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solastia · 5 years

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Tuqburni | Finale - Healing

Pairing: Yoonmin x Reader

Word Count: 5,308

A/N: Here we go, the “Official” ending. I will still eventually put out “Finale: Heartbreak” as an alternate version for those that wanted her to move on, as well as a small epilogue later on (will be nice and smutty and set in the future). For now, though, this is the end. It has been a very long journey with this fic as life often got in the way, and I thank (most of you) for being patient with me. I hope you learned a few things along the way. Each and every one of you is important and precious, never let anyone make you feel like you are a second choice or inferior. All relationships are complicated and communication is key no matter your dynamic. But especially so in polyamorous relationships. If anyone ever makes you feel like “the other” or “the third,” talk to them. If they won’t listen, leave. Your worth is not based on other people. You are worthy all on your own. Also, the weekly plan that my character follows is a real system that works. It was given to me by my counselor who I thought was a nut herself at the time, but it worked so well. I’m still working through a lot of stuff myself, but this weekly routine saved my life.

It had only been a few months so far, but it felt like a lifetime.

Seokjin and Namjoon had tried to talk you into staying with them, but you’d decided it would make you feel too guilty to rely on them like that and invade their space. Instead, you were now renting your own apartment. It came furnished and the lease was month to month so you could leave at any time. It felt nice though, having your own space, even if it didn’t allow pets. Especially once you’d been able to reduce Jin’s visits to no more than three times a week.

Taehyung and Jungkook, friends of all of yours and signed to the company you worked for as idols, finally came back into town a few weeks after “the incident” while you were still staying with Jin. You’d forgotten they were due back and only discovered they were here when Yoongi and Jimin both showed up with black eyes and bruised cheeks. You had assumed they came from Jungkook - who had always looked up to you like an older sister - but you were pleasantly surprised to learn they had been inflicted by his boyfriend Taehyung instead. He had proudly admitted it during lunch one day while demanding a turn at petting your hair, and you wondered if he too saw you as a sister or a pet. Either way, you were touched that he thought enough of you to try to “defend your honor.”

Still, it wasn’t like you never saw Yoongi and Jimin. You still had to work with them, obviously. Jimin worked on the other side of the building, but he had taken to eating his lunch with you, and you were usually joined by Namjoon and Jin so you didn’t feel too pressured. There was still the looming cloud of ‘someday’ that scared you, but without being forced to pretend to be and feel a certain way every day you were able to look at him in a new light.

The Jimin that you saw now was one that you had caught glimpses of before. He was sweet and kind, but quick-witted and prone to just enough wicked humor to make him interesting. Unfortunately for you, he seemed to also be a natural flirt and making you flustered was as easy as breathing for him. After a couple weeks, you finally started to flirt back and the results were incredible. He would blush and act so shy that he would practically duck under the table. Seemed he could dish it out but couldn’t take it. Honestly, you were beginning to really look forward to your time with him every day.

With Yoongi, it was naturally a little harder. Your first day back to work had gone a long way towards smoothing things over a little. Yoongi had actually dropped to his knees and bowed along with his apology. He apologized for the way he’d spoken to you that day, as well as for dragging you down into the mess that your relationship had become. The two of you had cried together and hugged, and he promised to go to counseling as well when you mentioned you had signed up to see someone. Anything, he promised.

“I’ve been horrible and selfish, but not once did I ever stop loving you. I think I’ll love you until the day I die. I’m going to work hard to deserve even the scrap of affection you might still have for me. If you decide that you want to move on, that’s fine. Whatever makes you happy. But know that I’ll always be here loving you and you can come to me for anything at all.”

Those words felt like a tattoo on your heart. A promise of forever if you ever wanted to reach out and take it.

But first, you needed to learn to love yourself before you could accept it. You needed to learn to be strong and figure out more about you as a person before becoming a part of something so complicated again. Maybe then you would believe that you were an important part of the relationship, rather than a side piece or someone that they settled for.

The first step was signing up for a therapist. She was a little pricy, but out of the four other people that you’d talked to before settling, she’d been the only one that made you feel genuinely comfortable. You were pretty self-aware of your flaws and why you had them in the first place, so it wasn’t like you needed someone to hold your hand and drudge up every painful memory. You just needed help trying to get past it all and get to a place where you were comfortable with yourself.

The therapist was chill enough that even you thought she might work for Jimin and Yoongi as well, and they quickly made appointments with her when you told them. You obviously weren’t able to know what they were talking about with her, but you’d noticed after a few weeks that both of them seemed a little lighter. Jimin practically sparkled whenever he joined you at lunch and Yoongi was quick to smile when he joined you in your combined studio, sometimes sneaking a coffee onto your desk that was just the way you liked it. He’d even started bringing your dog Holly to the office every day so that you could spend time with him.

Jimin and Yoongi admitted that several of their sessions have been as a pair since they had the added trauma of Yoongi’s prior attempt on his life. They asked you to come to a couple yourself since you were part of it as well. You were the one to find him and help him through all of it, and they felt that it would help any lingering bitterness or fear from the incident would be helped that way. You agreed and started attending once a month as a group.

She was wonderful for you, you thought. You never felt judged, not even when you brought up the relationship with Yoongi and Jimin and how it was handled. She simply let you talk and then asked you what you wanted. To close your eyes and envision what you hoped was waiting for you at the end of this journey.

Yoongi’s face was the first thing you thought of and wasn’t surprising. That Jimin was right there next to him and holding out a hand towards you was. You wanted this to work. You wanted to be happy, and you wanted them to be happy. Without you, if that had to be it. With you would be even better. Somehow Jimin had slotted himself a place in your vision of the future.

One of her biggest things that she preached was finding a routine that made you feel happy and safe while building your sense of self. She claimed it was an essential part of healing for many, especially those dealing with past trauma like you. That while many of the tasks she wanted you to do seemed silly or self-indulgent, that in the end you might discover more about yourself and develop healthy habits. So, she assigned you a weekly routine to follow.

There was Me Monday, in which you spent the entire day “dating” yourself. It was a little difficult considering your work, but the day was essentially pampering yourself as much as possible. You eat what you want to eat, you watch what you want, when you get out of work you go do what you want. You use that day to get massages or pedicures. She said it was to teach you that it’s okay to be a little selfish from time to time. That taking care of yourself and putting yourself ahead of someone else on occasion wasn’t a crime. It was healthy because at the end of the day no one else can live your life but you.

Try Something Tuesday was essentially what it sounded like. You take that day to try something new. You tried out new hobbies, new activities. Anything that you had once said no to because you were scared, this was the day to do them. So far you’d gone to dance classes and discovered you were actually pretty good, went to play laser tag with Jin and his friends, and started biking almost daily with Namjoon. Jungkook has been trying to talk you into going skydiving and the fact that it terrifies you tells you it’s probably going to happen eventually.

Work through it Wednesday was the day you went to see your therapist. You’d work through the list you had to make throughout the week of things you wanted to cover. A lot of what you went over was stuff that you pretty much knew inside your head, but she would drag it out of you and once it was out there and being spoken about by another person, it helped to see it in a new light. She covered everything from your abandonment issues to the fact that you had never fully put your trust in Yoongi in the first place. That you had always expected him to drop you at any moment and when he brought Jimin in, for you it was simply confirming what you had been telling yourself all along. That you weren’t worthy of being loved and no one would want you. When that came out, she essentially told you to snap out of it. That you shouldn’t let your anxiety win. There was a lot more to it, but you were working on it.

“Them” Thursdays were one of the more difficult days. Since she counseled all three of you and all of your ultimate goals were to someday find your way back to each other, she allotted you all one day to spend some time all together. Nothing romantic or sexual - simply re-learning each other and discovering how you work together. The first few Thursdays had been borderline painful. You’d all met in a cafe for coffee and awkwardly sat around the table. Jimin would try to talk about funny things he saw on the internet or some anime he was watching in an attempt to kill the silence, while Yoongi usually seemed content to listen while he stared at you like a lost puppy. When it was obvious that something needed changing, your therapist suggested other locales. Places that would give you all a shared experience and something to break the ice.

The spot that finally worked its magic on all of you was the cat cafe. On your first visit, it was obvious as soon as you all walked in that Jimin was in heaven. He cooed at and cuddled every single one that would let him. You’d never thought of Yoongi as much of a cat person and figured he would just lay around and nap somewhere while you and Jimin played. He did lay out eventually, but was soon joined by at least six cats that all decided he made a perfect bed.

“Look, they recognize one of their own,” Jimin had giggled to you.

It soon became a place of comfort for the three of you. Somewhere that seemed to make you all happy and comfortable enough to talk. You were all very careful not to make promises, as that’s not what these visits were about. They were about healing. About getting to know each other on a new deeper level without the pressure of romantic entanglements.

It wasn’t like you all weren’t still attracted to each other, obviously. There were still moments where you would be laughing and glance over at Yoongi only to find him piercing you with hooded eyes, biting his lip in the way that you knew from experience meant he was holding himself back from kissing you. Even Jimin would sometimes flip a switch and go from a giggling dork to running his hands through his hair and looking like sex personified as he stared you down.

Of course, it probably also didn’t help that - unless they were lying - neither of them had even touched each other like that in months. They claimed they were staying in separate bedrooms and didn’t want to do anything that could jeopardize everyone’s healing. You mostly believed them because Jimin was always free of hickeys or other marks. Yoongi always left a mark. This made you feel both relieved and guilty. Relieved because that would mean if you decided to start over with each other, it would be from the beginning for everyone. You wouldn’t feel left behind. But you also felt guilty because it seemed like such a selfish thing to expect from them. To expect them to not fuck around when you weren’t even promising getting back together seemed messed up as hell. However, it was Jimin’s idea in the first place and Yoongi had completely agreed with it, so you supposed it was up to them if they wanted to continue that or not. It’s not like you’d know if they did do something since you didn’t live there anymore.

After “Them” Thursdays was Friend Fridays. Once you began to talk to your therapist more, you realized that your life had pretty much revolved around Yoongi to the point where you hadn’t even maintained or started any friendships outside of the ones you met through him or work. Which wasn’t too bad in your mind, since that meant you had Jin and Namjoon as well as Jungkook and Taehyung, and they were the best friends anyone could ever ask for. However, your therapist recommended seeking out friends of your own that wouldn’t be thrown into the middle of a war should your relationship ever go south again. Friends that were just yours that would have things in common with you and that you could count on to be there for you. This was all easier said than done, as it was hard for adults to make friends outside of work. But you did your best, chatting up other people that you met through your dance classes or other activities. You had a tentative meetup on your next Friday with some girls you’d met at the park. Yoongi was going to leave Holly with you after work and you were going to meet them there and have a meetup with all of your dogs. It wasn’t bad for a first step, you thought.

Sensual Saturdays was...well, pretty much how it sounded as well. It was your day to convince yourself that you were attractive and desirable. During your sessions, you’d apparently compared yourself to Jimin far too often. You often mentioned how much more beautiful you thought he was than yourself, how you wouldn’t be surprised for anyone to pick him over you. How compatible Yoongi and Jimin were in bed. So, in order to help you cease - or at least lessen - how often you talked down yourself and get you to view yourself in a new light, a day was set aside for you to work on precisely that. You would buy yourself lingerie and walk around in it at home until you were comfortable enough to actually begin to admire yourself in it. You bought a huge mirror for the back of your bedroom door and played with yourself in front of it, curiously watching your expressions as you imagined it was Yoongi’s fingers instead. It was definitely a work in progress and you weren’t sure you’d ever be considered on Jimin’s level realistically, but you were beginning to at least find it more believable when someone complimented you on your appearance.

Silent Sundays was a day you took to recharge. You left your phone on silent, you kept the TV off, and you ignored everyone. You spent the day writing in the journal you had to keep for therapy, going over everything that happened that week and how you felt you had changed versus what you felt you still needed to work on. You’d also read or draw, sometimes write lyrics, maybe do some baking. It was usually on Sundays that you missed your little house the most, as you pictured a Silent Sunday spent there instead. You’d probably spend it outside working on the garden in the backyard. Holly would walk back and forth between you in the garden and Yoongi muttering curses as he built something on the patio. Jimin would probably come outside to bring you both drinks and peck you on the cheek before he rushed back inside to watch his show, not wanting to stay out in the sun too long. It was such a believable scenario and you could see it so clearly that your chest ached with longing.

The fact that Jimin was always right there whenever you pictured going home wasn’t lost on you, either. You were beginning to accept fully that somewhere along the line you had dropped your wall of bitterness long enough for him to charm his way through and you were as whipped for him as everyone else was. For every thought you had of Yoongi, one of Jimin followed soon after. You’d imagine Yoongi’s sexy smirk and intense eyes, then Jimin’s lips and strong muscles. You’d think of Yoongi’s quiet thoughtfulness and warm heart, then Jimin’s kindness and cheerful energy.

Whenever you thought of home, you thought of them.

A decision would have to be made soon, but you were pretty sure it was already made in your heart. However, in fairness to yourself, you were going to do one last thing. Try to move on

Jung Hoseok was an absolutely gorgeous man. He was tall and lanky, but with the toned muscles you were used to seeing on dancers. And his smile was dangerous - one moment it was brighter than the sun with adorable dimples, the next it was a smirk lethal enough to melt anyone.

You had noticed him around the company before, but you’d never really talked to him. He was good friends with Taehyung and Jungkook, and Jin always spoke fondly of him, but back then you were just so wrapped up in Yoongi that only him and those immediately close to him gained your interest. You were a little disappointed you’d never talked to him sooner.

He was bright and loud and quite possibly the most fun you’d ever had on a date. He was proud and passionate about his work, loved his family and friends, and was absolutely perfect. And yet everything he did, you compared to ‘them.’ Or wondered what they would think. Things like, “Jimin must love this guy.” or “Yoongi would be wishing he would choke on a bread roll just for a moment of quiet.”

All throughout dinner you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t where you belonged and that he would never be the one. But he was so nice and kept you laughing with his hilariously animated stories that you couldn’t just bail. Instead, you stayed and ordered another glass of wine and giggled as he continued entertaining you.

An hour later you’re both standing outside of the restaurant making your goodbyes in front of your taxi when his gaze suddenly changes from friendly to smoldering. His eyes rake you from top to bottom and you remember that today was Sensual Saturday. You’d certainly dressed the part. He couldn’t see all the black lace lingerie you had on underneath your red sheath dress, but you’d unquestionably left little to the imagination.

“So, uh, it’s really unusual for me to ask on a first date, but...maybe we could take this to my place? If you want? It’s just...you are so fucking beautiful and sweet and totally too good to be true. I’ll even throw in breakfast, although I’m a shitty cook. But I’d make it up to you for dinner.”

“Wow. You have all day tomorrow planned too, huh?” You joke nervously. The two and a half cups of wine you’d had with dinner were settled comfortably in your tummy, warming you in places that made you think that just maybe you could go through with this. You weren’t blind - he was fucking hot as hell - but the thought of being with anyone other than Yoongi, or even Jimin, was terrifying. But your new motto of trying to do things that scare you, along with this being ‘Sensual Saturday’, led you to believe that you really needed to do this.

“Yeah, kinda pictured a day spent in bed, watching some movies, ordering Chinese...you can tell me to fuck off if you don’t want to or you want to wait. I won’t be offended,” he shrugs, his little grin deepening a dimple.

You sigh and grab his hand, leading him towards the taxi. “Tell him your address.”

His eyes widen like he can’t believe his luck and he stutters out his address to the driver. He leans back and buckles in before tentatively reaching over to grab your hand. It’s nice and warm, with pretty fingers. But even then you’re comparing his hands with Yoongi’s beautifully vein-laced ones.

The building you’re led to is a nice apartment complex - quite a bit nicer than the month-to-month one you’re renting but not fancy enough to make you feel out of place. As he excitedly pulls you into the elevator and onto his floor, you realize the light buzz of alcohol that was clouding your thoughts was slowly easing away, leaving the light thrum of anxiety and discomfort room to grow.

It definitely wasn’t him. He was sweet and funny and super, super hot - did you mention he was hot? He just wasn’t ‘them.’

You steeled yourself, however, because you owed yourself this. You owed yourself a chance to move on, to experience someone else. Surely this feeling would dissipate once you, you know, got going. People did this stuff all the time, why couldn’t you?

His apartment was nicer than you expected. Clean and bright, with cute little accents here and there that spoke of his colorful personality. It even smelled amazing, which seemed odd for a bachelor pad. Like citrus and vanilla.

Hoseok knelt down and helped you out of your heels before standing up to take off his blazer.

“You need a drink or anything?”

You shake your head, wanting to get started before you can talk yourself out of it. He smirks, obviously thinking you’re just nervously eager for him.

He walks up and cups your jaw, tilting your face up.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whisper, closing your eyes as he moves closer.

It’s a nice kiss. Slow and sensual, barely any tongue, and he strokes his thumb across your cheek the whole time. Any other person would feel excited and be touched with how sweet it was. It was like he was silently promising this wasn’t just sex for him. It only served to make you feel guiltier that you weren’t being totally honest with him.

When he pulls away, his eyes seem a little dazed as he escorts you to his room. Again, nothing to complain about there. The room is nice and clean, smells good, has a few cute Snoopy stuff animals laying around. He’s gentle leading you in and maneuvering you to sit on the bed.

His breath is shuddering as he slowly leans in to kiss your jaw and work his way down. You can feel a slight twinge of interest since your neck is one of your weak spots, but it dies down again once the expect bite never came. Yoongi was a biter and always left marks that you proudly wore, no matter how many people told you it was tacky. Your neck and chest were his favorite places to do it, so when Hoseok simply traveled around leaving light kisses and maybe a lick or two, you were nearly disappointed. Also slightly relieved because what if the boys saw a mark on you? You could nearly see Jimin’s eyes tearing up now.

Hoseok inhales and moans, making you jump a little because you’d nearly forgotten about him you’d been so stuck in your own mind. His hand slowly slides down and up, reaching under your dress. His hands are nice enough, but they don’t have the expert feel of Yoongi’s fingers knowing your body like the back of his hand. Or even Jimin’s - thicker and earnest to learn and please.

You cringe when he slips into your panties because you know he’s going to feel you’re as dry as a desert down there.

Sure enough, he pauses and his shoulders slump. He slides his hand out and peeks up at you. You can tell he’s forcing himself to smile, but his eyes are soft with understanding.

“I’m not doing it for you, am I?”

You rush to explain. “Oh, God...it’s not you. It’s so not you. You are unbelievably hot and funny, just so sexy and I really wish I could get out of my head, but...”

“Yoongi and Jimin, right?” You nod and he sighs, sitting up on the bed next to you. “Jin hyung told me not to get my hopes up, but you are so pretty and sweet that I think I lost my head there a little bit.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, turning to look down at the floor.

“Nah, I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t make you feel pressured or like you had to come here with me.”

“No, of course not. I thought if I just tried I could...with you. You are amazing.”

Hoseok sighs and smiles sadly, twisting your heart. If you were another you, not so stuck on ‘them’, you’d grab this man up in a heartbeat.

He chuckles and helps you up. “Fine, but let them know if they fuck up again I’m coming for you.”

You blush and let him lead you out of the room. “Thank you, Hoseok. If it’s not too awkward, I’d like to be friends. Not like the bullshit line people say when they really don’t mean it, but really friends. You can hang out with us in the cafeteria at work on Monday if you want.”

He looks surprised for a split second before the tension in his face melts and he smiles genuinely at you.

“You know what? I might just take you up on that.”

“Okay. Thanks, Hoseok. And I’m sorry, again.”

“It’s all good. You can still stay the night if you want? I have an extra room and I promise no funny business unless you ask for it.”

You giggle and slide into your heels.

“No, thanks though. I’m gonna...”

“Yeah,” he nods in understanding. “Be careful.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you.”

You escape to the elevator quickly, ordering a cab on your phone. When you’re done, you lean your head against the wall and sigh. Honestly, you’re not sure if you’re doing the right thing. Hoseok was incredible and had so much potential, but you’re you and you have to do what’s right for yourself. And given how much you can’t stop thinking of two certain people, your path is clear.

The taxi pulls up to the familiar little house and you quickly slide out after paying and just stand there, looking at it.

Home.

It still looks the same. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it still looked like home. Yoongi still kept up the yard, though your flowers looked like they might be struggling a little bit. He’d forgotten to put his basketball away again since it was just sitting there in the driveway waiting to get run over. Jimin must have been sitting on the porch reading earlier because one of his mangas was on the wicker table.

You take a few steps closer, amazed at how your chest felt lighter with each one. As soon as you walk up one of the stairs you can hear Holly at the door, scratching a little and whining.

“Yah, you mongrel. What’s your problem? You too good for the doggy door in the back now?”

You grin shakily as Yoongi’s complaining filters through the door. Once you’re close enough to hover your hand over the door you can hear Yoongi shuffling closer to the door. Your heart is pounding and you can feel your eyes filling up and you fight to contain yourself. You knock twice.

