#i need to draw her with the iv pole

[lesbianpegbar]

i have got to draw qiao ling

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm VIII

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You have your baby

It all happened so quickly that Alexia didn't know what to do.

One moment, the cries of your new baby girl filled the room.

She was perfect, bright eyes and a little tuft of wispy hair.

Alexia was allowed to cut the chord.

"Hello, Elena," You said when Alexia presented her to you.

"You did so well, amor," Alexia said, eyes shining with unshed tears," I'm so proud of you."

"She's beautiful."

"Yes." A little bubble of laughter spilled out of Alexia's chest. "She is."

She'd turned away for a second. Only a second to give baby Elena to the nurse to weigh and check. It was just a second, not even that.

A hint of a second.

A bare moment of time when her eyes weren't on you.

A tiny amount of time in the grand scheme of things. Not even enough time to say a word.

You were pale, much paler than before and breathing heavily.

You were already panting through the birth but this was different. It was worse.

You were clammy and unfocused and Alexia reached for you.

Only to have her hand knocked away from you by a doctor hurrying forward.

He said words but either Alexia couldn't understand them or didn't hear them at all. His mouth moved but nothing computed.

Bags were hung up on your iv pole, something injected into you, something else put on a drip.

But you didn't look any better.

You didn't even look really present at all.

This was meant to be one of the best moments of your lives, on the top spot alongside adopting baby Maya and marrying your wife but something was wrong.

Something was so wrong.

"No," Alexia said, scrambling to force words out of her mouth," I...What's going on? No! Stop! Don't take her! Please!"

The doctors were already activating the wheels on your bed, already pulling up the guard rails.

One of the nurses caught Alexia's arms as a flurry of activity happened around her.

"Miss Putellas, y/n is haemorrhaging. Has she told you what that means?"

"Mrs," Alexia says faintly, staring down at the wedding band on her finger, hot like flames against her skin.

"What?"

She looked up at the nurse. "It's Mrs Putellas. We're married."

The nurse's features softened a fraction as she gently led Alexia to the seat by your bed.

"Y/n is bleeding. Heavily. We can keep her on a blood transfusion or we can take her to surgery but we need permission."

"S-Surgery?" Alexia's eyes widened in panic. "She's dying?! She's going to die?!"

"Miss-Mrs Putellas-"

"You need to save her," Alexia insisted, a prickling feeling in her stomach," Anything! Everything! You have to save her!"

"We'll try," The nurse promised," We're going to take her in now but, for you, do you want to wait here or down by delivery with your baby?"

"Elena."

"Huh?"

"Elena. The baby. Her name is Elena."

"That's a beautiful name."

"My wife chose it."

Alexia sat by delivery practically catatonic.

Elena was in the nursery with all the other babies, routinely checked upon but Alexia couldn't bring herself to move, mind swirling with thoughts of you and just how weak you looked in that hospital bed.

You had been smiling before she turned away. You had been happy, eager to have Elena in your arms.

The pitter patter of little footsteps was all Alexia could hear and her body turned automatically, drawing Maya closer to her.

"Mami!" Maya chirped," Abuela say our baby is here?"

"She is. Elena. Your baby sister."

At some point, Alexia had called Eli. She didn't know how. She didn't know when but Maya had been sent to Eli to babysit when you went into labour.

For her to be here now means that Alexia had called Eli.

Maya stood on her tiptoes to look into the nursey.

"Alexia-"

"Mami, they took her. She's in surgery. They're-They're-"

The sobs that had been forced down until now, sprung out full force and Alexia sobbed into her mother's shoulder.

"She's going to be okay, Alexia," Eli said," She's strong. She's going to fight."

"I want my wife, Mami," Alexia said," She didn't even get to hold Elena."

"Something wrong with Mama?"

Maya stood in front of them, bored of staring at the babies and Alexia tried to clamp down on her tears, tried to explain but her words got stuck in her throat.

"Maya," Eli took over though," Your Mama just needs to be checked out a little more. Having your baby sister-"

"Elena," Maya interrupted," Name is Elena. Mama name her."

Alexia bit on the inside of her cheek to clamp down a heart-breaking sob.

"Having Elena has taken a lot out of your Mama so the doctors are checking her over."

Maya took a step closer. "Mama is doctor. Looks after hurt people. Mama hurt? Mami, Mama hurt?"

"Mama is going to be just fine," Alexia said, desperately wishing it into existence," She's going to be perfectly fine. She just needs a bit more rest."

Maya burst into tears.

Alexia cried harder.

The clock taunted them, the hands moving slowly but surely until it was hours past since you had first been taken away.

Maya kept crying.

Alexia cries some more.

Eli kept them hydrated and fed, making stops at the café to get them food.

"Mrs Putellas?"

Alexia was up like a shot, Maya already on her hip.

"Yes? That's me! How's my wife?!"

"She-"

"My Mama going to be okay?" Maya asked.

The doctor nodded. "She suffered a post-partum haemorrhage but we performed a laparotomy. It was successful and she's being taken back to her room. Should we bring the bab-"

"Elena," Maya said," My Mama name her."

"Should we bring Elena back too?"

Alexia nodded, wiping her tears. "That would be nice."

She was by your bedside when you woke up, Maya fast asleep on her lap and a little bassinet nearby.

"Hello, my love."

"Amor, how are you feeling?"

"Like I've just been cut open," You teased but Alexia's face fell," Too soon?"

She nodded. "A little bit."

"How are our babies?"

"Maya was worried. Elena is still perfect."

"Can I see them?"

Alexia gently transferred Maya onto the bed with you. The little girl automatically curled into you in her sleep as Alexia gently lifted Elena.

"Well, hello there, beautiful girl," You cooed as Elena was placed on your chest," It's nice to finally meet you."

She was asleep too, a nice weight on your chest with her scrunched-up little face and even smaller tuft of hair.

"My love," You said," Don't cry."

Tears rolled down Alexia's face as she joined you on the other side of the bed, burying her head into your shoulder as she sobbed.

"I thought I lost you," She choked out," Amor, I was so worried. I didn't understand what was going on."

"I'm okay, Ale," You assured her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head," I'm alright."

"But you weren't. They took you to surgery."

"And they saved me, Ale," You said," They saved me and I'm here, with you and our children and I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

[alaydabug2]

Tag list: @sparklenarniawizard @imobsessed123 @thoughtlescat @ilikebookssomuch

Broken heart/Broken mind

Chapter Sixty-five

(Human AU)

Sophie and Keefe met in the children's hospital when they were little. Because of how long they were confined to the four walls of the hospital, they became very close during their stay.

As the years pass, they wind up being in the same classroom together due to their physical conditions. This makes their bond deepen.

But are they able to handle when life gets tough, throwing problems and complications their way?

"Hey," Sophie said, stepping into the hospital room. "How's it going?"

"Hmph." A small stir came from under the covers.

Sophie walked across to the bed. She pulled down the blanket to reveal Keefe huddled underneath it. He squinted from the light.

"How long have you been under there?" She asked.

His hair was a completely frizzy poof. Eye crusties were in the corners of his droopy ice blue eyes. Underneath them were dark bags.

"Does it matter?" He mumbled.

"Sleeping or sulking?"

A shrug in response. She guessed sulking.

"Come on," she decided. "We're going to go for a walk."

He didn't seem impressed. "Why?"

"Because it'll be good for you." She tossed the blankets off of him. "Come on."

"I don't want to," he whined.

Sophie started adjusting the bed to a sitting position. "I know you don't."

She held her hands out to him. "I'll help you. Let's go."

Keefe grumbled but complied, using her arms to pull himself up. He winced with the effort it took. Sophie pulled the IV pole away from the bed, untangling the tubes.

"Use this to lean on," she told him, passing over the pole.

He held onto it with one hand. Sophie hooked her arm through the other one to steady him.

They walked through the halls a little bit before going down the elevator. On the below them was the cafeteria and gift shop. Then at least they'd have something new to look at. Bt the time they were done browsing the gift shop, Keefe was huffing.

"Need to sit?" She asked. He nodded. She glanced around. They were in the middle of a hallway. No seats. And it would be a rough time trying to help him off the ground. "Hang in there, I'll find somewhere."

Slowly, but surely, they made their way down the hall. Sophie glanced by a room that looked familiar. She grinned.

She nudged Keefe and gestured to the right. "Want to go in there."

The room's outer walls were made of glass. Inside the activity room, kids were playing and messing around. They would, without a doubt, be the oldest ones there, but the idea of going in for laughs and giggles was appealing.

Still, Keefe only gave a shrug. She sighed. She needed SOMETHING to have him back to normal.

Entering the room, she glanced at what there was to do. Blocks, Legos, doll house, drawing. She took them over to the drawing table.

Keefe took a moment to take deep breaths when they got seated.

"Do you think they're going to send you home on oxygen?" Sophie asked.

"Probably," he muttered. She squeezed his hand.

He started on his drawing. Sophie tried to replicate what he was doing, but it wasn't much luck.

The little boy seated beside Keefe, no older than five, glanced at his paper. "Watcha drawing?"

"Just... drawing some mountains. Nothing special."

The little boy's eyes went wide. "Whoa! It looks really cool! Can you teach me?"

"Umm," Keefe froze. "Sure."

Sophie giggled. Seeing Keefe interact with kids was always adorable.

He helped the boy make the pencil strokes. Soon enough, his portrait was better than Sophie's. She was jealous.

"What's your name," Keefe asked the boy.

"Jonh," he replied. "You?"

"My name is Keefe."

"Why are you in the hospital?"

"Oh," he mumbled. "I... had to have surgery on my heart."

"Really?" Jonh asked. "Me too!"

Keefe's eyebrows rose. "You did?"

"Yeah! Mine is tomorrow. It will be my third." He pointed to the gauze poking out from under Keefe's hospital gown. "Is that where your scar is?"

He glanced down at it. "I... suppose so. Why?"

"Because we match!" Jonh exclaimed. He tugged down the collar of his shirt to reveal a small scar in resemblance to Keefe's. "Isn't it so cool?"

Keefe opened his mouth to speak but paused. He studied Jonh's face for a moment before switching what he was going to say. "Yeah. The coolest. Dont let anyone else tell you any different. Ok?" He held out his hand for a fistbump, with at an attempt at a smile.

Jonh returned it with a grin. He glanced behind Keefe to Sophie.

"Who's that?" He asked.

Keefe glanced behind him. "Oh. That's my girlfriend, Sophie. She's here visiting me."

"Cool! I have a girl friend, too." (A/N btw the spacing there is highly intentional fyi) "Her name is Amy."

"Are you here visiting, too," Sophie asked the little girl.

She shook her head. "I had to have surgery too." She pointed down towards her stomach. A bag was coming out from underneath her shirt. "It's a colostomy bag," she explained.

"That's neat," Sophie told her.

These kids seemed to be tough. So she figured it was a safe bet that neither of them wanted any pity. Shr decided to just match their energy. They both seemed way more confident than Sophie was at their age. But that was a very good thing.

Her assumptions were correct. Amy responded back with, "I know, right! Makes for cool stories to tell people."

Sophie couldn't help but chuckle. "How did you two meet?"

"We share the same room!"

Sophie glanced at Keefe. They were both thinking the same thing. He was giving her a smile. A genuine smile. She was glad to see it.

She turned back to Amy. "Well, I hope you two keep in touch after you guys leave the hospital. You may never know what it'll lead to."

Sophie turned her gaze back to Keefe. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. She giggled.

[okamiz36]

Remember the two character drawings I did in two seperate styles? WELL IM BACK WITH A REF FOR HER SINCE I NEEDED ONE, this is the only ref yall will ever get from me since its like- 3 drawings in one- *looks at neglected Chuuya and oc designs i need to draw* :) I totally don't pick favorites- *adds Fyodor as rat king to top of list*

Bit of lore underneath

Okami died at 16, but rebirthed as a 19 year old bc rp laws lol, she/her female aroace, uses shadowhell magic and fights with a literal bonking stick (google bident they silly af bc mine is a literal pole-), shes a self insert oc mixed with a persona, think of 'i died and rencarnated in a fantasy world but the fantasy world is the world i designed with my friend before i did scooter ankle' rip Oka bc shes dumb, her personality is bratty, sadistic, goofy, will break all laws and use powerful spells for the most mundane things, her hair does turn white due to her covering it with frost to hide her identity since I plan on making her do some crazy stuff later on, her skin is peach but her ears are purple ish grey and when wearing a mask she covers them like her hands and neck, pupils? nah those dont exist, she cries red tears and it stains her face so often she just ends up using it as makeup sometimes since it's from never crying when alive <3, her hair is caramel with the under layer of red since i wanted to do irl mexpersona with a few extra bonus's, that and ive been into Bahomphet stuf and demons recently (I BLAME MANGA AND CULTURES INTERESTING AF, i know those have nothign alike but they do at the same time-) so yes goat horns dyed red, she has ear piercings everywhere on her ears but never wears them out because she doesnt want to lose them poor gurl, UNLESS THEY USED AS WEAPONS AND CAN SHOOT THEM- u can teleconises certain weapons or if they have soul fragments in the rp so i wanna get that done since its a 'task for future me'

[theroseandthebeast]

Yuletide Recs, Batch Four

18 recs for North and South, The OC, Ocean's 8, Ocean's Eleven, Only Murders in the Building, Penny Dreadful, Peter Pan, Piranesi, Point Break, and Poker Face

Keeping True, Gen, John Thornton + Hannah Thornton + Fanny Thornton + Maria Hale + Nicholas Higgins + Mill Workers

Five views of Mr Thornton.

"if you weren't real i would make you up", Ryan Atwood & Summer Roberts + Seth Cohen/Summer Roberts

Tell the truth, but tell it like it’s a lie. Ryan Atwood grows up, and his relationships grow up with him.

Magpie, Ryan Atwood & Sandy Cohen + Ryan Atwood & Kirsten Cohen + Ryan Atwood/Marissa Cooper

Going fast enough, there was motion to it, and shape. The wires dipped in-between the poles, then curved back upward, then back down again - a never ending parabolic curve, like a child's drawing of ocean waves. He would imagine different creatures running on top of the wires - tigers, pandas, lions, cheetahs, or even a little miniature version of himself - running and leaping, keeping up with the car. He'd follow the horizon this way too - holding up one of his toy army men and lining up its legs with the line where the land met the sky. On the interstate, outside of the city, driving past farms and craggy hills and suburban enclaves, bunches of houses crowded up in little clusters like fungus erupting through the cracks in a tree's bark - everything looked like a toy. Like he could roll down the window and just scoop everything up, pull the whole world inside to look at it closer.

Encountering the Nova, Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean

Galaxies of women, there doing penance for impetuousness. Debbie and Lou meet cute.

somebody else's wallet, Danny Ocean/Rusty Ryan

When you look at another man for too long, you risk giving several things away.

What Really Happened with Marco, Danny Ocean/Rusty Ryan

Rusty visits Danny's grave, and remembers. Meanwhile, everyone has a story to tell about Danny and Rusty.

in the meantime, wait and see, Oliver Putnam/Charles-Haden Savage

Mabel Mora loves her old guys dearly, but she is getting tired of them sabotaging each other’s love lives.

1/3 Of What You're Saying, Theo Dimas/Mabel Mora

She dreams of puzzle pieces again, that first night at Theo’s. (Mabel and Theo as roommates, figuring it out.)

An Ingenue Looks at Seventy, Loretta Durkin/Oliver Putnam

Maybe this time, Loretta will get everything she ever dreamed of. Or at least a bigger piece of it.

ignition, Theo Dimas/Mabel Mora

“So, do I need to be worried about you getting with a murderer too, or can I reserve that particular worry for Charles and Charles alone?” Or, everyone seems to know before they do.

Dark Days Coming, Ethan Chandler/Vanessa Ives + Ethan Chandler & Vanessa Ives + Vanessa Ives/Hecate Poole + Ethan Chandler/Hecate Poole

Hecate makes a plan.

Somebody to Watch Over Me, Wendy Darling/James Hook

The Hook she had made up would never smile at a girl as if she were the most interesting person in the world and then tell her that of course, he would patiently await her decision.

Growing Pains, Wendy Darling/James Hook

Wendy knew Hook wasn't propositioning her to join his crew out of the non-existent goodness of his heart. Enchanting his eyes might be, but the coldness in them seeped right into her bones.

The Sixth Statue, Gen, Piranesi | Matthew Rose Sorensen + The House

Matthew Rose Sorensen explores the House.

