#manifesting that they also do one from boston

[huggybug]

red flags - ryan leonard

word count: 4.0 words

note: oh hi, remember me?? it’s been a minute but i’m back! my first time writing in a LONG time so go easy on me <3 manifesting big things for the caps with this one🙂‍↕️

One week.

It had been a week since you watched your boyfriend lose to Denver in the Frozen Four. Well, he was your boyfriend. As of 6 days ago, he was your ex.

You weren’t surprised when Ryan texted you the morning after the game. He had returned to Boston the night before but you were already asleep so waking up to a text from Ryan reading ‘I need to focus on hockey right now. I’m sorry’

You didn’t even bother with a response. It wasn’t necessarily a complete surprise but you also weren’t thrilled. Ryan knew he was moving on to the NHL after this season, it was more a matter of when that would happen. And while you figured long distance might be a bit of a strain, you hadn’t expected your relationship to be ended through a text on a random Monday morning.

Over the past two years, you were known among your friends to have a tumultuous relationship. You were both easily jealous and it caused constant fights. It was never the same thing, it would go back and forth and neither of you were one to back down from a fight. You had to admit it was toxic but despite knowing that, you’d be right back with him within the week every time.

They were playing Michigan State and were there for the whole weekend. You had watched his game in your dorm and as Ryan scored his first goal of the season. When the game ended in a 4-3 loss, you sent your boyfriend a text congratulating him on the goal and condolences on the loss. He only heart reacted to the message but you chalked it up to the loss and let it slide. Ryan usually will call you after a game but you didn’t expect anything after that so you put your phone away and went to sleep.

A couple hours later, you woke up to your phone buzzing and open it to see text after text from a friend from high school who just so happened to go to Michigan State. ‘Isn’t this your boyfriend??’ Followed by a blurry photo of guy standing at a bar. You have to zoom in to see the girl who’s trapped between his arms, facing him with her back to said bar. You sit up in bed, flicking through the other photos your friend sent. One of Ryan bending down to hear whatever the girl is saying, one with him tipping his head back in laughter, and finally one where he’s leaning in for what looks like a kiss. While they’re not actually kissing, it’s not hard to assume that’s what’s about to happen.

Your heart is pounding against your chest as you try to figure out what to do. It’s not like you can do much. Ryan’s 12 hours away, making out with a mystery Michigan woman while you’re stuck in your dorm. You quickly answered your friend before switching over to your thread with Ryan. Staring at the message he’d basically ignored from four hours earlier, you’re hitting the call button before you even register it.

“Y/n?” You can barely hear him when he answers but then it gets quieter so you assume he’s stepped outside of whatever bar they’re at. “What’s going on?”

You’re at a loss for words. After a minute of silence, you realize you have nothing to say to him so you hang up. Instead, you copy the photos you were sent and send them to him. Then, you shut your phone off and go back to sleep.

When the team got back to campus the following day, Ryan beelined it to your dorm and when you opened your door to him with lunch from your favourite place and a bouquet of pink tulips, begging for your forgiveness, of course you let him in.

You weren’t sure if you wanted it to stick this time. The past two years had been building up to the excitement of Ryan making to the NHL and you feel like you’d been a small part in that journey so not getting to experience it with him was a little disappointing. However, if that’s what was better for him, so be it. You decided to distract yourself the way you knew best, partying.

Your friends made it their mission to not let you stay home when there was opportunity to go out. You went to bars, frat parties, you name it. And if Ryan happened to see you through peoples stories or posts on social media, that just made it all the better.

Ryan made his NHL debut on the Tuesday and you didn’t watch. You went to a friends house for a games night. He scored his first goal on Friday night, you were at a frat party. The Capitals clinched their playoff spot on the following Tuesday while you were at your favourite bar to watch the Bruins game with your friends.

It had been 8 days since you last spoke to him when the text came through.

Can you be here on the 20th?

You had to check the name three times before you believed it. Ryan Leonard.

You didn’t answer at first, not exactly knowing what to do. Then your phone started to ring. You slid your phone off the table and excused yourself from your friends. Stepping outside of the restaurant, you took a breath before sliding to answer.

“What do you want Ryan?” You answered with an attitude.

“Did you see my text?” He puffed out quickly.

“Yes” You sighed, “Again, what do you want?” You weren’t exactly upset but you were frustrated.

“Well the girls were asking when you’d be able to get here because I guess they want some group picture in the outfits…” Ryan trailed off and left you confused.

“What girls?” You felt like this was a practical joke being played on you. There was not a single hint of your understanding in what he was talking about.

“The fucking wives Y/n. What do you mean what girls?” Ryan huffed and you almost laughed at the fact that he sounded so put out by your confusion.

“Ryan what the fuck are you talking about?”

“The jackets Y/n. They ordered them and now they want to know when you’ll be here to get yours” That made your head spin. First of all, how did they know to order one for Ryan and also why was he now expecting you to come collect it.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Y/n. Just answer the question” He was getting mad but you didn’t care.

“No Ryan, tell me what the hell is going on. Did I just imagine you breaking up with me in a text last week? Are you really coming back and pretending nothing happened? You can’t blame me for being confused right now”

“Look, I shouldn’t have blown you off like that, I’m sorry. I was stressed about leaving and I know that’s not an excuse but I promise I’ll be better. I just need you here for playoffs, please baby” You took a deep breath, taking it in. He sounded sincere but Ryan always had a knack for that. You never doubted his sincerity and usually that led to your own demise.

“If I get you a flight on the 20th, can you be here?” He asked after a moment had gone by without you saying anything. You can't believe the words until they're spewing out of your mouth.

“Fine. Send me the ticket” You said quickly before hanging up the phone, dropping your head and wondering why the hell you just agreed to that.

…

As soon as you stepped out of the doors at Dulles International Airport, your eyes locked on Ryan. He was leaning against what you would imagine was his rental car, a sleek black Range Rover, with a huge bouquet of pink flowers in hand. One thing about Ryan is while he knows how to cause a fight, he sure as hell knows how to fix one.

“Hi baby” He immediately pulls you into his arms and you melt right into him. “I’m so sorry, I missed you, I love you so much”

You take a step back and accept the flowers as he takes care of your luggage. “Missed you too Ry”

Last summer you went to see Ryan when he was staying at his family’s house on the Cape with a few of the guys on the team. Ryan promised you a week of drinking, going out on his boat, and hanging around with friends and you were excited. That was until you spent the first two days in the house alone while all the boys went golfing. You could have gone with them but when Will had been the one to ask you to come instead of your boyfriend, you opted to stay back and sulk.

When Ryan came home from golfing the second day, you were in a bad mood and he was the perfect target to take it out on.

"Hey babe, we're going to go out for dinner, you almost ready?" Ryan asked as he walked into your shared bedroom for the week.

"Oh I'm invited?" You scoffed and he paused, shirt halfway over his head, turning to look at you.

"What are you talking about? Of course you are" Ryan tosses his shirt onto the floor near the laundry hamper.

"Well you haven't exactly cared to have me around so far, how am I supposed to know tonight's different" You huff and you can hear Ryan sigh as he turns to head into the bathroom.

"I'm not doing this right now. Come or don't, I don't give a shit" Ryan rolls his eyes, clearly frustrated with you but you continue to push at him.

"You invite me here and for what Ryan? To have me wait around for you while you're out with your buddies? Great way for me to spend my time"

"God forbid I go golfing with the boys" He holds his hands up in surrender, mocking you.

"You know it's not just that Ryan" He had barely spoken to you over the past couple days, coming home after dinner at the club last night and leaving this morning before you woke up.

"You're acting ridiculous right now, I'm going to shower. Either be ready when I'm done or stay home" He flings the door shut behind him and you're left alone in the bedroom once again.

Needing some fresh air, you head to the backyard but stop in your tracks when you run into Will as you're stepping outside. "Hey, are you okay?" You laugh dryly, knowing that the look on your face is answering his question itself. "Leno's an idiot, I'm sure he didn't mean whatever he said" The fact that he knew that you two were fighting without you having to say anything spoke volumes about your relationship. Sometimes you thought about what your friends or family members think about your relationship. How many more times your best friend will let you crash at her place at 2 am after Ryan had ran you out of his dorm, when you’re crying on her couch and she has to reassure you everything is going to be okay. You think about how much time and energy this relationship takes from you yet you still decide to go back each time.

"You know I love you Will but if you're just going to defend him, I really don't want to hear it" You brush past him and move to the edge of the deck, looking out at the water and taking a few breaths.

“Look, you know I love you both but give him a chance to apologize for whatever it is, you know he will, he always does” Will says and hesitates for a moment, “You guys always figure it out, this time won’t be any different” You hear the door to the house open and close again behind him.

“That’s the problem though, isn’t it?” You mumble to yourself. You let Will’s words sit with you for a moment before heading back up to your room where Ryan is just finishing getting ready.

“You’re not ready?” He asks through the mirror as he fusses with his hair.

“I was just talking to Will and-” He abruptly cuts you off.

“Oh? Fucking around with Smitty now are we?” He asks and you’re frozen in your spot, jaw hanging at his insinuation. While he had had his moments, you were not a cheater.

“Stop talking out of your ass you know that’s not true” You roll your eyes, almost mad at yourself that you had come back up here to make up with him.

“Wouldn’t put it past you”

“You know what? Fuck you. I’m done” Grabbing your bag from the closet, you start throwing your things in, collecting whatever you can find of your stuff before moving onto the bathroom.

“Oh you’re gonna run away now?” He wasn’t even looking at you, he was on his phone and that only made you more angry.

“Yeah I am because I’m so over your shit. You act like a child and I’m not putting up with it anymore”

Once you’re in the car, it’s like nothing even happened. Ryan spends the whole time talking about the team and how great everyone’s been at helping him out. He explains how he’s living with one of the guys and it’s been nothing short of a dream. Pulling up to the house, it’s absolutely gorgeous. Ryan gets your bags out and is up to the door before you can even process it. He introduces you to his teammate and his girlfriend, Maddie before ushering you towards his room, leaving your bags by the closet doors. You wait until he’s finished fiddling around with things before you burst the bubble of happiness he’s created.

“Ryan, why am I here?” He sets the puck down that he had picked up to show you, his first goal puck you’re assuming, and turns to look at you.

It’s the first time you’ve really gotten to look at him, to take it all in. He looks tired. His usual bright blue eyes are dimmed and are matching with the dark bags under his eyes. His shoulders are slightly hunched like he’s holding more weight on them since you’d last seen him.

“I needed you” He says simply. It’s quiet but you can hear the hesitation in his voice. He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I fucked up leaving you like that, I know. I thought it would be for the best but I think I forgot how much I fucking need you in my life”

You don’t know what to say to that so instead you close the distance between the two of you and pull him down for a kiss. This is how it always goes with you two and well, who were you to ruin the cycle.

…

Capital One Arena was absolutely electric for the Captials’ first playoff game. You follow close behind Maddie, the only girlfriend on the team that you know however you’re all in a group. 20 girls in matching jackets charging through the arena and you’ve never felt more out of place. The girls are all talking to each other and while they all introduced themselves when Maddie introduced you to the group, you had been left out of the conversation ever since. You didn’t blame them though, they’ve all spent the year together, their husbands or boyfriends were all friends and you were just a random 20 year old following them around. At least back at BC, all the girls were so similar it was easy to hang out as a group.

You tried to keep up the facade of being Ryan’s girlfriend. It wasn’t a total lie of course, but the reality of your relationship seemed too intricate to explain to the group of women you had just met. You spoke when you were spoken to but aside from that, you kept to yourself which nobody seemed to mind.

“So Y/n, this is your first time here? You didn’t come for Ryan’s debut?” One of the girls asks and you smile sheepishly.

“I couldn’t make it because of school” You lie, “I couldn’t miss this though” That part was more true.

Then, the lights dimmed and the conversation was dropped, everyone’s attention turning to the ice where the team was coming out of the tunnel as the crowd roared.

You spotted Ryan as soon as he stepped onto the ice. This is what you were comfortable with. Watching Ryan’s games over the past couple years became one of your favourite memories, you loved watching him excel in his passion and a wave of pride rolled over you as the in-arena announcer said his name, prompting the crowd to get even louder.

The game eventually got started and you watched intently as you toyed with the sleeve of your jacket. The jacket with the 9 patches on the sleeves, Leonard stitched into the collar. It made you feel a certain type of way, it was like Ryan had accepted you into this part of his life. Like by giving you this jacket, he had decided you weren’t going to be a part of his college life, you were going to last longer than that. You’d assume that after two years you wouldn’t need a silly jacket to tell you that but Ryan always kept you guessing.

The game ended up going to overtime but luckily the Capitals pulled off the win. The girls celebrated with the rest of the fans before heading down to the family room. You of course just followed along, not knowing where to go and suddenly very grateful you had a group of people with you so you didn’t have to figure it out yourself. The family room was pretty full once everyone was there, some kids running around while the younger ones were falling asleep on the couches. Guys trickled out one by one from the big double doors at one end of the room, which you assumed led to the locker room. You waited for probably 30 minutes before Ryan emerged, wide smile on his face and eyes searching for you in the small crowd that was left.

“Congrats on the win” You say as he hugs you tightly, pulling you close.

“Thanks for being here baby” He says quietly and you smile, squeezing him even tighter.

It was the moments like this that made you forget all the red flags. Ryan was the sweetest, most loving guy most of the time. The not so great moments, those were only a fraction of what you experienced with him. You went easily as he slung his arm around your shoulders and started walking you out to his car.

…

Game two was here and it feels like the energy had multiplied from last game. You went out with the girls before and surprisingly, you felt more at ease. As you all headed to the arena, you found yourself thinking that you could get used to this.

This game wasn't nearly as close as the last one but the fans fed into the excitement and you cheered as the Capitals won again, going 2-0 in the series. It was the best possible outcome and you knew Ryan would be excited. The team was all happy with the wins but most, if not all of them, have experienced it before. Ryan wasn't new to playoff hockey but the Stanley Cup Playoffs were a whole thing entirely, or so he told you.

The night went similarly to last time, you waited for him in the family room and once he finally emerged, you walked hand in hand to his car.

"So you leave tomorrow?" You ask him once you're out of the parking garage.

