#one time i passed a kidney stone and i thought i was dying so i imagine turning into a giant dog would Hurt Really Bad

[noisyghost]

woof

(reposting with the full set; i think ark is very good about not ruining his clothes on full moons but, as they say, shit happens.)

[echologname]

🚨Overdosing on your inhaler⚠️

The doctor I spoke with said inhaler ODing isn't well researched because most people don't over do it. However, it does happen to some asthmatic individuals, especially during desperate times. This was my experience and I hope to God no one will have to suffer the side effects like I have been the past few weeks. 😭

It started when I got a horrible cold and with my asthma, even a small upper respiratory infection suffocates me. With this big one, I was having asthma attacks too often to sleep for 3 days, the night before I ODed, I fell asleep on the bathroom floor because I needed the steam to sooth my lungs because I COULDN'T catch my breath, I would just keep coughing so much that I'd gag on trying to inhale. So, sleep deprivation was probably a factor in my poor judgement. I was taking Advair, a 12 hr inhaler and I got confused with the Albuterol, a 4 hr that's safe to take multiple puffs of if I NEED it to continue breathing. I was supposed to take 2 MAX of the Advair out of the entire day but instead I took 6 or more (I wasn't keeping track, I was too tired and spacey). That night, (exactly one week before Thanksgiving) I suddenly felt like my whole body was on fire, my heart was racing, I was shaking, pupils were dilated, I felt like I was dying a horrible death and wanted to go to the ER but my mom assured me I was fine and I just needed to wait for the steroids to pass out of my system. So, I just laid on the floor of my parent's bedroom all night going through the worst experience I've EVER gone through (kidney stone is a close second).

I use the Albuterol as a rescue inhaler because it's fast acting, it contains beta-agonists which reduce inflammation and bronchoconstriction to help increase airflow through the tubules in the lungs called bronchioles which get inflamed and restricted due to triggers aggravating them like a virus.

I've never taken Advair before, insurance suddenly decided Dulera (and before that, Symbicort) was no longer supported. Anyway, I misheard the directions when they were given to me verbally (God, the one time my autistic brain is too tired to process, it could have killed me!😵) and thought taking multiple was safe (the directions aren't on the inhaler itself, it's on the box that was thrown out). Anyway, these types of inhalers are only for preventative measures to make the bronchioles less sensitive to triggers and are a corticolsteroid.

So, inhalers aren't a medication that magically makes you less asthmatic, it's artificial cortisol, the stress hormone. It targets your nervous system and purposefully gives you mild stress (if you took the correct dosage, this wouldn't be as noticable) so your body's survival instincts will keep you from suffocating.

If you have allergies, you may be familiar with an EpiPen. They contain epinephrine which is artificial adrenaline and works the same way. Taking a dose of epinephrine is dangerous which is why it's ONLY used in emergencies and why you ALWAYS call 911 after using it.

So, the side effects of inhalers:

From Albuterol's website:

Nervousness or shakiness, headache, throat or nasal irritation, and muscle aches. More-serious — though less common — side effects include a rapid heart rate, called tachycardia, or feelings of fluttering or a pounding heart, called palpitations.

So, that explains a lot. 😨

And for Advair:

Upper respiratory tract infection, throat irritation, hoarseness and voice changes, thrush in your mouth or throat, bronchitis, cough, headache, and nausea and vomiting. In children with asthma, infections in the ear, nose, and throat are common.

I also read that some side effects of an inhaler can be seizures. Thank God that didn't happen.😬

What I've been personally experiencing weeks after the incident:

Coughing and tightness in my lungs and insomnia (how ironic this started because I was coughing so much and losing sleep over it. Now I've hardly slept in weeks). My chest has been hurting like CRAZY non-stop. Headaches and sharp pain for muscle cramps. My kidney where I had a kidney stone 3 years ago aches. Basically, every inch if my body hurts all the time, some parts much more than others. And WORST of all, episodes of reoccurring symptoms from that night where I feel like I'm dying again.

The panic attacks:

I never realized how disabling these Hellish experiences are! I can't function, my nerves are haywire and I feel like I'm in desperate need of medical attention. My chest pain has worsened, heart rate increased, a burning sensation in my chest (I assume it's the nerves themselves being inflamed) and I can't help but shake.

After following up with a doctor:

So, during one particularly bad panic attack, I was on the floor writhing in pain and crying, begging to be driven to the ER. They did an EKG, bedside echocardiogram, x-rays and blood tests and couldn't find anything wrong and diagnosed it as anxiety. Yeah, I've had moments when I'm really nervous or worried and might have called it anxiety at the time but this was WAY worse. It didn't seem triggered by any thoughts, it just happened whenever I'd try to be sleeping or watching a cartoon. It was explained to me that my BODY is traumatized, not necessarily my mind and it's coping and trying to protect itself by replaying the same horrible symptoms. I did follow up with my doctor's assistant who prescribed me anxiety meds and said the anti-depressants my GI prescribed for my IBS would work fine to start taking daily. She also referred to a therapist and I asked for a doctor's note to take my untrained service dog prospect to school with me as an ESA (the ADA only allows public access to fully trained service dogs and NOT ESAs but my school has an exception to that).

It's probably going to take a while to finally feel fine again, but, I'm glad I'm not dead, I learned A LOT and I'm slowly healing every day, even when I still feel awful. Also, I have a loving supportive family and dogs that take care of and comfort me. And I've never been more thankful this Thanksgiving for them and that I'll get to have a merry Christmas with them too.❤️

...

Side note: the day after ODing, I suddenly felt like I didn't have a cold anymore. I hypothesize because my body was under SO MUCH stress, it flooded itself with white blood cells as a response to being in survival mode which KOed the virus. When I had my kidney stone, I was in such immense pain, my white blood cell count was abnormally high which initially concerned the doctors until they concluded it was probably from the pain and stress my poor body was enduring.

[murdochautismmoments]

Just establishing my own timeline here

Murdoch had an alcoholic & (not physically) abusive father. (Who was still alive as of season 1.) (They had lost touch until partway thru season 1.)

Born in Nova Scotia. Grew up there & liked spruce beer.

Father was a fisherman.

Mom passed away when he was a little kid (I'd say 5-7 years old?)

Murdoch was taken away by nuns. Dad wanted to write but didn't know where.

Murdoch kids lived with their aunt.

fr keegan. William burned down his shed at 12 & rebuilt it in the month all by himself. Youth was a daydreamer.

Um when he was an altar server there was a shipwreck & then started taking notes for fr keegan. Also a birth in the room next door. tf dude. He know how to pray in some latin. Witnessed a woman dying & telling her confession?? Also there was a bunch of money in the hem of the coat. Taught him deduction.

Yo shik he’s solving his first murder investigation at 12 years old!

Keegan left nova scotia right after murdoch

He left home at 17 to go to a logging camp.

18yo  murdoch’s friend (didn’t) kill someone on a night he was drunk. Later, he held someone down while his leg was being amputated (from getting it caught in a log jammer). Still has nightmares 30y later

(between 62 & 65 this guy was killed. It was 35 years ago. Present day is 1897-1900 as of season 4)

He also had a job as a ranch hand at some point.

He has a sister who joined a convent at 14 & joined cloistered nuns in Montreal.

He is roman catholic in a city of protestants.

He went to college at some point where he met Eddy Cullen & were they both planning on joining the seminary? -- “So u’r a detective now?” ‘beats logging. I tried to write you at the seminary after jesuit school.’ “nah I got married.” -- so they went to jesuit school together, will went logging, eddy went to the seminary, then they lost touch. right? -- “still do any boxing?” ‘no I see enough of that in my career (on the streets).’ “I thought fr obrien beat it out of you.” ‘did a week ever go by that we didn’t see the inside of his office?’ “no” -- so he was a boxer & he got in trouble often. -- “fancy a pint?” ‘i’m on duty, maybe another time /lie’ “body is still the lord’s temple eh will?” -- ‘I haven’t spoken to him in 20 years’

Or he learned from the Jesuits

He was a boxer at some point.

Lumber camp "up north" from Montreal, stayed two winters, & then a logger mentioned being a constable so Murdoch applied.

Joined police force 10 years before S1.

5 years as Constable, "acting detective" at station 4 for a bit (2y), full detective 3 years before show began.

Bachelor in s1, engaged to Liza but she passed 1y before show began. Gave her a silver horse. She gave him his watch on his bday.

S1: 2 years ago come March 12th Julia & William started working together

S1 "I only attend once or twice a week," & "confession as often as possible" but later:

"every Sunday?" 'yes!' *lie detector* '...kidney stones'

Hadn't seen his dad in long enough that dad barely recognized him.

s5e8 turn of the century soon (also faked anna fulford’s death)

S5 is 1899

murdoch weighs about 160lbs bmi abt 23

s7e12 1901 8 years ago 1893 they did a murder; year julia & william met; year she became the coroner; one of the first murders they worked together

Murdoch season eight (8) was there in the constabulary for 12 years WITH brackenreid

Ok so S10 we know Murdoch's sister is dead

Just getting my history in order, ignore me

Julia Ogden

Mentor was dr osler

[freezi-drink]

Rant about medical issues under the cut (it's honestly tmi, and a very long post, feel free to scroll)

A couple Fridays ago (the 8th?) I went to the ER at like 7 in the morning for lower abdominal pain that I just assumed was from PCOS but it was bad enough to need ER grade painkillers, so I went and they gave me painkillers (which didn't do jack shit), and gave me an IV*, and did a blood test and a vaginal ultrasound, and they wanted to do a urine test too but with tummy pain obvs my first thought is to go to the bathroom just to rule things out so I couldn't give a sample when I was there and they Wouldn't Let Me Drink Water (ik this is probs what they Have To Do, but still annoying), so the Dr ended up canceling it and saying it was probs just the PCOS anyway. So he sends me home with a couple prescriptions and I'm like yeah ok whatever. I get home, the hospital calls, said I left my favorite flannel, my dad and I head out to get that, grab my prescriptions, and a smoothie to hopefully get some calories in me. Before he could even leave the smoothie king I made him pull over so I could throw up. Well I'm still laying on the bedroom floor in pain for several hours, even with my dad giving me the prescription painkillers as often as the pharmacist said he could, but I vomit from pain Twice (the first time losing my smoothie so I have No food in me)(also, the best way i found to sit to minimize pain was on my knees with my forehead on the floor, which was NOT helping the nausea lmao) and when I was sitting on the floor of the bathroom bc I was nauseous a fourth time and didn't really feel like throwing up on the bedroom floor, we decided to just cave and go back to the ER. So we go, it's super busy so I sit in the waiting room for probably 20 minutes, they put me in a hallway with reclining chairs and curtains (they had enough space to give me a room that morning) and by this point I am loudly sobbing in pain. I will myself into sitting still so the nice nurse man can give me a new IV in the other arm**, and they order me a urine sample and a CT scan with contrast. Luckily, though, the nurse I got was a saint and made sure I got my morphine shot before they took me for the CT. Anyway, I'm waiting, the morphine isn't working great, but it's there, but then, out of nowhere, the morphine STOOS WORKING so im back to Very Loud Sobbing, and this nurse, wonderful man he is, comes over and says "so I put your pain at a ten, cool?" And it's funny but I'm still dying so they give me toroidal (which helped A LOT btw, i was sleepy and giggling for a While) and once it had kicked in he wheeled me over to the restroom for the urine sample, which was all fine and good, we passed a girl in the hall that I went to highschool with, he even paused the wheelchair so I could say hi, and when they eventually finished their testing, they essentially said "our bad man, 👎it's actually kidney stones :/" and told me that I had already passed some, but that there were some still there that could pass anytime between that night and a year from now. So they give me a whole slew of drugs - antibiotics, prostate relaxer (for the bladder? idk), nausea pills, two different pain meds (one lighter, one heavier) and sent me home. Cut to now, it appears that the time has come for at least one to pass, and it FUCKING HURTS and i'm ON MY PERIOD***, screaming swears into the ceiling, and generally having a bad time, so basically my life sucks lmao

*I have been to the ER many, many times, and had many, many IVs before, but Not Once has it ever hurt, and this shit HURT. As soon as I took off the bandage, there was a massive bruise that has lasted over a week. :|

**this IV was wonderful, and didn't even leave a little baby bruise, barely even a mark, ily nurse that was assigned to me mwah

***also its not just period pain, I do in fact know the difference now :|

[asset35-maya]

Prompt no. 18 from this list

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

“Sorry, just give me a minute, babe. I need to recalibrate the interface I’m using…”

Gavin’s voice trailed off. The only sound in the room was from the clacking of his keyboard, his fingers flying across the keys.

Nines tried his best to take his mind off his situation. Immobile in bed… with the very real possibility that it could be permanent.

It was a just a software update… just another afternoon nap… but now he had no idea whether he’d ever move again.

Noticing his stress levels spiking, he focused on Gavin. The crease of his brows… the old scar across his nose… the determined set of his jaw as he scrubbed through lines and lines of code to find the root of the problem.

Gavin.

Lover. Friend. Saviour.

The man he depended on for everything, including his continued existence.

Nines silently thanked whichever force of nature had brought him into the safety and sanctity of Gavin’s embrace. RA9 or God or the laws of physics that dictated where atoms would end up from the beginning of time.

Not all androids were as lucky as he was.

After the Revolution, the digital giant known as Cyberlife had been dissolved under political pressure from New Jericho and its vehement supporters. Android production ceased, Cyberlife’s assets were stripped and its R&D departments were spun off into smaller, more benign companies.

People were elated in the beginning… and then they realised there was no one around to maintain and service the androids that now comprised 30% of American citizenry. Private technicians had booming business, but they were eventually overwhelmed.