The Reality of Shadows, Gen, Sixteen | Sarah Raphael

"And when he remembered his old habitation, and the wisdom of the den and his fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that he would felicitate himself on the change, and pity them? Certainly, he would. … Yes, he said, I think that he would rather suffer anything than entertain these false notions and live in this miserable manner." - Plato, The Republic

The Waters below the Nineteenth Eastern Hall, The House + Piranesi | Matthew Rose Sorensen

Between the Eleventh and Fifteenth days of the Sixth Month in the Year the Albatross Came to the South-western Halls, there are days for which nothing was recorded. To fit into that space: a reflection on certain surprising Elements of the House.

lay my heart down, Bodhi/Johnny Utah

“Hey,” Bodhi says, soaked right down to the bone. “Room for an old friend?” Johnny takes a step back like he’s seen a ghost. “What the fuck?”

Ways to Disappear, Charlie Cale/Original Female Character

Charlie finds a place to stay awhile.

[fideidefenswhore]

i saw a post of yours about chapuys telling emperor charles literally everyone in england thought henry was illegitimate. but i'm guessing no one really thought that as so many nobles wanted mary recognized as heir or even made queen. but it's so weird an argument. if henry was defeated and reginald pole became king, why should he marry mary now when he could get a better match anywhere else? marrying her to "tie up loose ends" implies she does have a claim, so so does henry, and pole usurped him. also the weirdness of chapuys being mad when mary is made illegitimate and lower ranking than elizabeth, but then his argument in her favor is she's from an illegitimate line and doesn't deserve the throne, but we just better hope the rightful yorkist heir is a nice enough guy about it to help her out.

it's very much of chapuys' particular brand, of writing in both inexact ("innumberable good personages") and sensationalistic terms, for sure. also, if there truly were these "innumerable" that believed hviii was illegitimate then, ostensibly, it's the eldest pole of the male line who should be king (which would be lord montague, not reginald pole...but, yk, small issue of montague already being married, so). there was talk of henry, and then edward, courtenay, earlier & later on (talk of the former simply inheriting, point-blank, then talk of the latter marrying mary to 'strengthen claims' asw), but their descent being from catherine of york, and this argument being eoy is illegitimate...the line via clarence, ie the poles, would be the 'most direct'.

i think the idea was more that, this was the compromise solution of malcontents that would garner the most popular support for an imperial invasion and usurpation of the throne, which is what chapuys was angling for here. and maybe the idea of reginald pole is more to have the power of the church behind the match (pole being, atp, a deacon and not yet a cardinal), that montague was already married, etc. i think the vision was really like a h7xeoy 2.0, with the genders reversed (reginald pole is the 'yorkist heir' via clarence vs eoy was the yorkist heiress via edward iv...even tho by his argument, eoy herself in illegitimate, but whatever... again, as you said, this platform does actually claim mary doesn't have yorkist descent via her father, via edward iv, so.... mary as the one with the more questionable claim insofar as bloodline, vs h7 as the one with the more questionable claim insofar as bloodline, who 'needs' eoy to legitimize him)...

tl;dr again, if i had to guess, the idea is that reginald pole as king (consort) is going to appease all the 'innumerable good personages' that believe hviii is illegitimate via bloodline (mary being so by extension as well), and mary as queen regnant is going to appease the rest that don't believe this, but by marriage they'll be able to gather as many supporters to their united cause as possible.

but of course, there is the entire possiblity that chapuys is exaggerating to appeal to charles v's 'heroism' (ie, her bloodline via her paternal line is so 'widely questioned', so she would need him to support this claim, and he would save christendom by restoring the anglo-papal alliance, and btw, she is of his family, so it is really his duty-- chapuys oft refers to her specifically as 'the princess, your cousin' in his letters to charles v...like he's going to forget?)

i might find the report later if i can find it but, if my memory's not failing me, i believe in 1553 once mary inherited the throne, charles v requested a genealogical table that proved her right of accession > jane grey? so you could draw a line between chapuys reporting these rumors to him 20 years prior with that...sowing some doubts, or at least him wanting something concrete for any foreign diplomats at his court, should they question her right to rule via descent (specifically, iirc, he was concerned with how her right was justified through the english-- ie, henry's-- line).

[darsynia]

Trust Fall | Ch 14a

ARC image by Eury Escodero | image by @superherocaps

Story Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Tony/OC, ‘terrorists made us fall in love;’ IM1 timeline. In this chapter, Emory tries to figure out where she is.

Length: 2,793

Tags (please don’t hesitate to ask!): @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @starksbf @themaradaniels @chickensarentcheap @tiny-anne

Excerpt:

“Optimistically? 40 points,” Tony says, working at his tie with one hand. He keeps his body angled in a way that Pepper can’t see what he’s doing, because he doesn’t want her to fret about the brewing argument here, and if she sees him struggle with the tie, she’ll get up to help.

Stane’s eyebrows go up. “At minimum.”  

What follows is a completely reasonable argument on Stane’s part about what’s feasible as a company. Tony remains steadfast, even as he notes Obie’s eyes drifting down to his chest multiple times. Obie clearly knows. If Tony weren’t so worried about Emory, if she were waiting for him at the house and he knew she was safe, he would be making notes about the number of times he has already thought about her so he could make her laugh tonight. She’d be particularly amused about the way he feels almost objectified, how the fact of what he’s carrying on his chest is a weight between himself and Obie, a hidden aspect of the conversation. He wants to ask her if that’s what having breasts like hers is like, wants her to slap him, wants to make it up to her. He just wants.

Chapter Fourteen: [weather redacted in report of unexplained incident in Afghanistan]

It is very clear to Emory that she is under intense observation. Her room is smaller than a typical dorm room, and something about it feels wrong, like it’s being re-used as a hospital room instead of designed for that purpose. The lack of a window is particularly strange, and she gets up to look around, grabbing her IV pole to roll it around with her. The bag attached to her tubing is empty, and she is tempted to pull the whole thing out, but that would likely draw attention. It is strange to her that she’s been dressed in scrubs instead of a hospital gown, though-- another indication that something is not quite normal.

When Emory approaches the door, she sees that the metal box above it has shining new screws drilled into chipped, ancient paint. The box has a steady red light which blinks green seconds before the door opens to admit ‘Nurse Kate.’

Emory tells her she needs to use the bathroom, and remarks on the lack of a call button. The agent/nurse says something noncommittal about the call button and leads her to a different door (with another metal box, this one near the knob) requiring a card scan to open. The hallway beyond is under construction and dead-ends with a few tall file cabinets blocking the path. 

The bathroom itself is multi-stall, and her guardian waits by the sinks. When Emory goes to flush the toilet, it makes a terrible sucking noise and doesn't fill back up. The sink itself is set to a trickle.

It’s almost like they’re afraid of what I could do with the water! Emory tells herself. Someone’s clearly got a wild imagination. After seeing just how much air she needs to gather to do anything of consequence, it is laughable to think that she could manage to get enough water from an office bathroom to accomplish anything more than getting her blonde guard soaking wet.

Nurse Kate lets Emory precede her into the room, and Emory angles her path back to the bed carefully, her mind racing. At the last second, she turns to face the agent and backs up so she is leaning against the only viable exit. The woman stops and stands casually, legs apart, hands at her hips. If movies and TV are accurate about agent-types having gun holsters at their center back, Emory is certain this woman has one.

“Under whose authority are you holding me here?” she asks, wishing she had pockets to sink her hands into to hide how much they shake. Tony’s voice in her head tells her that obvious distress might be to her advantage, if they’re worried about what she might be capable of.

“Well,” the agent pretending to be a nurse says, tipping her head sideways and smiling with what is almost but not quite a sweet expression, “Primarily, we’re just trying to make sure you’re medically sound. Beyond that, there could be some security concerns.”

“For me? Or for the population at large?” Emory asks, surprised. It doesn’t seem to read as surprise to her guard, though.

“See, that? That’s just telling on yourself,” Nurse Kate points out.

“Or I’m bluffing.” Emory shrugs, sliding the IV pole in front of her like a shield.

“Well, the difference between the two is the authority under which you’re being held.”

“And that meeting I requested?”

“Are you blocking the door in hopes of advancing that timeline?”

Emory looks behind her as if she hadn’t realized where she was standing. “Are we playing that game where we keep asking a question until the person who doesn’t loses?”

The agent/nurse does an exaggerated shrugging maneuver and silently starts toward Emory. Emory steps aside just enough for the door to open, looking up at the light. Just as she thought it might, the light turns green before the woman touches the door. It hadn’t turned green until the other woman had approached. That probably means there’s a second person watching everything that’s going on, hitting a button to let her fake nurse back out. The other option is that her badge also unlocks this door within a certain proximity, which might be useful.

The woman opens the door, and Emory throws a hand out to stop it. Immediately, Nurse Kate spins into a clearly combative stance, a hand flying out to hold onto the door underneath Emory’s own grip.

“Can I have a book or something to do?” Emory asks in a friendly voice, as if that was the purpose of stopping the door. She now has confirmation that the woman standing opposite her is a special agent of some kind, one prepared to fight her if necessary.

With a decisive head shake, the woman walks through the open space, yanking the door out of Emory’s hand. She doesn’t even seem upset, despite the possible display of ego in not wanting to ‘lose’ the verbal spar.

“What, you think I’ll get bored and play with some sort of magical superpower?” Emory says aloud, laughing.

She has learned more about her situation, though most of the information is functionally useless. The room is for her, she’s sure, with a new security system on one door, though the badge scanner on the other seems like it’s been there for a while. If she had to guess, Emory would say she’s in a dis-used wing of a governmental building, as evidenced by the creative blockade at the end of the hallway. Her room feels like it was originally maybe some kind of small lobby with a reception desk, one that agents or employees would have to pass through to reach offices beyond the badge scan.

Emory climbs back into her bed and starts fiddling with the velcro of her former restraints. It seems like whoever has ordered her confinement is both concerned and creative. However, if she’s right and they’re hoping she’ll display her abilities in frustration or boredom, they’ve checked their logical sense at the door.

She just spent how long stuck in a cave with practically nothing to do? And how exactly did she get out of there? Oh, right. She escaped.

Is that what they want her to try to do now? Emory’s not discounting that option, but what she really wants are answers. It’s been about an hour since she woke up. She decides not to try anything or complain until the next morning at the very least, which gives her a chance to observe the room overnight.

The problem is that to pass the time, Emory absolutely cannot think about Tony, not if she wants to thwart Nurse Kate and whoever is employing her. She’ll have to distract herself, which she has practice doing. Emory pulls the blanket over her head as usual, and then laughs. She’d only started practicing her singing like this because she’d both wanted to hide and wanted to feel less self-conscious, but now it’s a habit, one that probably looks suspicious. It’s not the best thing for a singer to do, but by now, it’s comforting, and she definitely needs that right now. Somewhere out there in the world, she knows that Tony’s arm hurts, and she’s not there to joke about the large number of pain relief options he has access to now. It feels so strange to think that if she pulled the blanket back down, he wouldn’t be there. 

The familiar tingle of energy build-up sheaths her arms, and Emory sighs. She’s going to have to push away these thoughts, but Tony’s been a part of her daily life for so long that it’s like a part of her is missing.

That thought brings back the memories she’d tried to bury out of necessity.

Yinsen.

Just like that, her power dissipates, as if a switch has been thrown.

Emory pulls the blanket down off of her face so she can breathe freely. The weight of grief and guilt pull her into the fetal position on the bed, though she’s careful not to dislodge the IV. She hopes that his soul is at peace along with his family. His confession that they’d been dead the whole time was another truth that Emory had shoved aside the day of their escape, and now seems like exactly the right time to wallow in how horrible that feels.

Maybe her misery will work out to be an advantage anyway, if AgentNurse Kate is watching through her hidden surveillance cameras. She might worry about Emory’s grief and whether it’s dangerous. If Emory could have her way, no one would feel at ease tonight, not when someone so kind, intelligent, and morally just has just been taken from the world.

There had been an officious man standing beside Pepper. That’s the thing Tony focuses on-- not the uproar of press questions, not Stane’s horrified laughter as he shuffles Tony away from the podium, not the near-constant sound of camera shutters clicking as they leave the room. The three of them, Tony, Obie, and Pepper, take the private elevator on the way up to Tony’s office, and despite the fact that his arm has started to ache again, Tony can’t stop himself from laughing.

“What could possibly be funny?” Obie asks. Fury emanates from every pore, every letter of every word.

“I’m destined to be stuck in confined spaces in groups of three, it seems.”

“Tony--” Pepper’s concerned voice breaks off when he reaches out and squeezes her hand briefly. Obie’s huff of frustration sets Tony’s own temper off, in a way that his hurried, desperate reassurals to the press hadn’t.

“What, that’s too far? Comfort? What a shock. You’ve never been great at that, as I recall,” he snaps, seeing the words hit and feeling a perverse sort of glee in seeing their impact. They’re true but unfair. Obie had stepped in and kept the company afloat while Tony himself had made bad choices with miraculous outcomes, over and over again, until he’d pulled himself together enough to head Stark Industries himself. There hadn’t been much time for comfort, and his younger self probably wouldn’t have appreciated it anyway.

“Tony!” Pepper gasps. “You’re-- you’re shaken up. Not yourself.”

The elevator door opens and Tony doesn’t want to look at the room beyond, because the thing he wants --the person he wants to see-- won’t be there. Stane pushes past to stalk into the room, leans down to rest both hands on the desk for a second before spinning around to point directly at him.

“You need to take some time before you put yourself out there again. That was--” he pauses, rubs a hand over his face, and the person that emerges is the exact same jovial, glad-handing executive that had tried to smooth everything over minutes before. “I’m, I’m glad you’re okay. Okay, Tony? I’m glad. But decisions this big after an event like that--”

Tony propels himself out of the elevator fueled primarily by outrage. “After seeing the kind of people who have access to our weapons and moving decisively to stop it? Is that the event you’re referring to?” 

He walks right up to Obie, and it’s only because his arm hurts like hell that he doesn’t reach up and do the thing that Stane always loves to do, adjust Tony’s collar, pat the fabric paternally, like he actually ever gave a fuck. How long has this man used his jolly attitude to cover his contempt? Would Tony have ever realized it without spending time with Yinsen and learning to recognize the practice?

“So, what? That’s it?” Stane asks, holding his hands out and letting them drop with a sound as they strike his leg. “You against the world? There’s no need to do that, Tony, and I gotta tell you, trying to go it alone will just make it easier for people to ignore you. I may be many things to many people, and I’m not good at all of them, I’ll admit it. One thing I am good at? PR. But you brought this down on my head with no warning, and it’s going to take a hell of a lot of goodwill to fix that.” He puffs out a breath and shakes his head, chuckling, once again returning to his True North when dealing with Tony, exasperated amusement. “What’s your over/under on the stock drop for tomorrow, do you think?”

Tony looks over his shoulder to see that Pepper’s settled herself down at the chair beside his desk. She’s got a notebook out on the desk beside her, and there are a few lines written on it, but her hands are in her lap. She is a picture of studied calm. He’s pretty sure she’s taking notes as surreptitiously as possible; it’s exactly what he needs from her, at exactly the moment he needs it. Tony throws her a little smile of gratitude, feeling a tiny sting of guilt when her reaction to seeing such an expression from him is surprise.

That makes him think of Emory too.

“Optimistically? 40 points,” Tony says, working at his tie with one hand. He keeps his body angled in a way that Pepper can’t see what he’s doing, because he doesn’t want her to fret about the brewing argument here, and if she sees him struggle with the tie, she’ll get up to help.

Stane’s eyebrows go up. “At minimum.”  

What follows is a completely reasonable argument on Stane’s part about what’s feasible as a company. Tony remains steadfast, even as he notes Obie’s eyes drifting down to his chest multiple times. Obie clearly knows. If Tony weren’t so worried about Emory, if she were waiting for him at the house and he knew she was safe, he would be making notes about the number of times he has already thought about her so he could make her laugh tonight. She’d be particularly amused about the way he feels almost objectified, how the fact of what he’s carrying on his chest is a weight between himself and Obie, a hidden aspect of the conversation. He wants to ask her if that’s what having breasts like hers is like, wants her to slap him, wants to make it up to her. He just wants.

“I think we should take another look into ARC reactor technology,” Tony interrupts. Obie’s lips turn downward, and he flicks a sheepish glance at Tony’s face like he knows he’s been caught before shaking his head.

“Nah, come on, that was a publicity stunt! We built that thing to shut the hippies up!”

What follows is another conversation full of pushback, but he knows Stane’s just stalling. Finally, they both stop arguing and just level suspicious looks at each other for a full fifteen seconds.

Tony just knows that if he looked over at Pepper, she’d be the very picture of anxiety. He decides to put her out of her misery. “Could you have a lousier poker face? Just tell me, who told you? Rhodey? Or Pepper?”

“Told him what?” Pepper interjects. Tony turns to look at her and she’s wide-eyed, her brows furrowed.

