#i need to be medicated i think it would help

[plethorawrites]

Jason Todd who, for whatever reason— repeated concussions, a medical condition like Presbyopia (aka old age), or just extreme eye strain, starts struggling to read without his eyes and head hurting him.

It results in him needing glasses, which he downright refuses at first, since he thinks they make him look stupid and doesn't want his family to mock him.

Plus, he thinks that means he's getting old, like Bruce and there's no way he'd admit that.

But eventually you talk him into it, help him pick out a pair that he doesn't wear for weeks after getting, letting them linger on the side table while he squints to read with a dull ache in his head.

After a while of you reminding him, repeatedly, he needs to wear them if he wants the pain to stop, you stole his book away from him, refusing to give it back until he wears them.

He puts them on with an annoyed expression, asking if you're happy in a sarcastic manner. Yes. You were extremely happy. Both because he could read without pain once again and also because...well, he looked extremely good in glasses, even if he didn't think so.

Nodding, you gave him his book back, your gaze lingering just a little too long for him not to notice, unfortunately. He catches you staring, asking what's wrong and you just shake your head, telling him it's nothing.

He can tell it's something and sets his book down, insisting you tell him. "Is it the glasses? I look stupid, don't I?" He muttered.

You wouldn't respond, trying to fight back a smile he first assumed was mocking like his family had been, so he quickly rolls you over, pinning you to the bed while you try not to grin.

"That tickles," you mumble, feeling his hands press into your sides.

"Seriously, what?" He questions, noticing the blush on your cheeks as you finally look at him.

"You just look handsome, in them," is all you reply, swiping your thumb over his jawline. His lips curl up into an authentic smile.

"So it is the glasses, then?" He mumbles.

You shrug, your blush getting redder. "Maybe."

His smirk widens, leaning down to kiss you. "Should've told me you had a thing for them," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your neck. "I would have started wearing them a lot sooner."

[asingularcanadian]

bit of a side thing but i believe the two step process to getting medications is one of the small pernicious things that helps drive distrust of the medical system. Oh the doctor prescribed this but this company denied them? Maybe I dont need it that bad> maybe the doctor is just trying to make money off of me? like obviously its not something that people would conciously think but maybe a more covert thing like how advertising works?

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Can we get more hurt reader for Quinn to care for pretty please with 🍒s ontop?

I think it's about time I get the reader to a game, don't you?

Nothing could beat the energy of a sold out Canucks game.

Tonight was poised to be a tight game against the Atlantic Division's Toronto Maple Leafs and the hometown boys. You had made the plans weeks ago to attend the game, but none of your friends were available to go, so you were going solo. It hadn't been the first time sitting with no one to talk to in the stands, as there was always someone to strike up a conversation with, argue a wrong call over, or heckle one of the visiting players with. You wouldn't be without company that night.

Things had started off fast paced, with Quinn scoring the first puck mid-way through the opening period. It was always special getting to see him score in person, hearing the fans cheer for their beloved captain, and also with you being able to join them as just another fan. No one knew who you were; best as anyone else knew, you were just another girl in a Quinn Hughes jersey, and that was enough.

The players would take their positions back at center ice and Vancouver would lose the faceoff, and play would move into the Canucks' territory. Defensively, they seemed to be struggling to get a turnover and multiple shots would be deflected by Demko before the puck would get back to the neutral zone. However, it would get tipped and go up and out of play, with Toronto trying to return back to the offensive zone. You had been guilty of watching Quinn instead of where the puck was and that would be your downfall that night.

At first, you thought the guy sitting next to you had clocked you in the side of the head by accident. It wasn't after you heard a kid yell, "Get it! Get the puck! I want it!" that you were able to discern that you had missed the rogue puck sailing towards you and that had been what had your head spinning. That was your last, straightforward thought.

The rows behind you, who had seen the contact be made, gasped collectively and several reacted around you to make sure you were alright. Your ears were ringing, and you weren't quite sure where you were as you slumped forward and to the side, nearly slipping out of your seat. Everything was getting hazy and your vision was fading out. Your head had never hurt so bad in your life.

"Yeah, I need medical to section 116", you heard the usher radio in, your eyes slowly opening. Everything was too bright, too loud, and you were dizzy. There was a towel placed to the left side of your head and the throbbing felt like someone was hitting you with a hammer repeatedly. "Ma'am, try to stay still, please. We're going to get someone to help you."

You gritted your teeth against the sound of the packed arena and how it aggravated your brain, and you had to keep your eyes closed against the harsh lights above. All you wanted to do was slip away into sleep.

"We're going to help you up, okay? Are you good to stand?" A woman's voice asked you, feeling gentle pressure to your upper right arm. Slowly, you'd turn your face towards her and nod. "Okay, gently now. Go slow for me, okay? We're going to make sure you don't fall. "

You bit your lip as you made your way to the aisle, still holding the towel to your face. "Still doing alright?" She asked again once you were up and out of the seats. After you nodded, she'd change her hold to your left arm and slowly, you'd be escorted up the stairs as clapping would follow you as a sendoff.

"We have an ambulance coming around to take you to the hospital and get you checked out."

You couldn't focus on anything and just kind of mumbled at whatever it was she was saying, and since she and no one else around was frantic, you remained calm despite being told you were going to the hospital in an ambulance. Sure enough, you'd be strapped to the stretcher in the lobby, a neck brace fastened in place, and wheeled into the awaiting transport out front. Everyone was so kind to you, but there was one person you couldn't get off your mind. You hoped Quinn hadn't noticed it was you who had been hit by the puck, but if he had, you wished it wouldn't interfere with his playing for the remainder of the game.

- - -

It would be after the game clock ran out before you'd be done with your visit at the hospital.

You had a series of stitches above your left eye and a concussion, but otherwise you were fine. The Canucks had won the game which was a relief to you, because what kind of fan would you had been if you didn't feel like whatever you did --or had caused-- had directly affected the game? Wore the wrong jersey and they lost? Your fault. Changed your order from your usual pre-game selection and they lost? Also your fault, and yours alone. That was just the overly superstitious sports fan brain at work.

Once cleared to leave, you had called a girlfriend and told her what had happened and if she could take you back to Quinn's apartment. She had offered to stay with you until he came back, but you had managed to convince her that you wouldn't have to wait for too long before he was home. There was reluctance to leave you, after saying you had sustained a concussion, but you had apparently been persuasive enough and she would leave shortly after getting you settled on the sofa.

You were thankful for the darkness and the silence of his apartment. The hospital had been busy and terribly bright, so just a smaller arena atmosphere, and you had suffered for hours before finally getting to actually relax. Your phone was next to you but looking at the screen, even with the brightness down, shot through your head like a bullet. The light sensitivity had been incredible, yet you were told it was common and nothing to worry about. You wanted to message Quinn, but typing was impossible, so a voice-to-text message would have to do the trick.

Y|N: Hey baby I'm okay. Just got home from the hospital. If you didn't know I'm the girl who tried to catch the puck with her face. Ha ha, lucky me. Anyway, I just wanted you to know I'm fine. Love you. (11:55pm)

Quinn: I was hoping that wasn't you. :( I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm glad you're okay. I'll be home shortly. I love you more. (12:09am)

When Quinn got home you were still sitting on the sofa, an ice pack pressed against your browbone where the new stitches were. The lights in the kitchen were dimmed, as you had gotten up shortly after his text message and turned them on, so he wouldn't come home to a pitch black apartment. You didn't want to scare him by being a creep in the dark, just waiting for him to get in.

"Hey Quinny," you said, half asleep and leaning against the corner of the sectional.

"Hey," Quinn replied, voice soft and low as he wasted no time getting to your side. "How are you feeling?"

He'd sit down beside you and try to see just what had happened. You'd drop the ice pack to you lap, fingers cold after having to hold it for so long. "I'm tired."

Quinn frowned, tipping your chin to the side just slightly, "Looks like it got you pretty good, babe."

"Yeah, I was watching you...so I didn't see it coming," you breathed out ashamed.

"Now, what would you do that for?" He laughed, hoping to raise your spirits. "I didn't see it happen."

"I'm glad you didn't," you mumbled, returning the ice to your face, feeling it throb again. "I got blood all over my jersey, too."

He gave a weak smile, hoping you were trying to be sarcastically upset, seeing the stains for himself. "I'll get you a new one. I'm just glad you're okay. It could have been a lot worse." His voice was near a whisper at the end.

"I don't want a new jersey! That one is special, don't you remember?" You cried out with emotional hurt, growing more upset thinking about how quickly the night had spiraled.

"Oh, right, I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he said trying to keep you calm. "It's been a long time since that date, babe. I'm sorry I forgot it was (that) one. I'll take it with me and see if one of the equipment guys can clean it for me, okay? We'll get it taken care of. Now, can I get you anything?'

You just shook your head.

"Why don't you go lay down? You've had a long day."

You wouldn't say anything to him, but instead, would get up and try to walk past him but he would stop you. His arm would block your path, his hand gripping your thigh gently. The way he looked at you conveyed his concern, while his words remained minimal. "What's wrong, babe?"

"Nothing," you replied flatly, wishing he'd let you pass.

Your response prompted him to stand up. Now you wouldn't be going anywhere until he felt better about your situation. "Will you talk to me?"

"I don't want to talk, Quinn," you grumbled, your head pounding harder now that you weren't at rest.

Without a word, Quinn brought you into his arms. He knew how concussions could affect a person, how they could make you irritable and emotional out of nowhere. All he hoped was that a quiet moment would calm you down. He wasn't upset with you and your sudden attitude change; he knew how being hit with pucks felt and you hadn't been wearing the gear like he did. Not to mention you had been hit in the face.

"You're okay, baby. You just need to rest. I wasn't trying to order you around. And I'm sorry about the jersey thing."

Out of habit, you'd lay your head against him, but it would be those tender stitches that would make contact with his shoulder, causing you to pull back in pain.

"Ouch!" You hissed, fingers shielding the area.

"Careful, careful," he soothed, taking your face in his hands. When your hand fell away to your side, Quinn placed the most delicate kiss to your forehead, just above where your skin was split. His softness made your eyes close. You felt so touch starved all of a sudden, like you wanted to beg him for more. How had one kiss melted your sour mood away like that? You'd stand there like a statue, eyes still closed, feeling his warm hands cup your face.

"Are you mad at me?" He asked, having expected a different reaction from you.

"No," you replied, opening your eyes to his face, "that just felt so nice."

Quinn would smile, relieved that you finally had one moment of comfort against everything else that had happened that night. He'd take all of your pain away from you if he knew how. If little angel kisses made you better, he'd take as much time as was needed to pepper ever inch of your skin with them.

"How about I get you ready for bed and make sure you get to sleep, hm?

"I can do it."

Quinn's thumbs caressed your cheeks, while he still remained holding your face, "Let me help you. I promise to be gentle."

Your eyes softened when you gave him an affirming nod. You hadn't wanted to bother him with anything after a game, but he was insisting and who were you to deny him wanting to do such sweet things for you?

"Come on, princess. Let's get this done so you can get some sleep."

His hands would fall from your face, to take one of yours and lead you down the hallway. Quinn's pace was slow and cautions even though there was nothing wrong with your ability to walk; he would never rush you a single step.

"I'm only going to turn on the vanity lights, okay? They shouldn't be as bright."

"Okay."

The Edison bulbs came to a glow over the mirror, casting a soft, golden hue to the bathroom. Your head felt plagued by the worst migraine you could remember, but you'd struggle through while Quinn did whatever he had in mind for you. He'd have you put your back to the counter and would lift you up, so you were sitting slightly above his eye level; your feet kicking gently as they dangled in front of the numerous drawers.

"What do I need to take your makeup off, baby?" He asked, hands resting on either side of your thighs.

"In the basket, under the sink, there is a pink package of wipes. Those are fine. The Micellar ones."

"Under the sink, okay," he said softly to himself, giving your leg a tap before looking under his sink for this particular basket, and sure enough, like you had said, he was able to find them. "Just one?"

"Mhm, just one," you said, hand out-stretched for the product but he wouldn't hand them over.

"No, sweetheart, I said I'd do this for you," he smiled, removing one of the large sheets. "Just tell me if I do something wrong."

