#ive always been terrified of needles

[keeryhours]

the needle and the damage done - chapter five

Older! Rockstar! Eddie Munson x female! reader

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Summary:

The aftermath.

Warnings:

(18+) drugs, talk of overdose, pregnancy, angst, mention of CPS

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N:

So sorry for the late update! But I hope you enjoy this chapter <3

“Roz? I need you. Eddie OD’d. They took him. I don’t know if he…I don’t know if he’s okay. He didn’t look okay. I need you. I’m with the girls…we’re okay.” You whispered the next part - “Rhi saw.”

You didn’t go to the hospital right away. You weren’t sure if you were going to go at all. You called Wayne, sobbing into the phone - “He overdosed. Yeah. No, he’s…he’s alive. I thought he was dead, Wayne. We need you.”

Wayne was on the first flight to California. The girls were excited to see him, but Rhiannon hadn’t been the same since that night. You arranged a therapist for her, but she hadn’t been yet. It broke your heart that she had been traumatized so severely - you always swore you would protect her, all your kids. You had failed.

You had been having early contractions, too. An emergency visit to the doctor told you it was due to stress. You were terrified all of this would push you into early labor - you knew the emotions you’d been going through were bad for the baby, but it’s like it was never ending.

Ultimately, you decided not to go to the hospital at all. After you sat with it, after you knew he was going to be okay, you were angry. How could he do this? How could he do this to you, to the girls? To Rhiannon?

CPS was now involved, knocking on your door for random home visits and drug tests. They spoke to the girls, who talked of a great life with two loving parents and a dad who’s just sick a lot of the time. Rhiannon said nothing, just clung to Evie’s hand like a lifeline.

Whether you liked it or not, your life had changed. Eddie’s decisions had changed all of your lives in a big way. And all you could do was ride through it, hoping to make it to the other side intact and together.

When Eddie woke up in the hospital, he had a pounding headache. He felt like he was in the world’s worst hangover, like he woke up smack in the middle of the worst withdrawals of his life.

It was immediately obvious he was in a hospital, with the IV in his track marked arm and the gown on his body. He looked around, seeing the room empty except for Gareth, who sat on the couch, watching the TV.

“Gar…” Eddie started, needing to clear his throat. “Gareth?”

Gareth turned towards the bed. The look on his face was unreadable, but it wasn’t relief. “Eddie,” Gareth stated as he stood and walked to his bedside.

“What…what happened?”

Gareth pursed his lips, like he was figuring out whether to sugarcoat this or not. “You overdosed, man. On fentanyl and heroin.”

Eddie’s heart hammered in his chest. He looked down at his body, like he couldn’t believe he was still alive. “Oh, jesus.”

“Yeah,” Gareth agreed. Eddie could tell the severity of just how bad he had fucked up by the anger clearly written on Gareth’s face. And the absence of you.

“Where’s my family?” He asked, needing to know the answer to that question more than he needed to breathe. “Where are my girls?”

Gareth took a slow seat in the chair next to Eddie’s bed, and his heart sunk. “Look, man,” he started. He looked like he was arranging the words in his head before he spoke. “You…I mean shit, dude, you fucked up really bad.”

Eddie’s whole body felt cold. “What…what did I do?”

“You overdosed on the bathroom floor at home,” he said, “She had to find you like that.”

Eddie’s heart clenched in his chest. “Fuck,” he whispered, tears welling in his big brown eyes.

“And Rhiannon saw.”

That was the final hit for Eddie. His lips parted as the tears fell, and even through his anger, Gareth felt terrible for his best friend. He wanted to wrap him in a hug, but he still wanted to fucking strangle him himself.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie whispered, his voice hoarse. “Is she…”

“She’s pretty fucked up about it to be honest with you, man,” he said, running a hand through his brown curls. “They all are.”

“And they haven’t come here,” Eddie said. It wasn’t a question.

Gareth met his eyes. “No.”

The brutal honest truth was that in that moment, Eddie wanted to die. He wished the overdose had actually taken him, had actually erased his miserable existence from this planet as a favor to his family and friends. Because he did not deserve to be here right now, and he did not want to be here right now. He knew his wife and kids probably never wanted to see him again. And how could he blame them?

Eddie sobbed. He felt as if he was seeing his life laid out in the harsh hospital lighting, everything ugly about it laid bare for him to face head on right now. Right fucking now, and he feels like he’s drowning in it.

Gareth finally sat on the bed next to him, wrapping an arm around his friend. “Ed…” His voice cracked, the sight of his lifelong best friend so utterly broken doing something horrible to his own chest. Eddie curled into Gareth’s embrace like a child, crying his eyes out like a man who knew he’d lost everything.

“Mama.”

“Yes?” You looked at your oldest with eyebrows raised, a hand on your 23 week baby bump. You had been put on bed rest, so Wayne was staying and Roz had practically moved herself in, too.

“Can me and Rhiannon go to the park?” She asked, a hopeful sparkle in her eye.

“Does Rhiannon want to go to the park?” You asked the true question, hoping with all your chest that the answer was yes.

Evie’s smile dropped. “Well, no, she didn’t say that. I just thought it might make her smile.”

You smiled tenderly at your daughter - always the carer, always empathetic and watching over her siblings. So mature for 10 years old. She’s had to grow up too fast. You failed her in that way. You failed your kids in a lot of ways.

“I know you want Rhi to feel better,” you told her, stroking her brown curls. “You can ask her if she wants to go, but don’t push her if she doesn’t. And take Auntie Roz with you if you go.”

Evie nodded, her smile back on her face. “Okay, mama.” 

You watched her hop out of your bedroom, and then you were left alone in your depression pit of a bedroom once again. HGTV reruns played on the TV, your hand lazily rubbing your belly. At least you weren’t completely alone.

“You okay?” A voice asked from the doorway.

You turned and smiled at Roz, patting the bed for her to join you. She sat next to you, leaning back on your pillows together.

“Not really,” you admitted. “My husband OD’d and almost died, but I can’t bring myself to go see him. My daughter is traumatized for life and her sisters are desperate to help. I’m huge and sore and stuck in bed 24 hours a day. Things couldn’t be better.”

Roz smiled at you sadly before she laid her head on your shoulder. “Things will get better. I know that sounds like a stupid, pointless thing to say, but it’s true.”

You chewed the inside of your lip. “Do you think I should talk to him?”

Roz sighed. “I wish I could answer that for you, but I don’t think I can.”

“He’s my husband,” you said. “I love him more than life. The love I feel for him and our kids is more than I ever thought I could feel.”

“I think maybe you’re answering your own question,” Roz said.

“But he can’t keep hurting us like this.”

Roz looked at you with sympathy. It didn’t bug you as much when she did it. “He can’t.”

“He has to go to rehab again. Or something. But it didn’t help the first time obviously, so who knows.” You sighed, covering your face with your hands as tears threatened to fall. You’d done enough crying for the whole year at this point. “I just don’t know what to do. I want him to stop. I need him to stop.”

“I know, I know,” Roz whispered soothingly as she held you. She stroked your hair with one hand, the other wrapped around your body.

When you spoke next, your voice was weak and small. “I want my Eddie back.”

“I know,” she said again. “I want him back, too.”

Being in the hospital was lonely. Eddie didn’t get many visitors. He longed to see you, but he knew you weren’t coming. He had fucked up too many times, too severely.

When he heard his hospital room door open, he assumed it was a nurse for the millionth time. But at the familiar sound of a man clearing his throat, Eddie looked up, his face immediately lighting up.

“Wayne,” Eddie said. “I…I didn’t even know you were in town.”

Hearing your name out loud from his lips only made his heart ache even worse. “She called me to come help with the girls. Told me what happened.”

Eddie looked as ashamed as he felt. “Wayne-“

“Son, listen,” Wayne said, sitting next to his nephew on the hospital bed. “You’ve made a real mess, you know that?”

Eddie looked down at his hands. The marks covering his arms. “I know.”

“I just…” Wayne sighed wearily, like he was letting out years of frustration. “I don’t get it, Ed. You have - had -  everything you could dream of. The career you always wanted, the girl you always loved, three beautiful children and another on the way. Great friends. Loving family.”

Eddie knew his words were true, and the guilt only gnawed at him deeper.

“I guess I just don’t understand,” Wayne continued. “How you could throw all that away just for some dope.”

“I don’t know, man,” Eddie said, squeezing his eyes shut as tears fell anyway. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Wayne softened. “You know there’s a way out, right? Like in those choose your own adventure games you used to play. There’s an ending where you get clean and have your family back and find happiness. And there’s an ending where you keep using, lose it all, and end up alone.”

Eddie knew his uncle’s harsh words were true. It was in his hands entirely. So how did he keep fucking it up so bad?

“I know,” he said. “I want the good ending. I want my family back. I want the band back. I want to make music and laugh with my friends and hug my kids and kiss my wife.” Eddie sounded utterly dejected when he spoke, like he had already given up.

“You can have that,” Wayne promised him. “You can quit. You can turn this shit around.”

Eddie shook his head. “You have no idea what it’s like,” he said, utter despair in his voice, his mouth dry. “The pull. It’s like it’s impossible to resist. I did the shit one time, one time, and I haven’t gone a minute without thinking of it since.”

He was breaking Wayne’s heart. “People do it, Ed. You could do it. You could put this behind you.” Wayne’s voice cracked, and it only fractured Eddie’s heart even more. He’s never heard Wayne cry before. “Do you know what it felt like to get that phone call?”

Eddie said nothing.

“It was like…” Wayne scoffed, rubbing the skin between his eyes. “You’re my boy. Hearing what you’d done to yourself, to your girls…it made me sick.”

Eddie covered his face with both hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are, Ed.” Wayne placed a hand on Eddie’s slender back. Too slender these days. “If you don’t think anyone believes in you, I do. I’ve seen what you can pull yourself out of. I’ve seen your strength. You’re a strong man. A good man. Please don’t let your family down.”

Eddie nodded. “I won’t. I won’t ever again.”

Wayne smiled softly at him. “You’ve got this baby boy to think of now, too, Ed.”

Butterflies took flight in his stomach as he thought of his unborn son. Four kids. He never saw himself as a father, but the day you told him you were pregnant everything shifted. He couldn’t imagine anything better. He was so lucky, and so stupid.

“I want to be a good father to him,” Eddie said. “To my girls.”

“You have been. And you will be again. Put all this behind you now. Let this be one child that never has to face seeing you this way.”

Eddie nodded. Wayne was right. He could do this, and he would do it. His kids needed him.

“I’m going to go back to rehab,” Eddie said. “A different rehab.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“I don’t know if I was serious about it last time,” he admitted. “But I am now. I almost fuckin’ died, Wayne.”

“I know,” he said, an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “But you’re serious this time. And you’re gonna do it.”

Wayne was right.

He was going to do this.

Eddie sat on the side of his hospital bed, pulling his shoes on. He was already dressed back in a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt, hair pulled back in a low ponytail. He was finally being discharged from the hospital, but there was no joy behind it. He didn’t even know where he was going. Gareth was supposed to come pick him up. He’d been looking at a few rehabs.