"Yeah in the afternoon I think" He pauses, trying to remember the schedule that they had just gone over in their meeting. "There's probably a flight to Boston in the morning" You nodded, sinking back into your seat. Of course you had to go back. You had school and there was no reason for you to stay here while Ryan was in Montreal.

"I should pack then" You say more to yourself than to him.

"You didn't expect to stay here did you?" He asked and the question hit you like a knife in the chest. You were at a loss for words for a moment, feeling stupid for ever expecting anything different from him.

"So is this it then?" You decide to ignore his question and ask one of your own instead.

"What?" He looks over at you with wide eyes.

"Well I'd rather get it out of the way rather than land in Boston to another text from you" You say coldly, staring straight ahead at the road in front of you.

"Y/n... I said I was sorry for. that" He replied, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"I just don't know if I can trust you to not do it again" You don't want to start a fight but you had to ask.

"Are you serious?"

"Look at our track record Ry, and it's not just you. Trust me, I know I've caused a lot of it too. We just can't seem to figure it out"

"I have figured it out. I need you Y/n. I need you in my life, in Washington. I don't know how you got the idea that I don't but we can figure it out, I know we can" He flicked the turn signal on a little more aggressively than necessary, his frustration ringing out.

"Why can't you see it Ryan? You shouldn't need me here. You should want me" You sigh, "And you don't, that's the problem" Ryan's number one priority was Ryan and right after that it was hockey. You didn't fault him for it but with that being said, it just didn't seem like there was a space for you in his life right now.

"No- I can't-" He had pulled into the driveway now and turned as much as he could to face you in the car. "I'm sorry, just tell me what to do"

"Look, we both have our shit we need to figure out. We break up and we make up but nothing ever changes. Just cause we want it to work doesn't mean it should, some things just aren't meant to be"

...

You watched the airport get smaller as the plane pulled away and you felt it deep in your chest. You were leaving a part of you behind in Washington. He was going to get on a plane himself and you hated that he would probably be laughing and joking around with his teammates while you're by yourself, pressed against the window.

When Ryan dropped you off this morning, walking away from him was the hardest thing you have ever done. It wasn't the first time but it did feel like the last time. In your previous break ups, it typically was a result from a fight. It was immature and silly but that's what made you fall right back into it days later. This time, it was stemmed from a more mature place, you had a conversation and while it wasn't necessarily what either of you wanted, but it was what was needed.

However, that didn't mean the door was closed forever. And if he messaged you when they made it to the finals, asking if you could come back to the city for the series, part of you knew you'd be looking for flights before you even finished reading the text.

[endereies]

I hate coming on this app to talk about insistent drama that follows each week, but here we are again. I don't just wanna talk about the most recent events in this message, but about everything that's happened this year especially.

Tumblr is our space to write fanfiction about three 21-year-old boys from Boston. That's it. I'm not sure what happened along the way, but we have had stalkers, pedophiles, death threats, slurs, and more. I'm also not sure where half this app got the audacity to act like that.

I come back from being inactive to see slurs thrown in a meme post with an appalling reply with another meme at the bottom. That just screams insincere to me, and it's offensive. The slurs were thrown in conversations where it didn't need a place. If you are allowed to say it, then fine. But that language, even if allowed, shouldn't have that much accessibility to an average conversation. To then publicly post that, not knowing the impact it may have on people is disgusting to me. I'm sure languages have enough words for you to use. It's literally the reason we are writers.

To then see messages complaining about the triplets, especially their appearances, also seems rude. They won't see those messages on your group chat and I hope they never do, because it's disrespectful. Calling them names based on how they look goes against all you write for, all you stand for. I can't begin to see reasons why you have a triplet group chat, just to make fun of them.

The only messages I have seen of this gc are the ones that are posted on @thetripouts , but I've hated each one I've seen. I've had no reason to click on them, I am not in the gc. Why would I click on messages that have no context or meaning. But seeing the odd message or so has given me a clear insight into this chat. And I want nothing to do with it. The language is belittling to other members, outside members, and the triplets themselves.

Why do we keep giving it a place to manifest. We don't need any bullshit or drama on this site. We never have. This negativity has caused many people to deactivate or become inactive. Seeing honest and wholesome creators become overwhelmed by the sight of the drama - let alone be involved in it - is upsetting to see.

I've seen people leave due to death threats, I've seen talk of death tossed around in casual conversation, disturbing some people. I, myself, have been affected by pedophilia and grooming. It's a horrible thing to be a part of and has no place on this app. No one deserves to be treated that way. Whether you intend it to be a joke or not doesn't mean you can dismiss people's feelings for the sake of humour.

We need to do better as a community, suck up your shitty messages and ideas when you're aware it causes nothing but problems. If you're unaware or uneducated, please reflect, educate and apologise. It's simple steps I'm sure a toddler could follow.

I'm sure half the people making drama know better, and are adult enough to make decisions that won't hurt another person. Yet it seems people don't think before they post. The Internet is a free place to say what you think, but respect is and always will have a place in conversation. Don't be an asshole.

I say this more times than I can count but let's just go back to writing our fanfiction, because it should never be this serious🤷‍♀️

[sexy-monster-fucker]

To See If I Can Catch a Dream

Dr. Gregory House x Doctor!Reader

Story Synopsis: Reader is a Doctor alongside House. They have known each other for years, mostly been dancing around being intimate with one another. Even though it is painfully obvious to their close friend, Wilson. After finally allowing their guards to fall, the Reader receives a letter inviting her for her dream position at her dream hospital. She has to make the hard choice of staying or going. angst/smut/nsfw/new relationships/minor fluff/typical hospital talk/situationship/

Summary/Part 5: Reader has made her mind up. Heading out to Boston for the conference that would welcome her as the new Head of Neurology.

CW: vomit/vomiting, blood, form of self harm, mentions of OD, implied disordered eating, substance abuse, backstory baby!, ANGST ANGST ANGST, mentions of motherhood/wanting kids,

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 <-

a/n: sorry if the timeline conflicts with anything canon in House, I kept finding different information about how long before the first season of the show that House had his leg injury. also I was so seriously tempted to make an entire playlist based off this fanfic, I’m so obsessed with their love story.

title track 🎶🩶

~~~

You hunched over the toilet in your bathroom. Unable to sleep. Rest a distant relative of yours. The paper crinkled under your grasp. Rereading it again and again.

Boston Children’s Hospital.

You threw up again. Spilling your guts into the porcelain bowl. Overwhelmed with anxieties from the fight you had with House. Mentally punishing yourself for everything. Manifesting as your upchucked stomach. Beating yourself up for allowing House to speak to you that way. For letting him have such a strong hold on your well-being. Punching the tile beneath you as you screamed. Loud enough you were sure the neighbors heard you. Knuckles bleeding from your repetitive assault. Tugging at your hair as you sobbed hard. Heartbreak never having such a strong toll over you before. Resting your cheek against the disgusting toilet seat, staining it with your tears. Not caring about the germ count.

Sliding into the floor. Clutching the paper flat against your chest. Staring up at the bright lights of your ceiling. Squinting at the harsh glare. Groaning now that your stomach was completely empty and your whole body ached. Praying to a God who went against everything you knew. Praying that House was not relapsing. Over-dosing on Vicodin and booze. Reaching for your phone you had discarded on the floor, typing out a simple message.

“I love you.” You stared at it. The words loosing all meaning the longer you looked that them. Dropping the flip phone against your face. Closing your eyes to block out the soft glow of the screen. Opting out of sending the message. It would do more harm than good.

You knew that.

~~~

You got yourself put together early. Taking a shower to wash away the night of regrets. Steaming room helping free the mucus from the obscene about of crying you had done. Using your favorite shampoo and soap. The ones you usually saved for a date or special occasion. Needing a confidence boost wherever you could get one.

A cloud of dread loomed over you as you checked yourself in the mirror. Bags under your eyes more defined from the lack of sleep. Putting on makeup for the first time in a while. Giving yourself a moment to close your eyes and breathe before stepping out the door to head to work.

The invariable hospital greeted you as always. Unforgiving and not allowing time to suffer. It was your job to help others not suffer, a fine distraction from any personal matters.

Forcing smiles at each colleague you passed. Hiding any sign of distress. Taking the stares, avoiding any risk of running into House. Making sure you would do everything to stay away from him today. Knowing you could not face him now. Any semblance of control you had would come crashing down the minute you would meet his sad eyes.

Marching into Cuddy’s office as quickly as you could. Surprising her. You were always an adequate doctor. Rule follower and no trouble, unlike your estranged lover.

“Y/L/N?”

“I need to talk to you,” you sighed, hand reaching inside your lab coat. Pulling out the letter that had been extended to you earlier this week. Handing it to her with a certain sadness behind your eyes. Swallowing down your broken voice.

“What is this?”

“My invitation from Boston Children’s Hospital. They sent a representative to speak to me earlier this week. Inviting me to join their team and become the head of their Neurology department,” you breathed out.

“That’s incredible,” Cuddy said with a smile, “That’s— wow, that’s your dream job.” You and Cuddy were never overtly close. But she was someone you confided in. Another woman who could understand you differently than your male friends. Sharing secrets with her that seemed too childish to share with others. And so, out of respect for her and the hospital, you thought it was better to present this to her instead of just disappearing as you usually would. Finally taking responsibility for that.

“Yeah, it is,” you smiled, frown tugging you down.

“It’s going to be hard to fill the position. No one has ever been a stronger candidate,” Cuddy smiled. Sensing the solemn nature of your resignation. Unable to look her in the eyes as you stared down at your feet.

“I’ve got an idea,” Cuddy started, voice steady as she smiled at you.

Finally earning herself a glance from your sad eyes.

“How about you go to the conference they’re hosting. And if you decide that Boston is what you want, you go there. But, if it doesn’t end up being what you want, I will keep the position open for you here,” Cuddy stood with hands flattened against her desk to prove her point.

“Lisa, I can’t ask you to do that,” you sighed, not wanting special treatment or pity.

“I want to. We would be taking a serious blow in our neurology department without you here. But I’ll be happy for you either way,” she circled, coming to stand directly in front of you. Hand resting against your arm trying to console you. Unspoken realization that things must not have went over well when you told your former partner. Cuddy knew House well, seeing a serious change in him since the two of you started seeing each other. She pretended to not notice the brand new ring on your finger. Beautifully twinkling from the sunlight that beamed through her blinds. Able to put all the pieces together of the circumstances in which you brought this to her.

House had came to here earlier this month. Asking some vague questions about the legality of marrying a fellow doctor in the hospital. Pretending he had no ulterior motive, throwing blame on Wilson. He just ‘wanted to make sure no one needed to resign if that was to happen’. She had rolled her eyes knowing exactly what he was meaning. Congratulating him. House had grumbled and scoffed as he waved her off. Exiting her office with the veins on his head pulsing.

Cuddy suddenly hugged you. Firm. Hand on the back of your head as she sighed. You needed this more than she could have imagined. Stomach flipping with your overwhelming emotions. Tears deciding to wade in your eyes again. Sniffling as she pulled away, awkwardly laughing as you looked at her. Exhaustion clear on your breath. “Thank you, Lisa,” you met her eyes.

“It’ll all work out, Y/N,” she reassured. A good friend. Knowing how to console you when necessary. You were thankful for her.

Continuing your day as if nothing was wrong. You were a Doctor for gods sake. Analyzing scan after scan. Brains and spines of all varieties. From newborns to elderly. Pediatrics was your speciality, but that did not stop you from helping people of all ages. Giving some harsher diagnosis than you wanted today, having to control your breathing as to not show weakness to the family. You had to be strong. You were the one who was going to help them. Life of their sickly child now in your hands.

Unsure where the entire had gone off to. Darkness crept across your walls. Simply, amber glow of your lamp was all you had. Having locked yourself away from any other physicians all day. Needing to clear your head and focus on work.

Frustrated when a gentle knock sounded from your door. Teeth gritted as you called out, “Come in.”

Wilson’s frame shadowed in front of the hallway lights. Causing you to stiffen your posture and fold your hands over your lap. Lip quivering as you attempted to catch your breath. Not expecting to see your alienated lover’s best friend. Sometimes you forgot he was your friend too.

Burnt coffee eyes lasered into you. Entering and closing the door behind him. Trying to conjure up a starting sentence. Subject sensitive. More so than you normally discussed. He exhaled loudly.

“Did you come to gloat?”

“I’m so sorry.”

Waterworks immediately flowed. Breath forcing itself out in broken rhythm. Mouth immediately stretching into a frown, followed by a loud sob. Hand cupping your mouth as you squinted your eyes closed. Fingers digging into your cheek. Shoulders heaving with every strangled sob.

Wilson moved on instinct. Kneeling beside you at your desk. One hand on your thigh and the other pushing your hair out of your face. Empathetic eyes scanned you, wishing he could have avoided all of this. Wishing he could have prevented this heartbreak for you. You were his friend. It hurt him to see you hurt.

He pushed himself up to hold you. Head resting against yours. Allowing you to expel every cry, whimper, or sob into his chest. Your body was shaking. Hands bawling his shirt in front of you. Wrinkling the soft blue cotton. Staining it with smudged mascara and lipstick.

“It hurts, James,” you cried pathetically. Clutching him to you.

“I know. I know, honey. I’m… so sorry,” Wilson repeated. He was bad at this. At consoling you. Intimacy something he was only good at faking with women he was going to sleep with. Good at pleasing others. But how could he please you right now? There was no real cure for a broken heart.

This would have to be good enough.

And it was. All you needed was someone to hold you. Understand you. Sympathize with you. Wilson’s warmth encapsulated you. Emptying every drop of pain into him.

“I love him,” you whispered, breathing flattening out. Letting up on your grip on your close friend. Resting your head in the crook of his neck against his shoulder. Nose framing his throat. Warm tears dropping along his collar.

Wilson tenderly kissed your head. There was only so much he could do for you, but he would be damned if he did not try. Despite you ignoring his warning. Despite all the times you had grown angry at him. Despite that you had been spending more time away from him. You were one of his best friends. He would do this for you if this is what would help.

You remained in his arms for quite some time. Letting it all out. The only way you knew how. Thanking Wilson for everything.

