#im getting fixated on awful hospital

[devilledeggz]

im not getting fixated on awful hospital im not getting fixated on awful hospital im not getting fixated on awful hospital im not getting fixated on awful hospital im no-

[mashed4077]

frank goes to maine jokes are funny and all but hear me out: hawkeye goes to indiana.

picture this. it's only been like six or eight months since the war ended and hawk's doing rock-bottom awful. he can't form new attachments and the war haunts his every moment, so he's grown rlly dependent on keeping in contact with everyone, bc they're the only ones who get it. he's already been down to boston to see trapper and to bother charles, he's even impulsively made his way to iowa and missouri to see radar and potter (and showed up on their doorsteps out of nowhere). he tried to visit henry's widow and kids on his way back through illinois, but he couldn't bring himself to. he calls margaret & bj routinely, and he maintains correspondence with mulcahy & klinger over in korea (im ignoring aftermash. or maybe it's just too soon, neither is back in the US yet). he's even managed to remember the names of a few stand-out patients he had and done his best to reach out to them.

at some point, he fixates on the fact that he's managed to keep up with everyone important but frank. nobody knows what happened to him. margaret hasn't heard from him, and she won't contact him. he could be dead for all they know. something about it rubs him wrong, about the gap, the missing piece - the lack of control. it's been really bothering him that he patched up a thousand soldiers in korea and he'll never see any of them again, and in his head it makes sense if he can at least hold on to fifteen or twenty of the people he met over there, that might be enough. and he knows frank's name and where he's from and that he has a practice, which means he can find him. another person he can hold onto, because the idea of letting go and moving on is terrifying, and feels completely unattainable

so what does hawkeye do. he makes his way to fort wayne. he finds a phone book. he asks around.

what does he find? the only thing i know for sure is that frank and louise definitely divorced, and he lost most of his assets. is he living in a depressing Divorced Guy apartment? is his clinic gone? did he actually get promoted to lieutenant colonel or was he lying? did he get put on meds? did they transfer him from a korean army hospital to a civilian hospital in indiana (as a patient)? is he still there, or did they release him? how well is he functioning? did he bounce back or is he still a wreck? is he healthier or worse? did he mature, grow, and gain insight at all? is he a little more self aware? if he's doing better, does he know what to do with himself or is he at a crossroads in his life?

either way, hawkeye realizes frank's the only one doing just as bad as he is / who's just as unsure where to go next as he is. and he's certainly the only one who's as alone as he feels.

maybe it's platonic. maybe he decides if he helps frank get his shit together, it'll help him figure out how to deal with things and move on too. and frank's the only one he can latch onto like that. everyone else, he can't just inject himself into their life while he sorts through his own shit. he can't burden any of them when they're busy with their families and careers. but frank - he has nothing. and he's doing worse than hawkeye, so hawk figures it's nicer that way, that it's not just about him, that they can help each other. and maybe, maybe frank finally gets a little redemption. finally gets the chance to grow a little.

maybe it's romantic. maybe one of the things frank's coming to terms with post-divorce is his attraction to men. maybe hawkeye's the first person he really talks about it candidly with, and for the first time, hawk's exhausted enough and feels bad enough that he doesn't answer with jokes when frank opens up. he takes him seriously. they reach that level, where frank's doing too bad to be a miserable snotty wretch and hawkeye's too fucked up to be a smart-mouth and to mock him, and that mutual exhaustion accidentally allows for trust and a sense of camaraderie.

either way... what if they helped each other to heal again? frank's always been fucked up, but much too deluded to admit it or try to grow. but i think his experiences in korea broke him, and i think there's an opportunity, there, for him to be remade into a better and healthier person. and hawkeye was ok before, but the war broke him, and he just needs to find a way to get back to himself. maybe they could help each other do that.

and if you're thinking, well, frank's a bigot, he doesn't deserve redemption or happiness - frank just absorbs whatever makes him feel safe and secure. his attitudes are things he was conditioned to believe, and he's stuck by them because they give him guidelines and a sense of order in a senseless, confusing, and frightening world. and you know what else? he believes those things because he thinks he's supposed to. frank latches onto authorities or individuals that he can base his life around, and in that way he's very moldable. this is why frank & margaret's relationship was far from a traditional conservative heterosexual one, like they both claim to believe in the sanctity of. the amusing hypocrisy out of them crops up partially because frank seems to be capable of disregarding an authority (like, say, the bible, particularly the seventh commandment) and his belief in "what should be" in favor of a person he's emotionally invested in. and, ofc, if it serves his own needs.

this is to say, within the context of the circumstances im describing, i think hawkeye could rlly help frank 180. it'd take a minute, but i believe if he began to value making sure hawkeye approved of him, a lot of his problematic beliefs would no longer get callously spouted, and he might even get better about thinking them in the first place. and hawkeye would love trying to educate someone who's not stupidly arguing nonsense points in favor of fascism, who's instead listening intently because why should he continue to follow the beliefs passed onto him by a family that spent his early years hurting and hating him? isn't it better to listen to the man speaking to him patiently and kindly, if a little irritatedly (bc everything hes saying should be common knowledge) - the first person who's ever really made an effort to care for him?

maybe one could argue that wouldn't be genuine, but im not sure how capable frank is of genuineness. i think he can grow in a lot of other ways, but his propensity to manipulate will take a while to unlearn, bc it's a survival tactic and he's never had a healthy relationship where he didnt feel a need to do that to ensure his security. of course, who knows if this post-war, shared-trauma-bonded relationship would be any semblance of healthy? but i think it sure would be fascinating

it's in the way frank's not even fully a person. he's a bunch of books on how to be a successful all-american man in a trenchcoat, just emulation and regurgitation, and yet he's genuinely incapable of actually embodying it. he's always failed at that. he just doesnt have it in him. and i think hawkeye, who's always rejected all the things frank's aspired to be, who failed on purpose and created himself in his own image.. would be capable of and would love the challenge of helping frank become his own person. and you know what else? hawkeye's not capable of the ol picket fence marriage. idk if hes capable of day in day out domesticity. with a man or a woman. i think surrendering into smth thats soft and loving would drive him a little crazy. but i think whatever the hell bizarre disaster relationship he developed with frank .. i think it might be enough for him

[girlwtf7]

Please read

-for the longest time, I lived on pro ana tumblr, it was all I could think about. And all I wanted was to be like the thinspo that was fed to my naive 13-14 year old self.

Last April I started recovery completely on my own. I still wished I asked for outside help. But I relied on myself to ensure i got better. I was never hospitalized, never severely underweight. But I was depressed and malnourished.

As I mentioned earlier, the pro-ana Tumblr community might have come across this advice before. I understand that this is a deeply personal issue, and it may not be as simple for others as it was for me to overcome. Hence, I may not be able to convince everyone to follow this advice, but I hope some are willing to read this.

When I decided to recover I knew that I would be burdened with guilt and my body would gain weight. However, I also realized that continuing to struggle with this disorder would prevent me from reaching my full potential as a human being. I acknowledged that my life was at risk and that I needed to take action.

Most importantly...who the fuck cares if your 'anorexic enough' who the fuck cares if you are 'underweight enough' who cares if 'you never had the symptoms of the other anorexic girls' because everyone is different and a person with a 6-year eating disorder deserves just as much sympathy as a person with a 3-month long eating disorder, because they are both suffering, and both need help.

If you are on here to 'become anorexic' don't, this corner of the internet is dark and awful. I hope this blog reaches the right people who need to hear this because it is SO important. Every day I notice marks from my disorder, I am not nearly as strong as I once was after losing a bunch of muscle mass, I am much more sensitive to criticism... and every day, I wish I never started that first water fast, because I waisted a year of my life hating myself.

Recovery has changed my life, and now, every day I notice Im heavier than I was a year ago, and every day I notice my clothes are tighter. But I still don't regret a thing. If you gain weight after recovery, if feeding your body made you gain, it is what needed to happen and I understand how hard it can be. But please consider recovery.

I get that it can be hard at first, but now I'm at the point where I don't miss starving at all, and I know I'll never, ever go back to it. life is too short to seek validation from toxic pro-ana girls, it's too short to fixate on every calorie. Enjoy your life and remember recovery is worth it, food is fuel, and you are perfect the way you are. <3

[trickinabucket]

i dont have my stimulant lol

when i went to the hospital i had to bring my medication bc they didnt supply it in their pharmacy. the sonsabitches lost a whole sheet of pills (6 doses) and im just. here

i had 2 awful dreams (probably bc i ate greasy, rich food before i slept) and could barely get out of bed. and now im focusing heavily on that weird fixation i (used to) have where i just wanna get up, walk outside, keep walking, and not stop until im too tired to go anywhere else.

no snacks. no clothes. no phone. no contacts. no medication. no family. just walk and walk and not look back.

god. fucking. damn it. u g h.

[alastors-wife]

ok I guess

[tomhiddelstonandzaynmalik]

Love at first sight?

Chapter 8

Note: im using Celsius instead of Farenheit bc I get confused anddd for the fics purpose I made the reader from Arizona bc it's hot, sorry hehe.

prologue chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Warren Worthington III x reader

Word count: 1300 words

Warnings: language

"Worthington! Wait up". Warren stopped walking for his friend to catch up. "Yes, Monroe?". Ororo rushed from the main entrance to the end of the hall, where Warren was waiting for her. "So? Spit the beans!". She was referring to the meeting with The Professor, which had just ended a few minutes ago.

"Hell no! I'm starving, thanks to you! As far as I can recall, you did say you were going stop by the infirmary to bring me my breakfast, but you never came". Warren said resentfully. "Oh! Forgive me for trying to give you some privacy! I DID go over! but when I realized you were having a blast with "ms. mystery", I left!." Warren's mouth turned into a big "O" surprised by the girl's comment. "Shit, sorry I'm an ass. I should have known better than t-". Although Warren was showing great remorse for his actions, Ororo, on the other hand, seemed unbothered as he had cut his ramblings off. "Whatever, man. Listen up! Why don't I fix you something to eat in the kitchen while you tell me everything that happened, and not just with Charles". Her big brown eyes were beaming at him with mischief. After all, it wasn't likely of him to speak more than five consecutive words with strangers.

"Fine by me". The blond said, already walking to the kitchen. "Oh, by the way, her name is Y/N". He informed with a small smile creeping on his lips.

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

"For real?" You said in amazement as the man with glasses who went by the name of Hank explained to you some medical facts about your mutation you've been oblivious to your entire life. "Are you telling me my hydrokinesis has been the reason behind why I'm always cold?". Your face in awe had made the man chuckle. "Indeed, Y/N. Your connection with water goes beyond expected. Your body temperature resembles the ocean's, which means, unlike the rest of us who have an average temperature of 35.5 C° to 37 C°. Yours can go as low as -2 C° with its highest in 35 C° ". You turned to your left side, inspecting the monitor showing your vitals, where you read the big bright numbers. "So, does 20 C° mean... ". "Just fine". The doctor said.

"No need to remind you about staying clear from desserts or, you know, fires". "Damn it, just when I was considering moving to Egipt". You had meant for the man to laugh at your joke. Instead, he shot you a disapproving look. "I'm serious, Y/N. You could die. The body can endure temperatures up to 50 C° before death, but you, anywhere up to 39 C° can be fatal".

Those last words were bringing back the multiple times you'd fainted without any apparent reason. Even during a spring day back in your natal Arizona, you could end up in E.R. The doctors had always told your mother it was a heatstroke, yet it never made sense. Yes, it was warm but not blazingly hot like it should have to suffer one. To your mom, you were only doing it for the attention. And after moving to Washington, when you were 5, the faintings stopped, making her believe more in her assumptions.

It also made you remember those winter days when you were little, where all your friends would be covered head to toe with fuzzy clothing whilst you had nothing more than some jeans and a crewneck. People always believed your mother had sucked at parenting for leaving you so exposed to the weather, but for the first time, they were wrong. Yes, she sucked at being a mother, but at least this time, what seemed to be a lack of caring coming from her was just you not being affected by the freezing air like everyone else.

You were about to ask furthermore questions the tall man with the glasses he could perhaps be able to answer when a bald man in his late forties wheeled in. "How is our patient doing, Hank?". He asked. "Better than expected, Charles. Although I would suggest staying in here for observation another 24 hours, just to be sure". Hank replied, straightening his posture as the older man came further inside the room. But why? Just as you were seeking an answer, he spoke. "Because I am the headmaster, young lady. Charles Xavier, at your service". What the actual fuck, how could he have- "Telepathy, that is how, dear". A foreign voice explained inside your mind as the bald man stared at you with knowing eyes. "Please, don't do that ever again! Not without a heads-up at least!". You yelled fearfully. The idea of having somebody else inside your head unexpectedly had to be the scariest thing you could think of, and after having seen your frightened self, the man spoke ordinarily once again.

"Certainly! But, before we continue, how should I call you, dear?". The man, Charles, asked you with a tender voice. " Y/N".

"Very well, Y/N. Now, has Hank told you anything about what we do in here?". "Not much. That this is kinda like a boarding school but for weirdos like us and that some are of you like to run around the city wearing matching bodysuits playing heroes". You said while sitting down crisscrossed on the medical bed. "Well, you are not so wrong, but we are more than that". With that, the conversation about a brighter future for you began.

You had been brought to Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters by luck, without any clue of what could be there to come for you. When you woke up, you'd thought for that place to be nothing but a fancy hospital and nothing else. Now, after your interaction with the headmaster, you were left with a lingering feeling of something you had never experienced before, hope.

Hope for a future away from the streets you've called home for almost a decade. A possibility to become someone you could be proud of being. To form bonds that could last more than a weak or two. Most importantly, the chance of not being so lonely anymore.

In conclusion, Charles Xavier gave you hope for making your wildest dream come true. Stay here, and you will live a normal life.

Both Charles and Hank left the infirmary wing for you to process the information at peace before accepting his offer of prolonging your stay. You'd been so concentrated thinking about all of it. You missed the moment your angel came in.

"By the expression on your face, I'm guessing Charles already asked you to stay in here". He spoke to you as he was reaching for the stool next to your side.