The sound of his door opening caught Eddie’s attention, his head turning in that direction. His breath caught in his chest when he saw you walking into the room, dressed in a pair of maternity jeans you bought when you were pregnant with Ivy, a sweater hugging your body and showing off the belly. Eddie barely resisted the urge to reach out and touch you.

“Baby,” he breathed instead. He didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to reach for you, for you to take him into your arms and hold him until he truly believed everything would be alright.

You slowly walked over and took a seat in the chair across from him. “Eddie…”

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” Eddie said, reaching forward and grasping your hands in his in a moment of vulnerability. “I am so…god, there’s not enough words I can say. I don’t know if I can ever make this right. But I want you to know I’m going to try to for the rest of my life. I love you. I love our girls. I love our son and want to be here to meet him. I want to be with you. I want to be with my family.”

You pulled from his grasp and wiped tears away with the back of your hand, trying your hardest to keep it together. “Eddie…this was…it was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I had never felt like a bigger failure of a mother. I thought I was going to lose you for good and Rhiannon was going to witness her father dying.”

Eddie’s hands shook as he listened to you, the guilt eating him alive. “I am so sorry. I know that’s not enough. But I was a complete idiot. I want to get better. I want to be better for you and our family.”

“You can’t want to get clean for us,” you said, meeting his eyes determinedly. “You have to actually want it for yourself. As long as you’re trying to do this for us while still dreaming about getting high, texting your dealer and sneaking around, it’s never going to work.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I…I know. I want it. I want to be better. Please, baby, I need you to believe me.” He grabbed your hands again, desperation shining in his doe eyes. “Please, I can’t…I can’t lose you or the kids. I couldn’t handle that. Please believe me. Please give me another chance.”

Tears were properly falling now, sniffling as you tried to get yourself together. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t cry in front of him today. You were done crying.

“I’m supposed to be on bed rest,” you said randomly, gesturing to the bump.

Eddie’s expression morphed into concern. “You need to get home then. Can I take you home?”

You thought. “Yeah.”

Eddie picked up his small bag. “Let me take you home.”

You followed Eddie out to the parking lot, to where your car was parked. He took the keys from you and unlocked it, getting into the driver’s seat as you carefully lowered yourself into the other side.

“You’re so stubborn,” he said, shaking his head with a smile.

“I didn’t know if I wanted to see you,” you admitted. “I wasn’t going to come.”

A beat of silence as Eddie pulled onto the road. “Why did you?”

“Because I love you?” you offer, although you don’t know the reason yourself. “Because I miss you? Worry about you? Couldn’t stand the thought of you sad and alone for another second.”

Eddie softens. He reached over and took your hand. When he pulled up into the large driveway, neither of you moved.

“I don’t think you should come in,” you said. The words stung Eddie, but he wasn’t exactly surprised. “I just don’t think it’s the right time. The girls…”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I get it. Um…tell them I love them and miss them?”

“Okay,” you agreed. You still didn’t move. Eddie gave you the time you needed, not pushing you to say or do more. “I love you, Eddie. If you’re serious about being done, and you go back to rehab and show us, maybe…maybe we can work on things.”

“You mean that?” he asks, desperate for the hope to hold onto but unable to blame you if you never wanted to see him again.

“Yes,” you said, and he could tell you were being genuine. He gave you the softest smile that you returned with a halfhearted one. Finally you moved for the door.

“Gareth can bring me to drop the car back off tomorrow,” he said. “If that’s okay.”

“It’s fine.” You looked at the front door of the large house, then back to Eddie. “Please take care of yourself.”

“I will,” he said, and it was a promise. You took it, held onto it.

Eddie watched you walk up the drive and to the front door, letting yourself inside. One of the girls ran and hugged you around the legs, which made you smile down at her. Eddie wanted to be there more than he’d ever wanted anything.

He drove to Gareth’s, feeling sad but with some hope deep inside. He pushed away that nagging feeling tugging at the edges of his mind, wouldn’t things be much better if we just got high about it?

He made it to Gareth’s successfully, without stopping for a drug-related detour or driving his life right off the rails again. It was a small victory, hopefully the first of many.

Gareth and Roz were inside, both greeting Eddie with a hug. The amount of forgiveness he was being shown was blowing his mind. It helped that he seemed open to genuine change, like he was really ready to put the drugs behind him. It’s what everyone wanted to believe.

Eddie made himself comfortable in Gareth’s guest bedroom that night, showering before changing into a pair of boxers and sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He rubbed his hand over his face as he climbed into the soft bed. It was comfortable, but he couldn’t be satisfied without you in bed with him.

He picked his cell phone up from the bedside table. He dialed the number with one press of a button, the most familiar and most used number in his phone. It rang a couple times before your sleepy voice answered.

“Eddie?”

“Hi, baby girl,” he said, voice low.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “I just…wanted to hear your voice. I miss you.”

It was quiet over the line for a moment, nothing but the crackling of the connection. “I miss you too, Eds.”

“I want to come home to you so bad,” he admitted in the cover of the darkness. It was easier when he couldn’t see your face, couldn’t see the pain and betrayal written there.

“I know,” you said. “I want you to come home, too.”

“Can’t I?” he said, and he felt like a child begging for something he knew he couldn’t have.

“Eddie, it’s just…not yet,” you said. “I’m not ready. We’re not ready.”

Eddie nodded, even though you couldn’t see him. “I know. I know. I promise I understand.”

“But…” you started. “If we see you working hard, you know, it helps to build up that trust.”

“You will see that,” he promised you quickly. “I swear to you.”

“Then show me,” you said. “Please, Eddie. Show me.”

“I’ll show you,” he said. And he meant that with every fiber of his being. He was going to get better for you, and the kids, and Wayne, and his friends and band, and himself. He had never been more sure of anything in his life.

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[zomtart]

Chapter 1: Morphine and Lavender (Frank Castle x Fem!Reader)

okay this is terrifying but hi I am going to share some of my writing! this is just a snippet I wrote cause Frank is always on the brain. thank you tuna team for the encouragement <3

content warnings: hospital, canon-typical violence/gore, mentions of needles, language

word count: 1.1k

Frank was beginning to think they had left him in there to die when he heard a knock. You opened the door with a huff, brushing your hair out of your face before giving Frank a curt nod.

“Alright, hi, sorry, I know I’m not your assigned nurse but everyone in my unit decided to take lunch at the same time, so you are stuck with me at the moment.” you mumbled, barely looking up at Frank as you wheeled your computer stand to his side. You stayed outside of the duct-taped line, but it didn’t seem to bother you much. In fact, you didn’t seem bothered at all. Frank’s eyebrows furrowed together as you pulled up his medical profile, searching for his name.

“Okay, you are Mr…Castle?” you asked, the sound of your mouse clicking echoing in the small hospital room.

He blinked, dumbfounded. “...yes ma’am.”

You nodded, your relaxed (but rather exhausted) expression staying constant even as you said the name that was headlining every newspaper in New York. 

“Mr. Castle, could you give me a pain rating on a scale of 1-10?”

He blinked again. He felt like he had fallen into some sort of alternate universe. His assigned nurse hadn’t talked to him in the few days he’d been here, much less give him treatment he’d give another patient. An innocent patient. 

“Mr. Castle?” you repeated. 

“Right--uh…five.” he said quietly.

At that, you raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down slowly. You eyed the numerous bruises, cuts, and scars he was no doubt covered in, and asked, “That your final answer?” 

Something like a smile itched at his lips, but he forced it down. “...yes.” 

You shrugged, typing something into your computer. “Alright, well at least the painkillers are doing something. I’ll make sure to get a refill for that--” you paused as you looked at the full IV bag of morphine, following the IV down to…the floor.

You grabbed at the IV, looking at the wire and then back to Frank. “Did you yank this out?”

“No, ma’am.”

“The fuck?” you murmured, before understanding seemed to dawn on you. The cuffs, the bright red line of tape, the bruises on his face. Frank waited for disgust, for you to become terrified, for you to spit in his face. Instead, you stubbornly set your jaw and walked back to your computer. 

“Who the hell is your nurse?” you sounded furious, but it didn’t seem aimed at him.

Frank, through his confusion, could only shrug.

You rapidly typed at the keyboard, eyes running up and down the screen. Then you stopped scrolling, eyes narrowing. “Did he have blonde hair? Eagle tattoo on his forearm?”

Frank vaguely remembered the eyes of an eagle staring back at him as he faded in and out consciousness from the pain, a man with blonde hair sneering down at him. He nodded. 

“...motherfucker.” you all but growled, and the sound turned into a jagged laugh. You threw your hands up. “Aaron. Of course it--god fucking…damnit--”

Frank felt he was obligated to ask, or maybe his curiosity got the best of him. “Ma’am, are you alright?”

You laughed humorlessly again, words tumbling out of your mouth. “Oh yeah. I’m just peachy. I haven’t slept in two days, haven’t been in my own bed in almost a week, and all because I need to take extra shifts. Why do I need to take extra shifts? Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I decided to move to New York fucking City where an apartment room costs more than an arm and a leg! And just when I think--oh just when I think I’m gonna get that promotion? No. No, I lose it to Aaron, who won’t even do his goddamn job correctly!” you finished with a burst of gusto, before collapsing down into a chair.

You just sat there for a minute, face buried in your hands, and Frank wasn’t quite sure what to do besides give you the grace of silence. 

The absence of noise was quickly interrupted by your pager going off, and you reluctantly held it up to your vision before sighing and putting it back at your hip. It seemed to snap you back into reality, and you stood up and smoothed down your hair.

“I’m…very sorry about that Mr…” you glanced up at the computer again. “...Castle. I’m--that was unprofessional, it has just been a…very long week.”

Frank’s eyebrows furrowed. “...you really don’t know who I am?” 

You grabbed some gloves from the table and snapped them on. “Someone very humble, I see.”

That got him to laugh, a low rumble that made its way out of his throat. He…couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed. It felt nice. Familiar, even after all this time. 

You shook your head with a small smile, grabbing the IV and sterilizing it. “No, I do not. I’m not even sure what day it is, to be honest.”

He nodded, stretching out his arm for you and making a fist. “But you…I mean they told you…somethin’, right? A warning?”

“I vaguely recall being told to stay behind the red line besides when absolutely necessary, yes.” you said, readying the needle. “Small pinch.” 

He stared, barely registering the sensation of the IV. “...so you…then why would you…?” He tried to find the answer in your face, but all he could see was concentration onyourtask. 

“Why would I…?” you repeated, waiting for him to continue. With the IV in his arm you took your gloves off, typing something on your computer.

“...I don’t know, you’re just being awfully kind.”

You pursed your lips, a hand going to your hip. “I’m not being kind, I’m doing my job. I took an oath to help people, no matter who they were, and that’s what I’m doing. Simple as that.” 

He grunted absentmindedly, his eyes flitting to the window. Ten stories down, New York raged on, lights flashing like fireworks. “Doesn’t seem simple.”