His touch was so delicate as he worked around your eyes, paying special attention not to graze your stitches. The nurses had washed most of your face of blood and some makeup at the hospital, but you were happy to let Quinn finish the rest. He pressed the cloth to your eyelashes for a couple seconds before pulling away the difficult product from them. Had he been paying attention to you all this time? He seemed confident in his approach and you appreciated the caution he implied.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, but I don't want to do them right now," you told him, finally opening your eyes once he was done.

Quinn wondered if he had done something wrong to make you not want anything more from him, "Like what?"

"There's a whole routine, but I don't care enough right now. My head hurts," you said, frustrated, tossing the melting ice pack in the sink.

"Alright, sweetheart, it's whatever you want." He pressed forward for a kiss which you would give before Quinn would get you down off the counter. For some reason, each step you took felt like it rippled through your feet straight to your pounding skull. Thankfully his bed wasn't too far away now.

"I should have carried you," Quinn lamented, only after having you sit on the bed. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. My legs work."

"I know they do, but anything to make things easier on you," he whispered, hands finding their place on your legs again. "Let's get you out of these clothes, okay?"

- - -

"I'll join you in a little bit. I'm going to put this in my backpack," he said, carefully folding the jersey. "But I've gotta get something to eat. I'm a little dizzy myself."

From the bed he had you carefully tucked into, you frowned hearing that he wasn't feeling to good himself. Now, you wanted to be the one to help him, but you knew there was no way that he was going to approve of you being out of bed, especially to wait on him.

"Have you had anything to eat today?" He asked you before fully leaving the room.

"I had something at noon."

"That's it?"

"Mhm, but I don't want anything. This headache kind of has me nauseous," you confessed, pulling the blankets up closer to your face.

You could faintly see him frown at your admission. "I can make you some tea. Would you like that?"

Smiling through the pain you'd nod, "Yes, please."

Unfortunately, you'd fall asleep before he could get back to you with the tea. He'd put it down on your nightstand and look at you for a moment. His lamp was still on so he could see you fully. You looked so delicate laying there aside from the deep bruising becoming more evident under your skin. He was so thankful you were okay, but vowed the next time you went to see him play, you'd be safely in a seat behind the net. He couldn't stand seeing you hurt like this again. Not if he could do anything about it.

[linkcharacter]

Love the difference from how Jimmy rejects the pills aggressively while it’s implied in canon Curly just tries to keep his mouth closed rather than hurt anyone. I also love how Curly thanks Jimmy for letting him help vs Jimmy complaining that he had to in canon despite never really being an asked more than once and talks down to Curly.

It’s an interesting difference in how they both take the duty from Anya where Curly is def trying to salivate her of having to take care of Jimmy due to every pre-crash and the guilt but also because that is his friend still. Just comparing it to Jimmy who only does it cause he needs to feel useful and asserting himself as more capable than Anya.

I know you likely wanna keep it vague or open to interpretation but since Curly acknowledged the pills aren’t doing much for Jimmy do you think he’s genuinely doing it just cause it does something even if little for Jimmy or to ease his mind? Sort of like how the crew mainly gives Curly his pills to keep him quiet and more so how Jimmy does it cause Curly’s sobs def mess with his crippling repressed feelings of guilt.

Very interesting how it differs. Also love how you still didn’t show the actual feeding of the pill

Oh yes the differences :) The whole time I was making the comic the 2nd audio of Jimmy feeding Curly the pills kept spinning in my brain. And yes, I didn't show the actual pill feeding, the game doesn't show it visually, so I didn't think there was a reason to do it here.

You are correct, I would like to keep it vague. It's interesting how you interpreted Curly's comment on the pills as just him thinking they aren't doing much for Jimmy, and I'm not saying it's wrong, but I see (and put) a couple of different meanings for his thoughts' text, all of which are valid, this one included.

As to why Curly gives him the pills, I'd say it can be both reasons at once. Curly does want to help, but he also wants to feel like he's helping. The thing about Curly is that he prioritizes doing what his own sense of righteousness dictates as doing the right thing, whether or not it's a smart or a helpful decision or not. Like how he decided to tell the crew about them losing their jobs. It wasn't a smart nor a productive decision, all it did was make the crew stressed and brought the morale down for the rest of the 8 months they were supposed to haul. But it was what Curly saw as 'what a good person would do', 'what a friend would do', that he "can't keep this form them all" because it gnawed on his conscience. He didn't consider consequences of telling upsetting news to his crew, or if he did, they didn't outweigh the importance to do right by his crew to Curly. To him it was the 'less scummy' way to go about it, the one that didn't leave Curly feeling like a bad person for "deceiving" his friends. But he means well at the end of the day too, he doesn't want his friends to feel betrayed, feel like they've been kept in the dark. He doesn't want to use his special treatment as a Captain while his subordinates are worse off than him.

And here with Jimmy, Curly wants to do his best to ease whatever pain his friend is in, but he also doesn't want to force him into anything because that would make Curly feel like he's undermining Jimmy's autonomy, whether or not Jimmy by himself would make a decision on medical treatment that was 'best for him', and whether or not the pills do jack shit at all. Curly tries to do good by everyone, because he genuinely wants to help and because he feels that doing a helpful thing is what he 'should' do. Curly's a complicated guy and it all comes down to what you personally consider as 'genuine want to help' and whether or not, to you, the actions a person takes matter more than the intentions behind them.

Thank you for your comments, as always very discussion engaging, I love it!!

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Part 5 - Should Have Gone To Med School

Summary: eventual poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic.

CW: Medical stuff, descriptions of wounds, description of medical procedures, medical inaccuracies, blood.

AN: Why does everything I write turn into a medical drama.

Previous parts - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

You hide the scalpel between the mattress and the bed frame. No point in getting caught with it. You’ll help Price but you won’t take them over the border. It’s too risky, you need them to trust you at least for now. Besides you’re about to maim their captain, or at least you assume he’s the captain. Gaz called him cap. 

He ordered Ghost around and you thought he was incharge. 

“Hey.” The voice at the door makes you jump. You turn to see Soap looking at you. He’s unarmed for once, maybe they are starting to trust you. “Sorry, I wanted to say thank you.” 

“For what?” You ask heading out the room. He blushes running his hand through his hair. Christ, what's he nervous about. He moves to the side to let you out into the hall. 

“For back in the vets with Ghost.” 

“So he told you?”

“Yeah, he’ll never say a proper thank you. He’s a bastard like that sometimes. But you could have let him die.” He seems nervous, you have no idea why. Maybe Ghost didn't want anyone to know he let his guard down. Probably not the best look that a seasoned SAS soldier can get jumped so easily. 

“No I couldn’t. Then you would have killed me.” You smile at him and head down the stairs. 

Maybe you should have let him die, and run. Where though? Back to Konni? To Al Qatala? You shake your head pushing the thoughts away. You'll patch Price up then you’ll part ways. No need for you to stick around longer than you need to. Fuck the asylum in the UK, you don’t believe that would happen anyway. 

Ghost is not around but Soap follows you down the stairs and Gaz is sitting on the coffee table talking with Price. He goes silent when he turns to see you, standing up and moving behind the sofa. His eyes dig into you. You swallow the nerves going over to the bag you dumped down when you came in. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You ask him one last time. He looks up and nods. 

“It’s worse to leave it in, right?” Price asks. 

“Yes and no. It’s going to hurt. There’s no anesthetic.” You say gripping the handle on the bag. 

“I’ve been through worse.” 

“Cap, are you sure?” Gaz leans down to whisper next to his head. You feel like you’re interrupting something.

“If you need time-” You don’t get time to finish. “No. I’m ready.” Price says sitting up straighter on the sofa. “It’s fine Gaz.” He waves the other man away but he doesn’t move, just stands back up crossing his arms.

“Take your shirt off and lie down.” You say putting the bag on the coffee table and bending down next to the sofa. 

“Do you need a chair or somthin’?” Soap asks, you turn to him and shake your head. He smiles. You look through the bag, you think you have everything. You recognise everything, you managed to grab a lot. But you only have 2 pairs of sterile gloves, which means you only have 2 chances to get this right. You will get it right though. 

Gaz helps Price take his shirt off, you look at the bandage on his stomach. Now you’re calmer, getting a better look at it, it’s not as central as you thought it was. 

“Did you have a vest on?” You ask. 

“Yeah, went right through.” Price says as he lays back on the sofa. 

“You’re lucky the bullet didn’t shatter.” You press on his side where he showed you yesterday, it's starting to bruise. It really must be closer to the surface then you think.

“Lucky the guy missed.” 

“Some would argue he didn’t miss.” You say, tipping your head and turning back to the coffee table. You lay out your instruments, double checking everything. What should you be worried about? You think to yourself. It’s been years since you’ve done something like this on a dummy let alone a real person. 

Shock, he could go into shock if the pain is too much. He’s fit and healthy, well other than the hole in his stomach. 

“I can take the bullet out and stitch both the wounds. What would you like me to do first?” 

“Which will hurt less?” He asks scoffing. There’s the nerves, the break in his demeanor. You ignore it, you’d be shitting yourself too. You don’t really know how to answer that. The stitches will have to be deeper on the entry wound, but would that be more or less painful then slicing his skin open and fishing around for a bullet?

“They’re both going to hurt,” you say, it’s the truth. He sighs looking behind you at Soap. 

“Stitch the entry wound first.” A gruff voice behind you says. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Ghost. Price nods and you kneel up pulling the bandages off. As you begin to undo the tape fresh blood drips out and you need to reach over to start dabbing it up. Before you take the steri-strips off you lay out your sterile gloves and reach into the bag for one more thing.

“Here.” You hand him some wooden tongue depressors. “In case you need to bite down on something.” He takes them, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m tougher than you think.” he says. 

“It’s not about being tough.” You snap back. Now your nerves are showing, you take a breath. “It’s so you don’t bite your fucking tongue off and bleed out.” 

He nods. You start pulling the sterile gloves on. You can do this, it’s just stitches, you've done this before, you can do it again. You turn back over to him resting the tray on his chest and pulling the last of the bandage off. It would be easier if you had 2 people, you don’t want to ask any of them for help, besides you need them around to keep an eye on him. You take one last breath getting comfy on your knees. 

“Ready?” You ask turning to look up at him. 

“Ready.” He says. You angle the needle squeezing the tweezers in your hands. Now or never. You say to yourself and plunge the needle into the skin. 

He lasts longer than you thought he would before he makes his first audible groans. You snap to look up at him quickly when you’re done with the next pass. His eyes are squeezed closed, sweat building on his forehead. 

“Almost done.” You lie mopping the blood escaping from the fresh wounds. He’s going to need at least 6 more stitches before you can tie this off. It came back to you in an instant, as soon as you made the first pass through. It’s like riding a bike you never really forget. 

“Want to take a break?” Gaz asks. 

“No.” He grits through his teeth. Good, stopping now wouldn't be smart, you’re over half-way done. 

“You can have a break when I'm done.” You say passing the needle though again. It’s not perfect but it will hold, paired with the bandages it’s all he needs until he can get to a proper medic or a hospital.

“Would kill for a whisky.” He says trying to keep still. That makes you smile. At least he’s still joking, talking. At least he's conscious. You feel like you can hear people shuffling uncomfortably behind you, hushed voices you’re not paying attention to as you concentrate. You’ve been biting the inside of your cheek trying not to show your true nerves, you hope they can’t tell. 

“Almost done.” You assure him.

“You keep saying that.” He says, his breathing picks up. This is going to be the worst part, you saved it till last. You speed up as much as you dare, you want to get this over with before he starts to freak out. You don’t like how shallow his breathing has become. 

“Last stitch.” You say pushing the needle through the skin one more time. You let out an audible sigh of relief as you reach over for the scissors. “Done.” It’s all you can manage. You tie off the tread sitting back on your knees. It’s done. You look over at him, his eyes open again his head tipped back against the sofa pillow. 

You reach over for the bandages and dress the wound. You get up to your feet. 

“Take a break, maybe get something to drink. Water.” You say, swallowing the nerves rising in you. You need to clear your head. You need fresh air. You make a b-line for the front door pulling your gloves off as you pull it open letting the cool night air hit you. 

You feel sick bending over and bracing your hands on your thighs. 

“Holy shit.” You say pushing as much air out your lungs as you can. That really just happened. You just stitched up a fucking SAS officer with no ansathetic. And you’re still not done, he still has a bullet in him. 

The door opens making you jump. You straighten yourself up crossing your arms as goosebumps rise on your skin. You turn to look, it’s Ghost. He hands you a bottle of water.

