#like im so surprised no ones ever mentioned this in the history of ever online

[newportangels]

Old men with autism are a fine delicacy many can not handle...

[scoobyrooster1]

She's Mine [Part 3]

Qimir x (she/her)!reader

Summary: As Qimir’s newly sworn acolyte, you were supposed to be learning the ways of your master, far from prying eyes. But in a desperate attempt to escape the Jedi and Republic Space, you find yourself entangled in the dangerous mission of a mercenary crew. A hyperdrive malfunction forces the crew to land on a remote planet for repairs, leaving you stuck in the middle of a perilous scramble. With time running out and the mission to Canto Bight hanging in the balance, your loyalties—and your survival—are about to be tested like never before. Warnings: Angst, cursing, violence, trigger warning!sexual harassment, very protective Qimir Notes: This is a slow burn story between you and Qimir. I've been researching high republic history and I'm really excited for the next chapters!

*Im trying my best to use canon history but high republic era is a little difficult so there will be discrepancies and times where I have to improvise... bear with me!

She's Mine Masterlist

She's Mine [Intro] 

She's Mine [Part 1] 

She's Mine [Part 2] 

She's Mine [Part 2.2]

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

To your surprise, the ship actually made it to the small green planet in one piece. The journey had taken far longer than usual without the hyperdrive, but you were just grateful that the systems needed to fly the damn thing were still online. Otherwise, you'd have been left drifting in space, dead stick and helpless.

All of this meant more time in republic space with an item that people would kill for.

Great.

Looking to distract yourself from the unsettling dream that had left an insatiable itch in the back of your brain, you'd jumped into the engine compartment. The walls were lined with a maze of conduits and cables, all neatly bundled but seemingly endless, carrying power and data to every part of the ship. Scanning the machinery around you, all the correct lights were on and flashing. You flipped a few switches, listening to the ship’s steady hum in response. Your eyes fell to the compensator gauge... right there. You loosened a few bolts and opened the compartment, removing a singed piece. Shit. It was fried.

"Its the inertial dampener." You yelled up. "We're lucky we weren't blown half way to hell."

It was true. You all were very lucky.

Ians eyebrows plucked up.

You continued. "If we don't replace this servo." You waved the piece in the air. "Then it'll be our last hyperspace jump ever."

"Whatsssss a ssservo?" Kiro inquired.

"A servomotor?...its a part of the stabilizer... the stabilizer controls temporal displacement."

Kiro only stared at you. Nothing occurring in those reptilian eyes.

"The stabilizer is built into the dampener and turns the time it would normally take us to travel from point A to point B into what seems like an instant to us."

Still more silence. Shaun and Kiro just looked at eachother.

"So, what exactly do you two do again?" You questioned.

Ian practically burst out laughing. Kiro and Shaun exchanged amused glances.

"Kiro here," Ian began, "is my muscle. He goes where I go. And well, Shaun keeps an eye from above."

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to process the words. "Right... So you two were what—knitting while I was getting my ass beat by a Twi'lek?"

Ian’s face turned a violent shade of purple, laughing even harder. He wiped tears from his eyes, finally catching his breath and returning to grabbing his small satchel. "Thanks to them, the other thugs were intercepted."

"Other thugs?" you mumbled, confused.

Ian nodded, still chuckling. "Rod noted the guy that walked up to you, and there were others. We took care of it. Well, minus the Twi'lek... she actually knew what she was doing."

"And you forgot to mention all this?" you asked, sarcasm thick in your voice.

"Hey, it didn’t seem pertinent at the time..., we’d all had one hell of a day."

"Right," you said dryly, giving him a hard look.

Ian just blinked and continued gathering his things. "So you know your way around a starship... luckily I know a guy who might have what we need just a few clicks from here. Kiro lets go."

"An inertial dampener isn't an easy fix."

"I know sweetheart... thats why were here."

"Where are you gonna find another servomotor."

You were met with silence and the opening of blast doors. Not paying you anymore mind, Ian treaded down, Kiro and Shaun trailing behind him.

You only sighed leaning against the circuits. Contemplating your next move. You had left your master errily sleeping on his cot. He was most likely still down and you would do anything to avoid any conversation... especially after that dream.

You hoisted yourself up and out of the engine compartment.

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

Ian eyes tracked you wandering behind them.

"You tagging along or something?"

You looked in the general direction of the ship. You almost expected Qimir to be there standing on the ramp. You could swear you sensed his presence or at least his shadow.

"I need some fresh air. And I don't trust you enough to not screw this up."

He shrugged. "The more the merrier I guess."

As you walked through the grassy horticultural fields of maker knows where, you swatted at the gnats buzzing near your face. The sky was darkening, and you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling of being too far from the ship. You eventually reached the edge of town, being far more urbanized than you expected.

"This way."

Ian led you to a small hut along the bustling main street, its exterior cluttered with old droids and rusted ship parts haphazardly strewn about. You could only hope that somewhere inside was the part you needed to fix the dampener.

A Quarren male stood behind the desk cluttered with tools and machine parts.

"Ian." He drawled through his beak like mouth.

"Heelim... my good friend."

"What trouble have you brought to my doorstep this time."

Ian only smiled in response.

----------

"An inertial dampener? Thats not an easy fix."

You gave Ian a look. He was obviously ignoring whatever I told you so face you were serving him.

"But if theres anyone who would have the part I know it'd be you."

"So. You just thought I'd have a servo lying around here?

"To be honest you were the closest option."

He chuckled in response.

"I am sorry my friend but I have no servos matching the one to your specific freighter."

Ian only bit his tongue and slapped Heelims arm in response.

"Thats quite alright. We'll figure it out my friend."

"Well if you need anything else feel free to look around."

Shaun had wandered outside already. Kiro tapped the machinery next to him with his claw, creating a sharp clang that rang through the store.

You toggled with some of merhandise around you, none of which could replace a servo.

"You work for Ian?" The Quarren questioned you.

"I owe him."

"Ahhhhhh... unfortunate."

You chuckled in response, looking around you realized you were the only one left in the store as Ian turned his heal.

"Thank you for your help."

The Quarren nodded his head.

-------

You found the three of them standing in a circle, deep in debate over your dwindling options.

Stepping up, you interjected, “So, he doesn’t have one. Maybe someone else does.” You tried to keep your tone hopeful, though you knew the answer.

“There aren’t any other sssellers who’ll have what he doesssn't," Kiro replied, his voice a cold hiss. "Heelim is the bessst.”

Ian shrugged, eyes on the ground but clearly working something out in his head. “Who said anything about buying one?”

You cut in quickly, already guessing where Ian was headed. “I saw a blue A-23 freighter in the yard. If I remember right, it should have similar parts to your ship.”

Without waiting for a response, you rushed back inside the shop.

“Do you know the owner of that light blue A-23 freighter outside?” you asked the shopkeeper.

He gave you a suspicious look, eyes narrowing, knowing exactly why you seeked the information.

You sighed, frustration creeping in. “Please.”

For a long moment, he just stared at you. Ten long seconds. You seized on whatever flicker of empathy might have passed across his face.

Finally, he relented. “That ship belongs to Laro Kiggs. He frequents the bar down the street. You never heard this from me”

“Thank you,” you said quickly, turning to leave.

Before you could make it out the door, his voice stopped you. “Traveling with Ian makes unsuspecting people accustomed to looking over their shoulders... but I see that’s already second nature to you.”

His words caught you off guard, hitting closer to home than you expected.

“I’ve had to be," you admitted quietly.

He hummed thoughtfully. "Finding real safety, real solace, in this system or the next... it's a rare gift. But it exists. I was lucky enough to find it. Understand—it’s out there."

You smiled faintly, understanding what he was implying and stepped out into the street.

-------

You rushed back outside, catching them mid-conversation.

Kiro hissed, “Getting onto a freighter here is easssssy enough.”

“I found the owner,” you interrupted, catching their attention. “He should be at the bar tonight.”

Ian finally looked up. “Alright. Shaun, you and y/n will keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t leave the bar. Kiro and I will handle the ship. I’ll signal Rod to expect another half-hour delay.”

Shaun frowned. “Are you sure about this?”

“What other choice do we have?” Ian shot back. “The nearest planet’s days away without a working dampener, and our buyer’s going to be on Corinth wondering where his precious book is.”

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

Ian and Kiro took a speeder to the parked ships on the outskirts of the town. Ian would board the ship while Kiro stood guard and hopefully return with the servomotor you needed. You and Shaun stationed yourself at the local tavern.

The bar had a certain allure to it, bathed in warm, low lighting and filled with the sound of glasses clinking and conversations blending into a constant buzz. Then again it wasn't any different than any other bar in the galaxy.

You leaned over the bar, trying to catch the bartender's attention.

“Heyyy, I scratched a really nice blue freighter yesterday—parked by the market. Any chance you know the owner? I feel awful about it.”

The bartender didn’t even glance up. “Laro Kiggs. He’s right over there with his buddies. Black jacket.”

You followed his gaze and spotted him.

The bartender leaned in, giving you a knowing look. “If he hasn’t noticed yet, I wouldn’t say anything.”

“Thanks a ton,” you replied, voice sugary sweet, but entirely fake.

Walking back to Shaun, you whispered discreetly, “Black jacket, at your 12 o’clock.”

Shaun nodded.

It had only been three minutes since Ian entered the ship when his voice crackled through your coms.

It’s locked.

“What?” You struggled to keep a straight face.

It’s fucking locked. The compartment’s locked.

“Shit.”

Yeah. Shit, Ian echoed, static in the background. Who the hell locks their hyperdrive compartment?

“Maybe someone who doesn’t want their shit stolen by criminals?” you shot back, trying to think fast.

The window was closing, and you had to act quickly.

“Okay… Plan B. Ian, stand by.”

You noticed Shaun standing up, heading directly toward Laro. Instinct kicked in, and you blocked his path with a hand.

“What are you doing?” you asked, eyes narrowing.

“We need that key,” he said.

“And what? You’re just going to knock him out in the middle of the bar? Start a fight and get a mob chasing Ian and Kiro?”

He stared at you, unamused. “Got a better idea?”

“Actually, yes. Grab a speeder and stand by for the key.”

He shot you an incredulous look but headed for the door without another word.

What? Ian’s voice stammered in confusion through the coms.

You closed the channel.

You chugged your drink, steeling yourself as you walked up to the man. Adjusting your blouse, you reminded yourself that you could do this.

With a confident tap on his shoulder, you leaned in. "I—oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were someone I was looking for."

He turned, eyes sweeping over you with a lingering gaze. "I can be."

You laughed, taking a few steps closer, playing into his interest. "Well, are you gonna buy me a drink?"

A sinister smile tugged at his lips. "Why, of course."

It didn’t take long to get him another drink deep, his inhibitions loosening with each gulp. You used the opportunity to subtly feel for any sign of the key you were after, disguising your search with drunken leans and falls against him. Your hand brushed something square in his left jacket pocket.

"You know," he whispered, leaning closer, "we could always move this to my ship for more privacy." His hand slid across your thigh, the gesture bold and invasive.

You forced a playful smile, letting your right hand toy with his hair while your left hand moved towards his torso. He was too focused on your touch to notice your fingers slipping into his jacket pocket. You felt the cold metal of the key and smoothly withdrew it.

Too easy.

But before you could pull away, his hand moved higher up your thigh, edging dangerously close to your belt.

He went on. "Its only a few clicks away... if we are indeed two ships just passing in the night."

Before you could react, someone snatched your glass from the table.

It was Qimir.

Without a word, he downed the rest of your drink in one gulp, his eyes fixed on you.

"Looks like your drink's run out," he said coolly. "Let's get you another."

The guy beside you grumbled, glaring at Qimir. "Hey buddy, we were talking."

Qimir's eyes flicked to him, full of indifference. "And now you're done talking." He slammed the glass on the table. His voice was low, but it was enough to silence the man.

Qimir pulled you away, leading you toward another section of the bar.

You yanked your arm free and made a beeline for the exit.

Shaun waited on a speeder outside. You shoved the key into his hand beckoning him to get to Ian as quickly as possible.

"Here. Get this to Ian. We'll meet you back at the ship."

Shaun only nodded and revved the speeder, disappearing into the night.

Qimir had caught up to you outside.

Turning to face him your mouth ran away from you.

"What the hell was that?" you snapped.

"You were obviously uncomfortable," Qimir replied, not bothering to look at you.

You crossed your arms, huffing. "I can handle myself."

"He's a creep."

"So are most of the men in there," you shot back, shrugging off the situation.

Here’s a refined version of your scene, enhancing the emotional intensity and flow:

“This is exactly what I said would happen,” Qimir stated, his tone clipped.

“And how’s that exactly?” you shot back.

“You getting yourself into something I have to pull you out of.”

Fury surged through you, and you slammed your fists down, your face flushing with rage. “Don’t make excuses. I never asked to be pulled out of anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Well, next time a guy grabs my ass and I need your help, I’ll be sure to let you know first, Master.”

Qimir’s jaw tightened, clearly taken aback by your words.

You yelled, “If you had pulled me away just seconds earlier, you would have messed everything up!” Your body surged forward, hands outstretched.

In a burst of anger, you shoved him.

You actually shoved him.

He took it, standing firm, still caught up in whatever wave of misplaced duty he felt. His patronizing gaze made you want to slap him.

Screw this, you thought.

Maybe it was the liquor, or maybe you just needed more of it.

You stomped back inside waving your hand at the bartender. "One flameout please."

Your eyes scanned the bar for Laro making sure he was staying put. There he was already looking you up and down from a distance. You rolled your eyes and turned back to the bar.

The bartender caught your signal for another drink sliding a small shot of red liquid down the bar towards you. You gulped it down, throwing a few credits on the table. You could only hope that Ian had grabbed the servo by now and had gotten the hell out of there. But before you could enjoy the moment of solitude, Kiggs approached again, his drunken friends laughing and egging him on from a distance.

"Let’s pick up where we left off," he slurred.

"Let’s not," you replied flatly.

"C’mon, not interested anymore, I’m a great dancing partner," he said, stepping closer, his breath a noxious mix of alcohol and something far worse.

He grabbed your waist, pulling you into him. His hands wandered, groping you in a way that made your skin crawl.

You shoved him hard... far harder than you had shoved Qimir earlier. The force of it sent him stumbling backward a few feet. But it only seemed to make him angrier. He straightened up, his eyes narrowing as he started to march toward you again.

Good.

You could use a fight to blow off some steam. You readied your hands to connect with his jaw, eager to pop a crack at this entitled prick.

Before you could react, Qimir appeared in front of you, faster than you’d ever seen him move. His arm shot out, his hand wrapping around the man’s throat with terrifying ease. The man gasped, his hands clawing at Qimir’s grip, but he was choking on more than just the pressure of Qimir’s hand—there was something more. The air seemed to be ripped from his lungs, as though Qimir was suffocating him without effort. Laro’s friends were all drunk, but not quite enough to miss the warning signs. They kept a safe distance, clearly sensing that Qimir wasn’t the type to be messed with.

Qimir leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper, but you were close enough to hear. "You touch her again and I'll kill you."

He released the man, who dropped to the floor in a heap, gasping for breath. Qimir didn’t spare him another glance, turning to face you, his eyes unreadable.

You stared at him, still catching your breath from the sudden surge of adrenaline.

"Unbelievable." You stormed past him exiting the bar speaking into your coms. "Ian you might wanna put a rush on that servo."

The bar around you seemed distant now, the noise fading into the background as you focused on the path ahead. The liquor warmed your skin making the cold air unnoticeable.

For a moment, you wanted to argue—wanted to tell him you didn’t need his protection. But the way he had reacted, the intensity in his eyes, told you something different. Something deeper.

You had made it back to the ship.

You walked into your room. He followed.

You paced around until you stopped to look at him.

He was... withholding himself.

"I need you to give me a reason" He said softly.

"What?"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go back there and put a hole through his skull."

You closed the distance between you, your face inches from his. "Because if anyone has the right to, it’s me... yet here I am." you almost spat the words at him.

His eyebrows, once furrowed in anger, relaxed slightly, seemingly satisfied with your reason. But tension still radiated from him, his eyes blinking rapidly, betraying whatever calm facade he wished to portray.

The intensity of his gaze almost made you falter, but you gathered your resolve, summoning the courage to ask the question that had been lingering in your mind.

“Why did you do that?” you demanded, frustration bubbling to the surface.

“What?” he replied, feigning ignorance.

“Back at the bar. Why did you do that?”

“What are you talking about, y/n?”

You scoffed, disbelief washing over you. You were damned if you’d ever get a straight answer from him.

“Forget it... you should have just stayed at the ship.”

“That guy was harassing you,” he insisted.

“That doesn’t give you the right to threaten people.”

“I have a responsibility to you. You are my acolyte.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make me yours,” you emphasized, each syllable sharp.

He went still, as if the weight of your words hit him. But the understanding in his eyes vanished as quickly as it had come.

“You’re drunk,” he said, turning away to focus on the clutter around his cot.

“You would know,” you shot back, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “I guess we both do stupid shit when we’re drunk.”

