her then!” He grunted lunging after you.

You quickly turned and ran through the house like the child only he could make you feel like.

“MOMMA!”

***

The morning you had to leave for the airport, you woke up without a boyfriend. Your fingers had programmed a tendency of their own to go searching for him upon wake up, but when they came up empty all you could do was frown at the space on the pillow where his head had once been. Before you could get too annoyed though you felt  the warmth of breath between your thighs that with ease made your legs part. Turns out he wasn’t far after all.

“Babe.” You smiled back arching as you stretched. “What are you doin’?”

You felt his tongue trace your thighs before he popped out, curls first from beneath the covers.

“Just wanted to start the day right. With my favorite thing to have for breakfast.” He grinned pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “You.”

You rolled your eyes and definitely shifted your hips to be closer to him.

“You know if my mom caught us, we’d both be dead right? And you first?”

“Guess you’ll have to be a good girl and be quiet for me. Or do I need to give you something to focus on instead?”

You bit your lip. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Yea? How bout you put my fingers in your mouth and think about how you plan to stay quiet when I make you squirt in a few minutes?”

“God I love you. Yes, please.”

You felt more than heard him hum as he kissed at the outer lips of your labia. You held his hand in both of yours, fingers wettening the digits. He started with long, gentle pressings of his tongue, and bumped your clit every now and again with his nose. Shawn had grown much accustomed to how to get you off. It was his favorite past time it sometimes seemed. He was a wizard at making you squirm, at getting your hips to roll, and your toes to curl. His lips and tongue were so incredibly soft between your folds and he licked and nibbled at your clit like a dream. Your fingers turns to fists in the sheets and your thighs melded to his head as he took you there so quickly.

“Baby,” You gasped. “Baby, please. R--Right there.”

Your favorite was when he placed his oversized hand against your pubic bone and tummy, locking you into place. He used his thumb to focus on your clit, tongue and lips focusing on the rest of you. It drove you absolutely mad. You bucked against his chin, fingers reaching desperately for his head beneath the covers. The covers began to move as Shawn shuffled onto his knees to follow you with his mouth. His tongue was like a dream. A skilled, pointy, softy little dream. And you were like a rocket, just waited to be rubbed until you exploded apparently.

“Oh my fucking god.” You gasped, collapsing back against the sheets.

Shawn did not resurface, because apparently singers don’t need any air once so ever, and instead continued to lick away your release from between your thighs like the little devil he was. Your mom burst into the room just as you were getting your breathing under control.

“Time to get up, y/n! I expect y’all to come eat before you go to the airport.” She explained before closing the door once again.

Jesus.

“Well I don’t know what she’s talking about,” Shawn grinned as he ascended from beneath the covers and crawled on top of you. “I already ate.”

“I hate you.”

***

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[heartlessgirls]

Heart surgeon

Warning sex and a lot of gore.

