#immediately loses it and starts flushing his medication down the toilet

[cuntstable]

finally fighting godfrey in game and its such a good fight but like i cant stop laughing at the fact that fromsoft really genuinely put a bara gilf into the game…… like hes tits out sweating and everything. also laughing bc his phase transition is literally just him failing all his centuries worth of anger managment training and immediately killing his emotional support cat as a result

[lilfellasblog]

Tolerable

Summary: Virgil's been accepted by Thomas and the famILY, even after they found out his secret. But will this be too much for them to handle? Or: Virgil has endometriosis, thinks he has to hide it, and that works out as well for him as you think it will.

A/N: If you liked this, please reblog. It is the only way to help this fic reach a wider audience.

TW: Past bullying and harassment mentioned, endometriosis, menstruation, this is a sick!fic, painful cramps, unsympathetic dark sides.

Word Count: 2351

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

Virgil groaned and curled into himself. Not for the first time, he cursed the Mindscape’s sick sense of humor for not only making him the only trans Side, but also for giving him the period from hell. After researching his symptoms and checking in the Subconscious (he tried not to think about how he could see everything in there), he had discovered he had endometriosis. It certainly explained what he’d been experiencing. He didn’t even want to think about the number of tampons and pads he burned through. Alternating ibuprofen and acetaminophen could only take the edge off so much. The websites he visited suggested some, ahem, all-natural pain remedies, but Virgil was the opposite of in the mood when he was on his period. He felt tired and dizzy and light-headed and nauseous, and he always seemed to get migraines at the same time of his period because apparently God hated him personally.

He ground a fist into his lower abdomen during a particularly painful cramp that felt like his internal organs were ripping each other in half, and kept it there until the pain subsided somewhat. He wasn’t sure why, but pressing his knuckles into the spot where he felt the most pain seemed to help lessen the severity of that particular wave.

Virgil sighed, trying to figure out if he wanted to ask the others for help. He was exhausted, having dealt with this for a day already on his own. They’d all accepted him, including Thomas (thank fuck), but he didn’t know if they wanted to deal with everything that came with him being a trans guy. Yet, now that they knew, even though he’s dealt with this on his own before, being alone feels even harder.

What if they’re grossed out? They weren’t grossed out by me being trans, they seemed sad whenever I had even asked, but this is… yeah. I don’t know, I don’t want to push it. Just as he finished that thought, an excruciating pain ripped through him. He bit his knuckle and held his breath to keep from crying out.

“Virgil? You okay in there buddy? You missed breakfast, so I brought some up if you want any,” Patton offered through the door.

Virgil had to breathe through his nose to battle his nausea at the thought of breakfast food. “Thanks Pat. I’m good, just not feeling too well. I’ll be fine in a bit.” It’ll be manageable in a few days.

“Oh honey, I’m sorry to hear that! Is there anything I can do? Would soup help?”

Actually… “Yeah, I think I might be able to handle soup.”

“One bowl of soup, coming right up!”

“Thanks Pat.”

“Anytime!”

Despite his pain, Virgil smiled fondly. He’s too good for me. Before, if he’d shown any indication that he was on his period, the consequences would be more pain, some kind of humiliation, and a nightmare sequence courtesy of Remus that always lasted so long he’d bleed over.

Virgil rode out the waves of pain, unable to concentrate enough to follow Buzzfeed Unsolved, until Patton knocked on his door again.

“Virge? I have your soup,” Patton called quietly.

“Alri-” Virgil’s voice cut off as he was bowled over by a powerful tearing sensation that left him seeing stars.

“Virgil? You okay in there? Are you hurt?” Patton called, much more loudly this time.

Shitshitshit, I can’t let him see me, he’ll know I’m in pain and he’ll ask why and then I’ll have to tell him.

“I’m worried you’re hurt or unconscious, can you answer me?”

Virgil took a few deep breaths. “I’m here,” he croaked out.

“Oh honey, you sound like you’re in so much pain! Are you okay?!”

Since he wasn’t holding his breath, a pained keen left him against his will.

“I’m coming in.”

Fuck.

Virgil tried to uncurl his body, but he couldn’t find the willpower to counter the pain. As soon as Patton caught sight of him, he quickly set the bowl of soup (with crackers and cheese, Virgil noticed) on the nightstand and rushed over.

“It’s okay, I’m here. What’s wrong? You look and sound like you’re in so much pain!”

The worst of it passed, and Virgil managed to relax his body a bit. “I’m okay, I’m… kind of used to it.”

Patton’s expression darkened. “Did they hurt you again?” he asked, voice nearly a growl.

“No, nothing like that!” Virgil quickly promised. Patton sagged in relief.

“Thank goodness.” Patton frowned. “This has happened before? Do you have a stomach bug?”

Virgil thought about lying for a brief moment, but was too scared of accidentally summoning Janus to risk it. “No…”

He cursed when Patton’s puppy dog eyes came in full-force. “Is it something bad?”

Just as Virgil was about to hedge around the answer, he felt a telltale dampness. “Uh, nothing dangerous for us since we’re Sides, but I do need to go to the bathroom.”

Patton immediately scooted aside. “Okay! I’ll be here when you get back,” he reassured.

Shit. “Thanks.”

Virgil uncurled himself from his position on the bed, then carefully made his way to the bathroom. He cleaned himself up since he had bled over a bit, changed out his pad and tampon. Just as he was about to flush away the bloody water and toilet paper, there was urgent knocking at the door.

“Virgil, are you okay?!”

Virgil was a little annoyed, but knew to rein himself in. “Yeah Pat, I’m good, just about to wash my hands.”

“Sweetie, are you sure? There’s blood on the bed.”

OH FUCK.

“Um, I’ll be out a in a minute.”

Think think think think THINK!! Okay, what can I tell him? I could just fudge the truth a little bit, but that might be too close to a lie. I could just tell him I don’t want to tell him, but he’d be so sad that I don’t trust him and he deserves better than that. Shiiiiiiiiiiit.

Realizing he’d been staring into space, he dried his hands, then went out to face the music.

Patton was studying the comforter that had gotten stained, and looked up and smiled at Virgil as he emerged. “Hey Virge, I was just gonna wash this for you, is that okay?”

Virgil could feel another wave coming on. “Yeah, but you don’t have to.” Let me lie down so I don’t double over in front of you.

Patton waved him off. “Nonsense, you’re sick and I wanna help!”

SHIT. “Okay, I can help get it off.”

“Sure!”

Virgil frantically tugged at the comforter, while Patton calmly gathered it up in his arms. As soon as the comforter was off the bed, Virgil laid down and curled up, hopefully in a way that made it look like he was just lying down.

“Virgil, can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer!”

Virgil assessed Patton. Patton was looking nervous himself, biting his lip and eyes averting themselves.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Patton took a deep breath. “Well, I know you’re in a lot of pain, you’re not feeling well, you said it’s happened before, and there’s blood that you don’t seem too worried about.” He fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to figure out how to ask. “Is there anything I can do to help with… this?”

Virgil sighed. Of course he’d figure it out. “Honestly, the soup is more than what I usually get-”

“What?!” Patton cried.

Oops.

“Um, usually I just kinda deal with it on my own?”

Virgil kicked himself for the devastated look on Patton’s face. “Oh Virge…”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind dealing with it by myself!”

“I know, but you shouldn’t have to! And you don’t have to anymore!” Patton declared. “You’re in so much pain, is that normal? Is there anything we can do to help?”

“Normal for me, yeah, and I don’t think so.”

“Normal for you? Why just you, are you in more pain than other people who get periods?”

Way to put it on the nose Patton. “I-”

“What’s this regarding?” Logan asked as he walked in.

Patton didn’t close the door, shit!! “Nothing!”

“Patton seemed to be implying that you’re in a great deal of pain-”

“WHO DARES HARM YOU?!” Roman thundered, sword already drawn.

GODAMMIT. “NO ONE. Okay, Jesus Christ. Look, I’m fine, I’ve just got the period from hell. I’m sorry you guys found out, I didn’t mean to, I’m fine dealing with this on my own, I know it’s weird and-” Virgil cut himself off at the sorrowful looks he was getting. He sighed. These guys aren’t the Dark Sides, they probably don’t think it’s weird and gross and something I’m doing to them on purpose. “Sorry. Just, I have this thing that makes this harder, I can’t think of the name because I can’t think during this, and I’m fine. I’m just miserable for a week and then it’s manageable. This is better treatment than I usually get, and now I can at least get food. Just ignore me.” Virgil cursed God as another devastating cramp chose that specific moment to be an asshole. He held his breath, but couldn’t stop from curling in on himself. Concerned Patton noises could be heard, and Logan was trying to encourage Virgil to breathe. Roman just stood there, feeling helpless.

Once it passed, Virgil unclenched and took a few breaths. “Sorry,” he panted.

“Please do not apologize. Average menstrual cramps-” Virgil winced. “-have been shown to be at a similar pain level as a heart attack, and it sounds like you experience more severe cramping. If you wish to be left alone, then we will respect that,” Logan stated, agreements coming from each of the other Sides. “But there is still the concern of unusual pain. Do you require pain medication?”

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah, it helps me not lose my mind, but it can only do so much. I’m on the max dose for ibuprofen and tylenol right now, and I’m alternating them.”

Logan frowned. “This is your pain level even with medication?”

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah, it’s this thing that starts with an “e”… shit, what is it…”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. “Endometriosis?”

“Yeah!” Virgil squinted. “How the hell did you know that?”

“I’m Thomas’ center of knowledge. Gracious, Virgil…” Logan trailed off. “Has a TENS unit ever proven helpful?”

“A what?”

Logan straightened up. “A TENS unit administers small electrical pulses to pain points or trigger points via electrodes placed on the skin. Research, as well as personal anecdotes, have shown them to be effective in combating menstrual pain. Would you like me to conjure one for you?”

Whatever, worst thing that might happen is it could hurt worse for a few seconds. “Sure, why not.”

Logan closed his eyes, and a few seconds later a rectangular device with a bunch of wires coming out of it appeared. “Would you like me to apply the electrodes, or would you like to?”

The thought of someone touching his bare skin, especially where he was in so much pain, still scared him, even though he knew these weren’t the Dark Sides. “I can put it on.”

No one said anything as Virgil rolled over to his side and placed the electrodes where Logan instructed. He turned back over, blushing slightly and feeling weird. He could feel another bad one coming on, and he hoped that this would work. Logan handed Virgil the unit.

“There are a few levels of electricity. Since this is your first time, it’s recommended you start at 1 and see if you need to increase from there.”

Before the next bastard cramp could come to do its damage, Virgil just nodded and turned on the device, bracing himself for electrocution pain. Instead, the cramps was… not as bad? It still hurt like a motherfucker, but it wasn’t as godawful as it could be. He cranked it up a few more dials, and the pain dimmed to a level he couldn’t remember ever feeling.

His eyes widened as he uncurled and sat up, jaw slack. The pain was still there, and he could still tell that his muscles were freaking the fuck out, but the pain was down so much he could almost ignore it.

So Logan just made my life about a thousand times better. How do I let him know?

“What kind of bullshit wizard magic is this?” Nice, REAL kind of you to say after Logan literally changed your life.

Logan just did his proud little smirk of his and drew his shoulders back. “No magic involved, merely science, and,” he adjusted one side of his glasses. “logic.”

Virgil sighed, still light-headed and dizzy, but the amount of relief that flooded his body without the pain was helping him feel so much better.

Logan frowned. “If you’ll excuse me, Thomas requires my help with a business e-mail.”

Virgil looked out through Thomas’ eyes and Sanders what the HELL. “Yeah, you’d better go deal with that.”

Patton waved his hand over the bowl of soup to warm it. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Virgil fidgeted. “Not to be a stereotype, but I’m currently willing to commit homicide for chocolate.”

In the next moment, Virgil found his lap full of his favorite dark chocolate-sea salt-almond bars.

“I should probably go too, make sure Thomathy gets the tone of the e-mail right,” Patton said regretfully.

Virgil waved him off. “No worries, go do your thing.”

“I’ll keep our brave knight company!” Roman declared.

Patton said goodbye and sank out. Roman and Virgil stared at each other.

Roman broke first. “Soooo, friendo…”

Virgil sighed, putting Roman out of his misery. “I don’t usually feel like being a people, but this TENS unit thing is really helping. I’d be down to play some video games after lunch.”

“Sounds wonderful! I’ll get the game set up!” Roman sank out with his usual flair.

Virgil snorted and shook his head. Thank god for TENS units.

He flushed as he thought to himself, Thank god for famILY.

[womanoflettersinthebunker]

When John came into the NICU he almost, literally, ran into Mary who was stepping out. He reached out with one hand, the other holding a sleeping Dean up to his chest, but stopped when he saw her reddened eyes.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" he asked softly, hand going to cup her cheek. He immediately glanced at Sammy in the incubator. "Did the doctors-"

"They didn't say anything, I just...couldn't be here anymore. Need a bit of a break." Mary said, wiping at her eyes, not meeting his gaze though she leaned her cheek into his touch. "Mind walking with me to get some coffee?"

"Sure, of course." John said softly, looking at Sammy once more. "You really want to leave him?"

Mary wrapped her arms around herself. "No." she confessed. "But I feel like I'm going to just...start sobbing so I need to get away. But I need you. Just...a minute. Maybe less."

"Alright." he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and after glancing at Sammy one more time led her out into the hallway. "You said something about coffee?"

"Wouldn't mind something stronger." Mary tried to joke, her smile falling just as quickly as it appeared. "But...yeah, coffee."

"Alright, coffee." John agreed as he led her back to the cafeteria. "Any changes?"

Mary shook her head, staring at the ground. "No, no changes." she said quietly. "I don't know how much longer we can take, how much longer Sammy will be able to fight."

John tightened his arm around her, bringing her closer. "Then we'll do whatever we have to do." he said simply. "But until then, we just gotta wait."

Mary nodded, rubbing at her face with her hands. "I just...I'm losing my," she glanced to make sure that Dean was asleep, "goddamn mind."

"Me too." John said simply, thumb rubbing against her arm. "Me too Mary."

They walked the rest of the way in silence, stopping at the cafeteria so that Mary could get something to drink, a weak cup of coffee with sugar and milk. Each sip stuck in her throat and she had to force it down, drinking the whole cup, she threw the empty cup out, and quickly ducked into the closest bathroom.

Thankfully, the bathroom was empty and she immediately ducked into the closest stall, fell to her knees, and vomited into the toilet, gripping it tightly. She coughed and spat out the bile, her greasy hair falling down along her face. Her legs gave out slightly and she leaned against the stall, breathing heavily.

She swallowed hard, trembling as tears pricked her eyes. Gripping at the stall wall she dragged herself up onto shaking legs, stomach clenching and contracting. She didn't have anything left in her stomach, she didn't have anything else to throw up, but she gagged and choked, coughing hard.

She forced herself to stumble out of the stall after flushing everything, managing to get to the sink and place her hands on the sides of the porcelain. She didn't look at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands, leaning down to wash out of her mouth as well. She also washed her face and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Licking her lips, she flinched slightly.

Maybe it was her imagination, but she could still almost taste the sulfur on her lips.

Grabbing a paper towel she dried herself off as best as she could, taking one more deep breath before composing herself as best as she could and stepped back out into the hallway.

John gave her a look of concern when she stepped out, immediately going to her side once more. "You okay?" he asked. "What happened?"

Mary managed a small smile. "I'm fine." she assured him. "The coffee didn't really agree with me."

John didn't look like he agreed with her but he let it go, just wrapping his arm around her again, the three of them slowly making their way back to the NICU.

When they entered the NICU they froze and Mary felt as if her heart was about to stop. There were a whole team of doctors, nurses, god knew who else, surrounding Sammy's incubator. Immediately they pressed up to the window, one hand on the glass as they peered in, trying to read their faces, trying to figure out what was happening.

"Sammy." Mary whispered. "No, no, nonono." Please. Please no.

Slowly, one by one, each personnel pulled away, muttering to one another, none of them looked towards the two of them, none of them would even give them the courtesy of a single hint of information about what was happening to their baby.

Finally, one of the nurses pulled away from the other and smiled reassuringly at them, giving a motion for them to wait for a minute. John and Mary shared a look, her hand snapping out to grip at John's hand tightly. He gripped her back just as tightly, grounding one another.

The nurse who smiled at them disappeared around the corner, coming out of the part where they were keeping Sammy and coming into the hallway, taking her face mask off.

"He's doing amazing." the nurse quickly told them before they could say anything. "All of a sudden, he started breathing on his own, started crying, and moving. He didn't spit up any of the milk you gave us Mary and," her grin widened. "while they don't encourage us to say it, I think he's going to be okay."

Mary leaned against John weakly, a sob that had been building up threatening to escape. "He's doing better?" John asked weakly, holding Mary to him.

"A lot better." the nurse reassured them. "He's still going to stay here for now, and he'll be monitored twenty four hours, but he's taking a very big turn for the better."

"Can we see him? Hold him?"

"Not yet." the nurse said regretfully. "We need to see that he holds steady for at least twenty-four to thirty-six hours before we let anyone else other than medical personnel near him."

Mary looked into the window once more, she was sure that it might be her imagination but Sammy did look...different. Stronger. He was moving, there was more color to his cheeks, and there was no way it was real but she could almost see a hint of stubbornness and annoyance appearing on his face.

He was going to be okay.

Sammy was going to be okay.

She could feel John sag slightly beside her, holding her close in relief. She looked at him and smiled, kissing his cheek when she saw the tears in his eyes.

Feeling eyes on her she turned back to look at the nurse, who was still standing there watching them with a smile. When Mary caught her gaze, her smile widened.

And she winked, her eyes flashing yellow.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Yamata-no-Orochi (Part 3) Betrayal

*kicks the legs out from under the table, one by one*

You’d been stuck for hours. It was extremely late but you couldn’t sleep. Caesar and Chu Zihang drove in circles before finally parking in an alley to wait. At first, it was all emergency vehicles -- Police, Fire, and EMS -- then there were many reporter trucks with satellites mushrooming from their roofs.

After that, the streets got very quiet and occasionally you spotted dark sedans driving far below the speed limit, like sharks on the hunt. Hydra was looking for Mingfei and Erii.

You lay in the back seat to keep hidden. You were still in your silver Cheongsam and heels. You stared holes in the back of the driver's seat and listened to the radio. Seventy six people were dead. Only a single person was injured. They were painting it as some wild street race gone wrong. People were describing fiery debris. Bodies, some of them in various degrees of dismemberment, were strewn all over the street. It would take days to recreate the scene. One of the things the reporters quickly picked up on was the lack of wounded. How could a car accident be so catastrophically fatal?

But the noise of the radio faded away in your mind. Instead you were remembering when you first saw Z. It wasn’t in real life. You first saw him in your dreams. When you were hurt or frightened by the nursery staff, Z would appear and ask you what you would like to happen to those people. If they stuck you with needles you would say, “I wish they would be stuck by a million needles.” And then watch as they were stuck, screaming and crying in pain, just like you were.

Or if you were beaten by the nurses, something horrible and perverse would happen to them in your dreams. Like one round nurse would swell up so big and red you could see her veins through her transparent skin and wherever you popped her she would bleed.

When you first saw Z in real life, it was the special day when you graduated from the preschool section to the adolescent section and started to use your soul skills in experiments. He stood tall and proud, his bright red-gold eyes gleaming at you. He smiled at you, a warm smile like he was the king and he could have picked anyone in the world but he picked you. That smile was a gift that beckoned you to run towards him. You thought it was a dream. But he opened his arms and hugged you.

In the back of the car, tears fell at the memory. You’d never been hugged before. Ever. A warmth spread from his arms and his body and filled you. It made you bright. It opened your mind and heart and let him in completely, without reservations. After that he was your best friend. Between him, you and Renata, you felt privileged, you learned quickly how to navigate your dangerous world and soon you were the oldest and most successful hybrids there. You were sure to go to the capital.

It was only at Anton’s death that Z showed you the truth, but he didn’t help you survive Black Swan overtly. You still had to watch your friends die. You assumed Z died too. He never reappeared in your dreams again until you nearly died in Chizuru and then you were so happy to see him again. But your relationship changed into something far more intimate. You didn’t know if you were ready for something like that. But he certainly did.

At least he never lied. He never explicitly said he loved you. He didn’t even say you could love him either. He said you didn’t know any better. Of course you didn’t. He’d groomed you since you were a child.

Remembering that made it hurt all the worse. A great shadow has fallen over your past. Now you had no happy moments to reflect on with Z. Everything was full of crevasses that hid questions and doubts. Like the boulders that would forever separate Izanami and Izanagi from each other in the underworld, you and Z were now irreconcilable.

“I haven’t seen a patrol in the past 15 minutes. Think we’re clear?” Chu Zihang asked.

“How the hell should I know? We take a risk if we wait 15 minutes or an hour.” Caesar responded. “You okay back there MC?”

You look up at him, his blue eyes reflected in the rearview mirror. “I’m pissed.” you growl.

“I bet you are.”

There was more to be said but now was not the right time.

You end up making it a room across from the hotel where Erii was staying. Lu Mingfei was waiting for you there.

Mingfei cracked open the door and then let you in.

“Take off your clothes!” Caesar said coldly.

His voice was so sharp and harsh that Lu Mingfei immediately did so, removing his shirt.

When Mingfei unbuckled his belt, Caesar snapped. “Keep your pants on… turn around.”

“Oh, you were so serious I thought I had to take off all my clothes.” Lu Mingfei said.

Chu Zihang and Caesar curiously admired the dense lines of scars on Lu Mingfei’s back. They were so numerous that you could not find a single unmarked spot on him. It was like he had endured a beating of a thousand strokes or had rolled over a bed of knives. Even Caesar and Chu Zihang were stunned speechless.

“Are you done looking? I’m kinda cold.” Mingfei peeked over and startled at the sight of you. “Ah! You didn’t tell me MC was here!”

“She doesn’t care, stop wiggling!” Caesar hummed. “Incredible self-healing ability. A trauma of this magnitude would take at least 3 weeks to heal even at a top-notch medical center. But only eight hours have passed since you were attacked. You should have bled to death on the spot.”

“That’s because the wound began to heal itself the moment he was injured. The blood vessels stopped bleeding on their own, so the blood was locked in the body. The cells filled in the wound by a high rate of division. Even the ruptured tendons were repaired.” Chu Zihang said. “This self-healing ability surprasses that of Chisei Gen and MC.”

Could this be why the principal rated him as S-rank?” Caesar mused. “If he always had this ability, wouldn’t he make the perfect meat shield? If we have another gunfight with someone, we can send him in front of us to Main Tank the damage while we lay down suppressive fire!”

“The so-called lack-of-childhood must have been an act, then? Boss, you’re so familiar with the term ‘main tank’. What do you play? Warcraft or Warhammer? Anyways, shut up about that, we’ve got a bigger problem!”

“We already know, even if you didn’t come to us, we came to you. Every news channel is broadcasting what happened last night.” Caesar grabbed the remote from the chair and turned on the TV.

You already knew the story, so you don’t bother watching it again. Something else was bothering you. Caesar said she was 21, and was staying at a love hotel, but he also said she was wrapped around his finger. Didn’t Caesar say that he was hoping for Erii to fall in love with Mingfei? The whole idea suddenly made your skin crawl!

“Caesar. Is it alright if I go to the bathroom?”

