#plus testing the wheelchair I’m in tears

[69consellationsinatrenchcoat]

disabled system asks: 1-4, 10!

1. Is your disability invisible, visible or both?

Both: invisible in the way that there appears to be nothing outwardly wrong with us (as doctors kindly keep reminding me) but visible in the way that we use mobility aids almost all the time. We wear a sunflower lanyard in public, and use a mixture of a cane, crutches and a wheelchair depending on the day.

I wish to add, as someone who has looked able bodied, and disabled in various fonts.. people don’t treat disabled people better if they’re in a wheelchair or visibly ill, and some are arguably worse to young wheelchair users.

2. Do you use mobility aids? If so, what for?

We do! As said above. We have a mixture of issues (ranging from endometriosis to POTS to hEDS to fibromyalgia) that create.. well, a mixture of issues XD. We’ll use the wheelchair on bad pain and fatigue days and carry the crutches.. or, on better days, just use the crutches to take some pressure off our knees, and aid as balance. As cool as our cane looks (photos later), we stopped using it as it was giving us pretty severe hip pain on one side from the way we had to lean to get support from it (still my fav visually though).

3. Is there a specific alter/part/headmate who fronts to deal with pain? How do they manage it?

Yes, that would be me. I split when we were very young to deal with injury, particularly blood. As our chronic pain increased, so did the amount of time I spent fronting, until I slowly became our most common fronter. Sucks though, cuz that was never meant to be my job, I was supposed to stay sitting on the sidelines only appearing to deal with first aid and other protector things. Instead, I’m here, and somehow I make it everyone else’s problem.

My appearance as most common fronter got us outed as a system because I’m so drastically different from the common fronters of the time. {its a little more complicated than that but you get the idea}

I manage it with a combo of pain killers (including medicinal CBD, THC, and flower, pregabalin, panadol, ibuprofen, codeine and morphine amongst other things… happy to answer questions about any of them if you’re curious), dissociation, weaponised tears and sheer fucking willpower… I wish I could say sheer fucking will was still working, but it is not very well anymore. There’s only so much one can deal with, and our pain has been getting steadily worse for the past few years with very little support (most of our illnesses have no cure, only management). We’ve reached the point where our doctors and specialists aren’t sure what to do with us and are wondering if there’s something they have missed…but uh, our tests, bloods and results are coming back clean. Looking into that at the moment lol.

4. Do you experience pain variety based on who’s fronting?

Oh hell, do we ever. Certain members of the system *cough* Kyle *cough* have dreadful pain tolerances - I always know when one of them is cocon because our pain skyrockets into impossible levels, even if I’m trying to keep it under control. Certain other members of our sys have average pain tolerances, some age regress to cope, others just curl up in a ball and sob.. depends on the alter - and the cyclical nature of parts of our pain make it difficult to manage, and to recognise how each alter is affected. Plus, it’s hard to compare pain tolerances when each of us have no other/barely any frame of reference.

10. Do you decorate your aids?

YES. We use a combination of spray paint, cheap nail polish, stickers and in the case of the wheelchair, holders designed for prams and bikes (water bottle holder, clips, bells, reflective stripes etc).. aids start out super boring and for us, decorating them and making them prettier is the only way to make them tolerable. And political - if the government is going to make our life into a political ‘issue’, we will turn right back around and make them aware of our existence ;)

the pic doesn’t grasp it very well, but we painted the chair’s spokes rainbow (and they look super cool when we’re driving it)

Thanks to @disabled-systems for the game <33

[emeraldbabygirl]

This deleted scene should’ve made it to the movie

[kassies-take]

Angels to Devils

Summary: A possible assassination attempt success.

A/n: My headcanon Supercorp family. With the twins Lucas and Liam, and you the oc Lauren. Sorry in advance

Warning: Blood, Heavy Injuries, ANGST

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Reader, Lena Luthor x Reader

Word Count: 2136

Lena usually loved waking up to mornings, Kara by her side and the world so still and quiet that nothing can ruin it. The past few days have been rough. It was another reminder that Lena had something someone else couldn’t have. Another day.

Lena’s eyes filled with tears, her stream of tears flowed into her ear and soaked the pillow. Kara wasn’t awake but Lena held onto her like she was a lifeline. Kara stirred and was immediately awoken to hug her wife.

The casts she wore restricted her movements. Kara was careful to not hurt Lena.

“It’s today isn’t it.” Lena nodded as Kara fought her tears.

You didn’t have a normal childhood, anyone with a Luthor and a Super as parents wasn’t normal. Although it wasn’t normal you knew you were loved.

You were every bit like Lena whereas Liam and Lucas were every bit like Kara. It never really bothered you that you didn’t have powers because without their powers you can easily defeat them in hand-to-hand combat.

To say Lena was proud is an understatement, she was on the sidelines raising her fists, and screaming “Go get Em’ baby!” While Lucas, Liam and Kara flushed red.

