#people have asked me for my lorazepam before too

[strangecowplant]

UPDATE 08/15

Now that I finally feel like I have a little time to sit down and write a bit I just wanted to explain a little more since my last update wasn't that detailed, I'm still super tired and really struggling with my mental health right now hence why I haven't gotten back to everyone yet but I need to get this out and I owe every one of you amazing people that have saved Teddy a proper update and run down of expenses

First up, Teddy is getting better with some days being harder than others, he had a little bit of constipation i assume from a mix of the food change, antibiotics and lorazepam plus the horrible weather we had and getting off the stress of constantly being at the vets but thankfully it cleared up in less than 2 days. I add a ton of water to his food 4 times a day to keep him hydrated so that certainly helped. He's still not 100% himself yet though; he doesn't come when called like he used to and isnt as talkative and sometimes seems a little more reserved but its getting better by the day so hopefully he can get back to being as happy as he was before. I'm doing everything I can to make him feel back to normal and its slowly working, every day his eyes are getting brighter and just today he had a conversation with me about breakfast! He's leaking sometimes which could take weeks to heal but honestly I'm just glad he's able to pee (he is peeing normally otherwise! he just has an old man bladder right now, after three catheters i can see why. it just simply means more laundry and floor cleaning which is fine) they're slowly getting less frequent as he builds control again

I didn't mention what happened after his last procedure so I'll try to quickly zip through that: we brought him home with the catheter in, it was a hell of a night but absolutely needed, he would not have survived if he was left there the entire night again with no supervision no assurance he was drinking or getting his medication, nothing. I didn't sleep, kept him calm and laying down in the crate, kept him drinking and everything. we brought him back there in the morning (they charged us again for this, even though we had paid the full hospitalization fee already and wouldn't have had to pay an extra time if we left him overnight, anything to get money right) so they could monitor him before the cath would get taken out later in the day. i had to be the one to tell them how to do everything which is still just so fucking nuts to me but whatever. went back later in the day (we dropped him off at 8-9am, went there at 3:30pm so he could have the full 24+ hours of catheter time) and as we were waiting we heard one of the staff blatantly lie to another customer which blew our minds; she was suffering with her cats getting fleas even when using prevention and asked if it could be because of the rodent infestation she was dealing with bringing fleas into the home making the prevention useless, the staff member without missing a beat said QUOTE 'rats and mice don't get fleas.' and tried to upsell her a different more expensive prevention medication made for DOGS. i was literally so shocked i couldnt speak but i panicked and went out the door as she left to at least tell the lady that dog flea treatment is toxic to cats, i was too flustered to even mention the rodent thing but i could tell she knew that already and seemed to know what she was told was bullshit. im still so fucking floored by this. after that as we waited in the exam room, i finally decided to look up the owner/vets name and found a pretty disturbing assault case from 2015 where he also lied to the police and court that made me feel like we really weren't crazy here, this man is a liar and violent and i just really wish i can somehow take his license away, nobody like that should be handling animals. anyway back to teddy, he got his cath removed and only after that and being brought back to see him was told he didn't eat or drink anything the whole day, i was never called and told this even though they had all day to. this is just a normal thing for them apparently, they just don't care to inform me about anything so i told them they should have called me and to get him hydrated right now. (not to mention they kept trying to feed him chunky gravy food for gastro health not urinary even though i told them he prefers pate and he should be eating urinary food??!??!?!?) he got a shot and we went home. after getting home i also found out that they weren't giving him his antibiotics correctly, he needed 1.5 tablets but the number was off and he was only given 1 by them (this is on top of them forgetting to give me back his bag of medication TWICE) everything they could've done wrong, they did. they told me to keep the cone on for two days to let his sutures heal (they never told me this the first two times mind you which i find weird?) so i did but two days seemed so short so i kept it on periodically for a few days after that when i wasn't around him, its off now and the only time he goes after the spot is for a very quick normal clean around the area, im constantly monitoring him and checking the area though

I got a call from them 4 days later (on wednesday bc they took an extra long weekend) asking about him and I told them that I will have a talk with the owner and figure out how I want to proceed when I'm able to take my focus off Teddys recovery a bit, I didn't want to relay to the vet/owner through the secretary because thats not right and also their communication is abysmal, but i did say some things about the complete lack of communication and negligence experienced and that Teddys recovery was completely halted and his life put in danger because of them shoving a full dose anxiety pill with a plethora of renal side effects into him he didn't need without my consent. It's been a week since that, I don't know when I'll have my head in order to talk to this vet, or if I want to see if I can talk to a lawyer first or what because this isn't something I'm used to at all, but right now my focus is still on Teddy

The cost in total ended up being $1,778.95 for the procedures alone and a couple cans of food, which was incredibly paid for by everyone of you amazing amazing people, you ended up raising $1,830.54 to save Teddy by the third procedure, of which that extra $51.59 went towards some more food for him. I've said this so many times now but this would not have been able to happen without all of you incredibly kind and generous people, Teddy is here with me right now curled up because of you all and I could never ever thank you enough for this. Thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart, from my moms, from teddys and the rest of my animals, thank you so much. We may not be out of the woods but I'm staying positive, he's here now and not in pain and healing which is what matters most ❤️

here he is this morning loafing on my nightstand for the first time since this started ❤️

I'll need to update his gfm page a bit to add on what I've written here but for now this post and its update reblogs are completely up to date with what all has happened as of aug 15!

edit: i did forget to add on something i want to mention just for documents sake but after bringing him home after his last procedure he was extremely uncharacteristically jumpy and seemed afraid of the water bowls around the house which isn't like him at all, i drummed it down to anaesthesia weirdness but he hasn't drank out of any water bowl or taps since coming back when he used to be such a good drinker, the jumpiness stopped but he only eyes the bowls and walks past. i am giving him a ton of water in his food which could make him not feel the need to drink but i still just want to document it.

another thing im not happy about is the fact he's now flinching from hands sometimes, especially with a cone on, which he's NEVER done, he's never known fear in his life so this is heartbreaking to see him squeeze his eyes and recoil or completely tense up and freeze if the cones on (i calm him and he goes back to normal) i don't want to think the worst of someone, but i don't trust this vet at all and with some reviews I've seen of animals coming home with bruises I'm just heartbroken for Teddy. I'm working through it with him and so far he hasn't flinched in a few days

please help me pay my kitties emergency vet bill!

ive never done this before but one of my cats just had to get an extremely sudden emergency procedure and i don't know what to do, my vet and i have reached out to a couple incredible programs here to help with the bill but one is less than half and the other hasn't replied back yet, i've already declined the blood work (CA$356) to lower the bill at the risk of possible underlying liver and kidney issues not being found but its still a monumental amount for us right now. i just feel so helpless

we had enough to pay the minimum deposit to get the procedure started in time thankfully, but we were already scraping by as it is and now we're in desperate need of funds to eat/pay rent/pay off any remainder of the bill. i am disabled without aid and have been unable to work/haven't worked since 2015 but am on track to hopefully start working pt this fall. i live with my mom who has 3-4 jobs including one seasonal job which needless to say is stressful and wearing her down. we unfortunately are stuck in the most expensive place to live in canada with the inability to save up to flee so the cycle is never ending.

this is Teddy, my typically very silly vocal happy boy who's not quite 2 yet, my comfort king, my little muffin who acts like a weighted blanket for me at night and eases my anxiety, his favourite toy is his pink unicorn poof, he loves car rides and he can shake paw!

he got a sudden urinary blockage last night with no straight answer as to why and progressively got worse as the night went on, i didnt sleep at all, i was panicking and bawling, naturally, and raced to the vet to get in as soon as the door opened. i assumed it was a uti which wouldn't have been as costly, but it turned out to be much more severe and life threatening. i never expected my usually extremely healthy boy to suddenly be at risk of that and im still trying to just process whats been happening

he needed to be sedated and given a catheter and some medication, the total bill came to CA$985.62, of which we were barely able to pay 500 of, and one program was able to donate 300 leaving a total of CA$185.62 for the bill. this, of course, leaves us scrambling for food and rent as well

i know there are a lot of fundraisers out there needing donations right now, and i really hate letting myself be so open and raw like this but even a dollar would help tremendously and i would be forever grateful for any help whatsoever, even a rb to signal boost is greatly appreciated <3

TLDR; my cat had a sudden life threatening issue and now we can't pay the full vet bill or pay for food/rent

Paypal

[highlynerdy]

Yesterday, a coworker was talking about being “California Sober” (sober from alcohol but you still smoke weed). She also added “Oh, and I will totally take adderall sometimes if I can find some, especially when I have something to do because it’s like doing cocaine but cheaper. You have ADHD, right?” I think that last part was because she was wanting me to offer to sell her some of my meds.

And like...y’all. I just...yes, I do have ADHD. But I need my Vyvanse. I’m a grown ass person. This isn’t for fun or a party. I take it because makes me a sort of functioning human. I don’t take one and have the energy to clean my entire house in an hour. I take one and I can manage to feed myself and cross off a few things on my to do list, or be able to focus on something for more than ten minutes at a time. Also? Even if I didn’t have the moral issue of selling someone prescription meds, my Vyvanse is fucking EXPENSIVE. I pay $280 a month WITH INSURANCE. No. Just no on so many levels. And it was especially irritating hearing this, and hearing the two other people that said they did that too, because I know so many of my ADHD friends can’t get their adderall THAT THEY NEED right now because of the shortage, and neurotypical people out there taking it as party drugs. Just...

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Then & Now (Ethan x MC)

Summary: A particularly difficult case forces Ethan to confront a blast from his past

A/N: This popped into my head and I had too much fun writing it. I will loosely incorporate some of the themes from book 3 and make them better, but this is mostly an AU.

A/N 2: Yes I’m writing another multipart fic while actively ignoring my others. The muses spoke and I had no choice in the matter. Enjoy!

~v~

“Would you like some more coffee, Dr. Ramsey?”

Whatever line he was reading in his textbook blurs as does his vision. Ethan looks up at the face of the newest member of the team, a young resident, Isabelle. He takes the cup, not missing the way her eyes light up as he does so. What is it with residents and their incessant need to kiss-ass and be people pleasers?

“Thank you, Dr. Proctor.”

“Of course! I figured we’d need all the caffeine we could get our hands on with this case.”

Ethan doesn’t respond with words, only offering the young woman a hum in acknowledgement. Instead his eyes land on his coworker, Harper Emery. “Harper, has your team been able to come up with anything new?”

“Nothing,” Harper replies with a resigned sigh.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’ve run as many tests, MRIs and CT scans as I could, and none of them came back with anything conclusive. We’re officially back to square one.”

Ethan hasn’t been this stumped in years. A week ago, a patient came to Edenbrook after waking up without being able to feel anything from the waist down. A young, relatively healthy 25 year old with no extraordinary medical history, no recent reports of any TBI, nothing. He assumed with Harper–one of the nation’s greatest neurosurgeons–on the case, that this would be a simple fix.

As painful as it is to admit, he’s wrong.

They’ve gotten nowhere with the case, they’ve made no progress, and to make matters worse, he has Leland Bloom and the board breathing down his neck because it’s been years since the team has spent more than a week on a case, so a week with no news reflects poorly on them—on him, as the team’s leader specifically.

The last member of the team, Tobias, clears his throat. “Did he ever mention getting into a fight? Maybe he took a hit to the head, and just doesn’t want to admit it?”

“Maybe, but like I said, none of the CT scans or MRIs showed me anything out of the norm,” Harper says. “I can always ask him again.”

“That’d be ideal–”

Ethan’s sentence is cut off as the door to their office is thrown open, and in walks Leland. “Hello, team!”

The most senior members of the team stay silent, but Isabelle gives a slight wave. “Hello, Mr. Bloom.”

“Dr. Proctor,” Leland greets in turn. “Nice to know at least one of you has manners.”

Ethan checks the time on his watch. “What are you doing here, Bloom?”

“Last time I checked, I owned this entire building and I didn’t need to ask your permission to be here.”

“We’re nearing midnight,” Ethan adds. “What are you still doing here, and not at home? I’m sure Mrs. Bloom would enjoy seeing you.”

Leland ignores the mention of his wife Caroline, pretending like she wasn’t mentioned at all. “I just stopped by your patient’s room to see how he was doing. And then I decided to drop by to check in with you guys. Are there any updates on the Miller case?”

“I’m not discussing patient information with you,” Ethan says.

“Well, I am your boss.”

“And until you go to medical school, graduate, become a doctor at this hospital, and join in on this case, I don’t have to tell you anything. You may own this hospital, but I do not have to discuss my patients with you.”

“Okay, so you guys have no new information,” Leland concludes.

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, this conversation giving him a headache even though it just started. “We were actually in the middle of a brainstorming session before we were interrupted, so if we could have some privacy again, that would be much appreciated.”

Ethan’s tone causes Leland to drop the veneer of kindness, the smile dropping from his face only for a second before he catches it. He looks away and sniffs haughtily. “Fine. I’ll check in with the patient tomorrow for a status update, since it’s clear I won’t be getting it from my employees. Thankfully, his father and I go way back.”

“I can’t stop the patient from divulging his own information.”

Leland glances around the room one more time, his gaze lingering on Ethan a bit longer than it does on the other occupants. “Goodnight, doctors.”

Once Leland leaves, Harper turns towards Ethan. “You act like it would literally kill you to be nice to him.”

“Be nice for what? Bloom thinks we owe him undying loyalty and infinite ass kissing because he bought the hospital. He’s pulled a lot of nonsense since moving into this position, but he’s not worth breaking any laws over. My patients deserve their privacy.”

“And I agree, but the extra hostility isn’t needed. The last thing we need is World War 3 with you and Bloom tearing down the hospital. Just be nice.”

“Okay, are we getting back to work or calling it a night?”

The rest of the team glances around each other. Pulling an all-nighter with Ethan while he’s in a foul mood sounds like a nightmare.

“We’re calling it a night.”

~v~

Ethan ends up falling asleep in the office, finally dozing off around 5 o'clock in the morning, surrounded by a mountain of books and the harsh light of his computer screen. The sleep is short lived though as the sound of his pager wakes him up.

He jumps up with a start, and checks the time on his watch before checking his pager. He only managed to get two hours of sleep, but he can’t dwell on that. The page is a 911 alert to his patient’s room.

“Shit!”

He takes off to the 4th floor where his patient is housed, thankful that the early morning hour means the hospital is not yet flooded with people.

Isabelle, Harper, and a nurse are already in the room when Ethan finally makes it. “What’s going on?”

“He had a seizure,” Harper explains.

“How long did it last?”

“Around 50 seconds. We administered lorazepam into his IV.”

“Could this be a new symptom?” Valencia asks. “Or something else entirely?”

Harper shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m going to take him down to radiology for another CT scan. Hopefully this next one can actually yield some results.”

Ethan nods. “That sounds like a plan. In the meantime, Dr. Proctor, add seizures onto the list of symptoms to broaden our search criteria. Maybe that’ll help.”

“Gotcha.”

“We’ll reconvene when Tobias comes in and once we get the new CT scans back.”

There’s a knock at the door and Ethan bristles when Leland’s loud voice calls out to him. “Dr. Ramsey, can I speak to you out in the hallway?”

“With all due respect, I’d rather not.”

“It wasn’t a request, doctor. Hallway, now.”

Ethan shoots Harper a look, and she gives him a quick sympathy smile before he and Leland step out into the hallway.

They move a few feet away from the patient’s door, out of earshot before Leland lays into Ethan. “How in the hell is the patient actually managing to get worse under your care?”

The question actually takes Ethan aback. “You can’t possibly be saying his condition is my fault?”

“I’m saying he’s been here for a week now, and he’s no better off than where he was. You don’t have any information to give him or his family. Do you know how many phone calls my assistant has had to field because they want to get him transferred to a different facility?”

“We are giving him the best care possible, Leland. Just because you and his father belong to the same country club or whatever, does not mean there’ll be some instant diagnosis or treatment that he can buy...or steal. We need to do our due diligence.”

Leland is smart enough to know when a dig is being lobbed in his direction. His eyes narrow. “What are you trying to say, Ethan?”

“Exactly what I just did. Besides, why do you have such a vested interest in my team and what we do? I’m sure you have other businesses and people to micromanage these days.”

“You guys don’t make me any money yet remain my biggest cost. The least you can do is be efficient and answer my questions when I ask.”

“And like I told you last night, I know you own this place. You never let me forget it. But you buying this hospital does not mean I am here at your beck and call, now does it mean I have to be governed under anything that isn’t set forth by the American Medical Association. Now, me team is the best this hospital and this city have to offer, so back up and let us do our jobs.”

“You guys are the best?” Leland chuckles humorlessly. “Act like it. Or I’ll find someone else who can.”

The threat causes Ethan to pause. “What does that mean?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Dr. Ramsey. Loud and clear.”

~v~

“You idiot! Why on earth would you get into a fight with Bloom in the middle of a hallway?”

Ethan doesn’t try to school his bored expression as Tobias paces the entire length of the office, huffing and puffing as he does so.

“I didn’t get into a fight with him,” Ethan amends. “It was an exchange of words.”

“A loud exchange of words,” Harper adds. “In front of our patient’s room, might I add.”

“I had plans for this day to be productive, but the minute that man opens his mouth, I just–”

“We get it, you don’t like him,” Tobias interjects.

“Disliking Leland is an understatement.”

Isabelle stays silent, unable to find a good place to cut in, despite having questions. Ethan’s dislike of Leland Bloom is the hospital’s worst kept secret, but the contention has always been passive aggressive at best. And as a second year resident, she doesn’t have any background knowledge on why the relationship is the way that it is.

“I don’t like him either, but you don’t see me needling him in front of the nurse’s station!”

“Sure Leland is...obnoxious at times, but I don’t understand any of it,” Isabelle says, finally speaking up. Ethan looks at her as if he’s just now remembering that she’s been in the room the entire time. “What happened that caused this much animosity?”

Leland’s kidney disease wasn’t a major secret. Most medical personnel that worked at Edenbrook and the larger Boston area remember the huge media blitz, and all of the pomp and circumstance surrounding his hospitalization early last year. And the official story is Leland got a kidney from a family member who wished to keep their identity a secret from the public, and everyone ate it up.

Only a handful of people know the truth. That a few well placed phone calls and dollars exchanged got Leland to the top of the donor list within a day, stealing a second chance from the true person at the top of the list: a 14 year old girl.

“So long as there is breath in my body, Leland Bloom and his ilk will never get an ounce of respect from me, and I’ll just leave it at that,” Ethan says cooly. “And that’s all you need to know, Dr. Proctor.”

“Okay.”

“I’m just saying man, Bloom is petty,” Tobias adds. “Men like him, who think the rest of us should bow at their feet, don’t take kindly to getting told off, especially in public. Underneath the billions is a tiny ass, fragile ego. Can you just keep a low profile and be quiet for the next day or two, so Bloom doesn’t dismantle this team?”