“Huh?” Caesar looked up from the TV. “Yeah sure whatever.”

You walk inside and shut the door and get as far away from the door as you can and lean against the wall. You cross your arms, your nails biting into your biceps. You understood that Erii was potentially dangerous and that was evident today. But all you could think of was Z’s gentle hug, his indulging in your punishment fantasies, the play time and the jokes. It was all fun until it wasn’t. You recall the souvenir Mingfei got from her after she rescued him, a little duck bath toy. You’d tteased him for playing with it. Mingfei said he would never bathe with a duck.

He wasn’t that much of a kid.

Fire like a kiln blazed in your stomach. This was the person Mingfei had wrapped around his little finger? As Caesar had so blithely put it? You flush the toilet and pretend to wash your hands and open the door.

The boys were already moving on, talking about something else.

Caesar was standing next to Mingfei and handing him a card. “Meet at Pier 7 in Tokyo Harbor. The address is written on this.”

“What if she loses control while on the ship?” Lu Mingfei looked frightened.

Caesar handed him a box of medication encased in a glass vial to Lu Mingfei: “Isoproterenol, a strong anesthetic. Give her this medication. It will reduce her vital signs to a minimum and she will sleep until she gets to China. Give her some glucose half way through the trip.”

“But she’s very weak now!” Lu Mingfei raised his voice. “Injecting a very weak person with a strong anesthetic and only living on glucose for seven days? What if she dies?”

Caesar patted his shoulder: “We don't want her to die either, but this is the most feasible way to deal with it right now. She is a deadly weapon that could get out of control at any moment. And we can neither continue to hold this dangerous weapon nor return her to the Hydra, so the only way to do that is to send her out of Japan. It would take a bit of a risk, but it would get her out of Tokyo, the center of controversy. She’s the strangest hybrid we know of, perhaps related to the awakening of the White King. And with her gone, it would be the equivalent of a dangerous element being removed.”

Wait a minute. This didn’t sound like Caesar. The way Caesar was talking about her to Mingfei was not the way he talked about her to you. The way he talked to you was that she was a beautiful girl and that hoped Lu Mingfei and the Uesugi Clan Chief would get together!

Mingfei seemed convinced by this however.

Chu Zihang spoke up. “Caesar and I have discussed this before we came. And this is the only way. Find an excuse to take her out and bring her to the dock tomorrow at exactly four in the morning. She trusts you and should agree to board the ship with you.”

Chu Zihang’s words were like a bomb going off. “Uh… excuse me!” You say.

“What is it?” Caesar asked, his voice slightly dismissive.

“Why don’t you just tell her the truth?” Your face was awash in indignant confusion.

“What? Are you kidding?” Mingfei squeaked.

“No, I’m not kidding! Caesar just said,  ‘make up an excuse’. You’re going to lie to her!” You lower your voice to a whisper but point sharply at the hotel across the street. “Do you think she’s stupid?! When she finds out that you’re lying, she will go absolutely nuts!”

“MC.” Caesar took a breath. “MC… I know how you feel but now is really not the time.”

“No, you’re being cruel. Mingfei, you should know better!” You snarl. “You are her only friend, her only one! You are under an obligation to be upfront with her or else you’re no better than Herzog! You should know better. All of you should know better!”

“Hey…” Caesar growled, his eyes darkening. “This is completely different. Don’t compare me to that asshole.”

“What if she loses it? You don’t know if she can handle that sort of information. She’s extremely mentally unstable!” Mingfei whimpered.

“There is nothing more destabilizing than being betrayed by the people you trust.” You stare at  Caesar accusingly. “After all this time, after all you know about me. You turn around and pull this?” You take a shaking breath. “She is a child.”

The room descended into an uneasy silence and no one moved or spoke. The only sound was the continuous rain on the window and the rumble of distant thunder.

“That’s your plan? Tell her the truth. Are you going to take responsibility for her going on a rampage after she hears that she’s dying? Not everyone is that strong, MC.” Caesar was completely expressionless. He only got this way when he was upset.

You take a breath and let it out. You start to speak and nothing comes. You shake your head, struggling. “The man who told me I was dying was the man who loved me.” 

You turn away and leave the room to regain control of yourself.

A few moments later, Chu Zihang exited with a box of tissues but he quickly saw it wasn’t needed. You were just staring blankly at the wall in the hall. 

“Caesar has decided to let you go. He wants you to stay with Mingfei tonight and go with them to the docks tomorrow. Take the ship to China with them.”

“What’s stopping me from telling her the truth on the way there?”

“Mingfei will drug both of you.” Chu Zihang said.

You turn to look at him and then immediately turn away, your heart sinking. “He views me the same way. So much for the ‘I'm not Godzilla’ speech huh?”

“Things aren’t always black and white. A lot has happened. You’re in obvious danger from something we don’t understand. You may not realize it but your mental state is not the same as when you arrived.” Chu Zihang’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “Your mind is going too.”

You just shake your head. “All I hear are excuses. Excuses for him to be a hypocrite.”

Chu Zihang sighed, and you see for a moment how tired he was.. “You don’t have any say in the matter. The decision is unanimous, not only between me and him, but also Lu Mingfei.” 

You drop your arms from your chest, limply.

He looked down at you, his eyes cold. “If you defy the orders, I won’t hold back. From your training you should understand what I mean.”

The door opened and Caesar walked out. “Alright, let’s go Chu.” He paused next to you, his eyes cloudy. “I care about you. I really do. But there’s too much you just don’t understand. We’ll talk about getting you back to Japan once this is all over.”

You look up at him and shake your head. “The key to my survival is in Tokyo. If I leave, you won’t see me again..

He reaches out to hug you and you let him. You take a deep breath of the smell of his shirt which still smelled of those fine Cubans. It might be the last time. He really did believe what he was doing was the right thing even though it directly contradicted what he said before. 

“Don’t say goodbye. I’ll see you later.” Caesar said. “Keep an eye out on the two love birds.”

He walked away and didn’t bother looking back.

You return to the room with Lu Mingfei and sigh. “What a mess.”

He laughed but there was no humor in it.. “Yeah no kidding.” He was holding a modified pistol in his hand, one of Caesar’s Desert Eagles!

“What… are you doing with that?” You shiver violently. 

“If she gets out of control, I will have to shoot her. The bullet inside is specially made to be completely lethal. Even to dragons.” He mumbled. His eyes were dark pools and you couldn’t read the emotion in them. “If, for some reason that doesn’t work, you’re to finish her off.”

“Will you use that against me too?”

After a long silence he continued. “Turns out we actually are going to be at war this whole time. Me and Erii were never going to happen. You and I were never going to happen. I tend towards being a human. You and Erii tend towards the dragon side. If we go to battle, we have to use all our resources against each other and fight tooth and nail. It doesn’t matter if you sit together on a Ferris wheel or… talk all night on the phone or… run through the streets in the rain.”

He lifts his head to you. “If that day comes, we just have to grab our weapons and fight.”

He looks back down at the gun. “You were raised to fight. It’s what you know. But Erii… she doesn’t know anything.”

Outside the window it was pouring rain.

[untilmynextstory]

Chapter 5: Widening Gyre

Word Count: 8K

There are just some things no one can prepare you for. There are things Alma knows she will never recover from. She had already buried one child. She doesn't know if her own heart could even manage to bury her second child.

Her precious baby girl was no longer here. Despite all the doctor visits, the medication, and vigilant watch over her baby girl's heart, it wasn't enough. Her baby girl was only five years old. She had a future. She had a life in front of her.

Alma didn't even know how she was going to be able to grieve. She didn't know what the grieving process meant for her along with her family. She had to comfort her son. She didn't know how to do that, but she tried by letting him cry in her arms. Holding him tight in her arms as she put him to bed holding one of Kaylee's favorite stuffed animals.

She knew it was going to be a slow process in healing, but when she thought of her husband, she wasn't sure if there was anything she could do.

Words have barely been exchanged between the two. She was surprised they were able to even pull it together to even have a funeral.

Jax has spent the past couple weeks locked inside of Kaylee's room with weed and alcohol as therapy. He just drinks and smokes. He keeps himself in that room and doesn't leave. He only removes himself off the floor to piss and maybe head into the kitchen for something to stomach. Although his meager meals do nothing to absorb the alcohol he is poisoning himself with.

Alma isn't sure what would be the best method to approach. She isn't sure if she even wants to. She knows she is not strong enough to shoulder his grief along with hers. She already went through Ben's death alone, she had come to terms she would have to navigate the stages of grief for Kaylee alone.

She has made a schedule for herself. She gets up, showers, and tends to every single one of Nathan's needs. It's the best she can do. Worse, her baby boy had turned 7 and he had denied wanting even a cake for his birthday. She stopped looking at her phone. She unplugged the landline and stopped answering the door. She can't deal with the pity or other's nosiness.

Alma lingers at Kaylee's bedroom. She only meant to take a peek at the cold room. Everything has been left untouched since her passing. She finds her husband sitting up against the dresser as he looks ahead of him in a daze. He slowly brings a blunt to his lips. He inhales and exhales. She wants to scream at him that he is only tainting their daughter's room. They will no longer be able to smell the chamomile with a tinge of lavender that settles in the room due to Kaylee's favorite body wash products.

She bites her tongue. She doesn't want to start an argument. She doesn't want to say things in anger that neither will be able to take back. The only reason she moves from the door is because the alarm signals that someone has opened the front door.

Alma moves down the hallway and finds her mom stepping through the door with grocery bags.

Ann has been staying in Charming since Kaylee's passing. She is not exactly sure where her mother is staying, but she is grateful that her mom isn't inserting herself in the house. However, Alma has a feeling her mom is at her wits end from the radio silence. After all, despite how much Alma wants to curl in bed and shut out the world, she has Nathan to think about. He still needs at least one of his parents.

Her mom looks up at her with a grim smile. "I brought you guys some food."

Alma nods as she meets her the rest of the way. Alma notices her mom has forgone the expensive jewelry and makeup. Her face is bare and she is in a simple suede pink sweatsuit. A pair of white Adidas adore her feet.

Alma is silent as she puts away the phone. She knows her mom is surprised that the house isn't a mess. Or the downstairs isn't at least. In grief, every member of the house has been confined into a bedroom. Alma spends most of her time with Nathan in his room while Jax is in Kaylee's.

"Maybe you guys should come North with me. Get out of Charming for a bit." Ann hesitantly suggests.

"It's not going to change anything." Alma replies. Kaylee would still be gone when they returned. Her baby girl would still be dead.

"Tell me how I can help you, baby," her mother pleads.

"I don't think you can. Not with this." Alma tells her. She doesn't even know how to pick up the pieces for some type of living.

"You need to talk to someone. Losing Ben and now Kaylee…" her mother trails off before approaching her like a wounded animal. Her mom's hands cup her cheeks forcing her to look at her. "You can't be Wonder Woman all the time. You need a break. You can't forget yourself in all this." Her mom steps back and gives her some space. "I'll stay for a bit. Cook, clean up whatever. Just take a nap. Soak in the tub."

Alma inhales deeply and blows the hot air out. "Okay. Thanks, mom."

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Ann waited until she heard the tub began draining and about 30 minutes after the master bedroom door shut before she went to complete her mission.

She had begun cleaning up the little dust that accumulated in the past week downstairs. She checked on Nathan, who had just woken up from a nap, fed him a sandwich with some chips, before he told her that he just wanted to draw in his room. Ann pressed a kiss to her grandson's head and let him be.

It was clear her grandson was trying to be strong. She admired her grandson, her only grandchild still living. That hurts. Knowing that she has outlived two children who didn't even make it past the age of 5.

She can't imagine the pain her daughter is feeling. She doesn't even know how to help her daughter cope with this loss. She can barely linger on that grief before it makes her breakdown. Right now, she can't do that. She needs to shoulder some of this pain for her daughter as her worthless son in law isn't doing shit.

She had walked past Kaylee's room and was hit with the smell of weed. She risked a glance inside and any grief was quickly replaced with anger.

She could understand his anger with Ben. He was not here to help or to be there to grieve with his family. Ann knows that grief can make people selfish, but she expected better of the man her daughter married. Yet, she doesn't know how she could forget how selfish these men were. She experienced the club's selfishness first hand.

So she had waited. She wanted her daughter to be asleep before she took matters in her own hands. It wasn't as if she went out of her way to purposely antagonize Jax. It was just she wasn't going to blindly stand on the sidelines and watch him treat her daughter with disrespect. She didn't want Alma to go through what she went through with Chico. It is a shame that Ann could overlook the ways that the men made money. After all, it had her and Alma living comfortably. Yet, the women and the control issues Chico had...Ann couldn't suffer through the emotional and mental abuse anymore.

For a time, she thought she could overlook the other women. She did, but Chico could never be quiet about it. He constantly threw it in her face he would be with croweaters in Charming, not just on runs. The worst betrayal was only finding out that Chico only tolerated her because of Alma. She was simply a good lay at the time. A consistent lay that got pregnant. In this world, she was shown how disposable women are to these men. She just couldn't understand how everyone was pissed at her for wanting to divorce Chico when he had been embarrassing her for years.

Maybe it is wrong of her to project those feelings onto Jax. However, it had been an open secret he was fucking around on her daughter when he got released. He did it right in front of her. Ann knows that the reason her daughter was staying was for the kids and the unfortunate circumstance of Jax being the one to provide financial security. She was only able not to get some more independence due to Luann, but unfortunately that was ripped away before it could fully develop.

Ann steps into the room where her son in law is shirtless and glad in some basketball shorts. The room smells like a distrilley and a hide out for skunks.

"Un-fucking-believable." Ann mutters as she steps forward. She stands in his line of step and he doesn't even blink, but stares blankly. "Get up."

He doesn't move or even flinch.

She bends down to look him directly in the eye. "Get the fuck up. You smell like shit and you're tainting your daughter's room with this shit."

"Fuck you." He whispers hoarsely.

"Get up," she sneers in disgust and his reflexes are too slow as she grabs the bottle of Jack and the ashtray on the floor with the burning joint. She moves quickly and Jax falls to his side as she runs out the room.

She makes it to the closest bathroom where she immediately slams the door with Jax hot on her tail.

She instantly pours the bottle down the drain. She jumps when Jax pounds on the door.

"Opening this fucking door!" He screams.

"Calm the fuck down and take a shower. You smell like shit." Ann replies back. The pounding continues and she winces as she hears a crack. "Jax, you're going to break the fucking door!"

"Well fucking open it!" He shouts.

Ann flushes the blunt down the toilet along with the ashes. She places the ceramic tray next to the empty bottle of whiskey. She swings the door open to meet the glare of her son in law.

"What the fuck are you even doing here?" He seethes as he enters the bathroom.

"Taking care of your family since you are incapable of doing shit that doesn't revolve around you." Ann bites.

Jax's body goes tense. He stands down in front of her, his lips set in snarl. "This is not the time for your bullshit."

"No, it's not time for your bullshit!" She snaps back. "You have a fucking wife and son that need you. Stop being so goddamn selfish! Your father would fucking disgusted with the sight of you right now."

This time Ann knows she snapped something in Jax as she even realizes a startled yelp when he smashes the glass bottle against the wall.

"Jax?"

Both she and Jax are still at the sound of Alma's voice at the end of the hall. Ann hurries out of the bathroom.

"You need to fucking get out of here," she tells her daughter.

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.

.

Jax sits down against the tombstone next to the disturbed dirt next to it. It's too early for Kaylee's tombstone yet. Benjamin's is an upright monument with columns with red granite. They decided to get Kaylee a matching one with an angel.

And only a few rows away lies Jax's own brother, Thomas, and his father.

This is only the second time Jax has been to the cemetery. He hadn't never ventured to see Ben's grave until Kaylee's funeral. It didn't seem real. He felt he could ignore that loss. He could push it aside. He never allowed himself to feel it until it was too late - too much.

He has lost his little girl. His baby girl. The light in his life. She's gone. He has lost two children due to his fucking family flaw.

He bows his head as he finally lets the past months catch up to him. His body shudders as everything hits him. He doesn't even care that he is in public at this point. He just wants the pain to go away. He just wants his world to go back to the way it was.

He wants his children alive. He wants to be able to go home to his wife and not feel like a failure. He isn't even sure how to help his family anymore. He knows they don't need him. Alma hasn't even spoken to him after his episode with her mother and even then he isn't even too sure what the last conversation they had was between each other. All he knows is she steers clear of him.

Nathan hasn't come to him for comfort at all. His boy is usually wrapped up in his mother's arms and he can hear him crying for Kaylee in her arms. He feels useless in his own house. He could go to the clubhouse, but he doesn't want to be coddled by his mother or even by his brothers. He just wants the pain to stop. He wants everything to stop hurting, but he knows that it won't happen for a while. In fact, he knows this pain will never go away. He will have to learn how to carry it. He needs to learn how to manage it. He doesn't know how his mom and dad manage to deal when Tommy died. He doesn't know how they found a place to accept it. He doesn't think he can ever accept this loss without it paralyzing him.

He stands up from the grave and places a kiss on top of Ben's grave. He kneels down on the fistrubed dirt and places his hand where his little rests before moving to visit his brother and father.

He tries not to think about how half of his family is buried in the fucking cemetry.

He is making his way to his bike when he spots Piney standing by it waiting for him.

"So, how's the old man?" Piney greets.

Jax manages a small smile. "Still dead."

"You know, I hear that happens." He replies.

Jax nods his head and kicks his foot at some loose gravel. "What are you doing, cruising for widows?"

"No. Stopped by your house. Alma didn't know where you were. Figure this would be the next stop." Piney reveals. "You, uh, you want to bounce something off of me? I mean, I'm not as smart as J.T., but I've been known to have my moments."

Jax stands a little taller. "I'm good."

Piney frowns at him. "Jax... we don't, uh, we don't have shrinks or priests. You don't want to talk to me, that's fine. But you gonna talk to somebody in this club and work this shit out?"

Jax releases a shaky breath. "I lost two of my kids Piney. I don't think I can even find a direction to go in. I just end up in a place I never even knew could be this bad." Jax doesn't know how to even be a man with his grief. He can't look at Alma without feeling as if he failed her and their children. Jax wipes away the tears that have begun to leak out of his eyes. "I don't think we can come back from this, Piney."

Maybe Jax thinks is what is eating him up the most. He knows his marriage is slowly reaching it's expiration date. They barely survived losing one child. Hell, they were barely communicating and only just addressed that their relationship wasn't the same and then they lost Kaylee. Most marriages barely manage surviving the loss of one child, but they lost two.

Jax knows the demise of his marriage is solely on him. He was the first one to break away. He weakened the foundation. He also knows he has answer for his episode with Ann in the bathroom, but she never knew when to stop fucking pushing. It wasn't an excuse, but she could never let things be.

Piney grips his shoulders. "Hey, Alma loves you, Jax. You just need to talk to her. She'll understand. You both can work through this."

Jax shakes his head. He doesn't think love alone is enough to fix the space that has come between him and his wife. "I don't think talking can fix it this time, Piney."

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.

He feels like a stranger in his own home. He was unsure if he was even welcomed in the bedroom. It's not like Jax is expecting any form of sexual intimacy, but at least physical. Alma has closed herself off from him. He knew it would be a bad move to even try to wrap her in his arms. So he stayed rooted on his side of the bed and laid on his back.

He thinks he may have even slept with his eyes open. He doesn't feel well rested. He blinks what little sleep he got from his eyes as he realizes the sound of Alma cleaning is what woke him. She seemed to have already taken a shower as her hair was leaving wet spots on her white t-shirt. She is throwing his clothes he had recklessly discarded into a basket while tidying up things around the room.

"Al…" he says unsure.

She looks up at him and holds the hamper against her hip. She doesn't say anything, but looks at him expectedly.

He sits up in the bed and licks his lips. "We need to talk."

"About what?"

"Alma, please…"

"So what, when you want to talk I have to listen?" She fires back.

"That's not...I didn't mean...we lost our daughter, Alma, how in the fuck is any parent supposed to react."

"Maybe not by drowning in weed or booze, or about tending to your son and wife. How about we grieve together!" Alma snaps.

"How when we can barely be in the same room together, Alma. You act like you want nothing to do with me. I can't turn to you. You don't want me."

"You pushed me away first." Alma states. "With Ben...you weren't here...I didn't hold it against you. I couldn't and even with how you...grieved...I pushed aside the hurt and humiliation you put me through. But I'm not going to be your fucking doormat."

Jax is at a loss for words. He doesn't know what to even say in fear of pushing Alma away. He knows sorry isn't enough at this point. He isn't stupid enough to not know where this anger is coming from. He moves to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Alma please…"

Alma looks away from him. He can tell there are things she wants to say. He wants her to say it even if it makes him scared, or things he doesn't want to hear.

Her shoulders drop and she looks at him with a blank expression. "We need to focus on Nathan, Jax."

He wants to ask what the fuck does that even mean. He wants to say a lot of things, but he bites his tongue.

"I love you, Alma."

Her blank expression cracks a little. She clears her throat. "I know."

She walks out of the bedroom.

Jax grabs the lamp on the stand next to the bed and throws it across the room.

.

.

Alma is standing near the door of the office of the garage as she watched Nathan and Jax exchange goodbyes. The boys are going on a run to Eureka for a blood drive. Alma also thinks it is a semi celebratory run that with Zobelle leaving without a trace the case against them was dropped even with the weapon charges. It seemed with Zobelle being a known rat could have something to help with that.

Alma does notice the goodbye between her boys is stunted and stiff. More so from Nathan and it reminds her that her son is very aware of the shift happening inside the house. It is the last thing she wants. Despite whatever is going on between her and Jax, she does not want that to leak down into his relationship with his son.

Still it doesn't change that Nathan witnessed how Jax did grieve alone while Nathan found comfort in her arms. And Nathan shouldn't have that choice of having to settle for the other parents because the other one was too deep in their own grief.

Alma feels a presence behind her and she knows its Gemma. Surprisingly, the biker matriarch's helicopter parenting had taken a step back. She thinks it is because Gemma knows what it is like to lose a child that it is best not to impose, but even then Gemma never lost two children in the span of a year.

She does appreciate the space.

Gemma wraps her arms around her shoulder. She thinks maybe Gemma is thinking the same thing as her that Jax shouldn't be on this run. Alma has a feeling about what is going to happen on this run. She knows since she rejected Jax in trying to communicate that she was the one to push him away this time. He will probably justify any action he makes.

Her breath catches in her throat and she feels as if she is being suffocated. She escapes Gemma's hold and rushes into the bathroom in the garage. She slams the door shut and leans against it. She feels as if she is having a panic attack.

She knows her marriage is over.

Her marriage is over.

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Jax sighs at the burn of the whiskey traveling down his throat. He really didn't care for the run to Eureka. It was simple, but nothing he was itching to do. However, being on the road reminded him how much he loved riding. He still had a refuge. He thinks maybe when they get back that a nice long ride will do him some good to clear his head. He doesn't know why he didn't think of taking a ride by himself before. Maybe a roundabout would do him some good. He and Alma could get some space and clarity and figure out how to move forward with their relationship.

Jax leans back in his chair. He lights a cigarette and blows a ring of smoke. He smiles at a few croweaters before his attention is taken by his stepfather. Clay looks at him with furrowed brows, his eyes hidden behind his dark sunglasses.

Jax raises an eyebrow at his President. "Can I help you?"

"I want to know what the fuck you're doing," Clay says lowly.