It was midsummer before your first quarter at M.I.T , you were partaking in Lena’s work days. Paperwork, meetings and your favorite lab times.

“Ren, I need you to raise the levels to 80%.” Lena watched with a tablet in her hands.

“It is actually on full power already.” You smiled.

Lena faced you before moving her head towards her tablet. “Normally I would lecture you on testing protocols but it works!” Lena placed her tablet down and squeezed you in a hug. “We have successfully made a new renewable and efficient energy source.”

“We also very much stole technology from Argo,” you laughed.

“Don’t ruin the moment.” Lena chuckled, moved back and held your head in between her hands. “My little scientist, you will do great things in the future.” Lena kissed your forehead.

“I think I’d have to start with preventing grey hair without dyes.” You joked.

Lena glared. “Okay smarty pants. You can write the report.”

You groaned as Lena smirked. “Do I have to?”

“This is only practice for the future sweetheart. Plus I have to make sure all the Pauls don’t pull out of any mergers.”

“Ugh those skeezebag lawyers, sometimes I wish I had heat vision.” Your hand shook as if you were preventing yourself from choking someone.

“Careful there,” Lena raised an eyebrow “you sound like a Luthor.”

You grabbed the tablet out of your mother’s hands and pulled the stool in front of the computers. “I hate to burst your bubble but I’m a Luthor and a Super, if you have a problem with that the door is behind you.” You replayed with a teasing tone.

“Okay I really have to go deal with Paul now, behave.” Lena sighed.

“C’mon mama I’m not Lucas.” You began to type several results into the computer.

“Good thing your brother didn’t hear that.” Lena hugged you before heading towards the door. “I’ll see you later. Love you.”

“Love you too mama, more than I love Jeju.” Lena’s heart melted. That was something she was going to brag to Kara about.

Lena sat in the conference room, calm and collected when she really wanted to rip her hair out. She could tell that the other females in the room were feeling the same. The CEO was glad that Sam spoke up about wasting time and had ended the meeting with the final merge successful. 

Sam and Lena walked out of the conference room towards the elevator. When the door dinged opened they were met with a smile and an armful of Lena’s things.

“Hi baby, did you finish the report?” Lena hugged you and grabbed her purse. 

“I got bored,” You shrugged “And Aunt Sam said you were close to ripping out hair that wasn’t grey.” 

“So you texted my daughter?” Lena raised her eyebrows at Sam. 

“For someone who is a genius you’re missing out on the fact that your daughter just said I contacted her.” 

“She texted the Spoiled group chat.” Lena gave a questioning glance at the group name. 

“The group chat with Aunt Sam and the rest of the Superfriend’s Legacies.” 

“I’m the cool Aunt,” Sam smirked. “But now go have fun with the rest of your day off, promise you’ll tell great stories?” Sam hugged you. “And keep your mom away from work, this was really meant to be her day off.” 

“Of course! Bye Aunt Sam!” You waved as she left the elevator. “Do I get to drive home?” 

“Absolutely not!”

“So I get to help in the lab, but I can’t drive home.” You reasoned as you both walked to the underground garage. “I get to pick the music then?” 

You raced towards the passenger seat. You closed the door behind you and locked it immediately. Lena pulled on the door handle and pressed on the keys to unlock the car. You once again locked the car which earned the famous Luthor eyebrow raise.

Lena entered the car as you laughed at her. You knew she wouldn’t be able to keep the silent treatment for much longer.

“I’m sorry, it’s fun to mess with you and Jeju. I’ll make it up to you by playing your old music.” You said as you placed your phone on a magnetic Bluetooth connector and played an *NSYNC song.

“*NSYNC is not old!” Lena drove out of the underground packing.

“Mama, you’re 51. NSYNC is 49 years old. Half a century! It’s old.”

“I’m gonna pretend like you didn’t say that!” Lena said as she raised the volume and belted out the lyrics.

It doesn't matter,

'bout the car I drive or the ice around my neck

All that matters,

Is that you recognize that it’s just about respect (oh)

“It’s all about respect mama,” you teased.

“It better be, I’m a Luthor.” You both laughed.

The car came to a stop at the intersection on Main Street and Cordova. Lena drummed on the steering wheel and sung the chorus. You grabbed a water bottle and held it as a mic.

“Do you ever wonder why, this music gets you high?” The two sang.

The car jolted forward with a loud crash. You groaned at the burn at your neck. A sharp hiss rendered quiet with screeching tires and a horn.

A huge blow hit the car. Suddenly the car tilted towards the ground. An immense weight thrown onto you, with glass sprinkling down. Yours and Lena’s heads whipped side to side as the car flipped several times.

Shallow breaths threatened the immense silence that floated through the street.

~Lena’s POV~

A warm liquid bounced off my cheek. The cold cement acted as my bed. I didn’t have to look to know my left leg and left arm broke. I looked around trying to register what had happened.