The worst of it was the software.

The patches, the bug fixes, the security.

No single company was able to do it by themselves and individuals realised they were pretty much on their own. Human husbands and wives and girlfriends and brothers and pretty much everyone scrambled to learn how to take care of beloved androids on their own.

Gavin was one of the most capable ones. He knew how to do most of the mechanical work and quickly taught himself the software and systems elements. When Nines asked him how he was so proficient… whether he learnt any of it in college… he wouldn’t respond directly. The closest Nines had gotten to an answer was a grumbled “s what happens when you share a room for fifteen years with the nerdy prick that started all this trouble in the first place”

It was initially tough on the both of them… and expensive… as they figured out how to do things by trial… but Gavin was confident and adamant that he wouldn’t let Nines down. He quickly reached a steady state, even managing to get a maintenance routine in place.

But he couldn’t be perfect.

And there were things he couldn’t control.

Androids were the most complicated cyberphysical systems on the planet. Anything and everything could go wrong at any time…

And it had… during a major OS update.

“Babe, can you hear me?”

Nines’ LED cycled yellow once and went back to red.

Gavin held one of the limp hands in his own.

“Can you feel this?”

The LED spun again.

“Great. And I’m pretty sure you can see me, I know that look in your eyes, babydoll. Hmm… okay, that means all the sensors and IOT device connections are fineee…”

The musing continued as Gavin set aside the laptop and scooted closer to Nines. A gentle hand came up to tilt the android’s face from side to side.

“But you can’t talk…”

“AAAAAAAAAA”

“Wow. Never make that noise in the bedroom again. Hmm… Okay, this means your vocal chords are fine but you can’t move your mouth. Huh.. well… you can’t seem to move anything… not that different from your usual participation levels in bed then. Not to worry.”

The only thing Nines could do was glare and Gavin seemed relieved that even that was possible. He patted the android’s cheek.

“I’ll check your motor actuation and control. Simple modules. I should be able to see anything strange right away.”

Gavin resumed scrolling through the chunks of code and running searches for common errors. But minutes passed… and turned into an hour… and the hour, doubled, tripled.

But Gavin was undeterred. He had to be. Giving up was not an option. Plus, years of being a dedicated police officer had wiped out any fears of hard work and failure… he would scroll all night if it came to that.

A notification popped up on the screen.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: Sweetheart, you’ve been trying for hours. Take a break.

Gavin turned to his side. Nines could detect the worry and agitation behind the facade of lighthearted calm.

“I know right. It’s not fair. You’ve been chilling this whole time I’ve been working. Tsk tsk.”

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: I’m serious, Gavin. Stop. Take a break for today. Call someone. You can try again tomorrow morning.

“Nines, you’re not a work assignment. I can’t take a break from you. You can get up and close this laptop for me.”

A few more hours passed. Frowning, Gavin climbed under the covers with Nines and began troubleshooting and testing all other modules too. It was a massive undertaking, but he’d be damned if he didn’t do it.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: Know when to give up on a lost cause.

It was nearly two in the morning when that message popped up. Gavin’s eyes were red from all the screen time, but his fighting spirit had not flagged. If anything, he felt close to the finish line. Having gone through nearly the entirety of his lover’s system architecture, there were only a few stones left unturned. He’d identify the problem, win half the battle and then the solution would flow from there. It always did. They’d be fine.

He turned to tell Nines precisely that and balked at the tears staining the android’s perfect face.

“Hey…”

Gavin leaned over his partner and wiped the tears away.

“Hey… shhh… don’t… don’t worry, I’ll take care of you…”

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I’m putting you through all this. Things can’t go on like this. I’m such a liability. Emotionally, physically, financially! You can’t keep doing this for me, Gavin.

Gavin placed the laptop on the bedside table and slipped deeper under the covers, wrapping himself around Nines’ still form.

“It’s a good thing you can’t speak right now, cause you’re talking some major bullshit, baby. You are going to be FINE. I will take care of you, like always, like I promised.

You are not a liability. You are my man. I signed up for this. If you were human and sick and I dunno, needed a kidney or something, I’d simply give it to you. You and I are bound like that. For life.

So quit bitching, let me do my thing, and when you’re back… you know how to thank me.”

He smiled genuinely as he said that, stroking the android’s skin and trying to calm him down. When the speed of the LED cycles came down and the colour stabilised at a warm amber, Gavin kissed the frozen lips and gave Nines one last cuddle before returning to his computer.

Sunrise began to streak across the dark sky by the time the critical error was identified. Gavin sighed deeply as he pulled up the faulty synchronisation that had jammed the hundreds of motors and drives throughout Nines’ body.

There was actually nothing much to be said for the root cause of the failed execution loop. Just improper methods written for some of the new hardware they had installed the previous week.

That’s what they got for using uncertified biocomponents and unlicensed third party software bought off the seedier parts of the internet. Some incompatibility somewhere would inevitably trip them up. Gavin was usually able to see such trouble before it found them… but even he couldn’t be perfect.

He stretched and cracked his spine and wiggled his fingers before plunging into rewriting the problematic section. He would sleep like a log after this… but first, he had to sprint to the finish line.

And he did.

At 7AM, Gavin finally copied the clean code into the compiler and hit execute. After a brief reinitialisation, Nines blinked awake. He raised his hands tentatively. As soon as he realised full functionality had been restored, he sat up and threw himself at Gavin, smothering the exhausted human in a giant hug.

Gavin hugged back, fighting to keep his emotions at bay.

“All… all good?”

“You saved my life. Again.”

“I’ll do it a thousand times more if I need to.”

“I thought I was done for.”

“Don’t be dramatic. It was just some bad code.”

“I could have been stuck like that forever. Never moving, never talking. Just lying there till my charge drains out. That could have been the end for us, and frankly, I was prepared for that eventuality. You should be too.”

“Never.”

“I don’t doubt your abilities, sweetheart, but we are painfully limited by our resources. There’s things in this world that only Cyberlife can do and they’re never coming back. We have to make our peace with that. Pulling all-nighters just to keep me alive… it’s not sustainable.”

“Hey it’s not like this happens all the time, Nines. I get that this was really scary, but it’s not always like this… so please don’t tell me whether things are sustainable. I will always fight for you. End of discussion.”

Nines didn’t respond and just rested his head on Gavin’s shoulder. His steel blue eyes were fixed on the pair of birds fluttering outside their bedroom window. They sat intertwined like that on the bed for a while. Now that he could, Nines didn’t seem to want to stop holding his partner. The birds landed on the window sill, chirping away and enjoying the morning breeze.

“They’re really quite sweet, aren’t they? The two of them are always here in the morning. I should build them a little bath in our garden.”

“They’re mates.”

“Huh. Just like us.”

“You know… it’s just a myth, what they say… that birds die when their mates do.”

“What?”

“Most species will go through a grieving period, but after that they will begin courtship again.”

“What the phck are you on about? No one’s dying and no one’s beginning courtship again. Nines, I’d move heaven and earth before anything like that happens.

Besides, if I really, really couldn’t get your body to work, worst case scenario, I’d just transfer you to a mobile device. Carry you around like a voice in my head… like my conscience… I promise you that nothing can keep us apart.”

It wasn’t all that easy to convince Nines, and Gavin wasn’t about to try. It had been an ordeal for the both of them. It wasn’t the first time, and it might not be the last. But for the time being, they had emerged, and they had each other, and that was all that mattered.

Yawning, Gavin lay back among the mussed sheets and pulled Nines with him. Birdsong and the muted whir of thirium pump compressions lulled him into a dreamless sleep.

[psycho-pass-saiko]

A bit change in order of the events in Gekijouban. What would happen if Akane was also kidnapped with Kougami?

…

Inside the abandoned chapel,the air was damp and smelly. It was already past sunset, the base of the enemy was enlighetened with dim lights. At the center of the chapel, six bodies were present.

“No! NO!” A desperation mixed furious voice escaped from Kogami’s sore throat. A man with a quite bulky appearence, started to walk towards Akane. Kogami tried to rise on his feet but the chains around his wrists were pulled instantly to sides once he moved. He grunted through his teeth, tasting the metalic taste of his blood in his mouth. He was bleeding, almost everywhere. His black shirt was shattered, half of it was hanging from his abdomen to the ground. On his bare skin you could see the whip wounds as well as small yet good amount of blade cuts. He was chained through his wrists, his arms were forcefully hanged to his sides by a blonde woman and a midget man. They once again pulled his arms to warn him to behave. Pain was everywhere. He had a high tolarence of pain yet he just wanted to whine, laying on the cold stone floor. But he knew he couldnt. Because-

“Fuck off!” Kougami, once again cursed when he heard Akane’s distressed voice. His blurry vision focused once again on her. The bulky short haired blonde man was now next to her, grabbing her arms over her head, he sat on her waist.

“Looking at him, maybe we should have called him “Target Romeo” instead of Delta, hmm?” said the black man with a whip in his hands. For a second Kogami didnt hear him as he was too busy worrying about Akane at that moment. He hissed, rose on his knees. He grabbed the chains with his palms, pulling them forward. The men who was handling his chains were caught off of guard so they tripped one or two steps, allowing him to have a step forward. It was enough for him to face the bastard. Their leader, with a bionic arm and leg was nowhere to be seen. Instead of him another man of his, with a basic black shirt and trousers but striking red hair , was carrying out their torture session. He startled when beaten up Kougami got closer. With a calm yet bloodthirsty whisper, Kougami looked directly into their torturer’s eyes.

“If you touch her one more time,” he narrowed his eyes, continued with his stone cold voice. “ I will tear you apart limb by limb with my own teeth.”

Everyone in the room halt for a second.

Red haired man was the first to break away from the hostile threat of his. He gulped down, smirked eagerly.

“Not before i tear you apart, you rice-rat.” Just as he finished his sentence, his whip found Kougami’s face. With a sudden pain he kneeled down once again, gasping for air.

“Kougami! Get the fuck off me right now!” Akane saw the moment whip hitting his face. She was also tortured, kicked, punched, even stripped halfway from her clothes. She had only her cargo pants and bra on, her torso fully naked. But nothing hurted as much as seeing him suffering in front of her, more than her. She felt the furious tears coming to her eyes but instead she growled behind her throat, facing the man who was on her stomach. Short haired blonde man was gazing upon her,as if she was a meal he was about to enjoy. She frowned with rage. “Get of me!” hissed. Who was sitting on her was a very muscular man with bionic limbs over his chest and shoulders, twice--no, triple size of her. She realized taking a breath got harder every second. But she didnt care about it, her only thoughts were about how to kick this prick’s ass as soon as possible. She heard some chain clatters but couldnt turn her head as the guy grabbed her chin with a force. “You are one wild cat, arent you?” His disgusting giggling almost made Akane throw up, but she had nothing in her stomach to do so. So she spitted on his face instead.

“Free me and i will show you what kind of cat i am, you idiot!” she threated him but only got another laugh as a response. Fingers around her chin squeezed her skin more.

“I now see why he is favoring you, kitty. Its much more fun when your partner is wild and reluctant as you are.” The bulky guy, suddenly grabbed her left breast with his free hand. Akane, flinched with the sudden touch but didnt make any sounds, only frowning more. He leaned forward, more of his weight crushing her. His face was so close that she could smell the alcohol from his stinky breath. Akane heard a sudden gasping from her left and looked towards it. Only to catch Kogami’s gaze with hers. She felt shivers on every part of her body. Not because the touch on her skin, but the look in his eyes. His usual bright blue shines were nowhere to be seen. A fresh red wound was over his right forehead to end of his right cheek, covering his agonized expression. His gaze was now pitch black, reminding her a black hole. The monster inside him was already ready to take the control. She almost saw the image of a hellhound. Kogami, didnt- couldnt hold himself anymore, with a exhale, he released the creature inside of him.

A loud thud and one painful scream.

These were the only things Akane could hear when her face once again forcefully pulled back as the guy was kissing, nimping her bare neck now.

Everything happened in seconds.

Kougami, now more different than his usual self, more brutal, grabbed the chain in his right palm and pulled with a sudden inhumanly power, breaking the steel. The woman who was holding the chain fell on the floor but no one cared about her at that moment, since Kougami was already attacking the man in front of him. His right hand, chain still hanging on his wrist, grabbed the neck of the red haired man who was smirking. With a hoarse growl under his breath, he cracked his neck bone as he closed his grasp over him. Man’s body went limp, the smirk still on his lips. Well, he didnt find time to change his expression. Kougami opened his fingers to drop the corpse in his hand. He remembered the second guy who was holding the chain on his left arm when his arm pulled backwards. But Kougami didnt move an inch, only aimed for the guy who was still on Akane. Swinging his right arm back, he threw the broken chain in his right hand to forward. Chain, as his plan, found its aim, tangled around the bulky guy’s neck like a snake as Kougami grabbed the steel and pulled him back. The blonde guy, with shock and confusion, reached to his choked throat with both of his hands, releasing Akane. Making the biggest mistake. Akane without spending a second rose up halfly with her torso and punched the adam apple’s of the guy’s, just over the chains.

She felt the crack before hearing it.

First his eyes shutted down then his body went unconscious over her. But this time Akane pulled herself to left, saving herself from getting crushed by his massive shape. The chain over the laying man was fiercely pulled back again, only then she hurried and pulled her legs from the weight of him. She quickly stood up, turning to Kougami’s side. He was being dragged on the floor as the woman who fell before also started to pull the chain attached to his left arm. Akane panickly turned back to the body of the bulky man, she grabbed the dagger which was placed on the belt of his right leg, then dashed towards the enemy.