Parting ways with the unforgiving walls of the hospital. Being welcomed home by a quiet room. Previously alive with duets and coordinated dance routines, now dull and rhythmless. The mixture of your lives haunted every surface. Candy he had left on the counter, discarded clothes that assumed he would come back for them, his toothbrush contained next to yours. Worst of all, the indent in your bed from his body. Now cold and hollow. Pillow still smelling like his shampoo.

Nausea now a convivial partner. Not having the strength to force yourself out of bed. Porcelain bowl’s siren call a temptress. Small amount of food digested in your stomach preparing for their reunion.

It was not worth it.

~~~

Another two weeks passed. Conference in Boston narrowing in on your calendar. Bags already packed and laid beside your bed. Coming to terms with the real possibility of a new beginning.

Somehow, still avoiding House. Knowing he was doing the same. Opting for other neurologists to run tests for him. Anything to not lay eyes on you.

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Metallic taste overwhelming your buds as you dissected the folder before you. Stumped. Normally, you would ask House and his Team.

Your ego refused to face him.

But that did not mean you could not use the diagnostic team.

You parted your blinds into the busy hallway with two fingers. Only your eyes visible from the outside. Scanning the bodies that filled the hall. Waiting to pounce on the first one of House’s little minions that you spotted.

Bingo.

Creaking your door open. “Psst—“ you called out to the young doctor. His eyes peering to the side, acting like he did not see you. Trying to assess the situation, assuming the query was not directed at him. “Doctor Foreman,” you said with a whisper tone, albeit above a whisper. He looked around confused. Pointing to himself with a raise of a brow. You nodded, gesturing him to come to you.

Foreman shook his head in disagreement, motioning towards the folder already in his hand. You stomped your foot and pointed directly in front of you. Brows arching to silently show how serious you were. Sighing loudly as he solemnly walked over to you.

“You know, this got guy’s killed in war-times. Talking to the enemy,” Foreman smirked, leaning against your doorway.

You clasped your hands together in front of your chest, pointing your conjoined fingers at him, “I need you to do me a favor.”

His arms bulged as he crossed them over his chest. Sass dripping clean off him as his head fell to the side. Sucking his teeth as he looked around to make sure there were no cane wielding doctors nearby.

Reaching into your coat pocket and pulling out the case file, “I need you to take this patient folder. Take it to your team and see if you guys can figure out what’s going on. I’ve ran every test under the sun and can’t understand what I’m seeing. BUT— and this is the important part— you canNOT under ANY circumstances tell House this is for me.”

Foreman clicked his tongue. Rolling his eyes. Widening yours and wringing your hands in front of him, “Please.”

He blew his breath out, allowing his head to fall forward. Fully aware of the drama going on between the two of you. How could he not be? House brought it up at every turn. Angrier than he ever had been before. Extending his hand out to accept your offering. You beamed with glee.

“Just so you know,” he pointed with the filing folder, “This is petty.”

“Thank you, Foreman!” You waved him off. Earning a flick of his wrist in response. Finally feeling a sense of relief that you would possibly get an answer. Retreating into your cave. It would take them some time to run through every possibility. So now you could begin the new stack that had collected throughout the day.

It was easy to lose track of time when you were buried in paperwork. Only having time to eat lunch in Cuddy’s office with her. Suggested that you and some of the other doctors go out for drinks tonight. It was only a week until you would be leaving for Boston, so she wanted to treat you. Happy to oblige, anything for you to not be alone.

Staying late, something that happened more often than not. Telling Cuddy to come get you when she was ready to head out. Back to the door as you knelt in front of a filing cabinet. Fingers lacing through every filing folder looking for an older case file. One you hoped would help explain your current one.

Quick knocks against the wood of your door caught your attention. Assuming it was Lisa, not paying attention as you called out, “I’ll be right out.” Zoning out the sound of, what you assumed to be shoes, clicking against your floor.

Abrupt slamming of a hand on your desk made you jump up. Rising above your place on the floor and meeting angry, blue eyes. Air hitching itself in your throat. Heart immediately ramming into your ribcage.

“Next time you want to send me some absurd patient, call me yourself. Don’t rope my team into your dirty work,” House bared his teeth at you.

The first time you had seen him since your fight. Time freezing for you. Taking in every small detail of him. Scruff closer resembling a beard more than ever before. Neglecting trimming the prickly hairs. Something you had began doing together. Bags under his eyes heavier, bloodshot sclera matching your own. Cheeks sunken in and thinner. Not noticeable to the average eye, but when you had him memorized as well as you did it was obvious. Shirt half unbuttoned and wrinkled.

You stared slack-jawed. Fighting the delusion that this was fake. An illusion made up to comfort you. Eyes growing glossy. He was within touching distance. You wanted to spring up and wrap him in your arms. Kiss him and tell him how much you missed him.

“Close your mouth. You’re going to catch a fly,” House scoffed. Eyes rolling aggressively.

Your brows furrowed. Being reminded why this would have never worked to begin with. Jolting away from his piercing eyes. Jaw flexing as you swallowed the lump in your throat. Eyes drying out.

Taking the folder he had tossed haphazardly on your desk, “Did you figure anything out?”

“Of course I did,” his face scrunched up, offended. Angry that you would even ask such a stupid question. Mocking his intelligence in such a way.

You widened your eyes and nodded, “Okay…?”

“It’s MS,” he groaned like you were stupid for not knowing.

“No,” you shook your head in disagreement, “I tested for that. The lesions are from a prior head injury. He said all this pain started when he got hit the other day playing soccer.”

House nodded, “Uh-huh. That doesn’t explain the small white spot right at the base of his skull. His white blood cell count is through the roof. Persistent tingling sensation down the left side of his body. Black spot obscuring his vision, but no signs of corneal damage. It’s practically screaming ‘multiple sclerosis!’ at you.” House’s tone was riddled with condescension. Matter-of-factly correcting your misdiagnosis.

“Right,” you exhaled, trailing off. Frustrated that you had not put the pieces together yourself. Knowing this boy would have to go through some serious trial work for the next few months before he could even start treatment. All signs pointed to multiple sclerosis, but the MRI had you questioning everything.

“If you wanted to talk to me, you didn’t have to pretend to not know what was wrong with your patient,” House said cockily.

Igniting a fire in you. The implication making your blood run molten. Eyes narrowing in on him from above the folder. Mouth upturned like he had won a fight. Making you more angry.

Slamming the folder down on your desk, “You honestly think I’m so desperate that I would allow myself to look stupid just so you would come up here and yell at me?” Voice laced with a thick, deadly venom. Hissing through your teeth with each word.

House nonchalantly shrugged, “Whatever tickles your fancy.”

You growled, speaking through your teeth, “I can’t stand you.”

“Right… Is that why you’re still wearing that? Little reminder of how much you hate me?” House motioned towards your left hand.

The ring.

It had become second nature to just slip it on every morning. Eyes widening down at your digits. Pretending it did not hurt your feelings. Tears pricking against the corners of your eyes. Stunned into silence with his audacity.

“I… uh—“ you tried, really you did. But the way your throat burned and tightened you knew that if you continued you would be a crying mess in front of him.

Your eyes welled up at his. Pleading for him to back down. Begging for even an ounce of forgiveness, sympathy, something. Hands lacing together in front of you. Fidgeting with the ring that you hid under your right hand. Cheeks flooding with your embarrassment. Inability to come up with something to say making you seem weak. Your head hung in defeat.

House took the seat in front of your desk. Cane resting against the arm of it, feet propping themselves up. Far too casual for your liking. As if he had not ripped your heart clean from your chest and taken a bite.

“Boston next week,” unconcerned tone, faking excitement. Pretending that was not the entire reason things were this tense between you. Boston had been the wedge forced between you. Eyes harshly staring at you, “Must be exciting.”

You shrugged your shoulders. Hand rubbing up and down your arm. Trying to will yourself to look at him. Knowing you could not. Surprised he had kept up with what was going on with you. Completely opposite of what you had been doing. Maybe Wilson talked to him. Maybe he asked. It did not matter.

“Oh, don’t be coy,” House poked. His insistent need to pretend like everything was fine between you had anger swirling around your stomach. Falling back into habits that predated your relationship. Forgetting, more like ignoring, how much things had changed between you. Almost like you were just a coworker he found attractive, not that you had seen the most vulnerable parts of one another.

“House. Why are you here?” your eyes finally met his. Brows pinched together and teeth locked. Nostrils flaring with each steady breath you took.

“I brought your patient folder back. And a diagnosis,” House said.

“Greg.”

That made him sit up. Hands clasped in front of him, lips pursed together. Expression falling flat. Mischief behind his eyes fading quickly. Blowing his breath out loudly.

“You didn’t even call,” your words broke.

“Neither did you,” House sneered.

“You wouldn’t have answered if I did,” you defended.

A beat of silence.

“I know,” House huffed, “But I wanted you to.”

His words were desperate. Hiding the sadness that had overtaken him the past weeks. It was easy for him to suppress his emotions. Anger easier to live with than heartbreak. The night he forced you out had broken him. Wrecking his apartment beyond comprehension. Taking way more Vicodin than necessary just so he did not have to feel anything. Shattering all the picture frames along his tabletops. Cutting his hand deeply with one of the shards. Wincing, reminding himself he was alive.

That only made things worse.

Downing bottle after bottle of liquor. Not caring about the taste, but about how it made him numb. Your laughter and smile haunted his mind. Your hooks were so deeply rooted in him that there was no ripping them out. Wobbling into his bedroom where your discarded clothes littered the floor. Drunken rage causing him to shove the garments down his toilet, attempting to flush them. Only overflowing into the floor. Enraging him further. Beating his cane against the porcelain throne. Not realizing tears were burning down his face.

Shouting into the void of his bedroom. Pain coursing through his leg as he finally flopped onto his mattress. Your pillow beside his own. Sweet smell of you still embedded in his sheets. Fingers digging into the bedding as he ripped the fabric. Banging his head repetitively into the foam pillow.

“FUCKING BOSTON!”

He flipped onto his back. Hands grasping his face as he groaned. Instinctively extending his hand out to your side of the bed. Begging that you would be right there next to him and it would all have been a terrible dream. Cold and empty. Nails digging into the sheets once more. Breath coming out broken and strained as it all really hit him.

As always. House had ran off what he cared for most. Incapable of loving and caring. He was a disease. Infecting and ruining everyone who got close. And he had no desire to get better.

Not anymore.

Pitiful eyes looked into each other. Still grieving what could have been between you. Neither of you ready to let go.

Forced to break away when your door flew open. Cuddy’s smiling face quickly falling into shock. Not believing that the two of you were in the same room.

“Oh God. I’m so sorry! I’ll just go—“

“No, it’s okay. I’m coming,” you dismissed her. Clicking of heels exiting your office quicker than they had entered. Sighing remembering the commitment you had made to go out tonight. As sad as it was, you would rather be stuck in here with House than out with everyone.

Eyes falling back on House. Eyes telling you he had something he wanted to say to you. Swallowing before he quickly stood up. Looking at you with the biggest and saddest eyes you had ever seen. You walked around the desk, closing the distance between you. Closer than you had been all night. Within reach of perfectly falling back in together.

Every fiber of your being begged to tell him how much you missed him. How your life felt incomplete without him. That you had not slept the same without him there with you. Tell him that you loved him more than anything.

“Bye, Greg,” you mumbled, hand reaching out to pat his shoulder but stopping.

This time you were the one holding the gun. Aimed between his eyes, repositioning to his chest. Blowing him back. What remained exploding through the other side.

Walking past him and out your office. Leaving without saying what you really wanted. His silence ripped through your skin like barbed wire. Having to put on a fake smile when you met Cuddy in the hallway.

“Well?” Cuddy asked.

“He was… bringing me a patient’s diagnosis,” you lied.

“It’s good that you guys are speaking again,” she tried to cheer you up.

“Right,” you thought about it. About him.

In another week, he would be the farthest thing from your mind. All of this would be.

~~~

You stared at yourself in the mirror. Questioning everything. Suitcase tucked at your side preparing to catch your flight after work. Begin your new chapter. Conference your starting point before any final decision was made.

Today was the day.

Nerves had you flexing your hands at your sides. Stomach in knots of excitement. But also dread. Same black void that had consumed you prior, making itself known as it pinched and twisted your guts.

Tomorrow was a new day.

That kept you going. Able to calm down before heading to work for what could very possibly be the last time. The walls you had known better than those of your own home welcome you back. Surgical smell filling your senses. Taking the elevator all alone. Numbers clicking by as memories of the years of your life did. The first time you had ever taken this elevator feeling so long ago.

Towards the final year of your residency. Out performing the other promising neurologists, being transferred to the hospital where you would more than likely be hired. This very hospital.

Chaos ensued from the moment the doors opened. Patients coding in the halls, overflowed beds, and doctors yelling at each other. Your supervisor, a doctor who had long since retired from the position, told you to keep your head on straight. Try your hardest to ignore all the commotion and keep closing behind him. Helping run MRIs and watching brain surgeries. Feeling over your head in the fast paced environment.

You had finally gotten a moment’s peace as you paced around the hallway in front of a patients room. Having just delivered some devastating news to a family. The father was brain dead. There was nothing more you could do for him. It was their choice to leave him on life support or pull the plug, but the way you presented it to them was crucial.

You squatted against the wall, hand cupping over your mouth and pinching your nose. Clicking against the floor echoed through the hallway. The blunt end of a cane nudged at you, assuming it was an elderly patient. Surprised when you looked up to see a doctor.

“Not supposed to grovel where patients can see you,” his brash voice urged you.

“Sorry,” you said, standing and regaining composure. Leaning against the cold wall and examining the man before you. His large, early morning sky-like eyes doing the same to you. Curiosity getting the better of you both.

“So, what’s your—“

“Yes, I am a doctor. And yes I need a cane. Let’s get those stupid questions out of the way,” he said with a loud scoff.

“I was going to ask what your specialty was,” you awkwardly smiled.

His mouth morphed into an ‘O’. Teeth clinking together as he realized how harsh he had been. “Diagnostician. Specializing in Nephrology and Infectious Diseases.” Bragging clear on his tone. He was older than you, not by much. Enough to already have experience in the hospital that you could not begin to imagine. “I’m House,” he introduced himself with his hand splayed across his own chest. Not offering you his hand for pleasantries.