He spun around, eyes narrowed.

“What is that supposed to mean?” His tone turned venomous, defensive.

“You know exactly what it means,” you bit back, refusing to back down.

Suddenly you heard the blast doors open and close.

"Time to go." Ian barely managed the words as he ran through the hallway passing your room.

You broke away from Qimirs space. Rushing after Ian.

"So I'm guessing Laro made it back to his ship."

"Yep." Was all that Ian revealed.

You caught up to him snatching the servo out of his hand.

"Get to the cockpit. Get us in the air. Rod and I will handle the drive."

Ian didn't have time to argue.

You got to the engine compartment to find Rod already prepping.

Jumping down, you almost landed on your arse.

Damn those drinks.

The ship started humming and rattling as you guessed you were now in the upper atmosphere.

You took the piece and fitted it to the stabilizer grabbing the wrench to bolt everything back in place.

"That damned thing better work." Ian yelled.

You secured the servo and closed the dampener.

"Punch it." You spoke through the coms.

You felt your hair rise as the hyperdrive kicked then lit up. A small energy surge knocked you back. A loud vroom sounded in your ears as you slouched against the wall.

You took another deep breath, steadying yourself and closing your eyes.

You were in hyperspace... safe. At least for now.

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

Thats all folks! Let me know in the comments what you guys think! The next few chapters are going to get intense :)

[lampiridaes]

reqs open? i hope im not too late for it, could i ask for poly airiena and how they got together with reader? or just dating hcs, either are good!

♬ now playing: "what is love?"

-> i wanna know, know, know, know! (what is love - twice)

summary. to be the muse of two artists — one musical, and one artistic.

chars. airi , ena , (ft. mizuki)

notes. !?!?!?!! AIRIENA MENTION??? (i rlly love airiena little did u all know) IM ACTUALLY LIKE also rlly rlly happy bc ppl barely req mmj !!! pls !!!! i love my idol girls so so much :( ALSO MY FIRST EVER AIRI REQ I THINK !!! thank u for showing her love anon . need more of this energy #sapphic

contains. poly relationship, friends to lovers, implied fem!reader, 'cute' used to describe reader, they/them for mizuki

taglist. @catientie , @mintchocaur , @prsk-krow , @sillynene-13

track one: before dating

i'd imagine all three of you were close friends even before dating!

you met airi and ena in middle school, and the three of you hit it off almost immediately. with their personalities, they were the first ones who approached you, complimenting your hair and outfit.

... actually, at first, you thought they were bullying you. i mean, how often do two pretty girls (one being a famous celebrity at that) decide to talk to you and say you look cute?

however, after confirming that they were, in fact, being genuine, the three of you only grew closer.

... very close that airi and ena talked to each other one day, telling the other that they had a crush on you. which would've put their friendship at stake until you admitted you actually liked the both of them.

the two girls actually had to stop and consider their own feelings for each other. even during hangouts, you couldn't deny that they had chemistry and history, which also caused you to doubt that they'd like you back.

after figuring out that, yeah, they also liked each other romantically, that's when you all started dating!

track two: dating hcs

now, considering airi's status as an idol, she doesn't disclose your relationship to the public. at least, not yet. there's a lot of close-minded individuals, after all.

however, you and ena try to watch her live shows and attend her fansigns whenever possible. the both of you receive a very special autograph from your beloved girlfriend, with a heart right beside her name. and if she has enough time, even a small 'i love you both!'

for the record, more more jump and nightcord at 25:00 are both aware of your relationship. they're all supportive, with the occasional tease from mizuki towards ena, saying they'll steal you and airi away from her.

speaking of ena, you were actually at her house one time, then saw her sketchbook that she always hid away from you as she scribbled on it.

... and it was just way too tempting not to look at it. surely, she wouldn't mind too much if you just... scanned through?

to your surprise, it was actually full of drawings of you and airi. though, you could tell that a lot of airi's drawings were referenced from her photos online, but you realized yours were all from hangouts and dates with her.

of course you took a picture of it and sent it to your group chat with your girlfriends, wouldn't you?

"this is so cute @ ena >_<"

"@ airi there's also drawings of you!"

"where did you find that!? i thought i hid it away in my bag!"

"it was on top of your desk, pretty <3"

"ooh, it is cute @ ena !!!"

"it was supposed to be a gift for the both of you for our anniversary ..."

"oh"

"oh"

[isa-ghost]

hey it's the anon who asked what dr*m did,

I decided to do my own research (mainly cause I was curious) but... I can't find much? let me rephrase it - I did find the allegations from 6ish months ago, that he's going to court with one(?) of them, but that's... all? I didn't find the court's verdict, confirmations, or him admitting either... and any post or video I find has both the OP and the comments mostly on his side and believing that it's either not true or true but not grooming, even people who say they're not his fans or don't even like him.

so Im not sure if the confirmation didn't reach youtube or if I'm searching wrong or something?

but honestly while researching I realized that I cant stand him lmao, gotta agree with some comments I read - he made a mistake by showing more of his personality online, looks like any time he can handle a situation wrong/respond wrong he does it

so dunno, guess I didnt find the confirmation but at least now I don't find his old minecraft videos interesting anymore so theres that

Yeah he can't act properly to save his fucking life

Also I think most of the threads on Twitter and stuff that have all the proof he's guilty/etc is probably long buried, unfortunately. You could probably try to ask around saying you're trying to get the whole picture but tbh it's not a huge deal if you can't. You can try searching my blog but Tumblr sucks with that shit. The fact that this and his other controversies have been buried and lost to the void of the internet is typical white boy with a monstrously big platform shit so I'm not surprised. I never heard any details about court (prob for legal reasons) or a conviction either. All I know is there was screenshot proof from the victim that they talked, and Dr*m confirmed the screenshots were real but didn't say anything about other details. But those details literally can't be false if the screenshots & the shit said in them are true.

Anyway, as far as his other bullshit goes:

People found old kkk meme edits on his yt account through the wayback machine. More than once if I'm not mistaken

He has a history of defending himself using the r slur

He cheated "on accident" in a speedrun (the least important thing ever but everyone always brings it up)

He claimed he was going to donate all proceeds during pride month to lgbt+ charities & he'd do charity streams all month but never did

He defended himself about replying to haters, which would send thousands of his toxic stans after the person getting them doxxed/death threats/etc and he refused to address that it was irresponsible of him bc he was too entitled to immaturely clap back at the antis. Even other ccs, like B/itzel called him out about shit related to how he uses his platform irresponsibly & he unfollowed & shaded them like a bitch baby

The whole "accidental" copycat shit with QSMP/USMP and basically softcore stalking Q/uackity online.

His "apologies" for all of the above fucking sucked in multiple ways. And that's just 2021-Now shit I can remember off the top of my head, I lost my Twitter in May last year so now I get my info from people's posts about it on here or links to tweets.

Everyone largely suspects he spontaneously reignited d/smp lore & started the finale to cover up the groomer thing bc he has a history of doing smth "new and cool" every time he causes drama to divert attention and avoid accountability.

He's also suspected of suddenly rewriting the d/smp finale to paint his Irredeemable Abuser Villain Up Until The Last Stream as a sympathetic poor baby out of nowhere and wrote that his victim, c!Tommy apologized to him, which sends a HORRIBLE message about abusive relationships. T/ommy and T/ubbo have both subtly mentioned not liking the finale and that Dr*m had AWFUL communication during the last like 6+ months of the smp.

He also suddenly showed up in T/ubbo's chat lurking while T/ubbo happened to be mentioning he'd do his own research on the grooming situation instead of blindly siding with Dr*m and it was some shit out of a horror movie is2g, he suddenly dmed T/ubbo out of nowhere during it on discord saying they'd talk about it after T/ubbo wasn't streaming. Basically sounds like he was gonna bias T/ubbo about his innocence. Like he hadn't been in chat all stream long but SUDDENLY he was there the second the topic came up. But the d/smp ccs also can't say anything about the situation since it's a legal matter, so a handful of ccs have just stated/implied they don't support him other ways

He only quit MCC bc he threw a tantrum about how he couldn't practice for it but now that MCC island exists, people were getting better than him. He's habitually a sore loser about that kinda shit

He's got that whole weird "is he, isn't he" bullshit going on about him being lgbt. I personally think he's just catering to his stupid d/n/f shippers bc they like to truth their relationship & sexuality all the time and he's never explicitly said he's bi or smth. He's just vaguely been like "yeeeaahhhh I mostly like girls like 99% but maaaayyybeee I like guys idkkkk. 🤪" But he's also done that multiple times so who tf knows. I'm not gonna fully dismiss him & I understand no one including me is entitled to his specific sexuality, but he has garbage credibility on like everything so I'm neutral on the matter and find it hard to believe him

Not directly him related, but his stans went on a long and horrifying witch hunt on Twitter during the kkk ordeal doxxing, death threatening & harassing ENTIRE mcyt subtwts who spoke out against him and called him out on his racism, performative activism, shitty apology, etc. For example, I was part of S/neeg's subtwt and all my mutuals and me had to go private to avoid getting doxxed. It felt like being raided in some dystopian ass horror film. Entire subtwts were going private, panicking, paranoid they'd get outed & stalked & harassed by people just for condemning racism, raising Black voices, etc. It was borderline traumatic to some people, I know people who lost sleep over it bc they were so afraid.

That's all I can think of off the top of my head but the end of 2021 to early 2022 was a fucking nightmare between him being an immature entitled piece of shit and his stans blindly defending him and going out of their way to endanger people who rightfully opposed him.

[necroromantics]

Also gonna make things clear cuz I've just been listening to my gf and not engaging but seriously man this is insane.

I'm not a Nazi, in the full screenshots which they cropped out, I said I had another server with absolutely no rules (besides dont be a pedo), and I was saying that in that server, everything was allowed. You people need to understand that not being able to care about something does NOT mean you support it. Its not black or white

I have NEVER said anything or made jokes regarding rape/sa, that is actually one of the things (including pedophilia) that I am very morally against. I have not spent so much of my time helping my friends report their rapists, helping vulnerable people get out of extortion online, and being there for the people in my life who have experienced that just for some randos online to lie to people about me.

The most I have made is your mom jokes and necro jokes, which I personally don't consider morally wrong, and if they are, then I'll work on it, but I don't have the same understanding of things like that. I never learned where the line is like most people have, and thats why Im dedicated to learning it in adulthood

And do not make drug use a moral issue. My "morality" about drug use is completely nonexistent because I grew up in that. I have spent many years heavily involved with drugs, I know exactly what its like, and nothing about drugs is a moral issue.

And here again the same issue of straight up fucking ableism bro. Don't try to shame me for not having conventional morals when you know damn well I, and many other people, struggle with conditions that impact that (ASPD). Hearing about the ableism towards people like me from these guys isn't surprising in the slightest

I'm not gonna say I didn't say those things, cuz like I said, I said those things, I made those jokes, and I've said worse. The difference now is that those things were said more than a year ago. It's insane how you act high and mighty and then judge me on things I said that long ago to friends who made the same jokes and encouraged that kind of behaviour (none of which I talk to anymore, for the exact reason that they encouraged my bad behaviour).

I said what I said, I know it was wrong, I take full accountability. I have spent my time since doing my best to be more than that. I have spent a lot of my time trying to adjust to moral and social norms, even when it gets really difficult and I have to deal with people like this who wont give me space to grow and change for the better.

I have amazing friends and mutuals and people in my life who support me because they know how hard I try. My girlfriend even is a fucking hardass and would NOT have put up with any of my shit if she didn't see how hard I try. I've spent a lot of time with people who are like how I was, people who have done and said much worse things than me, and I understand how uncomfortable and jarring it is. Thats exactly why I'm so passionate about being more than that. And thats why this situation bothers me so much.

You all talk about me and how I mention my disorder as if you're not just shitting on stuff that is directly tied into having ASPD. And to hear that you have a history of that stuff? Im not crazy to say theres a lot of ableism going on here. I will always be open and honest about the person I have been, but I want it to be used as a reference point for how much I've grown and changed since then.

I will always be an advocate for people like me. I will always give support and speak out for those who struggle with being treated like a bad person because of the things they say, not because of who they are. (And if you know anything about people, you know theres a huge difference)

You guys have been on me for MONTHS way after I blocked and went on with my life. In those months you've spent doing nothing but nitpicking everything single thing Ive ever done and constantly spreading negativity, I have been working on myself, and I hope that somewhere along the line, you guys have or will too

But anyways, I needed to get this out. I hope that this blows over and I can continue working on living a life full of joy and love and keeping the good people in my life. And despite everything, I hope that for all of you guys as well, I hope that you can find peace and some happiness where it counts

[keeweelyme]

I’m curious abt your thoughts on the phobia bosses if you don’t mind. i always interpreted them with their kinda sexualized monster girl designs as reflecting oersted and/or streibough’s kinda misogynistic views towards alethea where they put her on a pedestal but are also incredibly ready to turn on her and see her as a monster if she chooses not to love them or fails them in some way. I’m not sure if I can say it’s intentionally written like that, since the game is from 1994 and is sometimes pretty misogynistic itself in how it handles alethea, but that’s kinda how I think abt it. I’m interested in hearing your take :0

(also I love your art and it always absolutely makes my day whenever I see it!!)

i'm glad you brought this up because like a lot of people just don't think about this in regards to the BLATANT hints that streibough was actively gaslighting and lying to alethea while she was still hostage lmao. people blame her for whatever was strei's fault though so im not surprised

but also i really don't think a lot of people process WHAT exactly the phobias are named except for gyno for obvious reasons, that being acrophobia and claustrophobia are Here Too, and the fact that gyno was renamed hygrophobia in the remake's eng ver, note that while this gets a bit into hc territory i kind of think about lal too much to really not get into that a bit, and also for like 5 years i was the only one who thought about these girls more than people who jack off to them

the archon's roost is very blatantly meant to be a mountainous region full of dark corridors and tight spaces. this is probably the most obvious thing the phobias are meant to be, a glimpse into oersted's current mental state about his surroundings. he's terrified of what's around him, and that includes alethea up ahead. however before the remake came out the common consensus was that he was afraid of what alethea would think of him in the current state he was in, or that by the time he found her she'd have turn into something else, or that she would reject him. i do think this is the baseline. oersted's grappling with this growing paranoia and resentment in his heart for the things around him out of fear and anxiety. i think there's just a part of him that knows deep down that she's his last hope against both their wills, and everyone he knows has turned against him already, so why not her too?

however on this note i have basically never heard anyone else online mention how hydrophobia has been used as a shorthand for rabies (stay with me here), aka The Disease That Makes Your Brain Shut Down, causes aggression in animals, causes delirium and hallucination, etc. i know i'm reading too hard into a localization change but i personally saw this as a hint that oersted was starting to lose it before he snapped completely. beyond the paranoia his survival instincts were starting to kick in, hell maybe the phobias are in fact just hallucinations caused by him being unable to rest ever since he was thrown in jail and on the run constantly. maybe the lord of dark was beginning to manifest inside him the moment he stepped into the roost to begin with. maybe he's beginning to blame alethea for his circumstances and knows if she's alive, he'll have to drag her back regardless of her wishes. maybe he's trying to claw his way back to his normal life without realizing he's too far gone. who knows

this one is my biggest reach but execution via falling, drowning, and crushing are some of the oldest forms of killing someone in history. i feel like the most charitable in oersted's favor interpretation is the sinking realization and fear that he's about to die, be it at the hands of lucrece's citizens, at the lord of dark's hands, or at his own if he doesn't find alethea in one piece.

idk this was a bit of word vomit but i feel like people just overall boil this segment of the medieval chapter down to how sexy gyno is, or that they're just monsters like the rest of the chapter, when the medieval chapter + final chapter has a lot of symbolism (a lot of it i will admit accidental) regarding this stuff. msot of it admittedly in my own head but thats why im lalfan bunchofnumbers babyyy

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (pt 13)

(gif by me! I use the iphone app momento)

tw: language, angst, mentions of drug use (relapse), mentions of miscarriage

word count: 7.3k (im sorry)

masterlist

series masterlist

Spencer got up from the cold tile floor, fuzzy unicorn in hand, and faced the window above the kitchen sink. He stared out of it, admiring the snow that was still falling lightly, wondering if it was raining in Seattle. His memory flashed to the last time he stood in the rain with you, but he tried to shake the images away. Instead he watched the snowflakes hit his windowpanes and melt. He hoped that maybe you were somewhere staring out of a window, admiring the dreary weather, and thinking of him too. 

He found his place against the dishwasher again, sliding down as his mismatched socks gave way so he could stretch his long legs out fully. He pulled the nearly empty box onto his lap and appreciated the light weight of it, as he continued with his twelfth letter and thirteenth item. Thirteen, a number whose history of unluckiness stems all the way back to the thirteen attendees of the Last Supper, and tracks through the number of steps leading up to the gallows, all the way to the number of letters in the names of some of the most infamous criminals. 

Thirteen was a haunted number, which rightly accompanied a haunting letter. 