Kougami was on his knees and right hand, but another strong pull made him fell on his left side. His bare chest scraped over the rough stone floor. He felt his skin peeled. With a sour whine he blinked. Just before of his blinking, Kougami saw a glance of a brunette hair although his blood was blocking his sight. Akane, reached to the attackers. Woman dropped her grip of the chains and reached over Akane. But she squated down, attacking from low ground, she stabbed her side, near to her kidney. Blonde woman grunted with immerse pain and doubled over, yet Akane saw the odd smile on her face. With a shiver on her spine Akane elbowed her face before turning over the other guy, leaving the dagger on the woman’s body . As she lifted her head to right she was startled when she found a chilly feeling of the metal, now a gun was on her forehead.

“Stop right now! Kneel!” shouted the short, ponytailed man. She could see his hesitation, even in his prosthetic yellow eyeball.

Akane sighed, gave him a bold look.

“You are not even holding the handgrip right.”

The guy, one hand on Kogami’s chain other holding a gun to her, frowned with confusion. And this moment was the moment she was yearning for.

She quickly hit the inside of his gun holding wrist and with a twist she took the gun from his hand, now aiming his head with a stable aim.

“Loose the chain. Now.” She hissed with a wrathful expression on her. Her finger tensed on the trigger.

Short man instantly dropped the chain that he was holding and without even looking his back started to run with gasps.

Not until he disappeared into the darkness of the corridor in front of them Akane relieved. But she immediately tensed up again, turned to her behind. Kougami was laying on the ground, facedown, seemed to be unconsicous.

She panicked and reached to his body in a couple of steps. She glided on her knees next to him on the ground, carefully turning him to his back. His left arm was reaching backwards on the ground, as she carefully grabbed his arm bringing to his side.

“Kougami?” a shaky voice called his name.

She didnt get a response.

All those years as a detective, all those corpses or the murder scenes she saw, nothing made her lose her cool, not completely at least.

But now, she felt her heart stopped. All the blood in her veins, turned into ice.

“Kougami!” She gasped with a dying scream, holding his face between her palms. He was cold. So cold. Or was it her fingers? She couldnt tell the diferrence as the panic spreaded over her body more each second. She slicked his bloody damp hair aside, tried to open his eyes. But they shutted down once she stoped touching his eyelids.

Her hands started to tremble, moving around his limp, wounded body. She felt the bruises, semi healed wounds, open and still bleeding cuts.... there was so much blood, so much... while her fear grew bigger inside her own chest, she remembered her first-aid lessons as she leaned over his teared shirt to listen his heartbeats. Just the second agter she put her left ear on his heart, Kougami coughed harshly, shaking her head. Akane quickly pulled her head back and leaned over his face.

“Kougami?! Kougami, can you hear me? Kouga-“

“Stop screaming for a second, please.” He whispered with his dry chapped lips, voice hoarse. His eyes were still closed but a second later they opened slowly. A grayish blue flames showed themselves under the yellow dim lights. His gaze went over her as far as they can, since he couldnt even move his head.

“Are you okay? Do you have any wounds? Where are they- UGH!” She slammed him down when he desperately tried to rise on his elbow.

“For fucks sake, stay down. Oh my god,” she cursed between her sobs. Wiped her own tears to see him clearer, as she was only looking a distorted vision of him a second ago because of the burning tears in her eyes. Kougami knew it was serious, if she was cursing.

“Are you in pain?” He asked softly. Akane looked at his eyes. She saw the pure worry inside of them.

“You are the one who was laying dead just a second ago, dont you dare ask me if i am in pain. Of course i am,” She sobbed once more trying to block the unstoppable tears. She leaned over his face, her forehead on his.

“Please, dont, dont ever do that again.”

Kougami wanted to tease her with a joke but tiredness was stronger. He only sighed to her lips. “I am okay now. Calm down. See?” His trembling right hand placed on her left hand, grabbing his face. As he moved his arm the chains tied to his wrist jangled.

“To be fair, i would much rather have the chains in the bedroom.” No matter how tired, Kougami was Kougami at the end. Akane snorted a small giggle, growing into a real laugh. When he heard her cracked laugh his lips also carved into a grin.

Akane leaned back to look his face properly, did a damage control. Except the whip wound on his face, everything was intact. His right eye was red with blood but it was also responding to her moves, meaning it was okay. She carressed his cheek slightly. “Thank you.”

Kougami leaned over her small palm, silently.

“You did all the job, i was tied down.” He opened his eyes, frowning, was obviously recalling the time when Akane was under that guy minutes ago. “ I should have skinned them alive-“

Akane, silencing him with her thumb on his lips, leaned and put her head on his chest again. Finding peace with his heartbeats. She closed her teary eyes, feeling his hand gently stroking the crown of her head.

‘’What it is in your small head, hmm?’’ asked Kougami.

With a sudden chilly wind, her short hair slicked back of her face. Akane slowly opened her eyes as she smelled the salty damp air of the ocean.

Her gaze met with the softest orange colored sunset of the beach where they were laying on a lounge chair, together.

As she tried to fathom the abrupt change of the scenery, she blinked once or twice. Her head was still on his chest. She could hear the steady heartbeats under his broad ribcage. She softly turned her head back to other side, placing her left ear on his chest. She encountered with his beauty, lighten with the mild sunset sunshine. His usual sharp features were now gentle than ever. Without realizing she reached over his cheek to caress his face. Kougami, leaned over her almost ghostly palm. He frowned, fixing his ocean gray irises on her caramel ones.

Akane only smiled as a response.

Thats was all a memory huh, she thought to herself.

Over their kidnapping, a year had passed. A year was a short period of time but the changes were severe on their life. He was now back in Japan, working for Foreign affairs. He had to travel a lot, as expected. And one of those travels turned out to be a good chance as a vacation for them. So here they were on a famous beach yet rather quiet one at the moment, cuddling as the sun was leaving the horizon for the moon to lighten the night.

She knew he was important to her. But that day, when he was lying half-dead in front of her, in her palms; she learnt he was essential to her, like every breathe she took.

She didnt want the world to turn without him.

She didnt want the sun to burn without him.

And most importantly, she didnt want to live a life without him.

Akane put her left palm on his chest, taking a slight boost from his strong muscles, she lifted her head. Now eye to eye, she let her smile get bigger. The whip wound on the right side of his face was almost gone.

‘’Uhm, nothing, just some memories.’’ She whispered, eyes falling down to his lips.

Kougami relaxed his eyebrows, completely letting himself vulnerable in her presence. He always knew the possibility that she could also get nightmares like him, or visions. And he knew it was not some bright memories she recollected a while ago, in his embrace, shaking subtly. He slowly turned his face to the left only to give a small kiss on her palm.

‘’I suggest you to stay in the moment, inspector.’’ He chuckled as Akane frowned lightly.

‘’ I am not one anymore,’’ referring the change in her title by the Sibyl system’s decision.

‘’ You are always one for me.’’ Said Kougami, fixing his eyes on her. He grinned when she got the meaning behind his sentence.

Clever girl, as always.

Another ocean breeze rushed through their embraced bodies, urging Kougami to cover his book holding hand over her back, gazing towards the horizon.

I cant judge her though, everything feels like a distant dream, he thought to himself. Her softness against his firm body, fair scent of her shampoo and salty ocean, complete calm and peace..

These were not the words or moments he kept in his mind so often. Yet, he decided to burn this moment to back of his eyelids. Like he had done to all the times he shared with her.

‘’ Didnt know you could be so poetic,’’ her voice pulled his eyes to herself again. One word from her lips could make him burn the world, destroy everything in sight. But instead, that one word happened to have more affect than any other, holding his ice cold heart with the warmest hug. ‘’Shinya.’’

Next thing he knew, he was already leaning forward to catch her lips like she did to his heart.

...

Here goes second attempt of me writing a lovely-dovely Shinkane, i hope you guy can enjoy now imma yeet myself to outer space byEEE

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Get Up: Antoni

CW: Using clove cigarettes to burn skin, burns, burning as torture, conditioned responses and behavior, feverish whumpee, creepy whumper, fucky guilt/self-loathing/self-injury thoughts (of the “I deserve to be hurt” variety, no self-injury occurs). Xenophobic language/xenophobia

Tagging @astrobly, @finder-of-rings, @burtlederp and also  @oofowouchies and @orphceus for Antoni-specific

“Get up, love.” The voice is low, a rumble from all around him rather than any one direction. He can feel the vibration of it in the hollows of his bones, the aches that throb along his thighs and arms. Breathing seems like pushing up against a weight laid over his chest, stones laid inside his lungs.

There’s a rough hand against his face, a palm pressed to his forehead. “You’re hot.” He whines, only to hear Mr. Davies’ mocking laughter in return. “Fucking dog now, are you? Might as well be, I suppose. I’d treat a dog better than you, if I had one, though. Feed it more, anyway. Get up.”

He tries.

Nothing happens.

He tries again, but all he can manage is limbs that flop, a head that shifts minutely, bones that scream protest at him and demand he be still.

“C… can’t.” His own voice is a breath, a whisper. He is motionless, in the bed, blankets kicked down around his feet. The ceiling fan ticks as it spins lazily overhead, he stares at it through cracked eyelids.

A shadow passes, and he can’t flinch away.

There’s a slap, the smack of skin on skin, and Antoni has no energy to fight it. He only lets his head fly to the side, the sting in his face joining a deeper, weightier throb inside his head.

He moans, maybe.

He’s not sure if the sound comes from his lungs or is only in his head.

 “You don’t have access to ‘can’t’ any longer, darling.” The hand is gentle again, rubbing a thumb over the reddened skin on the side of his face. “Pull your shirt up, pretty little ashtray. Let’s see.”

“M-Mr. Davies-”

“Now.”

Antoni’s head tips back, lolls really, showing his neck like an animal baring itself to a predator, hoping for mercy. His hands fumble for the hem of his shirt, soaked with sweat and slightly stuck to him, pale heathered gray soaked dark. He grips onto the soft fabric and pulls it up, shuddering at the sudden brush of cool air over scarred skin. It hurts, to be so exposed. Everything feels like a raw wound. Like a sparking wire. 

His ribcage, stomach, and the top edge of his hips are a shifting nearly-flat plane of skin over muscle, with littl softness. Tiny circles with no particular pattern litter his skin, some newer, some older. 

So many.

He has deserved them so many times.

“Good boy.” The flick of the lighter, and he feels his body tense all at once, every muscle taut where they wrap around his aching bones. The unmistakable sound of cigarette put to lips, the first inhale and exhale, the enveloping smell of cloves that settles around him, drifts over him. He can feel smoke kiss his face and has a strange, wild sense of fingertips there, just barely brushing his lips.

Not possible. Mr. Davies doesn’t touch that way. 

There’s a hand that lays across his throat, over his thick leather collar, to keep him still. His eyes are still slits, cracked barely open, but he can see the soft flare of embers, knows the face behind the flame better than he knows his own, now. 

“You refused an order, love. You earned this. You’ve earned every single one.”

“Nyet.” His voice is weak - it’s not a refusal, it’s a whimper. “Nyet, gospodin, ya ne khotel-”

“Not your ratspeak again. I thought we’d broken you of that filthy gibberish. Quiet, or you’ll earn more.”

Antoni’s eyes drift shut. “I-I am sorry-”

“Don’t be sorry, Ashtray. Be better.” The first flicker of pain comes directly on top of a scar he’d already laid before. It’s a kindness, a mercy, that he isn’t taking what clean skin is left and marking it new. Antoni’s breath hitches in at the flush of agonizing sharp pain as the cigarette grinds in with inexorable slowness. A pause. “Lovely,” Mr. Davies murmurs. “One step closer, don’t you think?” The hand that curves around his throat tightens, just a little.

Antoni breathes shallowly, trying not to move. He is perfectly still, and nearly silent but for the tiniest whimpers he cannot hold back. Mr. Davies presses a second burn, a third, a fourth. Each of them carefully laid over existing scars, and he is so merciful to punish Antoni in ways that won’t add to what he has already made his own.

“Beautiful.” Mr. Davies chuckles, drawing a fingertip along the line of the new burns to listen to Antoni’s choked-off high-pitched whines. He can feel the eyes that watch his unwilling little twitches, hands moving with the deep urge to push Mr. Davies away only to be stopped by his own mind, his own fear.

Antoni knows what they will look like now, like jewelry with a slight curve to dip below his navel, bright red, prone to infection if he isn’t given permission to clean them. 

Still, he cannot move.

“I think that will earn you a reprieve from worse, for now, love,” Mr. Davies says with pure tenderness, pulling back and away. The scent is still in the air, making Antoni sick, swirling around him. He hears a low murmur and wonders if she’s awake, the girl on the other side of the wall. If she can hear his sounds, the way he listens every night to hers.

“Th-... thank you, Mr. Davies.” He whispers, his throat feels like it’s burning, too, the smoke settling deeper and deeper. Each swallow feels like there’s shattered glass shredding everything from his tonsils to his lungs. He jerks in harsh breaths only with effort. “Thank you for… mercy.”

“You’re welcome. Now. I’ll give you a second chance. Stand up.”

Antoni forces his legs to answer his commands this time, lets out a low groan of pain as he tries to push up onto one elbow and then rolls himself right off the bed only to hit the ground with a thunk. His arms and legs feel like a doll with stitches come loose and he sobs, curled on his side.

His shirt is still pushed up, his back is facing Mr. Davies and it takes only a moment to feel the next burn pressed directly over his spine.

