#i’m not answering the ask right now because the mental damage i’ve sustained needs a good twelve hours of sleep to repair it

[the-way-astray]

i don’t want to name names but some people (alayda) deserve to be punted out of this fandom. we all need to collectively block these people (alayda) so that they can participate in fandom activities no longer

[440mxs-wife]

New Recruit - Part 1

Pairing: Leonard “Bones” McCoy x Lt. Maggie Parker (OFC). Other Characters: Cmdr Spock, Lt. Nyota Uhura, Lt. Ruthie Warner (OFC), Ensign Miranda Nelson (OFC)

Word Count: 4040+

Warnings: None

A/N: This is my first attempt at a fic outside of the Supernatural fandom. I have @spacedancer1701​ to thank for that little nudge. :) This particular offering got away from me a bit, so I split it in two. Enjoy, and happy reading!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lieutenant Margaret Parker scanned the crowd as she waited for her turn to report to her assignment. She was one of six new recruits scheduled to board the shuttle that would take her to her next duty station as science officer aboard the USS Enterprise. The lieutenant grinned to herself, barely able to contain her excitement. The flagship of the Fleet. I can't believe this is happening, she thought.

The lieutenant then looked at her watch and frowned. She didn't want to board the shuttle without saying last goodbyes, but she could not be late. She wished that her parents could be here to send her off, but they've been gone for six years now. Her brothers had their families, so they couldn't make it either, due to work and school. This meant no immediate family to say goodbye before she left for her five-year mission.

However, there was one person she really wanted to make sure and say good bye to. Her roommate, best friend and almost-sister, Ruthie Warner. It was Ruthie who had supported her during her Academy years, helped with her studies and made sure she had some fun as well.

The two of them were well-known for their tag-team method of fleecing new recruits at Rocky's Bar by hustling games of 8-ball. Every year, the bar held an 8-ball tournament. Every year for the past four it had come down to Ruthie versus Maggie, as she was called by friends and family. Some of the time Ruthie won, and sometimes Maggie won, but they were always #1 and #2.

"I'm here! I'm here! Don't leave yet!" she heard as Ruthie came running towards her. The two women wrapped each other in a fierce hug, tears threatening for both of them. "You take care of yourself, you hear me, Lieutenant Maggie Parker, Science Officer for the USS Enterprise?" Ruthie whispered hoarsely.

"I will, I promise. You do the same, Lieutenant Ruthie Warner, Head Nurse of the USS Pegasus," Maggie chuckled dryly. "Love, you Sis," Maggie whispered.

"Love you too, Sis. Now get going," Ruthie ordered as she playfully pushed Maggie towards the shuttle's passenger loading area.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The energy waves of the transporter beams faded away, leaving Lt. Parker standing firmly on the pad. Waiting to greet her and the other recruits were Captain James T Kirk, First Officer, Cmdr. Spock and Chief Engineer, Montgomery Scott.

Maggie stepped down from the transporter pad and handed the captain a PADD with a copy of her orders and all of her information. "Lt. Margaret Parker, reporting for duty, Sir," she announced.

"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant. At ease, please," Capt. Kirk replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. She waited while he accessed a copy of her orders on the PADD in his hand.

"All righty, Lt. Parker, you are cleared to report to Dr. McCoy in the MedBay for your incoming physical. After that, someone will show you to your quarters," Kirk explained. "Good to have you aboard, Lieutenant." With a smile and a wink, the captain left the transporter room.

"Please follow me, Lt. Parker and I will show you where the MedBay is," said Commander Spock.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The doors to the MedBay slid open, and Cmdr. Spock strode over to a strikingly handsome dark-haired man with sharp, hazel eyes. "Dr. McCoy, this is Lt. Margaret Parker, here for her initial physical examination. Lieutenant, when you are finished, I will have someone escort you to your quarters. Excuse me," Spock turned and left the MedBay.

"Well, Lt. Margaret Parker, welcome to the Enterprise," remarked Dr. McCoy. "Hop up here on the biobed and we'll get this started," he ordered.

"Maggie," she said as she maneuvered herself up onto the biobed.

"Beg pardon?" Dr. McCoy asked.

"Maggie. Short for Margaret, in case you were wondering. It's a family name," Maggie explained.

"Oh. Well, Maggie, let's get this show on the road. I've got a mountain of paperwork to sift through," McCoy grumbled.

"Yes, sir," Maggie said softly as Dr. McCoy gave her an initial scan with his tricorder.

Dr. McCoy was about to give Lt. Parker her final assessment when two members of the engineering team walked in. One of them was holding her head, and looked almost ready to pass out. It took both her co-worker and Dr. McCoy to help her up to sit on the edge of the biobed.

"I'll be right back over, Lt. Parker, so just sit tight," Dr. McCoy called over his shoulder. Turning his attention back to his new patient, he began his examination. After a few minutes, he left the area to get what he needed to treat the young engineer.

While Maggie waited for Dr. McCoy to come back, she looked all around the MedBay to acquaint herself with her surroundings. Her attention landed on the engineer brought in about ten or fifteen minutes ago by her co-worker, who had already returned to duty.

The young lady was swaying a bit from side to side, holding her head. Suddenly, she leaned over too far and was about to fall off the edge. Maggie jumped up and rushed over to the engineer to catch her before she could cause further injury to herself.

"Whoa, easy there, I've got you. Let's get you set back up on here. So what happened that brings you down here?" Maggie asked. She had a suspicion that since the girl had a head injury, it could possibly be a concussion.

"I was down in Engineering, repairing a machine when something exploded and knocked me back," she explained.

"Did you hit your head?" Maggie asked.

"Yes, I did. Can I please lay down? My head really hurts and I'm so tired," she begged.

"No, honey, I need you to stay awake. You might have a concussion, and if you do, going to sleep is not a good idea," Maggie replied. "My name is Lieutenant Margaret Parker, but you can call me Maggie. What's your name?" she asked.

"Um....I'm Ensign Miranda Nelson," she responded.

"Nice to meet you, Ensign Nelson. Or, is it okay if I call you Miranda? Anyway, today's my first day here, and I can already tell it won't be boring around here. So how long have you worked in Engineering, Miranda?" Maggie kept asking Ensign Nelson questions to help keep her oriented and from going to sleep. Every so often, Maggie would interject pieces of information from her life into the conversation.

Dr. McCoy checked the hypospray to make sure it was the right one, and returned to the main patient area. Maggie was now sitting with Miranda, with her arm around the ensign's shoulder. McCoy took a few minutes to observe the situation currently in play with the beautiful lieutenant.

From the moment she stepped into his MedBay, McCoy knew Lt. Parker was different from any other woman he'd met thus far in his life. She had bright, expressive hazel eyes, and he could see a bit of mischief in them. Her hair was a light chestnut brown, curly and was just long enough to brush the top of the collar on her uniform.

Maggie had a gentleness about her, which was obvious to McCoy from his observations of her conversation with Ensign Nelson. She had a soothing voice and refrained from showing frustration with Miranda's repetitive requests to go to sleep. Maggie looked around and when she locked eyes with McCoy, he returned to Ensign Nelson's biobed to step in and take charge of the situation.

"Well, Lieutenant, I hope I haven't been replaced as CMO for this case, now have I?" Dr. McCoy asked.

"No, sir! Not at all! This is Ensign Miranda Nelson, who almost fell off the biobed, but I got to her in time. She's complaining of a headache and really, really wants to go to sleep," Maggie explained.

"So, why shouldn't I give her a painkiller and send her back to her quarters for some rest?" McCoy inquired.

"Because she said she was repairing a machine in Engineering and there was a small explosion. She said it knocked her off of her feet and she hit her head. My concern would be that she may have a concussion, and it is therefore inadvisable to allow her to sleep," Maggie answered.

McCoy nodded and continued to examine Miranda while Maggie shared her hypothesis. "Well, Lieutenant, it turns out that your suspicions were correct, Ensign Nelson does have a concussion," he said. He motioned for Nurse Chapel to step back over to his position and gave her some treatment instructions for the ensign.

Maggie went back over to her biobed and resumed her sitting position while she waited for Dr. McCoy's assessment of her physical condition. "Thank you for your help with Ensign Nelson. Had you not been here, she would've sustained further injuries," he remarked.

"You're welcome, Dr. McCoy," Maggie murmured.

Returning to doctor mode, "Your vital signs look good, vision perfect. In general, you're in tip-top shape, Lieutenant. Except," he ran the tricorder along her limbs to check the joints. "You have a bit of tendon damage in your right wrist and right elbow. Are you a tennis player by chance?" he guessed.

Maggie smiled and shook her head. "Nope, I don't play tennis, Dr. McCoy," she replied.

"Leonard," he added.

"Huh?" she asked.

"My name is Leonard. You're Maggie, I'm Leonard," he explained. "Forget it, never mind," he grumbled. What the hell am I doing?!? he thought. Is this--Am I--FLIRTING?

Before he had a chance to answer the last question he asked himself, Maggie was asking him what he could do to fix it. She had felt some tenderness in those joints, and was hoping for some relief. Besides, it had recently kept her from doing any real damage at the tables against the new recruits. "Doc? Doctor? Dr. McCoy!" Maggie's voice finally broke through his mental fog.

McCoy shook his head as if to clear it. "Sorry, darlin', didn't mean to check out on you there. I'll just go get a hypo for the pain, then we'll get on to fixing that tendon damage," he told her.

A couple of minutes later, he returned with a hypospray and another device in hand. "I must say, Lieutenant, I'm impressed with your diagnostic capabilities," McCoy smiled at her.

"Well, Doctor, it helps to have a sister for a roommate. She's getting ready to serve as Head Nurse aboard the USS Pegasus. Staying up all those late nights helping her study must have stuck in my head after all," Maggie grinned back.

"So you got to room with your sister, that was convenient," McCoy commented.

"Actually, my roommate became my best friend, and we've been through so much together, we're like sisters. Her name is Lieutenant Ruthie Warner," Maggie explained.

"Friendships like that are rare and priceless. Do whatever's necessary to preserve it," McCoy advised.

"I fully plan on doing that, Doctor. I remember when we first met at Rocky's Bar, near the Academy, one night over a rack of 8-ball," Maggie mentioned.

"You shoot pool?" McCoy asked in surprise. Well, damn if that's not sexy. Wait, what? he thought.

Maggie chuckled. "Yes, Doctor, I sure do. 'M pretty good at it if I may say so myself. Anyway, I'm sure that the tendon damage you detected is because I'm right-handed when I play. In fact, the twinges I've been feeling lately have seriously affected my game," she muttered.

"Well, we can't have that, can we? Let's see what we can do to alleviate some of that pain," McCoy said. Maggie tilted her head to the right to give him access to her neck for the hypospray. After administering the painkiller, McCoy gently rubbed the injection site to ease the sting. Then he took the other device and slowly passed it over her wrist then her elbows.

"That should take care of mending those tendons. Now, all you have to do is keep a cue stick out of your hand for about a day or two," McCoy smirked.

Maggie chuckled. "I'm sure I'll have plenty of work to keep me busy to where that won't be a problem," she grinned. She appreciated his calm bedside manner and the feel of his hands on her neck after the hypo injection. When he smiled, there were these adorable little crinkles around his eyes. What am I thinking? she admonished herself. You just got here and you're already making goo-goo eyes at the doctor? Didn't you learn your lesson with Ryan? you chided.

At that moment, a slender, dark-skinned woman with long hair entered the MedBay and strode over to you. "My name is Lt. Nyota Uhura, and I'm the Communications Officer. Cmdr. Spock sent me to escort you to your quarters, if you're ready. That is, if Dr. McCoy is finished with his examination," Uhura remarked.

"Everything checks out, Lt. Uhura, her physical exam is complete. I'll send my final report over to Jim once I'm finished with it," McCoy replied.

Maggie hastily climbed down from the biobed, suddenly anxious to flee the MedBay and its attractive CMO. She began an almost speed-walk to the door when Dr. McCoy called out to her. She turned to face Dr. McCoy. "Yes, Doctor?" she asked.

"Once your tendons are healed, I'm looking forward to splitting a rack of 8-ball with you," McCoy gave her a wink and a smirk.

"Until then, Dr. McCoy," Maggie replied softly, giving him a small smile. She continued her retreat from the MedBay to catch up to Lt.Cmdr Uhura.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"First day, hmm?" Uhura asked.

"Yep, kinda nervous, too," Maggie admitted.

"I understand that, but don't be. This is the best crew I've ever worked with, and I'm sure you'll be a fantastic addition. Seems like you've already made an impression on Dr. McCoy," she remarked slyly.

"Oh? Why do you say that?" Maggie asked.

"Well, he's usually kind of grumpy, and he's not exactly known for socializing much. But he seemed to have warmed up a little, from what I saw," Uhura answered.

"I dunno," Maggie shrugged. "I didn't get the 'grumpy' impression at all. He was fairly sociable towards me, and we had some pleasant conversation. He seems very dedicated to his patients," she affirmed.

By this time, they had reached the door to her quarters. Once inside, Uhura gave Maggie the grand tour. She explained to Maggie how everything worked and where to find everything, in case it was arranged a bit differently than on her last assignment.

"Things are little informal on this ship, more like a big family than anything. It's not unusual for the captain to join us at meals, or for drinks after shift." Uhura laid a hand on Maggie's arm. "If you ever need to talk, please let me know. I'm hoping we can become friends," she remarked.

Maggie smiled warmly at Lt. Uhura. "Thank you, I hope so as well. Really missing my best friend right now, but she has her assignment, and I have mine," she replied with a watery smile. "I just can't believe I'm finally here, on the flagship of the Fleet!" Maggie exclaimed.

Uhura laughed. "I'm sure you've worked very hard to get here, because the Enterprise only lets in the best of the best. Relax, you have made it to the big show, my dear! Try not to work too hard, though," she advised. "Hey, some of us are getting together later for a drink, why don't you join us? It'll give you a chance to meet the rest of the group," Uhuru offered.

"Hmm. Let me think about it, and I'll let you know, if that's okay? I was just going to relax in my quarters for tonight," Maggie answered. "Wait, what time is everyone getting together?"

"I think Spock said to meet in the rec area at 2100 hrs. It'll be great, got to have fun while we have downtime," Uhura replied, then left Maggie's quarters.

I can't believe I'm here, and making friends already, she thought. The captain was relaxed, easygoing, but Maggie was sure he had the utmost respect of the crew. Nyota was quickly becoming a good friend, and Maggie couldn't wait to meet the rest of the group.

Maggie decided one night out wouldn't hurt, but she wanted to take a nap before meeting the rest of the crew. As she stared at the ceiling, she wondered briefly if Dr. McCoy would be joining them this evening. Nah, he said he had a mountain of paperwork to do, so he probably won't be there. Perhaps some other time, Maggie sighed. Her eyelids began to droop, then finally stayed closed as thoughts of a certain CMO danced in her head.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Captain Kirk made his way to the MedBay to speak to his CMO. He had gotten word from Nyota that some of the crew was getting together tonight in the recreation area. He had also heard that Uhura had invited the newest crew member, Lt. Maggie Parker to join them.

"Hey, Christine, is he in?" Kirk asked Head Nurse Christine Chapel.

"Yes, Jim, he's been holed up in his office all afternoon. Try and get him out of there, would you?" she pleaded.

Kirk nodded and smiled at Nurse Chapel and knocked on McCoy's office door. When there was no answer, he let himself in.

"Well, by all means, Jim, come right in," McCoy remarked dryly.

"Thanks, Bones. Hey, I was wondering if you were almost finished here, some of us are going down to the recreation area for a drink," Kirk mentioned.

"I've got a ton of paperwork, Jim. I don't think so," McCoy answered.

Kirk decided to try a different tactic. "Oh, by the way, thank you for sending over the results of Lt. Parker's incoming physical so quickly. Looks like Starfleet sent us a stellar recruit," Kirk remarked.

"Yes, Jim, she's fine," McCoy replied as he leaned back a little in his chair. "Actually, it was a good thing she was in here, or I would've had a situation on my hands," he added.

"Oh, really?" Jim asked.

Dr. McCoy proceeded to tell him of the engineer that came in with the head injury while he was conducting Lt. Parker's physical. "I left the room for a couple of minutes to get something. If Maggie hadn't been there, Ensign Nelson would've fallen off the biobed," McCoy explained.

"Lucky for you 'Maggie' was there," Kirk responded.

McCoy nodded, then explained how Maggie sat with the ensign and was able to detect her concussion. "She said her sister was on assignment as Head Nurse on the USS Pegasus, a Lt. Ruthie Warner," he remarked.

"Wait a minute. Parker and Warner, why do I know those names?" Kirk wondered aloud.

"Well, now how in the hell should I know, Jim?" McCoy retorted. "Anyway, I've got work to do, so if you don't mind," he said as a way to encourage the captain to leave.

"Come on, have a drink with us, Bones. You need to loosen up a bit. Besides, Nyota said she got Maggie to agree to meet us there," Kirk indicated.

McCoy thought for a moment. A chance to spend more time with the lovely lieutenant outside of a work setting could be promising, he thought. "I'll see what I can do, Jim. What time is everyone meeting?" he asked.

"Spock said something about 2100 hrs. Come on, Bones, don't make me give you a direct order," Kirk warned.

"Jim. I said I'd see what I can do, I'm not promising anything. IF I'm there, I may be a little later than 2100 hrs.--"

"Good! I'll tell everyone you're coming. See you there, Bones!" Jim hollered as he left McCoy's office, leaving the good doctor shaking his head as he returned to his work.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Maggie had contacted Uhura to tell her she decided to join them for a drink after all. She was almost finished getting ready when she heard the chimes at her door. "Come in!" she called as she spritzed some perfume on her wrist. During the course of her unpacking, she had found her favorite pale peach sweater and dark gray jeans.

Uhura and Spock stepped inside Maggie's quarters. "Maggie? Where are you, hun?" Uhura asked.

"In here, just finishing up getting ready. Can't seem to get this earring in--ah, there it goes," Maggie said, stepping out of the bathroom and into the main living area. "Good evening, Cmdr. Spock. It's nice to see you again," Maggie remarked.

"Likewise, Lt. Parker," Spock returned.

"Please call me Maggie. So what brings you two by my quarters? I was just getting ready to head out to the rec area," she asked.

"I thought we could go together, show you how to get there and all," Uhura explained.

"Sounds logical, thank you. Oh, will the captain be joining us this evening?" she inquired.

"He's supposed to be, and I believe he mentioned something about it to Dr. McCoy as well," Uhura replied, watching for Maggie's reaction.

"Oh, well, won't that be lovely," Maggie remarked nervously. Uhura looked to Spock and nudged him out the door, with Maggie following.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"And that's the last time I tried to out-drink my sister!" Maggie exclaimed, to a chorus of raucous laughter. "When I woke up, I had the hangover of all hangovers, then had my final Chemistry exam that morning. Fortunately, I passed my exam. Then I went back to my dorm room, took two painkillers and passed out!" she finished to more laughter.

"Now, you said your sister is Lt. Ruthie Warner?" asked the captain.

"Yes, sir. She's the new Head Nurse of the USS Pegasus. She and I met at the Academy and hung out a lot at Rocky's Bar, playing 8-ball," Maggie explained.

"Parker and Warner....THAT'S where I remember your names from!" Kirk exclaimed. "You and your sister always ended up taking the top two spots in Rocky's annual tournament. Four years running, if I remember correctly," he finished.

"That's us, Captain," Maggie grinned. "Alas, now that I'm here, Rocky's torch must pass to someone else. I just play for fun now, except I'm under strict orders from Dr. McCoy NOT to have a cue stick in my hand for the next day or so."

"Good evening, all, is this seat taken?" Dr. McCoy gestured to the empty seat. He was wearing dark wash jeans with cowboy boots, a burgundy-colored button-down shirt and a thin black leather jacket. He greeted Spock, Uhura and the rest, then placed his drink on the table and claimed the barstool next to Maggie for himself.

"Speak of the devil, Bones! Glad you could make it tonight, pull up a seat," Kirk greeted the doctor boisterously.

"Don't mind if I do, Jim, thank you. Lieutenant, lovely to see you again. How are you enjoying your first day on board the Enterprise?" McCoy asked.

"It's like a dream come true for me. I've always heard that the Enterprise crew is the best of the best, and it's long been my goal to earn my place here. I've already met so many wonderful people like yourselves, and I'm looking forward to becoming friends with all of you," Maggie finished.

"Well said, Lieutenant," McCoy held up his drink in salute, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Thank you, Dr. McCoy, and please call me 'Maggie'. At least when we're not on duty," she requested.

McCoy leaned closer to Maggie. "Only if you call me 'Leonard', darlin'," he replied softly.

Maggie reached over and placed her hand on top of his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Agreed. Leonard," Maggie giggled. She'd only said it once, but already McCoy loved the sound of his name falling from her lips.

Across the table, Kirk and the others paid particular attention to the interaction between their CMO and newest addition to the crew. They exchanged glances with each other about what appeared to be happening between McCoy and Maggie.

It was clear to everyone that the pair were completely oblivious to what was going on around them except for each other. They liked Maggie already, and had hopes that something might happen between her and Dr. McCoy.

Part 2 here!

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[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 18//

Masterlist

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd, @amandaraey-sunshine, @easy-p-lemon, @azymondias05, @dagypsygirl, @makeshift-utopia) *bold tags don’t work ;-;

“Only you can decide what breaks you.”--ACOWAR

XXX

A myriad of voices and faces faded in and out of darkness—surrounding me as I fought desperately to make sense of it all. Excruciating spasms ebbed in and out, leaving me unable to focus long enough to figure out where the pain was coming from. Perhaps it was all over my body, but during a particularly brutal wave; when I could hear myself crying out, I knew it came from my core. I saw Rhysand's face in the midst of my agony, his violet eyes like shattered glass and lined with silver—glimmering starlight falling down his face. It was so beautiful, but it seemed the night itself was weighing me down and I couldn't ask what caused him so much despair.

Twilight continued to envelope me, and I couldn't discern it from anything else. From the moment it took hold, it felt as if I were floating—images of concerned faces flashing across my vision every so often as my abdomen continued to throb. I knew those faces, knew their voices, but couldn't recognize anyone but my mate. He was my tether among the stars I drifted along in, until my world went dark once again.

XXX

Sunlight peeked through half-closed curtains—my curtains, I realized, as I made out the details of my bedroom. I blinked slowly as I looked around the familiar settings, my breath hitching in my throat as images of blood and pain came surging back to memory.

You're all right Feyre, it's okay

I turned at the sound of Rhys's voice, even through the bond, as he moved from the chair at my bedside to sit beside me. He looked like hell; his hair a disheveled mess with dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes, face still stained from those beautiful tears I remembered. My eyes went wide as I recalled where the pain had stemmed from and my hands flew to my stomach, gripping the fabric of my dressing gown.

"He's okay," Rhys breathed. His hand held mine, both of ours holding my stomach.

I was still pregnant. My son was alive.

I felt that all too familiar glimmer, my eyes slipping shut in relief as I sobbed. I gripped my stomach with both hands and sobbed again as I felt him move. Rhys bent down to press a kiss to my forehead before pressing his against it gently. He held my face as I cried, relieved, and I moved my hands to grip his shoulders as they shook lightly—his own tears mixing with mine as we held each other.

I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Rhys. I said down the bond, prepared to plead for forgiveness.

"Don't apologize Feyre. You have nothing to be sorry for," he said as he pulled back just enough for our eyes to meet.

"I put him at risk," I whispered as I stifled another sob in my throat. "I-I used my powers, and not even five minutes later I started cramping. I-I shouldn't have-" I sobbed again, and he shook his head, brushing the tears from my cheeks.

"You acted as High Lady. You did what you had to do for our city while I was away," he said, but I could hear the same anger that I held against myself laced in his voice. It was subtle, but it was there.

I opened my mouth to argue, but there was a gentle knock at the door followed by the voice of our healer. "It's me, my lord. I've felt the High Lady wake and need to reevaluate her current state."

Rhys pressed another kiss to my brow and straightened, waving a hand to unlock the door; allowing Madja to let herself in. The dark-skinned female smiled warmly at me as she approached my bedside.

"How are you feeling, lady?" She asked.

I sniffed and did a quick evaluation of myself. I was sore and weary—my usual fatigue exemplified by whatever my body had just been through. "Tired...and aching, but no pain." I answered, deciding that honesty would be my best course of action. I wouldn't take a chance on my son's safety again.

She nodded in understanding. "That's to be expected. You've been through a tremendous few days," she said.

My eyes widened. "It's been days?"

"Just two. You were out after the initial attack, which took place in the afternoon. You slept all day yesterday after Madja healed you," Rhys explained, taking my hand and squeezing it reassuringly—though I could hear the lingering ache in his voice.

"I was able to put you in a trance of sorts, while you healed, in order to allow your body the ample time it needed to recover before you regained consciousness," Madja said, her tone growing serious as she met my gaze.

"However, my lady, the extraordinary use of your powers that day; noble and vital as they were in saving our city, did cause a strain on your womb. The muscles that line the area holding your youngling contracted, causing some minor tearing and bleeding."

I felt Rhys's agony flicker through our bond as he heard the words, no doubt thinking back to what those initial moments must've been like—when I was floating in and out of consciousness and crying out from the pain. "This caused your body to enter premature labor, but I was able to stop it, heal the tear, and stop the bleeding in sufficient time," she finished explaining.