Yoongi cracks open the door, his confused expression morphing into disbelief once he sees you.

“Hi,” you say breathily.

He gulps and quietly responds, “Hey.” Holly happily hops all over the place and does circles to try and get your attention. You smile at him then turn back to Yoongi.

You both are quiet for a moment, looking each other over. His eyes roam over your outfit is wide-eyed wonder.

Jimin wanders in fresh from the shower, running a towel over his head still.

“Who is coming by this late?”

You poke your head to the side and wave a little.

“Hey, Jimin.”

“Noona?” He smiles happily, rushing over to join Yoongi at the door. “You look incredible. What’s going on?”

Yoongi already knows. You can see it in the way his shoulders have relaxed like someone just lifted the weight of the world off of them. A single tear travels down his cheek as he smiles softly at you.

“We have to keep going to counseling. I’m not going to go back to the way things were. We are going to be better than that. We are going to communicate and talk everything through. If I’m the one not talking about something I should, call me out on it. This is going to be equal and no one is going to feel left out.” Yoongi nods enthusiastically and reaches out a hand that you eagerly grasp.

Jimin gasps as he catches on.

“Noona, you’re back?”

“I’m all in. With both of you, if you still want me.”

You hold your free hand out to him and his smile grows bright as he accepts it and tugs you inside the house before enveloping you in a hug. Yoongi shuts the door and takes Jimin’s place when the other pulls back.

He cups your jaw and his face comes so close you can see his lip trembling with barely contained emotion. He sighs and lays his forehead against yours.

“Welcome home, Princess.”

Jimin wraps his arms around you both from the side, placing a quick peck on both of your cheeks. You blush and cuddle further into Yoongi’s hold, feeling right for the first time in a very long time.

You know it’s not perfect yet and you all still have a lot to work on and figure out, but for now, this is perfect.

Because home was ‘Them.’

#bts #bts fanfic #bts scenario #yoonmin #yoonmin scenario #yoonmin x reader #yoongi x reader #jimin x reader #bts x reader #tuqburni #solastia

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clansayeed · 4 years

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Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 32: The Circumstances (Epilogue)

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere, @cess02, @hellyeah90sbaby,

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The winds of change blow down the eastern seaboard all the way to New Orleans. While on date night, Taylor and Ryder join Katherine in finding out just how bad things are for their friends abroad.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Several days earlier...

By the time Taylor takes his fourth lap around the perimeter of their floor, Ryder decides enough is enough. Reaching out to catch his wrist before he can get too far — he pulls the halfling back into the booth and practically on top of his lap. It’s about the only place he doesn’t get any resistance these days.

Not-spoken too soon. Immediately the hunter has his arms full of squirming anxiety with blond hair and, upon closer inspection, a few scraps of skin missing from his bottom lip. Worn away by teeth picking relentlessly.

“Not right now, Nik,” mumbles Taylor restlessly, “I’ve just — I’ve gotta move. Too much energy, you know?”

“Oh, I know. You’ve been doin’ laps in bed all week.”

Taylor’s nose crinkles at that. Not because he feels bad about it or anything, but he knows how little sleep Nik gets as it is and the thought of being yet another thing keeping him awake just drops a cherry on top of his worries.

“… Sorry.”

For both their sakes it’s shrugged off; forgotten. For a lot more than that, too. They can’t afford to get into any argument tonight, no matter how fickle.

“I would’a thought a world-class actor like yourself would be better at playin’ it cool.”

Taylor blinks in surprise. It’s enough to still him for the moment. “I’m totally playing it cool.”

“Sure — and I’m a pixie.” Ryder jerks his chin up and out, motioning for Taylor to give a (subtle) look at the booths around them. Most notably how his constant round-and-round-and-round has them on edge too; shifting weights and too many drinks ordered to quell the jitters even for a crowd as uppity as Persephone’s.

Of course, being Taylor, he’s about as subtle as a freight train, but the point gets got.

“Sorry,” force of habit, “I’m just…”

“Hey, I get it. An’ I know it’s been a bit since you’ve been on a job with me but you’ve got to relax or it’ll all be for nothin’.”

A job; the way he says it so casually. Taylor scoffs.

“This isn’t just any old job Nik — and you know it.”

“Sure I do. But if we don’t treat it like any old payday things tend to go wrong. The pressure…” resting broad, scarred hands on his boyfriend’s trembling shoulders — thumbs pressing deep to try and relieve some of that tension, “will keep ya from makin’ the right calls when and where they need made.”

A few moments of silence and circles of pressure at the young man’s collarbone and eventually—finally—Taylor relaxes. Enough that Ryder can let him sit all on his own, even.

“We’re exactly where we need to be,” the man continues lowly, “nothin’ more we can do but watch and wait.”

But that’s all they’ve been doing; and Taylor has to physically bite his tongue to keep the words from being said. Ryder’s well aware just as Taylor’s well aware and pointing it out doesn’t do either of them any good. If it did then something big would have happened by now.

No word from Cadence. No word from Nadya — or any of them. Just a month of watching the news reports out of New York City getting weirder and more dangerous. A month… and tonight.

Come to Persephone. Just after sunset. Make yourself seen, and whatever you do, under no circumstances are you to approach me. Stay away. For your own good.

Doesn’t exactly take a spy-criminal-mastermind to figure out what has Isadora de la Rosa reaching out for the first time since the Council meeting Cadence had called. Something’s going on, something she can’t say to them in person or via letter or messenger. Something that made her shut down Flechette for ‘temporary renovations’ that definitely weren’t needed at the beginning of the week and kept her from responding to any of the fancy-pants official missives Vera had sent on their behalf under the title of the Smoke.

Ryder reaches for his glass and downs the last dregs of his bourbon with a sigh. “Still think we should’a brought backup.”

“Yeah and I’m still kinda disturbed by that.” It’s not an unreasonable reaction in Taylor’s honest opinion. Since when did Nik Ryder ask for backup?

Since recently, apparently. “I take risks but I know when they’re worth taking. And there’s not a damn thing that could ever be worth takin’ on vampires. Especially ones like Smith was goin’ on about.”

Old, bloodthirsty, powerful and power-craven vampires, to be more specific.

“Ask me nicely and I’ll think about it.”

Together Taylor and Nik whip their heads around so fast they nearly collide — and wouldn’t that have been something. But really, in retrospect, neither man is surprised that the booth behind them is occupied by a familiar cheeky voice.

Katherine slings her arm around the back of her booth, turning to face them with an eyebrow raised and less mirth in her smile than normal; which isn’t saying much. Unlike everyone else around the club (Taylor and Nik excluded; only because they spent their ‘Fancy Party Threads’ budget on more important things this month — like groceries, and Garrus’ rent) she’s kept her leathers on for tonight. Hair tightly woven in a long violet braid kept out of her eyes and with her muddy boots carelessly kicked on top of the shiny chrome table in front of her.

He’s honestly never been so happy to see her in his life.

Well… unless that time… nevermind.

“What,” she glances between them with mild amusement, “don’t tell me you two idiots are surprised. You’re like Tweedledee and Tweedledum without an adult to make sure you don’t burn the place down.”

Ryder groans with the effort of his eye-roll. “You accidentally let one fuckin’ elemental loose on an abandoned warehouse and never hear the end of it.”

“You couldn’t stop a fire elemental on a harbor pi— you know what, no, we’re not doing this right now.”

“You started it!”

“And I’m ending it —” Katherine swings her legs down and stands, cracking her neck side to side, “— especially since you can’t seem to banter and pay attention at the same time.”

They follow the path of her eyes down below, through the iron-wrought ornamental railing to the level below. Between the gambling tables, bar, and dance floor it takes Taylor’s senses a second to adjust and focus on sight over everything else — just one of those not-at-all-cute quirks that came with developing his fae heritage.

Lo and behold — and like she didn’t vanish off the face of the earth for a brief period of time — Isadora de la Rosa crosses the main floor of the club with the same confident stride she does anything. She doesn’t weave in and through the crowd; they part for her because they know it’s their job to. And those who don’t learn. Fast.

Even from this distance he can feel the nervous energy billowing out from her; thick like fog and just as unsettling. It makes Taylor give a full-body shudder. “She’s freaking out,” not that her impassive nonchalance would betray it, but this is Izzy de la Rosa they’re talking about, “like… heart-going-a-mile-a-minute you-know-what-I-mean freaking out.”

Ryder gives his fellow Nighthunter a quick jab with his elbow without looking away. “You get a personal not-invite too?”

“No,” she elbows him back—harder, “but I’ve been keeping tabs on her. Shiny Bentley picked her up outside Flechette about an hour ago… I must’ve beat her here.”

“Not like it’s a long drive.”

“So what’s she been up to for an hour?” asks Taylor, mostly to himself. It earns him two deadpan stares and a flush of shame. Because what else would the city’s most important vampire be doing before a social evening where the club offered everything but blood donors?

“Got it. Carry on.”

Katherine sweeps another look about the floor, focusing on the path Isadora leaves in her wake. “Weird not to see her tailed by… anyone. No guards, not even her daughters.” And her daughters go with her everywhere. That’s just one of those things, you know — facts.

“I’m more interested in who Izzy’s got at her hip, myself.” Ryder comments; and a second look proves him right. It’s hard to catch pairs in the fast-paced movement of dancers, gamblers, drinkers and already-drunks, but she isn’t alone. Whoever keeps up beside her, face obscured from this angle by a wave of dark brown hair, does so easily. A little too easily.

“Can’t get a good look at her…” He trails off. Suddenly, Taylor feels the burning question in his boyfriend’s eyes without fail.

A twitch of his nose — focusing as best he can… but it’s always harder with someone he doesn’t know. Harder still when they aren’t human, or alive for that matter. Finally Taylor exhales, face red from strain while he shakes his head. “I can’t get a read on her.”

Not even when the woman throws back her head in a laugh a little too loud; the kind of laughter that comes from the want—or need—to be seen. To demand it of anyone within earshot. Lilting and sweet and just enough to be heard over the club band.

Her fangs catch in the light of a chandelier overhead. As if they needed confirmation of what she was.

Beside them Katherine’s breath hitches; caught in her throat with an icy grip. Taylor tears away from their target long enough to catch a glimpse, to see if she’s okay, and holy shit she is not okay. “Nik—” She’s white as a sheet, just as fragile too. He can feel her from here, the terror that clings to every bead of sweat on her forehead, then on his own.

Ryder doesn’t even open his mouth before it’s all bottled back up. Kathy’s always been good at that. Even for an empath, Taylor can’t quite understand how she does it. It’s frightening, honestly.

“You know her then.” Ryder isn’t asking. Katherine’s hands tighten on the railing as she nods.

“That’s… fuck…” her shudder cuts her off, makes her start over, “that’s, uh, Priya. Priya Lacroix.”

Wait. “The fashion designer?” Just when Taylor thought he was getting a hang of keeping up with them, too.

“The former member of the Council of New York,” she corrects, “leader of Clan Lacroix.”

Oh. He’s caught up now.

Ryder’s frown deepens. “Didn’t Smith say she was one of the ones who…” He trails off; doesn’t finish the thought — or maybe he can’t.

It’s okay though. They were all there. They know how it would have ended.

The woman Isadora coaxes through a roped-off doorway, a friendly hand resting on her lower back, is in league with the King of Vampires. She sold out Adrian, and Nadya, and Nadya’s girlfriend, and Cadence and all the rest of them; a traitor in the name of power.

Not… the greatest look Isadora’s ever had. But surely there’s a reason… right?

Before the fae attendant can close off access to their private reservation, the woman herself stops and allows herself to take in the opulence of the club for the first time tonight. Not that it looks any different than normal… but everything makes a little more sense when part of her reverent moment includes looking directly up and right at them.

Taylor’s heart catches in his throat. He waits, and watches…

Isadora gives a tiny nod, barely a twitch, before sliding the mask of a smile back in place and joining her guest out of sight.

Like a gunshot Katherine’s up and starting off towards their level’s interior rooms. “Come on,” she snaps at them over her shoulder, “we can cross them if we take the back stairs.”

Taylor and Ryder scramble up to join her. But before he gets too far the hunter doubles back, swallows the rest of his drink in one large gulp, and jogs to catch up.

The back stairwell is usually restricted to attendants and other staff. Tonight is no different, other than the fact that they have need of it, so restrictions don’t really apply. They approach the locked door and Ryder manages to coax Katherine back, both of them giving the halfling a wide berth to do his work. Sparks at his fingertips, cool to the touch like a glass of water on a hot summer day, iridescent with no-name colors as they fall on the handle and lock. The metal sizzles where they make contact, a thin stream of smoke makes his eyes water.

But he’s been practicing quite a lot recently, and it doesn’t take long before his fae magic overloads any other; cancels it out and allows the door to swing open of its own accord.

“You’re gettin’ better at that,” comments Ryder; and Taylor flushes at the compliment. He takes the lead — always the first to run into danger. Taylor and Kathy keep close behind.

“Lessons with Elric have really been paying off. It’s not all giant black pyres and feeling your horniness before you do.”

“Was that a hint?”

“Surprisingly not this time.”

Beside him Katherine pretends to gag.

It’s a mad rush to the ground level. Hunters stepping back automatically this time, and maybe it’s just Taylor but the second lock doesn’t take nearly as long. He blows the smoke from his index finger like an imaginary blowtorch snuffed out.

Pushing past them both, Kathy pokes her head out first. There’s a stake in her fist that wasn’t there a second ago, aimed and ready, but the tension doesn’t last long before she steps aside. “Now we’re fucked…”

When they join her in the corridor it makes sense. Stretching out from their doorway left and right — it looks almost endless in the dark. He can’t even see the distant lights from the gambling floor. Just another of the illustrious wonders this place is known so well for — and so not the thing they need right now.

“How are we supposed to know where they went?” Taylor looks at each of the closed cherry-wood doors with growing dismay. “We don’t have time for this.”

“No fae magic trick up your sleeve?”

“I don’t have one for everything.”

“You had one for opening the pickle jar.”

Taylor scoffs indignantly. “That—That was a serious issue!”

“Can you two try and take one thing seriously?” snaps Kathy, hissing between clenched teeth. “Lacroix skins her houseboys for fun. This isn’t a dinner date going down.”

Nik really doesn’t like being scolded though.

“Then what is it, All-Knowing Kathy?”

“What the fuck do you think?” When she doesn’t get an answer; “Isadora’s part of the bloodline, don’t you see? Made by Carlo, who was made by someone… I couldn’t find a name in Cade’s research. But Carlo’s Maker was definitely one of the Augustine progeny.”

Butterflies flutter in Taylor’s gut as he thinks over her words. “So… what, Izzy’s on his side because of parents or something?”

Kathy hesitates to answer. Never a good sign. “I don’t know. I don’t — that’s why we need to find out what they’re up to. Now.”

The three of them keep close, in case the hallway is really as magical as it seems, and scour for any sign of… anything. Nik beats them out, pulling them back to him with a whispered “There—” as he points to the only light source around — was that even there before?

Ye olde gas lamp flickers a soft orange glow up ahead. A beacon in the fabricated night. And in front of one door no different than any other door, but for the waves of emotion—cruelty—bitterness—amusement—boredom—hunger—that definitely means they’re in the right place.

The trio hesitates several paces back, using the darkness as a cover while Ryder gives the door a more detailed look-over. “No guards posted,” —odd for a place like this, even Taylor knows that— “but the door doesn’t seem bewitched. If I get us close enough, Taylor, think you could use some of that empathy to hear what’s on the other side?”

If he can’t they’re sorta screwed, so better to try than not. The hunters slip across the hall with practiced stealth and ease; Katherine’s silent steps and Nik’s pretty epic (and definitely show-off-y) barrel roll.

They flank the door and wait—listen—before gesturing at Taylor to join. He just… tip toes over. No parkour needed. Joins Nik on his side and takes a moment to steady his breathing and focus with his eyes closed. They really don’t have a second chance at this.

Slowly the world around him begins to fade. The musty carpeting no longer tickling his nose; unable to taste the dryness of his own mouth. He drowns out three heartbeats all out of sync, the whistle of the air in a vent overhead, the hiss of the lamp above.

“Hey, Rook.”

“I’m kinda focusing.”

“I know. Look at me.”

All the sounds come rushing back like a tidal wave and Taylor opens his eyes a little nauseous for his troubles. He’s glad he did, though. Because for all their banter and mockery and how Ryder refuses to ever ever open a pickle jar for him, there’s just something about the trust, honest and open, that makes the man’s eyes light up from the tiny flame overhead.

“You can do this.”

The sincerity makes his cheeks burn all the way down to his toes. Taylor has to look away for fear of drowning in the combined emotion of them. “Was that ever in doubt?”

“Don’t make me answer that.”

Attempt number two. Closed eyes, heartbeats—whistles—hisses all reduced to something less than white noise. Pushed back until he can force whatever’s left of his senses both inside and out through the door like it’s a sheer curtain instead of solid wood.

Slow, steadily the room comes into view behind his eyelids.

Isadora sets her drink on the arm of her chair. One leg crossed over the other and the liquor in her glass jostles, ice clinking softly, but never spills.

“What your King — and you by association — seem to have a hard time grasping is that down here things are simply done differently. There are rules of decorum. Legalities; traditions of respect that are followed to ensure everyone lives… calmly at the very least.”

“Why would His Majesty give a damn about anyone else’s lives here in this miserable mosquito net of a town?” The woman’s voice pitches with unsung laughter as she speaks. Her fingernails tap-tap-taptaping repetitive on the side table where her martini rests.

To her credit, Isadora remains cool and level-headed.

“As I’m to understand it, all of the traditions carried out by our cousins overseas are of his making, are they not?”

“I guess so. I don’t bother slumming it with those gutter rats. If I’m in Europe, I’m launching a new line.”

“Then your Council, we’ll use that as a perfect example.”

“The Council is gone, Izzy darling. The Clans are disbanded, those idiots hiding in the tunnels have been smoked out. There’s only the King’s Realm, now.”

Every word seems to jab into Isadora like an individual knife. The glass in her hand creaks dangerously as she grips it tighter.

“Bully for him then. My point stands.”

“Oh you poor thing… I don’t think you actually get why I’m here, Lady de la Rosa. Which is sad, really, and totally on you for thinking you could get out of choosing sides.”

The other woman shifts, switches her crossed legs and looks down her nose at Isadora; there’s a first time for everything. “I couldn’t give less of a fuck about the way you want things done. Because that’s not how they’re going to stay.”

Isadora’s eyes flash dangerously. “Then enough of your placations. Why are you here, Priya?”

“That’s Princess to you, hag.”

“Ha, don’t make me laugh.”

“I’m not here with a request. I’m here with a command.”

“This is America, if you’ve forgotten. We don’t take kindly to kings here.”

“No, you don’t,” sneers Priya in reply, “but that’s only because you’ve been waiting for the real one and didn’t even know it. The throne is clear and the butt it was made for is finally seated and ready. His Majesty isn’t totally disgusted with the way you’ve been running things down in the South. You’re lucrative, profitable, and your family name inspires loyalty.”

“A concept you aren’t quite acquainted with, as I’m to understand it.”

Priya grinds her teeth together, lips pursed into a thin line.

“You don’t know shit. But since you think you do… let’s make one thing clear. My loyalty is to power. Whoever’s got the most gets my vote.”

“Kings aren’t voted in.”

“It’s a fucking figure of speech. I’m on the winning team, whatever. The more you pull this shit, the less likely that option becomes for you.”

A smart woman; always in control — Isadora leans forward and sets her glass down on the table before them before she plucks her response out of careful words.

“Continue then.”

Priya “hmmphs,” sounds for a moment like she won’t out of pure spite. But she’s here for one reason, and she won’t risk that careful affair she has with the new power in charge.

“The King is choosing to graciously overlook the fact that you should have already come to his Court to swear fealty to him. He likes your family line, or whatever. But it’s a one-time kindness.

“You, Isadora de la Rosa, are duty-bound by blood to serve Gaius Augustine. He’s the founder of your line — of all our lines actually — and when you took over the family business you took on the family oaths with it. You’ll come back with me, to New York, and take a pretty knee. Everything you do will be in his name, for his benefit, and in return you get to keep your weird little… playpen with the mortals until he decides otherwise.”

Ryder’s hand, heavy and warm against the ice in his veins, drags Taylor out of the room and back with the hunters. The man’s face is etched with worry; his expression grim.

“What’s the matter? What are they saying?”

He doesn’t waste time shushing — just focuses back on the vampires with a lump in his throat.

Isadora raises her chin slightly. “And if I do not agree to the King’s… generous offer?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

Don’t do it Izzy. He wants to scream; burst in there with Katherine’s stake and just do the thing. But he’s frozen in place. At the mercy of the undecided future of not just the city’s vampires, but New Orleans herself.

“Well,” Priya snaps with impatience, “what’s it gonna be?”

Isadora closes her eyes.