“Rhodey didn’t tell-- You’re kidding, right?” he demands, shocked.

“You were with us the whole time! Harry was driving, I was in the back--”

“Hold on, Harry?” Tony interrupts, bewildered.

Pepper’s face turns bright red. “It’s-- y-ou were gone, Tony. He, the nickname, it, it felt like a farce, neither of us could--”

Tony waves a hand to cut her off. “All right, okay, got it.” Her extreme embarrassment and stuttering response tells Tony that the moment he’d seen on the tarmac might have been something private and meaningful to Happy and Pepper. He sets that world-tilting notion aside for the moment.

Stane rests a heavy hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Show me.”

“All right,” he agrees, releasing the velcro on his sling.

“Tony, what--?” Pepper gets up and comes over, taking the sling before it falls to the floor.

He unbuttons his shirt with the two of them staring at him in amazement. It’s not hard to feel a little bit like Superman when he pulls the two sides open so they can see the reactor more clearly.

“Oh, my God,” Pepper whispers. “Is that… stuck? In your chest?”

He looks from her to Obie. At first, the man’s intrigued, but then his expression shifts. Tony recognizes the look, because it’s the same one Stane has always worn when Tony brought him a schematic, an improvement, an innovation.

Somewhere in the man’s head, a voice is saying, How do we monetize this?

He’d spent years enjoying the process of earning that look in Stane’s eyes, but today it’s concerning.

Next chapter, Tony starts making threats and gathering information to find Emory, and she makes the acquaintance of a man named Nick Fury.

[forvalkyrie]

in a very real ranty session pls ignore – i just want to get my thoughts down before i go berserk (also uhh depression trigger warnings – just dont read if you wanna not get depressed).

i just hate the job market i really do

i graduated with a masters this past summer and i've yet to find a job. i''ve had TWO PHONE SCREEINGS – theyre not even interviews, they're straightup just SCREENING. no specifics about any one job, just asking me general questions like im doing a check up.

i just... i have never been so mf depressed and ive been mf depressed before and that was a scary time in my life. in any case, i had like a mental overload earlier this week where i lowkey hyperventilated, crying my ass off. i feel like im a failure for even getting this masters– which btw was an accelerated masters meaning i finished within the year.

i feel both under and overqualified for jobs. my last job, i made a certain amount, and both these under and overquilified jobs either make wayyy below what i used to make or are above but aren't hiring. TODAY i just checked one of my apps on the company site and MIND YOU, i applied yesterday. TELL ME HOW AND WHY the position is now filled/closed.

i don't have like any money – i can barely pay my own damn rent since my savings wasn't supposed to be lasting me forever. my sisters help me more, like offering grocerymoney or paying for a portion of my rent, but my parents are just– idk man. they are not parents atm.

i feel like a true failure and i just don't know what to do about it. im legit trying not to cry atm because i already freaked out yesterday but listen, im not tryna become god or the president or anything but i thought i'd be more than just... hopeless. everytme i draw, it feels boring and empty. when i was in school, i stopped graphics because i wanted to relearn drawing and creating art again but even that's being taken away from me.

i'm watching feel-good shows and re-watching oldies but every part of me is like... punishing myself for taking a break? yesterday i told myself i was gonna stop mass-appplying to jobs since i had that mini breakdown but my friend sent me a link to try to apply to. today, she asked me what departments ive appliued to – her position is very low on teh totem pole so i doubt she could get me a job– but yet thats when i saw that the positions i applied yesterday are already filled.

its depressing to hear for 100 jobs out there, 80% are FAKE and within the 20% left, you'd be lucky to get 2 interviews. i dont wanna lower my wage standards cause ya girl gotta eat too but goddamn. entyr-level positions want 10+ exp for some reason and jobs with certifications– listen, i was gonna try for the certificate until i read that you literally need this type of work experience for you to even APPLY.

spoke to another of my friend who said i should jsut appply to these lowtier jobs and get some money but like... i am so sorry, i have so much school debt that you want me to work minimum wage after just getting a masters? i would much literally rather kill myself (not before making sure none of my siblings get the brunt of my loans because its not their responsibility).

there is nothing good in life. nothing good in this capitalist society.

[bigskycastle]

do you just think up your poses yourself , or do you use references? any tips on how to create more dynamic poses?

hmm it depends on what i need for the piece tbh! ive found theres really no "one size fits all" solution. sometimes ill use 3d models, especially if the pose is weird and awkward to “organically” draw. sometimes i'll make the pose up entirely, often if i’m going for a more emotional or graceful feeling (you can see it in a lot of my madoka stuff lol). sometimes i closely look at a ref. sometimes i’ll reference only a tiny part of a model, like their head or leg or hand. sometimes i do a little of everything! i tend to avoid using 3d as much as possible tho, since ive found it tends to make my stuff look stiffer

for example- i used 3d for this zelink pic because ive never drawn the angle zelda's at before and all my organic attempts ended up pretty weird. it's still a little weird! but basing my sketch on the model helped a lot

by contrast, this mipha pic was entirely off the dome, no ref or model (it's literally a colored/painted sketch), meaning her proportions and gestures are much more highly stylised, and i think it shows w how flowy she looks

as for tips.. to get those dynamic poses, u need a good sense of gesture and anatomy, and for that you have to study! slow, careful studies of the muscle groups yes, but also do tons and tons of gesture/life drawing. my favorite subjects to draw are ballerinas, pole dancers, figure skaters, rhythmic gymnasts, etc. i pause vids of them and quickly sketch their gestures, keeping it loose, paying more attention to the motion of the body than the muscular structure (thats what the slow study is for! combine ur sense of gesture with your technical anatomical knowledge!).

doing actual “regular” life drawing with still/posed models is important too. live classes are good if they’re available to u, but there’s a fair few websites that offer it for free, and artstation has a shit ton of model packs you can get for either free or a small fee that are excellent. scott eaton’s “bodies in motion “ project is a subscription based one that gives you hi-res, frame-by-frame shots of some of those subjects i talked about too.

some other cool subjects are: - martial artists of pretty much any kind

- traditional dancers from most places! they also tend to wear very unique and pretty clothes. ballroom dancers too!

- parkour artists/freerunners, for more acrobatic stuff

- ..and like actual acrobats. look for cirque du soleil videos to immediately fall down a very bendy rabbit hole

hope this helps ^_^

[lunarifie]

Rewatching Ninjago

(With no context other than the episode)

The Tournament of Elements episode 7-8

Speed man: The ninja were right this wasnt about us winning. This was something sinister 😨

Shadowman: What gave it away. His cult following or his giant snake head.

HFJDJFBDJNF

Kai: Tell me one thing. Was it his plan to make me fall for you, or yours. Because it worked.

DAMN KAI THAT WAS SMOOTH AS FUCK

Goofy side character cult activists my beloved. Who are their voice actors because someone needs to get those two a lead job

Kapow and Chope my beloveds

Jay: its not work if you love what you do 😌 the power of positive thinking

Jay nerding over Zanes new look is adorable

Jay: a roto jet? But arent we underground?

Cole: THATS WHAT IVE BEEN SAYING

Metal man(karloff): what happened to positive thinking huh?

Why does Chen have Zanes pink gi

How does chen have zanes pink gi

Headcannon that Zane or Kai steals it on their way out

Kai YAWNED during Chens evil speech

Idk if that was adhd or audacity but i love it

Chen you manipulative asshole stop using lloyd and his parents to fucking persuade Kai

The cliche ‘GO! ILL HOLD THEM OFF!’ Leaving the most important character to fight for himself

I dont remember what happens at all so im excited

Goddddd

Lloyd: you, you turned Kai against me!?!?

He must have felt so betrayed.

Kai: itll all make sense when this is over.

Ik you have a plan Kai but you better have an apology

So tempted to draw this exchange

Dont the og anacondrai actually get pissed that Chens trying to be a poser or smth

I keep forgetting Lloyds a kid and then his voice actor drops the most child-like line ever and a piece of me breaks inside

(Nya and Garmadon tied up to a pole surrounded by the boned remains of Chens pet snake)

This…. Is fucked up.

I think I would quite literally go insane after this

Kai's guilt. Nyas hurt.

The rbg siblings are splitting apart and it's killing me.

Garmadon is so worried for his son, for Lloyd that he went as far as threatening Skylers life, but even then, he can't because he’s changed.

He's such a good character and I wish they didn't just revert him back to his evil self.

Also, the fact that Chens daughter was in potential danger and he let Garmadon man-handle her is just

I'm glad she's not under his care anymore

Kai: I had to! He said he would let you free Nya

(Proceeds to walk away as Chen doesn't set her free)

At least he has a plan

Nickname 1: tiger

I Like this one bc im pretty sure tiger is Coles symbol and the tiger sashay is the move that he accomplished when he unlocked his true potential

So it makes sense

I'm so glad ninjago hadn't formed it's expressive animation style yet bc I know Lloyd would have looked helpless instead of vacantly angry as kai stood in front of him and that would have destroyed me

Ik Kai had a plan but he didnt know that Cole and zane would come to save Nya and Garmadon and it would have been tragic if he was able to save Lloyd, but came back to another sibling as bones

Nya: Zane! Youre back!

Zane: what! What is on my back?

I love him

Kai: Hey Chen! You forgot one element. The element of surprise!

The master of surprise from the movie popping out of nowhere: SURPRISE!

And then surprise saves the day

Thats exactly how it goes.

Jk jk lol Skyler fucking totals her dad and Kai steals the staff

Its crazy that Kai held every element and was able to use them

i dont remember the power corrupting him holy shit thats scary

Lloyd looks terrified

Hes fighting the curroptness so hard good for him

HE ALMOST HIT LLOYD

Hell yeah theyre all back babyyyy

Zanes doing the funny switch song again 🥹

Wait why are they sinking all their escapes to leave

BFJSNFJDJF

“We’re not stuck on this island with you, youre stuck on this island with US.”

Oh how the turn tables

Skyler(rattles her chains)

The guards watching her: AAHJSENE

Skyler: … i need, to scratch my face. 🤨

The guards (uses their swords to scratch her face)

Skyler (loudly): thank you :)

Other guards 🤨😠

Okay but the way skyler is so used to her fathers manipulation, that she could easily tell that it was an act to take her power Is honestly heartbreaking

Having to walk on eggshells all the time

Jesus christ they implied the transaction could kill her

I absolutely despise chen now hes such a shit bag father

GO SKYLER GO FUCK YEAH

Pixal: Zane! You have to drive slower! I cant predict the obstacles!

Zane: theres no time!

Zanes really betting on that ‘its not about numbers, its about family’ idealogy

Aaaand he fell. In a cave.

WHAT NO DONT LEAVE HIM WTF.

Kai: Shes more important!

I GET SHES IN DANGER BUT YOU HAVE A SECOND TO HELP YOUR FRIEND

This is the cave in his dreaaaam

Oh shit is he hallucinating?

God poor Zane can you imagine having someone in your head telling you what you see isnt real but it feels real

JESUS CHRIST WHAT ARE THE RUNNING SAWS FOR DONT YOU WANT SKYLER ALIVE??????

Skylers so cool

Clouse (on the roto jet): a bit of a breeze up here! I wonder who will last longer.

Garmadon: How about neither! (Tackles clouse AGAIN)

Okay but Kai and Skyler actually have some chemistry and their legitimately cute

Teamwork and banter always gets me

Okay nvm Kapow and Chope suck

Garmadons not ACTUALLY gonna go to the cursed realm

Right?

THIS.

THIS was a learning experience for Garmadon

I truly believe hes ridden with guilt and a small part of him doesnt find himself worth the same as others. Which is why he always does ‘self sacrificial’ plays, throwing himself in more danger to take the enemy down.

This moment i thought he was gonna do the same thing but instead, he pulled Clouse in the portal and used him as leverage to pull himself out. I think he realized and grew from this.

Pixal: youre not afraid of dragons, you used to have one.

THATS WHAT IM SAYIIING

This is so similar to someone talking someone down from a panic attack, go pixal.

She really just kept using logic and it helped.

I think this was to show that Zane changed and grew. He’s still the white ninja but hes no longer the person he was before his trauma, now hes someone else ‘the titanium ninja.’

If i had a nickel for everytime Zane ‘found himself’ id have two nickels. Which isnt a lot but its weird that it happened twice right.

Something tells me itll happen more than twice.

Aaaand theyre all anacondrai

Oh shit i forgot Garmadon has the tattoo/worked with chen

Jay: first its four arms. Then you became a dragon! would you mind picking a body and sticking with it please!

jays transphobic confirmed /j

Kapow and Chope: WE LOOK SO COOL!

Kai: youre both still ugly! (Blasts them)

Look! Its skylers snake-jay-insecure arc

Jay: they took the roto jet and all of the blade copters!

Yes jay, thank you, we can see that.

Jay im begging you to stfu rn pls i love u but just stfu

Ohhhhh it was Zanes energy dragon.

Honestly if lloyd was never the green ninja id think Zane would be the most qualified

It seems so weird for all of then to just magically get their dragons rn

WAIT THEY CAN ALLLLL MAKE THE DRAGONS

WHAT

i feel like this makes ‘wtf happened to the other elemental masters after’ a lot more important

Kai: Chen said only one could remain, well, we are one!

Love that

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 16

<- Part 15 | Part 17 ->

Summary: A flirtatious moment in the hospital garden turns sour. 

Warnings: Brief nsfw themes, injury-recovery angst, post-traumatic stress/flashbacks, graphic past injuries, KISSING, hurt/comfort. Love and fluff. 

3,700 words

After being gutted left him with a limp, a cane, and an overbearing sense of weakness, Frederick Chilton began copying Hannibal Lecter. His patterned suits, his clean-shaven face. The mimicry wasn’t deliberate exactly, but he looked to a man who radiated calm dignity and strength, and tried to capture some of it for his own.

It didn’t work. Frederick Chilton was still Frederick Chilton.

But shaving the beard did make him look younger. The razor glided over his smooth cheek as he cut through the facial hair that had grown unruly in the hospital. A new man stared back at him. One not traumatized by Gideon’s knife.

Only a few months later, he was shot in the face, and let the stubble grow back to distract from the scar. To obscure the hollowing where maxillary bone was missing. Like a chameleon, Frederick was always changing—hairstyles, wardrobes, colognes—always imitating someone, drawing the eye away from a flaw, never comfortable with himself. Ever improving. Refining. Hiding.

Every day, the burn ward’s physical therapists had him using one exercise machine or another. A pedaling machine lowered over his bed so he could build muscle while lying on his back before he was able to walk. The next step was a tall, rolling frame that he strapped into like a fighter pilot hanging from a parachute harness, which allowed him to take a few weightless steps. His legs shook. His feet did not know how to align themselves on the ground anymore. He hissed curses when you cheered him on just for shuffling one foot forward along the smooth grey linoleum.

One damned foot.

As if he couldn’t walk before. As if one shaking, machine-assisted step was an accomplishment. He was an overgrown baby in a Jumperoo.

While he could not walk on his own yet, he could get into and out of a wheelchair without screaming bloody murder. This allowed him a new level of freedom, if not autonomy. He still required two nurses to lower him into the chair. Still needed help getting to the bathroom. But he could at least use the bathroom instead of a bedpan and catheter.

Healing came at a cost.

Until now, he had caught flashes of his reflection in polished surfaces. Warped teeth in a metal IV pole. The fuzzy silhouette of a mask in the black of his computer screen.

He stood with his hands on the bathroom sink, staring. The nurse at his left elbow tugged him, told him it was time to sit back down in the chair. He needed support to stand, a babysitter to ensure he didn’t fall, and she was tired of waiting.

The thing staring back at him did not move.

When he took the compression mask off for the one hour per day he was allowed to remove it for cleaning, he somehow expected to find his own face beneath it. Skin. What he saw was a stranger. Gnarled scars made an uneven backdrop for one dead blue eye and a skeletal grimace. His own bones were buried somewhere underneath like bedrock, but the flesh was rearranged and distorted.

If he had met this man a year ago, Dr. Chilton would have felt inward pride at his ability not to sicken at the sight. He would have shaken his hand with a smug, professional detachment that said, “I am accustomed to horrific things in my line of work—abnormal psychiatry. This does not shock me as it would a layperson.”

He was a creature to be pitied.

Then a familiar reflection appeared out of the blind spot of his left side. Your image wrapped its hand behind the broken stranger, and he felt it land on his lower back. Warm. Comforting as your face, which was knit with worry. You told the nurse you could handle it from here, and she retreated out to his room.

When she was gone, Frederick began to laugh, dark and cruel, eyes never leaving the matching set staring cruelly back.

“What is it?” you asked, tightening your grip on his arm as he began to tremble.

“Do you think I look younger without a beard?”