"How do you know that, Angel?". You asked, squinting your eyes in a questioning look.

"He told me after proposing to me the very same thing". Warren said.

"Well, are you?". You eagerly said.

"I don't know, are you?". If you were honest, everything about living at Xavier's sounded perfect to you. You would have accepted right away if it hadn't been for Charles himself who stopped you and made you think about it. After all, it was a 180° lifestyle change.

"Hell fucking yes! Why wouldn't I? It's not like you're allowed to live in a mansion every day" This was the answer which caused the mutant next to you to chuckle slightly. "Is that the only reason you're staying?". You would have said everything you'd been thinking about before warren showed up. Yet something in you told you. If you didn't, you could have plenty of time to do so.

"Not really, but if you decide to stay here, I might tell you all about them, Angel". You told Warren, who had now his eyes fixated on yours, those piercing blue eyes which seemed to be searching for something, what? You didn't know.

"Seems like we got a deal, Y/N".

[emotionalsupportshelby]

Hi, I'm depressed it's almost 1am and I'm gonna blog my Peaky episode watch:

Episode: Series 4 episode 3

Let's go

My dad said Paul walks like a ape, and it's, all I see now... Like with both arms at the same time

Michael gives me so many mixed feelings but it's cute that his, adoptive mum showed up in the hospital

Village Michael was the best Michael

Does the adoptive mum know it was Michael's decision not to go back? She's out here, blaming Tommy, like babe... Tommy wanted Michael to go, he refused

ADA MY BABY

Polly counting the days she's gone without a fuck 😭 legendary behaviour only, you go be with someone unsuitable ma'am, we rooting for you

Hi Ada saying "behave yourself" is lowkey fucking hot

You never behave yourself Pol you go down with legends

Only Cillian could rock Harry Potter glasses with that Haircut and I am here for it

I'll make a post on this, later but Tommy needs a, woman like Linda, a women who gets him away for the Buisness

Im not a fan of Linda but Kate is gorgeous 😍

Why is everyone in this cast so hot though

No but I had to watch the Arthur and Linda, sex scene with my dad 😭😭 there's others but this is by far the worst 😭 I hate every time we get there 😭

"keep his balls empty and his belly full" Linda's mum >>>>

I hate myself for thinking this but I wonder if Helens hair drastically changed to this shorter one because she was going through treatment..it looks similar to my aunts, who went through breast cancer so I'm like 👀

Probably not cuz it's years before but.... Who knows

The paint fight scene must have been so fun to film... I love watching it each time

"I'm here as a lover of theatre" Me introducing my theatre nerd ass

I alwaud forget how good Adrien is in Peaky... Season 4 is one of my least favourite seasons but Adrien kills it as Luca even though I dislike his character in general

Arthur he had a fucking vote because it was planned to have the vote Just because you were getting fucked doesn't mean that stops

Arthur... John shoulda killed his teacher... Its not on you it's on his dumb ass

Kates smile is GORGEOUS

Arthur and Linda are a toxic relationship on each end and I hate that neither of them are getting happiness

She's trying to help you get out of the life which is damaging you Arthur, don't go Bat shit at her

100% found out that I've developed a new crush on Kate just now...can't wait to rewatch with this knowledge

"you have a lot of enemies" no shit mate... No fucking shit

JESSIE BABY HOW I HAVE MISSED YOU

and your muppet dress

You cannot say that that dress don't look like it's got muppet on

Ti's the Muppet dress..

Okay I made a post on this before but Cillians subtle yet heartbreaking acting when Greta gets brought up is a hyper fixation every damn time I watch this episode... Here's, my gif from last time

He looks so broken and I can't explain how much I love his acting choice there... Whether he even knew he was doing it or not

I'm so angry Jessie isn't coming back next series 😭

Her and Cillian had so much on screen (for lack of better word) chemistry and I'm sad we won't get any more of it 😭

Greta is still Tommys truest love and possibly his ownly love and I will go to my grave thinking that

Jessie/Charlie deserves SO much more love than she got and I'm forever bitter about how dirty she was done

Cillians acting in this scene is heartbreakingly subtle yet beautiful and I'm in awe

Arthur firing the bullet, I'm not a HUGE Arthur fan but he needs to go and get therapy and find happiness

Lizzie is under appreciated as the woman who isn't with Tommy... She is so much more than Tommy's wife

"Tommy said yes, Arthur said yes"

"but did God say yes" - I love Polly 😭

Finn trying to be in charge, bby no

As someone who has been to Blackpool... That is the happiest look you will ever see... I stayed at a hotel there for a con and it didn't even have a fucking window... We were in a box... I feel Tommy had the same experience

Lizzie, Polly and Linda arranging a girl for Finn gives more proof that he's fruity 🍓

"nice women don't do that sort of thing"

"yes they do, look at you" - we love sweet Tommy one liners 🥺

Hi if tommy wants to take me to the docks Id love that because it's, precious as fuck 🥺

He is fully in his head fucking Greta here but its still a fucking sweet moment and I love it

HE PROMISED GRETA HE WAS GOING TO CHANGE THE WORLD GUYS I CANT 😭

The way he goes back to talking business straight after having sex 😭 boy, rest dammit

"I don't want it like that ever again Tom" cuz you are interested in the other gender?

This scene woulda been a great one for Finn to come out to Tommy and I'm bitter it didn't happen, Steven recognise he ain't straight dammit

I remember watching the scene where Polly 'betrays" Tommy the first time and being so fucking pissed 😂 Still lowkey stresses me the fuck out

I always think I dislike S4 until I watch it and then I'm like damn... What a masterpiece ✨

Top 3 thinks I've thought:

1. Wow Kate is gorgeous and I hate that I've ignored it this long

2. Tommys romantic side who has his guard down needs to be shown more

3. It's not gonna be the same without Helen, I just pray they do it respectfully 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Ahhh that was fun... Hope you enjoyed my commentary 😂

(it's now 2am...oops 🙈)

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 11

Chapter title: Sidebar

A/n:  Let me tell you how fucking hard this chapter was to write. I HAD TO REWRITE the court section multiple times because my OCD brain wants it to be as accurate as possible and I still think it's not but whatever. Prinxiety is slowly growing more on me, and im very excited for where they are going cause babies. MMmm Damian, Remus, and Val are my fave characters oops. Anyway! If you have an comments to spare... :)

First | Previous | Next

words: 5020

summary: Roman, against many wishes, wants to return to work and Patton has had enough

pairings: Eventual logicality, eventual prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, LIAM, unwelcome actions, kissing, children in court

Ao3 Link  

“Damian please be careful!” Roman hears a familiar voice warn down the hall. He pauses the TV, expectantly sitting up as the rushed patter of feet draw near. After a few more moments of waiting, Roman watches as the door slowly slides open. He peers over his bed to reveal a small Damian struggling to push open the door. His little fingers barely pushing the crack open, his chest puffed in an attempt to be strong.

“Nnng got it!” Damian cheers finally getting through, a triumphant look on his face. He looks down the hall waving to an unknown figure. “Look papi! I got it!” He tells the figure, presumably Virgil. Roman has to laugh delighted at Damian. He's very familiar with the phrase bouncing off the walls and no one came close. But Damian? He was really pushing the line.

“Good job Dee” Virgil appears a moment later, doubling over huffing for air. He walks into the room picking up his son in the process. “Sorry Ro, he really wanted to see you” Virgil apologizes, cradling his squirmy son. The boy examines his surroundings, trying his hardest to figure out a way out of his father's grasp. He doesn't have to wait long, however.  

“Nonsense!” Roman declares, he adjusts his own position to better suit the young boy. “Come here” He ushers, Virgil gives him a doubtful look before placing Damian on the bed. He wastes no time making his way into Roman's arms, embracing the judge in a hug. Roman swallows the deep pain he feels, hoping the scrunching of his face looks more like excitement. Damian pulls away, sitting cross-legged on the bed opposite Roman.

“How are you feeling?” Virgil asks, his own arms folded in front of him. He looks around the room, his eyes fixated on the monitor. Though he doesn't understand most of what's displayed, the steady beating of Roman's heart does ease Virgil.

“Better, I'm going to work this morning” Roman responds not looking up. He plays chopsticks with Damian, letting him win almost every time. Virgil jerks his head towards Roman, his mouth failing to produce words. With no response, Roman turns his head towards Virgil. “What? The doctor cleared me, Im Gucci to go” He insists, the awful phrasing aside Virgil didn't believe it.

“You can't possibly be serious” Virgil gapes, his voice in a soft whisper as to not alert his oblivious son. Roman ‘loses’ another game of chopsticks, snapping his fingers in defeat. Damian giggles, falling back onto the soft cushioned bed. To their credit, hospital beds were quite comfortable.

“I am, the doctor informed and briefed Joan, so their prepared. There will be a nurse on standby” Roman hope the preparation eases Virgil because whether or not the anxious man wanted it he was going back to work. “I'll be ok Virge” He assures, his focus still on entertaining Damian. Roman was ready to go back to work, after two days of wallowing in the stupid hospital room. It was not a fun place, the walls were frigid, nothing drawing Roman out. Nothing made him feel comfortable, or safe, just...observed.

“Sorry to interrupt, but the car is ready when you are Judge Reial” A nurse pops her head in, Roman smiles at her thankfully, she disappears a moment after.

“Wait! You're leaving now?!” Virgil cries, ignoring the very dramatic undertones. Roman shrugs as Damian ‘helps’ him pack some things away. “Im wondering if you're really stupid” Roman shuts his bag closed. He doesn't mean to startle Damian, he gives him an apologetic look his demeanor softening. Virgil sighs, taking a moment to collect himself. “Im sorry Ro, obviously I didn't mean that...I'm just saying…”

“I got it, I know what you're saying” Roman nods, unable to meet the detective's eyes “And I'm saying, Im fine” He seethes. Damian grows bored of the cryptic talk and stands on the bed, he waddles over to where Virgil stands. Outstretching his arms in a request to be carried, Virgil obliges enveloping his son in a protective hug. Roman finishes packing, sliding his legs out from under the sheets. “I have to...get ready so…” He mumbles looking down at his sad gown. Virgil nods.

“I'll go check you out” He takes Damian with him out of the room, towards the front desk. His head bowed down to avoid witnessing the horrors that take place in this building. He sees enough during work, he didn't need to see anymore.

He checks Roman out pretty quickly but hangs behind for a while longer, gracing the judge with enough time to change. Once at least fifteen minutes have passed he returns, knocking politely before receiving the all-clear.

“RoRo!” Damian throws his hands in the air upon seeing the judge again. Virgil has to admit, he still looks good. Jeans, a red shirt and a jean jacket really fit the judge. Plus, in Virgil's...professional opinion, it was nice to see him in something other than a gown. The scars on Roman's face framed him perfectly, weird, Virgil didn't think they could do that.

“Virge, my eyes are up here” Roman teases watching the detectives gaze. Virgil's eyes shoot up meeting Romans. He coughs, hoisting Damian a little tighter.

“I know, they were just too ugly to look at” Virgil retorts turning around, Roman mocks a gasp. Damian giggles into his hands as the three of them walk towards the front door. “Dee, would you like to ride with Roman?” Virgil asks his son, seeing as they have two cars. Damian, without a second thought, nods practically jumping into Roman's arms. Virgil helps them into the car before waving them off and making his way to his own car.