You shrugged. “It is to me.” you started wheeling out your computer. “I’ll be back to check on you in a couple hours. Hopefully that IV will help. If that dipshit comes in here again, you tell him about nurse malpractice. You have constitutional rights, even if you are off robbing banks or whatnot.”

With that, you were gone, the faint scent of lavender left in your wake.

Frank blinked. “...robbing banks,” he mumbled before closing his eyes, letting the numb feeling of morphine finally lull him into sleep.

[wlwyearnbot]

Update I realised she's probably not my type because from what I can tell we have very different interests so maybe we'll just stay friends. I haven't told her how I feel because it's honestly pointless. We do have a spotify blend together and we have a 74% match so that's neat

Im talking to this girl I met at my college queer club and I don't know how to feel because I really REALLY like her but I haven't had that "spark" yet because we literally met on Friday and have just been texting all weekend but we already made plans to go out together. But it's not even a "date" (I don't think???) but I did ask her out for coffee and she said yes. And I know she likes girls and she calls me baby unprompted but she calls me that the way one might call their friend homie. I DON'T KNOW I REALLY HOPE SOMETHING HAPPENS. And she's insanely pretty and has all these cool tattoos (a quote in Latin that means “If I cannot bring down heaven, then I shall raise hell.” ??? Hello????) but im demi ace and I want to get to know her first but she's so... AAAHAJASJDJEJREJ I'm not sure anymore but yeah idk if it's the same old pathetic sapphic yearning or perhaps something more?!?!?!

[kopilot-pop]

[Tired] pt.2

- Le Sserafim x 6thMember!Reader

Summary: After a harsh criticism from one of your teachers, you started to fall into a bad habit again. You started staying overnight at the company, your knees are always bruised, and you probably shouldn’t have 3 cans of Redbull everyday… Thankfully, your bandmates have easily recognized your behaviors and decided to put it to an end.

Warnings: overworking, self-hate, depression, suicidal intentions (very minor), fainting, hospital, needles,

a/n: sorry for the long wait. This is a bit shorter than I expected, but I hope you guys still enjoy.

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

The horrendous amount of caffeine started to take a toll on you.

During one of the last practices for your comeback, Chaewon stared at you worriedly.

But you were too busy staring at your shaky hands to notice.

After chugging another can of Redbull, you finished the practice and finally turned on your phone. Several missed calls and notifications from your group’s chatroom covered your phone.

You didn’t have the energy to care.

You fell asleep on the couch in the practice room.

You have a comeback tomorrow after all.

-----

Furious is an understatement.

Chaewon is absolutely mad.

The 6 of you gathered at the studio for Music Bank on the day of the comeback. While getting ready with makeup and outfits, you could tell the girls wanted to talk to you but were too busy to.

When you all finally got up to the stage, the jittery feeling became more intense. As the second verse started your stomach started to churn, your throat closed up - you almost missed your lines-

and once again you couldn’t stop staring at your shaky hands with bloodshot eyes.

Until you froze.

Your eyes met Zuha’s. And you watched in slow motion as she ran towards you, barely catching your body before it hit the ground, and the spotlight in front of your eyes shut down.

-----

“…..ays-… y..… med…-”

You finally woke up with a pounding inside your head.

The moment you could blur out the bright light above your head, you could see Sakura’s face and feel the cool cloth on yours.

She was carefully wiping away the sweat on your head and quickly noticed your eyes open.

“Y/n! How are you feeling?”

At the same time, you could hear a loud crash on the other side of the room.

“Y/n unnie woke up?!”

“Y/N ARE YOU OKAY-”

“G..guys… calm down..”

The three younger girls ran up to you, seeming to have been lounging on the couch together.

Eunchae, with teary eyes, pulled you into a tight hug.

“Hey! She’s not stable yet!! Don’t push her around!!”

Your leader walked through the doors to pull down the three puppies from you.

“Thanks..”

After a few moments of awkward silence, Chaewon finally started.

“You passed out on stage Y/n.”

“Chaewon, don’t be too harsh.” Sakura tried her best to keep the situation calm.

“I know unnie- Y/n. You fainted due to malnutrition. When’s the last time you ate anything?”

“…I’m not sure..”

“Of course you’re not sure. The only thing you’ve been putting inside your body was energy drinks-”

“Unnie..”

“No- We were all thinking so I’m just gonna say it- We thought you were gonna die Y/n.”

She said it so matter-of-factly that you could almost laugh. Almost.

“Why would y-”

“You were barely home, working like a slave every fucking day, starving, and depending on pain meds- so yeah, OF COURSE WE THOUGHT THE WORSE!!”

You finally gained the courage to look up at her teary eyes.

“Do you understand the amount of fear I felt when I saw you drop to the ground yesterday?! How terrified we felt when you didn’t wake up when Yunjin screamed your name?!!”

“I-..”

“Kazuha carried you to the hospital because she was too scared that something might happen to you if she let go!! Can you even imagine being that scared?!”

You looked down at your lap, fiddling with the needle(IV drip) inside your hand. Sakura gently held your hand to stop you.

“That’s enough Chaewon.” She said.

She’s never stern, but this time she was. Sakura gave you this look, something just like the one your mother always gave you.

Worried, angry, but somehow warm.

“We were scared Y/n.. More than the fainting, I was scared of losing you just like last time…”

Last time? Oh yeah. You almost killed yourself during debut.

“We care about you. You know that. All 5 of us love and cherish you, sometimes even more than anybody else in the world. And watching you slowly fade away like that just…”

She started to choke up. It was rare to see her like that, so you instinctively shot out to pull her into a hug.

Holding onto you, as you might just fade away, Sakura softly sobbed into your shoulder.

When you felt another weight on your back, you turned around to see the youngest also snuggling into you. Probably the person you mostly didn't want to catch you in such a depressing state.

"I...I'm sorr-"

Yunjin, with the same teary face all the others choked out;

"It's not your fault."

She slid next to the edge of the bed, gently holding onto Sakura's hand right on top of yours.

"I wanted to be better. Good enough to stand by you guys. I just wanted to-" You felt the tears finally fall free from your eyes as Chaewon with the same frown (albeit a bit softer) held your face.

Gentle. God, they were all so gentle with you.

"You are. You are good enough. You are good."

Watching you sob out, Kazuha finally joined into the pile, right next to Yunjin as she dries your tears with her old sweater sleeves.

You let out another ugly cry as you feel the 5 girls' warmth trap you. You forgot that you were good enough. You forgot how loved you were.

But just like always, they were there to remind you once again.

"You're loved Y/n. By us, always."

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

[whumpisgoodwhumpislife]

In troubled water #5

Masterlist

CW medical settings, needles

It had been over a month since the mer had been brought to the sea wildlife rescue center and it was in a pathetic state.

The medical tank he was being held in was small, barely bigger than its body, but with all the drugs they were giving it, it wouldn't be able to move much anyway. So it stayed still most of the time, lying limp on the floor of the tank, its half lidded, colourless eyes unblinking.

But even dazed, the small angler mer could still recognise the scent of humans, which always sent it into a terrified frenzy. Pathetic too, because it could barely move, squirming to avoid the gentle touch of foreign hands. They were just helping, changing bandages, installing IVs, readjusting the feeding tube, but it had no way to know that. All that it knew was pain, and the crushing evidence of its helplessness; without its fins, the anglerfish was nothing more than a worm on a hook, and it was aware of it. Its injuries weren't the only thing causing it pain; there was also this pulsing sensation, pressing on its insides. Its body was struggling to withstand the pressure.

It healed quickly though, thin broken bones mending faster than a human's would.

The first time the mer was taken to a bigger tank was catastrophic. It had been sedated, and took a while to wake up completely. It quickly understood that something had changed, the water going through its gills different from the sterile medical tank's, although not as comfortable as the sea's. The anglerfish, unsure where it was, immediately tried to hide. It crawled on the sand, squirming and flapping its finless tail to try and go faster, but it only caused it more pain.

The scuba diver hovering above him, close to the surface, hesitated. He wished to approach the small mer, to help it reach the artificial rocks and crevices on the walls of the tank, but he knew the creature would just freak out even more. They were used to take care of fearful and injured mers, but none of them had been as damaged as the angler. Most of the time, poacher's victims were dead by the time they were found.

His hesitation had been too long, and the anglerfish had noticed his smell in the water. It curled onto itself, the short stumps of its fins bristling on its back as it snarled upwards. Despite the surgery that had been done, the side of its mouth still hung weirdly, and the fangs had barely started to grow back. It was sad, more than intimidating, and the dim lure over its head was blinking, betraying its fear. The poor thing was terrified. The diver didn't insist, and aimed his sedative gun at it. When it was unconscious again, a harness was lowered in the tank, and it was winched out of the water.

The aquarists decided to change their approach. Usually, they would try to avoid interacting with rescues as much as possible, since they would eventually be freed in the sea. To identify humans as friends would be dangerous for them. But the small angler's state did not leave them much hope of ever being able to release it safely, so it would be better if it wasn't so scared of them.

Taglist : @sausages-things @jumpywhumpywriter @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thataquaticwhumper @alyscat

@whatamidoingherehelpme @fleur-a-whump @ratsupremacy88 @scoundrelwithboba @phoenixpromptsandstuff

@vampiresprite @neverthelass

[legyt]

Reading Transformers: More Than Meets The Eye (MTMTE) #16

(Been busy with prepping up for New Years, but Im back. Ive read up to #22, so this is just me going back to a specific part)

This part in particular got me HOOKED deeper into Chromedomes character, even more so when I first found out abt him being a mnemosurgeon and a former partner of Prowl.

Its knowing the fact that hes had ppl lik Rewind with him before, and the way Brainstorm implies that Rewind isnt his first conjux endura, and that perhaps the reason why hes 'born dry' of innermost energon to even offer Rewind any back when he was critically injured, was that he gave so much of it away that he just - ran out, zip, nada. He just, ran dry after giving so much of it away to ppl he loved, that had died and he mourned for.

Until. Until he made himself forget them, removing the connections he had with these ppl so that it wont hurt anymore. He knows its easy to get rid of the hurt and pain. Just lik that, a needle stab to the neck, and itd b lik he didnt just lose someone hed love.

He gave so much of himself that hes got nothing left to give, but in the face of living with the pain of losing someone, he severs whatever remained of the ppl he once loved.

His memories of them, with them, and evrything abt them.

It was Brainstorm saying that, without a doubt, that "Yeah, you will cuz we had this conversation before" is what got broke me even more when I was reading it. It still does, because.

Brainstorm is telling him this as a friend, whos seen him end up making the same decision again and again.

Just. Imagine what it wouldve been lik the first time for Brainstorm to ask if Chromedome was doing alright after, but gets nothing.

No grief, no pain. Nothing. Not even recognition from Chromedome when he says their name, as if it meant nothing to Chromedome when Brainstorm knows it does. Its suppose to. And then thats when you realize what was done, what Chromedome did, and it was because it hurt too much for him that he made an 'easy' decision.