"Trying to enjoy the party," Jax replies as he takes another sip from his whiskey.

"You know what I mean," Clay answers.

Jax thinks his mom has put Clay up to this. Clay never intervenes on what he deems to be family business. Only when it interferes with club business will Clay open his mouth. Even then, outside of the two weeks following Kaylee's funeral, Jax has been at every church meeting and any task Clay hesitantly gives him. Sure, he sometimes has a glossy look in his eyes and his hair and beard aren't trimmed as he usually keeps it, but he isn't zoning out. He isn't compromising anything within the club. "If you have something to say, just say it."

"Your mom is worried about her family." Clay reveals, which isn't surprising to Jax. "She doesn't know everything about what you did when Ben passed. But we all knew…." Clay trails off. "Probably 40, 50 patches watching us right now. We represent the past, present and future of this club. Sure, the sons are a Democratic organization, but everybody knows what happens in charming sets the tone for every charter."

Jax furrows his brows. He is confused. "And what's happening in Charming?"

"You tell me. These men behind us, they love you. They respect you and they understand your grief. But they're also wondering what you're gonna do with it."

Jax clenches his jaw. "That's my business."

"No, it isn't. Some of these guys are old enough to remember what happened to your old man. How he... fell apart, lost focus when Thomas died."

"Yeah, well, I'm not my old man."

"I know that, but they don't. You gotta show 'em something."

"Show them fucking what?" Jax snaps. "I lost my son and daughter that has fuck all to do with the club."

"How you treat your family is," Clay fires back. "Don't forget Alma is a daughter of a First 9. Some won't take kindly how you're treating her."

"You got to be fucking kidding me." Now people want to care about Alma's lineage. Now they want to care about how members cash in on the run protocol. No one has no problem with Clay indulging knowing he is with his mother. "My marriage isn't club business."

"If people see you can't manage your family life they are gonna start doubting how you can effectively lead this club."

"So what, I'm supposed to wipe the tears away and be done grieving for my kids. It doesn't work like that."

Clay looks at him silently. "You need to make a decision son. You fix things with Alma. Get your head on fucking straight, or you let that hammer drop and be done with it."

.

.

Jax laughs as Nathan does another cannonball in the pool. It is just the two of them at the house. Alma had only told him that she was going to be out for the day. He wasn't really left with a choice in the matter of watching Nathan. He decided that he would skip out going to the club and spend the day with his son.

So they had immediately changed into their swimming trunks and Jax lathered on the sunscreen on his boy. He thinks this is the first time they have hung out just one on one since Kaylee's passing. Nathan has preferred the company of Alma to him.

It hurts, but Jax knows that it is because of his doing and his own grief that his son couldn't come to him. If anything, Jax knows how to deal with the loss of a sibling. He could try and help his son with that because they will never truly be over the loss of Kaylee. They just have to make room for the hurt.

Jax jumps from his place at the edge of the pool and wades over to his son where he is heading into the deep end. Jax knows Nathan is only waddling towards that end since Alma isn't here especially without some type of floaty.

It wasn't as if Nathan was a bad swimmer. He swan pretty good, but when Alma is in mama bear mode they all know not to go against her.

He follows his son as he treads the water. He admires the changes in his son. Outside of the blue eyes, Nathan is all Alma. All he can see is Alma in the shape of his face, nose, smile, and the color of their hair. Alma will tell him that Nathan has his personality, but Nathan is Alma with their quiet demeanor and how they think and contemplate their words and actions before speaking.

"Be careful," Jax warns.

"I know how to swim," Nathan remarks.

"Well you can explain that one to your mother if she sees you without a floatie."

Nathan stills and swims over to Jax. His arms wrap around his neck. It reminds Jax of when Nathan was little and still in a diaper. Nathan loved water and would always smack his reflection and release a tirade of giggles.

Jax holds his son close. He presses a kiss to his son's head. "Everything alright?"

"Are you and Mommy happy?"

Jax wasn't prepared for that question. "What makes you ask that?"

"No one laughs anymore."

Jax's heart tightens.

Nathan continues before Jax can respond. "I know with...Kaylee...but even before that you and Mommy didn't seem happy. Mommy always seemed sad."

Jax swallows the lump in his throat. "Well when Mommy is sad...we just have to tell her we love her and give her lots of hugs and kisses, yeah."

"Are you sad, Daddy?"

"Right now, no. You make me happy. You and your mom."

Nathan furrows his brows and pouts his lips. "I want you and Mommy to be happy."

Jax hikes Nathan up a little higher so he can look his son in his eyes. "No matter what, your mom and I love you very much."

"I love you too, Daddy." Nathan replies.

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.

Alma had been surprised when Donna reached out to have a girls day together. There has been space building between the two. This time it is coming from Alma after the loss of Kaylee. She has been isolating herself from everyone while she tries to figure out the next move in her life.

They aren't doing much either. Donna's parents have taken the kids for the day and they are at Donna's house. Donna had suggested they go to an actual spa, but Alma didn't want to deal with the looks of pity in public. They have wine and multiple colors of nail polish on the table. Alma isn't sure what is playing on TV, but her and Donna have been giggling since the third glass of wine. Alma might be staying the night if she doesn't sober up a bit.

Alma had painted her nails a very vibrant hot pink with an equally bright yellow on her toes. She is currently waiting for her toes to dry.

"So are you still doing nails at Cara Cara?" Donna asks.

Alma takes a sip of her wine. "Yea and no. I don't go to the studio, but there are some girls that still come to me. Not all of them, but most."

"You should open your own place up." Donna suggests.

Alma smiles. "I'll hire you to be the receptionist."

"You would probably pay better." Donna comments.

"Just lately, I haven't thought about it. Just been focusing on Nathan."

"You also need to focus on yourself." Donna points out. "If you don't you are going to break."

"How are things for you?" Alma asks. Opie still has years left in prison and outwardly Donna has her head held high, but she knows that is not the case. Plus, even far away, Alma knows that Opie is still a present husband. Donna may be alone, but she is not going through all of this alone.

"I have my days, ya know. I'm sure I haven't been through the worst yet."

"But you have Opie though."

Donna gives her a sad smile. "You and Jax…"

Alma gives a bitter laugh. "Watering a dead flower."

"Al…"

Alma finishes her glass of wine. She really doesn't want to cry over her husband anymore. She knows her marriage is at the end. They both are prolonging the inevitable and are making each other miserable. Although the thing is, if she and Jax separate where would she go. How would she support herself and Nathan. She can't just leave. She can't just take Nathan away from his father.

"If you need help. I'm here for you and Nathan."

"I just love him so much. I guess my mother was right about why it wouldn't last." Alma tells Donna.

"Do you think you guys can't work it out?" Donna probes.

Alma leans forward and refills her wine glass. "I think the damage has been done. I don't think it would be fair to him if I stayed."

"If you need help, I'm here." Donna promises.

.

.

Considering the exciting day in the pool, Nathan had quickly fallen asleep after his dinner and shower. It left Jax to his own devices as Alma still wasn't home. He had washed the dishes and tidied up a bit. In cleaning, he found an empty journal and for some reason began writing as he sat in the living room to wait for Alma. He had been baring his soul into this journal about everything that has happened within the past year. He was writing to Nathan, Kaylee, and Ben about his greatest achievements and failures.

Although in the back of his mind and on his paper, he couldn't divulge into his doubts about his marriage has turned out. Alma's silence all day only highlighted it more. He didn't want to bug her as it was rare she enjoyed a day to herself. He just knows if she isn't home in 30 minutes he will call her cell.

He has just placed his pen down and is flexing his hand when the front door opens. He is standing up when he hears keys hit the floor along with a "shit". He moves towards the foyer and he finds Alma struggling to take her shoes off.

"Al?"

His voice startles her and if he wasn't so concerned he would've laughed with how she fell on her ass. Although Alma is giggling enough for the both of them.

"Is Nathan up," Alma hiccups.

Jax furrows his brows. "Are you drunk?"

Alma stands on her shaky legs and Jax can't really ever think of a time Alma got drunk. She would be on the edge, but nothing to have her stumbling.

"If I am?" She counters as she brushes past him to their bedroom.

He follows her confused. "Where were you?"

She makes it to their room and begins to haphazardly throw her clothes and accessories around the room. He follows her as he picks up her clothes and puts them into the hamper. She doesn't answer him and he watches as she strips down to nothing but to her bra and underwear. He helps take off her jewelry and places them in her jewelry case.

"Who were you with?" He presses.

Alma sighs and it seems any tipiness she was feeling had disappeared. "Do you want a divorce?"

Jax freezes and a lump forms in his throat. He was not expecting that to come out of her mouth.

"Couples barely make it through losing one child. We lost two." Jax can see the tears forming in her eyes, but she doesn't bother to hide the pain she is feeling. "We both don't need to be miserable."

"Are you miserable?" He asks her.

"I don't make you happy," she answers.

.

.

.

Jax feels guilty. With all the shit going on, he has neglected his best friend. Even if Chino is a six hour ride, he had promised to do in house visits at least once a month. He hasn't in a while. He knows that Opie won't give him shit for it, but it doesn't change the fact Jax has been a shit husband and friend lately.

He embraces his friend in a tight hug.

"Fuck, man, I'm so sorry. How you've been?" Opie asks him as they pull apart.

"I don't know man. Shit is just upside down and everywhere." Jax says as they take a seat at the table.

Opie is quiet for a bit. "What do we want to tackle first?"

Jax chuckles and shakes his head a bit. "I can't talk about the kids. I mean...I know...it's gonna take time. I'm trying to deal with it. I am finally dealing with it. I hate that you weren't there, ya know. You didn't get to say goodbye to Kaylee...you never got to meet Ben.." Jax stops as he can feel the tears building.

"Hey, man, I know. I know. We don't have to go there right now…"

"I think Alma wants a divorce." Jax reveals. Since Alma's drunken question, he hasn't been too sure of how to fix their marriage. He isn't sure how to show Alma that he wants them together. He loves her. He doesn't want to live in a world without her. He knows that he is the cause of her having doubts with them and herself.

"Did she say that?"

"She asked if it was what I wanted…" Jax licks his lips. "But if she had to ask me that...it's my fault where we are at where we are."

"What you do?"

"Treated her like shit since I came back." Jax states truthfully.

"Did you…?"

Jax nods his head regretfully. "I fucked up, Opie."

"She know?"

"Yeah. Had a few fights about it and other things. I just feel...we make an effort and it sets us back, or something happens. She's not happy, but I don't want to let her go."

Opie is silent and Jax knows he probably won't like what his friend has to say. "You think about leaving the house? Start back to square one. Just having space between the two of you can give clarity."

"With this life...I just didn't want Nathan to have to grow up in a broken home." Jax reveals.

With the Life he has, he wanted his children to have a strong family base. He may not be a good man, but he wanted to keep that shelter from his kids for as long as he could. He didn't want his kids to grow up like he did with knowing everything. He doesn't even know how much Nathan knows about club business. Sure, he entertains his son when he says that he wants to join the club, but his son didn't know the truth. He still had that child innocence that he knows is surely being stripped away.

"I think him seeing you and Alma slowly turn into shells of yourselves is gonna be worse than you two being apart and healthy. And it's not like you guys can't find your way back to each other."

"I just fucked up. I know I did." Jax says shaking his head. "I don't think I can fix this."

"When you go home, send Nathan to your moms, even if Alma is resistant, you force her to talk. You lay everything out. It might be best for you to stay at your moms than the clubhouse though."

Jax chuckles a bit. "I just...I hate myself for hurting her like this."

"You're human. Make mistakes, it is how we learn and grow from them. Marriage is hard. You both have gone through so much shit...maybe this is what you guys need so the damage isn't fixable at a certain point."

.

.

"I got you Mom!" Nathan shouts as he shoots his water gun directly on his mom's stomach. The water stain spreads and his mom huffs. His mom was mowing the front lawn and he was bored and found the stash of water guns.

"I don't know if I should be concerned about how you know your way around a gun so well." His mom states as she steps away from the lawn mower and looks down her shirt.

"I practice, Mom," Nathan says gleefully.

"Maybe a little too much," she adds.

"I miss playing with Uncle Opie." Nathan tells his mom. He really wanted to see his Uncle Opie with his dad, but he wasn't allowed to go for whatever reason.

"Well write a letter and set up a phone call date." His mom tells him.

"Yeah, but it's not the same." Nathan mutters.

Alma frowns and wraps her arms around her son. "I know, baby. Maybe when Donna goes to visit Uncle Opie we can see if you can go. Or maybe we'll make a trip with it. I'm sure Aunt Donna and your cousins would like that."

"Can Dad come?"

"Yeah, I don't see why not," she replies.

"Are you sure?"

"Why wouldn' I be?"

Nathan bites his lip. He may be young, but he notices things. Since his sister has passed away things have not been the same. He thinks even before that something was wrong with his parents.

He was used to his parents always kissing and hugging one another, but he hasn't seen them have any of those interactions in months. There isn't any laughter between them. He knows losing Ben and Kaylee has to do with most of it, but Nathan got better with the grief with his mom. She helped him. He just isn't sure how his parents aren't able to help each other.

"I just want you and Dad to be happy." He tells his mom.

Alma kneels down in front of him. He notices that she has the sad smile on her face that she has had even before Kaylee has passed. She cups his cheek and her thumb roams back and forth across it. "I love your Dad. I always will, but sometimes happiness and love aren't mutually exclusive."

"So loving Dad doesn't make you happy?"

"I will always love your Dad, but sometimes that love will make me feel sad or mad," she says with a scrunched nose that makes them both laugh. "I'm sorry things haven't been how they were. Things haven't been the same since Kaylee...and Ben, but I think things will get better. Not right away, but we just have to make a new normal for us."

"Does this new normal involve a new bike?" Nathan asks with a smile.

Alma pinches his cheeks. "You are just like your father."

"Excuse me?"

Both he and his mom jump at the voice of a woman who is standing in front of them. She has blonde hair that looks like honey. Nathan thinks she is really tall. Taller than his mom. But his eyes are drawn to her very pregnant belly.

"I'm looking for Jax Teller." The woman says.

. . .

Her name was Wendy. She was pregnant. Six months pregnant to be exact. Her belly was round and full. Wendy had told her that Jury was even kind enough to keep her working behind the bar since she couldn't glide on a pole anymore.

Wendy didn't have to tell Alma why exactly she was here. The belly and scared look on her face was enough. Alma had politely informed Wendy that Jax wasn't here and Alma gathered the appropriate contact info for the woman staying at the Ramada. Although, Alma wouldn't be surprised if Wendy made a pit stop to the clubhouse.

Alma is surprised she hasn't gotten numb to being humiliated by Jax. The only silver lining to any of this was Gemma was not busy and Alma had dropped Nathan off to spend the day with his grandmother.

Alma knows she wouldn't have been able to keep a poker face around her son. She wasn't even sure of what she wanted to do or going to do. She really wanted to kill her husband at this point. She just knows she didn't have any more tears left for her husband.

She is sitting in the living room smoking a blunt with a bottle of vodka open. She hates vodka, but right now it tastes like Kool Aid. She practically inhales the bottle when she hears Jax's bike pull into the driveway.

She waits in silence for him to enter the house.

"Babe?" Jax calls out as he enters the house.

She doesn't bother replying as he is going to smell the weed anyways. He seems to be following the scent as she hears his footsteps approaching.

"Are you smoking weed?" He asks in disbelief.

She doesn't bother with an answer. She can feel him besides her. His shadow looms over her. "And you're drinking." He takes a seat next to her. "What happened?"

Alma didn't say anything for a couple minutes. She doesn't know if she even has the right to be mad. She should've left when she first found out Jax was sleeping around. She stayed and now it is slapping her in the goddamn face.

She digs into the pocket of her cardigan. She places the paper that contains all the information to contact Wendy on the table and slides it over to Jax.

"She's looking for you." Alma tells him.

Jax furrows his brows and he looks down at the paper. It doesn't seem to click as he stares at the paper for a couple minutes. Although maybe Alma adding that she is from Nevada might have helped connect the dots.

"Babe -" Jax starts and goes to reach out to her, but Alma stands immediately and creates some distance. He immediately clamps his mouth shut.

"I want you out of the house. I don't care where you go or who you are with, but I want you gone. If you need something regarding Nathan, you can talk to me through Gemma. But don't call me, don't come here, don't do anything until I reach out."

"Alma, please let -"

"She's pregnant!" Alma shouts and Jax's freezes.

"It's not mine. I wore -"

"I don't care. You slept with her. She's pregnant and she's here." Alma folds her arms around herself. "I'll give you space to pack your clothes."

. . .

Two weeks Jax has felt like he has been in a constant state of panic. It's been two weeks since he has heard from Alma or even seen a glimpse of her. She had been deadly serious that if there was anything concerning Nathan that it was to go through his mom.

Even when he got Nathan on the Thursdays to Monday morning, his mom would drop him off or pick him up.

Jax had decided to stay with his mom as well. He didn't want to stay at the clubhouse. The guys were not saying much, outside of Piney, but were giving him looks of pity. He knew it was going to be any day now that Alma would serve him divorce papers.

And after a couple days, Jax had made a move to contact Wendy. He had been met with a very pregnant Wendy. She was claiming that he could be the father. He fits in her timeline of conception. He demanded a DNA test, but of course she wanted to wait until the baby was born for the non invasive test. Still, there was a chance that this baby could be his. Even if it wasn't the damage was already done.

"Sitting in your self pity isn't going to get your wife back."

Jax snaps his gaze up from his half empty coffee mug to look at his mother. He of course got a verbal ass whooping from his mother. He feared his mother was going to shoot him. He also had been surprised that she wasn't trying to help him mend his marriage, but he knows it would only piss off Alma more.

"Maybe we should get a court order demanding Wendy performs a DNA test now."

"I'm not going to do that." Jax says.

"Why not? Do you realize what is at stake here? Alma is going to leave your sorry ass."

"Thanks for the reminder, Mom. But I would rather not have to deal with an angry Wendy."

"Who gives a fuck about that bitch's feelings. She went out of her way to humiliate your wife in front of your son. She knew what she was doing when going to your house." Gemma snarls. "Besides from the way you are talking, it seems the kid is yours."

"It could be." Jax admits truthfully.

Gemma sighs. "Then the ink on your divorce papers is practically dry, Jax."

"You know I really don't need this right now, Ma."

"Oh I'm sorry, Alma didn't need to be humiliated and betrayed by her husband when she was mourning the loss of their children. See what happens when you bury your fucking problems in pussy that isn't your wife!" Gemma snaps.

Jax scowls at his mom and he doesn't get to reply as his phone starts vibrating. He sees it's Half Sack. Despite Alma's no contact order he had given the Prospect instructions to keep tabs on his wife.

"Yeah?"

"Jax, you need to get to the house."

Jax immediately stands. "Why what's going on?"

"I think she is leaving, Jax."

. . .

He wasn't surprised to see Ann there. He should have expected it. He doesn't even properly park his bike as he stands and gets off it. He can hear it fall down on the driveway and he removes his helmet and tosses it on the ground.

Nathan is sitting on the steps crying. Ann is packing an unrecognizable car he thinks could be a rental. Alma stands out on the steps not entirely shocked to see him. Any misery vanishes at the thought of Alma leaving and taking his son without any warning.

"So you were just going to fucking leave without saying anything. You were going to take my son!" He roars and he doesn't care about causing a scene.

"Nathan wants to stay here with you." Alma replies calmly. "I was gonna drop him off with you at your mom's. Lowen drew up some divorce papers."

Jax's heart drops to his chest. His anger instantly vanishes. "Alma, please, we can work this out. Just don't leave."

Alma steps down from the steps. "I have no choice but to leave you. Just please sign the papers that is all I want."

"Alma, please…" He begs.

He can tell Alma is trying to fight back the tears. "There isn't anything you can do or say, Jax. I don't want to end up hating you more. When I get settled we can make arrangements for Nathan. Just keep him safe."

She turns away from him and she kneels down to face Nathan. He can't hear what she is saying, but his little boy begins to cry harder.

"Please, don't go, Mom. Just stay please," Nathan wails as Alma holds their son close. Nathan's cries lower, but his body is shaking from the effort. Alma presses a kiss to his head and holds him before she stands.

Alma turns to him. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I'll call Nathan when I get settled."

"Where are you going?" Jax asks her. "You don't need to leave, Alma. You can have the house -"

"Charming isn't my home anymore Jax. You made sure of that."

Jax watches as Alma reaches her mom, who finally closes the trunk of the car. Jax is surprised Ann isn't jumping for joy or doing cartwheels. Alma doesn't look back as she gets into the passenger side of the door. The car begins pulling out of the driveway when Nathan gets up screaming for them to stop. The car stops and Alma opens the door.

Nathan stands in front of him. His blue eyes red from tears. "I want to go with Mom."

Jax doesn't bother hiding his tears as he bends down and embraces his son tightly. He cannot deny the boy the right to want to leave with Alma. "You take care of your mom, alright."

Nathan holds him tightly. "I love you, Dad."

Jax presses a kiss to his son's head. "I love you too. You and your mom."

Nathan loosens his grip and Jax lets his son go. He watches as Alma holds Nathan tightly before she helps him into the backseat of the car.

Jax watches his family drive away.

He falls to his knees and he doesn't care who sees him.

[fayefairaway]

❛THE BIG CIRCUS ❜

— MARCH ‘59

True to his word, Gene had made good on promising to get Faye a good spot on a prime-time TV spot to help promote herself for the upcoming Oscars. With the ceremony just about one month out she’d landed a coveted spot on The Billy Martin Show, and would be featured as a main guest rather than as a bit appearance. For Faye, the transition from working in movies — where multiple takes were expected, and she was only repeating lines someone else had written — to being on camera (unscripted and with an audience) had always made her nervous. She did her best to mask that nervousness amongst those who occupied the dressing room she sat in — currently comprised of Errol, Nick, and a makeup artist who was finishing with her face — but could not quite eliminate the way she fidgeted with anxiety in her seat. 

“Wow —” Shirley remarked by way of introduction, opening up the door and entering the dressing room just as the makeup artist excused themselves, the smile on her face encouraging as she complimented: “that dress fits you like a glove!”

Preoccupied with perfecting the kohl liner on her upper eyelid that the stylist had only just finished, Faye remarked distractedly before taking a long drink from the gin and tonic a PA had brought her: “I lost four pounds.”

“I think you look skinny,” Errol commented from his seat in the corner of the small room, his tone implying that there was an air of dissatisfaction paired with his assessment of her. “And I’d switch to water — there’s an audience out there,” he reminded.

Turning from the mirror, Faye glared at her manager, and hissed: “then why don’t you go and find me some bread, so I can be bloated and sober?” With a dismissive hand waved at him by Faye, the manager opened his lips as if to say something more, but then thought better of it and stood up to walk out of the room. “I’ll be back when we’re ten minutes out,” he commented to Shirley, rather than to Faye. When the door shut behind him, Faye heaved a frustrated sigh and regarded herself critically in the mirror. She hadn’t been purposefully trying to lose weight — it had been an unexpected consequence in a series of unexpected consequences in recent days.