A young woman was tied to a operating table her chest open heart visible. The nude female doctor with glasses was standing over her. The doctor explain that the terminally ill patient is compatible and she had a organ donor card so the doctor will help herself to her organs. The doctor had a idea. She injected the patient in the heart. The patient said my heart you injected it into my heart!! The doctor said yes don’t worry you won’t bleed to death. The patient woke up her chest close but her heart was at surface level with thin skin protecting it. It was beating so strongly her breasts wobbled due to the force. The doctor said your ribs would have broken if I left them. The patient said my heart is too strong. The doctor said I will help she grab the heart the patient raised up trying to free her self it did not work. The doctor stab the heart with a needle and said see you in a while. The patient woke up her chest open she saw the doctor grab a artery. My heart feels empty what have you done to my heart!! The doctor said I am making sure it won’t get blood. The patient said my heart! The patient said let go of my beating heart it is my source of life. The doctor said I know I love hearts it is why I am focusing on yours. The doctor let go and the heart tried to beat better. The doctor said let me help you raise your heart rate. The doctor fisted the patient’s womb and grab her heart. The patient said my heart is being killed by my womb. The doctor said that sounds nice. She got it to a rhythm she liked. The doctor said now time for the opposite. The patient felt pressure on her chest. She was horrified what she saw was her heart swelling. The patient said my heart will burst!! The doctor said no it won’t. The doctor let go of the arteries that pushes blood out of the heart. The heart was still and not moving. The patient said it is too much blood my heart can’t pump itself. The doctor said you are right let me help. The doctor slowly squeeze some blood out. The doctor said too slow. The doctor squash the patient heart and she felt the blood rush to her body. The doctor said time for the fun. She began to rub her crotch against the patient while grabbing her heart. The patient said my heart!! The doctor said yes it will stop. The heart did stop the patient said my heart over and over again. The doctor got so turn on hearing her say my heart. The doctor said time for the best part. The doctor sat on the patient’s chest and slid the heart in her genitals. The patient saw her heart engulfed by the doctors wet lower lips. The doctor said it needs a boost. She used a needle to shoot a drug in the heart to revive the dead heart. It beats again. The doctor said you will not have all the fun. She used some of the fluid and injected her clitoris. She then injected it into her nipples. Surely the shot in the left pierced her own heart. The doctor thought that was too much. Her heart was beating at fatal levels before the first shot. The doctor thought might as well use it all. The doctor injected it into her heart and she slid it in and out as if she was masturbating. The doctor felt her heart that was beating at fatal levels was bleeding from the rapid beats she enjoyed the blood filling her chest. The doctor finished having sex with the beating heart. The patient said why torture yourself? The doctor said I am a amoral insane monster of a doctor. I eat humans like how I tasted you reproductive system earlier while you were asleep. I do insane experiments. Like once I grew a cock and balls temporarily and hook my heart to it so it would shoot my heart’s blood and semen without me masturbating. I was thirsty. I ended my life a few times in pursuit of my insanity. The doctor went on to say I had sex with corpses like a few minutes ago. The patient said you had sex with me. The doctor said your heart was dead when you heart stops you are a corpse. The best people will see you as some useable organs. You had no family or friends. The patient’s heart beat with anger she did not want to be seen as a object. The doctor said there is my heart. The patient saw the doctor grab a scalpel and the patient get cold. She saw the doctor remove her heart. The patient yelled my beating heart!! The doctor said I do love this muscle. The doctor said enjoy it. As the patient’s lungs drew shallow breaths despite a missing heart the doctor placed it next to the patients face. The patient said my heart!! She saw it die infront of her eyes her precious source of life her beating heart. Then she felt a pulse she looked at her chest and she saw a new heart and her chests was healing. The doctor was undoing her straps. The doctor said you can not die I fixed you. I done the same to myself selling organs pays well when they grow back. The doctor said now you do something for me. I want you to be my assistant so let’s see if you have it in you. The patient was confused and said why. The doctor said I needed to get you in the right mood, brain surgery will be temporary as you will heal back to normal so I want you in the right mental state. The patient was still confused but she could not waste the opportunity. She grab a knife and stab the doctor’s chest. She tried to cut her rib cage open. It was not working so she pulled the doctor’s ribs out one by one. The doctor enjoyed the struggle to remove her ribs. The patient removed the last rib and before she can exact revenge on the heart. The patient grabbed a knife and slid it into the doctor’s pussy back and forth but the doctor felt excited and turned on. The patient started to punch the heart. It was starting to burst. At the end the patient cried into the bloody open chest of the doctor. The doctor said there there as she patted the patient’s back. The doctor noticed it was a motherly moment for her. Considering the sexual things she had done the doctor felt excited to call the patient her daughter. She is actually hoping to be called mommy by her one day. The patient who was fed up was eating the docotr’s heart. The doctor felt like she gave her daughter nourishment she likes this. The patient felt the doctor’s increased heartbeat in her mouth. The doctor said I took away your ability to feel pain noticed how you never screamed in pain and you may do whatever you want with me. Now stop crying and let us see what else you can do to me. The patient said in a soft voice ok. The doctor knew she now owns her heart and soul. The doctor knew the reverse was true as well. The doctor thought I can’t wait to see what my heart will go through.