The laugh cracked in his throat. His shoulders heaved as he finally looked away. It was too embarrassing to watch a grown man cry.

***

The heat of July was not easy on a body that could no longer sweat and was covered head to toe in a compression suit, but Frederick Chilton was thrilled to be outside. As the automatic sliding doors opened, he breathed in deeply through the nose and exhaled the spinning summer fragrances with a blissful sigh.

You resisted the urge to tease him. Of the pair, you were the more outdoorsy by far, and the last time you dragged him camping, he’d managed to complain the entire two days. He was not, generally, one to appreciate sunshine and birdsong. But this was different.

It was his first time away from the lifeless hospital air—the same smells day after day—in four months.

Now a breeze hit his face—a breeze! He had forgotten what that felt like—and brought with it the smell of cut grass and flowers, and exhaust fumes from the nearby roadways. The scent of gasoline urged his stomach to wring itself empty, but it was faint and easy enough to shake off as sparrows chirped and flitted about the hospital’s “meditation garden.”

Gently curving paths snaked through the landscaping of lush greenery and small trees. Few flowers were planted, out of respect for patients with allergies, but a fountain at the center babbled soothingly. The walkways were wide and smoothly paved, so the grey wheels of the hospital-issue wheelchair rolled over them easily, performing their function despite being over-worked and worn down, not unlike the staff. The black rubber handle grips had a dull patina from hundreds of hands, yours being the latest to circle around them as you pushed.

It was nice to have a private courtyard to enjoy the fresh air without the eyes of the general public watching.

Frederick was able to wear clothes from home now, but they had to be loose-fitting and short-sleeved to not interfere with his treatment. In a navy polo shirt and athletic shorts, he felt horrifically under-dressed, and did not want to be seen that way. The fashion crime was almost as bad as the face he could not bear looking at.

An elderly patient and what appeared to be her adult daughter sat on one of the benches between two daylily patches, blooming garishly cheerful red and gold. The daughter looked up, and Chilton looked away.

“You are certain you checked the bedroom closet? Left-hand side, second drawer to the bottom?” he asked again, agitation rising.

He was looking for the more fashionable Chino shorts he rarely wore, preferring to overheat in long pants than expose his pale, door-knob knees to imagined ridicule. You told him the housekeeper must have misplaced them.

He clenched his fist as tightly as the pink, shiny-scarred claw could manage and went on a gruff, impotent rant about the help growing careless without him to keep them in check. (If anything, the “help” were desperate to keep you in check without him there to manage your habit of leaving everything out—your clothes on a chair, the cereal box on the counter.)

“I know, I know. Awful,” you nodded along to the music of his words, if not the lyrics. You wished he would change the subject, but he pressed on with his investigation of the Case of the Missing Shorts.

“Mrs. Pérez brought a load of laundry down from the bedroom last Wednesday,” he noted. Frederick had taken to watching the security feeds remotely from his laptop. “Has she been using the cheap dry cleaner on Cherry Street instead of the good one so she can skim the difference? I have explicitly instructed the staff not to use them—they have lost or ruined several articles over the years. Inform Mrs. Pérez that I will not stand for lazy—what?”

Your tense smile began emanating a tenser whine.

It was rather suspicious.

Frederick watched you for a moment, puzzled, and then resumed, “The new security guard shares my pant size. Perhaps—”

“I DID IT. I brought them to Good Will.”

“You what?!”

Clicking the wheelchair brake, you doubled over the back of it, laughing at your childish ruse and how seriously Frederick had taken it. God, the man could never let anything go! “Over a year ago! You never wore them!”

“Come here.” His clipped tone did not invite argument.

You walked around to the front of his chair, the repentant pout on your face strongly undermined by rounded cheeks that were barely holding back a chuckle.

He growled with affectionate anger—the kind where he wanted to grab behind your knees and pull you into his lap, telling you with a low purr exactly how much trouble you were in. Except at the moment, your weight crashing onto his skinny, bony lap would have bruised a femur and torn five stitches. And if he was not confident enough for a kiss, he was in no condition to promise punishments of that nature.

So he gave your rump a sharp smack and tried to make his mouth smirk in that playfully disdainful way that said, “I love you, but I am going to kill you. You know that, right?” Sometimes wanting to kill someone can be such a personal, intimate love language.

“Doctor Chilton!” you gasped, feigning shock. “Such a naughty patient. I have told you time and again, this is simply unprofessional.”

The old woman and daughter had moved on, leaving you alone in the garden.

He let out a soft huff of amusement, catching on to the new game you were playing. Back when he was the administrator of the BSHCI, you would often saunter into his office playing the oversexed patient to his sleazy therapist. Now the roles were reversed.

“You protest,” he said in a low, lecherous tone, “and yet you continue to lavish extra attention on me. Do not think I have not noticed.”

“I don’t know what you could mean,” you deflected coyly. “Please keep your hands to yourself, sir.”

He grabbed your hand and spun you to face him, skeletal fingers interlocking with yours. Even through the compression glove, you could feel how skinny they had become, knobby knuckles protruding.

“Doctor,” he corrected.

You swallowed. “Doctor.”

“Why deny it? You guard all my treatments for yourself like a prize when other nurses could do it. You crawl into my bed to warm me with your body heat—hardly standard practice. I think you like the attention,” he said, giving your ass another lurid slap.

“D-Doctor! I’m not supposed to—we’re not supposed to…”

“If you worked at my hospital, I would fire you for such fraternization. Yet you call me unprofessional.” His hand still rested on your ass.

“You would fire me, doctor? Why fire me when there is so much I could offer?”

“And what is it you would offer me?” he asked, voice thick with meaning. His fingers kneaded the fat of your ass gently. It would have been harder, more possessive, if his hands were at full strength.

Not long ago, getting an erection had been painful, though he’d had several corrective surgeries since then, and the grafting had time to heal. Perhaps the sunlight was sparking him back to life. He was in a flirtatious mood—more excited than you’d seen him in a long time, and you were not about to tell him to slow down.

“Anything you want, doctor.” You lowered yourself in front of his chair, kneeling between his legs and looking up at him expectantly.

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

No one else was in the garden, and statues and shrubberies hid it from the road, but it was not entirely private. Anyone could walk in or see from a window of the tall buildings. You were just pretending. You weren’t going to slip his cock out right there and suck it for all the world to see. And yet… it had been so long. The thought of your moist lips closing over his lonely, aching hardness, your head bobbing in his lap…

“You… are fascinated with me, nurse,” he observed, licking his non-lips. His composure was holding, but barely. “You have seen many patients, but never one as badly burned, have you?”

“No.”

“Does it excite you?”

You took a moment before answering. Part of him resented you for still finding him attractive. At his lowest, he even blamed you for wanting these brutal injuries to happen. A bird sang a few metallic notes on a nearby branch before fluttering down to drink from the fountain. You stroked the top of his narrow thighs, careful not to push too far by going near his cock, but he showed no sign of hesitation today. The heat in his eyes as he watched you was not accusing, but hungry.

“Yes,” you panted. “You are striking. I’ve never met anyone so strong, so resilient.”

“Do you dream of kissing me? Your most striking patient?”

“Yes.”

The sun beat down hotter, but it was only your own internal temperature rising. The birds seemed to pause in their songs, and the leaves on the trees ceased to flutter.

You had waited so long—was he really asking?

His gloved hand reached down between his legs, and nailless pink fingertips stroked the side of your face thoughtfully a few times. Then he motioned you to get up off your knees, offering his hand as a symbolic gesture only. You put some of your weight on the padded rubber armrest as you stood.

“It will not be pleasant. For either party, I imagine,” he said, breaking character.

“It will be for me.” Your voice was soft.

“I do not know what to do like this. Mash my teeth against your face?”

You laughed a little. It was probably more nuanced than that, but that sounded basically accurate. “We’ll find out together.”

He looked off into the distance, toward the humming road weaving through the city. A warm breeze brought the smell of sea off the harbor: salty, humid, and stagnant with rotted fish and garbage. “The memory of your lips against mine is already fading,” he said. “That memory is all I have left of them. Whatever this will be, it will not feel the same.”

“I know.” You rested a hand on his shoulder. The dark blue polo was informal for his old life, but the woven cotton texture was rich compared to the thin hospital gowns you were used to him wearing. The last kiss you shared with Frederick was preserved behind a glass display case in your memory palace. A new kiss might break the hermetic seal. You could forget what it felt like to kiss him before. But it seemed worth the price to build new memories—a future just as full of love as the past.

He looked up at you like a broken ceramic being pieced back together with gold. His eyes shone with love, but his shoulders were slumped low.

“You may say I’m a slutty nurse for wanting to kiss my patient, but you’re to blame!” you said, playing the game again. “How could I resist your charm? I bet you seduce every nurse—I’m only your latest conquest!”

A smile tugged the corner of his mouth.

“No, my dear,” he purred, grabbing your arm and pulling you down to him until your face was inches from his. “Only you. I only want you.”

“Can I kiss you?”

He breathed in. He nodded.

You leaned the final inch down, and pressed your lips to his teeth.

The Red Dragon’s teeth sunk through flesh and tore deep. Coppery blood flooded his mouth, the taste so metallic and strong it drowned out almost everything else out—the pain, the unnatural tearing, little pops of veins, ligaments, and muscles stretching to their limits before giving up, his own screams. The truth of his face with all its illusions of grandeur was revealed before him: it was just meat. Nothing but raw, shredded meat.

“NO!” he screamed, and pushed you hard.

It was different than the peevish denials other times you’d tried to kiss. He pushed you away with so much force you staggered backward, and his wheelchair nearly tipped over. It reared on two wheels like a panicked horse and would have fallen except the worn brake gave way, and he shot backward several feet until the vacant bench stopped the chair’s momentum.

“No, no! Get away! No!” he begged no one, shaking and thrashing so violently he risked ripping his healing scars.

His back, legs, and arms were glued to the wheelchair, and he couldn’t escape. No—could have if he were desperate enough, strong enough. But he was terrified of ripping his skin off. The thought made him break out in a cold sweat and made it difficult to think straight. Dear god, he was afraid something happened to his back. Of being disfigured again.

He was afraid to die, but he dreaded even more the thought of surviving yet again to find another piece taken from him.

Not another. Not again.

If he cooperated, he had to be spared this time. He would cooperate. Do everything The Red Dragon said, and fate would be merciful. He had to go home. He had to go home. To see you again. It was not fair that he survived two attempts on his life only to die here. It was not fair! He was going to get married to the love of his life. Things were finally going right. The Dragon’s shadow fell over him. The acrid stench of his breath as he leaned down toward Frederick’s mouth—

“Frederick!”

You ran after him and tried to restrain him before he climbed out of the wheelchair and fell to the pavement, but it only made him struggle harder. Fuck. You weren’t sure if touching him again was a good idea, but you didn’t know what else to do. He was going to hurt himself.

“Shh, I’m here.”

Crouching next to him, you tried to keep him seated, murmuring soft, reassuring words. Eventually, he stopped thrashing to escape, his jerking limbs resigning themselves to passive trembling. His eyes were open, but they didn’t see you. They didn’t see anything but a dark room with a flickering projector.

You laid your head on his lap. “I’m right here. It’s OK. You’re safe, Frederick. You’re safe. Shh, shh...”

It took several minutes, but his breathing began to slow, and he began to calm down. His fingers found your hair and stroked it, mindlessly running over the contour of your scalp. Familiarity. Recognizing you, he grasped at your shirt to draw you closer, clutching you like a teddy bear to his chest. It was an awkward angle, but you shifted so your butt was partially supported by the bench he’d crashed into, and used the chair’s armrest to hold yourself in the bent position. Frankly, even if every muscle in your body cramped up, you weren’t going to leave him as long as he needed to hold onto you.

Finally, he whimpered your name and asked what happened.

“I… kissed you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

He sniffed and wiped his face, which he discovered was soaked with tears, and looked off into the trees. You sat back onto the bench, straightening your crooked spine, but keeping a firm hold on his hand, staying close as he returned to reality. He would be embarrassed. Add this to the growing list of Ways Frederick Chilton is Broken and Useless. But for now, the humiliation was dulled by the fact that he was not in that room again, with the projector flickering. You stayed that way for a while, sitting in the dappled shade of the garden and the warm breeze, the fountain burbling a constant, relaxing, tuneless song.

“The last man to bring his lips to mine bit them off.”

“I’m so sorry, Frederick. I shouldn’t have been so stupid...”

He squeezed your hand. Straightened up in his chair. “I heard the FBI has the video. Have you watched it?”

You shook your head, then quickly added, “No,” aloud, knowing his vision was poor and still focused on the tree branches swaying and morphing in the wind. Jack Crawford had offered, but you didn’t want to see it. You couldn’t bear to.

It had been hard enough hearing him describe how Francis Dolarhyde glued him naked to his grandmother’s wheelchair and made him watch macabre home movies of the families he had slaughtered. His voice was too calm, too distant from the memory as he dictated graphic details for the Journal of Psychology, desperate to tell his story, grab his fame before he died.

You should have known how your mouth coming at his would make him feel. You were so caught up in your romantic imaginings, you forgot how kiss-like that moment of horror must have been, just before the pain.

The nightmare his life had been for months already, and would continue to be. The scar tissue that wouldn’t fully mature for two years. Two years wearing a compression suit to help them heal. Years of follow-up procedures so that he can continue to move. To breathe. To hear. Longer until he could get a new face. His entire life altered forever.

It started with a kiss.

“We don’t have to kiss. I should never have pushed you to,” you apologized, wincing preemptively.

You expected him to be angry. To sarcastically tell you, “Now you decide we don’t have to? Now that it is too late? What fine timing.”

“I am not weak,” he bristled instead, but his agitation only spanned the length of a breath. He squeezed your hand softly, and pulled you halfway into his chair to wrap his arms around your waist and back. “I did not think that would happen either,” he spoke comfortingly into your hair. “Attempting it for the first time in a wheelchair was a mistake. I should have been more aware of that, but I grow tired of not being able to show my affection. You are not the only one impatient for my recovery, darling. I want to try again.”

“Now?” You pulled back, widening your eyes at him.

“No,” he said plainly. “I think not.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

@beccabarba​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​ / @neely1177​ / @onerestein​ / @dreamlover31​ / @isvvc-pvscvl​​  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu​ / @welcometothemxdhouse​​ / @feedthemadness-sweetie​ / @law-nerd105​ / @amelia-song-pond​ / @michael-rooker​ / @xecq / @madpanda75​ / @alwaysachorusgirl​ / @bananas-pajamas​ / @leanor-min​ / @mad-girl-without-a-box​ / @katierpblogg​ / @worldofvixen​ / @sassyada​ / @barbingchilton​ 

[secretsniper3]

Part 3: Well Hung

My Master was right to lock my pussy behind a wall of steel, I constantly woke up to find my hands caressing the fluid that would run around the belt, my need evident and throbbing clear to me but in my belt there was nothing I could do but roll over and go back to sleep. 8am, my usual routine is stopped right out the gate by my belt, clearly meant to skip it Im greeted by my Master in the doorway, I stand completely naked save the belt locked to my hips. He steps towards me and tell me to not bother getting dressed, and puts a latex hood over my head, my hair black now (did he dye my hair overnight?) pushing through the hood to form my ponytail as he laces me into my latex face. Arms placed behind my back im cuffed in place and a posture collar locked around my neck with a leash attached. Following the leash im led into the main hall of my Masters home and I see something new, something that wasnt there last night. My Master clearly worked through the night to complete this device, largest device Iv ever seen he takes me into the middle and unleashes me. Locking a chain to my posture collar more restraints are added all over my body, my upper and lower arms get binders locked on with chains, wrists too, Waist gets 1 and thighs, shins and ankles for their own. unlocking my hands from behind my back my Master steps back, marvelling at his work.

Holding a large remote he presses a button and all the slack in my chains vanish, held tight by the chains my actions are clearly not mine to decide. Spinning a dial Im lifted into the air 3 feet, and pivot forward, my arms move behind my back and meet elbow to elbow as my knees bend back and my feet meet my hands and Im amazing this device can pull you so smoothly. Stepping towards me and raising me up to meet his gaze my Master places his hand on my cheek and with a smile moves to remove my chastity belt, with my wet sex exposed to him, fluid running faster and harder with each passing second he takes a deep breath, savouring my scent as I try meekly to move my hands a little lower to cup my pussy. My Master simply puts a finger on my labia to draw a instant reaction from my body, a gasp and a moan follow as he rubs up and down my lips carefully with a smile on his face. My focus is broken by a knock at the door, my Master going to answer I see a woman standing there talking to my Master. She is a tall woman, the high heels helping with that, a long, black latex dress drapes down her slender thighs as she gazes over at me. Ruby red lips and beautiful blue hair running freely down her back, closing the door my Master leads the woman to me and says aloud, “this is the Slave i was telling you about.” the woman's eyes widen, her red lips part and my eyes are drawn to them as she speaks, “for how long can i play?” “how long are you in town for?” my Master responds with a chuckle.