“Thanks.” You say reaching out and opening it. 

“You did good.” He says after you’ve taken a few sips. 

“It’s just stitches.” You say trying to not let your confidence falter. Can’t have them losing confidence in you. 

“Are you sure taking the bullet out of him is the best option?” He asks. You turn to look at him finishing the bottle. 

“The bullet could move if he does, it could hit an organ, cause internal bleeding. It’s close to the surface though, it could just be stuck below the skin. I have no way of knowing until-” the word catches in your throat. “It’s safer to remove it.” You walk up to him and hand him the empty bottle, he nods. 

When you get back in the building you’re surprised at how warm it is, you’d never noticed that until now. Price looks fine inspecting the bandage on his stomach. 

“Looks good.” He says. He seems perked up. Gaz looks like he hasn’t moved although now he’s holding a glass of water. 

“Thanks.” You say cleaning up the stuff you’ve used and setting up the new stuff you need. The scalpel seems heavy in your hand for some reason. Your mind wonders the one upstairs. 

“Ready?” You ask looking up at Price again. 

“This one should hurt less right?” You squirt alcohol solution over the sight. It’s better than nothing.

“Yes.” You say pulling a mask over your nose and mouth. Maybe if he believes it it will hurt less, like a placebo effect or whatever they call it. You pull the sterile gloves on and pick up the scalpel. You let out a breath looking down at the skin. 

This is not going to be fun. 

“Hey.” John calls, you look up at him. “Don’t look so nervous, what's the worst that could happen.” 

He could die. 

“I’m not nervous.” You bring the blade down. “It’s going to be hard, but try to keep still.” 

You press the blade into the skin. A groan leaves his mouth, his head presses back into the sofa pillow again. You have to act fast, mopping up the blood as it spills out. You thought you’d cut deep enough but apparently not. You squeeze the skin fleeing for the bullet. It’s still there, it's not moved. You make another incision going deeper. 

You’re through the fat and it must be stuck in the muscle. You reach over for your tweezers, using your other hand to try and isolate it. 

“Christ.” Price says as you dig around. 

“I know, I'm sorry. Slippery thing keeps moving.” You say frowning. You manage to find it reaching for the clamp, if you can keep it still you can cut down to it. 

“Got it.” You say after a few seconds of poking around. Thank god you don’t have to dig much deeper. You take the tweezers and pull it out. “Look.” 

Price looks up, when he sees it he smiles.

“Free souvenir.” Soap says. You reach around dropping it with the tweezers on the coffee table. Now you just need to stitch this up. Easier said than done. 

“How’d you learn to do all this if you’re not a doctor?” Price asks, you're surprised he's talking. He looks more relaxed, you look up, he's squeezing Gaz’s hand. Poor Gaz. 

“I would hang out in the skills labs with the surgical interns when I was at the hospital. My father would be in surgery, my mother working. They would teach me. I used to enjoy it as a kid, playing with fake skin watching them work.” 

“What happened? Why did you move away from medicine?” Gaz asks. “I got bored, wanted to do something other than be stuck in a hospital all my life.” You look up at him, he hasn’t moved. “I saw how hard my parents worked. I didn't want a life like that.” 

“Is smuggling easier?” Price asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No but it's more fun.” You hear Gaz scoff, he drops Price’s hand crossing his arms, he hasn't moved but he hasn't taken his eyes off you either. 

“Ever thought about the army?” Price asks. You laugh, shaking your head. 

“I don’t like being tied down. I’m not into all those rules.” 

“I think you’d do good.” “I think it's all bullshit.” You say trying to not snap. You focus on your stitching, you can’t get it out of your head though. Like the military is so great. 

“Where’s your rescue anyway? I would have thought the UK would be desperate to get 4 SAS out of here.” No one says anything. You look up at Gaz, then over at Price. 

“We’re helping Farah.” Soap says.

“Ah, that makes sense. They’re classed as a terrorist organisation right?” You look over at Price, he nods. You’re almost done, you wipe the blood away reaching over for the scissors. 

“Why do you need to get into Russia if you’re helping Farah?” No one says anything. You sigh, tying off the thread. “I can’t help you if I don’t know why.” 

“I thought you didn’t like to know details.” Ghost says. 

“We need to find Alex first.” Price says. You pull your gloves and mask off bandaging up his wound. 

“If you lost him on the border Konni will have him.” You say as a matter of fact. Standing up and picking up the trash. No one is saying anything, you throw it in the bin. 

“You work for Konni right? Your last job was for them?” Price asks, sitting up on the sofa. 

“Yeah, well, not anymore. Thanks by the way I wasn’t really in the mood to be getting an ear full from Makarov this week.” You stand back up looking round the room. They look different, shocked, all the colour has drained from Price’s face. 

“Makarov?” He asks.

“Yeah. I mean he’s in town for something. Like I said I don’t ask, but whatever it is it’s important. Those people you killed were important.” You look round the room. 

“Holy shit. You’re after Makarov.” You say as a matter of fact. No one says anything. You scoff picking the bag up off the table and throwing it over your shoulder. You shake your head again. “Look I hate to be the bringer of bad news but even if I could get you over the border. There is no way on earth you’re getting into Konni’s compound.” 

“We don’t need to get inside anymore.” Price says. He stands up with a groan, pressing his hand on the side of his stomach. Gaz’s eyes follow him, his hands coming out to support him. You want to tell him to sit down. He needs to rest. 

“You work for whoever pays right? How about a job so big you could retire.” Price says taking an unsteady step towards you. You swallow hard, not sure what he’s about to say. 

“Help us kill Makarov and you can name your price.” He says smiling. You frown at him and shake your head. 

“You’re out of your mind. What can I do?” You drop the bag and throw your hands up. “I’m not an assassin. I don’t kill people for fun.” 

“Yeah, I know that. You’ve had plenty of opportunities to kill us, flee. What stopped you?” He asks, taking another step. You freeze, you’re not sure. You don’t kill in cold blood, you’ve always told yourself that. Self preservation, that's what it is. 

You could have let Ghost die. Let him die in the vets and run back to the border, told Konni about them, they would have been captured but you didn't. Maybe you believed them when they said they could get you out. 

Maybe you trust them. 

“I think you’re better than all this. You want peace in your country, you want the war to end. You need to pick a side to do that.” He reaches behind you, someone passes him something. You don’t turn, you're nervous all of a sudden. Maybe they’re about to kill you. Making you lower your guard so you’re an easier target. 

He brings the object into view. It’s the scalpel, the same one you hid in the bed. 

“I think it’s time you pick a side.” He holds it out for you to take. You could take it from him right now and slit his throat. How did they even find it? Shit. Soap must have seen you. You look up at him, he has a smile on his face. He already knows what you’re going to do. You reach out and take the scalpel.

next

Banners by plum98

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Oh oh I can tell you how I handle this!

First, I must acknowledge that epithets are hard. When writing in a specific character's POV, you have to be careful about describing another character only using descriptors that they would use or it'll feel awkward and weird. (I don't generally think about my sister's height relative to mine and therefore wouldn't refer to her as "the tall one" or even "the taller one", for example, unless it's relevant in the moment. Talking? Not relevant. Her hitting her head on a ledge that I missed? Relevant. That wouldn't be true of someone I just met. If you're tall[er than me] I'm probably noticing it and don't have other ways to differentiate you from other strangers.)

Luckily, I don't usually have to resort to epithets in writing, because readers can generally follow pronouns and support way more proper name uses than you might expect! Pronouns by definition are placeholders for proper names. Where writing gets confusing is when it feels like the pronouns are floating free and unmatched. Reconnecting the proper noun and the pronoun is all you need to reset.

Within a paragraph, use a proper noun enough to be clear. Vague, I know, but it really is an art instead of a science and largely comes down to personal taste. Refining your personal taste can help a ton, and one way to do that is to look at works by people who you feel write these kinds of scenes clearly and cogently. I'm going to use my own writing as an example, just to make it easy for myself.

Structuring your writing so the subject is fairly consistent will help a ton, as will "checking in" with a proper noun when it feels like you've checked in on the other person more recently.

[alt: The muscles in Bruce’s face, Jason realized, were good at going completely still when surprised. That was useful. He had said intervened like Jason had done it on purpose, throwing himself into this nightmare to save Bruce instead of acting like a petulant, stomping child. He had just a moment to wonder if the look from Bruce was meant as gratitude or as an apology when Bruce turned his attention back to the others. “It should reverse in a few days.”]

In the snippet above, because I'm moving tightly between two he/him characters, I use their names just enough to stick into place who's being reference at any given point. If I had wanted to be extra careful, I could have changed "He had just a moment to wonder" to "Jason had just a moment to wonder."

Over multiple paragraphs, when you're sticking with one person, reconnecting (or what I mentally refer to as "checking in") can happen once a paragraph and really shouldn't be needed more than that.

[alt: He really didn’t have much of note to say. Dick narrated his way through the canned goods and the dry goods, making jokes about Wally’s Skittles stash and the cans of Spaghetti-Os Roy demanded be kept on hand but no one else ever touched. He talked about a TV show he had been watching and made a joke that elicited a hrmm from Bruce that would have been a laugh from anyone else. And the more he talked, the more he remembered little stories from his week that he had tucked away with a mental note to tell Bruce.

At last, though, Dick had finished his final story and let the call lapse into a pause that stretched into silence. He bit his bottom lip and fidgeted with the rolls of gauze, stacking them into pyramids outside the gutted medical kit. He could never tell with Bruce whether the silences were contented or an interrogation technique, the patience of an investigator applying pressure to a reluctant witness. In the end, it didn’t much matter.]

But really, truly, the TL;DR of it all is you don't need as many epithets as you think; as long as you don't go crazy with your subject and object switches and check in on your connections regularly, you can lean on pronouns way more than you think; and readers can handle way more uses of names than you might suspect.

Me writing a scene with two or more people of the same gender and trying not to get the readers confused, while also trying not to overuse the characters' names or epithets

[loonsloon]

@into-the-jeggyverse, january 25, luck words: 955, cw: blood, but nothing too explicit

Yes, Regulus was aware that he had a bit of a crush on James Potter. After all, the guy was warming up to him fast. It was terrifying to admit, but after spending some time with James—not by his choice, mind you—they could maybe even call each other friends. It was unavoidable, though, because James was everywhere. And if he wasn’t, he’d always find a way to be.

Like right now.

Regulus had been helping Madam Pomfrey these past few days. It all started one random afternoon while he was delivering potions for Slughorn. After admitting that he was interested in becoming a healer, Pomfrey offered him the chance to learn basic healing spells under her guidance, and he agreed. So far, his duties were simple; some minor injuries, like a scraped knee, a bruised elbow, or a first-year’s sprained ankle after tripping on the moving staircase.

What he hadn’t anticipated, though, was how often his idiot brother and his even more idiotic friends would show up. They were in the hospital wing more often than clumsy first-years after flying lessons.

And here he is. James Potter. Bursting through the doors still fully dressed in quidditch gear, grinning ear to ear despite the blood oozing from his forehead. A Gryffindor-themed towel was pressed against the wound, doing nothing to stop the bleeding. Regulus swore his heart skipped a beat—whether from the sight of the blood or the way James’ shirt clung to his torso was debatable.

“Madam Pomfrey! I think I need stitches!” James exclaimed, glancing around for her.

“She’s not here,” Regulus sighed, and James’ eyes finally landed on him.

Moving the towel for a moment, James revealed a cut slicing through his eyebrow. Thankfully, it wasn’t that bad, and it missed his eye entirely.

James’ grin somehow grew wider. Regulus was already regretting being here today.

“Reggie! I didn’t know you were in today,” James said cheerfully, jumping to sit on one of the beds, his feet swinging like an overexcited toddler. Regulus refused to admit that it was adorable. In fact, James and the word adorable had no business being in the same sentence.

“She went to get some potions. Barely anyone’s been in today. She’ll be back soon,” Regulus explained, turning his attention back to organizing the supply cabinet.

“Well, aren’t you training to be a healer? I know you can heal this; it has to be easier than Sirius’ broken nose last week!”

Yes, but Sirius is his brother. Regulus didn’t care if he fucked up his nose. It might’ve even been funny, considering how much Sirius loved to brag about it.

James, though? That was a different story entirely. There was no way Regulus could risk getting so close to him. He was terrified James might suddenly look at him and realize: Oh, so you’ve got bit of a crush on me, huh? And Regulus can’t have that happening.