You nodded with tight lips. Unsure of what his motive was here.

House exhaled, “You’re new.”

“I’m Dr. Y/L/N. Finishing out my residency here. I’m a Neurologist. Interested in the pediatric part neurology mostly, but I love any brain,” you smiled. Youth still beaming on your cheeks.

“Fresh meat. Wilson is gonna love you,” he, who you now knew as House, smirked at you. Eyes checking out your whole figure. This was the first eye roll you gave him ever.

“That your wife or something?”

House chuckled, “More like boy-toy with benefits.”

House could see the shock on your face. Eyes windowing into how fast your brain processed the information. Of course you had assumed he was hitting on you, surprised that he was batting for the other team.

“I’m kidding. He’s an Oncologist here,” House deadpanned. Your hand slid down your face. Already annoyed by him. Face contorting as you tried to read him. He was like a page freshly typed that had water spilt on it. Unable to be properly interpreted. He was challenging you. Seeing how you handled his humor and behavior.

“For Christ’s sake. You young people and not being able to take a joke,” he generalized with a wave of his hand.

You squinted at him. Really taking the time to try and understand him. “You’re kinda an asshole, aren’t you?”

House’s brows sprung up his forehead. Laughing from how shocked he was at your assumption. Pointing to himself as he spoke, “That’s rather forward of you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. So is your eyes all over my breasts, but you don’t see me getting offended,” you shrugged, gesturing towards your chest with two hands. House’s brow knitted together as he tried to fight off the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. My God, he had met his match.

House clicked his tongue as he leaned forward with both hands on his cane. Eyes narrowing in on you. How your hand sat on your hip with confidence only people like him possessed. “Arrogance isn’t pretty on you,” House dared insult.

“Ooo, what else?” You mocked, agging him along.

House’s tongue glazed over his teeth, air puffing out of his nose with what could have been a laugh.

“Do you think your boyfriend will find it pretty?” You tilted your head with your question, trying your hardest to rile him up. Fluttering your lashes sensually at him.

House backed off. Smiling widely with his teeth, "Come down to the cafeteria with me."

You glared at him. One of many times where he would make you smile. His charm worked on you, and you liked it. You liked him. You always had. Even with the insults. The belittlement. His misogynistic way of complimenting you. It all made him House.

And you loved that.

Doors to the elevator opened. Forcing you out of the fond memory. Into a reality that you were much not caring for. Wishing you could grab your old self and shake her out of the infatuated haze. Warn her of how severe of a heartache she would experience at the hands of the diagnostician.

Ghosting down the mostly vacant hallway. Strange compared to your memory. Opening the door to your office. Safe space for you amongst the uncertainties. Appreciating it now more than ever. Giving you so many good stories and bad. Cases that ranged from tragedy to triumphant news. You had packed most of it up the days leading up to your departure. Preparing to leave this all behind.

Surprised to see a small box with an envelope underneath it on your desk. Beautiful red ribbon wrapped into a bow on top. You smiled. Assuming it had to be from Wilson or Cuddy. Now your only two friends. Ripping open the envelope and pulling out the piece of notebook paper. Small, with messy handwriting on it.

"Congratulations. I hope Boston is good to you. I love you."

Was all it said. Cracking open the box to find the prettiest necklace you had ever laid your eyes on. Holding up a dew-drop shaped gem. Shimmering from the office lights. Finding yourself gawking at the expensive chain that encapsulated it. Dainty and perfect to wear casually. Resembling one you liked from an older movie.

No name was attached anywhere to the gift. Striking you as strange, but you had a lot to get done before your flight. So you chose to ignore it. Going on about things like any normal day. Assuring your patients that they would be properly cared for in your absence. Catching up with Cuddy in time to grab a quick bite to eat together.

"Pretty necklace. Who got you that?"

Your brows upturned, "I... don't know. I thought it had to be you or Wilson. Guess it's the latter."

"Hmm," she sounded unsure.

You would have to thank Wilson before you left.

The day flew by. Wilson sat in your office. Insisting on driving you to the airport. Despite how hard you objected, it was 'his job as your friend' to see you off. He held your suitcase, waiting for you to finally be ready to leave.

"Come on, you Bostonian! We've got to get you to the airport," Wilson said in a sing-song voice.

You stared out the window. Sunset always beautiful from here. You fiddled with your thumbs. Weighing it all in your mind. Envisioning a new life for yourself in Boston. Unfamiliar and incomplete faces. Only able to put some shitty-over the top Boston accent with them, like the ones they would do on Saturday Night Live. No matter how perfectly you imagined them, they would never live up to the friends you made here. Even in your fantasy, where you tried to picture a future with a husband and children.

It was House.

Every time. Wearing a nice black suit and a bright colored tie as you locked arms with him, stunning white dress flowing down your figure. Flower peddles fluttering around your heads as your closest friends all cheered you on. His hands would grasp your face as he kissed you. That lovesick expression of his warming your heart. He would kiss you goodnight and tuck himself in beside you. Imagining trying to pretend you were both still asleep when little pitter-patters of footsteps would enclose on your bedroom door. His finger would push against his lips to shush you. Knowing the minute your sweet child would call out to you, both of you would fold. Inviting them into the warmth with you. And he loved you. Really loved you.

Wilson's hand on your shoulder brought you back. Looking over and meeting his dark eyes. Forcing a smile with an exhale. "You're gonna be late," Wilson chided. You shook your head, closing the blinds and circling your desk.

"I meant to thank you," you said as you put your coat on.

"For?"

"The necklace," your fingers outlined the metal.

"I didn't get you a necklace," Wilson responded, confused.

Skin pinching together between your eyebrows. Holding the pedant a little tighter than before. Not understanding who could have dropped this off in your office. Brain refusing to connect the obvious dots.

"Hmp," you mumbled. A thoughtful gesture accompanied by an even kinder note. Fighting your body's urge to sprint down to your suspect's office. It would only make your decision harder. Make everything complicated. You could not do that. Not when you were this close to your escape.

You and Wilson turned the lights off in your office and headed for the elevator. Opting out of your usual shared stair walk, seeing as you were having to carry luggage. Doors opening to the lobby. Cold from the constant opening of doors. A soft shiver went down your spine.

"Alright," Wilson said as you headed for the door, "Forgetting anything?"

That question made you freeze. Looking down at your finger. The same band and gem glistening. You were forgetting something. Completely leaving it behind. Tears finding their place along your waterline again. Closing your eyes and clinching your fist.

Why could he not come tell you goodbye? Why did he not even try to get you to stay? He never was a beggar, but maybe this once he could have been. Just to get you back.

That fucking bastard.

"No," you said softly.

Walking out into the now dark exterior. Cloudy sky blocking any natural lighting. Only the bright neon of your home. Soon to be a memory replaced by a new one.

"I'm going to go get the car," Wilson pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. Leaving you alone with your bags. Allowing your demeanor to change once your friend was out of site. Shoulders slumping, head falling in exhaustion. Having to fake excitement and joy for your new beginnings all day. None of this went how you wanted. Change was always so hard on you. But was it not on everyone?

"Y/N," a voice called out to you from the entry doors of the hospital. Turning to meet him. Your name from his tongue almost sounding fake. Wrong. Speedily, he walked over to you. Cane echoing against the silent courtyard.

Heart overflowing in your chest when you could finally make a clear image of his face. Agitated lines etched into his face. Misty eyes imploring you to delve headfirst into them. Teeth locked together while heavy breaths filled his lungs.

"I'm selfish. And cynical. And rude. An-And all around, I'm not a good guy," House presented to you. Words only angering you further. Arms crossing over your chest as you popped a hip out. Head falling to the side as you examined him.

"House—"

"Just," he abruptly cut you off, "Listen to me. Every bad thing you think of me is true. And I have done nothing to make you think anything different in the last month. My leg hurts if I think about you too long. Throbs beyond any pill's cure. Because it needs you. I need you. Even if you don't need me."

You stared blankly at him. Unyielding guard around you after one too many disappointments. Cold and distant as you looked at him. Unsure how any of this was supposed to sway you.

"But you've still got that ring on. And that has to mean something," House gestured, like it took everything in him to finally get to the point. Fist clinching at your side, thumb rubbing over the band. A crack in your shield. One he could weasel his way into. Under your skin and back into your heart.

Your eyes welled up. Blank expression falling into a sob. Palms cupping your face as your shoulders quivered. "Why couldn't you have came by earlier? Brought me the necklace yourself. Said what you wrote to my face," voice defeated and broken.

His hand reached out to you, "Y/N—"

"Don't touch me! You don't get to do this to me," finally allowing the damn of hatred to burst. "Do nothing but avoid and belittle me to the entire hospital for a month. Just at the idea of me leaving. Look where that got us! You are nothing more than a self-sabotaging man-child. I am not going to continue to cater to your fantasy anymore, House. I can't do this with you for the rest of my life," you shouted as your arms straightened at your sides.

House's posture straightened. Apologetic orbs falling hooded as they looked at you. Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he silently swallowed. Fighting back the choke that tickled the back of his pallet. Nostrils flailing as he repressed any sadness that dared gather around his eyes.

You quickly removed the ring from your finger. Pinching it between two fingers as you held it out to him. Hands and breathing shaky. Hot tears burned down your cheeks. Lip quivering as you shook it in his face, "Take it. It's not mine anymore."

House refused to move. A singular stream of tears dripping from his eyes. Lips sealed as he shook his head. Vein on his forehead bulging as his eyes grew bloodshot. His lip barely pouting out like a child who had just been scolded.

"It's yours," House's voice was not above a whisper. Crestfallen publicly for one of the first times. Refuting any claims you had about the ring not being yours. He had it specialty made for you. Your initials were engraved on the band. His directly next to it. The gem he had chosen to match the month you fell in love. Every aspect was you. Meant for you in every way possible.

You aggressively grabbed his wrist, prying his fingers open and placing it in his hand. Closing the digits over it. Nails digging into his skin momentarily. “All this is is a reminder. Of this place. Of what I’m leaving behind. Of… you. I can’t take this with me,” you heaved.

The first time you had touched him in over a month.

Exuding nothing but hatred towards him.

He had really messed things up with you. And how could he blame you for being angry?

"You can't even tell me you love me when I'm about to literally fly away from you," you growled, drowned by tears.

"I do."

"Then say it, Greg!"

Daunting silence.

Your eyes burned as you squinted at him. Saddened by his lack of devotion. You could be down on your hands and knees. It would not change this.

Sound of the car door closing behind you made you look over your shoulder. Wilson’s eyes stared at you across the short distance. Assessing what was happening between the two of you. Deciding to not insert himself, packing your bags into the trunk of his car.

“I’m leaving,” you said shortly. He was the love of your life. A regret you would have for the rest of your life. There was no world where you did not need him. Your missing piece, but you could not live like this. And this was the only way he knew how to live.

Dying for a last ditch effort from him.

Anything.

You walked away for the final time. Sniffling back your tears. Meeting Wilson who had the passenger door open for you. Taking your seat in your friend’s car. Looking out the window to see House standing there pathetically. His hand raised in a final goodbye wave. What felt like miles away.

Wilson glared as he circled around to his side of the car. Taking his place behind the wheel. Looking at your now puffy cheeks. Admiring that even at what he imagined was your lowest, you still tried to compose yourself. Looking over and smiling at him.

“Alright, taxi driver. I’ve got a flight to catch,” you chuckled.

A mostly silent ride accompanied you. Pulling to a stop in front of the large glass doors. Families reuniting and departing. People holding signs. People having clearly heated phone calls. A place laced with every emotion you could experience. It was beautiful.

“Okay! I’ll help you get your bags out, but car’s gotta keep running. They get pissed if you park here for too long,” Wilson joked.

“Thank you, James,” you exhaled. Smiling at your comrade. Unpacking and sitting it all on the concrete curb. Standing with his hands on his hips in front of you.

You pulled him into a deep hug. He was the best friend you had. Wilson’s hand patted your back, squeezing you tightly.

“I’ll come visit,” Wilson said softly. He had been acting tough through all of this for you. Faking being unbothered by the fact you were abandoning him. Through thick and thin, he had you. This was going to be hard on him.

You pulled away with tears staining your face again. Becoming like second nature to you as of late. Smiling widely at him. “I love you, James. I can’t stop thanking you for everything,” you admitted.

“Love you too,” he said with melancholy.

Waving goodbye as you rushed into the airport. Wheels of your suitcase bumping against the ground with each step. You should have fixed the wheel before traveling, but you had more important things on your mind. Long process getting through everything and finding your terminal. Taking your seat against a window. Glow of the runway illuminating through the tiny glass. Putting headphones on to drown out all the rattling and bangs of takeoff.