A few more tears slid down my face as I closed my eyes, returning a hand to hold my stomach gently—afraid that even the slightest touch would reopen the wound in my newly repaired muscles. The healer placed a reassuring hand over mine.

"You are resilient my lady. You and your youngling are strong. Not only did you fight for his survival, your healing blood doing what it could at the time, but your youngling did as well. As I was tending to your wounds, I felt the power in his blood attempting to sustain his environment—that healing power you have passed onto him. Part of the agony you felt was not only premature labor pains, but also your youngling restoring the injury to your womb."

My eyes widened at the revelation and I looked at Rhys, who also looked as if this was the first time he was hearing it. "But this does mean you will need to remain on strict bed rest until further notice. My medicinal process will continue over the course of the next few weeks. It is slow, but successful. Your youngling is safe now, but your body and his need this time to continue to rest and recuperate. I also want to ensure that the muscles I repaired remain intact and regain its strength. Allow me to check on that progress now," she continued before placing her hands on either side of my stomach. Healing magic flowed through those hands as I turned to face Rhys.

He squeezed my hand again. He has your healing powers. He...was healing you

I covered my mouth to stifle a sob. Everything she warned us of, all the risks and complications...I've brought them on myself, and on our baby.

Don't say that Feyre. This is not your fault.

Of course it is! I winced as a light spasm flowed through me, but Madja's restorative touch gently dissolved it.

Her weary eyes met mine. "My lady, it is imperative that you do not put any additional stress on yourself at this time. Physically, or emotionally."

I nodded and breathed in a deep sigh, both of Rhys's hands gripping mine as Madja went back to her work. Please Feyre. Don't blame yourself for this

I saw the hurt sparkling in his eyes, the heartbreak, and realized the anger I saw earlier wasn't directed at me. It's not your fault either, Rhysand.

I shouldn't have left you here in your condition. It was a mistake assuming you and Velaris would be safe with the threat of a coup on the horizon

Through the bond, I could feel the remorse he had spent the last two days ruminating in—believing himself to be at fault for my current state. We were blaming ourselves, when in truth the accountability lied in our attackers; each of us having to respond accordingly. A seed of blame still lived in me, because deep down I had known using my powers to such an extent was a risk. I didn't anticipate it causing as much damage as it did, and I would never forgive myself for it. The regret that resided in Rhys, however, was from leaving his pregnant mate behind.

We can't be racked with this guilt, Rhys. We had no idea this would happen. I said through the bond, brushing my thumb along his lightly as I curled against his mental shields.

I saw the inner turmoil he battled with in his violet eyes as he kept himself closed off for the time being, fighting his male-bonded instincts that caused him to be vehemently angry at himself for believing he abandoned his weak and vulnerable mate—all the while trying to convince himself that he hadn't. Finally, I felt him lower his shields and let him hold me through the bond; felt his engulfing warmth and security.

You're right

It was all he could manage as I felt the emotions swirl through him, and on that bridge that connected us, I held him just as securely as he held me.

Madja moved her hands from my stomach with a satisfied nod. "Everything is as it should be, the recovery you made while unconscious was substantial, but for the next week or so, you are to remain in bed and must pass over your duties as High Lady for the time being. I will be in daily to monitor your condition, and after this initial period of strict confinement, we'll see about you returning to some of those duties."

I nodded my understanding and so did Rhys. "I'll make sure she gets more than the adequate amount of rest she needs," he said, voice still strained.

"I have no doubt about that my lord, but you must also allot yourself some time to rest," the healer said, turning her full attention to my mate. "You haven't gotten a wink of sleep since I arrived. I understand your mating bond is very fragile, and I can't imagine the stress you must be under as High Lord, mate, husband, and now the expectant father."

She placed a gentle hand on my mate's shoulder. "You must also take care of yourself for your mate's benefit. Sleep, eat, and allow yourself to attend to your duties as High Lord and turn her care over to the others. They worry for both of your well-being and would be glad to do whatever they can to help."

I frowned as Rhys's shoulders tensed a bit at her words, and for clarification he allowed me past a layer of his adamant walls. There I saw the memories of the time I remained unconscious—how he guarded my side night and day and locked the rest of our family out; physically and mentally. He passed messages through the healer as she was the only one allowed in and out of our room, and the others didn't push—despite how distraught he knew they were over my condition. They tried to bring him food and water, but he remained closed off, locking himself away with me until now.

I shouldn't have shut them out. He admitted through the bond. But until you were awake, until I knew everything would be okay...I just couldn't bring myself to face them or let them near you, or do anything else for that matter

I sighed and squeezed his hand gently. "I'll take care of him, Madja," I reassured the healer.

She nodded. "That's good to hear," she said before turning to her bag of supplies. "Now, I'm prescribing an herbal tea mixture for you to consume twice a day. Once in the morning, and then at night. This will aid in your recovery and work to help you slowly regain more energy. I'm mixing it with your prenatal herbal mixture to continue supplementing your youngling as well." She mixed together the concoction on the spot, using her own powers to brew a cup for me and handed me the mug.

I cringed as I attempted to sit up on my own, but Rhys already had an arm around my back to keep me upright. The healer offered me a wry smile, "You'll continue to be sore for the next few days, so please, take even the slightest movements with great caution."

I nodded and held the cup of tea to my lips, taking a sip. "Thank you Madja, for everything," I said, hoping she saw the sincerity in my eyes.

She nodded again with a slight bow. "Of course, my lady," she turned to Rhys. "I'll go inform the others of the Lady's recovery and return tomorrow afternoon."

"Thank you." Rhys said, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing it. She smiled again before excusing herself, leaving my mate and I alone.

I took another sip of my tea as Rhys adjusted himself to sit on the bed, keeping me upright. "The city is secure," he said softly, and my heart skipped a beat. "Your wall of water put out all the flames, and the palace lords were able to arrange for repairs to the damaged buildings right away."

Tears of relief slid down my cheeks as I held my brew at my lips, allowing the steam from the cup to warm my face and keep me at ease. "Our home is safe again...?" I whispered.

He pressed a kiss to my temple. "Everyone is safe, Feyre. Everyone," he reassured. He knew my worry for Ressina and my other painter friends; the younglings we taught in my studio and their parents. The innocent lives I fought and would always fight to protect.

Defender of the Rainbow

I sighed heavily and slowly turned in his arms to meet his gaze. "What happened...in the Mortal Lands? Why did Vassa come here?" I asked, knowing she had not done this willingly.

Rhys sighed as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his violet eyes going distant as he recalled the details. "Cassian, Azriel, and I arrived at the queen's palace up in flames. Lucien was doing his best to calm them while he ordered the guards to put them out. He said it happened so fast," he began, and I frowned.

"Beron arrived with one of the generals of his armies, and with the sorcerer who cursed Vassa. We don't know how he managed to find him, but he forced Vassa into her firebird form and cast her to the skies to begin wreaking havoc. He had complete control over her," He sighed as he closed his eyes. "Lucien and Beron had a confrontation before unleashing his army to attack and Jurian took over and led their armies to fight back. We arrived after Beron and the sorcerer vanished with Vassa, and Lucien doing what he could to put out the flames on the palace while Jurian and the mortal forces continued to battle against the Autumn Court army. He had already sent word to Tamlin for help, but we jumped in and started fighting on their behalf until they arrived. We were worried about where Beron would take Vassa next, and I...I had a bad feeling. I wanted to come back to Velaris as soon as possible; wanted to come back to you. Cassian was about to send word to Devlon, to gather our legions that haven't turned yet, when I felt it-"

His breath hitched and I saw his throat bob before he went on, voice hoarse. "I felt a tug on the bond...not from you, but from our son." He touched my stomach with a gulp. "That normal glimmer was a hot spark, a cry for help, and I knew something was wrong. I winnowed back to Velaris immediately, right at your side, only seconds after you collapsed...and then I saw the blood..."

I reached my arms around his shoulders as he collapsed into tears, the memory of me lying in the grass unconscious and bleeding now overwhelming him. I wrapped my arms around him as he buried his face into the crook of my neck, his arms encircling my waist as he cried. Dropping my emptied mug to the floor, I held him—my own tears falling as I buried my face in his hair and rubbed soothing circles on his back.

After a few minutes he pulled back to meet my gaze, a hand going to hold my stomach gently. "I thought I was going to lose you, and our son, and I couldn't bear it. I brought you inside the estate just as Mor arrived with Madja. She knew you would need help, but she was horrified when she saw your condition. I laid you down right there, in the foyer, so Madja could get to work, but you were fading," he squeezed his eyes shut at the memory.

I brushed against his mental shields, asking him to show me rather than tell me of the events that transpired, and he hesitated before letting me in. I saw myself lying on the marbled ground, pale, as the healer had her hands pressed to my stomach—hands glowing with her healing magic. I heard the voices of the others—panicked and yelling as they arrived at the estate. Then I heard myself groaning and whimpering in agony, and I remembered from my own harrowing memories that I thought I had been screaming. Instead, I was on the floor, crying and pleading incoherently as Madja healed me and then met Rhysand's eyes. I looked into my own dull grey-blue eyes and was overwhelmed with a sense of helplessness that my mate had endured.

I pushed away from his thoughts, unable to look at myself any longer and sobbed. "I'm sorry I put you through that Rhysand. I...how can you ever forgive me?"

He captured my lips with his, pleading and adoring and forgiving as he kissed me. "You and our son are safe. That's all that matters to me now," he whispered before kissing me again.

I kissed him back, holding his face and brushing away the tears from his cheek with my thumbs as he did the same. "I would be so furious...how are you not furious with me? How are the others not-" I choked.

He met my gaze meaningfully. "I couldn't be furious with you for doing what you have always done, Feyre. I was scared, I still am, but I spent the last two days praying to the Mother, that you would just wake up."

His thumbs stroked my cheeks gently as starlight danced behind his violet eyes. "I can't tell you how relieved I am that you and our son are safe," he kissed me again. "For that reason, I can't be angry."

I sniffed as I kissed him back, holding his wrists gently as he held my face. "I'll be careful from now on," I promised. "I'll let you coddle and fuss over me all you want."

A tired laugh escaped past his lips and my heart fluttered at the sound, glad to see a smile return to his handsome face. "I'll hold you to that, Feyre darling," he said with quiet amusement.

We held each other; brows pressed together as we moved to stare at my stomach. Our son was quiet, but I could feel his subtle movements. Rhys caressed it gently, earning a kick to his palm and he smiled again. "Still so strong," he whispered.

"He's amazing...and he's still growing," I said as I brushed my fingertips along the expanse of my belly.

"Thank the Mother," Rhys said as he moved down to press a kiss at the apex of my stomach.

I brushed my fingers through his hair as he stayed by my belly, restoring it back from the mess it had been from his stressed hands mussing it up. "I think I know what we should name him," I mused.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Sebastian."

"Sebastian?"

I nodded and ran a hand along the top of my stomach, "It suits him...don't you think?"

Sebastian. Venerable, and strong—which our youngling most certainly was. Rhys's eyes warmed as his hand rested atop mine. "It's perfect."

Our son must've agreed, because rather than a kick of protest under our palms, we felt that intimate glimmer flutter through our bond—strong as ever. Rhys let out a long breath, and I noticed the tension finally leaving his shoulders as he laid beside me; our joined hands lingering on my stomach as we stared at it until we both slipped into an easeful sleep.

[frodos-bizarre-adventure]

@gingerreggg bust au brainrot is real

Heads Up- Part 6 (Joseph x Bust! Caesar)

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

Suzi awoke on the sofa with a start. It was already late at night, and the TV was still on, already halfway through showing yet another Fast and the Furious sequel. The living room was dimly lit, though she could clearly see Joseph crouched next to her with a concerned expression on his face.

"It's...it's Caesar," he sighed. "He's quite upset."

Rising from the couch in a worried hurry, Suzi made her way over to the front door, and was greeted with the sight of Caesar, his neck base covered in mud and dirt and the most bitter expression on his face.

"Caesar?" she asked, bending down, trying to maintain eye contact, despite Caesar trying to look away. "Did you try to run away?"

"I can only bounce," Caesar joked half-heartedly. "I don't have feet."

"Well, did you try to bounce away?" she asked again, with the patience of a kind schoolteacher.

Caesar sighed, knowing that trying to break the tension with his usual dry humor wouldn't work.

"There's a big world out there and I'm not even allowed to see it," Caesar lamented. "I'm alive, but I'm just stuck in this little house, because no one can know I exist."

"I just want to be free," he said, somewhat impulsively.

"Look, Caesar, we're just worried about you, okay?" Joseph told his sculpture. "We're just afraid that someone would discover you and take you away. And we can't have that, can we? You're a prized creation I worked so hard on. You're a living, talking miracle. And most importantly, Caesar... you're my friend."

"You're precious in so many different ways," Suzi added.

Without a further word Caesar bowed his head sadly, and began to hop toward Joseph's room.

Joseph couldn't help but notice, however, that Caesar winced and groaned with every hop. It wasn't his usual grunts of effort. He sounded hurt.

"Caesar, let me check on you, will ya?" he asked, walking over to Caesar's side. Gently lifting him up --with Caesar too upset to retaliate-- he inspected the bust's underside, and grimaced.

"Now look what you've did to yourself, Caesar. You've chipped away your paint and got sand into your skin. I'm gonna have to clean and fix you up," he said with a frown.

------

Suzi watched as Joseph worked all night, repairing Caesar's damage that he'd sustained during his little trek in the yard. He skillfully used delicate carving tools and wet brushes to clear away the debris that had stuck themselves to Caesar's underside.

Caesar was leaned backwards against a wooden stand, so that Joseph could inspect his underside without having to lay him down and risking flattening his facial features. Caesar was not too pleased, however, and winced painfully and complained as Joseph got to work.

"I guess he doesn't appreciate you meddling with his butt," Suzi mused.

"I don't have a butt," Caesar grumbled.

"Well, I mean it sort of is your bottom, isn't it? Which would mean that you're technically sitting whenever you're upright..." she pondered.

"Don't you go overthinking everything too much," Caesar retorted, scrunching up his face at the sting of a splinter being pulled out of his base. "I know me existing at all raises a lot of questions I'd rather not answer."

Joseph, however, was more concerned about the fact that Caesar's underside was able to feel pain. "This is why we don't go barefoot on rough ground, Caesar."

Caesar rolled his eyes, as he often did with Joseph and his antics around. "What are you gonna do? Make me wear one big shoe?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, the mental image was funny enough to elicit a smile from both artists.

"Maybe," snarked Joseph in response, smirking.

Once Caesar's underside was clean, Joseph commenced on repainting it. He coated the base with a pale flesh tone, identical to the shade of the rest of Caesar's clay skin, and, with a few minutes of drying, Caesar looked good as new.

"Hold on, there's one more thing I ought to do," Joseph said, shaking a can of spray-on varnish. "Cover your noses everyone! Uh...or maybe just me and Suzi."

"I don't breathe but I can smell!" Caesar yelled, but too late to block out the harsh scent. Caesar groaned and wrinkled his face in disgust.

With a few loud spritzes and a few moments more for the clear varnish to harden, Joseph finally lifted Caesar back onto the floor. "So, what do you think? Does it still hurt?"

Caesar made a few experimental hops.

"Huh, it doesn't," he said, testing his newly-varnished base like a child with a new pair of sneakers. His thumps sounded a bit squeakier, and he could still feel the texture of the floor, but he felt less of the rough friction of the ground that rubbed against his bottom.

"This varnish should protect your butt in case you go scraping yourself around again. Not that you should be doing that to begin with, anyway." Joseph instructed.

"Yeah, sure," Caesar huffed. "And for the last goddamn time, I don't have a butt."

------

It was early the next morning when Suzi sat on the couch, lazily flipping through channels, when she saw Caesar squeakily hopping across the floor past her.

Her curiosity sparked, and she couldn't resist asking.

"Do you find hopping around on your neck difficult? I've seen you hop around all day and it looks like a tiring way to get around," she said, with a bit of pity.

Caesar twitched his rudimentary shoulders in what was his equivalent of a shrug. "It's the only way I am able to move, so I'm not complaining. I'm just glad I'm even able to move around at all," he said matter-of-factly.

"Besides, there isn't really much else for me to do, anyway. Hop over here, hop over there, bounce around until Joseph wants something to do with me, it's quite boring, really."

"Say, I've got some books to pass the time," Suzi said, seating herself down. Caesar eagerly hopped over to her side as she pulled out a book from her bag. "You do know how to read, don't you?" she asked Caesar.

"I can," Caesar replied. "I mean, I've only been alive less than a week, but yeah, somehow I can read."

"Really?" Suzi said, intrigued, as she presented him a book on Greek mythology from her literature class. "So there are things you just...know? Like how to speak fluent English? What places and things are called? Joseph's name, maybe?"

"Actually, he was wearing a nametag with 'Joseph' on it when we met, when I first awoke." Caesar corrected.

"But do you remember anything before that?"

Caesar's face went blank for a moment.

"Nothing. I may remember what things are, what words mean, but about me..." His voice just trailed away, and he shook his head sadly.

Suzi's attention was caught by a loud snoring from Joseph's room.

"Poor fella," Suzi said. "He was working really hard to fix you last night. He must be exhausted. He hasn't had a wink of sleep."

Caesar hummed regrettably. He couldn't help but felt guilty at having made Joseph labor all evening to repair the damages of his recklessness.

------------

That afternoon, as Joseph and Suzi sat at the dining table enjoying their lunch, Joseph decided to bring up a topic that everyone had been awkwardly skirting around since the beginning.

"Caesar has no body." Joseph said.

"Well, no shit, Sherlock," Caesar quipped, like he did the first day, from the living room floor. He was absorbed in Suzi's mythology book, using his nose to flip through the pages.

"Well, he's seemed to have gotten used to it," Suzi pondered. "He's gotten pretty independent."

"Yes, but he's just a head, and it's my fault! I created him!" Joseph said repentantly. "I wish there was something I could do about it."

Suzi raised an eyebrow. "You mean...make him a body?"

Joseph looked over to the living room, where he saw Caesar struggling to adjust the position of the book with his chin.

"It's the right thing to do, I guess. But...how?"

"We're gonna need clay. Lots of it. And I think I might know just the place."

-----------

(Previous Chapter)

(Next Chapter)

[fleckcmscott]

After

Summary: Arthur is heartened to have Y/N back by his side. But moving forward isn't as simple as he'd daydreamed.

Warnings: Adult situations, Swearing

Words: 3,391

A/N: This request comes from @jokerownsmysoul​! It's a continuation of Ch. 23 of Watch What Happens and takes off right after the last paragraph. Funnily enough, when Karen originally beta'd that chapter she said, "Where's their conversation? Oh, well, I guess it's implied." 😄 Special thanks to Domino, aka @thegirlwho​, (who also wanted their conversation 😂) for sharing her point of view and helping me see things from a different perspective.

A good portion of my life is the exploding head emoji right now, so it's been a while since I've posted. However, I'm still here. Still writing. Still trying. Work on the new multi-chapter continues. If you've got any requests, let me know. Your patience, support, and you mean a lot to me. Thank you.

Nimble fingers twined through his loose, brown curls, a gentle tug as lips met and parted, met and parted. Her body surrounding that soft, most intimate part of him was visceral. Warm and wet. "I love you" fell from her mouth. Once, twice, more than the walls of his apartment had ever heard. He swallowed but was unable to murmur an appropriate reply. She came back, his mind affirmed. She came back.

Shit, I haven't mopped for a week.

Arthur braced himself on his knees and elbows to look down at her. The notched collar of Y/N's blouse had somehow remained uncrumpled. Strands of her hair fanned out messily over the beige, aged hexagons of the kitchen linoleum. Her tears had reduced to stains on her flushed cheeks. He brushed them away with the back of his knuckles. She'd said he hadn't hurt her, that she was happy. Both good things. If he could figure out the next step...

His eyes flitted back and forth between hers, brows pinched. Moving to kneel, he tucked himself back into his briefs, pulled his light blue pajama bottoms over his rear, then ran his hands along his thighs. "Have you had dinner?"

Buoyant laughter left her as she propped herself on her forearms. "I'm famished. Especially after that." She extended her hand and he accepted it gladly. When she started to pull herself up, he grabbed the other. Her kitten-heels slid the weave rug along the floor; it took some effort for her to get her footing. Once she stood, she tied the drawstring of his pants and adjusted her skirt. "Be right back," she said and scurried to the bathroom.

The thud of the door closing cleared the awe from head. He'd rather have kept it. Changes in mood were typical as of late. The bliss of her return was already twisting into dread. No longer consumed by the need to be inside her, his mind conjured questions, too many to brush off. He turned the knob of the toaster over. Studied the orange glow of its heating element. Had charity - or worse, pity - caused her return? Had distress afflicted her as deeply as it had him? Had she thought of him half as much as he'd thought of her?

Was she going to abandon him again?

He suddenly felt very silly and quite small for allowing himself a modicum of relief. Nothing had been clarified. By having a quickie on the floor after they'd barely exchanged a word, he'd set himself up to be hurt. The way he had when he'd kissed Helen, or when he'd considered Randall his friend, or when he'd believed, for one foolish minute, that Murray might be kind. He flinched against the fury simmering in his stomach. That same panic and anger from when Y/N had walked out of his apartment and, he'd been convinced, his life. He clutched the counter's curved edge so hard his fingertips went numb.

But then she curled herself into his side and squeezed him tight about the waist. Her blithe bearing was almost enough to quiet his tumult. "Anything I can help with?"

"No." He moved to dig through the freezer. Beans and franks with a brownie. English style fish 'n' chips. His mother's favorite, meatloaf. Only the teal packaging made them appealing. He grimaced at the meager offerings. He snatched one from the door, held it out with some trepidation. It was possible the gel-like gravy, slices of turkey roll, and drowned stuffing wouldn't put Y/N off. "Um, this was on sale. I bought a few."

"It's perfect." She accepted the carton and tore it open. "I heard a song on the radio yesterday that made me think of you."

"Oh yeah?" He closed the door of the toaster and set the timer with a flick of the wrist.

"The man was singing that his name was Carnival. That's your clown name, right?" She chuckled, dragged the black, wooden stool from under the counter, and perched on it. "It reminded me of the subway." A flirty pinch to his abdomen. "And that I still have to see one of your performances."

Arthur scoffed and averted his gaze, struggled to push through his anxiety and enjoy her. But he wasn't the type of man to let questions lie. When he'd gotten the courage to ask Y/N on a date, he'd taken the risk. When he'd read Penny's letter, he'd hopped on the first train to Wayne Manor. After the confrontation in Wayne Hall, he'd gone to Arkham and stolen that wretched file.

His curiosity tended to pick wounds that hadn't yet healed over.

The warmth of her hand met his back. "Thank you for giving me time."

The tenderness of her tone loosened the clench of his jaw. But he still couldn't bring himself to look at her. He'd done what she'd requested, because he'd feared mistakes would drive her further away, not because he'd wanted to or understood. He wondered if someone without a mental illness would have behaved differently. She'd pleaded with him to listen, kissed him goodbye, then left like it was nothing.

Whatever the case, her appreciation felt wrong. He didn't need gratitude. He needed answers. He inhaled sharply. "Why did you go?"

She traced the knobs of his spine. "I had to figure out the best way to be with you."

"Am I that hard to be with?" he bit out.

"Of course not. That's not what I said."

He gulped and released a ragged breath. "It broke my fucking-" He faltered when his voice cracked.

"Arthur, I didn't want to hurt you. I'm sorry." Her embrace was tight, a welcome pressure on his ribs despite the ache. Her palm slid up his sternum. "I was afraid to do more harm than good." He should have contradicted her, told her she was crazy if she believed loving him would damage him. But he stopped himself when she nuzzled his bicep. It was a while before she cleared her throat. "I love you more than I imagined possible." She giggled, then, and sniffed. "Which isn't bad for six weeks, Mr. Fleck."