Before driving off he allowed the silent humming of the engine and the drowned out voices of the news reporters to embrace him. Cradling him in a steady routine, beating rhythmically as they eased his breathing. He took this moment to himself, clean slate. It was just him, it's just you.

~~~

“I do love coffee” Patton smiles, sniffing his freshly brewed cup. Logan watches the tiny tip of his nose scrunching as it does so. He pays the cashier working the cart this morning before leading Patton back towards the main foyer. “I do wish we could stay out here, it's the perfect fall weather. The leaves are changing, it's chilly but not too chilly and the sky is just…” Patton sighs marveling at the vibrant blue color. “It's perfect” He decides, Logan eyes the familiar twinkle in Patton's eyes. It really is, he thinks.

“It's eloquent I suppose” Logan responds, taking his own look at the sky, he bundles up tighter. Patton laughs taking a sip of his coffee, Logan makes a mental note to stop looking at his lips. “I understand the appeal, it is quite pleasant” A gust of wind passes through them, a shiver chilling the bones of Logan's spine. “But yes...chilly” He shivers, Patton smiles linking his arms with Logans. He seizes the palms of his hands currently buried in gloves in his pocket growing sweaty. Patton thinks nothing of it, he continues admiring the environment. As they keep walking, Logan eases, slowly melting into the gesture.

The walk from the coffee cart/courtyard back to the courthouse is a lengthy one. Logan is silently grateful for this, he's not sure what it is but just walking through the path, having a fruitful discussion with Patton, a delectable coffee in his hands. But it's perfect. A small gasp from Patton pulls his attention back.

“Oh, you should see how excited the twins are for Halloween!” Patton remembers. “It's their first Halloween” Logan ponders this for a moment, his face showing the thinking process. “They were too little the last couple of years, we almost went last year but…” Logan nods remembering the incident that had occurred in Patton's neighborhood.

“Well it seems exciting” Logan admits, he wouldn't know, however. His parents never allowed him to go, and he never had any real desire too.

“You should join us!” Patton offers, Logan's heart picks up speed. “It would be fun, we could take them around the neighborhood, get some candy, and then just watch some good movies” Logan listens, it sounds wonderful. He almost longs for that kind of perfect night every night. Logan's face must not have conveyed the same feeling as Patton's next words fell out “You don't have to of course, just an offer and I'm sure the kids would love having you around”

“No Patton, I would very much appreciate that” He rushes not wanting to miss his window or miss a chance at seeing Patton's face light up. “I don't have to...dress up, do I?” He cautions, Patton shakes his head.

“Of course not, I usually wear something simple. A witch hat, little cat ears...but no you don't have to” he smiles. They continue on their way reaching the main foyer. Patton unlinks his arm from Logan much to the lawyer's disappointment. He struggles to remove his jacket, Logan removes his briskly hanging it on the coathanger.

“Here let me” he extends, Patton sighs resigned allowing Logan to help with his coat. He folds it neatly before placing it next to his own.

“Thanks!” Logan gives a short nod.

“Roman, I'm not going to tell you again!” Both lawyers turn their focus to the noise. Virgil stumbles in after a very annoyed looking Roman. “You have to be more careful, you're injuries are still fresh” He reminds, Roman groans throwing his head back.

“Ugh! I know, you keep telling me” Roman moans, as he removes his coat Patton and Logan see a bundled up Damian. Patton awes as Roman handles the boy carefully. The pair make their way to join the others.

“If it isn't your royal highness and his knight in sulking armor” Logan teases, Patton stifles a laugh waving a quick hello to Damian. Roman and Virgil share the same expression towards Logan. “I must ask, what are you doing here Roman?” Logan inquires. Virgil throws his hands up.

“Thank you! See? Logan...agrees?” He questions, Logan shrugs ultimately agreeing with the sentiment of concern Virgil feels. “You shouldn't be here, you should be resting! Getting better!” Virgil shouts, Patton shushes him still watching a very sleepy Damian. Roman rolls his eyes turning sharply towards Virgil. Patton breathes through his teeth, extending his arms towards the young boy. Roman eyes him confused. Patton gives him a sweet smile before Roman finally understands.

“Oh my god, here take him” He huffs handing Damian over delicately. Patton smiles cuddling the young boy, Logan watches. “Now you” Roman turns back to a rather fuming Virgil. “Need to stop, I am fine!” He affirms, Virgil laughs dryly. Patton begins dancing softly in place, humming quietly to Damian, a much-appreciated gesture. Virgil makes a mental note to thank him for that, Damian, much like his father can get stressed or anxious when people fight or are loud.

“Too loud” Damian moans staring at Roman and his father. Patton nods sympathetic, he shares a glance with Logan. “They won't stop” He complains, Patton takes a deep breath eyeing the front desk.

“Im going to go check in” Patton decides, telling the squabbling pair. Virgil nods, shooting his own apologetic look to his son. Patton, promptly followed by Logan, makes his way to the front desk still cradling a sleepy Damian. “Good morning Jen” He greets the receptionist, she gives him a half-hearted smile. Logan works on checking both the lawyers and the judge in, making sure to gain visitors pass for Damian and Virgil.

“I wish it was Mister Hart” She sighs, leaning her head against her chin as she works on the computer. Patton and Logan glance at one another, then back at Jenny. She cocks her head wanting to speak but finds herself pointing instead. “I really am sorry Patton, we tried to keep him away but…” Patton follows her point, his breath seizing as his gaze falls onto Liam. He stands only a few feet away, chatting up some officers. At this point, Patton has no more fight in him, the texts, the visits, even the slightly creepy gifts...Patton can't keep doing it anymore.

“Pat? Are you alright?” Logan questions softly, Patton's eyes glaze over. The only feeling of warmth coming from the now snoring child in his arms. His stomach aches, a nervous tug pulling at him. “Patton?” Logan tries again, he makes a point to keep his own voice steady. His own frustration and anger wanting to overwhelm him, to control him. Patton inhales, hoping the cool air frosting his lungs will jolt him back to life.

“Im ok” He responds finally. Logan looks for a sign of whether it was an honest statement or not, finding the blank expression quite hard to analyze. Patton returns his focus back to Logan, his face immediately gaining color. “For now, Im ok” He tells him, Damian shuffles in his arms causing the lawyer to coo at the young boy.

“So tell me, what are the twins dressing up as? For Halloween I mean” Logan questions, Patton looks up at him a slight widening of the eyes. He bites back a flustered smirk nodding.

“Well Valerie wanted to be a princess warrior and Remus wanted to be either a pickle or a duke” Patton explains, Logan smiles at Remus’s request. ��“So I used an old princes dress we had and some new fabrics to make Valerie's costume, finished it last night” He grins, Logan nods. “Then I used some other costumes and some new material to make a duke outfit for Remus. It's very poofy and green of course” Patton finishes

“Of course” Logan agrees, Pattons chest burns. He continues talking as they return to the now silent Roman and Virgil, fully aware of the intent to distract Patton, Logan had. He was grateful nonetheless, and it worked. Unaware to either that Liam was watching, a sea of envy pooling his stomach.

~~~

“Come in” Patton calls out to the door after a soft knock was heard. The door creaks open in the way that Patton was so used to. Logan's head appears causing a slight giggle to escape Patton. “Hiya Lo, what's up?”

“I uh…” Logan begins, he remains in his position not furthering himself into the room. Patton cocks his head closing his laptop.

“Lo?” Patton asks, Logan takes a deep breath before stepping into the room.

“I brought you a dog” He blurts, and sure enough he had. He lifts his arms to reveal a cubby dog. “This is Kevin, my corgi” Logan informs, Patton squeals at the animal. “Patton are you alright?”

“Yes!! Of course, I'm alright!!” He squeals in delight, he moves around his desk towards the dog. He extends his arms “May I?” He wonders, Logan nods handing over his dog into the lawyer's excited arms. “Oh hello, I love you” He admits as soon as the soft fur tickles his arms. Logan breathes a sigh of relief at the lawyer's smile. “Oh, Lo, he's wonderful” Patton insists, Logan steps forward, petting Kevin's head in Patton's arms.

“I sure like to think so” he coos at the dog, Kevin really had squirmed his way into Logan's heart. “I had Reeve pick him up on the way here,” Logan tells, its true. After the morning the pair had had, Logan wanted to do something. Directly or indirectly, he wanted for some godforsaken reason, to cheer Patton up. So, dogs.

“Oh, I love him, Logan!” Patton cuddles the corgi, showering it with soft kisses. Logan gestures to the seat, Patton nods. They sit opposite one another, Patton still obsessing over the small animal. As if remembering Logan is still present, he brings his focus back to the lawyer. “Hi” He smiles, rubbing the corgi's belly softly.

“Hello” Logan responds, Patton adjusts his own glasses. “Are you ready for today?” Logan inquires, inspecting the office he's been in so many times. Whether to work on cases or just visit Patton, he knows this office.

“I think so” Patton receives a delighted lick from the corgi, causing him to giggle. Logan could listen to that sound forever “I'm a little nervous about George's testimony ...If I'm being honest” he confesses.

“What changed?” Logan sits back in his chair, folding his arms in front of him. Patton buries his chin slightly in Kevin who wants nothing more than to remain in this position licking away at the sweet man's face.

“I don't know…” Logan gives him a doubtful glance “I dont” he insists letting out a soft laugh. His phone buzzes causing him to slam it over, Logan leans forward.

“Everything alright?”

“That text is most likely, ninety-nine percent from Liam” Patton guesses, Logan gives him a tired smile.

“I do-” Logan begins quickly interrupted by Patton. Kevin yelps, scrunching his tiny nose.

“Not like him, I know” Patton finishes “You, Virgil and Roman should start a club” Patton jokes, Logan bites his bottom lip. It was a childish thing to do, and mostly for the joke but they had had a group chat a while back called ‘The Liam Hate Club’. It was inactive but they had it. He scratches the dog once more before carefully handing it back to Logan. “Im sorry, I love the little dude but...I should get back to work” He admits

“Yes, I suppose I should as well” Logan sighs resigned, he wants to stay but overstepping boundaries is not his thing. “I will see you in court,” he says his goodbyes, much as he has done before. He nods before leaving, Patton leans back in his share smiling softly.

“See you in court Lo” He mutters softly reopening his laptop. Typing away ignoring the incessant buzzing from his phone. As he does so, one thing, one image, one thought keeps running through his mind. Logan

~~~

“Mister Tolentino you ma-” Roman pauses eyeing the detective who now stands alarmingly close to him. At first, he found it sweet but now Virgil was annoying him. Constantly checking in, examining his every move, always having something to say about everything. “Detective Tormine, do I have to remove you from my court?” Roman practically seethes, the jury watches as the two shares silent communication.

“You might bitch, you might” Remy mutters softly for only him and Patton to hear. The lawyer turns and gives him a stifled laugh, Remy nods in return leaning in his chair.

“Can we please continue?” Logan begs. Roman jerks his head towards the impatient lawyer nodding.

“Yes, lets” Roman decides, he uses his gavel to point to Logan “You may proceed mister Tolentino” He assures, Logan, smiles standing from his bench.

“The people call George Hoff to the stand” He announces, Remy and Virgil joined by Joan stand making their way to where Geroge sits. The detectives assisted by the bailiff lead George over to the witness stand, securing his handcuffs in place. Patton hated the sight but it was the only way he was allowed to have George testify. Joan swears him in and Logan goes through the usual. “Mister Hoff, where were you on the night of the first murder, July fifteenth?” Logan inquires, George remains still.

“I was at home with my wife and children” He responds, Logan had forgotten how cold his voice could sound. The way it kept perfect pitch.

“And the night of the second murder, July twenty-first?” Logan continues, Patton listens intently. Someway, somehow, sometime Patton will slip up and Logan will catch it, so he has to stay on his feet.

“I was at work” George answers, Logan hadn't noticed but his eyes were fixated on Patton. They hadn't moved or blinked once.

“Where do you work mister Hoff?” Patton goes on, his questions feel flat, boring. Logan has to wonder why what will these do for the case?

“I work as a nurse at Florida's home for the elderly, and also work part-time as a behavioral therapist” George explains, Logan nods. He really was a model citizen, Logan's eyes grow wide. A model citizen, Pattons trying to weasel the jury, show that he's not a murderer. And he was assisting with that.  

“Mister Hoff what are your work hours?” Logan requests, Georges ponders for a moment.

“Typically from five am to late in the night” Logan nods scribbling something down.

“So, would you say you're at work most of the day?” Logan implies, Patton scoffs softly.

“Objection, leading the witness” He claims, Logan bites his lower lip

“Sustained, mister Tolentino” Roman warns, Logan takes a deep breath.

“Mister Hoff, where would you say you are most of the day?” Logan tries again, hoping George catches on. The man isn’t stupid, he's quite smart actually but these things are meant to trick clients, catch them in a lie.

“Work, mostly”

“Do they keep records of when you check-in?” Logan inquires, George nods.

“You check-in and my boss will check in every hour to see if we’re still working, then check out” George describes “We have records on records of when we are at work, and security cameras of course” Pattons good, Logan can tell he prepared his client.

“Did you kill those people George?” Logan asks point-blank, the jury erupts into small gasps. Patton himself is taken aback by this. Remy and Virgil lean forward, every time they have asked this question they've gotten one answer, always the same; yes.

“No, I did not” He admits, something shatters around the man. His shoulders fall, his face grows increasingly red, his eyes...were they always so tired? Patton takes a prideful breath.

“Then how do you explain how your blood was all over the crime scenes?” Logan remembers. “Because as you can see here…” He pauses allowing Reeve to set up a stand with Logan's evidence. “Your DNA results, and the crime scene with your blood and fingerprints-”

“Objection! Badgering the witness” Patton cries, Logan wasn't letting him answer. Roman nods.

“Sustained, mister Tolentino” Roman advises. Logan yawns, he's not sure where it came from but he’s exhausted. “Mister Tolentino, is everything alright?” Roman questions, a growing concern, the lawyer is always...ok. Patton recognizes something but takes a breath, he’ll check in on Logan during a recess period.

“Yes, mister Hoff please answer” Logan assures, rushing away from the problem.

“I...am not sure how to answer sir” George concedes “I don't know how my DNA ended up on the crime scene, or why I confessed.” Wait no, Logan can hear alarm bells going off. “I-

“No further questions your honor” Logan decides “For now” He shuts his eyes in regret, Roman slowly bangs his gavel, confusion riddling his face.

“Uh...ok...mister Hart would you like to cross-examine the witness?” Roman inquires still staring at Logan. Patton looks over to the lawyer, Logan returns the look, nothing out of the ordinary.

“Not this time, thank you” Patton concludes, Roman scrunches his brow. Patton had examined the jury, though some had biases, they were still not opposed to either side, Patton didn't want to mess with that.

“Mister Tolentino, you may call your second witness” Roman gives permission, Logan nods looking towards the audience. The detectives resume George to his previous position making sure his cuffs are secure.

“The people call Annie Hoff” Patton's heart shatter, he knows exactly who that is. He hears a small seize next to him, George inhales his breath a cold shiver ran through him. Patton stands a calm fury inside him.

“What did you just say?” Patton baffles, everyone turns to the lawyer, a frozen fiery passion on him.

“I-“ Logan begins

“Sidebar” Patton states, no one moves, too afraid.

“Patton-“ Logan tries

“No, sidebar” he decides, Roman glances between them. He takes a moment before ushering them to his stand. They both make their way over, Remy and Virgil glance at one another. “Patton…?” The lawyer takes a breath before turning to Logan.

“How dare you call a child to the stand?” He seethes in an angry whisper. Logan keeps his composure, feeling a stab as Patton stares back with nothing but...hate. “She's only five years old! How dare you put her through this!” Patton cries, his voice keeping quiet.

“Patton she witnessed a lot of suspicious behavior from her father, I have to” Logan pleads. Patton laughs bitterly. “You would do the same!” He argues, oops.

“Never, would I ever put a child on the stand to testify against their father!” Patton exclaims, this catches Virgil. Annie Hoff, he looks to his left seeing a woman holding a small girl. As if on cue, he and Patton share the same emotion.

“I sincerely doubt that I was just doing what I needed to prove tha-

“Remus, Valerie and Damian,” Patton says simply, Logan exhales sharply, what a fool. “I thought so. Roman, I apologize but I'm requesting we hold off until tomorrow” He turns to the judge, Roman nods giving him a sad smile. Logan wants to say something but Patton walks away. His feelings final.

“Court adjourned!” Roman calls out

~~~

The room felt so much smaller than before, the walls closing in on Patton, the way his chair could barely move. He wanted nothing more than to go home but he had so much work to do and it wasn't easy. He almost missed the rasping knock on his door, but it continued, longing for a response.