“I’m not doing anything without Pomfrey’s approval. I haven’t perfected the stitching charms yet, and that looks like a nasty cut,” Regulus lied.

All of that was a lie. Regulus had already handled worse injuries without her. The cut wasn’t even that bad; the blood was only flowing because James was still sweating from practice. His body was literally, and figuratively, hot.

“It’s not that bad! Just a bit deep. C’mon, Reg, at least clean it up,” James pleaded, a cute pout on his face. He’d taken off his glasses and was now holding the towel across his right eye, somehow managing to look ridiculously endearing.

“Fine,” Regulus muttered, utterly defeated. James wasn’t going to leave him alone, so he might as well make himself useful.

“But I’m not stitching it up. You’ll have to wait for Poppy. I’ll just stop the bleeding and clean it up for her.”

He rolled over the medical trolley and stopped it in front of James, positioning himself between James’ sprawled knees. Grabbing gauze and alcohol, he prepared to clean the wound.

“Hi,” James said, smiling down at him. His dimples popped, and his grin was somehow even more genuine than usual.

Regulus felt the blush creeping up his cheeks but refused to show weakness.

“Hi, idiot.”

And there it was—that beautiful fucking laugh.

“Aren’t you going to ask what happened?”

“Something, something, Sirius accidentally hit you with his bat,” Regulus guessed, not bothering to look up. It wasn’t a difficult assumption; the two of them were a disaster in the air, always bickering and pushing each other.

“Hey, how did you know?”

“You’re predictable,” Regulus sighed, starting to dab at the wound with alcohol. James winced.

“That stings!”

“Don’t be a baby. It’s what you get for being careless,” Regulus muttered absentmindedly, still focused on cleaning the cut.

“Aw, do you care about me, Reggie?” James teased, leaning back to look him in the eye.

Regulus felt the heat rising again and glared at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. And stop calling me that, Potter. I told you I hate that nickname.”

Grabbing James by the shirt, he tugged him back into place to finish his work. Desperately trying to hide how flustered he was.

“Alright, alright,” James relented, settling down.

Finally, some silence. Regulus worked quickly, trying to ignore the way James’ knees kept brushing his sides, sending tingles up his spine.

After finishing the cleaning and stopping the bleeding with a quick charm, Regulus stepped back.

“There. You’re done,” he said, moving the trolley away from James’ reach before he could cause more problems.

“Aww, thanks, Reg. Aren’t you going to clean the rest of my face?” James asked, his tone playful, his cheeks still covered with dried blood.

Regulus shot him a glare. “Don’t push your luck, Potter.”

[spacegyaru]

cw: shidou ryusei x afab! reader. all characters are aged 21+ (you and shidou are already 25 atp). this is the second part of this! do not read it unless you have read the previous part! 💗🤭

~ there is a bit of angst here! also, i really tried to keep shidou and character and read loads of analysis for this huhu so good luck to me!! i hope you guys would like it as much as you loved the first part! + reader is a nurse and toxic shidou! 😌 i tried to keep it realistic guys, we all known it's not going to be all rainbow and skittles with shidou in it.

word count: 2k+

fast forward to five years later. five fucking years. you don't know how you made it that far, but somehow, you managed to get yourself out of that hellhole.

well, after finding out that you were pregnant, your initial reaction was to tell your parents about it. you were young and they still paid for your college fees that time, so you know that they have the right to at least hear from you.

as you expected, your parents did not have the best reactions. your dad scolded you— even slapped you, and your mom called you a slut, then they started fighting and blaming each other on whose fault is this.

suddenly, the fact that you're pregnant is no longer about you and the baby, but it's about blaming who was the worse parent between the both of them. your dad blamed your mom for caring too much about her appearance and not paying attention to you, while your mom blamed your dad for not protecting you enough and being around. in actuality, both are horrible.

you swore you'll never want your kid to grow up in this kind of hell you were raised in. that's why you felt so much joy when your parents agreed to help you but they asked you to move out to your grandparents’ house in a far away rural area so people wouldn't see you ‘blowing up like a balloon’ (as what your mom said) and ‘bringing shame to the family’.

luckily, compared to your parents, your grandparents are good people. they comforted you and made sure that you're well-fed during your pregnancy.

you ended up giving birth to a little girl, which you named miyu. she was born with your hair color, pink orbs, and tanned skin. her nose and eye shape weren't yours. you didn't even want to think about who does it remind you of.

it wasn't easy to have her either. miyu was a handful baby and post-partum depression did not sit well with you. but luckily, your grandmother is around.

shortly after that, you decided to go back to college while working part-time. all while miyu was growing. if you didn't have your grandparents, you surely wouldn't be able to survive. they were a huge help to your studies, and in taking care of miyu.

after your studies, you went back to the city to look for a better job as a registered nurse around tokyo. you thanked your grandparents and took your daughter with you.

about shidou… well, you've seen him on TV and he's doing well, winning lots of football games, and even having some dating rumours. you hated every inch of him. you hated how he act all smug and cocky on TV. you hated how he never even tried to contact you after that night. you hated how he did well while you struggled to survive.

the only comfort that you had was miyu's smile. she is a very cheerful child. she's very friendly towards people and she's a social butterfly. the first time you took her to the nursery, she became friends with everyone.

anyway, you're working as a registered nurse around tokyo's biggest hospital. luckily, miyu's preschool is nearby. but with no one to watch over, you would fetch her during your free time and bring her back to your workplace.

“y/n, doctor nishimura needs your assistance in his office in third floor.” your co-worker said and you rushed going there.

when you arrived, you were asked to call the patients’ name in the waiting area and assist in medical check-ups, like taking their height, weight, blood pressure, and etc. it was all good. you were doing just fine. until you saw who the last patient is.

“sh-shidou r-ryusei…” there was a light stutter in your voice as you turned pale, an expression of shock written on your face. it seemed that he's here for some athlete medical checkup or whatever it's called.

the moment shidou saw you, he did not recognize you at first. but seeing how awkward you were while taking his blood pressure, he finally recognized who you are.

“wait, aren't you y/n?” shidou asked then started talking to you like a casual friend who's trying to catch up. you didn't respond well. he told you that he'll be in a 3-month long vacation after winning a huge match in france.

when you were left alone with him as you were asked to assist him althroughout, like going to the cashier and settling payment, (since the doctor said that other patients might harass him since he's famous), he fucking dropped the bomb that made you erupt.

“if you're interested, we could hang out together while i'm in tokyo. like the old times.” he said in a smug voice, obviously hinting to something sexual.

you stopped while walking, looking down. shidou, who only continued, wondered as you stayed that way for seconds. shidou looked at you curiously. he slowly approached you, but your hand seemed to have another plans, giving him a slap on the cheek.

shidou looked at you shocked for seconds while holding his cheek, then his face changed into smirk before he told you “come on, you can't be mad over something that happened years ago, right? what happened to the good girl y/n?” he gave you a menacing look.

but before you could say anything, a small high-pitched voice reached out from your behind. “mommy, i'm hungry!”

seeing your daughter, you left shidou and approached your daughter, carrying her in your arms, telling her how you'd get her some cookies from the pantry.

as your carried miyu in your arms while walking away, shidou could not help it but to stare back at the pink orbs of the little girl which sparked curiosity. that, combined with the little girl's tanned skin and nose— shidou already fucking knew who that little girl is.

after that day, shidou would visit you during working hours. he would go there, trying to ask you to hangout with him, with that permanent smug look that you hated the most.

he did this for the whole afternoon. luckily, today, you were able to hire a babysitter for miyu because you expected to work overtime. you doubt he would leave you alone, not giving you some time to fetch her.

even after your shift, shidou was still there. you got fed up and asked him why the hell is he bothering you during work hours, even telling him to get lost.

but shidou still seemed to be unfazed by you freaking out. instead of saying anything, he just said “awww, don't you want me to get to know your little girl too? are you gonna hog her all by yourself?”

that's when you lost it. you dragged him in the hospital's parking lot and asked him what he truly wants.

shidou asks you to enter his car so you guys could ‘talk more’. thinking that he's just scared of the paparazzis, you agreed to talk with him inside his car with tinted glasses.

when you both sat on the front seats, he waited for you to speak first and you broke the silence.

you told him that you found out that you were pregnant after that night and you didn't get to tell him because he blocked you everywhere on social media. you're mad because he promised that he's going to be with you after but he left without saying anything.

shidou basically just gaslit you and told you that you never tried hard enough like contacting him thru his emails. he even had the guts to victimize himself and say that he felt hurt you never told him.

“just shows how my little y/n won't trust me enough to look after our poor little baby and that makes me sad.”

you rolled your eyes and attempted to get off the car, when shidou held your hand, trying to stop you. you decided to stop and take one last look at him. he holds your hand tighter, but not in a hurting way.

“oh hell nah, y/n. don't do this to me, i'm a changed man, ya know?”

you told shidou that if he's planning to ghost you again, he's never gonna get to know miyu. he is not going to be her first heartbreak. you made it clear to him.

shidou was like, “i know i didn't keep my promise to you, but i'm not a monster to do the same thing to her.”

you still didn't believe him, until he told you that he wants to show how serious he is. “give me your bank account number” but you didn't want to give it to him because of your pride.

but then he started saying “you sure you don't want my help? you were eating a one-dollar ramen during lunchtime. how can you even give what's best if you can't even give yourself anything?”and he said it in a taunting voice. oh boi, all these years and he's still so good at provoking people.

so you ended up giving your bank account details. you received a notification on your phone saying that you just received 7 million yen— about 50k dollars. you looked at him in disbelief.

“also, don't let her wear those ugly floral dresses. buy her something else.”

you muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ altho you didn't really wanna say that but you know you needed to.

both of you agreed on a co-parenting situation. for visits, he would visit your daughter in your apartment every weekend. you wanted those instead of public because paparazzis may spot your daughter. she doesn't deserve that kind of toxicity yet.

first time visiting your apartment, shidou basically roasted your house and bought you a whole apartment just two floors way from his own apartment. “and you said you didn't need my help? i don't think my baby should even live in this place.” you moved in that place a month after he first met miyu.

the first time they met each other… you hate to admit it, but they got along really well. both of them weren't too emotional about it. it was just like two best friends meeting each other and having a lighthearted conversation. you observed miyu and it seems that she's at ease around shidou.

“miyu, that's your dad.” oh boi she ran so fast in his arms and hugged him. luckily, he caught her. since then, the both of them have been talking. miyu liked calling shidou his ‘daddy’. and honestly, shidou was proud of it.

shidou was the fun dad. you'll say ‘no ice cream’ and he's gonna bring your daughter ice cream while you're not around. when you say that she shouldn't eat sweets after brushing her teeth, shidou would just tell her to have some then she can brush her teeth after. so in no time, miyu became a ‘daddy's girl’ while you were the ‘no-fun and strict’ mom (as said by shidou when miyu's not around).

the whole co-parenting setup was okay. but shidou would make advances towards you whenever miyu is not looking. he would flirt with you, saying how your genes looked great when mixed together and sometimes, he would bring up that miyu needs a playmate. you would only roll your eyes at him, saying that you'd rather die than to repeat the same mistake.

it was all peaceful. you were starting to put your trust in him— until you saw a selfie of shidou and miyu all over the news and headlines. it seemed that he posted her on his insta, without your consent.

you did not like that one bit. both of you told each other that if he wants to something like this, he needs to talk to you first. again, shidou forgot to keep up with his word.

with an angry tone, you immediately called shidou and asked to talk to him in private. he asked you to come over to his apartment— and you were hesitant at first, but you agreed. you decided to drop off miyu at the local daycare center, just so the both of you could talk it out.