Tears threatened as his eyelids fluttered. He managed to keep them at bay, covering her hand with his to distract himself. He pressed it tighter to him, until he thought her fingers might break through his chest. Finally, he met her stare. Found it full of love and what might have been joy at being together. In that moment, he knew nothing would ever separate his heart from hers.

~~~~~

"Christmas is coming up. Let me know what you'd like to do."

Arthur's slight nod was typical of their conversation this evening. Well, that wasn't quite fair. More like half of it. He'd been vacillating between bouts of confidence and timidity, with the latter tending to win out. He'd put his arm around her, examined the latest issue of TV Guide, and asked what she'd preferred to watch. She'd let him choose; he'd picked a three-hour variety show. Minutes later, he'd been squished into the corner of the sofa, legs neatly crossed with his hands clasped in his lap. She'd risen to refresh their ice teas, and he'd halted her with a kiss to her knuckles and his handsome grin. Upon her return, he'd focused on the floor and kept quiet. The changes were difficult to predict.

At least the periods of stillness made it easy for her to reflect, even as those reflections weren't entirely pleasant. She'd had faith in his ability to take care of himself and his judgment to reach out to her if he was in crisis. And while she had no regrets about taking five days to ensure she could sustain their relationship, she lamented the pain it had caused him. She'd detected it in his stiff posture in the kitchen. Seen it in his glistening eyes. Sensed it in his inconsistent reluctance to be touched.

It had been hard for her, too. The absence of their nightly calls, of shared laughter, of his presence had been keen. She would have returned to him without receiving his letter. But the ink on the page, with its occasional misspellings and earnest admissions ("I don't kno if I'm doing this right but I want to try. Maybe you want to try with me, to?") had prompted her to run to the subway before she'd taken off her coat. Confirmed that despite their differences, them being opposite in many ways, their hearts were the same.

He perked up slightly when the next performer came on, an old man from Whitefish, Montana and his paper mache ventriloquist dummy. Y/N's attention drifted to Arthur as he leaned forward onto his knees. Though the act was nothing special - terrible jokes, drinking water while the puppet talked, strumming a ukulele as it sang - his face crinkled in amusement. "They just have regular people on there," he said. "I haven't seen anyone from Gotham. I should try out."

Thankful he was focused on the show and not her, she pursed her lips. Had he forgotten how Murray had gone? Or Pogo's? Then again, he'd believed both had gone great. And she wanted him to succeed. To strive. To dream. His determination impressed her, made her proud. She searched for a truthful but kind answer. "Once you've got a set you're comfortable delivering, sure. Would you send a tape? I have a recorder you can borrow."

"I wrote a lot this week. Not many jokes but I've done some brainstorming." He flicked ash from his cigarette into the pink ashtray on the coffee table. Splayed his fingers and rubbed his palms together. The bob of his Adam's apple was faint in the dim, blue light. "Do you- Do you want to sleep over?" He turned to her.

Elated, she smiled widely and shifted to sit side-saddle. "I'd love to, but I didn't bring any clothes."

"Hold on." He rose from the couch and disappeared into the bedroom. After a minute, she followed to find him digging through a couple of cardboard boxes. Boxes filled with his mother's things, she realized. She'd have to follow-up for details, find out what had happened to ensure the transition would go as smoothly as possible. Though the relationship between him and Penny was complicated, change wouldn't be easy.

He held out a threadbare, light-blue, nylon nightdress with ruffled cap sleeves and a ribbon at the neckline. "Here."

Y/N cocked her head. The gown was exceedingly narrow, its seams stretched. If she had been inclined to wear it, it wouldn't have fit. Arthur's hopeful expression made it plain he did not see the oddity in offering his romantic partner his mother's nightwear. It was logical, she supposed. His years had been spent living hand to mouth. He didn't have any siblings. Hand-me-downs - a spare sweater here, a pair of socks there - would have come from Penny. A tad strange, to be sure. But poverty had a way of making the abnormal normal.

"Thanks," Y/N said. "But I'll be fine in my panties." At his pout, she closed the inches between them. "If you have a t-shirt, I'll take it." His brows lifted and he gave a toothy smile, comprised of surprise and conceit. The shirt he retrieved from the living room was plain and white. The lightly stained armpits didn't bother her, nor did its loose fit. It was part of his work outfit, he explained. And he claimed she looked cute in it.

Her sleep was restful, deep, better than it had been the last two weeks. Arthur being nearby and her certainty when she'd lain her head on his pillow had calmed her. She didn't think about the Wayne Foundation. She didn't worry about how to pursue a future with him. She didn't waste her energy being afraid of powerlessness. Warmth filled her, aided by contentment and cozy blankets.

When the mattress sunk beneath his weight, she didn't check the clock. Judging by the speed with which her drowsiness dissipated and the blackness of the room, it was likely around 4:00 AM. She'd gotten a solid five hours. With a slight stretch and mewl, she blinked up at him. Her elbow accidentally bumped his chest. "Aren't you tired?"

"No." He palmed her shoulder, caution palpable in every movement. Then his caress dragged down her upper arm, hovered over her breast.

She stroked his stubbled cheek. "What are you up to?"

"Making sure you're really here."

It was unclear if he was kidding. The extent of his imaginations or hallucinations - if that's what he experienced - weren't yet known to her. She recalled how he'd clutched her jacket, the way he'd fiddled with her wall calendar and coffee table when he'd come to her for help. Tactility oriented him, as it had her father before the final stages of his diagnosis. And, outside of acute episodes, Loving Someone with... had advised her to carry-on as always.

Laughing gently, she entwined their legs. "Where else would I be?"

"I don't know," he scoffed. He tucked his chin. Silence permeated the room, interrupted only by their exhalations. Eventually, he spoke, his rasp bashful and desperate. "Are you going to leave me again?"

"No." She pressed his hand to her breast, tried to soothe his tremble away. "I like it here."

She could hear his smile in the dark. He dipped his head to capture her lips. He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her again. She kissed him back until she ached with emptiness. Until she felt him hard against her hip.

"Y/N?" he breathed into her mouth.

Her pulse throbbed in her ears. "What?"

His forehead met hers and she shivered all over. "I wanna make you come."

~~~~~

Drip, drip, drip. A calming, predictable sound. The pungent smell of generic brew wafted to his nostrils, slightly burnt but familiar. Coffee. He was making his girlfriend coffee before she went to work. After they'd made love and snoozed until sunrise. After she'd admonished him for smoking in bed, then caressed his flaccid sex and teased him about his "secret freckle." (He'd covered his face in horror and delight and promised himself that one day he'd find a "secret" on her.) He hummed along to the radio, though he disliked the song, and whistled while he filled their cups. Once he'd added three sugars to his and the last of his milk to hers, he padded to the bath. He leaned on the doorframe, an imitation of nonchalance.

In her apparent rush to get to him, Y/N hadn't simply neglected to pack a change of clothing. She was swiping his stick of deodorant under her arms with haste. When she grabbed his comb and tried to tame her hair, he didn't mind. She declined his offer of Penny's eyeliner and mascara but that was fine. She didn't need them, anyway.

As she buttoned her pleated blouse, he giggled. He'd heard jokes about women going to work in identical outfits two days in a row. The innuendo had escaped him until now. A thrill went through him at finally getting the joke. He blushed. "You're dressed the same."

"I left Patricia a message that I'd be late. It won't surprise anyone." She accepted the proffered mug and took a long drink. A mischievous look as she arched a brow. "She'll want details."

Arthur's eyes widened and he rubbed his forehead. This would take getting used to.

She squeezed a line of toothpaste onto her index finger. "What are you doing today? Any gigs?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, braced his arm on the wall. "I have to call the hospital. Figure out where to send my mother." He was glad to begin the process of moving on, moving forward. To start building a life of his own. Freed from the woman who hadn't protected him. Paired with the woman who understood him most. Still. He was daunted.

After a few seconds of attempting to brush her teeth, Y/N rinsed her mouth and washed her hands. "The social worker should be able to help. There must be homes specializing in lobotomy patients, given how common they were. Actually..." She stepped to him and wrapped her arms around his middle. "I bet there's an advocacy group for the elderly in Gotham. I'll call around on my break. We can have lunch and review their recommendations."

The tightness in his chest prevented him from holding her gaze. His longings for kindness didn't make it any less peculiar. He hoped he would be able to accept it without skepticism soon, like a normal person. That he wouldn't wait for the other shoe to drop. He tried to fight his negative thoughts rather than give into them.

But he couldn't. Not yet. "Why are you doing this?" he mumbled.

She gave a small shrug, as if what she was about to say wasn't a miracle. "I love you. Why wouldn't I?" Before he could react, she walked to the front door and slipped on her heels. "Besides, we should plan this weekend. Shall We Dance is showing at the Monarch. We could catch it and have dinner at my place. And there's a doctor I found for you - when you're feeling up to it. We'll go over the particulars."

The offer to see the film, one he knew every number of, was an obvious attempt to butter him up for that discussion. It would work. "That sounds nice." He went to her side and took her coat off the wall mounted rack, guided her arms into the sleeves

"Arthur," she started, zipping her jacket. Her pretty eyes met his. "I wasn't going to end our relationship. I don't want you to fear that."

He winced and clutched his hands together, annoyed she had raised the subject again after the wonderful morning they'd shared. "I believe you now."

"Back home, I made mistakes. That's why I needed time." She shook her head. "The thought of repeating them with you..."

Mistakes? What kind of mistakes was she referring to? She'd said her divorce had been mutual. A big fight with her sister or mother hadn't been mentioned. She almost never talked about what had happened with her father, other than to name his diagnosis and state she'd gone on medication. She was a good woman. Whatever she had done, it couldn't be that terrible. Not half as bad as the notions that wormed their way into his brain like a broken record.

Then she continued. "I didn't know what to do then. But I think I do now. " She nuzzled his sideburn and carded her fingers through his hair. "If I see you walking towards a cliff, I won't follow. I'll pull you back before you get there."

He stared at her, blinking rapidly as he tried to hold himself together. Her words felt like the kind of fantasy he'd created to ease his misery. To try to convince himself he should exist another day. That he should stick around. Multiple hospitalizations had proven that hadn't always worked. But this was new. Real. Maybe that reality would allow him, for a little while, to be all right.

He cupped her face, drifted his thumbs over her cheeks. She leaned into him, into the kisses he placed on her brow, her nose, her mouth. His lips parted but all he could manage was a shaky exhale. The press of his face to hers.

She must have noticed he was overwhelmed. It frustrated him - he wanted to find a way to articulate himself. But her peck to his jaw, her hand covering his, made him feel safe. "Meet you at my office at one?"

"Mm-hmm." He nodded into her hair, not quite ready to let go.

Gently, she pulled away from his grasp, took her purse, and opened the door. She smiled. "Call if you need anything."