“I’ll be as cordial as Bloom is,” is what Ethan settles upon. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

The only thing that can rival Ethan’s intelligence is his stubbornness. Tobias knows it’s the best he’s going to get out of Ethan, so he relents. “Okay.”

“Good. Now can we get back to work and stop talking about Bloom?”

His team nods and Ethan sighs in relief.. They still have a chance to turn things around and actually have a good day.

They fall into a productive routine, tossing around different theories, sharing research and narrowing down ideas. Too bad that only lasts for about half an hour before there’s a knock at the office door. A few seconds later, Naveen pokes his head in.

Ethan smiles because part of him was expecting Leland to show up again. “Naveen, this is a nice surprise! Don’t tell me you’re ready to get back in the saddle.”

Naveen laughs good-naturedly at his mentee. “Not quite.”

“Well what brings you down here?”

“I wanted to talk to you for a second, Ethan,” Naveen says.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. It’s not about me, it’s work related. Team related news, that I wanted to tell you personally,” Naveen explains, fully entering the office. “Is there any way I could steal you for a few minutes?”

“If it involves the team, I think we can have the conversation here. Is this about my...spirited discussion with Leland?”

“No, it’s about the case you’re working on.”

“Now I know we don’t usually work on cases for this long, and we’re working on it.”

“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Leland has some concerns about how long it’s taking you guys to treat this patient, and he told me that he wants to outsource some extra help to speed things along.”

“No thank you.”

“He’s already made phone calls. I’m just here to give you a heads up about who he picked.”

“A heads up?” Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. Who on earth could Leland think of reaching out to that Ethan would need a warning about? “Who is he asking for? Mendoza from MK? Catherine Morgan from Stanford? The Boogeyman?”

“I don’t think I’ve reached Boogeyman levels of infamy. Well, at least not yet.”

The voice makes the hair on the back of Ethan’s neck stand up. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in close to three years, one that he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes snap up, locking with the large brown ones staring back at him, and all of the breath leaves his lungs at once. The last time he looked into these eyes, they weren’t full of humor like they are now, but pure fire. His chest constricts, inhaling suddenly the most difficult task in the world.

The entire room goes silent, everyone watching as Ethan and the woman stay locked in their staring contest. Isabelle’s eyes dart back and forth, hoping someone can clue her into what’s going on, but Naveen, Harper and Tobias offer zero assistance.

Isabelle takes the quiet time to appraise the stranger. She’s petite, almost a foot shorter than Ethan even with her sky high Jimmy Choos on. The second thing that catches her attention is the mess of dark curly hair spilling over her shoulders, and the amused smirk on her face, like a cat that got the canary.

The woman breaks eye contact with Ethan to look past his shoulder. “Harper, Tobias, hello. Long time no see.”

When he regains the ability to speak, Ethan grits out, “Naomi, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I got an interesting call from Leland Bloom this morning, saying that the diagnostics team was in dire need of some assistance on a particularly difficult case. Within the hour, his private helicopter was picking me up.”

Ethan takes a sterling’s breath and silently counts to 3 before talking again. “I’m not working with you.”

“You don’t have a choice. Not unless you quit.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Drama was never a good look on you, darling, I was always better suited for it.” She turns her attention to the young resident gawking at her, turning on her megawatt smile. “You’re new. I don’t know you.”

“Um, n-no you don't. I’m Dr. Isabelle Proctor.”

“Isabelle,” Naomi repeats slowly, letting it roll off of her tongue. “What a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Dr. Naomi Ramsey.”

The last name catches her attention. Her eyes flicker over to Ethan’s face, catching the way his jaw ticks as female Dr. Ramsey talks.

“I can see the wheels turning in your head as I talk, so I’ll clear things up for you right quick,” Naomi continues. “No, the last name thing isn’t a coincidence. I’m Ethan’s ex-wife." She sticks out a hand for Isabelle to shake. "Nice to meet you.”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest

[agent-ccarter]

they don’t know about us | spencer reid

Pairing: Reader x Spencer Reid

Warning: mentions of drugs, ANGST, SOFT!Spencer, lol this is like tooth rotting stuff

A/N lemme just preface with the fact I’m not a doctor so know nothing about sedatives and I feel like this is probs out of character for Spencer but I don’t care

*****

Your first encounter with Spencer’s work colleagues came at your own job. It wasn’t planned, just Spencer happened to forget that you’d told him all the others were out at a conference and you were taking the lead in the morgue. 

You could hear him down the hallway, his facts echoing down the empty hallway. The silence was strangely comforting, this floor one of the only in the hospital that offered solace from the craziness of crying patients and loud machines. The only downside of the job was just that; your patients couldn’t tell you anything, you had to examine anything and everything for yourself. 

Standing over the body on the table, you beckoned in the men when they knocked loudly against the glass.

“Come in.” The door swung open, a tall man entering before Spencer, “Hi, I’m Y/N.” You stuck out your hand before pulling it back swiftly, apologising for offering a handshake with a glove covered in bodily fluids.

“I’m SSA Morgan, this is Dr Reid,” Derek smiled, trying to ignore your slip up before shaking your now clean hand, “Pleasure.” 

You nodded back, looking behind him at your boyfriend who was suddenly very interested in his thumbs.

“He isn’t a people person,” Derek rolled his eyes at Spencer. You sent back a small smile and a nod, ignoring the irony that your ‘not-a-people-person boyfriend’ was your favourite person. You knew that Spencer wanted to protect you from his job and you were pretty sure the team knew nothing about you, but you were shocked at him blatantly ignoring you. Swallowing down your pride, you turned back to your work.

“There wasn’t anything too unusual, except we did find these,” you pointed out the tiny holes littered around the girls arms, “and the level of lorazepam in her system was off the charts.”

Both you and Derek didn’t speak, quietly expecting a fact from Spencer.

“She was being sedated?” Derek asked.

“And I hate to speculate, but I can’t think of any way someone could get their hands on that quantity of sedative without having some kind of link to the medical field.” You offered, and Derek looked up from the body.

“They could be a doctor,” he said, looking like a kid on Christmas, “You should consider a career change. Thanks for your help, let’s go kid.” He smiled at you before patting Spencer on the shoulder. He left, and Spencer followed, but not before sending an apologetic glare at you. One you didn’t notice as you angrily slammed your tools into the metal dish, back to him.

***

After the events of that day, your relationship was somewhat strained. You still loved eachother, of course, but you couldn’t be happy knowing he wanted to keep you away from the people who were basically his family. So, in an attempt to rectify this, he invited you to a meal and game night with the team. 

Rossi’s house was huge, and you felt a little silly bringing the somewhat-cheap bottle of whiskey as a peace offering. 

“Maybe I should just leave the whiskey, Spence.” You held the cold bottle on top of your thigh in an attempt to stop it jittering. Spencer laughed, replacing the bottle with his hand.

“He’ll love it, I promise.”

“Stop laughing at me.” He looked over at you once more, laughing again, resulting you in swatting his hand from your leg. 

“It’s just cute that you’re worried about them, they’re going to love you,” he took ahold of your hand this time, carefully running his thumb over your knuckles, “you don’t have anything to worry about, I promise.” You could swear he said that with a slight grimace.

He was right, thankfully, about the whiskey and the team, they were great. Rossi even cracked open the drink and sipped it throughout the night. 

“I appreciate someone who knows their alcohol,” he said, waving it towards you as you returned from the kitchen with another drink for yourself and Spencer, the bottle of wine and straw tucked under your arm for Emily, earning a confession of love as you handed it to her. You didn’t have the heart to tell Rossi you just picked one that looked nice on the shelf. You put Spencers down in front of him, but he didn’t acknowledge you as he engaged in a rather intense conversation with Derek.

You grabbed his hand in yours to rub it in a similar way to how he did before, but he suddenly needed his hands to argue his point. You looked back at the table, picking up your cards ready for poker to start, but not before seeing an almost pitiful smile from Garcia. 

Trying to get his attention all night proved unsuccessful, the only time he even looked over at you being to count your cards. The rest of the team kept you involved in the fun, but as soon as the game concluded you excused yourself to use the bathroom. 

The hallways felt like a labyrinth, the only noises being your incredibly heavy breathing and Garcia scolding Spencer on his behaviour outside. As soon as you found the bathroom, you slammed the door behind you and walked to the sink, holding the porcelain with such power you were surprised it didn’t break.

The mirror provided some level of calm, forcing you to breath as you dabbed at your face to stop the black-tinted tears ruining your makeup. You wiped the red lipstick from your lips too, it staining your teeth making you seethe even more. 

A quiet knock from the door broke you away. You presumed it was Spencer, guessing that anyone else would announce their presence first. He pushed open the door with a click and walked in, seemingly unsurprised to see you in this state.

The pair of you stood their in that uncomfortable silence for a few seconds, letting Spencer bask in the pain of seeing the love of his life crying because of him.

“Shut the door.” You almost commanded, and he did so swiftly. You turned back to the mirror, wiping at your face once more, ceasing as you were angrily unable to wipe away the black that stained your skin.

“Are you embarrassed by me?” You finally whispered, breaking the silence. He almost scoffed, more out of shock than arrogance.

“Of course not, Y/N.” He began to step towards you, desperately wanting to grab you arm and pull you in and to smother the upset away.

“Don’t,” you held out your arm as you looked down at the sink once more, “you’ve barely spoken two words to me since we got here. The team you didn’t want to meet have included me more than you have, so it must be something! Your embarrassed or ashamed or something.”

“I could never be ashamed of you, Y/N. I adore you.”

“Then show it! I can’t just be your girlfriend when it’s convienient for you.”

He put your handbag bag atop the toilet cistern, letting the metal echo as it tapped against the porcelain.

“I never really had a family, you know that. These people are my family. I was afraid. I was afraid you wouldn’t like them, or they wouldn’t like you, which is stupid because how couldn’t they. I love them, almost as much as I love you. I was scared it wouldn’t work, they’d be so happy for me and then I’d jinx it and it would fall apart, or even worse I’d have to choose between you. I could never do that.”

“I would never make you choose, Spence.”

“I know, and that’s what makes it ridiculous. I was irrational and nothing I’ve said excuses my behaviour and I’m sorry. I love you, Y/N. So much that i didn’t know what to do. I acted like a dick.”

“You’re not a dick.”

“I made you cry, didn’t I?” You smiled slightly.

“I love you too.”

He grabbed your hand, as if offering you a chance to pull away if you didn’t want him to touch you. When you didn’t resist, he pulled you forwards, hugging you and pressing his lips against your forehead.

“Sit.” You obliged, mostly because you wanted to see what he’d do next. Grabbing your purse from behind you, he opened it to take out the tiny packet of makeup wipes you always carry.

He wiped lightly at your cheek, before kissing it gently.

I

He wiped at the other. Kiss.

Love

He gently wiped at your lips. Kiss.

You

You ran your fingers through his thick locks of curly hair, before leaning your forehead against his and basking in the contact. He traced his fingers over you thigh, writing the words once more.

I love you.

You lifted your lips and pressed them against his head.

“I could never, ever, be ashamed of you.”

******

A/N if I can say this myself it’s CUTE I had so much fun writing this soft!spencer. So cute.

Requests are open lovelies!

[gayestnerdsinfiction]

bury your heart

cw: brain cancer and all its associated symptoms

read part two here

----

“Okay, here’s one,” Edward said. “When is a person like a piece of wood?”

“Hm,” Jonathan murmured absently, fingers running through Edward’s hair. He resisted the urge to make the first dirty joke that came to mind. “When they’re a ruler?”

“Good guess,” he murmured. He reached up to catch Jonathan’s long nose between his forefinger and thumb. “But, no. When they’re bored,” he revealed, grinning loosely.

Jonathan pulled away, swatting Edward’s hand out of his face. “Yes, Edward, I’m aware you’re bored. I’m not sure what you expect me to do about that.”

“Entertain me.”

“Entertain yourself,” he retorted. “Read a book.” Edward made a face at that, somewhere between annoyance and embarrassment. Realizing his mistake, Jonathan added, “Or listen to one of your stupid podcasts.”

“I keep telling you, the conspiracy theory podcast is not stupid and if you actually listened to it, you’d see that it’s very educational.”

“I’m beginning to understand why you flunked out of school if that’s what you consider educational,” Jonathan muttered. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out, a small reminder lighting up the screen. Meds. He disentangled his fingers from Edward’s hair and slid out of bed, making his way into the bathroom.

“I didn’t flunk out,” Edward called after him. “I dropped out. There’s a difference. They didn’t fire me, I quit.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes but he didn’t respond, instead choosing to focus on rummaging around in the medicine cabinet. He took out his own medications—Lexapro, Clozapine, Zoloft—and then Edward’s. Promethazine for the nausea, Lorazepam for the seizures, Tramadol and Hydrocodone for the pain. And those were just the morning set. Jonathan tucked his pills into his cheek, dipping his head under the faucet to gulp them down with a mouthful of water. Then he brought Edward’s medication into the bedroom for him.

It had been a few weeks of this routine. Bringing Edward his meds in the mornings, again in the evenings. Smoothing his hair away from his clammy face as he vomited, knuckles going white from gripping the edge of the toilet. Watching him struggle to remember things, complete simple tasks.

Jonathan had seen some pretty awful things in his life. Gruesome deaths and life threatening infections and overdoses and people clawing their own skin off during toxin induced hallucinations. He had seen all of those things and yet this was still hard to watch. Maybe harder than anything else. The only thing keeping him from spiraling entirely out of control were the few painkillers he was able to sneak from Edward’s prescription. It took the edge off, kept him from thinking too hard about the fact that his friend was slowly dying in his home, his bed.

“Here’s another,” Edward said, swallowing his pills dry. He was at least in good spirits today, chattering away almost like his usual self. “We’re five little items of an everyday sort; you’ll find us all in ‘a tennis court’.”

“Vowels. That’s an easy one.” Jonathan sat back down on the bed and Edward wasted no time before depositing his head in Jonathan’s lap.

“Well, excuse me for not being at the top of my game,” he replied sarcastically. “The cancer makes it hard to think, you know.”

He tried to muster some kind of joke in response but nothing came to mind. He didn’t mind when Edward made light of his own illness, but for Jonathan to do the same felt incredibly inappropriate. Because it wasn’t funny, not to him.

“Maybe we could go somewhere today,” Edward suggested hesitantly, interrupting Jonathan’s thoughts. “I’m tired of being cooped up in here.”

“Might I remind you that the reason you’ve been cooped up in here is because you’re too sick to stand half the time?”

“But I feel alright today,” he insisted. He sat up, getting out of bed with a labored groan to demonstrate. “See?” he said cheerfully, spreading his arms. The gesture just made it even more apparent how thin he’d gotten, how wobbly his stance was. “I’m standing. I might even take a few steps, really go for it, y’know?”

“I don’t know, you don’t want to go too crazy,” Jonathan said dryly. “You might hurt yourself.”

Edward crawled back onto the bed, kneeling beside Jonathan. The dark circles marring his pale, sallow skin were deep but his emerald eyes were bright, eager. “We could go play chess in the park,” he proposed. “That’d be alright, wouldn’t it? I could sit down, get some air. Get some sun, God, I could really use a bit of sun, look at the state of my skin.” He peered up at Jonathan. “What do you think?”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. Later, though. I have things that need doing before I can go out.”

Edward grinned, his upturned nose bumping against Jonathan’s cheek as his balance wavered slightly. Quickly, as if to cover the slip, he pressed a kiss to the same spot. “Can I sit with you while you work?” he asked.

Jonathan frowned. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. The chemicals—”

“I’ll wear a mask,” he interrupted. “Please?”

“Edward…” He sighed. “I don’t think huffing a bunch of toxic fumes is advisable if you want to still be feeling alright by the time we go out.”

Edward pouted, pulling away. “How about a riddle?” he asked, sounding thoroughly glum. He tucked his legs up against his chest. “When is a person like a piece of wood?”

Jonathan’s jaw tensed. “When they’re bored,” he answered, watching Edward’s reaction closely.

Edward just sighed, resting his head on one of his knees. “Gold star for Jonathan,” he said with a dejected twirl of his finger, unable to conceal the bitterness in his voice.

He swallowed. So Edward hadn’t realized. “You know you used that riddle before,” he said carefully.

His eyes darted over to Jonathan. “Really? When?”

“Just a few minutes ago.”

“Oh.” The silence between them was thick, heavy. “So you cheated,” Edward joked humorlessly.

“I guess I did.” Jonathan draped a long arm across Edward’s narrow shoulders. “Maybe I can… I suppose there are things I can work on outside of the lab. If you insist on having my company for the day.”

“I don’t want to trouble you,” he mumbled.

“It’s no trouble.” He gave Edward’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It’s easier to let you watch me work than to come up with some other way to occupy your attention.”

He felt Edward smiling as he nuzzled against Jonathan’s neck. “I do require constant enrichment, after all.”

“Yes,” he murmured, “like a zoo animal.”

The comment earned him a swift smack on the leg from Edward. “Bastard,” he grumbled. “I have a terminal illness and this is how you talk to me? How would you feel if those were your last words to me, would you be satisfied with that?”

A lump rose in Jonathan’s throat. “No, I wouldn’t,” he said tightly. “And that’s not funny.”

“I think it is.”

He shot Edward an icy look. “I don’t.”

Edward balked, lowering his gaze as he relaxed against Jonathan’s chest. “Got to have fun somehow,” he muttered.

“Well I’m sorry it’s not fun for me to be reminded of your impending death,” Jonathan said tersely. “I suppose that is where our senses of humor differ.” He felt a flutter of something unpleasant in his chest and he forced it back down, forced his attention away from it. Jonathan started to get up from the bed, started to go to the bathroom to snag a couple painkillers. But before he could even make it off the mattress Edward’s fist had closed around the hem of his shirt and he was pulling Jonathan back towards him.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not,” he repeated. “I’m…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. He was frustrated with Edward for being so glib about his own mortality and he was disappointed in himself for not being able to do more and he was downright terrified of what would happen when Edward was actually, permanently dead. “I’m worried,” he finished lamely.

Edward’s grip tightened around his shirt. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Jonathan pried Edward’s fist away from the handful of fabric, lacing their fingers together. “I don’t know how to stop.”

[timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic]

Chapter 39 - Drown Me In Your Thirsty Veins

Seattle Washington, November 4 1990

(Andi is 20, Chris is 26)

ANDI: "Ok, Mrs. Cornell, here is your prescription and you are all set," one of the girls behind the counter at the pharmacy says as she hands me a little bag.

"Thank you," I smile as I take the bag from her. I swear it's still crazy to me to hear people call me 'Mrs. Cornell'. It almost sounds surreal in a sense.