[kirbmey]

— 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒃𝒊𝒈𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓!𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃 ૮꒰˵• ﻌ •˵꒱ა

synopsis: there’s also soft moments with gege, the majority of them are!

tw: the usual stepcest and cute reader, besides that it’s all rainbows and unicorns, reader calls her mom ‘mommy’, i picture their house being spotted in some natural area and it’s quiet vintage, etc.

waking up from what you could swear was the worse night of your life sweating was not on you monday plans. caleb could hear your coughing from the other side of the house, so he visited you earlier than normal to check on your condition.

finding you curled up underneath your silky bedsheets he could barely spot your eyes. and when he met them he immediately knew something was wrong, very wrong.

he knelt in front of you as he was used to, a big palm coming up against your forehead to check your temperature first thing; no fever.

his best friend zayne (and one of your fewer ones, he trusted him to be around you) was studying medicine and told him how to spot things such as fever, flu or a mere cold.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “my angel, what’s the matter? what do you feel?” he questioned with a saddened expression, hurting when you did. his amethyst eyes locking with your lifeless ones.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “throat feels dry and m’ head hurts so much.” you complained with almost quiet voice, turning your back on him so caleb couldn’t see your pathetic state.

cold it is, he deduced. he softly caressed your hair for a little longer before standing up and coming back with the right medicine. he helped you sit up against the bed frame and medicated you.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “there you go, good girl. we’ll be taking these again in eight hours, hmm? for now you’ll be taking a warm bath, it’ll make you feel a lot better.” he informed you and stood up grabbing some fresh clothes from your drawers, heading to your bathroom to fill up the bathtub along with your favorite vanilla scented salts and lighting up cherry candles.

the window of your bathroom almost completely covered by the blinds, he could see just how dark it was outside yet, the moon not ready to leave for now.

when he came back to you he found you falling asleep again, smiling to himself at the adorable sight. “i know you wanna sleep, princess, but we have to wash you up first.” he acknowledged, he always knew how you felt or what you were thinking.

you merely nodded and lifted your weak arms as you could so he would take you to said bathroom, which was warm by the time you got there because of the steamy water filling the tub.

the pink countertop was your designated sit while he undressed you, not a single lustful intention in his actions.

he began rustling with the cottony fabric of your nightgown to finally lift it out of your lumpy body, leaving it aside as he removed your used panties so they could be thrown away with the rest of your clothes.

you let out some sneezes and coughs from time to time, making caleb pull you against his dressed chest and wrap his big arms around you, hugging you while resting his head on top of yours, just for moral support.

while waiting for the tub to be full of water you both heard a weak knocking on the bathroom door, hearing your moms voice.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “is everything okay, baby, you need help?” she asked, concern noticeable in her voice. you were quiet prone to get sick these seasons, so she always tried to help you whenever you felt off.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “no, mommy, gege’s helping me.” you said as you came down the counter, opening the door so your mom could see caleb turning off the tap, your discarded clothes and your naked form.

anyone would find that alarming, weird, off putting, mostly when you were already grown up adults. but your mother had a pure heart, just as you did, and only felt tenderness take over her soul when noticing how caring your step brother was about you.

she held your pale face between her hands, peppering it with small kisses as she spoke. “alright, i see caleb gave you medicine already. what about if i get on cooking breakfast so it’s ready when you come out?” she smothered your arms up an down.

caleb came up behind you, grabbing onto your shoulders and offering your mother that characteristic boyish smile of his. “that’d be great, ma, we’ll be done in a minute here.”

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “splendid then, i’ll light up the fireplace as well! we have to keep you warm.” she mumbled while leaving the room, closing the door in her departure.

and just like that your brother held you between his arms, lifting you like a princess without needing much effort due to his strength, and put you down inside the warm and bubbly water.

he knelt in front of the tub outside, the sleeves of his pajamas rolled to his elbows so he could wash your hair and body comfortably. he would often times use the foam floating around to plaster it on your face and give you little mustaches or weird beards, gaining tiny laughs from you.

after a few minutes he was done and didn’t waste time on pulling you out when he felt the water running cold, making you stand in front of the big vintage mirror while he had your back, drying your hair and applying your usual products on it to keep it silky and smooth.

he then dried you whole and creamed your body with coconut scented lotion, massaging your arms, legs and feet on the way, dressed you up with a cozier pajama, making sure it was perfectly buttoned and squeezed your nape to make you turn to look up to him.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “feeling better, my dear?” you simply nodded, standing on your tippy toes to leave a loud kiss on his cheek. a stupid smile drawn on his lips; he was utterly in love with you.

when you two came out of your little bubble the sun was already setting, waving the moon goodbye. the wooden walls of the house filled with the sound of the gramophone playing your mom’s favorite jazz album; you loved jazz too.

she’d play it when she carried you inside her belly.

grabbing onto your brother’s big hand you would go downstairs to meet your loving mother place some homemade pancakes on the peeled white table along with chocolate syrup and orange juice.

caleb sat down next to you and in front of your mom, feeling your legs coming up to rest on his lap while you chatted with the woman who gave you birth, caressing the soft skin of your ankles as he munched on a chocolate covered pancake.

he could pick some parts of what you two said, something about his dad being out of town for work, something about the roses out the garden starting to bloom, to which you happily clapped at.

he was too mesmerized with your angel-like features accompanied by the lake he could see outside the window behind you, noticing how the swan that swam around looked just like you.

his little swan.

a/n: this is by far the sweetest thing I’ve ever written, i need me a caleb living with me in a vintage country side cottage rn ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა

— masterlist.

[thebreakfastgenie]

In this case they don't know they're wrong, because they are very very stupid. They were doing the "everyone's gender is the sex they're assigned at birth!!!" thing because they hate trans people, but they changed it to sex at conception because they're also pandering to the "life begins at conception" crowd. They don't know anything about human embryonic development. They don't know what "conception" really means. They don't know that all fetuses start out female.

This is not the first time something like this has happened. Ohio passed an anti-abortion law that included a mandate that doctors attempt to save ectopic pregnancies by re-implanting them in the uterus. This cannot be done. It is not currently medically possible. Many doctors said so. And yes, they didn't care, but they wrote it that way in the first place because they literally did not know. Because they are very, very stupid.

The right does actually care about definitions--it's why they did this in the first place--and they do care about legality because they want their evil shit to be enforceable. Some of them don't care and are just posturing, but enough of them do care. People will respond to this by saying "fascists will do whatever they want" and this is why I hate the characterization of the United States as a country that is already fascist. It's not, it's a democratic republic in the midst of an attempted fascist takeover. They need to use the system to implement their fascism because they are unable to do it by force. We know this, because their attempt to overturn an election by force failed. We also know that a majority of this country does not support Donald Trump. They need legality because they are much weaker than they want you to think. They are able to do what they want to some extent because they control all three branches of the federal government. They have a lot of yes man judges but not all of them, and not all the ones they have are willing to uphold a blatant unenforceable/illegal/unconstitutional order. Legality matters. Also, by the way, liberals begged you to help stop them from getting the yes man judges in the first place.

Liberals aren't pointing this out to defeat the fascists with a clever gotcha, they're just pointing out that the fascists are extremely stupid. That's all it is. If you agreed with the people in this screenshot I think you should ask yourself why you assume that everyone thinks of their online comments as action. Fighting the fascists will happen in other ways. Pointing out their incompetence does help dismantle their narrative of strength, but it's a minor thing. Mostly it's just people saying "I cannot believe how stupid my right wing government is."

Also... look in many ways I agree that you cannot take fascists at their word, but I think some of you could stand to take them at their word a little more. Trump said he was going to do all this every day of his campaign and a large number of people simply didn't believe him. If people had taken the fascists at their word then maybe they would have acted to stop them before we got here.

[kurokawaia]

thoughts on sasuke with pregnant reader (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) (don't feel pressured if you don't want to write it Honey!! you know i love what you write either way 🫂)

Oh my goodness^^ ofc i'll share my thoughts nonnie!! you're too sweet omg 🫂🫂

CW/TW :: pregnancy, fem!reader, thelast!sasuke/postwar!sasuke, reader is a medical ninja

I can just imagine that on his travels that you are there with him. He is the one that asked you to come which surprised you because you'd never thought he would, until he did. During the time you were together, wondering outside the village, going to various places, you landed up pregnant.

This wasn't something to be disappointed of! No! In fact, Sasuke was the one who first brought up the topic, expressing his interest and you wanted to as well. The only problem was... how dangerous it would be for you now that you are having a child.

Sasuke and you managed to come to an agreement, that you'd go back to the village and he'd continue to travel around for two weeks before coming back for a week to spend time with you until you were further along, to which he'd stay three weeks and leave for only a couple days.

You were around 19 weeks pregnant and the both of you have been in the village for only a mere couple of hours after reporting in with the Hokage. He didn't even suspect a thing, you were wearing a coat which covered your body so he couldn't tell, only that you informed him that you wouldn't be travelling anymore due to some health issues.

But, this is were all the 'drama' starts. You're out getting some groceries because there is nothing in the house, nothing. You changed out from your ninja attire to something more comfortable, a fitted maxi dress which did, very obviously, show of your growing baby bump. Casually, you were just plopping in the stuff you and Sasuke needed into the smaller trolley's (sasuke isn't here bc naruto dragged him away to get some ramen, you said you're a strong independent woman who can shop herself (●'◡'●) )

This is when the stares start to begin. Because not only can they see your pregnant, but they can see the Uchiha Clan symbol sewn onto the back of your dress. The Uchiha symbol on your back wasn’t exactly subtle, and with your bump showing, it was pretty clear who you were and what was going on. You can feel the stares, you were only gone for what 7 months, that's not that long but you guessed that it was the fact that you left not pregnant and came back so.

It wasn’t every day they saw Sasuke Uchiha’s partner out and about anyways, since you work at the hospital AND being pregnant. That's a shocker. A group of older women passed by, their eyes lingering a little longer than usual. You didn’t blame them. Sasuke wasn’t exactly the type to be open about his personal life, and here you were, very obviously carrying his child. They probably never expected to see this side of him.

After a while, you headed to the checkout, noticing the stares hadn’t really stopped. You couldn’t help but think about how different life was now. Being with Sasuke always meant people were watching, but now, with a baby on the way, it felt even more intense. But you knew it is only because they never thought they'd ever see the day he'd settle down, and now he has!

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

[vigilante-3073]

Impossible Choice

James Wilson x Pregnant Female Reader

Summary: If it came down to it, who would you save? Mother or child?

TW: Angst, blood, problematic birth, emergency surgery, difficult decisions, medical proxy, House being House.

James Wilson and Y/N had been married for almost two years before they discovered that Y/N was pregnant. They were over the moon and had been incredibly excited to welcome their baby girl.

Y/N had gone into labor at twenty-two weeks pregnant, Wilson rushed her to the hospital in the middle of the night. Y/N was admitted to the Labor & Delivery unit at Princeton-Plainsboro and got into a private room rather quickly.

Wilson stayed by her side, offering support as the hospital staff struggled to stop her labor. Y/N was put on a few different medications, but nothing seemed to be working. They also gave her a dose of corticosteroids in hopes that it would help the baby's lungs to develop.

Y/N's labor was not stopping and her water suddenly broke at two o'clock in the morning. It was discovered that she was seven centimeters dilated and the delivery of their baby was imminent.

Y/N began to panic, tears gathering in her eyes as the couple grappled with the idea that they could lose their baby.

Wilson tried to be optimistic although he knew that the odds were not exactly in their favor. Wilson coached her through the steadily intensifying contractions, staying by her side and offering support.

The NICU was notified and were ready to take the baby after delivery. Y/N was fully dilated by three o'clock in the morning and staff were preparing themselves to deliver the baby.

A Doctor made his way into the room, sitting at the end of the bed, "I'm Doctor Ramirez and I'm going to be delivering your baby today. I know this wasn't what you were expecting, but we're going to take good care of you, alright?" He questioned.

Y/N nodded with a sniffle, gripping onto Wilson's hand as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"With your next contraction, I want you to push, okay?" Doctor Ramirez instructed.

Y/N grimaced as the contraction started, she squeezed Wilson's hand as she began to push. The nurse counted for her as the contraction continued, instructing her to rest between them.

Y/N pushed three times before the air in the room suddenly shifted. Wilson was a doctor, but the sheer amount of blood that began pouring onto the floor made him squeamish. Y/N cried out in pain suddenly, latching onto his hand as she sobbed.

"Call a code and get me an OR," The Doctor instructed quickly.

"What's going on?" Wilson asked.

One of the nurses called a code overhead while another nurse rushed out of the room to make an urgent call to the operating room. The machines began to beep as the baby's heart rate decreased dangerously.

"What's happening?" Wilson repeated desperately.

"James," Y/N mumbled, the color suddenly draining from her face before she lost consciousness.

"Y/N? Y/N!" Wilson called, cupping her cheeks and trying to wake her up.

Staff began to flood into the room, they moved around quickly as they gathered supplies and rushed to get her out of the room.

