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jobrookekarev · 4 years ago

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Little Turkey (Updated)

Summary: Jo and Alex celebrate Thanksgiving with everybody in Meredith’s backyard and Jo tries to induce labor.

Chapter: 1/1

Fandom: Grey's Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson Karev.

Characters: Alex Karev, Jo Wilson Karev, Meredith Grey, Maggie Pierce, Jackson Avery, Amelia Shepherd, Atticus Lincoln, Zola Grey Shepherd, Ellis Shepherd, Derek Bailey Shepherd, and Carina DeLuca.

Rating: General Audiences.

Additional Tags: thanksgiving, pregnancy, birth, babies, and tiny adorable turkey onesies.

AN: New edits because I forgot to add the reason why Jo didn't realize she was in labor and her water breaking because I was in a rush to get this posted!! You think that someone who studied to be a doula would get it right but nope. LOL. So hopefully this makes more sense and seems more realistic.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

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Jo pushed open the gate to Meredith’s backyard and was greeted with the sight of the socially distant Thanksgiving dinner in full swing. It might be the holidays, but there was a rise of COVID in the past few weeks and the governor had shut down the state. Despite how the group was constantly tested at work, none of them were willing to take any risks for an inside formal dinner. Which meant that tables were 6 feet apart, plates of food were already set out, and masks were required. Jo didn’t mind the outdoor activities, even with the November air as her pregnancy meant that she often ran hot.

Amelia and Link were at one table with her godson, the three kids and Meredith were painting at one table. Maggie and Winston were off to the side, and Jackson, April, and Harriett were at the third table. The last table was for her and Alex, Meredith had already set out plates for them that were already filled with turkey, stuffing, casseroles, and Amelia’s pie.

“Hey, Aunt Jo,” Zola said, being the first one to greet her and waved at her with her paintbrush still in her hand. She wore a white and purple butterfly mask that matched her butterfly coat.

Everyone else followed Zola’s hello with waves as Jo walked up to the only empty table. Link bounded over like a puppy and hugged her as tightly as he could with her full belly between them. The two of them had been together for most of the pandemic with her and Alex helping them with Scout and Link and Amelia returning the favor to help with Jo’s pregnancy.

“Where’s Uncle Alex?” Zola asked holding up her turkey painting to show Jo.

“That looks very cool Zola and he is on his way. He had a meeting so he's just running a little late,” Jo said as she put a hand on her belly and eased herself into the lawn chair and put her feet up on Alex's empty chair. “I see you all left me the good chair.”

“Yeah well the rest of us didn’t want to hear you complain about it for the entire night,” Amelia said, sending Jo a wink.

“I did not complain last time!” Jo insisted, looking over at Link who just looked at her wide eyed.

Jo knew that Link’s mouth was open under his mask as he was trying to find something to say to her before retreating back over to Amelia.

Ellis grabbed a plate of paint and dragged her cat chair to Jo. “Aunt Jo, can I paint your belly?”

“What?”

“She wants to paint your baby belly,” Meredith clarified for her, handing Bailey a plate of food. “She saw a picture of someone doing it online and now all she talks about is painting your belly.”

Jo looked back down at Ellis who looked up at her with the biggest puppy eyes and Jo knew that she was pouting under her mask. Jo smiled and nodded, how could she refuse Ellis’ request. Jo put her feet down and grabbed a pillow, putting it behind her back before she pulled up her shirt and tucking it under her breasts. Ellis giggled and grabbed her brush to paint a streak across Jo's belly. Jo shivered at the cold paint, but the feeling of Ellis’s brush was oddly soft and Jo found herself relaxing back as Ellis painted.

The party continued and the conversation flowed. It had been a while since everyone had gotten together outside the hospital, especially with the kids and it was nice to relax and enjoy the night.

“Oh that’s so cute,” Jo said as Link handed her a small canvas of one of her godson’s baby bumpkins. “I can’t wait to do that with this baby.”

Jo smiled as she stared over at Amelia and her godson. Back when she and Link were serving coffee, just trying to make it through college. They talked about how their kids would grow up together and be friends. They would be each other’s family. After Jo left, she didn’t think she’d ever see him again, but she was so glad he came to Grey-Sloan and gave her a second chance.

“Yeah, it does make a good keepsake for Christmas too,” Link said, smiling back over at Amelia and the baby as well.

“Nuh-uh,” Jo mumbled, shaking her head as she took a bit of the nacho that she had dumped hot sauce on. “I’m having this baby tonight.”

Immediately all eyes were on her.

“You're in labor!” Meredith shouted standing up and pulling out her phone, no doubt to call Alex.

“You're in labor!” Maggie freaked out as she dropped Zola’s painting.

“The baby’s coming today!” Zola cheered her eyes sparkling as she raced over to them.

“The baby’s coming!” Ellis shrieked, putting both of her hands on Jo’s belly that was still wet with paint.

“Oh my god, Jo why didn’t you say anything?” Link said, dropping down to his knees and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“No, I’m not in Labor,” Jo shouted above the noise.

“Josephine Brooke Karev are you still trying to induce labor a week before your due date?”

“Uncle Alex!” All the kids screamed, so excited to see him, they all talked over each other as they showed him their paintings.

“For heaven's sake Jo,” Link said, his eyes wide as he sat down on the grass leaning on the arm of her chair. “Between you and Amelia, the stress is gonna kill me.”

“Why would you want to have your baby today?” Meredith asked, moving her chair over to sit next across from Jo.

“Well, our anniversary is Halloween. I just thought I’d keep with the theme, that way we'd always remember and it’d be extra special,” Jo said, with a shrug as she felt the baby kick inside her as if they were agreeing.

“Regardless of the date it will be special, trust me. You're never going to forget your baby's birthday because it's also your labor day,” Meredith said her eyes sparkling and Jo knew that she was smirking over at her.

“I know, but I just thought I'd be fun,” Jo said, putting a hand on her baby belly where Ellis hadn’t painted, feeling them kick again as she turned to see Alex talking to the kids.

He was nodding along to everything they were telling him and acting like Bailey's messy painted turkey was the greatest piece of artwork he's ever seen. She loved seeing Alex with all the kids so much that she didn’t mind being second best to her husband. He was so good to them, always listening to them talk and going along with whatever they wanted. She couldn't wait to see him with their kid and she knew that they already had them wrapped around their finger.

“I painted Aunt Jo’s belly!” Ellis said putting her paint covered hands on Alex’s shirt.

“And now we match,” Alex said looking down at his nice button up shirt to see two small handprints.

Jo laughed as Alex looked down at the sight of his ruined shirt. Meredith got up and took Ellis inside to wash her hands and Alex sat down next to her. He pulled down his mask to greet her with a kiss and settled in. Jo grabbed another bite of her pineapple spicy nachos and Alex took a piece from her plate.

“Hey,” Jo said, pulling the plate away from him.

“Sorry,” Alex laughed before feeding her the chip.

Jo thought that he would have long since learned not to get between a pregnant woman and her food, but apparently not.

Alex’s eyes turned serious as he looked over at her. “How are you feeling?”

“My heartburn is better than it was this morning, my braxton hicks haven't been as intense as they were yesterday, and I did a hepatectomy on a guy who almost burnt down his house trying to cook a turkey with Jackson,” Jo said in between bites of her nachos.

“Yeah I’m surprised I got here before you,” Jackson said as he held Harriett and offered her a bite of green beans. “You finished the resection before I was done debriding his wounds.”

“I scrubbed in on a surgical extraction with Dr. Bailey right after,” Jo said with a laugh, remembering the case. “Some guy shoved a corn husk up you know where.”

“A corn husk?” Meredith asked in disbelief. “I can’t believe I missed that!”

“You can scrub in with me next year after COVID is cured and you can come back to work.”

“I’ll hold you to it, Karev.”

“It sounds like you had a good day,” Alex said, leaving in to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

“I did.”

Jo could see Alex smile under his mask as his eyes wrinkled and sparkled. Jo leaned in and pressed a masked kiss to his cheek. Alex chuckled, squeezed her shoulder as she leaned in and put her head on his shoulder.

They watched the kids paint and ate too much of April's pumpkin pie and stayed long after the kids fell asleep as the alcohol came out for the adults. It was the first time they had all congregated outside of the hospital and no one was eager to leave. Her sober buddy, Amelia, came to sit next closer to her, and Jo cooed at her godson, gushing over his cute little baby cheeks even after he fell asleep.

The cold night air set in and soon they were all bundling up in blankets, but no one wanted to head home first. Jo put the baby down inside and curled up against Alex as her braxton hicks started up again. She didn't mean to fall asleep but the next thing she knew Alex was shifting against her and pulling her onto her feet and putting one arm around her as he half carried her to the car, Jo mumbled goodbye to everyone.

Jo fell asleep in the car and she didn't remember getting into bed, but the next thing she knew it’s 4 a.m. and she's waking up with a braxton hick. She rolled over in bed realizing that Alex changed her into pajamas. Jo’s not sure if it's because she was exhausted or what but, as soon as it passed she rolled over and fell asleep again.

Somewhere around sunrise, just as the sun was shining into the windows, Jo got up with another braxton hick. She knew that moving helped and she had to pee anyway, but Jo only made it to the table behind the couch before she felt a trickle of water run down her leg. At first, she thought she had an accident, but the trickle of water just kept coming as Jo tried to clean herself up. Then she realized it was amniotic fluid. Her water broke.

Jo turned around to wake up Alex, but before she could she doubled over in pain as her next contraction started. She knew that her contractions would increase in pain after her water broke that this was on a whole different level.

Jo leaned against the table she tried to call out to Alex but she can’t speak. She was frozen in place until it passed. She knew that these weren't braxton hick, these were contractions, she was in labor. When she felt like she could move again Jo looked back at Alex, but she couldn't manage to call out to him. Instead, Jo got out her phone and pulled up her contacts, she blindly pressed Alex’s name and waited to hear his phone ring. Instead, she heard someone else answer her call.

“Hey Jo, what’s up”

Meredith’s voice was music to her ears. Jo opened her eyes and shook her head as she looked down at the phone. Jo was so relieved to see her friend. Although she had originally planned to just call Alex, it seemed she had set up a video call with Meredith. Because of the restriction, Jo couldn't have anyone other than Alex with her when she gave birth. Despite her initial plan to have Meredith with her, they had agreed to have Meredith be there over video call to support her through it. In the midst of a contraction she could barely speak, but Meredith seemed to know exactly what was going on.

“Are you in labor?”

Jo nodded, closing her eyes and swaying her hips, she wasn't sure why but somehow it seemed to help.

“How long have you been having contractions?”

“I don't know,” Jo said, blowing out a breath as the contraction passed. “A few hours maybe.”

“What do you mean maybe?” Meredith asked, glaring at her. “When did the pain start?”

“Before I went to bed last night I think.”

“So you've been in labor for six hours, Jo how did you ignore this?” Meredith said as she rubbed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose

“I have a high pain tolerance, and I'm used to sleeping through the pain and I was really tired,” Jo said, the memories of when she used to fall asleep after Paul beat her were not once she liked to remember, but as a result, Jo often ignored her pain out of habit.

“Well, where's Alex? He should have been keeping an eye on you.”

“Alex he's …” Jo shook her head, and trailed off as she had another contraction.

“Do you need me to get Alex?”

Jo nodded, the contraction had passed but she was so exhausted and let Meredith help her.

“Okay, hang on Jo I'm going to call him from a second phone,” Meredith reassured her as Jo heard her stuff laying around on the other end of the phone. “Amelia gimme your phone Jo’s in labor.”

Jo chuckled as Meredith continued to harass Amelia for her phone. Ever since Meredith had recovered from COVID she had been working from home and harassing them all via phone call. Especially her as Jo continue their work on the mini-livers from their lab at the hospital.

“Okay, I'm calling him now.”

Jo looked back at Alex who was still sleeping peacefully in their bed. The blanket was pulled back on her side and his arm was laying over her pillow leaving the impression of an empty space where she had been. Alex had that evening morning scruff that she loved and his lips were parted as he snored. He was completely oblivious to how his world was going to change in a few hours.

Alex’s phone rang, the sound bouncing around the apartment. He rolled over and reached for his nightstand, cursing as he looked for his phone. Another contraction distracted her from calling out to him, but she heard him silence his phone and roll over again.

“Jo, Meredith is calling you.”

“No, I'm calling you,” Meredith yelled at him through Jo's phone. “Your wife is in labor Karev, get the hell up.”

Jo looked over to see Alex sit up and stared at her. He blinked once and then twice before he scrambled to get up, getting tangled in the blankets and tripping several times before he made it over to her.

“You're in labor?”

“Yes,” Jo and Meredith yelled at the same time.

“We’re having a baby!”

“Yes, we're having a baby!”

“Okay well let’s go,” Alex said and Jo could see it on his face as he went from paranoid dad to helpful husband. “Let’s have a baby.”

“Let’s have a baby.” Jo smiled as Alex kissed her before another contraction hit and she closed her eyes in pain. They were for sure having a baby today. Happy Thanksgiving to her.

“How far apart are the contractions?”

“Every four minutes,” Meredith answered for her.

“Has your water broken?”

“Not that I can tell.”

“Jo?” Alex asked looked down to check, but Jo shook her head.

“Okay, let's check how dilated you are, but regardless we're going to head to the hospital. I'll call Carina and tell her to have a room waiting for us.” Alex said as he put his arms around her waist and Jo heavily leaned in on him.

Alex helped her over to the bed and Jo laid down, sinking into the mattress. Another contraction hit and Jo closed her eyes taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out.

“That’s it Jo, deep breaths, you're doing so good,” Alex praised her as he held her hand, and mirrored her breaths.

Jo felt the tears collect in her eyes and Alex spoke, she was so thankful that he was there cheering her on. He had been so supportive through her pregnancy. He braided her hair and rubbed her back when she puked. He tied her shoes and helped her reach for things. He rubbed her back and her feet when they ached, and he talked to their baby when they kicked her ribs. When the contraction passed and Jo opened her eyes to see Alex smiling down at her. She sighed and relaxed as he leaned forward and kissed her.

“He is right, you're doing everything like you're supposed to, you're doing great Jo,” Meredith said, from where Jo had left her phone propped up on the table.

Jo returned their smiles and squeezed Alex’s hand. “I’m having a baby.”

“You are, and you're handling it like a champ,” Alex said, moving back and putting a hand on her knees, Jo saw his face shift from proud and supportive husband to concerned doctor. “Your contractions are pretty close together. Can I check and see how dilated you are now.”

Jo nodded and lifted up her hips as he pulled off her pajama pants. Jo put her feet up by her hips and let her knees fall apart. Alex waited for her to nod before he checked her cervix, despite how many times they had sex, he always waited for her consent. Alex quickly checked her and then smiled looking down at her.

“Jo, have you felt the need to push?”

“No, why?” she asked, confused as she pushed herself up on her elbows. He had pulled back his hand, but didn't give her back her pants.

“You’re about 9 cm dilated, but we should get to the hospital before you have this baby in the car,” Alex said as he patted her knee and got up. “I’m gonna grab your bag and stuff and put it in the car then come back for you.”

“Oh my god!” Jo shouted as she sat up and watched Alex run around their apartment.

“Hey it’s okay Jo, just take a deep breath,” Meredith said, Leaning into the phone so Jo could see her whole face.

Jo nodded and took a deep breath, knowing that panicking wouldn't get her anywhere, and put a hand on her belly. She couldn't feel her baby kick, only the contractions that seemed endlessly painful. After a few deep breaths, she held herself calm back down and had to open her eyes and look back at Meredith who greeted her with a nod.

“Wait Alex, give me Meredith,” Jo shouted as she heard him open the door.

Alex stopped everything and grabbed the phone before handing it to her and running off again. Jo just smiled as she watched him go, running around like a mad dad, panicked as she labor. After everything they had been through, he was still so excited and nervous for their baby.