In the few weeks that we have been officially husband and wife, we have been practically inseparable - well we always were before of course but even more so now, though I'm not counting the times when I slip of course. The next morning after I came back, Chris took me to city hall so that we could actually make our marriage official and even though I hated myself for slipping and missing the whole entire thing, Chris told me that my future self came back to marry him at the ceremony, which confused me at first, but at least I was able to be there, even if it was my future self. Then to celebrate, we went back to the tattoo artist that originally did my ring tattoo and had him finish it. Chris still keeps my wedding band and engagement ring around his silver chain necklace, never taking it off.

I haven't slipped since the wedding but my neurologist decided to up my dose of Lorazepam anyways. No one knows why I slipped at the wedding. I've been taking exactly what is prescribed to me like clockwork but for some reason, it just happened, and it wasn't like my normal time slips either. The dizziness was overwhelming. It just felt different. Anyways... hopefully these pills will help.

As I head out the doors looking down at my prescription, I flip my curls out of my face to see Chris leaning against his baby blue Ford pick-up in his leather jacket, a plain black knit sweater, black jeans with the cuffs rolled up over his red Doc Martens, taking a drag from his cigarette while he squints his eyes from the rising smoke. His beard is perfectly trimmed and his curls that are down passed his shoulders, gently sway in the cool November breeze while he waits for me. Seems like he's always waiting for me.

"Hey beautiful," He says sweetly exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Hi," I smile back as I walk up to him, lifting myself up a little to press my lips to his. I give him a few quick kisses but then he just grabs me by the nape of my neck and presses his lips harder to mine making me giggle against him.

"You ready?" He says when I pull away from him.

"As I'll ever be," I say and he chuckles giving me one last quick kiss and then moving to open the passenger side door for me. He helps me in, then closes the door and heads around to his side and climbs in. I immediately take over the task of finding some tunes, popping in a cassette with Guns N' Roses blasting through the speakers. Chris glances over at me with a smirk as he butts out the last of his cigarette.

"What can I say, I love Slash ok?" I smile and give him a shrug. He laughs and gives me a sweet smirk again. He then turns his attention to the steering wheel, pulling out away from the curb and we take off down the streets of downtown Seattle.

We are heading up north to London Bridge Studios for Chris to do some recording with Jeff, Stone, Matt and Mike McCready. Chris's grandfather has a cabin near the studio, so we decided to use it for a place to stay which will also give us some much needed alone time in between recording.

Over the summer, Chris had been working on some songs in the wake of Andy's passing and Jeff was the one who had suggested that he record the songs, in sort of a tribute to Andy. Since there were also a few other songs that Chris had written that sort of didn't really fit the esthetic of Soundgarden, he thought of maybe putting them all on an album. One last time to say goodbye you could say.

About an hour and a half later, we arrive at the Cabin which was located down a winding back road that was apparently only maintained during the summer months. There was only just a little bit of snow on the road but it still made the drive a little slippery. I guess Chris's truck needs some new winter tires.

Once we were parked, I climb out of the truck while Chris grabs some of the bags from the back, then comes around to take my hand leading me up to the front door. Hi fishes in the pockets of his leather jacket to find the keys while I pull closed my leather jacket, feeling the chill in the air. It's definitely a lot colder up here than in Seattle. Once he opens the door, he lets me inside first.

"Damn, it's cold in here too," I say.

"Yea it will be for a little bit, 'til I get the fire going," He says as he sets some of the bags down at the door. "I'm just gonna grab the groceries from the truck, I'll be right back babe,"

As he heads back to the truck, I take off my Doc Martens, carry the bags over to the bed which was straight ahead on the far side positioned next to the wall and slip off my leather jacket.

The cabin is one big large open room with a large fireplace and a little kitchen off to the far right side with a small fridge and stove that looked like it was from the 1940's - which it mostly likely was. The couch and love seat surround the fireplace with what looked like an animal fur throw rug in the middle, and a TV positioned high up on a stand in the far left corner.

Chris then comes back in with the groceries and a couple of guitars, setting them down by the door as he begins to take of his red Doc Martens. I then walk over to him, taking the bags of groceries and walk over to the kitchen to put them away.

"Ok, let's get a fire going," Chris says as he walks over to the fireplace, grabbing some of the kindling and some of the wood logs that had been already cut from a few months prior and placing it inside. He then takes the long lighter off of the mantle and lights the fireplace and it instantly roars to life.

"Are you hungry?" I ask as I close the fridge, stashing the grocery bags on the counter.

"A little," He says as he walks up behind me and wraps his arms around me.  

"My god, I'm so cold," I say and snuggle into him for warmth as he brushes my curls from my shoulder, placing his lips to that spot under my ear. The scent of his cologne so fresh and comforting, as it fills my nostrils.

"Me too baby," He says, his voice deep and smooth. His lips move to my earlobe, his beard tickling me as he does so, sending chills down my body. He slowly reaches in front of me, carefully unbuttoning my red plaid shirt and once he reaches the last button, I turn to face him, pressing my lips to his. His hands make their way up my back, his fingers skipping across my skin as I lace my fingers through his curls, his tongue swiping across my bottom lip.

He then swiftly picks me up and I laugh in surprise, wrapping my legs around him as he carries me over to the fur rug in front of the fire. He lays me down giggling with me, my shirt now open revealing my black lacy bra as he kneels in between my legs.

"I thought you said... you were hungry?" I ask, watching him lift up his sweater, revealing his perfectly toned chest and abs. His gorgeous curls fall down around his shoulders as he tosses his sweater on the couch, the silver chain necklace laying against his skin glistening in the warm fire light.

"I didn't say it was for food," He says with that sly smirk, his incredible blue eyes fixating on mine as he moves over top of me, unbuckling my belt, popping open the button to my jeans and pulling the zipper down. I bite my bottom lip as he immediately pulls my jeans down over my hips tossing them aside then carefully holds my ankle, pulling off my white sock, tossing it with my jeans and I couldn't help but laugh at how ticklish it felt.

"Chris, don't, don't touch my feet please," I laugh.

"Shhhhh trust me...," He laughs and takes my other ankle, pulling off my other sock. He then gently moves his hands up my calf, opening my legs further as his fingers brush across my skin, moving up my thigh to the rim of my black panties.

I close my eyes and take in a deep breath letting it out slowly as I feel his fingers play just inside the rim of my panties, feeling his blue eyes watch me as I react to him. Once his fingers begin to softly stroke my clit, I let out a whimper, slightly arching my back to the feeling of his touch.

"Shit, baby... you are so wet already," He says and I quickly nod letting out a gasp as his fingers tease around my slit without actually going in. I want him so bad already but I need to let myself enjoy it. He then stops for a moment, slipping his fingers out from the thin fabric, then pulls them down over my hips as I help wiggle out of them. Without even wasting a single second, he positions my legs perfectly, then spreads me open, his lips instantly making contact with my clit.

I moan as he places gentle fleeting kisses all around my clit, his lips feeling so hot yet soft at the same time. His thumb brushes the outside of my slit, still teasing but not actually going inside which was driving me absolutely insane with incredible pleasure.

"Fuck... Chris you're so fucking good," I manage to get out in between my moans. Then as if he felt the need to up his game, he gives my clit a few licks , then begins to suck, feeling each gentle pull while his tongue intermittently flicks in perfect timing.

I moan even louder than before as he slips a finger, then another inside me stroking perfectly as the crackling sound from the fire fills the room. It wasn't long before I could feel that wonderful sensation deep inside me, begging to explode. As much as I tried to hold back and just enjoy him playing with me, my body had other plans. Without so much as a warning, I cry out a string of sudden profanities that even a sailor would blush at as Chris plays me though the entire event. It was almost like I had lost my complete sense of awareness of where I was and what time I was in. Like I wasn't even on this plane of existence anymore. I wish time slipping was this incredible.

"Stop, stop... oh my god, Chris you have... to stop," I pant.

"Are you sure baby? It seems like you don't really want me to," He says as I try to stop myself from responding to his touch, but he just makes me feel so good.

"No, I mean yes... you have to stop," I continue to try to catch my breath with my eyes still squeezed shut. I quickly cover my face in my hands, not wanting him to look at me anymore. I'm not exactly sure why but I just feel so vulnerable, like I don't want him to see me at all.

"Baby?" He chuckles and it was all I could do to will myself not to cry.

Why in the fucking world is this making me cry?

I hear him unbuckle his belt and after a few quick seconds, I feel his lips place sweet kisses to my stomach, slowly moving up to my ribs and I start to giggle, feeling his beard tickle me. Chris then starts to giggle as I start to laugh while he continues to place sweet kisses on my chest.

"I... love you... so, so, so, so much," He says softly laughing in between his kisses as I take my hands away from my face, wiping the stray tears from the corners of my eyes. "... and I love how I can make you cum so hard that you react that way to me,"

"So you want to make me cry?" I laugh still wiping my eyes.

"No, no... I mean - " He cuts himself off as I laugh.

"It's ok Chris, I know what you meant. I'm just embarrassed about crying after... that, but holy fuck, I don't know what or how you were doing whatever you were doing but... fuck..." I try to explain as I remember the exact moment, feeling the tingling sensation returning to my clit. He then grabs my hips and pulls me to him and I laugh again as he laughs with me, his lips moving to that spot under my earlobe.

"You don't need to feel embarrassed at all. You don't even know how incredibly sexy you are, do you?" He whispers in my ear and I can feel his cock, so insanely hard as he teases my entrance with just the tip.

"No," I say shyly.

"Well you are baby," He whispers pushing himself inside me, slowly and sensually and I instinctively wrap my legs around his hips, locking his legs with mine, arching my back while he moves in and out of me. I feel my entire body lose control as he hits the perfect spot inside me, filling me up completely.

"Holy shit," He pants and pulls out of me.

"What?" I exhale.

"Nothing, I'm just trying not to cum yet," He says as he looks down at himself.

"Chris, I don't care," I pant. I just wanted him back inside me. He then pushes himself back in and I swear I thought I was going to lose it. He just feels so incredibly hard and thick. He lets out a loud moan and touches his forehead to mine, as I cry out seemingly louder than before. I flick my eyes open to watch his expression, his eyebrows knitting together, then furrowing.

"Oh, fuck yes!" He cries out and I feel him release inside me as I pant, trying to catch my breath. "Oh my god baby, that was... holy shit,"

Panting, he collapses down on top of me and I giggle to myself full of pure bliss from him. We roll on to our side, and he lifts himself up on his forearm as he pulls out of me to look down at himself for a moment. I then place my lips to his cheek and then down his jawline to his neck as he continues to breathe slightly heavy.

"Sorry babe, give me a second here," He says and he moves away from me, and gets up, fumbling just a little and I giggle. He quickly makes his way to the bathroom which was beside the kitchen and comes back with a towel, wiping himself down, then coming back to me, moving my leg to help wipe me down too.

"I kinda... made a mess," He smirks shyly,

"It's ok," I giggle.

"Look... look what you do to me," He says kneeling in between my legs again, glancing back down at himself, his curls falling across his face and I can see that he was still fully erect.

"Awe, baby... maybe I can help with that," I say, completely turned on again at the size of him and how he was still so hard after that. I sit myself up, flipping my curls out of my face and immediately take him in my hand giving him a few good squeezes.

"Oh shit," He exhales as I place my lips to the tip of him, giving him a few sweet kisses first, then begin to suck lightly while his entire body tenses. I give him another squeeze as I suck harder and more determined, earning moans of encouragement with each stroke. He then leans against the couch, repositioning himself with his legs straight out in front of him, I kneel in between as his fingers lace through my hair, drowning in my dark curls. I moan a little as his fingers play with my hair feeling so good as I do my work on him.

"Fuck, you are so fucking good at that," He praises, his breathing becoming more intense.

I stop for a moment, running my tongue all the way down his shaft and slowly back up to give me a moment to catch my breath. Then I continue sucking, flattening my tongue along his shaft stroking and squeezing whatever I couldn't get in my mouth.

"Baby, come here," He breathes and I give him one last good suck as he pulls me to him.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask.

"No, no... I just wanna be inside you again," He says, those blue eyes of his intensely fixated on mine as I position myself perfectly on top of him.

As soon as I lowered myself on him, I knew I wasn't going to last long at all. His hands move to my hips to help guide me and it was all I could do to keep myself together. I throw my head back as he reaches up moving my shirt off my shoulder, pulling my bra strap down and pressing his lips, gently nipping and moving down. I moan arching my back moving with his rhythm as he frees my breast from the confines of my bra, his lips teasing, his tongue flicking my nipple was all I could take before I could feel that wonderful sensation creeping up once more.

"Chris, I'm gonna cum again," I pant as he breaks his lips from my nipple.

"Me too baby," He says as his thumb brushes my nipple. I take in a deep breath and touch my forehead to his and once more, we release together, moaning and crying out as one.

[p-artsypants]

Longest Night (38) Disobeying

So, I mentioned this on my Tumblr, but I guess some people didn’t see it, and left some pretty rude comments on the last chapter. While the world is in quarantine, that doesn’t mean I have tons of free time. I am working full-time remotely, and even more hours than normal. So don’t demand more of me because ‘I have nothing better to do’. Trust me, I’d love to write more.

For those of you who are always very patient and kind: Thank you, my little angels. I write for you and you only.

Ao3 | FF.net

—

“How are you today, Adrien?” Dr. Boucher asked.

‘Much better!’ Past Adrien would have said, considering he was off the ventilator. But today’s Adrien was much less enthused. He just laid there, staring at the doctor, before flicking his gaze to stare at the wall.

“The good news is, you can drink as much water as you’d like. We’d actually prefer if you drink as much as you can.” The doctor set the styrofoam cup down on the side table.

To Gabriel’s dismay, this also didn’t get a response from the boy. Adrien was listless, hollow, and a dull husk of his old vibrant self.

“So, since we’ve got you off the ventilator, I’m going to check something. We’ll sit you up, and then we’re going to perform a Laryngoscopy on you.”

Adrien at least looked at the doctor at this point.

“It’s a pretty painless procedure. From what I observed from the stream, I believe you may have developed vocal nodules. They’re little calluses that form on the vocal cords and cause the voice to became horse and raspy, as well as neck pain and exhaustion. Though I’m sure you’re exhausted for other reasons too.” He grinned. “So what we’ll do is, we’re going to fish a small camera in your nose down the back of your throat to look at the vocal cords. We’ll keep you awake for it. If you do have vocal nodules, we can perform surgery on them, depending on how big they are. Does that sound okay?”

Adrien didn’t answer. They were going to do whatever to him anyway, why would he have to consent to anything?

“Let’s just take a look first and see what we can do.”

Adrien really was a model patient. He did exactly as he was told during the exam, and even made some noise to move his vocal cords.

“Yep,” said the doctor. “He’s got a pair of matching ones. Big. These will have to be removed before he’s able to talk normally again.”

“Is that why he’s not talking now?”

“Could be. They are painful. But it can also be a psychological problem. Only Adrien has the answer. I’m sure he’ll communicate eventually, though patience is the best medicine for him right now.”

Adrien rolled his eyes at the conversation. Gabriel was never known for his patience before, especially when it came to him. Why would he start now?

Dr. Boucher fished the endoscope out, and let Adrien relax. “Great job, Adrien. That didn’t hurt too bad, did it?”

He shook his head.

“That’s a good boy.” He rubbed his hair.

The rest of the day passed slowly and in boredom. There was no TV in his room, and Gabriel hadn’t let him have a phone or tablet to look online. So he spent his time passing in and out of restless sleep.

The clock on the wall showed it to be around seven when Gabriel stood and stretched. “Son,” he stated, waking him a little more. “I’m going to go home tonight. I’m really happy with the progress you’re making, and I’m confident enough I can leave you in the doctors care until I return in the morning.”

He could have just left. Either way, Adrien didn’t really care.

Gabriel held the ring up in front of him, pinching it between his fingers. “Now, I’m going to leave this with you. Because it rightfully belongs to you. But you have to promise me you won’t use it.”

Adrien reached for it.

But Gabriel pulled it away. “Promise me.”

With a sigh, Adrien nodded, and held out his hand patiently.

Considering it good enough, Gabriel dropped the ring back into his hand.

“Ahhhhhhh!” Plagg stretched from where he had been sleeping on Adrien’s stomach. “It’s good to be back where I belong!”

“You can feel through the ring?” Gabriel asked, astonished.

“It’s a spiritual thing,” the cat drawled, nuzzling against Adrien’s hand. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “No, I suppose not. Adrien, I’ll bring you some pajamas in the morning so you can change out of the gown.”

Adrien didn’t bother responding. Instead, he slid the ring on his finger, watching as it shrank to adapt to the weight loss.

He hadn’t noticed how naked he felt without the ring on. But having it back felt like a piece of him was falling back into place.

Just right.

Gently, he rubbed his thumb over the band and just savored the feeling of having control back in his hands. He closed his eyes, and just reveled.

Plagg watched this with concern and a touch of curiosity as the hours passed. Adrien’s eyes twitched, and his brow creased in concentration. He remained this way long after the nurse came and turned off the light to sleep.

He wasn’t just admiring the feeling of the ring, he was thinking.

But the moment Plagg realized what he was thinking about, by then it was too late.

“Kid, you prom—!” Was all he could say before being sucked into the ring.

Like a drug addict finally getting a fix after being sober for days on end, the power rushed over Adrien and filled him with strength and adrenaline. The pain waned, and his focus sharped razor sharp. All his cords and tubes became disconnected and alarms started blaring.

He flung the sheets off of him, and rolled onto the floor, lacking the finesse to slide and stand. The police standing guard were already coming in the room, begging him to drop his transformation.

But Chat Noir refused, withdrawing his baton from behind his back. He let the staff do the work, extending it to hit one man in the balls, and the other in the jaw. Then, with a little work, he was up on his feet and staggering passed the guards.

Though gifted with superhuman strength, his body wasn’t used to moving. He shuffled and wobbled down the hall, frustrated with his own body for not working properly.

“Chat Noir?” A nurse asked in horror.

He hissed at her.

“Chat Noir!” She shrieked. “Wait!” Then she bit her tongue as she remembered training. She held her hands out at her sides, palm up. “Hey, it’s okay. Relax. What do you need? What can I do to help you?”

He shrieked at her, his voice cracking painfully.

“My name is Sam, okay Adrien?” She took a careful step forward as several staff members approached quietly from behind, intent on subduing him. “Do you want to see Ladybug? We can make that happen, okay? Let’s just get you a wheelchair, and you can transform—“

He shook his head violently. He was done waiting. ‘Oh you’ll see her soon’ they said ‘just wait a little longer’ they said. Well, he waited. And no one was letting him see her. He was sick of it. He extended the baton to knock her in the stomach.

“Move!” Someone shouted from behind, before a pair of arms hooked under his arms and pulled backwards. He was pulled off balance, but managed to stomp the person’s toes to let him go.

“Someone prepare 2 mg of lorazepam, we’re going to need to administer it the second we subdue him!”

But Chat wasn’t about to let that happen. He broke into a run, the best he could, and took off down the hall.