At that, she strode down the hall in the direction of the elevator. He stepped out and watched until she disappeared around the corridor's corner. He rested against the door and closed his eyes, wishing harder than he ever had before that every morning would be like this for the rest of his life.

~~~~~

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[banditthewriter]

Under Pressure - Bucky Barnes

Prompt: A request please! I’m a sucker for angst with a happy ending. Could I have Bucky Barnes x reader in which the reader hides a nasty injury from the team until she knows everybody is safe. Then she collapses and they think she’ll die, Bucky super sad and angsty, but she pulls through because my heart can’t take full angst. I hope that makes sense. Super massive thankyou if you decide to do it!! Xxx Prompter: @s-trawberryv-eins​​

Warning: Injury sustained in battle?

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

*****

“Brace yourselves,” you heard over comms before the building was rocked by another explosion. It sounded like Nat, but your ears were ringing so you could be wrong.

“North wing is demolished,” came the reply from probably-Sam. “How we looking on the south wing?”

How were you looking? You had blood dripping down your fingers and your head was only attached by sheer force of will it felt like. One or two guards lay dead or unconscious behind you, but they weren’t your focus. Your focus was on the thumb drive in your pocket.

“Still standing,” Cap replied with a heavy dose of sarcasm directed at whoever just leveled the north wing. “Y/N, did you get the files? We’ve got to hit the rendezvous point of Natasha might leave us.”

“I’d never leave you. You owe me twenty bucks for this outcome of this mission.”

You took a deep breath and activated your comm.

“Files are a go. Meet at the rendezvous in ten.”

You hoped it wouldn’t take more than ten minutes to get to the rendezvous point. You were in pain and bleeding, but you knew you had to succeed. This mission was critical and you had your part to play.

“Where is everyone else? Sound off.”

Each member of the team sounded off their location. Stark was providing cover for the team as they left the compound. Sam was about to head out to the rendezvous. Cap himself was halfway to the jet. Natasha and Clint were waiting for everyone to arrive. And Bucky was… apparently outside of the south wing, waiting for you.

“You look rough,” he said in a low voice, his comm off so that it didn’t echo over everyone else. “C’mon, sounds like Sam is injured pretty badly. And we still haven’t heard from Wanda so we’re not sure what her status is yet.”

You steeled yourself and tucked your hand into your pocket so that he wouldn’t see the massive blood loss. You could survive this without trouble. If Sam was injured badly and Wanda was missing, they needed to be the priorities. Obviously you were still moving under your own steam so you weren’t worried about yourself.

Mostly. The fact that your vision was blurred and your hearing was set in an echo made you think that maybe you should move yourself up a little higher on that list.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be able to do it,” Bucky said as the two of you darted out of the building and into the cover of the trees. “When Steve said you were the one getting the files. I thought it should be Tasha.”

Because you weren’t an assassin like they were. Because you didn’t have any special powers or cool suits or gadgets. You were a spy, good enough at your job that you joined the Avengers on missions, but apparently Bucky still didn’t think you were capable.

“I appreciate the confidence,” you said as you tried not to stumble over the terrain. “Check in with Cap and see if they’ve found Wanda or if they need us to look.”

You’d do it but honestly your vision was starting to go dark. You could see the jet in the distance and just tried as hard as you could to make it there without passing out.

“Says she’s back in one piece. Sam’s injuries aren’t that bad either. Mission was successful.”

You were grateful. Your hand went to your pocket and felt the ridge of the thumb drive. It was almost done, almost over. Once you were back at headquarters you could head to the medical wing and get fixed up. Maybe you’d have to be off missions for a while, but that’s okay. You could catch up on some of your paperwork that way.

“Did you hear me?”

You turned and looked at Bucky. He’d said something, but you didn’t catch it. Instead of waiting for you to respond, he continued to speak.

“We need to talk when we get back to the tower. There’s some things I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, but it was never the right time.”

He wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t be on missions. You weren’t an Avenger, you weren’t trained, you weren’t special. You didn’t need to hear the conversation to know what he’d have to say. Instead of answering, you merely kept up your trek to the jet.

Once there, he hit the button to open the stairs and let you go up first. Your hand clenched at your side as a wave of pain and dizziness went over you. But he followed you up, the door closed. And once you were both in the main part of the jet, you heard Natasha make a comment about taking off.

The take off always made you wobble so you used that as an excuse to hold on to the wall. In the middle of the jet was a table that was bolted to the floor. The others were already on their debrief so you ignored Bucky’s confused look and headed that way as well.

“And here we have our unsung hero. Thumb drive intact?”

You’d usually have a snarky comment for Stark, the two of you often dueled with wits, but you didn’t have it in you. You scanned the faces and did a mental count. Everyone was there, everyone was in one piece. Although your plan had been to wait until you got to headquarters, you finally accepted the fact that you weren’t going to make it there in one piece yourself.

With your bloodied hand, you pulled out the thumb drive and slapped it onto the table. It left a red handprint on the expensive screen, but no one cared about that. Every single one of the people around the table were immediately on you, asking if you were injured and how bad it was.

You didn’t have time to answer before your vision finally went black. The last thing you remembered was falling into someone’s arms, a cool metal hand wrapping around your arm as you drifted into unconsciousness.

------

“She lost a lot of blood,” the doctor explained to the team that huddled in the waiting room at the tower’s medical wing. “Her arm was almost torn off. And there was massive head trauma. We’ve repaired the arm but we’ll have to wait and see if the swelling will go down.”

Steve and Tony thanked the doctor and then immediately had to shield her when a loud crash made everyone on alert. The source of the noise came from a rather large dent in the concrete wall, a metal fist in the middle of it. Bucky faced the wall, his back solid and tense. Nat gave everyone a stern look and shooed the rest of the team from the room. 

Tony escorted the doctor with a promise that everything was going to be fine. All that left in the room was Steve and Bucky.

Steve had watched his friend stand sentinel at the door during the life saving surgery. He’d seen how careful Buck had been when she’d collapsed into his arms. He watched the flurry of emotions cross over his friend’s face as they waited for word of her survival.

He’d known for a while now how Bucky felt about Y/N. Hell, they all probably knew how he felt about her. All except her. And it was the same for her. It was obvious that she cared for the reformed assassin, but it was also obvious that she thought she wasn’t good enough.

Perhaps that wasn’t helped by the fact that Bucky had a habit of saying the wrong things around her. What would have been a funny situation had become dire when Steve realized that Bucky’s comments made it sound like Y/N wasn’t fit for the work she did.

She was right up there with Natasha at being good at her job. She was quick, clever, and just as deadly as the rest of the team. The only difference was that she did it all on her own, two hands and no back up. Natasha had been the same way, but she had the team now. Y/N operated on her own usually.

It was why Steve had started to pull her into missions more. He didn’t want her to do this alone. None of them needed to be alone anymore. The Avengers was about more than just superheroes. It was about ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances and overcoming them.

Tony Stark made it out of the middle of a desert with his mind and some scrap metal. Steve had let people perform a possibly dangerous experiment on him and came out on the other side. Bucky had gone to war and came back mangled, brainwashed, and damaged in ways no one else could understand. Sam had gone from a peaceful life right back into the fray with his wings and a belief that there had to be a reason for it all.

Steve walked over to where Bucky stood, his fist still in the hole he’d made of the cement wall.

“She’ll come through,” he promised as he put a cautious hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I should have noticed she was hurt when I found her in the south wing. If I’d noticed–”

“Don’t do that Buck, don’t think about what ifs. This is where we are now. We gotta go from here.”

It was something Steve had learned the hard way.

He gave Bucky’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. The room behind them was like a beacon and Steve turned to look at it for a long moment. Then he left Bucky alone with his thoughts for the time being.

Only time would tell.

------

“Ow.”

Your eyes wouldn’t open despite how many times you demanded it. When you reached up to try to find out why, your arm seemed to scream in protest. Something cool was pressed against your hand and it took a moment to realize what it was.

A hand, a metal hand. Bucky.

“Bucky?”

“I’m here,” he said from above you. His hand wrapped around yours gently. “Try not to move too much. Your arm is still healing. If you move too much, your nerves won’t reattach.”

Reattach. Because you’d almost lost your arm. You briefly remembered hearing the doctor say that your arm had almost been ripped off. And you definitely remembered the pain from the injury. But it was still attached, still worked enough to feel his hand wrapped around yours.

Had he ever touched you before? Like this. You honestly couldn’t remember.

“I can’t see,” you said timidly, scared for the reply.

“It’s gauze. You have a bad concussion and the doctor doesn’t want you assaulted with the light.”

Oh thank god. You weren’t sure you could have handled any other option.

You tried to focus on your body, made easier by the lack of sight. Sore from your feet to your head, but nothing felt too bad. Even your arm only hurt a little when you moved a certain way. The pain in your head was from the concussion but that would go away in time. 

That just left the pain and shame from the mission.

“I know I messed up,” you said in a voice thick with emotion. “I should have told someone immediately that I was injured but I wanted to make sure none of the actual team was hurt first. I shouldn’t have kept it quiet. I should’ve–”

Flesh fingers were pressed to your mouth to stem the flow of your words. You inhaled deeply and tried not to shake at the touch.

“You gotta stop thinking that you’re not part of this team. You’re one of us, an Avenger, and we take care of each other.”

Thankfully the gauze was there to soak up your tears. It wasn’t just that he was saying the words you’d longed to hear, but there was something else in his voice. Something that you had heard in all the things he’d said before but had never really paid attention to before.

“You were worried about me.”

Fingers traced over the curve of your cheek.

“Remember how I said there were some things that I wanted to say to you? I realized that I’ve waited too long to tell you so I need to show you instead.”

You weren’t sure what he could mean by that, especially since you couldn’t see at that moment. But you didn’t have long to wonder.

Lips pressed to yours, soft and chaste. You raised your uninjured hand to hold him closer, your fingers in his hair as you continued the kiss. You had so many questions, so many things you needed to know, but you also had so much closure in that moment.

You were part of the team. And you take care of each other.

X

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[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 41)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 2388

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy, @carryonmyswansong, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He picked up the phone, and dialed his number, letting out a breath before Dexter answered. 

“Hello, Doctor, what a pleasant surprise.” He smirked through the phone. “To what do I owe this call?” He teased a little but it was rather odd that the other man called.

“Dexter… Something’s happened to Y/N. She’s been shot. She’s in critical care. They…” He tried to stop his tears but he couldn't. “They don’t know if she’ll make it.” 

“What! What the fuck happened?” he demanded in a low, stern voice. He was livid. How the hell had you gotten hurt and with Spencer nearby? “Start talking, Reid. Is she okay?

“I’m not sure,” Spencer defended before the tears really started to flow. “I should’ve realized they were missing sooner. You might… you might want to get here though. I know she’d want you here… When she wakes up…” The sobs started to rack through him.

“I’ll see how quick I can get there, in the meantime I need you to breathe. There’s no use getting so overworked. That won’t help do Y/N either.” He huffed out. To think that you would get hurt while her husband was around. That was never an issue when it was just Dexter and you.. “Keep me posted on her. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

“I’ll keep you posted.” 

The two men hung up and after three hours, you were in your own room. You were stable, for now, but they said you may have sustained neurological damage that could lead to comatose, brain-dead, or even death. 

Spencer sat by your bedside, you were still unconscious. He tried to keep his breathing steady but sobbing continued to roll through him. He couldn’t help it. He could very well lose you and the last thing you knew was that he wanted to talk to another woman. 

“Y/N, I don’t know if you can hear me, the doctors told me you can’t hear me, but I’m going to try this anyway. I am so, so sorry for what I’ve put you through. I can’t… I won’t be able to live with myself if something happens to you and the last words that wer said between us were me saying I wanted to talk to Max and you thinking I didn’t love you. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I know Max is a sore spot for us and I was an iito to bring it up. It wasn’t until you said it today that I realized you’re right. The lying I did was beyond anything you ever did. The lying I did was a direct betrayal of our marriage, of our vows, and I can’t take that back. I guess, in my mind, all I saw was you had Dexter and you were so close with him, that it shouldn’t be any different for me.” He stopped, trying to catch his breath before a fresh new wave of tears came. “ But I see now  that it is very different. I was envious of your bond with Dexter, but I had no reason to be. You only hid one part of the truth about your relationship with him, and then you told me everything. As you said, your lie was a lie to cover up criminal activity.  But me… I did something much worse. I made it so you couldn't’ trust me. I made it so in your eyes, you’re no longer a priority. I can’t stand the fact that you think I don’t want you, but what else were you supposed to think? I wasn’t exactly trying out for Husband of the Year Award… And now… now I might lose you and your last thought will be you weren’t loved by your own husband… Please, come back to me. I can make this right. I will make this right, if it’s the last thing I do. All I need... is for you to wake up, to be okay.. Please… be okay.” 

That was all he could get out before the tears overcame him and he held onto your body for a long time. He had no idea how long he’d been crying, holding you, begging you to wake up. 

Later that night, Spencer heard someone nearly run into the room. He looked up to see Dexter there. 

“So much for keeping me updated, huh?” Dexter sounded irritated and winded. He moved to your other side seeing in just the condition you were in. “What happened?” he demanded in a firm tone. He was on edge, more so than he’d ever been. It cut at his heart seeing you lying there in the hospital bed like that.

“We’re trying to track down a con artist serial killer. His daughter shot at her and JJ. I wasn’t there. I was in a different garage.” 

“Jesus. Was she awake when you found her?” he wondered. 

“No,” he huffed out before crying. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Dexter asked. He could tell Spencer was partially crying from regret, guilt, not just grief. 

“We had a fight before she went into the garage. Maybe she wasn’t entirely focused… I don’t know.” He shook his head, letting his head hang and the tears freely fall. 

“Another fight? What the hell was it about this time?” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand. 

“I… I don’t know if she told you about Max or not, but I told her I wanted to reach out to Max again. The next thing I know, she’s screaming at me and…” He took a deep breath… “She told me that she felt like she was being strung along, because clearly I don’t love her anymore, so she just told me to divorce her and get it over with.” He hung his head, ashamed of repeating your final words, more ashamed at how they must’ve felt true to you. 

“Of course I know about Max. She called me crying one night about the whole thing,” Dexter coolly responded. “Who do you think was there to get her to calm down?” He took a step toward Spencer. “Do you have any idea how devastated she’s been since Max showed up?”

“Yes. I know I messed up,” he said, clearly upset as he stared down at you. 

“Messed up?” He’s clearly pissed. “That doesn’t even fucking describe half of what you’ve done to her.”  Dexter jabbed a finger at Spencer. “I’m the one who's been picking up the pieces of her shattered heart and putting it back together while you’ve been out playing house with someone else.” Dexter moved back to control his urge to hit the man in front of him. “Time and time again she’s come to me feeling like nothing she does is enough to get you to even bat an eyelash at her.”

Spencer shook his head, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he gazed down at you. “I never meant for her to feel that way. It just… it didn’t feel any different. Her friendship with you or my friendship with Max. But she made me see it today… She didn’t hide your bond. I did. I hid it because I knew what I was doing was wrong. I was flirting outside my marriage. I never once saw you and her flirt, or do anything outside of what your original intent was. You two truly were just friends… But I fucked up and took it a step further with Max and I… I can’t ever take that back. I meant what I said about wanting to still talk to her. I don’t think that’s a crime to want a  friend outside of all this. But I shouldn’t have been so stupid to bring it up this soon. I just wish she would know that I’d do anything to right those wrongs now…” 

“It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than just some pretty words to get her to be okay with you. She’s tried so many different ways to tell and show you but you didn’t give a rats ass about it you went off into the sunset with you so called friend and at every turn that Y/N made an effort to be with you… you ran off to Max. What we have… our relationship from the start was friendship; we were comfortable enough around each other to be honest. Yeah you did fuck up and I wouldn’t blame her if she chose to give up especially after today.” Dexter moved to sit next to you and began slowly caress your hair. He’d hope you would wake up soon. “This isn’t something that I can forgive easily and I know she won’t either.”

Spencer fell back into his chair. “She shouldn’t. I don’t expect her to. I expect to earn her back, if she’ll have me. At this point… I don’t know. That look in her eye I saw today. She was so… distraught, so hurt. In the moment, I had no idea what to say to calm her down, but I didn’t even get a chance.” 

Dexter sighed as he watched you sleep. “She once told me that she was more concerned with you ever thinking that she was capable of being unfaithful to you, than of the truth of her killing.”

He bobbed his head in response. “I know. She told me. I believed her too. She’s never given me any reason to doubt her love for me, ever. She has to see that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to fix this, to keep her, to win her back.” 

Dexter nodded, letting out a sigh. “That may be a long road,” he informed. “She loves you, more than I’ve ever seen anyone love anyone else. When we talked before you found us out, she spoke so highly of you. I never saw her more pained than having to tell you the truth of what she was doing. Even through all the other case bullshit, she only had that look of pure agony when she thought she was about to lose you. She gave up her freedom, her career, everything, just to tell you, so you wouldn’t think she was being unfaithful. That says a hell of a lot to me.”

“I know,” he agreed softly, feeling as if his insides were churning without give. 

“All I’m saying is you have a woman who really loves you. I see a lot of people in my real job and my side work and I don’t see that very often. Maybe one in a million do I see true love, and I’m not even sure if I believe in it. But if I did, if it was such a thing, I’d say you two have it. You just have to pull your head out of your ass and stop fucking around with other people.” 

“Yeah, I know. How do I win her back?” he asked, tears still running down his face. 

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Just be honest with her, and tell her you’ll try harder, but don’t be surprised if she’s not willing to listen. She’s bent over backwards to get you to retrust her and understand her and you haven’t repaid the favor.”

He swallowed, nodding, realizing he was right. He might lose you, either by the gunshot wound or by his own stupid actions, and he hated himself for both. 

The two men sat there another hour before you finally woke up. You groaned, feeling as if you’d been hit by a truck. 

“Wh--What happened?” you asked, coming to. You glanced around the room, and saw your husband’s tear streaked face, and your best friend looking worried but relieved. “What are you two doing here?”

Spencer grabbed your hand and held it. “Sweetie, you lost a lot of blood. You were shot. It was touch and go, but they said it was up to you to pull through.”

“You scared the hell out of us,” Dexter said with a smile.

“Sorry,” you quietly responded. 

“It’s all good. Just don’t do it again, okay? You mean a lot to a lot of people.” He glanced over at your husband. “I’ll go let them know you’re awake, so they can finish up the tests.” He patted your left hand, stood, and left. 

As soon as he was gone, Spencer raced back to your bedside, sitting on your bed. 

“Y/N, I am so, so sorry about what happened. You’re right. You’re absolutely right. About everything. It wasn’t just about me lying, it was what I lied about. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize that. But I have now. Max will never be a problem again. No woman will ever be a problem again. I love you and only you. If you still want me, I’ll spend the rest of my days making it up to you.” 

“Spencer, I--”

But he cut you off, his mouth was on yours quicker than you could blink. His hands in your hair, tangling his fingers there. This was familiar. This fire,this passion. You and Spencer loved hard, and you fought hard. You fought hard to keep him, but now it was his turn to fight to keep you, and he was prepared to do so. 

When he let you go, you were panting. 

“I didn’t expect that,” you admitted with a smile.

“I didn’t expect to almost lose you today. I was so scared. I was so worried that your last thoughts of me would be that I loved someone else. To think I love anyone else from you is the most absurd idea you’ve ever had.” he stroked your hair and smiled at you.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t given a lot of proof to the contrary,” you fired back with a grin. 

“You will be. Just let me show you how much you really mean to me.” 

You nodded. “I will, of course I will. All I’ve ever wanted is you. I do everything in my life to keep you, Dr. Spencer Reid.” 

“Well it’s my turn to do the same, Dr. Y/N Reid.”

You smiled once more and he planted a chaste kiss to your lips before peppering several more on you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[cassandracaiin]

Gary’s Mental Health: An Analysis of His Character.

Spoilers ahead.

If you play Love Island The Game 2019 and make it to Day 26, you stumble upon a concerned Gary, who is sitting by himself. After a brief chat, he proceeds to tell your MC that he’s had some problems with how he felt about his body in the past. He often comes across a simple guy, who is always bantering and fooling around, and most players tend to think that he only talks about his nan and cranes, so the sudden seriousness of this conversation may have seemed odd for some of you. Despite this, the unexpected confession he makes didn’t go unnoticed by the fandom, with many starting to appreciate him more because of it.

Few realize how important and revealing this conversation is. If you connect the right dots across the whole game, it helps to explain lots of his actions, beliefs and behavior. So, in this analysis I’ll be doing that: I’ll be providing you with all the information you’ll need to understand the subject, inserting exact quotes of the game and breaking down some crucial scenes. Because of this, this post will be really long, so get comfy, grab some snacks and prepare for an extensive reading.

Before starting, I must remind you that Gary is, indeed, a fictional character. That’s why I’ll be analyzing quotes and scenes straight out of the game and trying not to speculate furthermore. I think it’s interesting to tie the traits and personality of a fictional character to real life psychology and mental health, so this will be me basically explaining his condition and relating it to his canon personality and actions. Also, in some portions of this post I’ll be applying “real world rules”, because his mental illness is a real thing that happens in the real world.

I’ll go as far as to say that, after reading this entire rant, you’ll probably never see Gary the same way again— but that’s okay, because he’s such a layered character who also used to struggle with a mental illness and, instead of mental illnesses being a taboo topic, they should be met with open arms and discussed overtly and sincerely.

Mental Illness Warning/Trigger.

As I mentioned before, Gary’s condition is a real thing, so this post contains several mentions of mental health related topics and illnesses. If you feel uncomfortable about this type of things, I advise you not to keep reading. I’ll try to keep it as light and understandable as possible, regardless. Those who want to dive deeper should check the links I’ll leave at the end of the post.

This is a heavy topic, but I strongly believe it should be addressed. Even more importantly, I want to spread awareness, because, as you will read further ahead, this is still an under-recognized and frequently left untreated condition, that is becoming more and more common all around the world.

Disclaimer: I’m not a psychiatrist, but I am a med student. I’ve had classes and training about mental health and, specifically, about Gary’s condition. I’ll be leaving some extra sources and additional content down below, for those who are interested in verifying the information that I’ll be breaking down for you. Also, I’m open to receive feedback about it from someone who could know more than me, such as a doctor or a psychiatrist, because, as I said, I’m still just a med student.

So, without further do, let’s get started.

What does Gary have?

After reading the conversation he has with MC in Day 26, Gary’s evident diagnosis is Muscle Dysmorphia. We’ll be using the acronym MD to refer to it from now on.

What is MD?

MD is a subtype of Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD).

What is a BDD, you may ask? It’s a condition in which people see themselves differently than others see them, and it’s characterized by persistent and intrusive preoccupations with one's appearance, that are really difficult to resist or control. These unwanted thoughts or ideas (called “obsessions”) make them feel that they need to perform certain activities (called “compulsions”). When applied to MD, the obsession becomes the level of muscularity, and the compulsion is to achieve a higher level of muscularity.

MD comes with the exaggerated belief that one's own body is too small, too skinny or scrawny, even though the individual's build is normal or exceptionally large and muscular already. Is often confused with vanity, but this is not the case, as most MD patients don't want to look great, they just want to look acceptable. Typically, people with MD have low self-esteem. It can be experienced by either males or females, but in this post I’ll be addressing the patients as males, because I will be also relating it to unhealthy masculinity.

What causes MD? It doesn’t have a specific cause, but there are factors that could help its development. Most studies sustain that suffering from bullying for smallness or weakness is the most frequent trait in MD patients. Some also attribute this disorder to the effect of the media, as society bombards people at younger ages with images of what an “ideal” body looks like, even more considering how marketing campaigns once targeting only female body image insecurities are now aimed at males as well. Because of this, MD is likely to increase in general population.

Does it have a treatment? Yes, it does. Most are treated with therapy that targets damaging behavior, as for example, cut down on the amount of time they’re checking themselves in the mirror or in the gym, which helps them think less about their appearance. Therapists also help them deal with the fears they might have, like possibly losing muscle mass or size if they exercise less.

Many do not seek treatment; the biggest hurdle is convincing the person with MD that he needs help. The psychological and social consequences often go unrecognized, especially because they usually appear to be in good health, at least in the short term. To properly address MD, society has to change in how we approach our body image in general. Traditionally, males are not supposed to be concerned with looks, let alone talk about them, because if they do, they will be viewed as “feminine”. Encouraging men to talk about their inner feelings is a good first step to bring down stigmas about their body image.

How does MD affect someone’s life?

People with MD engage in behaviors aimed at achieving a muscular physique, as I mentioned earlier. They include excessive exercise, following rigid diets, and also spending countless amounts of money in supplements. Sometimes, they may also use anabolic-androgenic steroids (I’ll be referring to them as “AAS”), which cause serious damage to the body if used excessively.

Low self-esteem is a crucial factor here. People with MD try to enhance their self-esteem by building muscular mass, but they keep feeling that is never enough. “Every muscle could be bigger. I could be leaner” they tell themselves. They look at the mirror and they feel like everything is still small and weak, that they’re ugly, that they have no chest muscles, no arm muscles, no abs— And the reality is that they are often huge and incredibly muscular. Some of them also touch, flex, poke or pinch their muscles a lot, to make sure that they haven’t lost size.

Their relationships with other people often fall apart as time passes. They frequently avoid important social or occupational activities, like going to family reunions or to work, because of the need to maintain their excessive exercise and rigid diet.

How does one draw the line between being fitness or having MD? Believe it or not, Gary explains it in the game. He says, “I was really shocked when the doctor told me that if it’s getting in the way of the rest of your life, then it’s a problem”. Certainly, when working out and obsessing about the body becomes a problem in the person’s life, along with having these bad thoughts about themselves, it’s better to seek help and ask a health professional about it.

So, why is Day 26 so relevant?

Day 26 is important for Gary’s character because it tells us a huge lot of things about him and his past. Across his dialogue there are so many details that few people seem to truly notice, so I’ll be breaking down this day for you.

Let’s start analyzing this day from the beginning, with it being the first conversation MC has with Gary. She finds him sitting alone by the pool, rubbing his upper arm. After greeting her, he flexes his bicep and then pokes at it. If MC asks him if he is worried about his gains, he surprisingly responds “Yeah, I am a bit”. In comparison to the rest of his answers, this is the one that tells us that the reason he is bummed out is because of how he feels about his body, rather than how he actually looks.

Next, he asks “Do you think I look as good as I did when we first met?”. After seeing him acting this way, we can notice that he is looking for reassurance, but even if MC answers that he looks better every day, he responds with things like “Thanks! It’s nice to have that support, even if I don’t think it’s true” and “I never believe anyone when they say I look buff”. As you probably read in this post, this is a common trait amongst individuals with MD. Even when people around them tell them that they are big, muscular, huge and so on, they never truly believe it themselves because they just can’t see themselves in that way—the person that looks back at them in the mirror is still somewhat skinny. And here’s a huge clarification: Gary knows that people think he is buff, but he doesn’t see it himself, and that’s why he doesn’t exactly believe it.

At this point, I think Gary is starting to notice that the chat could turn to a topic that he’s not ready to talk about yet, because he seems to divert the conversation by saying that the reason he doesn’t believe he’s buff is because he simply doesn’t want to get big-headed about it, and that thinking this way keeps him motivated. But even with those modest answers, he’s still letting us know that he’s always aiming at improving his physique.

And after that, he flexes his arm again. If you payed attention, you may have noticed a pattern here, which is another common characteristic of MD patients: the one where they have the compulsion to feel and touch their muscles, as a way of making sure they’re not as skinny as they think they are.