Another contraction hit and Jo closed her eyes, tuning out everything as Meredith talked her through it and Alex ran around with the bags. Finally, he came back and helped her down the stairs, and into the car.

Jo barely remembered the car ride to the hospital. In between her contraction, Meredith and Alex talked to her and tried to distract her. She was so exhausted and could barely think as Alex and Meredith prompted her to move and breathe when they got to the hospital. It sort of worked, but it was all just a blur as they got her up to a room.

“Hello Jo,” Carina said that she came into the room rubbing fresh hand sanitizer over her hands before she reached for a pair of gloves. “I wasn't expecting to see you so soon.”

“I need to push,” Jo shouted, already bearing down, this baby was coming now, regardless of whether anyone was ready for them or not.

“Now!” Alex shouted in disbelief. “Shit we should have been here hours ago.”

“She said now!” Meredith insisted, yelling through the phone.

“You don’t have to do that you know,” Alex said, as he crawled in behind her, rather than push on her back they had her upright and Jo sat on the end of the bed while Alex held her up and squeezed both of her hands.

“Jo wants me to advocate for her, this is me advocating.”

“Okay Jo push on the next contraction,” Carina said, shutting them both up as she got ready to catch the baby in between Jo’s legs.

Jo closed her eyes and tried to breathe as another contraction hit and she pushed with every bit of energy she had left. It felt like an endless circle of pain and pushing, then a break, and then more pain and pushing. She was so exhausted and she couldn't imagine doing this for an endless amount of hours.

“You're doing great Jo, just a little bit longer and they're gonna be here,” Alex whispered in her ear.

“He’s right Jo. Everything is perfect and your little bambino is going to be here very soon,” Carina said giving her a short nod.

Jo pushed for what seemed like hours and then Carina was announcing she could see the head. Jo knew that she had to keep going and pushed again and suddenly her baby was out and Carina held them up for them to see.

The second their baby cried, Jo's heart stopped as Carina held up this tiny little red baby screened in their ears. Jo pulled down her gown so they could do some skin to skin and Carina quickly placed them on Jo’s chest. Jo's arm instantly moved to cradle them and she leaned back against Alex as the tears filled her eyes. She and her baby's cries filled the room.

“She's so beautiful,” Alex sobbed on her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around them both.

“It's a girl,” Jo said in astonishment, she looked down to where the baby laid in her arms and their daughter looked up at them with big eyes as her cries quieted.

“Alex do you want to cut the cord?”

Alex nodded and moved to cut the cord, taking the surgical scissors from the nurse. Meredith took a few pictures and Jo was glad she had asked her to beforehand because all she could focus on was the beautiful little girl in her arms.

Jo looked down at her beautiful, perfect daughter and moved to stroke her cheek. She hardly noticed the nurses cleaning her and taking their daughter’s Apgar scores. All she could think about was a perfect little baby in her arms. For her, falling in love was a gradual process, but Jo loved their baby from the moment she found out she was pregnant and she was so overwhelmed with love for her baby as she stared down at them.

Jo looked over at Alex as he moved out from behind her to stand next to her. As all the nurses attended to her and the baby. He looked so nervous as he stared down at her shifting his weight on his feet and stuffing his hands into his pockets. It was so unusual to see him so concerned and nervous.

Jo looked down at their daughter, she’d had her for nine months and although it felt like she had only been holding her for a few minutes, Jo was sure that she was ready to watch Alex hold their baby for the first time.

“Do you want to hold her?” Jo whispered, already moving the blanket that had been placed over both of them to loosely swaddle her and transferred their daughter into her chest.

Alex just nodded and took off his shirt so they could do skin to skin, then held out his arms for their daughter. Once she placed her in his arms, Alex slowly sank down in the chair next to her bed. He held her close to his chest before he seemed to remember how to hold a baby and cradled her in his arms as he relaxed back into the chair. She watched as Alex just gazed down at her with an expression of pure love.

Jo could tell by the way that his eyes sparkled that he was smiling down at their daughter under his mask. Tears collected his eyes and a few escaped the corner of his eyes as he whispered to her. The baby opened her eyes and squirmed, crying out for a moment before Alex soothes her as he began to rock in the chair. The baby flailed her arms out and Alex reached out to hold one of her hands as her tiny hand wrapped around his big finger.

Jo finished pushing out the placenta and laid back onto the bed before Alex put their daughter back on her chest and put the blanket over both of them. Jo just stared down at her in amazement. She was so perfect, from her tiny little forehead to the thick tufts of dark hair. She stretched out her legs, kicking Jo before she curled back up into a tiny little ball and closed her eyes.

“She’s perfect,” Jo said to Alex, not taking her eyes off her daughter. “Even if her big head caused me a second degree tear.”

“Sorry about,” Alex said, sliding in to sit next to her.

“Well you and her big Karev heads are perfect and I can’t feel anything down there anyway,” Jo’s legs felt like mush and she couldn't tell how many stitches Carina was doing.

Alex wrapped an arm around her shoulders leaning in to kiss her cheek. Jo turned and tilted her head to give him a proper kiss.

“You did so good Jo, I'm so proud of you and she is absolutely beautiful,” Meredith said with a smile as they all look down at the baby. “I’m gonna let you two enjoy your baby and I’ll send you the pictures I took in a few minutes.”

“Thank you,” Jo said as she looked over at Meredith who smiled.

“It was my pleasure,” Meredith said, tilting her head as she looked down at the baby. “Besides if it wasn’t for me you would still be laboring in the loft and Alex would be fast asleep.”

“Har har,” Alex said as Jo laughed.

“But you Jo Karev,” Meredith said turning a pointed finger at her. “You have to keep remembering to watch your braxton hicks and not sleep through your labor until your nine centimeters dilated!”

“Meredith is right Jo, your labor progressed very quickly without you realizing it,” Carina said, as she set Jo with a look. “Next time, I want to see you in here as soon as your braxton hicks are consistent for more than an hour. I'd rather send you away with false labor then put you or your baby at risk.

“Yeah, we can’t have the next one on the couch in our living room,” Alex added, kissing her forehead.

“I know I said I wanted two kids, but let's not talk about a second one until my vagina starts hurting from having the first one,” Jo said as she glared at him as Alex turned to look down at their baby girl.

“She needs a name,” Alex said, changing the subject as he trailed a finger across her little hand as she wiggled her fingers.

“Meredith does make a really good name,” Meredith sang, raising her eyebrows and giving them a look.

“We'll take it into consideration,” Jo said looking back at Alex. They had a list of names they were still arguing over, some of the names were new, but others were after friends and family.

Meredith ended the call and most of the nurses left, it was just them and Carina, who was finishing the last of Jo’s stitches. The baby fussed, turning her head and opening her mouth, signaling that she was hungry. Jo moved her down and Carina helped her and the baby get a good latch on her breast. Soon their baby was making happy little eating noises as her parents smiled down at her.

“She does need a name,” Alex whispered to her, setting his head on her shoulder and he looked down at their daughter as she nursed.

“You know which one I like.”

“I know,” Alex sighed, looking away from her.

“You should call her,” Jo said, turning to look at him as he gazed off into space. “Call her and then decide, and if you still don't want the name. we can choose a different one.”

“Okay.” Alex nodded and kissed her shoulder as they turned their attention back to their baby girl.

After their daughter finished eating and Carina finished her stitches, Alex ran to grab her some food from the cafeteria. Jo chatted with Meredith again for a few minutes about the pictures before Alex came back and they ate. He put on a movie some kind of Christmas movie that Jo wasn't really interested in so she closed her eyes. She must have fallen asleep and slept for a few hours only to be woken up by Carina and the nurses checking on her.

It’s still later in the early afternoon but the closed blinds and curtains made it seem like night and it was easy for her to close her eyes. She stared at the baby in Alex's arms before she fell asleep again and when Jo woke up and the baby was in the bassinet next to her bed. She reached out an arm to lay a hand on her chest feeling the baby breathing under her hand and fell back asleep.

When Jo woke up again she heard Alex talking faintly on the phone again. The baby was not under her hand and for a moment Jo panicked, she looked around the room and she saw Alex holding the baby in a football hold, as he rocked back and forth with his back to her. Jo relaxed and closed her eyes as she listened to the baby gurgle and coo as Alex talked on the phone.

“Yeah, thanks Mom, we can’t wait for you to see her,” Alex said as he walked back over and sat down next to her. Jo blinked and caught his eyes and he smiled at her. “Hang on Jo’s awake, let me give her the baby.”

Alex set the phone down and unswaddle the baby before setting her on Jo’s chest. The baby settled on Jo as she put a hand on her back tracing her spine and noting her clean skin. While she was asleep, Alex and the nurses must have bathed her and they put her in a plain hospital hat and onesie and Jo safely tucked those away for safekeeping. Jo reached over to the bag on the chair next to her and pulled out the little turkey onesie along with a dark orange hat to match.

Jo sat the bed up and put the baby on her lap as she changed her clothes, the baby slept through the whole thing and Jo pulled her close to whisper to her daughter. She tried out the names they had on their list, including Meredith, and just as she expected, the name Jo wanted for her fit.

Jo looked up at Alex as he finished the call with his mom and smiled at him as he put down his phone and came to sit down next to her. “She needs a name. We can't just call her baby forever.”

“I know,” Alex said, looking down at the baby as Jo shook her head.

“Let's try them all out and see which one fits,” Jo said, she knew that Alex was still hesitant, but that he would know that the moment he heard it and connected the name to the sight of their daughter.

“Okay, hello Stephanie,” Alex said looking down at their daughter before he shook his head. Jo chuckled, she knew Stephanie would be disappointed, like Meredith they had considered the name as they wanted her to be named after someone they loved, but it just didn't fit. “Okay, you do the next one.”

“Alright, hello Meredith or Edith for short,” Jo said to her, it was the name Alex wanted and Jo liked it too. Meredith meant so much to them and they had agreed to have it as her middle name regardless, but it wasn’t her first name.

“You're right, it doesn't fit,” Alex said as he sighed and leaned back into the chair.

“No,” Jo said looking down at the baby in her arms. She took Alex's hand and pulled it over to hold their daughter's hands that had wiggled out from the swaddle. “Her name is Helena, after your mom and Mrs. Schmidt.”

Alex smiled as he looked down at their daughter and rubbed the back of her hand. “Yeah, she's Helena.”

“Helena,” Jo said as their daughters fluttered open and she stared up at them.

Alex's phone lit up with a video call from Meredith. He looked over at Jo, they had agreed to the video call beforehand, and although Jo hadn't had any time to shower or even wash her face she knew none of them would care and nodded as he answered the call. They were greeted with the sight of their family. Meredith, Amelia, Lincoln, Maggie, Winston, Jackson, April, Ben, Bailey, Richard, all the kids, and even Levi and Helm joined the call. Everybody cooed and gushed over the baby and the kids talked about how excited they were.

“Have you two decided on a name yet?” Meredith asked as everybody went silent waiting for them to respond.

“Guys say hello to Helena Meredith Karev.”

#alex karev #meredith grey #jolex #grey's anatomy #otp: home and heart #grey's anatomy fanfic #My Fanfiction #My Writing #My Work #jo wilson

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nothingbutfangirlsmut · 5 years ago

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The Trials of Emi

Pairing: A little Minho. A sprinkle of Frypan. Gally x Emi(OC)

Summary: Emi, her twin brother Thomas, and a small group of gladers had been rescued and taken to a safe haven. Or so it seemed. It doesn't take long for Thomas to realize something is wrong. What happens next is a true trial for all of them but Emi's trials began the moment she was ripped away from a dying Gally. Watching someone you love die right before your eyes truly takes a toll.

Finally meeting the right arm could have been the end but betrayal leads to even more chaos and loss. A new mission to rescue those taken from them leads them to a city. The last city. After Emi finally comes to terms with everything that's happened something unfolds that changes everything again. She will have to not only deal with helping her brother take down WCKD and save their friend but also deal with all the new problems in her head and her heart.

Rating: As of right now it’s at most PG13. Some strong language that’s about it but it could change.

(This is the 2nd part/book to my other story "The Maze trials: A Gally Fanfiction". This will cover the events of the scorch trails and the death cure.)

Chapter Five

The bright sun of the glade felt good on my skin. I didn't realize how much I missed this feeling. I was standing alone in the middle of the glade just looking around. The door of the homestead opened revealing a smiling Gally. He ran over to me quickly. He picked me up in his arms squeezing me against him.

"I miss you," I whispered.

He let go of me and stepped back. His hands grabbed each side of my face. He smiled at me.

"It's okay to miss me but don't stop living Emi. I want you to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted. Whatever it takes." He spoke softly as his thumbs rubbed my cheeks.

"How am I suppose to be happy again?" I asked him.

He chuckled softly.

"You'll have to figure that out my dear. Remember I will always love you." He kissed my forehead.

He started to walk away back to the homestead. He stopped about halfway then turned back to me.

"And Emi, don't stop talking to them. Don't drown yourself like that. They need you and you need them." He waved then disappeared.

"Hey! Hey! Get outta here!" Thomas shouted waking up the group.

I woke up practically laying on top of Minho. One of his arms was draped around me. I was using his chest as a pillow. I looked up seeing him now awake too.

"Good morning" he said with a smile.

I scoffed and pushed myself away from him. Pain shot through me reminding me of my open wound. I looked down to check it seeing even more blood. Some of it had gotten onto Minho while we slept. I watched Thomas slowly stand up. He turned in a circle taking in our surroundings.

"Are they gone?" Newt asked.

"Yea, we're safe for now. We should get moving. Let's pack it up." Thomas said bending down to get his bag.

Minho tried getting my attention but I was already on my feet walking towards Newt. I can't believe he let that happen. He knows how mad I am at him.

"Aris, Fry, Winston come on get up," Thomas said.

Winston groaned in pain. He looked like he was panting. Fry bent down and gave his hand to the boy to help him up. We started climbing out of whatever we had found ourselves in. At the top of the broken building I saw the most incredible yet terrifying thing. An entire city that looked like it had been blown to pieces. It looked old like it was abandoned a very long time ago. We began our trek through the open path between all the mountain-sized buildings.

"What the hell happened to this place?" Fry asked after a while of walking.

"I don't know. It looks like no one has been here for a long time." Newt answered looking up at the buildings.

"I hope the whole world s'not like this," Aris added.

"Woah, hang on stop," Thomas ordered suddenly from the back of the group.

We all stopped immediately turning to look at him. He seemed to be concentrating or listening to something.

"You hear that?" He asked looking up to all of us.

We all stood motionless trying to hear what he was hearing. Just as I started to think he was going mad I heard it.

"Everybody get down! Hide! Hide!" Thomas shouted.

We all ran diving under a large piece of concrete. It was big enough for each of us to crouch under without being seen. The sound grew louder and louder until it was directly over us. As the three aircrafts passed there was no doubt in my mind that they were WCKD.

"Their never gonna stop looking for us are they?" Minho asked.

Once they were gone we climbed back out. Thomas led on to a large hill of rubble. He started climbing.

"Everyone good?" He asked once we were about halfway up.

I heard coughing behind me. I turned to see Winston not looking so good. He took a deep breath then continued on. I tried to stay close just to keep an eye on him. We climbed over another sand dune. At the top we could see for what looked like miles. In the far distance, I saw the mountains.

"Mountains, that's gotta be it. That's where we're going." Thomas said.

"That's a long way off," Newt stated simply.

Beside me Winston seemed to be having trouble again. He pulled his bag off himself while breathing heavily. Before I knew what happened he took one step then fell face-first into the sand.

"Winston!" Thomas and I shouted in unison.

All of us dropped to our knees around him. He looked bad. Pale and sweaty. It definitely looked like he could be running a fever. I grabbed the boy's face turning him over. His breathing was ragged and sharp. A few of the boys called his name trying to get him to open his eyes or say something.