But cmon, lets b fcking honest, how tf is it easy to just, remove a person you loved so deeply from your memories and not find it hard?? Because u didnt want to feel the hurt, the pain, and the suffocating grief that came with losing that person.

"Your attention for a moment. This is Rewind, showing you edited footage from my database. I've probably got nought point eight seconds before game over so hear me out! I've always been terrified that you'd die before I did, because you and me apart strikes me as intensely wrong. So promise me something: Be brave. Be strong. And keep going without me. And another thing: No more injecting - it will kill you. And remember: You deserve to be happy... The new institute was the old you. You're a better person now - stubborn and frustrating, but wonderful! And to think - I will never see you again. One more thing - one last thing - because I don't say it enough: I love you." - Rewind (TF MTMTE #16)

YALL MUST UNDERSTAND

THIS FINAL MESSAGE WAS THE FINAL NAIL TO MY COFFIN

I cried.

Simple as that.

I bawled my fcking eyes out so bad, I layed on the couch at 2 AM, being a sobbing messy wreck.

I was shocked at first, and it didnt hit me immediately, but when this page came next I started crying.

Then after I closed my tab and just, layed there listening to sad music as I fcking cry.

I cannot express how much this unraveled me. BUUUUT, I can lay out why it made me feel... why it made me feel.

To start with: Chromedome making a different choice this time, because Rewind told him he deserved to be happy, that hes different to who he was before - someone better.

And I think, part of it was because Rewind made him promise to keep going without him, to stop injecting with his needle fingers.

LIK BRO, I-

All that and in the end, Rewind tells him:

"I love you".

BUT OOOOOOOH

ohhhh theres another one I wanna talk abt...

"You deserve to be happy... The new institute was the old you. You're a better person now - stubborn and frustrating, but wonderful! And to think - I will never see you again."

In this part, that specific page.

THE PARALLELS ARE PARALLELIIINGG 🙉

"You deserve to be happy..." It shows Drift walking out, cuz hes getting banished.

"The new institue was the old you." Gets hit, went down

"You're a better person now - stubborn and frustrating, but wonderful!" But Ratchet helps him up

"And to think - I will never see you again." Drift took a shuttle and left the Lost Light as an exile

PLS PLS PLSPLSPLS PLEASE TELL ME IM NOT THE ONLY ONE THINKING THIS

[kk095]

Alexa’s Arrhythmia

*hello everyone! I know it's been awhile since my last story, so I apologize about the delay. I hope you all enjoy this one!*

Alexa was a 22 year old girl of Asian descent, standing at a compact 5 foot 1, having a more petite build. She had wavy, medium length hair with a middle part that was dyed platinum blonde. The young lady was heavily tattooed, with bright, colorful sleeves on both arms, tattoos up and down both legs, a few small pieces on the tops of her hands and fingers, along with a handful of other tattoos scattered elsewhere around her body. There were piercings in both her nipples, as well as a nose ring. Alexa’s style was always more revealing, showing off her tattoos and her cute, dainty figure. She took care of her appearance, always making sure her hair, nails, and makeup were on point.

Looks weren’t the only thing going for Alexa. She was very bubbly, outgoing, and a ton of fun to be around. However, that fun regularly crossed the line. Alexa was the life of the party and a total wild child. It seemed like her and her friends were always up to some sort of shenanigans. But last night, Alexa’s reckless, carefree partying had major consequences for the first time, resulting in her night ending in our emergency department.

It was discovered Alexa had used a large dose of an unknown, synthetic party drug that just hit the streets. The substance was in the form of a black, octagon shaped pill that was half the size of a dime with no markings, stamps, or engravings whatsoever. Alexa wrongly assumed the pills she acquired were molly (MDMA), a substance she had used casually. This misjudgment would prove to be a dire mistake for the tatted up party girl.

When Alexa arrived at our emergency department, she was completely inconsolable, crying hysterically. She was thrashing and flailing around quite dramatically on the trauma room table. Her heart was absolutely racing at 185bpm, on the verge of ventricular tachycardia. She felt a pinching sensation inside her chest, combined with severe heart palpitations.

She was sitting on the trauma room table in the upright position, stripped down to just her black bra and matching underwear. There were EKG electrodes stuck onto her chest, IVs set up in each arm, and a nasal cannula in her nostrils. Due to her dangerously high heart rate and unstable vital signs, the monitors beeped and chirped loudly, creating a tense and ominous tone in the room.

Alexa was absolutely terrified. This wasn’t her first rodeo with party drugs, but she knew something was seriously wrong this time. “HELP ME! PLEASE…” She sobbed, flailing around on the table. “we’re here to help you. I just need you to stay still so the nurses can take a look.” Lindsay calmly reassured. “HELP ME! PLEASE!!!” Repeated Alexa. “and we will sweetie! Just stay still for us, ok?” Nurse Nancy chimed in, trying to console the visibly upset young lady. “MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!” Alexa sobbed, squirming around feverishly. “Nancy, let’s try to calm her down. I wanna run some labs and get a stat tox screen on her. We need to know what she took.” Lindsay explained. Nurse Nancy nodded in acknowledgement to the doctor, and went to draw the blood samples required. “NO! NO NEEDLES! NO NEEDLES!!!” Alexa screamed since she always had a phobia of needles. “it’s just gonna be a quick stick hunny. It’ll be fast, I promise.” Reassured Nancy. “NO! THEY ALREADY GAVE ME ONE IN THE AMBULANCE!” Protested Alexa, referring to the IVs that the medics had set up. “I know you already got a needle in the ambulance, but we have to do this so you can feel better. Understand?” Nancy reasoned. “NO MORE NEEDLES! JUST MAKE IT STOP!” Alexa continued to resist, leaning back, shaking her back and forth dramatically indicating ‘no’. “well, if you don’t want us to draw the blood we need, then you have to tell us what you took.” Nancy’s tone getting more firm that time. “I don’t know…. It was just a couple of pills!” Alexa replied, her voice wobbly, tears streaming down her face. “a couple pills? Have you taken these before? What did it look like?” probed Nancy, hoping to get any bit of information she could work with. “I DON’T KNOW! I thought it was just molly or something…” the girl sobbed in response. “Well, was it molly? We’re not here to judge you hun. We just need to know what you took so we can help you.” Explained Nancy. “I DON’T KNOW! JUST MAKE IT STOP!” yelled Alexa, in hysterics.

Nancy sighed, starting to feel frustrated. It seemed like Alexa was just being uncooperative and unwilling to tell the team what she took. Since Alexa was also a fast, erratically moving target, nobody wanted to risk a needle stick injury while trying to draw labs. As far as chemical restraints went, nobody felt comfortable giving her any sedatives or benzos, fearing an adverse reaction with whatever was already in her system. The team was at a standstill to some extent, contemplating their next steps. Alexa’s heart rate was also through the roof, and her EKG was abnormal, so the team had to get her calm enough to run labs and start chemical cardioversion to try and stabilize her.

Before the team could decide what exactly their next move would be, Alexa’s symptoms worsened. She let out a loud, high pitched yelp, clenching her chest in pain with one hand, her eyes slamming shut for a few seconds. “Alexa? What’s the matter sweetie?” Nurse Nancy asked, concerned about the sudden change. “My heart! My heart’s getting pinched!” Answered Alexa. “I’m scared… I’m so scared…” She went on, crying her eyes out. “I know it’s scary, but we’re gonna take great care of you.” Soothed Nancy. “now, can you tell us what you took? We aren’t gonna get you in trouble. We aren’t gonna judge you. We just want to help.” Continued Nancy, feeling it was a good opportunity to pry for information again. “I DON’T KNOW! I TOLD YOU I DON’T KNOW! IT WAS JUST A COUPLE PILLS, I SWEAR!” Alexa bawled.

Dr Lindsay was looking at the monitors the whole time Nancy and Alexa were talking, and didn’t like what she was seeing. The doctor saw a narrow QRS complex and a short RP interval. Given these findings, combined with the 185bpm heart rate, Lindsay determined Alexa was experiencing something known as junctional ectopic tachycardia- a form of v-tach that needs to be electrically cardioverted in order to restore normal cardiac activity. Lindsay got Nancy’s attention. “hey Nance. We’re gonna have to cardiovert her. Let’s get the pads on her.” Lindsay commanded. Nancy then started to get the defib pads set up. While that was going on, Lindsay tried to explain what was going on. “Alexa? Your heart is beating in a very dangerous rhythm right now. In order to fix it, we have to give you a quick shock from the defibrillator pads. It’ll feel a little uncomfortable, but it’ll be over with before you know it.” Lindsay explained. “WHAT? NO. NO WAY. NO SHOCK.” Resisted Alexa. “I’m sorry. If there was a more comfortable way, believe me, we’d do that. But unfortunately this is the only way to go here.” Doctor Lindsay reasoned. Alexa didn’t respond to Lindsay. All she did was cry for a moment. “I’m so scared… what’s happening to me?...” She finally asked. “We’re trying to get to the bottom of that. I just need you to stay still and stay calm for me.” Lindsay calmly answered.

Nurse Nancy stuck the defib pads onto Alexa’s chest. “Ok Nancy, let’s charge to 100.” Lindsay ordered. The electric whirring of the defibs charging could be heard. “No… no…no…” the patient uttered under her breath, knowing the shock was about to come. Finally the defibs were ready. “Alexa? We’re gonna shock you now, ok?” Lindsay told the patient. “no! Don’t shock me… nonono!” She begged, her eyes wide with fear. But Lindsay, Nancy, and the rest of the team had a job to do. The shock button was hit, and the shock was delivered. “AHHH!” Alexa screamed, one hand clenching her chest. The team paused for a moment, studying the monitors, hoping the desired change had taken place. Even after a good 30 seconds, the arrhythmia failed to dissipate, so Alexa had to be shocked again. “Alexa? We’re gonna have to shock you again.” The doctor informed Alexa, which was responded to with the same crying and protests as before. The defibs were recharged to 100j, and shock #2 was delivered. “ohhh….” Alexa moaned. Again, the team waited post-shock, and again, there was no change. Because of that, Lindsay decided to shock Alexa at a slightly stronger intensity to hopefully achieve better results. The defib pads were readied, and a 150j shock was delivered. Alexa’s body tensed up in response. She winced in pain, continuing to cry. The third shock didn’t do the trick, but perhaps the fourth time’s the charm? Alexa could hear the pads charging up again, and it freaked her out. “No more! No more!” she begged, wanting the nightmare to end. “AHHH!” she let out a loud, blood curdling scream in response to the fourth shock.