The Doctor approached Wilson as they wheeled Y/N's bed out into the hallway. His scrubs were saturated in her blood, "I think she may have had a placental abruption. I won't know how severe things are until I get in there. I do have to ask, if we need to make a choice, do you want us to focus on saving the mother or the baby?" Doctor Ramirez asked.

"What? I-I have to choose?" Wilson asked shakily, eyes glossing over with tears.

"I just need to know in case we have to make a snap decision," The Doctor explained.

"Save her... Save Y/N," Wilson stated.

Doctor Ramirez nodded, "I need you to stay closeby in case you have to make any decisions as her medical proxy, okay?" The Doctor questioned, Wilson nodded.

"I'm not leaving," He assured.

The Doctor rushed out of the room, Wilson looked down at the pool of blood on the linoleum floor before quickly following after him.

Wilson could feel tears gathering in his eyes as he rushed through the hallways. Y/N's blood marked the floor of the hallway, making bile rise in his throat as he realized how severe this really was.

Y/N was bleeding out and their baby was in distress, unlikely to survive beyond delivery. He told them to save her, the decision weighed heavily on him, but he was forced to make it. Wilson ducked into the bathroom, rushing into one of the stalls before falling to his knees and throwing up.

Wilson flushed the toilet and washed out his mouth, tears rolled down his cheeks. He exited the bathroom and continued on down the hallway to the operating room. Wilson stopped outside the door, pulling his phone from his pocket with shaking hands.

Wilson dialed a phone number before holding the phone up to his ear, he paced back and forth across the floor as the line rang. Wilson ran a hand through his hair, pausing when the person picked up.

"Y/N went into labor and they couldn't stop it. She's having a placental abruption and I think she's going to die. Can you come?" Wilson asked shakily.

...

House made his way through the hospital, quickly locating Wilson in his seat outside the operating room. Cuddy sat next to him, rubbing a hand over his back as she offered words of support.

"Why aren't either of you in there?" House asked, Cuddy shot him a pointed look.

"Do you even know what they're doing to her?" House questioned.

Wilson looked up at him with red, watery eyes, "It's bad, House," He mumbled.

House walked by them and into the operating room, he took the elevator up to the theater and looked down at the operation occurring below.

He held out his cane and pressed the intercom button on the wall, "What's happening?" House questioned.

The Doctor looked up, "Severe placental abruption, we lost her twice so far but have been able to get her back," Doctor Ramirez said.

"And the baby?" House asked.

"I'm not optimistic for either of them... It's a mess, House. Her platelets are practically on the floor, bleeding won't stop. Baby is being coded, but there's been nothing yet," Doctor Ramirez said.

House lowered his cane, making his way down and back out into the hallway. Wilson looked up at his friend with wide eyes, "Is she going to be okay?" Wilson asked.

"Her platelets are nonexistent, she just keeps bleeding. They're transfusing packed cells and platelets, but it could go either way. Baby is out and NICU has them, but nothing yet," House said.

Wilson dropped his head into his hands, shoulders shaking as he sobbed.

"It's not your fault," Cuddy assured.

"What isn't?" House asked.

"He asked me which one to save... I told him to save her," Wilson mumbled.

"He was an idiot to even ask that question. A placental abruption doesn't require you to make a choice. But even if it did, you picked your wife. You'd be stupid to tell him otherwise," House said.

"Everything happened so fast. There was so much blood and then they just took her... I can't lose her," Wilson hiccuped.

"Don't think about that right now. She'll pull through," Cuddy said, rubbing her hand over his back.

...

Wilson had been sitting outside of the OR with Cuddy and House for hours. Cameron, Chase and Foreman had come up in search of their boss. He dismissed them, telling them that he wouldn't be taking a case for the day.

The three young doctors decided to join them in the sitting area, offering silent support to Wilson in his time of need.

Another few hours went by without any word from the Doctor. Wilson was exhausted and felt physically sick as the silence stretched on. He couldn't bear to think about what his life would be like without Y/N.

Wilson twisted his wedding band around his finger nervously as he stared off into space. He almost didn't notice the Doctor step out of the OR, "Wilson?" He called gently.

Wilson looked up, standing from his seat and turning to face the man. He felt nauseous as he waited to hear the worst news of his entire life.

"Your wife is alive. We've moved her into the recovery area and a nurse will be by to collect you when she wakes up. It was really touch and go, but she's going to be fine," Doctor Ramirez said.

Wilson let out a shaky sigh, "She's okay?" He mumbled, the Doctor nodded.

"What about the baby?" Wilson asked.

"She's up in the NICU. Her lungs are still underdeveloped and she'll need to be on a ventilator for a while. It's a very delicate situation, but mother and daughter are both fighters," Doctor Ramirez said.

Wilson let out a relieved sigh, running a hand through his hair as he turned to his friends. Cuddy stepped forward and hugged him, he wrapped his arms around her as he began to sob.

Cameron smiled softly as she watched the interaction, Wilson pulled away from the hug, "Congratulations," Cameron said softly.

"Yeah, congrats," Chase said, Foreman nodded.

"Thank you... Thank you all for being here. I don't know what I would've done without you," Wilson said.

"Do you want me to head up and check on the baby while you stay with Y/N?" Cuddy asked.

"That would be great, thank you," He nodded.

"I'll call you if anything changes," Cuddy assured, rushing off to the NICU.

"Congratulations on the baby," Cameron said, giving Wilson a quick hug before she left.

"You're gonna be the best dad around," Chase said, giving him a pat on the back.

"Tell Y/N that we're all glad she's okay and will be thinking of her and the baby," Foreman said, Wilson nodded. The three young doctors left and Wilson began to walk to the recovery area with House.

"So, you're a dad now, huh?" House questioned.

Wilson nodded, "Looks that way," He said.

"That Doctor should never have asked you to choose between them," House said.

Wilson gulped, "Yeah," He mumbled.

"You made the right choice... She would've had a better chance at survival than the baby anyway," House said, Wilson nodded.

They entered into the recovery area, Wilson made a beeline for Y/N's bed. He looked her over, taking her hand in his and bushing his thumb over her knuckles.

She was incredibly pale from the blood loss, still sedated and no doubt receiving heavy pain medications.

He lifted his other hand, resting his palm on the top of her head. Wilson leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, he settled into the chair beside her bed. House dragged over a stool, sitting down on the other side of the bed.

"You don't have to stay," Wilson said.

"I know," House replied simply.

[crescenthistory]

heh-the anon who said i js sent my first ask and now this is my second!!!!

ok so....is there anything from the 2K event YOU want to write/expand on? like smt YOU wanna do.....cause this is me telling u to do it <3

i love everything youve written so far and i think you should write smt that you kinda wanna do....if that makes sense....not saying ur not happy abt ALL of the asks-i can tell u love ur readers-but js, smt you want to do yk?

this is SO sweet of you my dearest anon, thank you so so much<33 hahaha it's silly but you make me feel seen, thank you for daring to send asks! proud of you. in general, i want to write more drabbles for the valkyries, but i've also had magical!dealer!remus on my mind lately, so that's what we're going for !

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will EXPLAIN magical!dealer!remus

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: kind of drugs but it's mostly magical, systemic injustice, wizarding war without casualties

remus who can't get a stable job seemingly anywhere in the wizarding world because he's a registered lycanthrope

despite the fact that he essentially helped save the entire wizarding world with the rest of his friends – most of which were offered honorary positions in the ministry for their efforts

not remus

he was dirt poor, burnt out and pessimistic about life and institutions

james and sirius tried to various extents to help support him financially, but he would not accept it unless he physically had to

he lived with sirius without paying rent but tried his best not to think about it – especially because after the war he couldn't really stand being away from his friends

still:

"i'm not your charity case, prongs, you have a kid to look after"

"i don't want you to use me to pay off your sins sirius"

"i can take care of myself"

i think he would angrily say "fuck this shit" for a while and work in a muggle bookshop in london while

and maybe he would even enjoy the reprieve

but he would quickly feel isolated

in the wizarding world, he feels that he is not fully understood because he's a werewolf, but in the muggle world he has to even hide the fact that he's a wizard

he winds up applying to random jobs in wizarding london again, everything from shopkeeps and waitressing to pharmacies

throughout his life, remus has used a lot of different medications, ranging from potions to muggle medication to various ~herbs for pain relief

and at hogwarts he always made sure he did as well as physically possible to "make up" for being otherwise highly unemployable

he particularly excelled in DADA, potions and herbology, for obvious reasons

at some point when struggling to pay for the super overprized ingredients he need for the next full moon at an official apothecary that had rejected his application weeks prior, i think a bulb would go off in his head

he would more or less run home to sirius and they would have this conversation:

"if i were to start a business, would you sponsor me?"

"i've been trying to shove money down your throat for years moons, you already know this"

"would you be willing to get your money dirty?"

".... go on"

remus pitches this: he opens a "chocolate store" on the outskirts of diagon alley to serve as a front for him dealing various magical and non-magical herbs, potions, medication, drugs. etc.

everything and anything that unconventional wix could need to get through life that's hard to access

whether that be other werewolves, other "half-breeds", those with permanent magical injuries/conditions that the ministry ignores, those with ptsd from the war, etc.

you need to show registrations or prescriptions to get most lycanthropy potions, pain remedies, etc. which makes it hard to get for anyone flying under the radar or too poor for medical documents

not with remus – anyone can come in and ask for anything

thus, a form of dealership

his intentions are 1) be anti-establishment and say f u to the minister 2) supply the people with what they need without the hellish and discriminatory bureaucracy of the ministry

(unless kingsley becomes the minister in this au, in which he would begin working on the problems from the inside while turning a blind eye to remus' endeavors)

i think remus would also have a designated section for helping treat addiction of different sorts

his pitch stretched on for forever but sirius was with him from essentially his first word

"hold up, i need to rope james into this"

james immediately suggests that the front store should be called "moony's delights"

"... i'll think about it"

the front store would serve as a regular chocolate shop to the average bypasser, so there would often be children stopping by getting chocolate

remus would sell regular chocolate – that i imagine marylily help bring to life – to regular customers

but his real services were to the non-regular wix, for which he's got stacks on stacks of alternative chocolates, in addition to his shelves upon shelves of ingredients and potions

i imagine remus fetches most of the ingredients and brews most of the potions himself, utilising all his expertise

for once, he allows his friends to join in because in his mind they're not just helping him but also the greater good

lily becomes his partner who helps with both chocolates and potions

molly prewett/weasley grows some of the herbs lol

sirius and james supply both any legal patents they need to put down to get a shop and then they preemptively set up a team of top notch lawyers for protection

by the time remus gets around to this, one of the best educated lawyers is their dearest order-member emmeline vance who is more than happy to help out

i believe frank longbottom could be her apprentice

the order of the phoenix remained close friends and kept an "it takes a village" mentality to everything, whether that be getting friends back on their feet or raising the little baby phoenixs

(because they fought way too hard to keep this village to not utilise it to its fullest extent)

it takes a while to get the shop up and running efficiently, of course

at first it's something you need to have heard about from a friend, but as it surges in popularity, more and more wix know where they need to go if they need a fix of any kind

within the "underworld" of the wizarding society, i believe word spread the fastest

and perhaps the knowledge that "moony's delights" sold potions and herbs specifically for various "half breeds" may be contained to just this underworld

while more everyday wix know that they can get general pain relief or help chilling the fuck out

there are so many reader insert ideas i have within this au that could be requested

customer!reader would be fun, but so would business partner!reader who is brought in by lily or emmeline and eventually falls in love with remus

in general i think little punk remus lupin would 100% open a semi-secret dealership while the marauders and co protect him

[actualalligator]

Despite not finishing anything, I have started something new.