"What do we do?" Teresa asked looking around at us.

Without a word I stood grabbing Fry to help me. We quickly gathered material and roped together a way to carry Winston with us. It was slightly harder for me to do this with the use of one hand. My other arm hadn't stopped burning since I had woken up. Once it was made and we laid Winston on it Fry and Minho took the first turn pulling him.

We kept walking. On and on threw the sand. Some of the old ruins were breathtaking. It seemed to get harder to carry Winston with each step we took. It got worse when the wind picked up choking and blinding us with sand. We found shelter to wait it out and take a breath.

At that shelter Thomas and Teresa stood on top of one of the dunes talking. I noticed Newt constantly glancing towards them. I wish I could say something to help him out. I could tell Thomas didn't look at Teresa the same way he did Newt. There was affection in his eyes every time he looked or spoke of Newt. When it came to Teresa he was more curious. She was the connection to his lost memories. He needed her to remember what he had forgotten.

A loud shot rang out making me jump and grab the closest person to me which, my luck, it was Minho. Winston had woke up and immediately grabbed the gun. He was now in seriously bad shape.

"I'm not gonna make it," Winston said quietly.

We all just looked at him. What could we say? We all knew how bad he looked. We all had the same thought he just spoke but he was apart of our family. We had to try to get him to safety.

"Please, don't let me turn into one of those things." He begged reaching for the gun Fry was holding.

Newt silently took the gun from Fry then gave it to Winston. I would have done the same if I wasn't frozen in shock.

"Thank you. Now, get out of here." Winston said softly.

We packed our things leaving Winston behind with the gun like he wanted. We made it to the other side of the sand dune when the shot rang out. I jumped letting my tears spill over down my cheeks. Another one of us gone. Another glader. We kept moving knowing we had to. There was nothing else we could do.

That night when we made shelter I sat between Minho and Teresa by the fire. My tears were still falling in a steady stream. Minho had been cutting up a piece of wood for a while but decided to put it down. He scooted a little closer to me. He silently wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into his chest. At this point I didn't care about him touching me or being close to me. I just wanted to cry. I needed my moment to mourn another friend.

The next day we moved on. Always moving. It seemed like the more we walked the farther the mountains got. Our water started running out but we kept going. We were too far to turn back now. We had no actual shelter when night came so we all made our peace with the hard ground and eventually fell asleep.

—

#nothingbutfangirlsmut #fanfiction #gally #gally imagine #gally smut #gally x reader #the maze runner #the maze trials #tmr gally #original character

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aisling-beatha · 5 years ago

Text

You were never gone [SFW]

A standalone story #2

Based on a request by @mindfreakswaggy :

So one of my favorite things to see is when Daryl reunited with carol and gets hella emotional😩 so can you do one where the reader and Daryl are close around season one, ending up having a crush on each other and gets split up when it’s overrun and the reader ends up reuniting with the group at Alexandria and they’re all back together??

A/N: I got carried away, sorry. What was supposed to be a short drabble, turned into a standalone story. Moreover, I took the events a little bit further than s1, hope you don’t mind! Also, let me know if any of you want to be tagged in my future works.

P.S. Any feedback is greatly appreciated!

The Walking Dead | Daryl Dixon X Reader

You met when Dixon brothers appeared at your quarry camp one day. Daryl’s quiet and observant nature caught your attention right away. He wasn’t like the other men in your group, not like Shane or Glenn, but neither was he the same with his brother. Merle Dixon was an asshole. While Daryl mostly looked like a wild animal locked in the cage.

He watched your people with squinted eyes, never letting anyone come closer or touch him. He didn’t talk to any of you but argued with his brother. You saw them bickering a few times, but even then he wasn’t the one starting the fight. He followed his brother anywhere and everywhere he’d go, never saying anything, while Merle did whatever he wanted, mocking Daryl, calling him names, not giving a shit about his brother. And you didn’t get it.

Though Shane let the brothers stay, everyone kept their distance from them. Merle was rough and even violent but Daryl constantly provided for the group, going hunting, so nobody could find the courage to make them leave. Daryl was strong, smart. He was a survivor. And every time you watched him, you couldn’t help but think that he was practically built for this world. His hunting and tracking skills made him fast and silent, and his ability to shoot a crossbow made him one of few who could protect themselves in the world like that.

You never really spoke to Daryl, only making sure both his brother and he had food and a spot to sleep on, which always resulted in Merle constantly teasing and catcalling you. Daryl, though, never said a single word. But once that new guy, Rick Grimes, joined your group and Merle went missing, you felt the urge to somehow support him, to tell him, it was gonna be okay. Everybody had lost something or someone. Now, you had to stick together to survive, and that meant being there for each other when one needed it. With Merle sticking around it was simply impossible. But once he was gone, you felt like it was the right time. What you didn’t expect was Daryl snapping and shouting at you, basically telling you to back off.

Even without his brother Daryl wasn’t friendly, he wasn’t open about his feelings and that made him a damn mystery you couldn’t help but wanted to solve. Though, while you tried your best to know him, Daryl seemed to hate you.

When everything started to go south, your relationship seemed to change though. Your camp was overrun. Amy died. Jim was bitten. And Carol had to kill her husband. You lost control over the situation. That’s when the realization of how scary the world had become dwelled on you.

You were sitting on the ground, Sophia sleeping on your lap. The poor girl had been crying for hours before she finally dozed off in your arms from exhaustion. Carol needed time to calm down too, so you decided to look after the kid on your own, though your mind was a mess too. You still couldn’t believe that they died. You knew Amy and her sister right from the start of your group, Ed too, though you never liked him. And now they were gone. Jim was going to die too, as he was getting worse in a matter of hours. You couldn’t help a shudder running down your spine. How you were even supposed to survive? You barely made it out alive that night and there were more nights like that coming.

You were lost in your thoughts, watching Glenn and Rick drawing geeks’ bodies to the pile. Somebody insisted on burning them. A gruff voice coming from behind made you jump.

“Ya a’right?”

You didn’t believe your eyes, as you blankly stared at Daryl. He was standing a few steps away from you, watching you with narrowed eyes, though he didn’t seem hostile or mad.

You shrugged, looking at Sophia. She lightly stirred in her sleep but didn’t wake up. You were afraid she wasn’t gonna pull through after what happened.

“What are we going to do?” you blurted before you could stop yourself.

“Rick wants to keep going. Head to Atlanta”

You frowned, “What for?”

“CDC” he muttered, looking closely at you.

Center for Disease Control, right. That could be your second chance.

You hadn’t thought of it before, but now with Daryl mentioning that to you, you felt hope rising in your heart. Maybe you could make it out alive, maybe there still were doctors, maybe the cure existed. In that case, Jim could still be saved. The thought of it made you smile and pull Sophia closer to you. You wanted to ask Daryl whether he was alright too but it was too late, you saw him already walking away.

His sudden behavior surprised you. He never talked to you, let alone checking on you. But something in his voice made you think he actually cared. But more than that, it made you think that maybe all of your attempts weren’t a waste.

***

Jim died. He killed himself with a gun that Rick had given him, before you could get to CDC. You didn’t think it could be any worse.

Sophia was clutching into you, shaking and crying when you were staying in front of the metal doors, walkers surrounding you. Shane and Daryl were shooting dead ones one after another while Rick was trying to reach out to anyone alive behind those doors. And you couldn’t stop tears of relief streaming down your face when you finally made it in. That’s when you caught Daryl looking at you. He did that on the stops during your ride too, watching you closely, much rarely asking if you were doing okay. It wasn’t much but you were grateful for those tiny pieces of conversation you had. You finally felt like Daryl was one of you, despite Shane trying to prove the exact opposite. And Daryl seemed to get that as well.

No matter how hard he tried or wanted to, he couldn’t explain it to himself why it bothered him so much. Merle was gone and he had every right to leave your group behind, to be on his own as he had always been. But he didn’t leave. Instead, he started watching you. You were one of few, if not the only, who still tried to know him. Ever since Dixons joined the group, everyone seemed to be afraid of them, never talking, always avoiding them. And Daryl was a-okay with that. But then you started talking to him. You were bringing dinner, always making sure both he and Merle had enough to be able to go hunting the next morning, you’d make sure both of them would come back to the camp uninjured.

You had always been kind. You cared. And Daryl didn’t understand why. No one ever cared for him, and even his elder brother, if he cared, did it in a special, sometimes cruel manner. So when, after Merle's disappearance, you tried to talk to him, Daryl didn’t know where to go. He was afraid. And your behavior made him want to go into the woods and never come back. Daryl honestly wanted to. But then for some reason, he’d remember your sad eyes, looking after him, and again he’d go back.

Merle saw the changes in his brother and didn’t miss the opportunity to poke or make fun of him. But when Merle no longer hung around, Daryl suddenly felt completely vulnerable in a vast expanse. That night when your camp was overrun, Daryl found himself unconsciously looking for you in the crowd of people and the dead. Hoping you were safe.

He was drawn to you like a magnet, and he couldn’t stop. Every time he saw you caring for Sofia, or helping other women in the group when you laughed and smiled, his heart would skip a beat. Daryl still couldn’t solve one simple riddle. He still couldn’t understand why you weren’t afraid of him. Why didn't you hate him?

***

As they say, nothing lasts forever and the CDC was left behind.

When Dr. Jenner revealed all the cards, when the truth came out, it seemed to you that the earth had gone from under your feet. Everything you aspired to turned out to be a lie. There was no magic cure for the virus. No one and nothing could save those who were infected.

For a second, when the CDC building started the process of self-destruction, you wanted to stay. Like Jackie did. Everything seemed meaningless.

And exactly when only seconds were left before the explosion, Daryl was there. He tugged at your hand, dragging you behind him. The blast wave subsequently threw both of you through a broken window. Daryl, not knowing why himself, saved your life.

It was strange and impossible, but you and Daryl got closer after that, while you were on the road. Daryl looked after you every time you made the next stop. And you kept wondering why he had saved you. You still barely spoke, but even the silence between you now felt differently. You trusted him. And Daryl seemed calmer when he was around you.

Then Sofia disappeared. A common tragedy made you join others to find her. And no matter how Daryl was indignant, you still followed him into the forest, feeling incredibly guilty. You hadn’t watched her. You didn’t save the girl. And Daryl seemed to read you like an open book.

‘’s not your fault” he once said when your group was left far behind and the two of you went forward.

Then Carl was shot. You found Greene farm. Renewed your searches for Sofia. Daryl almost died in the forest when he fell on his own bolt. The barn full of the dead. Sofia….

You didn’t think it could be worse. Carol hadn’t been leaving the house for days. And you still couldn’t fall asleep. You were coming to Daryl at night. There, where he put his camp away from everyone. But even then you couldn’t fall asleep. Daryl's gaze, full of malice and guilt, was imprinted in your memory, making your heart hurt mercilessly.

And again you were forced to flee. The farm has fallen. Patricia was torn apart right in front of you. Andrea never made it back. You barely made it out alive.

On the road, things got worse. The nights got colder, there were more and more of walkers stumbling their way to you.

On especially chilly nights, when you couldn’t stop the trembling in your body, you were coming to him again, lying down closely next to him. And Daryl allowed. He no longer flinched at your touch, didn’t scowl, didn’t sneer. He just looked like a beaten dog who didn’t understand how could anyone love him.

You realized that you were falling for him by the time you occupied the prison. You were almost physically hurt by the fact that Daryl didn’t see, didn’t understand why he was loved. He would run off to the forest in the morning, spending most of his time hunting. The only people he allowed closer were Rick, Carol, and you. He scowled at the others with an unkind grin, as if expecting the worst.

He was different with you. He was soft and vulnerable. For all the time that you were together, Daryl had never let anyone get so close to his soul. You made him open up. You made him feel something that he couldn't explain at all. He was afraid of these feelings to the point of weakness in his knees. Like a wild beast afraid of fire. But he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t want to.

He was coming into your cell at night, sitting down, and sometimes lying on the floor, listening to your stories about life from before.

And on especially cold nights, when you were left alone at the guard tower, he would come to keep you company. He always came, no matter how much he got tired after hunting or a recent supple run.

Daryl often gave you his poncho. And each time he saw you wearing it, his heart did strange things in his chest. Something that heart shouldn’t do. He let you fall asleep on his shoulder; because very soon Daryl realized that there was nothing more beautiful than your sleepy and slightly gloomy face when you wake up. Well, perhaps only your calm face, when you’d accidentally fall asleep on his chest, curled next to his side.

And most of all, Daryl was afraid that sooner or later you would leave. Come to your senses. Remember who he was. And you would never talk to him again. Daryl figured he wouldn’t have pulled through if that ever happened.

***

Virus. Cold. War with the Governor. Hershel. Merle. Fucking freak Merle...

The prison fell before you could even enjoy having the roof over your head. Daryl saw you in one instant, in another - you were gone. He ran after Beth, looking around, again and again, screaming your name. But the answer was nothing. He returned there a few days later, only to find your handkerchief, which you so loved to tie on your wrist, and to understand that you were gone. Right from that moment, Daryl knew he was a goner.

***

You didn’t know how much time you had been wandering from one place to another. A few weeks? A month? A whole year? It felt like infinity and you were completely alone.

The pistol you had found ran out of bullets a long time ago and was useless. You were beyond exhausted, starving, weak. After the prison, you managed to join a group of survivors but they didn’t last long. You were surprised they even made it that far. Since then, you were alone. Going from one town to another, hoping it wouldn’t be overrun and plunderers hadn’t got their hands on it yet.

One day would slowly turn into another, as it was the same scenario. As time passed, you learned that it was no longer safe to stay the night on the ground in your state. Now you’d climb a tree, your hands bleeding and in bruises, prop yourself against its trunk, tying the rope you had found around your middle to keep you in place. That was the closest to safety you could provide to yourself. You were too weak to fight off a group of five, let alone larger herds. You couldn’t run either. So instead of risking, you’d stay in that position for hours, letting yourself fall back in and out of conciseness.

Your situation came to the worst when you ran out of all canned goods and water you’d managed to scavenge. And right when you felt the panic overwhelming you, you saw it. The gates.

“Alexandria Safe Zone. Mercy for the lost. Vengeance for the plunderers”

You stumbled to the doors, feeling your heart beating somewhere in your throat. If that wasn’t your chance, then you could already consider yourself dead. You wouldn’t last any longer. You saw a slight movement on one of the guard posts. It was so invisible, blink-and-you-miss-it kind of shit. But you saw it and cried without thinking twice, calling for whoever was there.

“Who’s that?” you heard man’s voice from inside, and you almost died right here and then. It had been too long since you heard anyone’s else voice.

“Please!” you begged your voice hoarse, scratching down your throat. “Please, help me!”

Silence followed. You tried again. And then again. But nothing happened. Whoever was behind those walls seemed to disappear.

Hot tears streamed down your cheeks as you fell on your knees, hitting the ground with your fists, screaming from pain and desolation. It could not be happening. After everything you had been through, you could go crazy, sure, but it couldn’t happen that way. You poisoned mind simply couldn’t give you hope only to take it away and destroy you to the bones.

Groaning and shuffling from behind made you turn around. Walkers were getting closer. Lots of them, they probably came to the sound of your cries. You whipped away your tears, glancing once again to the gates, getting up. Anger mixed with resentment and pain boiled your blood, as you pulled out your knife. Tears were still falling when you tried to get yourself together. You were barely holding on.

One of them got too close but fell on the ground before it could bite you, a katana stuck in his skull. You lifted your gaze from it just in time to see a woman practically screaming to your face, “Go. Now!”

You ran, grabbing your backpack, stumbling and almost tripping over. Once gone through the gates, you fell, your body giving in. You didn’t see people gathering around you, as you closed your eyes and the only thing you could do was whispering “thank you” over and over again.

“She can’t even stand!” somebody said.