Even after the fourth shock, the arrhythmia was the clear winner of the battle up to that point. Lindsay stepped up her game, administering a 200j shock. “OWW!” Alexa yelled, tears streaming down her face. “NO MORE! NO MORE SHOCKS!” Alexa begged, hearing the defibs recharging. Another 200j shock followed. Alexa’s torso shot forward, and her arms tensed up for a moment, her hands moving towards the middle of her body. With no change whatsoever, the process was repeated, except the ensuing shock was 250j. Alexa moaned and cried in response, but the arrhythmia was stubborn, appearing to be there for the long haul. The defib pads were readied another go of it, but that time at 300j- triple the strength of the very first shock Alexa received. “AHHH!” Screamed the cute, tatted up patient. “NO MORE. NO MORE… I’M SO SCARED…” Alexa pleaded with her caretakers, who seemed almost like torturers in that moment. Another 300j shock was subsequently delivered, the patient bawling and hyperventilating in response. “I DON’T WANNA DIE… I DON’T WANNA DIE…” A terrified Alexa stated post-shock to anyone within earshot. But once again, the deadly arrhythmia hadn’t gone anywhere. The team recharged the defibs to 360 to combat the form of tachycardia, promptly delivering the next shock. The agony of the shock caused Alexa’s toes to scrunch up hard at the end of the table, showing off the bright white nail polish on her toes, along with the deep, wavy, silky wrinkles throughout the soles of her tiny size 5.5 feet. “PLEASE… NO MORE… NO MORE… I DON’T WANNA DIE…” She sobbed loudly, practically begging for her life. Even the maximum strength of the defibrillator shock couldn’t correct the problem. The defibs were yet again charged to 360j, and the next shock was delivered, everyone hoping for a change. “Oh….” Alexa moaned softly, wincing in pain, her body tensing up and shivering for a moment.

Following the second 360j shock, Alexa’s condition changed. Her eyes opened wide. She gasped for air. She clenched her chest, the palms of her hands feeling her heart race. At the far end of the table, she was fidgeting around with her feet, moving them side to side a bit. “Alexa? Sweetie?” Asked Nancy, alarmed by the noticeable change. Suddenly, Alexa’s hands dropped from her chest, falling limp to her sides. Her cries stopped. Her yelling and moaning stopped. Her gasping stopped. Her fidgeting stopped. But most importantly, her heart stopped.

Alexa laid there completely motionless, her eyes still wide open, her mouth agape. A look of absolute terror still etched on her face. Nancy knew what she was seeing- it wasn’t the veteran ER nurse’s first death stare. “Alexa? Hunny?” Nancy asked, doing a firm sternal rub on the 22 year old. Alexa laid there, her limp body barely reacting to the hearty sternal rub. “ALEXA?” Shouted Nancy, her level of concern growing exponentially. Again, Alexa just laid there, taking the hard sternal rub like it was nothing.

Dr Lindsay stood a short distance away, two of the fingers from her gloved hand were on the side of Alexa’s neck, hoping and praying to feel something. Lindsay pinched her lips for a second. “nothing.” The doctor remarked. Nancy and Lindsay’s eyes shifted over to the monitors, trying to see what they were up against. “Crap. Looks like v-fib. Lower the bed and start compressions, Nance.” Lindsay ordered.

The bed was lowered, and Nancy snipped off Alexa’s black bra, tossing it to the side, her hard, pierced nipples now exposed to the room full of strangers. Nancy placed the heel of her gloved hand on the middle of Alexa’s chest. She took her other hand, placed it on top of the other, and interlocked her fingers. Nancy kept her elbows straight, and began pushing down hard and fast. At the head of the bed, Dr Lindsay made the decisive move to intubate the young, tatted up patient for the sake of airway management. A 7.0 ET tube was carefully navigated into Alexa’s airway. Once at the correct depth and location, Lindsay began securing the tube with a blue tube holder. The holder occupied a good portion of Alexa’s lower face and mouth area. Alexa’s eyes were still wide open, staring helplessly above, almost appearing as if she was watching Dr Lindsay intubate her.

After Lindsay completed the intubation, nurse Heather swapped into Lindsay’s place to ambu bag. Heather gently squeezed the light blue bag every few seconds or so, providing much needed air to the poor soul laid out on the table. A short distance away, Nancy was finishing up a cycle of chest compressions. Alexa’s chest caved in deep. Her belly rippled outwards. One arm dangled off the side of the table, tapping along with the rhythm of the chest compressions being received. Alexa’s head bobbed and lolled in sync with each individual compression, while her feet swayed gently at the opposite end of the table. When Nancy finished the cycle of CPR, the team had decided to shock Alexa again.

The defib pads were once again put to use. A 300j shock was then sent into the poor girl. Alexa’s chest shot up dramatically, her back arching, her upper body plopping back down ungracefully within a few seconds. The shock did absolutely nothing, so it was time to deliver a 360j shock. Alexa let out a gasp, her body twitching violently for just a moment as the electricity darted through her body. V-fib persevered, so Alexa was zapped again. She gasped once more, her torso and upper extremities shivering. No change was noted afterwards, and the process was repeated. The next shock tossed Alexa’s petite body around on the table effortlessly. No time was wasted, so she was hit with the pads again. The next shock caused Alexa’s feet to leap up above the table and crash back down hard, showcasing her pretty, wrinkly soles once more. Like all the other shocks prior, nothing changed.

More and more time passed by the trio of caretakers, each minute seemingly passing by faster than the last. The team struggled to achieve what they had hoped, but kept fighting on for a bit, reluctant to give up on the beautiful young patient. They opted to shock Alexa again. And again. And again. AND AGAIN. They followed that up with numerous cycles of CPR. They pushed various medications into her IV line. But even after everything, v-fib stood victorious. At the 28 minute mark of the code, it was noted that Alexa’s pupils were fixed and dilated.

Given the prolonged downtime, blown pupils, maximum dose of drugs, and many failed defib shocks, our crew appeared to have exhausted all possible efforts. “Hold compressions.” Dr Lindsay barked. Nancy stopped CPR, then took a few steps back away from the table. Heather knew what was coming next, and detached the ambu bag from the breathing tube. Lindsay peeled her gloves off and looked at the clock on the back left wall of the room. “Time of death, 12 midnight exactly. Way to start off the day…” Lindsay huffed, feeling defeated. “what a shame...” Nancy shook her head.

Just like that, everyone had to shift gears. The chirping, beeping, alarming monitors that still showed v-fib were switched off. The EKG electrodes were disconnected from the girl’s chest. The IV lines were taken out. The defib pads were peeled off. While basic postmortem care was going on, Alexa just laid there, her eyes still wide open. The detached ET tube and blue holder remained in place, a horrified gaze still on her face. At the opposite end of the table, a toe tag was filled out and placed. The tag hung from the big toe of her left foot, dangling against the soft, undulated wrinkles that seemed to pop out from the soles of her small feet. Lastly, a cover was placed over Alexa’s body, covering up her bruised, battered chest, concealing the hauntingly beautiful gaze on her face.

What was supposed to be another fun night for Alexa turned out to be her last. The poor girl clearly didn’t know her own limits, and came across the wrong substance. Now Alexa laid toe tagged and under a sheet in our ER, becoming one of far too many drug casualties, showing just how fast it could all come to an end.

[babylon-crashing]

the psycho'vac

I.        In a glass case                in the dark                         in an alcove                                in the dark                in a church in Rome,        in Sienna, in Florence,                                bits of saints mummified like the monkey's paw or                        Daniel Dravot's withered head                                                sat in the dark                        waiting for the faithful                                                to pass by, tourists to gawk at, for children of archeologists                to be terrified by.        Outside the Uffitzi                        one could buy postcards                                        fragments of Bosch's                                                        Last Judgement (1504)                                        reaction against sexuality                        that was creeping        back into the faith – every where lusty, fleshy figures                        were being torn apart, swallowed whole by frog-eggs,        tossed into pits of fire and snakes,                                        onto pitchforks and trees of thorn                while the saved, the fleshless,                                desiccated, loosely built creatures                        closed their eyes and lay upon the ground to pray.

II.

It starts while you sit in an outdoor cafe near the great clock in the ex-Lenin Square, forever at 11:45, while swallows who nest in the ruined eaves dart low, dark sickle-flashes, sweeping, skimming. Your notebook is open, pen cast down. You sip at the tiny cup of bitter coffee-sludge (when you are at a friend's house the old tatik takes the finished cup from your hands and reads the ground-stains, having you press your thumb into the hot residue, always with the curious shapes rimming the inside lip.) There is a smell thunder in the air. It starts when you walk down one of the city's mud streets, the rain coming down for four days nonstop. You stand in a crumbled doorway, a truck rumbles past full of cabbage heading for the market, spraying mud and gravel into the air. The wave-like clouds come down off the nearby mountains, things urgent and low to the ground, overwhelming the ruined factories and caved-in apartments, the one-room emergency boxes families of eight or twelve had been living in for the last seven years. It starts as you walk down the street. Under your boots, laying in unmarked graves, thousands of bodies, crushed and buried, their calls bubbling to the surface. Waiting for someone to hear.

III.

After the first baby in the orphanage you work at dies, then the second and finally a third, you go on a walk. It has been lightly snowing. Behind the city lays the broken rail yard. Even though there is no penicillin at the rail yard and none of the doctors who refuse to come to the orphanage to heal "things" as they call your babies will be there, you walk without a hat in the late afternoon gusts. You climb up through an abandoned cab engine, the iron sticking slightly to your gloves, its wooden passenger carriages trapped under a fallen wall. The train - its olive green and chrome and red 1940s Soviet art deco - slightly covered in wet-powder. At your feet, in the lee of the cab engine, dozens of empty hypodermic needles. Beyond the cab, the twisted rail lines; toppled buildings and other ruins; open pits of crude oil sunk in the ground; a whole roundhouse with the roof caved-in. It looks like a temple. Something holy, but you who never believed in the sacred or the holy, who saw ghosts as simply cultural abstractions. When you reach the roundhouse you find nothing inside but rubble and years and years of snow.

IV.

Humor. An US Embassy worker, an American working for a Foreign Aide organization and a Peace Corps Volunteer run into each on the street. Soon an Armenian friend walks by.

"This morning for breakfast," the Armenian said, "I had Frosted Flakes with milk."

"You had Frosted Flakes?" cried the Embassy worker, "How did you get Frosted Flakes in Armenia?"

"Oh, I bought them at the black market store near my house."

"You had milk?" cried the Foreign Aide worker, "How did you get milk?"

"Oh, I mixed the powdered milk with water."

"You had water?" cried the Peace Corps Volunteer, "How did you get water?"

V.

All winter long you were in isolation

watching it grow. You had given up

on the poetry brought in the 40-pound

box from home. You had not spoken

English in over three months, ever since the first

frost coated your pillow – there was no heat

in your hut, the rains turned to ice.

You wore your jacket and thermals and gloves

to bed and gave up on poetry. Reading

a poet writing about wasted sex no less

in San Francisco was a hateful thing.

Reading a poet, in Berkeley, where they

have everything, speculate on her fat

soul was a hateful, too. Under your floor

boards the dead called out your name, until

vodka, Russian water, kept the their

voices at bay. Intolerable, how clear they

came in. All of them complained,

griped, belly-ached in a language

untranslatable until your perception:

It was a cross between Armenian

and Russian that the old women spoke

down in the market.

VI.