I honestly did not originally have the intention of making more stories but the ideas keep popping in.

[heroes-hq-blog1]

13 IS OFFICIALLY READY TO JOIN THE ACADEMY!

› KAZUKI RYUJIN › 6732 YEARS OLD › IMMORTALITY › 4 YEARS IN THE ACADEMY

POWER

Immortality AKA Death’s Love He never dies. Period. You can cut his head off, take his heart out, stab him in the brains, but no matter what he just won’t die. In the end, he lived through some miracle, regeneration, or the sort. His body is also permanently stuck at the age of twenty, and his age is pretty much a mess considering all the technicalities. 

STRENGTHS

Immortal He could not die. Never. He tried, several times. When he ‘died’, he just wakes up in a void or her realm to talk with her briefly before returning. Sometimes, if he willed it to, he wouldn’t even meet her. That’s only if his regeneration could quickly heal him up ( decapitation was a sure way to ‘knock him out’ briefly with how long it took to heal up ). He also does not age, permanently twenty-four AKA young and pretty.

Regeneration When he gets fatal wounds or lose limbs and the sort, a black matter would come out from the shadows or anything ‘dark’ ( e.g black clothing, black hair, etc. ) and start to seep into the wounds, reattaching it like some morbid stitching. If he was decapitated or lost his limb, the matter would quickly regrow whilst the detached part quickly withered away as if it was a instant fast-forward of decay. 

Contaminant Immunity He was immune to poison, disease, etc. He couldn’t get drunk, couldn’t get sick, pretty much anything trying to mess with his immune system or his insides gets obliterated. He still has good lungs and liver, no matter how he desperately tried to ruin it.

Death’s Trusted Knight A connection to Death. His kind of sugar mommy? The woman was a being that had many connections, could do many things beyond any human, and more. She was someone that was definitely a person that could offer more than anyone else for anything. As her so called trusted knight, he had a lot more leeway than anyone ever would.

WEAKNESSES

I: The Curse of Misfortune He was cursed with misfortune when he accepted Death’s deal to live again. However, such a thing went far beyond from never getting the good hand in poker. No, it’s come to a point where every single day he was wondering how he was going to ‘die’ this time. He also frequently get into chaotic occurrences that were really good ice breakers. And he did not trust cohesive strategies, no matter how carefully planned, when he’s on the board. He had to wing it and hope for the best, because one way or another, something screwed up and the whole plan would go down the drain for it.

I: Madness of Living He’s thousands of years away from his birth era. He lost everyone he loved, had to suffer the pain from his tumultuous life, and honestly he was starting to lose it. He’s broken, fragmented pieces of his soul having been haphazardly put together just so he could ‘live’. He expected those he would get close to today to die as well, he expected to them to somehow get screwed over just by being with him, he did not hope for anything good to last. Not with his luck. Not with his immortality. That’s just how it was.

R: Regeneration does not Equal to Painless Do you recall the talks about how your immune system fights back against anything foreign in your body? And you know how sometimes they’re fighting against the medicine you need to swallow so that your illness or the sort doesn’t mess you up? That’s how his body reacted to the black matter. It’s painful, as if his muscles were painfully stabbed and forcefully stretched to connect to each other. It was not fun at all.

R: Deal with it If it’s not fatal, he had to just deal with his injuries. Until he got injured to the point it could kill, then that’s when the black matter made its appearance to heal him. If not, it wouldn’t activate—causing him to suffer a great deal. If he wanted a quick heal, he had to kill himself for the regeneration. Either way, it’s a painful experience.

CI: No Enhancements More of a weakness overall, but he just had no enhancements or fancy side ability other than being able to keep himself alive. He was stuck with being a tank shouldering all the pain. Fighting against others with powers and the only reason he could really win was because he had great stamina and he just…doesn’t die. Moreover, the lack of self-preservation skills was another way he could win, considering he didn’t have to preserve himself in nay way with his immortality.