#bloodbound fanfiction #nightbound #nik ryder x mc #nik ryder #katherine nightbound #nightbound mc #mc: taylor hunter #oc: isadora de la rosa #priya lacroix #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: bound by destiny ii #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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khangowrites · 3 years

Text

Is it a Complaint Essay or is the Workplace Unsuitable?

Ah, what am I writing today? Oh, well I suppose it’s almost 12am. Seems like a good a time as any. I wanted to just jot down a few re-occurring experiences I’ve had in the workplace and sometimes in other social spaces, and attempt to analyze them.

CW: mild mentions of abuse and bodily ailments.

A bit of forward: I tend to mask myself heavily whenever I am in any social situation; whether it be at work, at home, with friends or online (although I’m getting better at being myself on Discord at least. I owe a lot to my friends who accept me and whom I care so much about.) What this means is I often plan out what I’m needed to say in advance of a situation. I have an arsenal of about 5 minutes of small talk before I tank and several small greetings/placations I can cycle through on any given day if I’m not overloaded. I also limit my natural inclination to movement.

It’s called unprofessional/unsightly to sit with your legs folded under you, or to sway and shake your arms and legs back and forth in time to music in your head. But it’s okay if you tap your pencil. Everyone does that.

I have to wonder how noticeable my ‘masked’ self is. How real or fake it appears.

There have been a few trends I’ve seen with the way people treat me as an employee in the time I’ve been in the workforce. For clarity, I am a 23 year old 5’1” AFAB person with a face that looks like it stopped aging when I was 12. I’m non-binary, but I’ve seen that many have a hard time using a different pronoun for me because I look ‘so feminine’. I had one old man repeatedly tell me that my body was too pretty and that I shouldn’t hide it and ‘pretend’ to be something else. I was and still am quite unsettled and disgusted by that comment.

I haven’t used my full preferred pronouns at work simply based in fear of being fired or discriminated against further. Same thing at home- I haven’t told all my family out of fear. I may look back on this at some future date where I fully respect myself and I’m confident. I look forward to that day.

Oh, and I’m autistic.

Perhaps it is one of these things or all of them that cause people to treat me certain ways. I’d like to find out.

I worked outdoors at an Orchard for a season. They called me Cinderella because of the way I looked when I cleaned. They gave employees gloves and heaters. Only not me. When I asked, I was given a broken one and told to fix it. A coworker who had intellectual disabilities and poor eyesight was not offered a heater at all. I did not renew for the next season. Kim and I stayed in touch though.

I worked next at a gift shop at a historical site. I loved the history and the old buildings, but the cashier work was admittedly difficult. Most of the employees were kind, retired old ladies who treated me gently, like a child. Sometimes too much like a child. The assistant manager seemed wary of me, and she often avoided me. I don’t know why. I’m not good with eye contact, and I always fear that people will mistake my zoning out as being creepy or disrespectful; maybe it was that. She never brought her kids with her on days I worked.

The head manager was courteous, but always called me Special. We had an older man work in the last 2 years I was there who had a strong inclination to associate with the children at the shop, and in turn, me as well. He would always want a hug or pat me on the back, but ignored the other workers. I told the managers my uncomfortable feelings about him, but it went mostly unnoticed.

When it was found that I was decent with computers, I was tasked with entering jewelry into the system and creating labels with number associations. I enjoyed it, and they promised me a decent raise. My pay was raised a dollar several weeks later, and I found myself being tasked with more and more computer work, to the point of becoming an office manager myself, earning a grand total of 9 dollars an hour while my counterpart who started a year earlier owned a home on the same work.

I left that job after 4 years to be the music director at a local church. I love music and was excited. Maybe too excited. I developed acid re-flux and was hospitalized the week before my start day due to a panic attack. I realize now it was from stress. I also had an ovarian cyst removed a year later- it took up my entire pelvis and its formation was also attributed to stress. I’ve since been diagnosed with generalized anxiety, and I continue to have ever changing digestive issues, muscle problems and panic attacks.

After realizing I was autistic and also non-binary, so much of the stress of life started to make sense. The past few months I have been making life changes, and working towards finding a workplace that is accommodating and safe for me. My stress has lessened.

I worked at the church for 2 years. My last day is actually at the end of this month. As is the trend, I was not treated with respect when it came to my job. My pastor started choosing the hymns over me, and would make comments about me during services. His favorite was to say that my music made him fall asleep, and wait for laughter from the congregation. He had no musical knowledge, and forced me to play every song as fast as I possibly could. He didn’t believe I could do my job. Any attempts at mutual work failed to manifest. I unfortunately was groomed by a member of the hiring committee there as well, a type of abuse I didn’t even realize I had fallen into until several months after it was too late.

I currently work at a high school as a choir accompanist. I use she/they pronouns there, but no one uses they and I’m too worried to be fully they like I am outside of work. I am wary of soiling my relationship with the director further. She’s quite religious in the ‘gays don’t have rights’ way, so I have my fears.

The director is kind, but sees me as this innocent child that happens to have natural piano abilities, and the mutual respect that I’ve come to dream of just isn’t there again.

The director has the key to the doors and lets students in without fail, but conveniently forgets to let me in almost every day. At one time, I was in physical therapy and had a hard time standing and walking for any period of time. I almost went home because she didn’t answer any communication, class started 20 minutes previously, and it was 90 degrees outside and I needed to sit down because my legs were cramping. She plans the music weeks in advance, but doesn’t give them to me until the day the students get it, despite my repeated asking for time to prepare.

One day I was on zoom and she and the student teacher greeted me and then ignored my presence and played the piano herself for class. She struggled with the parts and commented to the choir that, “wow, Ms. Khango is actually pretty dang good at this- that little girl can play!”, but didn’t listen to me when I offered to play. I left the zoom after an hour.

The online students seemed to share my surprise at least, and I am grateful to them. They kept me grounded and reminded me that I matter and should have the same respect as everyone else in the room, zoom or not. They talk to me about not being heard and their chats not being read during class. It bothered me, too. The next week I brought it up to her in the form of making sure the zoom students were heard and she quickly dismissed it, like it was a puff of smoke. The students online now ask me questions directly and I relay them. It’s met with annoyance by the director.

They have voices too.

One of the scariest moments of my life was last week- I wore my ‘disability rights are human rights’ shirt to school. (Okay, maybe not scary to some, but it very much was for me.) After class, one of the students came to me and asked if I could help him find a way for his grandfather to get a seat at the concert, as he was disabled and he didn’t know how to proceed.

It filled me with joy to help him, and it filled me with rage when the teachers asked if his grandpa could just get out of the wheelchair instead.

My overall conclusion to all of these things is that people simply don’t understand, or don’t want to because it makes their lives harder.

Is discrimination and ignorance really easier than respecting people?

I’m not sure if this is all just one big complaint essay. I guess it is. What I needed to do was write it all out. All the things that make me uneasy or feel like lesser of a person. And I wanted to know why.

I note that at every job I am perceived as a child, or as someone naïve. I am not treated the same as another adult employee. I was ostracized for my way of moving and talking. Taken advantage of. My needs were not accommodated.

Even now, I feel guilt for writing this, like I’m just playing the victim for attention or something.

I want to be strong enough to stand up to it and ask to be treated with respect and have it follow through.

I want to unmask myself more and let myself move and talk naturally, and use my real pronouns.

My respect for myself and for others must become a powerful force.

My friends on discord- my real, genuine friends, have become monumental in my life. Most of my life I did not have true friends. Without them and their unconditional love and support, I would not be where I am right now. We are all equals. I want to embody that strong respect and bring it to others.

It’s getting late. 1 a.m. now. Well, I have tomorrow. Plenty of time for Star Trek.

#workplace problems #actuallyautistic #essay #nonbinary #figuring out life

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soul-music-is-life · 4 years

Note

Hey!!!! I was wondering if you could do like the tiniest Drabble of em and Ali finding out their having another baby? That Ali’s pregnant with Sam?

The lovely people in my asks: “Emison prompts please?”

Me: *re-emerges years after apocalypse, sees asks are still in inbox, waves arms around in vast wasteland shouting* “DID SOMEONE SAY EMISON?”

You all have been asking for quite some time. Sorry the delivery has taken forever. Apparently the package got lost in the mail. Or the delivery driver read it and liked it and decided they wanted to keep it all to themselves.

Seriously though, I haven’t forgotten about you all. I think about my PLL fam often. The state of the world has been a bitter pill to swallow for a lot of people, especially during quarantine. It’s an isolating time. I know the importance of needing an escape. I’ve been working on my Emison fics “The Dawn of Autumn” and “The Heart of Beacon Heights” but haven’t done a little ficlet in ages. I have so many sweet and loyal people who still follow me despite my years of fictional torture. And I just wrote this fluff as a thank you. Hope that it brings a little light into the world. We need more of that good light.

This is unedited. I wrote it in about half an hour at 2 in the morning, so if you find mistakes please send your notes to my inner critic. She will deal with them promptly.

***

Alison was hunched over on the edge of the bed, her knees bouncing as she anxiously tapped her feet against the carpet. She rubbed her palms against her jeans and exhaled a heavy breath.

Not many things made her nervous. She’d gone through a lot over the years. It had helped her develop a heavy outer armor. She had learned how to face adversity with her head held high. She had gone through a tremendous amount of growth with the help of Emily’s love and the love of their children. And several years of therapy.

Her most recent session had her opening up about her fears and insecurities as a mother, and about whether or not she wanted to carry another child.

She felt the bed shift and then felt a comforting hand in between her shoulder blades.

Emily’s warmth was a force in her life that nothing else had ever come close to. Nothing compared to the way she felt about her wife.

The brunette was always there to calm her nerves. Every time. They’d been faced with some incredibly hard times. They’d endured a lot.

Even after everything had settled down...after all the torture had stopped...after they’d found their bliss...things still weren’t perfect.

They’d talked about expanding their family for a while. They’d been waiting until they’d found some stability, both emotionally and financially. After Alison landed her job as a professor at Hollis and Emily got her position at a prestigious swim academy that trained young hopefuls for the Olympics they’d found a stride...a balance between work and home.

That’s when the talks of having another baby had come up. They’d discussed it for months. The girls were old enough that they’d established a certain independence. And Alison and Emily missed having a little one around. Grace and Lily had stopped wanting to cuddle after they started middle school. They missed it.

Emily wanted to carry, so they’d gone through the process. They’d tried several times. The first time it didn’t take. The second time it took, but after six weeks they’d lost the baby.

It had been difficult to waver. Emily had wanted to try one more time, but after some routine testing her doctor discovered that she had uterine damage that made it very unlikely that she’d ever be able to carry a child to term. It had gone undiagnosed previously, but they found out it was from ill-effects from the torture she’d endured over the years.

That had left them with the choice of adoption or giving Alison the opportunity to carry.

Emily didn’t want to push her into it. She knew that Alison didn’t have fond memories of her previous pregnancy. She knew that having the twins had damaged her psychologically. So she didn’t ask.

They’d been laying in bed looking at adoption brochures one night when out of the blue Alison told Emily that she was open to the idea of carrying the baby. She’d been working through a lot of her past in therapy and she thought she was ready for the next step.

“Are you sure?” Emily had gently taken the brochure out of Alison’s hand. She would love any child that came into their lives. She didn’t want Alison to feel pressured. “You’re sure you’re ready?”

“I wasn’t at first. But I can’t let my past control me forever. There’s something about this...” She’d chewed on her lip.

Color flushed her cheeks and she smiled softly. The same vulnerable smile that Emily had seen hundreds of times when they were in high school. The smile that was reserved for her. And her alone.

“I know what happened with Lily and Grace wasn’t...we didn’t exactly ask for it or plan it. But I wouldn’t trade those girls for anything.”

“If Grace keeps mouthing off to her teachers I might consider trading her.” Their wild child was constantly in some kind of trouble.

Alison laughed. She appreciated Emily’s unwavering sense of humor. It helped calmed her racing mind.

“You know, that pregnancy...God, it was so hard...”

“I know.” Emily took her hand and peered at her with a soft expression.

It was a look that could only be shared and understood between the two of them. Because they both knew what it was like to have choices taken away from them...to have things thrust upon them that could never be completely overcome. It was something they would live with for the rest of their lives. But they shared that pain. They’d gone through that tumultuous journey together.

“I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting about this. And even though the pregnancy with the twins...it...it nearly destroyed me...”

Emily saw her retreating into herself sometimes when she thought back over those memories. But there was something different in her expression tonight. A newfound sense of confidence. It’s like she had chosen a direction, and she knew exactly where she was going.

“This isn’t the same. I...I want this. We’ve wanted this for so long, Em. And I realized that I actually have a choice this time. And it clicked. That’s what’s important to me. I...” she’d paused and then looked up at Emily, “WE...we get to make the decision this time. And that’s the biggest difference.”

She had watched Emily with their girls over the years, and she had fallen even more in love with her than she realized was possible. She was a beautiful person and a beautiful mom. And Alison woke up every morning thankful that someone like Emily loved someone like her.

Their family had started out from a broken place, but they’d picked up the pieces together and they’d created something beautiful along the way. And Alison wanted more of that.

She had threaded her fingers between Emily’s, interlocking their hands. She’d put her other hand on top of their joined fingers.

“I want to do this for us. I want to have our baby.”

Emily had been completely speechless. Alison was constantly surprising her with her courage and the depth of her strength. How was it possible she’d taken for granted just how incredibly resilient the blonde was? She looked at her and she saw the epitome of determination. A fighting spirit.

She was certain she’d never loved her more.

“I love you so much.” Emily turned towards Alison with a watery smile. She reached up and placed her palm against the side of Alison’s neck, leaning forward to capture her lips.

Alison could feel her emotions in her movements. She could feel it in the way that Emily gently stroked her cheek and brushed her hair aside.

“I love you, too.” Alison pulled back, tears of joy in her eyes.

There were moments in life that defined certain unspoken love between two people. There were moments that put them in a world all to themselves, where all there was...all that existed...was their love. Sometimes words were meaningless. Sometimes it was quiet little moments that people shared in which the most powerful exchanges of love were experienced.

Emily gently cupped Alison’s face and kissed her forehead tenderly. The warm smile on Emily’s face had sparked an even deeper meaning behind Alison’s choice. She looked at her wife and she saw pure joy. And she felt pure joy. She looked at Emily and she knew that everything was going to be okay. She knew that no matter what...they were going to be okay.

She had the most loyal woman in the world by her side. It had stripped her of her nerves that night. She knew they’d made the right decision for their family. In an odd way, it had taken the looming pressure of her past off of her.

But that had been months ago. Months before the fertility treatments and the hormone injections and the IVF procedure. That had been months before she’d started hoping and wishing. Months before she’d started picturing their child. What their baby would look like. How much her heart would melt when she saw their baby for the first time...first smile...first laugh. She started picturing what they wanted.

And now she was terrified they wouldn’t get it. They’d already had two failed attempts. Could they survive a third? They had spent their entire lives waiting for the other shoe to drop. Any time something good happened in their lives they were inevitably faced with something bad that ripped their happiness away from them.

When they’d bought the test Alison had felt her anxiety rising. The nerves had returned.

She glanced over at the pregnancy test on the edge of the dresser. She’d been shaking so much after she’d taken it. Emily had led her to the bed and made her sit down and take several deep breaths. She didn’t want Alison to stress herself into an anxiety attack.

They’d set the timer and had been waiting together. It felt like it was taking an eternity. The last time she’d taken a pregnancy test she’d been physically repulsed at the idea of having a child. But this time she was experiencing a painful worry that she wouldn’t have a child.

Emily could feel Alison’s tension underneath her touch. She wrapped her arm around Alison’s shoulder and pulled her in for a hug. She kissed her temple.

“Ali, relax.” She pulled her close. “Whatever the outcome...we’re in it together, okay?”

Alison nodded nervously. Her mouth felt dry and sticky. She reached for the bottle of water that Emily had brought to her and took a sip.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so impatient waiting on test results.” Alison curled her toes against the carpet.

“Remember when we were waiting on the girls’ placement tests?” Emily tried to take Alison’s mind off of the ticking time.

“Don’t remind me.” Alison scoffed.

Grace had tried to cheat by writing the answers on the back of her water bottle label. It was actually ingenious. If she put half as much energy into her school work as she spent trying to get around her school work she’d be at the top of her class with her sister.

“I thought Lily was going to have a nervous breakdown waiting for those results.” Emily reminisced.

Lily had always been their studious child. She was introspective and as sharp as a tack.

“What did we do to calm her down?” Alison asked.

“We rubbed bourbon on her gums and sang her to sleep just like when she was teething as a baby.” Emily waggled her brows with a grin.

Alison playfully smacked Emily’s arm. She’d forgotten all about when the girls were teething. That had been hell. But it had been worth it. There had been moments that her innocent little babies looked up at her with wide-eyed wonder that she’d never seen before. And it made her feel serene. She couldn’t wait to feel that again.

“Pretty sure we bought her a cell phone and told her to obsess over social media like a normal child,” Emily said. She shook her head. “That child and her test anxiety...I swear.” She glanced at Alison with a lighthearted smile. She poked Alison. “Wonder where she gets that from.”

“You know, we’ve spent so much time teaching them about the importance of rising to the occasion and passing their tests with flying colors. But this is the one test I wouldn’t want Lily and Grace to pass.”

Emily made a face.

“God, we’re almost at the point where we need to sit down and have that conversation with them, aren’t we?”

“That’s all you. I handled the potty training. You handle the ‘don’t have sex or else your mothers will kill you’ thing.” Alison smiled.

“Or...we could teach them to be responsible about it. I’m not into scare tactics. They tend to have the opposite effect on people.”

Alison nodded in agreement. She’d certainly rebelled against her parents when they’d told her not to do things. Emily had, too.

“Whatever works. As long as we keep them off the pole and they don’t come home pregnant.”

“What a charming thought. You’re such a romantic.” Emily rolled her eyes, gently bumping against her with a playful smile.

“They’re good girls.” Alison felt herself relaxing. Her children had a way to her heart. “You think they’ll be okay with all of this?”

They’d spoken with the girls about the fact that they were trying to have another baby, but Lily and Grace had sort of waved it off like it wasn’t a possibility. Then again, they were just coming into their own as young teenagers, so they rarely listened to a word their mothers said.

“They’ll be fine,” Emily dropped her hand to Alison’s back and rubbed circles against the tension she was carrying.

Alison reached out and touched Emily’s knee, commanding her attention, drawing Emily’s eyes towards hers. Her lips twitched. A loving smile washed across her face.

“I really love you, you know.” She let out a content sigh.

“Well, I would hope so considering we’re married.” Emily grinned at her.

She got a lot of joy out of teasing Alison. She liked to see the spark in her eyes when she was flustered.

“Seriously.” Alison moved her palm up against Emily’s side, her fingers resting against her ribs. “I don’t think I realized how little I knew about love before you and the girls came into my life. It’s so much bigger than I ever knew. Have I ever thanked you for being so wonderful?”

“You don’t have to thank me for loving you, Alison. It is the most natural thing in the world for me.” Emily leaned over, their lips meeting for a chaste kiss. “I would do it over every time.”

“Maybe with a little less torture.” Alison added.

Emily chuckled.

Alison glanced at the timer. She watched as the clock rolled backwards from the sixty second mark. She felt her stomach tightening up in knots. Her heart started hammering in her chest. Her palms felt clammy.

“Breathe, sweetheart.” Emily tugged her into another hug, resting her chin on top of Alison’s head.

“I can’t believe how much I really want this,” she uttered under her breath.

It had been different with Lily and Grace. She certainly loved her little girls, but that pregnancy had been hell for her. She felt like she’d been alone on an island in the middle of a hurricane. She remembered feeling like her lungs were filling with water. But this time she felt like she was jogging along a beautiful beach...pushing desperately to reach a perfect destination with Emily in sync with her every step...right beside her.

She reached for Emily’s hand just as the timer beeped. Her head whipped towards the test on the dresser, but she looked away at the last second.

“I can’t look.” Alison shifted her feet and stood up, turning away from the dresser. She glanced at Emily. “Would you...”

Emily nodded, not needing to be prompted. She walked over to the test and picked it up to observe it.

Alison looked at her in anticipation, eagerly rubbing her hands together and licking her lips.

Emily pressed her lips together in thought, tilting her head with a furrowed brow, her eyes narrowed in concentration. Her mouth was twisted. Her nose was crinkled.

“Oh.” Alison felt deflated.

“Ali...” Emily slowly looked up at her.

Normally the blonde could read her wife like a book, but there was an expression in her eyes that she couldn’t decipher.

“Oh, God. It’s negative, isn’t it?” Alison dropped her head in defeat. They knew there was a possibility. They’d been through it before.

“Alison...”

“We...we’ll try again.” Alison cut her off. She reached up, running her fingers through her hair.

She was so consumed by her disappointment that she didn’t realize that Emily had moved next to her. She hadn’t seen the smile on her face.