She had gone back to see her OBGYN for a check-in about a week and a half prior, and while there the doctor had inquired about expected things: her stress levels, her work load, her current medications, and more. Looking to soften the reality of her often long workdays, Faye had claimed that her days on set were “ten hours at the most,” and left out any mention of after-shooting obligations, such as other work meetings or photography-related engagements. Despite her white lie, Doctor Keane had nonetheless come down on her with an insistence that her work day be limited to a maximum of eight hours. Though he’d insisted that it was important for her to use the extra time to relax, the thought of making those sorts of arrangements with producers had brought her nothing but stress.

More stressful, though, had been the Doctor’s reaction to her current medication regiment. “The Nembutal and Benzedrine are problematic,” he’d explained, much to Faye’s surprise. “There can be some risk —”

“ — So I’ll stop taking them,” Faye had said, eager to avoid any and all complications to her pregnancy. “That’s no problem.”

“It’s not that simple,” the Doctor had said, dark brows furrowing, “how long have you been taking the medications?” Faye, still not quite grasping any sense of seriousness, was thoughtful for a moment before replying: “about seven years. I was with one doctor at my old studio, and switched to another when I started at the new one. But he prescribed the same amount.”

Though she’d not picked up on every detail given to her by the Doctor after she’d told him as much, she’d nonetheless come away from the appointment with the disturbing knowledge that the medication she’d been taking — or at least the Nembutal — had created a “physical dependence” that would cause problems should she go cold turkey. “I’ve never had a problem,” Faye had said, upset by the news, “...are you saying I’m like some kind of dope-fiend?” 

Despite her doctor’s insistence that she was not, and that the lack of awareness of the medication’s properties was common; she’d left the appointment feeling stupid, embarrassed, and angry. Doctor Keane had also provided her with written instructions to self-taper the Nembutal over the course of one month, while encouraging her to take a few days off of shooting to stop the the Benzedrine immediately. Against his advice and her better judgement, she’d impulsively flushed the contents of both pill bottles down the toilet, and resolved to herself that she’d be fine without it. She wouldn’t be dealing with this bullshit for a month, and especially not with the Oscars right around the corner. 

And she had been fine, for about a day. 

In the five or so days that had followed, she’d run through nearly the full gamut of side effects that she’d been warned of: she slept hardly at all despite feeling constantly exhausted, suffered with aches and cramps that seemed to go down to her bones, and vomited anything she attempted to eat or drink and then some. With the little energy she did have, she’d called the Doctor who had been prescribing her the medication and screamed at him over the phone for what bordered on a half hour, after which she promised to see him fired and hung up. 

But, despite Doctor Keane’s warnings, the drugs were out of her system without any serious side effect, save for the four pounds that Faye now also questioned as a result of Errol’s comment.

“I brought another dress,” Faye said as she scrutinized her appearance, before she looked between Shirley and Nick and asked: “do you think I should change?”  

“I think this is perfect,” Shirley insisted, “never mind what Errol says — he’s no expert on ladies’ appearances.” 

Faye was distracted from Shirley’s response by a knock at the door, the muffled voice of a PA behind it saying “fifteen minutes, Miss Fairaway,” before presumably walking away. 

“Fuck,” Faye exclaimed, reaching for a cigarette as she remarked, “I can’t shake these nerves — I’m going to mess something up.”

[trackmag]

Turtle Doves And Pigeon Shit

Romanticism And James Blake`s Can`t Believe The Way We Flow

Romanticism could be argued to be outdated, but once we look beyond the clichés and grasp the ideas behind it, we become aware of its relevance today; In how we live, in what we believe in and argue about. 

James Blake released the album Assume Form in 2019. He so far has released 5 Music Videos alongside it, one of which is the video for “Can`t Believe The Way We Flow” directed by none other than Frank Lebon. Frank`s approach to his videos and work so far has been a lush and somewhat wild mixture of techniques and media, leaving him with a massive pot of footage and tools for the hours he spends editing. To some degree even this approach of mixed media is in a sense very true to the fashion, believe and tradition of romanticism. This and many other aspects of the video, is what I hope to discuss and further investigate in the following TRCKMG entry. 

Still 01, Can`t Believe The Way We Flow, 2019.

A Short Introduction To Romanticism

Romanticism. I am not referring to roses, boxes of chocolates and the numerous red silk bows we see on valentine`s day. I hereby am referring to an epoch also known as the romantic period. Speaking roughly of romanticism we think of a time between the end of the 18th towards the end of the 19th century. This slice of our history is marked by many very major political and cultural events across Europe and the globe. Some worth mentioning here would be the French revolution (which is often believed to be a starting point of the French romanticist movement) and the industrialization, marked by heavy machinery, steam engines, factories and therefore factory labour. We do, however, believe that the origin of romanticism as a term and way of thinking lies in Germany. Friedrich Schlegel, a German philosopher, author and poet first used the term “romantisch” believed to be in reference to the word “Roman” which is German for novel. Romantic therefore being “novel-like”.

From there on romanticism spread fast across Europe supported by the events described earlier. More than just a fashion moment, romanticism describes a different way of thinking in direct contrast (and perhaps in protest) to the inhumane labour happening in factories caused by the industrial revolution. People needed to believe in something, in more relevant things, in nature, in purity, in emotion and in beauty. So not surprisingly romanticism manoeuvred like a wave, spreading across fine art, literature, poetry and even medicine. What we can see in many paintings of that time, are vast and lush landscapes. Nature at its most triumphant, often alongside a tiny human figurine, humbled by mother nature, reminding the human of his place and scale in this world. This emphasized by the Lyrics in the song: “I`m finding I`m a smaller piece than I thought. Oh no I really am”. Even back then, the immediate threat facing the natural world was carefully depicted in William Wordsworth`s poetry with the arrival of factory buildings and nearby compounds of living quarters for the workers. 

Painting by Hans Gude, “Fra Hardanger”, 1847.

With this surface level introduction to romanticism, we now can take a closer look at the actual Music Video for “Can`t Believe The Way We Flow”:

Act One: Red Lit Couples

Still 02, Can`t Believe The Way We Flow, 2019.

The Video starts off with a zoom into a mirror. The reflective image reveals James sitting on a bench. The continuation of the zoom is made with invisible cuts while dark silhouettes pass by, covering James for a mere flash of a blacked out frame. He appears closer and closer after each such black-out. Meanwhile you can hear the pigeons take flight, signalling a start to the song and video - take off. And with the first pigeon shit landing on James` cheek, it`s clear the video with its main plot now begins and the subjects appear. 

The 2nd time we hear Can`t Believe The Way We Flow in the Lyrics, the lips of the red lit couples meet. The images flashing by are fragments of their lives in relationships. We aren`t meant to immediately understand who they are, where they`re coming from and maybe more importantly what exactly they`re up to. We only see aspects that should be familiar to anyone who`s ever been in a relationship. For instance, being the most intimate during breakfast where spontaneous conversations can leave you happy as ever or absolutely gutted and devastated, maybe also depending on what occured the night before. 

Another place where we find a kind of intimacy where the shared space really gets noticeable to us as lovers, is the bathroom. Apart from the hints of breakfast scattered throughout the video there`s also the toilet. Waste. The toilet which stereotypically always seems to spark arguments. Flush the damn thing, put the seat down, put it up and then down. But it`s also the same space in which we share our toothpaste, standing in front of the mirror before bed. Leading conversations whilst getting ready to go out together. The point being, these images are highly familiar and highly emotional to us. The small window in which Frank lets these images flash across our screens is enough for us to recognize and connect. These are couples in their banalities. We aren`t meant to understand how they got there and where they`re going. We`re supposed to draw from our own experiences, our own relationships when seeing these fragments and glimpses into their lives. It`s a reflection. We still are looking into that same mirror from the first shot of the video, remember? 

Still 03, Can`t Believe The Way We Flow, 2019.

Cut between the kisses is a 2D animated kiss, in the same style as the quick drawing we saw flash by on a table earlier. It might be a glimpse into the Storyboard for the video, adding another layer and texture to the visuals. This approach alone can also be read as a nod to romanticism as there was a high exchange between different media and artists. Poets and painters, novelists and sculptor. All echoing and responding to eachother`s work. 

Throughout all of this we see James remain seated on that same bench, from the very first frame of the video. An observer. In romanticism, as a response to the capitalist mentality, the flâneur describes a person seen wandering around with nowhere to be or go. Observant, most likely unemployed, playful and sensitive to his surroundings. James is very likely maintaining this role in the video. The careful bystander, observing the beauty around him. Beauty that lies hidden for most others in their hectic lives. 

Act Two: Pigeons, Cupid and a Gun

Still 04, Can`t Believe The Way We Flow, 2019.

A culmination of shots of pigeons (and some seagulls) in flight. Close-up of a pigeon`s face, slowly revealed to be sitting on someone`s head. This someone is Frank Lebon`s dad, photographer Mark Lebon. Here he`s also cupid. A cupid who has aged and traded his bow and arrow off for a knotted sniper gun. 

Cupid is often described as a winged, nude, young boy armed with bow and arrow. He`s usually depicted as somewhat cruel and mischievous, very aware of what emotional turmoil he can cause in people. Cupid as a figure derives from roman mythology and is considered to be the god of love, or rather the god of being in love. The roman cupid is also understood to be somewhat based on the Greek god Eros, who some believe was a son to the goddess Venus. Eros and Cupid can`t be defeated, any- and everyone falls victim to them and their power. In the following painting, artist Julius Kronberg captured Cupid in his full demeanour in 1885, so towards the end of classic romanticism:

Painting by Julius Kronberg, Cupid, 1885.

Now in comparison to Frank`s take on Cupid we immediately notice the age difference. The world in many ways has become what romanticists had feared; Industrial, concrete, consumerist. Perhaps Cupid had to adjust to survive? Lose his wings and grow up. Wrapped in what seems to be a pvc jacket, not unlike the medical protective suits we currently see a lot. His outfit also contains sketches and scribbles of genitalia. Colours white and red, famously used in the medical field, also symbolizing purity, lust, sin and romance. He`s also wearing red earrings and cufflinks decorated with a more traditional depiction of cupid. 

The gun on the other hand, knotted, could also be a nod to the Non-Violance sculpture by Carl Fredrik Reuterswärd, which is in New York. Perhaps a rather twisted musical reference, as that sculpture was made in remembrance of John Lennon. The seemingly unusable gun however, does hold a heart shaped scope through which the absent minded and complacent looking Cupid is aiming to find his next victims. 

Enrolling the pigeons to take over the flying and firing arrows part, they soon after take flight once again and a montage of numerous pigeon shit landings are shown, including another drawn Animation of the pigeons` droppings turning into a falling human figurine. Perhaps falling, as in falling in Love, falling for you. Cupid bringing or rather dropping this person into your life. This sequence is concluded by acts of violence followed by tenderness. A slap, a hit, like when love “hits” you. Shortly followed by a gentle caress of the cheek, as though nothing ever happened. So in love that you`re not aware of the violence and force it potentially holds. Another short Animation, single flower turns into a tree, which transforms into a couple in love, a heart in the middle. 

Act Three:

Cut to seagulls instead of doves above James. Perhaps accentuating him to be different from all others around him, once again emphasizing his role as flâneur? Or maybe it`s just a subtle teaser for his following music video for I`ll Come Too, which was the next release, featuring a penguin and an albatross.

The couples, still lit in red are holding hands, and then facing the camera. Every individual on their own, staring into the lens, or at their partner. Keeping the mirror in mind from the beginning, this is another very common way for cinema, film and video to become reflexive (film with self-awareness) challenging the viewer in their passiveness and voyeurism. 

Still 05, Can`t Believe The Way We Flow, 2019.

The doves once again present by appearing as illustrations on the cushions of one couple. All the people involved appear in lettering over the faces of the couples, including a cameo by the director. Another beautifully added layer to this multimedia approach that lends it`s charm and texture to the entire complex romantic experience. 

There`s so much more to see and discover in the video than what I have tried to contain in this analysis. I do hope you`ll go on a search yourselves. The video for James Blake`s song Cant Believe The Way We Flow is linked below: 

[peace-favor-your-sword]

I would love a Kix and Jesse brotherly love and fluff. All the death is getting to Kix one day, and he's stressed. Another clone lets Jesse know that something’s wrong and then when Jesse gets there Kix is sitting at his desk. he has a migraine and feels really dizzy. Jesse helps him by trying to find some medicine but Kix ends up feeling nauseous, and Jesse moves him to the bathroom where he promptly throws up.

———

Hello!! In honor of the new episode that came out this Friday, I’m going to have Jesse rocking his new ARC trooper outfit. We are so proud of you Jesse!!! Also, sorry ahead of time for the bit of Fives and Hardcase angst. I still haven’t gotten over it if you couldn’t tell. 

-----

Jesse made his way down the hall, his kama swinging solidly against his hips. He was proud that he was able to fill that place and role among his fellow troopers and be of help to them when it came time for missions, and it made him think of another ARC trooper he had become fast friends with. 

Even after all this time, it was hard for Fives to be gone. He had been such a large part of the 501st, that it felt like there was part of them missing. But you did what you had to in war, with your brothers. You honored them the best you could and moved on to fight another day.

He continued to the med bay, to see one of his closest friends. It seemed since Five’s death, Jesse could rely more and more on Kix, and they had become closer and closer which he believed, gave them both a deep sense of relief. At least they had each other. As he approached the door, another brother exited. It was hard to miss this one, with the bright red stripe in his hair. His name was Codes, and he was one of the best when it came to tech issues on a mission. 

“Hey vod, what’s going on?” He asked, and Codes sent him his signature bright smile. 

“Oh, not much Jesse. Captain just wanted us to go in and get a check-up before this next mission. Last one left us all a little shaken I think.” 

His company had suffered severe losses, and the rest had been wounded, so it was good to see him back up on his feet. 

“You might want to check on Kix though while you’re in there. I think something’s wrong, but I’m not sure. He wont really tell me anything.” Codes’ eyebrows were drawn down in concern and Jesse put a hand on his shoulder with a smile.

“Hey, don’t worry about him. I’ll go make sure he’s ok. He’s a tough one. I think we both know that.” 

Codes lifted a shoulder and snorted. “Yeah, I guess you’re right on that one. I hear they still use stories about him back on Kamino to make sure that our brothers listen to their medics.” 

Kix was notorious for ignoring command in favor of protecting or saving his men. He would throw himself into a firefight just to drag out that one, because they were that important to him. It was their lives before his. He was their medic, and that was his job. And if anyone tried to fight him, they learned very quickly what it was like to argue with a medic. Without fail, the clone who had argued would completely back down and accept what Kix deemed necessity. 

Jesse shoved his shoulder a little before the both of them got too far into thought. “You look hungry. Head to the mess and maybe I’ll see you at the training room tonight. I could use a few rounds on the weights myself. See you there?” He asked, and Codes nodded, while halfheartedly trying, to no avail to get back at Jesse. 

“Alright. I’ll see you then.” He said agreeably and headed back down the hall with a lighter spring in his step. Jesse shook his head in a mix of amusement and awe. Some brothers were just like that. They maintained that excitement they had all felt as boys, as cadets, which many brothers lost as the war progressed. A particular brother came to mind, with a trigger happy attitude and a wicked sense of humor. He shoved that memory out of his mind for the time being. It was still too painful to spend too long dwelling on. 

His boots made a solid click against the floor as he looked into the med bay, which was nearly empty from what he could see.  

“Hey, Kix. You in here brother? I could use a fresh cup of caf. Want to come with?” He called, and when there was no answer he started looking into rooms. After looking in over a dozen curtained areas, and finding most of them empty, he wound up in one of the back rooms, and that’s when he found him. 

Kix laid with both arms on the desk and his head laying on top. His shoulders were hunched in what Jesse could immediately recognize as pain. After spending your entire fighting career together, it was hard not to pick up on your brother’s tells. 

“Hey, Kix. What’s up? You don’t look too good.” Jesse said quietly and Kix groaned and mumbled something. 

Jesse came and crouched right next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, vod. Didn’t catch that. You ok?” 

Kix had his eyes shut tight and he made a noise Jesse could only describe as a non verbal “no”. 

“My head.” He whispered, and Jesse’s eyebrows lowered slightly as he realized his brother was suffering from a migraine again. 

The first time it had happened was after Umbara, after Kix had verified too many brother’s deaths and it had taken a steep toll on him. That migraine had kept him down for two entire days, but due to all the intense action and losing battles on Anaxes, it wasn’t a surprise that another had popped up. 

“You have some medicine for that right?” Jesse asked, being sure to keep his voice level. “Tell me where it is and I’ll grab it. We’ll get you fixed up and you’ll be feeling better in no time.” He said, remembering to keep his voice slightly quieter than normal. 

“Across the room, third cabinet in. Middle shelf. Purple hypo.” Kix said and Jesse walked over trying to keep his steps quiet as well. It was amazing when you were required to be silent how much of your actions made noise. He found the correct cabinet and looked through the middle shelf and he finally saw the hypo, when he heard the sound of Kix dry heaving, the breaths stuttering and shallow. Jesse grabbed the hypo in one hand and quickly crossed the room, grabbing Kix’s arms and throwing it over his shoulder with a practiced ease.

“Hey, let’s go.” He said quickly and started them towards a bathroom. “You aren’t throwing up all over your stuff, you’d never forgive yourself.” He joked, and they made it to the bathroom just in time for Kix to stumble to the toilet and empty what seemed to be his entire stomach into the bowl. 

It was hardly the first time Jesse had seen a brother throw up so it didn’t even cross his mind to be bothered. He knelt by him and soothingly rubbed his neck and back of his head, the new hair growth greeting his fingers. “Hey, it’s ok. Deep breaths Kix. Deep breaths. You got it. Get a breath in.” 

Kix sucked in a breath, and coughed, and seemed to shudder before breaking down into tears. He hiccuped a few times before leaning over the bowl again, and again a third time, yet this time next to nothing came out, so Jesse figured he was done. He, as gently as he could, injected the hypo into Kix’s neck and threw it in the trash. He got up and got a wet towel before coming over and wiping the back of Kix’s neck and his mouth, before throwing that away as well. He went to the lights and turned them down halfway before siting with his back against the toilet bowl. 

“Kix. What’s going on?” He asked, and Kix hung his head, and tears flowed in a steady stream. 

“I…I dont know if I can do this for much longer, Jesse. I keep losing them. I keep losing brothers, and I want to save them, but I can’t.” He said, his voice small. 

It was common for medics, Jesse knew, to share that same feeling. They did their best but there was never a way to save all the troopers that went down in a fight, but the squads never blamed them. How could they when your medic rushed into the heat of battle ahead of you to pull unarmed, injured brothers out? 

“I know brother. I know. But you do the best you can.” He said quietly and Kix lifted his head, his cheeks flushed as he cried, and his eyes filled with tears. 

“We’re losing almost every battle we have, Jesse. I mean, look at the captain. That man’s sleeping on his feet, he’s exhausted. Every time we fight, I feel like we lose more men that we come back with and..” He shuddered and pushed back from the toilet a little. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.” 

Jesse scooted forward so he could look Kix directly in the eye, and he stared him down. 

“Kix. You do your best. You know you do. You always told me, save who you can, and be there for the living. None of us every blame you, or any medic for the brothers we lose. I know you’re doing your best. And I know it’s going to turn around soon. It always does. Always. So let’s get you up, get you to your bunk and you can tackle tomorrow when you feel better. Deal?” He asked, and Kix stared back at him, two pairs of identical eyes searching each other, one for any hint of hope and the other steely determination.

Kix knew his brother would never lie to him. He knew he could count on Jesse, and that he could trust him with his life, which he did every day. He nodded slowly, feeling the sharp sting of the headache recede to a dull tightness. 

“Yeah. Ok. I guess I can do that.” He said quietly and Jesse hauled him up again with a smile. As they took him to his bunk, he gave a small smile of relief. 

That was the nice thing about brothers. Every time you fell down, you knew without a shadow of a doubt there was going to be someone to pick you back up again. 

[fluorescentpipedream]

Dayton winced as he opened his eyes. The ceiling above him was high and a eggshell white and it took him a moment to realize where exactly he was. The bed he was sleeping in wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the one he had gotten accustomed to and the coarse, itchy blanket over top of him told him exactly where he was. 

Sitting up, he got out of the bed and put his socked feet on the tile floor, glancing at the soft, baby blue walls and the large metal door that sealed him in this room like an animal. He’d fucked up, and he knew it. Dropping his head into his hands, he flinched and looked down at his hands, opening the palms and just stared at the bandage on his right hand.

“Fuck.”

He got up slowly and wobbled a little, losing his footing and sat back down again. They must have had to sedate him, and since he couldn’t really remember what exactly had happened, he could only assume he’d had another blackout. Trying again, this time he found his feet and carefully, if not a little unsteadily, he found his way into the small bathroom that was across from the bed. The room was small, just a bed, the door and a simple toilet with a sink off to one side in a sort of alcove. After relieving himself, he stared at his reflection in the mirror, one hand on either side of the sink. What had happened…?

A click at the door let him know someone had come in and he heard Dr. Snow’s soft voice.“Just a minute.” He flushed the toilet and washed his hands a second time before drying his hands as he walked out. He picked at the bandage that was wrapped between his thumb and index finger and frowned when it pulled the skin.

“Good morning, Dayton.”

“Hmm.”

The woman gave him an expectant look and he sighed. “Good morning, Dr. Snow.”

“That’s better.” 

She looked around the room and seemed almost sad that he was back in here again. After a moment of looking down at her clipboard she brought her blue eyes back up to his soft brown ones, and gave him a sympathetic look. “Do you remember what brought you back to the main building?”

He held his right hand up to her. “This..” He hadn’t been particularly suicidal in almost four years, so this was a little out of character. Lowering his hand, he turned and put the bed back together again, but hesitated before he sat on it.

“Yes…that. Would you like to go back to your apartment?”

“Am I allowed to do that?”

“That’s up to you. Do you want to?”

“Yes”

“Good! I thought we might walk back there and we could see how you felt from there.” 

Dayton, for his part, only nodded and sat down, shifting off the socks he was wearing and put on a pair of black sandals that were under the bed. He was wearing the standard issue mental hospital patient garb and he hated it, he’d rather be in his own clothes. Standing again, he used the wall to brace himself and frowned. “Did they think I was a tiger or something?” Dr. Snow gave him a sad look before he smiled at her and she realized he was making an odd, badly timed joke.“No...I’ll explain on the way home. You owe Trey an apology.”

He only nodded and motioned for her to lead out of his room. “Did you call my sister this time?” He scoffed but when the doctor didn’t answer him, Dayton looked at her. “Dr. Snow?”

“What do you remember from Wednesday?”

“What’s today?”

“Friday.”

“Fuck, I lost a day.” 

Dayton shrugged. His short term memory had mostly been taken out by the brain damage caused by the alcohol poisoning and head injury when he’d struck the ground at the Mensa gathering eleven years ago. “Um....” He tried wracking his brain a little as they walked to the elevator, once inside he turned to the doctor again, having to look down at her. She was all of 5ft tall, a squat woman anyhow but being 7 months pregnant made her look more like the little girl that turned into a blueberry in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Especially since she was wearing a blue jacket. His brain got stuck. “Violet.” He stopped and looked ahead at the door. “No...sorry. Lottie.” 

“Why did you say Violet?” 

“Thinking of something else, I derailed.” 

“Oh...alright then.” She chuckled as he started whistling the Oompah Loompah song. “You can be so funny sometimes.” It was a dry compliment and Dayton stopped, looking down at his feet, his hair falling into his eyes.  