My heart threatened to jump out of my chest, as I witnessed my daughter’s soft hand stained red and dangled limply above me. She was suspended above me, a bone or two protruded out of her side. The only thing that stopped her from falling was the seatbelt.

“Lauren baby,” My own voice unrecognizable and unsteady.

I turned to the watch on my left arm, there it sat shattered. I reached towards Lauren’s bloody hand that had her super watch. I flipped open the watch, relieved when her pulse thumped faintly.

A soft thud landed in front of the windshield. I knew it was Kara and J’onn.

“Lena! Lauren!” I heard my wife call.

The car lifted and more of Lauren’s blood flowed onto the seat, compartment and my clothes.

“Wait no no no! The car is applying pressure to one of Lauren’s wounds.”

“I can phase in, apply pressure and get her out. Where are her injuries?”

There was a moment of silence before Kara answered. “Two of her ribs are broken, her right forearm fractured, lower back spinal injury, her other arm is dislocated, broken ankle, t-the seatbelt cut her stomach.”

“I’ll get her to the D.E.O.”

J’onn glowed red and flew through the car. The Martian lifted my daughter like a feather and vanished through the top.

The car flipped up right and I could only groan in response.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Kara carried me delicately.

~3rd POV~

Supercorp landed on the D.E.O balcony. Kara guided Lena into the MedBay. However they were met with teary eyed Superfriends. Alex had tears pooled in her eyes, Nia sobbed, as J’onn stared into space. Brainy was left to share the bad news.

“You may want to sit down for this.” Brainy waited for Kara and Lena. “Lauren’s injures were very...severe, she also had internal injuries. She didn’t make it.”

Lena froze, she pushed off the bed. “No, no she can’t, she can’t be dead! Where is she?” She stepped with her broken leg and collapsed into Kara’s arm.

“Mrs. Luthor-Danvers we need to tend to your wound.” Dr. Hamilton said from the door.

“You will not! Not until I see my daughter!”

“Bring her a wheelchair,” Alex ordered.

In the D.E.O morgue, a few morticians cleaned Lauren’s body. Two stitched up her body as one cleaned the blood off the youngest Luthor-Danvers’ skin.

“Give Lena and Supergirl space.” The three morticians stepped out of the room.

Lena was wheeled onto one side and Kara stood on the other. Lauren was still warm. Kara held onto her daughter’s hand. She didn’t realize how deafening it was to not hear your heart.

The two parents sobbed. Lena caressed her daughter’s cheek. “I am, I am so sorry baby. You... you had so much more to look forward to. Jeju and I will always love you. Always.” Lena whispered and kissed your forehead. “Always.” Tears rolled down Lena’s cheeks.

Dr. Hamilton rolled Lena into the operating room.

“Little one,” Kara sobbed. She remained there until Lucas and Liam walked through the doors.

The twins were off on a college baseball retreat, and wore their red sun braclets. They received a call from Alex and had to realistically take a 2 hour plane ride back.

“Jeju,” The two boys whispered and hugged Kara. “Is mom okay?”

“She’s okay.”

“Kara, Lena is in recovery.” Alex said from the door. Kara nodded and headed back towards the MedBay.

“Lauren,” Liam whispered. “How I wish you were just sleeping.”

“I love you, Ren. Thank you for pushing me to the best I could be. Wouldn’t have been able to be Lucas Luthor-Danvers without you.” Lucas cried.

“Don’t worry about us okay, we will be okay.” Liam wiped his tears away.

Everyone of Kara’s friends and family sat on top of a hill that looked over National City. The Legends, Team Flash, Team Arrow, The Bat Family, Lucy Lane, Kal-El’s family, Sam and Ruby, Superfriends and your cousins were there.

Eliza flew in from Midvale a couple of days ago, Alura landed on Earth an hour ago and even Lillian was there in honor of her granddaughter.

Lillian was furious that your death was cause by an assassination attempt on Lena. She had pulled up security cameras and tracked the man who purposefully hit Lena’s car.

Lauren laid in a red pod and floated next to her designated tree. Everyone was given a chance to say something about you.

Kara talked about hearing your first heartbeat, Lena on helping her in the labs. Liam about how you were able to keep him and Lucas out of trouble. Lucas focused on the last midnight talk the two of you shared. Alex shared how you were a fighter.

J’onn shared your last thoughts, he shifted into your form. “I’m scared to leave this world not because I am afraid of death but because I’m scared of leaving everyone I love behind. I don’t regret anything because of everyone I had in my life.” Other cute moments were shared before Kara started The Prayer for the Dead.

She moved her hand over the pod. The House of El symbol glowed and the glass of the pod became transparent. Kara took a deep and shaky breath.

“You have been the sun of our lives. Our prayers will be the sun that lights your journey home.” Kara released another shaky breath and looked towards the horizon. “We will remember you in every dawn and await the night we join you in the sky.” Kara’s eye glistened. “Rao’s will be done.” She finished in Kryptonian.