CI: It Still Hurts Sure, he’s not poisoned or about to have his lungs or liver fail anytime soon ( sadly enough ), but it didn’t help his major problem that was pain. Physical pain that always found it’s way to ruin his day and torture him endlessly. It didn’t help make regeneration or getting hit by a truck any less painful.

DTK: Death’s a BITCH The woman was hot, yes. He could accept that. However, she was also a complete asshole. She liked to pull stunts like making him go on an errand when he needed to study for a test but returning him only when it was a few minutes before said test began. Then there was the fact she was sort of his boss? And he had to do dumb jobs. One time she brought him to her realm all so he could be her cheerleader when she was gambling with some poor souls ( he saw how her cards change when she didn’t like it in the matter of a second but kept silent lest he wants to be punished ). 

DTK: Death’s Agenda She loved him, or well, as close to it as she could ever feel for anything. She liked to have time with him and the main reason he disappeared from campus when he did so. Also, even as an ally she was still not someone you want to completely work with. Heck, look at him, she kept him for her war even though she knew time was moving rapidly in the living realm for him. Any deal he made with her always had some shitty drawback, and she could cruel about it. It didn’t help that she just knew how to get her way no matter what, which was shitty. He may be someone she cared for and would be willing to help, but she still was Death, and as Death, she had to keep to certain rules.

ORIGINS

CHAPTER I.

Perhaps he was born unfortunate. A Korean baby abandoned in the city of Japan. But then again, he was picked up by a loving couple that loved him wholeheartedly. The nameless boy was named Kazuki Ryujin, and he grew up content. His parents were both rambunctious and fun, always bringing him out and travelling around. He was more of a homebody, though, preferring to laze about in home and watch the newest episodes of Naruto, or playing Pokémon in his gameboy. Still, he followed along and let them drag him out because, well, he wasn’t the sort to want to argue too much. Life from childhood to middle school was all okay. He was just another member of society with friends, studying for his classes, spending time with his parents. Everything goes in a cycle, a mundane routine. He didn’t mind it at all, not when it did no harm. But…as he reached age fourteen, he grew more bored of everything. The world slowly became more like white noise, and he became a man that was just following through the motions. Until eventually, he got thoughts in his head. Would it matter if I died anyways? I’m kind of tired of this. It’s gonna be okay. No one would mind… An abandoned child taken in by loving parents, surrounded by good friends, and even then with all that—he's tired. He took a scissor in his hand, and shut his eyes. He was just going…to sleep… And so he plunged it into his chest.

CHAPTER II.

He opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw were bloody red eyes. With a yelp, he stumbled back, but realized those red eyes belong to the most gorgeous woman he ever set his eyes on. With long, inky black locks, her body donning red lingerie and a loose kimono top, she looked down at him with an amused smile. Red nails comes up to his chin, tilting his head upwards to look into her eyes. “Killing yourself, another boring death. But you had a good life didn’t you? Humans are so strange.” She purred, and he couldn’t help but shiver. Moreover— “W-wait…I’m dead?” He stumbled, his final memories still too hazy. When it did hit him, though, he froze. Because if he was dead, how the hell was he talking to this woman? And…she referred to herself as something above humans. “Yes, you are. You stabbed yourself with a scissor. Pretty lame, at least jump off a building, I would have loved to see your pretty face as a mangled corpse.” Her grin was feral, and he could only freeze. What the hell? Who—no, whatwas she? Suddenly, he found himself warier than ever before. “Oh now, don’t give me that look! I’m here because I kindly want to give you a choice. Congratulations, Kazuki Ryujin, for I am giving you the chance to live again!” She chirped, as if she didn’t suggested something so ludicrous. And he had to take a look at her, wondering what the fuck he had gotten himself into. Before he could say anything, she pulled him along elsewhere. He became aware of his surroundings, because now he noted how it was like he was in a void of darkness, a place wherein he could feel everything yet nothing at all. He didn’t know where she was bringing him to, not when it seemed like there wasn’t a proper destination. Then, she stopped, and with a swipe of her hands, it felt like she had cleared a fog. Initially he was thankful, but then when he saw what was visible to him now—he wished she hadn’t. He saw his parents, sobbing in front of the hospital room. He saw his friends, depressed. He came to a realization.  Would they care if I died? …Yes, they did. “Leaving your sweet parents like that, how vile. And look, there’s quite the amount of people who liked you. I saw people with more success in their lives dying without anyone crying for them. Yet, there’s you.” She cooed at him, but her words were like venom. Her arms wound around his frame from the back, and she whispered into his ear. “But I could change that. I can help you make them happy again. All you have to do is live, but in turn you will face great misfortune as you do so. But it’s a worthy punishment don’t you think? For doing such a thing to them?” He’s lulled by her words, the consequences sounding perfectly fine to him. An impressionable mind of a thirteen year old having been given a choice, but what he never knew was that he was already being manipulated into picking a choice. He gave his answer. And then he was gone. Next, when he woke up, he’s on a hospital bed and with nurses screaming about a miracle. Seeing his happy parents afterwards, he thought that perhaps it was worth it. ( And the woman known as Death laughed at her success. She eagerly watched him, waiting for misfortune to come. After all, he was just a means for entertainment. An unlucky fool that she decided to turn into her toy. …Perhaps he really was born unfortunate. )