To Boston.

~~~

The weekend conference had flown by. Attending lectures with doctors you never knew you would share a room with. Never thinking this level of success was within reach for you.

And maybe it was not.

Everyone who had been invited here was brilliant. Innovative and well-spoken. Beloved by all your fellow doctors. Inspiring the next generation. Things you were not sure you possessed. Finding yourself comparing to all those around you. Imposter syndrome wrapping you in its veil. Even when board members would recognize you and thank you for attending. Inviting you to each special lecture. Wanting you to feel accepted and honored, yet it only pushed you further away.

Separating yourself from who was supposed to become your new colleagues. Not clicking with any of them in a way that made you comfortable. Each field having their own clicks and groups. Not being welcomed in by any of them. Especially when they saw you speaking exclusively with board members.

It was all trivial.

You were here for work.

Yet something still buzzed in the back of your mind. Maybe this was not what you wanted.

Imaging yourself here no longer brought joy and comfort. Praying you would fall in love with Boston Children’s Hospital and its staff. Yet you had never felt more like an outsider in your own field.

But you had to want this. You had been so willing to leave everything else behind. Burning bridges beyond repair. Uprooting your life just for this opportunity.

Maybe it was not worth it.

You walked over a nearby bridge with another group of doctors. Finally being asked about yourself. What made you come to Boston? Oh, wow. That’s a serious change to make within a few weeks. What field were you in? Of course, they had an incredible neurologist heading the department before he up and left. No one was going to replace him in their hearts! Had they heard of any of your research before? Yeah, that sounds really important.

How could some strangers make you feel so small? When you had been built up so highly by the board? This was humiliating.

Parting ways with them in front of the hospital. Waving goodbye as they all laughed to some joke you did not overhear. Sighing and allowing yourself to shrink for a moment. Stepping in a circle as you stared up at the bright lights.

They promised you new beginnings. An out for a situation it had gotten you into. You had enjoyed exploring the halls. Seeing the smiling nurses and patients. All the advanced tech that lined their rooms. Incredibly impressed by how far ahead technologically they were. Funding was high here.

Still. You could only compare it to your home. No instant connection like you had with PPTH.

Maybe you could stay the same forever. Jumping headfirst at every chance of freedom. Fleeing whenever you felt that familiar itch in your bones. The only reason you had so swiftly made up your mind to begin with. There was a comfort in running. Escaping anytime you felt trapped. It was the final night of your trip. You needed to make your mind up and fast.

But. What if it was time to settle down? Warmth overtaking you when you thought of a mundane life. Early morning kisses. Breakfast in bed on the weekends. A baby cradled in your arms. Husband kissing you both on the head. It would not fulfill you anymore than your work had. Yet you found solace in the idea. It was a nice thought after all.

You turned your back to the building. Looking up at the night sky. Clearer than it was in Jersey. Stars still blurred from pollution. Yet they twinkled. Despite all the disgusting smog and reflection of lights.

Your back pocket vibrated. Fetching the small device out. The name illuminating the screen stunning you. Hesitating for only a split second before flipping it open and pressing it to your ear.

Unable to force any words out. Hearing him breathing on the other end causing your heart to flutter.

“Hi, Greg,” you exhaled, relief clear on your tone. Almost like you had been holding your breath without realizing. Surprised he even wanted to call you after how you had treated him last.

“How’s Boston?”

Straight to the point. Never one for pleasantries. Always brash and direct.

“It’s… good,” you lowly said. The words sounding fake as you said them. Propping your elbow in your hand to make holding the phone up more comfortable. Swaying side to side in an attempt to keep yourself warm against the cold breeze.

“Good…” he trailed off, repeating the word with the same conviction you did. Clearly having more to say, but holding his tongue.

“Feel like home?”

You laughed, “No. It never could.”

House chuckled in response. Your shared humor mellowing out into a comfortable silence. Feeling like it used to before this whole mess started.

“It’s nice… to hear your voice again,” you admitted, allowing any shame to roll off your body. Your love for him outweighing your anger. Missing him more than you ever would have led on. Especially this side of him.

“Yours too…” you could hear his smile with each word. “Think you’re gonna stay?”

You hummed. Uncertainty in your vocals. Lip scrunching up with your eye as you thought. Not wanting to lead him on about anything. Knowing few things could sway your mind.

“I don’t know,” you breathed. Eyes falling closed. Images in your mind blurring. Incapable of picturing yourself in Boston.

“Yeah…”

“I kinda miss Jersey. I miss… you guys,” you admitted. Hurting your ego, but it needed to be said.

“I miss you,” House said casually. Shooting an arrow through your heart. Pooping as it caused your blood to flow toward your cheeks. Smiling like it was the first time you had ever been complimented. Knowing he did not just mean from this weekend. He missed you. Every day with you. Distance you had over the last month causing him distress.

You sighed, “It’s not home.”

Those words solidifying the decision you had been teetering on. Voice not above a whisper when you heard more footsteps outside. Not wanting to sound ungrateful to any passersby. Clicking clueing you in that it could be a board member in her fancy shoes.

“Then come home,” deep, gentle words melted down your figure. Causing you to jump when they came from directly behind you. Turning to see him. Figure towering over his cane. Sophisticated hat atop his head. Wearing an overcoat and jeans. Familiar smile across his face.

Your phone dropped out of your hand as you rushed over to him. Tears flowing freely when you jumped into his arms. Knocking him off balance, but making sure you kept both of you standing. Your face tucking into his chest as half breaths escaped you. His large hand cupped the back of your head.

“It’s really you,” you exhaled. Leaning back to cup both sides of his face. Thumbs tracing along each worry line and scruffy hair. Grasping him tight as if some outside force would rip him away in an instant. Eyes wide and finally getting the life back in them.

“Pretty girl,” he cooed, his own thumb wiping away your tears. Hooded eyes lovingly looked into yours. Head tilting slightly as he took in each feature. Waterline stained from how much you had cried. Somehow more beautiful than the last time he saw you.

“Greg, h-how? Why are you here?”

“You know Wilson and I will come up with any excuse for a roadtrip,” House smiled. Cocky grin overtaking his expression as his brows raised. Pulling a laugh from you. Tucking your face into his chest to hide how your face scrunched up. His heart flourished hearing you. Comforting sound that had became a distant memory. You softly shoved his shoulder with your hand.

Doeing your eyes up at him. Lashes wet with joy. Both of you breathing in tandem. Your hands flattened against his shoulders. His now cupped your face. Darting between each other’s eyes.

“I love you,” House said.

You mouthed words that did not escape. Brows upturning. Glossy eyes filled with sincerity. He meant it. Deep down, he always had.

“I love you too,” you admitted. Capturing you in a deep kiss. As if you had been lost at sea and he finally got his eyes on you. Desperate and filled with desire.

“You came all this way to tell me that?” you chuckled, your hand joining his on your cheek.

“What can I say? I’m a romantic,” House shrugged, lips pierced together. Earning a giggle from you. Body instinctively following his as he pulled away. Eyes saddening for a moment as you watched him drop his cane.

House began to take one knee before you. Kneejerk reaction to stop him. Hands waving frantically. Cringing when his face contorted in discomfort. Wincing under his breath as he shimmied through his coat pocket. Presenting your ring back to you. Pinched between shaking fingers. Yearning, ocean eyes gazing into yours.

“You deserve a proper proposal,” House muttered. “Y/N. I love you. More than I will ever be able to show you. I-I love you so much… it hurts. But I would do it all in pain, as long as it’s with you. I want you to be my wife,” House said with vicious valor. Meaning every single word. Pouring his heart out to you in the most vulnerable way possible. Regretting not doing this all sooner.

Your hands tented over your mouth. Nodding profusely. Reaching out to help him to his feet, trying to minimize the pain. Wincing again as he finally got footing, handing him his cane once more. Allowing him to put his weight on it.

He reached for your left hand, sliding the ring on your finger. Where it belonged. Designed and custom made for you. His love.

Lips connecting once more. He greeted you with a toothy grin when you pulled back. Reciprocating as you laced your fingers together.

A weight lifted off your shoulders. Encapsulating you with warmth and love. Acceptance that it was okay to be happy where you were. Not having to chase the next high. This was better than what any board member could offer you.

“Wilson should be parked up front,” House pointed. Guiding you to the place your best friend was located. Watching his figure do a double take from the inside of his car. Fumbling as he got out of the vehicle and met you and House halfway. Smiling widely at you both. Happy to see your face once more.

Wilson pulled you into a hug, hand never leaving House’s. Still too afraid of never feeling it in your own again. “When you said you would come visit I thought you meant in a few weeks, not two days,” you laughed. Poking fun at him.

Wilson’s hand rubbed the back of his neck. Chuckling with amusement, “I couldn’t resist a trip to bring you home.”

Overwhelmed with the love presented to you from them. Your found-family. The ones you loved and cared for most. Using their best efforts to bring you back to them. Cup overflowing with gratitude and appreciation.

“You are coming with us, right?” Wilson double-checked.

You nodded, “How could I not?”

House pulled you tighter against his side. Planting a kiss against your head. Engulfed by the smell of your shampoo. It was all the little things he missed.

“I just need to swing by the hotel and get my stuff. And we can go,” you giddily said, motioning a takeoff with your hands.

“Eager, aren’t you? I thought we’d catch another lecture or two. Heard Dr. Who-Knows-What is here, I’d love to hear her presentation,” House chided. Sense of humor never lost on him. Smiling with his teeth widely when you rolled your eyes at him.

There she was. His girl.

“I’ll give you the ‘for dummies’ version on the ride home,” you poked him in the side. Making him wriggle and exclaim an ‘OW!’ that would have gotten the attention of any strangers. You quickly forced your palm over his mouth to shut him up. A warm, wet tongue lapped at your palm. Causing you to shake your hand vigorously, “GROSS!”

“Ooh. You’re acting like my cock hasn’t been in your mouth,” House smirked. Your face flooded with heat immediately. Jaw slacking as he laughed.

Wilson scoffed. Unamused by both your childish antics. Not surprised with the casual way House spoke about your sex life. He had missed this.

“Okay, lovebirds. Let’s go,” Wilson motioned towards the parking lot with his whole body. Hurrying you both along.

Whipping your head to look at House, “Shotgun.”

You stuck your tongue out as you ran towards the car.

“Oh, come on now! That’s not fair—“ House whined, “Challenging a cripple to a foot race? You should be ashamed!”

“I’m not!” you quipped as you quickly opened the door.

House smiled. Wilson giving him a knowing glance over his shoulder. Laughing at House’s defeat. Joining you in the vehicle, House leaned between the two front seats.

“I was hoping you’d get in the back with me. I’ve got a welcome home present for you,” he wiggled his eyebrows and motioned towards his groin. Your hands hid your face from the embarrassment. Groaning loudly. A soft ‘Jesus’ coming from Wilson.

“You’re such a pervert!”

“And you love me,” House poked your cheek. You leaned to look back at him. Eyes full of love for you as he smiled. You blew a kiss at him.

The ride home was long. Filled with sing-a-longs and pointless discussions. House arguing about some tv show he was watching. Neither you are Wilson really disagreeing, but you knew he liked a good argument. Wilson would make fun of you when a new pop song would play and you knew the words. House’s fingers would rub your shoulders from the backseat, any excuse to touch you. Long digits playing with the necklace he had gifted you. Familiar tug of sleep wrapping around you, but you were too afraid. What if you woke up and this was all just a dream?

You shouted when you crossed back over the New Jersey line. Alarming your fellow riders. House reciprocating the shout simply to annoy Wilson. Everything suddenly becoming more familiar. You knew the way back and it felt like home.

“You guys just want to stay at my place tonight?” Wilson asked as you got closer to your destination. Your arm was bent backwards so that you and House could interlock fingers. Holding hands was one of his favorite things to do. Analyzing and learning your digits. They were just so you. Alive and beautiful.

“Awww. Missed me so bad you wanna hawve a sweepovwer?” you teased Wilson with a pucker of lips.

“You’re an ass,” Wilson groaned.

“Don’t talk to my lady that way!” House defended jokingly.

“I would love to stay with you tonight,” you yawned. Eyelids growing heavy. Nuzzling your face into the leather seat. Not admitting how much of a comfort it would be to have the two most important people in your life under the same roof as you for your first night home. Even if it was nearly 1 a.m. right now.

House kissed your hand. Resting his cheek against your conjoined appendages. Pulling onto the street beside Wilson’s home. Warm yellow glow from the inside inviting you in. House opened the door for you, offering your tired body a hand. Leading you to Wilson’s front door. And of course, he fumbled with the keys. Taking his time to unlock it. Your sleep being withheld from you a little longer.

Wilson pushed the door open to allow you inside first. Flabbergasted by the sight that greeted you. Balloons scattered across the floor, streamers hanging on every surface, and a ‘Welcome Home’ banner hung up perfectly in your line of sight. Eyes meeting Cuddy standing in the kitchen, hands clasped together as she bounced with excitement.

“Surprise!” she shouted and rushed over to you. Wrapping you in a tight hug.

“Hi, Lisa,” you exasperated.

“Thank God these two idiots didn’t come back empty handed. Probably would’ve given them both extra clinic duty,” she ragged, “I’m so happy you’re back.”

“You guys didn’t have to do all this for me,” you blushed. Looking over to House and Wilson. Both smiling and happy to see you doing the same.

“There’s some pizza in the oven and champagne in the refrigerator if you are up for celebrating,” Cuddy suggested.

You shook your head. Completely awestruck. Convinced you were completely replaceable in everyone’s heart, but you were sorely mistaken. You would never find such incredible colleagues— friends, as you had here. At home.

“Of course,” you admitted. Grinning from ear to ear.

The four of you celebrating for hours. Catching up from your short absence. Telling them all about Boston Children’s Hospital. All the incredible tech they had, and how large the hospital truly was. Food tasting incredible, not even thinking that you had forgotten dinner. Champagne buzzing against your cheeks. Wilson and Lisa were quick to pass out. Exhaustion hitting them like a bus. Asleep in the living room, so you decided to take Wilson’s guest room.

The room was dark. Light shining in from the partially opened blinds. Yellow hue of a street lamp illuminating your face as you stared at House. Laying on top of the comforter together. Hands flat in front of your faces. Taking the time to be alone together. Dancing your hand up his cheek, softly through his hair, and cupping his neck. Thumb tracing his jawline. Tickled by the pokey facial hair.

Sleep had its hooks in you. Blinks becoming slower. Covering your mouth when a yawn broke free. House chuckled, “You can sleep.”

“Noooo,” you whined, “I’m not even tired.”

His hand petted through your hair. Smiling at your denial. As much as he wanted you to stay awake and keep talking to him, he knew you had to be exhausted. Heavy lidded eyes barely peaking up at him as your lips parted with small breaths escaping.

House pressed a kiss into your forehead, “I will be here when you wake up.”

You reached out for his hand. Squeezing it between your own. Checking to make sure it was all real. That he was there and not a dream.

“I love you, Greg.”

“I love you too.”

~~~

[END/Final]

// Thank you so much for reading! This chapter ended up being quite a bit longer than I had originally planned, but I got everything in I wanted. I have truly fallen in love with this story and it is one of my favorite fics I’ve ever written. To all of you who have kept up with it and supported me, I love you! If I could give you all a big hug and kiss I would. As always, requests are open. Comments and Reblogs are appreciated! //

{tags}

@houseslollipop ~ @megangovier ~ @iwmflbb ~ @yourgirlcarol ~ @needz1nk ~ @crimin4llyins4ne ~ @bitchy-bi-trash ~ @chaimshelii ~ @cailleachcola ~ @shutthefrickup ~ @dustie-faerie ~ @vincentnaj ~ @vlyrexsworld ~ @thefemininemystiquee ~ @amandarobertsboyce ~

[cassiebones]

Character Analysis: Lilia Calderu

Lilia is the eldest witch in the coven by over a hundred years (except possibly Rio). She knows a lot about Agatha's history, so she was probably there, but her vision shows us a medieval history. Others say that she's royalty. If not, she was very wealthy. And she's Sicilian, so she grew up wealthy since Sicily was pretty prosperous.