Your hearing wasn’t good either; you thought you went deaf as suddenly all the noises became muffled by the sound of blood in your ears.

“Come on now. What’s your name?”

“Y/N… Name’s Y/N” you managed to say, finally opening your eyes. The same woman that saved your ass a few moments ago was now sitting in front of you. She watched you with squinted eyes, but then nodded, helping you to get up.

“Alright, Y/N, I’m gonna get you to the infirmary. You need medical attention”

You whispered another “thank you”, not trusting your voice anymore. You wanted to ask the woman for her name, but another voice didn’t let you do that.

“Michonne, are you alright? What’s going on here?”

Even with a sharp pain throbbing in your head, you managed to make out the words. You focused your misty eyes on the man approaching you. His voice all of the sudden was oddly familiar, and your eyes widened in pure shock as you stared at him once he was close enough.

“Rick?” you managed to say, your voice breaking.

Rick Grimes, who was standing in front of you, tilted his head, startled. He was taking in your features and you could tell the exact moment his expression turned from confusion to realization.

“Y/N?”

The next thing you knew, Rick was squeezing you in his embrace, pulling away to look into your eyes.

“Goddamn, how’s that even possible?” he muttered under his breath, nodding to the woman, whose name, you figured, was Michonne. “I’ll take her. She’s good”

Rick walked you down the place, his arm wrapped around your middle. He was glancing worryingly at you from time to time, clearly still shocked. As for you, you couldn’t believe it either. You made yourself believe that your family was long gone, and you’d never find them again. Ever. But here you were. Rick was flesh and bone present next to you.

Thoughts piled in your head, haunting. But no matter how much you wanted to ask about the place where you ended up, about how Rick got here, you felt like your head and your eyelids were becoming heavy with every minute from experienced emotions. You were on the verge of physical and emotional exhaustion. And the only thing that you still had some strength for was to move your legs so that Rick didn’t have to carry you on him.

“Shit, there’s so much I gotta ask you, but let’s get you to Doc first, alright?” Rick asked, seeing you nodding weakly. “You look like you gonna pass out.”

“Rick? The hell’s goin’ on, man?”

That was the last straw. Your knees simply couldn’t hold you any longer as you leaned on Rick completely.

That voice. After prison, you made yourself forget him forever. Thinking that he died, like the others. You heard him in your nightmares and the dead silence of the forest, losing your mind over and over again. And here it was again. You heard him again. Tears poured out of your eyes with new force, as soon as you raised them.

Daryl stood a few steps away from you and Rick. All the same vest with wings and a crossbow behind, unless his hair seemed much longer now.

He looked from you to Rick; his eyes were wide open as if he was afraid that if he closed them even for a moment, then everything would be gone.

“Daryl” you called, and that was enough for him to come out of his stupor.

Rick hardly had time to let go of you, when Daryl's body crashed into yours. He squeezed you in his arms. Pain with renewed vigor gripped your body, making you groan, but you couldn’t think of anything else but the heat radiating from the body in front of you.

You couldn’t help but started to cry again, bringing your arms to hesitantly hug him back. Daryl hid his face in the crook of your neck, his whole body shaking with quiet sobs. He pulled away from you, his arms never leaving your body, only to catch your eyes. His own were full of tears.

“I… I thought… the prison, it fell… and I…” you tried to bring yourself to talk, but there wasn’t enough air.

Daryl pulled you into him so that your head was pressed into his chest, stroking your hair with one hand, the other wrapped tightly around your back. His eyes were closed.

Daryl was a coward. But only in a sense that he couldn’t bring himself to open them again. For months now he had been thinking about you gone, and he couldn’t forgive himself. And now, just when he started to slowly lose his mind, you were back. Weak, pale, injured, but alive and back. Daryl was afraid to open his eyes only to find himself lying down in the bed in one of Alexandria’s houses. Alone.

“Brother” Rick’s soft voice brought him back to reality.

You closed your eyes, feeling how the darkness gradually enveloped everything around. Already in a semi-conscious state, you felt how Daryl picked you up in his arms. He made it so easily as if you didn’t weigh more than a child. You only managed to hug him by the neck, snuggling closer to his body when Daryl's quiet, hoarse voice pierced through.

“’M here. I gotcha. I gotcha, girl"

After that, everything sunk into the darkness.

***

You barely opened your eyes. Consciousness returned slowly and reluctantly. It took you a few minutes to finally come to your senses and remember the events of the previous day. Or a few days? Your heart started to beat faster.

You turned your head, a stupid smile immediately spread over your face. Daryl sat leaning in a chair next to the hospital bed you were lying on. His eyes were closed. One hand laid on his knees. The other held yours. His fingers were laced with yours.

You took the moment to look at his features. Daryl was still the same Daryl that you knew from the time of the camp near Atlanta. His hair was a little longer now, the circles under his eyes were darker, but he was still pretty darn cute.

You gently squeezed his hand in yours. Daryl instantly opened his eyes, straightening up in the chair and scanning the room for any danger. Only after a few seconds did his gaze finally fell on you.

“Y/N?”

You smiled weakly, still not trusting your voice, afraid to burst out crying the moment you say his name.

“Ya scared the shit outta me,” Daryl admitted. His hand never left yours as his thumb was rubbing circles on your skin.

“I’m sorry” you whispered back, shifting on the bed, Daryl instantly helping you to sit up.

His face was suddenly inches away from yours. You couldn’t help but bite your lower lip at the thought of how long you’d wanted you to be together. How you wanted him to finally kiss you.

All your emotions and feelings were flooding back at you once you saw him.

Daryl fell quiet, he watched you as if trying to decide something in his mind.

But then, his hand was cupping your face so gently, as he leaned closer to you to the point where you could feel his breathing on your skin. Daryl searched for your eyes, giving you enough time and space to move away. Not like you wanted to.

And then finally, his lips touched yours.

You kissed as if the world ended on the two of you. As if it was your last day on Earth. And when you finally pulled away for air, Daryl tilted his head just the slightest so that his forehead touched yours.

“I’m back and I found you” you whispered to him, feeling your eyes fill with tears.

Daryl shook his head lightly, pulling you into him, hugging and whispering back, “Ya were never gone”.

A corner of your handkerchief was sticking out from the back pocket of his pants. The one you had dropped, trying to escape what you used to call your home.

#the walking dead #the walking dead request #the walking dead imagine #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #reader #request

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porkchop-ao3 · 5 years ago

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A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 46)

Treasure

Reader receives a gift that gives her a reason to smile, and then she smiles a whole lot more.

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

Days went by, nondescript and immeasurable, practically the same routine everyday. I woke up, I did chores, I went to bed, and repeated it all the next day. The sense of hope that I'd kept at heart in the days following the discovery of that newspaper article was dwindling steadily, and every day felt longer and longer, harder and harder, till I was just going through the motions until I could go to sleep again.

People noticed. Charles first, of course, he'd been keeping a keen eye on me the whole time, checking in on me each day to ask how I was. He was soft and careful with me, speaking to me in a tone that reminded me of how one would talk to a spooked horse. I appreciated his kindness, but it didn't matter how many times he asked me if I was okay, I'd always just say yes. I wasn't, obviously, we both knew that. But mine was the sort of sadness that nothing could cure, but perhaps time. Even that seemed impossible, for the more time that passed, the smaller the flame of hope grew, and the more I came to believe that my Arthur was gone. It was a scenario I didn't want to accept.

Sadie approached me one afternoon an indiscernible number of days since Abigail and I's trip to Saint Denis. I hadn't left camp since, excluding the ride I'd taken that evening.

"Hey there. I heard you was a good con-woman. You wanna come out with me, see if we can rustle something up?" She asked. I lifted my head from the arrow I was working on – Charles had taught me how to improve them to make them stronger and more accurate – to look at her in bewilderment that she'd want me to do something with her, the miserable mare I was.

"Right now?"

"Sure, nothing too fancy. Just something to put a little extra money in our pockets," she said, offering me a kind smile.

My lips parted and I was hesitant to answer. In truth, Christ no, I did not want to go conning right then. It was the absolute last thing I wanted to do. It took enough energy just to pretend to be not on the verge of crying constantly, I didn't think I had it in me to paint another layer onto the facade for the sake of a con. But how on Earth could I say no when the gang was in such a dire situation?

Thankfully, she saw my hesitation for what it was, and her face fell just a little. She sat down on the crate next to me, leaned forwards with her elbows on her knees and stared at her hands.

"I know what you're going through," she said quietly. "I ain't making you work, I just thought you might wanna do something more interesting than chores, try and get your mind off it. For me, that's all I wanted at the start."

"That's a kind sentiment, Sadie," I whispered, smiling, "but I'm okay here, jus' doing this," I waved the completed arrow at her then placed it with the bundle by my feet.

"Okay then, if you're sure," she said, then after a moment, moved to leave. I stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"I'm so sorry about your husband. I know that was real raw when I first showed up, I never said nothing about it. I hope you don't think of me as rude for not giving you my condolences," I told her abruptly.

"I don't. You didn't know me at all, and no offense, I barely even realised you were new for a start. First couple weeks were a blur, I don't remember much. I was too torn apart," she admitted, and I nodded sympathetically. "Keeping busy helps, I know. But you gotta be careful not to just shut everything out and rely on monotony to get you through the day, you lose a lot of time that way. You wake up one day and realise how long it's been and–" she stopped abruptly, sighed and shook her head.

I felt awful for Sadie. She was a married woman, I didn't know for how long but she was married. I knew how painful it was no longer having Arthur by my side and he and I's relationship was relatively young. I couldn't even claim to know exactly how Sadie must've felt losing her husband.

"I always liked Arthur," she began on a different note, lifting her head, "he's one of the good ones, ain't he?"

I nodded my head.

"You keep hold of him, if he makes it back here," she advised, patting the back of my hand where it rested on my knee. I met her eyes.

"I fully intend to. I don't know how I'd– it's hard because I don't know whether I should be grieving or not," I said, and her brow creased in sympathy.

"Yeah, it's an odd situation. But some hope's better than none, ain't it?" She offered and I nodded slowly.

"I suppose it is. Every time I see something move over there–" I jerked my head towards the entrance to Lakay– "my heart goes mad and I'm searching for him."

Sadie looked at me, her eyes full of pity throughout the lull in conversation. She pressed her lips together, then sighed and looked down.

"After my Jakey died, Abigail was a good friend to me. She'd sit with me and let me cry and whine and feel sorry for myself and she did it all with compassion. I know you and I ain't particularly close, but I want you to know, I wouldn't mind paying Abigail's favour forward. I'm here for you if you need a shoulder to cry on. Someone who knows your pain," she told me.

She was speaking as if Arthur was definitely dead and while her kindness was appreciated, I hated what it meant. She didn't think he was coming back. She pitied me, saw herself in me, in what I was going through. I was far from ready to start accepting the very real possibility that Arthur was dead, and when a reasonable response to her offer failed to materialise in my brain, I just stared at her. I stared with parted lips and tears welling in my eyes and anger building that I did not want to direct at her. So I got up, and walked away as quickly as I could.

I shut myself away in the building with the painted wall, my usual spot, and threw myself down on the bed that resided there. The sheets were musty and unclean, I had no clue how long they'd been there or who had slept in them last, but I couldn't care less. I curled up on my side and squeezed my eyes shut.

Arthur wasn't dead. If he was I'd have a gut feeling, wouldn't I? I'd somehow know. It had been weeks since the night of the robbery, but it would take weeks for him to get back to America after leaving on a boat. There was still a feasible chance that he was heading home, or he could be back already, and just looking for us. Or maybe he and the others were just giving it some time, letting the heat die down before attempting to come back to us. There were plenty of alternative reasons for his absence and the likelihood of it being because he was dead was probably the smallest. Arthur's strong. He's clever.

I squeezed my eyes ever tighter, and the next thing I knew, I was being roused by a hand on my shoulder.

I woke with a start, my eyes flashing open to find Miss Grimshaw looming over me, her expression unreadable. My heart dropped and I shot upright.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to fall asleep– I know it looks that way, I'm laying in a bed, but I– I was–" I stammered, giving up on excuses and sighing. She sat down on the bed next to me, her expression shifting into a small smile.

"It's okay, darlin'. I ain't here to tell you off," she reassured me, squeezing my shoulder once. I shifted, crossing my legs and watching her with intrigue. "Sadie told me that you barged in here earlier on, she was worried she'd upset you."

I shook my head and closed my eyes in frustration at myself. "No, she was being kind. I just ain't myself right now."

"I figured. That's why I wanted to talk to you. And give you something," she said, looking down into her hand. She was holding something I couldn't see. "Things are tough on everybody right now, but I know you must feel especially worried."

"I don't wanna claim that I'm worse off than everyone else just 'cause–"

"It ain't a competition," she cut me off, "that ain't my point, just let me speak. Your relationship with Arthur is different, more intimate, you're bound to have more intense feelings about his absence, I'm not looking for a debate about that."

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling like a scolded child.

"I wanted to do somethin' nice. Or at least something I think is nice, you might hate me for it, I don't know," she shrugged, she had an air of stoicism about her, but I could see that she cared. I frowned in confusion.

"What is it?"

"I have this necklace," she began, unfurling her hand to reveal a silver necklace with an oval shaped pendant engraved with the image of a heron. It was very pretty. "It's a locket," she added, then handed it to me.

I draped the chain over my fingers and perched the pendant in my palm, lifting it for a closer inspection. There was a lot of detail in the engraving, I could even make out the suggestion of feathers.

"I dug around in all our old things. We've got a box of photographs we've kept for years, I had a look and found one small enough to cut up and go in there. I never wear that locket, so you can have it. It was a gift from a lover from years ago," she chuckled playfully at that.

I pressed my nail to the groove down the edge of the locket and popped it open, carefully parting it to reveal the photo inside. My eyes were blurry in a second. Of course, it was a photograph of Arthur; it looked quite old, he was a little younger, probably in his late twenties, but he was equally as handsome as the Arthur I knew. I blinked and felt tears roll down my cheeks and wordlessly threw myself forwards, wrapping my arm around Susan and burying my face in her shoulder. She made a surprised sound, but hugged me back after a moment.

"Alright, that's a good response," she chuckled.

"Why on Earth would I hate you for this?"

"I figured it might hurt you, seeing him when he ain't here," she explained.

"The only pictures I have of him are my silly drawings, I will treasure this," I told her, pulling back to look once again at the locket. I held it close to my face, relishing the opportunity to refresh the image of him in my mind, to remind myself of his lovely eyes, the cute dimple on the end of his nose, the shape of his lips…

"There's that smile we've all missed," she said, nudging me.

"Thank you so much," I whispered, pressing a kiss to the locket before carefully closing it.

"Would you like me to help you put it on?"

"Yes please."

I handed her the necklace and twisted around. Susan draped the thing around my neck, and I peered down at where it laid against my sternum. She fiddled with a clasp for a moment before letting it go once it was secured around my neck.

"So, there you go, any time you miss him you'll be able to see his face," she smiled at me and I returned it, holding the locket within my palm. "Now that you're smilin' again, are you gonna come help with dinner?" She queried with a stern tone, though it was coloured with playfulness too. I smirked and nodded, rising to my feet and following her back outside.

Every night since then I fell asleep with the locket laying open in my palm. It dulled the empty feeling in my chest made by his absence enough to give me some peace. Though I still of course longed to have him back by my side, Miss Grimshaw's gift certainly helped ease my upset. I went hunting again with Charles, and he noted that I seemed to be doing a bit better, either that or I was getting better at putting on a facade. I wasn't entirely sure which was true, sure, the locket gave me something to hold at night but it wasn't flesh and blood, it wasn't my Arthur. I just told Charles that the people at camp treating me with kindness was probably helping. And it was.