If asked, Eddie Diaz would swear up and down that he hadn't spent much time thinking about Evan Buckley in the two years between him walking out and Maddie showing up at his door. It wasn't true, of course. He could probably count the days he hadn't thought of Buck on his fingers only. And it wasn't just when Chris asked about his Uncle Buck either. Because Buck had been his best friend for as long as he could remember. He didn't have memories where Buck didn't exist. Buck was the costar of every one of Eddie's childhood escapades. He had missed Buck every day he'd been gone. "I haven't seen him in two years, Maddie," he said. He set a cup of coffee down on the kitchen table in front of her. "That doesn't make sense," Maddie replied. "You were joined at the hip the last time I checked. My parents said he followed you to LA." Irritation rose like bile in Eddie's throat. Maddie left Buck first. "You've been gone a long time. Things change." He knew he was the reason Buck came to LA less than a year after his own move to save his dying marriage. He'd been the one to call Buck in the early hours of the morning, sobbing through the confession that his marriage was truly dead. Shannon was leaving. She needed time. Eddie had no idea how to be a single dad to anybody, much less a medically fragile four-year-old. He'd just been matched with a firehouse after finishing his training. "I can be there in three days," Buck said. "I can't ask you to uproot your whole life," Eddie replied. Buck let out a hollow laugh. "What life? My parents moved back to Pennsylvania; Maddie hasn't returned my calls in months. You're not here. I hate my job. Three days, Eddie." Eddie had cried, though more out of relief than despair. "Thank you, Buck," he whispered. Uncle Buck's presence had helped soften the blow of Mommy being gone, but there had been nothing to help when Uncle Buck left too.

Tags under ✂️

Taggings some mutual buddies (and buddie fans, lol)

@tizniz @underwaterninja13 @spotsandsocks @theotherbuckley @anewkindofme @pimento-playing-hopscotch @mayalaen @diazheartsbuckley @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @the-flaming-nightmare @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming

[lillaydee]

Head Over Heels Part 7

Jackson!Joel / Reader

Special Guest Appearance by a Certain FBI Agent who may or may not look a lot like Joel.

You left the loneliness of your home and headed to Jackson with Joel and the teenage girl he was with, hoping your new life would be less lonely. You should've stayed alone.

WARNING:

Non-canon Compliant, Pining, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Lives (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Loneliness, Trauma.

MEGA WARNING: Descriptions of Attempted Sexual Assault.

@copperhalfcent @joelalorian @vickie5446 @peelieblue @nandan11 @liciafonseca @senoratess @denisanoemi @lovefreylove @heartpatch

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 6

---

***WARNING*** Allusions to r**e and death.

You ran to the doctor’s house, as well as Ike’s, telling Lucy Maria’s water broke. You ran home to change, going back to Maria’s to help in any way you could. You were excited. The last time you held a baby in your arms was when your cousin Julie gave birth, years before the outbreak. But at the same time, you couldn’t help feel scared for Maria. You lived in a world where medical equipment were scarce. Anything could happen, and there would be no hospital to go to. No ERs to visit. No specialist doctors and no NICUs if the baby had complications.

You spent hours boiling water. You had no idea why so much boiling water was needed, but you boiled away, wanting to be useful, helpful in some way. Lucy berated Maria for not saying anything – she had been having contractions for two days, it seemed, and at the party, the frequent bathroom visits were apparently to bite a towel through contractions from what she vehemently insisted were pre-labour pains.

She just wanted to have a tea party, she told you. That was all. It wasn’t as if she gave birth while sipping her tea.

Tommy was beside himself. Nothing he did seemed right. For the first time since you met him, he was quiet. Whenever he was not holding Maria’s hands, he was massaging her back.

The minutes crawled by. You walked past the nursery about five hours in to see Joel assembling the crib he made, having trouble keeping the parts upright as he tried to put them together. You remembered Tommy telling you the two of them were supposed to put the crib together today. So you knocked on the door a little, asking him if he needed help holding the pieces together. He nodded, holding up a piece for you to hold. Neither of you spoke throughout the assembly, save for when Joel asked you to hold things a certain way. The nursery was across the corridor from the master bedroom, you and Joel were in full view of the expecting parents, the doctor and Lucy, as well as Liv and Diana.

Joel’s voice giving you instructions was unlike anything you’d heard whenever he addressed you before that day. It was soft, gentle, and you felt your heart weep at the thought that he could’ve spoken to you like that all this while, he had the capability to be gentle with you but chose not to.

It must’ve shown on your face. He kept looking at you, regret clearly written all over his face. Once he finished assembling the very sturdy crib, you placed the mattress and in it and helped him move it to the spot Maria had pre-approved.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his gentle voice bordering on pleading.

“I don’t think this is the right time, Joel.”

“Elena!” Maria called out to you. You took three of the biggest steps you’d ever taken in your life to get to her as fast as you could. Just then, Maria had another contraction, holding on to Tommy as her breathing went into a pattern you remember seeing on medical TV series way back when. You stood there patiently, waiting to hear what she needed from you.

“Elena, go talk to him. Hear him out. Please.”

“Maria, now? Really?”

“Last I checked I’m the one in labour, not you. Go!”

She went through another contraction and ended her extremely painful scream with a huge glare thrown your way you got scared and went downstairs, Joel following behind. You went straight into the kitchen, making yourself a cup of coffee, realizing you hadn’t slept the whole night. Oh well, at least you were not in pain on a bed trying to get a baby out of you. You asked Joel if he wanted some, and shockingly, he nodded.

He stood awkwardly in the kitchen while you boiled the water, finally settling by leaning on one of the counters, his hands behind him. He straightened when one of his hands touched something.

The dices.

He turned around to pick them up, studying them.

“Yeah, they broke last night,” you told him. “Snagged it on something and they just broke. It’s been a while since Tess gave me that one,” you said. “I miss her.”

“Me too,” he said.

The two of you leaned on the counter, nursing your hot coffees. Maria’s scream echoed through the house. Both of you looked towards the stairs, worry enveloping both of you.

“She’ll be alright, right?” he asked you. “If anything happens to her, I don’t know if Tommy…”

“She’ll be fine, Joel. Women used to give birth while farming, you know? Just squatted, pulled their babies out and carried on farming.”

He looked horrified by the notion. “Really?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I saw that in a movie somewhere.”

He laughed. A belly laugh. Pure and true. For a moment, you forgot you and him were not speaking.

“She said her contractions started two days ago? I didn’t know labour could take this long,” he said, sipping his coffee.

“How long was the labour for Sarah?” you asked.

You could see him stop sipping. Shit. You shouldn’t have asked. Did he even know you knew about Sarah? Fuck!

“Erm… I don’t know. I wasn’t there,” he said, playing with the mug, his massive hands making it look like a tea cup.

“You weren’t?”

He shook his head.

“Her mother, Jen, was someone I had a one night stand with. We went to the same college. Hooked up at a frat party. When she told me she was pregnant, I offered to marry her. We were young, I was 20. She said no. She needed me to prove I can take care of them financially. So I got a job, part time, but she shut me out. I went to all the appointments, I was there for her, but she was not really interested in being with me for real, so we sort of agreed to co-parent, I guess? Sarah came a week early, she didn’t call me. Didn’t let me know. Baby was out an entire day before word got to me she was born. I rushed to the hospital. Jen was already packing her bag then. She let me hold Sarah and told me she was going to get the birth certificate. I was so in love with that little girl I didn’t notice.”

“Didn’t notice what?”

“That she took her bag with her. She never came back. The hospital attorney came to find me after, told me she signed away her parental rights. Just like that.”

You were at a loss for words. You had never had children, but you couldn’t imagine leaving the child you grew in your belly for nine months a day after she was born.

“I had to drop out of college, got a full time job, my parents helped, Tommy helped. We were doing okay. Saw Jen again when Sarah was maybe eight? She was with a man, married, successful, judging by the rings on her finger and the way she was dressed, didn’t even look at Sarah. So, that was that. She really didn’t want her.”

“I’m sorry, Joel.”

“Don’t be,” he said, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Sarah was the best thing to ever happen to me. When she died, I almost… I didn’t see the point of going on. The world was in chaos, Sarah’s gone…” he took a deep breath. “But I’m glad I didn’t.”

You smiled a little, nodding. “Ellie,” you said.

“Ellie,” he nodded.

The two of you continued sipping your coffee.

“Why did you move out, Elena?”

Maybe it was the fact that he finally opened up to you about something, but you were not as angry as you were when he first asked the night before.

“I just… didn’t feel like being somewhere I am not wanted.”

His calm expression changed. “You think I don’t want you around?”

Just like that, the less than anger feeling you felt earlier flew out the window.

“I don’t know, Joel. You don’t speak to me, you don’t eat the stuff I cook, you don’t drink the coffee I make, you don’t let me do stuff around the house, you avoid me like I’m the plague. What the hell was I supposed to think?”

He went quiet for a second, as if contemplating what to say next.

“I don’t… there are things you don’t know, Elena, I need to explain things to you. It’s just, all this while, the time was not right. I want to explain, I swear, but…”

“Explain what, Joel?” you asked him, exasperation clear in your tone. You were so tired. “Joel, you’ve known me 16 years. All those time in Boston, that last night we were there was the most you’d ever spoken to me. Heck, you hardly even looked at me before that. It wasn’t a secret you hate me, Joel. Fuck, we travelled for almost a year together, and you hardly spoke to me. But oh… if I didn’t do things your way, you had no problem letting me know how wrong I was, how badly I screwed up. You’re all chatty then. And don’t get me started on…”

You had to stop. The hurt was welling up your chest, coming out of your eyes, of all places.

“Started on what?”

“You left me to die, Joel. In Salt Lake City. I nursed you back to health, and you just left me to die! Stupid me, I actually thought you would come back for me once you got Ellie. But nope. You were just gone. I waited three weeks, Joel. You didn’t even try, did you? Did you tell Ellie I died? Was that why the two of you went straight to the hospital and not bother to come back for me? Well, guess what, you want to have your little family alone with Ellie? You’ve got it. I’m gone. I’m out of the house. You could live your dream life now, without me in it. I know I’m the last person you want to spend your life living with, Joel, but we live in an apocalypse, and I don’t have the resources to get myself an extra thick set of skin to put on. I know I’m not wanted, so I left. Go get Esther or Vanessa to play house with you instead. And feel free to shove how much you prefer their slutty companies rather than…”

He got in front of you, his movement so fast it knocked the wind out of you, your words, your thoughts, all stopped. Your breaths came out as if you had just ran a marathon. His body was so close to yours your knees were touching. He loomed over you, his eyes looking down on yours, his hands caging your body on either side. His face was… something… you didn’t recognize that expression. You didn’t think it was anger, but… what was it? His chest heaved, as if he had been holding his breath the entire time you were letting it all out and now, he’d had enough.

“You think I want Esther and Vanessa rather than you? Hmm? You think I hated you all these years? You think I don’t want to share a life with you?”

His questions snapped you out of your shock. You huffed a laugh, shaking your head a little. You gently pushed his hand out of the way, shocked at how easy it was for you to do that; he put up zero fight in it, so different to the hard demeanour he had shown you in the past five seconds, placing your now cold cup of coffee in the sink.

“I heard you talk to Tommy, Joel. I know you don’t want me around. That you would never, ever, want me around. Anyone but me. So I know I’m not wrong in thinking that, Joel. But, those conversations I heard aside, let’s not just breeze through the fact that you left me to die, Joel,” you said, defeat in your voice as he stared at you with regret in his eyes. “Like I said, I know when I’m not wanted, so I left. You don’t get to act shocked. You don’t get to act all regretful. You got what you wanted. Now you can ignore me in peace.”

He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but Liv knocked on the kitchen entry wall, telling you Maria’s crowning. You’re needed upstairs. You left right away, leaving a flustered Joel in the kitchen as Liv boiled more water.

“Tell me something, Joel.”

Joel turned to look at Liv, who was now placing the pot of water on the stove.

“Why’d take you seven weeks to realize she moved out? How do you sleep across the corridor from someone and not realize they’d moved out?”

“Our schedules are different, I tried to see her, but she’s never at the greenhouse… I saw her at the hall once, but she disappeared on me. I always figured she was asleep whenever I got back and left before I woke up.”

“You don’t think knocking on her door on the off chance she was still awake would help?”

“She put a latch on her door, she obviously didn’t want to be bothered.”

Liv’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know she put a latch on her door?”

“Erm… I installed it for her.”

“No you didn’t, she did. I helped her.”

Joel’s insides went cold. Damnit. Caught.

“So… how did you know she put a latch on her door? Unless… you tried to open it when she wasn’t around… or after she fell asleep, perhaps?”

Joel went quiet. He was suddenly very interested in the mug he was holding.

“Joel, I know you don’t know me well, or at all, even, and you’re probably not gonna want to hear this coming from me, but I’m gonna tell you this anyway,” Liv said. Joel stood up straight, preparing himself for the lecture he knew he deserved.