She has endured so much. She is a Divination witch, so she can see bits of the future. I feel like she has trouble sometimes discerning the future from the present, so she often tries to stop things while still having her visions, calling out disjointed phrases that don't all make it to the real world (I pray this comes into plot in the future to show that Alice is not, in fact, dead and that it was just a vision) and scaring others.

She is a Cassandra-type character, so nobody really listens to what she has to say before it's too late. When it is too late, she is played.

Also see: Bruno Madrigal.

Anyway, girl has more trauma in her pinky finger than most covens have combined. She's been chased from city to city all over Europe and South America before finally making a home in the continental US.

As previously stated, she was likely there when Agatha was attacked by her coven. She probably knew what they were planning, probably tried to warn Evanora about what would happen, but the old bitch would just not listen. Maybe she even wanted to warn Agatha, but she was too late.

Besides, nobody ever listens to the ramblings of a madwoman.

So she watched this all go down. She heard the whispers in the witch's circles, listened to her coven talk about what went down and how horrible and evil Agatha Harkness must be to kill her own coven.

She may even had defended Agatha a little: "Well at least she spared the children," she might have said, upon learning that--against tradition--Agatha didn't finish off the witches' bloodlines.

"But they'll now grow up without mothers to teach them how to properly harness their magic!" would have been a retort. "What are they to do now?!"

Lilia has no answer to that.

So she leaves her coven, seen as a witch-killer sympathizer, and remains covenless until the present time. She tries to join covens, but the way her powers manifest is...odd. It puts others off, they ignore her warnings, and then they blame her for what happens when they ignore her warnings. She starts trying to suppress her magic, watches the witch hunts all over, her faith in humanity dwindling as well as her bank account.

Soon enough, she's broke and trying to cash in on several side hustles, becoming a charlatan. She hates it.

She, like Agatha, took pride in her studies. She knows all the history and the languages and everything there is to know about witchcraft and how witches have been unfairly persecuted from day one. She lights candles for all the friends she's lost, asking the Divine Mother to look after their souls, to protect them against any who might sully their names.

She still gets visions, but she ignores them as best as she can. She's just surviving at this point, not living.

Then Agatha walks in, putting on an Razzie-worthy performance and Lilia can see right through it, but she takes the kid's money anyway. Rent was due weeks ago and she's already being evicted, but any bit of change can help.

How far she's fallen, she thinks.

She has always had empathy for the younger witches, always tried to be a mentor to them, remarking how lucky it is that they live in a time where they can be mostly free from persecution now. Where they can also love who they want to love and be who they want to be. Where they have the support of their friends and many public figures.

I have no idea about Lilia's sexuality, but I want to believe she's loved women in her past. She strikes me as a spinster type who may have entered into her fair share of "Boston Marriages". But nobody stuck around for long, unwilling to put up with her kooky visions.

I want to believe that she had a great love at one point, maybe a mortal woman. Maybe when she was a teenager, still practicing magic. That they were pretty much soul mates, intent on running away from their wealthy and influential families.

But it didn't work out. And Lilia thinks about her when she sees the yearning between Rio and Agatha. It's obvious the way they feel for each other and she wants to shout at them to just kiss and make up already, before it's too late.

But she stays quiet, because nobody listens to the madwoman.

(Also Rio fucking scares her)

[apeekintothepantry]

Meet Violet Fielding, my original historical character from 1918 Boston!

I've been doing some workshopping with my custom historical characters because I've been a little bored with AG's historical offerings of late, and because it's a fun excuse to dig into moments in time that interest me personally, but AG probably wouldn't produce a similar character themselves. (I say that, but my 1940's Hawaii character predates Nanea, so who knows! Maybe I'm manifesting some future stuff I can borrow for my gals.)

Violet is the youngest of three siblings. Her older sister Alice is in her early 20's and either a nurse or a Hello Girl, leaning towards nursing because I'm not sure I want her to go overseas and she could work at a hospital in Boston during the war. Her older brother James is 19 and enlists in the Marines once the US enters World War I. I think by Violet Saves the Day, he's returned home dealing with quite a bit of "shellshock" and that becomes a somewhat major theme.

Her parents are pretty wealthy, and the family lives in a brownstone on Beacon Hill in Boston. Her dad is a doctor and mom is a suffragist who also gets involved in causes supporting the war effort. Both parents are very supportive of their kids following their passions and getting themselves out there in this still relatively new century, which is why Alice has been allowed to go to school instead of immediately marrying some wealthy guy.

Vi herself is a precocious and creative kid. I think she likes to draw and paint and generally be crafty and creative, which comes in handy when brainstorming ways she can support her brother overseas and the war effort more broadly. While she's not afraid to get her hands dirty, she does like typically girly things like having teatime and looking at catalogs filled with new dresses. Her book series would theoretically cover 1917 through 1919 or so, and touch on the war, Women's Suffrage, the Spanish Flu, shellshock, and possibly the Boston Molasses Disaster.

Currently I'm trying to come up with a best friend character for her, as she really needs a Nellie or Ruthie in her life with the age difference and both siblings being off doing exciting and scary things without her. There are a lot of different directions I could go in with said friend - fellow wealthy-ish kid feels boring, Boston had a lot of new immigrant communities in the 1910's, some of whom did live in a specific part of Beacon Hill, Boston historically struggles with insidious covert racism but was still a city with a number of prominent Black and Jewish communities - and nothing's quite clicked as perfect just yet.

Violet is a Marie-Grace doll with a Nanea wig. Someone was selling her on a Facebook group a few years ago and I immediately felt like she was a Violet and needed to join my crew. Her last name was inspired by Lady Dorothie Fielding, a British woman who drove an ambulance during WWI and received several awards for bravery and service. Fielding's letters home were published after her death and are a really fascinating look at what it was like on the front lines doing this incredibly dangerous and important work. I used it as a major primary source for an educational interactive I helped develop in one of my previous jobs.

[socksbro1]

Date: April 24th, 2025

Beta Features

I decided that I should explain a little what Beta can do. I have been ignoring them for a while, and it seems they have gotten sulky without any attention. I made sure to apologize, and the seem to have taken it well.

Beta is what I would call a Mechanical Elemental. Their Cube acts as a sort of core for their machinery, while the rest looks like someone built a sculpture out of old pieces of tech. They are able to move these mechanisms in ways that are technically impossible, turning hinges like ball joints or using a hydraulic to pull on a limb. It’s unsettling to look too closely at.

Currently, their layout looks like a Boston Dynamics Dog, but I have witnessed them reshape into a solid cube, an actual drone, a robotic arm, and a small rover reminiscent of a Battle Bot. All of these shapes seemed to act as guidelines, as Beta regularly extended small arms to grab items, sheets of metal to block “attacks” from Delta, and even an electromagnet, when their charging cord got too far away from them.

Beta loves being charged, and I have seen them attempt to eat batteries when I’m not looking. They don’t seem to understand how to get power from anything but their charger, though. Those batteries usually end up back where they were, looking like someone put them through a wood chipper.

Beta is able to create digital files by manifesting intake systems. They can record audio, video, seismological data, geographic location, and gyroscopic data. They can also form methods of output, like speakers, screens, and infrared emitters. They have managed to figure out airdrop during testing, and I now have several audio recordings of them asking for food with static buzzing in the background.

Honestly, if Beta wasn’t so obsessed with consuming power, I might see if I could use them as a laptop. However, I don’t trust them to not email our location to everyone who promises them energy. They have amazing power, but very little motivation. Now if I could

One moment, I’m getting a call.

They just figured out how to use a telephone. God help us all.

Pleasant Day,

Tester

[felldragon]

what are some of your favorite headcanons? can be about any series/media/fandom :)

ohhhh good question!!! ;__; i have a lot of headcanons for like... every series i get into ........ i'll list a few that are particularly near and dear to my heart....

immortal volo....... i had this hc since the game came out. maybe even before then. it's hard to remember. but it's probably because i'm influenced by the blanket of characters he's similar to in my mind....... it's a really cool hc and i've seen So many interpretations of it over the years. it's one i sincerely hope is true.

grima's sweet tooth which Isn't a headcanon anymore because feh confirmed it... thanks feh. but yeah he's very gap moe i stand by this forever and ever.

kieran has a shiny dusk lycanroc that he raised from a rockruff - it was his first pokemon. + he got to keep terapagos. these are the laws of the land. you just have to trust me...

astrals from gbf all have slightly pointy ears. one of those hcs that i always have to remember isn't real. Unfortunately.

merlin from fgo is blind. this one is simply because i am Blind and i love to throw that hc on my faves but this one is Very Special. i did write up some words on how it manifests here. :}

i'm a strong believer of manakete robin but that's because i have Extensive thoughts on robin equating grima but regardless i will forever say robin has Vague manakete traits.

Way Too Long to Put In One Post but my entire forneus backstory... which i honestly need to refine a bit more since it's Old (4 years. By The Gods)... tl;dr Guy who wanted his alchemy to save people got taken advantage of and he fell into depravity. also his hair was originally brown but it turned white due to stress + transmutation shenanigans....... and that Stuck with the fellblood lineage... if you had white in your hair Congrats you are a likely vessel... oh and this one is fun. he transmuted his own emotions to gain more knowledge. This guy is so normal but fire emblem will not tell you that. 👍

kind of a headcanon but kind of more of an allusion? but jr. + albedo xenosaga feel system-coded to me. with the way they were Once One and refer to each other as halves of the same self... Yeah. i wouldn't say they're a system canonically but i definitely feel it's easy to see that they can be a stand-in for dissociative stuff.

n pokemon's chosen Beast of Choice is reshiram. seeker of truth real. you heard it here first. but if i had to live in a perfect world he'd get both dragons... those are his Puppies

klaus xenoblade is from long island. is this one a joke? no one knows... but in all seriousness, i do believe morytha is somewhere in the northeast us. likely boston. route 90 you haunt me forever...

thank you for asking... this one was very fun to answer even if it's a bit personal. i am headcanonman666666

[blindoldmystery]

ִ ࣪𖤐 : mister e info post

please be mindful, this post contains mentions of : abuse, general villainy, and some hatred toward jolly englishman john constantine.

⌗ this character is a mish-mash of the many versions created by dc and vertigo comics. many things were modified and bent to my own whims.

mister e, born erik dauphine, never quite had it easy. born in olive branch, mississippi, erik's family was primarily very shunned from their community in behalf of his father's incredibly reckless behavior. erik grew up with a sister and a mother, who was mostly the target of many of his father's physically abusive behavior. a broken household, many of erik's beliefs and values were shaped through the things he'd witnessed as a child. as erik got older, he soon found himself to be the center of his father's abuse, primarily due to his quiet personality and his lack of fight.

when he was about sixteen years old, erik engaged in a physical altercation with his father over his drinking enduced belligerent behavior toward his sister. erik suffered an incredibly traumatic brain injury that damaged his optical nerve, ending in blindness. despite this, erik found himself able to see the auras of other people— the inherent good and bad in others. his gateway into his now powerful abilities, erik decided to pack it in and leave his home when he entered college.

deciding to relocate down to a rural county of mississippi, erik continued to uncover his abilities, mainly his chronokinetic powers. funding he could mess with time just by walking, a part of him succumbed into dark temptation and power. furthermore, shaped by the experiences of his childhood, he cemented the belief that all of humanity was inherently evil and dark hearted. from here, erik began to put time into his research of other powerful magicians, forming an early version of the cult of the cold flame, a brotherhood of sorcerers that could rule a chaotic earth like gods.

in his early thirties, erik was primarily known for his shut-in and mysterious nature, which often drove people away from him. among other things, it also started rumors that mostly ended out to be true ( such as him being a cultist, a magician). in july, he was visited by eileen amarantos, a young woman who'd come begging for a bargain over her baby. despite his hospitable and unnervingly gentle personality, e initially refused to have anything to do with her. however, eileen relayed the information that her daughter was unnatural, and proceeded to deal with e about her life. e chose to adopt her, only under the promise and deal that eileen would never seek her out nor come for her. to ensure this fact, e moved them both to boston only a few weeks later.

despite this, e grew a genuine fatherly love for danica, despite the idea his weakness could be exploited. he found himself suiting the role, and firmly enjoyed having somebody else to live with and teach. danica also grew to have an incredibly social and upbeat personality, which e attributed somewhat to the fact she might as well be the only decent human being in his eyes. although she isn't, e considers her to be his flesh and blood; a young lady who'd fill his shoes when he was gone. e formed the official, current cult of the cold flame when she was exceedingly young, and has never been shy about what he does. e has also frequently come in contact with people such as john constantine, who have sought to destroy his livelihood.

e currently resides in massachusetts with his teenage daughter, danica, and has progressively still been slightly known as that of a shut-in or a busy body. though his reputation proceeds him, he has all the makings of an eccentric southern gentleman... until he doesn't.

⋆ abilities :

mister e is an incredibly powerful magician who began to manifest his abilities after he was blinded by his father.

𖦹 telepathy

𖦹 chronokinesis

𖦹 occult abilities

accounts intertwined with this one :

⋆ @myster-e-gurl : mister e's pride and joy, and also his only one way ticket to knowing grocery prices.

⋆ t . b. a

⌗ mister e

mister e inclusive #'s :

⌗ danibobany

⌗ constantine [ to lure you ..... ah ah ah .. ]

⌗ dc rp tags

[misterbenzadrine]

How would be actress to Demetri's mom?, my fancast is Courteney Cox🤩

(i made a whole post replying to this and tumblr just didn't save it ????)

this is...an amazing ask actually?? and also an AMAZING fancast that i hadn't considered before, i'm gonna delve more into the implications of courtney being his mom at the end.