I'd grown closer to the likes of Charles, Abigail and Sadie, who each seemed to have some sort of perceived duty of care to me. I felt as if I was tucked carefully under each of their wings, and they all took the time to check on me if I'd spent too much time on my own. It made sense. We all had something in common. For Charles, it was that we were missing Arthur, both of us were particularly close to him in our own ways. Abigail, she was missing her man too, though she knew exactly where he was. She rarely outright admitted it of course, continuously mentioning Jack, who – bless him – didn't even fully seem to know what was going on. And Sadie kept looking at me with a certain softness in her eyes and I knew she still saw me as analogous to her when Jake passed, and she felt a sort of responsibility to offer me support.

We gravitated towards each other, I seemed to always have one of them nearby. I appreciated it. I felt less alone while my most treasured person was missing, and it allowed me to feel more like a part of the gang again. I realised that despite my intentions not to, I had aligned myself with Arthur while he was there, sticking to him so closely and allowing my bonds with the rest of the gang to sink into the background. When he first disappeared, I felt like an impostor, similar to when I first joined. I often wondered if that was how Molly had felt too, though she had opted to leave rather than staying. In my case, my strengthened relationship with the others helped me to once again feel at home, though it was an incomplete home.

After a couple more days passed, I found myself feeling a little numb. It was neither positive or negative. I guessed that my emotions had been so unsteady for so long that they'd stopped knowing what to do and had given up altogether. I took it while I could, grateful for the reprieve.

I found myself stood cleaning dishes with Abigail one evening, it had been pouring rain all day and we were standing outside underneath the shelter of the lean-to attached to one of the shacks. I lost myself in the constant hiss of the water hitting the ground as I scrubbed the plate in my hand dry. Abigail had been upset that morning, having found out that John had officially been moved to Sisika. I'd done my best to comfort her as she had done with me over Arthur, but she had been quiet and withdrawn for the remainder of the day. I stuck by her side, helping entertain Jack when it was clear that she was too distracted to give him her full attention. He was asleep now, though, curled up inside with Tilly and Mary-Beth.

I couldn't hear much over the sound of the rain, so when Abigail spoke I was sure I'd missed half of her sentence, because all I heard was: "Arthur?"

I glanced up at her, she was standing on the other side of the table, looking over my shoulder.

"What about him?" I asked. Then felt a hot jolt of adrenaline surge through me when I heard wet footsteps and noticed Abigail's eyes following something behind me, I could only take a split second to pray that the conclusion I had drawn was true, then I cranked my neck around so fast it'd hurt in the morning.

There he was. In the same white shirt and dress trousers he'd left Shady Belle in, a few weeks worth of beard grown in, rosy, sunburnt cheeks and a build-up of grime covering every visible inch of his body. My Arthur.

My knees felt as though they would buckle beneath me and my hand moved to the table behind me, gripping tight.

"You're alive!" Abigail cheered, a joyous laugh rippling through her words as she rounded the table and jogged over to him. Arthur's eyes never left mine as she gave him a brief hug.

"Hey ladies," he said, his tone friendly but he sounded tired and strange, a little like he was forcing it. My brain had disengaged and I hadn't yet reacted to his return, I was well aware of that, but could do no more than stare at him.

"Come on, get out of the rain," Abigail said, tugging him by the elbow until he was underneath the shelter, standing a mere few inches away from me, gaze still fixed on my face, his eyes trying to read mine. "I gotta tell the others!" Abigail added, then she was rushing into the house, calling out.

In the moments we had alone, Arthur reached for me, and I met his hands with mine, entwining our fingers. His shoulders dropped and the creases between his brows softened, then he leaned forward, his forehead kissing mine.

"My Angel–"

"I thought that you–" we both began, then laughed breathily. That was as far as we got.

"Hey, Arthur!" Uncle cheered, stepping outside, joined by everyone else inside who seemed equally pleased to see Arthur. I stepped back, turning to face them. Everyone crowded around, clapping him on the back, guiding him inside, I watched as he was whisked away from me, surrounded by his family.

I followed the crowd inside, watching everyone hug him, silently resenting the fact that I hadn't had the chance to do the same.

"Where on Earth have you been?" Uncle questioned as a chair was pulled out and Arthur was pushed down into it, a cup of water thrust into his hand. Arthur's eyes scanned the room until he found me.

"Some island somewhere. Uh, Guarma, I think it was. Washed up there when our ship went down," he explained.

"So that was your boat we read about in the papers," Lenny pointed out. Arthur downed the water and handed the cup off to an outstretched hand. He was then plied with a bowl of stew. I leaned up against the doorway and felt an easy smile cross my lips at the sight of him. Alive. Right there in front of me.

"I guess," Arthur mused.

"We all thought you were gone for good, laying at the bottom of the ocean," Uncle admitted and everyone looked at him with a warning in their eyes. "What? Ain't my problem none of y'all would admit it."

"Well, we nearly was. We all made it, though. The others'll make their way back over the next few days, we thought it best to go one at a time, draw less attention. I volunteered to leave first, I had to–" Arthur explained, his eyes settling on me again.

"Dutch is still alive?" Someone asked, and Arthur nodded with a mouthful of food, a look coming to his eye that I couldn't place. It wasn't a positive look, that was all.

"And Javier. And Bill," he murmured, then with a tone that nobody had to question, "and Micah."

"We buried Hosea. We got his body back and gave him a nice send off," Abigail told him. Arthur looked at her, slowed his chewing, and nodded in silent appreciation. His demeanor shifted further at the mention of his name, and my heart hurt to look at him that way.

"The horses all came back, Kieran's been doing a fine job of taking care of 'em," Mary-Beth announced when the silence became uncomfortable. Kieran squirmed under the attention but Arthur nodded at him once.

"Thanks, Kieran," he murmured.

"Just doing what I do," Kieran breathed, a lopsided smile on his face.

"How 'bout I get some water warmed up for you? You really do look like you've been washed up on an island," Miss Grimshaw chuckled, then headed outside.

"Thank you," Arthur called after her. After a few moments people seemed to realise that staring at him while he was eating wasn't exactly making Arthur feel comfortable, so everyone moved to give him some space and murmurs of conversation filled the room. Charles came up behind him, patting him on the shoulder and bending down to speak to him.

"Good to have you back," I just about made out over the noise in the room. Then Charles' eyes peeled up to me, an expectant look in them. He smirked and pulled a chair up next to Arthur, knocking his knuckles against the back of it.

"He's all yours," he told me.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #atink #arthur morgan x female reader #reader insert #rdr2 fanfic

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obscure-black-clouds · 8 years ago

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compassion | credence barebone | part 3 | book 2

SUMMARY: Events in the metro station became a fearful memory, but darkness doesn’t give up so fast. The damage was inevitable, but what is its scale? Credence and his patron now have to discover more mysteries. How strong their bond really is? What was that white smoke? What’s that Grindelwald really wanted? The war is coming, but the question is if they are ready to meet each other on the battlefield.

FANDOM: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them;

PAIRING: Credence Barebone x Patron!Reader;

WARNINGS: um, nightmares and outrageous amount of hugs;

PART: 3 of 9 (i guess);

INDEX: [masterlist] - Book 1: Certainty; [part 1]; [part 2]; - Book 2: Compassion;

AO3: [here];

WORD COUNT: 2207;

A/N: haha i’m back, babes. I survived through this awful writing block, and brought you a new part of Compassion. I hope it’ll go smoother now and i’ll write more, even though i’m back to university. Hope you like it!

P.S. Sorry for any mistakes, I could mess up with some English.

Sometimes it seemed nearly impossible for six people to fit into a small apartment, but for these couple of days they seemed to cope with it. Newt still had some business in New York, so Credence, Modesty and (Y/N) had to wait for him, before going to London anyway.

The atmosphere at Goldsteins was vastly different from what Credence was used to. It was warm, welcoming and cheerful, full of smiles and laughs. But at the same time, and Credence felt guilty for feeling like this, it was overwhelming. He never thought that not being alone would be that hard. His own common sense was fighting with his instincts and feelings, turning his head into a battlefield. Even though Credence knew, that neither Queenie, Tina nor Newt were going to hurt him, he tried to remain as quiet and as inconspicuous as he possibly could. (Y/N) saw that. She saw his every glance and flinch, when someone was using a wand in dangerous proximity to him. She quietly asked all of them to be more careful, though carry on with their lives, so Credence didn’t feel like a burden. (Y/N) made sure, he wouldn’t know. She wanted him to have a normal life, filled with caring, kindness and support, but the last thing he needed now was pity. Credence was constantly hiding, trying to become smaller, and sometimes, to (Y/N)’s terror, reminded her of a cats who are hiding when they are going to die.

She tried to keep an eye on him, still giving him some personal space.

Living in a small apartment wasn’t that easy, but figuring out where everybody would sleep was even tougher. Newt quickly gestured to his case, cutting off any other suggestions. Queenie and (Y/N) and a silent quarrel about that, however. As soon as (Y/N) saw a literal cry for help and fear in Credence’s eyes, she suggested him taking a couch and she was supposed to sleep in the armchair in the same room, just in case. Credence, though gratefully grabbing her hand, tried to argue in hope to make her take the couch. He didn’t succeed, so didn’t Queenie, who were trying to make (Y/N) take her bed. The two of them were just staring at each other for a good fifteen minutes, until Tina reminded them about Modesty, who still had no place to sleep, according to Queenie’s plan. However, Newt somehow quickly figured that out, even before (Y/N) and younger Goldstein finished their silent battle. It seemed like he managed to show her his case, and she was just begging (Y/N) to let her stay in there.

It made sense, so everyone just gave up. However, (Y/N) would occasionally wake up with Modesty nuzzled into her side.

Every single day was a challenge for all of them. Credence, somehow felt relieved knowing that the tickets for a ship were already booked, so soon they would leave this city forever. He wouldn’t miss it. No, he definitely wanted to see Queenie and Tina again, but not New York. Not everyone else. For now, the only person he felt himself comfortable with was, obviously, (Y/N). Holding her hand almost constantly became a habit. Sometimes he even let himself sit next to her, so close that their shoulders were brushing. She didn’t seemed to mind it at all, so after some time he’d let himself hug her, even if it was after the permission.

Credence was still scared of every bit of magic, the nightmares would occasionally come, tearing his mind apart again and again. And though, he seemed to sleep relatively well, at least, he thought so, (Y/N) would often wake up because of his ragged breathing. Nightmares weren’t strong enough to wake him up screaming, but enough to make her worried. She would just sit next to him, whispering sweet nothings until he’d calm down. However, she wasn’t the only one to care. Almost every single morning she would wake up, having an extra blanket neatly wrapped around her. (Y/N) definitely remembered covering with this very blanket one very particular boy the night before. This silent blanket exchange seemed to last forever.

However, some nights were different. Darkness would come like a flood, chocking him slowly, tasting like poison on his lips. Even when New York faded away by the horizon, Credence couldn’t flick off dreadful memories. He seemed genuinely amazed by the ocean, though. (Y/N) watched him staring at the waves, his hair in a little mess because of the wind, while he seemed almost… Normal. As normal as Credence could be, at least – a living tapestry of pain and misery woven with the red threads of scars and fears. He seemed alive and somehow hopeful, and (Y/N) was scared that someday she would see life fading away from his eyes, though he wouldn’t be dead.

And her fears were coming true some nights. She could feel him shaking half asleep on the brink of reality. One of those happened when they were on the ship, already sailing to London, leaving everything behind. (Y/N) woke up, running out of air. Modesty was sleeping nonchalantly, as all of the children should. It took her some time to understand what was exactly going on. She didn’t care for shoes, just rushing to the room next door, freezing in the doorway.

“Credence?” his sobs were merely audible, but still noticeable enough to brake her heart. “Credence?” she asked again making a step forward. He didn’t answer, possibly staring at the wall. (Y/N) wasn’t sure if he even heard her, because when she carefully touched his shoulder, boy flinched away, frantically looking at her. “Credence, it’s me. I’m not going to hurt you,” she whispered, worriedly looking at him.

“I’ve already heard that,” he hoarsely answered, before even realizing what exactly he said. (Y/N) looked at him in disbelief, gasping softly. She never realized- Meanwhile, Credence’s eyes widen in fear and he hurriedly added, stuttering, “I-I’m sorry, (Y/N), I- I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s okay,” she weakly said, suddenly sitting down on the floor, leaning on the side of his bed. It was cold, but she didn’t really care, not now. Credence was still scared, and tried not to touch her, so she gave him that space for now. It was strange how sometimes he needed her constant presence and sometimes all he wanted was solitude. She understood though. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“It- It was just a nightmare,” he whispered, staring at her nape for a minute. She waited for him to continue, though Credence didn’t really knew what to say. “I cannot sleep. I just- I just can’t her those screams again,” she sighed, rising her eyes to the ceiling, still keeping silence. “(Y/N)- Do you- Do you have nightmares?”

“Everybody does,” she stated, closing her eyes for a second. “I don’t really remember when was the last time I remembered good dreams. It’s either nightmares or nothing.”

(Y/N) didn’t want to lie, telling that darkness would go away. The truth was – it wouldn’t. I would always me there, until the very end of their lives, silently watching them through the veil of night. The only way was to accept the dark, learn how to live with it, not letting it touch their hearts.

“How do you- how do you fight them?”

“I don’t,” (Y/N) answered, turning her head and seeing Credence crawling to the floor too, sitting right next to her.

“But-”

“There’s no cure for the darkness, Credence. I wish I could say there is,” (Y/N) sighed, staring at the ceiling. “You just learn how to live with it.” He was breathing loudly sitting next to her. She felt him stiffen, so she continued. “It doesn’t mean there’s no hope. Actually, hope is the only thing we ever have. Darkness- It is powerful and patient, and sometimes it seems as if I can’t be beaten.”

“And what if it can’t?” Credence suddenly asked, hollowly. “What if there too much of it in me? What if I’m a monster? I’ve read those books and-”

“Credence,” (Y/N) softly interrupted, turning her gaze to him. “It may seem, that dark always wins. However,” he stared in his brown eyes now, never seeing more light in any blue ones. “However, you only need a candle to make it go away. You are so much more than that. You are not a monster.”

“Everybody keeps saying that. But how do you know?” he honestly asked, finally confessing his fears.

“I see good in you. I see it when you look at Modesty, and that’s enough for me. Monsters don’t care,” she calmly stated, wincing slightly from the cold. Credence noticed that little movement and instantly reached for a blanket.

“I just- I just don’t know who I am,” she whispered, covering (Y/N) with plaid.

“I do,” she said, smiling softly to his curious glance. “You are Credence Barebone, boy, who cares for others more, than he does for himself. Boy, who reached for a blanket, when he noticed I was cold. You are my ward.” He was silent for a minute, adjusting the blanket.

“I think I like how that sounds,” he said shyly, making her smile a little wider. “But those books-”

“Well, those books are not always true, are they? You are a miracle. No one ever survived Obscurus for this long before,” she said, moving a little closer and offering him half of a blanket. “But here we are, a Patron and the oldest Obscurial ever known, sitting on the floor in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean,” (Y/N) chuckled, softly bumping his shoulder with her own.

“But- It said that Obscurus is a dark force and-”

“Magic isn’t good or bad, Credence. For some it is a gift, and for some – shackles. Magic does not has its own will. Think of it. Is a knife evil? But the wielder can be. It’s up to us to decide how we’re going to use magic.”

“And what if I can’t?” he whispered, wrapping himself in a blanket. “What if I’m not strong enough?”

“You already survived through so much,” (Y/N) certainly said, softly touching his jaw. “You are stronger than you can imagine. I won’t lie to you, Credence,” she stared at him intently, “it’s not going to be easy. It will be painful and hard. We are on the edge of war, all wizards are. But I know for sure, that you are capable of great things, and you can overcome anything. You’re a survivor, Credence. It’s written all over your body.”