He cries out helplessly.  “Pozhaluysta! Pozhaluysta, ne nado…”

“Ratspeak again. You just won’t stop, will you?”

“P-pozhaluysta…” He can’t breathe. Can’t… can’t take in enough air curled up like this but he can’t move. There’s another burn, over his left kidney, then one on his right. “Ne delay mne bol'no!”

“Not until you never speak another fucking word, Russki. Come on, love. Beg.”

“Please, pl-please, please do not h-hurt, pl-please-”

Mr. Davies never makes a new burn, only recreates old ones, and still, Antoni can’t help the garbled, choking sounds he makes from the depth of the pain. 

When a hand touches his shoulder he flinches, violently, from the touch, shaking his head as best he can even as the world dizzy-spins around him, freezing cold air burning his skin over the new redness, new agonies over old. 

“N-No-... please, no more-”

He can’t get enough air to beg right, he can’t. He feels like he’s wheezing, hands clenched into fists, his forehead pressed against the old hardwood floor.

“Antoni?” 

His breath catches again. Eyes crack, rolling slowly upwards, to see the fuzzy spin of the ceiling fan. There wasn’t a fan in his room with Mr. Davies. There wasn’t…

A pale face swims into view, gradually rearranges all its errant shapes and colors into ones he knows. A mouth, a nose, light, nearly-invisible eyebrows furrowed with worry. A flush of blue hair hanging down like a fine, shimmering curtain. 

Green eyes.

“Chrisha? I… I was asleep?”

Was he? It hadn’t felt like sleep-

The panic hits him all at once. Can’t let him see. His hands move awkwardly, bumping back into his stomach, and he shudders out a breath with a full-body shake as he realizes his shirt is pulled down, not up, covering the marks that still burn as though they’re new across his body. 

Relief like cool water washes down his spine. No one saw how many there are. No one can see how many times he has earned them.

“Are you… are, are you, um-... are you sick?” Chris reaches out to touch him, to help him stand, but Antoni pulls away, managing to get a hand on the side of his bed to steady himself as he pushes up to his feet. He sways - the world goes briefly dark and then back to light again - but he stands. 

“M-Maybe. I, I feel… can I-... Chrisha, I need to shower. Can you… help me?”

“H-help you? In, the, the… the-the… in the… to, to, to-to-to… to take-” Chris’s face flares bright red and his eyes drop, all at once, and Antoni shudders with sudden nausea and disgust.

Years later, and still that’s all the words could possibly mean in Chris’s mind.

“Not like that, Chrisha. P-promise. But I cannot… walk well. Now. Will you help?”

His stomach is crawling itching dying skin, his back is flaring hot, he needs… he needs to bath in ice. Run cold water until nothing is left of him, until he is a frozen lake scratched until you can’t possibly see what’s under the surface.

“Sure, Ant, I’ve, I’ve got you.” 

Chris isn’t supposed to be here today, but Antoni can’t really think well enough to ask why he’s here now, only be so grateful for his help. He lets the shorter, stronger, younger man slip his arm around his waist and holds back the groan as he unknowingly presses against the new burns that aren’t real, but that Antoni can feel perfectly anyway.

The scent is cloves is still faint around him.

He can still feel breath on the back of his neck.

“Please,” He whispers. 

In the moment, he can’t remember any other word.

He burns.

Veins and bones and skin and scars and brain, all of it - all of it burns.

[damfinofanfiction]

Chapter 12: Home Again

When Buster returned to work the next day, he felt truly at home. All of his crew welcomed him back when they showed up at his studio. Even friends, including Roscoe paid a visit to say hello that afternoon. Just as Keaton thought he would be making the films he brought to the studio, his assumptions were wrong. 

Schenck came to him and announced that he recently purchased the rights for the stage comedy “Battling Buttler.” and wanted him to make it a feature. Buster was half disappointed with the news. Seven Chances is a musical (he can easily strip out the musical elements), not a farce. But Buster had wanted to make an original story after adapting a stage play and even told Schenck the idea that he and Lex had come up while on the east, but not all ideas can be realized and they had not given much thought to it. 

Buster still has Sherwood’s story, but he had to remain in New York for his job, so they cannot work around that unless he comes to Los Angeles on vacation, which would most likely be in the summer. If he wanted to make a film done by fall, he will have to adapt Battling Buttler and put the western comedy idea and Skyscraper on hold just in case something comes up.

Meanwhile, Buster checked outside to see if Gail had arrived yet. Several days had passed since he asked her to visit his studio, but she had not appeared. He knew she was interested. She may have been busy, chickened out, or forgotten his invitation. He was losing hope until he saw her walking at the outdoor set in her amazement.

He walked up to her, “Hello.” 

As she greeted him back, he heard the male British accent, “Well, if it is the stone face himself!”

It was then he noticed that she was accompanied by two others behind her.

“Sorry, I hope you didn’t mind if I brought my friends. They wanted to come too.”

“No problem as long as they don’t misbehave.”

The Brit chirped out, “You have a voice of some sort. Didn’t think it would be coming from you!”

Gail gestured him to them, “You remember Sally. And this is her boyfriend-”

He shook Keaton’s hand in a swift movement, “Sterling Thomas, social aristocrat and one of the kin of the canned food manufacturer. A pleasure to meet you.”

Buster felt uneasy with this sudden introduction. Sally pulled him apart from her paramour saying, “Cut that out, you might be scaring him.”

He tipped his hat to the comedian, “My apologies, Have you visited my home country?”

“England?” he was responded with a nod, “Yeah, my folks and I went there for our vaudeville tour, but we left early cause my father didn’t enjoy the food there.”

Sterling gave him a sullen look, "Aw, he isn't fond of shepherd's pie and steak with kidney pie?"

Sally bluntly added, “Yeah, One of them must be the reason.” 

“I missed being there. If I had time for a European vacation, I would be happy to go back there.”

“So Keaton, Could we have a look around?” Sally chirped in, “I’m sure Gail would be dying to have a tour.”

He clarified to the blonde, “Buster is fine. And I'd like to, but I’m afraid my schedule is busy. I’ll have someone here to guide you." They nodded in approval and Buster went inside to prepare a meeting with his gag writers. That evening, the studio was closing down for the night. Almost everyone has gone home and Buster was getting ready to leave when he spotted Gail coming in.

“You’re still here?”

“No, I only came back to drop off my resume.” she handed him the Manilla envelope titled to the studio with her return address listed on the top left corner. 

“How have you been? How did the rest of the train ride go?”

“Just fine, I had done some reading and mingling with the passengers. How about yours?”

“The same, I spent some time playing cards with my father, my friend Lex, and manager for MGM Nick. Do you play bridge?”

“Yes, an aunt of Sally has her and me help her practice for monthly game nights. Oh, and I had found work as a background character in the movie The Freshman.”

“Harold Lloyd’s upcoming feature?”

“That’s right, it was in the middle of production, but they needed more additional actors. Today happened to be my day off.” She assured buster, “My schedule will be free as soon as filming is finished.”

“Aren't you working as a bathing beauty?” he had just remembered her mentioning it on the gin mill.

“Not anymore, I wanted to work on more features than shorts except if they offer me starring roles. So when are you casting?”

“Well, for right now we are looking out for boxers.”

When Gail questioned him, he told her “I’m adapting Battling Buttler. Since that show is a musical, I can remove the aspects and the T from the title so there will be no need for a pun.”

“Will there still be a leading lady?”

“Of course. I’d like to ask you something? Can you play baseball?”

“Is that required?”

“We played the game when we take a break from filming. It helps me come up with ideas."

“I can least throw a ball. Still needs practice, though.”

He looked at his watch, “I still have to get going. Do you have a ride home?”

“I can always call a taxi.”

He shook his head, “It doesn’t seem to be safe in the dark. Come with me, I’ll have my chauffeur, Caruthers drive you there.” 

Gail was reluctant but went on ahead. Buster sat in the back next to Gail as Caruthers (surprised with an additional passenger.) drove the vehicle to Wilshire Boulevard. They dropped her off at the block to get out quickly. “Thank you, but you don’t have to do this.”

“Well, we’re friends, I don’t mind helping. I’ll keep you posted for the job.”

She waved goodbye as she left the car “Until then Take it or leave it!”

The car didn't leave until it was sure Gail got into the house in one piece. Buster opened the envelope on the way and read her 2- page resume. Then he stared at her headshot until he realized he was blushing.

One week later, Schenck barged into Buster’s office informing him, “Keaton! I’m afraid something’s had just come up.”

“What happened?” Buster said, looking straight at him.

“Some writer of Battling Butler had no idea that you’ll be making that picture. So he considered backing out of that deal.”

“Damn,” Keaton uttered. As he scratched his head, he added, “I guess we ought to make that western comedy after all.”

**********

Gail still hadn't heard from Buster. She knew that she must be very patient as it’s been a week. She remembered feeling tense when she was in his car, but was thrilling for her. She wanted to forget that Buster is a cheat, but only because his wife doesn’t want to sleep with him anymore. At the same time, she kept imagining a red A plastered on his chest like The Scarlet Letter. But for now, she had to keep him off her mind as she was currently on the set of The Freshman. 

The scenes had her either outdoors or in the auditorium, which felt bigger than the set in Gold Rush. But now she was in the Ballroom scene. Beatrice had joined her because the Bathing beauties had been slow lately. It was so crowded that she couldn’t tell which actor was Harold Lloyd until he wore the glasses. She was reminded of her college days, except she stayed at the women's boarding house outside the college grounds.

Filming took too long that she didn’t get home after midnight. She tiptoed upstairs to her room lest to wake up whoever’s present, changed into her pajamas, freshened up a bit, and went to bed. Two hours later, she awoke when she felt someone climbing into the bed next to her. She turned to, in shock, a naked Sterling lying on his side.

Her scream alarmed Lenore and Sally, with the latter wrapping herself in a dressing gown as they rushed to her room.

“Christ!” Lenore covered her eyes in disgust for his indecency.

Covering himself with a pillow, Sterling apologized with a slurred tone. “Oh, sorry, I thought it was me girl.”

Lenore went to a shocked Gail and comforted her, “What has he done to you?”

Gail assured her nothing happened. Lenore brought her purse from her bedroom and gave him the fee for the taxi.

She took Sterling down the stairs, kicked him out after putting his clothes back on, “I want you out of my house and never come back!” The front door was shut in his face. Upon climbing up again, she commanded her niece to go back to bed, “We’ll discuss this in the morning.”

Silently, Sally obeyed her, so intoxicated that she seemed unaware of the situation. When she threw up on route, Gail offered to assist her to the bathroom.

The next morning, the women of the house woke up late, choosing to attend the 1:30 Sunday service. Gail and Lenore had their breakfast in silence.

Sally slowly climbed down the stairs now wearing a nightgown underneath her robe. “Did I die and go to hell?” she said with her hand on her forehead.

Lenore replied while avoiding eye contact with her niece, ”No, you have just gone to hell.”

Gail, still shaken from last night, poured her a cup of coffee and handed her a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.

After finishing her meal and starting to recover from her hangover, Sally headed towards the stairs saying, “I’ll be going over to Sterling’s and see how he’s doing.”

Lenore stood up from the table, “Stop right there, miss! I don’t want you to see that man again.”

Sally hollered at her, “You can tell a grown woman what to do!” They took the argument upstairs but remained in Gail’s earshot. 

“Didn’t you remember what he did last night? He climbed into the bed next to Gail in the buff!”

“Auntie, He was probably so drunk that he couldn’t tell the difference.”

“He would’ve raped her right there!”

“We already screwed when we got home. He wouldn’t be tired of me that soon.”

“I don’t know what has gotten to you. You’re turning into your mother.”

“What do you know? You and uncle Stanley left Brooklyn because you were embarrassed by us.”

Lenore defended herself, “We came here to invest in real estate. If they hadn't sent you to me, you would have been a prostitute, but you still throw yourself to any man."

Gail fed Persia to distract herself, but to no avail. She then proceeded to empty her table.

“Admit it, you wished you’re related to Gail because she’s everything I’m not.”

Gail stopped when she heard this.

“This was your idea to take her in because you didn't want to give up your nightlife. I wanted to teach you about responsibility, that’s why you’re sent here”

"No, they told me to go here so I could watch you."

“Well, I think they’re wrong because the messed up one is you.”

Something snapped in Gail when she shouted, “Stop! Stop it!” The plate slipped out of her hand. It shattered into a bunch of pieces, scaring the cat. They rushed downstairs at the source of the noise only to find Gail by the kitchen sink and a broken plate on the floor. She whimpered as she said, “My grandmother died, I came all the way to New York just to break up with Benjamin, I had no idea if my career would ever progress and there you are, arguing.” she turned to them, “I’m tired, I’m tired.” she was this close to shedding her tears when she shouted, “Why can't you two get along like a goddam family!" 

She ran upstairs to her room. She sobbed when her face landed on her pillow. She wished she didn’t say all that to them, but it was right for her. She heard a few knocks on the door. In the room were Sally and Lenore 

Sally said to her, “I am awfully sorry.” Gail had never seen her act like this. “I should’ve been more sympathetic to you.”

“You were right,” Lenore said in a broken voice. “We weren’t getting along. But we’re family so we’ll try to make it all better.” They all cuddled up in a very comforting hug.

She looked around her room, only it wasn’t her room, to begin with. It wasn’t like the one she grew up in. She didn’t feel like she was meant to be here.

“That’s fine.”

She let go of their embrace, “But I’m not your family.” She never felt at home no matter what.

“I think it’s time for me to move out.”

Even though they were stunned by her statement, Lenore and Sally agreed.