BUT FIRST to answer your question: i personally always fancast hilary swank as his mom !! specifically hilary playing julie pierce in the next karate kid :3

it's also really ironic that you ask this a couple weeks before i'm set to post an edit literally coming out as a julie pierce-alexopoulos truther, insanity

god dem wishes he could serve as much cunt as julie, they're both so cutie

so my justification for this is for multiple reasons.

one, julie and dem have so many similarities; personality-wise, clothing, plot-line, aesthetically, etc. which many other people have covered so i won't get too much into it but defo check those out !!

two, the boston connection. this is admitedly a really lazy reason but i think it's really cute if dem's obsession with mit/boston wasn't just to be annoying or whatever but also bc the school had significance for him. i'm thinking either his dad went there and left/died so he felt like he needed to go to be closer to him spiritually or just it being a "smart college" in boston, his mom's city, would be enough to make it have emotional significance. OR dem's dad went to mit and boston is where he and julie met each other so dem wants to be closer to a place where they were young and happy together.

three, i really wanted julie to have some tie to the current canon of tkk and, with all their similarities and references, dem is the easiest dot to connect her in (although she'd probs make more sense as an aunt or something)

so really i put them together because i'm not creative and i wanted julie to be in the main canon somehow

however comma, this is NOTHING compared to this fancast, this is insane casting, you're amazing, thank you

specifically courtney in friends is crazy casting bc monica geller (her character) is a lot like dem.

both were bullied as children and it manifested in a lot of deep-rooted anxiety and insecurity about how they rank in other people's lives. while demetri canonically doesn't care about what other people think (at least not in the sense of peer pressure to fit in) but he does care a lot about his place in the world and his friends' worlds. he resolves to accept his place as a loser but also has some abandonment issues and wants to be accepted by hawk/miguel/robby/sam. (mainly hawk but i digress) and ofc monica cares a lot about how she's perceived physically and socially

then not to mention they're both "control freaks". monica's friends mock her for obsessing over cleanliness but they don't realize it's a manifestation of all the bullying she got from her family, friends, and people she liked romantically over her weight. so she copes with the anxiety by trying to control how people will judge her based on her area. same with dem. he's really worried about being alone and when hawk starts pulling away, he freaks out and starts acting aggressively toward cobra kai, which pisses off hawk more and drives him further away. he tries to rejoin ck a couple times but he really can't get it so hawk mocks him for being weak and a loser. dem keeps trying to get hawk in miyagi do and hawk sees it as a sign of weakness or dem trying to tell him what to do but it's his way of trying to handle the situation to manage his anxiety. same with the mit fight. he wasn't forcing hawk to go to mit bc he's being controlling. mit was just the dream for so long that it's become synonymous with their friendship in dem's head. so when hawk says he's not applying, dem sees it as a sign that he's leaving him again. so their "control issues" have more to do with their anxiety and fears rather than their need to control things.

then they were both heavily disrespected by the one person they love and trust more than anyone else (chandler and hawk). i'll try not to rant but the way chandler treated/talked about monica should've banned him from ever speaking a word to her again. and we all know i can absolutely say the same about hawk with demetri.

there's so much more i can say but tldr; i personally always think of julie pierce BUT courtney cox is an amazing fancast that i may or may not steal <3

[thatgirl4815]

Only Friends Character Rankings/Analysis

I did this once at the beginning of the series and once in the middle of the series, so time for final character rankings. I'd invite anyone else in the fandom to participate if you'd like! :)

1. Sand & Ray

I originally put Sand above Ray, but I've reached the point where I can no longer consider them anything but a package deal. I love them both too much. It also occurs to me that interest in a character is different than love for them, but in this case both apply.

Ray was, to me, the most evidently well-thought out, complex character in the series. He has the most baggage to go through, and all of that manifests in a lot of tense scenes and emotional outbursts. No one in the cast could've handled that better than Khaotung. As Jojo has mentioned before, Ray is someone who could easily be viewed as one dimensional, even despite his painful backstory. But the fact that Ray generated such a mixture of anger, sympathy, frustration, and love is such a testament to both the writing and the acting. His growth is also the most poignant and prominent throughout the series, so big points for that. Double points for fashion sense.

Sand is just—the ideal guy. He’s got good tastes and he’s also one of the most caring people on the planet, as he demonstrates time and time again. He’s a shoulder for people to lean on (literally, in Ray’s case). He has his own painful history to work through, and while I still struggle with some of his behavior towards the latter end of the series, on the whole Sand felt like a well-rounded character despite being outside of the core friend group. The way he views himself and Ray, and just his at-times overwhelming empathy for others makes him so memorable to me. He also gets double points for just being awesome (plus the leather jacket!! Hello?), but he’d get triple points if he picked up a bat.

2. Nick

Second to Ray, Nick’s growth is one of the most compelling to watch throughout the series. Despite some qualms I have with the pacing of the finale, I do think Nick’s decision to part from Boston was hinted at in prior episodes. We witnessed Nick go from being a pathetic, groveling simp to a man who knew his worth. Sand helped a lot with that, but the decision to walk away was ultimately all Nick's. Nick goes from telling Sand that he can be Boston's side piece so long as Boston doesn't hate him, to telling Boston that they should break up even when Boston wants to be with him. The growth is phenomenal.

I wish we would’ve gotten to see a little more of Nick in the end. Is he doing okay? Is he with Dan? Regardless, I love that Nick is going after what he wants now. I got some creepy vibes from Dan, him being Nick's boss and all, but I think they could've had something sweet. Nick--I hope you're fulfilling your dreams.

3. Mew

Mew gives me the most mixed feelings throughout this series. I wanted to like him more than I actually did, and 99% of that was due to his moral superiority. I think his character was stronger in scenes without Top involved. Like with Ray--I think Mew and Ray's friendship, especially when they agree to just be friends, is such a good characterization moment for both of them. Instead, we witness Mew scowling at Top for the majority of the series, despite claiming he's in love with him. Which yeah, understandable that he'd be angry given what Top did. But Mew never convinced me that he was in love with Top.

With the moral superiority thing--I like that Mew has such a defined set of values. I think that's an admirable quality, unless it's used to put himself above others who do not always conform with his rigid standards--yes, I'm thinking of his condescending tone with Ray early in the series in regards to his drinking/drug use. I see myself a lot in Mew, but this is one part of him that I hope I don't share. Compared to Sand, Mew has a startling lack of empathy for Ray's situation. He must be oblivious to his tone, because what might be intended as helpful comes out judgmental.

I will give him some points though for the scene where he tells Top that he knows about the hookup with Boston. I don't think I ever liked Mew more than I did in that moment. Boss behavior.

4. Boston

As far as interest goes, I'd put Boston above Top, even though Boston frustrates me far more from a moral standpoint. Boston is such a hot topic in this series because his lifestyle is constantly on trial. Sometimes I think that discussion point overshadows other aspects of his character and even becomes equated with his bad qualities. I hate how certain readings of Boston suggest his promiscuity is the problem. I don't think the show is necessarily making the argument that the lifestyle is the issue, but they do highlight that many of the characters view it as an issue. Monogamy is right, polyamory is wrong; that's the way most people tend to view romantic relationships, even if they shouldn't judge other lifestyles so harshly. Ultimately, boundaries and allowances in a relationship are something Boston isn't good at handling. He's dishonest, and his communication skills are lacking because of it.

I could go into more details about Boston, but in general I found his assholery to be entertaining, even if it was frustrating.

5. Top

There are exactly two reasons why Top is below Mew in particular. 1) Because he cheated on him and 2) because he seems to lack any dimension whatsoever. The thing that frustrates me so much about Top is that I can see something there. He could be a very compelling character! But the most depth we get out of him is that he has trouble sleeping because of a fire when he was a kid. There's more to unpack there I'm sure, but we're left at that. Why?? I've seen the showrunners make comments before that Top was hated much more than they foresaw--I'd wager this is part of the reason. Give me something to care about! Give me context! Sand and Ray, by comparison, are given such rich backgrounds. We don't even need to know that much about Top's childhood--I just want to see some personality. He's a designer, but what does he like to do? What are his big hobbies?

There were a lot of missed opportunities to flesh out Top through his interactions with Mew. Their discussions were almost always about either Mew's hesitations about Top's intentions or Mew's inability to forgive Top for cheating on him. That does not make for a very compelling relationship.

6. Cheum

I don't think the show expected me to dislike Cheum as much as I do. And the thing is, I don't think I would've disliked her so much if we would've gotten more insight into her character. That hurt her, in the end. To put it bluntly, I disliked 1) her moral superiority (very similar to Mew's), 2) her disregard for boundaries (inviting Top to Mew's Halloween party and Boston to the New Year's party), 3) her lack of empathy (for Ray in particular, but that kind of extends to the whole friend group), and 4) her lack of accountability (she does apologize, which I commend, but Boston deserved to hear a little more of an apology than that when he was being accused of SA).

The reason Cheum is ultimately below Top is because we get even less of her in the series, and we don't get to see any growth from her. It's not her fault really given the lack of screen time, but at least with Top I can see his efforts to be better. With Cheum, it feels like I left her exactly where she was at the beginning. Not entirely a bad thing, but I wish she would've grown up in some aspects.

~ X ~

Gotta give a final shoutout to the real MVP, Freddy. I love you Fred.

[stormyoceans]

ok can we assume that top took sand's ex away which started a feud between them, and can we assume that sea will play this ex bf? I don't even know which is more tempting: interaction with first or interaction with force. pls let me stay in my fantasies as long as possible waiting for each new ep for sea to appear in the screen

IM GONNA BE RIGHT HERE WAITING WITH YOU ANON AND EVEN IF TURNS OUT THAT SAND'S EX ISN'T PLAYED BY SEA IM STILL GONNA BE WAITING FOR HIM TO SHOW UP AS A CAMEO UNTIL THE VERY END I DON'T CARE I LOVE BEING DELUSIONAL

like of course sea playing sand's ex would be THE DREAM because it would mean firstsea AND forcesea interactions, and like you said IDK WHICH ONE MAKES ME MORE EXCITED EITHER, but honestly i would be fine with a very minor cameo like drake's in episode 1 too IM REALLY OKAY WITH ANYTHING AS LONG AS WE GET SEA IN ONLY FRIENDS

also i do wonder what happened between sand and top. sand's ex is definitely the reason behind their animosity, but like everything in this show i doubt it's gonna be as simple as top 'stealing' him from sand. from the way sand talked about having to be careful not to feel more when you have sex with a friend, i think maybe he found himself in a position similar to nick's? like maybe he was in a friends with benefits kind of relationship but he ended up falling in love and believed they had become more but then his 'ex' slept with top and it's easier blaming top for it rather than accept the fact that his friend/'ex' didn't actually love him at all? but that does seem WAY TOO SIMILAR to the nick/boston/top situation so idk MAYBE WE'LL FINALLY FIND OUT MORE IN NEXT WEEK'S EP

BUT THE POINT IS THAT IM GONNA KEEP MANIFESTING SEA IN ONLY FRIENDS AS HARD AND FOR AS LONG AS I CAN

[quidfree]

Hi :), I know you published Sober II like, one year ago, but I've to let you know that it's been keeping me from studying for my exam. I love you for that, it's absolutely beautiful. But I have to know more about Alexander. I've got some Princess Caroline's vibes from him, like, sure, let's help my ex's strange "friend" publish his book, no personal feelings involved. Where did he pop out from? Does he has hobbies? Do he and Richard just talk shit about Francis sometimes? And, most importantly, why does Francis have a strange coral of exes very capable in their fields?

hi hahaha what an ask, can’t believe alex is getting some limelight. im sure the audience has been begging for more information about him.

honestly the answer to several of your questions is that francis runs in wealthy circles and those people are all unbelievably connected in ways the rest of us can’t comprehend.

i think alex is probably pretty good at his job but he’s definitely a nepo baby who got into the publishing game young and has the luxury of doing all his friends solids when they decide they’re poets while broke writers everywhere fight for scraps. francis is not the first to call in a favour.

he and francis most likely met in their early to mid twenties when francis was in new york and after some rich people flirting hooked up semi-regularly without ever being an item bc francis wasn’t interested (never even occurred to him, he’s not a big commitment guy and alex is too nouveau riche for him). alex is way more into francis than the reverse but he also resents this bc francis is annoying. they don’t talk often after that but they occasionally run into each other at cultural events and they’ll chat bc they have similar sarcastic dispositions in some regards.

when francis hits alex up re richard he takes the call bc 1) theyre not on bad terms 2) he thinks francis has decent artistic taste and 3) everyone who knows francis in boston thought he had drowned himself in the charles river, and having this prime gossip / being the first to know is satisfying enough to make him indulge francis’ request. plus he did feel sort of bad about his dying and is wondering if francis reaching out is opening the door to rekindling something. and then he reads the manuscript (journal) and thinks “huh, definitely publishable” so he runs with it. he’s profit-driven but he’s also got an ego-driven urge to have artistic freedom that manifests in taking on the odd rogue project.

i think he and richard get along ok- they’re not like, friend friends, just professional friends, but their temperaments gel well together somehow. they don’t really irritate each other like francis does, but they’re also less interested in each other. i actually think the matter of francis is less of a bonding point and more of a rare friction point for them. alex is sort of jealous / wilfully unimpressed by richard bc why would francis be into this random californian nobody moreso than him, so he plays up the condescension a little sometimes. richard isn’t jealous but he doesn’t like it at all when alex makes any reference to his past w francis. beyond that they do have sort of a casual pen-pal situation going on even outside of work.

what he does outside of work… idk i think he’s quite a workaholic actually. sort of yuppy-culture adjacent (by way of pre-existing wealth, but recent, like second gen). he likes being in a hectic office throwing papers around and complaining about no one doing shit except for him. but he does like a bit of high culture and is also a heavy heavy sports guy. his dating life is a mess. he’s not out to his family but they’re all semi-estranged anyways and he only really speaks to his brother (who is an investment banker).

i do think francis has a lot of exes. not from like serious relationships but he definitely gets around & also probably has quite a few semi-established ‘seeing someone’ situations at various points. i feel like theyre pretty varied except in a socioeconomic sense. definitely some dubious set-ups when he was in his late teens. several ‘straight’ guys. a couple he’s actually friendly with. the clandestine boston rich homosexual dating scene is probably fairly incestuous. kim was probably one of his longest relationships but i think in typical francis style it was a bit up and down / let’s not talk about it (<- various underlying issues) even before the deus ex grandfather.

and sorry about your exam. but thanks for the diligent readership.