“Lottie came to get me and we had lunch Wednesday, like we do every other week.” he trailed off, his voice catching in his throat when he mentioned his sister. And then it happened, rather suddenly he felt his face get hot. He clenched his fists, immediately regretting it as pain shot through his right hand and relaxed them again. Lottie came twice a month, every other Wednesday. They would go out for coffee or lunch somewhere in the Quarter and just spend the day together. He always looked forward to it, doing everything in his power to take his medication, keep himself heading in the right direction so he could have that little reward. This time had been no different but while they’d been at lunch at one of the oyster houses, she had broken some heartbreaking news. 

“So…Tyler and I are getting married next month and…” She’d started and Dayton had set down the sweet tea he’d gotten with his lunch, looking at her somewhat expectantly. He’d thought she was going to invite him to the wedding finally, since she kept saying she’d add him when she knew the seating charts better.

“And?”

“And…I’m sorry Dayton but…we don’t think it’d be a very good idea for you to…eh…be there” He felt like his world had fallen apart with that one sentence, especially since she wouldn’t look at him.

“Lottie…?”

“Well. Tyler and I were talking and…he says that….when we get married he thinks….well WE think that maybe I shouldn’t come see you anymore…” She had trailed off and for a minute he didn’t think he’d heard her correctly, though as she looked up at him, he realized he had heard her and she was serious. Her tone was soft and sheepish, and he remembered now that he’d growled at her, getting up from the table until she’d put her hand on the top of his, her eyes pleading him to sit down.

“This is Tyler’s doing! Lottie…you’re the only part of the family that even acknowledges I’m still alive…why would you do this? Why?” He was heartbroken, and who would blame him? Dayton had sat back down at the table but his appetite was gone at that point.

“It was his gun you tried to shoot yourself with in the park, and Dayton what if…what if you came out of the hospital and you hurt yourself again or…we have kids and you hurt one of them? I…can’t. I just…maybe it would be better if you’re not part of our…my life. I’m….I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry.” He spat back at her and shook his head. “Take me back to the Manor…maybe we should just end this now.” He’d remained silent on the trip home, she had tried several times to start but the dirty look from him each time she tried had silenced her immediately. When she’d pulled up in front of his little duplex apartment, Dayton had gotten out of the car without a word but stopped before he closed the door.

“Lottie” His tone was soft and sad, but as he turned on her it got angry. 

“You’re 25 and I know you think this is the only thing you’re ever going to get, I understand love. Fuck! I’m a 43 divorced gay man with brain damage bad enough I have to live in this place because I can’t function on my own! Why don’t you let your ‘dangerous’ brother give you some advice. Men like Tyler come and go, they don’t matter. What fucking matters is supposed to be your family and you were the one I had left! But...You’re right…you shouldn’t have me in your life, because I’M the bad guy!. I’m a danger to myself and everyone else, might as well be better off if I’m just not around!” 

He slammed her car door shut and went into his apartment.The blood rushing in his ears had been so loud it had sounded like he was standing inside of a waterfall and he felt like he’d lost control of the world. He had fucked up four years ago, not wanting to live anymore, he had taken Tyler’s gun to Audubon park and put the gun in his mouth, hoping to just shoot himself and be done with the world. But instead, it had just clicked. The damn gun wasn’t loaded, though the fear of that click had scared him. He had gotten into it with Tyler after the other man had made an underhanded comment that he should stop mooching off his sister’s kindness. Lottie had offered, since their parents pretended that they didn’t know who he was and in the middle of all of it, unable to make sense of what was happening in his own head, he’d slipped down a depressive slope and decided that he didn’t want to burden anyone anymore.

Dayton was walking with the doctor now, trying to remember what had happened after he’d gotten home but he couldn’t think of anything. Beside him, Dr. Snow waddled along with an uneasy gait. He stopped walking so she could stop to catch her breath.

“Sorry…doctor. Long legs.”

“I know…you and Mr. Powell make me work for it.”

Dayton chuckled and looked down at the bandage on his wrist again. There were a couple of little dots of red blood seeping around the edges and he sighed, lowering his hand.

“I try to kill myself again. That’s a mature reaction to your sister telling you to fuck off out of her life…” He rolled his eyes at himself.

“Trey says no…he found you in the bathroom with pieces of the mirror in the sink. He thinks you hurt yourself and hit the panic button, which actually is a much better reaction.”

Dayton thought about it for a minute and then remembered. He had gone into the bathroom to take one of his sleeping pills but when he couldn’t find them, he’d gotten angry and punched his mirror. He had picked up one of the larger pieces of glass and ran it over his palm, the blood beading up around the cut as he did it but he had hesitated long enough to get some clarity. Lottie had been the cherry topper to his week. He had been on google when his name had come up under one of the headlines, something about the Mensa gathering and his name coming up during one of the speeches. A man he vaguely remembered had talked about him, once again as a cautionary tale of how not to turn out. He’d looked up the man who gave the speech and though it had taken a minute he remembered him. Mike Tomlin had been a straight-forward young man, he’d approached Dayton apparently to ask a question but instead said he wanted to kiss him. It had only been a few days after his divorce was finalized, he’d been drunk and reckless and figured a night of sex with some 20-something would be a good distraction. It had turned out that Mike was 18, not 20 and a virgin but he was good in bed, at least. Now he was attending meetings and delivering speeches like Dayton used to do, name dropping like he had any idea what was actually going on. It had hurt, whether he wanted it to or not and this wedding business had been the last straw. He’d thought about it, just end it then, be done and disappear. He wouldn’t have to disappoint and hurt people anymore but something had stopped him.

Dayton couldn’t say what it was but as he’d watched the blood pool in his palm and drip into a sink full of shattered glass, he’d hit the button beside the toilet that summoned his personal nurse. Trey was a good man, entirely creole and black as darkest night. He’d found Dayton sitting on the ground with a towel tied tightly around his hand and a sad, lost look in his eyes.

“Why did they sedate me?” 

Dayton stopped underneath a bough of one of the massive oak trees on the property and looked up at the leaves and the sun shining through them. There was something surreal about New Orleans, it was in the air at all times and for that moment he actually felt calm. A little embarrassed, but calm. 

“They didn’t, but you lost a lot of blood before Trey got to you.”

“Oh.” He sighed and looked at her. “I don’t think I’m suicidal anymore. I considered it...I remember that part very well. I actually thought about not being anyone’s problem anymore but then...”

“I know. And I’m very glad to hear it, we’re getting somewhere.” She smiled brightly at him and started walking again. He offered her his other hand and helped steady her across the uneven cobblestones in the walkway. 

“I think you actually made a very good decision about Lottie. Even if you didn’t realize it at the time”

Dayton looked down at the little woman beside him and raised an eyebrow, not really able to figure out where she was going with this. Sensing this, she continued, urging him to keep walking. They were almost back to his apartment.

“You agreed with her that having you in her life wasn’t safe..but it wasn’t about her safety. You used Tyler’s gun, four years ago, to try to kill yourself and had it been loaded, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But you told me when we met that you felt like he was making your life harder because he made you feel guilty for relying on your sister. And now, he’s using her to push his weight around again, trying to make you into the bad guy to make him feel better about telling her how to live her life.”

Dayton didn’t say anything but it did make a certain amount of sense. As they walked in silence, he was listening to the hum of the cicadas all around them. It was summer so hot and humid. He had been expecting to see Arthur sitting outside the apartment next to his but remembered he was in Los Angeles with his little sister and her new boyfriend.

Dayton had only smiled at him when Arthur had asked him to watch one of his plants. It was a fake plant, as far as Dayton could tell, so it was probably a joke. Arthur was a weird man, only a little younger than Dayton was, and ready to get out of this place now. He was going to end up following his sister Frankie wherever she went but their relationship was different. He’d asked Arthur to bring him something from Disney but wasn’t going to be surprised if the other man forgot. Stopping in front of his door he sighed and looked at the doctor.

“Want to come in?”

“I would love something to drink…and I do have something else I’d like to show you.”

“I don’t think I’ve got much more room up there for anything else.”

“You got a package yesterday.”

He started to say something but wasn’t sure how to respond to that. The only person that sent him things was Lottie. The doctor said nothing else as he let her into his apartment. He remembered destroying it, but maybe that was wrong.

“The cleaners came in and straightened it up in here.”

He nodded and offered her a seat before going into the small kitchenette and got two glasses of tea from a container in his fridge. Offering one to the doctor he noticed the small box on his coffee table and gestured at it. 

“It’s open.”

“You know we have to go through your mail. Sorry.”

“oh…right.” He leaned over and looked down into the box. The contents confused him even further. A floppy, Jellycat brand frog with a green bow around its neck, a large box of crayola colored pencils and a spiral bound coloring book of forest animals, a large bag of mini gourmet fruit slice candies and a CD from the Gothic Demolition.

“What in the world?”

“There’s a letter…” She sipped the tea and leaned forward, picking up a rather long looking letter but as he glanced at it he realized the handwriting was bigger than most adults’.

“It’s from a child.”

“Yep…seems that little Mensa party got you a fan.”

“That’s odd...Did you read the letter?”

“Skimmed it mostly, but not completely. I think it might make you feel better.”

“You don’t find it strange a little kid wants to be my friend?”

“I do. But I also think it might be good for you. Read the letter, you’ll understand”

He tossed the letter back into the box to go through it later. Dr Snow watched his movements but didn’t say anything about it, they had other things to discuss. Before leaving she reminded him that the lunch car would be coming around in another hour, and he should remember to eat something.“Trey will be coming by later too…and I will see you for our last meeting next week, before I go on leave. While I’m gone…”

“Dr Stadler will be coming, I remember.”

“Good! Your short term memory must be getting better.”

“No, it’s not. I wrote it down.”

“Oh, well... Have a good day, Dayton. And lets try to keep you out of the main hospital for a while, okay?”

“Yeah.” He had waved her off and was left standing in his apartment. He was uncomfortable and felt shaky and nauseous. Laying against his door for another moment he pushed off of it and walked into the little bedroom in the back. There was a bathroom attached to it, just a standard tile shower, a toilet and a window with a nice view of the grounds. His stomach rolled and he knelt down for a minute or two to see if he was actually going to throw up but all he did was dry heave. Taking a few slow breaths, Dayton got up and into the shower, just standing under the water as it beat down in his shoulders. He wanted to cry, scream, kick something, lash out at someone but all he could do was stand there. 

When he got out, he still felt hollow and laid face down on his bed, pulling an old, worn out alligator toy from under his pillow and snuggled with it. To some extent, it had hurt his feelings to be used as a warning once again. Only remembered for what he could have been rather than what he was now. What was he now? 

Anger welled up in him again and he screamed as loud as he could until he couldn’t breathe anymore and clamped his eyes shut. He must have fallen asleep, because someone was knocking on his door and he could hear someone saying his name, rather loudly.

“Dayton! Answer me brutha...”

Dayton raised his head off the gator toy and grumbled. “I’m fine...I f-Fell asleep. I’ll be out in a minute, Trey”

“You scared me, man...thought you were hurt or somethin. Jeeesus!”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, rolling off his bed and pulled on a soft pair of pajama pants. As he walked out of his room carrying his shirt he stopped and stared at a young woman in his living room. “Hello Sherri”

“Hey! Trey told me you weren’t feeling well! We got you some gumbo and beignets”

“Thanks...”

Trey moved over to him and checked him out for a moment, the touch felt alien and made him uncomfortable. Trey was, first as foremost a nurse, but he did everything to make his patients feel more like they were friends. On a normal day, Dayton appreciated that, today he would rather be alone. But with them both here he knew he was going to have to eat and function a little longer.

“Cute frog”

“What?”

Sherri had opened the box on his table and was holding the floppy little frog. Dayton shrugged but when she came toward him and set it on his shoulder he smiled weakly. “We should get that gator of yours and set them together somewhere. I’ve got a camera..”

Trey had started to say something, probably about to remind her that Dayton was 43, not 12, but he interjected first. “It’s a gift from a little girl, she might like to see that he arrived safely”

“Great! I’ll go get it camera out of the car, we were at the zoo today”

Dayton looked at Trey and the two exchanged a wordless glance before the other man pointed at his cup of soup.

“Eat.”

While Dayton was eating, Sherri seemed to be having fun setting up the stuffed animals doing things like playing cards or sitting in the window just looking out.

“She realizes I’m not going to use all those, right?”

“Yeah...the camera prints Polaroids like the old ones used to...these are stickers though. She might be stickin them in her little scrapbook thing, if ya don’t mind”

“Whatever. Those cameras aren’t that old either”

“They are to me. Gimme you’re hand brutha, I need to clean that up. You look like you’re having a rough go, you want a smoke?”

One thing about Trey, he smokes marijuana when he doesn’t have to work, and since it’s legal across the US, he had taken to offering it to Dayton once in a while. It didn’t alter his medication and often helped him sleep. Dr Snow was wary of getting him a prescription for it but she didn’t seem to mind if he got it once in a while. While focusing on the bandage wrapped around his hand once more, Dayton nodded. 

Trey smiled and walked out to his car, coming back up a few minutes later with a small case, which he handed to him.

“When I was at the dispensary, I gotcha this. It’s a vape, real easy to use, a couple of puffs and you can go to sleep.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome brutha...Sherri, baby, lets leave him alone alright?”

“Okay, feel better, Dayton”

“Thanks Sherri...” she hugged him, seemingly unaffected by how tense he became and the two left. Once he was alone, Dayton opened the small case and took a few minutes to figure out the vape pen, letting it heat up as he turned his attention to the box on his table again.

Picking up Louis the frog, he settled back on the couch with the letter and the bag of candy, eating a few of them as he read.

Dear Mr. Foster, 

My name is Beatrice Summers, I am 5 years old and I’m in Mensa too! I heard about you a few days ago from one of the speakers, Mike Tomlin, who said he knew you before you got hurt and wound up in the hospital. I felt bad that you were all alone in there and thought we could be friends. I know I’m little and my mommy says it’s weird for us to be friend friends, because you’re an adult but I would still like for you to talk to me. Daddy says that’s called pen pals, could we be pen pals? I think I’d like that.

The letter carried on in much the way you’d expect something from a little kid to go, she rambled about what she liked to do and she hoped he liked to color and that the frog’s name was Louis and he was a friend for the gator that Mike gave him when he was in the hospital. She hoped he liked the candy she got him and that she’d never had those before…She explained the CD too.

I didn’t know what kind of music you liked cause I don’t know any of the bands on your profile. Daddy said you could have one of his band, they’re called the Gothic Demolition and they’re really good! I think you’ll like them!

Dayton stopped at about that point, setting the letter down and picked up the CD, turning it over to see the band’s picture on the back. If the man in the middle of her father, damn. He sighed softly and set it down again, picking up his vape pen and took a few drags before he started feeling that warm feeling take over. Getting up, Dayton got himself a cup of water, locked his door and made himself go to bed. 

--

Dayton woke up in the morning to the sound a very annoyed hummingbird complaining, probably about not having enough food in the feeder outside of his window. He sighed, sitting up and looked around. His hand still ached and he  still didn’t feel all that well but still he had to get up. There was something he had to do, though for a while he couldn’t figure out exactly what that was. After sitting at his table for a few minutes trying to force himself to eat the toast he’d made for himself he noticed the box still sitting there. Right...he was reading something last night. 

Seeing where he’d left off, he stuck the CD in his stereo system that was in the corner of his living room. It was one of the stacked ones with the record player on top, a CD/DVD player that was also hooked up to a flat screen TV on the wall and a radio with a large knob tuner and preset buttons below it. The whole thing was in a cabinet built especially for it, the only thing slightly out of place on it was the cable box and Apple TV that was installed in all of the duplexes. After closing the little CD door he sat down in the window, setting his new frog in his lap as he finished the letter.

I found out from your profile that we have the same birthday and I think that’s neat. But I’m worried…cause you’re really smart and you were going to do so much and I don’t want you to hurt yourself anymore or feel like no one likes you. I don’t know you, but I like you. And Mike did too. I don’t want to believe that smart people have bad lives because I don’t want to be alone too. I hope you write me back, you need to have someone who cares about you.

“When a toddler cares more about you than your own family.” Dayton wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and cleared his throat, looking down at the big eyes of his floppy new friend before turning to look out the window. It was about eleven in the morning now and he actually didn’t feel that bad now....there was something strange about having someone care about you, even if she was little. Getting up off his couch, he walked over to a small desk that was on the far side of his living room and sat down at it, going through the drawers before he found what he was looking for. A few Christmases ago, Lottie had bought him a little set of inks and a glass dipped pen with a few sheets of antiqued paper. They were supposed to start writing letters to one another while she was in another state but he’d only gotten one back from her before she started emailing him, telling him it was too hard to find the time to write. 

Testing the ink a few times on a separate page, Dayton seemed to fall into the rhythm of writing with the glass tip and ink as though it was second nature. 

Dear Beatrice,

Thank you for your letter and the package, it’s been a very long time since anyone has sent me anything. I haven’t been feeling that well the last few days and it made me smile. And, admittedly, a little sad too. You talked a lot about your family in your letter, I don’t think you’re at the same risk as I was. 

My home life was tumultuous for a lot of reasons growing up and it didn’t make for a very safe environment. When I started to spiral and show signs of depression, no one would believe that I was suffering and it ended up causing more harm. In the end though...if I hadn’t been through all of this, we might not be talking right now. Life is strange that way.

You mentioned that we share a birthday? I agree, that is pretty neat. My grandfather used to say that truly special people are born on two days instead of one. I’m not sure how I fit into that but I’m sure you’re going to grow up into someone that’s going to turn your world on its ear.

Dayton paused for a moment and a couple of drops of ink fell on the page. He dragged the glass tip through the droplets, making a strange little caterpillar out of it and wrote “hi!” in a little speech bubble.

Ignore the caterpillar, I had too much ink on my pen and didn’t want to start all over again.There’s some discipline in using a glass pen and I haven’t written anything with this set since I got it a few years ago. It will be nice to get some practice in. I used to love drawing so those colored pencils you sent me are going to get a lot of work. I can try to send something out of the coloring book with my next letter, if you want? Also, while I appreciate the candy, I think 5lbs might be a little too much. I’ll be eating them for the next year, but I do really like those, so who knows. I know it’s an odd question for a stranger to ask but do you have a favorite? Maybe I can get someone to take me down to the Quarter and find you something sweet. *

Dayton scratched a small asterisk next to that sentence, making a note at the bottom of the page for her parents: If you would rather I not send her candy, I completely understand, it sounded a little odd even to me.

Thinking for a moment he dipped his pen again and curled it slightly, watching the green ink drip off the tip. Satisfied, he started writing again, he was on his second page already. Usually his handwriting was very small, especially when he was using cursive but because she was younger, he was going with a more calligraphy style.

I am sending you a few things with this letter, just so you know. The frog you sent, Louis, seemed happy enough to meet my gator, though he doesn’t have a name. Eleven years with me and he’s a raggedy looking thing. You’ll see in the pictures...I was told they’re stickers but I’m not sure. I’m also sending your father money for the CD, I really liked it, and thank you for sending it to me. I like finding new music. What about you? Do you have a favorite band...or book right now? I used to devour mystery books when I was your age.

One thing, and this is from my experience, if you aren’t happy with what you’re doing or feel like you’re loosing yourself to what everyone else thinks you should be because you’re a “genius”, stop. I wish I’d had more control over my life. I let too many others dictate my actions and in the end they left and I was alone to deal with it all. You have a beautiful name and from what I can tell just from this, you have a very big heart.

I hope we can keep talking but I have to ask a very big favor. If you get bored with the letters, I understand but please send me a letter telling me, so I’m not waiting around for something that may not come. 

Thank you, Beatrice.

Sincerely,

Dayton

Setting the pen down in its rest he closed the bottle of ink and lightly dabbed the papers with a tissue to check to see if they were dry yet. Once they were, he tri-folded the letter and put it in an envelope with the pictures of the toys and the promised $20 dollar bill and set it outside in the little flip top mailbox beside his front door. He wasn’t expecting anything to come of this, he might get one or two messages from her but children are notorious for either getting bored or distracted over time. Still...he had even something small to look forward to and that was a comfort in its own right now. 

@musesnotebook

[bleepblopbloop56]

The Murder in the Dressing Room

Chapter 6: Blood and Tears

Warnings:abusive deceit, murder mention, throwing up, some stalker-like things

Specail thanks to @pathos-logical this fic is litterally our baby im not even kidding, weve both poured alot into this.

Also on ao3

"Logan? Logan, slow down- what are you saying?" Emile had just put Patton to bed after a long day of playing in the park, eating more ice cream than Logan probably would've allowed, and binging cartoons. As long as you kept Patton nearly constantly busy, he wouldn't cry for his dada too often, and overall it seemed like he was having fun. He knew Logan took being separated from Patton about as well as Patton did, so he hadn’t been surprised from the call that came almost as soon as Patton had gone to sleep. He’d expected for Logan to immediately ask about how Patton was doing when he picked up, but instead he'd been greeted with nearly incoherent panic from his brother.

"Logan- Logan, you're scaring me," he cut in, knowing it would get Logan to stop speaking. "Deep breaths, and when you can talk, start again,” he said firmly, not giving him a chance to try to continue. He heard an audible gulp of air over the line. Emile could instinctively tell Logan was still panicking, but there was barely a pause as Logan started to talk again.

"Virgil," Logan choked out "He- he's been murdered, I… I need you to keep Patton for a while longer." He forcefully kept his breathing as steadily as he could, hands shaking. He was standing in the hallway to his apartment, trying to rationalize what he’d seen there.

At first he’d almost thought it was some sick prank, simply because Virgil didn't look like the others did. The first two victims had been stabbed repeatedly in the chest, the crime scenes left a blood-splattered, sickening sight. But Virgil would seem to be merely asleep if it weren’t for the blood trickling from his throat onto Logan's pillow. It wasn't until he had checked for Virgil’s pulse for the fourth time and found nothing there he’d believed he was gone. Touching a body before pictures were taken and a medical examiner was in sight was a big no-no, but he didn't care about any of that. 

"Murdered?" Picani gasped, stepping into his own room away from Patton resting on the couch. "Logan, are you okay?”

Logan rarely took deaths this hard- he had become desensitized after seeing so much of it in his profession. And yet these three murders had stripped away his usual professional sense of detachment from him. Like they hit too close to home to keep a straight face.

Logan sunk to the ground, voice shuddering. "Emile, what would've happened if you didn't take Patton away? What if he was in the house, or if I picked him up from daycare before I came home?" He was rambling now, clutching the phone with both hands to keep it steady. A police officer walked by, and Logan kept his eyes on the ground.

"That didn't happen, Logan. He's safe, he's here with me," Emile said softly. He had known Virgil well, but now wasn't the time to break down in front of his little brother.

"Will you check?" Logan whispered. It was irrational, he knew that Emile would never lie to him and that his kid was safe and sound, but…

Emile paused for a second before softening. "Of course I will, Logan," he whispered, strolling into the living room and looking at the sleeping child snuggling a Tweety Bird plushie nearly as big as he was on Logan’s spare crib. "He's safe, Logan. Everything's going to be fine." 

Logan wanted to say "no it's not," he wanted to say "I haven't heard from Roman in two days and I don't know if he's safe," he wanted to say his life was rapidly dissolving into a bloodbath of innocent lives who had nothing to do with any of the pain and suffering this murderer was causing. But he just stayed silent, sniffling and trying to keep his breathing even.