“Logan?” Patton hopes softly, he feels awful about his outburst in court and wanted nothing more than to apologize. The door creaks open, Patton sighs.

“You'd like that wouldn't you?” Liam trips in, shutting the door behind him. Patton's shoulders tense as the man looks around his room. “Wow, barely changed in here...besides..” he looks to a small corner of the room, a play mat is placed with remnants of the twin's toys.

“Liam” Patton identifies. Liam makes his way further into the room. “Im busy” He makes sure to choose his words carefully.

“Oh that sounds familiar” Liam jokes dryly, he makes his way to where Patton sits. Patton remains calm, taking a deep breath. “You working late, I would come to visit you…” He leans in, peering over Patton's shoulder.

“And yell at me if I recall” Patton shrugs, Liam scoffs. He feels his warm breath right next to his ear, no-no. Liam's arms carefully make their way around Patton, resting his head on Patton's shoulder. “Liam…” Patton mumbles softly.

“Sometimes I would do this…” He whispers, kissing Patton on the neck. Patton loathes how much he longed for this, something like this. The warmth, the feeling of safety, of being there with someone he loves. Except...he didn't want this...not with Liam. A certain person in mind? Someone to hold him, it's sad, Patton knows.

“Liam stop…” Patton decides, although not a lot of effort is put into his objection. He is exhausted. Liam rests his head again, tightening his grip. Now it hurts, and now Patton can smell the breath of the horrible man who's decided he has any right to touch Patton. “Of course you're drunk!” He scoffs pushing Liam off of him, actually quite proud of his resilience. Any other time, he wouldn't be able to, but he's grown.  

“I am lightly tips- tip..” Liam stops “What's the word again?” Patton might have laughed, had he not been incredibly uncomfortable.

“You should go” Patton holds up a finger “No, actually you will go” He demands. Liam grunts he moves away followed by Patton ushering him out the door.

“Goodbye Pat-” Patton decides not to let him finish his sentence, shutting the door promptly.