[ch3rryb0mb3rr]

Fun language fact, different areas of the U.S. have different dialects. Large cities are WAYYY different from each other. Thats why in south you here people say 'ya'll' and why people in boston pronounce their vowels differently

Its why we have the valley girl/jersey accent.

Also abt the 'us has no culture bs'. We do, actually.

Our culture is the nail tech that a girl goes to every 2 weeks, and now she's a family friend. She's the godmother of a beautiful baby girl

Our culture is the huge ass family reunions that take up and entire block for a gma's 99th birthday in Socal.

It's the little garden at a run-down school that's barely hanging on but has a keeper with a heart of gold.

It's the hispanic grandfather who seems to know everyone at any restaurant that he goes to.

It's china town and the little shops that line the streets. The colorful scarves hanging for display, the plants, and sometimes turtles you can buy.

Our culture is the neighborhood events like trunk or treating

Our culture is MUSICAL THEATRE. Ya'll quite literally wouldn't have hamilton or six or heathers without Broadway.

Its in the midwestern mothers macncheese casserole thats been passed down for generations.

It's that one girls sour-dough starte that's been around since Manifest Destiny'

Our culture is a beautiful mosiac of anyone who has ever set foot in the U.S., everyone who decided that they wanted to come and find a better life here. And to deny it, such is horrible.

U.S. culture is found in every nook and cranny if you bother to look. But fuck all americans i guess.

(And also, when u say americans, you're talking about the Americas. So that also includes all the way from canada to argentina. )

San Diego Miku.

[ofwrxth]

BASICS

Full Name: Noah St. James 

Age & Birthday: 29, July 13

Species: Werewolf

Hometown: Boston, MA

Current Residence: New York, New York 

Occupation: Lunaris Developer 

Institute: Asphodel, The Arcadium of Boston

PERSONALITY

Core Traits: Deliberate, Honest, Relentless, Arrogant, Caustic, Volatile 

Strengths: Noah is pointed with his words and actions. They may seem random but he only does exactly what he wants. Which is part of the problem half the time but other times it shows his resolve to stay true to himself and his intentions. He's honest and will say what he means even if it hurts someone's feelings. Noah doesn't see the point in wasting time trying to make people feel better. He's also relentless, and once he sets his mind to something, it's hard to get him to stop. Overall, he can mask around certain people, coming across as just another guy, but there's always intense emotions simmering beneath the surface. Also he’s super tall. 

Weaknesses: Noah's arrogance means that sometimes he doesn't take advance or listen to people who might know better. As such he can be condescending or dimissinve of other's opinions and a bit harsh in how he communicates his won. His sharp tongue and biting remarks  reflect his own inner frustration and anger, often at himself, but that doesn't stop them from hurting people with sarcastic or cutting comments. His biggest weakness however is his volatility. He struggles to keep his emotions in check which can make him unpredictable and if someone knows what his triggers are, he's like a time bomb waiting to go off

Philosophy/Worldview: Noah’s view on the world is pretty simple: it’s messy, unpredictable, and trust is earned, not given. He doesn’t buy into the idea of things being black and white—everything is gray and people will screw you over if they can. His past has made him skeptical of anyone or anything pretending to have all the answers. He doesn’t believe in following the rules just because they’re there. He’s more about doing what it takes to get what you want, even if it means getting his hands dirty. To him, life’s chaos and the only way to survive it is to own that chaos and face it head-on, consequences be damned

HISTORY

Backstory: 

Noah St. James was born in the gilded glory of a penthouse apartment in Boston. William and Alicia St. James were at the pinnacle of their careers, heading up one of the leading cutting edge tech companies of the 90s called Lunaris. They were building an empire and Noah was their little prince, his sister – their princess. They were part of a pack of other wolves who’d managed to find thes ame balance that they had. Their family of four thrived throughout his childhood and privilege spoiled him and his sister rotten. They went to the best schools, any vacation they could think of. They had managed to find a way to balance their werewolf side with their human side, finding a way to teach their children about their true nature while also ensuring that they knew they belonged in any world they wanted. 

They had connections to The Arcadium, the institute in Boston, with his parents serving on the governing council there. But they never forced him or Juniper to spend more time than they wanted at the institute. For his part, Noah didn’t mind learning about his nature, or about other peoples, but he also enjoyed living in the human world. 

However, when his werewolf gene manifested at thirteen, it made a menace out of Noah. In some ways, he felt like it made him the worst version of himself. Moody and sharp-tongued, he wasn’t afraid to let his parents know he was annoyed by something. His sister was better than him, and one of the few people to actually temper him and grounded him when his sense of self got inflated. He wasn’t a nice guy in school – a bit too smart for his own good and finding the balance between worlds harder to navigate the more he was involved in both.  

Things leveled out as he got older, growing into himself but life has a way of turning things upside down. He was twenty-one when one of his best friends from their pack was killed by hunters. It turns out one of his human friends came from a family of them and had used Noah to get to their pack. When he found out, Noah raged. He was angry and it took his parents and sister to keep him from doing something he’d regret.

After that, he grew distant from his human side, instead existing more in the supernatural world. Not by choice but out of necessity. When he thought of how he’d been responsible for his friend’s death, he grew angrier at himself but it bubbled over into his relationships with others. And even when he thought he got it under control, there was always a current of volatility running through Noah.

About a year ago, their life changed again when their parents went to New York for a tech conference and they never came home. He and Juniper were told about how it happened too fast. Hunters and witches who’d worked together to track them down. Apparently, his parents had been responsible for getting them removed from The Arcadium due to misaligned beliefs and actions. And they’d harbored resentment towards the St. James since. They weren’t found either so there was no closure or sense of justice. 

They remained in Boston until six months ago when their uncle Ben from their dad’s side told them they should come to New York. Get away from the past. Noah only went because Juniper did. And because Lunaris had gone public several years prior, and their parents' shares went to them. Money was not an issue even if involvement was. Noah had no interest in stepping into his parent’s shoes but his uncle told him of something that he hadn’t known. A part of Lunaris was dedicated towards creating a hybrid of magical and technical innovations and creations. Ben had been running this branch in New York to create some separation from the core business and this spin off. Noah got a job in one of their development departments (not that he had to apply) and has been there since. 

Secrets and Mysteries: 

Noah didn’t want to upset Juniper by saying that the real reason he decided to come to New York was to track down their parent’s killers. He promised he’d get help and ended up enrolling in therapy at Asphodel. But the real reason he’s there is to have consistent access to the people who come and go. He’s kept his eyes peeled and ears open but hasn’t found them yet. 

He did recall overhearing his parents talking about a rift months before they died. He thought nothing of it until the veil tore and now he’s wondering if they knew something they didn’t share. 

Current Situation:

Noah was at work when the Veil tore. He felt off that day – easily irritated and annoyed but when the veil tore, he felt something shift in the air around him. He’s not sure what’s going on and doesn’t like the idea of them getting dragged into something but as long as they’re in New York, he’s determined to keep his sister safe and keep them out of trouble. All while still searching for answers of his own. 

CONNECTIONS AND RELATIONSHIPS

Allies: Noah trusts very few people, but there are some friends who can get close, at least enough for him to relax a bit or not bite their head off if they annoy him. Potentially some old pack members 

Rivals/Enemies: Anyone who annoys him. Sandra from HR, Tyler the barista at Lunaris’s cafe who gets his orders wrong. The people who killed his parents. 

Important Relationships: Juniper, Ben, Bella (his therapist obvi), maybe a coworker? 

Potential Story Hooks: The hunter and witch who killed his parents could come back into play. Maybe they were kicked from the Boston Institute because they were Heralds or had sympathies for them. He could have a coworker at Lunaris who is a shit stirrer and makes Noah seem like the responsible one. Possibly a new development gets stolen from work by Herald people.

[readingforsanity]

A New Lease on Death | Olivia Blacke | Publishing in 2024 | ARC

In this darkly funny supernatural mystery about an unlikely crime-solving duo that launches a commercial, unqiue and genre-blending series, death is only the beginning.

Ruby Young's new Boston apartment comes with the usual perks. Windows facing the brick wall of the next-door building. Heat that barely works. A malfunctioning buzzer. Noisy neighbors. A dead body on the sidewalk outside. And of course, a ghost.

Since Cordelia Graves died in her apartment a few months ago, she's kept up her residency, despite being bored out of her non-tangible skull and frustrated by her new roommate. When her across the hall neighbor, Jake Macintyre, is shot and killed in an apparent mugging gone wrong outside their building, Cordelia is convinced there's more to it and is determind to bring his killer to justice.

Unfortunately, Cordelia, being dead herself, can't solve the mystery alone. She has to enlist the held of the obnoxiously perky, living tenant of her apartment. Ruby is twenty, annoying and has never met a houseplant she couldn't kill. But she also can do everything Cordelia can't, from interviewing suspects to researching Jake on the library computers that go up in a puff of smoke if Cordelia gets too close. The roommates form an unlikely friendship as they get closer to the truth about Jake's death...and maybe other dangerous secrets as well.

Cordelia Graves has been "damned" to spend eternity as a ghost. Shortly before Christmas, she died, though she has no recollection of doing the deed, supposedly having killed herself with a cocktail of alcohol and drugs. After not being found for a week, she now has a living, breathing roommate living in her apartment. Ruby Young is 20 years old, and is thrilled to be living in a "haunted apartment". The two of them begin corresponding through the only ways that Cordelia can.

These two unlikely friends have taken it upon themselves to begin investigating the death of their neighbor, Jake. Jake lived across the hall from them, and was found in the cold and snow one evening. His cause of death? A gunshot wound to the head. Jake's ghost does manifest itself to Cordelia, but only for a short while. Jake himself didn't believe in ghosts, and thus he went to wherever the deceased went when they didn't believe in ghosts.

The police don't really investigate Jake's death, believing it to be a mugging gone wrong despite him not having his wallet on him, which was later found inside of his apartment, and his cell phone was still in his hand when his body was discovered that morning.

The two "investigators" begin questioning anyone and everyone they can regarding Jake's death. They learn that he was a ladies man, and that he had reportedly cheated on his good friends sister with a woman named Shannon, whom is later found to be living inside of Jake's apartment despite not being on the lease. Regardless, Ruby strikes up a sort of friendship with her.

There are indications that Cordelia had some sort of shady past prior to her death, but other than a confirmed relationship with her boss, Adam, who is a married man, nothing is further said in regards to what might have happened to her.

In the end, Cordelia is the one who figures out exactly how Jake was lured out of his apartment during a massive snow storm in only a hoodie, pajama pants and fuzzy socks. When the bell rings to indicate that someone has shown up at the apartment, Ruby goes downstairs to grab the pizza that had supposedly been ordered for her. Cordelia understands that this is how Jake was brought downstairs without any of his belongings.

It is confirmed that while Jake is a known serial cheater, he wasn't the one cheating in this case. Instead, it was Shannon and she is married to the pizza guy from the local mom and pop place. Arlo was abusive to Shannon, and therefore, she left him for Jake, hiding out at his apartment in the hopes of never being discovered. But, this didn't go as planned, as Arlo did locate Shannon, and in his attempt to be chivalrous, ended up being murdered during a snowstorm, and Shannon has continued to remain behind in his apartment attempting to evade her abusive husband.

Cordelia comes to Ruby's rescue, manifesting herself to Arlo by touching him, which is a way she is able to communicate with the living despite it being mildly painful for her in her death.

After the paramedics and police leave the scene, Ruby declares that she doesn't truly believe that Cordelia killed herself, that instead she was murdered and it was covered up to appear as a suicide, where the first book in this new series has come to an end.

[despair-to-future-arcs]

Uh yeah, Izuru doesn't like Mikan because she tried to R*pe him multiple times....

Wh-Whoa whoa whoa, are you serious?!

I mean... this is Mikan were talking about, I mean sure she trips over herself a lot but this is... I can't even imagine Mikan doing this...

Well sadly it seems Izuru did say all this; pretty much Mikan put Junko's womb inside her and wanted to rebirth Junko Enoshima into the world given she can't live without her beloved and to do that she needed a sperm donor...

And sadly that donor she wanted was Izuru, he seem very uncomfortable and wanted to stay away from her which I can understand and told Hajime that due to Izuru; it would be safer that he doesn't work on Mikan as Izuru could get trigger and hurt her.

*sigh* Right, I... I guess Hajime can't help her but I suppose it be safer...

But I never heard anyone perform surgery on themselves like that, is that even possible?

Well yes it is, it's refer to as 'self-surgery' where it can be an act taken in extreme circumstances out of necessity, an attempt to avoid embarrassment, legal action, or financial costs, or a rare manifestation of a psychological disorder.

These surgeries are generally the least life-threatening. Sometimes people resort to self-surgery in the form of castration in an attempt to control their sexual urges, or due to gender dysphoria, one such example is Boston Corbett who had performed self-surgery earlier in life. He castrated himself with a pair of scissors in order to avoid the temptation of prostitutes.

 There's those like Evan O'Neill Kane carried out his own appendectomy in an attempt to prove the efficacy of local anesthesia for such operations. He is believed to have been the first surgeon to have done so. There was also Jock McLaren, Leonid Rogozov and even Inés Ramírez, a mexican women who perform a self-inflicted caesarean section during labor which she didn't have medical assistance.

So if asking, surgeries like those are possible and given Mikan was the Ultimate Nurse; it would make sense she would.

Hm, I guess she would know that then who are you inviting then? Is it someone from Future Foundation?

They are but here's the problem; it's... someone that has connections to the Izuru Kamukura Project and I'm worry Hajime might react pretty horribly...

His name is Kyoji Nakamura, he was Class 75-A's Ultimate Geneticist.

A Geneticist? What is that?

It's the study of genetics and family traits, meaning he works in the medical field with DNA, pretty much meaning that he would help with surgery and performing it.

And as say, his talent was use for the Izuru Kamukura Project, which means that Hajime will have quite the poor reaction...

Oh...Oh dear, that's pretty bad...I mean, I just hope it doesn't end with Hajime reacting violently or anything when he's here.