CHAPTER III.

Coming back alive from what seemed like a sure-kill injury made him known as a miracle. He returned to his mother and father who had so many mixed emotions but most prominent being relief. His friends more careful now, but they try their best to show he’s appreciated. It was all wonderful indeed, and for a moment he forgot the consequences that came with the deal he agreed to. Until he tripped and fell down the stairs, snapping his neck in the process. Until he got hit by cars and his body mangled. Until he died, and died again, falling into a familiar void where he hears her voice, saw her in all her glory and made some comments, before he wakes up in a hospital bed once more. Fees paid by an unknown source. It was never easy, each death painful. And then he woke up to worried parents, confused doctors, and a new room in the hospital permanently reserved for him. No one knew how, but he just…never died. Many thought he was a mutant, but even then most people around him accepted him as is. That was fine, sure, but then he gets involved with criminals threatening him. Or finding gangs doing something unsavory. And at that time, in quiet Osaka, there really wasn’t anyone around. And he would butt in, uncaring of how he would end up as, only thinking “Fuck I gotta help them out.” Then don’t get him started on the secret realm of yokais. Or the time a fallen angel was crying in his kitchen as she drank his stash of vodka. Or the time he met a talking fire extinguisher that was the nicest gentleman he knew. Or when he fell into a pit and came across all the weird shit underground. Suddenly, his life wasn’t bland anymore. Instead, he was the immortal who got into all kinds of bullshit and somehow after the miracle news of his revival, everyone became desensitized to the point that this all became a mundane occurrence.  His life was of insanity, and through it all he found himself growing…tired. Because it was all fun and games, until he kept on hurting and ‘dying’ and it was an endless cycle of suffering. He started to even talk with Death, snarking at her fearlessly. A part of him had hoped that if he did, she would have decided he was better off dead. Instead, he charmed her more and they started a routine of banters. He was an idiot, that was what he thought today. He should have told here no. Alas, he had no time to care about that now. Not when he had a demon child on his lap as he drove on a motorcycle to run away from some cultist. Hopefully he didn’t get hit by  a car anytime soon…

CHAPTER IV.