“Hey...” Emily touched her cheek to get her attention.

Alison froze in place. She saw a glint in Emily’s eyes, a shocked expression on her face. She seemed to be having a hard time finding the right words to say. Tears were pooling in her eyes, but she was smiling.

Emily lifted the test up and Alison took it from her, her heart suddenly beating faster. Because she realized that the tears in her wife’s eyes were not tears of sorrow. They were tears of joy.

Alison stared at the positive test, a surprised laugh coming out of her mouth. Her eyes welled up with tears.

She looked at Emily. The brunette put her palm against Alison’s belly, knowing a bump would soon be growing.

“We’re going to have a baby.” Emily laughed through her tears.

Alison reached down and put her hand on top of Emily’s hand, holding it in place as she let the news sink in. Their baby was already growing. Their child was already carving out a space in their hearts. It was a glaring reminder that as they went about their daily business...they wouldn’t be alone. There would be a little child...a little piece of their heart coming to life.

She pictured tiny little hands. Baby toes. A button nose. Sweet coos and giggles. And the most kissable little face in the world.

After a few seconds she lurched forward, wrapping her arms around Emily’s neck. Joyous laughter filled the room.

“Oh my God! We’re having a baby!” Alison hung off of Emily’s shoulders and pulled back to press a hard kiss against her lips.

“A little you.” Tears were rolling down Emily’s cheeks. But she couldn’t stop laughing.

“Let’s hope this one takes after his or her Mama. I can’t deal with more of my attitude reflected back at me.” Alison sniffled, her cheeks rosy.

Emily looked at her, and she could suddenly see it. The glow. She wasn’t sure how she’d missed it before. She didn’t know why she’d doubted that the pregnancy would happen. Alison had been practically glowing for weeks. She could see a beautiful radiant aura around her.

Alison saw the adoration in her wife’s eyes. She shot her a bashful smile. It was crazy that after so many years together that Emily could still make her feel like she was back in high school, falling in love for the very first time. She still felt like that young kid crushing on her best friend. She felt loved in a way she’d never been loved.

Their hands naturally linked together. They shared a quiet intimate moment. The air in the room was tangible. Alison took a quivering breath, trying to center herself. Emily cupped her cheek. As always, Emily helped center her.

The moment was interrupted by a loud clatter and two squabbling teens.

“MOMS!” Grace burst into the room. “Lily stole my phone and changed the password, and I can’t get past the lock screen.”

“I’ll give you the password when you take down that picture you posted of me when I was being potty trained.” Lily had a smarmy look on her face.

She knew exactly how to get under her sister’s skin.

“I only put it up because you put up the video of me crying after a frog jumped on my arm.” Grace shoved her sister.

They spun towards their mothers to mediate their fight, but then they saw the tears.

Their faces dropped. They shot each other worried looks and then looked back at their parents. Grace’s brow was tight. Lily had her lips pressed into a thin line. They looked just like Emily when they were concerned.

“What’s wrong?” Grace’s voice quivered.

“Did something happen?” Lily echoed her sister’s worry.

“Is it Grandma? Is she okay?” A hint of panic reverberated in Grace’s tone.

“Grandma is fine.” Emily put her arms up in a calming manner. “Everything is okay, girls.”

“Then why are you crying?” Lily asked.

Emily and Alison looked at one another, smiling. Alison nearly bit through her lip in excitement.

She was pregnant. They were having another baby.

“Well...there is something your mother and I need to tell you,” Emily said, glancing at the pregnancy test in Alison’s hand. The girls hadn’t seen it yet. “We’ve got some good news.”

She grabbed Alison’s free hand and they gave each other a loving glance.

“Okay, you two are being weird.” Lily made a face.

Emily couldn’t help but laugh. Her little Lily was ever the cynic.

“You know how we’ve been talking about expanding our family?” Alison asked.

“Oh, are we finally getting a dog?” Grace lit up in excitement.

“Not exactly,” Emily said. Though, that was on the table, too. The girls had been begging for a dog for years.

“Girls...”

Alison moved forward, gripping the test in her hand like a lifeline. She glanced at Emily again before facing Lily and Grace, who were looking at her eagerly.

“Your mother and I...we’re...” She felt a fluttering sensation in her chest. A warmth.

Seconds later Emily was next to her, her arm around her shoulder. Alison smiled at her.

“We’re having a baby.” She held up the pregnancy test. “I’m pregnant.”

There was a quiet pause, but then both girls gasped in delight.

“You’re pregnant?” Lily’s face brightened. Her jaw dropped. She had a huge smile on her face.

“Yeah.” Alison still couldn’t believe it herself.

“For real? We’re going to have a little sister?” Grace asked.

“Or brother,” Lily said. She threw her hands up and squealed. “This is so exciting. Finally, a sibling that will be a much less pain in the ass.”

“Oh, you wish. This kid is so going to like me better.” Grace scoffed. She looked at Alison. “Is that the test?”

“Mmmhmm.” Alison nodded, extending it out to Grace.

Grace didn’t even bother to grab it from the sterile end. She was too caught up in the moment. She looked at the positive result.

“This is super cool.” Grace smiled. She looked at Lily. “Check it out, Lil. Proof that someone else in this family is going to be cooler than you.”

“You know she peed on that, right?”

“Ew.” Grace suddenly held the test out like it was dynamite, handing it back to her mother.

“So...” Lily looked at Alison curiously. “Can you feel the baby yet?”

“Not yet. But we’ll get there.”

“I read that sometimes if you touch someone’s belly when they’re pregnant that you can feel things. Can we try?” Grace asked.

Alison and Emily laughed. They were overjoyed when the twins reached out to touch Alison’s stomach. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t very far along yet. The sentiment behind the bonding was real.

“That’s our little brother or sister in there.” Lily grinned, her palm on Alison’s stomach.

“What if it’s both?” Grace smirked.

“Don’t even joke about that.” Alison laughed.

But she didn’t hate the idea. It wouldn’t be easy having four kids, but she wouldn’t be upset if it happened.

“This is amazing.” Lily looked up at her mothers, a sincere expression on her face. “We know you’ve been trying...”

“Yeah. And we’ve been hoping this would happen.” Grace added.

“I know we give you guys hell sometimes, but you’re really amazing moms. And this baby is very very lucky to have you.” Lily smiled.

“To have us.” Grace corrected her.

Normally, Lily didn’t like it when Grace corrected her, but it didn’t bother her in this instance. She leaned into her mothers, wrapping them in a hug. Grace followed suit, embracing them all.

Emily and Alison smiled at one another as they bathed in their family’s affection. There was nothing quite like having a home in the hearts of the people you loved most, a safe place in the storm of life. They didn’t love anyone in the world like they loved their children. Their lives had only just begun after Lily and Grace were born. And they couldn’t wait for the next chapter.

They couldn’t wait to see the ways in which this baby was going to change their lives for the better, to complete their family.

#Pretty Little Liars #PLL #Emison #Emily Fields #Alison DiLaurentis #prompts

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mybeloved73 · 4 years

Text

My name is Chelsea and I’m a ITU Nurse.

I’m also a newly qualified nurse - I literally left Uni last year and began my job in the September.

My background - I didn’t always want to be a nurse. I wasn’t cut out for that sort of compassion or care. I dreamt of being a PT, an athlete, anything that was sports driven.

Until my boyfriend had a bike accident, that then left him in ITU. He later succumb to his injuries and passed away. The nurses looking after him, changed my life. Shining light kind of moment - I want to be just like them kind of thing.

Granted it took me 4 years to build up the courage, battling my PTSD, severe depression and anxiety to even apply to uni. But I did it - and Sept 2019 I got my Pin as a registered nurse.

Now, if you 1) think covid19 was made up, a conspiracy or the numbers have been made up as a scare tactic or 2) you actually believe wearing a face covering will cause ‘respiratory arrests’ ‘acidosis’ blah... stop reading. Because this isn’t for you. Or even 3) you have the view of ‘its their job’ - back away from your screen.

You’ve seen in the news about the public sector pay rise? That nurses aren’t included, nor the junior doctors, physio’s etc (I use etc as there are so many people being forgotten in all this and it is used lovingly and not to cause offence)? Honestly, Im so glad that others are being recognised for their input and help during this - the teachers who put in extra work for children of key workers, who sacrificed their home life to entertain little ones every day and try give them the education they need and deserve, to the police, military - anyone receiving this recognition. Honestly you deserve it. And the NHS will not shadow that or take it away from you.

We agree’d to a 3 year pay deal, that had the options of being reconsidered earlier than the final date if there was a change in circumstances. Covid19 should really be considered as a change in circumstances. I mean being told that you’re already ‘unskilled’ and watching people clap to STOP pay rises... was hard enough. But to have everyone else recognised for their vital contributions and lay something that was agreed in 2018 - is inexcusable.

You realise that most nurses didn’t get to see your claps on a Thursday? That’s handover time. And due to covid19 if their handover time was earlier - they were usually late because of how busy it was and still missed it.

I saw one. Because it so happened I had come off of nights the night prior.

So! My life during covid19 starts off with the busiest winter that my hospital has seen in ITU. We have 10 beds. We are funded for 7/8? We had to open an escalation centre that we stole from our day surgery unit to give us a further 3 beds.

Which in itself is hard - looking after seriously sick patients away from your actual designated and designed ward and without the continuous presence of doctors.

That wasn’t enough.

We had to then stole half of the recovery room, which usually houses patients post surgery whilst they wake up.

Going up to 16 patients. Remember - at this point. I’m THREE MONTHS qualified.

Learning is hard, steep, and in-depth. You’re suppose to be trained over the course of a year as a newly qualified, with study days and help from mentors etc. I couldn’t attend some of those days because we didn’t have the staff to look after the most patients our ITU had ever seen.

Now I know ITU is hard. I picked it.

I knew what it entailed, well partly.

I have to maintain my patients artificial airway. They either have a tube in their mouth or in their throat.

They’re then connected to a ventilator.

Every single setting on that machine, every button - changes something drastically.

From the fio2, PEEP, PS, PC, TV, MVE, PEAK, RR, PF ratio, ... one button, one alteration or mistake... literally can stop this person breathing. Cause respiratory distress, arrest.. trauma? anything.

Did you know I have to move that tube in their mouth every hour to stop pressure sores developing in their mouth? And I still have to brush their teeth and give oral care?

I have to suction down their throat and clear their lungs? Or suction their actual mouth for extra secretions?

And record all this data hourly.

To ensure that this patient is comfortable with this tube... I have to medicate this patient.

I have to keep them in an artificial coma.

Titrating the drugs to their optimum levels.

Some are measured mg/hr, mcg/hr, mcg/kg/min..

some have limits on maximum dose per hour you can use.

Some have really severe side effects.

Such as noradrenaline. Which can literally cause your fingers and toes to become necrotic.

I have to monitor someone’s glucose - whether you’re diabetic or not, and correct it if needed with insulin or dextrose.

I have to give diuretics but not allow your body to become too negative, I have to give fluid challenges to ensure you’re not vascular depleted.

I can help your kidneys with the use of a dialysis machine. Literally filter your blood of toxins your body can no longer remove without help of a machine. This requires constant blood tests to ensure that you aren’t collecting dangerous toxins or you need additional support from the machine.

I can use a machine to check your cardiac output and interpret it to make sure that you have enough fluid vs a drug that’ll help squeeze your heart instead.

I can read an ECG and tell if you need additional supplements such as potassium. Do further tests for magnesium, phosphates etc. And deliver those.

I can feed you through a tube down your nose, and ensure you absorb it. But it’s okay I can give you medication to also help that - these require me to do daily ECGs though, and interpret the data of your QTC to make sure it’s not affecting your heart.

Now. If that’s not enough. Covid happens.

Now remember our record was 16 patients?

Try doubling that.

We worked in our ITU,

Escalation centre

Recovery - we took the whole thing.

Next - we took over operating theatres.

3 patients in theatre 6

3 in 5

3 in 4

2 in 3

We stole theatre staff, recovery nurses, ODPS, ward nurses, retired nurses, health visitor nurses, anyone we could relocate to help us.

March - I’m 6 months qualified.

I’m now the most qualified ITU nurse in my theatre.

I have people who have never looked after a ventilated patients before asking me for help. Please don’t silence my alarm if you don’t know why it’s alarming. I know it’s loud and annoying but it’s telling me everything I need to know with enough time before I need to panic.

Now - covid patients weren’t just sick. Weren’t just needing help to breathe. These patients were all sorts of ‘new’. Nothing made sense!

These patients COULDNT be ventilated. We needed to paralyse them to literally be able to take over their breathing properly! No amount of sedation worked! Their lungs were fibrous and acting like elastic under tension.

Side note - if your patient wasn’t sedated enough compared to paralysis - they could be silently awake, but completely paralysed. Knowing everything happening to them. But unable to do anything - not even breathe. Every time you start rocuronium you need to remember that. If you’re withdrawing treatment - TURN THE ROC OFF FIRST. And wait before you do anything else.

Back to it. They were so unstable that you try roll them, which we usually do 4 hourly to prevent pressure sores - they desaturated to numbers so low that you would usually see some hypoxia brain injury after.

We couldn’t roll these patients without risking that. So you know what. You don’t roll.

So we couldn’t protect their skin integrity. You just watch them, and feel guilty.

Nursing school 101 - pressure sores are PREVENTABLE. Roll your patient. Skin care and hygiene is your best friend.

Now covid went against everything a nurse knows and holds dear.

Our ITU never had pressure sores. Until covid. Some had grade 4’s.

Maggot therapy.

Vacuum dressings.

These patients were also clotting, and sending off clots to their kidneys, liver, heart, brain. Covid made your blood super sticky!!!!

People were having strokes whilst being sedated, going from fit to multi organ failure in days. I’m trying to save these people, knowing they could possibly wake up with complete left side paralysis? Never talk again? Never be them again?

Now you know about these past medical histories etc?

You realise what that is?

that it could be Type 2 diabetes?

Hypertension?

That was it for some.

None of this thinking they were super sick, with lists longer than my arm, and that’s why they didn’t make it. No.

Literally things that happen with age. Poor diet? That 120/80 you’re happy you got - THATS PREHYPERTENSION.

I was probably hypertensive the entire time with anxiety.

Did you know We had to use the old anaesthetic ventilators. None of us had used those before. Those big bellows you see in films going up and down rhythmically. Those.

That was scary.

I’m use to a single touch screen button (hello modern technology) to deliver 100% o2 if my patient needs it. This has a switch to a bag, a button, dials to titrate o2 with normal air. And if I didn’t monitor the crystals in the bottom my patient would retain their own co2 and I wouldn’t know why.

New found love for anaesthetists and ODPS - these machines are NOT designed for prolonged use. But they helped us keep our patients alive. By literally guiding us and helping us look after the machines so we could do our job.

Now. All of this is made worse by PPE.

I’m hot.

It’s hot.

And intense and I’m working hard because tonight, I have 3 ventilated patients. By myself.

I have a gown on.

2 sets of gloves

An apron

An FFP3 mask

A hat

A visor

And no air con.

But I’ve got this. I can’t do my hourly checks because I am one person.

My super sick patients now have 2 hourly because it is physically impossible.

Where are the other staff?

Sick.

You’re watching these people struggle to breathe on machines and then being told your close friends at work, your mentors, your seniors are spiking temperatures. Some being admitted to hospital. Some not being able to come back to work for weeks.

Some ending up on your ventilators. It’s okay. I’ve got this.

I’m an ITU nurse right?

CPR wearing that get up. Is TOUGH. 27mins. I cried that day.

We lost 3 patients in 12 hours.

I held the hand of so many people as I turned off their ventilators because their families couldn’t be with them and no one should die alone. No one. I tried my best.. and then once my day had finished, I had to come home to my dad who is immunosuppressed. Who doesn’t understand boundaries. “Kevin stay in the other part of the house!”

*knocks on bedroom door with dinner*.

Proning. What an experience that is. And doing it Daily. The complications of that were scary before you even approach the patient.

So I’m going to flip my patient - who has a tube down their mouth to help breath, who is on medication for sedation, paralysis, to keep their blood pressure up.. from laying on their back - to laying on their front.

Seems easy?

Well it’s not. And requires like 8 people.

8 people.

We don’t have enough people as it is. So we now develop a proning team made up of everyone.

There are consultants, there are experts in their fields, there are physios and then I don’t know who else.

Honestly I couldn’t thank these people enough. More people would have died if we didn’t have a proning team. But now, people spent 23 hours laying on their front. Pressure sores on their faces. Potential of going blind? New complications of not being able to breathe we never expected.

We are finally back into one unit now. I’m still less than a year qualified. And I’m still running on adrenaline expecting this second wave. Those still reading, I know you’re thinking that she picked this job.

She knew what it meant.

And you’re right! Give me those complex drug calculations and ventilators. Oh and the scrubs!

But a pandemic? I didn’t pick that. The world didn’t pick that.

Honestly thank you, to the ward nurses - your lives got flipped upside down.

The physios who became best friends.

Consultants who literally got down and dirty with us.

To the domestics who cleaned furiously for us.

OT’s To literally orientate our patients when they’re waking up like 70 days later.

Every

Single

Person

Who

Helped.

Oh communication team made up of medical students, who updated the families because... I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave my patient. Not like this!

Matron who literally had to facilitate all this, with people who knew nothing about ITU. Being in ITU. Looking after ITU patients. Whilst her own ITU staff were sick, in hospital, or newly qualified, or working to the point they broke.

To the countless companies sending food, goodies, moral support !! Oh my god that was incredible to come to after not having a break for 6+ hours ... mmm... food!!

Did you know they’re offering support for the nurses to stop PTSD, or anxiety or just to help up digest what we saw? Psychological support for just doing your job?

But it’s okay.

We got a deal in 2018 for the pay.

We got clapped thursdays.

We all know that’s not enough, but we will still turn up for work.

We can’t leave our patients.

We can’t strike.

They’ll always mean more to us than pay. And the government knows that. Abuses that.

540 NHS staff lost their life doing ‘just their job’ - today the NHS staff walked through London protesting, to be heard. To be listened to. To be acknowledged. To be paid fair.

Sign the petition for us. Because we aren’t just here for covid. We’re here for life.

https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/316307

And just put your mask on - please - for that hour you go shopping.

I’ve been wearing mine since March 6th. 13+ hour days. Developed a nice grade one on my nose, my friends faces bleeding from using a rubber respirator....

And We’ll be like this for the foreseeable future.

Now that we have the stocks to do so anyways.

Oh and I’m pissed my graduation was cancelled! All that and I don’t get to wear the hat and gown. Bastard virus. (I understand there was more lost but humour me).

Signed, your registered ITU nurse. We will always continue to monitor.

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galacticnova3 · 4 years

Note

I don't know if you've answered something like this before, but when did you start to become attached to Lor and/or Nova? Is there a history behind it or did it just happen and kind of spiral. I love your stuff by the way, stay hydrated.

It’s kinda difficult to explain without delving into some personal stuff, but I’ll try to explain it as best I can. I can’t add a read more on mobile, so be warned this is going to be a long post. I’ll tag it as such. By long I mean I’m scrolling back up to add I’ve been typing for over half an hour. Might as well just call this half of my life story. Anyways...

Nova was the first of the two I developed a big interest in, hence why all my social media is named what it is. At first it was something I kept to myself because it was during a very difficult time in my life. To be frank, if it weren’t for me deciding to draw Nova one night, I probably wouldn’t be here. What started out as what I thought would be a temporary distraction turned into my first source of legitimate interest and motivation; I saw the drawing I made that night, what I thought would be my last contribution to the world, and thought, “Well this doesn’t look great. I can do better.”

And so I begun trying to do just that. Constantly drawing Nova, slowly letting the idea of him being just a mere distraction from the inevitable choice I thought I would make fade away. Because, for once, I actually had a solid interest, something to focus on that I could keep improving at and show others I was improving at. And when you start to improve at something, suddenly you feel a bit better about yourself.

In that journey of realizing I had more reason to live than I thought, I started getting attached to Nova as a character, and one I could relate to for a very long time. While most say Nova looks sleepy, I’ve always seen it as tired; not in the physical way, but in terms of emotions. Tired of waiting, of existing; lonely, too. I felt that.

I also connected strongly with the way Nova was always treated by the fandom, as I started interacting with it. Always in the background, overshadowed by others, and in general ignored; just like how I felt constantly. Everyone around me seemed to excel at something, or was popular and beloved, or otherwise was at least something. They were the Marxes, the Galacta Knights, the Dededes, Meta Knights, Kirbies.

I, on the other hand, was not. At best I was a collection of little somethings in a trench coat, stuff that didn’t matter but at least gave me some semblance of identity. I liked bugs, I liked video games, I liked going outside, things like that. A random assortment of different, miscellaneous parts, but no real idea what those parts made or what I was without them. Sound familiar?