Note: There I never thought I would finish it on time but I did. Do you think it was getting too dramatic? I would like your feedback on my chapters.

[annabellesjournal]

today i woke up pretty rough. i had intrusive thoughts ever since. i wake my bf up because he hadn’t woken up for his sunday class yet. he seems grumpy because it was early in the morning. his parents ask him to join for dinner tonight and he is so out of it that he just “we’ll see, im really tired and i have a test today” and the mom rudely, “ oh man life is that hard huh?” so my bf just “SUREEE im tired but suuure ill join you. thank you for respecting my own decisions as an adult.” and walks into his office to get into class. the entire time hes in a sour mood and i get anxious when hes in that mood. his monitor then starts to fuck up and he gets even more angry. he fails his exam by one question; which he now has to schedule a makeup day. -- hes not having a good day and when hes having an awful day, usually i am too. my dad’s kidney stone problem has gotten worse. he has been having more pain which means we do need to go to the ER at some point today. i have agoraphobia so all of this is stressing me out. i havent showered, i look fatter than normal and i just... feel awful already from the previous things in the post. ive had so many intrusive thoughts and i just dont think i’ll do well in a public setting for an unknown amount of time. i dont drive, so if i feel anxious i cant just go home. my brother would be the one taking us. i would stay home; but id look like the bad guy.. no one really cares about my mental health; but its okay today isnt about me. im so anxious about my dad dying. ill truly be alone if he passes away. come to think of it if he does pass away theres no way i could even pay for funeral expenses... im stressing out. the possibility of him passing away is small, yet my brain is making it the big thing. the last time we were in the hospital because of him he had his huge open heart surgery. it was scary. he actually died for a couple seconds before they cut him open. the surgeon had to revive him. it was so scary.. the fact that he DIED for a couple seconds before the surgery even began... my dad may not be the best when it comes to talking to me about my mental health or anything really; but i really do enjoy his presence... he makes me feel not alone.  wish us luck today. keep him in your prayers please.

[nitewrighter]

Gency Week Day 7: “Forest”

GOOOODDD Remember how I said this fic was passing like a kidney stone? I just needed to get this fic out of my system but I couldn’t write anything other than shitposts and chatfics for DAYS. So sorry for any sloppiness. The Russian Taiga, Lone Wolf Hanzo, Pregnancy-detecting wolves, and abusive childhoods making unreliable narrators of us all.

----

The four of them had been driving for several hours. The sky was gray and the trees whipped by the van’s windows in a seemingly endless whirl of dark-blue green and gray. It was a cool summer in the Taiga, the air dense with oxygen and the moisture of the pines, drenching the interior of the lungs with a clean cold freshness with every breath.

“So these guys aren’t part of the Hanzo spy network?” said McCree, rolling his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Must you call it a spy network?” said Hanzo.

“It is sort of a spy network,” Mercy piped up from the backseat.

“Not everyone I came into contact with in my travels is some... master of espionage,” said Hanzo, “I just... promised I would return here someday and well, so long as we’re still in this area of Russia--”

“For the other spies in the spy network,” McCree cut in.

“...as long as we’re still in Russia, I should make good on that promise,” said Hanzo.

“And?” said Genji, expectantly. Mercy and McCree exchanged glances. Genji at this point had made it a frequent habit to pull Hanzo off to the side and converse-slash-bicker with him in Japanese, but it seemed to be getting Hanzo to open up more to them.

“And... I thought... it might be enjoyable,” said Hanzo.

“And it’s going to be great--” Genji half-overlapped with Hanzo as he spoke.

 Hanzo lifted his chin sightly at the sight of one sign in Russian, “The next turn,” he said, and McCree nodded. The next turn was onto an unpaved road, and the whole van rumbled with what was clearly an overly weathered mag-lev cable underneath the dirt. The road twisted deep into the pines, and Genji’s visor brightened.

“You know what this reminds me of?” said Genji as the van rumbled.

“Mm?” Hanzo looked over his shoulder at him.

“The back roads Father took into Shirakami Sanchi back when he was training us--do you remember?” said Genji.

Hanzo snorted a little, “Don’t worry, this won’t be that bad,” said Hanzo.

“...‘That bad?’” Genji tilted his head but Hanzo perked up as they pulled up to a large sign arching over the road.

“We’re here,” the slight smile in Hanzo’s voice was unmistakeable as McCree parked the van. The four of them stepped out and stretched, Mercy pulling on a jacket in the chilly forest air. She gave a glance up to the sign.

“Tsarapatsosna Gray Wolf Reserve,” Mercy read the arching sign, she looked back at Hanzo, “Wolf reserve?” but Hanzo was already walking under the sign towards a log-cabin styled office with several fenced areas branching off of it. Mercy looked to McCree and McCree just shrugged.

 A bell rang on the door of the office as Hanzo stepped into it. There was a late 20-something woman with short-cropped periwinkle dyed hair and oversized noise-cancelling headphones scrolling through a tablet at the desk. McCree examined the office--it was about what you would expect from a remote conservation outpost--outdated technology, disheveled filing, a musky smell of taxidermy emanating from a stuffed mink looking down at them from atop a filing cabinet. The girl with the massive headphones didn’t even look up until Hanzo rang the bell on the desk. She pushed her headphones up off of one ear but then her eyes brightened at the sight of a familiar face.

“Hanzo?” one corner of her mouth quirked up in a grin, “Is that you?”

Hanzo gave a smiling nod and a high pitched, “Ha!” escaped her as she pushed up from her desk and brought her headphones down around her neck like a torc. “It’s been too long! Ilya’s going to go crazy!”

“I like the new color, Kira,” said Hanzo, motioning to his hair.

“And I love this!” said Kira, stepping around the desk and pointing at Hanzo’s undercut, “So ‘cool guy,’ yeah?” Her Russian accent was just thick enough for her to hit her consonants in an appealingly hard way.

Hanzo chuckled. “I learned from the best,” said Hanzo.

Kira scoff-laughed and gave him a playful punch in the arm. Her glance trailed over to McCree, Genji, and Mercy. “Your friends?” 

“This is my brother, Genji, and my friends, Angela, and Jesse,” said Hanzo, gesturing at them.

“Howdy,” McCree gave an awkward wave. 

“Brother?” Kira repeated and looked over at Genji, “You had a brother this whole time!?”

“He is hard to keep in contact with!” quipped Genji.

Kira snorted. “Da, at least my idiot brother sticks around, but Ilya’s been mooning over Hanzo ever since he left, I think he’s the one starting half the howls around here.”

“Leaving a trail of broken hearts everywhere you go, huh Hanzo?” said McCree

“We never---” Hanzo started but the door opened and a man looking a bit older than Kira with a nose bridge piercing and his hair piled in a chestnut bun briskly stepped in.

“Kira, чей фургон снаружи? У нас не было--” the man caught himself off as he made eye contact with Hanzo. “HANZO!” he lunged forward and caught Hanzo in a big bear hug which Hanzo was, shockingly, receptive to.

“It’s good to see you too, Ilya,” said Hanzo, patting him on the back.

“You barely write anymore! You spend 2 months here and then disappear! We worry so much and all I have is postcards!” said Ilya, bracing his hands on Hanzo’s shoulders.

“Postcards?” McCree mumbled under his breath.

Ilya gasped, “Your hair!”

“That’s what I said!” said Kira.

“Is a good look!” said Ilya.

“I hope my friends and I aren’t causing too much of a disturbance dropping in unannounced like this--” Hanzo started.

“Eh, no, it’s slow today,” said Ilya. He looked over at McCree, Genji and Mercy, “Your friends?”

“Jesse, Genji, and Angela,” said Kira, gesturing at each of them to fill him in, “Genji’s his brother.”

“You have a brother!” Ilya clapped his hands together but his sights trailed over to Genji’s scarred face. Hanzo’s stomach tightened for a minute, but Ilya quickly switched gears back to his jovial self rather than ask about the origins of the scars. He cleared his throat. “Ilya Novikov. You’ve already met my charming sister, Kira.” 

Kira gave a wave from where she was leaning against the desk.

 “You and your friends want to see the boys? They missed you.” said Ilya.

“We would love to,” said Hanzo.

“Waivers,” said Kira, holding up several papers completely in Russian.

“Ah, yes, waivers,” said Ilya catching himself.

After about three minutes of winging some Russian-to-English translations and Ilya feverishly promising that the wolves would not, in fact, “eat their faces,” the four of them had their waivers signed.

Ilya clapped his hands together, “Good! Good! Come! They will be so excited!”

He rushed out the door and Hanzo gave a glance back to McCree, Genji, and Mercy. “Sorry, I should have let you answer as well.”

“No, this is great!” said Genji, “I’d love to meet the wolves you worked with!”

“I’d like to,” said Mercy, “But I’m still... processing all this.”

“Yeah--Okay, okay, okay--back up,” said McCree, taking his hat off as they walked out the door after Hanzo, “You... you spent 2 months in a Russian wolf reserve!?”

“Much of their permanent residents are actually wolfdogs,” said Hanzo, walking briskly to keep up with Ilya.

“A Russian wolf reserve,” McCree repeated, walking after him.

“...remote location, heated cabins, just enough plumbing to get by, work to keep me occupied,” Hanzo looked over at McCree and Mercy, who were looking at him completely dumbfounded, “You didn’t think I was spending the whole time sleeping under bridges and quietly disposing of the bodies of my would-be assassins?!”

“Well, this is a side of you I’m glad to see,” said Mercy, folding her arms with a smile.

“Who doesn’t like a dog person?” said McCree with a grin as they caught up with Ilya, who was standing outside a chain-link fence that spanned a large area dotted with pines, but where the duff of pine needles had clearly been packed down more with both human and wolf footsteps.

“Lots of wolfdogs with the Crisis,” Ilya explained as they walked along the fence of the enclosure, “Omnics displace people, pets run away, nature reclaims abandoned towns, dogs fuck with the wolves, make wolfdogs. This enclosure is all the older ones. More used to people. Good for kids. Good for bringing funding.”

“Ah, we’re getting the fluffy tourist treatment,” said McCree.

“Is still big animals!” said Ilya. He suddenly perked up and pivoted back at them, walking backwards. He seemed to give a quick glance over at everyone’s outfit. “Good clothing. Yes. No danglies--not too tight--Jesse, your name was?”

“Yes?” said McCree.

“No hats,” said Ilya, and McCree took off his hat and set it on a supply locker near the enclosure, “The wolves. They like to steal things. And then tear them apart. Then bury them,” Ilya suddenly perked up. “Ah! Miss Angela! Important question: You are pregnant?” said Ilya, looking at Mercy.

“Excuse me?!” said Mercy reddening.

“My apologies, my English is ehhh....” Ilya made a ‘so-so’ motion with his hand, “What I’m saying is--The wolves, they know when you are pregnant. They act weird. They bring you food. They always know.”

Mercy’s mouth drew to a thin, crooked line with her bemusement, “No, I’m not pregnant,” she said with a slight chuckle.

“No hats and pregnancy detection. Got it,” said McCree, putting his hands on his hips.

A large brown wolfdog with three legs hop-walked in from the trees. It spotted Hanzo and suddenly bound towards the chain-link fence, rising up on its back legs and rattling the fence as it put one paw on it.

“Shoko!” said Hanzo, putting his hand to the chain-link and letting the wolf-dog sniff it, “She’s still here?”

“Of course!” said Ilya, “This is her home!”

The wolfdog whined and rattled the chain-link, drawing the attention of her pack, who all slowly padded in from the various tree and shrub covered areas they were sniffing about. 

“Hanzo, you should go in first, get them warmed up to people, yeah?” said Ilya.

“Of course,” said Hanzo, stepping in. The gate was constructed in sally-port fashion, with another gate inside a fenced off area so that Hanzo could have the gate shut behind him before entering the enclosure. As soon as he stepped through that second gate he was beset on all sides by massive barking, sniffing bodies, roiling around him and yipping and some even prancing and rearing on their hind legs playfully at him. Mercy and Genji and McCree watched as Hanzo’s expression melted into pure warmth and even sputtered bouts of laughter as the wolves and wolfdogs sniffed and whined and butted into him. Hanzo, apparently well practiced in maneuvering with the pack’s attention on him, managed to shift the mass of furry bodies away from the sally port and he chatted to them, slipping between English and Japanese and even some Russian he had presumably picked up in working in this place. McCree honestly could have just watched him all day but Ilya elbowed him and gestured into the enclosure with a thumb. Mercy looked over at Genji, a slight smile on his scar-notched lips. 

“We never got to have dogs, growing up,” said Genji, very quietly.

“Come on! Come on!” said Ilya, gesturing them in one at a time. 

McCree entered and instantly a section of the pack swarming Hanzo broke off to sniff him. McCree nearly lost his balance as a wolf with splotchy-patterned fur knocked into him from the side.

“Oh they like you!” Ilya shouted from outside the fence.

Because he smells like Hanzo, thought Genji, stepping in to the enclosure after McCree. The wolves ears pricked up with the screech of the metal gate swinging, and a dozen brown, black, and yellow eyes regarded Genji with some curiosity. Genji moved to hold out his prosthetic hand, caught himself, then extended his organic hand. One silver wolf gave his hand a wary sniff before pushing his muzzle against Genji’s palm. Once the four of them were thoroughly sniffed, the pack broke apart slightly, several wandering off to resume sniffing or scratching at pines indifferent to their human visitors, but a good portion of them hung around, eager for pets and roughhousing.