It is sad to see these old people one, two, three generations apart from their children. These haughty, thin old people unable to speak of these things anymore, needing always to speak around them, as if at the dinner table to speak with clarity would make the magic happen all over again. To listen to them submerge their magic, to protect their children. There was a woman, nearly a hundred, who lived in a nearby village. As a baby she had escaped the Young Turks' Genocide in 1915, had witnessed the USSR rise and fall and had lost eighteen children and grandchildren in the earthquake. You visit her, she speaks in the ancient language, the old Armenian words, "God has forsaken the Armenians" – and spends her time looking for her god among the graveyards where 50,000 of her people died in 4 minutes in 1988. You will be leaving soon, returning on a 32-hour flight. Numbers. Something is inside you. Parasite. You will be leaving soon, and she has no more use for the living. Her words drop away, become muddled, confused, a lexicon of secrets, you pass by gravestone after gravestone on the way to the surface, thousands of them, until there is no more room for air.

VII.

Of course, you

take it with you.

It grows hideous

inside you, even

after the Peace Corps'

doctors arrived and demanded

that you are Medically

Evacuated -- the ol' Psycho

Vac -- three days before your

twenty seventh birthday, you

take it with you. You have

grown thin now, fleshless,

desiccated. They do not

even let you say good-bye

to your babies, such is the state

they find you in. On the flight

back to DC you sit next to

a woman, Dutch ex-missionary,

who explains that sometimes,

the young men God has sent

to do his bidding go crazy.

They, who fear for the safety

of their souls above all else,

do not know how to take

care of themselves so far from home.

She knows this, she assures you,

she has seen it happen. As

the stewardess pushes the cart

for the evening's meal by your seat

the thing that rests inside you

gurgles once in agreement

and then is still.

][][

Notes.

This is it, my grand attempt back in 2002 to put words to my nightmare.

The poem starts out in Italy because that is where I learned, for the first time, about the religious fever dream that is Hell, when I accidentally saw the LSD-madness of Hieronymus Bosch's art and it blew my little brain at the implications of such a concept. It didn't seem like much of a stretch to link the mummified bodies of Bosch's righteous in that painting with the babies dying under my care.

The, "the one-room emergency boxes," are called "domiks" and are basically railroad boxcars used to house the vast homeless population suddenly needing protection from the cold. Gyumri was never really rebuilt and 30 years later there are families still living in their rusted-out boxes.

[whumpfish]

Extractions! (Tooth vs. Nail)

I've been wanting to do this one for a long time, for all you torture fans out there...

So I metabolize lidocaine like a motherfucker, and any time I get a local, I always have to get a second one halfway through whatever is being done. For the most part, doctors and dentists listen to me when I say this... for the most part.

Tooth

(The oral surgeon did not give me my second shot when I asked for it.)

1. Any fillings you have will collapse under the pressure of an extraction, even a medicated one. (I'm not sure if this is true for metal ones; all of mine are plaster.) It produces a half-crunch, half-thunk sound that reverberates in that half of your skull and sounds absolutely terrifying.

2. The pain of an unmedicated extraction is acute and radiating at the same time. The acute part feels more like having a stiletto stabbed upward into that space than a tooth taken out in a downward motion.

2a. In maxillary extractions, the stab goes straight up, and depending on the location of the tooth, that stab can feel pointed anywhere from your eyeball (frontmost) to right into your brain (rear).

2b. Mandibular extractions* stab downward from the chin (frontmost) to the hinge of your jaw and straight down your throat (rear).

3. The radiating part spreads like a flower blooming, from a concentrated central point outward in a rolling movement.

4. Your ears might pop like an airplane taking off as that blooming pain reaches the hinge of your jaw. Sometimes only in the one ear.

Nail

(I have been doing minor self-surgery** for years because I am genetically predisposed to ingrown nails, and if I don't catch it in time, they grow straight down and I have to extract them to be able to trim them. If I really don't catch it in time, they grow straight down and then curl backward, and I have to get an actual surgeon involved.)

1. Self-surgery, split off edge of nail, 0 to 1/2" down and backward: You have to wiggle these in a sawing/rocking motion back and forth in order to get that tiny bit of root to let go, and when you "saw" backward it feels more like a steak knife than a butter knife, this time moving with the direction of the nail. Then it reverses when you actually yank.

1a. The yank hurts more than the sawing, sharp like a stab from a steak knife instead of one being pushed in slowly.

1b. You will get the best whump out of a whumper splitting off the edges of the nail and doing this and then yanking the middle part

2. Medicated: Locals in the toe/finger area hurt like a bitch. They're sharp and needling like a stiletto to a paper cut, then if someone tried to pry that cut open. At the same time, they feel hot, almost burning. (Hotter than anesthetic being pushed through an IV, if you're familiar with that sensation.) And there are so many nerves involved that just the first round of locals takes 3-4 shots.

3. Unmedicated, grown down and backward, 1/2" to 3/4": The last time I went in, my surgeon said "given the amount of times I have to shoot you up, you'll probably hurt less if I just yank." (She was right.) This sumbitch goes in both directions, down/back from where the root is, then forward. The down/back is a stabbing pain. The forward is like somebody trying to pry open that papercut, a sensation probably caused by the fact that you are in fact messing with something stuck in a very small cut in the skin, in my case the cut was just caused by the nail that has now been removed.

4. If it is a toenail extraction, you are going to bleed significantly more than teeth or fingernails, because your body has to work harder pushing blood up through your leg veins than it does pushing it down into your shoe. Especially when you take a step. Ibuprofen makes this worse. If you take ibuprofen at all that day, expect your shoe to fill up when you take a step. (Mine did, scaring the tar out of everyone present, including me.)

Pain Intensity Verdict:

Teeth > Nails. By a LOT.

Happy yanking!!

*Because of nerve fuckery, dentists using the sonic cleaning tool despite my warnings results in a pain on the level of extractions, and the sensations described here are based on my experience with that.

**This never fails to horrify my friends. They'll see what I'm fixing to work on and say, "Oh ouch, that's bad, go to the doctor," and I'm just like "nah, just get me isopropyl alcohol and some office supplies, I got this."

[doctorvictoria10]

A stressful admission: Part 2

Tags - ED admission, nervous patient, slight cardio, slight ageplay, medical trauma, comfort.

It felt like her heart jumped out of her chest. A flash of different emotions quickly cycled through her, firstly fear, then shock, and then embarrassment.

“Um, yeah, come in.” She spoke timidly, unsure of who was on the other side of the door. There were several doctors she worked with who she definitely didn’t want it and to be, only maybe one or two that she would actually feel comfortable with. Maybe this was all a terrible idea and she should’ve stuck with the rushed ED doctor. A tall, broad figure poked his head around the curtain and she was so surprised - it wasn’t who she was expecting at all.

“Chloe!” The familiar voice called out gently. “I’m sorry you’ve been waiting so long. I only just got the call to ask if I could come and assess you. All of the OB doctors were busy - a few are off sick so they’re covering each others clinics too! I know we don’t know each other that well but we cross paths every now and then don’t we!” He spoke cheerily.

It took Chloe a while to take it all in. Doctor Jack Canning, a pediatrician, stood before her. She’d been at emergencies where he was there before, he liased closely with her department as there was often an overlap between their professions. He was always smiling, calm and composed, but she’d never really had a proper chat with him before, or gotten to know him.

“Oh, hi. Um, thanks for coming!” She spoke timidly.

He took in her anxious energy and worried expression, she didn’t look her normal self at all. “Are you okay?” He asked seeming genuinely concerned.

She let out a light laugh “Yeah, apart from a case of extreme embarrassment at this whole situation, I’m fine. I just, I collapsed and got brought in. And then I woke up and two people were planning to poke me with needles, and I really hate being a patient, it all got too much and I guess I freaked out.” She admitted shyly, trying to explain why he’d been called out of his day looking after babies to deal with his 26 year old, definitely not a baby, coworker in ED.

He nodded slowly. “May I sit?” He gestured to the bed. Chloe nodded her consent. “Chloe, you don’t need to be embarrassed. I read your notes, I saw you told the doctor before that you had medical trauma from when you were a child. Your reaction to waking up and hearing plans of IV’s and finger pricks and all sorts is completely understandable. It’s scary for someone who hasn’t had the experiences you’ve had, let alone someone who’s also worked in the medical field and knows that not all professionals are kind and patient like we are.” He spoke seriously, and it made her feel validated in the strangest way. She nodded slowly, agreeing with everything he was saying, and she let her fake smile she’d forced herself to wear to downplay the situation slide away. And left was a scared little girl who was terrified of being put in the same situation as she was in seventeen years ago when she was rushed to emergency surgery in agony and fear.

Jack let her sit with that for a moment. Then he continued in a serious but gentle voice. “I agree with the plan the ED doctor has made, the tests and treatments he wants done. But that doesn’t mean you have to accept them, you have a choice, if you let me look after you or not. If you let me look after you, we can take it slow, do it at your pace. We can see how we can maybe make things easier for you. If you won’t let me look after you, I can get you a self discharge against medical advice form and you can sign that and leave whenever you want. It’s up to you, but I’d strongly advise the former option, and I think you know it’s for the best.” He spoke, so gently it was almost soothing. His words resonated with her and seemed to calm her right down. This was her choice, she was an adult now, not a little girl, she could leave whenever she wanted. Jack saw all these thoughts running through her head, her eyes focused.

“I can see you're getting lost in your own head there. Come back to me.” He said quietly. Her eyes met his and she was snapped out of her chaotic thoughts about the situation.

“Isn’t this weird for you? I’m sorry I’ve pulled you away from your work, you must think I’m really weird and silly. You work with babies and kids, and I’m just an adult who’s stressing out about something that I really should be able to deal with.”

Chloe blurted out, blushing in frustration at herself and her inability to keep her anxiety under control.

He pondered what she’d said, and then began slowly. “Looking after babies, they need constant attention and kindness. Precision and accuracy is imperative. I care for them, make them better and I nurture them. And I’d love to do the same for you if you’d let me.” He held her gaze.

Chloe looked at him shyly, she felt herself retreating inwards again, feeling cared for wasn’t a feeling she was used to, her cheeks felt like they were on fire. She felt so embarrassed at the situation she was in. He sensed her embarrassment and hesitation, so he continued.

“Don’t you think this is a little too unlikely? You’re here, sick. You have medical trauma from an emergency surgery when you were critically unwell as a child, and now you’re sitting here with another pediatrician who wants to help you not only in the present, but maybe I can help you heal that inner child, that scared little girl at the same time too.” He smiled gently.

She thought for a moment, this wasn’t a likely situation, and he did seem to genuinely care. The knowledge that she could leave at any time felt safe and reassuring. Slowly she nodded. “Okay. Yeah, if you think it’ll be okay.”

“I think it’s a great idea, and I’m really glad I can look after you and hopefully get you feeling better. Just keep communicating with me okay? I’m not going to do anything without your consent, so you let me know if you’re not feeling comfy and we can reassess together.” He promised.

Chloe nodded at him, and he nodded back.