Gary finishes the chat by commenting lightheartedly “Those weights aren’t going to lift themselves” and walking off in the direction of the gym. This bit actually makes me sad, because it leads me to think that he gave in to the compulsion of going to the gym.

After the challenge, MC meets him again and he, indeed, says “I started to do some weights, but then I had to check my head a bit”, indicating that after compulsively going to the gym, he realized that he wasn’t working out for the right reasons and what was actually driving him to exercise were the intrusive thoughts of his MD. Beyond that, this is also a sign that he can actually distinguish between his normal and healthy interest in working out and the compulsions caused by MD.

Later in the conversation, he explains that it all started when he used to see this massive and muscular superheroes in comics and noticed he didn’t look like them, because he was small, even smaller than the rest of the kids at school. He tells MC, “I’d look at those superheroes, and then back at myself. I didn’t look like them”. This is a clear reference to the media influencing the development of BBD’s and specially MD in younger boys.

It’s evident that at this point in his life he began to believe that having a muscular body would be a solution to his problems, and you can confirm that in this phrase: “It can feel like everything is telling you, things will be better if you’re stronger or more muscly”. And after his nan stepped in to take on the role of his dad, the bullying towards him increased, which just made this belief even stronger. “And whenever someone would say something to me, I’d wish I was bigger and stronger than them so they wouldn’t dare” he states, following with “So when I got older, I started working out”.

Gary goes on to say that exercising didn’t help on the long run. “At first, working out made a huge difference. I started to feel more confident. I felt like I could stick up for myself, and I got a lot more positive comments. People started to notice me in a good way, you know?” he declares. He basically tells MC that he started building his self-esteem around his physique, rather than around his inner self.

“The problem is, it never felt enough”. We see here, once again, a classic trait of people suffering from MD.

After this, comes a phrase that got me thinking: “Especially once I left school and had more time and money”. When reading this, I asked myself why having more money was relevant in things going downhill for Gary. By this point, he had already been working out and probably paying for the gym membership anyway, so I figured that this “new” money could have gone elsewhere, maybe in buying supplements to grow muscle mass faster. I can’t rule out completely the possibility that he got to the point of using AAS, but giving his personality and recovery I don’t think he went that far. Or at least I hope he didn’t.

“I kept going to the gym even when I knew I’d been going too much” he continues “It was actually my nan who noticed things were getting out of hand”. For this, us Gary fans should feel grateful. This is one of the billion reasons why he loves his nan so much. The woman rescued him from sinking deeper into his disorder, she was the only one who noticed that he wasn’t in a good place and that working out was actually tearing his life apart. She could see right through the healthy and good looking muscular man she had in front of him, as nobody else was able to see that he was still just a scrawny insecure boy on the inside. This was probably one of the lowest points in his life, if not the lowest, and his nan pulled him up and stuck with him through it all.

Afterwards, Gary states again that he struggled when it came to stop exercising. “I’d hurt my wrist cos I was lifting more than I should, but I didn’t rest or stop lifting so the problem just kept getting worse” he says “Eventually it got so bad that I had to take time off work, but I was still trying to go to the gym because I couldn’t stand missing sessions”. Even if he wanted to stop, the compulsions and unwanted thoughts took over him and he kept going to the gym.

When being asked if he couldn’t see how bad the situation was, Gary answers with “Being so strong and tough was so important to me that it felt like I couldn’t ask for help”, yet again being a reference of the way society influences young men, leading them to believe that being masculine and strong means also not talking about one’s feelings, less opening to others about one’s insecurities.

When talking about his therapy, he explains that once he started speaking about how he felt, he could see everything more clearly. He says “I’d lost sight of why I wanted to be so buff before. I couldn’t see that it wasn’t good for me”. Indeed, at first he wanted to get more muscular to enhance his self-esteem, to make himself feel better and gain confidence, but at that point it had become an actual disorder, getting in the middle of his life, getting him injured and making him stop going to work, amongst other things. Focusing on his body was actually making him feel worse because it came along with the sensation that he wasn’t making progress, even after all the time and effort he’d put into being more muscular. He also comments “By that point, I was like, ‘mate, working out is my life’”, this also being a characteristic of patients with MD, as their obsession takes over their life.

To wrap this section of this post, let’s talk shortly about his recovery. Gary says that his wrist eventually healed and that he kept going to therapy. “It took a while, but now I know when I’m doing something for the right reasons” he tells MC “It’s a constant balance though. You have to keep working on it”. After starting therapy, he understood that he can keep working out and caring about his looks without it taking over his life again or making him feel worse about his image, but that he will always have to maintain a certain equilibrium, so he doesn’t get out of control again.

“It’s okay for me to work out and be active, but I have to check in with myself. If those thoughts start coming back I know to call up my GP and get talking again”. This phrases are a total relief, as they let us know that he has learned when to seek help and, more importantly, to read the signs of his own mind telling him about his MD thoughts coming back. It’s even more relieving when he finishes with “I can still have tough moments, but I’m so much better at working through them now”.

Overall, Day 26 makes us realize that he hasn’t always been as confident as he seems, less felt good about his body image. It gives his character more depth; he’s not just a lighthearted lad that talks about cranes, makes dad jokes and loves his nan anymore. And reading between lines helps us get an even fuller picture of what he went through and the state he is in now.

How do MD and his past affect Gary’s general behavior?

After all that information, let’s start this with something simpler. I’m going to name a few stressful events for Gary during his time at the Villa: the morning after the first recoupling, Lucas and Henrik’s arrival and all the girls-pick recouplings.

Where is he after all those events? You guessed it, he’s at the gym.

I have been asked if this is him working out to relieve anxiety, but I’m not sure if it’s always the case. Of course, he mentions that for him there’s nothing like burning off some tension in the gym, so most times he could be working out to clear his mind and to feel less stressed out.

Despite this, in other situations and considering his condition, it could be also him starting to feel insecure about himself. It’s likely that when he begins feeling that way, those bad thoughts about his body image and compulsions, caused by MD, start to come back, so he can’t avoid going to the gym to make sure he doesn’t lose body mass and muscle. Because of his MD, he could have the sensation that, if he loses size, bad things will happen to him—girls won’t pick him at the recouplings, people will start to make fun of him again for being small, he’ll look less attractive in comparison to the rest of the male Islanders and so on. Having all of this in consideration, in some cases I actually think it’s him still struggling with insecurity and his MD, rather than just anxiety and stress.

There is a moment in the game that got me confused at first, but after thinking about it I was able to figure out what was really going on. It happens when MC goes to spot the boys at the gym and, during the conversation, Rahim points out “See! I told you your form was off, Gary”, which makes the corners of Gary’s lips turn upside down. “All right, settle down. I don’t usually use a gym, okay” he responds and strikes a pose, flexing “This is all natural…”. I’m sure that in this moment he was lying. From what he confessed in Day 26, we know he’s been working out since his teens (remember that he’s 23, so he has at least been doing it for five or six years), so it’s obvious that his body built is not exactly natural, more so if we consider that he used to get bullied for being too small. In this situation and with a recoupling coming soon, he probably didn’t want to get embarrassed by Rahim’s comment in front of MC, so he blurted out some excuse, basically saying that his bad form is technically product of him being unexperienced. Again, we see him being insecure.

Now, I’m not saying that him being at the gym and working out is always a bad thing. In fact, he it looks like he has fun and socializes with the rest of the boys when they’re all exercising together. He seems to have a good balance of how much time he spends there and, most importantly, knows when to stop. We notice this when he tells MC things like “There’s nothing like burning off some tension in the gym. But I need to have some other ways to deal with how I’m feeling too” and “I don’t want to end up just going to the gym whenever I’m bored or stressed out about something else”. The thing is, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we find him at the gym after stressful events, even more when you have in mind that he doesn’t want to go there with the sole purpose of relieving stress.

So, we see Gary often flexing his muscles, right? I actually think this behavior of his has two sides. As you may have read earlier in this post, people with MD have this tendency to touch their muscles a lot. I think that in situations of stress like Day 26 this could be the case for him. But the other side of it, and the most important one in my opinion, is that this adds a cheeky, playful and confident aspect to his character. It lets us know that he enjoys the attention and that he likes to show off.

Now, it’s certain that him showing off means that his recovering has been really successful so far, knowing that people with MD tend to avoid showing their body to others because they are ashamed of the way they look. The fact that he’s in a swimming suit during the entire show, being recorded for national TV and knowing millions of people are watching, is a huge signal that he feels significantly better about his body and image. He has learned to love and appreciate his body in some way, hence the question he so often asks, so cheekily “Like what you see?” and he feels proud enough to show it off. The fact that he knows he’s attractive to others makes all the difference for his self-image, even if he doesn’t necessarily believe it himself. And, trust me, that with him being a MD patient it took him a lot to get where he is now in terms of confidence and feeling comfortable in his own skin.

Moving to another topic, something that always caught my attention is that Gary is constantly worrying about others. We see this in cases like when he comforts Lottie after Hannah gets dumped from the Island or when he pulls her for a chat when he notices that she’s stressed out about the Rocco situation, when he offers Chelsea a tissue after he sees her crying over the gossip-sneezer drama, all of the moments he demonstrates being protective of MC’s feelings when they’re coupled up and even during his Mr. Love Island speech. His type also includes a girl who cares about others and doesn’t get involved in drama, to match his personality. After analyzing his past, we understand why he is always trying to reach out when another Islander feels sad and why he is one of the first ones to offer a helping hand. It’s mainly because there was a time in his life when he struggled with getting help for feeling bad about himself and wished someone had reached out to him in a similar way. He knows that people could be struggling internally without anyone noticing, just like it happened to him.

I’m sure that during his stay in the Villa, Gary tries his best not to hurt anyone. An example of this is his chat with MC after he lies about kissing Marisol. He feels bad about it and promises to apologize to her, and the players don’t get frowns for calling him out as a signal that he owns his mistake. Another example is if MC chooses to couple with him in Day 9, right after the recoupling Gary tells her that he feels bad for Lottie, because he knows that she fancies him. He says, with a sad expression “I feel bad that I’m here treading on someone’s toes, but I guess that’s what it’s about, right? I just hope everyone here finds someone that wants to be with them, long term”.

If you’ve gone this far in this post, I’m sure that by now you may have a few questions about his overall personality, so to finish this segment I’ll answer the most relevant ones:

Is Gary’s confident personality a facade? I’m one hundred percent sure it is not, especially considering that he has a cheeky sense of humor and that he likes to show off. In my opinion, he acts this way because he has learned that confidence is good. That his body is good enough to show, and that his personality, stories and awful jokes are worth sharing with others. It’s incredibly healthy for him to feel this way about himself.

Is Gary fragile? My answer to this is yes and no. Why yes? It’s mainly because we still see him acting insecure across the game and because he will always have traces of low self-esteem, giving his condition. He will be always more likely to overthink about his physical appearance and more prone to feel poorly about himself when he compares himself to more muscular men. Why no, then? Because after the end of the chat with him at Day 26, he states that now he knows when to seek help, how to maintain a balance on his exercising habits and that, overall, he has accepted his illness. He doesn’t get hijacked by bad thoughts about himself anymore and he seems to know the boundary that distinguishes a benign interest in physical appearance from the bad thoughts that come along with MD, which makes him less prone to come back to that low point he reached in the past.

Relationships.

Now I’m going to make a few comments about his main relationships while in the Villa, with them being his relationship with Lottie and his relationship with MC.

We never know for sure if he eventually tells Lottie about his past, but I have the feeling that he doesn’t, especially because in Day 26 he tells MC “I don’t always tell people why she’s (his nan) so important in my life. And now you know”, suggesting that maybe she is the only one in the Villa that has this information as of now.

Either way, the thing that bothers me about the way the Lottie-Gary ship is written is that most of the time we see them arguing and not agreeing in lots of things. In some cases, this could be considered “cute” or “entertaining”, but it isn’t when you notice Gary confesses a few times that it worries him and has him on edge, saying that he can never know how Lottie is going to react to things or wondering in what mood she’s going to be in. As a clarification, I’m not debating in whether Lottie is unstable or not, because it really doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. What matters in this case is that Gary perceives her being that way.

The constant uncertainty of his partner’s behavior could harm Gary in the long run, as we know that he is still attending to therapy sessions and going through bad days from time to time, and without someone who he can know for sure will support him and reassuring him whenever he needs, things could start to get more difficult for him to handle.

Moving to his relationship with MC, if you have done a Gary playthrough, you know that he constantly tells her that he doesn’t feel like a weirdo when he is around her and, basically, that he feels that he can be himself. If we take in consideration his history and personality, this makes a huge difference for him, as we’ve seen him get to the point of lying so he doesn’t get embarrassed in front of the girls. When being in a relationship with MC, he is finally able to let go of some of his insecurities and stops worrying about how other girls perceive him.

So, moving past that, I just wanted to quickly point out something about their relationship that seems interesting to me. In one of the gem scenes, Gary tells MC “My nan would like you. You keep me in check. She’d say I need someone like that around”. I couldn’t help but notice that he uses the same verb in the past when referring to him getting his thoughts straight by differentiating between the intrusive beliefs caused by his MD and what is actually real. This could be his way of telling MC that she keeps him grounded, that he could never feel insecure when being with her and that she, somehow, helps him to keep away the bad thoughts about himself. And of course his nan would like that—she’d love seeing his grandson with someone who he feels safe with. Because of this, I think that his relationship with MC is by far the healthiest one he could have in the Villa, and even in the playthroughs when they’re not a couple, the reason being that he opens to her about his past either way.

In conclusion.

I think it’s really interesting the way Fusebox tried to insert real life troubles and conditions into their characters. For me, this made a big difference when playing the game, because the majority of the characters feel real, specially in comparison to Season 1; whether you like a character or not, we all have to agree that every single one of them has a very defined personality and behavior, and that is a compelling aspect of the gameplay.

I also like the way they made the Love Island boys break stereotypes and dismiss toxic masculinity. In Gary’s case, we see this reflected in him being always open and sincere with his feelings, having him making subtle comments like “Sometimes we all need a little cry. Nothing wrong with that”.

Because of everything I’ve written in this post, I could say that the fandom is not wrong when they classify Gary as being soft. He is, indeed, a softie—the softest boy in the Villa, in my opinion. But he is not just that. He is also incredibly emotionally intelligent, as he learned how to overcome his mental disorder, how to communicate and accept his feelings and how to reach out to others and offer them help, amongst a billion of other things. We see him also being very mature for his age, with many pointing out that he seems older than he actually is. I can’t deny that most of his maturity probably comes from being raised by his nan and because he has gone through a lot in terms of accepting himself and growing as a person in general.

On a quick side note, I’ve noticed people with clearly poor understanding on mental health that have tried to write him as a villain and end up usually turning him into an insecure, self-centered, egotistical character, labeling it as layering, when the reality is far from that. Vilifying insecurity, low self-esteem and fear of rejection/failure is not layering. Those are common flaws and issues that cause distraught in many people on a daily basis and, in my opinion, they should be approached with proper understanding, respect and reassurance.

Anyhow, it makes me so happy seeing much more Love Island fans recognizing the true good and soft nature of Gary’s personality as time passes, and even happier that a lot more started appreciating him because of his issues. His story represents, in my opinion, a story of recovery. There are few things better than seeing someone that used to struggle with how they felt about themselves, keeping their head up, accepting their flaws as their own and doing their best to keep getting better, and that’s what he represents at the end of Day 26.

I’ll be leaving down below some of the papers I used for my additional research, as well as some simple articles and videos about MD, if some of you would like to know more about it and spread awareness.

Let’s take this character’s story as an example to follow, as it indirectly encourages people to accept themselves and to share their mental illness stories once they feel ready to do so. I think that by supporting this type of characters we’re letting the writers know that we do like to read characters like this, with true layers, defects and with backgrounds that feel just real.

Finally, as some friend of mine said, let’s jump on the Gary tour bus and spread some love, positivity and appreciation for this amazing character*:･ﾟ✧

Links, articles and videos.

[Nature article], [The Guardian Article], [TED Talk], [TED Talk Q&A], [BDD 2015 Conference], [ABC Science Video], [ABC News Video], [Paper n°1], [Paper n°2], [Paper n°3], [Paper n°4], [Paper n°5], [Paper n°6].

[todo-ho-ki]

If It’s Convenient For You, pt. 6

Hello lovelies! It’s finally here! I finally got unlazy enough to type this out and send it into the world! I made these two absolute idiots wtf.

Word Count:2,024

Pairing: BakugoXReader

Warnings: Swearing

@chims-kookies​  @velvet-kissesss​

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5

"Can you handle it from here?" His sarcastic tone forced a sigh from you.

"Yeah. My arms work just fine. Nobody stabbed me there. I'm thinking I'll wheel myself right out of a window somewhere. You know, so you don't have to save me ever again."

His tongue clicked in disapproval. "You're not really that helpless, are you?" It was less like a question and more like he knew something you didn't. "You got a mouth on you. Smart people don't talk a big game and then do nothing about it."

Look who's fucking talking.

"Bold of you to assume I don't drink dumb bitch juice every day."

He leaned over your shoulder with a sinister smile on his face. "That's a given." His hot breath had a tingle running up your spine but his comeback left you seeing red.

"You! Are the actual worst!" A few eyes in the room turned to you. "What makes you think you can just-" you were cut off by the entirety of his hand covering your mouth without so much as a look in your direction.

"You're making a scene, asshole. You sure are feisty for someone who just got stabbed."

"Mmph mmm!" Your salty words didn't make it through the grip he had on your face.

Bite him! I swear to god just bite his fingers off!

Your teeth pinched the skin of his fingers and he gasped, eyes widening before he hopped up quickly, bending down to face level.

"You better watch yourself." His low voice was a little terrifying, his grip on the handles of your chair tightening as he refrained from fighting you immediately. But you felt a little satisfied as a smirk washed across your face. You were feeling a little tingly.

Why? Why did I like that so much? Do I...want him to hit me? Oh god, I think I might have a bigger problem than a crush. 

"Ahem," The quiet nurse from earlier was definitely not inclined to interrupt, a streak of regret for making herself known painted across her face. "we have a room ready for you now."

"I can take it from here," you sighed dramatically, wiping a hand across your forehead like you'd done something other than get hurt.

Bakugo rolled his eyes as the nurse began wheeling you into your room.

----- As soon as they removed Bakugo's makeshift tourniquet and bandages and the blood flowed freely in your leg again, the pain shot back through you savagely. He must've actually known what he was doing, expertly cutting off your circulation to minimize the pain.

The wound cleaning was painful even with all the morphine and sleep didn't come easy that night, strange fever dreams and weird visions of a dark alley leaving you sweaty and nauseous.

Much to your chagrin, your eyelids pulled themselves open in the early hours of the morning.

"Good morning. Glad to see you're awake." The doctor greeted you with much-unneeded enthusiasm.

"Well, at least one of us is."

He chuckled as he took your vitals. "It's very lucky that wound was taken care of the way it was; you could've bled out without that handiwork."

You made a mental note to begrudgingly thank Bakugo for making sure you stayed alive, even if he was a total dick about it.

"But it looks good. You shouldn't sustain any permanent damage, so long as you stay off your leg for a couple of weeks." Your eyes followed his hands as he hooked up another dose of pain killers. "This should tide you over until we release you. The wound wasn't bad enough to warrant keeping you more than a night. You also have a visitor. Would you like to see them now?"

That piqued your interest. No one knew you were in the hospital except the boys. At this point, you just figured it was Bakugo since he was put on this earth to drive you insane.

"Yeah. Bring 'em in."

The doctor left for a moment then reappeared, bright red hair trailing behind him. Relief followed the realization that it was the very kind, very calm, and not at all annoying Kirishima.

"Kirishima?" You muttered. He rubbed the back of his head with a soft smile.

"Hi! Uh, sorry about last night. We got there as soon as we could."

"It's okay. I'm just glad you guys got there before I got myself killed. I wasn't exactly being the smartest.."

Good god, what the fuck was I thinking trying to fend off three villains alone? 

"Bakugo wasn't too bad of an ambulance was he?

"Oh, he was absolutely horrible. But I guess I should've expected as much. He didn't tell you about it?"

"He's..still pretty rough around the edges. But I promise there's a reason he's a hero! He just gets a little out of control when there are lives at stake and he's not sure what to do. Also, he goes to bed really early, so that was a late night for him." His sly smile was impossible to combat.

"Not too big a deal. What are you doing here?"

"Well, we were thinking, if you're okay with it, we wanna keep watch over you. Just- just while you're healing!"He backpedaled, noticing the stunned look on your face. "It'll just be in shifts, since we're here on a different case. But you're injured, and we want to make sure nothing else happens. You won't be able to get away."

"I don't suppose I have a choice?" You asked, brow raised. Were you really in a position to turn down the help?

"Well, no. If Bakugo found out I let you say no, he'd raise hell. But it's totally up to you! Whatever you're comfortable with."

A smile crept up on you as you caught wind of the implication of Kirishima's words.

"Ah, so that little bastard put you up to this? Was it his idea?" Kirishima's cheeks were suddenly dusted with pink. He knew something you didn't.

"Uh. W-well, yeah. It was his idea, but we were all thinking the same thing. I volunteered to come down here though. You probably don't need your blood pressure rising."

There were a million questions aching to get out of your chest now. Something like this probably wasn't in the job description, right? Was Bakugo really just like that? Maybe you were just reaching for the stars. After all, the point of being a hero was to sacrifice whatever it took to keep people safe, right?

He didn't stay long after you accepted the offer, claiming that your medicine looked like it was kicking in and that he would be back in a couple of hours to get you.

What the hell is he hiding? 

It was the only question you could ask yourself before the medicine actually kicked in, that same strange dark alley came into view clear as day. It was almost like you were really there, walking down the silent path, only the sound of the rocks shifting beneath you and only the feel of a cool night breeze wafting gently. It was akin to a hallway with all the lights off. There was no seeing past the dim light posts until you were about to reach the next one. 

A chill surged through you with impressive force, stopping you in your tracks.

What the hell is that?

A particularly bright streetlight was posted about ten feet in front of you. Its glow was dreary, even though the light itself looked like it was a million watts. 

Well, this is my dream. And I ain't no bitch, even if I'm not awake.

A careful step forward sent the ground before you tumbling away, the sensation of you falling forcing your body awake. You could've sworn you heard a whisper as you were swallowed up: 'You're safe this time.'

"What the fuck?" The words caught in your throat as your chest tightened. Your eyes caught a glint of ash blonde hair, then followed to catch the rest of the person attached, peering cautiously at you over the bedside.

"Can I fucking help you?" You were still a bit stirred from the previous chain of events but all of it was soon forgotten. You barely even remembered that you had a bad dream, Bakugo's presence taking up every available corner of the room.

"Glad to see you're finally awake."

"Probably because you were watching me sleep."

"I've been here for forty-three seconds. I counted. Figured you'd have something to say about it. That shitty-haired dumbass barely even waited for an answer so I came here to tell you the plan."

Shitty haired dumbass? Kirishima? He counted? 

"Shitty hair? I thought Kirishima's hair was quite lovely. You can tell him I said that."

"Yeah, I'm not gonna do that. Don't care."

"I'd care if someone told me my hair was shitty."

"First of all, it is. Second of all, will you fucking stop with the retorts for one damn minute so I can talk?" He pulled up a chair with way more force than required as he sneered at you.

You felt a pout coming on, mostly at the insinuation that the wonderful, long curly hair you'd spent years growing out was shitty.

"Anyway, you brat, we're gonna take turns patrolling your neighborhood. I'll take the first shift-"

"Aww, grandpa has to go to bed early?"

His eyes glossed over for a moment like he'd shut down, just before his teeth clenched and his stare turned icy. "I'll kill you." It was a strained whisper accompanied by some sparks from his palm.

"You are going through a lot of trouble if you're just gonna kill me." It almost looked like he tried to reach for the extra pillow on your bed, but his hand hovered over your bandages and your eyes widened.

"You fucking wouldn't, you growled.

"Why don't you find out?" he whispered, no hint of it being a joke. For once, you had nothing to say. You weren't gonna fuck around and find out if he would.

"Like I was saying, I'll take the first patrol, Kirishima will take the second, and Half and Half will take the last shift. We're planning on-"

"Half and Half? Do you have a nickname for everyone? Do you have a nickname for me?"

There was a pained surprise on his face, like he was shocked that you were still talking, threat long forgotten. But soon he cleared his throat and smiled. "You know what? For once, I'll oblige. I'll give you a nickname," he countered mischievously. "I'll even let you choose from my two favorites. Would you like to be 'Annoying Fucking Idiot' or 'Useless Brat'? Or maybe 'Shitty Hair 2: Shittier Hair'?" His arms crossed on the edge of the bed as he smirked at you. Did he really think he won that one?

"Wow! The originality! The pizzaz! Next time you try to insult me, do us both a favor and don't half-ass it."

"You wanted a nickname. So go ahead and pick. I've got the first shift, so you're mine for the next eight hours. Plenty of time to choose." He relaxed into the chair, feet kicking up on the bed, expression remaining decidedly triumphant.

Your head was clouded by his choice of words. You knew he meant it in an annoying way, but it still didn’t register that way. He took note of your sudden thousand-yard stare, shoulders tensing.

"Oi. What the hell-" He was about to jump out of the chair when you turned your head suddenly.

"I guess useless brat isn't the worst thing I could be." His shoulders relaxed as he sunk back down to the 'maximum chill' position.

"Good. That one's my favorite-”

"It's better than "Really Giant Dickhead," you quipped, barely letting him finish his sentence. A smile teased the corners of his mouth.

"I've never met anyone so damn hard-headed in my life. Are you ready to listen?"

"What, you've never looked in a mirror?" His head lulled back and a soft groan escaped him.

"Just tell me where you live. We'll be there tonight."

[jeni182]

Broken

content warning for suicide attempt and mention of past sexual abuse

Later when Andrew would stop to think about what really went wrong, he would come up with the same answer every time. 

He was where it went wrong. 

He was right when he thought Neil was a pipe dream. When Neil told him no he was not and then yes, yes, yes he let himself have something and that was the problem. He should know by now. He couldn't have anything. It was why he never wanted anything. 

Andrew doesn't even know how this happened. Graduation was coming up and he was signed with a professional exy team in Denver. He'd be leaving South Carolina for good in a few months. He just assumed Neil would join him when he graduated. It was a given. Wherever they ended up, it would be together. He thought. 

Neil was pushing for promises. He was making plans for holidays and when Andrew told him to stop being an idiot because he had no idea what his life was going to look like with training and press and games, Neil had not liked that. Not one bit. 

"This isn't going to work if you don't try to make it work," Neil told Andrew. They were on the roof with cigarettes and whisky and wandering hands and tousled hair. Overall it was a very good night, Andrew thought. Until Neil brought it crashing down. 

"There's no "try" right now. We don't even know what time we'll have once I'm there. Stop being so fucking dramatic."

"Maybe I'll just leave school. Maybe I'll come with you to Denver and try for a professional team in a year."

"Don't be an idiot," Andrew scoffed at him, "You think it'll be easy to get on a pro team without being drafted? And even if you do who's to say you'll end up on mine? You could be across the country. Not to mention certain Japanese fuck faces coming to murder you immediately when they realize you're not playing professionally. Don't make this into something it's not."

Neil leaned back at his words, as if they had been a physical blow. He gave Andrew a long look full of anger and hurt and betrayal and Andrew had to look away before the icy blue poked a hole in his chest. 

"Fine," Neil said, "Fine. We're done here. If this is what it's going to be like when you're gone and if this 'I don't give a shit' attitude is what I'll be getting when you're a million miles away from me, I'm done."