“Toodaloo” He whispers a farewell, going back to his desk. He's not sure how it happened, but the moment his back sunk into the chair it just came out. It started softly, like a light patter of rain, then it grew. Until Patton sat alone in the dark, sobbing.

~~~

“Reeve you can go home if you want” Logan assures the young intern. Reeve, appropriately yawns, simply shakes his head.

“That's alright sir, I enjoy...learning and hanging out with Kevin” He answers, cuddling the corgi, much to the dog's delight. They continue in silence, Logan typing away at his keyboard, Reeve studying over his books, as Kevin begs for a hint of attention from the pair. They had fallen into such a routine, the careful knock on the door scared the two of them.

“Hello?” Logan calls out, slightly closing his laptop. The door creaks open, a very exhausted Patton stands there, holding files delicately. Logan closes the laptop completely now. “Patton, I was hoping you would...come to talk to me” He cautions, glancing towards Reeve.

“I was hoping I could speak to you” Patton's voice is so soft, so...Logan's alarm bells are ringing. He finally notices the deep red eyes and the soft cracks in his words.

“Of course” Logan decides, Reeve makes his presence known, the dog barking.

“It's more of a...private matter” He eyes Reeve, the young intern pops up. “Apologies Reeve”

“No, of course, mister Tolentino, I will see you tomorrow” Reeve bids farewell, handing, knowingly, the dog to Patton. It's a wonderful source of comfort. He gathers his things before ducking out.

“Goodbye, Reeve!” Both lawyers shout in unison. Logan turns his attention back towards Patton. “Patton, I ju-

“I want to build a case against Liam” He proposes bluntly. Words could not describe the relief Logan felt.

Finally

“Come in” he invites, Patton nods, closing the door behind him as he sits. Patton takes a deep breath, placing his files on the table, Logan looks them over.

“These are...Liam's files and...other stuff I've collected and Virgils collected over the years” Patton mumbles, he's in no state, but he's come here. He's come here, asked Logan for help, and Logan was going to everything he could.

“Let's get started”

[nalgenewhore]

come bother me

this is the longest thing i’ve written but im really excited about it!! 

TW: Car crash, hospital, surgery

Word Count: 4554

“Hi, I have a reservation for two.”

“Ok, and the name?”

“Salvaterre.”

“Of course, follow me this way, please.”

The waitress grabbed two menus and led Elide through the restaurant to a window table overlooking the Florine. 

Elide sat and only half listened to the waitress rattling off the special, her eyes fixated on the door, waiting for her husband to arrive. “- name’s Eileen and I’ll be serving you tonight. Can I start you off with a drink?”

She snapped out of her trance-like state, “Um, I think I’ll be needing a couple of minutes.”

“Of course, I’ll be back shortly.” Eileen smiled and left, leaving her to peruse her drink options. 

She twisted in her seat and fished out her phone from her purse, no new messages lighting the screen. 

Elide unlocked it and tapped on Messages, typing one to Lorcan. 

>>> are you on your way?

She waited until it said delivered and sighed, turning it off and resting her chin in her hand. 

—————

“Was that the last patient, Eva?”

Evangeline’s copper head popped out from around the corner and she grinned at him, her twin scars stretching, “Yup. Ride carefully, it started raining like crazy out there.” 

Lorcan smiled back at his niece of sorts, “Don’t worry about me, Ev. Tell your mother I’m sorry for keeping her precious angel baby late.” He strolled out to the waiting area and Evangeline stuck her tongue out at him and hugged him. 

She pulled away after a few moments, “See you tomorrow?” 

He shook his head and walked with her to the door, “See you Sunday at dinner, you have the rest of the week off to study.” 

The feisty ginger shot him a wink before pulling the door open and making her way to the elevator. 

He shook his head softly and walked to back to his office when the door opened again, “Miss me already, Ev?”

“Dr. Salvaterre,” he whirled and took in the woman standing with a swaddled baby in her arms, “I know you’re closed but she’s burning up. I’ve tried everything, please.” Her voice broke and he strode to her quickly, lifting the child from her arms, “Of course, come back this way.”

—————

Eileen appeared at Elide’s table, a sympathetic frown on her face, “Can I get you another glass of wine?” 

Elide smiled and glanced at the door one last time before turning back to Eileen, “Could I get the check, actually?”

“I’ll be right back with that.” 

She opened her phone up again and texted Lorcan.

>>> where are you???

Eileen approached and Elide paid, making her way out of the restaurant and sprinting through the rain to her car, slamming the door shut. She shook her head and turned the key in the ignition, pulling smoothly out of her spot.

—————

“Thank you so much, Dr. Salvaterre.”

“You’re very welcome. I’ll see you at the checkup on Tuesday, all right?” He handed her a card with his number on it, “Call this number if anything changes. Drive safe, it’s pouring out there.”

The woman smiled and left the office. Lorcan hurried back to his office, grabbing his keys, helmet and shrugging on his leather jacket. He grabbed his phone and dialed Elide’s number, the call going to voicemail, “Hey, it’s me, I had an emergency patient. I’m leaving right now and I’ll see you in a sec, ok? I’m so so sorry, baby, I love you so much.”

He hurried out of the office, turning off the lights and locking the door behind him. He passed the elevator and ran to the stairwell, sprinting down the stairs to the garage. 

His motorcycle sat in his spot and he hopped on it. putting his helmet on before he roared out to the streets of Orynth, the rain quickly soaking his jeans and jacket. 

He gunned his way through the city, weaving in and around cars, praying to every god that he would be able to placate the wrath of his wife. 

—————

 Elide’s phone rang in the center console and she glanced at it, Lorcan’s name appearing on the screen. She rolled her eyes and reached over to turn the ringer off. Her hair was wet and hung limply around her face and her makeup was running from the rain she had run through. 

She flicked her blinker on and got ready to switch lanes. A horn blared at her and she turned her head, headlights blinding her as a truck crashed into her car. Her body was thrown only for her seatbelt to catch her, her head snapping back. 

The shattered glass pelted into her, slicing her skin. 

Her car flipped and was pushed across the road, the roof scraping on the wet asphalt. 

The car stopped moving and she hung there, strapped to the seat. Her phone rang, Lorcan’s smiling face taking over the cracked screen.

The tears came now as darkness claimed her. 

—————

Lorcan walked to the awning of the restaurant and peered inside, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He called Elide and was sent to voicemail again. “Hey baby. It’s me again. I’m here but I don’t see you or your car. You probably went home. I’m so sorry I stood you up again. I’ll be home in a sec, I love you so much. I promise I’ll make it up to you, I love you.” He shoved his phone back in his pocket and stalked towards his bike. 

His phone rang and he hastily grabbed it, picking up before seeing who called. 

“El, baby, I—” The voice on the other side was not Elide though and the tears that shook it made him on edge.

“Lor, it’s me.” Aelin’s voice trembled and he was put even more on edge when she used his nickname, something she only did when she was being gentle. 

“Ace, what’s wrong? Are you ok? Is it Rowan? Did something happen to Evalin?” He demanded the questions and picked up his pace, straddling his bike, his pulse beating faster and faster. 

“It’s El, Lor. She was going home and,” she sobbed, her cries loud in his ear. His heart stopped in his chest. “What happened, Ace?”

“Her car, someone crashed into it. The hospital couldn’t reach you so they called me, it’s bad, Lor. Really bad.”

“No. It didn’t happen, tell me it didn’t happen and that she’s with you cause she’s pissed at me and tell me she went to your house and tell me that this is some awful joke cause she’s so mad at me and tell me that she’s sitting next to you on your bed and you guys kicked Ro out and tell me that’s she’s laughing right now and she’s drinking straight from the bottle. Tell me.” Lorcan pleaded with Aelin, his voice threatening to break, the sobs building in his chest, the pressure almost bursting. 

“You need to come to the hospital. She’s in surgery.”

“I’m coming right now. Don’t let her leave, Aelin. Promise me you won’t let her leave me. I need you to promise me that.”

Aelin’s voice was small and quiet, “I promise I won’t let her leave.” 

They both knew that neither of them had any power over it but they gave this to themselves, to bide as much time as they could. “Thank you, I’ll be there soon.” 

He ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket, slipping his helmet on and pulling out of his spot, riding more carefully down the roads to the hospital. 

—————

He ran to into the waiting room, his eyes falling on his family. 

Manon and Aelin sat together, their fingers interlocked as Aelin leaned on Manon. Evangeline was pacing the room, a sleeping Evalin in her arms.  Rowan stood when he saw Lorcan and hugged him tight, threatening to break Lorcan’s steel resolve. Rowan grabbed his face and his pine green eyes met Lorcan’s onyx ones. “It’s gonna be ok. Hey, hey,” Lorcan looked away at a spot on the wall above Lysandra’s head. “Lorcan, look at me.” He did, looking back into his brother’s eyes. “Elide is going to be alright. She’s gonna pull through.” 

Lorcan hugged his brother to him and buried his face in his shoulder, Rowan’s scent washing over and calming him. “L, let’s sit, k? Come over here, I’ll get you some coffee.” 

Lorcan nodded numbly and let Rowan lead him to the chair. He sat next to Lysandra and leaned his elbows on his legs, his face resting in his large palms. Lysandra dragged a hand down his back and softly rubbed it, her hand warming his cold body. 

—————

Lorcan didn’t know how long he stayed like that, head in his hands, Rowan next to him and Lysandra rubbing his back. Shoes stopped in front of him and he looked up, a woman with umber skin and golden curls falling to the waist of her white jacket. Elide’s doctor. Her face was blank but a healing light edged in her eyes, as golden as her hair. 

She wore light lavender scrubs and the name on the jacket said, Dr. Yrene Towers, M.D. 

“You must be Lorcan Salvaterre. You’re Elide Lochan’s husband, correct?” He stood and his form towered over her. 

“Yes that’s me. How is she?”

“The surgery was very successful. She had a lot of trauma to her brain so we had to remove a section of her skull for the swelling. Her right wrist and elbow were fractured as well as a dislocation of her left knee.”

He shuddered a bit, his legs threatening to buckled but Rowan was there, steadying him. “Can I see her?”

“Not at the moment. Dr. Salvater-” Lorcan waved off the formal title. “Just Lorcan’s fine.”

Dr. Towers smiled slightly, “Lorcan, while her surgery was successful, we had to put her in a medically induced coma. We’re not certain when she’ll wake up.”

“But she will wake up, right?” He pressed her for answers, his heart slamming in his chest. 

“That is the hope. Right now, there’s nothing we can do but wait. I’ll come back later with an update.” She smiled at them all once more and left. Lorcan started breathing faster and faster, his family around him crowding and suffocating him. Rowan pulled him away, saying to the rest of them, “We’re gonna get some coffee. We’ll be right back.” 

He led Lorcan down an empty hallway and let him lean against the wall and slowly slide down to the floor. Rowan sat next to him and Lorcan rested his head on Rowan’s shoulder. “It’s my fault. All of this. It’s my fault.” 

“It’s not your fault, Lor. It just happened. There was nothing anyone could do.”

“I could’ve done something. I could’ve been on time, I could’ve not stood her up the first time, I could’ve ridden faster—”

“And what? Gotten yourself in a wreck instead of her? There was nothing that could’ve stopped this, L. This is not your fault. This stuff happens.” 

Lorcan didn’t say anything and the tears dripped down his face, making Rowan’s shirt wet. Sneakers appeared before him and he looked up, Fenrys’ curly golden hair popping above him. In his arms he carried a soft blanket with Evalin. He sat on Lorcan’s other side, “Do you want to hold her?” 

Lorcan nodded and was passed the baby, her one green eye and the other one, fiery turquoise with liquid gold insides, stared up at him. Freckles were like constellations across her chubby cheeks, her dimples deep as she smiled up at him. Lorcan grinned tearfully and the three brothers all stared in wonder at the littlest, most precious creation they had ever known. 

—————

“Lorcan! Lor!”

He was pulled out of his slumber on Fen’s shoulder and looked down the hall, Evangeline running towards them. “Dr. Towers says she needs to speak with you.” 

He stood up fast, Evalin still in his arms and the four of them walked as quickly as they could down the hall, careful to not jostle the sleeping baby. 

“Lorcan, could you come over here please?” Dr. Towers’ voice, thick and sweet like honey, called him over and he passed a dozing Evalin to her mother, Aelin hugging him tight quickly before he joined Dr. Towers.

“You can see her now. She is much more stable and we are confident she will wake up. I’ll take you to her now.” He nodded and followed her down to a room, the curtains shut behind the glass walls. She stood by the door and opened it, leaning her head with a supportive smile. 

“It’s ok. She’d want you to be here.” 

He swallowed past his dry throat and walked in, pausing slightly in his step when he saw her on the bed, her dark hair around her. He could barely see her face around the breathing tube. 

Her arms were laid out on top of the blanket, IV’s sticking out. Machines beeped all around her but he dismissed them as he sat next to her. “I’ll be around if you need me.” 

He looked up at the doctor “Thank you, Dr. Towers. For everything.”

“Oh please, Yrene is fine, Dr. Lorcan.” They shared a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes and she was gone, closing the door softly behind her.

“Hey, babe. I’m here, finally.” He chuckled dryly, tears pooling in his eyes. He reached a hand out and brushed back the hair from her forehead, hooking it behind an ear. He gently took the hand closest to him and held it. “Now, you come back when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting right here.” Lorcan lifted her hand and turned it, resting his cheek in her palm, the pulse oximeter cold and foreign on his face. “Don’t you worry about me, I’ll- I’ll be fine.” He drew in a shuddering breath and let the tears fall down, trickling on the side of his nose and over his lips. He turned his head and kissed her hand, hoping that she could feel it, feel all his love.

—————

“Do you want me to drop you off or do you wanna stay with us?” Aelin offered him the guest room, her car stalling by the turn off to his street. 

“I don’t care.” His voice was flat and numb, Aelin shooting a worried glance to the backseat at Rowan. 

“Ok, well, you’re staying with us. We need extras for baby duty.”

Her tone was playful and light, in an attempt to make him smile, even if it was fake. He humoured her, the smile that stretched his face feeling foreign and wrong. “I can’t wait.” He squeezed her hand back and let them rest on the console separating the front seats. Rowan sat in the back with Evalin and Fenrys rode closely behind them on Lorcan’s bike. She pulled into the driveway of her house, only a couple blocks away from his and parked, “Home sweet home. Do you need anything, babe?” 

He looked at his best friend and his mind jumped briefly to their first deployment, when they barely tolerated each other but did it for Rowan. “Nah, just a bed and food.” 

They all hopped out of the truck, Rowan exiting more slowly as he took out Evalin’s seat and carrier. “What are you in the mood for?”

Lorcan slung an arm around her slim shoulders as they walked to her door. “Ace, I know you. Which means I know you can only cook breakfast.”

She poked his side sharply as she let them in, turning the lights on, “Whatever. You only know how to make nachos, like that’s any better. Remember that time when we were deployed together and you had to cook for like three weeks? I can never eat them again because of you.”

He laughed at her, albeit the sound was flat. “Fine, breakfast sounds good.”

She smiled and they walked through to the kitchen. “You make toast and coffee. Do you want coffee?”

He nodded and opened the cabinet for the beans, “I got you. Hurry up, I’m starving.”

—————

Lorcan walked into the hospital wing that Elide was staying in and walked to the nurse station where Yrene stood. 

She noticed the flowers in his hand and smiled, “Those for someone special?”

He glanced down and huffed a laugh, “Someone who deserves the stars and the moon. All I got are these damned flowers.” 

She smiled at him, her golden eyes crinkling. 

“How’s Chaol and Josephine?”

“They’re good but she’s growing too fast! They’re taking me out to lunch today.” He grinned and nodded his head, “I’m just here to talk to her.”

“Of course. You can go on through, you know where she is.” Yrene walked past him and he turned, “You’re too easy on me, Yrene.” 

She looked at him over her shoulder, her curls bouncing, “And you’re too hard on you, Lorcan.” 

He turned back and saw Eretia sitting at the desk. She noticed his flowers and the usually mean woman’s face softened, “Mmm, honeysuckle. Smells heavenly.”

“I thought they were daphnes.” Eretia chuckled and nodded her head towards her door, “You can go on, she’s waiting for you.”

He walked to Elide’s room and closed the door behind him. He walked to the far side and opened the blinds, the soft afternoon sun bathing her in it’s warm glow. Lorcan took out the flowers he had brought the last week and put them in the organics bin, placing the new bouquet in the water. “I brought you honeysuckle. I thought they were daphnes but Eretia tells me they’re honeysuckle.” 

He did this every day he visited her, chatting to her about nothing and everything. “I got a decision to make, El. I’ve been putting it off and putting it off.” 

He sat in the chair next to her bed and held her hand. “Everybody’s got an opinion. It’s, like, so much harder than everybody says. But since your opinion is the only one I give a damn about, I just wanted to run it past you.” He kissed her hand, holding it up. “Do I give in and get the new Harley or do I just rebuild the brakes again?” 

She didn’t answer but he didn’t expect her to. “Rebuild. That’s great, it’s what I wanted to do anyway.” He chuckled flatly and his breath hitched, tears pooling in his eyes again. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He pressed his lips to her fingers again, “Come back to me, baby. We’re running out of time. You’re running out of time.”

A tear fell and dropped onto the bed, “Come bother me.” His chin wobbled and his mouth trembled, the effort of keeping it in too great and the damn fell, his tears dripping out of him. 

Lorcan fingered the necklace he wore, Elide’s rings hanging off the chain next to their dog tags. “Come back to me,” he whispered onto her skin. 

He surveyed the machines around them and followed all the tubes that were attached to her. He watched her chest move up and down, “I wish I could breathe for you, baby.”  He stood and climbed onto the bed beside her, careful of her knee, wrapping her in his arms and whispering in her ear, “Come back to me, baby. Come home. I love you.”

—————

“How’d you do it, Dad?” Emrys glanced at his eldest son from his position by the stove. 

“How’d I do what, Lorcan?”

Lorcan wrung his hands and ran a hand through his hair, a motion his father knew was a nervous habit. “How’d you survive when Pops died? Cause I  don’t i’ll survive it. She’s not even gone and I can’t do anything. I don’t sleep or eat.”