“This one’s long. It’s a month of tarnished memories packed into a few pieces of paper. So far I’ve gone through half of a college-ruled one subject notebook and I’ve had to change pens twice. It’s nearing 2:30, and the wine is finally hitting my empty stomach. Sorry in advance for the way my handwriting will be. I’ll try to make this make as much sense as I can. 

If you look at your thirteenth item it is the notepad I stole from that resort in Florida. There isn’t much around to signify this letter. You don’t keep mementos from one of the saddest days of your life, but for some reason I took this useless paper and shoved it in my purse on my way out. Good thing I did, or you’d have no item to attach to these memories. Though I suppose that might be better. 

The resort was where we were going to be at for our ‘babymoon,’ whatever that is. What a dumb idea, I’m still mad at myself for letting Garcia talk us into one. She just made it sound so appealing. 

Once everyone knew I was pregnant, Hotch pretty much sat me in Quantico with Penelope. There were a few local cases where I was lucky enough to go visit the ME’s office, but usually I kicked my feet up in her lair while you were out in the field. 

“A what?” I said one day as she ran DNA through CODIS. The two of us were drinking herbal tea, and I was barely 16 weeks. I just looked like I had a big lunch in my stomach, not a baby the size of an avocado. 

“A babymoon. It’s like a honeymoon, but you go when you’re pregnant. It’s one last trip for mommy and daddy to go on and spend quality time together. How many trips have you and Dad-Wonder even been on?”

I shrugged. We didn’t travel much for pleasure. We traveled for work, so on our rare days off we liked to be at home. 

“I mean we’ve gone to Vegas and Connecticut a few times.”

She rolled her eyes, “Visiting family, my dear, is not a vacation! I was thinking you two would go to the beach. You guys relax and wade in the ocean and Spencer can build sandcastles that defy every law of physics!”

I laughed at that. You and the beach? It just didn’t feel natural to me. Probably because you aren’t capable of actually relaxing.  

“That does sound fun,” I said and I spoke to my barely there stomach, “And it would make daddy take a few days off.”

Penelope squealed and started clicking at her computer, “I’ll find a resort online right now! Okay so how about Marco Island? It’s gorgeous and in Florida, so it’ll be like eighty and sunny, even in the beginning of December.”

“I’ll have to talk to Spence about it. I mean I know it would be fun and all but we really should be saving money for a crib, and car seat, and bassinet, and high chair, and a rocking chair, and a baby swing, and a—“

Garcia stopped me from spiraling out of control, “That is why you throw a huge baby shower! People buy those things for you.”

I rubbed my tummy again, “Oh no, Daddy is very particular about what things are bought.”

“That’s why you have a registry, Momma Bear. Now, no more excuses.”

Before I could even call you, she had put in both of our requests for days off and we had a week long reservation at this fancy resort that you see listed at the top of this notepad, the “Crystal Cove”.  

I was only slightly mortified that she did all this without me asking you. Mostly, I was happy. I was afraid you wouldn’t say yes, but if PG already booked it, you kind of had to agree. And to my surprise, you did. 

When you got back from that case we were at home, you eating something I had poorly made from a random cookbook on a shelf. I had decided to start cooking more, so I could make homemade meals. I wanted to be that mom who cuts sandwiches into flower shapes and always has fresh baked bread and cookies laying around. I wanted us to be those parents; the ones who are so sickeningly in love that their kids roll their eyes every time they kiss. We were those parents, kind of, if we could even be considered ‘parents.’ At that point, I don’t think we were. But we were definitely in tooth-rotting, sickeningly sweet love. 

“So, I have a surprise for you,” I said, coming up behind you and rustling your hair. 

“Hm?” You said, stuffing your face like you hadn’t eaten in days. You probably hadn’t. You’re the king of forgetting to eat. Maybe that’s how you stay so skinny. 

“I booked a trip, well I guess technically Garcia did.”

“A trip?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, a trip, to the beach. Penelope called it a ‘babymoon.’”

You laughed, “A babymoon? I’m not familiar."

I smiled and sat across from you, “It’s like a honeymoon, except it's just me and you relaxing and spending quality time together before this lil dude makes his appearance.”

You smiled, “I’m telling you, it’s a girl.”

I rolled my eyes, “It’s definitely a boy, but stop ignoring my offer.”

“Well, it’s not really an offer so much as it is you telling me that we’re doing this.”

“Okay, yes Garcia helped me book it already, and yes she put in our requests for days off, but you can say no.”

You did your little nose twitch scrunch thing, “I’d never say no to quality time with you, Love.”

You leaned over and kissed me, and I squealed, “I’m so excited! I have to buy maternity bathing suits now! Oh and a sunhat!””

Spencer smiled fondly, recounting that day. He was thrilled to go, minus the part where he’d have to wear shorts, and flip flops. Something about the piece that goes between your toes makes him squeamish. He was looking for the right opportunity to use something special he had bought for you, and you had just given him it. A week on a beautiful beach with the love of his life? That would be the perfect time to ask you what he had been waiting to ask you since JJ’s wedding. He was going to take Hotch’s advice; stop waiting, start doing, and get down on one knee with a blue velvet box. 

He never got the chance to. The trip was supposed to be in the beginning of December, around your week twenty-four. You never got that far. 

He got up from the ground, immediately digging around in a drawer full of pencils and compasses and rulers, finding the blue box in a corner. It was covered in pencil shavings and dust. He hadn’t looked at it in months. He held it delicately in his hands before opening it. 

It was plain, but he remembered you said that was what you wanted. 

“Oval, of course and silver,” You had explained to Penelope and JJ at a night out years ago. Derek and Spencer sat on the opposite side of the table, but his ears perked up at the mention of rings. 

“I like just the band,” JJ said, admiring her own ring, “And I have Henry’s birthstone, the citrine, so I didn’t need another one.”

“What kind of stone Y/N? I’d love a pink diamond! Or a ruby! Imagine!” Penelope gushed. 

You shook your head, “I’d take cubic zirconia, if it was coming from the right guy.”

Both Penelope and JJ stuck their tongues out, “Nuh-uh!” Garcia said, grabbing her phone to scroll through more pinterest photos. 

“Spence will be getting you a diamond.”

You rolled your eyes and whispered, “Don’t jinx it JJ! And I don’t want a diamond.”

Her mouth dropped, “No diamond? Really.”

“Diamonds aren’t ethically sourced.”

“Lab grown! Get lab grown!” PG piped it, showing you a picture of a ring, just an oval in a plain silver setting. 

“That! That’s the one!” You said and Garcia giggled, going on a rant about her dream wedding. 

Spencer had gotten that exact ring. Lab grown, oval, classic, beautiful. It was what you wanted, and you deserved everything you ever wanted. 

Spencer looked at the notepad. He could tell you had a hard time picking an item for this letter. He knows this letter is the end, the other two are the epilogue of  a story he wishes you kept writing. Crystal Cove is the place where he had planned on asking you to marry him, but it ended up being the place where your love story ended. He tossed the notebook to the side and decided that the souvenir for this letter was now going to be this ring. This ring that sparkled and shined, even in the dull incandescent lights of his kitchen. This ring that belonged on your finger, and not in the back of a drawer. This ring that you didn’t even know existed, but if you had, maybe you’d still be together. 

“I did buy three maternity bathing suits, and you bought shorts. Spencer Reid in shorts. It was going to be the best trip ever. We were going to snorkel and look at sea turtles and sunbathe and drink virgin piña coladas by the ocean. We were going to get couples massages and spend every moment loving and appreciating each other.

The actual trip? Much different than the one we had planned on paper, but let’s first discuss that time between the hospital and the trip. 

It was four weeks. Four weeks of me sitting at home while you were off at work. Four weeks of the door opening and Derek walking through, not you. And on the odd chance that it was you opening the door, you’d be appearing at odd hours of the night to grab a new suit or a file or a snack and then getting back in your shitty car and going to your apartment. Each time I heard that comforting sound of your satchel hitting the floor, I’d crawl out of the cave of blankets I was in to find you, and you’d act like I wasn’t even there. 

For the first few days, you asked me how I was and if I was feeling better, then you’d check your phone and wave goodbye. After that, I was lucky if you’d say hello, then I was lucky if I even got a glimpse of you. You never held me. You never kissed me. You never told me you loved me.

I got all my information about you from Derek. Every day I texted you, “Have a good day at work! Talk soon?” And everyday you didn’t answer, so I’d ask Derek if you were okay. He’d always tell me what you were doing. Usually you would take a stack of files of cases to a dark room and make preliminary profiles to send back to the departments, alone. I’d tell him thank you, and the next day would be the same nonsense. 

Those four weeks dragged. It was like every minute was an hour and everyday was a year. I was healing, even without you, everyday I felt better and better. But that’s relative to the day before. I haven’t felt ‘good’ yet. I haven’t felt ‘happiness’ yet. But I will. And I’m counting on that. 

My mandatory leave was four weeks, and at the end of that Hotch called me in for a ‘mandatory psychological evaluation.’ I didn’t tell you about it because you weren’t speaking to me, and even when you did you were angry and snappy and rude.  

I didn’t pass the evaluation. Even though the BAU wrote those damn questions, I still didn’t pass. When my four weeks were up, you were expecting me at work, and I never showed. You didn’t notice how not okay I was because you were too busy handling your own feelings, which I understand. You have to take care of yourself first, deal with your own trauma before touching anyone else’s. So, your trauma was none of my business, a concept you should've applied to my healing process. 

I was supposed to come back on a Monday and when I didn’t show you came to the house. You opened the door and yelled my name. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in weeks, and it felt good. I thought you had finally come home. I thought you were finally ready to heal with me, but you weren’t. You were there to judge me.

I think I ran to where you were, a smile on my face that I didn’t think I was capable of making, “Hey!”

You looked so put together in a neatly pressed suit, but your eyes exposed you. They were bloodshot and the bags were so large they almost reached the end of your nose. I had on one of your shirts; it was comforting at the time. Not so much anymore.  

You looked me up and down, a small scowl forming on your face, “Where were you today?”

I took a deep breath, and I lied, because lying to you felt easier than telling you the truth. The truth that I was not deemed stable enough to come back, even though I wanted to. I needed to be distracted. I was ashamed, scared, confused. 

“I-I didn’t go.”

“Didn’t go? You’ll get fired Y/N.”

I sighed, “No, my leave got extended.”

I could feel the way your eyes bore into my skull as I dodged eye contact. 

“Extended?! It’s been four weeks.”

“I’m not ready!” I desperately wanted you to see through it. I thought I was ready, but the papers disagreed.

“Hotch let you do that?” Your voice was increasing and I found myself inching away from you.

“He encouraged it!” Another lie. He didn’t ‘encourage’ it. He forced me.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag and opening the door again.

“You’re leaving? Spencer c’mon I-”

You cut me off by slamming that door in my face. 

That’s when I started closing myself off. I started dreading the sound of your feet against the floor at three am. I started to put my own walls up, but they would dull in comparison to the Great Wall of Spencer you built around yourself to keep me out.”

Spencer was always good at putting walls up. In fact, you were the only person to ever get him to take (almost) all of them down. There’s a side of him he doesn’t show anyone, a side of him that he reserves for himself, and when something happens, that’s where he goes. He goes to the corner of his brain where he feels safe, and the walls come up to protect him.

And in those last four weeks, he did just that. He put the walls up, shut you out, and decided that was better. Except it wasn’t better, it just was easier. It was easier for him to bypass you and find a new outfit for work tomorrow. It was easier for him to disappear in the office until the odd hours of the morning. It was easier for him to hide away from you, because when he’s exposed he always gets hurt. It was easier to act like everything was fine, even though everything was the opposite of fine. 

He never needed to go to the house, part of him was drawn there like a moth to a lantern. He was drawn to you. As much as he didn’t want to see those four walls, he still needed to check on you. He just did it in his own damaged way. He’d get a glimpse of you in old sweats and a shirt with a hole in it, hair a mess and mascara from two weeks ago adding to your eye bags and he’d be reminded that he couldn’t be there for you. He would never be enough, and he’d retreat into the comfort of solitude. 

He was so preoccupied with being hurt, that he didn’t realize just how much he hurt you too. 

“I had forgotten about the stupid trip, and so had you. You were too preoccupied with work and not speaking to me and I was preoccupied with crying and trying to speak to you. I only remembered the trip when I got an email from the airline about the flight, they had to move our seats or something stupid. I decided that was a reason for you to actually need to speak to me like I was a person, so I took advantage of it. 

I intercepted you at home one day. I had been sitting in the kitchen waiting for you. You came home at two am. 

“Hey,” I said, immediately as you walked through the door. You looked surprised that I was up. 

“Hi, I’m just gonna—“

“Spencer, stop. We have to talk.”

You crossed your arms, not leaving the threshold of the door, “No. I told you a million times Y/N, I don’t want to talk.”

“Not about...” I couldn’t find the words and you started up the stairs. 

“Are we going on this damn trip or not?” I said, my voice cracking from lack of use. 

You stopped, looking over the banister at me, “You didn’t cancel it?”

“I didn’t think of it until now. We’re supposed to leave in two days.”

You groaned, “Why didn’t you cancel it?”

I threw my hands up. As if all of this was my responsibility? 

 “I was preoccupied! Did you cancel your days off?”

You shook your head, rubbing your face, “No, God. Can we still get a refund?”

I was hurt that you didn’t want to go, but not surprised. As I stared at the front door from my spot at the kitchen table I decided that I was going to go no matter what. It was going to be refreshing to look at the ocean instead of an empty nursery. That would be my distraction.

 “I-I’m going. I’ll pay for your half, but I’m going. I’m losing my mind here, Spence.”

You looked at me again, still contemplating your options. 

“I get it, okay? You can’t be in this house, but neither can I. Maybe we can talk and stuff on neutral ground. I-I just want you there with me, the way it was supposed to be.”

Then you took me by surprise, you nodded, “Yeah, yeah we’ll go.”

I’m sure I lit up like Rockefeller Center at Christmas, “Really?”

You rubbed your eyes, “Yeah, we can go Y/N.”

I was feeling lucky, so I pushed it, too hard, “Are you staying tonight?”

Your voice went from sleepy to sour, “No.”

And you vanished up the stairs, taking all my hope in us with you. 

I knew deep down it wouldn’t end well. I knew it was going to be fighting and yelling and arguing, but any time with you was good time with you at that point. And I favored the little bit of serotonin and dopamine you flood my brain with as opposed to staring at the gray walls of the kitchen alone.”

Spencer only agreed to go because he thought he was getting there. Everyday he felt a little better when he’d walk through the door, but he still wasn’t ready. He thought a week of no work and no one to talk to except you would bring the walls down. This would finally be the catalyst in a reaction that was taking far too long to complete. He also couldn’t stand the thought of you flying and spending a week alone. He felt better about you being alone here because you weren’t really alone. You had Derek visiting, Garcia dropping off baskets, phone calls from Emily, the odd visit from Rossi, and apparently phone calls to Hotch, but on that island you’d really be alone, and he was worried about how you’d handle it. 

“So two days later we got on a three hour flight to Miami, and I drove our rental car to this resort. We didn’t talk much the whole time, besides some small talk about the flight and other odd comments. It was painfully awkward, and I regretted even coming. 

We didn’t speak until I used the keycard to open the door, and we stared at the one king sized bed in the room.

“Oh,” was all you said when you realized you’d have to share with me.

“What?”

“There’s only one bed.”

I rolled my eyes, “Spencer, we’ve shared a bed for three years.”

You just stood at the door with your hands fidgeting on the handle of the suitcase, “I’ll call down and ask for a cot to be brought up.”

“A cot? Are you serious?” I couldn’t believe you, “Why come if you wouldn’t even share a bed with me? I said I’d be fine alone.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but changed your mind. 

“Great communication skills Spence. Really, I’m impressed.” You rolled your eyes and finally started to unpack your bag, “I came because I was worried about what you’d do here all alone.”

Part of me was happy you were worried, but a bigger part was annoyed, “I’ve been handling being alone fine, thanks.”

You scoffed, “Yeah. That’s why you need Derek to bring you food everyday, because you’re doing so well.”

I bit my tongue and tried to speak calmly, “Well at least someone checks on me everyday.”

That shut you right up.

The three days you were there went as follows: we slept as far apart from each other as we could, despite how badly I wanted to cuddle into your arms. We’d get up in silence, eat breakfast in silence, walk to the beach and read in silence, eat lunch and dinner in silence, and each night we’d yell at each other until we fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed.

Remember what I said to trigger the fight on December third, your last day there? How could you forget? It’s the fight that broke us up. 

“So, I was thinking of going to a counselor,” I said, staring at the waves lap the sand from the balcony of our room. The air felt cold for eighty degrees. But maybe that was just because the air between me and you had been cold for weeks. 

You were sitting next to me, but I could tell you were worlds away. 

“Spence,” I nudged, trying to snap you out of your daydream. 

“Hm? What?”

“I said I’m going to go to a counselor.”

You twisted your face, “A counselor? What for?”

I shrugged, “I-I think it’d be good for me. It’s a grief counselor.”