He had no idea where he was going, but looked into every room he passed, catching the attention of a lot of staff members.

It became a hospital wide game of tag.

Chat really didn’t want to hurt anyone, but if they were standing in his way, he was using force. At one point, he had gotten pinned by two robust men while a female nurse prepared to administer the sedative. He thrashed wildly, getting one arm free to scratch the woman in the face. One of the men attempted to recover the dropped syringe, only to loosen his hold on Chat, who then wriggled himself free and threw the other man off of him.

“Someone get John! He plays flag football on the weekends!”

“John’s off today!”

“Son of a bitch!”

As the chase went on, Chat grew more and more frantic and feral. He hissed at patients and staff alike, his eyes darting out and around, trying desperately to find a clue to his lady.

Then a little mousey nurse stood in front of him at the end of the hall. She looked shocked to see him barreling towards her, and froze like a deer in the headlights.

If Chat had to run her over, so be it. He wasn’t stopping.

Coming out of her shock, the little nurse held up her hands and shouted at him. “Third floor, room 308!”

As he came upon her, he grasped her by the shoulders and spun her out of the way, unharmed.

Just beyond her were the elevators, and he sprinted in one as the door was closing.

Inside, there was already a passenger, an old man with a bouquet of flowers. “Would you mind hitting the button for the fifth floor? My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

As Chat heaved a breath from his sprint, he looked curiously at the man, and then hit the button as the man asked, as well as his own.

At the third floor, he was off in a sprint again. Counting down the room numbers until he reached the end of the hall. The police officers standing guard should have been a clear sign.

“Chat Noir, we can’t let you in.” One said firmly.

He hissed in response.

“Did you say Chat Noir?” Marinette’s sweet voice called from inside the room.

His ears dropped and his eyes dilated. Chat trembled and walked forward, ignoring the protests of the officers. Vaguely, he heard Tom talking to them, reasoning with them to leave him be.

But none of that mattered now, because she was here. His lady.

Like seeing the sun finally rise, or taking the first breath of clean air, Chat felt goosebumps settle down his spine as his body relaxed. A hand settled on his back to keep him steady, but his legs still wobbled.

She was so beautiful. Unbathed, bruised, and crusty, but still so beautiful. Those bluebell eyes that remained unchanged, and bored into him with a passion. It set the tips of his fingers tingling with the ache to have her, to touch her.

It was only a second as Marinette digested what she was seeing as real, before she flung her sheets off and hurried to him.

Her steps were weak and wobbly, and she almost fell. But she reached him, just as he started to slide to the floor. Her arms hooked under his and they dropped to the ground.

“Kitty…” she breathed.

In a voice so quiet it was barely audible, Adrien released his transformation. Once the strength was gone, he hissed in pain, and curled closer to her.

“Rebuke him,” Plagg huffed. “He promised he wouldn’t transform, and the second he was clear, he went ahead and did it.”

Marinette raised a hand to his head and brushed back his bangs back to kiss him. “My sweet, reckless kitty.”

He closed his eyes, exhausted from his excursion. But now he could rest, because he was with her.  

Marinette leaned her forehead against his, soaking in his warmth. Oh how she missed him. His touch filled her soul with a quiet calmness she hadn’t felt since that final night in the catacombs. Back then, she was holding him as he was dying, but now?

Now he was living. And it felt so right.

There was a clamor at the door as several staff members finally caught up to him.

“He just wants to be with Marinette,” Tom explained. “We can’t separate them.”

“Did someone tell Dr. Boucher Adrien escaped?”

“He went home for the night, but I’ll call him.”

Now that no one was trying to tackle him and tranquilize him, Adrien actually allowed a smile to grace his face.

“That can’t be comfortable down there,” said Tom, knelling. “Let’s get you kiddos on the bed, hm?”

Adrien didn’t fight the man. He was right, it was extremely uncomfortable on the floor.

Tom and another nurse helped them stand, and then sit on the bed, only for Adrien to lean on Marinette. In turn, she raked her nails over his scalp, eliciting a purr from his chest.

The doctor who had left to make the call to Dr. Boucher returned. “Dr. Boucher will be back in a little bit. But he said it’s best if we move Adrien’s bed up here.”

“Is he stable enough for that?”

“Doesn’t matter if he’s going to run away every chance he gets. Dr.  Boucher says it’ll be alright since he’s off of a ventilator now. He and Marinette have a team assigned to them specifically anyways.” The doctor came to Adrien and touched his knee. “Alright, you got what you wanted. You get to stay with Ladybug. But please, on behalf of the staff here, Don’t. Do that. Again.”

He rolled his eyes, but understood.

“Seriously Mr. Agreste,” The doctor continued. “Protocol demands that if patients show excessive violence towards staff, we are to put them in seclusion. I don’t want to do that to you. Especially after everything you’ve been through. So this is the only warning I’m giving you.”

Oh, seclusion didn’t sound fun. So he nodded in agreement.

“Good. I have to get back to my patients, but your team will be bringing the bed and equipment up soon. Please try not to move.” He sighed, and left the room.

Tom rubbed Adrien’s head. “You crazy kid.” There was no rebuking, no scolding or judgement, though he deserved it. Tom just didn’t see the point in it.

Before too long, a pair of nurses moved his bed into the room, moving Marinette over to make room. Then they moved Adrien into bed. “Don’t get too comfortable,” said one. “Dr. Boucher is going to need to examine you, and you’ll probably have your drains and catheter replaced.”

Adrien grunted in protest.

They had him lean on his side to check his stitches all the way down his back to his calves. “Despite your little stunt, your sutures look to be in good shape. I don’t see any pulls or tears.”

Finally, Dr. Boucher arrived, dressed in casual clothes. “Adrien, you teleported!”

Adrien hunched his shoulders slightly in shame.

“Dr. Kranken told me he gave you a thorough scolding, so I’ll skip that part. Instead, I’ll just check your wounds and make sure you didn’t add any time to your recovery.”

“His stitches look good,” said a nurse.

“Good, good. That’s the thing we are most concerned about.” He studied the labyrinth of stitches that made up Adrien’s back, prodding and poking as he went. “Sorry, I know this is so uncomfortable. But loose stitches can mean infection and infection with a skin graft like this can lead to necrosis or MRSA.”

“What’s that?” Asked Marinette.

“Necrosis is dead flesh. When the graft has poor blood supply, the skin will turn black and fall off. MRSA is a flesh eating bacteria, which can then lead to necrosis. So it’s very very important that you both follow our instructions.” Then he said a little quieter. “And stop freaking transforming into superheroes.”

Okay, the threat of turning into a zombie with flesh eating bacteria was a little more persuading than just “it’s not good for you.”

“Let’s see here...when you transformed, you forced your drains out, so that has to all be redone. And...” he held his arm out, inspecting the inside of his elbow. “And removing the IV the way you did blew out the vein. So we’ll have to wait until it heals before we can insert another one in this arm.” He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and a little in exhaustion. “Alright, we’re going to get you settled in here. Please promise me you’re not going to pull anymore stunts, huh? At least not tonight. My wife and son had to pause the movie.”

Adrien looked over to Marinette meaningfully, and then back to the doctor.

“I’ll make sure everyone knows not to move you from this room.” Then he looked at Marinette. “How are you feeling, darling? Anything new? Any symptoms that we talked about?”

“I have another headache. It’s not that bad though.”

“The nurse gave her some ibuprofen at 6:00.” Sabine added.

Dr. Boucher checked his watch. “I’ll let them know you can have some more in an hour. Think you can last that long?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Good,” he breathed. “Then Adrien, let’s get you some tubes.”

Adrien growled.

—

In the morning, Gabriel Agreste arrived at the hospital with a duffel bag over his arm. As he went on his way to ICU, he was stopped by a receptionist.

“Oh, Mr. Agreste?”

He halted, “yes?”

“Adrien was moved to Marinette’s room last night.”

“Last night? I thought he was still a few days away from being moved?”

“He was, but there was...an incident last night.”

Gabriel heaved a disappointed sigh, knowing exactly what happened. “Thank you,” he muttered out as he passed.

Upstairs, Gabriel stormed into the room, to find his son half awake, and looking at Marinette.

Then his gaze shifted to his father.

He had the gaul to look sheepish.

“I’m disappointed in you.” Gabriel shook his head. “You promised me.”

Adrien looked away, towards Marinette. Perhaps for reassurance.

“How am I suppose to trust you, if the first thing you do is disobey me?”

“Gabriel,” Sabine snapped. “He’s already been chastised. He knows what he did was wrong.”

“Does he? Does he know that he was being selfish and stupid?”

“You can’t get mad at him for being irrational.” Sabine stated, calm as she could.

“Irrational? My son doesn’t do irrational! Dramatic, yes. Emotional, yes. But not irrational. He knows better. And he knows how his behavior reflects on me.”

Sabine balled up a fist. “Have you ever seen Bambi?”

“What? What does that have to do with this?”

“Have you seen it?” Her voice took an edge.

“Yes?”

“Do you remember the little bunny? Thumper?”

“What about him?”

“He has this line: ‘If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.’”

He huffed. “Excuse me? Are you trying to use the philosophy of a child’s movie on me?”

“If you insist on acting like a child, then yes. I will.”

Adrien and Marinette watched with concern as the argument escalated, the insults being tossed back and forth like a volley at a tennis match.

“Childish? Trying to raise my child is childish?! Sabine, he’s dangerous! To himself and other people!”

“That’s a real joke coming from you.”

“As if I had anything to do with this!”

“Keep running your mouth, and I’ll tell them what you did!” Her voice escalated. “And trust!? Really?! You can’t trust him, but you expect him to trust you!?”

He sneered at her. “Sabine, I didn’t say a word when your child recklessly transformed. I’m not trying to tell you how to raise your child, so don’t try to tell me how to raise mine!”

Tom stood from where he was sitting. Not a man to be prone to a temper unless it had to do with his daughter, he had let his wife duke it out with Gabriel. But this left him alone to notice the first of the tears.

He hurried over to Adrien, and very carefully embraced him into a hug.

“What are you doing?! Don’t touch him!”

Tom ignored him and petted the top of Adrien’s head. “Hey son, it’s okay. It’s okay, he’s just scared. It’s okay.”

Son.

Adrien relaxed into Tom’s hold, feeling safe and secure.

“Don’t coddle him! This behavior is appalling!”

“That’s enough.” Plagg’s voice boomed, shaking the room with a slight tremor. Everyone went silent as the kwami approached Gabriel. “You took five steps forward and six steps back, you low life.”

“Now you’re going to lecture me too?”

“No, Gabriel. I don’t lecture. I threaten. I will constantly give you second chances, only for Adrien’s benefit. But if you keep treating him like this, getting rid of you will be to his benefit. Do I make myself clear?”

Gabriel breathed slowly. “I understand.”

“Gabriel,” Sabine spoke firmly, but more gentle than she just had. “Don’t you remember what Dr. Boucher said? We won’t recognize our children. Maybe irrational is what Adrien is now. You need to learn that, and accept it. The sooner you do, the sooner that will stop.”

“Salo talked to him like that,” Marinette spoke. Her hands fisted the blankets. “She belittled us. Told us we were a disappointment. That we were wrong. We were bad.”

She swallowed harshly, tears pricking at her eyes. “If…if the first decisions we were able to make for ourselves were bad…maybe she was right.”

“Oh honey no…” Sabine breathed.

“Gabriel, you shit-stain, you tell them right this instant that didn’t mean it!” Plagg yowled.

Gabriel shook his head and came to stand between the two beds. He reached out both hands to touch them. “I’m sorry.”

Plagg was kind of speechless. He didn’t think that would actually work.

“I gave Adrien his ring back. I knew he wouldn’t be able to handle the temptation…I’m more disappointed in myself for being optimistic.”

Marinette snapped her hand away from him. “Only you could make an apology sound so condescending.”

He pinched his nose. “You know what? I think I’m just going to leave. I’ll listen to that rabbit and keep my mouth shut. Apparently, I’m the bad guy here.”

“You are.” Sabine reminded. “So get it together.”

Gabriel dropped the duffle bag onto a chair and left, taking the coldness of the room with him.    

[eleventhdoctorsangel]

And I will pick you up when your whole world shatters

Summary: The night of the particle accelerator exploding changed my life forever. I was one the lucky if you want to call it that people who got powers from that night. That was four years ago. Since then I joined team flash to help keep the city safe. But since Barry went into the speed force to save us all it has been more difficult to keep the city safe. The speed force had just released Barry and created new meta’s. Now we have to find them all.  

It has been four weeks since Barry got out from the speed force.  We have only found two of the thirteen bus metas so far. Caitlin and I stopped by jitters before making our way to star labs. We passed the most scary guy I’ve ever seen in my life in the hallway to go meet the others.  “Why is the scariest person we’ve ever seen roaming our halls?” Caitlin asked as we walked into our normal meeting spot. “Cisco.” Both Joe and Barry answered. “Oh.” Caitlin said. “Why does that not surprise me. “ I said as I handed a coffee to Iris then handing the tray to Joe that also had a coffee for him and Barry. “Okay so I’ve got the coroner’s report for the death of the bus driver but it doesn’t seem like there’s any sign of foul play.” Iris said. “Aisde from him being the one guy that could have told us who else was on that bus. “ Joe said. “They logged his personal effects let’s see.  Credit cards, cash, receipts, um.” Iris said as she started to swipe through pictures. “Wait go back.” Barry said. She went back to a picture of a business card for a guy named Ralph Dibny. Both Joe and Barry gave each other a look. “Ralph Dibny.” Barry said. “I’ll be damned.” Joe said. “Who is Ralph Dibny?” Iris asked. “He used to be a cop.” Joe said. “Dirty cop. He got kicked off the force.” Barry said. “For what?” Iris asked. “It’s a long story.” Joe said. Iris pulled a picture of Ralph and put it on the screens in front of us. Ralph was not like I was picturing him. He looked to be around Barry’s age. He was extremely hot. “That’s him.” Barry said. “Oh. He’s handsome in a square-jawed Oliver Queen kind of way.” Iris said. “For real.” Barry said obviously jealous. “Babe you know I’ve only got eyes for you.” Iris said. “The I.O.U. is dated the same day that I came out of the speed force.” Barry said. “You think Dibny was on the bus that day? Maybe he’s a meta-human now?” Caitlin asked. “Let’s pay him a visit.” Barry said. “Can I come?” I asked. “Sure y/n.” Joe said. I smiled and followed Joe out. We found the building where Ralph works out of. We got to the floor where his office was. Barry was about to open the door when a woman stormed out bumping into Barry and Joe. “This is definitely his place.” Joe said. Joe knocked on the door then we walked in. “Reconsidered huh?” Ralph asked as we walked in. “Ralph.” Joe said. “Joe West. Barry Allen.” Ralph said as he got up from his chair. Ralph did not look too happy to see Barry at all. Then he looked at me. “It’s been a long time rookie.” Ralph said. “Well I’m not a rookie anymore Dibny. You look healthy.” Barry said motioning towards Ralph’s gut. “Yeah. Got the spare tire out of the trunk. It happens. Might even happen to you too one day slim jim. So what brings you boys and beautiful lady to Casa de Dibny?” Ralph asked. “Were you on the 405 bus four weeks ago around noon?” Barry asked with his hands on his hips. “That’s a very specific question. “ Ralph said. “We found your I.O.U. from the deceased bus driver’s personal effects.” Joe said. “Deceased? Hey. That’s one less U I owe. What’s it to you three.” Ralph said sitting back down. “It’s a simple question. Why don’t you just answer it?” Barry said. “You walk into my office after five years like nothing ever happened and ask me for a favor? I smell a mystery.” Ralph said. “It’s not a favor. It’s information. “Barry said. “And how much is this information worth?” Ralph asked. “Are you shaking us down?” Joe asked. “I know something you don’t” Ralph said as he pulled out a donut from his desk drawer. I made a face as hit took a bite of it because I have no idea how old it was. “And you need to know it badly otherwise you’d never swallow your pride and face me after what you did.” Ralph said his mouth full of donut. “After what I did?” Barry asked walked closer to Ralph. “Ralph. The people on that bus were exposed to a dangerous substance.” Joe said. “Dangerous?” Ralph asked as his eyes widen.  He put the donut away. “Dangerous like what? Like…Ebola?” Ralph asked. “Were you on the bus?” Barry asked. “No.” Ralph said. “Okay. Let’s go.” Barry said. Barry gently grabbed my arm leading me out. “Hey I heard you shacked up with that hot D.A. She got a sister?” Ralph said. I couldn’t see the look that Joe was giving him but I knew it wasn’t a nice look. “Okay. Good luck. All the best. Second thought can I get her number. “Ralph said as he motioned to me. Barry quickly pulled me out of his office and the three of us left. We walked out of the building. “That guy hasn’t changed a bit.” Joe said. “You really expect him to?” Barry asked. I deicide to look towards the alleyway. That when I saw Ralph being stretched down from the roof I stop walking. “Um guys.” I said. Both Barry and Joe rushed back over to me As Ralph hit the ground then his stretched out legs. “I guess he was on that bus.” Joe said. “So how are we getting him back to STAR Labs?” I asked. 

After shoving Ralph and his stretched out legs in Joe’s car we headed back to STAR Labs. I sat in the back with Ralph trying to calm him down but it wasn’t working. We managed to get him to med bay but his legs were stretched out of the room. I heard Iris scream. I was standing by Harry helping the best I can.  “Hey guys? What the hell?” Iris screamed as she ran into the room carrying one of Ralph shoe’s.  Ralph was also screaming. In a summary all hell was breaking lose. “Yeah Yeah well you’re welcome.” Barry said. “What happened to me?” Ralph asked. “Breathe okay.” Barry said as he and Caitlin both took a breath in and out. “I am breathing.” Ralph said. “This is interesting. The dark matter has polymerized Dibny’s cells.” Harry said showing what was happening to Ralph on the tablet. “What the hell is dark matter and why is it in my cells?” Ralph asked. “You’re saying the walls of every cell in his body have elasticized?” Caitlin asked. “I’m saying they formed an unbreakable bond at the atomic level. Now you can stretch these cells and stretch those cells.” Harry said.  “Like silly putty.” Caitlin said. “Like silly putty.” Harry said. “I’m silly putty?” Ralph asked with a sad look on his facing pointing to himself. “No.” Barry, Caitlin and I said kindly. “Kinda.” Harry said with no shame at all. “Not helping Harry.” I said. “I’m silly putty?” Ralph asked again but more angry this time. “Ralph. Who were the guys on the roof?” Joe asked. “Is that really the issue right now? Look at me! Allen you and your STAR labs nerds better put me back together.” Ralph said grabbing Barry and pulling him closer to him. “We’re trying to help you.” Barry said. “You’re not trying to help me.” Ralph said. “Shut up.” Barry said which started another shouting match. Caitlin and I managed to break the two up “Come on! Oh come on!” Ralph said. “You can do this later. I just need a sample of blood.” Caitlin said grabbing Ralph’s arm stretching it out. I let out a gasp. Caitlin dropped his arm and freaked out.  Harry grabbed my arm pulling me away as Caitlin accidentally hit a thing of baby powder. Making Ralph sneeze which made his face stretch out shocking all of us. “Oh is that may face?” Ralph asked holding his face in one of his hands. I heard Joe throw up. “Four years seeing this stuff I finally puked.” Joe said. “You lasted longer than I thought.” I said. Now how are we going to fix this. 