Emrys moved and leaned on the counter in front of Lorcan. “You don’t.” He said it bluntly, there was no beating around the bush for this sort of thing. “You don’t survive. The person you became, the person they fell in love with dies with them. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, move on. It’s not a linear process either, son. There are days when I don’t get out of bed. But then better days come along to.” A timer went off and he turned, stirring what he was making. He mused as he cooked, “Somedays, I think the good days are the worst ones. Because you start to move on and leave them and you will feel guilty. You will ask yourself why it was them, you’ll beg the gods to take you instead. There is no end to grief, dear. There is no finish line.”

Lorcan started to cry, “I feel like I can’t breathe, Dad. I feel like my heart’s being torn out and ripped into a million pieces. It hurts. Why can’t I make it go away?” 

His father walked beside him and hugged him close, “I don’t know. I’m sorry, my son. I’m so sorry.” 

Emrys’ heart hurt for his son and he looked to the skies, asking Malakai for guidance.

—————

Lorcan went back to Rowan’s that night and the two of them sat on the back porch, watching the river flow past.

Lorcan’s thumbs picked off the label of his beer and when he spoke, it was the voice of a broken and tired man, “All I have left are memories. I remember everything. I remember her coming home, everyday, and just thinking, ‘I can’t believe that’s my wife. I can’t believe she married my ass.’ I remember all the times I could’ve told her I loved her. Could’ve shown her just how much she means to me.” He glanced up at Rowan and his brother’s green eyes were lined with silver. His voice hitched and Rowan moved his chair closer, his arm circling Lorcan’s shoulders. “I’d do anything, give anything, just to tell her that one more time.”

“You’ll have that time, brother. I believe you’ll have that time.”

—————

“Little Rosie is gonna be fine, Mrs. Essex. Just give her this medication an—”

The door opened and a breathless Evangeline exploded in. She moved her hands and lot and bent over, trying to catch her breath. He stood and approached her, rubbing her back, thinking it was the panic attacks that plagued her. “Love, you know what to do. Breathe with me, that’s it, in and out, in, out.” He hugged her to him and felt her arms grip his shoulders and she leaned back, “It’s not that, I’m ok. I just got a call from Yrene. They need you at the hospital.” His heart seized in his chest and he glanced at the woman and baby sitting on the examination table, utter bewilderment on her face. 

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Essex. It’s my E- my wife.” 

The woman jumped up and took the piece of paper from his hands, “These are the instructions, yes?” Lorcan nodded. “I can read so I can follow instructions, go be with your wife.” 

“Thank you so much, I’ll see you in a month, all right? Eva, let’s go, we got to go.”

She nodded and they split up, Lorcan going to his office to grab his keys and helmet while Evangeline informed patients that the office was closing for the day. He heard her light voice, “We are so sorry, I will email you all with makeup dates.” 

He ran out to the waiting room and stood at the door, herding people outside with an apologetic smile. When the last patient left, he and Evangeline ran to the stairs, flinging themselves down to the garage. 

They sprinted to his bike where he tossed the helmet to her, “Put it on. Lys will never forgive me if I let you ride without it.”

She put it on with no protest and climbed on behind him, “I’m ready. Let’s kick it.”

He nodded and tore out to the streets, roaring through downtown Orynth to the hospital. 

—————

Their feet slammed on the tiles of the hospital and the hallway to her room was lined with people. Rowan and Aelin stood with their backs turned, eyes on her room. They both turned at the sound of them and Lorcan couldn’t judge the emotion flooding their eyes. He didn’t let himself hope. Aedion and Lysandra were next to them and Aedion opened his arms, Evangeline flinging herself on her father. Fenrys and Gavriel were sitting on the floor and they both looked up at him at the same time. Connall leaned against the wall beside his twin and nodded his head. Manon and Asterin were next to the boys and they both were surveying the iron claws they called nails. Asterin’s gold head popped up and she winked at him.

At the doorway Yrene stood, looking at him with small, soft smile. He walked to the door and they hugged once before they drew back, “Are you ready?”

He nodded and she opened the door. Lorcan walked in slowly and stopped when he saw Elide sitting up in the bed, her gaze out the window, looking at the mountains. She turned her head the sound of the door clicking shut and smiled, tears forming in her dark eyes. “You’re late.”

He huffed a laugh, “I’m sorry.”

She reached her arms out and he sat next to her on the bed, hugging her tightly. “I missed you.”

Elide hugged him back tight and said into his neck, “I missed you too.” She moved her arm and gripped his chin, forcing his eyes to hers. “Lorcan, I heard you.”

His breath hitched and she continued, “I heard every word you said.” He bowed his head but she gripped his chin harder, her fierce eyes filling his vision. “You were breathing for me, baby. This whole time.” He felt tears slip down his face and they were mirrored on hers. “I love you so much, El.”

“I love you so much, my darling.” He moved her legs, one still in a cast and swung them over his. He cradled her against him and she sighed happily. She said something and he didn’t catch it. Lorcan kissed her head, “What was that?”

“Are you sure you want to rebuild Bonnie?”

He started and peered down at her, her head tilted back, “You heard that too?”

She laughed, “Nope, I’m just playin’. Yrene told me.” 

“Elide...” His tone held a note of fake warning.

“I know, you bother me too.” Her voice was sassy and her grin cocky. They smiled wildly at each other and tugged each other close. He whispered to her, “Do you want to see anyone else?”

She kissed his mouth gently, not pulling away as she said, “Not now. Let’s just stay here.” He kissed her back, “Good. I don’t want to share you just yet.” 

She slapped his chest lightly and then shifted in his arms to look at the mountains. He rested his chin on her head and felt her fingers trace his arms and hands. “What are you doing?” 

“Is this a dream?”

Lorcan interlocked their fingers and dropped his chin to her shoulder. He lifted their hands and kissed hers. “It’s real. You’re home, love.”

im backkkkkk yalll! did ya miss me and all the unnecessary angst i give to you? just tagging peeps who i think would enjoy :)

@myfeyrelady @dayanna-hatter @schmlip-scribble @shyvioletcat @empire-of-wildfire @westofmoon @highqueenofelfhame @tinywolfofeyllwe

[jewpacabruhs]

hi guys! so this post is gonna be a rambly mess but fuck it, here ya go. if u dont wanna read all of it, u dont have to; skip down to underneath the tl;dr in bold text for the important bits :)

(there’s a brief & non-graphic mention of a triggering topic in the next paragraph. please be sure to skip this next paragraph if the thought of suicide is going to upset you.)

alright. so i didn't share this originally, but i spent some time in a psychiatric unit this month. suicidality related. 1000% unrelated from anything online, i've just struggled with depression for a very long time & shit happens. i didn't intend to share that at all & i certainly don't want pity; i'm telling u guys bc my time in the unit was extremely eye-opening, and i have some insight to share. since i've gotten out, with the help of my newest anti-depressant (fourth time’s a charm lol), i'm seeing the world in a better light & i finally have the energy to and the interest in exploring what it has to offer, which frankly i've never had before.

with that has come the realization that i’ve come to do something very unhealthy, and i want to break out of it. and that’s how much i’ve come to rely on my fandom life. i don’t want to get too candid publicly, but mental illness took a lot from me, and i lost most of my life, my future, and my options in the last few years. next year will involve a lot of working on rebuilding things. but in the time that i let things fall to pieces around me & i absolutely couldn’t get out of bed, i had a phone and i had a laptop. so when i couldn’t get up and physically face the world, i built up a new world online.

and i don’t think that’s a completely uncommon experience. most people are able to better manage things, and evenly juggle real life with an internet life (like i did back in middle school), because most people can’t abandon their real lives entirely like i managed to; but i do think a lot of people nowadays rely on their fandom life and their fandom friends when their irl situation isn’t ideal. and that’s an excellent coping mechanism in theory, but i think it’s debilitating in the long run.

forgive me for sounding like an old person, but i’m a heavy nostalgist and a bit of an anarcho-primitivist in that i resent modern technology's influence on society - but that hasn't stopped me from letting it be a big part of my life out of accessibility. the internet kept me occupied during my low points, and i became dependent, but i've realized i don't wanna live like that anymore. i’m vaguely grateful that it usually kept me busy enough that i wasn’t thinking the bad thoughts as frequently, but more than anything, i’m resentful that my grasp on reality got lost somewhere along the way, and i let time get away from me, too. because, again, an internet life should be a fun hobby, but when it’s a lifestyle and it becomes an excuse to avoid dealing with our real lives, bc our real lives aren’t as rewarding or as exciting, then it’s unhealthy.

everything’s at our fingertips these days, but i deeply believe human interaction, fun, and fulfillment shouldn't be spoon-fed to us through a screen. it's easy access, sure, but at the end of the day, is it any way to live? compared with how much world there is to see, i’m no longer satisfied with the thought of sitting behind a screen for another five years. i used to be, when i had no hope and no drive, but not anymore. i’m not gonna let myself settle for staying busy with the thing that takes the least amount of work & movement. not only because i’m a whole ass adult who needs to start sorting my shit out for the long run, but also because i deserve better.

and it’s fucking hard! especially for those of us who are neurodivergent. i dropped out of school three fucking times due to crippling social anxiety and utter lack of ambition and energy. i lost all my friends through that (making friends post-school is hard af); the thought of having to go out and remake friends makes me wanna fucking cry. i have a hard enough time making friends online, i’ve even come to struggle with correspondence thru text & email. phone calls? outta the question. but that’s therapy shit, and i know i’ll get there. i just have to stop putting life off by staying in a comfort zone.

and it’s interesting; depression and anxiety really took everything from me, and while i was dwelling in my own misery, my adhd worsened and decided to make my entire brain revolve around my fixations, so i didn’t have to deal with my own life. can’t think about how much you wanna die and how much you can’t function in society if you’re busy thinking about a ship you like or a character you find interesting. so i latched onto the safety of that. aggressively. problem with that is that once you let your “happiness” (as much of it as you can feel in the midst of your depressive episode, anyway) revolve around an interest, that’s all you have. so you become dependent and reliant, and that’s never good, especially if you’re someone like me who feels pathetic & ridiculous when you realize it’s all you can bring yourself to care about. 

and i think that’s what i realized in the psych ward (where there’s legitimately nothing to do; i did soooo much more thinking than usual, and i already think too much haha); mental illness will try to fuck up your lifestyle, so you have to eradicate the things that’ll let that happen in the first place. for example, like i said, my adhd tries to counteract my depression by making me hyperfixate and/or hyperfocus on something else to protect me from bad personal thoughts, and that’s good in theory (doing something you enjoy when you feel bad, to distract urself, is the number one most basic coping skill you learn), but i can’t do it in moderation, i let it run my life, and that’s made me worse in the long run. so i have to force myself out of that completely and not let myself fixate on things that make me happy in the short term, but don’t ultimately further me as a person. having fixations helped me through some awful times, but now i need to force myself to grow up, you know?

and while tumblr and other social media is an excellent way to indulge those fixations, it’s an aggressive enabler, in more ways than one. what i mean by that... okay, so while i’m the type of person who self-destructs while unhealthy, i do occasionally lash out. and i know some people completely explode rather than implode when they’re not doing well. and that’s how you get discourse, i think. because when mental illness makes us care much more about our interests than we ought to, and someone has a differing opinion about that interest, the instinct is of course to attack, if you’re that kind of person. i don’t think i am, but depression and boredom go hand in hand, and i might be inclined to care more about discourse than i would if i were healthy, purely because it’s entertaining and something to do. 

that’s a long winded way of saying, while i stand wholeheartedly by my past positions, i do regret starting shit in the first place. i’m not the kind of person who genuinely cares about much and i have little to no sense of morality (im a chaotic neutral bastard), so the fact i was bored enough to start shit really goes against my character and says a lot about how bad i’ve been. so i apologize for all that. but, again, i think that's just what happens when something is truly your everything. and i think the chronic negativity of modern fandom is a result of how damn seriously we all take it, because we care so much and we’re so dependent. fandom’s supposed to be fun, but it’s just too damn stressful this way.

idk my point in sharing all this, but i do think it'd be cool if this kinda got yall thinking. even if you don't engage in discourse, if fandom is just one of your only consistent sources of happiness, that's not healthy either. we all gotta break out & exist more & louder & more positively. and unfortunately i think tumblr fandom (and maybe all modern fandom) is no longer a place that encourages positivity and health.

but for all my criticism, i do just wanna say how eternally grateful i am that i was fortunate enough to meet the people i call my best friends through tumblr. they're my family, truly, and all the bullshit in this fandom has been worth it simply because it brought them to me. i love them to death and i always will, even if interests change, even if we grow apart, even if we quit speaking entirely in the next few years, i love them with my whole heart in a way that transcends a simple fandom friendship and i'm so glad we bonded over sp in the first place. that’ll never change.

i will also always love south park itself. now that the cat's outta the bag about my hospital visit, i can brag about my most pathetic and obsessive accomplishment; the fact that i've never let circumstance stop me from watching a new south park as it airs, and i've now watched sp on 1) an airplane, and 2) in a psych ward. i win for most dedicated fan tbfh. dsjkf & i'll keep that tradition, and i'll still watch this stupid show til it ends! it'll always hold a special place in my heart, & kyman's still my most meaningful & long-term ship. i'll never stop loving it. 

tl;dr

so, to recap; for 2020 i'm making myself step back from fandom (not just sp fandom, but fandom in general) and quit letting my world revolve around my fixations so i can enjoy the outside world a little more, mental illness be damned, and the first step is gonna be quitting tumblr. this blog won't be deleted and i may occasionally post (maybe when next season airs) but you're absolutely free to unfollow bc this'll be a mostly inactive blog. i’m also unfollowing everyone, so mutuals, please don’t take that personally. 

i will, however, try to write more prolifically, bc fic writing is something i'm able to do in moderation & enjoy, and i hope to get back into it. so if you'd like, you can keep an eye out for any upcoming fanfic i may post - my ao3 is leere. i also have snapchat, instagram, & twitter my mutuals can ask for asap (bc ill be logging out for good by the afternoon of the 31st, which is tomorrow) - though i'm not very active on any of them. still, if you wanna have access to me, i’ll be there.

i want some connection to the fandom still, albeit without letting my life revolve around it, so i'll be starting a new open-to-the-public kyman discord server! the post with the invite for that will go up soon. nvm im too anxious  

thank you for reading, thank you for the good times (thnks fr th mmrs), and i hope everyone has a good 2020! 

[h-fragmentedfigments]

Reverse

Prologue

LONDON 1971

It was quarter to nine in the evening and supposedly, there should be music blaring out loud with the chattering of the crowd clouding the place. The atmosphere should smell like sweat and smoke, and the room shouldn’t have this too much light. Yet instead, Eris stood by the telephone at her parents’ house, pulse racing and breath hitching. This was not how she pictured her night starting.

She takes a deep breath, trying to form the words to say to the person on the line. She was petrified, her feet suddenly felt heavy to move, and her fingers are starting to feel cold.

“Ms. Gray, are you still there?” The woman who broke the news exactly two minutes ago spoke again, her voice sounding concerned.

“Yes, I’m still here.” Eris stutters as her eyes begin to brim with tears.

“It would be advisable to get yourself checked up again, just to see see if the baby…” Her next words became a blur as Eris tries to take in everything that’s been said to her for the past four minutes she’s been on the phone.

Before the woman on the line could even finish her statement, Eris beats her to it, feeling her head pound already. For fuck’s sake, what is happening? Eris thought. She was on her way to the pub where she should be spending time with Roger along with Freddie, Brian, and John who she hasn’t seen for over a month now. But before she could even step outside the house, the phone rang, where she received that god-awful news she’s never even thought of hearing any time soon; not when she was just getting into med school, not when Roger is just kicking off with his music career. But it had to happen now, at the very worst moment: She had to be twelve weeks pregnant.

“Th—thanks for the call,” Eris croaked, “I’ll make sure to go to the hospital soon.” She put the phone down before leaning against the wall beside her. God, she was getting dizzy. The woman’s words echoed in her mind and it was all too overwhelming, she couldn’t think straight.

Eris tries to collect her thoughts while pacing back and forth in the living room. She brings her thumb to her mouth, nibbling on it. Half an hour had already passed and she was seconds away from losing her mind. She and Roger had just received their BSC and while they’ve been in a happy, committed relationship for almost three years now, they’ve never talked about settling down, let alone have a child. Sure, marriage was brought up once or twice, but they have other plans long before that; plans the two of them have talked about before they even met in college.

A knock on the door abruptly halts Eris from pacing. She stood frozen in her place, terrified that she has to face Roger this early. Before she could even wrap everything in her mind. Her breath hitches, legs not daring to move while she waits for the person at the door to speak.

“Eris, darling, are you home?” Freddie hollers and relief quickly rushed through Eris’ body from hearing that voice. She bolts to the door, grateful to have this person out of anyone in the world in her house right now. She swings the door open, revealing her good, old friend’s face.

“Ah, thought you should be home. I was on my way to the pub when I saw your light still open, so I figured—”

Freddie was cut off with Eris engulfing him with a tight hug, “God, Freddie. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Well, can’t say I’m surprised. Anyone would be glad to see me.” Even without his face in view, Eris could picture the bloke’s smirk plastered on his face as he hugs her back. Typical Freddie Mercury, oozing with confidence.