He was twenty-four when Death ripped his soul out of his body and brought him to her realm to help her out in a war. She told him time worked differently here and the living world, and so he didn’t have to worry because he could return soon. Ryujin, a veteran with how to deal with Death, knew he had no choice anyways. So, he agreed to help her in the war.  She also explained to him that, although his soul was here, his body would remain perfectly normal. That was fine with him too. Then she also decided that since he was going to help her in this war wherein some idiots decided they wanted to overtake her, she decided to help him with a quicker revival. Regeneration, that’s what it was, but like everything she gave him, it came with a heavy drawback. He’s used to it at this point, merely telling her that he just wanted to get this over with. War is harsh. Even if demons and vile beings mainly stayed around her area ( apparently Death’s pretty much in charge of hell? He’s not sure anymore with her ) they were pretty fun to get along with. Cruel as some may be, horrendous deeds they may have done, but he treats everyone as individuals. Even Death, who palced him in this life of suffering. Lives were lost. Death told him that souls still ‘lived’ in a way. People can enter heaven or hell or stay on earth, but even deeper than that was an oblivion. The place where it was truly the end. He cried for some, but then he grew colder to it as it became more easy to accept. He was harmed beyond anything before, but he kept on reviving. He was a survivor, and he remembered blood on his hands, the fear of his enemies, the awe of his allies. A human that, whilst not holding any enhanced physique or fancy magic, lets himself bear the fatal injuries and kept charging onward. Four years. Four entire years of war before they won victoriously. Four years spending time with new and old souls. Four years becoming Death’s trusted knight, a fool of a human who saw the lonely queen and opted to build trust with her despite everything ( despite the utter loathing he held for her, for being the reason he was put into a constant limbo between life and death ). He was done with all of this. He thought it was going to be okay. Now, he’ll return to his mother’s cooking. He’ll play with his dad some sports. He’ll bring his friends to hang out with his family to someplace else. Somewhere nice and peaceful.  Death is quiet, holding him in her arms once more. He knew that he was going to return to the living world, and that he wouldn’t see her everyday. He lets her relish in the warmth, even if he mad no moves to hold her back. Unrequited, but liars like them liked to think otherwise. And then she puts him back, told him nothing as she took his soul and place him back to his body. He should have known things never went well with him.

CHAPTER V.

When he opened his eyes, it was in darkness and a confined space. His body felt stiff beyond belief, and for some reason his arms were crossed. As he moved about, and pushed, something above him falls off to the side and he felt like he was blinded by a flash bang or something. But as his eyes got used to the sudden brightness, he found himself sitting in a coffin. Moreover, there were people around him and they looked like…tourists? And was that a holographic information board? He saw those tourists bringing out what seemed like…cameras? And smartphones?  Then the implications of all these futuristic object hits him. Dread filled his stomach as he jumped out of the coffin. Some drew back as he got closer, others remained fascinated, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care to hear what they say, about undead and the coffin opening. All he could do was to first look at the information board. The Eternal Coffin. Since 2019, this coffin, for a man known as Kazuki Ryujin, could not be opened or destroyed for unknown reasons. It has been 6669 years since then… He looked at it blankly, body still as he stuck his eyes on the word 6696 years. Calmly, he returned to the coffin. He looked down at it, and noticed a slab behind it that had the words “Here lies Kazuki Ryujin. We hope you move on.” He fell down to his knees, losing all strength as the revelation hits. But he did not scream or cry. He did nothing but look at the now empty coffin. Then, he saw how sharped the edges of the coffin looked. It was good enough, he needed to talk to Death. And so, he bashed his head against the edge, ‘dying’ and uncaring of the screams of the people around him. When he ‘died’, he found himself back into a familiar void. Death was waiting in front of him, her bloody red locked into his bright blues. He rushed to her, ready to sock her in the face, but she easily gripped it. He tried to swung with the other, but it did nothing. He trembled, but she remain poised. He spat out with great disdain as she remained cold “You knew.” He was reminded of why he despised her. This selfish being that only wanted what she wanted, incapable of caring for others properly. The one who gave him his greatest suffering—immortality. The one who knew he would be gone for so long in the living world but kept him in her own one because she wanted him in her war. And… She was the only constant in his life now. She was the one who knew everything he had, and she was the only one here right now. So he breaks down in her arms. Sobbing as the weight of his situation settled on him. He held onto her, nails digging into her flesh and drawing out blood. But she embraced him closely, unflinching at the wounds and merely running her hand through his locks. He cursed at her, vicious words stabbing through her—for he knew her all too well ( I hate you, he said vehemently, and if she had a heart she thought perhaps it would have cracked ).  He was broken in her arms, and when he exhausted all he could say, she sighed and explain. “Someone cursed you in the war. What should have been four years becoming four second, minutes, or even hours—turned into 6696 years. I didn’t tell you because I needed you here” She caressed his cheek, soulless blues looking back at her. She hated that look, she much liked it better when it was shining with life. That aside, she continued. “Those that knew you were aware that you wouldn’t day. After several years, they decided to put you in a coffin. Your more magically attuned friends assisted to make sure that no matter what, your coffin would remain standing. And, no one would be able to open it until whatever lied within—you—had a beating heart.” And here they were now. Ryujin thought that this was all complete bullshit but what else was to be expected? He was cursed with great misfortune after all.