“They are a lot bigger than they seem in the documentaries, aren’t they?” said Mercy as a cream-colored wolf stuck its full muzzle into the monopocket of her hoodie while a black wolfdog sniffed at her heels. The wolves seemed to be warming up to Genji as well, in spite of his prosthetics, sniffing at his jawline where his skin ended and cybernetic neck began. They were like dogs and yet not like dogs, sometimes remembering an aloof pride midway-through being pet and briskly walking away, but then coming back when they realized that that very distance they created was being respected. I can see why Hanzo would like you, thought Genji, scratching a wolf that wanted to be scratched, but didn’t want Genji to make eye contact while he was doing it. He glanced up at Hanzo, half-wrestling with Shoko, and the words Hanzo had said earlier hung in Genji’s mind like a loose thread off a sweater.

This won’t be that bad.

This won’t be that bad.

This won’t be that bad.

Genji glanced over to Mercy and McCree, still well-occupied with the wolfdogs swarming them, and walked over to Hanzo.

“Hanzo?” said Genji, dropping to a squat next to Hanzo as he rubbed Shoko’s belly.

“Yes?” said Hanzo, scratching the three-legged wolfdog under her chin.

“Sorry, I’m just... trying to clear something up--What you said back in the van... you didn’t like Shirakami-Sanchi?” said Genji.

“You’re not supposed to like it. Survival isn’t a game,” said Hanzo, glancing up at Genji. Shoko rolled herself back onto her stomach and pushed up under Hanzo’s arm to try and get his attention.

“I thought we did pretty well,” said Genji.

“Well you got to go play at being the agile hunter charging after squirrels and I had to actually find fresh water and build a fire for us,” said Hanzo, digging his hands into the ruff of fur at Shoko’s neck.

“...I thought you were okay with that,” said Genji.

“Well in a sense, yes, it kept you out of my hair, but I was also worried you’d do something stupid and hurt yourself and Father wouldn’t be there to rush to your rescue, so it would just be me, and---” Hanzo caught himself and his hand paused, still half-sunken into wolf fur. He looked up at Genji. “I’m sorry,” said Hanzo.

“No, I--I get it,” said Genji, glancing off.

 He sighed and pulled his hand away, prompting Shoko to make a protesting growl-whine, “It’s wasn’t your fault. You were too young for it anyway. Father was mostly testing me.”

“...I thought it was the first time Father thought I could do something,” said Genji. I thought, I thought, I thought, the more Genji said the words the stupider he felt.

“He probably thought it would build character,” Hanzo conceded, “Of course it was just a fun adventure in the woods for his favorite.”

“But you didn’t like it,” said Genji.

Hanzo looked at Genji for a few seconds. “You, Genji. You were his favorite.”

A sputter of laughs escaped Genji but quickly faded as he read Hanzo’s face. “Oh you... you actually think that,” said Genji.

“Think that?! It was obvious!” said Hanzo, “Father always liked you better because you took after Mother more--that’s why he went easier on you.”

“Went easy on-- He just thought he couldn’t trust me with anything! He thought I was a failure! You were the perfect first-born!” said Genji.

“I wasn’t his son, I was his heir! He was only ever... molding me to be like him! He actually smiled with you! He called you ‘Sparrow!’”

“Sparrow was an insult,” said Genji, plainly.

Hanzo’s brow crinkled and his eyes pinched with confusion. “What? No it wasn’t.”

“‘Genji, you never apply yourself to anything. You’re always flitting between meaningless distractions. This way and that. Like a sparrow,’” Genji imitated Sojiro’s tone almost perfectly.

Hanzo glanced down, “No, no, that can’t be right,” he muttered, “Sparrows are lucky!”

“Sparrows are pests,” said Genji. 

“You were always laughing!”

“Well, yes,” said Genji, he rubbed the back of his neck, “I... got very good at laughing things off. I’m--I’m still good at it.”

Hanzo felt a shudder linger between his shoulder blades when he thought about how easily Genji had laughed at him saying he was the favorite. Both now realized that the rest of the wolves were giving them a wide berth. Three still crowding Mercy and one getting a vigorous belly rub from McCree. 

“I’m sorry,” said Hanzo, “I...had not known.”

“I didn’t know either,” said Genji, “I always assumed you and father got along because you did everything right. You even won every sparring match.”

“Because I was bigger,” said Hanzo, “Those weren’t fair to you, either.”

Shoko pushed her muzzle against the back of Hanzo’s shoulder for attention.

“Perhaps we should...” Hanzo trailed off.

“Talk about this when we’re not surrounded by wolves?” said Genji.

“Yes,” said Hanzo, glancing off.

Genji pushed himself up from his squat and walked off, giving Hanzo his space. Upon seeing whatever tension between them was dissipating, several wolves immediately swarmed Genji for attention. Just running his hands through their fur was a relief. He watched as McCree chatted with Hanzo quietly. McCree apparently comforting Hanzo over the newest revelation.

I thought you knew, thought Genji, I thought I was a joke to you, too...

I thought. 

I thought.

I thought.

“Genji?” Mercy stepped next to him as Genji was absentmindedly scratching the side of an older, sleepy wolfdog’s face, “Were you and Hanzo just arguing?”

“It’s fine,” said Genji, “We’re fine.”

“Are you sure?” said Mercy. One corner of Genji’s mouth tugged up in a not-smile. She really was so protective of him when it came to Hanzo.

“It was... just about this trip we took when we were younger,” said Genji.

“The Shirakami trip you mentioned back in the van?” said Mercy.

“It wasn’t really  a trip, it was part of our training,” said Genji, “Wilderness survival. Standard stuff. 5 days of just me and Hanzo roughing it in the woods, making our own lean-tos, that sort of thing...” Genji trailed off.

“How old were you?” said Mercy.

“Hanzo was twelve,” said Genji.

“...so you were nine,” said Mercy, her brow was crinkling.

“Are you okay?” said Genji.

“Just you and Hanzo?” Mercy, “Not your father?”

“Of course,” said Genji with a shrug, and he noticed the color drain from Mercy’s face, “What?”

“Genji, you were a 12 year old and a 9 year old left alone in the woods for five days, that’s horrific,” said Mercy.

“Every generation of the Shimada did it in some capacity,” said Genji, “And I already had plenty of training before---” he caught himself as he looked up into Mercy’s eyes, “...Oh. That’s... that’s not something families do with their kids, is it?”

“No,” said Mercy, “No it isn’t.”

“Right...” Genji looked down.

“So the argument was about the trip?” said Mercy.

“It... it turned into being more about father,” said Genji, “I guess...we both assumed he was amazing to the other when the truth was, he was terrible to both of us in different ways.”

Mercy touched his shoulder, “You were both children...”

Genji huffed a little. “I think we both wanted to believe he was good, deep down. He was strong, certainly. He made the world feel like it had a certain... order to it. That the clan’s way was the truth of the world.”

“It takes time,” said Mercy, “Even when you get enough space and perspective, it still takes a while to figure out who you are outside of a situation like that.”

Genji brought his hand over hers. “It still scares me, sometimes, like, what do I accept as normal that’s nightmarish for other people?” He glanced off, “And... and I want to remember good things about our childhood--I want to believe there are some... some strings of family love that were always there. Maybe father did love us... but he only knew how to show it in the way it was shown to him...he may not have even known--I may not even know--Am I--?” he cut himself off as he looked into her eyes.

Mercy stooped over him put her free hand against the side of his face, and gently kissed his forehead. “Genji,” she said, “You are one of the kindest, strongest, and most patient people I’ve ever met. And you know yourself. And you’re constantly working to be a better version of yourself. That’s one of the reasons why you tried so hard to bring Hanzo back into your life--would it be easier if Hanzo wasn’t in your life? Yes, but... I think for you, it’s not about wanting what’s easy.”

“Maybe I’m just dwelling on this because I’m scared, no matter how hard I worked to get here, to get better, I’m so scared of repeating that cycle,” said Genji.

“You won’t,” said Mercy, sitting down next to him,“This is happening because you want to break a cycle, and... learning things like this is a part of it. This is new ground for everyone. Of course it’s scary.”

Genji looked over at Hanzo, kneading his knuckles into the the thick fur of a wolf-dog’s neck with his face scrunched at the wolf licking his face. McCree walked up and helped haul him to his feet before both of them nearly tripped over another wolf butting into them from behind.

“He has gotten a lot better,” said Genji.

“And it’s going to keep getting better, sure there will be hiccups, but you both want this,” said Mercy, “That’s what’s important.”

Genji just quietly smiled at that. “We’re going to talk about it more when we get back,” said Genji.

“I think that’s a good idea,” said Mercy, “And if it’s any consolation, the wolves confirmed I’m not pregnant.”

Genji looked at her oddly, with one thick eyebrow arched with amusement.

“So we don’t have to worry about that yet, at least,” said Mercy, folding her arms.

“Yet?” said Genji.

Mercy just gave him a smile and a shrug, and Genji snorted and leaned his head on his shoulder. He kept his fingers dug into the wolf’s fur, breathing in the pine-cooled air.

[agirlneedsgoals]

It's that time again! Leslie babble coming through. I'm on mobile and can't cut. Sorry.

So today was crazy. Really busy for one thing. Also a client burst into tears mid-conversation. Luckily, that conversation was not with me so I got to just tsk quietly and, "Oh, honey," her while someone else handled it.

My new dog that I adopted is doing really well with us, she's lost weight, she's dissolved 7 of the 8 bladder stones on the diet we have her on. She gets to move around freely and we're getting that kidney infection under control. But her old owner has dementia and keeps "finding out" they relinquished the dog. Over...and over...and over again. She has no memory of agreeing to this. It's torture and everyone wants to know what to do and I keep gently explaining there's nothing we can do but nobody wants to believe it. She will continue to forget and then "find out" she no longer has a dog repeatedly until such time as her brain decides to eat the memory of the dog whole.

I had to listen to the last voicemail she left because they couldn't understand her. I could! She was crying and said she was very, very hurt. I felt like dying. I can't give her back the dog (I'm not using her name right now because I'm paranoid about Google searches, shut up, I do what I want), she can't take care of her. That poor baby had 8 bladder stones and blood in her urine for SEVEN WEEKS. She could have died. Kidney infections are no joke. She's had 2 Convenia injections, a brand new diet, and the ability to go outside at will to pee in the past 4 weeks and is steadily improving but is still sick. There's still blood in her urine. It's that serious. I am not giving her back.

But! The Dr wants me to handle talking to the previous owner. Just the thought of it makes my throat start to close but I really am the only one there qualified to handle that call. I have experience with both the care of elderly people and brutally difficult phone calls. I spoke with the DiL today. Her husband is the one with power of attorney. They're going to see what's up and then call us back and I told them I'd wait to hear from them before I did anything on our end. Big deep breath. I'm gonna need Xanax.

In other news, a client that had to put her dog down recently and insisted the Dr go to her house to do it hasn't paid her bill. I'm supposed to do those calls but I'm off until Saturday and the Dr forgot to tell me about it until after we were closed. She's gonna make my friend do it and she hates those calls. It's a doozy because it's a confrontation (asking for the money) and is complicated by emotion (grief over the dog's passing). I really wish I could take that hit for her.

I've been having dreams. One set involves my Oma and great-aunt. They're not nightmares but I never like those because when I wake up it just reminds me that they're dead. The other set involves Hell House LLC. Those movies have their scary moments but I'm not scared of the movie, you know? I almost never am. I would absolutely go into that haunted hotel because I am the first person to die in a horror movie. I investigate the noise, I follow the strange shape, I say, "Hello?" if I hear something when I'm supposed to be alone. I have Dumb Bitch Disease and it's terminal. But while I'm sure I'd be scared in the moment of a horror movie, I'm not really scared in general, of that makes sense. My dominant reaction is Fight with a capital F.

Except these dreams? I'm there with Pumpkin. (I know she's a dog but she's also my beautiful wrinkly daughter and I love her more than I'll ever love you, so mind your business.) I'm there with my baby Pumpkinface and you cannot imagine the fear. She disappeared at one point and there was this frozen moment where I was just made entirely out of sheer terror and it made me vulnerable. I mean, I'd literally eat their souls of they hurt my baby, but until then, I was so scared and I felt small and powerless and my Pumpkin was gone. I had this jumble of thoughts of what they could do to her that is mostly just incomprehensible bloody images that I refuse to look too closely at now. I'd rather go into the basement in the dark and play Touch Marco Polo with the clowns than deal with something happening to her. (That link is a) a spoiler for Hell House LLC 3 and b) genuinely creepy so you've been warned.)

I was hoping to do stuff this afternoon. Just...something. Anything at all. But I'm exhausted. Again. Who's surprised! I managed to actually stay in bed all night for almost 6 hours. I wasn't, you know, actually sleep for a lot of it but. I was gonna nap but I keyed myself up talking about the dreams so I think I'll take a princess bath instead. When in doubt, do something that makes you smell pretty. Also: face masks.

[thegreatallie]

There's a short story I'm fond of, written by Tove Jansson and published in the book, “Tales from Moominvalley,” called “The Fillyjonk Who Believed in Disasters.” The Fillyjonk is a fussy creature who lives alone in a house filled with knickknacks she doesn't care for that she spends all her time dusting, while always being a hair away from having a panic attack about some unknown “disaster” she knows is certain to strike. The idea of the disaster consumes her as she goes about her life, looming behind her as she's washing her rugs outside and having tea with her neighbor, until it seems the concept of the disaster is worse than an actual disaster. And indeed that turns out to be the case: that very night, a cyclone rises from the sea and encroaches on land, striking her house and leveling it in one gust, destroying her home and all those knickknacks she secretly hated but couldn't get rid of because of societal expectations.

The Fillyjonk was outside her house at the time, watching it happen, and all she thought was, “Oh, so this is what a disaster feels like? Okay, yeah, I can totally handle this.”