(Y/N) couldn’t really comprehend what she saw in his eyes, when she carefully stroked a little scar on his jaw. She wasn’t sure if it was a result of punishment, it was too unnoticeable to be. Credence leaned into her touch, as always, and raised his hand to cup hers. I was something they did a lot, all those small touches that quickly became a habit. Sometimes Credence was ashamed of being so weak to have to hold someone’s hand, but it felt too good to refuse doing that. He lowered his eyes and swallowed, again feeling embarrassed.

“What’s wrong, dear?” she asked, stroking his cheek.

“I’m scared,” he breathed out, biting his lip.

“I’m scared too,” (Y/N) whispered, with her voice as weak as his was. Credence glanced at her incredulously, and she continued talking. “I’m afraid of every day to come. Grindelwald, war- it’s scaring the living hell out of me. You are- you are the only thing that keeps me sane, Credence. You give me enough bravery to keep on fighting.”

“Me?” he breathed out in disbelief when (Y/N) leaned forward, wrapping her hands around his neck.

“Of course. It’s always you,” she whispered, hugging him even harder when she felt his hands on her waist.

They were sitting like that, for God knows how long, holding each other, drawing circles on other’s backs and whispering something from time to time. Suddenly, Credence yawned, hiding his face in her shoulder, and (Y/N) moved back, her fingers still stroking the back of his head.

“You need to rest, she smiled, looking sleepy as well.

“I don’t want to,” he shook his head, being absolutely adorable.

“Don’t be such a child, it’s the middle of the night,” (Y/N) chuckled, and softly gasped when he hugged her again, more for the sake of hiding his face.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he finally confessed, and felt her hands on his shoulders, stroking gently. Her chest vibrated slightly when she laughed. Credence moved back, seeing a subtle blush on her cheeks.

“I can stay, if you want me to,” (Y/N) said after some time, still blushing. She was happy to her him need her, but at the same time it was something unusual. (Y/N) got used to holding hands, and awkward hugs, but him, asking to stay, was surprising. Credence didn’t answer though, just nodding, a little smile curving his lips, before yawning again.

“Okay then, get up,” she said in factitiously stern voice, before they both stood up and Credence got into the bed, freeing some space for her. (Y/N) laid beside him, and carefully kissed his cheek. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

to be continued...

tags: @twentyonecrybby @avixenrose @bxtchybrie @suzumebailey @wellfuckbuck

#credence barebone imagine #credence barebone fic #credence barebone #credence x reader #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fbawtft #compassionfic

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demonsonthemoon · 8 years ago

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Edge of our Hope

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Pacific Rim Pairing: Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes Word count: 5956 Summary: Nobody wonders whether Clint and Bucky are drift compatible. They clearly are. Which is the problem, since Clint already has a drift partner, and Bucky can't ever pilot again. Well, it's the problem for some people. Not for them. Never for them. Note: This fanfic was written as part of the Winterhawk Mini Bang and was illustrated by the lovely @bizrreer! Check out their awesome artwork!

Also available on AO3

Clint's hanbo slammed against Bucky's shorter wooden staff, which he wielded with only one hand. Clint was often surprised at the strength behind the other man's blows. His right hand had always been his dominant one, which helped, but he had been piloting on his left side, and that should have messed with his technique a lot more now that he had lost his arm on that side of his body.

“You're distracted,” Bucky said as Clint blocked his next hit only an inch away from his face. Clint grinned, hooking a foot around Bucky's ankle and pushing him backwards.

“What can I say? You're distracting.” He saw Bucky bite back a smile, which didn't stop him from trying to land another series of blows that had Clint side-stepping across the practice mat. He had been distracted, and despite his earlier attempt to regain the advantage, he was losing his rhythm. He kept smiling as he tried to block and dodge Bucky's hits. He felt himself lose his balance as Bucky landed a powerful hit right in the middle of his hanbo. His fighting partner was quick to notice it, and pulled his feet from under him so that he went sprawling on his back. Clint rolled and aimed a kick at one of Bucky's knees, but the other man quickly turned, leaning his back against Clint's leg and trapping it against him with his arm. He bent down and brought his fighting stick down right over Clint's face.

Clint grinned. Then winced, as Bucky's pressure against his leg pulled at his muscles.

“Oh my god, let me go, I yield, I yield!”

Bucky let him go, dropping his fighting stick to the ground and putting his arm behind him as he sat down.

“I told you you were distracted.”

Clint ran a hand through his short blond hair, unabashed. “And I told you that you're distracting.”

He winked, and Bucky rolled his eyes before pulling himself up and stretching his neck.

The practice room was totally empty, which was one of the reasons Clint wasn't afraid to be flirting this obviously. It was a bittersweet thought, since the reason they were training so late in the first place was to avoid their superiors' disapproval. None of them really knew what to do with Bucky. He had been discharged after the loss of his limb, but remained on site at the Shatterdome as part of his treatment and to help with the drift technology research. Now that his drift partner was dead and that he couldn't fight anymore, Bucky was considered deadweight by most of the other pilots. And although no one dared to say anything about it, most people disapproved of the close bond between him and Clint, which they saw as some kind of betrayal against Clint's actual drift partner.

Clint didn't care what people thought. And he knew that Kate didn't either. Their connection in the Drift was still as strong as ever, despite what anybody said. Kate would probably be the first to defend her partner's choices. As much as she disapproved of him coming to their own practice sessions all bruised up and sore from sparring with Bucky, she knew it was a good cure against his restlessness.

Clint looked up at Bucky, who was staring into space. He made a striking picture, shirt clinging to his chest and sweat dripping along his skin, the hair he had started growing out since his dismissal sticking to his neck. Clint let himself look, enjoying the view.

When Bucky finally snapped out of his daze and met his gaze, he rolled his eyes at Clint's suggestive raise of eyebrows. Clint laughed, and finally pulled himself off the ground. He laid a hand on Bucky's hip as he crossed the room. “Come on, let's get out of here.” Bucky leaned into the touch, but didn't follow after Clint had let him go. The blond man stopped and turned around.

“Do you think we could drift together?”

Clint froze. “Bucky...”

Bucky ran his hand through his hair. He sighed. “I know. I know. I can't ever pilot again. Not with this thing.” He raised his left shoulder to indicate his stump.

“Bucky...”

The man waved his hand. “I shouldn't have broached the subject, sorry for the pity party.” His face was turned away from Clint, as much as it could be while still letting the blond man read lips.

Clint bridged the distance between them, putting a hand on Bucky's cheek and softly forcing him to face him once more. “Stop it.”

Clint felt uncomfortable. Frustrated. Bucky's phrasing was clear. He hadn't asked whether Clint thought they were Drift Compatible. That question was much too easy to answer. He had asked whether they could ever drift.

Clint lightly tapped Bucky's cheek in a pretend-slap of some kind.

Bucky glared at him. They could still feel the energy from the fight thrum between them, as well as the connexion that the exercise in synchronization had left wide opened. It felt electric. Unnerving. Alive and wanting, like being brought to the ocean and being told you couldn't go in.

The connexion they shared was too much and too little all at once, and Clint forced himself to focus on a different kind of wanting. He slowly let his fingers run against Bucky's cheek and bit down on his lower lip.

“Kate is gonna hate you tomorrow,” Clint said, hand still on Bucky's skin. “She's gonna hate you so much.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow. He lifted his chin slightly at the same time, and Clint let his fingers follow the path of it down his neck, until they rested against the man's collarbones.

“Obviously she's gonna hate me more, but she has a soft spot for you so that's no wonder.”

Bucky kissed him, effectively shutting him up. Not that Clint was complaining. He grabbed Bucky's sweaty tank top by the hemline to bring the other man even closer, hungrily kissing him back.

It wasn't the right way to finish the conversation. It wasn't the smart way. Or the adult way. But Clint didn't want to think about it. Not when he didn't know how to talk about this, not when he felt as lost as Bucky, even though he should have been the one to guide him.

The truth was, Clint was kind of glad Bucky couldn't pilot anymore. There wasn't any doubt about whether they were compatible or not. The fact that they were was obvious to everybody who had seen them fight together. And Clint knew that Bucky had checked their baseline chemical compatibility as well.

They matched. Maybe even too well. Clint was scared that, if they ever piloted together, the connection would be too intense. It would be so easy to get lost in each other's thought. He remembered piloting with Kate for the first time, and how it had felt like they were exploring each other's mind and body all at once. He remembered being awed by the world he could hear through Kate's ears, just as Kate had been awed by the world Clint experienced through his deafness.

Bucky bit down on Clint's lower lip, waiting for him to open his mouth, and Clint knew. Clint knew how easy it would be to lose himself in that mind and that body, even easier considering that they had both drifted with other people and that those experiences were also there for the other to tap into.

Clint was scared. Sliding his tongue into Bucky's mouth, as he ran the hand that wasn't holding his shirt through the man's hair, Clint was scared. As much as he wanted to know all he could about Bucky, he wasn't sure he would be able to handle knowing it from the inside.

Bucky pulled away.

“We should go. You get enough shit just because you hang out with me, I don't think I want to find out what would happen if someone found us making out in the practice rooms.”

Clint laughed, letting go of Bucky's t-shirt. He realised both of them had forgotten their hanbos on the floor, and went to pick them up. He stopped next to Bucky, looking at his face.

“Your room or my room?” Clint asked.

Bucky thought about it for a second. “Your room. It's closest.”

It was. Clint's room was in the Rangers quarters, the closest to the deployment bays and training rooms, whereas Bucky's was on the edge of the medical staff's quarters.

“Yeah.”

Clint took the lead, and they walked down the hallways in silence. They crossed a pair of pilots on their way, who raised an eyebrow at the two of them, but didn't comment. Clint put on the fakest smile he possibly could as he waved hello, and saw one of them mumble in response.

He kept walking. He opened the heavy door to his room, indicating for Bucky to walk in first with a flourish of the hand.

Apparently, the hallway incident had sent Bucky back to his earlier melancholy state. He sat down on Clint's bed, and the other man sat down next to him.

Bucky closed his eyes, running a hand over his face.

“I can't stop thinking about it. I can't. Not when they're doing all these tests with me, closed-circuit simulations, trying to figure out how I was able to pilot on my own and get Howling back to shore. All I can think about is his Drift, Drift, Drift.”

“It's like an addiction, I heard. The Drift fires up your pathways in a certain way, and you end up constantly trying to re-create that thrill. I heard that's how ghost-drifting works.”

“Yeah. I know. They're doing research on that too. The ghost-drifting. I guess they never had a subject taking it as literally as me before.”

Clint was surprised at this. He could tell it was a conversation Bucky wasn't fully comfortable with from the way the other man was looking at the wall him instead of at his face.

“Do you still feel him? Steve?”

Bucky nodded, looking down at his lap.

“Sometimes. It's not the same as before but... I still feel a... pull. And sometimes I do things without realising, and notice afterwards that they're things Steve would have done. But I guess that might just be because I still have access to his memories. And then there's...” He sighed.

Clint put a hand on Bucky's shoulder.

“You know those things people say about the Drift being like the river Styx?” Bucky started again.

“That when you die, you end up floating across the river, a set of memories forever preserved, part of the Drift itself? That people can still find you there?”

“Yeah. Except that's not accurate. People's souls didn't end up in the river. You just had to cross the river to go to the afterlife. And you bribed a boatman to do it. I guess Steve's making his way across the river, now. And we... Me, Howling Commando, and everyone who knew him... We're the boatpeople. And he can only finish crossing if we let him go.”

Clint kept his hand where it was on Bucky's shoulder. He had to bend his head kind of awkwardly to make sure he could read Bucky's lips clearly, but he wasn't about to complain about that. Not in a moment like this.

“Do you want to let him go?” Clint asked.

Bucky turned his head towards him, surprised. Under the crude light of his bedroom light, Clint could see that the circles he had noticed under Bucky's eyes were darker than he had first thought.

“Don't I have to?”

Clint shrugged. “I don't think I'm an expert on this. Obviously I never lost a drift partner. And I don't exactly know where I stand on the whole soul and afterlife thing. But I think... I think there's no proper way to grieve. And I think that the dead themselves... they don't care whether we hold onto them or let them go. I think... I think being in the river must be scary, but so is going to the other side. There's no better option.”

“I still ghost-drift with Howling Commando sometimes,” Bucky said. “Or at least I think I do. And I feel like I ought to let her go too, because she'll be lucky if she gets torn apart and her pieces are used in another Jaeger. But I know they'll keep the AI and it's just...”

Bucky bit down on his lower lip. He started undoing his shoes, and settled himself fully onto the bed, turning towards Clint with his legs crossed. Clint mirrored his position, not saying anything, giving him time.

“I think maybe as much as I want to drift with you, I want to drift with it again. And through that maybe I just want to drift with Steve.”

Bucky had barely finished his sentence that he looked down at his lap, letting his hair fall over him in a protective curtain.

And Clint was thankful. He didn't want to have to stop himself from showing any emotion. He felt hurt. He didn't want to have to hide that. But if Bucky didn't ask for what Clint couldn't give, it was okay.

He thought about what he could say. He had never been really good with words, though. It wasn't his thing. And he had never known loss in the way Bucky had. Sure, he'd lost his parents, but he had been young at the time, could barely remember them now. And he had lost his brother, in a way, but mostly because the guy was an asshole. He still had Kate. He still had Hawk Eye. He had Bucky.

Clint put a hand under Bucky's chin, pushing it up slightly, and used the other to get his hair out of his face.

Bucky held his gaze. Clint had nearly expected to see tears, although it wasn't really Bucky's style. He swallowed audibly, staring deep in the other man's blue eyes.

“I know I'll never replace Steve.”

Bucky nearly flinched away, but Clint held him in place.

“But that's okay. It's one of the reason I don't want to drift with you. Not unless we need to. I don't want to be a replacement.”

Bucky tried to look away, but Clint angled his face towards him once more.

“I want to keep what we have, I want to stay whatever I am to you. Not Steve. Not a bad copy. I want to be the person who takes you away from him. I want to keep you for myself. I want more.” He let go of Bucky's face and let his voice drop to a whisper. “I want more.”

Bucky's eyes were wide with surprise, maybe a hint of desire, and his breaths were coming out a little faster than before. Clint smiled. It was a shy expression, barely fluttering on his lips, but somehow all the more honest for it.

Bucky leaned in to kiss him, with Clint meeting him halfway in perfect synchronicity. It was another way to communicate, one where neither of them needed to master their unwieldy words. So close to one another, sensations sparking through both their bodies as their hands explored alien skin, it felt like they were creating their own Drift. They were willingly drowning in a river of their own making, each of their thoughts careening into the other's body and being echoed in their own. Clint could feel Bucky shaking against him, and he edged closer, putting his arms around the other man as if that would shield him from the external world somehow.

Bucky broke the kiss, burying his head in Clint's neck. Clint could feel him mouthing something against his skin, though he couldn't hear it. He didn't mind. Bucky would speak to him when he was ready.

Clint let him calm down a little bit, before slipping his fingers underneath Bucky's shirt. He felt the other man's breath hitch as he started to trace the shape of his ribs. He slowly pushed him towards the bed, and Bucky got his meaning and quickly lied down on his back, letting Clint settle over him.

“We kind of promised to make Kate hate me, right?” Clint said, glad to be able to lighten the mood.

Bucky chuckled at that. Clint stopped him from making any disobliging comment by planting another kiss on the man's lips, gently nipping on his lower lip in a way he knew Bucky liked. Bucky closed his eyes, letting himself go as Clint made his way from his mouth to his chin and neck, sucking a little at the junction with his shoulder.

He wished he could do this all day. Lying with a man he cared for, watching him slowly surrender himself to his own present, become pliant and vulnerable instead of cold and guarded. He wished the war got put on hold, just for this. Just so he could spent an eternity kissing this other man's scarred skin.