I went to go help Barry with add Ralph information to the board of bus meta’s. “I finally calmed him down. Amazing what 50 milligrams of Lorazepam can do when you get it in aerosol form.” Caitlin said as she, Iris and Joe walked in the room. “Is there anything you can do to put him back together?” Iris asked. “Please my stomach can’t take much more.” Joe said. “I think I could stabilize his cells if I had a sample of his DNA from prior to when he was exposed to the dark matter on the bus. “ Caitlin said. “Why? So he can go out and started hurting people like our other friend’s here? I think we should lock him up in the pipeline” Barry said. “He hasn’t done anything.” Caitlin said. “Yet. Trust me. I know this guy. He’s a bad guy.” Barry said. “Barry I took an oath to help people. I’m a doctor. I can’t just leave him in there like spaghetti.” Caitlin said as Barry wrote something on the board. “Villains?” Iris asked  upon see what Barry wrote. “Yeah. Every person that was on that bus is now 1,000 times more dangerous than they were before. Dibny included.” Barry said. “What if he’s changed?” Caitlin suggested. “People don’t change.” Barry said. “I did. When I became killer frost you still believed in me.” Caitlin said. “You’re a good person. He’s not.” Barry said. “Well I don’t believe that. I may not know Ralph but I know that just because someone tells you that someone else is a bad person doesn’t mean they always are.” I said. “Barry how about you and I go back to Dibny’s office? Find a DNA sample for Caitlin? Dad you go back to CCPD see what you can dig up on Dibny?” Iris said. “Yes boss.” Joe said and after. Iris and Barry also left leaving Caitlin and I. “You ok?” Caitlin asked as she put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m fine. I just don’t think that Ralph is a bad guy like Barry is making him out to be.” I said. “I get where you are coming from Y/n I don’t think Ralph is a bad guy either. But do I think that he and Barry have some bad history together yes.” Caitlin said. I nodded. “Beside he is really cute don’t you think.” Caitlin teased.  “I’m sorry.” I said trying to avoid where this might be going. “Oh come on Y/n I saw how red your face got when Iris pulled up the picture of Ralph.” Caitlin said.  “Come on Caty we should start work on the stabilizer for Ralph.” I said and started to make my way to the lab. 

Overall taglist: @the-broken-halo-writer​

[hellyeahomeland]

“Deception Indicated”: an HYH recap

[The very final season of this show really does seem the perfect time to kick off a new series on this blog! Over the years I’ve expressed my dislike of recap culture, so I don’t know why I think this is a good idea. But I do! My goal here is to offer something a bit more light-hearted than Director’s Chair, a bit broader than the extremely niche Things Carrie Wore This Week, and much less time-consuming than listening to a 1-hour podcast. Let me know what you think! --Sara]

Our final season opens with Carrie, sleepless in bed, recounting some truly horrific memories of her time in capture. How does one describe this? She screams “not the coat, not the coat!” presumably talking about a straitjacket. She has what I can only describe as an imaginary orgasm, surrounded by wooden figurines to which she whispers, “don’t be scared!” Are we on the set of Girl, Interrupted? I have to believe this is the footage Claire talked about filming in 2018 that never made it into the final cut of “Paean to the People.” It’s all very…. wtf. I really don’t need it in my life.

Carrie has a mini anxiety attack (episode count: 1), because honestly who wouldn’t. She’s in Landstuhl Medical Center. Which is where Brody was before they brought him home in the pilot, and where Quinn was before Saul and Carrie effectively killed him too. ~memories~

Carrie asks for a half of a Lorazepam before returning back to bed. Apparently she’s seen our Twitter bio and feels the same! 

We then get the rarest of Homeland occurrences: a montage! This montage has EVERYTHING! Carrie running, Carrie bun, Carrie getting her blood pressure taken, Carrie wearing an oversize sweater, Carrie going to meet Doug who is not Doug.

Instead it’s some hard ass CIA man Jim, who is Doug’s supervisor, believes Carrie is a Russian agent, and also apparently can’t read her file because he is asking her the same questions she’s already been asked 439 times. Three things:

1) This scene reminds me so much of a point in “Game On,” when Carrie is trying to get out of the psychiatric hospital and does her very best “I’m so grateful and agreeable and kind” act—which is an act, but also not really an act? She declines water, and makes small talk with Jim, and actually attempts a smile.

2) This scene also has a strong callback to the scene in the pilot where Carrie is questioning Brody at Langley. It’s intercut with flashbacks, similar to Brody with Nazir, and most importantly has a defining air of “hmm what is actually going on?”

3) Carrie sighs and sucks in her teeth at least 76 times. I LOVE YOU, CARRIE!!

Carrie is understandably pissed at Jim’s accusations but we don’t sit with that for too long because now we’re in Qatar, with Saul. He is still, for some unknown reason, the National Security Advisor to Beau Bridges. There is a scene where Saul explains what’s going on to a group of journalists and it has so much exposition and information-dumping in it it’s kind of admirable.

I had to watch this twice to understand what was happening but it goes like this: America is helping facilitate peace talks between Afghanistan and the Taliban, because it would really like to get out of Afghanistan after 20 years. But no one really trusts anyone else, and everyone is still pissed at everyone for literally everything that’s happened in the last half century. So yeah, things are going great! And this episode has TWO references to the embassy attack in Islamabad in season four, in case we’d forgotten (how could I ever).

Then the Afghan VP G’ulom  is like FUCK THIS and calls a surprise press conference and says they’ll never agree to giving up Taliban POWs and don’t you know that Afghanistan is a lion? The dude who plays G’ulom has probably the best voice of any actor I’ve ever heard. The way he says “lions” over and over gives me chills.

So now Saul is like, hmmm what do I do?… Oh, I know, my homie Carrie! She’s just the person for this task in a war zone. Also the last time I asked her to do something like this it ended very well for everyone involved.

Saul goes to Germany to say exactly this and Doug and Jim look at him like he’s basically crazy, which he is. But Carrie is all in, but she’s still basically crazy too.

MEANWHILE, Max is also en route to Afghanistan for a mission. That’s right, Max gets his own band of hot Marines this year too! At least one of them looks like he would have been on Friday Night Lights 10 years ago. Mr. FNL thinks the mission is bullshit because it’s very dangerous and he has no idea what’s going on. That makes two of us, Mr. FNL! Also there is a hat.

The next day Carrie is in Kabul, being very Cool Girl with Mike Dunne (good lord I wish his name was Nick Dunne just for funsies), the Kabul Chief of Station. He introduces her to Jenna, who is…. both deer-in-headlights and also trying desperately to be Cool Girl too? This CIA culture is toxic. There is a glorious scene where Jenna is taking Carrie to her room and Carrie is forced to be in an elevator with her and is this the first time Carrie’s been alone with another woman who’s not a blood relative in years? Carrie’s annoyance is palpable. She tells Jenna to stop whining and stop taking no for an answer. The Carrie Mathison way™!

Tasneem smokes a cigarette while waiting for Saul, and it is glorious. I actually screamed! Saul apologizes for his earlier comments blaming her for Americans dying in the Islamabad embassy attack. In true Saul fashion, he uses this as a segue to accuse her of tanking the current peace talks, implying that he needs an “adult” at the table and GOD WHY DON’T YOU JUST WANT PEACE?? Tasneem is like, HOLD UP!!! You left the region when the USSR left, then you came roaring back after 9/11. Also, we fucking live here! We know that if the US leaves now, the Afghan state—WHICH BY THE WAY YOU BUILT—will collapse and the country will enter into a civil war, and all of this is not PEACEFUL the last time I checked. Saul just kind of stares at her, because she’s actually right and he knows it.

Cut to Carrie, doing all of her most “old school” spy tricks, including: something with a dial tone that this millennial does not understand, dressing up as someone else, flicking on lights as some sort of code, exiting through the kitchen, and riding a dusty motorcycle. I know it was a stunt double but Carrie just revealing her ability to ride a motorcycle after 8 years is thrilling. It’s like when she showed up in Tehran in season three with different hair and spoke French fluently.

She goes to meet an old asset, who drives her to meet another old asset, who it turns out is dead. Killed five months ago for being a traitor to the Americans. Carrie has another anxiety attack (episode count: 2) as it dawns on her that she probably gave up his name in the Russian prison.

Back on the Afghan mountains, we finally learn just what the hell Max is doing. It involves a decoy rock that has some sort of computer or listening device under it. Apparently they have no way to tap into Haqqani’s phone and Max is gonna save the day and get that fixed. We have to stan.

Carrie gets back to her hotel room and Mike Dunne is waiting for her, very concerned dad. Doesn’t Mike know Carrie already has a fake dad who feigns concern about her well-being? Their conversation goes something like this: 

Mike: don’t give me that ask for forgiveness, not permission crap!  Carrie: lmao dude, I don’t need your permission. I am here because Saul asked me, no one even knows who you are.  Mike: we have THREE TEAMS looking for you.  Carrie: I could not give fewer fucks.  Mike: ...  Carrie: ...But, by the way, how real is Russian/Taliban cooperation? Like… do they share advisors… or what about intelligence? Say, intelligence given up by former CIA officers while in a Russian prison?

Oh, she leaves that last part out. I’m struck here both by how bad of a liar Carrie is and also how good of a liar she is. She brings up Russia for some unknown reason (doesn’t she know that looks really shady?) and then nods her head, does the “oh, I see” routine, eyes darting… but then comes up with a perfectly believable cover story. There is a strange moment where Carrie and Mike Dunne both sort of agree to drop it and I don’t know why but I had this palpable feeling that there is way more to this relationship from pre-season four days (I guess that means there was a shift from concerned dad to ... something else). After he leaves, Carrie has another panic attack (episode count: 3).

Max and Mr. FNL and the rest of the crew have finally made their way back down the mountain but the hardest part remains. There is an excruciating sequence where, one by one, they make their way across this exposed field. Eventually the Taliban fighters do see them. There are gunshots but somehow, miraculously, they all make it out alive. Mr. FNL says Max is their “frosted lucky charm” and Max only stares at them because the mission? It was actually a success. They’re all up in Haqqani’s comms now.

The next morning, Carrie and Jenna are at the meeting to see G'ulom. Jenna—unwisely!—asks if Carrie is ok. She knows from Mike she was out late last night. Carrie gives a terse “I’m fine” before mentioning, oh by the way you know you’re just gonna wait outside of this meeting like a silly chaperone, right? Did Mike tell you that too? 

Again, she doesn’t actually say this, it’s just coded Carrie language, dripping with passive aggression. I suppose when you’re brought up in a toxic, misogynist work culture, you’re probably trained to believe that every woman who is nice to you just wants something from you. (And Carrie may be right but my God is it amusing/depressing to see Jenna, dejected, plop herself down and sit silently with her hands in her lap.)

Carrie paces and does her trademark Brody finger tapping outside G’ulom’s office… when out walks a Russian delegation. Including one Mr. Yevgeny Gromov. WHO LITERALLY WINKS AT HER. I have to say I find Costa Ronin extremely hot, 75% of that attraction being that he wears a turtleneck 50% of the time. 

His presence sparks a memory in Carrie: he was the one she implored to stay in the Russian prison, to not leave her here (was this a shock to anyone else, or just Carrie). She goes all wide-eyed, starts breathing heavily, and has her fourth panic attack of the episode. Cut to black.

[coldtomyflash]

Goldfaced Rewrite

Not quite a coda since this branches off partway through Goldfaced (5x13). It plays with the canon timelines somewhat, but keeps mostly to canon while having some fun with it. Technically canon relationships, but written with some coldflash and coldwestallen overtones.

“Sam,” Snart popped the syllable with a droll little smirk. “Always so good to see you.”

“Goldface? The Goldface? He’s got personal hands on the field generator?”

“I told you you wouldn’t like it.”

Barry sighed and dragged his hand down his mouth. “Okay. Okay, let’s just get this over with. Do we have an in?”

“I sweet-talked our way. C’mon.”

He followed Ralph though the booths and crates of weapons, trying not to look too long. He was still thinking about the cop-killer weapons, thinking about Joe being too-often on the front lines. At least it made the scowl on his face real enough; no one was glancing his way too long.

Ralph led him through to a room where music was playing. The lighting and decor shifted, warmer tones, and people were lounging. The market turned social here. It was obvious it was where the ‘real’ business was done. 

He didn’t look too long. He couldn’t wait to get out of here.

“Welcome welcome.”

Goldface was charming, well-spoken. He knew what he had in his possession, cutting Ralph off and looking to Barry. Barry looked away. Better to let Ralph do the talking, especially when he was still as mad as he was. His gaze shifted to the left, and he had to work fast to cover the surprise and confusion on his face that he knew was painting it.

It was Snart. 

The man was sipping a drink at the bar a few seats down from where Goldface had been, eyes on Barry, curious looking as ever. He cocked an eyebrow at Barry. Barry shook his head imperceptibly.

He barely noticed what else Ralph and Goldface were saying till the criminal’s voice raised fast and angry,

“Shut your mouth!”

Shit. Barry’s heartrate shot up, and stayed that way as Goldface threatened Ralph, more specifically threatened to blow off his arm. The metacuff on Barry’s own wrist tingled, mostly in his imagination. He didn’t dare swallow. 

“See here’s the thing... scum recognizes scum. I’m scum, and I’ve survived this long by recognizing the same.” 

Barry could already see where this was going. His eyes flitted over to Snart again, already too reminded of the last time he’d tried to pull off the criminal routine, how Lewis Snart hadn’t bought it for a second. Snart was standing now, head tilted, jaw set and alert.

Goldface finishing calling Ralph scum and cycled over to Barry, finally addressing him.

“So, the question is... who are you?”

Ralph tried to vouch for him. Barry raised his hand to shut him up, eyes on Snart. He nodded this time, just as imperceptibly. He saw Snart’s eyes narrow. There was a gun pressed to Barry’s neck and he did swallow this time.

“I’m only gonna ask once more : Who. Are. You.”

“Draycon. That’s how I got my start. You can ask Snart,” he nodded at the man, who quirked an eyebrow. 

“Sam,” Snart popped the syllable with a droll little smirk. “Always so good to see you.”

Goldface’s attention shifted between them. “What is it that you do, Sam?” 

“Khandaq diamond job. Central City Diamond Reserve. I moved up from there - hit ARGUS a year after that, alien tech. Recently? Central City Museum heist - atomized lorazepam, knocked the guards out, in and out. The Museum’s one of Snart’s favorite targets, missed having him along on that job.”

“That so?” Goldface’s eyes were narrowed now, laser focused on holding Barry’s gaze. Looking for chinks in his armour? 

“It is,” Snart cut in. “Didn’t invite me in on the Federal Reserve one last month either.”

“The Acid bomb?” Barry retorted. “Didn’t think it was your style.”

“That was you?” Goldface asked. They definitely had him now.

“It was.” Barry’s voice dropped a little lower, “and if you haven’t heard of me, it’s because I’m a ghost. I keep my name out of jobs and pick who I work with. I use chemistry to keep the pigs off my bag. Even the Heights couldn’t hold me long. Doesn’t tend to when you know a bit of science and meta or two who owes you a favor.”

"Thought you and Shawna weren’t talking to one another?” Snart took a few strolled steps over, joining their little circle finally.

“She owed me one,” Barry picked up the lie with ease. “Owes you one too, if I remember right.”

“She might,” Snart shrugged one shoulder, eyes on Barry. There was a smirk teasing at his lips. Barry could already feel himself relaxing.

“You know I didn’t bring you in on the Reserve heist because I thought you skipped down. Couldn’t track you down when I needed back-up on a transport job a while back.”

“Oh?” Snart laid his fingers casually over the cold gun strapped to his hip. “Last I heard you found yourself a replacement for me just fine.”

It was a dig, but Barry let himself grin just a little in response, digging right back, copying Snart’s inflection. “Replace you? My team could never.”

"Alright enough,” Goldface cut in, and Barry shifted his attention back, standing up a bit straighter. He caught Ralph sending him a weird look. “Wha’ do I call you? Sam?”

“The Chemist.”

The gun was off his neck and Barry straightened his jacket. Ralph’s expression was still in need of schooling but the man caught himself quick and cleared his throat, addressing Goldface.

“So uh, we back in business?”

“With a twist.” Goldface moved casually over to what looked like a throne. Snart fell into step next to Barry. “Got a big job tonight. Hired Snart to plan it - I want it to go right, and well, you know how anal he can be. Could use a guy like The Chemist on our side. Cover our tracks. Since you two are such pals.”

He glanced at Snart, who titled his head. “Keith.”

“Goldface.”

Snart rolled his eyes. “Goldface. i work with a skeleton crew and a plan. The team is already bloated.”

“So you keep telling me. Drop the two you like the least and bring these ones on board. Unless you have an objection?”

Snart caught Barry’s gaze. Barry’s eyes hardened.

“What’s our target?”

[ ... ]

“Okay, so when was I going to learn that you and Captain Cold are flirting frenemies?”

“What? We’re not... no. Didn’t you know?”

“Know what?”

“He’s a - I don’t know. Ally? Sometimes. Or, well he was an enemy, but not really, well... he did betray us that one time, but then he went and died, and then the timeline changed thanks to the Legion of Doom so he didn’t really remember dying. I do, though, remember him dying, so do the Legends - “

“The Legion of what? The Legends? Why do the Legends -”

“Didn’t you know Snart was a Legend - “

“He was what?” Ralph hissed. 

“Heatwave is too. You know Mick is Heatwave?”

Ralph’s expression indicated that no, he had not known that.

“How come I never know any of this stuff? Ever?”

Barry really wished that just for one day, Ralph could experience being friends with Ralph. “I dunno, man, it was a different timeline and I can’t keep track of who remembers what anymore. There’s a file on him somewhere but there’s a lot going on. Point is - he’s kind of on our side some days, but doesn’t remember some of being on our side, I think? He knows he died being good though so he’s been on an evil kick since he came back from the dead timeline.”

Ralph’s expression was telling Barry exactly how much sense he was making. Barry clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Yeah.”

"So can we trust him?”

“Trust? Don’t push it,” that was Snart’s voice, cutting in and coming up to join them. “A new stray on your team.”

“This is Ralph. He’s... yeah, one of us.”

Snart eyed him, then turned back to Barry. “We roll out in five.”

He nodded, becoming more sombre again. Their target was a 3D printer for organs. It should be in a hospital, saving lives - and they were going to steal it before it ever got there.