You turned to look at me, your brow covered in sweat and your eyes watery. You were incessantly bouncing your left leg, rubbing at your nose, and you seemed disinterested in every single thing I was saying or doing. In fact, you’d been acting that way since the first day you disappeared to your apartment. 

“Counselor? Yeah,” You were fidgeting, barely making eye contact. 

A feeling I can only describe as pure dread formed in my stomach. I thought I might puke, but I swallowed the feeling and kept talking, “I got a recommendation from Hotch. He said he went to Dr. Stevens after Haley died. He said it really helped.”

You were still not listening. 

“I think it’d be good if we went together.”

That finally got your undivided attention. “Together?” You snapped, “No.”

“Why not?” I said it with an air of exhaustion and despair. I was tired of this. So fucking tired of it. 

“I’m not going to a damn therapist, Y/N,” You seethed, your metal deck chair scraping against the concrete as you stood in front of me. 

The sky looked stormy, palm trees whipping in the wind as you came before me. The bags under your eyes looked like bruises, and you had on sleeves. It was eighty and you had on sleeves.

“Okay, I’ll go alone then. I think he could really help us though.”

I was giving up on fighting. I didn’t understand how when I was at my absolute low you could just keep kicking me while I was down. All I wanted was for you to go to someone and talk about it. That’s it. You were acting like I’d asked you to move a mountain for me, which, might I add, at one point you would have done. 

“He? You really think a male therapist is going to help? You lost a baby, Y/N—“

“WE,” I clarified, for what felt like the fiftieth time, “We lost a baby.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored me, “You lost a baby. How does a male therapist help you through that?”

I was angry now. It was bubbling up to the top and I thought I might explode. 

“He’s a grief counselor! He’ll help me through my GRIEF! And I think you should go because clearly you have a lot going on. You always have! You should’ve been seeing someone for years.”

“Oh, I have a lot going on?” You sneered, “Of course I have a lot going on! I go to work everyday to bring you home a paycheck so you can sit around all day and do nothing.”

I stood up, got close to your face, “I’m on leave.”

“Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that.”

You bypassed me and went inside, and my hot anger turned into wet anger and fat tears were rolling down my cheeks.

“Do you know how traumatic this was on my body? Do you? Everything hurts and you were supposed to be there! You were supposed to take four weeks off too! You were supposed to be there for me!”

“Yeah and who’s there for me!” You yelled, louder than I think you ever had; at me at least. You had thrown your suitcase on the bed, haphazardly grabbing your clothes from the drawers and shoving them in. 

“I would’ve been,” I said softly, coming up behind you to grab your arm lightly, “If you had let me.”

You pulled back, “Don’t touch me!”

I reached up to wipe my eyes and crossed my arms in front of myself defensively, “I want to be there for you, Spencer. I do. Why won’t you let me?”

You didn’t answer, because even you didn’t know why. You just stood over the suitcase, one arm on either side of it, hair matted to your sweaty face, panting and panting. 

The facts I had chosen to ignore were staring me in the face again. Or maybe I was just that oblivious. 

“I’ve never seen you like this. This isn’t you, Love,” I tried to say in my most soothing voice. The dread had clawed its way back up to the back of my throat. 

“Or maybe this is me,” you said softly, and I swear you were crying. Or maybe I hoped you were, that way we were both sobbing. That’s as close to togetherness as we could get. 

“Maybe this is who I am now, or who I’ve been all along.”

I reached out for you again, but stopped myself, “No, Spencer. The real you isn’t this angry, and bitter, and mean.”

You slammed your hands against the bed, “Yes it is!”

“Is that what you’ve been doing all this time?” I said sadly, shaky breaths between words, “Is that what you’ve been going to your apartment and doing?”

You turned around, skin sweaty and eyes red, “What? What are you talking about now? God, do you ever stop talking?”

I snapped, ignoring your last jab there, “Are you using?”

Your face contorted into a sour expression, “Am I using?”

“Yeah, Spencer! Are you? Because I can’t see any other reason for why you’re so irritable and sweaty and out of it! So I’ll ask you again, are you going through withdrawal?”

You looked like I had literally punched you in the gut, and I kind of had. It was a low blow, I’ll admit it, but I was seriously worried about you. If an event would trigger you, this would’ve been it. 

“What? No!”

I wasn’t sure whether or not I should believe you, but I knew I had to support you either way. I love you, even when you’re angry at me, I still love you. Even when you throw clothes and seethe at me through gritted teeth, I still love you. That’s my fatal flaw. No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, lower lip pinched between his teeth. Was he really that terrible? He didn’t remember being so spiteful. Reading it back, he understood why you thought he was high, and he had thought about it more than he cared to admit. But he hadn’t touched the stuff in seven years, and he wasn’t about to start again now.

‘No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.’ 

That line made him want to cry, hands clenching the ring box as if it were a stress ball. That line simultaneously felt like a stab in the gut and a breath of fresh air. He had given you so many reasons to walk away, and the one reason to stay was there in his palm, unused.

““It’s okay if you are. I understand this is a... hard time. I’ll support you through this,” I put my hands out to touch your chest. 

“I’m not high and haven’t been in years!” You swatted my hands down. 

“Then what the hell is going on!?” 

“I’m angry and I’m sad and I’m heartbroken!” You yelled, going back out onto the balcony to stand in the rain that had started pouring down in sheets. 

“Spencer! Stop!” I followed you out, tears mixing with rain to the point that I didn’t know which was which. 

“I’m just confused! It’s hard to see the point in all this anymore. Maybe it’s just not worth it,” You said, yelling at the ocean not at me. Rain soaked our clothes instantly. Part of me was hoping this scene would end like the ‘notebook’ we’d kiss and you’d spin me around. I guess this is kind of like the notebook, it’s a story to help you remember us. Except you don’t have Alzheimer’s and I wrote 15 letters, not 365. 

“Maybe what’s not worth it?” I was yelling too, just so you could hear me over the sound of the wind and the rain. 

“This!” You gestured between us. I felt like you knocked the air out of me, my whole body stinging. 

“But I love you!”

“All of this has made me realize that love isn’t everything! I love you too but we need more than that!”

That was the first time I’d heard you say ‘I love you’ in a month, but it was a double edged sword. I bit my lip so hard I think I started bleeding, “Love isn’t enough? Are you kidding me, Spencer?”

You swallowed thickly, “No! I’m not kidding. I’ve never been more serious!”

“So what? That’s it?” I said it quietly, but I wanted to scream at you. I wanted to scream that you were being an idiot. You were being ridiculous. You were being unnecessarily cruel. But I didn’t. I was tired and water logged. I had finally given up.

You ran your hands through your hair, “No–it’s–we we aren’t over Y/N. I’m just saying that it’s gonna take more than love to fix us.”

“Well maybe if you were ever home, we could actually try. But you aren’t. You’re always gone! So explain to me how we’re going to fix this. What’s it gonna take Spencer? What do you want from me?”

You took a deep breath, uttering words I was so sick of hearing, “We need space and time.”

“Space? Time? It’s been a month Spencer! I let you go to work. I let you spend every day at your damn apartment. I stopped calling. I stopped checking in. How much more space and time do you want?”

“Thirty-four days,” you mumbled, just so I could barely hear. The thunder rolled, mostly drowning it out. 

“What was that?” 

“It’s been THIRTY-FOUR days, Y/N. Thirty-four. I don’t know how you expect me to be okay after only thirty-four days.”

“I don’t expect you to be fine! I expect you to speak to me! To look at me! I want to go to bed crying and have you there next to me. I want to be there for you when you’re crying. The only way we get better is if we do this TOGETHER!”

The anger looked like it melted off of you, and I took that as my opportunity to approach. I threw my arms around your soaked body as you shook with sobs into my shoulder. I held you like my life depended on it, because in a way it did. You wrapped your arms around me too, and everything felt okay. We were standing in the pouring rain, holding each other as we cried, and somehow I felt more okay than I had in the thirty-four days prior. It felt like maybe you were coming back to me. 

You weren’t. 

We stood like that for what felt like hours, and eventually I pulled you inside. I wish I didn’t. I wish we stayed there, holding each other in the rain until the sun came up and dried us off. I foolishly thought the rain washed our sins away. 

“It’s going to be okay,” I said, my head on your shoulder as we wrapped ourselves in towels, “I promise.”

You shrugged me off of you, going back to packing your bag. 

“Spencer, stop packing, please,” I begged, grabbing the items you were putting in and taking them back out. 

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you said plainly, taking a shirt and putting it back in. 

“I-I thought—“

“Thought what, Y/N? That because I cried to you and told you I loved you that we were magically okay?” 

I stammered, “No. No! But I thought it meant we were in this together now.” 

“You just accused me of relapsing an hour ago.”

“And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, but that’s not a reason you should go,” I pleaded, reaching for you again. I thought if you walked away I’d never see you again.

“You don’t trust me,” your voice cracked. 

“No, Love, I—“

“Don’t call me that.”

The pain in my chest bloomed, sending a wave of heartache through my entire body. A heartache I still haven’t been able to shake. It’s still there. Some days it's a thunder crack and sometimes it's a low grumble, but it’s always there. The rain hasn't stopped.  

I hadn’t even realized that you were completely packed until you zipped the suitcase shut. 

“You’re really leaving?” 

You stopped at the door, hand on the handle, to turn and face me. I didn’t need to use my profiling skills to see how much pain you were in, and my pain doubled at the sight. I’ve always been an empath when it comes to you, feeling what you feel like it’s my own. 

“I am.”

I crossed the room and threw my arms around you, sobbing into your chest. To my surprise, you wrapped your arms around me lightly. 

“I understand,” I said, looking into your eyes, “We can’t be there for each other the way we need to.”

You nodded into my shoulder, “Stay. When you get home from this we’ll talk. I just need a few more days.”

I shook my head, finally coming to the realization that we didn’t work anymore. We weren’t healthy anymore. 

“Don’t bother. The writing’s on the wall, Spence,” my voice wavered, and I regretted every word as they left my mouth, “I’ve been waiting for that person from the hospital to come home to me. I’ve been waiting for the Spencer who lends me his shirts and fact dumps and eats IHOP and ice cream with me to come home.”

I felt your breath stop under my arms, “But that Spencer, the Spencer I love, isn’t here anymore. We need to be alone.”

I felt you shake with tears under me, and that triggered mine, “We have to break up.”

I wish I never said it. I wish I gave you those few days, but we both know those few days would’ve turned into weeks and months and we would’ve ended up here anyway. I wish you didn’t let me say them. I wish you kissed me to shut me up and told me I was being stupid. I wish I didn’t watch you go down that elevator, tears on your cheeks. I wish I didn’t spend the other four days in an empty king sized bed, crying for you. 

I realize now that you changed. I did too. Instead of wishing for the old you, I should’ve learned to love the new you. I think I would’ve, if I had given it a chance. Actually, I know I would’ve. I think I’d fall in love with every version of you that could ever exist or has ever existed. You and I, we’re meant to be together. 

I know you probably don’t believe in it, but I like to think that we’re twin flames; we’re two halves of one soul that somehow ended up in two bodies and constantly pull to find each other again. I’ve read a lot about them recently. Twin flames don’t necessarily end up together. They can even just be two people with an intense friendship. They’re people who help each other grow, even if that means they’re only in your life for a short time. I like to think that we are that case, and that in some parallel universe I’m with you and we have our daughter and we’re happy. I just wish that I was in that universe now. 

I know it’s for the best that we went to the damn Crystal Cove and broke up. I’m sure someday in the future I’ll be pleased with that decision, but for now, I still regret it.”

Spencer stared at the notepad, eyes flicking between that in his left hand and the ring box in his right. He took the ring out and admired it in the light. It glinted and glimmered, delicately refracting light onto the cabinets. He slid it halfway down his ring finger because that’s as far as it would go. He imagined it was on your slender, perfectly manicured hand instead of his, but an ache formed where his heart was when he realized it’d never end up here. 

Spencer grabbed the notebook. It was unlined and the paper felt flimsy and thin. He got up from the floor to find a pencil in the drawer the ring had been hidden in, and took it out to scrawl his own letter to go with his own memento. A sixteenth letter for a sixteenth item you had no idea even existed. 

“Y/N,

I’d like to consider this letter sixteen, to go with the engagement ring that’s in my palm. I bought this ring the day after we ate dinner at Rossi’s and showed everyone tiny FBI onesies. I have your perfect ring here in my hand, a plain silver band with a lab-grown diamond in a four-prong setting in the center, just like you told Garcia you wanted. I should’ve given it to you the day I bought it, but I waited until the perfect opportunity presented itself. 

What you didn’t know about the trip to the Crystal Cove was that I was going to propose to you there. I was going to get down on one knee in the sand at sunset after dinner. I even had a whole speech planned. I was going to tell you that I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love you, or that anyone would ever love me the way that you do. I was going to say that it amazes me how everyday, I wake up and love you more than I did the night before. And everyday I think it’s be impossible to love you and our daughter more than I do right now. I wanted to tell you that I want to wake up every morning and feel that for the rest of my life. I want the good, the bad, the ugly, I want it all. I want Korean film festivals and IHOP breakfasts and to talk to the moon. I want tubs of ice cream and overly sentimental flowers hanging from the wall. Most of all I wanted to say that I want to spend every day of my life making you happy. 

That speech still applies today. I still love you enough to ask you, but I don’t think you love me enough to say yes. 

It’s okay. It really is. I haven’t decided what to do yet, but if you do read this, just know that it’s okay. I promise you, it’s okay. I’m not the bitter, angry man I was at the Crystal Cove anymore. I changed again, and I hope you’re right. I hope we are twin flames and your soul will come looking for mine, and I hope it happens in this universe, not the infinite parallels that may or may not exist. I miss you and I want nothing more than for you to come back. Come home, Love, please come home.

-SR”

He stared at the notebook page, before tearing it off and folding it in half, placing it in his pocket for safekeeping. He went on his computer and bought the cheapest one-way ticket to Seattle that he could find. He needed to see you. He needed you to see this letter, see this ring. He needed to make this right.

The flight was a red eye, leaving at midnight, so he’d get to the Seattle field office by eight. He looked at the leather watch and saw that it was nearly nine. He decided had to finish, and he had to finish now, as he grabbed letter #14. 

PART 14

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Taglist!

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[pumpkinpaix]

once again, please do not reblog this or take this personally, it is a vent post and I need to just be really unkind in a public space for a second. i love you.

god i swear every single time I think I’m getting better at not letting myself be swept away by an all-consuming rage over an inconsequential bad take, someone manages to prove me wrong, and then all the floodgates go crashing open and suddenly it’s summer again and I’m being called a race traitor, white apologist, mandarin supremacist as if i am not orders of magnitude more familiar with racial conflict and identity trauma the fucking gall of it “u know mandarin supremacy is like a big deal right, my family speaks dialect first and mandarin is violent” oh PLEASE tell me fucking more!! TELL ME MORE!! about how it’s mandarin supremacist to use a mandarin romanization system for a source material that is fucking, get this, in mandarin

tell me, someone who has lost no fewer than FOUR FUCKING DIALECTS in just two generations of my family history. tell me about the trauma of not being able to communicate with your own family, tell me about feeling untethered, tell me about your suffering all while dismissing the inherent complexity of my lived experience and invalidating my knowledge of my own language because I was born in the US. wow thank you so much for confirming that you ARE one of those people who think i am a hollow, rootless thing, that water cannot run through me, all while I am smiling and gritting my teeth and trying so fucking hard to be gentle when you will not grant me the fucking courtesy of considering me a fully realized human being. choke on it assholes.

it’s so fucking unfair that you attacked me personally and then had the audacity to be pissed because “how were you supposed to know” when I tried to be transparent about it. and then to be so self-important as to think that we make policy decisions as “revenge” against “POC”? why do i bother, why did i bother, why do i ever try when it takes less than an hour for people to tell me how much they missed my point every single fucking time oh im sorry you think i’m assuming that people know less than they actually do? maybe i wouldn’t have if you hadn’t been spouting clear misinformation about a job that i am currently doing as if you were some kind of authority on the matter. you think i’m assuming malice when there is none? fucking check my goddamn mentions. you think i don’t understand what happens when a non-white person talks about racism online? check my fucking mentions you stupid fuck

and all the while, there’s just this constant stream of self-aggrandizing fake-woke bullshit that could not have more obviously come from a shallow, young euroamerican leftist take on intersectional praxis that is so self-deluded they think they can cast themselves as w/wx, a righteous hero standing up to popular, immoral opinion all while demonstrating that they have completely and fundamentally misunderstood his character due to their utter lack of cultural context. i keep thinking i’ve seen the worst of it, but you all just find new and awful ways to surprise me. sure, say some angry shit and people will eat it up bc everyone seems to think that anger is an indicator for validity. thanks! i love experiencing relentless racism from both sides of the equation and then being told i’m the fucking problem. wow! revolutionary! it’s not like i’ve been experiencing this my whole life, but sure, go off i guess! demonstrate to me every day that actually, maybe i shouldn’t give anyone the benefit of the doubt anymore! show me that compassion is worthless! do it! fucking do it!!! show me that i’m the stupid one for expecting anyone to approach me as an equal because who goes back when they keep getting burned when am i going to fucking learn

[my-darling-boy]

im wondering if you think that edward brittain and geoffrey thurlow were lovers. because i know the movie implied that perhaps there was something more there, bu from reading the book as well as 'letters from a lost generation' i didnt get that impression. just wondering your thoughts!