Licking her lips making them shine flawlessly as my Master takes a seat infront of me, the woman circles around, like a bird of prey having found its next meal she scans my entire body with a hunger in her eyes that sends a shiver down my spine. A touch of her finger ends the shiver before it reaches my sex, all my focus is on that 1 finger, tracing its way over my limbs, seemingly scaring my flesh with its burning hot touch Im sure to melt no matter what this woman does, eyes flying to my Master as he sits with a drink in hand with his eyes glued to mine. My pussy making its need known to all in the room as the puddle that was small moments ago grows larger by the second as the finger moves down my waist and over my smooth, firm ass and down my thigh. Clit throbbing as my pussy spasms at the sensory overload at just a mere finger I hear my Master say aloud “im keeping her in denial for now, think you can make her pussy even hotter than it already is, you be my guest.” All I hear behind me is the hum of a hungry animal as the finger loops over my thigh and scratches up the inside, drawing a line in my skin leading right to my puffy lips. Right there, just a little bit further!

Pain strikes my pussy as her hand comes down on my lips, a shriek of surprise and pain bursts from my lips as my pussy shakes in the aftermath. Finger still moving, painfully slow Im met with another wet slap to my pussy, and then just as suddenly a finger dives deep into my pussy. My gasp of pain elevates into a gasp of joy and bliss, my drooling pussy is getting action and I cant believe it! The finger withdraws with a wet pop as I hear her laughter behind me.

“Come now my dear, youd think id really let you cum when your Master wants your pussy denied of such pleasures?” thrusting a finger inside again for a moment before removing it a second time I know she is, quite literally pushing my buttons as her finger presses the only button that counts. The button that stands out, big and red and throbbing with need, a simple glancing touch is all it took to get my body right to the very tip of the edge a simple breeze would push me over, my eyes shooting into my skull as my brain tries desperately to comprehend what I just experienced. She waits till I have calmed down enough then repeats the glancing brush, sending me back to the peak. Looking ahead my Masters chair is empty, looking around for him I hear him laugh behind me as I hear him give the succubus something, what could he have given her. I am greeted with a smile on his face as he looks at me on his way back to his seat.

“Enjoy the ride, Slave.” is all Master says as my urethra is jabbed with something long and hard, my juices serving to lubricate it so it slides in easily as she proceeds to sound me. The pain quickly being overtaken by pleasure as Im fucked in a hole I never considered fucking before, but shes watching me. Pulling it out before I crest the ridge of pleasure Im left to moan and beg for release, my Master stands and grabs a blindfold and a spider gag, taking away my vision and ability to speak he takes great pleasure in my loss of senses. I dont need eyes to know hes hard, and hell probably use me sooner or later.

My clit still throbbing dangerously close to the edge the woman starts to caress it with, what is that sensation? oh god no! its a brush, she circles around my inner labia with the bristles of the thin brush and I cant stop her at all, she eases the head of the brush against my clits hood and it slips between them, rubbing my clit at its very core removing it the second before I would otherwise cum hard! This torture would carry on for some time of painfully hard denials at the last second before my Master pushes a button and flips me over in the air.

My breasts now facing the roof and the device that holds me begins to pull my neck up, rising to meet the demand my mouth presses into the woman's pussy. She is done playing with my cunt, now Im to play with hers, and she isnt forbidden to cum so within minutes of my talented tongues assault on her my face is glazed with her juices but she still holds strong. Clearly seeking more from my mouth she presses down and my tongue dives in deep, tasting the woman's pussy as her cum drools into my mouth and down my throat. Her warm folds locked around my mouth as she grinds my face into her pussy, cumming again and again.

“shes very talented with her tongue, and her pussy wont stop shaking, i can see her clit from here!” she says with orgasmic bliss in her voice

“i know how to break a slave” My Master replies, and he isnt wrong. Im broken, his plaything to do with what he wants.

The woman stops grinding into my open mouth and my face is coated in a thick layer of her juices, I start to think its over as my Master takes my mouth for his own use. Driving his hard cock down my throat my tongue naturally wraps around the shaft as I accept my Masters meat in my throat, thrust after thrust Im rewarded with a hot burst that flows quickly down my throat. Removing my blindfold Im treated to a sight I havent seen in a long time, my Masters cock inside a pussy. pumping in and out, oh how I wish it was my cunt he was plowing as he thrusts harder into the woman and her back arches in erotic bliss, my Masters hand gripping her blue hair as he continues to fuck her to orgasm. Im treated to a first class show as my Master and the woman continue thrusting into eachother, orgasm after orgasm they wont stop taunting me. The woman constantly bragging about how good it feels to cum knowing my pussy is denied and having my clit throb making it all the worse!

So there I hang, fixed in the middle of the room watching my Master and the woman fuck to orgasm over and over again, I cant even look away, their moans, their screams, flooding my ears and my pussy with need! They finally stop their exhibition match at my expense and my Master reveals my new belt, it has a long slick metal dildo where my asshole would sit, and another thinner pole for my urethra, nothing for my needy box though. I moan helplessly as they both set to lock my body back in its cage. Flipping me over and standing me upright, the woman gives me a deep kiss, tasting her own juices on my lips as her tongue fucks mine with gusto and my Master escorts her to the door. I manage to make out “we should do this again soon” as they kiss on the cheek and she leaves me to my denial with my Master.

Locking my feet in ballet heels before removing my restraints I am left to wobble on jelly legs as my arms are locked in a strict reverse prayer binder with elbows meeting in the small of my back, he says this is just beginning and at that thought my pussy clenches a little. A corset around my waist to make breathing more difficult when combined with my latex mask and posture collar, blindfolded once more Im left in the dark as my neck gets yanked and I lurch forward in my toe crushing boots. Stepping forward a few paces Im forced to my knees as Im pulled over and down, my Masters got a hard cock again and its my life's mission to sate its lust as I take it in my mouth and down my throat. My Master not even helping me as my latex coated head bobs up and down on his member and he cums down my throat. Pulling me back he takes in my appearance. “you look amazing if i do say so myself.” he says with a smile, I can hear his joy in his words as he stands me back up and turns me around and with another yank, Im walking again.

Hard to focus on where hes leading me to, he keeps rearranging things while I sleep and my inserts are only adding to my frustration. The pain in my feet far from over as the inserts inside me are fixed to the belt, every step making them sway side to side inside me, though not enough to make me cum, I cant cum from anal or he wouldn't have put 1 in my ass. Continuing to lead me into a room he fixes me in place and pushes a tube in my mouth, unscrewing my urethra and pushing a tube up into my bladder. Pressing a few buttons Im forced to walk forward as he laughs beside me. Its a treadmill! With no way to get off as Im completely secure and forced to march on in silent obedience. Unable to draw breath through the tube my nose is uncovered and fluid pours down the tube and into my mouth, Im hesitant at first but my Master commands me to drink and so I do it since it is “your lunch after all” he said as he turns and leaves me to your walk. the fluid running into my mouth periodically consists of oatmeal, vitamins and minerals and 3 types of aphrodisiacs. Every step hurts my poor enslaved feet and legs but what could I do besides walk on the path my Master has set for me?

2 hours later my breathing is ragged and hoarse as my Master returns to stop my walking, unhooking me and leading me back to the lounge he lays me down and frees my toes from their prison. I moan as the boots slide off. Removing my belt from my waist he sits me down in the bathroom and tells me to relieve myself. following his command I do as Im told and he cleans up after me, reapplying my belt with little resistance as Im exhausted now and very tired from my walk, he leads me back to my room and lays me down, releasing my arms and removing my corset and latex hood he rolls me over and with a kiss on my forehead I drop straight to sleep. He pats my ass knowing that my pussy is safe behind that wall of cold steel and goes to set up the house for the party tomorrow, knowing I will be asleep the rest of the day and through the night. My Master always knows how to put me to sleep.

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

Emergency! Part 3

Summary: A woman comes back from her trip from Asia but isn’t feeling the best. And is rushed to the hospital. Her symptoms are that of the flue, but worse than. The virus spreads throughout the hospital, Jack falls ill collapsing in the break room. Dean falls ill on a rescue, Cas having to rescue the original victim and his partner. The reader, having to sit by and wait and pray for her friends pull through. But turns out the original patient with the virus got better, now her body has the antibodies to fight the virus.

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean x Nurse!Reader

Word Count: 4,262

Warnings: Scary Situations, Language, Mild Angst, Fluff.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

a/n: I could use the corona virus or COVID-19 but decided to use the virus used in the Emergency! Episode of the same name. The virus being a strain of the Asian flu during a bad outbreak in the late 60’s. Also the drugs and measure mentioned are probably not accurate, I’m not a pharmacist.

a/n2: D.O.N = Director of Nursing, DOA = Dead on Arrival, BP = Blood Pressure, O2 Sat = Oxygen Saturation

~

“Dean,” Cas says, walking into the fire stations garage.

Dean was logging supplies in the squad truck when he heard Cas enter and got his attention.

“What’s up Cas?”

“When you started dating Y/N, when did you know she was the one?”

“What do you mean?”

“I really like Meg, and when she was taking care of me after that accident of mine I found that she and I have a lot in common and I want to know her more?”

“Well, Cas, it’s different for other people. Just ask Meg out. Talk to her, find out stuff about her that she likes, hates, and if you can find yourself still able to love her despite her flaws. Keep it going. Keep taking her out.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Nothing in life is simple man.”

Cas nods in agreement.

The alarm sounded in the station.

“Squad 51, someone sick. Respond. 226 south Jasper’s Avenue, cross street South Walker boulevard.”

“Back at it again.” Cas says.

“Let’s hit it.”

Dean getting into his usual spot in the squad, revving the engine to life and heading to the location.

When they arrived, another station had arrived originally.

Dean and Cas gathered their tools and headed into the residence.

“Chuck, what do you got?” Cas asked.

“Kelly McMeyers, 22, her dad said she was fine at breakfast.”

They followed Fireman Chuck through the house to the girl’s bedroom to find her on her bed, sweating, pale and in obvious discomfort and pain.

Dean placed a hand on her head.

“She’s burning up, Cas, get the thermometer.”

Cas did as told handing the thermometer to Dean.

Dean placed in the girls mouth, under her tongue. Cas handing him the blood pressure cuff.

Dean began checking her Blood pressure.

“Get the radio, we need to tell the hospital.” Dean orders.

Cas, pulls out the radio of it’s holster on his belt.

“Rampart, this is rescue 51. Rampart this is rescue five one.” Cas radios in.

 It was a normal slow day at the hospital, y/n having finished her charting, getting reading for her lunch break.

“Rampart this is rescue 51,” she heard Cas’s voice over the radio.  “Rampart this is rescue Five one.”

She picks up the hand piece to the hospital’s radio to respond.

“Go ahead 51.”

“Rampart we have a female, Kelly McMeyers, 22 years of age.” Cas transmits.

 “BP is 129 over 80, O2 Saturation is…”

Dean places a hand over her chest, watching it rise and fall. Counting in his head. But scolding with the low number he came up with.

“Did you pack the pulse Oximeter?”

“I did.” Cas says, handing it to him.

“I got to double check before I give you the wrong number.”

Dean turned on the device, and placing it on her finger.

“Still reading low, O2 Sat, 85.” Dean says.

“O2 sat is 85. Temperature is coming up…”

Dean pulls out the thermometer.”

“105.” He reads.

“Temperature is 105.”

 y/n was shocked she had a temperature that high.

“51, standby, a doctor will be with you shortly.”

“10-4.”

 “I just don’t understand, she was fine at breakfast, it happened so suddenly.” The girl’s father expressed.

“Some of these things do happen rather quickly.”

“Could be the Asian Flu?” Chuck suggests. Playing with the girl’s pet monkey.

“Well, let’s not jump to any conclusions until a doctor can see her.” Cas says.

“Kelly, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Dean asks.

The girl nods groggily.

“She’s really drowsy.” Cas mentions.

“Kelly, are you in any pain at all?” Dean asks.

“My head hurts, my chest hurts too.” She whines.

“She threw up a bit before you got here Winchester.” Chuck mentions.

 “51, this is doctor Singer.”

“Rampart, we have new information, patient is experiencing head and chest pain, she’s drowsy and vomited a few times before we arrived.”

“Alright, start IV, lidocaine, two milligrams. And just in case what she has is contagious keep contact with the patient to an absolute minimum.”

“10-4 Rampart.” Cas says.

“I’ll get the IV going, if you want to get the ambulance here Chuck.”

“Already ahead of you, they should be here by now.”

Sirens are heard in the distance, as if on cue.

“How about that timing?” Cas says.

“Alright, she’s set, lets get her to the hospital.” Dean says.

Just as more paramedics came in, Dean grabbed the equipment as Cas walked out with the patient.

Chuck still petting the monkey.

“I love monkeys, bet he’d be a cute pet to have.” He says.

“Yeah, but they’re not meant to be pets Chuck.”

“Yeah, I know. But, cute little guy, isn’t he?”

The monkey sat on his pole that stood in the room. And the monkey started walking over to Dean, walking on his shoulder, messing with his hat.

“Hey, stop,” he told the monkey while trying to shake him off gently.

The monkey got back on his pole as Dean walked out to the squad.

 At the hospital, Y/N, Doctor Singer assisted in the patient, Kelly McMeyer, as Doctor Singer preformed a spinal tap.

Just as he pulled out the needle, gathering spinal fluid, Doctor Kline walks in.

“What’d you got Bobby?”

“Possible strain of the flu, her symptoms are consistent with that of the Asian flu, but the incubation period is too fast. Her symptoms came up quick, she was fine at breakfast.”

“Do we know where she’s been lately?”

“All over southeast Asia, Kelly and her friends were part of her church’s mission trip in assisting kids in orphanages, and adoption homes. Fixing them up, helping kids get adopted. And her dad took her camping when she got back. Took her to the Black Hills in South Dakota.” y/n explained.

“That opens us up to a whole array of fevers, and of course flus. China is always riddled with noval viruses we’ve never seen nor dealt with. And of course, there’s ones we’ve dealt with her, rocky mountain spotted fever, lymes disease, or even parasitic infections. Fungal infections that could have originated from her camping trip.” Jack explained.

“Did Kelly have any kind of protection on either trip?” Jack asked.

“Her dad made sure she packed, bug spray, tick spray, and they had nets around their camp to prevent nats and other flying insects from getting in the tents.” Y/N says.

“So, in which case, we’re back to, what did she catch when she was in China. Because chances of her getting anything on the camping trip are slim I’m guessing.”

“Her dad was pretty adamant that they were covered for their trip. He didn’t want anyone getting sick.”

Jack nods.

“Let’s get some blood work, see if we can’t find the answer in there.”

“You got it doctor.” y/n says, getting her hands sanitized, and ready to draw some blood.

 “Dean, your shift was done an hour ago, go home!” His father ordered.

“Just finishing up the logs for the day.”

“Cas can finish it up for you, he at least goes home in an hour. Now go.”

“Yes sir, you sure you got this man?” Dean asks.

“Dean, I got it. Go home and rest. See you in two days.”

Dean handed Cas the papers for logging their day, what all happened, their end result. He grabbed the keys to his Impala and drove on home.

He could tell he was exhausted. At a stop light he had to really will himself to stay awake just a few more miles.

But as he got to another stop light, he knew he was too tired to be driving.

Y/N’s apartment wasn’t far. He moved lanes before her street came up and Dean drove to her apartment. Giving her a call to make sure she was either up or home.

“Hey Handsome, how was your day?” she asked.

He could hear the background of the hospital.

“Exhausting. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah, another late one. Why? Are you in the area?” she asked. Sounding concerned.

“I’m really exhausted, and I don’t think I’m gonna make it home. I was thinking on crashing at your place.”

“You can stay there Dean; my key is by my hanging plant. I think your clothes from last time are still there.”

“Thanks baby, where would I be without you?”

“Dead in a ditch because you’ve run yourself ragged, now hurry to my place and get to bed. I’ll home when I can.”

“Love you sweetheart.” He says with a tired smile, pulling into her apartment complex.

“Love you more Winchester, sleep well.” She says.

He parked his car near where she parked. Walking up tiredly up to her apartment he found her key easily.

He headed inside, placing the key back but also locking up behind him as he got himself settled.

She had since gotten a new apartment since the plane crash; sure she was farther away from the hospital, but she was closer to him by several blocks.

He had gotten out of the shower, feeling a little bit better, but he climbed into his side in her bed. Pulling the covers over him, and falling fast asleep once his head hit the pillow.