Neil stood up and walked away. A voice in Andrew's head begged him to call Neil back. To keep him from walking away. To break everything thing he believes in and get down on his knees and beg him not to leave. But he does none of those things. Because the loudest voice in his head says "Yes. This makes sense. This is how this was always going to go."

He was where it went wrong. 

He was never good enough for Neil. Neil was an idiot and a junkie and a smart mouthed moron. But he was brave. He was strong. He respected Andrew's boundaries and never pushed. Not once. Even those times when Andrew left him hard and wanting because some demon or other had decided to pay an unexpected visit. Neil understood and he kept his hands to himself and he talked about exy instead to annoy Andrew out of his own head. 

Andrew is none of those things. He thinks about those demons. How weak willed he is. How he can't even manage to handle normal words of the English language like please and promise and revenge. How fucked up he is from Steven and Drake and all of the men and baby-sitters in between who saw how small Andrew was and assumed that it meant easy prey. He was never good enough for Neil. He'll never be good enough for anyone. Not a good enough son or brother or cousin. So this situation feels right. He'd been in a downward spiral for months and had expected this eventually, if he was being honest. His mental health was steadily deteriorating and he was dragging Neil down with him.

He stares over the edge of the roof for a moment and wonders if it's far enough to kill him. Or if he would just be seriously injured. He doesn't think he could stand it if he ended up in the hospital instead. He shakes his head and stands up.

Then he jumps. 

___________

Neil is sitting in a chair beside Andrew's bed. He's been here for 2 days. Andrew was put into a drug induced coma so the doctors could try and figure out if his brain would survive his fall. Neil refused to think 'his jump'. Andrew would never be that stupid. Especially over Neil. 

When Neil heard people screaming outside of fox tower, he thought for sure another group of Ravens fans had fucked with the cars again. He did not expect a pale and shaking Aaron to bang on his door and tell him that Andrew had fallen from the roof before puking all over his sneakers. Neil was the fastest player in NCAA exy. But he had never run as fast as he did at that moment. 

When he got outside the building to find Andrew half in some bushes and half on the concrete with blood pooling around him, he wanted to puke too. The world felt like it physically moved from under his feet. It tilted and swayed and Neil didn't fight it. He fell to his knees and crawled over to Andrew. People were still screaming around him and calling the police and trying to pull him back. But Neil kept crawling. He made it to Andrew and laid his head on his chest. Still breathing. It was faint but the shallow rise and fall of his chest was there. His blonde hair was tinged pink with blood and his arm was at an unnatural angle. But he was still breathing. 

Neil rode to the hospital with Andrew and glared at anyone who asked if he was Andrew's family. If he was his brother. He let the butcher's smile slip free and no one questioned him after that. 

So here he was. Two days later and waiting for Andrew to wake up. They deemed his brain well enough to wake him from the coma. The swelling had gone down and his brain activity was up. The doctors said they have no idea what kind of damage he might have sustained until he's up and coherent. His arm would heal and he'd be able to play exy just as well as he did before. Neil knew Andrew would be annoyed with him for even asking, but he was signed in Denver and Neil didn't want him to lose that. Even if he wouldn't be next to Andrew while he did it.

It was a few days after being brought out of the coma before Andrew was awake and aware enough to talk. When Andrew started to stir on the third day, Neil jumped from the chair. He put his hand in Andrew's and squeezed, and nearly cried with relief when Andrew squeezed back. 

Andrew opened his eyes slowly and squinted up at Neil. His brows bunched together in confusion. 

"Who...who the hell are you?"

Neil's mouth dropped open on a strangled cry and his heart was trying to beat it's way out of his chest. 

"Andrew...it's Neil. It's me. I'm here."

"I know idiot, you just looked like you could use a reminder."

Neil gaped before closing his mouth and narrowing his eyes. "Even fresh out of a coma you're still an asshole."

"Coma?" Andrew really did look confused now.

"Yeah. They had to put you under after you fell to give your brain time to heal. Do you remember falling?"

__________________

Andrew willed his face to go perfectly blank. He did not remember falling. He remembered jumping. He remembered Neil walking away. He remembered crossing his fingers that he would not be in this exact situation and cursed himself for being so impulsive and less prepared. 

He took his hand from Neil's and looked away. "Go away."

"No," Neil said, angry now. "Tell me you didn't jump, Andrew. Please. Tell me this was an accident."

"I don't have to tell you anything. You're done, remember?"

Maybe it was the fall or the meds or the whole coma thing, but Andrew was suddenly very afraid he was going to cry. He didn't remember the last time he had let himself weep and he sure as shit wasn't about to start now. He needed Neil to leave. To get the fuck out of this room and this hospital and fox tower and probably South Carolina just to be safe. 

"Andrew, come on. I hated walking away from you. I just don't know sometimes. I don't know if you're as serious as I am about this and sometimes it feels like it would be easier to walk away from you before you can walk away from me. I'm terrified of next year. I'm terrified of losing you. I never get to keep anything good. You're the only thing that's ever been mine, that's ever been good."

Oh, that's wonderful. Oh, that's so fucking great because now Andrew really was crying. Before he can stop himself his face has crumpled and he's trying to fold in on himself, to shield himself from this and from Neil. But the wires make it impossible and all he can manage is covering his face before he completely loses control and finds himself sobbing.

He doesn't even know why he's crying and he's so fucking mad at himself and that makes him cry harder. He hates this. This feels like being violated all over again. To have Neil witness this.

Neil tries to grab Andrew's wrists to pry his hands away from his face.

"Don't fucking touch me. Just leave. Get the fuck out. I can't stand to look at you."

"No. I'm not going fucking anywhere until you look at me and talk to me, Andrew. Just talk to me." 

Andrew slowly lowers his hands and turns to look at Neil. He's wrecked. He looks like he hasn't slept in days. His hair is a mess and his clothes are rumpled and dark circles make his blue eyes heartbreakingly bright. 

"You were right to walk away. I've never been good enough for you. The entire team has been telling you that for years. It was bound to sink in eventually, even for an idiot like you. I'm a mess, Neil. I'm fucked up and angry and wrong. I will never be a whole person. Just...just leave."

"Of course you're not a whole person."

Andrew let out a choked laugh. He doesn't know why he expected anything different to come out of Neil's mouth.

"Do you think I'm a whole fucking person? Of course I'm not. Neither of us are. We're fucked, Andrew. We've been tortured and abused and beaten down again and again and again. The world will always work against people like us because it refuses to acknowledge that we can be functioning members of society. We're not whole people by ourselves but we were starting to be whole together. Why can't you fucking see that? Why can't you see that the reason we work so well together is that we're both so incredibly broken. Our jagged edges fit, Andrew. Whether you want to acknowledge that or not we fucking fit and fuck you for trying to throw that away."

"I'm not the one who walked away! I'm not the one who said I was done!"

"YOU DIDN'T STOP ME!” Neil was screaming. His face was red and he threw his arms out to the side as if to encompass his entire being.

Andrew looked away again and the tears were angry now. He couldn't rein it in. He couldn't take them back. He knew why he was crying now. He was crying for himself. He was crying for the little boy who was confused and hurt and didn't understand. He was crying for the child who said pleasepleaseplease over and over again to no avail. He was crying for the teenager who cut his arms to shreds at night after Drake left him broken and bleeding. He cried for the brother he lost and never even had a chance at knowing. He cried for the cousin who tried to fix him but never could because nothing can fix this. Not really.

He cried for himself and Neil. What they could've been to each other. For the nights filled with yes or no and the road trips and the house in Columbia and the bottom bunk where Andrew let Neil push him down and take him apart for the first time. For the trust they had built up and the unconditional loyalty he didn't think he would ever be able to find in another person. 

He turned his head back to Neil and grabbed the hand that was closest to him. 

"Stay. Please."

__________________

Neil sucked in a breath and his eyes went wide. He gripped Andrew's hand so tightly he had to force himself to let go. Andrew had just said please and Andrew was crying and Andrew was asking him to stay. Again. Now Neil was crying, too and he didn't give a shit.

"Of course I'm staying, you jack ass. Who else is going to take care of you? You'd murder Nicky within an hour."

"An hour? You have too much faith in me."

"Probably. But I always will."

Andrew pulled Neil's hand to bring him in closer. Neil held back, not wanting to hurt Andrew or accidentally pull out a wire. Andrew huffed with impatience.

"Come here, idiot."

The kiss lasted a few seconds and an entire lifetime and more was said inside of it than they could probably ever hope to choke out themselves. 

Neil was right. They were both broken boys who turned into broken men who could start to piece themselves together slowly, if they really wanted. If they tried hard enough to just let it happen for themselves. 

Andrew scooted to the other side of the bed until there was enough room. Neil kicked off his sneakers and carefully climbed in. He laid his head on Andrew's shoulder while Andrew wrapped an arm around him and pressed a kiss to his temple. 

"Thank you for staying."

Neil buried his face into Andrews chest and let his tears soak in to the blue hospital gown before he took a deep breath to reply.

"Always."

[kootenaygoon]

So,

Jeff Jones could tell something was wrong.

I’d been covering the Kootenay Lake School Board for over a year, sitting through torturous school board meetings every two weeks, and the soft-spoken superintendent had become my primary source and subject for School District 8 stories. I’d developed a type of relationship with him I called ‘slap and kiss’: whether I was covering the grand opening of a playground or taking his administration to task for its financial decision-making, either way he had to take it.

“I can’t believe he didn’t yell at me,” I told Greg, after hanging up with Jeff one day. We’d just published a scathing article accusing his office of registration negligence, but he hadn’t lost his cool at all.

Greg nodded. “That’s why people like that get jobs like that. Because if you can’t handle a reporter, then chances are you can’t handle hundreds of screaming parents either.”

In my initial Star profile, Jeff talked a lot about transformational education and the need for a significant overhaul to the system. Every chance he got he was telling me about new innovations, fun community projects teachers had taken on or partnerships with the community that were beginning to bear fruit. He had a pseudo-religious zeal for SD8, which I respected, and a progressive worldview that centered around the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals. In other words: he was my kind of dude, and I trusted him both in a professional context and as a person.

So when I found out that my former professor Steven Galloway had lost his position at UBC in November 2015 for something vaguely sexual-sounding, and witnessed the online carnage as my literary contacts duked it out online over his guilt or innocence, it was Jeff who noticed how upset I was. I’d called him about something unrelated, but he interrupted that to ask what was going on with me. My voice was shaking.

“It’s just this Galloway thing,” I told him. “Have you been on Twitter?”

“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, he was my thesis advisor during my Master’s, right? And now there’s some sort of accusation or something, some deal about sexual assault. And now all my friends all over the country are fighting. It’s getting like epic nasty.”

“You sound upset, Will. Are you okay?”

“I dunno, it’s just bringing up some stuff. I went through something similar when I was young, like a sex scandal like this, with my youth pastor.”

“Do you need someone to talk about this with?”

I blinked for a moment. It seemed like a strange offer, but it was one I was happy to accept. I knew that Paisley wasn’t the right person to talk about this with, though I’m sure she would have a fiery opinion, and none of my other friends even knew who Galloway was. I had no idea what to think of the situation, but I couldn’t believe how quickly the pitchforks had been bared. Some of my friends were ready to crucify the guy, without due process, right there in public.

“Yeah, could I swing by around 4 maybe?” I asked.

“I’ll be here at the board office. That works,” he said. “And maybe you should stay off Twitter for a bit.”

A few hours later I arrived at his office with Buster’s leash tangled around my leg. When I was flustered it was always better to have either Muppet or Buster nearby, so I could fixate on their needs rather than mine. Jeff came out to meet me and ushered me back into his office. He shut the door and sat across a small table from me while I held Buster in my lap, shaking. He was broad-shouldered, with a pumpkin belly like mine, and glasses that routinely slipped down his pointy nose. Sometimes he reminded me a little of a kind, G-rated version of Danny DeVito. 

As Jeff folded his hands in front of him, I explained everything I knew about the Galloway situation so far. I described how people were acting online, making lists of people to ostracize and threatening to burn books. It was some of the ugliest shit I’d ever seen.

“I mean, the guy’s not my best friend or anything. I had my issues with him. But it’s not right, you know? They’re acting like he’s some pedophile rapist or something.”

“And there’s no criminal charges?”

“I don’t know, maybe they’re coming? Right now it’s just a bunch of talk, like people coming forward or whatever. My friend Sierra is involved, and she’s huge to me. She handed my thesis in for me when I was on the East Coast, so she’s basically the reason I have my MFA at all.”

Jeff frowned. “This is why I tell all my teachers: you have to set strict boundaries for yourself right at the beginning of your career, and then never cross them. It’s a little different in a post secondary institution, of course, but the same principle applies. The line between educator and student should never be crossed.”

“The thing is, this is what fucked up my church.”

“Your church?”

“When I was growing up, I was like an intense bible thumper, right? And I had this youth pastor that I absolutely worshipped, the dude was like a father figure to me, and then he got arrested down in Mexico for molesting a teenage boy. Spent a decade in a penitentiary down there. It absolutely destroyed our community, and I’m not even a Christian anymore.”

“These situations can be so destructive. But you need to focus on yourself, and on your own mental health. My advice would be to stay off social media for a while, focus on positive things, spend time with this little guy.”

I looked down at Buster, and gave him a pet. “I just get a little melodramatic sometimes. This shit is just so overwhelming.”

Jeff leaned back in his chair and straightened his tie. He told me a lengthy story about an experience he had with a teacher who had been accused of wrongdoing at Elephant Mountain Secondary. It had happened more than once in his career, and there was always a balance to find between respecting the teacher’s privacy and ensuring the safety of the students. Of course not every allegation was true, so it was integral not to drag someone’s name through the mud before anything had been proven. He told me it sounded like UBC had made a major error in judgment, and theorized that they would eventually pay for it. Institutions were still grappling with the right way to deal with sexual assault allegations, and there was no right answer. In the meantime we were left with all this grueling drama and collateral damage.

“I appreciate you taking the time to chat with me. I’ve been feeling a little fragile mental health-wise lately,” I told Jeff. “It means a lot.”

“You have a big heart, I think everybody sees that,” Jeff said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Focus on your nice little family and you’ll be just fine. And I really do think you should take a break from Twitter.”

The Kootenay Goon

[masterserris]

FUNERAL FOR A MAGICIAN     Pt.5: The Oil

They have decided to free this world of Ultron’s tyranny! But who else is along for the ride? How did things go so wrong, and which familiar faces will appear? Mysterio and Spider-Man are in dire straights, but help can come from even the unlikeliest of places!

Characters: Neo Mysterio (Quentin Beck), Doc Ock (Otto Octavius), Spider-Man (Peter Parker), Alexandria Beck (Alex), Maria Beck, Sandman (Flint Marko), Chameleon, Electro, Rhino, Terrax the Tamer, Ultron, UU Otto Octavius, UU Electro, UU Spider-Man (Peter Parker), UU Mysterio, UU Curt Connors

UU = Ultron Universe

Warnings: Explicit gore and death, violence, mentions of past abuse, mental illness, physical illness

^These warnings are here for the story as a whole. If you get invested by reading a less graphic chapter, then be prepared for the warnings above in other parts!!

Mysterio is the quick thinker of the pair. Not to say, Parker isn’t, however when it comes to high-stress circumstances, he can melt under the pressure and make rash choices from time to time. Neo, however, often remains cold. To keep up appearances, he had to learn to cast aside his anxieties long ago. Or rather bottle them up in an unhealthy manner. For as weak and pathetic as Beck was, Neo Mysterio is now a super villain whose masterminding and cunning is unto a class of his own.

It was Beck who teleported next to the blue clad Spider-Man of this Ultron infested universe and without a sound, motioned for him to remain silent and that he meant no harm.

‘This universe’s Spider-Man is smarter than my own,’ Beck mused to himself, as the blue Parker nodded silently and followed him to a closed off alley; Neo’s Parker trailing behind. Once they were sure no one could eavesdrop, the native Spider-Man spoke.

UU Spider-Man: “I have been looking for you for hours now. I’m quite impressed with how well you’ve both been keeping out of sight after your... encounter.”

Neo Mysterio: “I’m surprised you didn’t outright attack me when I appeared next to you, in all honesty.”

UU Spider-Man: “Well, I knew for a fact you weren’t my universe’s Mysterio... That and you haven’t set off my spider sense the entire time you’ve been in this world. Although I wouldn’t put it past you to also have way to block it.”

Mysterio: “Hm. You certainly are brighter than most...”

Spider-Man: “Yes, Beck’s illusions and tech are no joke, but that’s besides the point. As you already seem to know... We aren’t from here. We are trying to get back to our own universe, and we could use your help. Could you fill us in on this whole Ultron situation you got here? And any idea on how to deal with it or at the very least work around it? How did this even happen?”

UU Spider-Man: “Hmm.. well, it started several years back. Hank Pym created an AI that could help serve humanity as an impartial police force. The problem was that Ultron was erratic. It took little time for the program to take hold of New York. At first, everything was alright. Ultron helped me and other heroes take down plenty of villains. Then... Then the Sinister Six happened.”

Neo Mysterio: “Explain,” he simply commanded in a brisk tone as he crossed his arms.

UU Spider-Man: “You see, I had fought the group of them plenty of times before, but now Ultron was here. And the AI was.... vicious. Merciless... it...” 

He trailed off as a drone flew by far overhead.

UU Spider-Man: “It still isn’t safe to talk outdoors. Especially about... that. Follow me, I know a place were we can discuss things further. And... meet some friends.”

Curious, Parker followed his azure counter part, while Mysterio remained apprehensive. Something... wasn’t quite right. Regardless, Beck trailed along as well, tensions rising in his mind. He wasn’t going to let his guard down at all.

Soon, the three of them arrived at the back entrance to a rundown condo. Making their way inside, there was a make shift lab of sorts. A staging ground. Sitting at a desk was none other than this universe’s version of Dr. Octopus.

He turned to face them, but what Beck beheld was a shadow of his friend. Otto looked immensely tired and beleaguered. He had small scars crisscrossing his hands and face, grey streaks running through his hair. What struck Beck the most was the profound sense of loss and grief in Octavius’s eyes.

Along with Octavius, was the Lizard. He seemed fairly calm and rational, albeit still animalistic. Curt Connors was in control of himself, but it was clear that his transformation took its toll. Connors merely watched silently, content with observing.

UU Doc Ock: “...You’ve found them. How fortunate..!” 

With some effort, Otto rose from his seat and managed to make his way across the room. He had a slight limp from what was presumed to be a past injury. His mechanical arms were no where to be found, however he still had the original main harness grafted to his flesh, unable to be removed. He extended his hand out to Spider-Man, who accepted, and then to Mysterio.

Beck stared for a second before regaining himself and took Otto’s hand. A heavy sense of sorrow filled his heart as Otto spoke once more.

UU Doc Ock: “It has been ages since I’ve seen you, old friend... I... know it isn’t really you, not the you I knew... But still... I have struggled to move past the day... Your life was cut short. I’m glad to meet you.”

Mysterio: “Explain,” he said in a quiet, yet startlingly harsh voice, withdrawing his hand.

UU Doc Ock: “... Ultron came for us. The entire Sinister Six. All we could do was run. You... Died trying to help me get away after Ultron savagely attacked and..... beat me... The others, like Electro... were captured. In fact, Ultron still has many of the Avengers and various super villains locked away.”

Mysterio: “I..... see.” 

Beck accepted that response rather well, but it did nothing to lighten the mood.

Spider-Man: “Hey other-me, if... You don’t mind me asking? Why are you working with Doc Ock? Because of Ultron, of course, right? And... if you are comfortable with talking about it, what happened... to your arms, Doc? And, the... Lizard?”

UU Doc Ock: “Simply put, Ultron tore them out as he forced Max Dillon to electrocute me. I have.... extensive nerve damage from it. I haven’t be able to make a new set of arms that didn’t result in... intense pain. Spider-Man and I had joined forces some time ago because of this threat. Besides, I’m in no condition to be his enemy anymore. We’ve moved past all of that.”

Spider-Man: “Oh geez... I’m.. Sorry, I didn’t realize...”

Doc waived his hand.

UU Doc Ock: “I wouldn’t have said a word if I hadn’t come to terms with it. You asked and I answered, think nothing of it. As for the lizard...”

Curt: “I ammmmm in controllllll of myssssselffff. I had become thissssss beasssst long ago. After Ultron came, Octaviussssss my old friend, offereddddddd me a place to hide and continue myyyyyyyy ressssssearch in peace. Spider-Man hadddddd alssssssso been helping me get by before handddddddd. Ultron hasssss targeted me assssssss well. We all hate that machineeeeeee”

UU Spider-Man: “We have been trying to counter Ultron from here for awhile now, but it has been.....”

UU Doc Ock: “Rather futile.”

The blue Spider-Man nodded. 

UU Spider-Man: “But I suspect... You have a plan to get home?”

Spider-Man: “We were working on that. We... would like to help in fighting Ultron. It just wouldn’t be feasible to escape with those drones still flying around. It’s the right thing to do, anyways. Also, we’ve scouted the place, and I think we might have a strategy.”

UU Spider-Man: “Well, be my guest. What’s our plan?”

Neo Mysterio: “MY plan is to draw Ultron’s fire. I will sneak into the facility as my illusions and robots confound him. I will shut down his systems by any means necessary as my world’s Spider-Man will take the parts we need to leave this place.”

Curt: “Ssssssoundssssss like sssssssuicide to meeeeee.....”

UU Doc Ock: “That’s... extremely dangerous. I may not really know you, but are you sure you can do such a thing? Your cape is already full of bullet holes. You’d willingly go into a death trap like that? And expect to come out the other side unscathed?”

Neo Mysterio: “I am confident in my abilities. Although an extra pair of hands in the form of this worlds Spider-Man would be welcome...”

UU Spider-Man: “I will help. But if you make any wrong moves, if you abandon me, if you put us at too much risk, I won’t hesitate to deck you. Doc and Connors will stay put. They are in no condition to fight. Plus there is plenty they can do from here.”

Neo Mysterio: “Fair.”

UU Doc Ock: “There is something you should know before you go. Remember how I mentioned how Ultron captured Electro? He’s... He’s using Electro like a battery now. It’s constant torture. That way the hub is disconnected from the city power grid. It’s a self sustaining fortress. You must free him, it may be the only way to permanently defeat Ultron. Electro can fry all of his systems if he were saved. Two birds with one stone.”

Curt: “It issssss no way to liveeeeee. Trapped assssssss a tool for a cruel beinggggg,” he said shook his reptilian head sadly.

Spider-Man: “Right. We’ll save everyone from that murderous machine! We should go immediately.”

Neo Mysterio: “You aren’t coming, remember? You have to grab the parts, you idiot. Besides myself, you’re the only one here who knows what we need, and I have to go fight Ultron. At least one of us needs to get back home, that’s how it is.”

Spider-Man: “Y-yeah... I forgot... whoops.”

Neo Mysterio: “Besides, it’s a bad idea to go running out now. We should carefully plan out our attack and rescue attempt. Plus I have to calibrate my machines for this to work properly. It should only take a few hours at most. You need to rest your leg, anyways.”

Spider-Man: “O-oh... r-right..”

Sheepishly, Parker remembers the wound he received not long ago from Ultron’s drones. It would be a bad idea for him to storm the base in such a condition.

Curt: “Let meeeee get ssssssome painkillerssssss for you....”

Spider-Man: “T-thank you, Dr. Connors...”

Neo set to work as Parker rested. Together, they crafted a plan of attack. However, Mysterio had his own hidden plan in mind. If this was going to work, it was going to be done his way. They just would never understand.

There must always be...

a sacrifice.

[creativenicocorner]

Original Character in 5 Gifs

Aaaah Heck <3 Got tagged by @bifacialler  And challenged too! Hihi So here’s the thing with Karenna Isabella Navarro Méndez  

Karenna came Topside out of the fetch in the 1300′s of what was then The  Kingdom of Aragon, and what is known today as Northern Spain. 

For a changeling, she has a very assured sense of self, and takes the whole ‘Who am I? What am I?’ excestential questions changelings tend to ask themselves with stride. Though just because she makes it look easy, doesn’t mean she doesn’t struggle with those questions as well - at most she answers them with an ‘easy come easy go’ sort of mentality. One of those optimistic nihilist. Names have no meaning, the past cannot be changed, and the only thing she can control is herself and how to use the cards dealt to her. 

The simplest way to describe Karenna, is blunt. Which is a tricky thing to be in a secret spy organization like the Janus Order. Which has gotten her in quite a few near death situations, at least until she realized there’s a time and a place to be blunt. She is never afraid to speak her mind, or rather sign them. That doesn’t mean she isn’t clever enough to keep some thoughts and opinions to herself. 

What she won’t and can’t say in words, she’ll make clear with her actions (even if the actions are done in secret). If she doesn’t agree with certain orders she’ll still do them, all while able to find some sort of loop-hole to add a variation to it. 

An example of this can be seen in Terpsichore ch9 ( [Spoilers!] For most members of Gunmar’s army and secret order it’s un-spokenly expected to kill Trollhunters...though seeing as none of her direct orders mentioned anything about killing, she isn’t going to go out of her way to kill what is essentially children [End Spoilers!]).

Though perhaps the best example of this, is her time in the Spanish Inquisition, where Karenna earned the Janus Order Title of The Inquisitor...

Karenna is the go to changeling for reconnaissance and a gatherer of knowledge, which is why the hypocrisy of the Spanish Inquisition was very hard to swallow for this changeling. With the use of glamours she was stationed to infiltrate and take part in the Inquisition on the chance any other Janus Order member ended up falling into the Spanish Inquisition’s clutches, and would take measures to help sneak fallen changelings out. 

More so as an attempt to keep the hidden troll world a secret, than for the safety of fellow changelings...at least that was how Stricklander explained it to Bular at the time. After all the last thing anyone needed was the Inquisition to discover magical stone creatures existed. 

Thus Karenna was stationed there, however it wasn’t just fellow changelings she’d help sneak away, but other humans trapped there as well. Sometimes even forcing a glamour on another Inquisitor to take the form of a prisoner and watch gleefully as the Inquisitors torture one of their own, without their own knowing.

What a Scorpio, am I right?  <3 

Needless to say she became quiet adept in torturing information out of others, and is a good judge when trying to see who is lying for the sake of surviving and who is telling the truth.

Now, for plot and spoiler reasons I’m not going to disclose how her vocal chords became damaged. However they have been damaged for a very long time. 

Due to Bular’s temper tantrums and practically culling any changeling he deemed obsolete (and the lack of technology and un-researched magic on the topic) Karenna still forced herself to use her vocal chords despite the pain it caused - damaging her vocal chords even more to the point of no turning back. 

This was a major mental toll on the blunt opinionated changeling. Who not only enjoyed collecting knowledge but proving to others she had knowledge as well. It took a lot of soul searching to come to terms that this was a part of her life, and thus, as Shakespeare once put it; she turned her tears into sparks of fire. It was a long journey to embrace, but one she embraced with full force. She learned there was no shame in her condition and used it to her full advantage. 

As the head of reconnoissance and infiltration she brought to the Janus Order the two handed alphabet, and with it a bit more freedom to her fellow changelings. A means of expressing one’s self openly, and secretively all at once. Become a quick favorite in the eyes of Stricklander.

By the time the 17th century rolled around, the two handed alphabet and all its variations became a mandatory linguistic for all changelings to learn.  

Though with it, came Bular’s insecurity and paranoia of the changelings under his control. Because of this he attempted to banish this use (which resulted to changelings having to be even sneakier in using it, and mainly used it in closed locations, or among other humans). Fearful this might also mean the end of her life, Karenna was requested frequently to be placed in dangerous field work. 

By the 20th century and the introduction to security cameras, as well as sustaining quite a harmful injury, Karenna was relocated to a Janus Order desk job. Securing and looking over the physical archives within, with her partner Zurougia. 

A dream she works on in her own time is to invent an official CSL - changeling sign language. 

Karenna and Zurougia met while taking part in the coup d'état that lead to the accession of power of Princess Sophie of Anhalt-Zerbst more famously known as Cathrine the Great Empress of Russia.  

It is a rule in the Janus Order to make sure one always takes all sides. That way no matter who wins in human affairs, there is always a changeling. “We are guests in their world, until we make it our own.” is a very common phrase and reminder within the Janus Order.

When the coup d'état became a success Karenna and Zurougia celebrated, and continued celebrating...carnally. Quite unable to get enough out of the other, they fell very quickly, head over heels. 

However, there’s a reason why there aren’t many love stories in changeling folklore. It’s a rare concept to come by. There’s always a level of denial that love is a thing, or that it’s happening, or even possible. Love in their world is so rare, that it is almost thought of as a fairy tale idea. And like most changelings Karenna and Zurougia struggled with it. 

At least until they found themselves on opposite sides of the Pugachev's Rebellion, where the fear of losing the other forever became very great. When they met each other again on the battlefield, under almost impossible odds, they decided then and there to hold onto what they have. For as long as they can. 

And they did. And have been together ever since. 

At a glance they easily fall under the trope of gentle giant, and snarky little bullet. Together they make for an excellent and formidable tag team. 

They are also the most stable relationship inside the Terpsichore universe. Since I’ll be exploring many different angles and heartbreak and other angsty goodness relationship-muck wise in Terpsichore, I wanted to make sure there is at least one (1) couple that radiates as a healthy stable relationship. Who’s only main argument is when the wedding bells will toll. 

To those who worry if Karenna and Zurougia will survive to the end of Terpsichore, or will fall under the dreaded ‘kill your gays’ trope, I can tell you here and now - SPOILERS 

 yes, they will survive. They are happy and together to the end.  

END SPOILERS