“Okay then. Let’s get started!” He lightly clapped his hands together. “Can you undress and put this gown on for me?” He held up a pale blue hospital gown. Jack sensed her apprehension, “I’ll need to run some cardiac tests, and palpate your abdomen, this’ll make it easier for us both!” He explained.

Chloe slowly and groggily reached for the gown. She felt so weak still. She dropped it beside her on the bed and started trying to shimmy out of her dress.

“Would you like me to help you?” Jack asked her, seeing her struggle with the fabric in her feeble state.

He was going to see her top half bare anyway, if it was now or in five minutes, did it really matter? Chloe internally questioned herself. “Yes please.” She spoke quietly, lifting her arms up for Jack to assist lifting the dress over her head. He quickly had her in the gown and she was laying back against the pillows soon enough.

“You feel cold Chloe, can I get you a blanket?”

“That would be great, it’s freezing in here!” She rubbed her arms. With a gentle smile and nod, Jack was heading out of the room. He returned quickly with two beige blankets in his arms.

“These are from the warmer!” He draped one around her shoulders and one over her body. The warmth felt so comforting and she felt herself relax into the bed. “Now Chloe, where would you like to start?” He asked carefully. When she didn’t reply and just stared at him with wide eyes he offered, “If you’re happy for me to take the lead, I’d like to get an IV in so we can take bloods and get the results processing whilst we do the rest of the exam. I can also be giving you some fluids and if you like, a relaxant for your nerves?”

Chloe nodded slightly, eyes still wide. He watched her, concerned but also interested.

“Chloe, I can see you’re retreating into yourself, and that’s completely okay, but I’m going to need a verbal confirmation before I do this. I’m going to put in an IV, take bloods, start fluids and give you a relaxant medication. Once you’re relaxed, I’m going to check your blood sugar, assess your heart and feel your tummy. I’m going to look after you throughout, I’m not going to cause you any unnecessary discomfort or upset, I’m going to be as gentle with you as I can. Can you say ‘Yes, that’s okay’?” He looked at her for a long moment.

“Yes, that’s okay” Chloe spoke quietly, in a voice that wasn’t quite her own. It sounded childlike, vulnerable. Her little space caught her off guard. It was usually controllable, she could choose when to drop and when not to, but this situation and Jack were pulling it out of her.

Jack gave her a knowing look and smiled softly. “Okay then, let’s begin.” 🖤

[fel0ny-01]

Anyway, continuing from my month hiatus I am here to give you: 141’s phobias!

Soap - Fear of Needles

John MacTavish, the almighty sergeant from the highly regarded task force 141. The youngest candidate to ever pass SAS selection, the man who disarms bombs for a living, who’s been stabbed more times than he can count on both of his hands, who is unafraid to stand in the face of death and spit on his boot, is afraid of needles. Now, there’s nothing wrong with being afraid of needles, it’s a common fear, yes? A lot of people have it. But not to the extent that Soap has it.

Trips to medical are a nightmare, if someone even mentions the possibility of blood work or iv’s, his heart rate doubles and he’s thrashing and trying to get out of there. Not even Ghost can calm him down.

He usually has to be sedated (which is the worst part because you need to make sure 1. That he doesn’t notice, and 2. the needle doesn’t snap with the force that he’s using to try and get away) to even think about getting a needle in any part of his body. And even then he’s fighting to get away. He will literally do anything to run, even when they have the hardest grip on his arm, he’d rather it rip off or dislocate than get a needle in his arm.

Due to this fear, he only goes to medical if he’s forced, threatened with discharge or unconscious. Stitches are also a nightmare as-well, he would rather bleed out than get a needle pushed through his skin with thread.

Price - Fear of being alone

Price’s fear is usually something he tries to conceal from the others. The other 3 share their experiences openly, (well almost openly, it had to take a bit of opening up from Ghost) but eventually they were all able to make adjustments for each other.

And Price insisted that he didn’t have anything that would interfere with their line of work, but this one interferes the most. Each and every mission they take, Price is full of anxiety and is always tense because at any moment could he lose each and every one of his boys.

Only when they get back to base safe does he ever actually relax, all the anxiety seeps from his body because his boys are okay, Kate is okay.

He eliminates every single one of the things that may endanger the ones he loves, even if it means breaking a few rules to get there.

On the worst days, he can’t sleep on his own so he usually sleeps on the floor beside Gaz, until the sergeant forces him into bed so that he can properly rest. He has a little clue of what’s going on, but he doesn’t want to pry about it until Price feels okay to open up about his fear.

Ghost - Fear of mirrors

Something about looking in a mirror or any reflection sends chills down Ghost’s spine. It sends his body into fight or flight whilst he desperately tries to figure out a way to tear his eyes away from the one thing that he’s afraid of.

A lot of people are scared of mirrors due to the fact that there could be something spiritual, or that there is another world behind a mirror, and that concept is terrifying.

But ghost is afraid of what’s in the mirror, what looks back at him every time he comes in contact with one, himself.

He didn’t get similar symptoms to Johnny, its more of a deer in headlights, his palms sweating and his heart racing, his reflection unmoving just like he was; not daring to make eye contact with the demon in the mirror, but now he’s decided to wear his mask, it’s much easier to pass by a mirror or even look into it, because he doesn’t see Simon Riley, he sees Ghost.

He’s working on it though, he promises.

Gaz - Fear of heights

Now Kyle didn’t have any fears prior to the helicopter incident. He just got on with things and made sure to dive headfirst into whatever he possibly could.

But after dangling out of a helicopter above a moving road with lots of cars with armed soldiers In them, it can do stuff to a guy.

Anytime he looks down from cliffs or even standing on top of a table to change one of the lightbulbs, nausea overcomes him and he starts to become dizzy, his head reeling as his entire body telling him he needs to throw up. More often than not, he passes out.

It wasn’t nice for anyone having to catch an unconscious sergeant from the top of a table after he threw his guts up onto the floor.

Usually he can switch off and just get on with zip lining but now he can’t do it without feeling like his insides are turning inside out, but nobody blames him.

[goosehaver]

posting a lot today but idrc. im having fun.

i also made these. i actually made the tcw one a while back but on shitty string, just replaced it with stretch cord.

i got the materials cheap from joannes (rip) as well as several colors of fleece i'm excited to use for plush projects. it feels so nice to be excited about something creative again, however small it might be.

personal ramblings under cut (mentions of needles, medical context, talk of bloodwork and such, medications)

fun fact: that little dot on the back of my hand is from the iv. my other arm is all bruised up from the previous one and multiple failed attempts. ive actually had to have blood drawn/and iv placed 4 times (i think?) in the past 2 weeks, not counting the individual pokes each time. mostly from the gallbladder situation, but i also had my hrt checkup in the middle of all that. good thing i'm used to needles. still hurts, but it's not scary. i used to be terrified bc of a really bad experience, but literally every time since, regardless of pain and struggle, has been great in terms of the people doing it. that first time i think they were just inexperienced and kinda aggressive and i was already rlly scared (16 and had never had bloodwork) so it was kinda traumatic. but now i'm not ever nervous about it anymore. maybe a little about them being able to get it (ive had to be sent to other labs bc the staff just couldn't get my veins) but that's it. also, i found out it is, in fact, genetic. from my father. knew it wasn't my mom's side bc both she and my brother have "pipes" as she call them (she's a certified phlebotomist so she'd know). idk why he never mentioned it before since ive told him abt my issues, but im not surprised.

and for once i have all my prescriptions in order. ive had trouble with shipping (fuck that noise, i went back to the physical pharmacy) and insurance, but this time, i have all my shit. i was worried abt having to pay extra for the lexapro bc of an insurance denial, but ig they changed their mind? and with everything going on rn i was also worried abt hrt, but that seems to also be fine. probably helps that the pharmacist is also a trans guy (what a neat coincidence, and also lucky bc that means no bs denials). i think he did my covid shot? cool guy. and the weird "state policy" shit with the ritalin seems to be over, too. which, i can live without it, but having it is a big help. and, after being lost for like a month in transit, i did eventually get that lost bottle of lexapro. which leaves me with an emergeny supply. super glad abt that bc withdrawals are legit one of the worst feelings ive ever had, next to the gallbladder pain (apparently they say its comparable to labor pains? thats wild but tbh i dont doubt it. that shit was insane. im so glad i dont have to deal with that anymore).

well. didnt mean to write a whole essay there, but i actually think this is good for me. like a journal. maybe ill make a tag just for the ramblings, so folks can filter if need be, bc i actually think im gonna keep it up. its kinda fun. never wanted to do physical journaling bc i hate writing tbh, and my handwriting sucks. plus it always seemed like a chore, since its like a scheduled everyday thing usually. didnt appeal to me. but this is nice actually, getting my thoughts out. ok thats all for now. if u read this you're cool. have a nice day, or if u cant, hang in there.

🦢🪿🦆

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Alright iv read through the needle and thread au stuff and id imagine that reader moves around a lot with their hiding places each one being just as if not more dangerous than the last

I can also imagine them having resorted to weaponizing whatever they can for their own safety they’re not going to lose their eyes without a fight afterall

you mentioned how some of the yans might go back to readers og world to get revenge for how they treated reader,so that means they’res a way out of the other world? what if reader found that out and started scheming to escape?

does the doll spy on reader for the yans like in the movie? what if they burned the doll?

Yes, indeed! Reader goes from hiding place to dangerous hiding place to more dangerous hiding place, which upsets and makes the platonic try even harder to get them. And Reader is using anything as a weapon: a rock, scissors, a branch, a vase, even things like blankets or doorstoopers.

So, there is a lake of sorts that is the gateway, and to get between worlds, you have to jump in and fully submerge yourself. It doesn't always work, but it usually does, at least for the Others. If Reader found this lake again, they'd be going as deep as they could if it meant they kept their eyes and lived...

The platonic yans don't take kindly to humans hurting their kids, so if they prove to have been awful, they have a hunt for the ones who did it... And what a bloody night that is, getting rid of any pests who hurt their little ones...

And if Reader was the actual biological kid to one of the adult Others, their parent has a doll version of themswlf to guard their child, to watch over them, and to give them comfort. In this case, Reader was taken from them, likely when the platonic yan gave birth in the human world, rather than the Other world...

(Others are not exactly human... they can give birth if they want, they can stay sterile, it doesn't matter to them. If they want to change to a friendlier form, they can. If they want to be terrifying, they can. And if someone tries to take their child? Any kindness is gone, replaced with a bitter, poisonous hate, and sharp, gleaming claws...)

(This was fun! Ask questions for this AU or the Nectar of the Bees AU or any other AU you want! Have a good day!)

[indelen]

This is my reread of the Lockwood and Co. Books, organized by @blue-boxes-magic-and-tea, I'll make a general summary of several chapters and then post bits and pieces that jumped out at me.