She had hurried with her charting, her replacement nurse coming in late. But at least she showed up.

She hurried to her car to get on home.

She saw Dean’s car parked next to her spot on the street. She parked her car right behind his.

She quietly entered the apartment. Leaving the lights off she navigated to her room seeing his sleeping form in her bed. Sound asleep.

She made her shower quick and simple, washing off the stress of the day and relaxing enough so she could fall easily asleep.

She climbs into bed beside him. He tossed, turning towards her, wrapping his arms around her.

Poor dude was exhausted. But Dean was no fool, he loved being the little spoon. Maybe too much. But when it was her, he didn’t care too much.

 Days followed, and the original patient began to go downhill. Her fever wasn’t breaking.

Y/N had finished getting Kelly’s vitals, updated her chart. She headed back out to the nurses station when she saw an ambulance dropping off a new patient.

“What do we have?” she asked.

“Fireman, Chuck Shirley. Stricken with a fever, 104 temp, slightly elevated BP.” One of the paramedics informed.

“He was fine at lunch time.” His wife said behind the paramedics.

“Are you his wife?” Y/N asked.

“I am, my name’s Becky.”

“Okay, I’ll escort you to the waiting room. I’ll keep you informed of your husbands situation.” y/n told her.

Becky nodded, and she was lead to the waiting room. Y/N walked back into one of the exam rooms.

Hours passed as the doctors looked over Chuck, they learned one thing in common.

He responded to Kelly McMeyers.

“I want everyone who responded to get checked out. Clearly we are up against something contagious.” Jack orders.

“I’ll get right on it.” y/n says.

 As the day wore on, Y/N had called all the stations that responded, the ambulance and even called up her boyfriend personally.

“Afternoon beautiful.” Dean answers.

“Hey babe, you responded on the Kelly McMeyers right?”

“I did, me and Cas both, why?”

“Chuck Shirley is sick with the same symptoms as Kelly, and Dr. Kline has ordered you two to come in and get checked out.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Dean, Chuck looked bad. Come in, please.” She practically whined.

“Okay, I will. Don’t worry sweetheart. I have to come down for supplies anyway, I’ll bring Cas along.”

“Thank you. See you soon.”

Just as Dean and Cas left the hospital after giving their blood samples to be checked for any virus or uprising in white blood cell count. Questions rose to how and where the original patient got sick.

“Whatever this Kelly chick has must be bad.” Dean says as he drove back to the station.

“Must be, if she didn’t get while camping then where?” Cas asks.

For a beat there was a pause.

“The same place where she got her pet monkey.” Cas says.

“You really think that monkey is the carrier?” Dean asks, unsure.

“Think about it Dean. It’s always animals in other countries that carry all these scary viruses. Swine flu came from pigs. Avian flu came from birds. The Asian flu came from, well, Asia but it was ducks. What if, this monkey one of those viruses and was somehow able to transmit it overseas?” Cas explained.

“You should really be a doctor something, damn Cas.” Dean says, impressed with the information Cas was able to share.

“Also think of the movie Outbreak.”

“Dude, that wasn’t even a real virus.”

“No, but it was a real situation that can really happen. It’s the worst case scenario. But it was a monkey carrying a mutated version of the virus.”

“I think you’re onto something Cas.” Dean says, digging around in his pockets.

“Here, call my girlfriend, tell her what you told me.”

“Okay.” Cas says.

 “Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s Cas, you got a minute?”

“How’s Dean?” she asked concerned right away.

“Oh, he’s fine, we were just talking about the victims. She brought home a pet monkey from China. And Chuck was playing with it.”

“That is actually something Cas, thanks. Is there anything else we need to know?”

“Not really, but just for the fact that this monkey might carry a virus that could kill Kelly and our friend.”

“And you’re spot on, on that. I’ll tell Jack and Bobby. Thanks Cas.”

 At the hospital, the two doctors were at the nurses station when Cas called. Their attention on her when she seemed surprised with the information he given her.

“Cas of squad 51 just told me Kelly brought home a pet monkey from China. And that Chuck played with it.”

“That’s something, Bobby, get someone to go with Kelly’s dad back to his house. Get the monkey and bring the little guy in.”

“You got it Jack.”

 Cas had handed Dean his phone back.

“You know, Cas,” he says.

Cas doesn’t say anything but has his attention.

“I kind of played with the monkey too.”

 The next following day, Kelly was slowly getting better. But Chuck was taking a turn for the worse. His fever wasn’t breaking.

Jack goes into Kelly’s room to talk to her about her monkey.

A nurse was already in the room taking care of her.

“Abaddon why aren’t you wearing your mask?”

“Oh, sorry Doctor its just—”

“No excuses, you’re taking an unnecessary risk. Not only would you be putting your life at risk, you’re putting everyone else’s lives at risk as well.”

With that she put her mask over her mouth and nose.

“Kelly,” Jack says.

She opened her eyes slowly giving the doctor his attention.

“We got your pet down in the lab. Now, was he ever sick when you had him?”

“Yes, just after I bought him. He had a bad cold, and threw up a bit too.”

“Well in order to help the fireman, and you as well, we may have to put him down so we can perform an autopsy.”

“No, you can’t!” she cried. “I don’t know what I’d do without Oreo!”

“Kelly, it’s the only chance we have at saving lives.”

The tears that built up in the girls eyes fell. Jack took his gloved finger by her cheek, brushing away the tears that fell.

“If you’re right about that,” she swallows thickly. “Then you can take Oreo.”

“Could help you too Kelly.” Abaddon says.

“I know.”

Jack gave a sad smile through his mask.

He doffed off his PPE by the door and left her room to give the go ahead.

 “Dean, we have a group of kids from Jefferson Elementary School to come in for a tour, can you help Gabe clean up the garage real quick.”

“Dad, I’m really exhausted, can you get Cas to do it?”

“It’s not like you to complain, come on now. He’s busy with the logs, come on it won’t take long.”

The alarm sounded.

“Never mind.” John says.

“Station 51, medical emergency. At the top of the Wells Fargo bank at 5535 Woodland Boulevard. Cross street Jackson Avenue.”

The men and women at station 51 jumped into action.

 At the location they climbed up the stairs after they reached the max floor the elevator would allow to go.

“What happened?” John asked one of the men working on the roof.

“Jimmy was over the edge cleaning the windows and he let out a yell, and I saw him collapse. I tried getting him on this thing but it’s jammed.”

“We’ll get him, we’ll hoist one of my paramedics down to get a line on him and we’ll bring him up.” John assured.

“I’ll go.” Dean says.

“Why don’t we just swing the lift through a window?” Cas asks.

“There wouldn’t be a safe way to do it. Just, get me down to him. Drop a line for him and he’ll be up here before you can say Bobs your uncle.” Dean says.

“Just be careful man.” Cas says.

“I will dude.”

Dean has the ropes around him, his harness, Gabe, Michael and Raphael anchored his rope as they helped lower him down.

“Okay, more slack!” Dean shouts as he got closer to the victim.

He got safely on to the lift and began to work the rope around the victim so they could lift him up.

But Dean’s vision began to spin. His hands came up to hold the support of the lift.

“Dean, you okay!?” Cas shouts from the ledge.

“Yeah!”

Dean hurries to get the rope around the victim and tries to work on tying the knot.

His dizziness got worse, and worse. Just as he was about to ask for help, Dean passes out.

His body falling off of the lift, and hangs by his harness off of the ledge.

“Try lifting him up a bit!” Cas ordered.

The three brothers tried pulling the rope slightly.

Cas could see Dean wasn’t getting any higher.

“No, stop, he’s tangled. I’m gonna have to head down there.” Cas says.

He heads over to Charlie who handed him some rope, getting the lopes around him, and working his harness on.

Cas hurries over the ledge.

Gabe, Michael, and Raphael tied Dean’s rope to hold him steady as they lowered Cas down to the lift.

“More slack!” Cas ordered as he got closer.  

Cas removed his work gloves to check the victims pulse.

“He’s in full cardiac arrest!” Cas shouts out, communicating.

Cas finishes what Dean had going. Connecting the loops around the victims arms and legs making a makeshift harness.

“Okay, lift him up!” Cas calls out.

The victim slowly rising as Gab, Michael and Raphael pulled the rope lifting the victim up.

“Dean, can you hear me man?” Cas asked, trying to lift Dean onto the lift.

He didn’t respond. He was out cold.

Cas furrowed his brow as he grew concerned for his friend.

“Okay, lift him up!” Cas ordered.

Cas seen the original victim made it over the ledge safely. And Dean began to slowly rise up to the top.

Once everyone was safely up, they got Cas up as well.

Cas helped with the cardiac victim while Charlie and the others assisted with Dean.

 Y/N sat at the nurses station charting her days work about ready to head home when an ambulance and squad approached the door.

She quickly typed up her report, saving it and sending it to her Director, she went to assist the paramedics.

Her heart dropped when she saw one of the patients being wheeled in.

“Dean.”

“Patient one was DOA, heart attack. Dean has a fever of 104.” Cas says.

“Okay, there’s an exam room open, lets get him in there. I’ll page Dr. Singer.”

“Where’s Jack?” Cas asked.

“He’s sick too. He was about to treat Kelly and Chuck when he collapsed. His fever is 103 and climbing.”

“How is Chuck?”

“Not doing well. Let’s focus on Dean please.” Y/N said, keeping the tears of fear at bay.

 Dean was all settled in a room later that night.

“Y/N.” Bobby says as he entered Dean’s room.

“Dr. Singer.”

“Your director doesn’t want you treating him. It’s against ethics.”

“I know. I’m off the clock.”

“Then what are you still doing here?”

“Oh, forgive me for staying by my boyfriend’s side.”

“Y/N, you’re D.O.N is on the other side of the this door. Relax.” He whispered.

“Bobby, I can’t think straight right now. I want to stay by his side, if that’s alright.”

“You can’t just stop everything because he’s sick. The CDC got back to us on the virus, you know this. It’s a strain of the Asian flu, a newer mutated strain. We have a drug we can use.”

She sighs, rubbing her face hard, trying to not get frustrated with herself.

“I know. I just want to know he’s going to be okay is all.”

“You love him. I know. But you have to still live life. Because that don’t stop. You got to keep going kid.”

She nods. “I’m guessing I can’t stay with him due to isolation protocol.”

“You got it. but once he’s better, you can.” She nods again.

“Please, keep me in the loop with him.”

“I’m sure Meg will. Cas was already on her case about him.”

She chuckles with a nod.

“Go home and rest. He’ll still be here tomorrow.”

She nods, leaving with a slump in her shoulders. Heading to her car. Driving quietly home.

It wasn’t until she got out of her shower, and laid in her empty bed did she let her walls come crumbling down.

A sob escaped from her, shaking her to her core.

“God, Dean. Please be okay.” She sobbed.

 The next day, she heads into work trying to focus on her patients.

She learned from one of the over night nurses that Chuck passed away.

Her anxiety already being high enough with her boyfriend being sick with the same virus, but the same virus that killed a fireman.

She headed up to Dean’s room where Meg walked out. Sweating after being in her PPE for some period of time.

“How is he?” she asks.

“Not good. His fever is not even breaking. He had the first 100 Milligrams of Idoxuridine.”

“Has it been two hours?”

“Close, it’s been about an hour and fifty minutes since last dose.”

“Give him another dose of it. Same for Jack if he’s not getting better.”

“Sure thing, I’m sure Bobby will understand.”

Y/N nodded as Meg went back inside to give Dean another dose of the drug.

Y/N headed back to the nurses station to chart her first half of the shift when her D.O.N approached the desk.

“Y/N, I was told you were by Dean’s room yet again. This time on the clock.”

“Sorry Jody, I just—”

“It’s okay, really. Bobby can be a hard ass sometimes, and I know I can be too. But my husband gets sick really easily. And I’d do the same thing you’re doing.” She says.

“Thank you…” she hesitates.

“I have your replacement coming in so you can see him and be with him. Once Donna gets here, go to him.”

“Thank you, thank you.” She says, as tears rise to the surface.

“It’s not a problem.” Jody smiles.

 Days pass as the doctors and nursing staff cared for Dean and Jack for the virus.

Y/N stayed day and night, her D.O.N giving her the week off on FMLA.

She had lost track of the days when she finally allowed herself to sleep.

Kelly was fully recovered and the doctors and nursing staff encouraged her to donate some blood so they can use her antibodies in her blood to donate to Dean and Jack so they have a fighting chance.

His fever finally broke, he was getting better. She could close her eyes and he’d still be there.

She woke that night to a hand on her head, playing with her hair.

She stirred awake to find Dean awake and well.

“Hey.” She says tiredly.

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.” He answers. “Babe, did you stay here all day?”

“Dean, it’s been a week. You’ve been out for a week.”

“Damn…but still, you’ve been here all week?”

“Yes. You scared me.” She says. Taking his hand and placing it on her cheek.

His thumb brushing against her cheekbone. Catching a tear that fell.

“Well I’m sorry for scaring you. But you’re worrying me, did you take care of yourself while you were here?”

“Not really. Haven’t been hungry. I’m not sick or anything.”

“I know, you’ve told me that you’ll get this way. Either in a good way, like an innocent way of binging your favorite show and forgot to eat. Or in a bad way, like this.”

“Let me get Meg and tell her you’re awake.”

Just as she says that, Meg comes walking in.

“Jack’s awake…oh Dean’s awake too.” She says.

“Yeah, he is.” Y/N Says tiredly.

“I’ll get Dr. Singer so we can see when you can go home. And get Y/N to a bed, she hasn’t slept much since she stayed here.”

“Really, not eating or sleeping.”

“She was worked up. who could blame her?” Meg asked.

“True.”

Meg left the room to get Bobby.

Dean not saying a word, pulls Y/N’s arm guiding her in the bed with him.

She happily got in, curling into his side.

He felt a residual tremble shudder through her body.

“Shh, I’m here baby. I’m not going anywhere.” He says.

Not even a tiny virus would tear up this team.

~

A/N: Did you enjoy? How are you liking it so far? Favorites yet? Feedback is fuel and much appreciated. :3

~

Dean Girls:

@pandazombie69​, @luci-in-trenchcoats​, @supernatural-jackles​, @becs-bunker​, @winchesters-favorite-girl​, @jayankles​, @jeaniespiehs20​, @mlovesstories​, @akshi8278​, @flamencodiva​, @anotherspnfanfic​, @megzdoodle​, @lyarr24​

~

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 3/23/2021

[the-darling-crusader]

The Five Attendants

Story By: Akeara/Dusk Supporters(Alt's): @moonsbloglmao Chapter 1 "The Crew" 'Just wait. Wait. For how long? Why? Why wait when I'm so restless. Just open the box! Maybe im over thinking it...'