Nova became a huge part of my identity in a matter of months. I lived and breathed Nova, I wrote bad Nova fanfic, I made doodles of Nova on possibly every paper assignment in school. I was, honestly, entirely obsessed.

That’s kinda when things started to change, some ways for the better, some for worse. Obviously, I had a massive level of interest in one specific random character that nobody else really shared. I talked about almost nothing but said interest, made content only of said interest.

People began getting annoyed, but I didn’t notice until it was too late. Suddenly people I was close to began to express dislike towards Nova because of me. Me, who identified in every way as something tied to Nova. People talked about me behind my back, vagued about me, and ultimately some made it abundantly clear that they didn’t respect me. Some of those people I still can’t avoid today.

That became another low point for me. My depression got bad again, as did my anxiety. Not quite as low as I was that fateful night, at least, but low enough for my self esteem to plummet to levels it still hasn’t reached again. That wasn’t helped by the fact that I constantly associated myself with a character that was lonely, depressed, and tired in general.

Eventually I had the unconscious realization that I had to find something else to split my focus with. For a little bit that was Star Dream, but ultimately it didn’t stick. I’m very close to someone who really likes Meta Knight, so I tried to fixate on him, too. That didn’t last either. Marx was a definite no, given past experiences with several Marx fans sending me hate and death threats for not liking him.

Eventually I realized the problem was that I didn’t relate to any of these characters in a meaningful way. There was nothing to latch onto for me. So, I went back to square one in having to figure out what my identity was, just minus Nova. Which was a lot harder than I’d like to admit. Seriously, even my favorite color was because of Nova.

My goal eventually became to find someone that had aspects of Nova that wouldn’t encourage me to identify as lonely and depressed at all times, who was strong and independent and likable and maybe even not a background character! Like... MAGOLOR!

And then I fell in love with his pretty boat instead.

But! All that gave me something to work with; Lor was, in essence, a blank slate; had the bare minimum qualifications to be considered a character. Kinda like how I felt I had the bare minimum things to qualify as a person. It became a case of doing exactly what I did with Nova, but with the goal of making her like someone completely different and unexpected. I slapped on random personality traits I had or had had and decided, hey, this works, I can trick myself into being a new person by pretending it’s a character! Which was in essence exactly my process with Nova, just in a conscious manner this time.

It was around this time I first figured out I was asexual, thanks to my oldest sister, and how perfect was it that both my old and new obsessions were machines? Bam, they’re ace too, so now I have a medium to explore what that really means for me. Same thing happened when I realized I was panromantic. This happened with a lot of stuff as I learned more about myself via treating myself as characters that needed a happy ending.

Nowadays I’ve managed to separate myself a bit, and made Nova and Lor more than just The Staples Of My Identity. It still hurts a lot when people are mean about them, especially when it comes to old trauma, but not as much as it used to. Nowadays they’re just my big faves/comfort characters, but they’re still extremely important to me either way.

If you got this far, thank you for taking the time to read through this, it means a lot to me.

#ask response #ask to tag #long post #very long post #rambling #so yea I figured I might as well just. say everything #hopefully this clears some stuff up for people

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ochard-fics · 4 years

Text

Bad Ideas - A Spider-man Story

Chapter Index: 1, 2

Pronouns used for (Y/N): they/them

Genre: Enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, young love

Warnings: None

Word count: +7.1k

Summary: Though you moved across the country about half a year ago, you are still trying to find your footing in the strange streets of New York. On top of that, you are desperately trying to balance your demanding school life at Midtown School of Science and Technology, where you like everyone but you was much more talented and smarter than you could ever imagine to be. Among those students is the one whom you loathe the most: Peter Benjamin Parker, the boy who’s success both in school and in Stark Industries is constantly shoved in your face. The only person who helps you escape those troubles is Spider-man, the hero of Queens and your crush.

A/N: Hello all! Thank you for waiting so patiently for the next chapter in the series. I hope you are all staying safe and healthy during these unfortunate times. Please enjoy this chapter! Comments, reblogs, likes and feedback is greatly appreciated!

A HUMONGOUS thank you to @tinybabyrat who helped me out while I wrote this!

---

Chapter 2 - Peter Parker, the nuisance

How did everything go south so fast? You thought your Tuesday was looking up. No major tests or quizzes today, no horrible mile run in P.E., and no over-cooked rice in the cafeteria lunch! However, the universe decided to say fuck you and here you were, sitting uncomfortably in your guidance councilor’s office. Ms. Lee was busy typing away at her computer, her thick, wavy black hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Your eyes began to wander around your surroundings, like the wall calendar pinned to the corkboard behind her, that showed Claude Monet’s Water Lilies painting for the month of February. Or the several post-it notes of various bright colors with reminders, and then photos of her and her wife, Ms. Narvaez, happily smiling together with their two rescue dogs Fritz and Sadie, who were mutts. Waiting in there started to feel like forever until Ms. Lee straightened her posture and turned her figure towards you, clasping her hands as she put her arms on her desk.

“Hey kid,” she greeted you with a warm smile, “I can see that you want to know what you’re in my office.” You replied with a stiff nod, looking at her with meek eyes.

“I wanted to talk to you about your current progress in school, particularly your general education courses” she states, adjusting her square, wire-framed glasses on the bridge of her nose, “I need you to take a look for yourself.” She takes the frame of the monitor and it toward you, where you could see your current report card displayed upon the screen.

“From the looks of it,” she says, looking over at the monitor, “Your grades have gone down significantly since you started your year here at MSST.” Oof, that was not good news whatsoever. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably as she continued speaking.

“I have noticed that math and chemistry have been particularly difficult for you,” she mentions, “Is there a reason why?” You looked down, fiddling with your thumbs, a habit you had recently formed out of anxiety.

“W-well,” you stutter as your voice cracks, “I’ve always had a hard time with math. A-and chemistry has a lot of concepts about it that are hard for me to understand.” Which was true. Anything having to do with math you immediately panicked upon seeing. Math, to you, was a whole other language that you still couldn’t understand. Which was rich, considering you could speak four languages fluently. Chemistry was a lot like math and it even included it, so it was just another layer of confusion for you.

“I understand your frustration with the subjects,” she says with a nod, “You are not the only student here that struggles with them.” Yeah, you thought, like 12 kids out of the who knows how many here? This was a science and tech school for crying out loud; everyone around you was a prodigy! Well, except for Flash Thompson. “(Y/N),” Ms. Lee begins, “Do you know your current GPA*?” She looks up at you, to which you give her a shrug.

“It’s currently a 2.78,” She says as she points to the top of the report card, where it was displayed, “It’s not a bad score. However, compared to your GPA from your previous school year it has dropped significantly.” You furrowed your brows, waiting to see where she was going with this.

Ms. Lee looks at you very seriously and says, “If your grades continue to decline, you could potentially fail your junior year, and will have to repeat.” A lump formed in your throat upon this new information. Repeating a year of high school was up there with your biggest fears, along with heights and your dad. The mere idea of failing school started to make you internally panic.

Ms. Lee looks at you sympathetically, folding her hands upon her desk once again.

"I understand that moving across the country is incredibly difficult,” she starts, “You know that I'm from L.A. as well. I miss it dearly. All of my family and childhood friends reside there. I miss going to my favorite boba shops with my friends, I miss going to Malibu, and I even miss the forty-minute drives to go from one place to another! But oh boy, do I not miss the traffic." This made you chuckle, which brought a smile to her motherly face.

"However, I had to move here for college,” she continues, and you listened intently, “It was incredibly difficult for me to adjust to life here. Manhattan felt like a whole new world in comparison to Los Angeles. On top of that, I didn't know anyone here. I was alone, and the loneliness took a toll on my performance in school. Though you know what got me back up?" You shook your head in response.

"I got help. With the suggestion of a councilor I made a study group with a few of my classmates so we could all assist one another. As time went by, they eventually became my closest friends throughout college, and Manhattan as a whole. Additionally, when I didn't understand something in class, I went to the teacher for clarification. If they could provide it, of course."

"I will admit, it was incredibly hard for me to ask for academic aid," she looks down at her folded hands as she continues to reminisce about her past, "I grew up with this idea that I couldn’t do anything without my parent’s help. I depended on them to solve my problems and it damaged my self confidence. Then culminated this sense of guilt, because I felt like I was totally helpless. Though I tried to be self-sufficient, I was met with criticism because I would make mistakes. This led me to develop a perfectionism complex, and if I didn’t get something right on the first try I just gave up. It felt suffocating.”

“From the information you have told me these past months,” she looks up at you, “You are in that current situation. You’re afraid to ask for help because you think of it as a sign of dependence. That you cannot do anything without help. Which is unfortunate, because help shouldn’t have to feel like a burden.” Shit, she was right on the ball. All your life your parents would hold your hand whether you liked it or not. And just like she experienced, when you tried to be independent and failed, it only confirmed to your parents that you couldn’t do anything without them. That’s why you felt guilt whenever you were offered help; it was because it made you feel weak. Then when you tried to grasp at something on your own, you’d slip, and you would get frustrated and surrender your attempts all together. It was exhausting.

“Speaking of your parents,” she glances over at the computer monitor and back at you, “Are they aware of your current grades?” You shook your head in response, looking back down at your twiddling thumbs.

“Haven’t shown them any of my assignments this year,” you replied honestly, “My dad used to check up on my work, and then instead of trying to help me with corrections he’d take over my homework and make sure it was perfect. I-I got fed up with him doing everything for me so I told him to stop. He got mad and told me to never go back to him if I needed help with school.” Ms. Lee listened in intently as you spoke to her, which was what you really appreciated about her. She was like a therapist, very patient, and willing to listen to your troubles. Which was nice, considering that there was at least one adult in your life that was willing to listen to your troubles.

“I think it was very mature of you to tell your dad that,” she assures you, “Especially considering what you’ve told me about him. You wanted him to help you, not enabling you. How else will you learn, but through making your own mistakes?” If only your dad could listen in to the conversation you two were having, maybe he’d finally realize that he’s been wrong. But knowing your dad, he’d probably call Ms. Lee a fraud of a councilor so mauve it was best that he wasn’t there.

“I know you want to be independent of him,” she continues, “Any child would want to break away from that type of environment. It’s a pity that your father cannot be more supportive of you and your endeavors. You’re incredibly talented, (Y/N).” The compliment was very sweet of her, but for some reason, you believed she was saying that just to be nice. You heard her let out a worn-out sigh.

“Look,” she starts, turning the monitor back to face her, “In order for you to get into the college of your choice, art or not, you need to get a 3.0 or higher.”

“I can’t afford art college,” you admitted, “My parents would never help me with it, either.”

“There are several colleges that aren’t art universities but have excellent art programs,” she replies, typing on her keyboard, “Many of them being in California. And they cost half the price.” You looked up as this greatly piqued your interest. She turns the screen back to you and you look up, looking at the list of public schools that were ranked the top ten best art programs in the country, the majority of them being, as she said, in your home state. Your eyes widened in interest.

“You’re a smart very kid,” Ms. Lee assures you, but you give her a look, “You are. And if you can pull your grades up to a 3.0 or higher, you can apply for scholarships from these schools.” Damn scholarships always feel like a carrot on a stick, taunting you with their possibilities. However, with the amount you were being paid by Delmar for your work, you wouldn’t have a chance at paying for your college of choice. A scholarship could save you big time, and without the guilt of being a burden on your parents.

“If you can get them up by the end of the semester,” Ms. Lee says, “You’ll be secured for a scholarship. Maybe even more than one.” You chewed the inside of your lip, contemplating this information. Damn it, it seemed too good to be true. Getting your grades back up was much harder than bombing them, which you thought was totally unfair. The GPA system felt like a whole scam.

“This means you need to, pardon my language, kick your ass into gear,” she says, making you smile at her profanity, “But because math and chemistry are the classes that are giving you the most trouble, you will require extra help with them.” You raised a brow at her, sensing that she was getting somewhere with this. What was she up to?

“I'll set you up with a tutor,” she reveals, turning to you, “And don’t worry, they’ll be someone from school so your parents won’t have to pull out any pocket money. Your eyes widened in shock. A tutor? Was she being serious?!

You opened your mouth to object but she continues, “I talked to Cobwell and we’ve found the perfect tutor for you. A classmate of yours, actually.”

“W-wait, can’t I get tutoring from Cobwell? Or do those group tutoring sessions that student resources hold?” you asked, the idea of one it being one of your classmates sounding much worse than the tutoring itself.

“We did consider that,” she says, “But Cobwell just got assigned to assist Harrington with the academic decathlon, and we believe that because of your current situation, one-on-one would work for you best focus-wise.” You slumped back in your chair. Maybe you should have taken up Cobwell’s help when you had the chance. Now, you were going to be stuck spending an hour or more on subjects you hate with a burning passion with someone you probably don’t like. Speaking of which, you asked Ms. Lee who they chose to be your tutor.

“Oh, glad you asked,” she said, giving you a smile, “It’s Peter Parker.”

It took every inch of your body to hold the urge to scream. You did pray, though, that she was bluffing you. She had to be! But you saw no sign that she was fucking with you. You felt your body go into a cold sweat. You leaned toward Ms. Lee, horror in your eyes.

“Do you have anyone else but him?!” You cried, “Anyone?! I can not have him tutor me! Anyone but that loser!” Ms. Lee raises a brow at you, unamused by your reaction.

“Why not?” She asks, “He’s in all of your classes, as well as being the top student in math and chemistry.” You leaned back into the chair, letting a troubled and dramatic groan out.

“He’s a total numbskull!” you said exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air, “Flash Thompson will never let down that I’m going to be babysat by Parker.”

“You should be more concerned about your grades than your reputation, (Y/N),” Ms. Lee comments, making you purse your lips, “Additionally, I’m making the tutoring mandatory. So if I find out that you purposely ditch Parker, you will be penalized.” You frowned upon hearing this. Of all things you wanted to happen in your life, being forced to be in the same room as Peter Parker was the last thing you wanted. And you were going to get punished if you ignored him?! Not cool.

“Plus,” she continues, “If you give him a chance, you’ll see that you both have much more in common than you think.” This has to be some cruel prank, it just has to! If you found out that the Norse god of mischief Loki was behind this, you would make sure to find him and kick his ass all the way to another dimension.

“B-but,” you leaned towards her, eyes narrowing suspiciously, “What if he becomes negligent again? MJ told me what he did last year with the decathlon team.” She hums in response, leaning back on her chair.

“I assure you that Peter will not do such a thing,” she replies, “Actually, the other reason why we chose him as your tutor is that he has to complete community service hours due to his misbehavior last semester.

“I’m community service now?!” you exclaimed. How humiliating! You dropped your head into your hands, letting out a dramatic groan.

“Look, I understand that you’re uncomfortable,” Ms. Lee says, sitting up in her chair, “But you deserve the help. And part of being independent is knowing when you need it. And you don’t have to feel ashamed to ask for it.” You looked up at her, seeing that she was watching you sincerely. You knew she meant well, it was her job, after all. Yet this was the worst possible situation you could've put it. Yet again, it is your fault for procrastinating assistance with school for this long. Still, you would’ve taken anyone but Parker as your tutor. Even Flash Thompson! You let out a huff and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to process all of this very unfortunate information.

“Peter is a nice kid,” she assures you, though you give her a look that says you think otherwise, “Don’t be afraid to be vulnerable with him, it’ll help him help you. ” She points at you, and though she wasn’t doing it you could almost feel her finger pressing down on your chest. You bit your bottom lip, feeling unsure. Opening up to other people has become much harder for you since the move, and it’ll be much harder in an academic setting. Now, you have to do it with a person you deeply despise. She really was asking too much out of you.

You let out another sigh and straightened yourself then asked her “How often do I have to meet with him?” Please just once a month, you begged in your head.

“At least twice a week,” she answers, “I would like for you to meet with him tomorrow after school. The sooner you guys work the quicker you can improve.” A low groan was let out of you, earning a frown from her.

“I’ll be meeting with Parker tomorrow morning,” she said, turning to type on the computer, “You both will be in charge of scheduling hours. If you do it right, it shouldn’t affect art club hours or your feeding times for the animals in the biology laboratory.” You pouted. Junior year was already very hard, and this just added to the difficulty of it all. Would this tutoring even work?

“You’re a smart kid,” Ms. Lee says, “And I know you can do this. But you will need to be committed to this. Understand?” “Yes ma’am,” you said, begrudgingly.

The next day you arrived to class earlier than usual. The meeting with Ms. Lee gave you the thoughts of possibly failing school and having to work with the person you despised kept running through your thoughts, making it impossible to go to sleep. You noticed that the hall in which your locker was located had a speckle of people around, either chatting with their friends or just chilling by their lockers. You were leaning against yours, occupied with your phone as you watched yesterday's news on the touchscreen. You watched as the news anchor, the lady you had watched before at the bodega that there was yet another bodega stick-up that led to a fight between the robbers and Spider-man, this time in Hell’s Kitchen. The news cut to footage that showed him apprehending them, but took a few hits to the face and chest in the process. Your brows furrowed, worrying if he was okay since those hits looked pretty bad. He had mentioned to you before that he was able to heal quicker because of his powers, but you still couldn’t help but wonder if he was all right.

You heard your name being called out to you and you looked up to see Ned, who was approaching you with a wide smile spread across his face. Leaning away from your locker, you were about to give him a wave until you smelled something very putrid, making you cover your nose.

“Hey there!” he says, greeting you, “Have you seen Peter? I gotta give him his backpack.” He then held up a black and blue backpack, and you realized where the smell came from.

“Oh my god,” you said, scrunching your face, “Why the hell does that smell so bad?”

“Oh,” Ned looked at it, “I found it in a dumpster. Peter lost it.”

“How the hell did he lose it?” you asked with a frown.

“Ah,” Ned shifts uncomfortably, “Pete’s a bit clumsy sometimes, heh…” His face said that it was something else, but the smell prevented you from pressing any further.

“Why the heck did you bring it to school?!” You asked him, “It’s stinking up the whole hall!” You weren’t wrong, students around you were looking at the both of you and frowning as they too tried to cover their noses from the stench.

“Yeah,” Ned agrees, putting it down beside him, “I tried to put some spray-on air freshener on it but not even the smell of clean sheets could contain the scent of New York trash. Ned was a nice guy, but like Peter, he was also a bit goofy. Having enough of the smell, you turned to open your locker, where you rummaged through it until you found what you were looking for. Ned watched quizzically as you pulled out a beige-colored canvas tote bag. You turned and held it out to Ned.

“Take Peter’s supplies out of the backpack and put them in that,” you ordered Ned, who took the bag and looked at it in awe, “I have it as a backup in case I had paint spill in my backpack.”

“This is so cool!” Ned exclaims, holding up to his face, “And it even has a zipper in the opening! Did you make this?” You nodded. Last year you had taken a sewing class and had made a handful of items, tote bags being one of them. You had decided to make a few of them, some in which you gave as gifts to your friends and some that you made out of commission for your mom’s friends. Sewing, oddly enough, was something that you were pretty good at.

“Don’t tell Peter that I made it,” you said sternly, “Nor that I gave this to him. I don’t want him to know I did something nice.” Ned raised a brow at you but didn’t object.

“B-besides,” you added, motioning your head towards Peter’s backpack “I don’t want to smell that thing any longer.”

“Oh, right,” Ned said, unzipping the backpack, “I should probably throw this out. Sucks, ‘cuz he only got this two weeks ago.”

“Peter seems pretty careless,” You commented to Ned, watching him take out Peter’s supplies and putting them in the canvas bag.

“Nah,” Ned replies with a shrug, “He was much worse last year. He lost five backpacks within two months! At one point his aunt May threatened to let him go to school without one.” you furrowed your brows, concerned. What was Ms. Lee thinking!?

“And he’s going to be in charge of tutoring me?” you thought out loud, “I can’t believe this.”

“Peter’s going to tutor you?” Ned looks up, surprised. You told him about your meeting with Ms. Lee yesterday, explaining the whole situation. He listened, then nodded as you finished wrapping the story up.

“Well, I think you’re in good hands,” Ned reassures you, “Peter can be a doofus but he’s the smartest person I know. You’ll be passing in no time!” And speaking of the devil, you noticed from the corner of your eye that Peter Parker himself was jogging up to the two of you. As he approached, you noticed that his lip has a pretty nasty cut on it.

“Whoa, what the hell is up with that?” You exclaimed, pointing to your lip to mirror where the injury was on his face, “Did you get mugged or something?”

“Uh,” Peter looked over at Ned, who shifted his eyes at you, “Y-yeah! You know how aggressive New Yorkers are!” He says, then lets out a nervous chuckle.

“Right,” you said, narrowing your eyes at his suspicious behavior, “Did they take anything?” Before Peter could respond, Ned jumped in.

“His backpack!” he answers for him loudly, holding up the smelly bag yet again, causing both you and Peter to wince from the smell, “I found your backpack, Pete! The ones the muggers took! In the dumpster! What a coincidence! Haha!” Why on earth were these two acting so suspicious? They weren’t telling you something, though you wondered what was so secretive that they were trying to hide it from you? Then, you remembered something that MJ had mentioned to you the other day.