“You sure you’re up for this, Barry?”

He almost flinched at his real name, at how personal the question felt. 

“Stealing from a hospital...”

He squared his jaw. “I can handle it.”

“You had better. I don’t want any surprises.”

“How can you be okay with this, Snart?” he took a step forward, and would’ve cursed his own emotions for getting the better of him except that would mean stopping to contemplate those emotions and that was the last thing he wanted to do. “This printer could save lives.”

Snart stepped in just as close. “It will save lives, Barry.”

“For the highest bidder.”

“What exactly do you think our healthcare system is? Hmm?” He paused just long enough before he went for the kill. “Insurance companies are positively criminal. Consider this some wealth equalization.”

Barry swallowed around the anger in his throat, knots along his shoulders from reigning in his anger. Snart tilted his head, voice lowering.

“Besides - you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t need that field generator for something. I could remind you of all the lives I’m sure you plan to save and whatever your bigger picture is, but let’s skip ahead to the part where we agree to play nice for the evening, hm?”

A memory swam up, unbidden. He could almost taste the blood that had accompanied it at the time, lying on the tarmac at Ferris Air with Snart leaning over him, who you’re really mad at is yourself. This is on you, Barry.

If he hadn’t let himself get distracted, if he hadn’t focused on a weapons deal instead of the field generator, he wouldn’t need to ride shot-gun on a heist with Snart that was making his stomach turn. 

“Let’s just get this over with.”

The man nodded, and turned. He paused, looking back over his shoulder. “Oh and Barry? Don’t make me throw away the plan.”

[ ... ]

The job really did have more people than it should need. Snart normally worked with 2-3 others max, but Goldface had sent them in with a full weaponized crew. Barry couldn’t figure out for what, really, with the building barely secured and with codes and passcards made up for every crew member. Belatedly, slipping through guard-less halls, it occurred to him it was probably for him - the Flash.

No wonder Snart hadn’t argued harder about having him along on this job.

Ralph kept shooting him glances. Snart hadn’t left his side. The whole night was shaping up just peachy. But they made it to the printer without difficulty.

Ralph whistled from across the room, pointing down at a packaged crate. Barry and Snart hurried over.

“Like candy from a baby,” Snart murmured, glancing it over.

Barry scowled at him. “How are we getting it out of here?”

“Unwrap, repack.”

Barry squatted down to help. Ralph cleared his throat.

“What?”

He was flipping through some documentation that had been sitting on top of the crate. “Barry, I...”

Barry stood and snatched the documents. He could feel Snart’s eyes on him.

Shit.

He closed his eyes. He couldn’t see this. 

“Barry...”

“They’re kids, Snart.”

“We had a deal.”

“This baby is 4 months old and needs new lungs. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Snart grit his teeth. Barry took a step toward him, mindful of the way his eyes flashed dangerously. 

“I know you’re not made of ice.”

“Careful.”

Barry waited. Snart did too. It didn’t last long. The man went from solid stone to graceful movement in a second, and for a fraction of it Barry thought he might shoot, but he was just turning, dramatic as he rolled his body to express his long-suffering torment at having Barry in his life.

“You’re going to ruin my reputation. I have to work with these people in the future.”

“Wouldn’t this be more like taking out the competition?”

“Because that worked so well with Amunet.”

“You scared Amunet out of town?” So that’s why she hadn’t come back yet.

“Don’t tell Goldface. Long-distance didn’t work out so well for the lovers.”

Barry laughed. “Then you can’t pretend not to be intrigued. You always did like a challenge. Or don’t you want to rule this city?”

The grin Snart flashed him was definitely a genuine reaction, smothered out into something more dangerous and threatening quickly. Barry grinned in response and put out his arm.

“Mind helping with this cuff?”

Snart sized him up with a final sigh. “You owe me. Again.”

“And you love me owing you. One of these days I might even deliver.”

[ ... ]

“Iris, you know I love you and Barry.”

She glanced at Ralph, perturbed as ever when he said something declarative like that. It always preceded the most random and bizarre conversations.

“Uh... huh.”

“Right, so what I’m about to say is in the interest of protecting your relationship.”

“Oh boy.” She closed her notebook. No way she was going to be able to focus until Ralph had finished pulling whatever thread this was.

“So - Captain Cold.”

“Okay, do we need to break out the Bailey’s for this conversation?”

“You have Bailey’s?”

She rolled her eyes and moved across the coffee area to the freezer. “What do you take me for?”

He held out his mug and she poured them both a generous amount. 

“Okay, Captain Cold. He helped you and Barry stop Goldface from getting that organ printer, right?”

“Right. The thing is... I just wanted to make sure you know - I think he’s kind of got a ... crush? On your husband? And I’m not sure if Barry knows but - “

Iris burst out laughing. This? Really? “But he flirts like a teenage girl at prom every time Snart bats his eyelashes in his direction?”

“Wait you know?”

“I’ve had to work with them too you know. Drives my dad bananas.”

Ralph laughed too at the impression she pulled of her father’s wide, angry, confused eyes whenever Snart started getting too close and insinuating with Barry.

“Okay, so you know. That’s good. I was worried.”

“I could tell. I thought you were about to drop something serious on me.”

“Well I wasn’t gonna say anything, but then the field-static...spastic - “

“Neuro-stasis field generator?”

“Yes, that! When that showed up in the cortex this morning...”

“Snart’s courtship is a strange one.”

“You’re not... threatened by it?”

“How could I be, when Snart flirts just as much with me?” She paused, then leaned forward, elbows dropping to the table, voice slipping to an appropriately conspiratorial volume. “Just between you and me? Me ‘n Barry are just waiting for the day Snart realizes all he has to do is ask us nicely.”

The flummoxed expression from Ralph was definitely worth the interruption to her work.

[princessmovieticket]

Just a vent

Fucking pharmacist, skimming medications.

I take lorazepam for these catatonic state I get into. Muscles spasticity happens (extremely tight muscles), my whole body goes ridged, my mind does too, it's hard to process actions, I get a fixed stare difficult to break.

It's almost impossible for me to do anything without it.

(Which sucks. I wish I could take something else because the memory problems have become crippling. But for the time being, this is what I'm perscribed, and I need it).

I break 1 pill into 4 pieces, and almost never go over two of those pieces a day, so it last a long time, should last 60 days.

Or so one would think.

A year ago I started realizing it was running out insanely fast, it didnt make sense.

I'm alone nearly 24/7. No one's around to take it. And I have my med schedule down.

I can't pick up my scripts because I am physically unable to leave my apartment, so I'm unable to count in person.

Eventually I started counting when I got the bottle.

Then I had whoever was picking it up count in person. (But if I forget to remind them, they forget to do it, mom).

Sometimes many were taken, sometimes it was 1. Then there would be none taken. The next time 4.

I went about almost 4 months back because I had an appointment the same day. Since I was there I asked the woman ringing us up to count it out, sure enough 2 weren't there.

The pharmacist said "Oh no, so this has happened before? Okay. Well we'll fix this for today."

There was a moment of, "is someone here stealing meds, does the girl in front of me potentially have a problem, or was this just a mistake."

So she tried to brush it off, as it was only 2 pills, and hopefully a mistake. If someone working there was taking medications that's a big deal. And if it was just a mistake, looking into this could cause unnecessary problems.

I don't blame her.

I also do not like starting shit and will avoid it if possible.

Ever since they haven't been missing. The bottle lasting as long as it should.

But fuck.

Alas.

It has happened again.

And I wasn't looking for it.

I didn't want to be looking for it.

And hey, It's not a good look needing a control substance medication because it ran out several days before I can get it refilled.

And weirdly, even though I need it, I feel way too vulnerable to put myself out there and do anything.

I get to withdrawal from a benzo I have to take daily. While already having a nervous system that acts like it's in continuous benzo withdrawal.

There should be Joan Jett type grit and strength coming out and saying "Ya know what, motherfuckers? No. This ends now."

But see, I normally leave the house once a month and spend a week recovering. Howeves, in the last two weeks I've had to leave 5 times all for medical appointments. (Granted, one was dental) but 3 were for severe migraines. I'm having a hard time willing any activities at the moment, even if not doing them makes things shittier.

And I'm terrified of summing energy I don't have to go to the pharmacy and say

"someones been stealing my lorazepam"

And them saying

"Maybe you lost track of how many you were taking, you know memory loss is a major side effect"

Or

"Uh, I think YOU'RE trying to steal lorazepam."

*severe migraine intensifies. Sensory overload over loading. Emotionally and physically so done I just give up and proceed to lay against a wall in the pharmacy, no longer communicating*

*sigh*

Listen. I know I didn't do enough to make sure I was getting the correct amount and document when there wasn't. It's on me for not pushing for people to count when they are at the counter.

But in my defense, it already sucks I have to ask someone to run errands like picking up my meds for me. Specifically my mom. She takes care of 5 children, basically by herself. She's raising my older sisters kids. And when she has the time to do something for me, I just don't want to add stress. She has got so much to do already, it is absolutely unfair how much she has to handle, and I'm greatful for when she fits me in to make sure I have meds and food. I'm pretty sure my mom is running on sheer will power and is able to to so because she literally doesn't have a second when she can stop and emotionally process, or reflect on life.

(It's kind of terrifying to be honest. Especially since she has her own medical problems. The amount of strength she summons, holy shit. It would be wild to see where that inertia went if she didn't have to take responsibility for so many humans. Super Sayian midwest mother).

She shouldn't have to count to make sure the correct amount is in there. Neither should I. Neither should any one getting their meds.

So fuck you. Whoever you are, anonymous pharmacist.

I'm throwing these words into the tumblr void. You may never know it, but somewhere on the internet is a small post voicing how you fucked them over.

I hope someone with more energy pulls a sting on your operation. Buys back their own pills from you and gets you shut down.

And for the off chance you are doing it for some kind of legitimate need,

I hope that whatever is medically or financially needed for you or someone you care about, becomes possible for you to get.

But either way,

Stop.

Stealing.

Meds.

These are not just the "fun drugs".

Some of us, rare as we may seem, need them to function. To do basic and essential things like making a meal or showering.

You're profiting off hurting people.

Please be better. This isn't worth it.

[blackdragon-sama]

my breast reduction experience

i'm back home from the hospital after my reduction and i'd like to share my experience for those interestedalso to vent a bit about my nice-but-also-hella-annoying bed neighbour.

i went in on thursday morning, to get prepped, see the doc and settle into my room i was given the choice to either stay overnight before the surgery, or come in at 7 on friday morningi chose to stay overnight, since i knew it'd be much easier if i could just stay in bed until they wheeled me in for surgery. rather than having to haul my stuff and myself to the hospital with the bus, high on adrenaline and panicwas the right decision, too early in the morning, a nurse woke me and i went to change into the very sexy piece of fishnet they use as panties and the butt-free gown thingi swear, those mesh panties are the worst.but, i got a dose of lorazepam to make up for it, and was wheeled downstairs and into the wake-up room, from which i was wheeled in for the anaesthesia prep.a very nice lady (i don't know if she was an anaesthesiologist or assistant or nurse....) helped me put on the hair net and put an IV into my hand, chatting a little with me, which helped with the anxiety. at this point i was glad for the lorazepam, because i was nervous as fuck, even with it. they didn't make me count or anything, just told me to breathe in all that nice oxygen, and then they told me when they inected the good stuff and - like with the two general anaesthesias i had before - i went under complaining about the pain XDit's like, the last two seconds before you go under, your face, or in one case, arms, get really bad pins-and-needles, and it's one of the grossest feelings ever, but it's literally just a second or two and then you're out. the first thing i remember after coming to, is people coming to my bed and telling me to take breaths, or to breathe in deeper.i had a little trouble with my oxygen levels for a while, but they put an oxygen tube thingie into my nose, with a piece of sponge around it to keep it in place, i also remember telling someone i was feeling nauseous, and i think they gave me some medication for that. i was in no pain at all, just super woozy and confused why it was already around 3 in the afternoon. surgery must've taken WAY longer than 2-4 hours, since they put me under at 7:30, and i came to enough to ask the time at 3 in the afternoon.back in my room i asked for my phone and sent a few typo-heavy drunk texts to my mom and my girlfriend to let them know i was still alivestill no pain, dizziness, overall "just trying to sleep"-iness. a nurse came in some time later, to help me get up and pee. i didn't think i needed to, but she told me they put five liters of whatever (saline, probably) into me during the surgery and after, and i do know that getting up is important after surgeryso, she hooks me under and butt-naked me (surgical bra and mesh panties only. sexy. comfortable. not basically literally ass-naked) shuffles over to the bathroom, nurse carrying the big drainage bottles.i could feel my ears rushing and hearing static the moment i stood, but i managed to sit down and do the deed. on the way back to the bed, i nearly passed out, but nurse and another nurse got me back safely and i could sleep some moreduring the night, i am woken up a few times, by a male nurse who comes to open my bra and check the bandages and palpate my new tiny tiddies for anything bad.it's a bit disorienting to be subjected to someone messing with your boobs when you're more asleep than anything, but the whole staff was super nice and gentle with me, on saturday, post-op day 1, i managed to somehow pull at my right-side drainage and the bitch gave me trouble for the entirety of its stay in my boob, and it's still the more sensitive side >_>my new boobs looked soooo teeny tiny! to be honest, while i was excited, i was also a little scared that they'd become too small, but that feeling came and went, and looking back, i know it was simply the shock of the /difference/. day one was mostly spent entirely in bed, since my circulation was still pretty bad, and getting up gave me big troublesluckily, the nurses all were very very nice and refilled my water bottle for me and helped me get to the bathroom and back, and iirc, in the afternoon, i managed to put on some real panties and a shirt. MUCH better!also, on saturday, my girlfriend came to visit and it was really nice <3as for pain, i wasn't in any mentionable pain, other than that bitch of a drainage tube. that shit hurt like hell, while my boobs themselves almost didn't hurt at alli was, and still am, quite surprised they weren't painful. (given, i was taking ibuprofen 600 3x a day) sore, of course, and tender, and feeling about ready to pop with how taut they were, but not painful, i didn't and don't feel the incisions or the sutures/stitchesi stopped taking any pain meds yesterday, which was post-op day 5, and i only needed one ibu on tuesday) sleeping on my back is lame. and waking up on sunday, i had a major headache, that even the ibuprofen didn't manage to helpi think it was a mix of my neck being overly tense, plus leftover surgery and anesthesia meds that messed with my head (i read that having migraines puts you at a higher risk of post-op headaches) sunday was the day where i started to get lots better. i could get up on my own for the bathroom, and even the little trip down the hall to the water fountain dispenser thingie, and in the afternoon/early evening, i even managed to take the elevator to the ground floor and grab some well-earned sweets from the little shop there. the headache was the biggest discomfort, other than the drainage tube pulling occasionally, and my petty room mate... boy... by that point she was getting SO annoying. she had had surgery the day before me, a procedure to put an expander under the skin of her face, to grow skin to remove a mark from her face (i don't know what it's called, in german, it's a fire's mark, basically a large, deep red/purple mark that's puffy and you're usually born with it)i think she's russian? she had a heavy accent, and the first pieces of conversations i remember clearly were of her complaining about refugees and how they have so many kids only to cash in on social child support money (which is a thing in germany, but, well, for citizens, not for refugees...) i tried half-heartedly explaining that refugees aren't here for shits and giggles, and no, they don't get child support money from the state. they get, if at all, a bare minimum to feed and clothe themselves.... i didn't want to antagonize her, because in my drugged-up, post-surgery state, i was having paranoia she would try suffocating me in my sleep. (which i was aware of was purely my anxiety talking, but, y'know, i didn't want to pick fights either way, and delicate topics are best discussed if you have the opportunity to leave.)next thing i very clearly remember her doing was antagonizing the nurse that wanted to put a new something into her iv. the thing was, the nurse sneezed. into her shoulder. before moving to continue with the tubes. roomie gives her shit about that. how it's unacceptable that she'd sneeze onto the needle and get her germs all over the place, and how that's unprofessional and why she wasn't getting new needles and all that the nurse calmly explained she wasn't sick, it was just a little sneeze and she didn't get anything onto the stuff. discussions ensue. nurse sents me an "is this really happening?!" look, and i just give a helpless grin-shrug, because, yeah, it was happening. nurse was clearly heavily annoyed, but managed to finish putting the iv thing into her before leaving a little louder than necessary.i can understand voicing your concerns about hygiene and your worries. that's good. not good is picking fights with the people taking care of you. like... i caught myself thinking, every single time lady next to me went to complain or whine about something (which she did... /quite/ a lot) that, if i am in a hospital, dependent on the care of the staff, that the LAST thing i want to do is being a bitch to them?i'll do my damndest to be polite at least, friendly whenever i can, so they know i appreciate the help. being nice to your nurse means your nurse will do their best to care for you, and maybe put in a little more effort than absolutely necessary (like offering to fill my water bottle for me) and if someone has to sit me onto the toilet becauce i can't pee by myself, the least they deserve is me not bitching. seriously, the lady was nice enough, overall, but man... she also was entitled and just that special little snowflake kind of person. complaining about her boyfriend not taking the day off work so he'd be available all day to pick her up whenever she was discharged... i understand the thought behind it, but i also understand you can't just leave work just like that. and she was better off than me, mobility-wise, she could've taken a taxi or even public transport (given, i wouldn't have, either) or just waited for him until he could leave work)aaaaaanyway, on monday, headache was getting better, and my surgeon came in to check up on his work, he finally told me how much he removed, and it was WAY more than i expected or he estimated before,he'd told me, he'd remove about a kilo of tissue per side, which seemed a good weight, (i'd weighted them before, and they were about 2 kilos each, according to my kitchen scale XD )and it ended up being 1,4 kilos per side... that's almost 3 kilos! that's, like, two whole chickens! i was pretty shocked, but also excited, because, for the first time i really understood how HUGE my boobs had been. and how reasonable and right my decision was. i have no regrets and even in between never had any, but i had my doubts about the necessity of this whole thing, a lot of the time, i felt like it was a mood, or a phase, something i wanted out of a whim, rather than that i really needed it. it was my idea, and i wanted it, and as such, as a non-essential surgery, i was scared that i was doing something wrong. that it'd end up turning out bad, simply because of my paranoia-driven fear of karmic punishment for wanting something like that without it being unavoidable (like my gallbladder surgery) but hearing how much he'd removed, and given how much is still left, and how i now have an average pair of breasts for a woman of my stature, it took some guilt off me. also, by monday, i was starting to feel the first effects of the weightloss. i could sit up without using my arms (which was still being a bitch, because it'd pull on the damn drainage), like doing a situp, and it was sooo easy!even right now, i'm still too overall sore/tender to really notice a direct difference, but indirectly, it's already so amazing! i'm sitting up straighter without even noticing, i can breathe freely, which is odd, but i keep noticing how free my chest feels, like i'm expecting it to feel tight or heavy, but it isn't,on monday, the drainage tubes were FINALLY removed and it was glorious!i could stay until tuesday, and it was good i got to stay another day, because walking around was, and is, still somewhat tedious.on wednesday, i had a bit of an emotional crash. i guess it's the physical shock of surgery/injury and the medication wearing off, coupled with the relief of being at home and knowing you can relax now, i was dissociating a little, on and off through the day, feeling weepy and alone and all thatbuuuut that went away, too, and today, post-op day 6, i'm still a little tender and weak, but overall, i'm doing pretty fine!i can wash myself on my own, even my hair, and i am in SO much less pain than i expected. like... i was preparing to be out of commission completely for the entirety of the three weeks vacation i took off of work, but if things continue like this, going back in two and a half weeks will be absolutely possible. i catch myself being a little too enthusiastic sometimes, like trying to reach up to open/close my skylight window and getting a little reminder NOT to stretch up my arms all the way. or having to take a break from walking up the stairs and having to sit a couple minutes in the house's staircase on the way up to my appartment (we don't have an elevator)the most uncomfortable thing right now is the itching. the medical bra rubs against the edge of the steri-strips, where my skin is taut and dry and it's leaving mild imprints and it ITCHES and it's driving me insane, but it doesn't hurt, and it doesn't seem to mess with the stitches, so i'm trying not to complain too hard. all things considered, and with how weak and sore i was, right now, as i'm typing this, i'd do it all over again. i don't want to jinx anything, so i won't jubilate, but overall, i'm pleasantly surprised by how well things have been so far. i like my tiny new boobs, and i hate the itching, i love how much longer my torso looks, and i'm looking forward so much to buying beautiful bras and all the pretty swimwear i couldn't before, because it would never fit my boobs....aah <3next week i'll go in to have my stitches removed (they're not the dissolving kind) and i'm a little worried how the scars will hold, but i'm also eager to start using lotions and all the good stuff to help the skin recover i will recommend this procedure to anyone that's considering it, and i'm so happy that the surgery went well and my new boobs look perfect! (if still a little crinkly around the scars XD )

[creactivist-universe]

Whoever said it’s better to have loved and lost is full of bullshit.