He pulled on Bucky's shirt, who sat up slightly and raised his arms until Clint managed to get the garment on the floor. He pushed Bucky back again, mouth immediately latching to a small star-shaped mark two inches under his left collarbone. Bucky ran his hand through Clint's hair, softly, barely there, as if he was still scared that Clint would bolt if he pressed too much. Fat chance.

Not that it had been love at first sight between Clint and Bucky. The latter had been a Ranger for much longer than Clint, though “much longer” was a relative term when the Jaeger programm was only a few years old anyway. Still, Howling Commando had been famous, at one point. A Mark II Jaeger, piloted by childhood friends Steve Rogers and James Barnes. The team had continued to run missions even has the Mark IIIs began to be deployed. Until Clawhook. Until Howling Commando was half destroyed in combat and Ranger Steve Rogers lost his life. Until Clint and Kate got sent to the Anchorage Shatterdome to be deployed with one of the first Mark IV Jaegers.

It hadn't been love at first sight. More disappointment. Pity, maybe, when Clint had realised that the amputee getting strange looks from others everytime he walked past was one of the Rangers he had admired during his training.

It hadn't lasted long. Not after finding Bucky in one of the training rooms, practicing drills by himself, the moves carefully modified to accommodate his disability. Not after he has asked if he could join the other man, too antsy to sleep, too tired to sleep, and Bucky had shrugged and nodded, narrowed gaze staying on Clint's body for the next half hour, as if trying to figure out what Clint was about. Not after Clint had dragged Kate to Bucky's table in the mess hall the next day. Not after he had realised how quick-witted Bucky was, sarcastic in a way that matched Clint's perfectly.

It hadn't been love at first sight between them. Even now, Clint wasn't sure if he would call it love at all. Love was a dangerous thing, in a war. It had a way to ruin your focus. To keep you from making the hard decisions. It was a liability. So maybe it wasn't love. Or maybe it was just better not to call it love, maybe avoiding the word was enough to make it safe, or safer somehow.

The only thing Clint was sure of, was that he wasn't bolting. He wasn't running away from this, from Bucky. Even if it scared him, sometimes. His thing with Bucky. Bucky himself. It all scared him, from time to time.

But not now, not when Bucky's hand was under his shirt and his own mouth was lightly sucking on one of the other man's nipples. Here and now, he didn't feel scared of anything.

Clint sat up and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor. Bucky's eyes trailed down his chest, appreciative, and Clint felt himself shiver under the heaviness of that gaze. He bent back down, reaching Bucky who propped himself up with his one arm to meet his kiss. Clint supported himself on one hand, sliding his other along Bucky's side until he reached his sweatpants, pushing them down.

And then lights began flashing in the room, and Bucky flinched at the sound of the alarm.

“For fuck's sake,” Clint couldn't help but swear as he disentangled himself from Bucky. A kaiju attack. He was being deployed because of a kaiju attack, which was possibly the best erection killer, but also the worst way to end this evening.

Bucky looked frozen in Clint's bed.

Clint stopped putting his shoes on. “Bucky?”

The man didn't react. Clint wasn't sure whether he had spoken loud enough to be heard above the siren. He put a hand on the other man's shoulder. Bucky's eyes snapped up, and he started shaking, recoiling from Clint's touch.

It would have been a lot easier if Bucky knew sign language, because the noise of the siren was messing with Clint's perception of his own vocal volume, but he started talking anyway. “I have to go, Bucky. You should probably leave. I mean, the alarm's gonna turn off soon, so if you want to stay... wait for me... I guess you can, but I'd rather you... I'd rather you not be alone.”

Bucky nodded, eyes closed, his one arm draped over his chest. Clint bent forward and kissed him softly on the lips. “I'm gonna come back,” he said.

Then he put his second shoe on, turned around, and left the room. If Bucky said something else to him, Clint didn't hear it.

Kate had already been sleeping, if the disarray of her hair was any indication. Actually, given the way she was glaring at the tech strapping on her breast plate like they were personally responsible for the kaiju war, she had definitely been sleeping.

Usually, Clint would have made a light-hearted remark about it, to try and anger her into a state of full wakefulness. He didn't have it in him today.

He stepped into place as techs hovered around him and strapped on his suit. It felt heavier than it should, and Clint realised how tired he was, after his long day and subsequent sparring session with Bucky. This was a terrible condition to be in for a drop and he knew it.

Kate turned her face towards him and he smiled weakly, trying not to infect her with his worry, though that would happen soon enough anyway. She frowned at him, raising an eyebrow. He shaked his head, then signed I'm okay, earning an annoyed glare from one of the techs.

They stepped into the Connpod, locking their suits into place. A holoscreen turned on in front of them and pronounced them ready for the drop. After a count down from three to zero, they fell. Kate and Clint mirrored each other's position instinctively as they found their balance again.

The same screen blinked once, then started counting down again, warning them that they were engaging the Drift.

Clint took a deep breath.

Their consciousnesses started merging, their memories scattering across both brains in an instant in overwhelming confusion. Clint could make out a conversation between Kate and her dad, could make out anger and frustration. He felt her prod a little at his worry, his fear, finding the image of Bucky trembling and holding an arm around himself.

Then they both breathed out, and settled into a joint consciousness.

“Drift engaged and stable,” came a voice, carried over the Jaeger's comms from LOCCENT, the control center. Another voice took over. “We've got one signature. Category 3. It's pretty big, though at least its speed seems limited. Currently heading towards the US west coast. Vladivostok is sending another Mark IV. Others are ready for deployment as backup. Engage as far off the coast as you possibly can.”

“Copy that,” Clint and Kate both said in unison. The Shatterdome opened to let them out, and their team of helicopters started lifting them up in the air.

Inside Hawk Eye, Kate and Clint could do nothing but settle for the wait.

It was the worst part of every drop. The Jaegers had to be carried to their drop-off side with their pilots already in them and drifting. It was a hassle, and most new recruits had trouble retaining focus. This was Clint and Kate's third drop, though, they were getting used to it.

He could feel Kate curiously explore his recent memories. He could guess it was partly because she wanted to avoid thinking about her own, and so he avoided stepping into her mind space altogether. He smiled as he felt her roll her eyes at the comments he had made about her while flirting with Bucky.

“You two are so disgustingly adorable it makes me want to puke,” Kate thought in his direction. He could hear her directly in his mind, in a voice that wasn't his, but wasn't hers either. Clint guessed it was they way she herself imagined her voice to be.

He pulled a face at being called adorable, which was probably Kate's intended effect.

“Is he serious about wanting to drift with you?”

There was no possibility to stall and weigh his possible answers, not when Kate was tapping directly into his mind. He thought of several different moments in which Bucky had mentioned the possibility, then of the way he had compared drifting with an addiction.

“Probably.”

He thought of the studies they were conducting on Bucky, the closed-circuit pseudo-drift they had created in an attempt to figure out how he had been able to pilot alone. He guessed that Bucky had at least considered that possibility. Creating another closed-circuit drift, but with another person. No need for him to step into a Jaeger again. He was too aware that they would never let him do that.

He felt Kate echo his worry, but in a guarded way that made him probe slightly deeper.

She was anxious about him. About him considering the possibility as well. Not because she was jealous. Not because she thought she would lose her place to Bucky. But because she was worried the two men would lose themselves if they ever did drift together.

Clint tried to reassure her, to make her understand that he was aware of the risks and that they were too big, that he wasn't going to do it and had made that clear to Bucky.

But she was right. The temptation, the possibility, would always be there.

They both tried to refocus, keep their mind as blank as possible, shut out everything that didn't belong in the present moment. Don't chase the memories. The Drift is silence.

They finally reached their drop site, and braced for impact as they were released. Their Jaeger lit up with different monitors, their attention immediately going to their radar. The night had already completely set in, and they were way too far from the shore for any light from the nearby cities to reach them. They had their own searchlights, and so did their airborne team, but the darkness was unnerving all the same. The ocean was such a vast space, and most of it was darkness.

The first signal they received was on their comm line, and they were warned of the approach of the Russian Jaeger. The airborne team and their Jaeger entered their radar field a few minutes later, and the Jaeger was dropped a good distance away from them.

They waited.

Clint and Kate heard a signal, and immediately diverted their attention back to the radar.

“Hawk Eye, you're picking up the kaiju signature. It looks like it's heading towards you. Prepare for contact.”

Kate and Clint didn't have to look at one another. They raised their fists, feeling the Jaeger move around them as they did, and braced themselves for impact.

The way back to the Shatterdome was only slightly less difficult than the journey from it to the drop site. The two pilots were caught in a loop of exhaustion that reverberated and amplified across their Drift. The only thing on their mind was the battle they had just won and their yearning for silence and privacy.

They deconnected the Drift as soon as they were safe in the Shatterdome, both of them slumping against the apparatus that kept them strapped to the Jaeger.

They both took a few seconds to catch their breath, letting it fall out of sync with a bitter aftertaste. Clint finally let himself think about Bucky, about where he was, what he was doing, if he was still waiting for him.

“Go find your boyfriend,” Kate said after taking off her helmet. “I'll debrief with the Marshall.”

Clint started taking off his own suit and thanked her, knowing that the Marshall would be pissed at him for missing the briefing and that Kate would have to stand on the other side of that bad mood. It was a big favour. “I owe you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I'll add it to the list.”

He dropped the pieces of his suit on the floor of the Jaeger's Connpod, promising himself to apologize to the techs the next days, and ran out as quickly as he could.

He stopped at his room first, on the off-chance that Bucky truly had waited there for him as well as to change his clothes. He was able to do the latter, although his “boyfriend” - Was that what they were? He didn't really think so. They had never talked about it. - wasn't there. Clint tried to force himself to calm down. If Bucky wasn't here, it meant he had probably found someone to stay with while he waited, or he had watched the stream of the Jaeger's camera alone. Which meant he could be in LOCCENT, in the mess hall, or in his room. The first option was unlikely, since he didn't have any official position anymore and would probably be considered in the way by everyone else in the control center. This left the mess hall and his private room. Clint set out towards the latter as soon as he had changed into something a little more confortable than the form-fitting undersuit he had to wear while piloting.

He knocked loudly on the door, cursing the heavy metal as he hurt his knuckles doing so. He knocked a second time after only a few seconds. He was shifting his weight from foot to foot, the exhaustion that had taken possession of him on his way back once more replaced by adrenaline. Finally, the door began to open. Clint resisted the urge to just throw himself at Bucky, firstly because it was definitely not the kind of thing he did, and secondly because there was a very high risk that Bucky would punch him in the face out of reflex. So he waited, pushing a non-existent strand of hair behind his ear.

Bucky opened the door with a carefully neutral expression on his face. The bags under his eyes betrayed the hours spent awake, and Clint was fairly sure they mirrored his own. Thinking about it now, it probably would have been smarter to stop by the mess hall first and bring back some snacks.

Still. Food could wait. There were more important things to be dealt with first. (And this was not a thought Clint often had, as Kate was fond of reminding him.)

“Hey,” he said, voice soft.

Bucky stepped away from the door and let him in.

“Did you watch the stream?” Clint asked.

He never knew whether he wanted the answer to be yes or no. Being able to watch the fights against kaiju in real time could be a blessing and a curse. Clint couldn't help but think that there was a chance his loved ones would one day watch him die through their television screens, would be able to pinpoint the moment he stopped breathing as it happened, and would still be unable to stop it, stuck in their seats miles and miles away.

It wasn't what he wished for his friends. Still, despite that, there was no other way he would rather die than in a Jaeger. Except perhaps of old age.

Which was what he wished for Bucky. Since he hadn't died a soldier, maybe he would get to die a survivor. It was something to hope for, though Clint had his doubts. Bucky wasn't one to go quietly.

“I did watch, yeah. Didn't seem like you'd been seriously injured. Any burn marks?”

The Mark IV suits were a lot better than the previous generations, but their continuous use for several hours while in action still tended to cause minor skin burns. Clint nodded, pulling his long-sleeved t-shirt over his head and presenting his arms to Bucky.

The other man walked to his shelves and retrieved a tub of ointment to ease the burns. Clint could have gone to the medical bay to get treated, but this was better.

He let himself be moved around as Bucky slowly rubbed the cream into his skin. His mind was ready to forget who he was, tired with being too many people at once and aching for the relief of being no one. The careful pressure of Bucky's fingers against his skin anchored him to the present though, for which he was grateful.

He didn't want to float away. He wanted more of that feeling of being here, of being welcome, of being home.

He wanted for other people to be there everytime he stepped out of Hawk Eye. He wanted more. Not just Kate and him against the world, two runaways with cut-off bridges who had found each other. He wanted strings.

He let his head drop onto Bucky's shoulder. The other man stilled his hand where it was pressing against Clint's burns. The pain was too shallow and too widespread for Clint to really feel it at all.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked, hesitant. He was always guarded after Clint came back from a mission. Probably he didn't want to worry Clint with how much he worried about him. It was stupid. But they were two defensive men in the military so maybe this kind of stupid was to be expected.

“I'm feeling great,” Clint mumbled against the other man's skin.

“Are you joking? 'Cause this isn't really funny and I don't know how to-”

“Hey Bucky,” he interrupted him, facing him once more. “How about you shut up and kiss me? And then help me come up with an excuse as to why coming to see you was more important than debriefing my mission. And then, content with having found the perfect excuse, we can sleep together in a too-small bed and complain about how much our backs hurt tomorrow. Sounds good?”

Bucky stared at him. He let out a strangled giggle that quickly turned into full on-laughter, and bent his head down in embarrassment. He picked up the tub of ointment, put it back on its shelf, then leaned back against his deck. He beckoned Clint over with a small hand gesture.

Clint went pliantly, smiling.

The kiss was soft. He could barely feel Bucky's fingers on his cheek as he closed his eyes.

Maybe it truly was an addiction. This coming undone by the touch of other people, this fantasy of being one with another.

Even if it was, life was too short for Clint to think about it.

#Meeni writes fics #Winterhawk #Pacific Rim #MCU #Clint Barton #Bucky Barnes #Fic: Edge of our Hope

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zipgrowth · 7 years ago

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How Teaching Using Mindfulness or Growth Mindset Can Backfire

Art Markman is an expert on what makes people tick. The psychology professor at UT Austin has also become a popular voice working to translate research from the lab into advice for a general audience. He’s co-authored popular books, including Brain Briefs Answers to the Most and Least Pressing Questions About Your Mind. He also writes a blog for Psychology Today magazine, and co-hosts a podcast through Austin’s NPR station called Two Guys on Your Head.

In his writings and podcasting, he’s tackled questions big and small, from commenting on the recent wave of mass shootings—to weighing in on why people like cat videos so much. And he’s full of surprising findings.

Take a recent blog post he wrote about mindfulness, for instance. Markman is not against meditation, and he agrees that taking steps to slow down and reflect without snap self-judgment can have benefits. But he also points out that such practices are not always universally positive. In a recent study done with prisoners, for instance, “the aspect of mindfulness associated with reserving judgment about the self actually increased criminogenic thinking significantly.” And even in a classroom setting, such practices are not helping creativity, according to research.

Markman recently talked with EdSurge about how his insights can help educators. He might just change the way you think about things like growth mindset, comprehensive testing, and encouraging students to make mistakes. The conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity. You can listen to a complete version below, or on your favorite podcast app (like iTunes or Stitcher).

EdSurge: Why do we humans seem to have so much trouble understanding ourselves? With all the advances in science, you'd think we'd have the human mind figured out a bit more.

Markman: First there’s the scientific question, shouldn't psychology be done by now? And the answer to that question is no. For one thing, psychology is a lot harder than almost any other science. I've often called cognitive science the place where Nobel laureates come to die. Somebody wins their Nobel prize in physics or chemistry and then says, "I'm gonna go fix cognitive science," and then they vanish without a trace. Because the brain is a complicated organ; it's embedded in social systems, in cultural systems, and it's constantly learning. So all of those factors make the mind and brain an extraordinarily difficult topic.