Wake up. Wake up." WAKE UP!" 'Then its over.' Dusk lifted her head to be greeted by a bright eyed and bushy tailed friend of hers. "Man, your a heavy sleeper!" "Benefits me, i guess..." Dusk shrugged, stretched, then got up "what do you want Sunny.." "Its time the Pizzaplex will be opening! gotta be readyreadyready!" 'Ready ready ready... heh, goober..' Dusk thought "Another rough and tumble day Dawn, ya ready? "Dusk ive been ready since yesterday' Dawn growled to Dusk "Then be ready to feel tired as hell..." As soon as Dusk stepped into the light, she completely changed. She became Dawn. "Thank ya sis." "no problem, Dawny..' Dusk said to Dawn. Only Dawn and Dusk could hear each other when one is on hiatus. Its a type of power, you could say... Dawn leaped down from their perch on the play set "Another great day!" Dawn said with his loud, booming voice. "And another loud one." Sundrop laughed. Dawn laughed too. Dawn looked up to see Aurora watching them from her pole "Hey Rora!" Dawn shouted to her "Hello, Dawn" she said back a bit quieter "Good morning, North!" Sundrop greeted "Dusk says hi Nora :)" Dawn said "well tell Dusk i say hi back" "of course!" It was around 9:00am, children were running and playing all around the daycare. Either playing hide n' seek with Aurora, playing tag with Dawn, or drawing with Sundrop.... Dusk loved watching.. she got to watch them while they play, and sit with them when they nap.. She couldnt ask for a better life. She was happy.. And her favorite part of the day? getting to cuddle the kids that have nightmares! it made her day.. but something she loves more than that? getting to see Moondrop, the first person to greet her when taken out of the box... And the first person to be her friend.... life couldn't be better... Nap time came, she sat in an empty space around the children, her soft warmth generator making the air comfortably warm. She watched as Aurora flew around of her pole. giving off a trail of light for the children scared of the dark. She liked to see the green and yellow glow of it... Comforting.. She looked at Moondrop, who stood next to her "I couldnt have asked for a better place to be in commission for.." she said in her soft mother-like voice. "I have to agree with you, other than when those damned kids wont go to sleep." "Be nice, they're just little ones..." she giggled "besides, even if they dont sleep, we have ways of keeping them quiet..." Dusk reminded him, Aurora came down from her pole "How bout you practice that rope of yours, Dusk?" "Oooooh nonono im fine...." Dusk said embarrassed "im very not good at that... I always fall or get tangled...!" "or you break us.' Dawn thought to her "oh be quiet you >:(' she thought back "Besides, we have Moondrop for all that-" "But when Sunny breaks us I cant be. So you do need to learn" "I know but Rora always laughs at me..." Aurora pretends to zip her mouth shut. ".... Fine..... I guess ill try.." "Ada'girl!" Moondrop supported

[hello-yue-here]

About your atla ship songs, I have a couple of questions (sorry if my phrasing comes out wrong, english isn't my first language and I worry it might across as accidentally defensive): how did you end up with the choices for zukka, jetko and yuekka (note: I haven't seen the great comet, so feel free to obsess over it, I'm intrigued now and the hype is appreciated!)? Sidenote: I think the mailee choice is HILARIOUS and the tokka one just make me sad, I didn't expect to be attacked like this😭

kdjfha;s i love you im gonna obsess SO HARD over great comet now. you may regret this

this is gonna be so long so the rest is under the cut whoops

yuekka: no one else from great comet

where do i even begin. WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN

okay so background information on this show: it's based off of a 76 oages excerpt from war and peace and its centered around a woman named natasha (and this guy pierre but he's irrelevant to this song so we wont worry about him) and natasha's bethrothed is off fighting in the war right now. she hasn't seen him in a while but she is in love with him.

every single lyrics of this song SCREAMS yuekka to me. the innocence and purity of their love. the love at first sight. and even the melancholy ending just- i go apeshit for this song. i love this song so much. and denee benton's voice??? kljsdhflwksugf please listen to this song if you haven't already. listen to the whole show. your life will be changed forever.

onto the lyrics (i stg this is ab to be the whole song whoops)

"the moon"

THOSE ARE THE FIRST WORDS ON THE SONG. natasha and andre (her bethrothed) met underneath the moonlight. Sokka and Yue first spoke to eachother at night and always met each other for their most intimate moments under the moonlight. also yue is LITERALLY the moon so like: right of the bat with those two words it's yuekka.

"and i saw your eyes / and i saw your smile / and the world opened wide"

sokka fell in love with yue the moment he saw her in the canal. she literally enchanted this motherfucker. everything about her made his heart go crazy. and 'the world opened wide' to me is from yue's perspective. Yue had never left the north pole and sokka had seen a good chuck of the world at the point. He took her on appa, he told her about his adventures. he saw the world yue wished to see and you know damn well that Sokka would have done anything to give it to her.

"oh the moon /oh the snow in the moonlight / and your childlike eyes and your distant smile / ill never be this happy again / you and i and no one else"

natasha sings fondly about the moon and the snow, seeing as it was where she fell in love with andre. yue and sokka LITERALLY fell in love in the same place: in the snowy nothern water tribe under the light of the moon. childlike eyes: THEYRE CHILDREN!!! distant smile: this is where it gets a little sad. theyre both children with way too many duties during a world that has known nothing but war for the past century. they want to be happy but yeah, theyre smiles are distant and far away because happiness seems out of reach for them most of the time. i'll never be this happy again: the moments yue and sokka shared together were probably the happiest either of them ever were. they were able to ignore the war and the world in the moments they shared together. and with no one else. no one else would be able to give each other this sense of peace and happiness and love.

"joy and life inside our souls / and no body knows just you and me / it's our secret"

Yue and Sokka had to sneak out in secret at night to go and see each other. Yue and Sokka couldn't be together for real because Yue was already engaged, but they were literally in love so she decided to see him anyways in secret. kasdjfhklasjd im losing my mind over them at this point.

"this winer sky / how can anyone sleep / there was never such a night before / i feel like putting my arms around my knees / and squeezing tight as possible / and flying away"

these are my FAVORITE lines in the entire song. yue and sokka had never felt this strongly about anyone before and that's why they are so drawn to each other. they had never experienced love before and they wanted to hold onto it for as long as they could even though they knew they couldnt. Sokka takes yue up on appa and she is wistful and wishes she could live like he does every day: ie flying away. oh my god these two deserved so much better. so much fucking better.

now for the saddes part. the saddest fucking part.

"maybe he'll come today / maybe he came already / and he's sitting in the drawing room / and i simply forgot"

natasha misses andre so intensely at this point. when i first listened to this show and heard this song i was like "wait a min... is andre like... dead?" and im sure i wasnt the only person who assumed that this was why natasha felt so sad by the end of such a beautiful song. (spoiler alert andre is fine)

but this line really exemplifies how sad natasha is, and hints at the fact that andre may never come back. it implies that their relationship is doomed (at least in my opinion) and that's all yuekka. Sokka misses yue intensely when shes gone. Yue accepted her fate almost immediately but sokka was in denial. he thought there had to be another way. but in the end it wasn't meant to be. and sokka will go on, loving yue, wishing for her back, even though it's not possible.

fuck im gonna cry.

zukka: all i've ever known- hadestown

"i was alone so long / i didn't even know that i was lonely / out in the cold so long / i didnt even know that i was cold"

sokka is from the swt so theres where the cold comes in. also in the gaang (initially) it was just him katara and aang. and katara and aang were much closer to each other than sokka was with aang and the two of them were benders so sokka was kind of an outsider with the two of them. He also represses a lot of his emotions and feels the need to do everything himself so i do see a lot of loneliness in sokka. and the fact that so many people in his life have left him (his mom, yue, his dad, suki briefly, etc...) he is known to keep people at an arms length. i see a lot of loneliness in sokka.

zuko's loneliness is a lot more obvious: he has literally been cast out and abandoned by everyone except iroh. and even then he still feels the need to be alone (remember zuko alone? thought so) these boys look after themselves and push others away and revel in their loneliness in order to keep themselves from getting hurt. at least in my opinion on canon and also some fanon because id be a liar if i said fanon didnt influence how i view ALL my ships (not just zukka)

"all ive ever known is how to hold my own / but now I wanna hold you too"

COME ONE MANNNN, they just wanna hold each other. theyre both very big protectors as well and kljhflkasdhg they wanna protect eachother like kljdhfl im gonna lose it rn.

"You take me in your arms / And suddenly there's sunlight all around me / Everything bright and warm / And shining like it never did before / And for a moment I forget / Just how dark and cold it gets"

SUNLIGHT SYMBOLISM. zuko is literally powered by the sun. i don't think i even NEED to elaborate on this one anymore lol. They find comfort in each other away from all of their trauma. when they're together nothing else matters and i personally love that for them. they both deserve love.

"I knew you before we met / And I don't even know you yet / All I know is your someone I have always known"

these two are extremely similar in canon. many parallels. older brothers overshadowed by their prodigy little sisters. longing to make their fathers proud (granted one dad is good and one is fuckin evil), both are pretty bad with emotions. both are seen protecting others before themselves (sokka protecting suki during the serpant's pass, sokka protecting toph on like multiple occassions, zuko protecting katara in the final agni kai), the list goes on. they know who the other is because they see themselves in the other person. they already know each other because they are each other (in a way, not entirely, but the similarities are strong in my opinion)

"I'm gonna hold you forever / The wind will never change on us / Long as we stay with each other / Then it will always be like this"

i just think this line is so cute and sweet (ignoring all the symbolism and foreshadowing that comes with the last line in the musical itself. im gonna pretend this is nothing but happy) and i think these boys deserve happiness so yeah. this song is zukka to me lol.

jetko: thrill of first love- falsettoes

if you've never listened to this song go an do it now. you will know INSTANTLY that it is jetko because of the dynamics alone. marvin and whizzer are pure jetko and i take no crticisms.

marvin and whizzer are both extremely stubborn, and they don't always get along, and they fight a lot, and they get mad at each other a lot, and they are both passionate as hell, and they will bring this passion into everything. they love each other that is without a doubt, but they arent perfect and they are once again stubborn and determined as fuck.

sound familiar? it's literally jetko.

the lyrics aren't what remind me of jetko, but the dynamic itself. the lyrics are too on the nose for a gay couple in 1970's america so that rlly cant apply to jetko all that much. but the way these two characters bounce off of each other and get annoyed with each other and argue with eachother reminds me of jetko. because let's be honest: these two are the most stubborn characters in the whole show. they will fight for what they believe and it will take literally everything to change their minds.

i love jetko but i think they would have petty arguments all the time and get aggravated by one another so easily. and this is even seen in canon: they work so fucking well together but they did not even HESITATE to fight one another after neither of them would give in and let the fight about whether jet was right or wrong about zuko being a firebender. like i cannot say it enough they are stubborn as fuck.

but underneath all that stubborn pettiness and bickering: marvin and whizzer still love each other. and jet and zuko would still love each other. because even though they are stubborn when it comes to arguments, they are even more stubborn and determined when it comes to each other. these two passionate motherfuckers are in love.

(now when i chose this song i decided to ignore the fact that this song literally spells out the fact that marvin and whizzer's relatinoship is doomed because they literally say passion dies. thats the difference between jetko and whizzer and marvin because i dont think passion dies. i chose this song strictly for the bickering lmao)

and i know you didnt ask about tokka but,,,,

i rlly wanna talk about the tokka one

so im going to

tokka: on my own- les mis

look. i KNOW this song is about unrequited love and i love tokka as a couple but,,, the unrequited love in this song just SCREAMS unrequited tokka to me so thats what i went with.

eponine is a girl who has neglectful parents who lives life by her own rules: toph. eponine is shown to be tough and confident and spunky to others but behind all of that she has emotions, she feels love, she hides her vulnerability so much: toph. she is in love with a guy she cant be with because he loves someone else: TOPH

eponine is toph to a t and toph is eponine to a t. this is not up for debate lmao

"without him i feel his arms around me"

toph is always seen grabbing onto someone (and its almost ALWAYS sokka) when she's somewhere where she can't use her feet to see. FEEL and ARMS cmon. look at it.

"and i know / i know that he is blind"

COME ON. IMAGINE TOPH SINGING THIS LINE. this line is already powerful enough in les mis but having toph, a blind character, sing it just makes the symbolism even deeper. toph sees the potential relationship they could have together. toph sees that sokka is oblivious to this. toph is not blind to the truth or the potention, but sokka is blind to her feelings. im about to lose my mind over this line.

"I love him / But every day I'm learning / All my life / I've only been pretending / Without me / His world will go on turning / A world that's full of happiness / That I have never known"

i need to sit down for a moment. toph grew up in a household where her parents did not understand her. she has learned to hide her true emotions and vulnerabilities from everyone. and its the fact that toph knows that she and sokka will never be together and the fact that she still loves him in spite of that is what makes this even more heartbreaking.

"but only on my own"

TOPH AND EPONINE SWEETIES I LOVE YOU

thank you for indulging my theatre kid nonsense. you are very sweet and kind and lovely and awesome and i hope you have a lovely day bestie :) <3

ask me why i think these songs go with these ships

[vintagedolan]

mixtape | track one

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

Six. There were six different lines, tiny plastic tubes that hung down from the side of the bed, making the shape of a U in the air. Too many, but still, one less than yesterday.

“Is it alive?”

“No.”

“Is it a vegetable?”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“But is it a vegetable though?”

“No.”

“Aw shit.”

Indiana looked up from her hands then, brows furrowing at the small figure who had huddled herself under the thin cotton covers. You’d think, with how expensive hospital bills were that they could at least afford a real fucking blanket for their patients. Especially the kids.  

“C’mon now, watch the language.” She said. It was a half-hearted reprimand at best.

“You told me I could curse!”

“I told you that you could curse about your meds, there’s a difference.”

“Bullshit. I should be able to curse about anything I want to.”

“Bekah.” It was her mom voice – an instinct.

“Indiana.” The younger girl mimicked the tone as best she could.

There was a beat of silence then – well, as silent as a hospital room ever could get, that is. The monotonous song of machinery beeps, the muffled car horns outside on the streets, and nurses footsteps outside never truly faded.

“If the nurses hear you cursing in here they’re gonna say I’m a bad influence.” It was almost time for rounds and meds, 7pm on the dot - they’d be there any minute.

“Speak of the devil,” Bekah grumbled, eyes flitting to the door that was swinging open, the nurse bumping against it, her cart hitting the walls right on schedule.

“Hi miss Bekah, how’re we feeling this evening?”

“Shi-“

Indiana threw her a look, the kind she imagined her mom would give if she were there. Bekah sunk back into the pillow, rolling her eyes.

“-very. Shivery. It’s cold in here.”

She earned a thumbs up for that one and a wink that made her smile.

The nurse – Jennifer, Indiana realized – was as sweet as ever. She was one of the nicer ones, always let things slide, always let her stay 30 minutes after visiting hours if she really wanted to.

“That’s probably just the meds from earlier darling, they always make you a bit chilly.”

“Can’t wait to take more.” Bekah sighed, wiggling up in the bed and moving her shirt down, her collarbone prominent under her dark skin. Next to it sat a small bulge, surrounded by medical tape, two small tubes peeking out from underneath. They’d done a good job at making it subtle, unnoticeable if you weren’t looking for it – Indiana’s mom’s port had never looked like that. She wondered if it was because the technology had improved in four years, or if they were just more careful about it when the patient was young.

Because it’s okay for an adult to have cancer, but a kid? That’s where we draw the fuckin’ line.

“Is it food?”

“What?” Jennifer asked, quirking an eyebrow as she continued to hang the bags on the IV pole.

“None of your business. Indiana, is it a food?”

“Now now,” Jennifer tutted.

“No, it’s not a food.” Indiana sighed, knowing better than to try and keep Bekah’s attitude in check. That was a battle she’d lose before it began. “Keep trying.”

She paused while the nurse took her time in getting her meds set and ready, attaching them to her port. She didn’t even flinch at the needle, the brown skin of her forehead as smooth and perfect as ever, not a worry line in sight. The game picked up as soon as Jennifer walked back out of the room.

“Is it something you- something you wear?” That was always the first sign that the meds entered her system – the ‘brain fog’ as she called it. Bekah sucked in a deep breath, her seemingly tiny chest rising up as she tried to settle herself. 

Indiana’s eyes flickered over to the IV bag – the clear liquid looked harmless enough as it dripped down. She knew it was anything but – just Bekah’s hair was enough to attest to that. She wore it in a wrap mostly these days, but she’d seen what was underneath. Her beautiful curls had started to fall out only a few weeks prior, and it was only a matter of time before they were gone completely. If she had to guess from what she’d seen when she fixed the knot of her wrap, the last of it would be gone after today.

“Yes, it’s something you wear.”

“So it’s clothes.”

“Not necessarily. You wear other things,” she explained, scooting her chair a bit closer to the bedside, reaching a hand out.

In the three years that Indiana had known Bekah, she was always amazed at how strong she was. It had impressed her from the first time she’d mustered up the courage to sign up for the volunteer program at the hospital two blocks away from her college apartment. Bekah was twelve then, a spunky young girl with big headphones over her ears and thick rubber bracelets on her thin wrists.

“Stop looking at me like that,” was what she’d chosen as an introduction. She’d looked up at Indiana with accusatory eyes, wide and dark and annoyed in the middle of the overly colorful pediatric wing hallway.

“Like what?”

“Like I have cancer. Don’t treat me like I’m sick and I won’t act like it. Capeesh?”

She’d only been able to swallow and nod, somewhat embarrassed but mostly just in awe.

So, when Indiana got matched with her as her ‘buddy’, she tried her hardest to do as she’d agreed to. Or at least, she did her best to be subtle about it. She could sneak in her moments of worry at times like this, when Bekah��s eyes were scrunched closed and she didn’t bat away the hand holding hers.

“Damn. The BBJ is not making me feel very BB esque today,” she grumbled, breathing deep in through her nose. Indiana’s other hand inched towards the bedpan resting on the table – the nausea usually kicked in right about now, and her deep breathing was always a tell that her stomach was churning. BBJ stood for ‘Bad Bitch Juice’ which was just the fun term for chemo that Bekah had come up with during one of her rotations a few years back. The nurses hated it, gave Indiana dirty looks when she let her say it around them.

“Bed pan at the ready,” Indiana reassured her, making sure it was in reach in case it got to be too much.

“Just keep playing the game, it’ll distract me. What do I know so far?”

“It’s not alive, it’s not a vegetable or a food, you can wear it but it’s not clothes.”

“Makeup?”