“Wait,” you raised a brow at the both of them, “Weren’t you guys hanging out yesterday? MJ told me you guys were going to the video game store in Hell’s Kitchen. You didn’t get mugged, Ned.” A look of panic plastered upon both of the boy's faces, and they exchanged looks with each other.

“T-the mugging happened when I was going home!” Peter stutters, his voice becoming higher, something you noticed he does when he’s nervous. Or lying.

“Y-yeah!” Ned says, nodding, “A-and I just happened to come across his backpack on my way back home!” This wasn’t the first time that they have acted like this with you before. One time they were like this with you while you were working at the bodega, where Peter had a pretty nasty black eye, and another time was when you caught Ned helping Peter skip the academic decathlon due to the Stark Internship, where the next day he had bruises on his knuckles. Dude seemed to get bruised up quite often, now that you thought about it. Before you could press any further with the two, Peter noticed the canvas bag.

“What’s that for?” Peter asks, pointing to it. Ned holds it out to him, telling him that his supplies are in there now.

“This is really nice!” Peter exclaims, taking the bag with excitement. You avert your eyes to the side as he asks his friend “Did you just have this with you, Ned?”

“Uh,” Ned turned to you, and you looked over at him. You better not tell him, you thought as your eyes met. Ned looks over to Peter.

“Yeah!” he replies, looking back to his pal, “It was just sitting in my locker. Luckily I had it on me today at this exact time.” He lets out another nervous laugh.

“I actually really like the look of it,” Peter says, admiring the bag, “I might use this as my book bag from now on.” That actually caught you by surprise. Did he like it that much? Hm, better not get careless with it, then you thought to yourself. Peter seems to then remember something, turning to you.

“Oh, (Y/N),” He starts, pulling the canvas bag through his arm and up to his shoulder, “I actually just met with Ms. Lee. She told me about the whole tutoring. thing.” You internally groaned. It was evident that you two would talk about that today, but not this early.

“She said she wanted us to meet today, right?” he asks, “Would it be okay if I could have your number?” You raised a brow at him. What the hell was he getting at?

“Why?” you asked, frowning.

“Oh,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “S-since we’re going to be working together it would be good if we had each other’s numbers. For scheduling and whatnot.” You closed your eyes and clenched your teeth. For long enough you’ve avoided having to have contact with this guy after school. Now, you would no longer be blessed with that privilege.

“Fine,” you said, begrudgingly. You swung your backpack to your chest and opened it, rummaging through it for your pencil pack. You found it and pulled a blue ballpoint pen from it, then swung it to the back once again

“Gimme your arm,” you said holding your hand out. He then held his arm close to his chest, giving you a wide-eyed, confused expression.

“W-why?” He asked. You gave him a look.

“I’d rather write it on your arm than a piece of paper so you don’t lose it,” you replied, “Once I gave my number to the president of the art club and she lost the paper, and then Flash found it and wouldn’t stop airdropping terrible memes from 2006.” That was the most annoying day of your life. You had to ask MJ to threaten him to stop because even when you blocked him he kept finding a way to send you stupid memes.

To this, he shrugged, understanding your reasoning. He pulled his blue sweater sleeve down to reveal his forearm, which you noticed was actually kind of fit. You moved it closer to him, grabbing his bare forearm gently and pulled it closer to you so you could write your cell phone number. You scribbled it horizontally, then once you were finished you pulled his sleeve down to cover it. The first warning bell of the day rings throughout the school, and you could see now that the hall was full of students, who began to shuffle past each other to get to their first-period class. The boys and you turned to look at each other.

“I’ll text you after school?” Peter says.

“Yeah,” you said, pulling your backpack straps up to your shoulder, “Let’s get to class.”

For the rest of the day, you were dreading the eventual meeting with Peter. During all of your classes together you desperately avoided talking to him as much as possible because you were so pissed at the idea of having to work with him. However, as the end of the school day wrapped up, you could not avoid him any longer. As you walked to your locker, you felt your phone vibrate and pulled it out of the pocket of your yellow windbreaker and saw that you received a text from an unknown number.

Hey, it’s Peter! it read, Let’s meet in the library. You let off a small huff and typed back k. You shoved your phone back into the pocket and trudged your way over to the library. Upon entering, you noticed that it was a bit crowded today but still remained moderately quiet (as libraries should be). Several students were huddled by the study tables, hunched over intently scribbling notes while others were at the computers, doing research for papers, or watching youtube videos. You scanned around for an empty study table that both you and Peter could occupy until you spotted one near the graphic novels section. You made your way over to it, plopping your backpack on one of the chairs to save for Peter.

Deciding to kill some time, you unzipped your red backpack and pulled out your sketchbook and pencil pack. Grabbing your mechanical pencil from the orange pouch, you flipped through your rugged hard-bound sketchbook to a blank page, where you then began to draw. You started to sketch those around you, like one student who was pretending to study but he was really watching Netflix on his phone, a girl that was coding on one of the computers, and the librarian, Mr. Fill. Soon you transitioned to drawing animals from the biology lab, like a starfish from the biology lab’s man-made tide pool, a garden eel named Pickles, the pink zebra beauty tarantula Zelda, and the corn snake Sir Elote II.

You then felt your mind drift and began to draw Spider-man, whom you’ve doodled more times than you can count. If anyone were to look through your sketchbook (which you let few do), they would find several pages full of sketches of the blue and red hero of Queens. To you, it was genuinely embarrassing how much you drew him. It was hard not to think about him when you had such a hard crush on him. You wondered what he would say if he knew you were drawing all of this fanart of him.

“Ooh, nice eel!” You heard a voice whisper to you. You looked up and saw Peter, who was looming over you as you drew in your sketchbook, making you jump a bit.

He takes your backpack from the chair beside you and sets it down beside you, then asks, “Does it have a name?”

“No…?” you answered as you watched him sit down beside you.

“Well,” he makes a goofy smile, “If you name it, its name should be Eel-i,” A silence hung over you as you looked at him, giving him the blankest look you have ever given anyone.

“G-get it?” his voice quivers, his smile wavering from your lack of response, “Like Eli?”

“I did,” you responded with a deadpan tone, “But that was probably the worst joke I have ever heard. And I work for a middle-aged dad.” His mouth pursed into a tight line and his ears went red, embarrassed at his horrible attempt of lightening the mood.

“So,” you let out a sigh, “have you ever tutored someone before?” “Nope,” he says, shaking his head in response as he tucked himself into the table, “What about you? Have you been tutored before?” You nodded in response. Back home you used to have a tutor in grade and middle school, who was actually your favorite teacher in the third grade. However, because of your dad seeing tutoring as a waste of money, you were forced to stop sessions when you went to high school, where he took on as a tutor. However, with your dad’s lack of patience, tutoring turned into a session in which he would criticize how slowly you understood the topics you were going over. At one point, it became too much for you, and you stopped asking for help with school-related subjects altogether.

“Great!” he exclaims, but in a controlled whisper as to not disrupt the students around him, “One of us has experience with this! So, I guess we should just go over what you’re having a hard time with.”

“Alright,” You put your elbow on the table and rested your head on the palm of your head, looking over at Peter, “Which subject are we talking about? Math or chemistry?”

“Uh,” Peter furrowed his brows in thought, “Chemistry? Since we had that quiz a couple of days ago.”

“I have a hard time with all of it.” You replied.

He blinks, a bit unsure of what to say. “U-uh, What do you mean by that?”

“It means what it means. I have a hard time with all of it. That’s why I’m in this position in the first place.”

“W-well, what part of the quiz did you have a hard time with? Maybe we can go over that today?”

“Hm,” you rubbed your chin in thought, digging into your brain trying to remember what was on that quiz since you tried to block it out of your memory. You thought for a few more seconds until you remembered something, then looked up at Peter and replied, “Well, bond energy got very confusing.”

“Great!” Peter exclaims, his eyes lighting up, “I mean, it’s not great that it was confusing for you, but great in the sense that we can start looking at that today.”

And so you did. Peter opened up the chemistry textbook and began to re-teach chemical bonds to you, despite both of you learning about them last week in class. Ten minutes in, you were able to pay some attention to what he was saying. However, twenty minutes in you started feeling your focus float away. You tried to grab at it like a piece of paper floating away in the wing, yet everything Peter was saying just went over your head. It didn’t really help that he kept saying “Right?” after stating something (“It depends on strength and interactions between cations and anions in lattice, right?”), and you just nodded in response even though you had no idea what the hell he was talking about. Thirty minutes passed and your focus completely turned off, and suddenly you could hear the sounds of keyboards being typed on, the scribbling of pens, and, oh shit, is that a fly in the library? Your focus had gone to anything else but Peter, who took notice when you wouldn’t respond to a question he asked you.

“Hey,” he turns to you with a concerned look in his hooded eyes, “You doing okay?” He put his hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your daze.

“I-,” you looked over but averted your eyes away from him. You felt face heating up from embarrassment. Darn it, what’s wrong with you? Why was focusing on something such a task?!

“How about we take a break?” Peter suggests, closing the chemistry textbook and getting up and stretching his arms, “I’m going to grab something from the vending machine. Do you want anything?” You shook your head in response, then watched as he grabbed his wallet from the tote bag and headed out of the library. You let out a frustrated groan, which was a little too loud because it earned you a hush from Mr. Fill who just happened to pass by. You put your head in your hands, letting out a huff, and tried to figure out what was causing you to be like this right now.

As you thought back to the last thirty minutes, you realized that Peter was the one making the session so agonizingly dreadful. It felt like you were back in chemistry class all over again, and no offense to Mr. Cobwell but that wasn’t the most interesting class to you. Contemplating on everything that Peter was doing wrong, you also noted other faults such as his pacing while he , his assumption that you understand what he’s talking about, and his mundane voice that he used when he was explaining everything to you, making you want to fall asleep. You pressed your nails into your pals, newly-made fists shaking as your frustration with Parker grew. It wasn’t your fault that you couldn’t keep up! It was his fault for being so bad at teaching you! You looked up and saw that Peter had returned, two water bottles in each hand.

He approached you and set one bottle in front of you, saying “Thought you might be thirsty,” He got you a water bottle from the vending machine? Huh...that’s odd, you think.

Without saying a word, you looked down at your insulated water bottle that was tucked in one of the side-pockets of your backpack. He followed your eyes and noticed this, and his eyes widened with realization. He whispered an “Oh” to himself, but you turned back to the plastic one and took it out of courtesy, saying you could use it as a refill as you placed it in your backpack. He apologizes and sits back down in his chair. You give him a hollow thank you, to which he seems pretty pleased by.

“Okay,” he begins with a nod, re-opening the textbook and turning to the chapter you guys were just going over, “U-um, was there something that you needed some clarification on?” All of it, you thought, but you felt like that would’ve not been the least bit helpful to him. Wanting to protect your ego and get the hell out of here, you just pointed to a random section on the page that read Hybrid orbitals. He looked to where you pointed and nodded.

He says, grabbing his pencil, “Let’s go over that again.” You held the urge to let out a groan. Time to suffer more! However, about twenty-five minutes in and you grew incredibly bored with Peter’s dull rambling. Your mind checked out and instead of paying attention, you began drawing circles instead of taking notes in your notebook, to which Peter noticed.

He put his pencil down and turned to you, asking “Hey (Y/N), You listening?” You jumped in surprise, looking up to see him catching you in the act. Without thinking you nodded, but he made an expression that thought otherwise.

“Right,” he then points with his pencil to a diagram on the textbook page, “Can you explain to me what this is?” You gazed down at what he was referring to, and your mind went blank. What on earth were you guys talking about again? The lack of sleep from last night had made you loopy and exhausted earlier than usual, making it hard to think straight. You tried your hardest to think of what the hell that could possibly be, but you couldn’t think of anything for the life of you.

“It’s...a bond?” you answered, looking up at him sheepishly.

“Okay…” he leaned forward a bit, “But...what kind of bond?”

“A…” You looked back at the diagram, then back at him, “Chemical one?”

“Yes,” he replied, but you could tell he was trying to get more out of you, “But it’s a special kind of chemical one. It’s a…?”

“Very special chemical bond,” you replied without thinking, and you wanted to kick yourself in the head for such a dumb answer. Peter blinks at you blankly.

“It’s a hybridized orbital,” he responds, “You weren’t paying attention.” You felt your face heat up. It’s one thing to not be paying attention a, but getting caught was so much worse

“S-sorry,” you said shyly, hunching over out of habit, “B-but it’s not my fault this stuff is so boring!”

“I get that it’s difficult to understand,” Peter assures you, leaning back in his chair, “But when something seems confusing, you need to tell me at the moment.” You frowned at him. Who was he to tell you what you do?

“Well sorry,” you sarcastically say as you crossed your arms in a huff, “It’s a bit difficult when the person you’re listening to is incredibly mundane.”

“Excuse me?” He turns to you, annoyed, “I asked you several times if you understood what we were talking about.”

“Yeah, but you kept assuming that I knew what you were blabbering about. You were going too fast, too. Not my fault I can’t keep up with you.”

“Then you should’ve told me to slow down!” he exclaims irritably, “I’m here to help you, not confuse you.” You let out a sarcastic laugh and. What was his problem?! Why was he getting annoyed at you? It’s not your fault you were telling the truth! He just can’t take criticism.

“Well, some help you are.” You looked over at him, “Can’t believe the smartest kid in our grade can’t figure out how to teach someone.” He clenched his jaw.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he says, trying to control his current aggravation, “But in order for me to help you, I need your feedback. If you had just said something-”

“You want feedback?” You raised your voice and turned to him, cutting him off, “I’ll give to you feedback! You’re boring to listen to, you have the talking pace of the Roadrunner, and you have the personality of a stalk of celery. You’re built like one, too.” Students around you began to stop what they were doing and watch the two of you make a scene in the library.

“What the hell is your problem with me?!” he asks irritably, “I’ve been trying to be nice to you since you got here, but all you do is treat me like shit. Even when I’m doing nothing you act maliciously towards me! What have I done to piss you off so much?”

“You exist.” you spit out angrily. A heavy silence hung over the both of you as you stared daggers at each other, the students around you holding their breaths in anticipating. However, you had enough of his stupidity, so you grabbed your notebook and backpack and stormed out of the library, ignoring the looks and whispers you were receiving from the students that were observing you. As you exited the room, you reached for your phone to text your mom that you were heading home. As you pulled it out of your pocket, it slipped from your fingers and bounced three times onto the school’s hallway until it ended with a cracking sound. You felt your heart clench in fear and rushed to go pick it up. A spew of cusses left your mouth as you saw three cracks upon the screen.

------

Annotations

*=GPA stands for Grade Point Average

#peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spider-man reader insert #MCU fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #peter parker reader insert #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #bad Ideas fic #tom holland #tom holland fanfic

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overstimulatethis · 5 years

Text

Of Course [Supercorp fanfic]

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Supercorp, background k*ramel but it’s not a thing i promise (mostly a Lena case study)

Rating: T

Summary: Of course. Leave it to Lena Luthor to have the kind of luck that has her newly-found mentor betraying her, kidnapping her, and forcing her to marry the prince of Lena’s nightmares—the one currently courting Kara Danvers. As if she hadn’t already had enough trouble throughout her entire life trying to denounce herself of the Luthor brand, she was now being forced to participate in the takeover of the world. Of course.

Chapter: 1/1

Of course. Of course. Leave it to Lena Luthor to have the kind of luck that has her newly-found mentor betraying her, kidnapping her, and forcing her to marry the prince of Lena’s nightmares—the one currently courting Kara Danvers. As if she hadn’t already had enough trouble throughout her entire life trying to denounce herself of the Luthor brand, she was now being forced to participate in the takeover of the world. Of course.

She hated how good the red dress she’d been given looked on her. She hated everything it represented in that moment, and she hated that it was touching her body. If she’d had any say in the matter, however, she never would have picked such a bright red. And the crown. Lena rolled her eyes as she glanced at the offending garment in the mirror. How terribly gaudy.

When the guards came to retrieve her for the ceremony, she felt her mask slip into place, the one she kept up around people like her mother. She took a deep breath before following them down the hall of the spaceship—and that was taking some getting used to, as well—and into the main chamber. Rhea was waiting for them with a nauseating smirk. One of the guards held out a hand to Lena to escort her to the altar; she could barely hold back an eyeroll as she scoffed, “Yeah, I’m good.”

And then, she was holding hands with the one thing that stood between herself and Kara—well, she supposed in this present moment that there were some decidedly larger things standing in her way. As much as she knew and understood that she had to work with this Mon-El, she couldn’t quite quell the slight ache in the pit of her stomach at the physical proximity to him. She shook her head ever-so-slightly to force herself to tune into what the alien woman before her was saying.

Right when Lena felt as if she were going to puke, Cat Grant decided to make a surprise reappearance and save her marital status for the time being. She couldn’t help but glance over at Mon-El as they were being escorted back to their chambers, and Lena felt Cat Grant’s words echoing in her ears.

The next thing she knew, they were escaping—and rather successfully, at that. When she finally found a purpose for that terrible crown, she stumbled a bit, because Mon-El had gone and said something stupid like, “I see why Kara loves you.” So, of course, Lena had immediately been reminded of the fact that the love she received from Kara was not the kind she wanted. Her jealousy flared, and it was difficult to force herself back into the current moment. She mustered up a, “Likewise,” in return before continuing their escape, telling herself to refocus on the situation.

And then Kara showed up, and Lena immediately felt that stupid, dopey smile that she always got around Kara take over her face—but then Mon-El was stepping forward, and Kara wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. Lena’s expression fell quickly. She saw Kara glancing back and forth between the two of them like a confused puppy.

“Uh, Kara Danvers sent me to get you,” Kara rushed to explain.

Surprisingly, the words weren’t what broke Lena; it was the way Kara immediately turned to look at Mon-El as if he put the sun in the sky. Lena suddenly felt completely exhausted. She looked down at her shoes as she made a hasty exit, accidentally brushing shoulders with Kara on the way out.

Kara did nothing.

But her mother was here to save her, supposedly. That was something, possibly. She never knew if she could really be off-guard with Lillian and be safe simultaneously.

As they walked to complete their escape, Lena’s mind immediately went back to Kara. She shouldn’t have been so disappointed. She wasn’t dating Kara. In fact, Kara was most certainly dating someone that was the complete opposite of Lena, so there was no way she would ever even have a chance, if that was Kara’s type.

Plus, there’s the whole fact that Lena had known that Kara was Supergirl for months, now, and Kara still hadn’t informed her, herself. Every time they had another intimate moment—both with Kara and Supergirl—Lena would start thinking, this is it. She’s going to tell me. But she had been left disappointed every time.

Sometimes, she considered simply confessing to Kara that she knew; God knew the poor girl needed one less secret to—“What are you doing, Mother?” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could control them, but her stomach was rolling intensely again as she was transported back to Earth without warning.

“Humans only, dear,” Lillian replied, before contacting Alex and telling her it was okay to fire the positron cannon that would evaporate the Daxamite Mothership… and everyone on it.

It took Lena a moment to process the words. She felt as if all the breath had left her, as if she were going to implode with emotion—anger at her mother’s prejudice, longing for Kara, anxiety for her safety… But Kara would figure something out. Supergirl always survived, even when it wouldn’t seem as if Kara Danvers could. She prayed she would find a way out of this, as well.

Her heart skipped as someone else was transported to the warehouse. When only Mon-El appeared, however, all her breath left her with a shrill, “Where’s Supergirl?”

“Supergirl stayed up there!” Mon-El said. Lena had never wanted to throttle him more severely.

But then the cannon itself exploded. And well, Lena went a bit numb after that. She didn’t remember much about how she got to her apartment, past the paparazzi and up the elevator; but she was somehow aware enough to strip out of the red dress, scrub her skin clean under a scalding hot shower, find clean clothes, and pour three glasses of whiskey.

Eventually, she stopped downing each drink in one go and took a glass to the couch. As she sat down, she noticed that obnoxious red mocking her from her peripheral vision. She studied it harshly, as it now lay rumpled on the floor. It was useless, now. It had no power over her. Lena narrowed her eyes as she started to contemplate whether to donate the dress to charity, sell it for money to use as a donation to charity, or burn it.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and her mother, of all people, stepped through. Half-drunk and heartbroken, she only had about 12% control on what she said, for a while. But once Lillian proposed her idea for the lead dispenser…

This was the second time Lillian had been kind to Lena in a row, but she still couldn’t fully trust her. After all, she had tried to get Kara vaporized. She didn’t really care about how Lena felt.

However… it was a good idea.

Of course, this meant that Lena had to see Kara again, very soon—much sooner, in fact, than she really was comfortable with. But she wanted to make sure that she was giving full disclosure, lest she be suspected as the villain once again. So, she and her mother met with Superman and Supergirl to tell them about their idea for the device.