“The only person who doesn’t see the truth about how you feel about her, is her. And that’s because you acted like she didn’t exist, and now, it’s too late for you to prove otherwise. In my opinion, there are two things you could do now, to make up for your behaviour. One, is to leave her alone. Let her be. Let her have a life again. Let her be happy. Men in town are interested in her, you know. She’s gorgeous, kind, funny, smart, she’s definitely not without interested parties. They’re just worried you might run amok if they tried. Like I said, everyone could see how you look at her, except her. You’ve blinded her to that privilege. She’s had enough of you ignoring her to the point that she no longer sees you, everything you do now is just another form of rejection for her.”

“What’s the second thing?”

“Grovel, Joel. On your hands and knees. Like your life depended on it.”

**********

Jacob Joel Miller was born at nine in the morning, almost three days after Maria felt her first bouts of contractions, named after his grandfather and uncle. Tommy looked like he was floating on air. Maria managed to look happy despite her exhaustion. Mother and son doing really well. Ellie cooed at her new cousin, excited at the prospect of babysitting and teaching him to say Ellie as his first word.

Joel held his nephew for hours, eyes just fixed on his, happy tears falling from his eyes. He told her he would tell him all about his cousin Sarah one day. Jake had Sarah’s eyes, he kept saying. Tommy agreed.

You, on the other hand, were about to topple over. You went down to the kitchen to pour yourself yet another cup of coffee. You drank it greedily while Diana was blearily going around the kitchen making breakfast for the new parents, telling you that you could go home and sleep if you wanted to. She’s going herself in a few minutes. You downed your coffee and went to pick up the dices off the kitchen counter. Maybe you could figure out how to fix them, and if you couldn’t, you’d like to save them. You made a mental note to take the necklace off for safekeeping. You were not going to lose one more thing Tess gave you.

But they were no longer there.

You searched the kitchen, looking for them, even checked the trashcan. Nothing. You were seriously on the verge of tears. Those dices meant the world to you. They were proof that Tess was in your life, a friendship you would treasure forever. You finally sat down on the couch and laid your head back after searching for hours, disappointed that you had left them out like that in the first place.

You must’ve fallen asleep. When you opened your eyes, you were lying down on a couch. You had that dream again. That dream where Joel was caressing your face, tucking your hair behind your ears, placing a blanket around you. Except, this time, you also dreamt that he carried you.

You sat up, feeling a bit disoriented. What time was it? How long had you been asleep? Fuck, you were hungry. Fuck! You had to work! You jumped up, going for the door, only for Ellie to pull you back and tell you that you didn’t have to go to work that day. They knew you were up all night with Maria. You’re okay.

It was only then you realized that you were at Joel and Ellie’s, not Tommy and Maria’s.

Erm… how did you get here?

“Come on, Joel got you lunch,” Ellie said, pulling your hand to the kitchen. 

“Ellie, how did I get here?”

“Erm, you walked. Joel and I helped you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, she busied herself plating the food from a Tupperware container for you. She pushed it towards you, telling you to eat.

“Where is Joel?” you asked, shovelling the tater tots into your mouth.

“He went to send Tommy and Maria food. I think he’s gonna stay there a few hours. Help them out.”

You nodded, eating your food like you might never eat again ever. Ellie watched you eat, filling the time gushing about how cute Jake was. When you finally pushed the empty plate away from you, she got up and placed the plate in the sink. She asked if you had some time to talk. It’s important, she said.

The two of you got comfortable on the couch.

“Elena, Joel told me you thought he left you to die in Salt Lake City.”

You didn’t answer, just busied yourself folding the blanket you found wrapped around you.

“Elena, that’s not true. He couldn’t tell you, because it involved me. And I asked him to not tell you yet. I wasn’t ready. I am now. I want you and Joel to be okay again.”

Your entire body morphed into concern as you saw the previously happy teenager made herself smaller, he knees up against her chest, her chin on them, her eyes averted from you. So concerned, you forgot to tell her the two of you were never okay in the first place.

“When I went to distract the men, they caught me. Shot my horse. They kept me in a cell. Elena these men were cannibals. They eat people. There was this man, David,” she brought her knees closer to her body. “He was like their leader or something, he was the one who asked his men to give me the penicillin. He… uh… he wanted to make me his wife.”

You couldn’t hide your mortification from your face.

“He… uh… he tried to… you know… but I managed to… kill him,” her tears fell involuntarily as she started to rock herself forwards and backwards. You rushed towards her and took her in your arms as she sobbed in your chest.

Oh dear God.

Oh, my sweet BabyGirl.

My sweet, sweet, Ellie.

Took her a while to calm herself down. She’s okay, she assured you. She’s okay now. You could only nod, thick blobs of tears falling down your own face now.

“Anyway, Joel found me. He tried to take me back to where you were. But Elena, I was catatonic. I couldn’t function. I was in shock. And Joel, he had reinjured himself trying to get to me, he wasn’t really healed in the first place, so it took us longer than it would’ve.”

You listened, still wondering how was it that you were alone for three whole weeks, and still managed to get the hospital at the same time as they did. Even if they were slow at it, they had a three-weeks start over you.  

“When we were about a couple of days away from the housing area, there were bodies on the ground. Burnt bodies. One was a bit farther from the rest, a lady. The body was badly burnt, but… we found your scarf, Elena. And the blanket we used to cover Joel. We thought…” her face scrunched up and she began to sob uncontrollably.

“We thought you died, Elena.”

She lunged at you, crying into you again, repeating her statement over and over. We thought you died. We thought you died. We thought you died.

“Joel was devastated. We both were. He buried you. Cried at your grave. We stopped at this gas station and Joel couldn’t function. He was gone, Elena. His wound was bleeding, he didn’t want to eat, I had to force feed him, I begged, pleaded, I think he only took what I gave him to shut me up. He didn’t want to sleep, he just gave up. We were there for about two weeks. He didn’t want to go anywhere, didn’t want to do anything. I found a bottle of whiskey in a car a few streets away, I thought we could use it to clean his wound, you know? But he drank it all, mumbling to himself, talking about you over and over again. He fell asleep for a whole day straight after that, and when he woke up, he just said, let’s go. So we went. He was different after that. Like he had a new lease on life. But we thought you died. We made peace with it. That’s why we were so shocked to see you.”

You waited until her sobs lessened, finally understanding why they didn’t come back for you.

“He wouldn’t let me tell you about the lady he buried. I don’t know why. But trust me, Elena, we didn’t leave you to die. We thought you died. And judging from how devastated he was when he thought it was you, I don’t think he hates you, Elena. When Tess… went away, he was quiet… he didn’t speak… he mourned, but when he thought you had died, he… I don’t think he hates you, Elena.”

You stayed quiet, not really knowing what to do with this information. But knowing that he didn’t leave you to die, your heart felt lighter.

The front door opened and an exhausted looking Joel walked in. He stopped when he saw the two of you wrapped around each other. Ellie told him she told you. He nodded slowly, closing the door behind him and sitting himself down on the couch across from you.

Ellie got up and went into her room, mumbling she was giving you two some time to talk.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. You should’ve told me.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

He took a deep breath, running his hand over his face, looking like he was about to cry.

“Story for another day? A less exhausting one, perhaps?” you asked.

He laughed a little, nodding.

“Story for another day.”

**********

You, Liv and Diana were helping Jessie get his house straight. Three men had come in the night before, now in quarantine. They were healthy, uninfected and skilled with combat and survival. Tommy dragged himself away from his week old baby to handle the situation, Joel by his side as usual. They decided the men would stay, their skills and manpower would be extremely useful for the town. They would be staying with Jessie, seeing as he had the room to accommodate them.

As you finished, a knock came at the door. Joel was there to pick you up, walk you to the hall for your shift. He had been doing that since that day Jake was born. Things were better. Much better. Of course, you never told him about your crush. You figured, being friends for the first time since meeting him 16 years ago would be wiser. You were not going to move back in with him, but perhaps you could hang out a bit more? Just friends. You thought you saw a glint of disappointment when you told him that, but he composed himself and nodded. That sounds nice, he said. Let’s hang out. Just friends.

Ellie joined the two of you as you approached the hall, the lunch crowd starting to gather. As you walked into the hall, a familiar voice called out.

“Elena?”

You looked around. Two men stood from their table, staring at you as if they had seen a ghost.

Two very familiar looking men.

No, it couldn’t be.

Could it?

“Will? Benny?”

The two men got in front of you, the older man placing his hands on your face, teary eyes checking your entire body as if looking for injuries. Their faces blurred from your sight as they enveloped you in a bear hug. Words failed the three of you.

Your two big brothers. They were here. They were alive. They found you.

When they finally let go, you introduced them to Joel and Ellie, Joel shocked that they were related to you. He knew about your brothers, of course, Tess had told him. But last night, as he took their names as William and Benjamin Miller, he only smiled when Tommy joked about the similarity of their family names. He didn’t think that they were ‘the’ Will and Ben, your big brothers. Ellie was excited, having heard a lot about them from you on the road.

You felt as if your life couldn’t be better right now. Your big brothers were back, and they were going to live here with you, in Jackson.

“Hey, we’d like you to meet our friend…”

“Elena?”

You looked at the source of the voice. The third man. The one who arrived with Will and Benny last night. A familiar face was staring back at you, eyes disbelieving.

“Marcus.”

---

Part 8

[ritualcaster]

I know we're at totally different spots still but i read the article and it i think i've generally figured out what about me pissed you off so much.

Tone policing is a subsection of ad hominem. I'd like you too reread your posts to see if ur making that mistake too.

And yeah i mean it makes sense for the most part I was aligning with the "usually used by" section especially with how i was talking, and for the record i dont usually talk like that that, i just try to punctuate n stuff when it feels important to me i guess.

Im not trying to dismiss anything at all, I'm trying to help somewhere i felt like i could help. And idk why we aren't clicking rn but just read that sentence like 15 times.

Continuing

Yeah i said the equivalency was wrong right in those parantheses right there, yk what just stop looking at the red text in that image just pretend there is NO text there. I was using sex because i felt like you would get what i meant better, but it seems like it just sparked misunderstanding.

Continuing

Sorry for rexplaining all the stuff you already knew i just thought that that was what you were talking about me not getting. Like i just wanted to say it out loud so that its on record that i know too? Like that's something we are agreed upon.

Continuing

I'm not mad that you can't "transition into intersex" and honestly I highly regret using sex as an example like. At all. You guys are crazy. Sorry.

Honestly I have a pretty lax stance right now on people who would "want to be intersex" (so i can change it if need be) because even after research i just don't really have experience. As an intersex a mean. Like there are a seriously high amount of medical complications, theres all the oppression, all the forced "surgeries" that are an insult to surgery as a concept, nearly complete infertility, and plenty of general pain an unpleasent sensation. so this time I'm asking you a more personal question.

Do you feel like there is anything about being intersex that would make it prefferable to being perisex.

Any positives at all worth metioning? Or would it be better to have the term as something like being disabled. Do you feel like it's just something from birth that just inherrently sucks?

Continuing

I mean this so sincerely i'm honestly just not even sure how to word it, do you just want me to stop? Like replying? I can delete everything right now, or do you think I better serve as an example? If my stances seem to shift or contradict ir just completely change as we keep going back and forth, its because they are, and you changed them. I'm actually trying my damndest to listen and fix my shit man.

I thought you were here because you wanted to change my beliefs, but if you're just here out of anger i'd feel pretty bad.

on this subject, youre the one who knows everything. If youre here to tell me, ill listen, and if you aren't, then? Im not sure why youre still talking to me at all, and id like to hear about that too

I know that i shouldn't correct even tone on subject im unqualified for

I know that being intersex isn't something to be sought after, even for those who are non-bianary

I know that i am a hateful tar pit whos going to hell

And man thats just all the shit i learned in this convo alone so id say im learning plenty already

In case anyone needs a reminder…

Being transgender does not make you intersex.

Going through HRT does not make you intersex. Surgery cannot make you intersex.

Intersex people are born with atypical variations of physical, biological sex characteristics. That is what makes someone intersex.

Perisex trans people (especially on Reddit) have been recently insisting that just being transgender makes you intersex, and therefore able to speak over intersex people on issues that specifically affect us, especially when it comes to dangerous and offensive terminology. This is not true.

Also the idea that you can somehow “make yourself intersex” is untrue. You can make your body more androgynous through things like hormone treatment and surgery, but that does not make you intersex.

Falsely claiming intersex identity based on these things isn’t *always* malicious (though it is often done to speak over us) but it is always harmful.