They both enter the house with Freddie following Eris who is anxiously biting down her lower lip. She clasps her hands together, trying to formulate how she’s going to break it to him. Eris turns to face Freddie and parts her mouth only to be disrupted by Freddie’s enthusiastic clapping. He rushes towards her, a wide grin etched across his face.

“You will not believe who just phoned tonight!” Still grinning, Freddie’s warm hands held her cold ones. He paused for a quick second, letting the anticipation hold longer and continued, “EMI Records! They’re interested in managing us.”

It was difficult not to feel the weight in Eris’ chest getting heavier. Again, she should be mirroring Freddie’s smile, hugging him and congratulating him, and maybe even dragging him outside so the both of them can go and tell the rest of the guys. But the sadness and pained expression was evident, and it was only natural for Freddie to look confused.

“Are you alright, darling? Gosh, you look pale.” Freddie touched Eris’ cheek then her forehead to check before pulling her to the couch.

“I’m sorry… I…”

“Do you want me to fetch you water? Or do you want to catch some fresh air? Jesus, you look like you’re going to faint.”

“Fred, I need to tell you something.” Eris’ voice was low and somber and Freddie knew right away this was something serious. He sits beside her and stayed quiet, letting Eris take her time. She looks up to him and Freddie grew more concerned seeing the tears build in her eyes.

It pained Freddie to see her like this. Eris had gone through pain but never had he seen her this vulnerable and lost, and to say he was worried was an understatement.

“Darling, please. What is it?” Freddie’s voice came out as a whisper, full desperation laced in those last three words.

“I’m pregnant, Fred.” Eris couldn’t help but free the tears that have been long coming and shamelessly broke down in front of Freddie. She lowered her head down, struggling to catch her breath as Freddie takes in her words. It was silent for a moment, only Eris’ sobs contained the atmosphere.

“Have you told Roger?” was Freddie’s first question. Without looking up, Eris shakes her head, wiping her tears.

“I just found out a while ago, I… Fuck, Freddie. How could I even tell him?”

Eris leans down to rest her elbows against her knees, hands raising to cover her face in frustration. Eris knew Roger loved her, god, the man was obsessed with her, but she was also aware of Roger’s passion and fixation when it comes to music and the future he had pictured for himself and Queen. And the last thing Eris would want to do is ruin it all for him.

Freddie breathes out and holds out his arm to touch Eris’ hand. He gives it a tight squeeze before rising from his seat. He marches down to the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboard while the damsel confusingly waits for him. Minutes later, he comes back with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He sets them in the coffee table, pouring each glass with his and Eris’ favorite Sauvignon Blanc. He hands Eris her drink before taking his own and clinking their glasses.

“So…” He begins, crossing his legs, “What do you want to do?”

This is why Freddie is who Eris’ needs the most at this moment. Freddie and Eris had a fair share of tragic moments together and in those times, it was always Freddie who Eris confided more because of his means of addressing problems. He neither condoles nor sympathize. He refuses to lengthen the misery you’re in by giving words of comfort by saying ‘It’s okay,’ because hell, it is not okay, and you’re in this unfortunate predicament, so what are you going to do about it?

“Should I break up with him?” Eris asks.

“Are you mad?” Freddie almost spit out his drink, appalled at what the words that came out from Eris’ mouth. “Do you honestly think that loved up arse is going to let you break up with him? Not in this life, dear. Try again.”

Eris sighs. “Fred, if there’s anyone in this world who knows him just like I do, it’s you. And you know very well that his priority right now is his career—Queen’s career, to be exact. Not me, not this baby.”

“I’m very much aware, yes.” Freddie nods casually. He adjusts himself in the couch comfortably and takes a sip. “But I’m also sure of the fact that if Queen is his priority right now, then you’re the most important person in his life, not just right now; since you were kids, since we all met in Kensington Market, yesterday, today, and for the rest of his life, unquestionably. He loves you, Eris. More than anything in this world. He’d do anything for you.”

“That’s the thing, Fred,” Eris exhales, fingers fumbling on the glass. “I know he would. And I don’t want him to. He’s come a long way to be where he is right now. I’m not messing it up.”

Freddie stares at Eris skeptically and much longer than usual, not a sound coming out from his mouth. He raises an eyebrow, finishing his second glass this evening.

“What are you planning to do, Eris Gray?” Voice accusing, Freddie folds his arms under his chest and patiently waited, hoping it’s not what he was thinking.

Seconds turned to minutes. The deafening silence wasn’t helping either. For a moment, Eris held her breath, thinking long and hard of this decision she was making. She was not one for impulsiveness, but this was the only solution she could think of, just so Roger could continue with Queen without any distractions.

“I haven’t told this to anyone yet…” Eris briefly closed her eyes, leaning against the couch before blurting it out. “I’m planning to study in the states while Rog works on his music with you guys. I was supposed to tell him tonight, but… this happened, and I think, maybe, this is better for the both of us, you know? Maybe it’s good that we part ways so he could focus more on his career and Queen.”

Freddie kept still for a while. Obviously, he wasn’t delighted with what he was hearing. “Right, so what are you saying?”

Eris sat quietly, not responding. Freddie furrows his eyebrows together, seeking answers before realizing what Eris is planning to do.

“You’re not leaving without telling him… are you?”

Again, Eris gives him no reply. She clasps her hands together and and held them against her lips, not daring to look at Freddie who was starting to have a headache.

“Eris…”

Eris purses her lips together and interrupts him. “I will tell him eventually, but not now.”

Freddie lets himself fall to the couch, dramatically sighing. He puts his arm against his forehead and shakes his head. “God, you’re going to kill him. He’s going to be crushed.”

Eris blinks her tears away before moving closer to Freddie. She reaches to his hand and grips on it. “Please take care of him.”

Freddie rolls his eyes. “You two are a handful, you know that?”

Eris giggles while tears sprung from her eyes, probably the third time this night. God, how much she’s going to miss Freddie, Brian, and John. But nothing aches more than knowing she won’t see Roger, her best friend, soulmate, the love of her life, in a very long time.

[vomitcoloredbowlingball]

Okay this is nasty and I realize that so I will spare anyone who doesn’t wanna see this

okay so some of you seem oddly interested in the story of my leg screws so I’ll tell it to you in the shortest way possible

Okay so first things first, this is St. Jimmy. I’ll explain the naming thing a little later but this is one of about six (or eight????) screws that were planted in my leg to help it grow manually

When I was really young I got a super nasty staph infection in my leg that really messed up the growth plates which, you could probably tell, were supposed to help it grow with me. Well that infection basically destroyed them and my parents were fearing for my life at that point but I got over the infection eventually. After that nasty infection this really great doctor was brought to my parents and basically said he wanted to work with me as i grew up so that I didn’t have a tiny leg by the time I was 16.

So like six years after that I had a surgery (not my first, maybe my fourth??) to remove the growth plates that were damaged and manually grow the leg. How do you grow a leg manually? well you start by breaking both bones that make up your lower leg and then you drill about eleven holes through the skin and about an inch deep into the bone. Then you put rods and pins and shit into the holes so they stick out about three inches from the skin and hold them in place with a titanium cage on the outside that can be slowly pulled apart and twisted until the bone has reached its desired length and position (if that didn’t make you shutter i don’t know what will). So that happened. I woke up and my six year old self was scared shitless of these things that were in my leg and would remain that way for a good few months. I would elaborate more on this stage of life but i was six and don’t really remember it anymore.

Jump ahead to when I turn 13 and need another big surgery because my leg is like three inches shorter than the other one. Skipping past another six or so surgeries to manage the length. So I have another surgery like that other one, this time with six (or eight???) pins. They do the same thing as the last time, just with fewer pins that are much thicker.

thats about how far into my leg these things were (the white stuff on the end is bone dust >:)) Now I can further elaborate because I still remember this vividly even though it was still kinda long ago

Okay so im in the hospital for three days, constant pain, it sucks, im tired, i cant get out of bed. The whole leg set up thing was still really terrifying. When I go home I’m all good, still in pain and rotating between two kinds of powerful pain killers.

After a little while I needed to start cleaning around the pin sites of the “frame” as I will call it (sciencey name is the external fixator) because they were all bloody and would ooze shit and it was just gross. This is where the names come in. The whole cleaning process hurt like hell so I had this method I used when I was six which was naming all the pins so I could tell my parents which ones hurt the most so they could be gentle. This time around I named them all after the characters in american idiot (the musical because the musical had enough names for me to use) this guy was st. jimmy because he hurt the most. Anyway, I had to clean these pin sites maybe twice a week and by the time I was doing it basically on my own i was just taking tweezers to it which made the sites get really infected. (dumb idea, i had to clean them more because I got them infected and they hurt about ten times more when I cleaned them)

Maybe two weeks after the surgery I had to start the lengthening process. This meant that I had to twist the nine adjustable rods on the titanium cage a millimeter about three times a day. I could actually feel that stuff in the bone, it felt gross.

Then I started physical therapy (dun dun dun!!) which was awful. I had zero mobility in my knee and ankle and didnt give a shit for the first few weeks. I had land therapy and pool therapy and pool therapy was amazing. So much better. I won’t go into detail but just remember that pools are better than land when it comes to physical therapy.

(thats where st jimmy was, theres like an actual indent in the skin there)

Meanwhile, I really hate the way this crazy thing looks. Its disgusting if you arent used to it. and people would stare like mad so my mom made me these sock things that would go over the frame and keep it hidden from everyone. They were really cool with cool patterns and stuff.

Jump ahead again to like four months later. I’m down to therapy twice a week (instead of like four times a week). I’m not adjusting the rods anymore, just waiting for the bone to grow in. Its almost time to get this thing off. I’m finally walking even though I could actually physically feel the gap between the broken parts of my bone and I didn’t want to walk because I didn’t like that feeling. Like, the bones were a centimeter apart and I felt them move every step I took (thats what walking on a broken bone feels like kids).

Skipping more time. Now I get it off. Scariest and one of the worst days of my life. Why? Because ketamine is a scary drug kids dont ever do it. They gave me that stuff for the surgery and I saw some shit. I apparently sat up in the middle of surgery because I was getting light on it and then they gave me too much and I couldn’t move without puking for two hours. Ugh. It was awful. But I got to keep a st jimmy which was cool.

Right now, my leg is about two centimeters off again. I feel the difference but its not all that bad. I wanna write a kids book about the whole thing and make more of those sock things for other people. More people have this same thing than I thought and I wanna share the experience with them.

I hope you like my story! It was really long, sorry I tried to keep it short. If you have questions totally hit me up! Id love to answer them.

[theconservativebrief]

The first part of “The School Shooting” is called “First hour of my last day.”

“I already knew the day would be hell,” the anonymous first-person narrator tells us. The day proceeds like a regular one until an intercom announcement sends the school into lockdown: There’s a shooter in the building. The narrator comforts his sobbing girlfriend, telling her everything will be okay as they hide in their classroom. As the faceless shooter approaches, the narrator attacks him, taking down the shooter and saving lives, but taking a stray bullet in the process:

But as he hit the ground

His gun hit the ground

Im scared the bullet rushes out

Though this story is short — just a scant four pages — it’s representative of what you find when you delve into the hundreds of school shooting stories being written on Wattpad, perhaps the most quietly influential website you’ve never heard of.

On the behemoth self-publishing platform, the most popular stories — typically romance and fanfiction — boast YouTube-level traffic, amassing hundreds of millions of views, or “reads.” Despite a huge audience reach and enjoying the patronage of Handmaid’s Tale author Margaret Atwood, Wattpad habitually flies under the mainstream radar; its most notable achievements to date are launching the One Direction fanfic turned best-seller After and galvanizing the Filipino film industry with a string of movie adaptations of Wattpad stories.

Wattpad’s relative obscurity probably has something to do with its main demographic of teens and preteens. But lately, the kids on Wattpad are contributing, in their own way, to a very mainstream national conversation — by churning out stories about school shootings.

The “hot” category of school shooting fiction on Wattpad is a mixed bag. Scroll past a host of stories related to Columbine and its shooters and you find a Voltron fanfic, a Criminal Minds fanfic, and a fic about a school shooting involving the bands Leathermouth and My Chemical Romance. There are romances built around the drama of a school shooting, as well as more traditional horror stories. And then there are other stories. One claims to be an account of a real school shooting threat; many more present terrifying fictional accounts of what a potential school shooting might be like.

There, on a site usually dedicated to painting innocent fantasies about being Harry Styles’s girlfriend, teens and preteens are living through a culture so dominated by guns that fears of their schools going on lockdown and fantasies of martyring themselves to save their friends have seeped into the stories they tell.

The school shooting stories on Wattpad involve characters of all ages. They’re bright and bubbly sixth-graders on their first day of school. They’re seniors in high school prepping for homecoming, college, or prom.

The incidents nearly always start in one of two ways — with the popping sound of gunshots and screams coming from a hallway, or with intercom announcements putting the school on lockdown or into a Code Red: “This is not a drill.” The students nearly always wind up fending for themselves, either because the teachers are absent or because they are quickly dispatched with bullets. Inevitably, students wind up alone, unarmed and unaided.

These stories meticulously catalog potential hiding places. Bathroom stalls are the most popular by far, but there are also crannies in classrooms, storage closets, people-size lockers, kitchens. Then there are the surreptitious escape routes: second-floor windows and little-used cafeteria exits. Fear of being caught out in the open looms large: In one story, three sixth-graders get trapped in an empty classroom with no way out and no protective cover that’s able to hide all three of them. The story ends there, on an incomplete cliffhanger.

The identities of the shooters rarely matter in school shooting fiction; when the shooters are given attention, they tend to comment on the anxieties of school life and the pressure to perform. In one story, a school shooter’s attempt to explain how hard the pressure of his life has been is so compelling that after he dies, the narrator picks up the gun and continues the shooting spree himself.

In another story, a new girl turns out to be an obvious misfit who can’t make friends and takes her revenge on her classmates. Usually, however, the shooters are faceless, rarely given characterizations or even names — they’re classic horror villains, described as crazy, insane, mental, psychos, maniacs, or simply weirdos. As one story notes, “No one knew who it was. Frankly, no one cared.”

The exception to this rule is that of the Columbine fanfic. This is the most popular variant of school shooting fiction on Wattpad, to the extent that it almost functions as a separate genre. Modern teens continue to be fixated with Columbine, but most of the 800 stories associated with Columbine on Wattpad are more properly a form of what-if fanfiction that attempts to love, redeem, or empathize with the Columbine shooters. That sets Columbine fic well apart from most other Wattpad fiction, which is concerned with processing theoretical shootings that haven’t happened yet.

In most of these other fics, the emphasis is almost always on the victims and the survivors — and the horror scenarios they do and don’t survive. The main characters frequently get shot; their friends and siblings frequently end up dead or seriously injured. In one story, the captain of the cheerleading squad survives a school shooting by playing dead beneath the body of her best friend:

People screamed. I screamed. Bullets flew out of guns. Camila slumped on top of me, knocking me in to the ground. I was lying on the ground, Camila on top of me. There was a hole in her head. Her brains were on the wall behind us.

“Imagine,” reads the summary of one story. “Imagine a shooter coming to your school to kill as many people as he can before he turns the gun to himself. Imagine what horrors, what fear would arise among you. Even more frightful, imagine what it would be like for that person to be you.”

“Of course,” reads one story, told from the perspective of two sixth-grade girls. “This is how we die.”

As stories of teenage angst tend to do, these stories rely on an awareness of the fragility of life. They draw on the heady emotion and melodrama of death, tragedy, and terror. In this sense, as child psychologist Ellen Braaten told me, they’re built on longstanding tropes.

Braaten, the associate director for the Clay Center for Young Healthy Minds at Massachusetts General Hospital, described the school shooting genre of fiction as being similar to the way a teen might glamorize going through the experience of having cancer, dying young, or living during war — in essence, “making something romantic out of something really scary and awful.”

“When you’re really feeling afraid, one way to gain control is to tell the ghost story yourself”

Braaten speculated that these stories are “about students putting themselves in a situation they feel like they’re in … working through their inevitable worst fears.”

It’s no secret that teens are drawn to gritty, angsty stories fraught with life-or-death scenarios. Entire genres of young adult fiction cater to this tendency, from 13 Reasons Why to The Fault in Our Stars to Ellen Hopkins’s entire best-selling oeuvre, which covers a range of dire teen issues from drugs to suicide.

It’s not really even new that kids are writing this kind of story themselves; lots of kids with access to a pen and a notebook have scribbled angsty existential missives somewhere inside them. The advent of the internet has just made sharing those feelings with other teens easier than ever. On Wattpad, which gained its massive underground success primarily as a mobile reading and publishing app, teens and preteens publish and view each other’s fiction by the millions. On Wattpad, a search for “cancer” generates more than 100,000 results; one of the most popular cancer stories has nearly 30 million views.