Seeing Kara was difficult, extremely so. She looked exhausted, and that crinkle looked like it might have become permanent. Lena’s heart ached for her, even more so when she saw the moment Kara realized that she might have to sacrifice Mon-El for the sake of the planet. Her jealousy at Kara’s feelings for him was dampened down by the incredibly uncomfortable feeling of causing Kara pain.

Kara told them to go ahead in developing the device, though. Lena wanted so badly to reach forward and grasp Kara’s arm in comfort—but she wasn’t Kara right now. She was Supergirl, and Lena Luthor, as Kara knew her, would not reach out to Supergirl like that. So, she resisted the urge, feeling sick at the entire situation.

Something in her gut told her to make sure only Kara could switch on the lead device, and she was proud of her instincts for a moment when Lillian tried to activate it before they had planned. Always so hasty. It was one of her few predictable traits. Lena fought hard to hide a smirk at the small win. She would take it, though.

It’s unfortunate, Lena thought, that Kara ended up having to use the device, after all. As much as she loathed the frat boy out of jealousy, he didn’t deserve this—and Kara most definitely did not. Kara could never do anything to deserve such heartbreak; Lena was sure of it.

She desperately wanted to reach out to her over the next week, but she had no clue how to do so. What does one say to their best friend/love interest who just lost their slightly-emotionally-abusive significant other because he was part of a race of aliens that were trying to take over the world? Eventually, she decided that she would let Kara have some space.

However, the day after she made this decision, Agent Danvers stopped by her office (Lena had returned to work the day after the entire fiasco, of course). She looked almost nervous as she took the offered seat in front of Lena’s desk. “How can I help you, Agent Danvers?” she started. “I’ve already given my statements to the relevant departments regarding the… Daxamites.” Her voice had caught ever-so-slightly before the name of the alien race that had kidnapped her. She loathed the way it still affected her so.

“Oh, no,” Alex replied with an awkward laugh, “that’s not what—um, I’m here on more… personal business?” Lena raised an eyebrow, relaxed back in her chair, and motioned for the elder Danvers to continue. “It’s about Kara.”

Lena sat forward immediately, at that. “Is she all right?” She almost cringed at the slightly desperate tone in her voice, but Alex didn’t point it out.

“No, yeah, she’s fine! Well, I mean… I guess it really depends on how you define ‘fine…’”

Lena held back a huff. “Alex, what’s going on with Kara?”

Alex seemed to deflate in front of her. “Well, you know that she was dating that Daxamite, Mon-El… who kind of ended up having to leave the planet. And I’m pretty sure she’s told you some things about their relationship, which is—er, was—pretty, uh, turbulent, to be quite honest. So, she’s just kind of… lost?”

Alex leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. She ran a hand through her hair and finally met Lena’s gaze. Lena held back a flinch at the open way in which Alex was looking at her, the high-intensity emotions making her uncomfortable.

Alex sighed a bit before continuing. “You’re… the only other one who was there, with her, with…” Him. She didn’t have to say it, but she gestured vaguely off to the side, anyway. Lena nodded to show her understanding. “So, I think you’re really the only one who she’ll be willing to talk to, right now.”

Lena felt the beginnings of a blush coming on. She sat back a bit in her chair, opposing Alex’s stature. She shook her head. “She hasn’t reached out to me once. I’m not sure you’re right with this.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Kara is… such a giving person that she never wants to burden anybody else with her problems. She has a really hard time asking people for help.” It made sense, Lena realized. Who else could be so selfless to become Supergirl? “But I promise you. I know her. You’re her best shot at healing, right now.”

Lena bit her lip in thought, swiveling back and forth in her chair a bit. “I wouldn’t even know what to say, or how to behave… whether to text her or call her, or…” Her brain was kind of going into overdrive, short-circuiting at the thought of seeing Kara before she had fully processed how to feel about her.

“Honestly,” Alex interrupted, “all you have to do is show up at her apartment around at least a vague resemblance of a dinner time, with at least five cartons of takeout, and she’ll either eat it all in one bite, collapse crying into your arms gratefully, or kiss you.” She gave a light chuckle at her joke, but Lena had to force herself not to choke at the image.

“Five cartons of takeout. Got it. Wait.” She leaned forward again, palms flat on the desk in front of her. “What kind of takeout? Chinese? Italian? Thai? Pizza?” She had only been to Kara’s apartment to hang out a mere handful of times, and it had definitely been a while since their last get-together. Lena could feel herself becoming increasingly frazzled.

“Literally anything, Lena. You know Kara. You’ve seen her eat.” Alex laughed more openly this time, which helped Lena let out a more genuine chuckle in response. “So, are you down?” She was much more relaxed, now that Lena had become decidedly less tense.

Lena said, “Yes, of course,” before she gave it a single thought. It didn’t stop there, either; words that she couldn’t stop just kept tumbling out of her mouth. “I’ll go over to her apartment tonight, then.” Her heart raced as the reality sunk in.

“Okay.” Alex smiled widely. “That’s great. Thank you, Lena. I really appreciate it. And, um,” she shifted in her seat, “I also wanted to know… how are you? I mean, are you processing everything okay? Did you need someone to talk to?”

Lena immediately thought of the glasses of whiskey she’d been looking forward to drowning herself in that night. She didn’t know how to respond, but Alex continued talking with a kind, serious tone.

“I know we’re not close, or anything, but it appears that our lives are going to be intertwined in some way, no matter what. I’d like to be your friend. I guess what I’m trying to say,” she jokingly rolled her eyes at herself as she smiled, “is that I’m here if you need me.” Alex tucked some of her red-brown hair behind her ear, in a move that instantly reminded Lena of Kara.

Honestly? Lena had no clue how to act in response to such open kindness. She had fumbled her way through these kinds of situations before, with Kara, but for now, she was at a complete loss for what to say.

But Alex didn’t seem to mind. Her eyes shined with understanding. She knew about Lena’s relationship with her mother, how she had never been given kindness without the expectation of something in return. It was clear that she was being patient and letting Lena work through her emotions to say what she wanted to say.

Lena’s heart felt… fuller.

“I…” Lena coughed to clear her throat a bit. “I think it goes without saying that I greatly appreciate the offer, Alex. And I would truly love to be your friend, as well.” She found a smile slowly growing on her face at the prospect. “I, um… I’ve been coping. Probably not in the healthiest of ways,” she looked down at her fidgeting hands, “but I’m… managing. It was definitely a… difficult experience.” She looked back up to Alex with a shrug and a hint of a smile.

Alex hummed, mirroring Lena’s posture. “It was… a very emotional time. Nights are hard. If you ever find yourself in need of some company,” she said as she pulled out a business card, writing her personal number on the back of it, “feel free to call me, any time. It helps to talk about what happened with someone who shared in the experience, sometimes. I’m sure Kara would love to talk with you too, though. It’s completely up to you, but here.” She handed the card to Lena, who took it with a hint of astonishment.

The Danvers sisters were like no one else Lena had ever met.

“Thank you, Alex,” she said softly, with as much genuineness as she could inflect in her words. “This really means… so much to me. Thank you.” She looked up at Alex’s blurry figure to realize that her eyes were starting to tear up. She hastily blinked the wetness away and smiled openly at the agent in front of her.

“It’s really no problem, Lena. I should let you get back to work, but I mean it—call me any time.” She smiled again as she stood, but paused a bit before she moved away. “Um… you’re probably used to this from my sister, but—can I hug you?”

A laugh escaped Lena’s throat before she even realized it was there. She found herself standing and walking around her desk, into Alex Danvers’s open arms.

Honestly, it wasn’t quite as nice as one of Kara’s hugs, but it was wonderful all the same.

Work was a blur after Alex left. She’d been so distracted about going to see Kara for dinner that she didn’t really remember doing anything else besides telling Jess to free up her schedule beyond five o’clock that evening. The next thing she knew, it was 6:30, and she was carrying two bags containing a massive amount of pot-stickers and other assorted Chinese foods down the hall to Kara Danvers’s apartment.

Her heart was beating rapidly. When Kara opened the door almost immediately after Lena knocked, she wondered if the Kryptonian had been able to hear it pounding against her chest.

“Lena! Hi!” Kara said, looking slightly bewildered to see her, but smiling widely nonetheless. “What are you doing here? I mean, not that you’re not welcome here, of course—come in!” She waved her in, continuing to ramble as she did so. “You’re welcome here any time, I hope you know that—well, I mean I guess you do know that, since you came over right now without asking—which is totally okay! I love that you came! Honestly, I—”

“Kara,” Lena interrupted gently. She could feel the adoring smile on her face, that same stupid one she got when Kara showed up on the Daxamite ship. “I honestly just wanted to see you. I’ve missed you, and a lot has happened… I just wanted your company. Obviously, I’ve brought compensation-slash-bribery, as well.” She held up the bags of takeout, which Kara scrambled to take for her.

“Oh, trust me,” Kara replied as she set the food down and went about grabbing forks, “while food is always accepted and appreciated, bribery to spend time with you is never necessary.” Kara paused after she seemed to have gotten all of the necessary equipment. She took a quick, deep breath that moved her shoulders as she stood and fully met Lena’s gaze. She smiled softly before opening her arms, and Lena gratefully fell into them.

Honestly, there was nothing like a hug from Kara Danvers to make her feel both vulnerable and invincible simultaneously. She could feel herself practically melt into the embrace, her heart calming against Kara’s strong chest. Kara had her right hand between her shoulder blades, and her left hand was slowly, softly, comfortingly moving up and down her lower back.

She wished she could have this every day.

Eventually—probably after longer than what would normally be appropriate—Kara released Lena from the warmth of her arms. She looked down at Lena with a soft smile. “Would you want to watch something while we eat? Or we could talk and catch up a bit?” she asked as she started setting the boxes out by the couch.

Lena’s heart started to quicken again at the prospect of talking—any time she talked to Kara, it seemed that she spilled her emotions out all over the floor. She would rather not take over the night like that quite yet, not when she truly had missed Kara’s healing presence and company. So, she followed Kara to the couch and suggested that Kara pick out a movie for them to watch.

Halfway through the movie, however, Lena noticed that Kara wasn’t even looking at the screen; she was just staring at some point in space in front of her. She reached out and touched a hand to Kara’s shoulder, ever-so-gently.

The superhero didn’t jump, but she did turn to face Lena very quickly. “Yes?”

“Are you okay?” Lena asked before worrying her lip. “Of course, considering the recent events, you’re most likely not okay.” Lena sighed at herself, withdrawing her hand. “I mean to say—how have you been? I’ve wanted to check in on you for a while, but I didn’t quite know how.”

Kara simply stared at her for a moment, before her face slowly crumpled as a sob escaped. Lena reached out again immediately, bringing Kara close to her and holding her tightly as she cried into her chest.

When her sobs died down, Lena didn’t stop rubbing her hand over Kara’s arm or holding her in place. She felt them both relax into each other. It was… content.

“Thank you,” Kara nearly whispered, her voice hoarse from crying.

“It’s no bother at all, Kara,” Lena assured her. “You’ve been there for me countless times. I think it only makes sense that I be here for you, as well. Besides,” she cleared her throat a bit, causing Kara to shift so that she could see her face better while still laying against her, “I’ve been… struggling with some of these events, as well. I think, maybe, we could be there for each other, right now.” It came out as more of a question, but Kara was smiling at her, so it couldn’t have been too bad.

“That would be perfect, Lena. Honestly, you’re about the only person I can fully tolerate seeing right now. I can’t even be around Alex for too long before I get… tense and agitated. But with you, well….” She smiled before snuggling back into her embrace with Lena.

She had to hear the way Lena’s heart was fluttering, even without using super-hearing.

Speaking of superpowers…

“I know you’re Supergirl,” came out in a whisper before she could stop it. Apparently, some part of her had decided that she was going to confess her knowledge of Kara’s alter ego today. It would have been nice if the rest of her had been given a warning.

Kara’s head shot up off of Lena’s chest. “Wait, what?” she said with a forced scoff. She waved her hand through the air. “Lena, come on.”

Lena stared at her flatly before reaching forward and yanking down the column of buttons on her shirt, parting them to put the Supergirl emblem on full display. Kara was left agape for a long moment.

“I’ve known for months now, Kara,” Lena confessed gently. “I was waiting for you to tell me, but after almost losing you, I—” Crap. Here she was again, drowning the floor in her word vomit. “I knew that I just had to be as truthful with you as possible, to have the best relationship with you that I could possibly have before something happens to take it all away.” She rolled her eyes at herself before looking down at her hands. “I’m trying to stop holding everybody that cares for me at arm’s length.”

Kara didn’t say anything. Lena saw her glance over to the television, where the credits of the movie were rolling. Kara turned the television and DVD player off before turning to Lena and finally speaking. “It’s late. Do you want to stay over tonight?”

At the mention, Lena couldn’t stop a yawn from stretching her mouth open. Kara giggled and continued, “Yeah, you’re tired. Let me get you something more comfortable and less tear-stained to wear. I don’t mind sleeping on the couch, but I get the feeling that…” she paused, causing Lena’s breath to stop as well. Kara bit her lip and sighed. “I think we both might sleep a bit better with someone else next to us. Don’t you think?” She fidgeted with her glasses as she waited for a response.

Honestly? The offer sounded absolutely wonderful. Sleeping with Kara next to her would probably make her wake up feeling amazing. She felt a bit of guilt at not sharing her feelings for Kara, as well—as if she were taking advantage of her by accepting her offer. But, honestly, Kara had offered, and Lena would never do anything that Kara was uncomfortable with.

“I would greatly appreciate it, Kara. Thank you,” she finally responded, softer than she normally would. She saw a warmness cover Kara’s expression at the sound of a message meant for her ears only.

Soon, Lena had changed into a pair of Kara’s sleeping pants, which hung low on her hips and past her feet, and an oversized t-shirt Kara claimed had magical powers.

It smelled like her.

They got into bed once Kara turned the lights off, facing away from each other. Lena was suddenly surrounded with that same smell of Kara, and she wished she could stay here every night.

She heard Kara turn over behind her. “Hey, Lena?” she said softly, as if Lena could have fallen asleep so quickly.

Lena turned over to face Kara, in return. “Yes, Kara?” she replied, just as softly.

In the darkness, Kara was just barely outlined in the silver-blue moonlight peeking through the window blinds. Her glasses were off, but Lena still saw Kara Danvers. And she was absolutely beautiful.

Then Kara lightly placed a hand on Lena’s jaw, catching her completely off guard. It was the most intimate touch Lena had received from her to date. It took her breath away.

Kara stroked her thumb over Lena’s skin before continuing. “I want you to know that I love you. So much. And if it hadn’t been for…” she paused, closed her eyes, and shook her head. Lena placed her own hand over Kara’s to hold it in place and show that she understood what she meant. Mon-El. “…well, who knows what could have happened by now with us. But now, things got so… so messed up, and I just wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t wait for me.”

Lena was extremely confused. A roller coaster of emotions ran through her at the mini-speech Kara gave. She gripped Kara’s hand tighter, but the superhero was still talking.

“I don’t want you to wait for me to get my head together and waste your time on me. I just want you to do whatever makes you happy. Okay?” She looked at Lena with her eyes shining gray in the moonlight.

“Of course,” Lena whispered with another squeeze to Kara’s hand on her jaw, “but, just so you know, I’d wait forever for you and still be happy just to be your friend.” She gave a small smile, which Kara immediately returned.

Kara shifted to press their foreheads together, and Lena could feel the pull of her lulling her to sleep. They brought their hands down off of Lena’s face to meet between them, their feet tangled slightly at the other end of the bed.

Of course, it was the best night’s sleep Lena had ever gotten.

#supergirl #supercorp #supercorp fic #lena luthor #of course #complete #oneshot #i don't even know how many times i said of course in this fic #but tbh i use it a lot anyways

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dreadnought-dear-captain · 5 years

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You Asked, I Told

Spoilers up to Chapter 37 of Baghdad Waltz

Hi everyone,

I’m so very sorry for being so late with getting Chapter 38 out. Writing that Spent Brass put a delay in everything, though it was really crucial to get it posted before this next chapter.

This has been a really tough chapter to get right for me. I’ve gone back to the drawing board more than once for a couple scenes. I’m not sure when it will be out, but I’m working on it daily and making some good progress. Thank you for sending me your words of encouragement and letting me know you’re thinking of me! I’m thinking of you too and know you’re really looking forward to more. It will be a doozy, in terms of content, so I hope it’s worth the wait.

In horrifying news, BW is turning THREE YEARS OLD on March 13th. Kill me. (But not before I finish this fucking thing.)

In the meantime, here are some answers to some Asks-------

Thank you so much for the very kind words. I’m so pleased that this story checks off so many of your boxes, and I’m relieved to know that the structure and methods I’ve chosen for storytelling have lent to a balanced narrative where you can appreciate both of these characters. I figure people don’t have to like each character equally, or at all. I just really want their choices make sense, for each character to have a distinct psychology, to have each action and reaction be believable, even if it is infuriating or illogical (it can still fall within the character’s internal logic, based on their own worldview). And I am so honored that this fic can serve as some inspiration for your own. God knows I have mine I go to on the reg when my stuff sucks and I can’t string two words together to save my life.

This is a deceptively silly question, I think (because I can’t keep anything simple). Working out together would be a nice little nostalgic throwback, wouldn’t it? I sometimes pop back to earlier chapters when they were in Baghdad and think about those times with a wistful smile. I think about the way they related, the way they looked, the relative lack of complications in their lives, and it’s such a profound departure from the way things are now.

Steve obviously has kept up his gym going with Matt. We’ve also seen that working out for him is about more than just being swole and hawt; it’s about control and regulating his emotions. And for Bucky, working out used to be a way of maintaining peak fitness for his career, which was one of the ways that he evaluated his self-esteem. If he was fit, he had value. Also, if he was fit, he was sexy, and we know that sexual capability is also one of the primary currencies he uses to determine his self-worth. He also used the construction of his physique as a way to develop his masculinity, the correct form of [gay] masculinity, rather than being a twink or a sissy. This was always a struggle against Bucky’s natural slim body composition, which has become his default again now that he’s been out of the military.

Now Bucky faces a couple of hurdles to exercise, whether he would do it for health or for building his physique. He has the challenges brought about by his many injuries - compromised grip in his left hand due to his massive forearm injuries and inconsistent rehabilitation efforts, ongoing pain in his right foot and a continued limp from that, significant back and hip pain due to very heavy load bearing and overcompensation from his foot injury. This would make it challenging for him to engage in any intense fitness program. What he really needs is to go back to physical therapy, and probably occupational therapy as well, but last time didn’t go so hot last time.

Even if he didn’t have to contend with his injuries, Bucky is at a bit of a crossroads in terms of how much energy he wants to put into rebuilding and maintaining his ideal physical self, which seems to be based on some prototype he picked up long ago (more on that in a future chapter). No chest hair, no body fat, muscles, a perfectly shaved asshole at all times… But he’s not 21 anymore. He has a boyfriend now. And even though he’d probably love to go to the gym to shoulder in on Steve’s time with Matt, I wonder if he would want to go for himself anymore. I wonder if going with Steve would be intimidating or make him feel pressured to fall back into his old patterns. Because now at least he has the excuse that he can’t lift heavy, that he can’t run, so he might as well not even try. But if he could, it would be interesting to see where his path would go as a 31-year-old man.

See? You thought it would be a simple “Yeah, there’re totes gonna go to the gym together, chapter 41, stay tuned!” or “No, probs not, I don’t think he’s much of a gym goer anymore.” Alas. I give no simple answers. This is why you have to wait 5 months for a BW chapter.

This is a good observation. Bucky loves himself a good drunk pizza. He also watches a lot of food-related TV when he drinks. Bucky has had to think a lot about food for various reasons. One is building muscle and physique when his body is telling him NO I WILL NOT. One is not eating so that he can get drunk faster. One is eating the right kind of diet so that he can have anal sex without having to worry about digestive issues (constipation, feeling too full, not being ‘ready,’ too much or too little shitting), which is a thing he would take seriously a hardcore bottom. I see things like pizza as a comfort food, family food, something Winnie would get for them every Friday night after they moved to New York. It’s a very emotional food for him, but he knows it’s “bad” for all of the aforementioned reasons, because it will make you fat and slow your buzz and stuff up your colon, so he might be most inclined to eat it when deep in a bender and doesn’t give a shit about those other things. Because Bucky not only drinks to forget and manage intense emotions, but he drinks also to just relax the relentless march of self-perpetuated, often absurd rules about what and who he is and what he can and should do. So yes, Bucky has some disordered eating, most of it functional, though a lot of his lack of eating recently is likely anxiety-related and/or stomach illness-related.