Alura pushed the pod and it slowly flew higher and further into the horizon. Lena pinned a sign on a tree that read:

Lauren Luthor-Danvers

2027 - 2044

[cuttlefishkitch]

hello! i haven't talked to you before, but ron said that i could ask you for some advice on writing eds? (i'd like to know things to avoid/common things that could come up in everyday life that would be good to mention/the sort of aids and stuff they'd have maybe?/anything else you think is relevant)

Hi! Sorry this took so long, a combination of ADHD and chronic pain slowed me way the fuck down. Thank you for being patient! 

EDIT: WEIRD HEEL THINGS I FORGOT!!

So, before I get into this I should probably say I technically haven’t been diagnosed with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome (EDS for anyone reading) because it’s one of those syndromes that takes forever to get diagnosed with (it took a friend of mine’s mother over 30 years to get dxed). Many doctors, and everyone I know who does have EDS agree with me that it’s probably what causes my chronic joint pain and some of my other chronic issues. But just because three separate doctors have said “Yeah Probably” doesn’t mean I’m diagnosed!! Only a geneticist can do that!! And they had two-three year waitlists BEFORE the apocalypse happened.

I am diagnosed with Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS), Small Fiber Neuropathy, and potentially misdiagnosed with Fibromyalgia (once I get properly tested for EDS I might get undiagnosed with this because I don’t have most of the main symptoms of Fibro, but I got diagnosed with it anyway because it’s what doctors misDX you with when they don’t know what’s wrong with you and don’t want to do more tests).

All that said, I’ve done a lot of research about EDS (mainly because it’s the only thing that explains all my symptoms since doctors seem incapable of doing so), and know a few people who have either confirmed or suspected EDS, so I’ll link to some stuff, talk about the symptoms that often come with EDS, explain how the symptoms I have affect me, because just because someone’s not diagnosed doesn’t mean they aren’t having symptoms, and probs elaborate a bit about writing physical disabilities and chronic pain in general because it’s super important to me! 

So RESOURCES aka how to make sure your post never sees the light of day because you’re linking things and tumblr hates it when people give other people information!!

Youtubers! If you want to know about the day to day of living with EDS or any disability or chronic illness I super suggest finding a youtuber that makes videos about their life. My EDS favorites are

Jessica Kellgren-Fozard

Annie Elainey

Amy Lee Fisher

Websites! If you’re asking random folks on tumblr I’m assuming (and hoping) you’ve already done the basic WebMD google searches and looked over the seemingly ridiculous lists of symptoms and related conditions, so here are a few websites that are made more for people than for doctors.

The Ehlers Danlos Society

OhTWIST (That’s Why I’m So Tired)

ChronicPainPartners (the fact that they have an entire section of articles called “Dealing with Doctors” should really tell you something)

Books! If you feel like doing actual reading! I suggest reading books written by people with Ehlers Danlos, to get a feel for how they portray themselves. I’m not saying steal, but it’s probably a good point of comparison to see how your portrayal feels. (haven’t actually read these b/c my ADHD doesn’t let me read)

Ria Ruse by Morgan S. Ray (a superhero book with a disabled super MC!!)

Mysteries of Maybelle by Imani Benfell (Imani is still in high school and has already written and self-published a book cause she didn’t have enough representation for herself how cool is she!!)

Bodies in Motion by Liana Brooks (tw for pregnancy problems and miscarriages in the link, because it’s a blog post talking about integrating EDS symptoms into the story without explicitly naming them as such)

OKAY, now for some rambling about EDS SYMPTOMS!!!

Ehlers Danlos is one monster of a genetic condition in complexity and variety. There are THIRTEEN different identified types of EDS, it often comes with Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) and/or POTS, and can lead to various other conditions like gastroparesis, chiari malformation, craniocervical instability, and/or bad teeth. So if you’re going to be writing a character with EDS consider what other comorbid conditions they might also have. I’m mainly going to be talking about Hypermobile EDS (hEDS) because it’s what I probably have and what I’m most familiar with. That said there is a lot of overlap in symptoms with the other varieties.

I started typing this section and realized I was going to have to break it down even more so we’re going to talk about Chronic Pain, Unstable Joints (Dislocations and Subluxations), Skin Things, Mobility Issues, and Other Weird Shit and how those things get addressed separately.

Gonna get the Other Weird Shit out of the way first. Because EDS is a malfunction of connective tissue it can fuck up all sorts of random things. For instance, I and many other people w/ hEDS have trouble swallowing. Shit gets stuck in my throat, I sometimes choke on and have to cough up food, and pills can be hard to swallow, which sucks cause I take A Lot Of Pills. If it doesn’t cause full-on gastroparesis it can cause IBS or other digestive problems b/c the digestive tract is mostly made of connective tissue. It can potentially cause heart problems even if they aren’t as big of a risk as in some other forms of EDS. Premature osteoarthritis is common because what you need is more joint pain. And Fatigue OH BOY THE FATIGUE. And of course the headaches, can’t forget those pesky migraines can we!