CHAPTER VI.

He woke up, all healed up. He also was chained down. Hm, at least it wasn’t a bed of spikes. This time, he was in a room of glass walls in a larger room with people around watching him. With ease, he asked “So…are you scientists here to experiment me? Or you guys good and have something to offer? Either way, I promise you that I’m harmless. Just really fucking hungry. Like damn, you guys got grub? I have not eaten for like 6000 years. Please respect your elders and give them food.” There was quite the startle, but a man in a suit took what seemed like a microphone and now he could hear them clearly “Is it right to presume that you are Kazuki Ryujin?” “Bitch, who else would I be? Fucking Beyonce—wait a goddamn second, you guys don’t have Beyonce here…fuck, you guys are sad.” He retorted, but his own revelation just made him feel heavier. Really, it’s not fun when no one understands your reference. There was a twitch to the man’s eye, and Ryujin merely remained peaceful. These fucks were too easy. “Why were you sealed? And what do you wish to do now?” The questioning continued, he answered, and he remained truthful throughout. By the end of it, he was released from his prison and glad to be able to stretch out his limbs. Then, the same man who questioned him came up to him with an offer. Avengers Academy, a place where super powered people could learn how to be heroes. Damn, he remembered when nothing as such existed. Instead, he just went to normal schools and live with chaos.  He easily agreed, if only because he seriously didn’t want to bother with the idea of getting a job, getting new money for himself, and all those complications. Free place just to learn how to be a hero? Psh, he might as well stay back as long as he could. 

CHAPTER VII.

Entering the academy when his physical age was twenty-four, mentally twenty-eight, and technically 6716 or 6720—however you want to see it, was pretty strange. Also, the school system worked differently and didn’t go by age, instead it was based on experience.  Moreover, he started school popularly known as The Coffin Man. Understandably so, since apparently his coffin was some sort of monument. He was curious as to why his coffin was in Korea, but when he asked Death, it just felt bittersweet. He and his parents planned a vacation to Korea, where he was truly from. He had always wanted to go there, and right before he was taken away to the war. They placed his coffin there in hopes that when he woke up and they weren’t around…he’d at least see the country he came from. He drank away the whole night after knowing that bit. Unfortunately, he couldn’t ever get drunk enough. A pity, he wanted to have a reason to break down without stopping himself from it. But yes, he had some other people asking him about his era. Moreover, he became the school’s so called punching bag. The training dummy meant for people to understand the closest thing to taking a life. He was immediately known to be a man that could survive anything, happily breezing through the physical aspects that the academy offered but absolutely failing in the academics. He grew better, but most times it was his own years of own experience that truly pushed him higher. He tried his best to pass, at least passing if only so he could pay back what he owed to the school. On his fourth year, he became a senior and now he’s pretty much on the fence on whether to fail or not. Mainly because, he honestly didn’t want to bother trying to get a life outside. After all, what sort of man that wished to die would want to try hard to live?

[ayestacksss]

Depression

Depression is something I’ve been dealing with for years. I never thought about it when I was younger, I truly thought I was the only person that felt the way I felt. The constant sadness even when nothing in particular happened recently, the poor eating and sleeping habits, crying myself to sleep every single night because I was finally alone and could let it happen. The fear that things will never get better, and my haunting past. I was diagnosed with depression when I was 17, and the doctor herself even said she was shocked because I was so functional. I went to school and kept my grades up, I played sports, played drums, and even had a full time job. Those were ALL distractions. I did truly love learning, though, and good grades were solely a reflection of my love of learning, not my discipline or guidance at home. I loved volleyball. I loved playing drums in the drum line, and granted I hated my job but who doesn’t hate working at McDonald’s? Once these activities finished and my day was complete, I would sit and cry.. for hours.. and hours.