Last summer, the night before my first urgent care visit, I was lying in bed. I was in a lot of pain, and the weird numbness in my right belly was scaring me. I was almost crying from worry about what was wrong with me and what was going to happen. I had convinced myself that I had Stage 4 cancer, that it had metastasized to every organ in my body, that I would be dead within a month, and that all I could do was write my will and hope when I met God he wouldn't give me too much grief over my high school years. None of this came to pass; I came out of that with the diagnosis of “pulled muscle,” although I soon would attach “kidney stone” with more validity (erroneously, of course). The point was, I was not dying and I had spent all night worrying about nothing. I took a lesson from this about not assuming the worst when I have no idea what's going to happen.

Well, as I know now, my tumor had already moved in at that point and the pain I felt that night was likely what led to, or the result of, my rib breaking. So, in a way, it was cancer that had kept me up and made me worry. Not Stage 4, but still pretty close, and a life-changing diagnosis even if it wasn't one that threatened to be terminal. So there's me, half a year later, moving away from my dream and undergoing treatment that left me sick and weak, dealing with pain, medications, side-effects, needles, vomiting, an inability to grasp my newfound weaknesses...

And I am the Fillyjonk, standing on the outskirts of the disaster. “Oh, so this is what a disaster feels like? Okay, yeah, I can totally handle this.”

Yes, in both my case and the Fillyjonk's case, the disaster could be much worse. On my end, the cancer could have metastasized, and had the Fillyjonk been in her house when the cyclone hit she surely would have perished immediately. But she wasn't, and mine wasn't, and we are both still here, and we're ready to deal with our disasters with a newfound sense of tranquility that, after all this time, maybe the disaster we built up in our head was worse than the disaster that struck us.

(Originally written January 23rd for my cancer Facebook group)

[gifsbysimplysonia]

End of Day Sh!t post - August 15, 2019

So, I have been at my current job since November 2016 but I haven’t been to the dentist since probably well before that. *cringe* I know, I’m disgusting. But for whatever reason, my fam has just had the WORST luck with dentists. 

The last dude I was going to was running for County Coroner? LOL and like, that wasn’t the reason I had a problem with him. Him calling and leaving me messages and sending me mailers ABOUT VOTING FOR HIM hit me all kinds of wrong. Not to mention, he was one of these dudes that I NEVER saw cuz he had a staff of about 12 young ladies and an office of about 20 rooms. THEY are the ones who did all the work. The only time I saw him was for my fillings; AND he only cleaned my teeth AFTER he did the fillings. The dentist I had BEFORE (who I didn’t like because he KEPT trying to push me to buy a $750 custom mouth piece/bite guard) did the same to me so I thought this was the norm. Get the work done, get your teeth cleaned, in that order.

Well, somehow or another, Ma found a dentist close to home. Seriously, like 15 minutes away. And Ma doesn’t like people in general lol so when she came home raving about this guy, I knew he must be ok. Then she took Dad to see him and Dad has needed a lot of serious work done for a LONG time but we could NEVER harangue him into going to anyone (what IS it with Mexican men being SO hard headed about their OWN HEALTH?!?!). She got him in there somehow and he liked the dude enough that he kept going and he got everything he needed to done, he is finally OUT OF PAIN but NOW we can’t get him to go BACK for a cleaning -_- It’s like, we spent ALL THAT MONEY getting you fixed up and he did ALL THAT WORK to make it so you can eat normal again and now you’re not even gonna take care of it?!?! *headdesk*

But anyways, I saw this dude on Saturday and I was HELLA surprised that he went to clean my teeth immediately? He was like, why are you surprised and so we told him about our previous 2 dentists and he just shook his head. He’s like, “That’s shady, and they did that to get as much money out of you as possible.” Ma and I just snorted because of course. OF COURSE.

It’d been so long since I had my teeth taken care of, he told me I was gross. LMAO ok no he didn’t cuz he’s VERY courteous and super nice, but I said I was disgusting and gross. I have gingivitis which is no surprise to me cuz I breathe and my gums bleed. So he cleaned my teeth and had to go high enough with his instruments or whatever that my mouth ACHED for the next day and a half and I legit couldn’t even bite into bread without it hurting. 

I have 4 wisdom teeth that are impacted that I have NOT wanted to get taken out cuz my nerves are wrapped around the roots, but he wants me to go see an oral surgeon cuz he says I’m risking teeth I NEED at this point by NOT having them pulled :( 

And I’ve been having pain on the upper back left side for a whiiiiiiiiiiiiiile now and he touched in between 2 of my teeth back there and I SHOT out of the chair. HOLY MOLY did it hurt. He took XRays and it turns out there’s a HUGE fcking shadow in one of my teeth so he says I have a cavity in there and IN BETWEEN the teeth (which I didn’t even know could happen??). He’s gonna attempt to fill it tonight at 7pm (why the Hell is he working so late?) but I’m convinced he’s gonna find it has to be a root canal cuz that’s the kind of luck I have so why am I putting myself through this to begin with? :S 

I have been worrying about it enough that my forearms have been itchy today and when I scratch, my uticaria is in effect which means my scratches are leaving really red and welted skin. Good news is, it disappears within minutes. But, like, I’m clawing at myself cuz I just don’t wanna doooooooooooo this. 

Not to mention I somehow LOST the paperwork he gave me on Saturday with my referral to the surgeon lol. I’m a disaster that doesn’t deserve to have nice things or painless teeth, I swear. If you read this, say a prayer for me or light a candle for me cuz I’m very irrationally scared of dying in a dentist’s chair. My mom has what I have always called a “prison tolerance” for pain; her doc once told her there was no way she was passing a kidney stone cuz she’d be in “way more pain than she was showing.” Guess what showed up 2 days later? 

Doctors ain’t sh!t but my mom is. And I’m the EXACT OPPOSITE of her, so I’m a whiny a$$ baby who doesn’t wanna go to the dentist. Sigh.

Special shoutout and thanks to @stevieang for leaving me a comment on AO3. I like almost threw up when I saw that email notification lol. It gave me many flutters. 

Now if I could just figure out why my Steve drabble has tanked so hard? Like...did I really get him that wrong? Was I really THAT up my own a$$ thinking it was cute? I have no concept of what’s good or bad or anything when it comes to Marvel fanfic, I guess. 

Also I randomly got an idea today that involves a DJ, Steve Rogers and mixes of music from the 30s/40s? I’m not sure HOW it came to me but it’s been niggling at me all day to the point I went on  YouTube to find out if these mixes even exist AND THEY DO so like .... here’s another one to go on the ENDLESS LIST OF IDEAS that’ll never ever come to be lol. I hate my brain so much sometimes.

[disease-danger-darkness-silence]

So I'm back on my shit

Or rather, my body is back on its shit.

April of 2017 I had to have a partial discectomy between L4 and L5 to deal with severe sciatica (like.... Excruciating, can't stand upright or sit properly, laid up in bed in absolute agony severe. Like a 9 on my personal pain scale, the ten of which is the time my dad did at-home surgery sans analgesic when I had a screwdriver go all the way through my foot. That severe) caused by a very intense case of degenerative disc disease (I inherited it from BOTH parents!) and a tilted pelvis.

The last week and a half or so I've been having pain again. Really bad pain. As bad as if not worse than before. Constant agony. At first I thought it was kidney stones because it came out of nowhere and felt different, but now the pain has settled into something a little more familiar.

I went to the ER, then to my PCP, then back to the ER, and the morning of New Years Eve, back to the ER again.

The first and second times to the ER they did CT scans - first time, lower-lumbar only as I was worried about kidney stones, and the second time, the whole spine, because I became seriously concerned about the fact that arm movement was causing me issues.

The first time at the ER they gave me two shots of morphine and a shot of Valium and I was still in agony. Didn't touch shit. They sent me home with scripts for prednisone and Norco. Things they also did: uterine and vaginal ultrasounds, because the CT scan picked up an ovarian cyst basically the size of my ovary and they wanted to make sure the ovary was still getting blood. It was. Thankfully I have a decent sense of humor and no shame and my US tech appreciated that I was being funny about it instead of freaked out.

I then followed up with my primary care provider. He was concerned but wanted to do the gentle, gentle approach, so he did me a stronger script for prednisone and stronger Norco. Let me insert here that the Norco didn't really do much outside of let me get up and walk around for a few minutes at a time, or get up and drive without blacking out from pain.

Second ER trip they gave me Dilauded. I want you to understand that as narcotics go, Dilauded is fucking hardcore. You really can't get much stronger than this shit. They gave me a full dose for an adult my size (5 feet 5 inches, 230 lbs) and it took me from a 9 to a 6. I could lay down without dying! They were perplexed, gave me a second dose a few hours later, and sent me home with a prescription for lidocaine patches (under the assumption that muscle knots were clenching around the sciatic nerve and I needed guided pain management to get them to stop. Not entirely wrong, the knots are there and exacerbating the issue), and a six-pack of Norco to get me through until I could go see my doctor. They still have not been able to fill the lidocaine patches because Medicaid is giving them shit, but they were for 5% patches and Cally bought me some 4% ones that helped a little bit.

Two days later I was back, just after dropping Cally off at work at 6 am, gasping because I'd hobbled into the ER after almost passing out behind the wheel. I had lost most of the feeling in my right foot and the back if my right calf, but nothing was swollen. It was, however, very cold.

The pain had increased and spread; during the night I tried to take a shower, knowing I'd need to go back to the ER the next morning, and the pressure from water running down my body (not directly spraying on it, just running down my body!) made me vomit and almost pass out from the pain. (I still haven't been able to get a full shower in, and I am hoping to try within the next few hours.)

I took my last two Norco three hours before I had to take Cally to work because I knew it would take that long to kick in properly, and I still laid there in agony.

It was so bad that Raven came up to bring me something and jiggled our bed a little and I just started crying because it hurt! So! Damn! Much! And she freaked out and slept on the couch out of fear of like, hurting me more.

It was bad. I had to stop multiple times on the 100-foot walk from my parking space to the ER entrance and lean against cars, walls, signposts, whatever I could find, to let the freezing cold take some of the pain away.

My labored entrance startled the ER staff and they jumped up to assist me.

I had so many tests done. Ultrasounds of my entire right leg. Bloodwork. Urinalysis. A very kind double-doc coming in and reassuring me that it wasn't in my head, because the nurse freaked out when I told him the truth: that if I had to keep experiencing this level of pain I was just going to kill myself, because it hurt that bad. That doctor was awesome, btw, and he was there with me the whole way and made sure I got answers, if not total relief.

What I needed was an MRI. Unfortunately, the hospital's had gone down for reasons (I heard maintenance and I heard broken, idk which is true, maybe both), so the double-doc organized a medical transport to a local imaging facility. They gave me the max dose of Dilauded for my height-weight, let me sleep a few hours because I had not slept for shit for the 72 hours previous or so, gave me more Dilauded, and then sent me with a nurse and a very pretty med trans tech over to the imaging place.

The MRI people were lovely, fully understanding my severe claustrophobia. They let me call the shots, and my nurse doped me up with Ativan. The tech asked if I wanted music over headphones, if that would help, and I said yes, please, any station with Led Zeppelin, so he put an all-Zeppelin station from iHeartRadio on for me. It played Kashmir at the end.

I got back to the hospital. They couldn't give me more Dilauded because they were going to be releasing me soon, but they gave me a script for oxycodone, gave me an in-house oxycodone, and another prescription for stronger Prednisone.

Because now the disc between L5 and S1 is herniated. They're not sure if surgery will fix it, but they gave me a referral to the neurosurgeon who did my last surgery. It's likely I'll need hardware of some sort installed. In the meantime, they're trying to get the herniation to stop swelling so much, in the hopes that I'll get some relief.

Oxycodone, in combination with my regular schmear of nerve pain medication, is doing essentially what the Norco did - allowing me short instances of vague functionality. I can't cook, I'm unsure if I can bathe, and I can only drive because 1. I have never gotten successfully high off of a narcotic ever, and 2. My car's shitty bucket seats are oddly the perfect shape for this particular brand of back pain. I can only game if I'm laying on my back on an ice pack, which hurts my neck. I can only read if I'm laying on my front with a heating pad on my sacrum, which also hurts my neck.

Last time this happened I was married and had financial support from an intimate partner. This time I am newly-divorced, neither me nor my kinda-girlfriend is functional enough for work, and my sister that lives with me is this close to burnout at all times.

It's overwhelming and terrifying. On top of that, I'm not sure if Medicaid is renewing me for the year or not. And I can't find my goddamn cane.

This was long, and I'm sorry for that, but I just needed to let y'all know why I am the way I am right now. I'll get better, hopefully.

[succubused]

Post ME3, just something I needed to write to for catharsis about the ending, Heartbroken Turian Returns To Site Of Girlfriend’s Presumed Death Three Weeks Later, What Happens Next Will Warm Your Heart

The worst part about Liara’s reaction was that she hadn’t said anything. She just looked at him while Garrus explained that he was going back to the Citadel, listened to all of his justifications and half-hearted I just need closure, you know?

Because she knew it was all bullshit.

She hadn’t even said what they both knew, called him out on it so he could hear how pathetic it was having been said out loud.

You hope to find her alive.

Liara just watched him with that sad look she’d had every day since Shepard had been lost. It was the same look she gave him when he put the memorial plaque with her name on it in a locked drawer and hurled the key out an airlock with an aggression that surprised even Garrus himself.

But Liara had seen enough dying men to know one when he was standing in front of her. She didn’t address what he told her. Instead, she crossed her arms and asked him how long it had been since he’d slept.