AND piezogenic papules!! I completely forgot!! Piezogenic papules are little white bumps that appear when you put weight on your heel. In some people they hurt, but in others they don’t. They’re technically tiny little herniations of fat peaking through the fascia in the heel. They were added as part of the diagnostic criteria for hEDS in 2017!

Now for Skin Things cause it’s not as big a thing in hEDS as it is in other forms. Basically, in a lot of forms of EDS, the skin is extra stretchy and extra delicate. It bruises and tears easily, people with the extreme versions of this can accidentally scratch something into an open wound if they aren’t careful. My skin is pretty soft and sensitive, I def have the typical velvety skin, and as is pretty par for the course of someone with hEDS my skin is a little stretchy, and sorta delicate. I’m not as tissue-papery as some people get, but I almost always have at least one mystery bruise or scrape b/c existing is hazardous. Most of scars are also pretty normal, unlike the extremely papery and atrophic scars (though I have a few tiny acne scars that are atrophic) that are common with other kinds of hEDS. Something that I DO have is Lots of Stretch Marks, all over my thighs, and even down to my calves. Which wouldn’t be abnormal, except for the fact that I’ve never been over 145 lbs and I’ve never been pregnant. Having a lot of stretch marks or striations in the skin without due cause happens because the structure of the skin isn’t as strong as it is in people with a normal amount of connective tissue.

I don’t have to worry as much about my skin but people that do are usually very careful with adhesives because they can irritate or tear the skin, which sucks when you need a lot of bandaids cause your darn skin won’t do its job.

Now on to the meatier stuff and since I’m mostly working backward let’s do Mobility Issues!! These can happen in loads of ways, but a lot of what causes these in people with EDS are the other two things I wanna talk about. Unstable joints lead to increased risk of injury when doing stuff people with fully functioning joints can do.

For context, I’m an ambulatory wheelchair user, meaning I can walk, but a lot of the time it’s better if use a chair. Mine is mostly for my POTS symptoms, but the fact that my legs aren’t also in absolute agony is a big plus. I use a custom manual wheelchair with a SmartDrive (b/c I’m very fucking fortunate and have good insurance) whenever I leave the house and have to be “walking” for more than a few minutes at a time. I can’t fully self-propel in a manual chair because it would be damaging to the joints in my arms and hands, but the smaller chair is easier to maneuver in less than accessible spaces (like almost everywhere). There was about a month-long span where I used a very cheap and very bulky electric chair while I was waiting on the ideal set up I have now. Before that, I also briefly used, and sometimes still use, an up-right posture cane.

People with EDS have widely varying mobility issues because of how uniquely it can manifest. My cane only gave me a little help with balance because if I used it in any prolonged capacity any pain it took away from my legs was relocated to my arms, and as an artist, my arms are more important to me!

If you’re going to write a character with EDS having mobility issues as a result of their EDS the best thing to do is to narrow down their specific needs. Are their knees complete and utter garbage but their shoulders and wrists strong? Maybe they can get away with using a cane. Can they not stand for longer than 5 minutes because of the vertigo from their POTS? Maybe they need a manual wheelchair. Would propelling themself damage their back and arm joints? An electric chair might be necessary! Plenty of people with EDS use all sorts of combinations of these aides to get around their life, consider how your character’s good and bad days would be. Do they have back up plans if they overestimate themselves? There can be a lot to manage, but don’t let it scare you off! Sometimes I try and make it into a resource management game (because I’m a game designer and that’s what I do), to make evaluating my energy and mobility needs more fun!

But now let's tackle some of the reasons those mobility aides might be needed. Unstable Joints.

Ever stepped wrong and rolled your ankle? It hurts for a few steps and then kinda fixes itself, or maybe it bothers you for the rest of the day and you put it up and ice it when you get home? When I was walking around outside my house that would happen AT LEAST once a month, usually more. Some times I’m sitting wrong and when I get up my knee isn’t a knee anymore and decides to just give out from under me. My knuckles are made of unruly popcorn and they Don’t Want To Stay Home!! Oh! And my shoulder is more often out a little out of its socket than it is fully in.

Unstable joints lead to Dislocations and Subluxations of varying intensity, and some people get them more frequently than others. Some can be severe enough to necessitate hospital visits and even surgery, some subluxations are so banal (like my fUCKING SHOULDER) that you just learn to live with the pain.

If a character is going to be in high action, combat-heavy scenarios, chances are they’re going to be popping out joints left and right. Hell, depending on the severity of their joint laxity they could be doing the same sitting at a desk. Again, it’s incredibly varied. I’d suggest setting some sort of baseline for yourself, of what a character’s joints can and can’t stand up to, and maybe do some research on which joints are most likely to pop out in general (hips and shoulders are big culprits being the wacky ball and socket motherfuckers they are). Then maybe have something pop out or hold up every so often when it shouldn’t cause hey! EDS is kinda just like that! Unpredictable!