     I was so distraught emotionally that there were times it physically hurt. It hurt to breathe, my chest would get tight, and my muscles ached. I got migraines often. I even had to go to the emergency room before because I was so stressed out, my heart wasn’t beating properly. There were times when the emotional pain and physical pain combined were literally paralyzing. My parents called me “lazy and defiant” when I couldn’t get out of bed in the morning. They called me a whore because I got a boyfriend who would pay attention to me because they wouldn’t. He wasn’t even a nice or good guy, but how would I know that when nobody ever showed or explained to me what is expected of a significant other? When my parents divorced when I was six, and my mom remarried an alcoholic drug addict who hadn’t worked in over 15 years? When my dad, the only reliable man in my life could barely remember how old I was? How was I supposed to know? 

     I try to find anything to blame my depression on. Oh, it’s probably genetic, I was bound for it before I was even brought into this world. Or maybe it’s the environment I’m in. You know, nurture vs. nature. In my case, it was both. I was already prone to it when I was thrown to the fucking foster care wolves. Growing up my entire life, I was surrounded by nothing but pure negativity. From a young age, I was told how horrible of a person my biological mother was, and I was taught to hate her. I was also taught that I was JUST like her. Growing up that was an insult, and in turn made me hate myself. My mom would scream in my face that I was “just like Christie” and “would never be anything more than she is”. I was told she didn’t love or care about me like a mother should. I was told she basically abandoned me and moved on to raise my little brother. This, for me, created not only abandonment issues but attachment issues as well. The way I looked at things was, shit, if my own mom can leave me, then anyone can. I attached myself and made myself vulnerable to all the wrong people, but could cut family off with no hesitation.I still act that way.  

     My parents were always so caught up in the high maintenance foster kids, or my stepdad was drinking until he blacked out and started saying shit he shouldn’t be saying and they would scream and fight. My mom would make me hide drugs and alcohol from her husband in my room at 14 years old. She dragged me into every adult situation I had no business being in and forced me to grow up way too fast. I was a caretaker for 6 or 7 other children, most of the time, illegally. I was a maid. I was a counselor to my mom. I was a chaperone to my stepdad. I was a nanny to my siblings. 

    My traumatic childhood mixed with harsh realities, tragedies, daddy issues. mommy issues, attachment issues, abandonment issues has made me into a woman that I am sometimes embarrassed to be. There are times when I AM TRYING TO LIVE MY LIFE and I can’t keep the tears in. My thought are deep, yet sporadic and negative. Today, I was feeling particularly down. I’m dealing with major relationship problems, family problems, and money problems. I decided to write some of my thoughts throughout the day to get them out of my head. On paper, I sound like a fucking crybaby but in my mind, I’m not just crying.....I’m screaming. I’m drowning but nothing around me will stop. In my head, I’m telling myself to pull it together, to keep a straight face. Don’t let your voice crack. Don’t let your face turn red. Don’t let anybody see you wipe that tear and definitely DO NOT let that tear fall all the way down your face. Here’s some of the thoughts I had today while I was trying to work:

“I want to go home and sleep forever. I have things to do. Things I WANT to do. They won’t get done.”

“The only thing that helps me think clear and calm is smoking weed. Everything makes sense... it makes me feel dependent though....”

“As bad as depression feels, sometimes it’s easier to succumb to the sadness. Let it take over. When you haven’t gotten enough sleep or simply don’t have the energy required to repress it, letting it eat me is easier.”

“Thinking of myself as ‘mentally ill’ is kind of embarrassing and a very hard reality.”

‘I wish I had someone who understood and could comfort me, instead of running from it or downplaying it bc they dont understand. But the guilt of putting that burden on someone else makes me feel so shitty I dont think I deserve anyone. I may just need to be alone forever.”

“I’m tired... and I’m tired of crying. I want to but it’s annoying. I can’t cry anymore.”