Some days are better than others.  Intellectually, I understand and know I was in an abusive relationship with someone who never really loved me.  Sometimes this knowledge helps.

Sometimes it sends me in to a soul shattering fog of emotions.  It’s hard to wrap my mind around the idea/fact that the person who professed to be my soulmate never loved me.  Everything they ever did was an act of manipulation.

Reliving seemingly innocent memories with a new lens of abuse and manipulation can both help overcome my feelings of utter loss and betrayal.  But sometimes it sends me spiraling in to anxiety.  A physical pain deeper than any I had ever conceived overwhelms my senses, often making it impossible to focus on the things I should.  Namely, my job and self-care.

What was he really doing all the times I was at work and he was unemployed?  Was he really at home?  Was he really drinking alone?  Was the man I thought loved me unconditionally seeking ‘love’ and attention elsewhere?  The fact that I’ll never know and that I can’t ask these questions haunts me.  Because a part of me wants to believe that despite the things he said and did, that he was committed to me and only me.  That not everything was a lie.

I know “No Contact” includes not checking my messages.  Not googling him.  That it’s more than just not responding to the few times he’s tried to contact me.  But I fell down a hole of despair the other day and I found a newspaper police blotter from 2015 from the small town he’s from saying he called the police because he was so drunk he was with people he didn’t know in a place he didn’t recognize.  I wasn’t sure it was him until I looked up the area that the police took him to.  It was blocks away from his dad’s house.  That can’t be a coincidence.

The physical manifestations of my emotions as I reacted to this were overwhelming.  My entire body impacted by feelings I don’t even know how to voice.  I got cold, tense, an overwhelming feeling of fear, I was shaking, on the verge of tears, barely able to breathe.  Did he have an entire life I didn’t know about?

Is it possible I was exposed to STDs without ever suspecting that the man I had once thought so kind, caring, and loving was putting me harm’s way?

I have a therapist I see on a weekly basis, but 45 minutes once a week isn’t enough.  I can’t even warm up enough in that time to begin to talk about the things that I need.

My mom doesn’t understand.  I think she does intellectually, she has a name for what happened, she knows some of the things he’s said and done, but she hasn’t been emotionally there for me in the way that I need.

After years of what had seemed like self-imposed isolation, I no longer have a strong support system.  No one I feel truly safe talking about everything without the guilt of putting too much weight on another person.

I feel weak and ashamed for feeling as strongly as I do so far out from when I broke up with him.  Now that it’s no longer necessary to focus on the now and put all my energy in to working two jobs, I’m left alone to my thoughts.

Two nights ago I spent the night sobbing off and on, wallowing in my own pain.  I thought I was over it.  I thought I had come to terms with everything, but my body is telling me otherwise.  The propranalol isn’t working to stop the anxiety attacks.  The lorazepam isn’t helping to calm me down enough to sleep.  The mood stabilizers don’t stop me from being overwhelmed by emotions during the work day.

It’s not as bad as it was at the beginning of the year.  I have fewer emotional flashbacks to the abuse.  It’s not interfering with my ability to perform well at work like it was before.  But I still feel weak for not being able to control these emotions.  I feel weak because I can’t push them back and focus on the now.  

Why aren’t I strong enough to get over this on my own?  

I grew up feeling unlovable.  That deep inside me was some fatal flaw that if anyone got close enough, they would see me for what I am.  Someone undeserving love unconditional love and support, or even friendship.  He took me and held me and made me feel more loved than any human ever had.  And then he took it all away, bringing back my old fears and reinforcing my negative belief. 

I don’t think I have the strength to ever love another human again.  I don’t have the resilience to trust someone enough to believe they’ll ever truly love me.  When I ask myself why he didn’t love me.  Why he chose me.  Why he had to punish me, the only answer I can conclude is that I’m the one who can’t be loved.

[redditnosleep]

This Guy Didn’t Stop Laughing For 10 Years

by NYSSA_ASSYN

He ate while laughing. He defecated while laughing. He actually slept, though fitfully, awaking every hour or so—laughing.

For a few of my coworkers, he was the only fun part of their day, but he terrified me.

This was probably because I was the new guy, the green psych tech who still thought he could make a difference. Apparently most psych techs (psychiatric technicians) lose their compassion barometer after a while, and eventually a patient who spends every waking moment laughing is no longer disturbing because he seems harmless.

He terrified me also because, for some inexplicable reason, there was something familiar about him.

To this day, my family still doesn’t understand exactly what my role as a psych tech was. It’s simple: keep crazy people from killing themselves or others. But what did I do all day on the job? Well, sometimes I sat in a chair watching some insane person lie on a bed in a small white room, and if they became agitated, I would lock the door. Sometimes I’d lead “art hour” and we’d paint, or make papier-mâché (no scissors allowed, of course). Sometimes I’d turn on a yoga video for “exercise hour”, and sometimes I pinned psychotic maniacs down so my coworkers could apply the restraints and the nurse would inject 2mg of lorazepam right in their gluteus.

I never got used to it, I kept caring, and that’s why I only lasted a year. The laughing man laughed me right out of that acute psych ward.

Allow me to explain this: there isn’t much that is funny about mental illness, and I don’t mean to be insensitive or flippant about psychosis, about how it can rip the individual and their families apart. But to my fellow psych techs, many of them at least, it was all that these patients were: psychos. Crazies. Maniacs.

I tried to see them as people—they are people—and their illness isn’t the only thing that defines them, but in the acute psych ward, their illness is in full swing, and it’s the only side that psych techs like me saw of them. They were mostly bipolar patients in the height of their manic phase, or schizophrenics having a mental break.

The laughing guy, I’ll call him Aaron, was a schizophrenic in his early 50s, with an atypical form of “catatonia”. Most catatonic schizophrenics will sit motionless, staring off for days without eating or sleeping. I recall one patient there who would stand in the middle of a room, maintaining an impossible pose for several days. When his catatonia subsided, this patient explained that during those frozen moments, he fully believed that if he moved, the world would end. But as in Aaron’s case, (his psychiatrist explained it to me) some catatonics don’t remain motionless, but have repetitive, purposeless motions or actions, and Aaron’s catatonic expression was laughing non-stop.

Aaron had been in and out of the psych ward for years, alternating between the state mental hospital and the local hospital, for there were some “legal” stipulations that didn’t allow him to stay in a long-term facility. (Later I found out it was because no facility could handle his laughing for more than a few months at a time.)

When I started my job, Aaron had already been in this psych ward for over three months, but, according to some of the seasoned psych techs, he had been laughing like this for 10 years.

Like I mentioned, most psych techs found him amusing, and more than once I saw a tech putting his arm around Aaron, laughing with him, mocking the way his high-pitched, almost screeching laugh nervously drowned out any conversation in the room. But Aaron took no notice to them when they did this. His eyes looked straight through anyone who faced him, and he kept pacing in place when a tech tried to hold him, like there was some motor inside him that never shut off.

He paced all day like this, and to get him to eat, I’d have to pace with him, placing bits of food in his mouth as we went. We scheduled bathroom breaks for him every hour so we didn’t have to change his clothes, and this worked 50% of the time. All the while, he laughed his piercing frantic laugh.

It grated on me. Only after a week of being there, I dreaded going up those elevators, greeted by his incessant laugh as I entered that dismal psych ward.

Aaron wasn’t the most frightening patient I had there that year—oh the stories I could tell—but perhaps the strangest, maybe even the most tragic, certainly the most personal. I understood that most catatonics had progressive worsening schizophrenia until they just shut off, but it killed me to know why this guy just started laughing and no one knew why.

Before I quit, I asked nearly everyone about his story and no one knew...until I met Dr. Greenwald, an ancient psychiatrist who hadn’t worked at the psych ward in years. I heard stories of this doctor, and from what I gathered, he was a kind, highly-esteemed man who loved what he did, who didn’t judge these tormented patients. Dr. Greenwald was probably my strongest inspiration to become a physician myself, and to this day, I remember the compassion he showed patients. The older nurses loved him, and when they found out that he was taking a break from his private outpatient practice to round occasionally in the acute psych ward, they were all thrilled.

Meeting Dr. Greenwald actually exceeded my expectations, and I admired how he valued every interaction, genuinely caring about each person in front of him—even lowly psych techs like me.

One night, a few weeks before I quit, I saw Dr. Greenwald exiting Aaron’s room after his evaluation, and I had the feeling he would have answers about Aaron, answers about how he came to be the way he was.

Graciously, he told me. As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, there are many things I’ve seen in my career in medicine that don’t make a lot of sense, so many things that bother me until this day. Aaron’s case is yet another case in point. I’ll never forget his story:

The first time Dr. Greenwald met Aaron in the hospital, he recognized a few things: Aaron was a good-natured, caring guy who, not surprisingly, loved to laugh and make others laugh. Dr. Greenwald remembered him capturing audiences, telling the most hilarious stories that would have the whole room in fits. He hadn’t had an easy life, but he weathered his burdens well, easily laughing at life ironies, both big and small.

Dr. Greenwald was unaware of any previous psychiatric history, though Aaron had married a beautiful women who suffered from life-long depression and anxiety. Because Aaron had such a strong desire to care for troubled people, these feelings drew him to his wife. Aaron wanted to fix her, and through it all, he fell in love with her. She quickly became pregnant after they married, and in time gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Her mental illness worsened after the birth, thought to be postpartum depression, and Aaron became nearly obsessed with the study of psychology.

Despite his efforts to fix her, she deteriorated, developing postpartum psychosis, and she began hearing voices telling her to do violent things. Everything changed when Aaron found out his wife had killed his infant son. She hadn’t smothered or drowned him, but had eaten him. Upon hearing this, Aaron started laughing and never stopped.

After Dr. Greenwald finished the story, I sat there speechless though not in silence, as Aaron’s shrill laugh emanated from his hospital room. Dr. Greenwald sat there with me, and I caught a glimpse of emotion on his face.

“Isn’t it odd,” I finally said, “That he broke completely all of the sudden? I thought most catatonics have a long history of schizophrenia or something.” I felt like an idiot as soon as my words left my mouth. Certainly Aaron had some mental disorder to have been a patient of Dr. Greenwald’s.

Dr. Greenwald smiled at me like a loving grandfather. “Somethings are too much for a human mind to handle.”

I guessed that something so tragic could make just about anybody snap.

“What was his diagnosis when you met him, sir?” I asked.

He looked at me puzzled, “What do you mean?”

“When you met him, what were you treating him for?”

“Son, he wasn’t my patient,” he paused. “Aaron was a psych tech here. I worked with him for years. I was here the day his wife was brought in, strapped to a stretcher, that baby’s blood covering her face and clothes. She was completely psychotic, uncontrollable. Aaron was working here that day.”

I gaped at him, my mouth open, and all I managed to squeak out was a bewildered “What?”

Dr. Greenwald sighed heavily. “I imagine that Aaron knew he was about to lose his mind then, and suddenly he became what he tried so hard to fix. The irony was, I guess, too much, so, he just had to laugh.”

Dr. Greenwald stood up and patted me on the shoulder. He had stayed much longer than he expected to, and I slowly stood up watching him walk away. As he exited the secured door, he turned to me and said,

“Strangely, you remind me of him—before he, you know, started laughing. You care a lot about these people, I can tell. They’re lucky to have you.”

Mortified, it suddenly washed over me, the realization nearly drowning me: there was something so intimate and familiar about Aaron. And I could never explain it to even myself how I saw a piece of me in that lifeless shell of a man, that laughing insane man.

I had no response for Dr. Greenwald in that moment, but bursting from my lungs came a terrifying—totally involuntary—laugh.

I turned in my resignation notice that same day.

[rain0205-blog]

Terminal State

Summary:  She tried leaving, submerging herself in work to escape the horrors she had seen. The horrors she kept seeing. She never wanted to go back to that life. But when the Empire takes her home, she's forced to face her past. Can she move on? Can she cope? Or will she require a bit of help? still bad at summaries, still working on it. ever so slightly more than slight AU gadioxoc

Prologue

...

The stagnant odour of vomit entered the room as the monitors beeped in a frenzy. Humming lights were drowned out by the sounds of retching and screaming. The man on the bed was done emptying his stomach of bile and began to spasm. Nurses piled in to hold him down, pushing medication through the intravenous tube attached to his arm. The temperature in the air was rising from the many warm bodies inside. They yelled orders in a frantic attempt to calm down their patient. His screaming persisted, the monitors joining in as they whined in despair. The gurney shook, making the room feel as if it were undergoing a tremor. Then it was silent.

A pair of hazel eyes looked around, observing the now-sedated patient. He was completely bald, overweight, and pale, with eyebrows that were furrowed in pain. The oxygen mask under his nose eased his troubled breathing and he glowed in the light, skin coated in a thick sweat. His rounded face had been lowered into a flat position, making his extra chins smooth back out into a neck. The man's arms were limp and red from his earlier struggle. Nurses and cleaning staff had moved to clean the vomit from around him and sterilized where it had seeped onto the floor. The monitors showed that he was stable but what would happen when he woke up?

Dr. Virum looked down at her scrubs, covered in the man's bile. She could feel it in her hair, and as she did her eyes shot toward the clock. Her shift was nearly over and all she would have to do is write up the paperwork for this patient, clean up, and go home. Virum grabbed a disinfecting cloth to clean her skin and face, then ran her hands through the alcohol-based hand dispenser and rubbed them together. Once her hands were dry she grabbed his chart, noting the man's health issues. She looked back at the patient thoughtfully, grabbing her pen from the pocket of her lab coat. It, too, was covered in vomit. She sighed, threw the pen in the garbage, and walked toward the nurse's station to grab one of the pens there.

"You reek," said the resident nurse sitting at her computer, "What do you have for me?"

"48 year-old male presents with severe abdominal pain, dehydration and shortness of breath. Set up oxygen, administered fluids and it resulted in rejection. All over me," she said, signing off on the chart and handing it to the nurse, "Patient was very anxious and began to seize, pushed three milligrams lorazepam. Anxious behaviour continued, so we gave him two milligrams of ketamine. Patient is sedated and resting. I'm ordering a CBC, an EKG, and a stool sample."

"You got it."

"You'll have to transfer him, my shift is over."

The nurse looked at her watch, "So it is. Are you actually planning to go home this time?"

"I think so. Getting puked on was definitely a sign I shouldn't be here this long."

The nurse laughed, "I praise you. Try and get some sleep, okay? You look like a zombie."

"You look pretty too. Have fun."

Virum hurried away, hoping to escape the hospital before another patient arrived. She wasn't so lucky.

"Incoming!" another nurse yelled.

Virum looked behind her as the doors burst open. Two paramedics were wheeling in a stretcher with an unconscious young girl on it. Her neck was in a brace and the medics were squeezing oxygen from a bag into a tube running through a hole in the girl's neck. She wasn't breathing on her own. Close behind them was the girl's mother, frantically following the stretcher. An orderly kept the hysterical woman out of the treatment room her daughter was brought into.

"Talk to me," Virum said as firmly as possible.

"13 year-old female, car accident, GCS: eight, blunt trauma to the sternum, not breathing, severe blood loss," answered the medic.

"Alright, transfer her on my count."

They put a bed right beside the stretcher, the paramedics on one side with the doctor, three nurses on the other side. Another nurse continued to pump oxygen from the bag. They gripped the backboard tightly, getting ready to lift.

"One, two, three!"

It only took a few seconds to hoist the girl onto the gurney. The paramedics quickly got their stretcher out of the way as the nurse continued on oxygen duty. After getting her hooked up to the monitors, they noticed she had a dangerously elevated heart rate. Virum ordered the nurses to find some medication to slow it down, then gave directions to the head nurse.

"Prep the operating room, her lungs are crushed and we need to relieve that pressure. Grab some blood from the bank and replace what was lost. Fill in the mother and do a full follow up with the relief doctor."

"Yes ma'am," said the nurse.

Porters came to wheel the bed out of sight with the mother following behind like a hawk. Virum sighed again, taking off her gloves and putting her hands through another round of sanitizer. She walked out of the treatment room in near defeat. What a day it had been. Most of it had been so quiet, with the usual mix of drug-seekers and hypochondriacs. She should have known it would get hectic later on. Vomit crusted the top of her head and the thought of it made her cringe. Dr. Virum finished signing off on the paperwork and handed it to the same charge nurse.

"Get out of here," the nurse said.

"Already gone," the doctor replied, hands up in defeat.

Virum walked toward the locker rooms as quickly as she could, definitely unwilling to get pulled into another job. She didn't even register the people she passed, the exhaustion of sixteen hours of work finally settling in. Graveyard shift was bad, and even more so when she ended up working until mid-afternoon. But then, if she were at home she would just be finding an excuse to come in any way. It wasn't like she had any sort of life beyond her work. Virum walked into the locker room, nodding at the doctor coming to relieve her. The two didn't speak, the look on her face suggesting she was in no mood for talk. Not like she ever really was any day. She punched in the combination to her locker, opened it, and took out a change of clothes. Grabbing her personal cleaning supplies and a towel, she headed into the showers.