What does seem new, though, is that teens are working through their fears and anxieties about life and death using school shootings as the setting. In essence, teens and preteens who have grown up with the real possibility that they could live through (or die in) a school shooting have incorporated this reality into the kind of cathartic angst fiction usually reserved for more typically deleterious fare — a cancer scare, a plane crash, drug use, or suicidal ideation.

“Art is a place where we displace our worst fears and wishes,” Braaten said. “Anytime you’re putting something like this out there, it’s because you want to be heard. I think this is a wonderful outlet for students and teens to sort of work through one of their worst fears.” And Wattpad, she noted, is a place where “they can do it anonymously and quickly.”

What’s perhaps even more telling than the amount of fiction where the school shooting is the focal point of the story is the amount of fiction where it isn’t. Disturbingly, school shootings often form the mundane backdrop of stories with completely different plots. In many stories, the event of a school going on lockdown is just a boring part of a student’s everyday life. In multiple stories, there ultimately is no shooting, and the threat dissipates into a boring, wasted couple of hours for the students.

In several stories, the lockdown is used as an excuse for a romantic meet-cute. One, a fanfic about YouTubers Jake Paul and Erica Costell, uses a school shooting as the backdrop for a budding romance. Written in the wake of the Parkland shooting, it has Jake noting, “Us cuddling during the Code Red was amazing but sad at the same time.”

In these stories, the need to romanticize tragedy becomes very literal, a way of fantasizing about the heightened emotional connection felt at such moments while simultaneously grappling with the potential for loss of life, for instantaneous separation from their beloved.

Criminal psychologist Arthur Lurigio described the catharsis of this kind of fiction as similar to that of a horror film. “It’s scary but it’s not scary — it’s not real. Where you’re a little bit scared, a little bit excited, but the outcome is not going to hurt you.” Lurigio pointed out that these genres of school shooting fic are all about control for the students. “When you’re really feeling afraid, one way to gain control is to tell the ghost story yourself.”

Controlling the narrative seems to be a main point of these stories. “This writing has a sense of empowerment, of being able to control what’s uncontrollable and baffling,” Lurigio said. “Think about the degree of vulnerability these kids are feeling in general, and it’s being expressed now in a way it’s never been expressed before.”

Lurigio told me the school shooting fiction could be seen as a basic form of therapy for students. “In working with patients, we have them diary, writing about their lives and thoughts and scenarios, and using that as a tool in therapy. This may be a way to process school shootings and give kids a false sense of control. They’re the ones who are the masters of what happens and doesn’t happen.”

We can see that need for control in a very direct sense. One story is a first-person account of the 2012 shooting at Perry Hall High School in Baltimore, by a user purporting to be a student who was then in attendance. (The user did not respond to my requests for verification or comment.) “‘Please let everybody be okay’ was the only thought going through my mind,” she wrote. “I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that something like this could happen at my school; the school that I had always felt so safe in.”

The difference in tone and focus between this student’s mostly matter-of-fact description of living through the event and the highly fantastical, dramatized versions many of the teen writers are imagining is striking. “I thought about every ‘What If’ question possible,” she writes about her reaction after the event. Eventually, she says, “I stopped asking myself these questions,” because she realized there was no point to asking them after the fact.

In a sense, then, the emergent school shooting genre seems to have come about because students are running through all of these potential “what if” scenarios well before they play out in reality. It’s not only about control; it’s also arguably a means of preparedness.

Looking at these stories from this angle, it’s hard not to find them devastating. One story, “School Shooting,” is written by a user with the word “unicorn” in their handle, from the point of view of a sixth-grader; the author told me that they wrote the story following the school shooting in Parkland, Florida, as a way of paying homage to the bravery of the Parkland students.

It’s practically a litany of survival scenarios playing out in high-drama action-adventure form. It shows kids working together as an ensemble to thwart, undermine, and escape the shooter. After their teacher is dispatched, they grab weapons and turn them on their attackers. They run for exits only to find them locked, so they turn to windows instead. On the playground, the narrator spots “a little kid crying”:

She had a bullet shot in her leg.

“Cmon ride on my back.” I said

“I can’t. It hurts.” she said

I decided to carry her. Good thing she was light.

Wattpad skews young. The company claims 90 percent of its users are millennials and Gen Z; a majority are girls and women between the ages of 13 and 24. It’s reasonable to assume that the ages of these characters reflect the ages of their writers. And so we have 11- and 12-year-olds writing about disaster preparedness, noting fire exits, psyching themselves up to leap out of windows, and looking out for kids younger than them — all while envisioning themselves as essentially abandoned by an older generation. Remember, there are hardly ever adults in these stories, not in the moments when it counts.

“It’s as if the statement is: Adult world, you have not taken care of us, you continue to not take care of us,” Lurigio told me. “The kids are the ones who are leading, not adults, and that’s a role change.”

Lurigio explained that it’s important to consider that these stories are expressions of real trauma — not lurid, far-fetched fantasies. “[School shootings] have lasting impact, not only on the victims but on kids who see it on the media over and over again. After 9/11, we had what we described as concentric circles of trauma. They have vicarious victimization. I think seeing this on the news over and over again absolutely is a micro-trauma to the kids who are not part of it.

“So this is akin to 1950s campfire storytelling,” he said. “But this is much more serious, with life-altering consequences.”

One fic, “The Gunman,” chronicles the day of a school shooting by jumping through the points of view of multiple characters. “I would never get married, have kids,” one thinks when encountering the shooter. “I’d never buy my own house, get my own car, or even learn to drive! The husky I dreamed of getting one day would never happen.”

But not all the stories are hopeless. Many of them are about students finding their own power and changing things for the better. Jade, a.k.a. xxjademariexx, is a freshman at a New Jersey high school. Her story, “After the Shooting,” depicts a group of high school students who mount a successful gun control protest in their state after a terrifying attack on their school. “I wrote about this because gun violence is a major thing in this country that no one wants to talk and hear about,” she told me. “It also needs to be talked about more than it is.”

Jade said that few within her community support gun control. “They’re all super conservative and think more guns is the solution for a safer country. I see it in a different light that may have been portrayed by my story.”

For Jade, the important aspect of her story isn’t the school shooting — it’s the aftermath. “There’s always that fear that a shooting will happen,” she said. Writing the story allowed her to express not only that fear but also a political stance she can’t always communicate in real life.

“I want to change everything,” she writes as her story ends. “I want everyone to be safe and not fearful. I want to stop school shootings like Sandy Hook and Stoneman Douglas and all the ones in between and before. I want to stop police from killing people by the color of their skin. I want to stop the suicide rate from going up by guns. I know this country will never be perfect, but I really do want to make America great again. We will be the generation to make America great again.”

Javier Zarracina/Vox

Original Source -> The kids are writing school shooting fiction

via The Conservative Brief

[viralhottopics]

Ive Had 3 Surgeries In 5 Months. My Mom Wants To Know Why I Dont Have A Job

Every week, theAsk Beccacolumn tackles life’s complicated questions, big and small! From sex and love to health and workplace problems, I’m here to address questions and concerns that we can all relate to.

Have a query of your own? Send it to AskBecca@LittletThings.com! We sort through tonsof reader submissions every week to look for questions that will help everyone in our audience deal with the complex ups and downs of the human experience.

There’s nothing better than starting a powerful conversation that brings people together. That’s why we also love to see you weigh in with your own advice in the comments section!

Last week, the column took on a new relationship with a younger man, a dad who left the picture, diminished sex drive, and the difficulties of a blended family.

This week, we’re addressing medical mysteries, political divisions, a bitter divorce, and the jumpback into the job market.

Scroll through below to read my very best advice, and add your own words of wisdom.

If you have your own complicated questions and are in the market for some insights, shoot me an email at AskBecca@littlethings.com!

Photo Credit: Flickr / Mark Doliner

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Sick And Tired

Laura Casely for LittleThings

Dear Becca,

Hopefully you have some insight for me. I’ve been very ill and I have no family in the area. I am struggling with the little things; even paying for food has become difficult.

My only support system is Facebook. My family gets upset that I share things on Facebook or ask for help when things are bad.

However, they do not attempt to help me and have flat out refused when I have asked. I don’t want to have a grudge against my family and I don’t want to upset them, but I also don’t want to lose my support through Facebook.

My mom’s concern is that future employers will see what I have been through and decide not to hire me because I’ve been sick in the past. (I’ve been in the hospital 10 times and have had three surgeries in five months. All hospital stays have been multi-day stays and the doctors have been unable to explain what is going on.)

I need help, but I’m unsure where to turn at this point.

-Confused and Alone

Dear C&A,

I’m so sorry that you’ve been going through the medical wringer. There’s nothing worse than feeling awful and having no idea what’s causing all the trouble.

I also agree that Facebook (and the internet in general) can be a lovely support system. That’s especially true when you’re stuck in a hospital bed and can’t socialize in person.

It also sounds like your family really isn’t there for you, which is a shame. Your mom should know better than to put so much pressure on you when you’re that ill.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with turning to online friends for help and emotional support in a time of need. However, I think it’s a good idea to be very careful about soliciting too much financial help from your friends online.

Asking for a ride to the hospital or company for dinneris totally fine, but if you frequently request money, you’re going to burn through a lot of goodwill quickly. In the end, if you abuse the kindness and generosity of your friends, you might find that your support system starts to fade away.

Here’s what I would suggest.

Cast out a wide net to all of your friends online with a new request: Ask if anyone knows of any part-time, low-impact jobs that are hiring, and ask if anyone knows of support groups and funds for people with chronic illnesses. Having a part-time job that you can do online and from home could help pay the bills, and help build up your rsum for future employment.

Meanwhile, having a support group that can help to fund medical expenses in a pinch is a great way to make sure that you have a well-informed safety net to turn to in an emergency.TheHealthWell Foundationmight be a good resource!

Who knows, you might even find a way to combine both goals. I bet there are a lot of chronic-illness support groups out there looking for part-time bloggers and social media specialists. That might be an ideal solution!

Best of luck, and here’s hoping that your health takes a turn for the better!

Becca

Stuck In The Middle

Laura Casely for LittleThings

Hi Becca,

My family is very divided when it comes to politics, especially my two sisters. One is very liberal, one is very conservative. We have a family reunion coming up where everyone will be there. Im dreading the arguments that might happen.

What can I do to diffuse any situations? Do I change the subject? I love everyone in my family and want the event to be enjoyable for everyone, regardless of politics.

How can I make sure everyone stays civil? What should I say if someone asks me a loaded question?

-Tug of War

Dear Tug of War,

Oh boy. I hear you. Political discussions of any kind are a doozy this year.

No matter which side of the aisle you fall on personally, it’s tough to deal with the bitterness and resentment left behind after a tough election year.

As someone who wants to stay neutral in political conflicts, you’re in a very tough position. Of course,anyone in your family who is stirring the pot probably feels very strongly about their beliefs, and it might be hard to guide them back onto neutral ground.

A certain amount of political conflict just isn’t avoidable. People in your family are going to have to talk out some of their disagreements, otherwise that tension isn’t going anywhere.

However, in the interest of keeping the event pleasant for everyone, maybe you just have to take it upon yourself to be the referee.

If you spot a heated debate beginning, it might be your moment to drift in, an angel of neutrality. Try to turn the conversation away from politics to something less divisive.

If that doesn’t work, try to find some common ground; even your most partisan relatives might be surprised to find that they share a few core political beliefs.

Of course, if the debaters are just spoiling for a fight and can’t be turned away from the conversation, kindly suggest that they take their conversation elsewhere. If they want to get into an intense argument, they can do so in private without ruining the whole event and pulling everyone else into the disagreement.

Good luck keeping the peace!

Becca

Still Struggling

Laura Casely for LittleThings

Dear Becca,

My ex-husband and I went through a very messy divorce, and even though it was a long time ago (10 years), I still struggle to get over what he put me through.

My whole life was torn upside down, financially and emotionally. I know its in the past, but I cant get over what he did to me and took from me.

But Im so sick of being bitter and angry. How can I forgive and move on? Im ready to be happy again, but I dont know how to let go.

Thanks, Divorce

Dear Divorce,

There’s really no expiration date on an emotional, grief-laden experience like a divorce. People might tell you to “get over it,” but you’ll recover at your own pace. Whether it takes six months or 10 years, there’s no wrong way to mourn a complicated and painful marriage.

You express the desire to move on. Honestly, justsayingthose words is the first step. Wanting to move on proves that now, you’re readyto go ahead and leave the pain of the past behind you.

You don’t necessarily need to dredge up all the pain of the bad old days to feel better. Maybe go through all your mementos and shared stuff, and get rid of anything that is full of bad memories. Hang on to any shared stuff you really can’t bear to part with, though we’ll get back to that in a minute.

Take one day to think through your whole relationship with him, from start to finish. Try not to fixate too much on any high or lowpart, just allow yourself to follow the timeline.

When you reach the end of the relationship, say, “Thank you, John, for the experience of our marriage, good and bad. I forgive you for the bad, I’ll remember you for the good, and now I’m letting you go.”

Call me a hippie if you want, but this kind of symbolic ending can really,reallyhelp you close the book on a messy part of your life.

Next, a little more hippie stuff. Find a way to cleanse your space and any shared stuff you hang onto. Do whatever it takes to make your spaceand your memory feel fresh and clean andyours. Scrub it with Lysol and bleach, or smudge everything with sage smoke whatever helps get to your idea of “cleansed.”

All that matters is that you do plenty of mental and literal spring cleaning and give yourself a fresh start.

With love and best wishes for a new beginning,

Becca

Ready To Retire

Laura Casely for LittleThings

Hi Becca,

My job is killing me and I want to start looking for a new one, but Im turning 62 this year. Who is going to hire me at this age? I have years of experience, but people only seem to hire twentysomethings.

I need to pay my bills and I cant retire, but I cant keep going like this.

Do you have any interview tips for an old lady like me? Please help!

Sincerely,

Burnt Out

Dear Burnt Out,

I’m sorry to hear that your job isn’t treating you well. The job market has never been very kind to older employees, and that has only become more complicated in recent years. The cost of living (and therefore the cost of retiring) has been rising and rising, but most companies aren’t upping their paychecks to match.

I think you have a few options here.

First and foremost, don’t count yourself out. There might be lots of companies that are only interested in hiring young whippersnappers, but there are still plenty of businesses that recognize the value of years of experience. You might actually be an ideal candidate for many companies, especially if you are keeping abreast of new developments in your field.

If your job involves new technology, new research, or anything else that didn’t exist when you first started out, get yourself up to speed. Make sure that you are just as much of an expert as any twentysomething who grew up on the computer.

It’s not easy, but it’s also far from impossible. If you can master those new trends, you can combine the expertise of a young person with the experience and maturity of an older employee. Believe it or not, that combo makes you theperfecthire for a new job.

As for interviewing, as long as you come in knowing your stuff about new developments in the field, you’ll blow the hiring manager away. As a mature adult woman with lots of professional experience, you are definitely going to make a better first impression than an unkempt 25-year-old in a too-big suit. Sorry kiddo, better luck next time.

Secondly, consider whether retiring is really as far-fetched as you think it is. You have three years before you hit “official” retirement age. What can you do in that time to help secure a comfortable future? Talk to a financial advisor about investing any savings you have, moving to a more affordable area, and cutting out unnecessary expenses.

With a few savvy financial choices, you might be surprised by how much a small nest egg can grow in just a few years.

You still might not be able to fully retire at 65, but you may be able to semi-retire if you play your cards right. You can take a step back from the working world, and put in maybe 20 hours a week, instead of forty. You’ll still have some income, and your stress will be lowered substantially. You may even find that work is a lot more fun (and more productive) when you’re only doing it 2o hours a week!

Show ‘em that you’ve still got it!

Becca

Laura Caseley for LittleThings

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