Indiana shook her head, doing everything to avoid reacting to the way Bekah was squeezing her hand. It was so tight that she felt her bones were probably touching each other in a way they weren’t meant to.

“Shoes?”

“No.”

“Do you wear it on your head?”

“I mean… technically?”

“That’s a cop out answer.”

“Don’t dwell on it, just keep going.”

She saw it coming before it happened – the turn of Bekah’s face, the way her body jolted just barely. It’s a good thing it wasn’t her first time, or she wouldn’t have gotten the bedpan under her fast enough to catch her vomit. She held her breath, tried not to listen to the sounds of retching so she didn’t get sick herself, holding steady until Bekah’s stomach was empty and she’s laid back against the pillows, exhausted. Indiana followed the motions, got up and walked to the bathroom, dumped the contents down the toilet and flushed it, left the plastic basin on the floor for the nurses to get later and washed her hands. By the time she made it back to the side of the bed, Bekah’s eyes were closed.

There were three marked stages of a chemo session with Bekah: the ‘this doesn’t affect me’ phase, the puke phase, and finally, the sleep phase, which seemed to be fast approaching. Even with her eyes closed she felt Indiana join her at her bedside, and she sighed in defeat.

“What was it? I don’t wanna ask more questions.”

“Earrings.”

“That’s two things, you cheated.”

She could have argued, but you just don’t argue with a kid with cancer if you don’t have to. It’s an unspoken rule.

“You’re right. You win.”

Bekah seemed content enough with that, but her eyebrows scrunched up again like they always did when she was focusing.

“Where do you get earrings in your teeth?”

“Huh?”

“Earrings in teeth… there was a guy… yesterday… earrings.”

Indiana just held her hand as she rambled, drifting off as she turned her head into her pillow. Not that she knew personally, but she’d never seen anyone be comfortable during a chemo treatment. But there was a peace that took over when their body decided that it was too much to handle in the realm of consciousness and they drifted off into their dreams.

So she was happy to look at the bed after she picked up her backpack and see that Bekah’s was asleep. She closed the door on her way out, moved to the nurse’s desk to sign out like she always did. The nurses always smiled at her, sitting back there in their colorful scrubs and big headbands. This time, it was Valentina who beamed up at her.

“Indiana, honey, how’s school going?”

“It’s going.” It’s killing me. “Just one semester left to go!”

“Don’t you overwork yourself now, we need you around here,” she threw a wink with her long lashes, opening her mouth to say something else before her phone rang. “You have a good one honey, we’ll see you next week.” Valentina picked it up, another call to another room for another sick kid.

 With as many times as Indiana had made the walk, she was pretty sure she could do it with her eyes closed. Straight, past the forest murals, press the button on the left to open the doors. Then it was the ocean hallway on the left- the blues were peaceful, little sea turtles and fish floating on the walls. At the end, by the jellyfish, was the last door of the pediatric wing. Somehow, it always felt colder past that point, inside the ‘real hospital’. The nurse’s scrubs were plain blue there, the walls taupe and bland with paintings of trees and lakes instead of Winnie the Pooh and Dory. Indiana’s shoes squeaked against the polished floor on her way to the elevator, picking up her pace. She didn’t like this part. It was too familiar, too many memories of walking down the same hallway for much different reasons. Past that it was down two floors, out and to the right to get to the front doors.

As soon as she walked out into the New York city street, it was a breath of fresh air; if you could ever consider city air fresh. Still, she always preferred the smell of exhaust and cigarettes over the bleach that stung her nose inside the hospital. And if she sniffed hard enough and the wind was right, she swore she could smell Jet’s Coffee all the way from the small store that resided three blocks down the road. 

Want anything from Jet’s? She texted Charlie, hoping for a quick response from her sister as she hurried down the sidewalk, pulling her shirt sleeves down over her hands in a bid to ward off the brisk late September air.

Nah, Devin’s making dinner. Should be done by the time you get here. 

Also, where tf is your strainer?

Bottom cabinet by the oven, she answered, shaking her head.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her sister. She did, with her whole heart. The same went for her sweet almost-brother-in-law Devin- they were both supportive pillars in her life, always there with a listening ear, a warm hug, or life advice.

But god damn did she miss having her apartment to herself sometimes. The peace that came over her when she walked into her cozy apartment, saw the rest of Chelsea through the high windows, her view over the river? Unmatched. It was still there - the fog over the river in the cool autumn mornings, the bustling streets of people wrapped up in their coats - but now, her sister was there too, catching her at the door with the latest story of the day before she could even let out a breath. Charlie could never understand how her younger sister wanted to live alone in college, wanted a place to herself ever since she even knew it was an option. Indiana was the opposite of her in a lot of ways- the older of the two was a social butterfly of sorts who always surrounded herself with people, with loud voices and louder personalities that could keep up with her. She was wild - dropped out of college after her first semester, spent her last dime on a camera so she could grow a photography business from the ground up.

Their mom always said that Indiana was the calm to Charlie’s storm, her little angel who hardly ever cried, who just fit into the family like a perfect final puzzle piece, completing the picture. The puzzle was long forgotten now, disassembled in a box in the attic somewhere collecting dust over the last five years. She didn’t have to wonder if it would make her mom sad - she knew that it would be devastating for her if she were still there to see what had become of the Cross clan.

“There she is, the myth, the legend, thee Indiana Jamie Cross!” 

Caught up in her mind, Indiana didn’t even realize that her autopilot route home had taken her all the way into the door of Jet’s, and she found herself in the familiar lobby when she came to. The walls were charcoal gray, with the delicate little single-line white flowers painted on them that she remembered them putting up a few years ago, back when she worked there. Her old manager, Patrick, beamed at her from behind the counter, wide smile framed out by his ever growing hair.

“What’s she gonna get today, wait don’t tell me, don’t tell me. Today is a… caramel macchiato with one less pump of vanilla? Hot?” He mused, raising his eyebrows in question.

“Oatmilk, then yes, you got it.”

“Of course I was gonna give you oatmilk, what do I look like, an amateur?” He scoffed, shaking his head as she went to reach for her wallet. “It’s on the house today.”

“You can’t give me my coffee on the house every time Patrick, it’s bad for business.” 

“It’s my business, so shush and go wait at the end of the bar like a good customer,” he rolled his eyes, sending the scribbled cup down the line. She rolled her eyes and dropped a few one’s in the tip jar before she went over to her favorite chair, the big blue one by the windows where she could people watch while she waited. She always wondered what people did in small towns while they waited for things, without the bustling streets outside full of people in their own little worlds. 

Her phone buzzed in her lap. Marty. 

Hey girlie, are you busy tomorrow? We’ve got a new orientee who needs the run down, and nobody does it better than you! 

Marty’s speciality was buttering people up. Which explained why Buddies had over 200 volunteers like Indiana - with Marty in charge, it was hard to say no, even if she had planned on spending a chilled out day tomorrow with her sister and Devin.

Fine by me, just let me know what time

Awesome. He didn’t give me a specific time so I’ll just give him your number if you’re good with that.

She sent back a thumbs up as her name was called at the counter, got her coffee and headed out the door.  It was another block to get to her apartment, and when she got there the elevator ride up to the 18th floor was almost as long as the walk. She didn’t mind though. It was her own little welcome home ritual that she’d grown fond of over the last few years of living there. 

As she predicted earlier, when she opened the door, her usually peaceful space was in a bit of chaos. There were four bowls out on the counter, measuring cups everywhere, two pans out in addition to whatever smelled so good in the oven.

“Don’t start Indy, I’m gonna clean it, I promise.” Charlie appeared around the corner, already on the defense of the look she knew she was going to get. It felt a lot like Indiana was the older sister despite the three years that Charlie had on her. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Indiana mumbled under her breath, clearing a small spot on the counter and hopping up.

“It’s all in your face,” Devin teased from in front of the oven. “Scootch, unless you want me to burn you with this casserole dish.” 

She grumbled and hopped down from her much too temporary spot so that he could open the oven, deciding it was probably best to leave the kitchen until everything was done. 

Her kitchen was the only ‘small’ part of her apartment. The rest was plenty big, and she was proud of all she had done over the years to make it her own. The living room was cozy, with a dark gray couch and a reasonable (Charlie would say excessive) amount of decorative pillows and blankets. The shelves on the wall had a few house plants - fake ones, of course, and picture frames that had moved with her each time she called a new place home. The white frame that contained an old picture of her and Charlie as babies, white-blonde hair wispy as they played on the swings in their backyard. The most recent addition was the rose gold frame, a picture of her, Devin and Charlie at their engagement last July in Zion National Park - she could practically feel the heat of the sun every time she looked at it. The last frame stood alone on the smaller shelf, a wooden frame with a small heart carved in the corner. Inside, a black and white picture of her and her mom. She was about one in it, in a little crewneck sweatshirt and tennis shoes, holding onto her mom’s hands as she walked, both of them beaming. She’d been told by so many people over the years that she had “Nicole’s smile”, and she tried her hardest to not cry nowadays if anyone ever mentioned it. 

“You know, our parents weren’t glassmakers, I can’t see through you,” Charlie grumbled from her spot on the couch, gesturing to the TV that her sister was blocking.

“You know, this is my house, you could just leave,” she countered, offering her fakest of smiles.

“You know, Dad pays the rent so it’s not technically yours.”

“Alright, dinner is ready, dinner is ready,” Devin called out, knowing that Charlie had already stepped one toe over the line, desperately trying to keep her from throwing herself fully over the edge.

Charlie popped up to her feet, unfazed by the glare that followed her all the way to the island as she went on to scoop out her pasta. 

Indiana didn’t have the energy to even think about her dad, much less talk about him. Kenneth Cross was a good father when she was little. He was attentive, taught her how to play basketball, how to ride her bike without training wheels. On a paper list, he checked off most of the dad boxes. And then his wife died, and he decided the time was nigh to abandon ship with very little regard for his 16 and 19 year old daughters. But if you asked him, he’d be sure to let you know that he took very good care of his kids, even put up his youngest in a nice New York apartment so she could go to school and not have to work a job. Taking care of things meant throwing money at them, whether it was at work or at home. His best, and only, sign of affection was the direct deposit that hit Indiana’s bank account on the 31st of every month. 

Needless to say, he was a sensitive subject.

She bit back the words she really wanted to spit out and made her way into the kitchen, grabbing her bowl a bit more aggressively than she needed to. As soon as she found her spot back on the counter she stabbed into the soft noodles and shoved them in her mouth, proceeding to burn the shit out of her tongue. 

Lovely.

Devin made small talk as best he could around the awkward tension - he was an only child, and anytime the two sisters fought he tried to fill in the void with anything he could. It always baffled him how the two of them could be pissed one moment, and then back to normal a few seconds later.

“Wanna go shopping tomorrow? And don’t say you have school shit, it’s a Sunday.” Charlie asked.

“A, I always have school shit, and B, I can’t anyways, I’ve got an orientation to do for Buddies.” 

“There’s no way you actually have that much school work to do, I think you’re just trying to avoid us,” she countered. 

“CJ she’s gonna be a doctor, that shit ain’t easy,” Devin piped up, eager to boost his almost sister-in-law up. Indy tried to ignore the little pang of jealousy she always felt when he called her sister that. Charlie Jo. CJ. She’d had her own fair share of nicknames over the years, shortened little versions of her name that everyone liked to use. But Devin was the only one who was allowed to call Charlie CJ, and there was something about the intimacy of it that had Indiana wishing someone was there to give her a cute nickname, just for them.

She held out until Charlie started in on the dishes that she promised to do and then she was headed to her room, social battery depleted. Despite her sister’s doubts, she did always have some form of school work that she could be working on, slowly chipping away at the constant stream of assignments and notes.  She liked to break it down into sections, tackling a certain class each night of the week. Saturdays were her ‘easy’ nights, reserved for reviewing her medical terminology notes and quizzing herself on new terms.

As nerdy as it seemed to anyone else, she actually found it fun. 10 year old her would have thought it was the coolest thing that she actually knew what choleodechojunostomy meant, though she was pretty sure she was never going to actually need to know. 

She was halfway through the abbreviations portion, stuck on the ‘G’ of esophagogastroduodenoscopy when her phone buzzed against her leg. She expected to see a text from Charlie asking her to join in on whatever movie they were watching in the living room, but instead she was met with a new number and an unfamiliar area code - 818. 

Probably spam. She left it alone, moving back to her cards, flipping between as she mumbled them quietly to herself.

“PRN. Pro re nata.”

Buzz

“EEG. Electroencephalography. TIA”

Buzz

“TIA. Transient-”

Buzz

“Jesus,” she huffed, grabbing her phone and swiping it open to her texts, all from that same 818 number.

Hey, Marty gave me your number, I’m your new orientee :)

My name is Grayson btw, probably should have started with that 

She told me to figure out a time with you but I’m p flexible so just let me know

And idk how to get to the pediatric part of the hosp so if you could meet me somewhere else and show me how to get there that would be awesome

Why he couldn’t have sent it all in one text she had no idea, but at least he was nice. She typed back quickly.

Hey! I’m Indiana. We can meet by the front doors if that’s easier, how about 9:30?

She didn’t even have time to pick up her next flashcard before the typing bubble popped back up.

Early riser, I like it. 9:30 is chill, I’ll see you then. Have a good night :)

You too :), she answered, quickly saving his contact as ‘Grayson’ before putting her phone back down on her comforter and diving back into her flashcards. She had 200 more to get through by the end of the night, and all she really wanted to do was get under her covers and go to sleep. By the time she reached the end of the stack, the definitions were just as hard to understand as their latin based counterparts. As soon as she flipped over arthralgia to reveal joint pain, she was moving the pile to her desk, pulling on a t-shirt and curling up in bed.

..............................................................................................................................

Indiana had never been a breakfast eater. She was always too eager to get to school, occasionally running out the door with a granola bar in hand at most at her mom’s request. The trend continued as she got older, though now she used her morning coffee as sustenance for the first few hours of the day. Which was why she found herself walking right back through the glass doors of Jet’s again, a mere 12 hours after her last visit. It smelled like fresh beans and vanilla soy as soon as she made in over the threshold - a comforting smell, familiar and warm. Patrick beamed at her from behind the espresso bar. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a day off.

“I’m paying today, no arguing,” she called out, giving him a serious look until he mouthed ‘fine’ at her over the bar. Satisfied, she pulled out her phone, surprised to see a text. Grayson.

I’m by the front doors on the left. I know im early so no rush :)

She checked the time at the top of her phone. 9:10.

I’m getting coffee and then I’ll be there

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, contemplating. Was it weird to buy coffee for someone you’d never met? She sent another text anyway.

Want anything?

The bubbles popped back up as she stepped up in line.

Biggest cup of the strongest stuff they’ve got please. I’ll shoot you a Venmo for it

She liked his response and slid her phone back in her pocket before she stepped up to the counter. The barista was a new face, someone that had been hired after she had left.

“What can I get started for you?”

“Can I do a 16 ounce vanilla oat milk latte and a 20 ounce dark roast please?”

“Absolutely, that’ll be-”

“Give her the drip for free,” Patrick interjected. “We don’t charge past employees for drip coffee.”

The barista looked a bit flustered but took the dark roast off anyways, quickly spouting off the total and taking the cash that Indiana handed her. She turned around and poured the dark roast, passing it over with a smile. An older man was sitting in the blue chair when Indiana made her way to the other end of the store, so she settled by the bar instead, watching Patrick pump syrup and steam milk in a bit of a sequenced dance. She missed being behind the bar sometimes, but not enough to justify going back and getting talked down to by shitty customers. 

He finished her latte in record time, only having a spare moment to blow her a kiss before he was right back to the next drink. She didn’t mind - the thought of Grayson waiting on her made her nervous. She tried to remind herself that she wasn’t running late. It wasn’t her fault that he liked to show up twenty minutes early to things and she only liked to show up ten minutes early. Ten minutes was reasonable and showed dedication - twenty was a bit excessive. 

The cups kept her hands warm for the three blocks to the hospital, her pace a bit quicker than usual. She kept her eyes peeled for someone who looked like a Grayson once she made it. A tall, lanky man passed by her, headed towards the doors, but he didn’t seem like he was looking for anyone. She remembered the text. Front doors, to the left.

Sure enough, there was someone sitting alone.

He took up about half of the bench, his shoulders broad under a charcoal gray sweater that went well with the olive green of his pants. He looked well put together - a bit intimidating, but nice enough to send someone a have a good night text. He looked like he could be a Grayson. He must have felt her watching him, because he lifted his eyes from his phone and looked directly at her, taking in the two coffee cups in her hands with a smile.

“Indiana?”

His voice was deep, a bit commanding. It made her hesitate for some reason, panic just barely. “Uh yeah, that’s me.” Stupid.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Grayson.”