Right okay I’m about to InfoDumpᵀᴹ because the love Geoffrey and Edward had is one of the main things that got me into learning about WWI years ago!!! So allow me to shed some light on these boys specifically!

So firstly, Geoffrey Thurlow was inserted swiftly into Edward Brittain’s life and the two got on INSTANTLY in early 1915 after Edward was commissioned to the Sherwood Foresters. For a long time, Victor Richardson had been Edward’s trusted friend, as of course they knew each other from their Uppingham days, but it’s apparent in Testament of Youth, Letters From a Lost Generation, and the other works by the family’s historian Mark Bostridge, that Geoffrey and Edward became VERY close VERY fast. And while it could be written off as a friendship..... there is a lot of evidence that, even ignoring my own conjectures, is hard to dispute the fact that their relationship was more than friendship, even if it never became sexual or explicitly physical.

On top of the two becoming quickly inseparable, they also frequented expression of their desire to be with one another while the other was away, Thurlow often sending Edward very affectionate and borderline romantic letters and postcards on a whim, even sending him one rather Cryptic postcard on Valentine’s Day one year. The two insisted on doing many activities together, and many found them a perfect fit, Geoffrey a rather dreamy, expressive, and emotional young man, while Edward was practically the opposite; it’s suggested that they adored each other so much due to their personalities complimenting the other’s quite well: Edward was able to provide Geoffrey with reassurance and That Officerly Gay Protectiveness, while Geoffrey’s understanding and soft demeanor provided an open window for Edward to share his insecurities when he couldn’t show them to the other men. And while it could be said that Edward was more hesitant to be with Geoffrey in such a manner, even if Geoffrey felt no personal conflict, the two wanted to be very, very personal.

Both boys stayed connected regularly, no matter where they were, through intimate correspondence. As I mentioned, a good majority of their letters involve either one of them, but specially Geoffrey, longing poetically to be out in nature with the other or wishing they were together, but not at present, not wanting the other to be in harm’s way. A lot of Geoffrey’s letters to Edward, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, are signed “Him that thou knowest thine” or just “thine”. Of course this means “yours” or “you who know that I am yours”. And while this sort of thing, at least in my latter wording, was not an uncommon expression between men at this time, it’s..... the first way it’s worded that surprises me. For lack of a more eloquent explanation, it’s Gay as Hell to be THAT poetic to your new soldier friend, even for 1910s standards. One might ask why he simply wouldn’t just write “yours” instead of adding the special style, and making the extra effort to imply “not only am I yours, but you know as well as I do that I’m yours”. One might even ask if it was to refer to a special meeting, or inside romantic reference, such as the way in which Roland and Vera signed their own letters to each other, “au revoir”. Literally one letter from Thurlow to Edward simply ends with “In Life, in Death, Yours”.

There were also several letters marked “private” sent to the Brittain residence from Geoffrey in the span between 1915 to 1916 when Geoffrey would have occasionally been on leave, and could write whatever he damned well pleased to Edward without fear of the military censors poking around. What makes this crucial evidence to support they were having homosexual correspondence is the fact that Vera burnt the private letters before she died to protect the boys’ wishes to keep them private, if not by Edward’s direct request for her to do so, something which by itself doesn’t seem so odd given the fact letters were burnt all the time for a number of reasons, but is especially compelling given the fact other evidence makes a strong case that they were together. What was contained in those letters is lost to history, but they shouldn’t be confused with the letters taken off the censors which later may have began the domino effect to Edward’s untimely death, as that was in 1918, over a year after the death of Geoffrey, and were about different homosexual matters with other ranks at the time.

Additionally: while Edward’s reaction to Geoffrey’s death is argued not to have been as strong as his response was to, say, Victor’s death, as support for the fact he didn’t actually care much for Thurlow, he wrote to Vera “I have been afraid for him for so long and yet now that he is gone it is so very hard—that prince among men with so fine an appreciation of all that was worth appreciating and so ideal a method of expression . . . Always a splendid friend with a splendid heart and a man who won’t be forgotten by you or me however long or short a time we may live. Dear child, there is no more to say; we have lost almost all there was to lose . . .” In my own mind, this letter is just the tip of the iceberg to how he felt. It’s clear that Geoffrey’s death had a greater toll on him in the long run, while Victor’s death seemed to affect him immediately. I can only assume this is due in part to Edward being so emotionally invested in Geoffrey versus Victor, and that Victor’s death evoked an immediate and present sadness, while Geoffrey’s was so difficult to handle, he couldn’t think but to react in a collected but sorrowful manner, one I feel was meant to conceal just how heartbroken he was, as though he was worried if he showed as much outward devastation as he showed for Victor, he feared one may speculate why he held so much sadness for Geoffrey...as though he was afraid people knew what was between them.

Geoffrey’s death seemed to CRUSH Edward, leading him down this path of dark despair and depression following his passing, and it lead to a lot of misdirected tension between he and his sister at times, and he subsequently turned far more reserved, uncommunicative, and apathetic than ever before. I’d even go so far as to say that Edward might have felt guilty about his own relations with Geoffrey after he died, possibly believing he could have done more to be closer with him, or felt guilt in having distanced himself from him in some way later in 1917. And after such events, he showed more distaste for the war, more lack of emotion towards his own life and its worth, and his letters often took a downhearted turn towards the end.

When he died, Geoffrey’s letter, the last one he sent to Edward in 1917, was found in his breast pocket, and I would assume this to be over his heart. It ends by saying “Till we meet again, Here or in the Hereafter,” and it’s speculated he carried this ever since the day Geoffrey died, and, most defintely, died with it close to his heart.

By my own conjecture, I say that Edward felt that he was both conscious of and without objection to his homosexuality, most likely because it was suggested in private schools at the time (take Evelyn Waugh’s comments on being interested in boys at boarding school as a phase that one grows out of) that it was a passing curiosity, and that such interests would diminish when one reached adulthood. I felt that he did romantically love Geoffrey, even if it never had the opportunity to become sexual or physically intimate. And because our own understanding of homosexuality did not exist at the time for him to have any model from which to reference comprehension of his own sexuality, I believe, that like most of his queer contemporaries, he had a rather ambiguous—near procrastinating—outlook on his own sexual orientation and relationship status, along with his view concerning his future life and possible wife.

The war created a near diversion from having to consider the possibility of being with a woman, and he could instead allow to let his homosexuality subconsciously flourish while being in the presence of so many men, and allow his romantic love for Geoffrey to remain raw and intimate without having to confront the implications such a future would hold for him socially, all due to the war being the only thing on his present mind. And furthermore, I firmly believe that Geoffrey held a deep admiration for him: he looked up to him as well as loved him. Though he was training to be a priest, he seems to express no distaste—rather the opposite, based on his letters to Edward—for flirtatious relations between men, and remains such a gentle and deeply poetic figure to Edward I have only seen reflected in that of homosexual bonds. In my opinion, being gay myself, and with having delved into scattered studies of male affection in earlier centuries, they were in love. It’s a story I so often encounter between men of their class in this era, specifically during the war.

I will also admit that, for some reason, from standing afar, the recollection by itself of what information is told to us about Edward and Geoffrey is rather.... timid...in some instances amid the background of Vera and Roland, of Malta and France. And the ones provided alone from most books are merely the “friendly” letters. The ones I’m sure we would really like to see were lost on Geoffrey’s side and burned on Edward’s side, and what others remain are held in private facilities and university archives, and only available in brief mentions online. However, looking closely, reading sections purely between the two boys, isolating only their letters, their language, and even digging further into works written from Mark Bostridge and other minor historians piecing together dots not having previously been connected, what love they shared feels warm and strong, if not simultaneously distant and foggy at times: such is the way the world remembers homosexuals unfortunately.

These boys never got the oppertunity to be with each other in the way we would like to see historic gay people, the way we swoon over the way Maurice and Clive or Alec were together in Maurice for instance. Geoffrey and Edward were in the middle of war, and there’s both so much poor documentation on homosexuals and so little chance in the chaos to a have a ditch-lectures-to-go-on-a-motorbike-ride-into-a-meadow relationship we expect to see, compared to other circumstances where it would obviate the way they felt about each other. But because of the war, it made it even harder to progress gay relationships due to combat, death, anxiety, and just a general lack of space and oppertunity to be with a man all the time without someone seeing.

I later discovered a while back this historian’s articles about the lives and intertwining of Edward and Geoffrey and they are packed with a brilliant compilation of sources and their own take on the relationship, which I was quite excited to have the pleasure of reading, for we share very similar viewpoints on the matter and even caught onto hints and details during our own reading of the sources no other readers seemed to talk about!

Edward’s || Geoffrey’s

What fragments which are left to us, if we understand just how forcibly hidden life had to be for these men, letters marked “private” and passing remarks of desiring to walk among trees with someone special speak of a louder and more profound story buried deep beneath them. It’s important to take into account that many of the known gay relationships we have record of today are not as well documented as Oscar Wilde. Sometimes, the only record we have of their love lost to time is held in the way it’s held here, in the signing of “Thine”.

I can only hope now that since they could not hold each other in life, that in death, they could finally be together.

Anyway, there’s my Novel, thanks for the ask!

[sir-adrien-swagreste]

Shipping with Myself - A ML Fanfic

(Based on the following post: <Click Here> )

It was a normal Akumaless day in Paris. Adrien Agreste was busy practicing the Piano when he was talking to Plagg about the possibilities of someone discovering his Identity as Chat Noir.

“Hey Plagg, do you think there’s anyone who thought about me being Chat Noir?”

“Kid, if that happened that reporter girl from your school would be on top of it ASAP. You’re good kid.”

“I don’t know....Oh I know! Let’s search online and see if anyone has tried to search up my and Chat Noir.”

Adrien goes to his computer at his desk and searches “Adrien Agreste Chat Noir”. The results were a little shocking for him as he got 1,000+ results. The first link brought him to a Fanfiction called “A Chatastic Night”. Curious, he clicked onto the link to see what it was about. As he began to read it, he couldn’t help but be impressed with how well the Author nailed Chat Noir & all of his Puns. Unfortunately for our Sunshine, his intrigue was going to shift to pure shock.

“Ok, I’m just getting out of the Shower when Chat arrived.....wait why does Chat have a Red Rose in his Mouth?”

Plagg is watching his child read this clearly lewd Fanfic while trying not to laugh & is kinda curious to see how far it goes.

“Chat walks towards the partially dressed Model and begins to undress himself as he grabs the Chatastic Model & gives him a passionate kiss. Chat then grabbed the towel wrapped around Adrien and....”

“OH MY GOD!!!!” Adrien shouted!

“Bwahahahahaha oh my god!” Keep reading! I got to hear how this goes! Let’s see “Adrien then grabbed Chats tail and pulled it off while whispering in his Ear “Purr for Daddy”. Kid.....this is Unreal! Also this has been read by 50,000 + people”

“PLAGG SHUT UP!!! OMG OMG OMG! Ok it’s no big deal. I just have to close the page, clear my history & no one will ever...”

“Adrien? I heard you scream. Is everything ok”

Adrien stopped in his tracks immediately. It was Ladybug. She was standing just outside his window. She walked into see how Adrien was doing while also trying to stay calm as she was I her crushes room.

“M’L..I mean Ladybug! I’m rood..I mean I’m good. I just uhhh stubbed my toe. That’s all. No worries here.”

Ladybug sign in relief. “Glad to hear it. I thought that maybe an Akuma showed up or something. I’m glad to see that you’re so fine..I mean that you are okay. I better....”

Ladybug paused as if she was in deep thought. Adrien was curious to see if she was ok when he realized that she was looking at his computer screen. With a Raunchy Chat Noir X Adrien Agreste Fanfic open on his screen. Adrien suddenly began to panic.

“LADYBUGITSNOTWHATITLOOKSLIKE!! I-I-I-I Just found the link by accident. I wasn’t reading this becau..”

Ladybug was about as red as her costume. Unable to know what to say she bolted out of the window screaming that she had to run! Adrien fell over in defeat and anguish. Not only does his Lasy think he likes someone else, but it a guy and more importantly it’s himself! Plagg came out of hiding u able to hold it in any longer.

“OH MY ME!! THIS IS TOO MUCH!! THIS IS ALMOST BETTER THEN CAMEMBERT!!”

Adrien proceeded to hide himself under his pillow and remained in his room for the rest of the day.

——————————————————————————

Meanwhile, Ladybug silently arrived home and transformed back into her civilian form and was about to follow suit and crawled into bed hugging a pillow while screaming.

“Marinette? Are you okay?” Asked Tikki

“Ok? OK?!? NOO!! I’m not okay!! Adrien is in love with Chat Noir!!”

Marinette began to tear up. Marinette reaches out to her laptop and began typing onto it. The page brought her to a website with the User “The Y-Bug”. In the links of things on the users page included a certain link. A link to a Fanfic by that very Author. The link was to none other then “A Chatastic Night”.

“Why did I have to make that stupid Fanfic?!? What if Adrien finds out that I wrote that?!?”

Tikki attempted to comfort her Master while also trying to figure out why Adrien was on that page to begin with since she knows Chat & Adrien are one and the same.

——————————————————————————

Several days pasted and Adrien was not to be seen in school at all. Apparently he was sick and was unable to come to school. Everyone was concerned, but Marinette was panicking since she thinks it was because of what happened.

When she went home she immediately walked up to her room and sat by her computer to quickly get all of her work done and retire early for the night.

“Ugh! This is the worst!”

Suddenly she heard a ping come from her computer. Apparently it was from a User from the Fanfiction site who went by “SwagChat”. They claimed that their Agreste/Noir Fic was really well made & had sent them a link to a Fanfic of their own. Trying to get her mind off of what happened, she decided to give it a read. Maybe this would help make her feel better.

The title of the Fic was called “A Spotty Situation”. It stared Ladybug as the Main Character & went through the Adventures between her and Chat Noir. Seeing this helped put a smile on her face. She was also impressed that the Author has her character down to a T.

“Whoever this is must be a real big Ladybug Fan.”

She continued reading the Fanfic. Apparently the Ladybug in this wanted to find herself a new style for her Super Suit but was having dificulties getting ideas. Ladybug then mentions one of the people she once saved who she knew was also a Rising Star in the Fashion World. The person she was going to was none other then Paris’ own, Mari eye Dupain Cheng.

“....Marinette?!? That’s me!!! Why am I in this. Also Rising Star?!?”

Marinette was both shocked and also flattered that whoever wrote this thought so highly of her. As Marinette continued to read the fanfic, Tikki was listening and reading from behind. Tikki was also curious as to how this individual knew her and Ladybug so well. This is when a sudden thought dawned onto her.

“No way.....it couldn’t be....”

In the fanfic Ladybug & Marinette apparently became fast friends. Marinette happily helped Ladybug come up with ideas for a new style for her Suit. Marinette asked Ladybug if she could take a few measurements & Ladybug allowed. As Marinette was taking Ladybug’s Measurement, she accidentally tripped and fell on top of Ladybug.

“OMG Ladybug, I’m so sorry are you al..”

Marinette stopped as her eyes suddenly locked with Ladybug. Both were silent, both of their hearts began to race and both started to get a little Red in the face.

“It’s...ok. Uhh....I....I....”

A shout can’t from outside. Soulds like there was an Akuma Attack going on. Ladybug quickly collected her thoughts as she and Marinette got up and Ladybug prepared to leave. Before she left, Marinette called out to her.

“Ummm will.....will I see you again Ladybug?”

Ladybug began to blush just as Marinette had.

“Of...of course. Can’t wait to see you again!”

Ladybug then left in order to stop the Akuma that was reeking havoc.

Marinette still red in the face with her heart feeling like it was going to leap out of her chest.

“See you soon.” A soft smile appeared as she said this. End of First chapter of “A Spotty Situation”.

—————————————————————————-

Marinette just finished reading this with a face so red it put her Ladybug Suit to shame.

“What The Hell Is This?!? Why is there a Marinette x Ladybug Fanfic here. And Who The Hell is SwagChat?!? OMG I swear if this is Chat, I will kick his fine ass!! But even if this was him it’s not like he’d know that this was my user.”

Tikki remained silent. (“Well you’re not incorrect.” “Plagg, this was your idea! I’m sure of it! When I see you, we will have words!”)

——————————————————————————

Meanwhile at the Agretes Mansion, Adrien was sitting at his desk in his pajamas with a flush face. In truth he was actually a little under the weather although that didn’t make him guilt free. Not long before, he had just finished Writting the first part of a MariBug Fanfic. “Why did he choose Marinette?” To him, she was his everyday Ladybug. It felt somewhat fitting to use her. Plus she knew Ladybug and Chat Noir so it wasn’t too far fetched. He just hoped she’d never see this or find out he wrote it. He couldn’t imagine how she’d react if she found out one of her Best Friends was writing a fanfic where they pair her with Ladybug.