Shepard had once asked him if he ever had nightmares. She had sat there on the edge of her bed, hands twisting together, eyes flicking back and forth in empty space, still seeing whatever it was that had been knocking her awake in a cold sweat for months. He had asked what the dreams were, but she never told him, always just shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.”

I tend to expect the worst anyway, so dreaming about it seems like a waste of good sleep. That’s what he had told her. And she wiped away the tears, angrily, and crushed his hand in hers until her heart rate slowed.

She had been so afraid. He had felt it in the thrumming of the air, that one defect that Cerberus hadn’t been able to resurrect out of her; the air answered to Shepard’s biotics, and Shepard’s biotics answered to her emotions. Some wouldn’t have known the static electricity for what it was. But Garrus was attuned to it by now; she couldn’t hide from him.

Expect the worst.

Garrus glared at the wreckage beyond the shuttle window. He had always expected the worst. But that day, he just couldn’t force himself to expect Shepard to die. It seemed impossible, like the sun going supernova. You know it’s possible, you know it’ll happen someday, but the idea of the sky going up in flames tomorrow? A disaster on a scale too large to process as a possibility. That was how he’d seen the possibility of Shepard dying. And he hadn’t expected it.

What happens when the worst comes to pass? Is it still a waste of sleep if it isn’t what you expect that flashes before you, just the truth?

He didn’t sleep. He saw the Citadel going up in flames and he felt the stone dropping into the pit of his stomach as he watched from the Normandy’s med bay. They weren’t nightmares. They were just memories.

The visions of Shepard being slowly crushed beneath burning slabs of concrete, trying to scream for help but choking on a collapsed lung, Shepard dying alone and broken and not even knowing what she’d done, well. Those were merely extrapolations. Test scenarios.

Not dead.

Not dead.

“She’s dead,” he said, softly, to himself. There was no one left to hear.

The battle had been over for three weeks, but the Citadel was still smoldering, lazy embers floating through the air like fiery snowflakes. It was unrecognizable. Garrus could have been standing smack in the center of his old office at C-Sec and he wouldn’t have known.

What are you looking for?

What is is you think you will find?

He had to. He had to.

Garrus took a deep breath and coughed. The air was full of soot. Hard to breathe even with functioning lungs. If one was injured…

Stop.

Everything was different. It was as though the walls themselves had tilted, shifted to change the galaxy’s largest city into the galaxy’s largest weapon.

Or the largest tomb.

Stop.

It was all wrong. He didn’t know what to look for. This wasn’t the Citadel he knew. This was the Crucible, and he was looking for the corpse of the woman he loved among the wreckage of a dead weapon of mass destruction, and if this wasn’t a nighmare, it was doing a spectacular impression of one.

Where are you, Shepard?

Blinking up at the stars, he slowly started to make his way towards what seemed like the center of the wreckage.

Empty.

If she wasn’t here maybe he would just stay and wait to rot. If he found her and she was dead maybe he would just die here beside her. At least they would be together.

He was…where was he? It looked vaguely familiar. Purple lights still pulsing, weakly, on one side of the platform and an overturned shape so burned out it was barely recognizable as a couch.

Of course. Of course this, of all places on the Presidium, would be what somehow made it slightly intact. Slightly being the operative word—it was shattered, but Garrus could tell what it had been, which was more than what he could say about the rest of the ruins.

An image of Shepard, shattered and unrecognizable flashed before his eyes. Wreckage. Ruins.

No.

Purgatory.

Garrus?

Of course he was in Purgatory.

His laughter bounced hysterically off the ragged walls, he almost felt as though he would never be able to stop, until he sank to his knees and put his head in his hands. He remembered her here. Swaying back and forth on the dance floor while Jack watched her with both eyebrows raised more in shock than amusement. Doing that absurd thing with her hands.

Don’t crack up on me now, Vakarian.

“I’m not,” he said. “I’m just talking to the voices in my head. It’s all normal.”

The air shuddering, crackling.

“Not…in your head.”

Garrus froze. He scrambled to his feet gracelessly, whipping around for the source of the voice.

Her.

She was leaning against what appeared to have once been a bar, arm wrapped around her bloodied midsection, and one leg bent at a horrible angle, but her eyes were open and she was looking straight at him. Barely recognizable behind black eyes and a broken nose and split lip and blood all over but the light that washed over her face was hers. Her mouth twitched slightly.

“Shepard,” he breathed.

Her lips twitched again. “Garrus,” she croaked.

A moment and he was by her side again, and she was broken in a million places but it was Shepard, and she was undeniably alive. She smelled like smoke and blood and rot and stale whiskey but she was breathing, labored as it was. She turned her head and stared at him.

“The Crucible…what…” She swallowed painfully. “What happened?”

“You did it. I don’t know what the hell you did but you did it. You saved them.”

“I…saved Earth?”

Gently he felt her neck for her pulse. Weak, but steady. “No, Shepard. You saved everyone.”

“Everyone.”

“Everyone.”

“Whole galaxy.”

“Yeah.”

She got halfway through a smile before she winced in pain. Garrus was looking anywhere but at her face, at her broken leg, at the lacerations, at the blood on her hands both dried and fresh. Shepard always knew. She took his face in her hands, gingerly, tilted it up until he was facing her. He closed his eyes at her touch, too warm, feverish, but the calluses so familiar, rough but somehow soft at the same time.

It was real. She was real.

He opened his eyes.

“You—do you have any idea—I could kill you for—you just threw me back in the ship and you ran—”

“If I hadn’t, we’d…both be dead,” Shepard said hoarsely. “You wouldn’t be here…saving my ass. It worked out.”

Garrus shook his head. She dropped her hands and he caught them in his, careful not to press too hard on her broken knuckles. “How the hell did you survive, Shepard?”

A low chuckle. “I’m hard to kill. You of all people should know that.”

She held up an empty bottle and suddenly he knew where the stale whiskey smell had come from.

“You were right on time, though,” she commented as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “I just ran out.”

“You…”

“Probably would’ve died of shock otherwise…drunk out of my fucking mind for a lot of the pain. Whole lot of water bottles back there. I was lucky. Although I haven’t eaten anything but very stale cashews in weeks.”

“You just happened to land in Purgatory.”

Shepard was speaking more clearly now. “I crawled here on my elbows, actually. Saw the lights. I can’t walk, by the way. And I think one of my kidneys is…broken.” Shepard paused and considered her midsection. “Actually, I think I might have exactly one fully functional internal organ left.”

“Your collarbone is broken,” Garrus said.

“Garrus, my everything is broken.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He wanted to kiss her entire body but that would only break it open again.

Not dead.

As though she’d heard his thoughts, Shepard shook her head and wrenched his face down to meet hers and she kissed him, hard, re-opening her split lip in the process and he tasted her blood in his mouth but her blood meant she still had a heart to beat it through her body and that meant she’s alive she’s alive she’s alive.

“Okay,” Shepard said. She looked around herself, then back up at Garrus. “This is great, but can…can you get me the hell out of here, please?”

He smiled. Raised Joker on the comm. “Hey, I need an evac from the Citadel. Also, tell Dr. Chakwas she’s got a patient incoming. Pretty severe trauma to…well, her entire body, really.”

“Don’t make me laugh, it hurts,” hissed Shepard.

A pause.

“Joker?”

“No, yeah, I heard you, I’m coming, just, I mean, you’re saying, what you’re saying is—”

“Shut the fuck up and fly my shit—I mean my ship—”

“Holy fuck.” Joker paused again. “Was that. That was. Holy fuck.”

“Just get here,” Garrus said firmly.

“I’m doing it. I’m doing it. Holy shit. Holy fuck.”

He closed the comm. “Is there a good way to do this?”

Shepard considered it. “No,” she said decisively. “There’s a reason I haven’t moved in two days. Just do it.”

“If you feel like one of your ribs is going to puncture a lung or something—”

“Garrus.”

That’s what heaven is. Heaven is her saying his name. There is nothing else. Nothing else matters.

“Okay. Okay.”

He put one arm around her back, carefully, and the other behind her knees. When he lifted her she grunted slightly and the air shimmered with her distress, but she held still.

Garrus took one shuddering breath. “Shepard.”

“Yes?” she said through gritted teeth.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

“I love you.”

Shepard turned her head against his armored chest and smiled as best she could. “I love you. So fucking much, Garrus.”

They had nearly made it and the Normandy was just beginning to leak into sight in the distance when Shepard twitched awake in his arms, suddenly remembering.

“Hey, about adopting that krogan baby…”

[turggle-blog]

My issues

No one who is healthy knows what it really feels like to be sick, tired, and in pain all day, every day. They say that they understand, that they feel sorry for you, that they are there for you, that they love you. But really, they don’t understand and they are annoyed and put upon for having to deal with you and your unwellness.

Mental illness is not seen as a real illness. It is seen as a personal flaw, something that you can change if you just tried hard enough. My dad once told me that everything that happens to us is because we attracted it to ourselves. If we really wanted to feel better or be cured, we just had to want it enough. I asked him if little kids who are dying of cancer attracted their disease to themselves and if they just wanted to live enough, then they would? Did my sister attract her disease and she is still sick because she doesn’t want to get better? He didn’t reply. I don’t think that he quite understood the (shady) law of attraction book that he was reading…. Or he was just trying to tell me that my illnesses were in my head and within my control to fix… that I was sick because I wanted to be sick.

My sister has a chronic illness that she was born with. My family thinks that my mental illness is for attention. I have a chronic illness as well, but my family discounts and overlooks my very physical illness symptoms.

My parents took my sister to the doctor for everything. If she even sneezed, she was at the doctor office before anyone could hand her a tissue. But me…. I was a whole other story. I lost a whole sense (I have no sense of smell) and they just shrugged. My father insists that they took me to the doctor when they realized that I had no sense of smell, but I do not ever remember it being addressed and my mother confirmed that they never did anything. When I asked why they took my sister to the doctor all the time but didn’t care that their other child was missing one of the 5 senses, she just said that she didn’t know. That all their attention was on my sister. That she didn’t have an answer. My mom has apologized many times for the medical neglect that I went through as a child, and for never even attempting to put me in therapy for the mental illness that I displayed even when I was little. My father refuses to admit that they did not treat my sister and I the same.

I am overlooked because my symptoms make me ugly and others uncomfortable.  I have large bald spots on my scalp and my hair is thin, oily, and brittle. I am fat and no amount of dieting will budge the scale. I am in my mid thirties and still have skin like a teenager- oily and full of acne. I am a female, but if I don’t shave my face every day then I can almost grow a full beard. I fight a constant and never ending battle against skin abscesses in my arm pits, bra line, belt line, and groin. I always have to know where the bathroom is because I have constant watery diarrhea. I am usually too tired to function very well and it makes me crabby and angry.

My mental illness makes it impossible for me to form relationships except for a very few trusted individuals. I desperately want relationships but I am too afraid to form them. I am able to go days at a time without speaking to anyone, if I don’t have to interact at work. I want to be alone and I am terrified of being abandoned. I am a contradiction and that makes people dislike me.

I am hard to love. I know this. I have been told this. I don’t even like myself. Most days I feel so depressed that my limbs actually feel like lead weights and even thinking is almost too much of a task.

Even my doctors, who I rarely see because of work constraints, don’t know what to tell me to do or how to help me. Essentially (and I am paraphrasing here), they have just shrugged and said that everything is normal, I am just gross. My psych doctor says that nothing else can help me.

When my dad thought that my symptoms might be caused by a tumor on my pituitary gland (located in my head, squished behind my eyes and smashed up against my brain) he was suddenly very involved. He text me and asked how I was feeling almost every day. Then my results came back and they were negative. We still don’t know what is going on, and I am working/ fighting with my doctor to try to find out. Suddenly, my dad stopped texting. He stopped asking how I felt. It was like he was only interested when the doctors thought that something concrete and tangible might be causing my symptoms… when it was not just me saying that stuff hurt, or that I was too tired to get out of bed for 2 days, or that I have not had a normal bowl movement in over 15 years. It felt like he only believed that something was “actually” wrong with me when they were testing to see if I had a tumor.

I was told that I had Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) 10 years ago. Then I lost my insurance coverage and only recently have gotten it back (thank you, Obamacare!) My current doctor does not believe that I have PCOS as labs have come back normal. I was told to exercise more and eat fewer carbs. This from a doctor that I told that I have tried everything to lose weight and that I walk for 3-4 miles per day to get to and from work. I am trying to get to a specialist or an endocrine doctor. My hair is not falling out and I do not have large patches of baldness for no reason. My period cycles do not range from 15 days to 52 days for no reason. My eyesight is not getting worse for no reason. My memory and cognitive functions are not getting worse for no reason. I am only 37 and there is no reason that I should be feeling like an 80 year old.

Having a chronic illness and mental illness together is really rough. Especially when no one, not your family, not your friends, not your work, or even your doctors, seem to care or even want to understand.

If I had cancer, everyone would be rallying around me. But I don’t. I just have something wrong with my insides and a broken brain. Because people cannot see that, they don’t believe that I truly have anything wrong with me. They just think that I am being difficult or dramatic.

I support myself and live on my own. There is no one to help me and no one to pay a bill if I need to take a sick day. I passed a kidney stone at home because I was afraid of the hospital bill, even with my insurance. My dad doesn’t think that I had a kidney stone because he doesn’t believe that I managed it without going to the hospital, even when I showed him the stone that had broken into tiny pieces.

No one who is healthy can understand and I don’t think that they care to. It easier to think that it is a flaw within me that I could fix if I really wanted to.

I really want to. I wish I could.