Some ways people manage joint laxity is with braces, KT tape, and physical therapy. Braces come in many different forms, since I’m currently getting pretty much no treatment for my shitty joints I use mostly compression braces made for sporty people. It really is amazing how much a bit of tight fabric can do to keep my wrist in place.

More specialized braces often have solid parts to prevent the joints from hyper-extending (bending the wrong way) and causing further damage. If you ever see someone with what looks like diamond shaped rings around a bunch of their finger joints, chances are those are Ring Splints, and are there to keep the finger shaped like a finger. I want to get my hands on some and get some on my hands Very Badly, because my fingers hyper-extend SO MUCH when I type, and it makes my hand pain way way worse.

KT tape is another thing people often use. It’s stretchy tape you put on your skin and it basically functions kinda like a second ligament as well as reinforcing the joint and keeping the bones mostly where they’re supposed to be. The problem with this is a lot of people with EDS have very sensitive and fragile skin like I mentioned before, so KT tape can cause allergic reactions, chronic skin irritation, or just straight up take the skin with it when someone goes to remove it. Hence a lot of folks are really careful with it.

Physical Therapy is kinda the best (and only) treatment for joint laxity aside from Very Invasive and sometimes Highly Experimental surgery. It focuses on strengthening the muscles around the joints so they can do the work all those bone ropes made of body glue can’t. The problem is finding a physical therapist that 1) knows what EDS even is, 2) knows you have it, and 3) knows how to treat it without doing stuff that’ll Phucking Hurt You Worse!! Because exercising wrong with EDS can do Permanent Damage!!!

Again most folks use a combination of all of these things, or have next to no access to them b/c healthcare sucks.

Anyway, on to one of my favorite topics, Chronic Pain!! One of the reasons this post took me so long!!!

Chances are if your character has chronic pain as a result of their EDS there are gonna be some things they hate, including stairs, rain, thunderstorms, stairs, hills, uneven terrain, oh and did I mention stairs??? It’s going to vary person to person, but almost everyone I’ve met with pain from EDS has complained about their knees. For me the most debilitating pain is in my fingers and wrists. They’re by far my least stable joints but I use them constantly for stuff like drawing, typing, and sewing.

Because my joint pain is so wide spread, like most people’s with hEDS, it effects every single part of my day to day life. I can’t carry a heavy ceramic plate, open a bottle, or even use my computer without pain. It’s practically impossible for me to get comfortable in any position be it sitting or laying down, and as you can imagine that makes it hard to sleep a lot of the time. Moving too much hurts, but so does sitting still. I’m constantly taking braces on and off or cracking/stretching my joints so they pop back into place and hurt less.

Also being in pain makes everything else That Much Worse. I get tired way faster than I did before my pain was this bad (I had chronic pain for a while before actually realizing it wasn’t normal to not be able to walk down the block without feeling like your foot bones are trying to escape). My sensory issues and anxiety disorder are more easily aggravated because my base level of comfort is way worse. It fucks with my depression. And OH BOY does it make my ADHD worse because being in pain is fucking distracting as hell and makes it harder to make decisions and switch tasks. Also my ADHD often makes my other symptoms worse cause I forget to take my meds, don’t drink enough water, or can’t find my fucking braces because the item eating black-hole that comes with ADHD stole them. The intersection of mental and physical disabilities is probably a rant for another time though, so back to chronic pain.

Does it suck? Yes, undoubtedly. Is this incredibly debilitating? Of course it is, I spent the last several months unable to feed myself without assistance because there was a staircase between my room and the kitchen and I could only manage to climb it once a day. Is it overwhelming? Definitely, I’ve frequently broken down crying from a combination of pain and frustration because I’m having a bad day and there’s no relief to be found. Am I able to predict when it’s going to rain with uncanny accuracy because any change in barometric pressure makes me feel like every bone in my body is trying to kill it’s neighbors? You bet your fucking ass I am!! Does it sometimes make me irritable, angry, and occasionally dismissive of when abled people get cold or a temporary injury because the stuff they’re complaining about is my life every single day and all avenues of treatment and recovery I have could take years and still not entirely solve my issues? Yeah, and while I deserve a little extra patience I also have to be sure to check myself because I don’t want to turn into someone who’s nasty to be around. Do I sometimes need to sleep for 17 hours straight because it’s raining, I have migraine, and I’m in too much pain to be conscious? Yup, sometimes a few days in a row. Does living in constant pain mean I’m unable to do all the things I want to and does that sometimes make me wanna curl up in bed and never leave? Yeah, it happens.