Plagg is currently eating Cheese while thinking to himself “Oh kid, if only you knew!”

*Ping*

Adrien looked over to his computer and saw that he just got a IM from the user “The Y-Bug”. Y-Bug?!? Wait wasn’t that the one I sent the link to? They read it already? Let’s see.

“SwagChat. First off thank you for your comments about my fanfic. I was surprised when you sent over this link & even more so after I read it. What inspired you to write it?”

Adrien was nervous since he didn’t want to reveal too much & also wanted to respond so they didn’t try to inquire more about him and possibly find out that he was Adrien or worse Chat Noir.

“Hello Bug. I guess my inspiration was a few things. First was your Fanfic. As for the second.....I....Actually am somewhat farmiliar with both Ladybug & Marinette. I’ve been a fan of Ladybug since her debut and as for Marinette....well I’ve a fan of some of her work. She’s a new Self Designer but if you asked me, she could even give Gabriel Agreste a run for his money. I really admire her so when I think of two girls in my life as a Pairing, it kinda make me feel....happy.”

Marinette fell silent. Whoever this person is, they must really know her well to think so highly of her. Both of her. Despite being pissed earlier, she couldn’t help but feel happy. She then wondered if she knew this user and tried to see if she could get them to reveal anything about themselves.

“Nice try, Bug. Can’t do that. Cats got my tongue. Though maybe if we can chat some more maybe I’ll feel more comfortable seeing you in person. Afterall, it sounds like you also live in Paris so maybe we will bump into each other. Can’t help but be curious about who made this Fic. Chat out.”

Marinette was half convinced at this point.

“It’s Chat! I’m sure of it! He saw my post and is trying to get back at me by making this post.”

Tikki decided to jump in.

“If it is him....are you upset?”

“At first I was, but now....I can’t help but find myself smiling. Oh No! Am I falling for Chat now? Speaking of there’s still the Adrien/Chat situation. Ugh...what do I do?”

——————————————————————————

Adrien just finished loggin off his computer when Plagg landed onto his head to talk about “Y-Bug”.

“So kid.....how do you feel?”

Adrien was silent for a second.

“I’m...okay Plagg. Y-Bug really wanted to know who I was. Can’t help but wonder if she suspects anything. Also.....”

“Also?”

“I feel like I know them somehow. I don’t know why but I just have this feeling that I know who the Author is but I can’t put my finger on it...”

Plagg sighs as he begins to think to himself.

“Good thing I flew over to Marinette’s house the other day to see if my hunch was right. It’s also good that Adrien was sick sleeping all day yesterday so he didn’t realize where I went. After this, I’m getting tired of waiting for these two to figure it out. I hope my plan to hook these two up somehow using these “Fanfics” of theirs works. I guess only time will tell.”

Hope you all liked this.

Tags: @buggachat for starting this, @gale-of-the-nomads for inspiring this particular idea, and also @masked-bixch since I usually tag you in posts like this.

[relatablemormonmoments]

In honor of us organizing an online semi-unofficial queer tumblrstake ward, I would like to talk about one of the things I learned about in my university class. This is something, that although was framed in my class as a negative, I think is very very positive and something to be proud of in the church.

It's a class I don't like and said that "homosexual" is an ethnic group but thats for another post

Anyways, Let's talk about the Laramie Project. (link: here’s the actual play. It is very good, and an investigative piece, and 100% where I got ALL of this information.)

Now first of all, I don't know much about the case, just that I had to watch the play for class. I chose to watch the play instead of the movie. We didn't discuss much about the case.

The case is that in Laramie, Wyoming, in 1998, a gay university student, Matthew Shepard, was the victim of a horrible hate crime, one in which he died from the injuries (and pneumonia from being stranded outside if i was listening correctly) after being admitted to a hospital.

The play itself is very good and an important piece of lgbtq history, investigating the attitudes of the town over the course of the year after the attack about sexuality and homophobia, and why homophobic hate crimes happen and are allowed to happen, however, that's not the point of the post. It also investigates the town's connection with religion throughout the case.

One of the assailants was Mormon. While he didn't do most of the damage, he did drive his friend and Matthew to the location of the attack and essentially was a bystander and planner of the crime. Both he and his friend had been drinking. After he was found guilty of murder, he was excommunicated by a ward council, not for drinking, not for murder, but for murder resulting from a hate crime. Keep in mind, this was in the late 1990s. The Church wasn't exactly lgbtq friendly. But this ward decided that no matter what, it was going to 1. Reprimand its own member for his own hateful actions and 2. Reconcile with the local lgbt community, and grow with the community of Laramie.

Even though the church was very homophobic back then, I'm so proud to know that at least one ward, in the American Midwest of all places, chose to do what was right. The other murderer's Church and church leaders (a protestant christian church but im not here for protestant bashing today) was very loud in defending the Homophobia of their member. The Home Teacher of the one assailant mentioned that having known the family, he was surprised to hear that he would do such a thing, but that the rest of the ward had been praying for Matthew's family ever since the attack.

I might not always be proud of the church, and often hide that part of my background when I talk to non-members, however, I'm proud of the members in 1998 Laramie, who may have been individually homophobic, but tried their best to change for the better after an attack on others from within their own community. I am proud of the individuals and the ward leaders, and only hope that every ward could be blessed like that.

[flyonthewallmedstudent]

Watching House as a Physician.  Season 2 Episode 3. Infectious diseases & Respiratory.

Welcome to another episode of medicine done badly.  I’ve been watching House on Amazon prime.  Got the subscription during the pandemic, as like everyone else, I’ve garnered an online shopping habit now. 

Alright. In the opening scene a young roof worker falls off the roof presumably due to acute shortness of breath. i.e. trouble breathing. (why do we use the term shortness of breath? it’s the english version of the greek term dyspnoea - the actual preferred language of Western doctors. Fuck do I know why we like Greek and Latin so much. Moving on.) Then cut to Dr. Cuddy examining him in the back of the ambulance. 

This would never happen in real life. Yes you can be on the scene and handover to the paramedics or EMT when they arrive as a doctor. But they would take over. I personally wouldn’t have the balls to look after a patient in a different environment, different resources and field I’m not familiar with. You can have field Emergency docs - but requires different training. 

Also, ethically, you’re not meant to treat family or friends. Dr. Cuddy later in the episode gets a bit emotionally involved - this is why we don’t treat people close to us. We lose objectivity. We make mistakes. And you see later see Cuddy do some pretty bad ones. 

I feel like much of this episode is not really IM. THere’s less differential diagnoses being made. More side tracks into trauma, emergency, intensive care or vascular surgery. 

Anyhoo. Trauma and emergency would manage the fall and post fall traumatic injuries. And the trauma protocol was either not shown or completely off in this episode. Surgeons don’t seem to exist in House, at least not very much. Similarly, no other doctors exist except surgeons in Grey’s anatomy.  Also you can’t clear a C Spine clinically, which is what Dr. Cuddy does in the back of the ambulance. You’d need a CT first and clearance both radiological (by a radiologist) and a clinician. 

Aaaanddd, you can’t just listen to the chest and go no pneumothorax (air in lung or collapsed lung) - yes it’s reassuring, but again you’d need imaging to confirm this, given how serious a condition this is. It is realistic to consider in the setting of a fall, particularly if there are rib fractures that can puncture the lung.

Once the more critical injuries are managed, we would look after the IM side to things. 

So. Finally.. differential diagnoses.

Takes what seems and feels like days before they finally sit down and go through differentials. Really not much on that white board. Dark fingers, broken ribs, fever and lung infiltrates. Time line’s not clear on when he developed the fever.

Presenting complaint isn’t really addressed. It could be: - Dyspnoea, leading to the fall, he’s requiring O2 via nasal prongs, which suggests that he’s hypoxic (this is definitely odd in a young guy who’s normally very physical fit if he works as labourer). so much to unpack here, but they never get into this well.  Post fall, Cuddy notices his ring and pinky finger becoming dusky, which becomes very central in this episode. Very few things would cause this. pains me that they do no differentials on a white board for this alone. 

Then a lot of throwing around medical terms. 

PTT prolonged and Fibrinogen off. These are markers of your coagulation pathway and signs that you’re not forming the clots the way you should if you have an injury.  DIC is also thrown around. What is DIC? Disseminated intravascular coagulopathy. Certainly severe sepsis and trauma can cause this and lead to severe bleeding. It will throw off your coagulation pathways (things that stop bleeding). It’s not common. I’ve treated it once, while I was rotating in ICU, it is not standard ward medicine practice. Standard therapy is fresh frozen plasma (FFP) and even large metropolitan hospitals only have a limited supply. It’s a huge concern for surgery and post-op (as you patient will just not stop bleeding after you cut them open, and if not treated, potentially bleed to death). Cuddy mentions ARDS. Acute respiratory distress syndrome, it could be a complication, but it’s not a cause. Again, falls more into the realm of critical care (a la ICU). However, patient had SOB prior to the fall. Finally HOuse makes the observation. of “what if he was sick before he had his run in with gravity...” Everyone jumps to Pneumonia. And this is where it gets confusing.  If he was unwell, the minute he entered the emergency department with a fever and hypoxia, they would have worked him up for any garden variety pneumonia, bacterial or viral. Cultures would have been sent and imaging. Any young hypoxic patient would prompt a closer look at the chest. And no one waits that long to start antibiotics - “sepsis kills” is a slogan often used around hospitals. You have to initiate empirical therapy within 30 mins, to reduce mortality and morbiditiy. 

Ordering an Echocardiogram (USS of the Heart) also makes no sense in the context of a lung infection. I would order one, but not to look at the lungs.

Then there’s the most unrealistic thing about this series. Doctors breaking into patient homes.

It is however, a good way to showcase social history. It’d be boring to watch a doctor ask the patient outright about their living situation etc, but it’s far more interesting to see exactly how they live. We try as much as possible to illustrate to each other and ourselves what the living environment and working environment of our patients are like. 

In the context of infection, a good social history can point out exposure. As they exemplify by showing dead rodents and mould. This leads to 2 further differentials: Rat bite fever (caused by streptobacillus, something you’d see in the US, but probably not anywhere else), it’s an unrealistic differential in general. And the 2nd is aspergillosis.  Okay..  So aspergillus is a mould commonly found in our environment. In fact it’s everywhere around us. 

THere’s few times when it’s an issue.  It is a concern in respiratory syndromes like asthma or bronchiectasis. And also as an opportunistic infection in immunocompromised individuals. in the context of asthma, it’s not so much the aspergillus itself that causes issue, it’s our body’s over reaction. It’s a hypersensitivity issue that causes inflammation in the lungs or a pneumonitis. We even gave it a name. Allergic bronchopulmonary aspergillosis. It’s still badness, but it doesn’t happen that quickly. We also have specific tests for this, which were obviously not considered in this episode of medicine done badly. In the immunocompromised host (steroid therapy in transplant patients or those on chemo, etc.), you can get the invasive mould as an opportunistic infection.  I don’t really understand why they think it would be the case here. Also, killing the bug with heavy duty anti fungals will only give more issues rather than do anything. They start him on amphotericin. this is not standard practice.  And now it flips to why amphotericin is not standard practice or first line treatment for invasive aspergillosis. The patient has now become anuric (not making any urine). (First line drug by the way is voraconazole, superior efficacy in trials with a lower mortality rate and ADRs) Also, note that they have just jumped straight to dire renal failure from the amphotericin. No work up. That said, heavy drugs like amphotericin are often a cause, but  It’s often temporary with the appropriate supportive measures (stop insulting agents, give hydration, monitor fluid balance), reversible, even if you require temporary dialysis or haemofiltration. Anyways, would get into AKI another day, that’s a whole other post in and of itself.  Then his hand is apparently “dying.” There’s pain on light touch, but it’s not a cold, pulseless limb. Or discoloured. doesn’t add up. This now enters vascular surgeon territory. Again. It’s interesting that there’s never any referrals to any other teams. If he has good circulation, I would imagine they would try to save the hand and consider other differentials. 

The only time I can think of an emergency amputation in this situation is necrotising fascitiis. That’s the only thing that would occur that rapidly  AND necessitate losing tissue or limb.  With a young person who’s this ill, there’s often multiple subspecialties involved by this point. I’m also surprised he’s not in ICU.

Then there’s a buncha filler scenes of the cast of house getting emotional. Ho my god, they’ve taken the hand of a young 20 something physical labourer. Indeed, this is badness. Unlike House, we actually are trained to always consider how a patient’s illness impacts their activities of daily living and livelihood. 

I find the general population assumes that we practice medicine in a vacuum, we merely treat the clinical illness and ignore everything else. They imagine that we all must be like house. 

Actually we try to put things in perspective as much as possible and knowing our limitations in this area, we often enlist the help of friends - physiotherapists, occupational therapists and social workers. They never exist on TV or on the movies. Ever. Unless it’s to portray how terrible it is to be a social worker.  From time to time in this episode, Cuddy laments that being chief of medicine is too administrative and she hasn’t been a doctor in years. That also doesn’t happen in real life. If you’re chief you’re still a doctor. You have admin shit to do deal with yes, but you still practice. It’s like being chief resident, in all the TV shows with one of these, you still seem them working as residents, be it scrubs or grey’s anatomy. 

Back to the differential. They finally get to endocarditis. Culture negative to be precise. That indeed would explain the bilateral dusky fingers that led to unnecessary amputation. Septic emboli. 

Going to stop here, more out of exhaustion now. I’ve created quite a lengthy post. Happy to reblog thoughts on culture negative endocarditis on request later. This is a worthy topic to study up on for students or residents. At least review Duke’s criteria and think about your clinical features like Roth Spots and Janeway lesions or Ouch Osler’s nodes. 

The ending is also a far fetched connection to make, but is one that we would consider. In fact, we would ask in detail every time from day one - have you had any exposure to animals. It’s very rare to see someone so young be that sick out of the blue when you’re immunocompetent and have no underlying predisposing conditions. If there’s no focal source, then we would even ask about injectable recreational drugs, exotic travels, sexual health. 

Most of the time, patients that sick are honest to their doctors. 

But what about..

Frankly, much as we lie as humans, when our lives our on the line, we’re generally pretty honest (sometimes too honest) with the people we want to save us. 

Any patient who is young and comes to hospital requiring inpatient admission, they’d be investigated by subspecialties with expertise in certain areas such as infectious disease. The dept of infectious disease would either be home team, or all over this patient as they special in the realm of both common and rare infectious diseases, culture negative endocarditis would have been considered before a hand amputation.

The term, “department of diagnostic medicine is laughable,” particularly when they consider it the only department in the world in the show. 

In actuality, it’s a department that is universal and exists everywhere. it’s Internal medicine. Dr. Vivek Murthy, the next surgeon general (and also the last one under Obama) is an internal medicine physician. Ken Jeong of Community and the Hangover fame is also a physician of internal medicine. 

Beginning to get the sense that most episodes are going to end with a diagnosis that is either infectious disease, rheumatology or haematology. But generally those tend to be most interesting and give the most plot twists or meaty differentials V.s. a stroke or acute myocardial infarction is fairly straightforward to diagnose. 

This is a very twisty episode in all the wrong directions. 

Dyspnoea is a very common presenting complaint. There’s a properly done approach to this in the podcast by the Curbsiders by the way. 

[mandaloriangf]

Hearing that the R***o fandom is running massive block chains explains so much. I’m not saying they’re a small part of the fandom (there’s clearly a considerable amount of them) but I feel like they’ve created such large echo chambers on Twitter and other social media to the point where they’ve articifically inflated their sense of importance in the fandom. Of course it’s going to seem like everyone online is obsessed with their ship when they’ve blocked anyone else otherwise.

The idea that Disney/LF is going to bend over backwards to please them is absurd. Disney is a massive corporation that has proven in the past to do whatever it can to make the most money, even if that involves making bland content that appeals to wide audiences in only the most general way (like all their live action remakes). If the R***o fandom was really the cash cow they believe themselves to be then Disney would milk that. The fact they haven’t and are actively trying to avoid anything to do with R***o moving forward says that every other aspect of the fandom is more profitable.

Although they got some “win” from TROS there was the alternative ending where there was no kiss and the novelisation described it as a friendly one, plus it’s never been mentioned again. Valentines Day was a great example of how all of these different couples were given the spotlight and R***o was not one of them. I know that corner of the fandom tends to be more rabid than others, especially on social media, but if Disney really wanted to cater to them they would’ve posted something.