"I know," he said finally, nodding despite knowing Emile couldn't see him. Remy stuck his head out into the hallway, motioning for him to come in the room before popping back through the doorway. "Emile, I need to go… Tell Patton I love him when he gets up, okay?" 

It wasn't that Roman didn't want to return any of Logan's calls, it was that he couldn't. Successively losing his friend and then his brother, so quickly and in such a gruesome way to boot, had left him practically incapable of leaving bed. He had rented a room in some shitty hotel to avoid having to move in with anyone again, although with his luck whoever the murderer was would just burn down the entire fucking hotel after locking all the doors.

Roman couldn't stop feeling like it was all his fault, and he guessed it was in a way. Someone was after him. He only wished that they'd just kill him and be done with it, not grossly terrorize his friends and family. 

He wished Logan was here. He knew he'd come if he was asked, but he didn't want to make him a target… Roman wished things were back like they used to be. The days when he was the only person who could get Logan to dance around the bedroom in boxers and a t-shirt, music from his phone blaring some slow song Logan didn't recognize. The days he'd sleep over at Logan's and laugh off the glares from his roommate about their lack of shirts. He missed the times like snowball fights outside the apartment and how the snow would get stuck in Logan’s hair and complement the flush on his face.

Roman missed the days before the young man with a scar on his face had tempted him away with the promise of money and love and the perfect life, before Ethan had convinced Roman to leave Logan for him. He'd phrased it like forbidden love, Romeo and Juliet, when really all it was was the biggest mistake of his life. 

He'd tried, he really had, to make it work with Dee. He'd accepted his early proposal. He'd done everything he once did with Logan with Dee and ignored the ache in his heart. Ignored the blackmailing and threats Dee would spit any time he so much as thought about Logan. Ignored how Dee had told Roman to quit his job, to stop talking his to friends, to focus on him and him alone… 

His phone buzzed again. It was probably another message from Logan asking where he was.

He pulled himself up by the headboard and grabbed the half-empty water bottle on the nightstand, chugging it all and tossing it on the floor. He glanced over at his phone just in time to see 3 new messages flashing before fading into darkness. 

Logan: Where are you? How are you feeling after all of this? I know this must be hard on you. 

Logan: Roman? I would appreciate a response soon. Now is not the time to be "playing hard to get," as Remy says.

Logan: Roman, although a text might not be the best way to figuratively "break the news," it seems my roomate Virgil has become the next victim… Please call me when you are able.

Roman felt his bottom lip begin to tremble. Even locking himself away from everyone wouldn't keep them safe. He felt like his entire chest was caving in on himself, that awful feeling of being so anxious and scared he needed to puke rising in his stomach and chest. 

He dropped his phone and ran to the bathroom, nearly bruising his knees as he collapsed in front of the toilet. But the nausea would only come back stronger when Roman saw the next messages he'd just received.

Dee😘😘: *sent a photo* 

Dee😘😘: uh oh! :(

When Roman clicked the notifications with trembling fingers, a photo of Roman and Logan kissing against Logan's car would light up his screen, the bad angle and quality unable to hide how Logan's hands were under Roman's shirt and how Roman was pulling Logan's face into his… 

And Roman's stomach would sink, all the pieces slotting together into one, horrible, picture.

The murder in the dressing room taglist:

@cataclysm-al @theteenagetrickster @intrurality-fusion @katie-the-noble-fangirl @whizzie72 @grayson-22 @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing @winterwonderland7669 @missieluvsmurder @sign-from-god-complex @dragonindigo245 @angryfanboyscreaming @ninja-wizard101 @sombraookami @crystalistrappedintheinternet @imtooaromanticforthis @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @dragon-hair @satanblessi @spookilyfingergunsoutofexistence @skruffy901 @selectivereality @nonbeenary-enbee @imbasicallyshakespear @cats-vetal-miking-vomit @incoherentfangirl @oofmood @nonbianary-pineapple @royalnerd829 @unicornlogansanders

[brightsun-and-darkmidnight]

Changes to Find the Middle

TITLE: Changes to Find the Middle

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Oneshot

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-darkmidnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki helping you through a new medication regimen.

+

Image meeting Loki at the really "good/high" end of a mental illness (like bipolar).

RATING:  Teen

NOTES/WARNINGS: Mental health. Bipolar disorder. Manic to depression. Sexual relationship. Mentions of sex but no explicit content. Character not being herself. 

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Please be careful and take care of yourself. This might be a little triggering due to what I know of Bipolar disorder. Extreme highs (hypomania) and extreme lows (depression) are shown in this but thankfully this has a happy ending I wish everyone could experience in real life. Mental health is so important and People who have mental health issues often can not control themselves due to a chemical imbalance or traumatic experience in their life. Their behavior is often NOT their fault. Seek professional help if needed.

Song Muses: (Addicted by Saving Able) (You don't know by Katelyn Tarver) (Rescue Me by Onerepublic) (Inner demons by Julia Brennan) (Paralyzed by NF)

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

LENGTH: 2,413

*FINALLY..Read the warnings. Once you agree you can handle it...

 ~ ~ ENJOY  ~ ~

"How has your energy been? You look good."

I sat down enthusiastically in front of the doctor's desk, "really good! I have the energy to catch up with things now that a couldn't even think about doing a few months ago."

"That's very good. Are you hanging out with your friends again? I remember our last visit you said you missed them."

"Yeah I took your advice and told them. Only two of my friends are close now but they took me out of my house occasionally and I am feeling more confident with myself because of them."

"I am happy to hear that." The doctor smiled at me.

I talked really fast because my doctor needed to hear more, "Their friends got me into one of Stark's parties and it was… amazing. I met this new guy actually."

"You guys do anything fun?"

"We met at the party and things really sparked. Like REALLY sparked and we see eachother everyday." I did not leave the suggestive tone out of my voice.

"That's good. Go on dates?"

Excitement lit in me at the thought of all the amazing sex we had… but other than the few drinks he bought me and the takeout dinner… 

The doctor glanced at me, their look shifted… something shifted and I already knew what was wrong.

"Umm… well.." I rubbed my thigh out of nerves just THINKING about it. Just the thought of the gynecology appointment for STI testing I should get done. I cleared my throat as I awkwardly answered, "there's more… action going on than casual conversations." 

My face flushed with heat when they asked,

"You mean sexual intercourse?"

I nodded my head. 

I knew. Everyone that actually knew "normal" me… All of us KNEW I never have sex with anyone until a month a serious dating, at least. The type of dating where discussions were deeper things than food, half watched movies, and how our outward appearances looked naked. I never sexted when I couldn't actually meet the other.

The doctor carefully asked the famous question, "Have you used protection?"

I tried to laugh but it came out broken. "No. Once again I felt invincible, overconfident, and had the sex drive of a rabbit."

The doctor started to discuss my sleep that was nonexistent. Then the amount of food consumption that was high and all I have been eating was cheap takeout. I haven't been eating like my usual self who tried to keep eating healthy. Even through depression I ate frozen fruit. It was on my list every time when I absolutely had to drag myself to the store to get necessities. I explained how I have been the person who, "helps everyone out with extreme unrealistic enthusiasm" as I always said to be annoying during my normal window of mind set.

I went to the store to pick up my prescription for a mood stabilizer. I went home and as much as I REALLY wanted to answer the phone when seeing Loki's name. I just didn't. I forced the thought from my mind of...a really pleasure filled night. My body filled with the desire to be touched by another's body.

The phone stopped ringing and so did my sinful thoughts.

As usual there was no voicemail.

In normal circumstances there should have been one, with a declaration of loving longing or a stupid question in a way to just get me to get back in contact.

I stared at my phone. My mind was at war and the part fueled by my bodily behavior was winning. It became a game in my head that was unfavorably tipped towards my body's desire. He texted me if he could come to my place and the game was over. I hid the medication in the cupboard after taking my first dose.

I woke in an odd way… something was different.

I groaned as I moved and felt the bed still warm under my body. I opened my eyes as I inhaled at a similar scent. I was unsure if I was glad he was gone or upset he seemed to have just left. He usually stayed till I woke. I felt the sensation between my legs and knew I needed to make a gynecologist appointment before I had to go to work, praying I could get in after my shift tomorrow.

I made the appointment but it was not for a few days and Loki kept in contact. However I worked on letting him go slowly with not responding immediately and was to the point of making sure not to respond to him unless there were so many number of attempts to contact me.

I stared at my phone as a new text message appeared.

Loki asked a simple question, "Are you ok?"

I laughed and laughed till I could no longer bare to do it.

It WAS a simple question but no one ever wanted the real answer. No one wanted the burdens of another placed on their shoulders from SMALL talk. The truth was deeper and more time consuming than anyone could predict. So I sent the simple one worded lie and left my phone alone again, but silenced it.

It was a while before I checked my phone due to falling asleep to the discovery channel.

I was fully prepared for no new notifications.

I was surprised to see 2 new messages.

I wanted to throw the phone before I looked but the idea was squashed by excitement and curiosity.

Both of the messages from Loki.

"Do you want to meet up?"

Hour after the last message, "talk tomorrow. Goodnight."

I didn't answer back because my stomach tightened in an odd way. I was used to feeling good about a God wanting me but now...

I used positive self talk to encourage myself to not give in on my final day before my tests but that coping skill is easily the hardest to master. I found myself open the chat with him, start to type something arousing and had to delete it. I was pissing myself off. I hated the stage between "normal me" and "ill me" because my mind was constantly at war.

I decided to ultimately block Loki's number in an attempt to stop contact.

My test results came back that I was still healthy and relief washed over me..

Eventually those supposed friends stopped talking to me as they usually did because I was not "fun" anymore.

I was becoming my "normal" self again, thus putting in the efforts of a healthy schedule again.

However, the loneliness from staying in by myself. Not having anyone to talk to. Ofcourse, I had my coworkers that have always openly laughed at poor tastes of mental health jokes. I was losing interest in everything because, "why should I care" and "what's the point?"

I had to look presentable for work so while I was "public eye" ready, I did my shopping then. By the time I got home on the days of the extremely scarce necessity shopping, I was exhausted but my body was wide awake. I would toss and turn trying to sleep but it would not welcome me.

Then other times, I put the cold stuff away and went straight to bed without getting anything to consume. I would often cry myself to sleep, then wake too tired to do anything. 

On days off I would lay in bed and do nothing until the desire to use the toilet became too strong.

I would weep and mourn my favorite past times. Not actually my interests and hobbies but how much I could not will myself to just do them. I left the discovery channel play on the TV just for the sake of something familiar. When a little fact I knew would be mentioned it was like a smoldering campfire was stirred. 

A little life breathed into me from time to time and due to the doctor's recommendation, I got back into therapy again. It helped but the talks were hard and seemed to weigh heavily on me more once I was home. There are skills I should be using and strategic tips to get things done. However, sometimes I just could not pull the will into my grasp to participate in the knowledge of a healthy lifestyle.

My phone rang with an unknown number. I answered it due to expecting a response from my doctor.

"How have you been?"

I knew that voice… but I could not pinpoint it.

I answered, "I'm ok. But who is this?"

"Loki."

"Oh…" I scrambled for words but nothing came. How was I supposed to explain this to him, my current state in everything and the fact I blocked his number?

"Are you home?"

"I was just about to leave." It was a lie. 

A damn terrible lie. I had no plans of removing myself from my couch. It had everything I needed in arms reach because it was essentially my comfort fort now.

The doorbell rang and I was extremely tempted to act like I was not home but the person on the other end of the phone knew.

I sighed with dread ringing in my chest much like the damned sound of company at my door insistent on not giving up.

I opened the door slightly to see Loki standing there.

His eyes met mine.

"You do not seem ok." Echoed from my phone before he ended the call.

I looked past Loki because while it might have once been excitement, I felt anything but that currently.

I tried to push my words out louder than a whisper, "What are you doing here?"

"I have been trying to contact you.. more regularly as of recently."

"I have no intention of being a booty call anymore."

His eyebrows scrunched and he blinked.

I went to shut the door as I said, "goodbye Loki."

Loki's hand shot out and kept the door opened. "You were never."

I huffed in annoyance as hope rose slightly in my chest. Then the doubts from depression took that hope and buried it 20 feet further than before. Tears pricked my eyes after the past hour of seeming to be gone and dried.

Loki's face was of concern when he asked, "may I come in?"

My face felt like it contorted into pure agony as I tried to hide the sob erupting from my aching heart. I tried to swallow the huge lump in my throat but it caused further pain. Then finally from the pain that emitted from deep within me, the tears fell.

I was in the hurricane of emotion from having a visitor.

Joy from not being alone then, to the horror of having to explain.

There was too much to explain... My reason for treating him so vastly different since we met. My emotional state. All my emotions. My appearance of myself and my house. The medication on the counter that had purpose. My illness and why once again I was crying harder. Trying to explain what was WRONG with me and why I needed the medication.

Loki sat beside me at the messy and cluttered kitchen table.

"What do you mean you were 'too good' at the time we met?"

I sniffed but still had to wipe my nose. "It's a symptom of bipolar disorder. I can literally feel too good at some points of my life. I had unbelievable amounts of confidence and optimism. It's called hypomania. That's not who I am. I am much-MUCH more responsible than getting drunk and having unprotected sexual intercourse with someone I know nothing about on an intellectual level."

I watched Loki's tongue swipe his lips as they pressed together and eyebrows scrunched again in thought.

Finally he spoke, "Your vast knowledgeable facts from our FIRST conversation have been playing on that TV throughout our conversation. I can see several things that show your bright mind. The very mind I fell for."

My eyes glanced at him once again. "My knowledge does not change. Just the optimism, focus, and desire for it."

Things seemed to be clicking in Loki's mind. He looked at the medications once again and did not take his eyes off of them. "If you continue your treatment, you will be what you deem normal?"

A small smile pulled my lips as a puff of air escaped from my amusement. "Yes. What I deem as normal. Not anyone else meaning I will be back to my healthy self... If I could remember to take my medicine."

"I am going to help you because I want to see the happy medium that you keep mentioning. It seems that I have seen you at all of your worst moments." He gave me a side glance with a smile pulling at his lips, "I assume there is something I must like out of your normal."

I began to smile but a frown quickly placed it. "There is no telling when I will be normal again."

Gold shimmered over my medication.

"Perhaps now it will become easier to stay on your medication regimen."

I grabbed a bottle and examined it once there was no longer gold around it. "What did you do?"

"I will know where these containers are and be able to move them. I will also know when you open them." He got the spare phone out of his pocket, "should I not be able to contact you again through phone, I will simply move these containers to you."

I felt a little happier as I teased, "I guess simply blocking your number is not going to work anymore?"

Loki smiled, "There are plenty of other numbers I could use."

Loki did help me. There had to be a little adjustment to his plan of keeping track of my medicine. He bought a specific little container made for sorting pills into daily doses. He would help me fill the daily spots for medication and he put another enchantment on that one as well. 

Everyday he would come to my place and help with things that needed to be done. He would compliment me when I needed it. He would hold me when medication would make me drowsy. He would urge me to eat when I did not want to. He helped me make healthier choices when I wanted to devour the whole house.

He actually took me to nice restaurants when I felt decent enough to get out.

He would always know everything about my medication and with him being able to literally hold it in my face at any point in the day… well there was no longer the option to forget.

Loki was the constant supply of water to my thirst for knowledge. Due to that type of relationship we really connected. Like really connected. We talked about everything to varying levels of importance and on both ends were voicemails with ridiculous ways to entice the other to call back.

Sometimes I would purposely ignore his calls just to see what the next stupid thing would be left in my mailbox… I listened to the recent one just left on my phone a minute ago.

"I know your games by now, so call me back. ...My declarations of love can wait until you tell me what sweet thing I am craving. I am at the store, so do hurry up before I decide to buy 5 of everything in the candy isle." There was a faint sound of the typical background noise in a store. "Please hurry… I fear I am going to need a bigger cart."

[bakugous-abs]

“Is that blood?” “...No?” With Bakugou, maybe after a bad fight or he doesn’t realize reader is hurt till then? (Sorry if that’s too specific just have fun ;^_^)

Yes, blood, lovely. Hope you enjoy! For this scenario, the reader had an air compression quirk that allows them to compress air into a small space and then release it when they say ‘boom’, sending out an explosion that could cut skin through precise channeling, and the reader will be Gender Neutral-Bomb

“Is that blood?!” S/o’s boyfriend Katsuki Bakugou shouted towards them, generating one of his bigger blasts in front of him to propel his body backwards and successfully blow away an enemy, sending him flying into the pavement doing barrel rolls. They followed suite, using the same technique

They took a moment to look at their uniform, seeing one of their older wounds had reopened and a new one visible through the cloth of their uniform, most of it torn away in the area

“...No?” They shouted back, the statement escaping as more of a question than. They moved their arms out in front of them, gathering air and compressing it together. They quickly moved their hands apart, whispering a ‘boom’ under their breath

Wind shot out in different directions, a loud boom coming from the released sound like the pop of a balloon. They channeled the energy, making fast like spikes and sent them through an enemy, taking quite a nasty chunk out of their arm. They winced, knowing that had to have hurt as they were now writhing on the ground

“What the hell do you mean “No?” That’s fucking blood isn’t it?!” He shouted back to them, grabbing an enemy by the head and cracking a loud explosion to its face. Whether he knocked them out or killed them didn’t quite matter to him now that he knew his S/o was hurt

“So what if it is?!” Their voice strained as they sent out another blast, not having enough time to land correctly on their feet and rolling across the jagged cemented streets. Their body rolled once, their back slamming roughly into a car

A dent was made, but they were grateful they had managed to use some of their wind to slow themselves down

“It means you need to be fucking careful dumbass!” He ran to them throwing them up and into the air where they corrected themself, landing on their feet as Katsuki stood beside them

They both noticed that more heroes had arrived, including Deku, Ochako, and Todoroki. But they also noticed the increasing number of villains as they piled into the streets

Was this planned?

Either way, they wouldn’t to go down easy. But neither were they! And now that they had some more heroes out here? The villains didn’t stand a chance!

“Don’t tell me what to do and just fight!” They ordered. He growled at that, not liking that they were taking charge so easily and so quickly, but complied as he raced ahead, sending blasts towards the villains

Lo and behold, the entire fight lasted for maybe half an hour after that. Sero and Kaminari showed up within the last ten minutes of the fight, able to help with the last few stragglers hiding in or between cars and catch a few that made an escape for the back alleys and sewers

Unfortunately for S/o, between the reopened wounds, their quirk backfiring and cutting them, and the loss of blood from a few more wounds, they were barely able to stay conscious to stand

“Kat…” They called out, body swaying as they leaned forward, arms hanging limp in front of them while they stared at the floor, vision blurring. One of the side effects of your quirk was lightheadedness. That, combined with the dizzy and feverish feeling at the amount of blood they were losing, wasn’t making them feel very stable

Katsuki managed to hear them and turned around, eyes widening watching as they almost fell to the ground

He raced forward, squatting his body to put their head on his shoulder and to let your body completely rest against his while he shouted aggressively for some support

“Hey… don’t be mean… asshole.” They joked out, coughing, in turn making them winced. They knew they weren’t going to die. Medics would get here fast enough to help them, but they also planned for the inevitable, trying to remember where they hid their will

“You better stay with me. You hear?! Stay with me!” It was no use. His voice was fading in their ears as they breathed out a silent whisper, the world turning black

It only seemed like moments later that they woke up to the blinding white fluorescent lights and the sterile scent of a hospital room. They lifted their arm up, ignoring the drip connected to it and various bandages and bruises and sat up; well at least tried to

They yelped in pain, and stopped themselves from curling up in a ball, feeling the wound from their thigh throb as it too was moved too quickly

Wow… so much for waking up at home and getting a cup of coffee. Looks like they could keep that will hidden for a bit longer

They opened their once squinted eyes to see the room decked out in various flowers, balloons, gifts, cards, and Bento boxes that looked freshly made. Their mind immediately wondered to Sato when they found a little baggy of cookies on top of it all

But what they noticed the most was shoes much bigger than their own and a blanket on the couch of the hospital room you were in. Someone had stayed here, and they could only guess who it was as they heard cursing from inside the bathroom and a toilet flush

They laid back down in a way that wouldn't worry Katsuki. They wanted to see him

Damn they really wanted to see him

The full weight of last nights situation entered their mind, and tears started to collect in their eyes. They could have literally died and the last thing they would have said to their beloved was “Hey don’t be mean asshole.” It hit you repeatedly over and over again, harder and harder than the last time

The bathroom door opened, and tears spilled down their face seeing his ash blonde hair and getting a whiff of his explosive sweat. His crimson eyes locked onto their own, seeing their beautiful color once more and feet working to run at them, relief in his stature

He was as careful as he could be  in what seemed to be an attempt to crush and kill them. He didn’t say a word, just shook as he held them in his arms. He wanted to yell at them so bad in a fleeting angry and vengeful emotion, but he didn’t. He couldn’t

They could feel the tension in his muscles, and they let a few tears trickle to his back and gripped his t-shirt

“Asshole. Don’t crush me.” You whispered out, craning your neck to give him a small peck on his neck. You knew it made his hair stand on end and give him goosebumps. Secretly, he liked those kinds of kisses, but he made sure to express the exact opposite physically

“Don’t fucking do that.” He whispered, pulling away. “You fucking idiot. You could have died”

“I know. Im sorry. But look! I'm not. I'll be fine.” They rubbed their eyes, wiping away the salty liquid and grabbing his hand to hold

It was silent for a moment. Not an awkward one, but a pleasant one that was interrupted by the vibrating of Katsukis phone

With a grumble he picked it up, the screen flashing with a text from his mom, saying. “BRAT! Get your ass home before go over there and drag you out myself!” They got a giggle out of that

“Old hag.” He mumbled, putting it in his pocket with an angry expression that only oftened as his eyes moved back to their

“... You know I love you, right?” They asked, squeezing his hand

He smiled very slightly, moving forward to kiss their head. “Yeah. Let's open these shitty gifts. Let the old hag come here, see how well she gets past those stupid metal walls.” He sat down in a chair he had pulled up last night, leaning back

They smiled even bigger, leaning up very slowly to pick one out. “You know me so well”

[ardett]

Fund

Summary: Peter overshares. Tony oversteps. Things spiral from there.

Or Tony holds Peter’s college fund over his head and Peter doesn’t get into MIT.

As always, it’s on Ao3!

Author’s Note: Inspired by Running by Builder, specifically Tony's line, "I’ll go flush your college fund down the toilet while I’m at it," and also I'm a sucker for an angsty argument. Definitely check it out!

Also, I haven’t written all summer so... sorry?

The world goes out of focus. The Stark lab fades at the edges. The device he’s been tinkering with blurs. Everything appears as if under a gray film. All Peter can think about is that number, bold on the top of his English grade report for senior year.

78.

Not failing, not even really close to failing, but the worst grade Peter has had all year, the worst grade he’s ever had in a class his entire life. He can’t even pin it down to one assignment. He’s just been regularly scoring low on his essays. Not many people in the class get 90s on the essays but even compared to everyone else, Peter’s have been… lower.

He’s not disappointed necessarily. He knows he’s been working as hard as he can. He knows there are bigger things in the world than English class. (Spider-man. The Avengers. Actually saving people’s lives.) But now that he has to get the proof signed by May, he feels shame seep into him. And he knows that’s exactly what it is. Shame.