But! And here’s the big important but, that’s not everything! I still write, draw, and talk to my friends!! It might take me a little longer but I get there. I’m still happy and excitable and make the time to write out five page long posts about EDS because it’s something I’m passionate about! My chronic pain doesn’t stop me. I refuse to let it. I never really wanted to go mountain climbing anyway, so I’m perfectly happy being able to make it up and down the six steps in my house, even if sometimes I have to sit and bump down them on my ass, or crawl up them like a cat. Chronic pain isn’t all I am. It isn’t a fate worse than death. It isn’t the only thing your character should talk about (though I do talk about my pain a lot cause I’m a complainer about almost everything). You can have your character be hindered by their pain, realistically they would be. You can have them seek comfort, support, and relief. Other characters can commiserate and be sympathetic, but it doesn’t mean their whole life is going to be one big pity party, that would be incredibly fucking boring. I know I’d be bored out of my mind.

All that said dealing with chronic pain, especially from EDS, is Complicated. Physical Therapy is the gold standard, but like I said before it can be a long and difficult process, and isn’t always accessible. Stabilization methods like I talked about before can help prevent pain, or reduce it by keeping bones mostly where they belong. Heat and cold help joints, relax muscles, and reduce inflammation but keeping them applied is rough and the relief doesn’t always last. Doctors prescribe anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, and sometimes even anti-epileptic medication to help manage pain, but everyone’s mileage with those varies. And I’m not at all qualified to talk in-depth about narcotics or other heavy duty pain-meds, but suffice to say the war on drugs fucked shit up for people that legit need that kind of help BIG TIME.

Now for my closer/bonus rant about EDS and Disability Writing in General!

Everyone always says write what you know, so if you really want to do disabled people justice, get to know disabled people! Make friends with disabled people, get involved with advocacy groups, consume content made by disabled creators both about disability and not! Disabilities are so fucking diverse, even EDS is such a complex disorder, and comes with so many potential co-morbidities, that practically everyone with it has a unique experience. There’s no way I can fully explain everything in a tumblr post. Hell, even if I could talk to you for hours probably couldn’t give you enough info to answer all your questions (especially since I’m still in diagnosis hell :,) ), so talk to a wide range of people with EDS and other disabilities!! I know it sounds like a lot of work but trust me, disabled people are some of the strongest, raddest, coolest, people you will ever meet that it won’t feel like it.

And don’t be afraid either, the fact that EDS and other disabilities are so wildly varied means that you have a little bit of wiggle room with your character’s experience. There’s so little disability rep out their I think people are WAY to scared to try their hand at writing it. So long as your character is a fully developed person in addition to being disabled, you give some logical thought as to how it would affect their life, and you don’t make their disability the butt of any joke it isn’t difficult to avoid ableist writing. PLEASE WRITE MORE DISABLED PEOPLE AND PEOPLE WITH CHRONIC PAIN/CHRONIC ILLNESS!!

Okay that’s it, again sorry it took so long for me to get back to you! My fingers were being little pests about it, and my ADHD (which is honestly more disabling than everything else a lot of the time lmao) was being an asshole! Hope this helps, and feel free to ask me more questions if you need clarification! It might take me a bit but I do love talking about this stuff.

[pixie88]

Delilah

Chapter 1 - Alone - Third A&E Series.

A/N: I originally posted this on a side blog but I was having trouble switching between the two and I also didn’t want to start again. As I said there this A&E series is a lot more darker, hitting RL subjects I have been through myself please don’t judge me as you can’t make me feel an worse than I have made myself in the past. The stigma around these subjects are real and so many people don’t speak out about them. Friends and family don’t even know the secrets I will reveal in these chapters as I am ashamed and worry about what they will think. I hope this helps even just one person realise they aren’t alone. I hope you like it 😘

I’m not going to annoy people with re-tags, so I’m not tagging in these first two chapters as most my usual tags have read it.

Find previous chapters HERE under Together - Adam & Ellie.

Word count: 1905

WARNINGS: ⚠️ Angst & adult language.

Pairings: Adam x Ellie.

Enjoy!

A Year and a half after the last chapter of A&E Together.

"She's beautiful, Ellie! A girl! We have a little girl," she looks over to him feeding their daughter. All the panic and worry was worth it! She thought to herself as she's getting stitched up.

16 week's earlier.

This pregnancy had been harder on her than Charlie's, her morning sickness had carried on until 24 weeks, she was in pain with her hips and back. Adam made her give up work at 32 weeks. She was reluctant, but knew he was right, plus at home, she could do more research on shops for sale in London.

By the time she had hit 36 weeks she had found the perfect shop, they had a cheeky weekend away in London to view the property while Ellie's mum had Charlie for them. Being heavily pregnant they didn't do much sight seeing, but they did spent a lot of time tangled beneath the sheets in the hotel room. This would probably be the last time in a long time they would have time alone, so they wanted to make the most of it. 

When they arrived back home Ellie had to sort out the internal and external work. She had put in an offer and was in the proceeds of owning the new shop being, so close to the end of her pregnancy Adam took over all the dealings of the new shop not wanting his wife stressed. 40 weeks Ellie woke on her due date irritated and fed up with being pregnant their little lady showed no signs of wanting to come out.