Part IV: Chapters 15-19

General stuff:

First off, the entire section in the abandoned house is so very intensely creepy. I’ve said this before, but this is the sort of thing that the TV show did not have the time (and funds) to do properly and it’s a damn shame. With enough CGI the rat ghost reassembling could have been very visually striking and with better pacing and more episodes the Wilberforce reveal could have been stretched out into a very effective, tense, two-parter. This is not the fault of the show creators or actors who did their very best with what was allowed. The blame lies squarely with this industry we’re all stuck with at the moment.

The other thing I noticed is how consistently Lucy and Lockwood express concern for George in the books. I get why this was changed for the show, since George’s character was changed significantly and him being left behind and overlooked is much more of an arc than in the books. But I found it very sweet how in the books Lucy and Lockwood intentionally place themselves with Geroge in the middle for his protection in the haunted house and in general wonder and worry about him a lot. This has the double benefit of both showing how the trio has grown to care for each other and build tension by constantly reminding the reader something is wrong with George so we’re always hooked because we want to see the resolution.

Odds and ends:

Relic men try to create an aura of danger around them but when you strip all that away they are only very vulnerable unhoused people left behind by society as it circles the drain. I like how the main detail Lucy notes is that Jack looks starved. This is a recurring theme with people in his position. That doesn't mean they are harmless, the will to survive can make people do ugly things, but Jack does illegal stuff just to get by, he “wears the threat of violence” out of desperation. This is important because it contrasts with other characters like The Winkmans and later Rupert Gale, who choose to live among violence not out of desperation but out of greed.

No one wants to die alone. Everyone must. That death is a terrifying prospect and yet also so easy to miss - this is actually a repeating theme. In one way or another Lucy, George, Lockwood, all “just miss” death in the books, like it’s an old acquaintance who dropped in when they were out to the corner store and couldn’t stay.

It’s ok George, maybe you and Flo can bond over them.

Bwaa-ahahahah Lockwood’s greatest poker face test is not anything client related it’s THIS!!

As Flo established beforehand (and this was I think intentional on the part of the author), in certain regards Lucy is pretty innocent and I think Lockwood is less so - he’s way less sheltered, he’s older and he was not raised in a rigid controlled environment as Lucy was. His issue is more that he’s incredibly repressed in that Sherlock Holmes Victorian way where he views anything that’s not his ultimate goal of making his agency, and therefore family name, succeed, as not worth his time. But he’s still a teenage boy, he’s maybe around 15 here, George was probably needling him about Lucy a lot in the last year (since he does the same with Lucy and if anything he’s known Lockwood longer and they’re both the same age and both boys) plus she’s on his mind a lot and he keeps telling himself it’s because she’s just so gosh darn great for the agency even though literally no one saves a co-worker from a Murder Well like that and here is a Type Three (the best thing to ever happen to his agency and his totally platonic innocent country girl coworker discovered it!) and it’s vocalizing some things that are actually pretty explicit for preteens … so he’s just looking off to the side praying for the sweet release of death and I think that’s just so funny. I also love George’s grin of vindication.

Again on my Sherlock parallels nonsense, but this reminds me of "the adventure of the greek interpreter" where a plot point is that a man translates for a group from a language only he and another (a captive) speaks and so chooses very carefully which parts he passes on and which stuff he keeps to himself. Incidentally that story is the first in which Sherlock mentions he has a sibling.

The sad thing is George’s contact with Joplin is perfectly natural for someone with an academic mind. If you’ve ever had to do any kind of research, if stumped on something the first thing any scientist or academic does is throw it to their peers or colleagues to look over. This is such a natural thing to do and it must have felt great for George to have someone he could consult with. Doing research by yourself is actually very unfulfilling because it’s meant to be communal. Sharing information and pooling resources is very natural when you’re studying basically any field. And George later in the books makes some of his best advances through cooperation, no matter how reluctant. Cooperation and not brute forcing experiments until you get the result you want is the way to solve a problem scientifically.

Lockwood is simply never beating the “repressed Victorian” allegation in my mind because what kind of wording is this? Holmes took it out on the violin so I suppose George and Lucy should be thankful.

Lockwood’s past and his level of education is such a mystery. He’s pretty clearly self taught when it comes to history, anthropology, etc. he admits casually that it’s all from the books left by his parents in the house, but this last bit is such a weird little detail, like why does Lockwood know what surgical tables at the Royal College of Surgeons look like??? Maybe a case with Gravedigger Sykes when he was young? Also, this is a prime example of Lockwood still being completely clueless about his feelings for Lucy and how he over compensates for them by having an enormous amount of blind faith in her, sometimes to her detriment. Because what he is saying here is that it’s a real same she can’t Touch the Dead Body Dismemberment Table in the a Creepy Murder Torture House because she’d be just so great and amazing … at getting useful info from it for the case and bringing glory to the agency I swear. He’s overcompensating for his personal feelings by putting more praise but also pressure on Lucy in the professional setting because it’s the only way he can really express his admiration for her and it helps that Lucy is also really, really good so it sort of works in the short term, but only for a while. Only until there is any kind of snag that breaks this very tenuous balance.

The absolute smarmy pettiness of Lockwood here, in deadly danger and still goading Ned and then shredding Ned’s jacket in retaliation for cutting up his precious stylish new coat a little bit. Priorities!

Aw ain’t he a lil stinker? the absolute Id of the group and a showcase of what happens when you let Id rule in your decisions making! According to Freud - Id, Ego and Superego are all components of the human psyche. Id is basic instinctual desire. Superego is all about the consequences. Ego is the balancing force that tempers both the demands of the Id and the restrictive views of Superego. In this case Skull is 100% Id so potent Freud’s spirit would rise from the grave just to psychoanalyze it. Lockwood is superego, repressed and at all times hyper aware of how his image and name is perceived by the outside world. Skull and Lockwood were always going to be at odds in the same way your base desires and code of morality are always at odds. But the interesting thing is that this theory posits that either side “winning” or “defeating” the other is not healthy. Id needs to be allowed to feel occasionally since it’s what saves us and drives us onward, Superego needs to be around because it allows us to remain a functioning part of society. A person is at their best and most productive when the Superego is not overly represented and the Id is not too constrained. Again, in a way, the ending of the book has already been given to us.

Lockwood smile count: 7

[matthewmurdockswife]

Tatted Nick x reader (platonic)

All of the boys had tattoos, but I never had a single one I admired theirs I loved how they all had sentimental meanings and ones that they just thought looked cool

The truth is that I always wanted one but was always too scared, ive always been afraid of needles. But the boys decided that if they could do it so could I after momths of wearing me down I finally agreed and today was the day

Matt had started recording “alright so after a really long time of begging we all got y/n to agree to getting a tattoo with us”matt spoke explaining to the camera “It wouldnt have taken any convincing if I wasnt so terrifyed of needles” I smiled towards the camera as we walked towards the entry way of the tattoo shop “ look this is the best place in LA for a tattoo and I’ll get one with you if it makes you feel better” nick suggested “ no way you’re being serious right now” I said smiling and dumbfound at his comment “can we get matching tattoos?” I smiled at nick in a pleading mannor silently begging for him to give in “sure” he smiled

We looked through a binder with tattoo designs in the front i pointed to one of the designs “ this one” I smiled nick instantly agreed with me replying with something along the lines of “that one looks cool lets do it”

The tattoo shop honestly made the experience so amazing plus all of the triplets being so supportive especially nick who let me do another tattoo on him

“ I dont regret it this turned out so cool” I smiled at nick who only smiled back “ can we get food now?” Chris asked “always, lets go”

A/N

Hi loves im really tired why Ive posted this who knows where i thought of this I want a tattoo (im not allowed) ,im bored, who knows honestly anywho I hope you enjoyed it PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD interact it makes me feel appreciated and like people actually enjoy my work <3

[acaciapines]

If you’re still doing songs - song 69 and 138?

im always up to do em lets GO! i'll put both above the cut n then talk below :)

69. It’s Called: Freefall – Rainbow Kitten Surprise

king misses his mom. he misses his sister. he misses his aunt and his grandparents and mari trying to pin him down and luz letting him crawl under her covers and eda hugging him when he grabbed for her and firefly chirping good morning and good night and throwing out her wings to keep him safe.

“kiiiiiiiiing,” the collector whines, flipping upside-down through the air. “you’re so boring, what is your problem?”

“just tired,” king says. it’s hard to look at the collector straight-on. the thoughts that surround him are a messy array, and barely any of them are his, the way they are for anybody else: it’s a weird conglomerate of old thoughts like those that drift through the sky, but so packed together he can’t make anything out. it’s a beach of golden sand the collector runs through, leaving kicked-up grit in his awake.

“naw, c’mon,” they needle, landing right in front of him. “you’ve been tired forever. be fun!”

he misses his family so bad he’s sure it’s a wound spilling out of him. how can’t the collector see that?

“okay,” king says, “fine. let’s play.”

138. Habits – Genevieve Stokes

ask anybody: edalyn-owlbert clawthorne was never planning to have kids.

never really interested her. not the settling-down part, not the needing to keep another living creature alive part, not the having to be a good influence, gag. nah. kids were never going to be her thing, and so she never sought them out.

and then the little buggers found her.

well. she’s technically the one who stumbled across king, the owl beast’s faltering flight into that abandoned ruin he was living in, but king was the one who followed them both and refused to be left behind. plus, that stone-monster was going to kill him. eda wasn’t a fan of kids, but she didn’t want to leave them for dead, either.

looking back she’s pretty sure the owl beast was laughing at her.

laughed even harder when she took in luz. you’re an apprentice, kid, eda had told her, and the girl had squealed, and her daemon had sat there on her shoulder with her tiny chest puffed out, and something in eda knew this was going to be a permanent thing.

oh well. at least she skipped the changing diapers phase of things.

Discussion

for the first one: oh! hey! this one is relevant to for the future which im writing right NOW! ive been thinking a lot recently about how kings gonna be Doing in that entire like, 2-3 months he's basically on his own with the collector, because i'll be expanding out from what was shown in the show, and just...god. poor kid.

its terrifying! im a collector lover but even i'll admit he is Not great with king, especilly towards the start, and thats not going anywhere--king misses his family and the collector has been on his own for so LONG, and has this sense of entitlement to kings time + space. why does everyone else get a lifelong friend with them since birth? the collector wants that! and if they werent born with it they'll find a friend then! like KING!

its just a LOT. it makes for fun writing though kdnfkgdfg king doesnt hate the collector but oh boy is he not actually friends with them.

this one also makes it pretty obvious what im doing in regards to king being a titan lol but ive decided not to talk so explicitly about that unless im asked a question in which i cant speak around it. i gotta keep some of my secrets!

for the second one: MOM EDA MY BELOVED sorry i literally love that trope so much okay. its so so fun to write. eda really tripped and fell into parenthood like ah shit now ive got to be responsible for HOW MANY of these guys now? two? three? am i supposed to count mari and luz as one or two because based on the day that is a WILDLY different answer.

but yeah <3 its also made even more funny that firefly knew 100% what she was getting into. this was a massive shock to eda, but firefly's been a mom from the start!

also ooooh got that owlbert mention huh wonder what that is about...wonder what my owlbert secrets might be....if he shows up at all....hmmmm...