He’s ashamed over a tiny number that, against the grand scheme of things, is inconsequential, and he’s angry at himself for feeling ashamed, and his anger is almost always badly channeled frustration, and when he’s frustrated, he cries.

Which is exactly why he’s staring into space, trying to will away the tears collecting in his eyelashes.

He takes a deep breath as slowly as he can. Tries to exhale evenly. He brings up a hand to shield his eyes and hide them from where Tony sits a few seats down.

The 360 degrees cameras don’t help. Neither does FRIDAY’s watchful eye.

Red text scrolls across the screen in front of Tony. Peter’s gaze flicks over to the light.

Peter seems to be in distress, it reads.

Tony immediately swivels to face him and Peter stiffens, angling his back towards the adult. Peter sucks in a breath and grips the collar of his shirt, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as he wipes away the tears.

“Hey kid,” Tony calls. Peter hums and nods. He doesn’t turn around. “All good in the hood over there?”

“Yep.” And yep, nope, that definitely did not help his case, not with that choked voice.

“Mm, sure about that, bud?”

Peter swallows down mucus and clears his throat. “Sure, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, that’s what I want to hear except I don’t really believe you so-” Tony starts rolling his chair towards Peter. “Here I come.”

Peter huffs out a laugh at the sight. “Are you scooting over to me, Mr. Stark?”

“Don’t be a smartass. Scooting is the most practical way to move in these chairs, I’ll have you know,” Tony says as he stops in front of Peter. “Now come on, out with it. What’s up?”

Peter’s smile dies out and Tony’s follows suit.

“It’s really stupid. Honestly, it’s really dumb.” Peter twists his fingers together.

“Peter, I’m sure it’s not. And even if it is, I still want to hear about it.”

“Right, okay, so… Yeah, well… I’m…” Peter’s nose scrunches before he gives a sigh. “I have a 78 in my English class. A 78 percent. It’s so bad, I mean…” He groans, hand rubbing down his face. “I guess it’s not that bad. It’s not like I’m failing or anything but it’s just really frustrating, you know? Well, you probably don’t know, you’ve been a genius since you were born. And I don’t want to make excuses, right? But it’s just hard being Spider-man and all the school work and she just- my teacher, I mean- she grades so hard. I keep offering to do extra credit for her but she says you get what you get or you shouldn’t write your papers last minute or whatever. But I’m not! I’m putting in so much work and she’s ignoring that I’m even trying. You know?”

Tony doesn’t interrupt, only nods along. His gaze is thoughtful.

Peter fidgets. He maintains a scant few seconds of quiet before he breaks again. “And I just… I don’t want to tell May. I know I have to but…” Peter fixes his eyes on the floor as they begin to water. “I’m supposed to be the smart one. That’s what her and Ben used to call me. Their smart boy. Their brilliant boy. She was so proud when I got into Midtown and… and this is just so dumb.”

Peter blinks, tears in his eyelashes. He swipes at them with the heel of his palm.

“Sounds like this teacher is a real piece of work,” Tony finally contributes.

“Yeah.” Peter gives a shaky smile. “You could say that.”

“Tell you what.” Tony puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Have a good time this weekend. Go out with your friends, party, what you millenials get up to. Go back to school on Monday with a clear head. Things will work themselves out.”

“Okay,” Peter agrees, though he doubts things will simply work themselves out. Tony grins back at him.

“Great. Now let’s get back to work.”

Peter walks into English on Monday to find a substitute teacher. He doesn’t think on it until Ned leans over across his desk and whispers, “I don’t think Ms. Jones is coming back. I heard Flash say the school fired her over some stuff they found on her computer.”

First comes the guilt, sweeping down into his gut. And then Peter can’t help it. His blood boils.

“Mr. Stark!”

Peter swings through the open door of Tony’s penthouse balcony. Tony looks up from his coffee and tablet at the kitchen table, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Wasn’t expecting you today, kiddo. What you visiting me up here on cloud 9 for?”

Peter rips his mask off, fuming, “You got my teacher fired!”

“Did I?” Tony takes a sip of his coffee. “Certainly no one’s going to be able to trace anything back to me or FRIDAY, so who can say, really? And so there’s no way anyone can blame you, so don’t even worry about it. You’re welcome.”

“No!” Peter’s hands clench into fists. “I can’t believe you- you- I may not have liked her but she wasn’t a bad teacher, okay? She didn’t deserve to be fired!”

“Look, kid, it’s not like I discredited her. I can help her find a job, if it’s bothering you that much. Hell, I could get her a job at Stuyvesant.” Tony stands up and Peter tenses before realizing Tony’s only putting his mug in the sink. “She was giving you a hard time. Why are we even having this conversation?”

“Because you can’t get everything you want, just because you have the money or just because you can! You can’t just tamper with my life without telling me!” His hands clench into fists. “You can’t ruin other people’s lives because I say something to you! It’s not your job!”

“It’s not like I’m doing this for shits and giggles, kid. I’m doing this for you. She may not know you’re Spider-man, but I sure as hell do, and I’m not going to let some pretentious old lady give you a 78 while you’re out saving New York.” Tony’s fiery gaze lands on Peter. “I’m sure she got plenty of satisfaction wracking up red marks on your papers, so what’s the problem if I get some satisfaction from knocking her down a few pegs?”

Peter scowls. “Is that what this is about? Satisfaction? Is this even about me at all?”

“Of course it is, Peter. She’s not going to give you a hard time anymore, is she? As far as I’m concerned, that’s problem solved.” Tony wipes his hands together, like he’s free of the matter.

“That’s not the point,” Peter growls.

Tony sighs, clearly aggravated as he runs a hand through his hair and asks, “Then what is the point?”

“The point,” Peter screams, “is that you’re not my dad!”

“Oh, that’s the point, is it?” Tony’s eyes narrow. “Well, I hate to break it to you, son,” he spits the word. “But I might as damn well be. Sure, I’m not in bed with your Aunt May-”

“Don’t-” Peter doesn’t get to finish.

“-but who do you think is paying your aunt’s raise, huh? You think that’s the hospital, rewarding her years of hard work? Where do you think that extra cash for your debit card is coming from? What about your tax refunds for this last year? Who do you think paid the medical bills when Aunt May had to get extra shots?” Tony steps towards Peter as he rants, growing louder with every word.

Peter takes a hesitant step back.

“And don’t even get me started on how much money I’ve poured into your college fund because I know you’re smart, Peter, invented that web fluid yourself and all, but come on. I know you wanna go to MIT. College don’t pay for itself. So yeah,” Tony flings out his arms. “I’m not your dad. I’m not even your Uncle Ben. But you better believe I’m acting like it.”

“So I’m supposed to thank you?” Peter scoffs. “All of that is just money. You can’t buy yourself a family.”

“I am not-”

“And I don’t even want your stupid money! I didn’t ask for it, did I? You can flush my college fund down the drain for all I care! I won’t use it anyway! I don’t need you!” Peter’s shaking but he holds his ground.

Tony’s voice is flat, even, as he replies, “You don’t want my help. You don’t want my money. Fine.” His face hardens. “But don’t come crying to me when you’re looking for a new sugar daddy.”

“I won’t,” Peter snarls, throwing his mask back on.

He doesn’t look back.

Peter sends in his scores. He sends in his resume. He sends in his supplements.

He doesn’t send in that recommendation letter Mr. Stark always promised.

It’s not like the movies anymore, big envelopes coming in the mail and elation before the package is even opened. Getting the decision letter is a process now. It’s waiting for the college to email when the results are finally released and logging into the admissions portal and waiting for the screen to load at 6:28 while 20,000 candidates try to get their results.

They say you should be alone when you receive your decision.

Peter is inordinately glad he is. Because he reads the words, Dear Peter, I am very sorry- and he loses it a little bit.

It’s a little bit of his heart stuttering and a little bit of his breath catching and a little bit of a burn in his eyes.

He skims the letter, bites his lip, and reads it three more times.

Mr. Stark will be so disappointed in him. Embarrassed by him.

No.

Peter slams his laptop shut. Mr. Stark won’t even know this happened. They haven’t talked since the fight and after all, if there ever really was a college fund, it was clearly intended for Peter to attend MIT. Which he will not be doing.

He should have let Mr. Stark write the recommendation. But if he needed the recommendation to get in and he couldn’t do it on his own merit, maybe he shouldn’t be admitted at all.

Getting in on his own merit? It’s not like the admissions committee knows he’s Spider-Man and for a completely irrational moment, Peter is seized by the regret that he didn’t write that in his supplements. That he should have disclosed his formulas for webs, his designs for web shooters, his secret identity.

It’s easy to turn away Peter Parker but Spider-Man? They would have-

Peter shakes his head, pushing his laptop towards the end of his bed with his feet. He curls up in his hoodie, not even bothering with the bed sheets. He stoically ignores Aunt May when she knocks on his door with dinner.

He doesn’t raise his head again until May eases into his room with a plate of cookies. She nudges at his shoulder, murmuring, “I know you want one, Peter.”

The smell, fresh baked and chocolatey, finally gets him.

He sits up and May’s face softens as she takes in his red and swollen eyes. Peter takes a cookie with a small thanks and chews it as slowly as he can. It hurts to swallow past the thickness in his throat.

Peter takes another bite. Chews. Swallows.

“I didn’t get in.”

“Oh, Pete,” May sighs. She runs a hand down his arm with a sad smile. “I know that was your dream school, but it’s so hard to get into those kinds of colleges. Hardly anyone makes it in! It doesn’t mean you’re not a brilliant kid. There’s no way to know what kinds of things they’re looking for.”

“I know. I know it was long shot but-” Peter chokes. “Mr. Stark got in when he was fifteen. And I couldn’t even… I couldn’t even…”

“Oh, baby.” May pulls him to her chest and he resists for a second before giving in, leaning into her. She doesn’t say anything about his heaving breaths or dripping tears.

The first of May rolls around. Peter makes a decision. It’s a decision made out of partiality. It’s also a decision made out of finance.

He doesn’t regret his final choice. He just wishes he had more options.

He just wishes he could get over the sting of rejection as he commits to somewhere to spend the next four years of his life.

Summer is almost here. Peter has his graduation robes, his cap, his tassels.

It’s been months since he last talked to Mr. Stark. Like a hole in his heart, Peter misses him. He still pictures Mr. Stark in the bleachers with Aunt May as he walks out to receive his diploma. He thinks of the proud smile he so desperately wants to see and he thinks of the taste of failure bitter in his mouth.

He owes it to Mr. Stark, to himself, to invite him to the graduation. But that means that he’ll have to break the news.

Peter’s key card still works at the Avenger’s Tower. As he rides the elevator to the penthouse, his ribs tighten in anticipation of pain. They left off on such a bad note and then Peter let him down-

He didn’t let anyone down. May keeps reminding him of that.

(He doesn’t know why he’s not over it. Why isn’t he over it yet?)

The elevator dings. The doors slide open. Mr. Stark is sitting at the counter, exactly as Peter left him months ago, tablet and coffee in hand. Their eyes lock.

Mr. Stark murmurs, “I didn’t believe FRIDAY when she said it was you.”

“I- I, um-” Peter nods, looking to the ceiling as pressure builds behind his eyes and warns of tears.

Tony’s voice as he stands is soft, soothing. Forgiving. “I missed you too, kid.”

Tears drip down Peter’s face and he runs over to hug Tony. “I missed you,” he cries into his shoulder.

They stand there for a long while until Peter’s sobs die down. He keeps his face hidden in Tony’s shirt and squeezes his eyes shut. “I just- I have to tell you. I didn’t get into MIT,” he whispers into the fabric.

“You didn’t get in?” Tony sounds shocked. “I can… I can write to them. I could make them change the decision. I’m their biggest donor, they would have to-”

Peter tenses but doesn’t pull away. “No, Mr. Stark,” he says firmly. He lifts his head to meet Tony’s gaze. “If I didn’t get in, I didn’t get in. And that’s… that’s okay.”

“I… Right, of course it’s okay but…” Tony pauses. He blinks. “This is… I don’t want to lose you again, Peter. I don’t want to fight. And…” His arms tighten around Peter. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. Before. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have let you handle it on your own. I should have let you grow. I should have let you… fail just sounds so harsh, doesn’t it? But I shouldn’t have taken that away from you.

“I want what’s best for you. You know that, right, Pete? Maybe I did it the wrong way but all I want is for you to be happy. And I want us to be okay again. If you think that’s possible.” There’s a nervous undercurrent to Tony, in the minute shake of his arms and his unsteady hands.

“I want us to be okay again too.” Peter steps away from the hug, still holding loosely to Tony’s wrists. “That’s why I want you to come to my graduation.”

Tony’s smile is watery, trembling at the corners, but true. “Peter,” he lays a gentle hand on Peter’s cheek. “I would be honored.”

Tony and Aunt May cheer when his name is called and hand each other tissues as Peter gets his diploma. It’s a beautiful day, fun of sunshine and happy tears. Most of all, it’s a proud day. Peter hopes it’s just the first of many.

End Note: sooooo funny story, MIT was actually my dream school but I was deferred and then rejected so there's that (now I'm in Northeastern's honors program for engineering and I'm still SUFFERING so I guess that all worked out)

[bihexualboi]

“Self-Control” Endless Summer College AU

Chapter 4: Take Action

Author’s Note: A chapter-based series I plan to update as frequently as possible for my favorite Choices book ever. I was inspired to undertake this personal project because of a wonderful friend @mlmseangayle. Expect art of significant scenes in my fic. Hope y’all enjoy!

Synopsis: Emrys is most productive when he takes initiative. The additional effort he puts forth in his studies has helped him become an excellent student. Can his social life improve if he places the same effort and takes action?

It’s been two weeks since the beginning of the semester and Emrys is ecstatic about how well he’s performing in his classes. The bi-weekly study sessions with Aleister, Grace, and Michelle have really paid off earning Emrys a 4.0 GPA on his college record. The group had bonded quite well in the past few weeks. Grace and Aleister don’t avoid PDA in front of Emrys and Michelle anymore because they’ve become accustomed to showcasing their love every opportunity they get. The couple has also become immune to the frequent teasing instigated by the dynamic duo. Both Michelle and Emrys are striving to ace their MCAT to hopefully enroll in the same medical school. The duo invest time doing independent research together to increase their likelihood to pass that exam. Their passion for the medical field fuels extensive conversations about how they envision to make their dreams a reality. Although, Aleister and Grace don’t share many interests with Emrys they confide in him with their issues individually. Emrys supports the couple’s foundation by laying down the groundwork for how both parties can help maintain a long-lasting healthy relationship. The group feels a genuine connection to one another that they’ll always come to each other’s aid whenever they are struggling. 

Michelle has been updating Emrys about her relationship with Quinn, and how lucky she is to have found a girlfriend like her. She praises Quinn’s spontaneity because it helps Michelle cope with the daily grind of studying rigorously for hours. Michelle also mentions how amazing Quinn is during sex. In snippets Michelle describes how sensual Quinn is, and how much Quinn boost Michelle’s self-esteem whenever Quinn enjoys Michelle pleasuring her. Emrys is elated that he helped Quinn work out the disconnect between her and Michelle. After the study session Emrys had suggested the group celebrate their accomplishments by going to a nearby club where new artists are performing for the first time. In unison the group agreed to attend the event this coming weekend. Emrys invited Estela and Diego to come with him. Diego accepted the invitation because he was ready to party with his best friend, and Estela had no work that day so she also accepted the invitation. 

Emrys texted the group that they’d meet up in the location he ordered the Uber and they would be escorted to the venue. Emrys was getting ready by shaving and manscaping after a shower. He dressed up in his best club-going attire ready to impress his friends and onlookers. Once Emrys stepped out of his room to check on Diego he was mesmerized by what he saw. Diego was sporting a short-sleeve patterned button up with slacks and expensive leather boots. Diego accessorized with gold pieces and a intricate choker. Emrys teased, “Hey, my name is Emrys I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room your style really shines through the crowd. What’s your name?” Diego couldn’t  contain his laughter and chuckled gleefully at Emrys’ pickup-line and played a long. “Well, would you still notice me without my stylish clothes,” Emrys seductively says “Of course, you’re bare skin would attract my attention immediately. Such bold move would streamline me toward you.” Emrys placed a firm hand on Diego’s waist brushing his lips against Diego’s ear whispering, “Would like to see me without my clothes too?” Diego shuddered at the question because he was unsure of Emrys’ intentions, but before things could advance further there was a knock on the door. 

The two separated and walked out the door with their friends into the Uber that would take them to their destination. Emrys’ and his crew had arrived earlier then other patrons, so the wait in line wasn’t long. Michelle had decided to invite Quinn who was dressed in a bold blue romper that revealed her beautiful figure with silver jewelry. Estela had a striking look with a silver sequined crop top, slim fit black jeggings and leather booties. Aleister’s look was an all white ensemble with silver accessories. Grace decided to wear an orange long sleeved two piece dress with gold accents. Lastly Michelle wore a pink sheer top with a lace bra and black high waisted pencil skirt. The group looked amazing and other patrons stopped and stared as they walked past. Michelle and Quinn slinked to the dance floor together as their bodies were swaying to the music. Aleister and Grace were having a stimulating conversation on a lounge chair away from the center of the club. Estela, Diego, and Emrys were at the bar downing shots applauding each other for each consecutive shot they drank. 

Once the trio were satisfied they joined Michelle and Quinn on the dance floor. Aleister stood protectively over Grace as she filmed the experience on her phone taking periodic selfies and photos of her and her friends. Emrys had begun showcasing his impressive dance moves, which was a contrast to Diego’s uncoordinated flailing, but Emrys didn’t care he was happy his best friend was having fun. Estela’s athletic body was gracefully dancing to the music. A performer originally from Hartfeld named Zahra was debuting her single “Player Two”. As the song began playing everyone began pairing up. The two couples were already together. Emrys scanned the room and noticed Diego was dancing with a junior he had seen around named Zig. Estela reached for Emrys and began teaching him the bachata. Emrys was enthralled by how effortless Estela’s movements were as their hips brushed against each other each time she closed the distance between them. Emrys’ hands roamed Estela’s toned muscles feeling strong but soft at the same time. Her scent was undeniable that he buried his face into her neck bodies flushed together. The night was waning and Aleister called an Uber to safely transport his friends back to campus. Once they arrived Diego set off with the junior Zig and winked at Emrys as he traveled further into the distance, so Estela and Emrys would have the apartment to themselves. 

Emrys opened the door to let Estela in as she strides into the kitchen to get a glass of water from the dispenser and chugged it. Estela sluggishly said, “Emrys have some water it will help with dehydration.” Emrys poured himself a glass of water and chugged it in the same fashion as Estela. “I’ll whip up some scrambled eggs. It’s said to reduce the effects of the alcohol,” Emrys said coolly. Estela nodded as she poured herself another glass of water before chilling on the couch and surfing through Netflix. “What’s good on here,” Estela shouted out. “We can watch both of  Ali Wong’s Netflix specials and laugh our asses off,” Emrys said nonchalantly as he’s almost finished making the scrambled eggs. Estela clicks on the first special as Emrys walked to the couch and served Estela a plate of scrambled eggs. They soon were laughing maniacally as Ali Wong delivered each punchline with such vigor. Emrys stared at Estela and witnessed her genuinely smile and laugh an unfamiliar look for the her but a welcomed expression. 

A half hour into the second special Estela is hysterical losing her breath with a majority of the jokes playfully clutching and leaning on Emrys. After finishing the specials Estela and Emrys alternate going to the bathroom peeing a majority of the alcohol they consumed into the toilet. As the night died down Emrys whipped out a deck of playing cards for the two of them to play card games. They started off with Speed which Estela wins easily. Then they played a game of  War which was a lengthy game but Emrys managed to pull a victory. Lastly, they played Egyptian Ratscrew, which was a promising game for Emrys but Estela was able to make a comeback and win. Estela fell asleep on the couch as Emrys began washing the dishes in the sink. Emrys gently shook Estela to ask if she wanted to stay over, or if he should call an Uber to get her home. She gazed directly into his eyes communicating exactly what she wanted, and he knew what she wanted.

Click for more: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

[shoutingforbnha]

Hii!! Can I request a hanahaki disease au with Todoroki and his S/O (omg I’m praying that I’m doing this right, I don’t really know how to use Tumblr xD) have a nice day! uwu

Hey there! I didn’t know if i should write it angsty or fluffy so I went with angst, and it’s my first time doing so! I hope I did great, I (obviously) enjoyed writing this because it contains 2,086 words, LMAO! It’s my finals week but I just can’t stop myself from writing, so here you go!

Note: I know in the gif it shows his mom (if I’m correct) but just imagine yourself in her place.

You love him.

He loves you.

You don’t know.

He doesn’t know.

“Todoroki! Good morning,” you smiled at him. Todoroki slightly smiled back, not bothering to talk. He felt his chest tightening, he could feel the petals piling up. That’s when he suddenly ran away, leaving you alone with a few minutes before class.

“Huh, maybe he forgot something?”

Todoroki was standing outside of the indoor campus of U.A., coughing up petals of flowers. “Why do I love her so much?” he choked out.

He had the hanahaki disease for over a year now, and it began when he was 14, back at his old school with you. He’s curious as to why he hasn’t died yet. Why haven’t the roots started to grow in his lungs? Not like he wanted it to happen, there was just something… off.

You walked to the classroom, in hopes of your teacher, Aizawa, not being earlier than you. You were now seated in your chair, and you looked to your side, Todoroki not in sight.

You weren’t able to focus on homeroom until Todoroki arrived together with Momo. Your chest tightened, making you whimper quietly. When Todoroki and Momo were able to seat in their chairs, you raised your hand to be excused.

Aizawa rose a brow as he looked at you, curious of what you were about to say until he saw your pained expression. Nodding, you ran out of the classroom.

“Aizawa-sensei, what was that about?” Iida asked.

“None of your business, kid.”

You ran to the washroom, the petals in your lungs wishing for escape. Tears welled up in your eyes as they started to creep up your throat.

Slamming the door of a cubicle close, you immediately knelt over the toilet bowl and started coughing out the petals. You felt every petal climb your throat, only to be vomited out by you.

The petals floated on the water, blood here and there. Your condition was getting worse as each day passes by, you were sure you’re about to die within the year.

You can remember your conversation with your parents last night so vividly, the scene replaying in your head.

“(Y/N), you need to have the surgery!” your mother pleaded. “I said no already, okay?!” tears starting to stream down your face.

“I did not raise you up this long just for you to die! You only have months till your lungs give up!” your father finally broke his silence. “Haven’t you heard what the doctors said? I will lose my feelings!” you motioned to your heart as you said each word heavily.

“But you’d still be breathing, don’t you see that?” your mother cried. “You’d still be living long enough to find someone else. (Y/N), just take the damn surgery,” your father sighed, his forehead wrinkling.

“Wrong.”

“I’d be alive but I won’t be living,” you started. Your parents fell silent on this. “How can I love someone else with my feelings gone? The world doesn’t run on miracles, mom, dad,” you cried, smiling to ignore the pain.

Calming down after a few, you sniffed a little before continuing. “Besides, there’s a law now. You can’t force someone to take the surgery even when they’re on their deathbed,” you bitterly smiled.

“Please, don’t do this to us–” your mother cried. “I was born human, and I want to die human, mom,” you interrupted. “Then so be it, let’s not force her anymore, love,” tears welled up in your father’s eyes. “Let’s just make her last moments memorable.”