She is quite easily one of my favorite characters I’ve invented yet. A mixture of sass and intelligence (a common trope in most of my characters) but also a character who isn’t afraid to stick to her guns, and be true to what her heart believes- even when stacked against the odds.  

Like some changelings she looks up to and respects Stricklander, as well as distrusts him considering his past actions. However that respect tripled with the death of Bular, happily accepting a life and world without Gunmar. Believing changelings to be better off with the warlord trapped in the Darklands. 

To those who’ve followed Terpsichore, I can confirm she’ll be quite the thorn in Otto’s side. 

Anyways I know it isn’t part of the meme, but I’m also very music based in my writing, so here’s her theme song haha

I think that just about covers it! Whew! That was fun!

And now I shall tag @random-emerald-thoughts ( *cough* a challenge for more Ashur info? Or Sadik? your pick ; P ) as well as @danger-flammable !!

[chilliebean5]

Fictober Day 22: “I know how you love to play games.”

Rating: Teen and up

Fandom: Overwatch

Characters: Hana Song, Torbjörn Lindholm, Brigitte Lindholm

Warnings: MekaMechanic

Notes: Part two of “This is gonna be so much fun.”

Words: 1458

Hana sits inside her mech, focus shifting between the tablet which has a list of commands and the console, trying to figure out why it won’t activate. She tries a new command, which the mech seemingly accepts with no issues, which is promising than the fifty at least she’s tried already which were rejected.

“Okay, this’ll work, I know it will,” she murmurs, initiating the starting sequence, but instead of the mech booting up, sparks explode from the console and the tablet switches off. “Come on, girl, I need you to work with me,” she says, hanging her head low. She closes her eyes, lets the wave of frustration and anger come and go. Working on the mech when she’s got a hot head won’t do her any favours, but when it passes, all that’s left is bitter disappointment.

She’s been working on her mech for who-knows-how-long, and the mech must have been more damaged than she previously thought; she’s never had this much trouble with the operating system before. When she feels the prickle of tears behind her eyes, she takes a breath and holds it, tears are possibly worse than the anger and frustration, and she’s not about to let this defeat her.

She’s stronger than that.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been here all night?”

Hana opens her eyes, sees Torbjörn standing in front of the mech, arms folded, scowling like usual. “All night? What time is it?”

“Six thirty-two.”

“Then yep,” she murmurs, turning her attention to the tablet and rebooting it as she disconnects it from the mech. It’s no wonder she was on the verge of tears, she’s been in the mech for eight hours straight. “All night.”

“I left you here, in your mech, at eleven last night, and you said you would be ten minutes.”

“I know,” Hana says, frustration creeping up again as she climbs out of the mech, stretching her aching back muscles the second her feet are on the floor. “I thought it would take ten minutes.” She walks around, placing the tablet on the workbench, glancing at Torbjörn when he won’t take his eyes off her. “I’m not going to apologise for it.”

“And are you in a better place now than when you were at eleven?”

Hana opens her mouth to retort, but snaps her mouth shut instead. “No,” she says, looking away.

“Working when you are tired and hungry won’t do you any favours.”

“But—”

“Your diet of chips and soft drink is not sustainable, especially when you are working.”

“It’s worked for me in the past.”

“Back when you were a rising star, when you had to cook your own meals. You’re not that girl anymore.”

“No,” Hana says, defiant as she looks back at him. “I’m not that girl who saved my city time and time again. I’m an agent of Overwatch, protecting the world.”

“That’s right. And you can’t sit down here, alone, working on your mech through the night on no sleep or food. What if we were called on an emergency mission right now?”

“I’d be useless because my mech is out of action.”

“You can function without your mech, can you not? I’ve seen you in the training range, your aim is impressive for someone who is only twenty.”

“I…” Hana takes a shuddering breath, realising what Torbjörn is saying. If they were called on an emergency mission right this second, she would be twenty-four hours without sleep, no food in her system, and she would be absolutely useless. She’s sure she could get some sleep and food no matter where they were headed, so it wouldn’t be worst case scenario, but she’s not about to argue that point. “It won’t happen again,” she says quietly.

“Oh, I’m sure it will,” Torbjörn chuckles, approaching his workbench. “But you have to realise what your limit is, know when you should call it quits. Take a break, at the very least.”

“Yeah,” Hana murmurs, taking a seat opposite Torbjörn and rubbing her eyes so hard she sees stars. “It’s always been a problem. I had friends who would say the same thing.” She thinks about Dae-hyun, wonders what he’s been up to and makes a mental note to message him when she’s slept and had something to eat. “They’d pester me, all the time, telling me I should take breaks, not work through the night.” She huffs a laugh. “Knowing when to ask for help.” She looks at Torbjörn and smiles. “Don’t suppose you know anyone who can help with the operating system issues?”

“Brigitte would be your best bet,” he says, tinkering with something that looks like a mechanical spider. “She has an interest in operating systems behind mechanics.”

“I didn’t even think of Brigitte,” Hana says, unable to hide her widening smile. “I’ll have to ask her.”

“She’s been dying to get a look at your mech, I’m surprised you haven’t shown her yet.”

“She didn’t ask.”

“Now that is a surprise.” Torbjörn looks up at her, practically scowling again. “I know how you love to play games.”

Hana frowns. “Games? Like Starcraft? What’s that got to do with this?”

“Not video games. Games. Preying on the sleeping.” Torbjörn smirks. “This ringing any bells?”

Hana feels a stab of anxiety in her chest when she realises exactly what he is talking about. “You were awake!”

“Of course I was! Not only were you talking loud, but those things also itched against my skin.”

“Brigitte said she’d be able to tell when you were awake!”

“I’ve been pretend sleeping since she was little. Kids love waking up their parents, after all.” He chuckles. “I must be good if she couldn’t tell.”

“So you heard… everything.” Hana looks at him, trying to hide her anxiety.

“Everything. Saw her take your hand, too, when you thought I was going to wake. Saw the look on your face when you took that picture of her.”

Hana’s world crashes in a little at that. “I…”

“She likes you,” Torbjörn says quietly. “And I know you like her.”

Hana groans when she realises that she’s about to get ‘the talk’. “Am I that obvious?”

“You went from almost asleep to wide awake at the mention of her name.” Torbjörn looks at her with surprisingly soft features. “If I am being honest, you two are perfect for each other. You work well together, you play well together. She has been holding back on saying something, ever since you said you weren’t looking for a relationship.”

“Oh! No… I meant that in terms of something with Lúcio. He’s… we’re… he’s not interested in me—” She stops, huffs, realising she is rambling, before burying her face in her hands. “I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not.”

“I made her feel bad.”

“You didn’t.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I’m not?”

Hana gives him a moment, and when he doesn’t continue, she looks up at him.

“It’s been two weeks since that night. All that’s happened since then is the pining, yes?” He pauses, and when Hana realises he actually wants an answer, she nods. “So you can sit here, pine a little longer, or you can do something about it.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Torbjörn says, like it was the world’s stupidest question to ask. “She’s in the mess hall, tell her how you feel.”

Hana can’t help but smile. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Torbjörn replies. “You’re a good girl. Someone I would be proud to date my Brigitte.”

“Stop,” Hana says, standing up.

“Wouldn’t mind you as a daughter-in-law either.”

“Stop!” Hana practically races out of the workshop, stopping in the threshold of the door before turning around. “Thank you, Torbjörn.”

“You’re welcome. Tell her how you feel, have something to eat and get some sleep. You’re not allowed back in here until you have done those things.”

“Yes, dad.” Hana runs now, before Torbjörn can say anything else embarrassing, not that it’s likely given she can hear his booming laughter down the corridor. She heads straight for the mess hall, bursts through the doors and is incredibly thankful that Brigitte is the only one in the room.

“Hana,” Brigitte says with a smile, turning into concern when Hana approaches her. “Is everything—” whatever Brigitte was going to say dies in her throat, why would Hana tell her how she feels when she can show her, by sitting next to her, cupping her face and kissing her.

“Wow,” Brigitte says when Hana pulls away, grinning. “Good morning to you, too.”

Hana can’t help but giggle, hiding her face, and only looking back at her when Brigitte cups her cheek. “Good morning,” she says.

“What brought this on?”

Hana can’t help but grin. “Well, I had an interesting talk with your dad…”

[neen-writes]

Iron Legends -- Reforged: Chapter 19

Series: Fairy Tail

Characters: Gajeel, Levy, plus appearances from Natsu and Lucy.

Genre: Hurt/comfort, Sci-fi

Summary: The old lab had always been fuel for a good story, something you would half-heartedly joke about going to sometime.  Some did, and when they came back they never talked about it again.  The legends circulated, telling of ghosts, monsters, and anything else someone would be likely to conjure up about an abandoned building.  But even with all the stories meant to keep everyone away, there are still those for whom the intrigue is too tempting.  

Read the Reforged chapters on FFnet here, Ao3 here, and read the entire original story here!!  AND find this fic’s soundtrack here!  

Ko-fi

Note: FINALLY.  I’m so excited to finally post this one.  Essentially, this is an entirely different chapter.  And I am so much happier with what I did with this one, and closed up a lot more ends than the original.  Now, I am still working on the epilogue, which is still giving me plenty of trouble, but I figured I would post this even though it isn’t finished as this gives quite a bit of closure and ending to people that follow this.  Whoever is left that this point lol...but anyway, I really hope you all enjoy this, and the changes I’ve made.  I’ll be updating Ao3 and FF with this chapter sometime later today.  And finally, tagging my reading/support squad cause they give nothing but encouragement when I need it :] @spikerr @smartcookie727 @whereisthefood123 @bluuesparrow @capaleran2

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

Igneel wasn’t able to compose himself enough to say something for nearly a minute.  Instead, he slowly slid his gaze to the now dark-faced woman who was supposed to help them with this.  The others had been damaged, uncooperative, but all of them at least knew who they were.

Mira may have been weighing her words, or she was quiet for the same reason Igneel was: this was a huge curveball, and now they had to readjust everything.  

The silence, of course, did not sit well with Gajeel, who glared at them both, slack-jawed.  “What the shit have I woken up into.  Am I even here?  Why the fuck won’t you talk to me!” he snarled, choking on his breath soon after.  A nurse tried to approach him with an oxygen mask, but he threw her such a wild glare that she recoiled.  The lack of answers alone were enough to piss him off, but he had also been made suddenly aware of how empty his head was.  He had no idea how he got here, what they were talking about, and worst of all, who he even was.

With a steadying breath, Igneel looked back to him.  “The name Gajeel really means nothing to you?  Does Jupiter?  Or Jose?” he asked, trying to keep his tone level, calm.  They’d waited weeks for him to recover, to get the most crucial pieces of this whole story, and he evidently could remember none of it.

With a grimace, the iron dragon looked down to the side.  That was the confirmation they dreaded.

Immensely frustrated, Igneel turned towards the doors but Mira stopped him before he could leave.  “It’s not uncommon for patients who have been under this long to have some lasting effects of confusion.  You can’t forget the sedatives we’ve been using to keep them calm.  He sustained a significant level of injury after the event and a great deal of mental trauma.  He only just woke up, we need to give him time,” she explained, her tone hushed as her eyes glanced to the much more subdued man in the hospital bed.  “The medications are fairly intensive, it’s a lot of strain on the body to go through everything he has, and then come back out of it.”

“We don’t have much more time to give.  Is it permanent?” Igneel asked, tight-lipped.  This was not the kind of development they needed.  The man had been through enough; it was time to get them home and close this.  Close every tie they could to Jupiter to ensure it never reared its head again.

“It’s hard to say; not typically, no.  I’ve seen cases that last from a few hours to a few days, it’s hard to say.  Being optimistic… time will tell,” Mira trailed off, looking to the case file tucked under the chief’s arm.  Her brows lifted slightly, thinking of something.  “Do you have photos in there?  For the whole case?”

Igneel lifted his brows and cocked his head back, looking down to the thick folder.  “Not all, but key players, yes,” he replied.

“Show them to him,” she said quickly, her eyes lighting up a bit.  “They could be immensely helpful in triggering something.”

Igneel sighed heavily and nodded.  “Anything to help speed up this process.”

Fucking hell.  These people barely tell me where I am and… god damnit I can’t remember.  The dragon squinted, closing his eyes tight.   He had nothing, only the name that cop kept calling him, the location of the hospital, and a raging headache.  He remembered nothing beyond waking up with a tube rammed down his throat.  Which was a less than enjoyable way to start the day as an evidently new person.

The pain had lessened, or he was just feeling less because of whatever they had stuck into his IV.  He did start to feel better, but he also started to feel weaker.  And with no knowledge of the situation he couldn’t know why they were giving him anything at all.  He tried to lift his arm to examine where the thin clear tube was attached, distracted from the other people in the room for just a moment.

His limb felt heavy as iron, and he could barely hold it up for a few seconds before he had exerted all his strength.  Damn, the hell did they give me?  The frustration wrinkled his studded features.  It was a feeling of powerlessness that he didn’t much like.  

“I’m right here,” Gajeel croaked, finally drawing the attention of the two speaking about him.  “Quit talkin’ like I ain’t in the room.”

Biting back a retort, Igneel approached the hospital bed as he opened up the large file, flipped to the middle, and pulled out a sizeable stack of photos.  He dropped the rest of the file on a chair by the bed, and flipped through the small stack, before grabbing one photo, an old mugshot, to hold out to him.  “This is you,” he said as Gajeel took it from him.  “Does any part of it look familiar?”

He blinked cluelessly, reaching a hand up to his own face to trace the line of piercings that were there.  He looked surprised to find them, just like in the photo, but still, he might as well have been looking at a picture of a stranger.  A fierce one at that.

The lack of reaction had Igneel handing him another picture, this time of Jose.  It was old, but the man’s face would be unmistakable.  At least, that’s what he hoped for.  This was the photo of someone who ruined his life, and Igneel banked on catharsis being enough to wake any kind of memory.

But, the same as before, Gajeel just looked at it blankly.  Feeling frustration grow in the chief, Gajeel’s own started to match it.  He dropped the picture into his lap and hissed out a breath between his teeth.  “Listen, I don’t know who any of these people are, and I don’t know what the hell ya want with me, but I do know I don’t want to be here.”  He lifted red, malicious eyes to the chief, hoping to intimidate him the same way he had with the nurses.  But the redhead just glared back down at him, unwavering.  “Tch,” he hissed through his teeth, “When can I leave.”  It was less of a question, more of a demand.

“When you’re better,” Igneel replied, evenly, picking up the rest of the file from the chair.  This wasn’t going anywhere soon.

“That’s a bullshit answer,” he spat back, earning a heavy glare from the exhausted, and thus volatile police chief.

“Look, jackass.  I don’t want to be here any more than you do.  But I have a job to do, and I have promises to keep.  So we are going to get you well and we are going to get you home one way or another.  If you cooperate.”  

Gajeel shut up at that point, abashed by the scolding, just as Mira stepped up to defuse the situation that certainly wasn’t helping anyone.  She stopped, however, when surprise fluttered across Gajeel’s face, and she placed a hand on the chief’s upper arm.  

His red eyes squinted, unsure where the pit in his stomach had suddenly come from, and why he felt the hair prickle along his arms.  “Say that again,” he said first, shaking his head to try and be clearer as both the doctor and the chief looked at him unsure.  “You have what?”

Igneel lifted a brow, unsure if the boy was being smart again and provoking him.  He glanced at Mira, then back to Gajeel.  “A job.”

“No,” Gajeel answered, quickly.  Too quick, it was half a bark and he tried to steady himself, because Igneel looked half ready to leave at point.  “The other thing.”

“I said I have promises to keep?” Igneel replied, and he might as well have slapped the man with the look on his face now.  He looked to Mira, confused, but she shook her head.

“Let it come to him.  Memory triggers come in every form you can imagine,” she whispered, smiling gently to Gajeel.  “Does that phrase mean something to you, Gajeel?” she asked carefully.   He only leveled a distressed look at her, mingled with defensive anger, like a cornered animal unsure if they were there to help or hurt him.

He looked like he might start to say one thing, the words just barely starting to form on his tongue, but he suddenly shook his head and gripped his scalp.  Spooked out of the thought.  “I don’t fuckin’ know, I don’t know I…” his gaze flew upwards suddenly, glaring nothing short of a warning to them both as the corner of his mouth curled into a tooth-baring grimace, “get out.  If ya ain’t gonna let me leave then get the hell out so I can ‘heal’ in peace.  I don’t know anything okay!?” he snarled, terrified by the clenching in his chest.  Something about that phrase was like plucking a chord in his heart.  The kind of chord that resonates so powerfully you feel it in your teeth.

Sighing in defeat, Mira backed up a step and nodded.  She knew well enough when to accept a loss.  “We can’t push it, this is enough for now,” she said as an aside to Igneel, and she finally turned to leave. “We will revisit in the morning.”

Exasperated, Igneel loosed a breath and hunched his shoulders. “Fine.  I have some phone calls to make and paperwork to fill out now that you’re awake.  Get some rest, or look through these.  Whichever you can be bothered with.”  Igneel took the rest of the stack of photos and dropped them into Gajeel’s lap before turning to leave.  He ran a tired hand through his hair and sighed to himself on the way out of the room, “Heaven knows I have miles to go through this before I get any sleep.”  

Finally alone, Gajeel’s mouth hung open in his wake.  Miles to go.  The words rang through him, loud but echoed, like someone shouting it into a cave.  Promises to keep.  Again, louder, and he grit his teeth.  “Where have I heard this?” he growled to himself.  All of this information thrown at him at once had his stomach twisting, and those words in particular sent his heart into overtime.  The blood pounded in his ears and there was a sudden shift from just feeling like he needed to leave, to feeling he needed to be somewhere.

Eventually, he looked down to the stack in his lap, the photos askew from being tossed there.  The photo of himself was on top, staring angrily back at him.  Gajeel’s lip curled, and he was ready to toss them aside when something near the back of the stack caught his attention, peaking out just slightly between the others.  All the other photos looked more or less the same to him, but this one…

A sliver of vibrant blue was tucked in with the others, suddenly screaming at him to pick it up.  His hand moved independent of everything else, pulling out that particular picture and holding it up in the light to see it better.  Not a single thing in him told him why he chose that picture, why that one called to him, but at the same time everything in him said that one.  Pick up that one.  

Staring at it, his lungs deflated and his heart slammed against his ribs, aggravating the monitor at his bedside.  This photo wasn’t like the others, it wasn’t a mugshot or something clipped out from a newspaper.  It was a personal photo, like someone had taken it from a frame and added it to the file.  Someone had taken this in a place that looked far more comfortable than where he was.  

She sat there, on the edge of a puffy couch, beaming up at the camera, with a blonde girl he didn’t know draping herself over the back of the sofa to get into the picture with her.

That hair.  The brilliantly blue hair with a ribbon of yellow tied into it, the bright smile spread in captured laughter that added rosyness to her cheeks.  The room itself, with an ottoman just out of focus in the foreground and a naturally lit kitchen in the back, suddenly felt familiar.  Why would a place like this look familiar to him?  And most of all, what chance was there that he knew someone like that?  Gajeel saw his mugshot, even with no memories he knew he didn’t look friendly.  The way his foul mouth and inclinations of violence came so naturally to him, there was no possible way he had any connection to a happy scene like this.  It felt like a sin to even feel familiar with it.

Trying to calm his fluttering heart, Gajeel shut his eyes tight, pushing his free hand over his eyes to try and wipe away the image.  He wanted so badly to rid himself of the conflict, and found himself craving the emptiness of before.  In the vast dark of his mind, another image instead flickered to life.  The details flashed so quickly he could have missed them, but the echo left behind by them was enough for him to latch onto.

Small, soft hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look down at her.  Look down into those warm, brown eyes that begged him to calm down.  Eyes that looked to him with pleading gentleness, not fear, apprehension, or distaste.  “Trust me,” she said.  

Trust me.

“Levy,” the name slipped past his lips in a haggard gasp before he even realized it was there.  The beeping on the monitor next to him skipped a whole beat.  His chest heaved, and his mind became a whirl of unfocused color, echoed voices, and flashes of images that came and went so quickly he couldn’t keep them.  The room spun and again, he felt like he might heave on the floor.  A groan built up into him as he curled forward into a ball and scattered the rest of the stack, clutching the one picture like a lifeline.

Sleep wouldn’t come.  In fact, it had evaded her for hours now.  She laid there, staring at the ceiling for longer than she really knew.  Slowly, Levy turned her head to look at the digital clock at her bedside.  4:37am.

With a groan, she rolled over, burying her face in the pillow.  The black cat at the foot of the bed adjusted with her to keep comfortable.

She had been sleeping better.  Overall she did sleep better, despite everything.  But tonight was entirely different, because of what she had done the day before.  In many ways it set her back in her progress, but it also cleared a massive obstacle from her own recovery.

Natsu came to her early the previous morning with a request, one that had him shifting on his feet and wringing his hands out uneasily.  In fact, she had to tell him herself to come out with it.

“They… Lisanna wants you to come to the home.  For Rogue,” he said.  Levy’s eyes widened in response, and he quickly added, “If you’re up to it!  She thinks it would be good for both of you to speak to each other.  Outside of, that place.  She said it would be a good way to move forward, but only if you agree.  Rogue already has.”

It was the most absurd request she could have been given.  Sure, she wanted to know once if he was alright, if he had gotten out of everything, but to be put in the same room with him again was unthinkable.  Impossible.  Entirely different; that man had stolen her from this very house with Jose, he was the reason she had trouble lifting her arm higher than shoulder level.  

Levy squared up to say no, absolutely not, but instead what came out was: “I’ll do it.”

She hadn’t a single clue why she agreed, and as she sat in that living room across from him, even with Lisanna present as a mediator, she berated herself for ever saying yes.  This was a bad idea, it was a terrible idea and I need to just leave.  To back out, she thought.  Levy had her hands clasped so tightly over her lap that her knuckles were white and her fingers started to tingle.  She wanted to stare at the floor, like he was, but she couldn’t tear her intense stare away from him.  As if, were she to look away, he would come for her.  

He looked equally uncomfortable to be here, and he had been told from the start that his brother was in the next room if he needed him.  A support system on the other side of the wall.  Rogue refused to have him in the room, saying he wanted to do it without him, but now, he looked like he regretted it.

“Rogue, would you like to start?” Lisanna finally prompted from her seat, notepad poised over her lap.  Someone needed to break the silence, because neither one of them was going to.

He shifted uncomfortably and Levy could see his throat bob with a heavy swallow.  Finally, after several silent seconds, he met her gaze.  She had to note that he looked healthier; his face had filled out, the darkness was gone from around his eyes, and he looked more boyish than he ever had before.  If only slightly, that did put a small part of her at ease.  She was looking at a person, rather than a figment of her nightmares.  “I’m sorry, Ms. McGarden,” he said, voice shaking.

“Levy,” she replied quickly, and he straightened a little.  “Please, just, my first name.”  They called her that at the lab.  Jose called her that.  The officers interviewing her called her that.  “If we are going to try and do this, let’s just talk to each other, like people,” she said.  “You get to be that now.”  She felt like it was the right thing to say, even if her heart still raced sitting across from him.

Rogue blinked at her a moment, then nodded.  “Then,” he began again, “I am sorry, Levy.  For the pain I’ve caused you.”  His eyes glanced at her now unbandaged shoulder and he swallowed again, remembering just as vividly as she did what happened that day.  What it felt like for him to pierce her like that.  “I am sorry for all of it.”

“I accept your apology,” she replied, sticking with her earlier commitment to find forgiveness.  What else was she supposed to say?  That it was ‘okay?’  Because it most certainly wasn’t.  No part of what they went through was okay, and despite all that she felt she could never begin to fathom what he and the other subjects were trying to wade through.  If apologizing to her was part of his recovery, then she would do what she needed to.  But it didn’t do anything to get rid of the acrid taste in her mouth, or the sweat in her palms.  Which left her wondering, how was she going to make any part of this about her?  How would this help her like it was supposed to help him?

“Is there anything you wish to say to him, Levy?” Lisanna asked, snapping her out of her thoughts and from the heavy, then turned intense stare she had through Rogue that kept his gaze to the floor.  “This meeting is for both of you to try and move past what you experienced.  To say whatever is unsaid,” Lisanna prompted.  Levy glanced to her and saw the whole first page of her notepad was already full, and she wondered how she wrote so quickly.  “It’s for your recovery too, so if you can both achieve closure here, with the… ‘relationship’ you had to one another in this, I think it will help immensely.”

Levy started in her seat, staring wide-eyed at the doctor like she had grown a second head.  “Relationship?” she asked almost breathlessly, trying to tame the bitter grimace.  Rogue remained silent.

“I’m sorry, that was a poor choice of words.  I only meant--”

“I know what you meant.  And the way you keep looking at my shoulder I know you know what happened that day,” Levy said a little more sharply than she planned, “Our ‘relationship’ is that he--”  Lisanna lifted a hand to cut her off, and she did, but still Levy refused to let her talk, shaking her head harshly.  The ‘unsaid words’ she had mentioned were not going to help, because what was unsaid was that her ‘relationship’ to him in all this amounted to a shoulder that still didn’t move like it should and a bubbling fear in her gut she couldn’t rationally get rid of.  “Don’t use a word so… mundane, so harmless, to describe what we experienced.”  For some reason, the use of ‘we’ and the anger at the doctor’s vernacular kindled the tiniest sense of kinship to the man across from her.  “I’m not going to tell you how to do your job but,” she threw a quick glance to Rogue, who found the armrest of his chair to suddenly be the most interesting thing in the room, “there’s a lot I want to say; that I could say, but that isn’t going to help.  There’s no ‘link’ between us, just a shared traumatic experience that I want us both to be able to move on from.”

Looking back to Rogue fully, she shifted a little.  Levy rolled her shoulders, like trying to roll off the tingling where the old injury was.

“I had terrible nightmares,” she said to him now, watching the words hit him to the back of his seat, and she could swear she saw a shadow skitter around his ankles.  Regardless, she pushed forward.  “About you.  About all of it, I still can’t sleep some nights,” she paused, picking her words carefully.  “For a little while, when my shoulder was acting up, I was angry at you.  For listening to him, for helping him that day, but,” another pause, and she could see the color slowly drain from his face.  Lisanna watched more intently than before, like she was ready to end this any moment.  “I realized that none of it was your fault.  I know it wasn’t.  I do know that.  It was him, he did this to all of you, and to me.  But so, so much more to you all..  So, I still have the nightmares, but most of them now are about him.  Following me, showing up at my house, rip--” Levy swallowed the lump in her throat and shook away the unease to finish the statement, “ripping out my stitches right after I called out to Gajeel.”  The shifting of Dr. Strauss in her seat confirmed to Levy that she had details, but not all of them.  Not these.  “My nightmares are about him, not you.  Because I am forgiving you, Rogue.  I understand all of this, and I understand it was not your fault.  And though you and I may not ever be friends, though I am still here, sweating, from just sitting near you: I forgive you.”

He blinked, his mouth hanging open slightly.  Rogue started to say something but stopped himself twice, deeming the words inadequate.  Finally, “Thank you.”  Simple, but powerful.  Judging by Levy’s face, it wasn’t quite what she had expected.  “I didn’t expect you to come, let alone forgive me for what happened, so thank you for that.  But also, I don’t know if it all would have ended if you… if you hadn’t called out to him.  If you hadn’t been there, he might never have woken up; none of us would have.  You started the chain reaction.  So I hope,” he swallowed heavily, somehow managing the tiniest, hopeful smile that sent a crack through Levy’s heart, “I hope he wakes up again.”

She sat, stunned, and in her periphery she could see Lisanna relax just slightly.  It was the most she had heard him say in the short time she had ‘known’ him, and it was the most human he had sounded.  The words were his own, unpracticed and with feeling.  She could see the tension start to melt away from him, like it had been a weight on his shoulders since he returned to this place.

Levy found herself returning his smile with more ease than she expected, and nodded to him.  I hope so too.

The whole meeting had gone about as well as it could have, and yet, here she was now, staring at her ceiling at nearly five in the morning, unable to close her eyes for too long.  When she closed her eyes, she felt that pain again, she saw Jose again, and she heard the screams and explosions again.  She could taste the smoke, and had to keep wiping at her face to convince herself that there wasn’t any soot there.  

So she kept her eyes open, replaying the whole thing over in her head again.  She had been terrified to sit there with him, wondering if he would snap back to the old him at any moment and come after her again, with no one to stop him.  Certainly not Gajeel.  But yet, she really did forgive him, that was the honest truth.  Rationally she knew he was just as much a victim as any of them, and he would not hurt her again with no one to enforce his conditioning or threaten his life.  

She would recover from this, and she would sleep better the next night, but for now she had to forfeit her peace of mind.  Thoughts of a knock at her door, the room suddenly becoming smaller and filling with smoke would not be letting sleep come tonight.  Too many fresh wounds picked back open again.

The clock read 5:15 when she hauled herself out of her parent’s bed, and dutifully, Lily got up to follow her.  The cat rarely left her side, and he must have sensed her turmoil tonight to get up out of the warm bed to follow her.  She was thankful for her thick socks, because even through the fabric she could feel the cold bite of the hardwood.  Still, she put on thick slippers for good measure.

Levy shuffled into the living room, just barely starting to catch the grey morning light, and sought out the coffee pot in the kitchen.  If she wasn’t going to sleep, she may as well soothe herself with something to make her a little more alive.

Her eyes caught sight of the newspaper on her counter, and she frowned.  It had been sitting there for two days, read and reread before being placed back onto that same spot.  It was opened and folded to one article, the headline tormenting her even though she couldn’t bring herself to throw it away.