I’m also surprised that so many of them are obsessed with the RJ trilogy as it has been mentioned in the past to be completely unrelated to the main saga (and their precious Ben) assuming it happens at all. I feel like they’re just hoping there’s another white girl they can project onto with a white villain they can ship again. I doubt it will be made though. The fact it was announced before TLJ had even come out and ever since the backlash it’s barely been mentioned is odd. There have been waves of new content been announced and no word of it. And looking at the future release schedule there’s no room for it. It seems odd that they haven’t confirmed anything. Is it because they’re afraid of fandom backlash because that’s gonna happen either way if they do it now or in 5 years. I don’t foresee TLJ growing on people the same way the PT has done. Although I’m sure R***o’s will still be around (unless the have another abusive white/het ship to project onto).

like im all for blocking whoever you want to make your online experience enjoyable but theres something about reylos running blockchains that really rubs me the wrong way! the reason i block reylos is because they have a history of harassing me and the more of them i block, the less likely that becomes. but reylos have creating this insular community for themselves where they have little to no contact with sw fans beyond each other and thats how they can become so convinced their fanon is canon. and thats probably also why they feel so slighted by the sw twitter - no one cares about reylo except for them. 

they see rian as some sort of hero to them (which is still weird as hell to me because he essentially ended tlj with rey and kylo splitting up permanently but whatever) but yeah thats probably why they’re into it. and that tells me so much about them. they dont actually care about reylo, they care about the specific dynamic and thats why these people jump from fandom to fandom. 

im kinda of the mind that his trilogy won’t happen. or like i said, if it does they’re going to wait and see if the backlash toward him will die down. i agree that tlj isn’t going to grow on people. its going to cause controversy for a long, long time and might become like aou where people begin realizing how stupid it is, especially compared to other better movies in the same franchise. 

[versatilewindow]

Lego Sets

Find it on Ao3

Warnings: None, just fluff

Summary: A chill evening with your boyfriend, SunaRin

A/N: Earlier this week i was like, I dont wanna do my chem homework, ill project my sappy feelings and wants onto my man, SunaRin. And thanks to my friend for suggesting including legos.

The evening sun creeped in through the sheer curtains drowning Rintaro in a warm glow on the couch, a forgotten Netflix show playing faintly in the background. You walked in the front door and set down your shopping bags with a light yawn and stretch. The quiet of your shared home was a godsend after all the bright lights and sounds around the city, the smell of home instantly relaxing you. 

Hearing the sound of the TV, you walked towards it, noticing Rin asleep, curled up in your guys’ favorite blanket. You crawled over him, careful to not disturb him (not that it mattered, he usually slept like a rock), and tentatively sat down on him. He moved and your breath hitched, but he stayed asleep, damp hair splayed over his face. You always told him to dry his hair before sleeping, not wanting him to catch a cold, and he always argued he wouldn’t get sick, simply because he was ‘built different’. Giggling at the memory, you moved the hair away from his eyes with a feathery gentle touch. You’ve always loved his pretty face, gentle features, pinchable cheeks, and smooth clear skin (courtesy of your skincare routine that he adopted when you two moved in together). Taking advantage of the lighting and his serene sleeping expression, you quickly got out your phone and snapped a picture, even though you were lucky enough to see his face everyday, you wanted to admire his features without being teased by him for looking like a simp. Not that he was one to talk, he spoiled you, checking your online shopping search history to find you a surprise gift, bringing your favorite meal without being prompted, massaging your shoulders after a long day, pampering you in any way possible. He never really spoke too often about his feelings, but his actions were loud enough for you. You leaned down, the ghost of a kiss over his nose and forehead, but before you could lean away to leave him alone, strong arms wrapped around your waist, trapping you with no chance of escape. His head buried itself into your neck leaving a soft kiss before mumbling something about joining him in sleeping.

“Well, good evening to you too SunaRin.” He lightly chuckled at your nickname for him, remembering your explanation the first time he heard it years ago, ‘it just rolls off the tongue SunaRin!’, and nuzzled closer to you, breathing in your scent. “Are you hungry? Because I forgot to stop for food on my way home.”

He lifted his head enough for you to hear, “Not really, but I will be soon. What do you want?”

Mumbling an ‘I don’t know’, it was your turn to cuddle closer to him, warm breath over his neck making his heart speed up ever so slightly (it used to speed up a lot whenever you were near, but constant exposure helped his heart relax).

He sat up, taking you with him, asking “Dumplings?” already knowing you would say yes to that. “Go shower, I’ll call the place.” 

“Are you telling me i’m stinky?” 

A light snort filled the space between you two, him rolling his eyes, and you with a mischievous grin “You know what I mean, now go shower.” 

An hour later the two of you were back on the couch, in your comfiest clothes, with a spread of your favorite dumplings and other sides on the coffee table. Finishing to chew your food, you said “Thank you for the food honey.” and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

He kissed the crown of your head, “I’ll buy you dumplings any time you want.”  A beat passes, “What were you out buying earlier?”

“It's my cousin’s birthday next week, we’re going to the party remember?” His eyes narrowed but let out a hum in affirmation as he remembered you mentioning it a while ago, “She really likes Lego sets, so I got her one Aunty said she’s been wanting, wanna see?” You had already gotten up from the couch, so he was going to see it whether he wanted too or not. Going to the bags left in the entryway, you pulled out the Lego Star Wars box and Rintaro’s face lit up.

“Wait is that the new one? That like, just came out?” His eyes widened.

“Yeah, the store had a lot of them.”

You handed him the box for a closer look, “Babe, can we PLEASE build it.”

As amusing as his cute expression was, you placed a hand back on the box, “Taro, it’s not for you, its for my-”

“I know, but you said the store had a lot, I’ll even go with you tomorrow to get another.” He looked like he was ready to get on his knees and really beg. You narrowed your eyes, and crossed your arms. He would never beg about anything, not even his beloved chuupet.

“Keep going.”

An exasperated look took over his face for a split second, but he took a deep breath, got on his knees, and did his best Puss in Boots impression, tilting his eyebrows up, eyes widening, and a cute pout on his lips, “Pleeease? I’ll give you a massage anytime you want?”

“You already do that.”

“I’ll clean the bathroom for two weeks? Please?” 

He would never willingly clean the bathroom, so you savored the moment before responding with a sigh, “Make it four and you pay for the new one, then you have a deal.” He cheered in celebration, getting up giving you a tight hug and messy kiss on the cheek before diving into the box. You chuckled and cleared the table before joining him in building the set.

The set was finished a few hours later, the two of you admired your work slumped on the couch together. You lay your head on his shoulder, lightly yawning while he wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on yours.

“Thanks for letting me steal your cousin’s present.”

“Well when you beg and offer to clean the bathroom, how can I say no?”

He grumbled softly, but pressed a kiss to your head. “Wanna go to bed and do… stuff?” you could practically hear his eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

“If by stuff you mean cuddling, then yes.”

“Of course I meant cuddling, who do you think I am, some kind of heathen?”

“With the way your dirty clothes always miss the laundry basket? Yeah.”

He got up, pulling you with him and mumbled, “Really comin for my neck with that one huh?” you could only giggle lightly in response. When you two had gotten into bed, he lay on his back, with you cuddled against his chest, breaths moving in time together. Thinking you were asleep, Rintaro pulled you closer to him, saying I love you. Grinning when he heard you respond with an I love you too. 

Extra:

The two of you were shocked in the store the next day, they were sold out of that set when there had been plenty the day before, and they wouldn’t get a new shipment till after the birthday party.

Not that you told Rin, but you definitely filmed him on his knees apologising to the 10 year old birthday girl at her party for stealing her present.

A/N: Hope y'all liked it!!! leave a kudos or comment if you liked it!!! if you didnt like it, u can tell me in a comment or ask, im a big girl

[horansqueen]

You & Me : chapter 23

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.9k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- notes: its a bit longer. and i hope its not too much or too exaggerated? anyway, you tell me. i really want to know what you really think, thank you!

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : only one, no spoiler :)

Chapter 23 : His chapter

NIALL

I woke up with dried tears and the sun peaking through the curtains. I had no idea what time it was but Olivia was still pressed against me and I was holding her close, as if we hadn't moved at all during the night. I moved my face in her hair, smelling the honey and vanilla scent, before leaving a kiss on top of her head. She moaned low and moved closer, rubbing her nose on my neck.

"Mm, Niall." she whispered, making my lips curl.

I didn't know how she'd ever marry an other man after everything we went through and I didn't want to believe I was just some sort of friend with benefits that she used to have a 'fun time' before marrying someone else and spending her life with him. That was not the type of things she did and there was no way this made any sense. She didn't mention it, though, and  didn't want to put any kind of pressure on her. She knew how I felt and I'd keep telling her until she'd make it clear she didn't want to hear it anymore.

"'Morning, petal. How did you sleep?" I asked, keeping my voice very low.

"With your song in head." she admitted just as low, leaving small kisses on my neck. "You really wrote that for me?"

I opened my eyes  and pressed my cheek on top of her head. "I was not expecting to see you at the bakery that day, but if I had known, I would have expected my feelings for you to be exactly that. I knew I was still in love with you, Olivia. I knew when I broke up with you, and I knew all the time we were not together."

We remained quiet and I felt her fingers on my back, holding me against her, as if i wanted to move away anyway. Her warm and naked body against mine felt so good I could have stayed in this position all day.

"If you were always in love with me, Niall, why did you leave me?" she asked low, her voice almost cracking. "Why was everything else so important? Why did you need to be single and fuck around? Why wasn't I enough?"

I closed my eyes tight again and swallowed hard. Her questions were legit and my answers were sad. I squeezed her harder against me and licked my lips, trying to find the right words.

"I was selfish, and stupid. Honestly, Olivia, a big part of me knew you were unhappy. You were always hurt by stuff online or by the things I did and said. I felt like you wanted out and that eventually you'd end up hating me and leaving anyway. I left because your heart was in this relationship but your head was driving you insane."

She pulled away and her eyes met mine. She was frowning, her lips parted, and she shook her head.

"What?" she whispered, making me close my eyes again and sigh. "You're either trying to put this on me or you're literally telling me that you left because you thought that's what I wanted. I mean, you don't get to make that decision for me, Niall."

"I know, I mean I should have told you but-" she pulled away from me and sat in bed before rubbing her eyes. "I mean, Liv, It's true, you were miserable with me."

"Maybe because you kept flirting with every fucking girl you met!"

She got up and grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a shirt and something twisted in my stomach when I realized she hadn't picked the one I was wearing the day before. She was pissed, or hurt... or both.

"I know, I know I was wrong. I would never do that again."

"Well, I don't know if I believe you." she let out, grabbing her phone and getting out of the room.

I sighed and got up too, putting pretty much the same outfit as her and following her to the kitchen as she grabbed a water bottle in the fridge and started drinking from it.

"Olivia, I haven't flirted with anyone since.. I can't remember, but it's been months."

"What about in a year, Niall? When you'll be tired of me. When you'll be tired that I'm the only one you get to see naked, the only one you get to fuck. What will happen, then?"

Her tone was harsh and I swallowed the lump in my throat as I stared at her. I could understand how she felt, and at the same time, I knew she was aware that I was not the same man than I used to be.

"That will never happen again. Never." I let out seriously. "I will never get tired of you."

Her eyes softened for a few seconds but she quickly frowned again.

"Anyway that's not the point, you took a decision for me and you should have talked to me about it instead. You can't decide what I want or what I should do!"

"You're right, I can't. But don't you feel better now? You worked so much on yourself, you grew up and matured for the better, and I did too. I love to see you so confident about yourself, look what you accomplished! You have your own tv show, you do something you love and you get paid for it. You're so balanced and you look so happy and you love yourself!" I argued, taking a step closer.

"Okay, do you want me to thank you for it? Thank you, Niall, for breaking my heart."

Her voice was not as harsh and I felt like she knew I was right. I shook my head and sighed, daring to take an other step closer.

"No, you have only yourself to thank. You're the one who did all that. You owe it only to you. And you're right, I was a selfish prick and the fact that you weren't happy with me just comforted me in choosing my freedom over you." I explained gently. "But I love you. I changed. I want to show you that I changed."

She sighed and I was getting mad. I was not really mad at her, I was more mad at myself for not being able to express myself properly, and for the way I acted when we dated. I was pissed because she was right, and because her pain was legit. I was mad because I wanted her back and because I was scared our day was ruined.

"Well love is not everything, remember? It takes more than that." she pointed out roughly. "A lot more."

I felt something explode inside me, like a mix of anger and pain that I was unable to keep inside anymore and I shook my head roughly, throwing my arms up.

"If I could I'd take it back okay!" my voice was loud but I could feel sobs threatening to come out.

"Take what back?" she asked with an annoyed tone.

"That stupid break-up!" I admitted just as loud. "That fucking ridiculous break-up! I'd take it back in a heartbeat if I could! I'd erase it from our history forever! I regret it! It's the biggest regret of my life!"

Her eyes got bigger and her lips parted slightly. She seemed so surprised by my words that it calmed her immediately. I watched her lick her lips slowly, trying to keep my own tears in.

"If you hadn't broken up with me, Niall, you wouldn't know that." she started, this time in a low and soft voice. "You'd still be unsure of what you want, you wouldn't know if you really loved me. You had to lose me to realize that you actually wanted me. Do you see the irony, Niall? Do you realize how fucked up it is?"

I sighed again and walked to her, grabbing a chair and sitting down at the table, my elbows on the table and my face in my hands. I didn't want to fight with her, and I knew we could have a discussion without fighting. I breathed in and out a few times and when I felt calm, I opened my eyes again. She was sitting in front of me and she seemed calm too now.

"It is. It's fucked up." I admitted, staring at her. "I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am, Olivia."

"I already forgave you for that, Niall." she pointed out gently. "I'm sorry for bringing it back."

I let my arms fall on the table and opened my hands, palms up. She looked down and nibbled on her bottom lip for a few seconds before placing her hands in mine.

"Heidi sent me that picture of you in a wedding dress to make us fight but we did it by ourselves." I just said with a sad chuckle.

"It's normal to fight, sometimes, as long as we know how to make up, too." she explained. "We're better at this, aren't we?"

The left corner of my lips raised up. "We were never bad at it, but we're even better now, it's true."

I squeezed both her hands before letting go of one and grabbing the other with both of mine. I turned her hand so her palm was facing up and ran the tip of my forefinger on it gently. After a few seconds, she quivered slightly and my lips curled more. I loved having an effect on her.

"We're gonna have to talk about what we did when we were apart." I finally said, still staring at her hand.

I couldn't help but think about what Heidi told me and for some reason, I wanted to prove her wrong, even if she would never know. Olivia was not the kind of person to push me away for my mistakes. She never did it, and I felt like she never would. She didn't judge anyone and she always tried to make you feel better when you felt at your worst. I didn't want to believe that the bad decisions I took while we were apart would just ruin what we could have now and at the same time, I felt like she deserved to know before anything serious happened between us, if it was ever going to happen.

Her fingers slipped out of my hands as she brought her arms back to her and it made me look up. She was avoiding my gaze and it made me frown. Didn't she want to know what I did without her? Or was she just too scared to be hurt by my behavior that just thinking about that discussion made her feel bad?

"Not now, okay?"

I frowned, a bit surprised by how she literally closed up completely in front of me. It was so sudden that I realized maybe the problem was not what she was going to hear, but more what she was going to say.

"It's important, you know."

She shut her eyes tight and nodded. "I know."

I waited for her to open her eyes again but she didn't and I reached for her wrist over the table. "There's a fair in town, you want to go?"

Her eyes finally fluttered open and her lips curled a bit before she nodded. I realized she was uncomfortable with the discussion I wanted to have but I couldn't help but think it was needed. I was ready to wait but we couldn't push this discussion back forever, and I wanted her to hear it from me and not from anyone else.

"Okay, let's get ready then."

Her smile got bigger and she nodded again before getting up and going back to my room. I got up too and watched her leave, taking her water bottle and swallowing what was left it in. I was not the type to worry but this time, i felt curious and a bit scared. I was nervous to tell her about what I had done but I felt like she was keeping some things to herself too and although she didn't have to tell me what it was, I hoped she would.

When I got back to my room, I heard the shower and smiled despite myself. Without thinking, I took my clothes off and joined her quickly. She chuckled when she saw me but didn't tell me to leave and I quickly took the shampoo, rubbing it in her hair as she closed her eyes, a smile still gracing her lips.

"Your hair's gonna smell like my shampoo now." I said in a low tone. "Makes me sad. I prefer the way it smells normally."

She laughed and her eyes met mine when she opened them before shaking her head.

"Here's a secret I can tell you, Niall James Horan." she started, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "It's not my shampoo that has that smell."

My eyes opened wide and I chuckled low. "It's not?" she shook her head more. "What is it, then?"

This time, she just raised her nose up and took some foam from her hair only to wipe it on the tip of my nose. I raised it up and groaned, making her burst into laughter. She took a step back and let her head fall back to rinse her hair. I stared at her wet body for a few seconds before taking the shampoo again and washing my own hair.

We got prepared and left and this time, we took my car. We stopped at a restaurant to eat even if it was in the middle of the afternoon and ended at the fair a bit after 5. We could already see the sun setting and I realized time always passed fast when I was with her. I motioned to grab her hand without thinking but stopped right on time. It made my heart jump in my chest and I just turned my face to her to send her a smile.

"I like when you wear a cap." she just said, grabbing the front and pulling it down.

I took it off to put it back correctly and she laughed right before apologizing. I was happy to be there with her and I just hoped I wouldn't be recognized. It would just be incredibly nice to walk around holding hands and not holding inside all the affection we felt for each other but at the same time, I knew it was risky for her. Anyway, I was never the one who enjoyed PDA, even if I had derogated from my own rule a few times with her.