Steam billowed out from the stall almost immediately. A blissful sigh escaped her once the scalding water touched her skin, turning it red instantly on contact. Her eyes closed once she was surrounded by the heat, providing her with the long sought-after comfort only achieved in such a scorching environment. Moments like these were peaceful, allowing her to lose herself and chemically recalibrate her mind. They were never long enough, and it was with agonizing regret that she forced herself to leave the tranquillity of the shower's warmth.

The doctor ran the towel over her head after getting out, drying her hair and face off a bit and then wrapping it around her tiny frame. She grabbed her fresh clothes and took them to the counter where the sink was. The mirror was a bit foggy, but not enough to hide the reflection that stared back at her. Layers of hair reached to just under her chin. It was a light dirty brown, with blond highlights running through it. Her skin was pale and her eyes were bloodshot with dark circles smeared under them. The zombie comparison made more sense now. Even the scar running from her mid-neck down her collarbone stood out more than usual. Her gaze bore into it for a few moments, her head awash with unwanted memories before she tore her eyes away from the mirror with disgust.

The towel was fairly time consuming, so she grabbed a blow dryer to get it over with quicker. It didn't take long and now the hair flared out from her face, covering the back of her neck. She dried off the rest of her body and slipped on her jeans, socks and boots that ran up to her mid-calf. Pulling on the long sleeved v-neck shirt, her eyes searched for her most important item. She removed the pendant she had worn during her shower, a silver chain with a disc encircling a tree. Her leaf-shaped earrings returned to their rightful place, at the base of her ears where they tended to dangle and move with her head. The rest of her earrings - a dragonfly in her left ear, an anchor at the top of her right ear, and a silver hoop in her right earlobe - never needed to be removed. She applied the light coating of makeup she usually wore, in a vain attempt to look more lively if anything. Virum looked herself over and at last packed up her things, satisfied that she at least looked less zombie-like than before.

She placed her bag in her locker and pulled out her purse. The satchel-like bag was placed over her shoulder, the bottom of the bag hugging her right hip. Next came her grey and black striped fingerless gloves, and then she put her arms through her black form-fitting light leather jacket. The locker door was closed with a bit of a slam before making sure it locked and then walked briskly out of the room. Virum was passing by the emergency department, ready to make the break to her car when the charge nurse stopped her.

"The Bossman needs you," said the nurse.

Virum frowned. "What about?"

"He didn't say."

She sighed. "Thanks, Gin."

The nurse nodded, turning back to her desk as the boss arrived at the nurse's station.

"Leaving?" he asked. He was a stocky man, balding on the top of his head and sported a mustache - although it didn't fit him at all.

"End of shift, sir," she said in her most pleasant voice, "I've been here sixteen hours."

"I need you to go to the Citadel," he said, completely unaffected by her words.

"What? Why?"

"They need a doctor to fill in there, being short staffed with the war and all. You're the only one we can spare."

"But sir," she protested, "I just finished a sixteen-hour shift. You had all that time to find a relief for me."

"I know, but the King asked and you know I can't say no."

"Why can't another doctor do it? Or even yourself? I specifically requested to never work at the Citadel."

"To be perfectly honest, Doctor Puinon asked for you."

Virum sighed, "Very well."

"I'll switch your morning shift tomorrow to the afternoon if I can. I'm sorry, but… King's orders."

"Yeah… " she replied dryly.

The Boss nodded and walked away. Virum groaned, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before she begrudgingly left the hospital and headed toward her car. She started the engine, put on her seat belt, and then nearly collapsed on top of the steering wheel. Fatigue wore away at her and she knew that there was no way the Boss was going to move her shift to the afternoon tomorrow. He knew she was a total pushover, that she would work 24/7 if allowed to. But her body was protesting. At least at the Citadel there usually weren't any emergencies, just Kingsglaive and Crownsguard getting a few bumps and bruises during training. She might even be able to relax a little for once. With that fresh excuse in her mind, Virum pulled her head up and began the drive to her third consecutive shift.

There was no trouble at the gate, her hospital badge allowing Virum to enter with ease. The overenthusiastic guard had known she was coming and directed her to the closest parking lot. She thanked him with a smile, not having the heart to tell him that she already knew where she was going. Puinon's usual spot wasn't taken, so she parked her car there. He obviously wasn't going to use it and she had no desire to drive around looking for a free space. Virum then opened up her trunk, grabbing the spare work clothes she kept packed inside. Yeah, she was definitely a workaholic. On her way toward the clinic she stopped in at the cafeteria, grabbing herself a small latte. Ordinarily, she didn't put caffeine in her body but given how long she'd been working, her willpower wasn't up to its usual standards.

The Citadel was buzzing with all kinds of workers. There were easily close to a thousand people living there, including the King and his son. Although she had heard his son no longer lived there, she was sure he visited on occasion. Virum hadn't met with any of the royals or their Kingsglaive and Crownsguard in quite some time, nor did she want to either. Not anymore. She walked the familiar path toward the clinic, ignoring the memories within her that wished to resurface. That life was behind her. The doctor walked into the entrance of the clinic and reported to the nurse's station. The charge nurse looked way too happy. It must have been early in her shift still. Virum tried to not look too envious as she allowed the nurse to lead her to the changing room.

Virum spent the first four hours mostly sitting around, tending to a couple of sprained ankles and one broken arm. She was happy with that, using the extra time to finish up the paperwork that she was falling behind on from the emergency department. The nurses in the clinic were very thorough with their examinations and didn't need Virum's guidance very often. At least she had been right about this being an easy shift. She even got a couple of short naps in between patients and managed to finish the backlog of hospital work that she didn't even have to do, with only an hour before she could go home. Something she heard one of the nurses say made her frown. They were speculating as to whether or not the rumours about her were true, apparently unaware that she could hear them. This was why she liked working in the emergency department over at the hospital. Everyone there was far too busy to gossip and the few that already knew about her past didn't bother to share it.

"Doctor, we have another patient for you," said one of the nurses, coming in to hand over a clipboard with a chart.

Dr. Virum smiled sweetly at the woman as she walked to the patient's room, hiding the irritation she had felt from overhearing them. She closed the door behind her, not even looking up and grabbed her pen to correct mistakes written by the nurse. Down went the chart and on went her gloves after washing her hands before she picked up the chart again, still not looking up.

"Okay, 23 year-old male presenting with a head wound and possible concussion," she muttered, mostly to herself, "Cause of injury: sparring. We definitely haven't had a lot of that today."

"Not here of all places!" she heard someone say, laughing.

Virum placed the chart down and looked up. There were four men in the room, three seemingly uninjured and one with the laceration. On the right of the patient was the smallest of them. He was the one that had spoken, his face red under the eyes that were freckled. The unruly blond hair on his head gave him a more youthful appearance. On the left was a more stern-looking man, with sharp features accented by the glasses clinging to his face and dirty blond hair swept up at the front. He had green eyes and was dressed quite formally. Standing just slightly in front of him was a boy she recognized from the pictures to be Prince Noctis, the son of King Regis. He had a mess of navy hair with angular blue eyes and a sullen look on his face.

The patient of the group was by far the largest of them. Even sitting down he towered over the other three. His arms were as thick as small tree trunks and covered in tattoos. His hair was shaved at the sides but spiky on top as well as long at the back. He sported a beard around his jaw and gentle amber eyes. Although he was smiling, his mountainous form still made him quite intimidating. The laceration was on his left eye, starting from his forehead and reaching diagonally down to stop just under his cheekbone. It looked like he'd been lucky; managing to miss his eye socket. It had been cleaned previously, which meant he was only here as a precaution. Virum walked over to him, taking his chin in her hands, her hazel eyes scrutinizing the injury. While it was unlikely to be necessary, she wanted to make sure there was no damage to his actual eye. She let his face go then, taking a step back.

"Okay, Mr..." she glanced at the chart, "Amicitia. Want to tell me what happened?"

"He wounded his pride, that's what," said the boy on his right, giggling.

"Prompto," the stern man spoke with a warning tone.

"We were sparring and I won," explained Prince Noctis with evident pride.

"He got the best of me this round," added the patient, "Iggy already cleaned it up but he said I was better off coming here,"

"Well, Iggy was right to be careful," she agreed, "I'll also compliment him on how well he cleaned it," she placed the stethoscope on his chest and commanded, "Breathe."

Amicitia complied and continued to do so with all of her wishes during his examination. There appeared to be no obstruction in the lungs or airways. Satisfied, Virum removed the stethoscope and placed it around her neck once more. Carefully, she placed her hands underneath his chin to feel for any sort of swelling or tenderness. He didn't react and she took that to be a good sign. The next thing to be examined were the lymph nodes, where she felt some abnormalities. But they were faint and nothing to worry about. She ran her penlight once over his right eye, then carefully opened his left eye and ran it over that. The results were conclusive with the swelling she had found in the rear of his head.

"Follow my finger with only your eyes," she instructed.

Virum held up her left index finger and moved it from left to right slowly. His amber eyes followed her more so than her finger. She managed to keep a straight face in spite of it. Virum then moved the finger up and down.

No issues there, so she prompted, "Now with your entire head," and repeated the movements, noting his the discomfort as he moved his head. She could only assume he was trying to put on a brave face for his friends in the room.

The report on the patient said that he had been given a potion after the sparring match and that he had a cut and a minor concussion. The laceration was very thoroughly cleaned, this Iggy character was very professional, but it would still need stitches to heal properly. The doctor picked up the chart and a pen before beginning to write.

"Mr. Amiticia—"

"Gladio," he corrected.

She smiled insincerely, "You have a small concussion and that cut of yours will need stitches. I need to prepare a few things, but then I'll be back to patch you up and send you on your way."

He grinned, "Thanks, Doc."

Virum nodded a little stiffly before exiting. She made the trip back to the nurse's station, clearly interrupting a conversation they'd rather she didn't hear.

"23 year-old male," she explained, "minor concussion, small laceration to his head on the left side. Can one of you please prepare the repair kit while I finish my report?"

"Yes ma'am," a nurse said at once, taking the chart and hurrying away.

After a glance at the other nurse - who was still staring at her - Virum went to the bathroom. Splashing water on her face was tempting, but her makeup was still mostly intact and she wanted to keep it that way for just a little while longer. Beats per minute in her heart was increasing thanks to the anxiety of the ensnaring gossip. But her hands had remained steady. Good, because once she was done stitching up the Crownsguard she could go home. That was the last time she would ever work 24 hours straight. As much as she loved immersing herself with the distraction of work, she did need time to try and sleep her usual hour or so here and there. Slapping her pale cheeks lightly, she took a large breath and willed herself to focus.

Virum walked back into Mr. Amicitia's room, his friend's joking comments stopping after she opened the door. She was about to pull up a stool but decided against it. Amicitia was much bigger than an average person. The nurse had laid out the tools she needed and stood at the side of the room, waiting for instructions. Dr. Virum grabbed a cotton swab and dipped it in the blue fluid, running it along the laceration gently, a numbing agent.

"Please be still," she advised.

He didn't move, so she began threading the first stitch through. The needle moved through the skin without a problem. The doctor could hear the young boy, Prompto, making noises while the Prince looked away uncomfortably. Iggy, however, was watching her with the same intensity that her patient was, although Virum was sure it was for different reasons. Iggy appeared to be trying to learn her technique while Mr. Amicitia was clearly just fawning on her. She largely ignored them both but was still a little distracted by the warm breath on her neck as she worked. It just reminded her that she was cold, she was always cold. Once she was finished, she cut the remaining thread before expertly tying it off. The doctor's pen came out one last time to write down a prescription.

"You're all set. Take this for the pain and try not to exert yourself for the rest of the week."

"Thanks, Doc," he said again, his fingers brushing against hers as she handed him the paper, "You wanna grab a beer?"

She swung around, looking at him incredulously. It was for only a very brief moment, as she smiled again.

"Sorry, I don't date patients."

"I'm discharged, remember?" he held up his prescription with a grin.

She took off her gloves and sanitized her hands, "I don't date Crownsguard," she spoke again before closing the door firmly behind her.

"Oh, swing and a miss big guy," said Prompto, laughing.

But Gladiolus's eyes didn't register defeat. He was still smirking at the door she had gone through, not even really hearing Prompto and Noctis laugh at him. As her words were spoken, there was only one thought on his mind. Challenge accepted.

...

thanks for reading. i’m not a medic of any kind so if i make a mistake please feel free to let me know.

[learninghowtomissher]

the in-between place || 03/26/2021 (nine years)

The other day I woke up in a haze. You know, that in-between place, where you’re not technically sleeping, but you’re otherwise in a dreamlike state? Anyway, I woke up, took my  morning cocktail of pain medication, and picked up my phone. All of that has become reflexive upon waking up. The pain medication is never far from my reach, and my phone has always lived under my pillow -- yeah, yeah I know it’s bad for me. I took a sip of water, hoping to rid myself of the feeling that my meds had become traffic-jammed in my throat. I looked down at my phone, and gaped at the screen. Somewhere in those reflexive, every day, new normal actions, I had done something I don’t think I’d ever done before. Google search results stared back at me: “Sania Wali UNMC” More to the point, an image result. There she was. It’s a criminally low quality photo, but there is no mistaking her. A beaming smile, periwinkle sweater, and painfully 90s leather jacket, standing at a 2002 Holiday Tea at the Med Center. I had never seen that photo before. I had seen that building -- UNMC was like a second home growing up. I had seen her don periwinkle, her favorite color, many times. I wish I didn’t know that jacket so well (sorry, mom). But I’d never seen this photo. Among a myriad of thoughts flowing through my mind as I smiled back at her face, her vibrance palpable despite low pixels, one thought rang out clearer than the others: She was real. Then waves of relief. Then waves of heartache and recognition that for so long now she has felt like a fictional character. A figment of my imagination. A piece of folklore. I wouldn’t change anything about being the only child of my single mother. But the very things that made our us-against-the-world love and bond so strong, made the loss uniquely devastating, now make me feel like I’m losing my mind. It feels like no one else remembers. Sometimes it feels like I don’t remember, either. 

I kept clicking links. There weren’t many, and the evidence of her life was small within them. But it was something. Someone’s CV came up in the Google search, so I clicked and scrolled. He was on the judging panel for my mom when she defended her thesis. “Wali, Sania. The Effect of Prenatal Exposure to Lorazepam on Adult Rat Offspring Behavior, 1994, University of Nebraska Medical Center, M.S. “ I already knew I could cry over citations, thanks to Bluebooking in law school, but not like this. And as someone with a legitimate phobia of rats, it also wasn’t new for the thought of them to push me to tears. But, again, not like this. If I think about this discovery for too long, I feel the white-hot anger within me transform from its ever-present hum to a screeching alarm demanding attention. The CV in question is long, reflecting a medical career full of accomplishments and spanning many decades. My mom should have had that. And here she is reduced to a citation on someone else’s. Still, my tears were as happy as they were mournful, equally proud and indignant. It’s something. She was real. Other people knew her, learned from her, and loved her. I simply can’t do justice to how it felt. To learn a new fact about her, to find a photo I hadn’t already pored over, I didn’t think I would ever experience that again. 

At the risk of alarming you, It’s hard to explain how uninspired I feel to be an active participant in my own life since being discharged from the hospital. I keep trying to express why to my therapist and to loved ones who want to know how my recovery is going, and all I’ve come up with is, “I don’t feel like myself.” And that’s mostly true. I don’t feel like a 25-year-old. I don’t feel like a law student. I don’t feel like a friend. I don’t feel like an aspiring-lawyer. But I also feel exactly like myself: sad, lonely, mourning the loss of someone (my mom) or something (a chunk of lung, my perceived healthiness, the loss of normalcy in already bizarre times). 

When I was in the hospital, it was easy to feel unmoored from reality. From myself. Some of it was probably the pain meds. A lot of it was looking at my surroundings and seeing nothing of mine. No friends, no family. Nothing familiar. And, yet, something. When they brought out the scalpel to insert my chest tube, I thought of the way my mom’s reputation preceded her as a surgeon in the refugee camp: “If someone really needed help, you called Sania. She could cut as fast with her left hand as her right.” I felt it in the ease with which I understood my medical team’s terminology as they discussed amongst themselves, and in their surprised amusement when I asked follow-up questions that made my understanding obvious. (“I thought you were in law school.”) The hospital’s visual resemblance to UNMC mercifully dug up memories of accompanying my mom to work and not visiting her there as a patient. In spite of how miserable I was, I was also at peace in a way I haven’t been in almost a decade. Content, in a twisted way. There was so much of her to be found everywhere I looked. So coming home has been hard. In the ways you would expect, and in ways you wouldn’t. In ways I didn’t. 

In the past few weeks, my mom has become the chief consideration in everyday decisions. Perfume with cardamom base notes, because I know she would like the smell. Mom jeans that, aptly-named, look like something I would’ve rolled my eyes at her for wearing. Earrings reminiscent of her favorite gold hoops. Celine Dion’s compilation album from 1999. Taylor Swift’s first three albums. Anything starring Denzel Washington. Sports highlights from the 2010 Lakers-Celtics NBA finals. I’ve come to realize that I’m desperate to make the world around me one that would be familiar to her, the way the hospital felt bizarrely familiar to me. A world she would recognize, and recognize me in. I know it’s in vain. She never met Nick. I don’t know if she ever visited Washington DC. We never discussed law as a career path. Enrique Iglesias has not released an album anywhere near as good as Escape. The Huskers suck at football. We’re in a pandemic. Life is nothing like it was when she was here, but it’s hard not to wish it was so. And it’s really hard not to feel resentful toward the obvious markers that life has changed, even when those markers are things and people I love. 

So I don’t feel like Leemah, the resilient advocate, soon-to-be lawyer, and unparalleled social butterfly. (And so humble, too!) I feel Leemah, the little girl whose whole world is her mother and who likes it that way. And I don’t know how to convince myself that it’s worth getting back to myself. I like it here. In this place of make-believe, where it feels like at any moment she might walk in to ask if I want chai. I know that I am deluding myself, but I also know that I’m remembering more. Yesterday, unprompted, our first phone number sprang to mind with such clarity. Today I can picture an old favorite skirt of hers that I’d forgotten. Black with white and red flowers. And some distant tomorrow I know that I will have to rejoin my life. I have a degree to finish. Friends to reconnect with. Nice days to enjoy. Reality to acknowledge. And I know that the longer I put it off, the worse it will eventually feel. But the cruelty of my medical trauma coinciding with what is already the hardest time of year for me is a lot for one person to confront, and I can only handle so much pain and healing at once. So, I think I’m just going to live here for now. In this in-between place, where she feels familiar and close by and real.