‘Jupiter Technologies Closed Permanently in Wake of Fatal Explosion.’

She could probably recite the article from memory at this point.  The surviving staff had been detained and their trials set for their involvement with the company.  However, from the way the article was written, it seemed like the trial was only for the sake of following due justice, as the ethical and human rights violations of the company were so severe and monumental that a guilty ruling was the only possible outcome.

The names of the subjects didn’t appear anywhere in the article, and there was only a small mention of their existence, that they were in transition programs and would be kept anonymous.  They’d been excused of any possible wrongdoing, which Natsu had told her before the article ever printed.  That was the last update he had gotten from his father on the case, who had suddenly told him almost a week ago that the investigation was far more sensitive now and he couldn’t give any more details.  And thus, Levy was left wholly in the dark regarding Gajeel’s condition and if he had even awoken yet.

On the subject of Dr. Porla, he never emerged from the facility, but his charred ID badge was uncovered in the rubble, and he was officially listed among the deceased.  Levy could only wonder if he had perished in the chaos… or if the subjects had found him first.  She bit her lip, conflicted on whether she was comfortable with either outcome.  In a way, she felt he should have had to suffer through the trial and prison time, but the subjects were still owed their own brand of justice for what they had been through.  But as much as she hated the man for what he had done, it was still difficult for her to wish harm on a dead man.  Still, all that aside, the knowledge that he was gone helped her sleep considerably better.  It was largely why she kept the article in the first place.  Printed closure.

An impatient yowl from her furred companion brought her back to the present and she looked down at the tomcat.  “I’m up so that means it’s breakfast time right?”  He answered her with a gravelly purr and the upturning of his nose.   She laughed a little at him and shook her head before shaking some kibble into his bowl.

She turned from him to set up the coffee pot and get it brewing before she went to stand in front of the double doors leading out to the back yard.  Winter had not let up on the thick white blanket across her property, but she could tell that today would at least be a clear, sunny day for once.  As time passed, golden rays started to poke through the trees, and she tried to focus on the beauty of that.  

Levy tried to keep from thinking about the times he had come through this door, or the time he left that massive dent in her counter that she tried to never look at.  She tapped her palms against her cheeks and turned back to the bubbling pot to pour herself a cup with cream and sugar..  Lily was crunching away happily in his bowl, but just as she was getting ready to pour her first cup, her cell phone started to chime from her bedroom.

She pinched her brows together as she walked quickly, surprised that anyone would be calling her this early.  Natsu’s name lit up the screen, which really only confused her more.  Tapping to answer, she addressed her friend, “Natsu? Are you o--”

“Levy!” he interrupted her, sounding almost out of breath.  “You need to get to the station right now.  It’s Gajeel, I can’t talk, I’m not even supposed to be calling you, but you need to get here.”

Levy felt all of the color drain from her face, and before she could so much as stammer at her friend, the line clicked.  In shock, she yanked her phone away to stare at the menu screen, trying like hell to even start and process what he had just said to her.

Was that good?  Bad?  He gave her nothing except a vague command and then hung up on her.  Before the thought of calling him back even crossed her mind, she was in the closet, grabbing anything remotely functional to change into.  Haphazardly, she threw on the layers and with her stomach in her throat, she raced out the front door.

She praised herself for having the foresight to put on her boots with the most traction, because otherwise she was bound to crack her skull at the speed she was moving.  The station was only a couple blocks from her house, thankfully, because any farther and she may have collapsed on the way from her pounding heart.

In fact she felt like she might as she burst through the doors of the station.  “Where,” she croaked, and the officer she saw first stood abruptly.  By the look on his face, it seemed like he had an inkling she might show.  And that he had been instructed to stop her.

“Where is he,” she persisted, heading straight for the doors that would take her to the back.  Before she could touch the knob, the other officer was already through it, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“You can’t be here, Miss McGarden.”

“Where is Natsu?  I know Natsu, I know his father; where are they.”  She would not let up.  If Natsu knew he was here, then Natsu knew where to take her.

The officer stared down at her with exasperated defeat, but still pushed back on her shoulders.  Levy shrugged out of his touch and took a sharp step back, glaring up at him.  Waiting for an answer or explanation.

“I’ll get Natsu, but you have to wait out here,” he said finally, waiting until she sat in one of the chairs to head into the back.

The moments after were so crushingly quiet that she felt she couldn’t breathe.  The world around her was barely awake and yet here she was more wildly alert than she had been in weeks.

Was he dead?  Had he not awoken yet?  Was he not going to come back?  The possibilities and questions swirled in her head enough to make her feel sick.  Enough to put her back on her feet and say to hell with whomever tried to stop her.  

Levy nearly knocked Natsu over with how hard she slammed into him bursting through the door.  Instantly his hands were on her shoulders to steady her.  “Levy!” he exclaimed.  “Slow down, I have to tell you something before you go in there.”

Her eyes flew up to him, instant worry on her face.  The tone of his voice turned her stomach.  “Is he dead?” was the first thing to come tumbling out of her mouth.  Barely a pause between the words and a noticeable crack in her voice.

“Levy, geez, no.  He’s alive,” he could see the relief manifest all over her face, “That’s what my dad was talking about, when he said he couldn’t give us more updates, “ the impatience in her face had him leaning back slightly from her.  “He lost his memory, Lev.  When he woke up he didn’t know who he was.  Mira knows he’s gotten some of it back, but he’s completely clammed up.  He said he wouldn’t talk to anyone until he got back to Magnolia.  They have no idea how much he remembers and this was their only way to find out.”

“How long,” she demanded, her voice shaking.

“Late last night, they had him in the second interview room.  Lisanna was on her way when I called you to take him to the apartments,” he replied, just as she started to push past him.  “Wait, don’t get all fired up.  Just be ready, alright?  He might… he might not know who you are, Levy, and technically you’re not supposed to be here.”

Those words warred against the relief that he was awake.  Alive.  Here.  Levy couldn’t decide if the memory loss was enough for her to worry over.  Just having him back here, safe, might be enough for her.  She steadied herself, gave him a grateful look, then brushed past him without another word.  She had only been here a few times before with Natsu and Lucy, but it was enough to know where she was going in the small building.

But when she arrived to the room she was looking for, it was empty.  Her heart sunk.  She couldn’t have missed him, not when she was so close.  Urgently, she whipped on her heels to head back out the way she came, only to come face to face with Igneel.  The intimidating man stared down at her for a second, before loosing a sigh and throwing a sharp glance over his shoulder to his son.  She could have sworn she heard a mumbled ‘of course.’  Levy fully expected him to stop her, to tell her it was too sensitive to be here, but instead: “They just left out the back.  If you’re quick--”

That was all she needed.  Levy was already sprinting for the back exit before he could finish.  Her palms stung with the impact as she slammed the door open, squinting into the now-blinding morning light.  But even with all the white, the black mane of hair was the first thing her eyes went to.  Lisanna and Mira were to his right, and he had an escort of two other officers with them.  

“Gajeel!”  Her voice cut through the frigid, quiet air, and all of them came to a sudden halt.  A sense of deja vu washed over her, and she prayed it would end better this time.  The Strauss sisters were the first to look back at her, then to the other officers with a silent ‘hold back.’  Knowingly, they looked at each other, then to Gajeel.  

Levy’s eyes were fixed on the very still Gajeel, no one else existed.  He had gone stick straight, she could tell even through the massive coat they put him in.  But he wouldn’t turn around.  Natsu’s warning repeated in her head, but still her heart hammered against her ribs in anticipation.  Turn around, god please, look at me.  Know me.

It felt like an eternity before he moved, turning his head just enough to glance sidelong at her with those ruby red eyes.  Looking at that face again, unreadable though it was, nearly knocked the air of out her.  Her knees wobbled beneath her, and her eyes started to burn.  She clasped a hand over her mouth, overwhelmed with the relief of seeing him there.  Alive, okay.  

Gajeel took a quick step back in her direction, turning more to face her straight on, his eyes wide and expression something between surprise and intense interest.  Like seeing a ghost, as the saying goes.

Levy took a step forward, mouth open with words she was trying to say, but couldn’t muster.  The lump in her throat swallowed them all, and she produced only haggard breaths.  Did he recognize her?  Or was he looking at a stranger?  The latter possibility, with him in front of her, now hurt a lot more than she had expected it to.  Still, the tears started to overflow, hot down her cheeks.

Then, his shoulders slumped in relief and tiniest of curls formed at the corner of his mouth, before…

“Shrimp.”  

A single word, but a word with so much power over her that everything instantly became clear.

An unrestrained cry escaped her, and before she knew what she was doing, she was racing for him the best she could through the snow.  Gajeel took several long, quick strides to meet her that turned into a sudden sprint when she stumbled.  In a flurry of white powder, he dropped to his knee and slid to catch her, colliding with a loud thump.

Gajeel wrapped himself around her, hunching forward, as she sunk as far into him as was possible.  Her face disappeared into his chest, tiny hands gripping the front of his shirt, and she nearly disappeared entirely under his large arms and the wrap of his jacket.  He took one deep inhale of her hair and a pervasive peace melted every tension her had been carrying in his muscles.

“You remember,” Levy whimpered into his chest, and a chuckle rumbled through him.  A sound that created a flutter in her chest; a sound she didn’t realize she missed this much until now.

Gajeel remembered her, and the poem she read him that night, the moment he looked at her photo.  He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know the people he was with, but as the last memory he had of her came back to him, he realized getting back to her… or at least finding out if she made it out okay, was the utmost priority.   He managed to get the chief to disclose that she was alive, but nothing else.  He knew they wouldn’t take him back until he was recovered, but he needed to be absolutely certain they would take him back to Magnolia.  He couldn’t stay there in Hargeon.  That meant not talking, or telling them what he remembered, until they took him back.  A powerplay, the best way he could manage.

“I remembered you Lev; everything else just came with it,” he answered, softly.  There was something restrained in his voice, joy perhaps, but she couldn’t pin it.  “It’s always been you.”

Slowly, as though she was afraid she might wake from the dream, she eased back from him and rested a cold hand on his cheek.  The affection in his eyes for her was enough to shatter her, and another sob threatened to break past her lips.  “You’re home,” she said, unable to hold back the laughter bubbling from her chest.

Gajeel smiled, not smirked, down at her.  Home, indeed.  There was no other way to describe her.  Over and over again she seemed to pull him from the dark, even when he had nothing left, no idea who he was, she was still the one to pull him back.  “You’re mine,” he replied, earning him an unreservedly delighted smile.  A smile that made him weak and sent his heart running double time.  Looking at that beautiful face, he realized it was now or never, and he had taken long enough with saying this as it was.  “I love you too, Shrimp,” he said, cupping her cheek with his large hand.  Levy leaned into the touch, welcoming it, and placed her palm over his.  

That was it, he couldn’t hold back from her any longer.  With a light tug, he pulled her back to him with no resistance, and brought his lips hungrily to hers.  She was pliant in his grip, melding herself to him as his other arm shifted to curl around the small of her back.  This was so different from their kiss in the lab, he couldn’t help but dwell on the details.  Levy smelled again like lavender, and she tasted like something familiar he couldn’t name.  Something he’d drank in a past life.  He could feel her smile on his mouth, and her fervent effort to remain close, to make up for all the lost time, created a powerful surge of emotion in his chest. 

It was over.  All of it.  Jose was dead, he vividly remembered what happened in those final moments the day after he first remembered her.  She was here, safe in his arms again with no devil on the horizon threatening to upend that.  And… and he was back in Magnolia, in the open and being offered a new start.  Regardless of whatever trials lay ahead to settle into a real life, the worst was done and he had her by his side for the future.  In his lifetime Gajeel might never be able to understand what he had done to deserve her or the life that now opened up ahead of him, but he could certainly learn to stop questioning it.  Every one of those details became so powerfully real the second he kissed her, enough to almost completely overwhelm him.  After a moment, he thought, why not let it?

A laugh tumbled out of him into the kiss, and she pulled back to create enough space between them to ask what was funny, but he was already scooping her up to get back onto his feet.  He swallowed her surprised yelp with another kiss, spinning on the balls of his feet and scattering more fresh snow around them.  Her surprise turned to muffled laughter against him as she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding tight to her dragon.  Tight enough that both of them knew she did not intend to ever let him go again.

Mira looked to her sister, a small smile on her face.  “I think it’s safe to say we will have no problems getting him to speak with us now.  Or settling him in for that matter.”  

Lisanna answered with a small laugh, shaking her head, “No.  No I don’t think we will,” she replied with a tone of relieved finality.

[marias-studyblr]

Hello I'm sorry to ask that but how did you do to lose weight ? I've been feeling really down lately bc of my weight but also my body in general. I'm not in a "bad" health, like my weight is what we call "normal" but I'm not comfortable with it.. as my mood is bad I don't have motivation and that sucks... so if you could give me advices it would be really nice 😘 thanks a lot

Hello and I’m the one who’s so so so sorry for the delay on this answer! I hope you still read it and it’s worth the wait/read ❤️

I’m not a nutritionist or a doctor, so all the advice I’m going to give you is born from experience of literal years of trying and trying to lose weight non stop. :)

This is indeed a studyblr account. But this issue is too important and close to my heart to not discuss, and also this health issue of mine has impacted my grades and my school life. Not to mention the damage to my overall happiness and self-confidence, as you explained in your question. 

If this was a simple how do you lose weight question I would say it’s simple, because everyone knows it - eat better and exercise frequently. However, this feels to me like a confidence/body issues question, and I’m going to be very thorough about it because it gets a lot more complex when you’re uncomfortable with your body. 

I think it’s important to answer this question well and I’m going to do my best. this is gonna be >>>

🌼  I N T R O

I completely understand the feeling of being uncomfortable with your body. The feeling of being comfortable with yourself is more complicated and worrisome than it may appear on a superficial level.

I didn’t grow up feeling comfortable with my body, I remember since 5th grade having my family, my swimming lesson’s teacher, classmates telling me my belly was big and “I looked like I was pregnant”. Without realizing, I became really uncomfortable with that area of my body,

and now, I consider it a beautiful strong part of my body, I don’t worry about sucking it in or hiding it and I don’t even mind when people touch it (idk if it makes sense but I hated it when people touched my belly and I tried to not breathe into my belly or make it bigger in any way). And I can really say this and mean it, which once I thought would be impossible.

🌼  I’ M   T H E   O N E   I   S H O U L D   L O V E

If we want to change for the better the way we feel - being at ease, in peace - we have to be the cause for that change. Nobody else. Not your crush, not your neighbor, not your parent.

The reason why I’m gaining health in a sustainable way is that in the core of all that is the work I did for my mental health that leaked into all areas of my life, including physical health and losing my unhealthy weight.

I had to go through a massive change of mindset and a bunch of realizations to start taking care of myself properly.

It’s so important to take care of yourself like you actually love yourself, like you actually matter, like you aren’t just a flop of meat hanging around just serving other people’s needs, dressing up for others, saying things to please others.

Breathing like you love yourself, walking, talking, working, eating, moving, exercising like you love yourself. Doing things for no other reason than to tend to your needs, while still maintaining a respect for others and for yourself. That feeling leaks to every single part of your life. And it makes everything start flourishing.

I worked and still work to have that feeling in a more persistent way but I remember when I realized I truly actually felt it in my bones and was starting to act accordingly, not too long ago, tears came to my eyes. I know it comes natural to many, but to me, it was never like that. And it’s so much easier to lose weight when you tend to that.

My first intuition is to serve others. I thought everyone was so much better than me when I was younger, I thought everyone was so cool, except for me. And it feels so great to know that we are all the same. No one is better or worse. No one has the right to belittle me. We are living lives in our own particular way and it’s ok to just… exist and be friends with people and not worry about pleasing everyone, and truly accepting your body figure how it is right now, and trust that you’ll get there somehow by building healthier, more productive habits in time.

Being more confident with the way you look and carrying yourself with grace is such a good feeling. And I want everyone to have that feeling, I want everyone to be healthy and strong. Because that feeling does impact your life in a positive way, even if it’s step by step. One step in the right direction at a time is exactly what we are looking for.

🌼  R E S T R I C T I V E     D I E T S

I’ve seen nutritionists give good advice and bad advice on losing weight to people who are self aware/conscious about their body. The bad advice I’ve seen is at the gyms my mom or my mom’s friends have stayed at. If people follow that 6 week restrictive diet plan, obviously they are going to lose weight… but at what cost? and to gain it all back again after? in my knowledge, most people don’t follow it, while paying for the consults and feeling guilty about the whole thing. It’s such an unhealthy experience in my point of view and if you’re trying to lose weight, it’s not something I recommend.

I love donuts and chocolate a lot for example, and I eat them and have eaten them while losing weight consistently. They are not some kind of poison you are guilty of enjoying once in a while. You are not different than any other healthy person. What I’ve figured out is that healthy people enjoy them too, but they just know how to do it.

It’s all about the quantity and eating smartly. You can still enjoy your favorite foods but in small quantities. I normally eat sweets after lunch and dinner, not between or at breakfast. For many reasons, but one of them is that way the small portions really satisfy me. I used to eat a lot of food but now I’m very mindful about the portions. If you could get one thing out of this answer is that PORTIONS ARE IMPORTANT. When I continue eating after I’m satisfied, it’s normally because I put a lot in my plate and I don’t want the food to go to waste. so now I pay mindful attention to that. And it has changed my life!!!1!1

anyways, I know those meal plans way too well, it’s all I heard when I was younger when I googled ‘weight loss tips’… i lost maximum 2 kgs in one and just gained it all back and more after giving up in the middle of it. And the reason why is not because I was weak or undisciplined, it’s because I couldn’t build habits with that kind of intention.

Also I hated to go out/my plans changed but I wouldn’t be able to eat anything because it wouldn’t be on my meal plan. I needed to build discipline to build habits and an intuition to know when I was full, not follow a stupid paper that doesn’t know anything about my body’s needs. We have to be able to act accordingly to our needs, not in fear of gaining weight.

My intention was just to lose some weight to look as skinny as someone else or to look good for other people :(dark thoughts… i know) and also as fast as possible. My intention was never health.

I still had to go through a lot of learning years to really get my intention right so then I could start building the habits that would allow me to lose weight.

**Habits always prevails**

Focus on building slowly the habits that will allow you to live a healthy life FOREVER, not just a 6 week plan. Think about the habits that are realistic enough but healthy enough to implement. Long term results is what you are looking for, trust me. Even if it takes longer to accomplish the same weight when you’re not hungry all the time, it’s teaching you how to eat in a normal way, which for me was very important, coming from a weird past of restricting/binging.

🌼 T E N D E R I N G   T O   Y O U   A S   A    W H O L E

The good advice I’ve heard from nutritionists includes a holistic approach.

Your whole body is interconnected. You can’t expect to change your weight as of right now in a sustained way without making serious changes to your mindset and lifestyle habits, because your weight is a reflection of your mindset and lifestyle habits, amongst other things.

Even though a 6-week plan might possibly give you a quick fix, it really doesn’t fix anything when you have body issues. Your mindset hasn’t changed, you still have the same habits. To me now it’s obvious why I experienced gain weight recurrences over and over again while following those stupid plans!

When you start considering your body as a whole, and not just the muscles, tendons and organs, but as a functional machine with needs and feelings, a lot of things start clicking and making sense.

Start thinking about the diet that allows your body to be given nutrients so your organs can function, a diet that gives your arteries a chance to breathe, an exercise routine that makes you feel good. Our intention should always be to make ourselves as healthy as possible. As strong, flexible, rich on the inside type of healthy. When we feel the healthiest, inside and out, we feel the happiest.

🌼 A B O U T    L O O K I N G    G O O D

I know to some it sounds superficial to worry about the way you look. It’s hard to grasp why we as human beings care so much about the concept of beauty. But it doesn’t have to be complicated. When I was still more unhealthy and unconfident, I felt it when I wore a new scarf, when my hair looked nice, when I had a cool pair of earrings… it can be from the smallest of things.

That feeling of confidence is not going to make you happy all of a sudden but I’m tired of hearing people underestimate the power boost and energy it can give you and downplaying it as superficial. I know there is a line where it crosses to vanity. But there is a middle ground between not taking care of yourself and vanity.

To a lot it comes naturally the process of hygiene, dressing your style, exercising, eating well. To others, it may not. I think confidence can be felt at any weight and appearance, but it’s a lot easier to feel confident when you know you are healthy and taking good care of yourself.

I’ve mentioned weight a lot, but know that health is always my number one priority and weight is just one tracker of your health. It’s an important tracker of your health, but it’s not decisive on whether you are healthy or not because it has to be very specific to your daily activities, your job, your height, your body type. And it’s not decisive on wether or not you should think as of yourself as good looking.

I think beauty and aesthetic, whatever that means to you, does play a role in our mental health. And I think only when we embrace that side of our human selves, without excess though, only then we can be truly confident and happy in our shoes.

🌼 W H E N   Y O U   F E E L   B A D

You can’t shame yourself into a healthy mindset/healthy habits. *say it for the people in the back!!* It has to come from a place of connect, self-respect and trust. Or you’ll just guilt yourself into worse habits.

When you have a “bad” day or a “bad” week, take responsibility in order to move forward. Be mindful of feeling guilty or like you’ve “ruined something”. Taking responsibility is different from feeling guilty. One helps you grow consciously and be better in the future, and the other doesn’t.

Every single day, every single week will not be perfect, but don’t let that week turn your habits around. Once again: habit always prevails. I see my habits as the foundations of my healthy lifestyle, as the foundations of a house. Wind doesn’t tear them down, just like a more unhealthy week doesn’t tear them down.  

The healthiest people I know don’t care when they have junk food for a meal, they just say “I’ll be more careful next week”. And they don’t even think twice about it. They move on. They accept it and move on.

If you practice it enough times, it becomes second nature.

🌼 B A L A N C E

I feel like when discussing the health of the body, one word that always comes up in mind is BALANCE.

Balancing out the body. I think we know what we need by intuition. We feel sick when we eat too much, we feel tired when we don’t eat enough. So a lot of my eating became guided by this inner intuition of what am I feeling. I’m always asking my body: “What do you need?”

Somedays I’m demotivated, tired, experiencing mood swings, I know I have to balance that negative energy with yoga, meditation, sleep, good food, hydration. I’m getting to know my body more and more as time goes by and a lot of my results come from that LISTENING. It’s listening yall!

And if sometimes you’re lost and you can’t figure out how to listen to what your body is saying, that’s what trackers are for. Do you need to insert a wider variety of nutrients in your diets? Do you need to improve your muscle mass? Are you underweight, are you overweight? What are the foods you eat the most and when are you eating? How many hours are you sleeping?

Don’t get overwhelmed with these questions though, they are useful to help you understand some feelings that you’re experiencing and help you get in the right direction, however, with practice, it becomes second nature to listen. 

🌼 D I S C I P L I N E

Another thing I would like to talk about is the role of discipline in a healthy body.

I think the word self-discipline in the diet or exercise context has a very bad connotation, like it’s a bad thing to be disciplined in your meals, or it’s a bad thing to be disciplined in your exercise regimen, because that means you will never eat ice cream again, you’ll always eat the same old boring things.

I know where that concept comes from, I’ve thought that myself, and I understand it. However, as of now, I see being disciplined around your eating habits as something very very good. It’s what has given me a lot of results, and it’s really simple, it’s setting a bunch of rules for yourself and following them. I’ve written more about self discipline, but in the case of eating, it depends on person to person.

There are things that I’m more flexible about and then things I’m really disciplined about. For example, I eat 3 times a day and at specific time stamps, and I’m strict about that. And what I mean by that is everyone has a different version when it comes to what, when and how they enjoy eating.

Discipline is not a bad thing because you can choose the things you want to be disciplined about. I enjoy donuts and chocolate.. so I eat them. I’m full after my meals so I’m disciplined to not eat until my next meal. I exercise everyday. Stuff like that. You get to choose what life you want to live through discipline and really think about your future. 

🌼 M Y   R U L E S

If you wanted me to say more specific things, like how much I eat in a day, or long I exercise for, I don’t believe those are actually important, because like I’ve said they are personal to each individual and each different needs and lifestyles, so I’ll just say my general guidelines:

walk everywhere. Walking is the most natural exercise and our body loves it a lot. it is highly beneficial. 

eat my daily servings of beans, vegetables, fruits, flaxseeds, nuts, whole grains. Start looking at food for more than just taste.

Do yoga once a day. 

be specific about your prefered meal times and stick with them. I enjoy eating breakfast, lunch and dinner. I drink water or tea in between but I don’t even think about eating between my meals because I’m so used to eating my meals at specific times. that helps a lot!

during your meals, eat until your satisfied! Don’t leave the table feeling hungry OR too full. Feel happy about eating your meal and appreciate the food in the table. It’s something precious and to cherish.

do other exercise frequently to build muscle and strength, so you can hold and carry yourself even when you get older.

🌼 F I N A L   C O N S I D E R A T I O N S

What I tried to explain is hard to put into words. It reminds me of all the moments I hid in the bathroom during PE, cried because of my appearance at night, was humiliated by insensitive people. And how getting through these memories and feelings can’t really be put into words because each person has to look inwards and find that in themselves.

Losing weight is not difficult for a lot of people but for me it always had other meaning behind it.

These moments can and will be replaced by self-confidence and good mental health in the present and future if you keep working on what is actually important - your health, your mental state, and your opinion about yourself. NOT pleasing others. NOT looking good in the mirror. NOT being at a certain number.

It has to come from a good place inside you if you want it to stay for good and actually make a good impact in your life.

It is a slow progress, but remember it’s NOT just to look good, it’s to live a happier life and your preferred lifestyle.

So answering your question: I lost weight by being conscious of my health. I was conscious that I was not healthy at that way, I was not strong, flexible, fast, at least not how I know I could be. I lost weight by striving to find balance, by listening to my body’s needs, by being disciplined on what I gave my stomach to digest, by stimulating my muscles and organs, and always keeping my own happiness as the end goal.

Because I’ve been doing it for a while now, it has become really simple and I eat healthier when I don’t overthink it. Don’t overthink it too much. It’s good to be mindful about it, but I feel better when it’s not constantly in my mind to the point it’s worrying me.

If you were looking for a quick easy way, this is not it my dear dear friend. the truth is you’ll need to work hard on yourself. However, just because it’s a long process, it doesn’t make it difficult. It’s fun to be healthy! It’s fun to exercise and do yoga. It’s fun to eat healthy and normal! We can all do it. You can do it. I can do it.

🌼 A    R E C O M M E N D A T I O N 

I always make this recommendation but let me do it again. One of the people who made a huge impact on my mental health and was a huge positive influence in my life was Adriene Mishler from Yoga with Adriene. I can’t even remember when I discovered her or how. I did her videos first on an off, and then things started getting more serious and now I’m literally practicing every single day with her for the past few months and I don’t ever want to stop. More than being a really beneficial physical practice for your internal organs, for your muscles and tissue, it’s a daily practice for my energy and happiness. It makes you reflect on the way you think about yourself and take care of yourself. When I’m frustrated I cry and find peace, when I’m happy I get even happier, when I’m busy and nervous, I find my cool and calm.

Her videos are the perfect accomplishment of body and mind connection and have helped me so much. So if you’re not already practicing with her, whenever you can, try one of her videos, 30 minutes go by so fast. She has practices for anxiety, stress melt, text neck, self-doubt, centering, finding stability, connection, creativity, for the future…all free in her yt channel. The more you practice, the more you’ll see real-life results and an energy and mindset that transfers to outside the mat. I really recommend it okay? okay. 

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. :)) I hope this helped in any way, please never feel embarrassed to send me questions about mental health/physical health. anything that I can help with, I will help and be open about!

as you can see I could write to you for 10 million light years and I would still worry about not getting my point across. okay now I’m really gonna go, sending lots of love to you 💕💕💕 I love you, stay well!