On top of that, as a science, we can't do all of the experiments we'd like to do because certain things are just unethical. You can't break people. You can split an atom; you can't split a person. You can't raise somebody in a closet so that they don't learn a language, right? So that also complicates the science.

Then there's a second half of the question, which is why is it that more people don't know more about psychology in ways that might help them to live their lives? It has to do with the fact that, when we systematized education about 120 years ago. We had to lay down a science curriculum, and the three mature sciences were biology, chemistry, and physics, so they made the cut. A lot of other sciences didn't, including psychology, which in the early 1900s barely wrested itself free of philosophy. And so we don't teach a lot of psychology.

On top of that, the structure of the brain makes it very hard for people to understand themselves well. Our motivational centers that drive a lot of our action are buried deep in the brain. They are brain structures that humans share with rats, mice and deer. All the complex reasoning and storytelling abilities that we have involve brain structures that are literally built on top of that other structure, and they don't have great access to what's going on in the motivational system. When people introspect, when they look inwards to try and understand their own behavior, they are actually telling stories about their own behavior that isn’t necessarily perfectly related to what actually drove that behavior, which is why people need to go into therapy. Because that introspection doesn't necessarily solve all your problems; sometimes you need a trained professional to help you to do it.

And so all of these factors combine to keep the brain a mystery, both to scientists and to everybody else.

One topic that you tackled recently on your blog that struck me is mindfulness. Even some colleges are trying it out as a way to help students. But you point out that research suggests mindfulness is not always positive. Could you talk a little bit about that?

As you say, mindfulness is a big trend these days, and there are a lot of great effects of mindfulness. And in particular, one of the things that mindfulness training can do is to make you more aware of some of your own thought processes and some of the emotional reactions you have to things in the world. And that is associated with better emotion regulation and greater likelihood of sticking with your long term goals. So I always like to preface this by saying I'm not making the argument that mindfulness is this a horrible thing that's being foisted on us. But I think we have to understand what it does and doesn't do. And so if you look at the research, there are a few areas where mindfulness is not helpful.

On the not helpful side is creativity. So you could ask the question, if you do a lot of mindfulness training, will you become a more creative individual? And the answer seems to be not so much; it doesn't seem to hurt, but it doesn't seem to help. What really helps you to become more creative is learning a bunch of stuff and having a wide, broad base of knowledge that you can draw from, and mindfulness isn't going to help you to get there.

You’ve written quite a bit about the concept of growth mindset. What is your take on that?

I've followed this work for a long time. Carol Dweck, who developed a lot of these ideas, she and I were colleagues together at Columbia University for a while before she went to Stanford and I came here to the University of Texas. I think there's a lot of wonderful stuff about this mindset work.

The concept is that you can think about almost any skill that you engage in as either being mostly talent-based or mostly skill-based; talent-based meaning, ‘I'm born with it,’ or skill-based meaning, ‘if I work hard enough at it, I'll get it.’ And what her work suggests is that if you adopt a growth mindset, which suggests that most things are skills, that you will often work harder in the face of adversity because you will recognize that your hard work will allow you to overcome difficulties. Whereas if you believe something is purely talent-based, then when things get difficult, you think, "Well, I guess I've reached the limits of my talent. I'm gonna give up."

And that can have important consequences with student retention?

I wrote about a study not long ago that was really interesting in which they looked at students in a low socioeconomic status school in India, and looked at providing information that would help students to adopt a growth mindset there. There were two findings there that I think should cause all of us who like this kind of work to take a step back and think about it more. And to be fair, Carol Dweck has acknowledged that this is part of her research program, so I'm not criticizing her particularly. But there were two findings of interest here: The first was that the students who were most helped by the growth mindset training were the best students already.

The second thing, though, was that for some of those students, particularly those students who the teachers acknowledged were the most conscientious students, this growth mindset training actually decreased their motivation to come to school. Giving them a growth mindset training actually increased their absentees. And the speculation in this paper was that, for some kids who grow up in poor neighborhoods, they come to school because they're good at it, and so they think there's something special about them that makes them good at this, and this is a place they can go to feel special. And when you give them growth mindset training, inadvertently what you do is to say, ‘Well, it's not really that you're special; it's that you've worked hard.’ And they're not as motivated by that as to be in a place where they were actually the special one, and so it actually undermined some of their motivation to continue to come to school.

And so what this means is that we need to really think carefully about how to take the controlled laboratory studies that we do in order to demonstrate that there's something worth continuing with, and then work hard to figure out what factors affect whether this is going to have an impact on students in ways that will help us to then launch this in a way that helps students, helps the students most in need, and doesn't undermine those students who might be succeeding on other grounds. This is no different than having laboratory studies that suggest a particular treatment might cure cancer, only to find out that it doesn't work as well when you try to use that in patients. So it's the hard work of applying research.

From all of your research and careful reading of the literature, what is your biggest piece of advice for teachers—something that might surprise them about how students learn?

What I would say is that we have a conflicting set of goals when we look at the educational system. On the one hand, we want to train independent, innovative thinkers, and then we want to do that by making sure that all of them get the same answer on the state test. And I think that one of the things we need to do is to really think about how the reward structure that is part of school influences the long-term thinking of students.

A lot of what we want to do is to give students more opportunities to do things that may not be correlated with grades, right? To give students opportunities to make mistakes and to recover from those mistakes—to give students opportunities to answer questions that nobody in the room knows the answer to, give students the opportunity to read stuff that has no bearing on whatever the lesson plan is at the moment. Because those skills in the long run are the ones that are correlated with success after school, and that to me is a real tension.

In the most recent book that you co-authored, Brain Briefs: Answers to the Most (and Least) Pressing Questions about Your Mind, one of the chapters is titled "Do Schools Teach the Way Students Learn?" What is your answer to that one?

I would say is sometimes, but often not.

One of the things that schools do is that they test on material at the end of units and then not again. And one of the things that we know about short term testing is that studying in the moment for a test that's coming up will allow you to learn the material for the test, but then your brain is basically gonna decide you don't need this information anymore if you don't encounter it again. Your brain wants to keep using information when you're forced to keep pulling it out over and over again. And so, even though students hate cumulative exams, those are the ones that actually force them to keep encountering the material repeatedly over the course of a year in order to make sure that it gets in there. So actually forcing them to keep going back to things that learned before in an explicit way is really important.

I think another part of what schools do, and this gets back to something I was saying a little bit earlier, is that schools teach mistake minimization, right? So to get good grades, you have to get the answers on each test correct, which means that the kids with the best grades, generally speaking, make the fewest mistakes. And what that teaches us is really good learning is about never making mistakes. But actually, learning is failure driven; it's when surprising things happen that you're forced to learn new things. And so it's actually the recovery from mistakes that helps people to learn best.

And so what we need to be teaching is yeah, make a mistake, but then you're responsible for fixing it and for understanding the thing you didn't understand. Getting a C is just the first step in a process of actually learning something, not the demonstration that you hadn't learned it.

We focus on technology in education, and these days there’s a lot of talk about trends like adaptive learning and flipped classrooms. How helpful do you think these types of tech innovations will be, or can a low-tech solution be more helpful?

I think technology's just a tool, and so technology alone isn't going to solve problems. For example, I think some of the schools that have experimented a little the inverted [or flipped] classroom, where you have students engage with the lecture outside of the class time and then have more guided activities inside the classroom. There's a place where I think technology can have a real benefit, because why should the teacher deliver a lecture that could just have easily have been engaged with in a more interesting way outside of the classroom, and then save the teacher's expertise for helping to debug misconceptions in students. So I think some of those things can be very valuable.

In general, I think technology hasn't been used that well in classrooms, certainly at the college level where I teach. MOOCs were all the rage, these massively online courses, which have really not engaged people very much because after you watch a video screen by yourself for about five minutes, you start looking at your cellphone. There's actually something valuable to being in a classroom with other people. You're much more likely to pay attention if there are 25 other students in the room also paying attention than if there's nobody around and you can do whatever you want. I mean, when I go home, every once in awhile I will sit and watch television by myself and after five minutes, I'm on my phone, and I'm trying to be entertained.

We have to really think about how technology can fit with the way people learn rather than assuming that just putting it online, or just using a computer to present the information, is going to fix all of the problems.

How Teaching Using Mindfulness or Growth Mindset Can Backfire published first on http://ift.tt/2x05DG9

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ronaldmrashid · 7 years ago

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Silent Threats In The Night: A Forgotten Memory Until Charlottesville Happened

In the summer of 1996, I got in my rusty Toyota Corolla hatchback and took off on a five and a half hour drive south from the suburbs of Washington DC to a sleepy town called Abingdon, Virginia. I wasn’t sure if I’d make it because I had never driven my car more than 2.5 hours before.

After my transmission blew out six months after I bought it for $2,000, the mechanic got the gear ratio wrong so my car was always revving 2,000 RPM higher than it should. Constantly wondering whether the engine would explode was concerning.

I was back from a month-long internship at a Canon electronics distributor in Taipei and missed my girlfriend dearly. Sophomore year at The College of William & Mary in Williamsburg was only a month a way, but I couldn’t wait to see her.

Abingdon is a beautiful town nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountain range. When I arrived, the first thing I did was give my girlfriend a big hug and go to a local “greasy spoon” restaurant right off the main strip. She knew that I loved grilled cheese sandwiches with freshly sliced tomatoes wedged between the goodness. It was the perfect way to catch up after almost two months of being away.

Source: VisitAbingdonVirginia.com

Although there wasn’t a minority in sight, I never felt out of place in quiet Abingdon. Southerners tend to have a great way of making you feel welcome. After lunch, she brought me up a windy road to see her dad and his girlfriend. They lived on a little hill with not a neighbor in sight for miles. I was nervous to meet dad as any boyfriend should be.

I gave Mr. Brosnan a firm handshake and greeted him with the warmest “nice to meet you” I could muster. Mr. Brosnan was a psychiatrist at the local hospital. He stood about six feet tall with a full beard filled with black and white bristles. He was white and drove a green Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo. He politely scoffed at my dinky car that pulled up into his driveway.

My girlfriend, Erika, was not white. She stood about 5′ 8″ tall and had straight black hair. She was incredibly fit because she was a vegetarian and a runner. Erika was mixed. Her Chinese mother had died from cancer when she was only three.

Into The Evening

If you ever go camping in a desolate place, you’ll marvel at the brightness of the stars. Each evening we’d sit out on the porch right off the kitchen and look up. Because there wasn’t a street light for miles, the solar system jumped out at us like high definition. We spotted no fewer than three shooting stars each night, which makes me wonder what else do we miss in our daily lives?

On the third day of a week long visit we got a flier. On the flier were four white hooded figures with an invitation to join the KKK. There was a telephone number to call, but no address. We read the propaganda and thought nothing of it. But when we told Mr. Brosnan about the flier we could see the worry in his eyes.

He asked, “Did anybody follow you home?” “Were you aware of anybody in town watching you?” “Did you have a bad encounter?”

As far as we could tell, nobody was following or watching us. We had thought the flier was junk mail, sent to every single household in town. Not once did we suspect we were targeted because of my arrival until we spoke to Mr. Brosnan. There was something else Mr. Brosnan wasn’t telling us, but he never revealed anything else.

Perhaps it’s because I’ve been through a lot of uncomfortable racial discrimination encounters that I wasn’t really worried about a silly flier. As a minority, you get used to the jeers, the name calling, the stereotyping, the intimidation and the hate. Because you’re physically outnumbered, there’s nothing you can really do but ignore and move on if you want to live. Instead, I learned self-defense, practiced using a butterfly knife, and focused on my studies in order to gain some future optionality.

The next day, Erika and I went down to get a milkshake after a three-mile jog and everything was as normal as could be. Then night fell and something strange happened.

While on the deck, instead of hearing the cicadas gently hum through the night like an ocean wave, we heard a truck rumble up the hill to the front of the house. Nobody came out of the truck. It just sat there with the engine left on, gurgling as if it was hungry.

Then the high beams flickered on and we decided to go inside. As we were heading inside, we saw Mr. Brosnan walk outside with his rifle. He calmly told us to stay put. Mr. Brosnan stood behind a wooden bear statue on his porch for protection, pointed his rifle at the truck and shouted, “Get the hell off my property!”

The standoff only lasted for a minute, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, the truck lowered its high beams. Inside we could see three white men in the truck drinking beer and throwing up some sort of hand signal before driving back down the hill. They littered a beer can put the window and left another flier.

We’ll never know whether a member of the KKK spotted us in town and followed us back to Mr. Brosnan’s house. But we did learn that the KKK had been trying to recruit Mr. Brosnan for a number of years. The per capita income for the town was $22,486, while about 7.3% of families and 10.1% of the population were below the poverty line. As a psychiatrist, Dr. Brosnan was a respected man in town who likely unknowingly helped treat a KKK member.

At Dr. Brosnan’s urging, he recommended I find a motel to stay in at a nearby town instead. So I found an Econo Lodge in the town of Marion, 30 miles north on H-81. I didn’t want to put his family in jeopardy. Erika initially objected, but she came along to stay for a couple nights before we both had to return to our respective homes.

What Happened To Progress?

I forgot all about this harrowing encounter as a 19-year-old until what transpired in Charlottesville, Virginia this past weekend. Millions were killed in World War II fighting Adolf Hitler and the Nazis. Yet here people were at Emancipation Square and on the campus of the University of Virginia making Nazi salutes and carrying flags with swastikas while a team of men in camouflage gear and semi-automatic riles marched along side them in support. Then the car bulldozing happened. What the hell is going on?

It’s incredibly sad that after 21 years, there is still so much hate and bigotry. Perhaps it has never gone away, but stayed more hidden until now. As a personal finance writer, I can’t help but think the lack of money and education have everything to do with racism. Nobody grows up hating someone else because of their skin color. Hate is taught by our parents, our peers, and our circumstance. Hopefully this means that those who hate can be taught to learn love as well

FinancialSamurai.com will always be a platform that is accepting of everybody looking to achieve financial freedom. I enjoy not seeing what any of you look like because it allows me to focus on your substance. I strongly believe that if more people achieve financial security, there will be less hate in the world. Once you feel financially secure or at least feel like you’re headed in the right direction, you can start helping others instead of trying to cut others down.

Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.

Thoughts About Hate

* If you’re experiencing hate know that the person hating on you is going through some sort of misery that causes them to act out. Happy people don’t hate on others, they find a way to accept and be kind.

* Forgive. It may not be easy, but once you understand why they are the way they are, it becomes easier. You’ll feel better forgiving and moving on, rather than letting the incident eat away at you.

* Be careful not to lump everyone in the same group. If you do, then you’re practicing a similar brand of prejudice. Discover the individual.

* Don’t assume that just because Asian Americans as a group do OK in terms of income and education, they don’t consistently face racial discrimination in many facet of their lives. Further, there is no typical Asian since there are 48 Asian countries.

* If you’re practicing hate, dig deep to find the root cause of your hatred. Now direct your energy towards addressing the issue instead of blaming some group of people for your misery.

* Let’s teach our children early on about the importance of respecting each other. Our prejudices will spread to our children if we are not careful.

* The best way to prove your detractors wrong is to be successful in your craft. The best way to cure your hate towards others is to also become successful in your craft.

The One Key Ingredient Necessary For Achieving Financial Independence

Emotional Intelligence: A Key To An Easier Life

Readers, what are your thoughts about what happened in Charlottesville, Virginia? Have you had any hateful encounters based on who you are that you’d like to share? What do you think are some solutions to creating more harmony in the world? Before attending The College of William & Mary, I attended high school in Northern Virginia. Virginia is a wonderful place that has a special place in my heart, despite all the growing pains I experienced.

from http://www.financialsamurai.com/silent-threats-in-the-night-charlottesville/

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