Another excellent observation. For those who might need a refresher, since this was in chapter 36:

The morning after Bucky shows up at Steve’s drunk and they have sex and many revelations are made about drinking during their relationship, Bucky gets honest about what happened the day before. He tells Steve: “I had my interview. It— I really don’t know how it went. I was so out of it. I’ve been so fucked up these past couple weeks. Just— it’s been bad. Really bad.” He tells the story of what happened at Scott’s. Steve asks why Bucky didn’t tell him he was struggling, and Bucky says that he didn’t want to get into it. Steve shifts in to talking about whether they should get back together.

I think there are a couple things here I could say. Yes, Bucky saying that he’s struggling is an example of some unusually straight-forward honesty that’s also a personal risk for himself. That’s a real measure of progress! But while I think this honesty is something that’s pretty new, the fact that he’s in a bad place mentally is not new information to Steve. I think back to the chapter before, after Bucky’s PT appointment with Luke, where he was clearly very distraught and having an extremely difficult time. Steve couldn’t get him to say what was happening then, but it was clear that it was something very major. So I don’t think this really felt to him like a major revelation, like Bucky’s really been holding it all together perfectly while imploding on the inside. I think this observation was more like, why didn’t you just TELL me you were struggling rather than having to have me wonder and then get wasted and come here drunk? Steve has a long history of asking Bucky if he’s okay and getting the brushoff. He’s probably starting to get tired of always asking and getting shot down.

Another part of your question is also very valid - is this the right time to get into a relationship?? Haha. Ha. Well, nobody said these two were good at making relationship decisions. But on a more serious note, Bucky having struggles is not only not new information for this month, it’s not new information for their relationship. Bucky has always had a secret life of pain that Steve has had to wonder about, ask about, beg to be let into, and he probably figures that one of the best ways he can affect change is if they’re in a romantic relationship. It will let him get close, give him some leverage, etc. So although it might come off as callous, Bucky’s struggles are the rule rather than the exception, and Steve probably figures he needs to get this relationship locked down so that he can get them into therapy and much-needed help.

Of course, there’s plenty of dramatic irony here, right? Steve doesn’t know what we know, which is that what Bucky is struggling with here is the REALLY BIG STUFF. He probably just thinks it’s his usual stuff. So. We’ll see where that goes. Bucky is going to maintain this illusion for as long as he possibly can.

Yes, @pitchforkcentral86 and I had several conversations about whether Bucky should have an animal. It’s a common trope in fic, and a joyful one to read. (Omg, I didn’t know about Alpine until now and I am thrilled!) And yes, service dogs, emotional support animals, therapy animals, pets, they can all be very healing, can provide meaning and purpose, and can also help to structure the lives of people who feel destabilized in various ways.

However, I have held back on giving Bucky an animal because a) his aforementioned history with animals, and b) I’m not sure if that’s what he needs at this point in his journey. I do really think Bucky has some sort of healing that needs to take place around animals. He loves animals. He loves nature and is a true soft boy (TM) who has been deeply hurt by his experiences. It was very inconsistent with his values to do the things he did, see the things he saw, and it’s so painful that he doesn’t know how to reconcile it.

But he’s in such a precarious place now emotionally, with such low resources, and he can barely even share the smallest pieces himself with other humans. People are a lot more complicated, yes, but animals are a lot of responsibility. He would be so hard on himself if he didn’t do a good job, if he didn’t react well to his animal companion, etc. And I think it would probably be more bang for his buck to devote that energy to trying to increasing his emotional intimacy with his partner or his sponsor or other important humans in his life who are asking for his trust. He could GO BACK TO THERAPY EVEN.

I do think something that would potentially be helpful and pretty low resource cost is to have a therapy animal in his life, like something he could go periodically, a therapy dog at the VA or something he could visit and pet once in a while. It would be a good start.

But that’s just my thinking for this character specifically. I think service/emotional support/therapy animals are wonderful and can create incredible bridges for people to improving their quality of life.

Well, that’s all for now! I will continue plugging away at BW and will get it to you as soon as I can. Thank you, as ever, for your patience! And thank you for the wonderful Asks <3 <3 <3

#YOU ASKED I TOLD #send me asks #thank youuuuu #baghdad waltz

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jackdawyt · 5 years

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Following Jason Schreier's continued BioWare story, we have direct insight from many BioWare employees regarding the initial Dragon Age 4 BioWare were going to create code named 'Joplin' and envisioned by Mike Laidlaw, against the now in production Dragon Age project that has been code named 'Morrison'.

Last time we talked about both projects - Joplin and Morrison, equally named after their respected music artists who died at the age of 27, but were both known for revolutionizing their respected industry.

This latest report examines everything that Joplin was going to be regarding the future of the next Dragon Age title.

Let's now delve into the potential game that Dragon Age 4 initially was going to be, before it was rebooted for Anthem and Andromeda's developments.

As I quote:

The plan for Joplin was exciting, say people who worked on it. First and foremost, they already had many tools and production pipelines in place after Inquisition, ones that they hoped to improve and continue using for this new project.

They committed to prototyping ideas early and often, testing as quickly as possible rather than waiting until everything was on fire, as they had done the last time thanks to the glut of people and Frostbite’s difficulties.

“Everyone in project leadership agreed that we couldn’t do that again, and worked to avoid the kind of things that had led to problems,” said one person who worked on the project, explaining that some of the big changes included:

1) Laying down a clear vision as early as possible.

2) Maintaining regular on-boarding documents and procedures so new team members could get up to speed fast; and

3) A decision-making mentality where “we acknowledged that making the second-best choice was far, far better than not deciding and letting ambiguity stick around while people waited for a decision.”

(That person, like all of the sources for this story, spoke under condition of anonymity because they were not authorized to talk about their experiences.)

Prepare the tears for this next quote guys....

Another former BioWare developer who worked on Joplin called it “some of the best work experiences” they’d ever had. “We were working towards something very cool, a hugely reactive game, smaller in scope than Dragon Age: Inquisition but much larger in player choice, followers, reactivity, and depth,” they said. “I’m sad that game will never get made.”

You’d play as a group of spies in Tevinter Imperium, a wizard-ruled country on the north end of Dragon Age’s main continent, Thedas. The goal was to focus as much as possible on choice and consequence, with smaller areas and fewer fetch quests than Dragon Age: Inquisition.

(In other words, they wanted Joplin to be the opposite of the Hinterlands.) There was an emphasis on “repeat play,” one developer said, noting that they wanted to make areas that changed over time and missions that branched in interesting ways based on your decisions, to the point where you could even get “non-standard game overs” if you followed certain paths.

A large chunk of Joplin would center on heists. The developers talked about building systemic narrative mechanics, allowing the player to perform actions like persuading or extorting guards without the writers having to hand-craft every scene.

It was all very ambitious and very early, and would have no doubt changed drastically once Joplin entered production, but members of the team say they were thrilled about the possibilities.

The first big hiccup came in late 2016, when BioWare put Joplin on hold and moved the entire team onto the troubled Mass Effect: Andromeda, which needed as many hands as possible during its final months of development.

The Joplin team expanded with people who were rolling off Andromeda and kept working, prototyping, and designing the game. After spending months of their lives helping finish a Mass Effect that didn’t excite a ton of people, it was nice to return to Dragon Age.

One thing that wasn’t discussed much on Joplin was multiplayer, according to a few people who worked on the project, which is perhaps why the project couldn’t last.

By the latter half of 2017, Anthem was in real trouble, and there was concern that it might never be finished unless the studio did something drastic.

In October of 2017, not long after veteran Mass Effect director Casey Hudson returned to the studio to take over as general manager, EA and BioWare took that drastic action, canceling Joplin and moving the bulk of its staff, including executive producer Mark Darrah, onto Anthem.

A tiny team stuck around to work on a brand new Dragon Age 4, code-named Morrison, that would be built on Anthem’s tools and code base. It’s the game being made now. Unlike Joplin, this new version of the fourth Dragon Age is planned with a live service component, built for long-term gameplay and revenue.

One promise from management, according to a developer, was that in EA’s balance sheet, they’d be starting from scratch and not burdened with the two years of money that Joplin had already spent. Question was, how many of those ideas and prototypes would they use?

It’s not clear how much of Joplin’s vision will shape Morrison (at least some of it will, says one person on the game), but shortly after the reboot, creative director Mike Laidlaw left, as did some other veteran Dragon Agestaff.

Matt Goldman, art director on Dragon Age: Inquisition and then Joplin, took over as creative director for Morrison, while Darrah remained executive producer on both that project and Anthem.

In early 2018, when I first reported that BioWare had rebooted the next Dragon Age and that its replacement would be a live service game, studio GM Casey Hudson responded on Twitter.

“Reading lots of feedback regarding Dragon Age, and I think you’ll be relieved to see what the team is working on. Story & character focused. Too early to talk details, but when we talk about ‘live’ it just means designing a game for continued storytelling after the main story.”

The game is still very early in development and could evolve based on the negative reception to Anthem. Rumor among BioWare circles for the past year has been that Morrison is “Anthem with dragons”—a snarky label conveyed to me by several people—but a couple of current BioWare employees have waved me off that description.

“The idea was that Anthem would be the online game and that Dragon Age and Mass Effect, while they may experiment with online portions, that’s not what defines them as franchises,” said one. “I don’t think you’ll see us completely change those franchises.”

When asked, a few BioWare developers agreed that it’d be technically possible for a game built on Anthem’s codebase to also have an offline branch, but it’s not yet clear whether Morrison will take that approach. If it does turn out to be an online game, which seems likely, it would be shocking if you couldn’t play the bulk of it by yourself.

(Diablo III, for example, is online-only on PC yet can be played entirely solo.)

One person close to the game told me this week that Morrison’s critical path, or main story, would be designed for single-player and that goal of the multiplayer elements would be to keep people engaged so that they would actually stick with post-launch content.

Single-player downloadable content like Dragon Age: Inquisition’s Trespasser, while often excellent, typically sells only a fraction of the main game, according to developers from BioWare and elsewhere across the industry.

Yet this wouldn’t be a “live service” game if it was a repeat of Dragon Age: Inquisition, which compartmentalized its single- and multiplayer modes.

Fans in the past have grown outraged at the idea of BioWare putting a lot of emphasis on multiplayer gaming, but there are ways in which a service-heavy Dragon Age 4 could be ambitious and impressive.

For example, some ideas I’ve heard floated for Morrison’s multiplayer include companions that can be controlled by multiple players via drop-in/drop-out co-op, similar to old-school BioWare RPGs like Baldur’s Gate, and quests that could change based not just on one player’s decisions, but on the choices of players across the globe.

Maybe in two or three years, Morrison will look completely different. It’s not like Dragon Age hasn’t changed drastically in the past. In the office, BioWare developers often refer to Mark Darrah’s Dragon Age team as a pirate ship, one that will eventually wind up at its destination, but not before meandering from port to port, drinking as much rum as possible along the way.

His is a team that, in the past, has iterated and changed direction constantly—something that they hoped to cut down for Joplin, but has always been part of their DNA (and, it should be noted, heavy iteration is common in all game development).

One BioWare employee summed it up well as we talked about the future of BioWare’s fantasy franchise. “Keep in mind,” they said, “Dragon Age games shift more than other games.

”Said another current BioWare employee about Morrison: “They have a lot of unanswered questions. Plus I know it’s going to change like five times in the next two years.”

There are other questions remaining, too: With BioWare’s Austin office gradually taking over Anthem going forward, when will the bulk of employees at the company’s Edmonton HQ move to the Morrison team?

Will Morrison be able to avoid following the lead of Dragon Age: Inquisition, which took on too many people too early and wound up suffering as a result?

And, most important, will BioWare work to prevent the burnout that has led to dozens of developers leaving over the past two years, with so many citing stress, depression, and anxiety?

End of article, so my thoughts on this, of course, I have my worries especially regarding the multiplayer part, it was to my knowledge that there is a separate Dragon Age team working on the multiplayer component completely estranged from the core team.

I hope that this is still the case, however, it's EA that're the ones who plaque BioWare to incorporate multiplayer and live-service.

Honestly the biggest concern here is how much of Joplin's original vision and resources are going to be put into Morrison's production, because the description of Joplin is everything I've wanted in a Dragon Age game following from Inquisition.

To hear that this initial game has been canned is heart-wrenching, any signs of Joplin's ashes in Morrison is all I can hope for.

Hope is all we really have right now regarding the future of Dragon Age, and don't forget Mass Effect, which is also going to affected by this too.

Of course, I have my worries. But I am hopeful for what the Dragon Age team can do, and I feel to fear when we still haven't seen the game yet is a little blind-sighted. Who knows when we will see or hear anything, I imagine we may see something on EA Play's live-streams next June, just before E3, but honestly, I'm not sure!

The next Dragon Age project is expected to release within 2-3 years from now, all we can hope for next is a reveal of some-sorts, like a title or development update.

It would be incredible if BioWare could come out and share some insight on what the heck is going on with the next Dragon Age, like a development diary which they did with Mass Effect: Andromeda.

To get a glimpse of this next game and the vision for it is what we in the BioWare fandom all need right now. To know what is going on with the next Dragon Age and how true it will stick to Joplin's original vision.

But until we do hear something, like always, you're already in the right place...

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battletowered-archived · 4 years

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Coming Out

||Drabble! No Trigger warnings apply as far as I know, but it’s decently long so its under a cut lol. Happy Pride Month Everyone, Ily||

Leon wrung his hands nervously, biting his own lip as he looked down at the paper in front of him-- the scribbly handwriting on it was probably only legible to him. That wasn’t mentioning the amassing pile of crumpled papers and scribbled out notes that were on his desk and scattered next to the wastebasket to the side of him.

He'd been spending some time researching all of this-- he wanted to set a good example. He might not be Champion anymore but that didn't mean he didn't still have people who followed him online and who looked to him to be a good influence on his younger fans. He'd had to remind himself a few times of why he wanted to do this-- He wanted to be able to finally be wholly himself. He wanted to try and offer comfort to others who were in his position, especially with his younger fans-- he wished he'd had someone there to talk to him when he was that age. He'd figured most of it out on his own with the occasional help of the Internet after he’d realized that he was starting to develop crushes on his male friends, too.

He just wished he could have a practice run. He guessed he sort of had already-- his mom knew. She'd found out after an awkward conversation when he was seventeen where he’s outright asked if he was gay. She’d been accepting, thank Arceus, but that had been the most awkward and uncomfortable conversation he’d probably ever had. Not to mention he’d fumbled so badly-- “I’m not gay but I’m… not quite straight either” is what he’d said, if he could recall. He’d eventually explained what he’d meant by that, but that first day he’d been so relieved that he’d cried for like an hour in his mom’s arms. That wasn't exactly what he wanted to do here, and he wouldn’t feel like he’d succeeded if that’s just what he got out here, he was to the point in his life where he knew he had no reason to be ashamed of it but that didn’t stop the anxiety that was bubbling in his guts.

A practice run… Oh, Wait… it was getting late but he didn't think she'd have gone home by now. Plus she'd always said he could call her if there was trouble… Does this count as trouble? He hesitated for only a second longer before he reached over and pressed the speaker call button on his phone, trying to even his breathing. No going back now.

"Amelia? Could you come here for a minute? I need your help, please."

-_-_-_-

"...so, uh. Will you help me?" Leon kept his eyes firmly locked on his hands, where his fingers were locked tightly. It hadn’t been graceful, but having notes in front of him helped a bit. He could still hear the nerves in his voice, though.

"Awh, Leon, baby, is this why you've been nervous all morning?" Amelia sighed. "You're all worked up over this?" Leon's hands flexed a little tighter.

"Yeah I… I… I'm afraid." He chanced a glance up at her, only to see that she was giving him a kind look-- it reminds him so much of his mom.

"Leon, you know this doesn't change anything you've achieved. People will still love you no matter who you love. Sure there might be a few people who can't accept that but they're the ones that are the problem. Not you." Leon can't help the relieved whine that escapes his throat and he honestly feels like he could cry. "Of course I'll help. Just tell me what you need me to do."

Leon laughs, and ducks his head, trying to stop the tears that are starting to well.

"I'm sorry I don't know why I'm crying…" Leon sniffles, his throat feels tight. He hears Amelia shift in her seat, but is surprised when he feels her place a comforting hand on his shoulder. He glances up at her and she offers him the tissue box from his desk. He smiles a watery smile at her and takes a few to dab at his eyes. "I should be excited, right?"

"Well, not necessarily. You just said you're scared, I think that's pretty reasonable. It's a big change." She rubs his back softly, and offers him another motherly smile. "Even a good change can still feel strange and scary. I was that way when I was getting ready to ask my husband if he wanted to try and have our son. He'd told me plenty of times that he wanted kids but it's still something new. It's ok to be a little afraid of it."

"But what if I'm not ready for this? What if I don't know enough yet-- or what if someone starts asking me questions and I don't know what to say." Leon can feel the panic swelling in him again. "Or what if--"

"Leon." Her tone is strict-- enough to make him shut his mouth. "Being pansexual is part of who you are, right?"

"Yes."

"And you want people to know that?"

"Yeah."

"Then you're ready. Nobody expects you to have all the answers. You're only human. I’m not telling you to force yourself if you’re not ready but... if you're already sitting down and thinking about how to do it and imagining the ifs, ands, and buts about what you're gonna do after the fact… Well, do you think you'll be happier and feel better?"

"I know I will…"

"Then I think you're ready. You've got this bad tendency to overthink everything with that head of yours." She smiles at him again and ruffles his hair gently to punctuate that point. “I think you should do it if it’ll make you happier. You can’t live your life always doing everything for everyone else. Sometimes you need to do something just for you because you know it’ll make you feel better and make your life better.”

"I… okay. You're right. I want to do this. For me...” Leon raises his hands again, wiping at his eyes and nose with the tissue and trying to breathe. His leg is still bouncing nervously, but he really does think she’s right. He’s been thinking about how much easier it would be to just… be after he came out. It felt like he always had to lie by omission and it was getting so hard. It felt like it hurt him a little bit every time he had to pretend that this wasn’t him. “Let me just... Let me clean up my face before I do but I'm… I think I'm ready. Thank you."

“Of course, Leon. Just tell me how you want me to help.”

-_-_-_-

In the late evening of June 13th, 2020, on Leon's social media there's a video post-- the first video post he's made in a little over a year along with a caption that just reads "I'm finally talking about something I've wanted to for a long time."

The video starts focused on Leon at his desk, eyes ever so slightly red as he shuffles through the papers on the desktop and looks up at the camera.

"I've been thinking about making this video for a long time. About if and how and when I wanted to do it. If I would be able to get my words right or if I had to do it a certain way but...I was helped to realize today that I can. I don’t need to keep putting myself aside because I’m afraid of what people will think of me. I’m safe to be here and to do this, and even if it’s scary for me that’s alright. I’m allowed to talk about myself.

I want to be perfectly honest because I've felt, for a long time, that I haven't been able to be. Because I wasn't ready, and I was afraid but I… know that there will be people who still love me and are there for me and I'm so thankful that they’re a part of my life. And if me, doing this, can help to comfort and validate someone else then I’m glad, but… I think I need to do this for my peace of mind.”

He pauses, looks down at his notes for a moment, and takes a deep breath. Letting his eyes close for a moment. It's a brief few seconds before he looks back up to the camera in his rotom phone.

"I'm sure it's no secret that I've been an ally to the LGBTQ+ community for years. I've participated in Wyndon pride several times in the past, and I have many friends and peers who are a part of this community. There is nothing to be ashamed about for loving whoever you love-- and there never will be. It’s an amazing community full of brave people, and it’s one of the most loving, helpful, and compassionate communities that I’ve ever had the privilege to be a part of, and I… really owe it to myself and to my friends and family who have supported me to be honest.

So… so today I'd like to tell you all that I'm pansexual. I love people regardless of their gender. I can develop feelings for people who are men, or women, or wherever they might identify on the gender spectrum. I’m sure that’s a surprise to some people, and probably not a surprise to others, but it’s something that I’ve known is a part of who I am for a long time.

I've never been quite sure of how I wanted to say it, but I don't want to keep this part of me a secret, not when it’s something that makes me feel like I can’t be who I am and especially not when it's something that someone else might need to hear to know that they're not alone. I have nothing to be ashamed of-- I’m happy with who I am and I’m so thankful that I know that I have people who are in my corner to support me for who I am.

And even if me saying this might be for me, right now, if it helps even one other person to feel a little more comforted about who they are then I’m glad. I’ve been so lucky to have been accepted in the LGBTQ+ community from the very first day, even if I wasn’t out, and I genuinely hope that I can continue to help and support others. People who might have been in my situation, or people who are out, or people who haven’t been given the privileges that I’ve had and who need them. I just… want you to know that even if you’re not there yet that I’m proud of you. You’re strong, and I’m proud of you even if you’re not able or ready to be out yet. And I owe a massive thank you to the people who have and who continue to support me. You inspire me and give me more courage than you could ever know.”

#Leon || Keep your eyes ahead and your mind open #Drabbles || Written Histories #||he did it im proud of him||

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