You suddenly heard a knock on the door of the cubicle, making you straighten up. You fixed your blouse a bit and then flushed the toilet before opening the door.

It was Uraraka.

“U–Uraraka–chan, why are you here?” you asked. “I thought something happened to you,” the worry evident on her face. “Thanks for the concern, but really, I’m okay,” you tried to smile.

“You don’t have to smile like that, (Y/N)–chan,” she blurted out. This shocked you as your eyes slightly widened, the smile dropping from your face. “I understand how you feel, don’t tire yourself out more by smiling when you know you’re not happy,” she slightly smiled, patting you on the shoulders.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Uraraka–chan.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she smiled.

You sat back in your chair, Todoroki immediately asking about why you excused yourself. “What happened?”

“Nothing important,” you waved the question off.

The day went on as usual, but this time, your visits to the washroom became alarmingly more frequent.

You went home with a bitter smile on your face, you knew death was coming for you. You went straight to your room, not even bothering to announce that you were home.

“Hey, mom, dad, let’s go to the amusement park this weekend?” you brought up during dinner. The two looked at each other, an expression on their face that can’t be explained. “Of course, honey.”

The weekend soon followed, the 3 of you going to the amusement park as planned. The last time you went here was when you were 12 years old, together with Todoroki. The first time you coughed up your first petals.

You avoided the place and the topic itself like the plague, not wanting to recall your first petals.

The day you spent with your parents was the very epitome of bittersweet. The thrill of the rides momentarily distracted the 3 of you from the fact that you were about to die sooner or later. But whenever everyone took a rest by sitting on a bench, the reality soon dawned upon once again.

You, their only child, was about to die soon. And they can’t do anything about it. It wasn’t only enough to crush your parents’ hearts, but their souls as well.

You were reporting in front of the class, it was part of your grades for a subject called Health. And as much as it pained you, you were tasked to report about the Hanahaki disease.

“The Hanahaki disease. It is a common disease, usually happening in 1 out of 15 people. It occurs when a person’s feelings are not being returned by the person they like,” you briefly looked at Todoroki before continuing,”It causes the patient to cough up flowers– usually vomit them out. This is caused by the tumor that has formed in the patient’s lungs, continuously forming flowers out of the seeds they secrete.”

“The disease can be treated through surgery but that means the patient loses all of their emotions–” you said before losing consciousness, falling on the ground. “Call the ambulance and Recovery Girl! Quickly!” your teacher shouted, coming to your aid.

Blood was pooling in your mouth and so did the petals. That’s when everyone, except Uraraka, suddenly knew. You had Hanahaki all this time and they never knew.

Guilt was eating Todoroki up to his very core as he sat by your side, doing everything he can to stabilize your condition. He had the same disease, but same or not, he didn’t even try to open up about it to you.

Midoriya came in rushing, holding Recovery Girl in his arms.

“I was only able to make her lungs’ cells grow around the roots. But sooner or later, the roots will come back and the tumor itself needs to be removed.” Recovery Girl told the medics that came with the ambulance.

You were loaded up to the ambulance, and all Recovery Girl and Midoriya could do were watch the van drive away with its sirens on.

So many machines were attached to you as you lied on a bed, whirring and whatnot just to keep you alive. The surgeons weren’t able to remove the tumor or else they would be violating your rights, so they were able to temporarily cover the holes your lungs accumulated from the roots.

Your mother was crying nonstop, she can feel that you would die in just a few days. Your father, on the other hand, tried his best to console and comfort your mother.

“Hey,” your voice croaked as you woke up. “Hey, sweet cheeks,” your mother tried to laugh. “Don’t cry mom,” you said. “How can I not? Yo–you’re about to die and I can’t do anything about it,” your mother started to cry.

Your father was silent, just side-hugging your mother as she cried. “How do you feel?” he asked. “Not the best,” you chuckled. He smiled slightly, but it’s evident that your father was crying not so long ago.

Then, a knock on the door was heard. It was Uraraka and the whole class, but someone was missing.

“(Y/N)–chan, I-I don’t know what to say,” Uraraka said. “It’s okay, Uraraka–chan. And guys, you didn’t have to come all the way here,” you smiled. “We’re a family, remember?” Midoriya smiled.

After two days, Todoroki was finally able to visit. Your lungs have deteriorated so much, up to the point that you can’t handle any more surgeries. The roots keep on coming back, it was pointless to repatch your lungs’ holes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, holding your hand. “How would I? It’s hard to open up about it,” your voice croaked. He winced as he saw you cough, a petal coming out.

“Look, I have something to tell you,” he started. “Go on,” you nodded. “I also have hanahaki.”

“You have to confess to them while you still can, Todoroki,” you smiled sadly. “(Y/N), please, get your tumor removed.” he pleaded, avoiding the topic. “I don’t want to lose my emotions,” tears welled up in your eyes.

“Do you know how hard life will be when I can’t laugh? When I can’t cry? When I can’t love? Do you?” tears started to stream down your face. Todoroki fell silent.

He had to do it now, it’s now or never.

As he wiped away the tears on your face with his thumb, he said, “I still have something to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I love you, (Y/N). I really do. You’re the person I loved all this time.”

Smiling, you replied, “I love you, too, Todoroki.”

His eyes widened in shock as he made eye contact with you. “I know, Todoroki. Our timing sucks, doesn’t it?” you bitterly chuckled.

“Since when did you have hanahaki?” he asked. “Since the first time we went to the amusement park that was just near when we were 12.”

“Why? How did you like me back then?” he rubbed his thumb against the back of your hand, waiting for an answer. And so were your parents.

“I loved the way you felt free with me, how you can laugh when I was the only person around,” you smiled.

“What about you?” you asked.

“Last year. It just happened, I suddenly realized I loved you,” he chuckled.

You wanted to say something back but you suddenly had a violent coughing fit. Blood was trickling down your chin and the petals never stopped from coming out of your mouth.

You both knew you loved each other but once hanahaki has worsened so much, its effects are irreversible. Your parents called staff to help you, but they both and the staff knew that this was it.

“(Y/N), don’t leave me, please,” Todoroki begged. Tears were slowly streaming down his face, but he knew nothing can be done to help you.

“Mom, I’m sorry for being so stubborn,” you managed to choke out.

“Dad, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to approach you much as a daughter, but you both know I love you guys, right?” your parents nodded, your mother cried into your father’s chest.

“Todoroki,” you coughed. “I love you but forget about me. Don’t let me haunt your life, please.”

“You’re the best thing that happened to me, don’t say that,” Todoroki smiled through the tears as his hold on your hand tightened. “I love you,” you gasped, it was getting hard for you to breathe.

“I love you, so, so much,” he cried onto your hand, trying to look away from reality.

You gave out one last breath and your hand fell limp against his grasp. Your eyelids fell to a close. The sound of the flatline beep soon followed after.

Todoroki felt all his regrets hit him like a tidal wave when he heard the flatline. Your father tried to comfort your mom who was wailing in pain after witnessing her only child die.

What if I didn’t hesitate? Maybe she’d still be alive right now.

[iwriteficsnottragediesladies]

Search and Seizure pt 5

A/N: I had a ton of requests to keep up with this series, so here is part 5! This sort of follows a particular plot-request @kyky9103. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. There’s a scavenger hunt item (hint: fob), so look for it and comment if you find it! Enjoy! @un-surpassable @beeboatthedxsco

Pre-read Epilepsy Disclaimer

You woke up just an hour after going to sleep in Portland to a hot wave of nausea pouring over you. You roll out of the plush hotel bed and make a break for the toilet, stumbling through the unfamiliar room in the dark. You fumble for a light switch and can’t find one, but there’s no time to keep looking. You still successfully make it to throw up in your desired receptacle.

Brendon doesn’t feel you leave the bed, but he shoots straight up in the bed when he hears you getting sick. He throws the covers off, finding a light far more easily than you. He squints through the sudden brightness, running to the bathroom. He instantly is sitting behind you, holding your hair.

“It’s alright,” He soothed, rubbing light circles on your back.

After what feels like an eternity, it’s finally over. You see fragments of your pills in the toilet, but you don’t bother pointing it out to Brendon. You sit back onto your butt and into his arms.

“Sorry,” You breathe.

“In sickness and in health, right?” he laughed gently as he reminded you of your wedding vows, making you smile. You nuzzle into his shoulder. “My poor baby,” he said with a frown. “Were you feeling sick earlier?”

You nodded.

“Threw up at dinner,” You admitted.

“Y/n, why didn’t you say anything?!” He asked sweetly, disappointed.

“Felt fine after,” you shrugged.

“Baby, you know it’s risky for you to be sick,” he said bothered. You stiffen in his arms.

“Don’t treat me like I’m different, Brendon,” you cautioned, irritated. “People get sick. It’s fine.”

“Y/n, I’m not trying to treat you like you’re different,” he explained gently, “I know you are limitless. You don’t need to prove that to me because I already know and I am so proud of you. I just think you need to step back for a second.”

You look at him, only half convinced.

“It doesn’t speak to who you are,” He said sincerely, “It’s your health I’m worried about, baby.”

“Okay,” you said quietly as you nod, hesitantly agreeing. You know he’s right.

“Do you feel seizure-y?” He asked, concerned.

“No, I don’t feel ‘seizure-y,’“ you smile a bit at his new adjective.

“Do you want to stay in here or get back in bed?” he offered.

“Bed,” you decided.

He helps you up and flushes the toilet before escorting you back into bed. He tucks you in and climbs in next to you.

“Smack me if you need anything,” He said with a smile.

“Okay,” you smirked, curling up and falling right to sleep.

Hours later, you smacked him. Without remorse.

He didn’t seem to mind the rude awakening all that much.

“Y/n?” He inquired, hastily flicking on the bedside light.

“Bathroom,” You murmured.

“Okay,” he said soothingly, quickly getting you out of bed and to the bathroom. You get sick again and feel completely exhausted as you sit back down onto the cool tile floor.

Brendon is whispering quiet words of comfort when it hits you.

Fuck fuck fuck Brendon was very right

Your arm goes tingly and you feel like you might throw up again.

“Hey Bren?” You interrupt, discomfort evident in your voice. He looks to you. “I-I feel seizure-y.” Your breath is uneven and your expression dulls.

“Okay, it’s okay,” He says quickly to reassure you, holding you by your shoulders. “Lay back baby, I got you.”

You absently do as your told and Brendon guides you to the floor, onto your side. He grabs the bathmat and folds it up, sliding it underneath your head. He knows he needs to go get his phone from the nightstand but he doesn’t want to leave your side, even for a second. He gives up.

“I’m gonna get my phone, I’ll be right back baby,” He says at the speed of light. He snatches his phone and arrives back next to you. Fear is written on your face.

“I know your scared, Y/n,” He places a hand on your cheek.

You look at him, your expression one he’s never seen before.

“Bren,” you say quietly.

“It’s okay baby,” he nodded, “I’m right here.”

You started to seize and for a moment he hesitated. This had never happened alone with you before. He needed to call Zack but he also needed to time.

He comes to a compromise–He will count aloud as he called Zack. Brendon didn’t want to lose count while talking to him, so he decided to just keep going. To be honest, he had faith that Zack would figure out what was happening, because Zack was just like that. He was attuned to emergencies. Crisis was one of his areas of expertise.

Calling Zack...

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7,”

“Brendon?” A groggy voice answered.

“9, 10, 11, 12,” Brendon watched you helplessly.

“Brendon, what are the fuck are you–” He says perturbed, still too sleepy to figure anything out.

“16, 17, 18,” Brendon changed the tone of his voice, trying to convey urgency. He smoothed your hair back, running his fingers through your hair.

“Brendon are you–” Zack said, still trying to put it together. Suddenly it clicked. “Brendon are you timing a seizure right now?!” He could hear Zack jumping out of bed.

“Yes, 27, 28, she’s sick, 30, it’s bad,” Brendon’s voice cracked, “32,”

“I’m on my way,” He reassured Brendon as he grabbed his room key as well as yours and hustled to the door, “Hold tight.”

The call ended and Brendon kept counting aloud until he could start a timer, cycling between glancing to his phone screen and to you.

“39.” He said, his final total as the timer started. “39, 39, 39,” He whispered to himself. Finally he could put his phone down and just focus on you.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” He soothed, “You’re okay Darlin’ you’re okay.”

Brendon hears the lock on the door click and the door swings open.

“Brendon?” Zack yells.

“39!” Brendon replied.

Zack is next to you both in no time, albeit confused.

“What?” He asked.

“39,” Brendon repeated, “That’s how long it was until I could start the timer.” He needed to say it before he forgot. Zack nodded, also storing the number in his memory.

“What happened?” Zack asked quickly, remembering that Brendon said that she’d been sick.

“She’s thrown up three times tonight,” He reported.

“Jesus,” Zack shook his head, “I doubt she kept any of her meds down.”

They continued to comfort you, but Brendon was growing more concerned.

“I don’t know, Zack,” Brendon said slowly, “I don’t like this one.”

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was off. Maybe it was because you were sick or maybe it was the way you looked at him before it started… But it just didn’t feel right. Before Zack could respond, you started gagging.

Brendon and Zack immediately placed their hands on you to ensure you stayed on your side while you threw up a little. Brendon uses a hand towel to wipe it away from your mouth and looked at the timer nervously.

“I know she said some of this stuff was normal,” Brendon started unsure, “But we’re coming up on 4 minutes now.”

Zack thought for a moment.

“She’s not slowing down at all,” Zack shook his head.

“Yeah,” Brendon somberly agreed.

“Want me to make the call?” Zack asked.

“I think we should,” Brendon replied sadly.

“Kay,” Zack said quietly, pulling out his own phone. He dialed and started talking with the dispatcher.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” Brendon stroked your cheek, “We’re gonna get you help.”

He just kept talking to you, unsure of what to do, and wanting to suppress his own feelings. His emotion still easily slipped through and he couldn’t help but cry a little. He felt so powerless, watching as epilepsy was trying to take away his beautiful girl.

“I know you’re going to be pissed at me later when you find out we called paramedics,” He said, gently smiling through the tears. “We just gotta make sure there is a ‘later,’ okay baby?” He whispered. He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t.

Zack placed his hand on Brendon’s shoulder, doing his best to console him, despite his own concern.

“They’re on the way, Brendon,” He said reassuringly. Brendon nodded and attempted to gather himself, sniffling and wiping his tears away.

“I’m going to call the front desk so they know where to send the medics,” Zack said before he departed from the bathroom to use the room phone.

“You’re going to be okay,” Brendon spoke to you softly, “I love you so much Y/n.” He looked down at the timer: 5:05. “Please come back to me baby, I’m right here, just come back darlin.” Brendon was devolving into a complete emotional mess, unable to stop the flow of tears.

Your movements became a little less violent and he was hoping it was over. Zack reentered the bathroom and knelt down on the floor.

“I think she’s coming out of it,” Brendon said hopefully.

“Good,” Zack nodded.

He was wrong. It just kept going. It was much more subdued movements, so it was indeed getting better, but it continued on. A minute felt like an hour to him. He carried on with stroking your, pushing it from your face. He wiped away some spit from your mouth as well, wanting to make sure your airway was as clear as possible.

“You’re doing so good baby,” Brendon cooed, “Help is coming.”

As if on cue, there was banging on the door and the lock clicked.

“Paramedics!” Someone yelled to announce themselves as they opened the door.

“In here!” Zack responded.

The paramedics entered the bathroom and Brendon and Zack looked up. To their surprise, they were met by a familiar face: Emma. They remembered back to that day at the grocery store. They realized they were, in fact, in Portland again, where they had originally met.

“Emma?” Zack said, posing both as a greeting and a question.

“Brendon. Zack.” She replied, kind of shocked.

Emma turned to her partner. ”This is Y/n, I’ve treated her before,” She explained to him quickly as they got onto the floor.

“How long has she been down?” Emma looked to Brendon as she pulled open a large pack. Brendon looked down at the timer.

“6:50 plus 39…” He trailed off, knowing he couldn’t do the math, “Um, over seven minutes.”

“Eric, can I have two of lorazepam,” She directed her partner quietly.

He opened one of the packs and retrieved a syringe and a vial, looking it over before handing it off to Emma. She took the syringe and drew up some liquid from the vial. She began to narrate what she was doing for Brendon and Zack.

“This is a medication that will help stop the seizure,” She explained, “It’s intranasal, which means it goes in her nose, okay?”

Zack and Brendon both nod. She put what looked like sort of like a cap on the syringe and administered the drug. Seconds later the seizure came to a full stop.

“There you go, baby,” Brendon whispered to you, “There you go.”

“It’s normal for her to sleep a little now from the medication, okay?” She informed them not to worry.

“Alright,” Zack replied while Brendon nodded.

Her partner started taking your vital signs and Emma started asking some questions while simultaneously doing some sort of physical assessment.

“Can you guys tell me what led up to this?” She asked, taking note of the vomit on the floor.  Brendon collected himself and cleared his throat.

“She has a stomach bug I think,” He started, “She threw up three times tonight and then said she felt a seizure coming on. Something just seemed off about it to me, I don’t know why. Then it lasted for so long. Usually hers are less than two minutes.”

Emma was listening intently, nodding from time to time.

“And she threw up during the seizure as well?” She asked.

“Yes,” Brendon replied.

“She’s breathing just fine right now,” She assured them, “But I’m definitely concerned about that, alright? I think it’s important to transport her to the hospital because of that and the length of the seizure, especially now that I’ve given her the drug.”

She explained it so clearly and calmly, it even calmed Brendon’s nerves a little.

“Okay,” Brendon nodded confidently in agreement. He just wants you to be okay and he will do everything in his power, and more, to make sure that happens.

They get you onto the stretcher and start to wheel you out.

It’s technically a security issue to leave the rest of the boys in the hotel with no one around, so Zack comes up with the plan.

“You go with her and I’ll get the boys up and meet you there?” He proposed the plan as a question.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Brendon replied. Zack said goodbye and made his way to the boys’ rooms down the hall.

You got loaded up in the ambulance with Brendon and Emma. She continues to ask Brendon some questions about your medical history for a little while, then shifts the conversation as she rechecks her assessment.

“You’re back in Portland, huh?” Emma said.

“Come for the weather,” he joked a little and she smiled. “You’re a paramedic now?” he inquired.

“Yeah,” She replied. “Actually, a week after I met you guys, I quit my job and went to medic school. Decided that this was my calling,” she said simply.

“Wow, that’s… That’s amazing,” He said honestly. She nodded back, clearly happy and proud of her achievement too. 

Your eyes start to move more purposefully and they both notice.

“So she’s going to get more with it soon,” She said, “The medication I gave her is also a sedative, so she’ll be pretty weak.”

Brendon understood and then saw you begin to look in his direction.

“Hi Y/n,” Brendon started softly, “You’re okay.”

Your vision consists of black splotches. Before it gets better, the darkness gets bigger, then suddenly you’re blinded by bright light reflected by a silver ceiling. A horrible taste sat on your tongue and your body felt like it was magnetized to the floor. Where the fuck are you? Why couldn’t you move?

“It’s alright,” Brendon said, “I know you’re scared. It’s okay.”

You look around, trying to make sense of it all. The confusion was too intense and you wanted to cry. Were you moving? What is going on? You look for some sort of sign that you were safe but you only found cold metal.

A sound of distress escapes your mouth.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Brendon told you, but you don’t hear him.

You want Brendon.

“Breh,” You try, feeling your eyes well up. Brendon immediately places himself in view.

“I’m right here baby,” he replies. It takes a moment for your eyes to catch up to the new object in your field of vision. Now you can hear. You never realized you couldn’t hear in the first place, but now you could hear again. You look at the person above you intently.

Brendon knows he has your attention now.

“It’s Brendon, Y/n,” he sang. That voice. That face. It’s Brendon.

“Bren,” You call to him, your voice cracking. His heart ached when he heard the pain in your voice.

“Shhh, no, it’s okay,” Brendon said quickly to calm you. He got closer to you now that you were oriented and cautiously took your cheek in his hand. “I’m right here, everything is okay.”

"I so tired..." you mumbled, "What..."

"You had a seizure,” Brendon said, “but you're okay now.”

"Where..." you wondered.

"We're in an ambulance baby," he told you.

You look at him with a look of betrayal. You didn't feel anger, just exhaustion and sadness. All you knew was that you didn't want to be there and that you felt like shit.

"I don't want," you shook your head and cried a tear.

"I know baby, I know," Brendon apologized as he stroked your cheek, "but you were really sick and your seizure was a little long, alright? I needed to make sure you were okay.”

Brendon glanced up to see Emma paying close attention. They had no idea if you’d recognize her or not.

“Y/n, do you remember Emma?” He asks you as he gestures to her.

Your eyes follow his point and you see a the girl sitting on your other side. She has blue hands--no, it’s gloves--and is in a uniform. At first you’re a little scared, but then she speaks to you.

“Hi Y/n,” she greets you quietly.

It’s that calming, feminine voice that reminds you and a smile brushes your cheek as things become clear.

“The grocery store,” you stated.

“Yes, from the grocery store,” Emma confirmed with a smile.

“Ambulance?” You asked, trying to remind yourself where you were, while simultaneously trying to figure out why Emma was there.

“Yep, we’re in an ambulance,” she said, “I know the last time we saw each other I worked at a grocery store, but now I’m a paramedic.”

You nodded, adjusting your memory accordingly.

“Tired,” You looked at her.

“That’s normal,” Emma reassured you, “I gave you some medication to stop your seizure. It’s supposed to make you sleepy, that’s okay.”

You remain calm for the rest of the ride and are promptly rolled into a room when you arrive at the hospital, where Emma says goodbye and hands your care over to the doctor and nurses. To be honest, it made you a little anxious to have her go. You trusted her. But the new medical team was nice, and they ask questions, to both you and to Brendon. They kept the situation light, but the length and condition of your seizure were alarming.

Once they had you stabilized with labs drawn and some new medication in, Brendon sat next to your bed. It was quiet, for an ER, the noise mostly just beeping from your own monitor and the blood pressure cuff self-inflating periodically.

“How are you feeling baby?” Brendon asked.

“I’m okay,” you replied with a small shrug, “Pretty shitty.” Your expression became a little more mischievous, “Pretty drugged though too, so...”

“Nice,” Brendon replied.

“You go have fun with your prescription weed,” you poked, “But I got that good-good.”

The seizure-drunk lives on.

He laughs and thinks you are the most adorably hilarious little human on the planet.

“Why don’t I find some Law and Order to put on and you can relax,” He offered, “Maybe get some sleep.”

You nodded and he got the remote from beside you, flipping through the channels. You get a bit more comfortable and reach a hand out to him. He places a light kiss before taking it.

“I love you,” You mumbled.

“I love you too,” He replied.

A/N: That’s all for now! What is wrong with the reader? Is she going to be okay? Stick around to find out. Everyone I heard from wanted this poor reader to suffer, so hopefully this fulfills your wishes. Like/reblog if you’re feelin’ it!

Ps. Sup Emma! I couldn’t resist writing her into this... and maybe the next chapter... ;)

Pss. It’s 100% true that every time I wake up from a seizure, I think the EMTs that are wearing gloves just literally have blue hands (or purple or whatever color the rubber gloves are). It’s kind of become a joke among my friends how I always think the EMTs are “the blue handed aliens” :)