"I like when you wear a smile." I replied.

Her traits softened and her head tilted. Her smile turned into a fond one and just for that look, it was worth saying that cheesy line.

"I almost forgot how well you can sweet talk women."

This time, I laughed. "You know that's a lie."

"You're not as awkward as you think you are, Nee." she pointed out with a laugh as she walked towards a booth. "But I admit that your good look helps a lot."

This time, I laughed louder. "Glad you finally admit it." I joked as she quickly ordered cotton candy.

I reached for her hand with one of mine while the other searched through my pants. I handed the guy a bill and didn't send a glance to my ex girlfriend. I knew she was staring at me but I just thanked him and turned around as she followed me.

"I can pay for my own shit." she pointed out as I saw her lick her lips from the corner of my eyes. "But thank you. I also almost forgot how much of a gentleman you are. Well, in public, because in the bedroom you're-"

"Oh god stop!" I laughed, turning to her this time and noticing the large smile on her face.

She laughed too and I rolled my eyes as we walked to an other booth. No matter what we did together, it was always fun and it made me realize just how bad I wanted to really be with her again.

"So if I win you this pink bear right there, are you gonna sleep with it?" I asked with a smirk.

She tilted her head but moved her chin up and I kept looking at her as her eyes got smaller. She brought her finger and tapped her chin a few times, pretending to think and I rolled my eyes again at how dramatic she could get. I should have known she'd be a good actress.

"Yea definitely." she finally replied with a nod. "He'll sleep right between us so I can cuddle with him."

I raised my eyebrows and my head moved back. "Well in that case, I think we're just gonna try a few rides and leave him here."

I put my hands in my pockets and pretended to leave until she reached for my arm. "Noo, no, I will leave him on the nightstand when I'm with you."

I stopped and smiled big, amused by her behavior and finally turned back to her before nodding slowly. "Alright."

It took me 3 tries but I finally got it and handed it to her. Her smile got bigger and I could swear I saw a hint of red on her cheeks but I didn't mention it. She grabbed it and held it close to her as she was nibbling her bottom lip and she mumbled a 'thank you' that made me chuckle.

"You could have just paid to get it you know." she pointed out after a few seconds. "It would have costed you a few dollars but you didn't have to really play the game."

"Wouldn't have been the same would it?" I shrugged, sending her a wink. "Wouldn't have been as romantic." I made a pause. "And cheesy."

She laughed and my heart jumped in my chest, almost escaping from my throat. She kept the damn bear with her in all the rides, holding it between her thighs and even if she was not a big fan of rides, we did a few gentle ones. It's only when it was really dark outside that I noticed how she was looking at all the lights. She grabbed her phone and started taking pictures before turning to me and snapping one of me. It took me by surprise but I pulled her closer and grabbed her phone before taking a selfie of us. I took a look at it and held my breath when I looked at her. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were shut tight and her nose was up, and it reminded me of a selfie she had sent me when we were dating and I was traveling Asia. I quickly sent myself the picture from her phone and handed it back to her.

We remained in silence and kept walking. I had to leave my hands in my pockets to make sure I wouldn't just bring her close to me and when she pointed the ferris wheel, I raised my eyebrows at her.

"I thought I was cheesy but you're the queen."

"How about you be me king and come with me? I'd love to kiss you without anyone seeing." she admitted in a very low tone. "You in?"

"People normally go there for the incredible sight we get at the top."

"I have an incredible sight right here, in front of me." she confessed, making me chuckle. "Please, Niall."

I was just playing with her, there was nothing I wanted more than to kiss her at the exact moment, and it seemed like it took forever until we were at the top. I watched the dark sky and all the neon lights around the fair for a few seconds before turning to her and quickly kissing her. I felt all my body relax, like I had been waiting for this moment all day, and when she whimpered in my mouth, I groaned too, holding her cheeks with both my hands. When we started going back down, I stopped kissing her but leaned my forehead against hers, still cupping her face. We finally got out of the ride and that's when trouble started. I noticed someone take a picture and my heart skipped a beat.

"What the..."

"What's wrong?"

"Fuck, Liv, we have to go." I whispered, grabbing her arm gently and leading her to the exist as quick as I could.

I glanced behind us until we were in my car and started it, driving away from that place and looking in the rear view mirror a few times. I only relaxed when I was sure we were not followed and noticed she was staring at me, her head leaned on the seat.

"I'm sorry." I let out with a sad smile.

"Are you doing this for me?" she asked, blinking a few times and ignoring my apology. "I mean I know you don't like to be seen in public and pictures being taken and all, but did you leave quickly like that because I'm supposed to marry someone else and you were scared people would talk shit?"

"Mostly, yea." I just admitted as I brought my eyes back on the road.

We remained silent for a few minutes and I had no idea what was going on in her head until I heard her voice again.

"I love you, Niall Horan."

                                                ----

We were exhausted when we came back to my place and I just rushed to the kitchen to pour us two glasses of white wine. She followed me, putting her pink bear on the table as I handed her a glass. She drank half of it but she weirdly seemed serene and calm. I thought she'd go crazy knowing that someone had taken a few pictures of us but she didn't seem to care at all. It's not like she was not used to it but at the same time, she never liked it and it always bothered her, making her current behavior even more intriguing.

"Okay, tell me, I'm ready." she just said after exhaling deeply. I frowned at her and she pressed her lips together. "Tell me what you did that's so horrible while we were away from each other."

In the morning, she was the one who didn't want to talk about it and now, it was me. Perhaps I just didn't want to ruin such a perfect day. I pulled a chair and let myself fall on it but instead to sit in front of me, she sat at the end of the table and turned her chair sideways to face me. I took my glass and moved it a bit only to watch the pale liquid move in it.

"I slept with some girls before I started dating Heidi, but I couldn't find what I was looking for until I met this girl at a bar. She was shaped like you, had your hair color and your smile and in the dark, she could have been you, you know? I just... I let out your name while we were fucking and maybe I had to pay her to keep her mouth shut."

"Are you... sure she was not just a prostitute?"

I looked up at her with a small smile. "No."

"Oh." she pressed her lips together. "Was she as good as me?"

I chuckled sadly and shook my head. "No one is."

I remained silent for a minute or two, trying to make sense of my thoughts before continuing.

"I tried a few drugs. You know it was never my type but I needed to sort of... get away. One time Heidi had to pick me up at your old apartment because I was hitting the door and screaming your name in the middle of the night but you had already moved out." I scoffed at myself, I couldn't believe how pathetic I had been. "I'm not gonna get into details but I also started a fight in a pub. Just hit some arsehole that said something about you."

"What about me..."

"Something sexual that's clearly not worth repeating."

"It seems like you did many things that were out of character." she said cautiously. "But that's what you wanted, right? Try new things and just live your life? Why do you regret it?"

"Because nothing was worth losing you, Olivia." I admitted a little louder, looking up in her eyes as her face softened again. "I was miserable. I was a pathetic piece of shit. I know you probably think low of me now but I just, I had to tell you."

Her eyes dropped slowly to her lap and she nibbled on her bottom lip nervously. I waited, feeling suddenly anxious, scared that she'd just get up and leave, or tell me that she couldn't go on with me, but when she sniffed and rubbed her fingers on her nose, I realized she was crying.

"I remember when I saw the first picture of you and Heidi online. The article said you two were dating now and she was kissing you." she let out in a very low tone without looking at me. "I was alone at home and I started crying. It made me realize that it was really over, it made me believe that you were over me, that the problem was not that you wanted to be single, but just that you didn't want to be with me. I cried so hard I couldn't see straight and I just... I went to the bathroom and I..." she sighed and swallowed again, closing her eyes this time. "I just swallowed all the fucking pills I found. I swallowed them all and lied down on the floor for so long I couldn't keep track of time. All I can remember is the tiles being very cold and the stomachache. It was so intense I couldn't move and It was literally the only thing that stopped me from falling asleep."

I listened to her as my eyes watered. I felt nauseous but I just swallowed hard, feeling a big lump on my throat. I could barely believe what I was hearing. I hadn't heard anything about that and to me, she always seemed so happy when she was out with my friends, even after we broke up, it was hard to believe she was sad enough to do something like that.

"Louis found me. I remember he let out so many curse words, even for him. He searched for something but couldn't find anything to make me throw up so he just sat me up in front of the toilet and pushed his fingers down my throat. Nothing had ever hurt me like that. I think I threw up for a solid ten minutes." she added, shaking her head, her eyes still closed. "Then he called his doctor and he drove me there."

I was crying. I had actual tears rolling down my cheeks but I couldn't move. I felt angry and hurt but also extremely guilty.

"Why the fuck did you do that, Olivia?" my voice was a simple murmur and I swallowed again. The lump was so big that it hurt. "Do you... did you think about how sad everyone would have been, including me? You would have left me alone in this stupid world without you?"

This time, she looked up at me and I noticed she was crying too. When she saw my tears, her face changed but she just licked her lips and sniffed.

"You left me first."

Slowly, I got up, feeling very weak, my legs wobbling slightly. I knelt in front of her and put my hands on her knees, looking up in her eyes. I had been so close to lose her forever and I didn't even know. Why didn't anyone tell me? Why didn't Louis tell me anything?

"I don't want you to ever do that again, you hear me?" I tried to be firm but my voice cracked as I kept crying and suddenly, I burst into tears, leaning my forehead on her thigh. "Don't you fucking do that ever again." I added, my mouth pressed on her jeans.

I felt her hand slide gently in my hair and the contact of her skin with mine was soothing. I turned my head to lean my cheek on her thigh and catch some air as both of my hands gripped her tight.

"I'll never do it again, Niall. I was depressed, I took antidepressants after that, and I survived this." she explained low.

"Promise me, Olivia." I asked before looking up at her. "Look me in the eyes and promise me you will never fucking do that again, no matter what happens."

She held her breath and I knew she was on the verge of tears too. She finally nodded and I gripped her thighs harder.

"I promise, Niall. " she breathed. "I swear on my love for you."

[eloarei]

tl;dr and TW: I had a miscarriage (and an ER visit)

So, I haven’t been on tumblr for a while. Let’s see how long. ...Three and a half months. Basically, I haven’t been on since a little before I found out I was pregnant.  See, my birthday was January 28th. My last period had started on New Year’s Day, so I was slated to start again on my birthday, and I just kept thinking, “gosh, I would really like to not be on my period on my birthday!”  Well, I got my wish. A few days came and went, and I thought, “okay, I’m pregnant.” This wasn’t an overreaction; I’d never been more than 3 days late in the past few years, and I just... felt it. I took the test, and lo and behold, it was positive. A ‘dye-stealer’, even. (A strong positive, where the positive line ‘steals’ all the dye from the control line.) (I’ve spent a lot of time on pregnancy forums; I’m familiar with a whole new world now.)  I was happy. Mostly excited, mostly not scared. My husband was the same. We’d been married for 12 years with no kids, no prior pregnancies, and I’d thought for a few years that I probably did want kids-- it just... never happened. We were too careful, until we decided not to be. (Even then, we weren’t trying. We just let things do as they would.)  The next 6 weeks were interesting. It was... neat? Neat to feel all the minute changes. Every day I was so aware of my body and what was happening to it. Even though I was almost not showing at all (I could see a slight difference; nobody else would have), I felt so big, and I was exhausted, but it was kind of fun. It was fun thinking about having an October baby; maybe its birthday would end up on my husband’s, or my old bff’s. Maybe it’d be 10-15-20. I thought that would be cool. And I thought about names, about how we’d arrange the house, how we’d afford everything when we have such a habit of just squeaking by. I felt we were up for the challenge.  But I read a lot of information. SO MUCH information. So I knew there was a chance it wouldn’t work out. After all, roughly 1 out of every 4 known pregnancies ends badly. And there was no reason why I should miscarry, when I was healthy, and my family didn’t have a history of common miscarriages. But I wasn’t stupid, and I’ve never been the kind of person to say, “it won’t happen to me”.  I guess I was lucky that I read so much, that I knew things could go wrong, because they did. Even so, I wasn’t entirely prepared. I started bleeding around week 9, so I read an absolute ton about miscarriages. They all said it happened pretty quick-- maybe a few days of light bleeding before the ‘big event’, and that the event itself was painful-- AT LEAST like heavy period cramps. When I continued bleeding for over a week I thought “...maybe it’s not a miscarriage?” I read some more and determined it could have been a subchorionic hemorrhage-- bleeding in the uterus that is usually not fatal to the baby, often characterized by period-like bleeding: long, slow, not very painful.  The whole time I was trying to find a place to get an ultrasound. I don’t/didn’t have a doctor of my own, a primary care physician or an obstetrician. I’ve never really done doctors. Figured I’d wait until about the second trimester to find one, since my readings told me a lot of doctors waited til week 10+ for the first appointment anyway. Unfortunately, all the clinics I talked to wouldn’t deal with me when I mentioned I had some bleeding-- even though it was just a little bit! Less than a period. “Go to the ER”, they said, to which I responded that I absolutely was not going to go to the ER for a non-emergency when hospitals were stuffed with coronavirus patients.  Therefore, I just waited while I kept looking, hoping it would sort itself out.  In a way, it eventually did. Monday morning, as I was about to go to sleep (I work nights), I had some slightly heavier bleeding. Thought it might have been another small clot. Sat on the toilet for an hour before I felt woozy and decided to lay in the tub before I passed out. Thank god for my husband, because I don’t know if I would have survived the next several hours without him.  HERE’s the TMI >>>>>>>  I continued bleeding for the next three hours, my husband pouring warm water on me to wash all the little clots away. After a while, I passed a huge clot, size of an egg. Ever done that science experiment where you use vinegar or something to dissolve an egg shell and you’re left with just the innards in a flexible membrane? Well it was like that, but blood. I passed out a little while after that.  ....That’s when I knew things were getting weird. It was my second time passing out ever, and I hated it. I think it’s literally my least favorite thing in the world. 5 seconds that feels like an eternity and it feels like you’re going to die but you can’t explain why. Terrible.  I still thought maybe we could get through this. It didn’t hurt, it was just... well, losing blood. It was within the realm of what I’d read about subchornionic hemorrhage, so I thought maybe that clot was the worst of it. HMM, I was wrong. I passed another one just like it. Then I passed out twice in quick succession, upchucked all over myself (the smell haunts me, ugh), and apparently turned rather blue. So I told him, “hey, it’s time for the ER”.  Boy, that was....... a thing. He called his mom because I said I didn’t want him driving and for me to pass out again when he couldn’t help. I swaddled myself in towels and garbage bags so I wouldn’t bleed all over the damn place, all the while feeling like I might just die at any moment. When we got to the ER, they put me in a wheelchair, asked me some questions I could barely answer, and then took me back.  The next 24 hours consisted of being stabbed, suctioned, and pumped with 5 liters of saline solution which left me smelling weird. I was barely conscious for the first half of it, but talking and joking whenever I could-- because apparently that’s how I deal with stress. Anyone surprised?  Anyway, they quickly confirmed what I knew as soon as I passed more than one ungodly egg-clot: it was a miscarriage. They removed what was left; I didn’t look at it, but my husband said there... wasn’t really much. Nobody did any analyses, so I’m left to surmise that it wouldn’t have been more than 6 weeks (or possibly anembryonic), meaning it was just in there for 5+ weeks by then, doing nothing but accumulating blood. Insult to injury much?  The biggest strangeness of the whole ordeal, the reason why I didn’t expect it was a miscarriage in the first place, was that none of it hurt. Every story I read said it hurt, but this just felt... awkward. I mean, passing out wasn’t fun. Sure as hell didn’t feel comfortable, but I never experienced any pain (except the blood draws; lord did those bruise. Ugh).  The whole thing left me feeling exhausted. It took days before I could do more than toddle around the house. It’s been 2 weeks now, but I still feel a little sick when I think about those fucking clots, or the strangeness of the ER, or passing out 4+ times. I’m hoping I don’t have brain damage, geez. I certainly feel mentally slower than usual, like maybe the pregnancy-brain never went back to normal.  As for what I feel emotionally... it’s... hard to say. I’m sad. Disappointed, annoyed. But mostly I was scared. And that makes me hesitant. I still want a kid. I wanted that kid. But I’ve always been very careful. We always knew the risks and wanted to wait until the right time. The problem is, now... Now I’m more intimately familiar with some of the risks, and I’m a bit afraid it’s going to make me too careful. Will I ever get another chance? Will I ever give myself another chance? I don’t know. I really just don’t.  Mostly though, I am glad to be alive. And while I was more than accepting of the ugly bloated and tired feeling of pregnancy, I’m happy to take the good with the bad now. I hate what I lost, but my body is starting to feel normal again, and... well, that’s nice, I guess.  Anyway... That’s partly why I haven’t been online, and what I’ve been up to since. God I hope you guys have all had nicer, less-eventful years so far. (If you wanna catch up, feel free to message me. The IM feature seems busted on my end, so maybe try sending an ask or something instead.)