That afternoon Ellie was in the bathroom when she thought her water had broken, looking down at the floor, she was expecting to see clear waters but instead she saw crimson red puddles of blood. She calls out to Adam who was downstairs soon rushed up to his panicked wife. Shock grew on his face as he saw what had her so panicky. He quickly regained his composure, trying not to worry his heavily pregnant wife.

Adam quickly called her midwife who told them to head to the hospital after dropping Charlie at Elaine's door. He helped an hysterical Ellie into the car. On the way her contractions started they were very close together so when they arrived, he practically had to bridal carry her out to the car with her bag to the labour ward where they handed him a wheel chair. Once in the delivery suite and after a few puffs of gas and air Ellie start to calm down she was so mellow that she wasn't even bothered when the doctor took a sample of her blood, she usually hated blood tests but the gas and air had worked its magic.

When the doctor came in Ellie was completely out of it. Between contractions, she was drifting, those few seconds between each one felt like heaven "Sorry, did you say your name is Doctor Curry? I bet you had the korma taken out of you at school!" she laughs at her own joke, then apologizes when she realised what she had said "Don't worry, I know it's the gas and air talking believe me, I've had worse. We are just going to listen to baby and see how they are! OK?" She nods.

After 10 minutes whooshing the doctor and midwife didn't look very happy with the result "What's wrong?" She asked him. He had that look all doctor have when they're about to tell you bad news "You baby's heart beat keeps dipping" tears started forming in her eyes "Dipping? What do you mean?" He hands her a tissue "Mrs Barlow, we want to deliver your baby as safely as possible and with the fluctuations of their heart beat you have an hour to deliver this baby, or we will have to take you down to theatre for an emergency c-section" her heart sank "But how am I going to have a baby in less than an hour? She just said I'm only 3 centimetres" She looks up at Adam, he's calm which soothe her.

"Well, we need to first break your waters, hopefully that should speed things along a bit. So, I'm going to leave Charlotte here to do that and I will be back in half an hour to see how you are doing" DR. Curry makes his way for the door. "Ellie, after your next contraction I'm going try and break your waters. So, I need you to tell me when it's over, OK?" Ellie nods the next contraction comes and goes. Charlotte successful breaks her waters "That feels so warm!" Ellie laughs just as the next contraction starts to build.

"Oh my god! I feel like I need to push!" She screams as the contraction takes hold. "Ellie if you need to push, then push, but little pushes!" Scared her body is tricking her, she refuses "I can't! You said I was only 3 centimetres. I'm not ready!" She hisses at Charlotte "Hey Ellie, listen to me if that's what your body wants to do then do it. I will keep an eye if nothing happens we will stop! OK? You need to trust what your body is telling you to do!"

The next contraction build she begins to push... crashing Adam's hand in the process until it fades again "You're doing brilliant, beautiful" Adam kisses her forehead "Anything?" She asks her midwife "Well, I can see the top of baby's head..." She's cut off by the next contractions "There's the head" Charlotte tells her "With the next contraction she'll be here" another starts and Ellie pushes again "And here she is 7:43PM welcome to the world little one!" Charlotte says as she cleans her up.

"Ellie, you did it again! She's here!" Adam cups her face and kisses her lips "Skin to skin?" Charlotte asks, Ellie nods "I'll just get Daddy to cut the cord" she looks over to Adam and hands him the scissors. He proudly cuts through the cord before Charlotte moves her to Ellie's chest "Does she have a name?" Charlotte looks at both of them "We're still haven't decid..." she cuts Adam off "Delilah!" Ellie looks up at Adam as the brightest smile appears on his face "Aww that's lovely! Where did you get that from?" She asks the pair.

"It was my Nan's name" Adam says not quite believing she finally had a name and a name that means something to him. "That's sweet! Ellie do you want to give Delilah to Daddy while we get this afterbirth delivered?" Charlotte places Delilah in a towel passes her to Adam as DR. Curry walks in "How are we do...oh baby is here! Wow how long did that take?" He looks over to Charlotte "15 minutes after I broke her water. She had the urge to push right away!" He looks at her stunned "Whoa! That's amazing have you requested her IV drip yet?"

Ellie looks confused "IV drip?" He looks over to her "We estimated you probably lost just over a pint of blood. This will just stop anymore bleeding" Charlotte smiles at a worried Ellie "Nothing to worry about its just because you've lost more than usually. It's routine"

"I'll go and get what we need. While you finish up in here" DR. Curry says as he leave the room.

Later, Charlotte has shift had ended and a new midwife had taken over "When can I go for a shower?" Ellie asks her new midwife Demi she wanders over checks the IV drip monitor "You have another 45 minutes on this then you should be OK" another midwife walks in and calls Demi out of the room a few minutes later she comes back in "We are going to have to move you up to postnatal ward now" Ellie looked shocked with Charlie's Labour she was allowed to have a shower before heading up.

Her legs were still covered in blood as well as her hospital gown. She got off the bed with her IV drip and into a wheelchair, Adam close behind with Delilah. She gets into her cubicle and take a seat in the chair after the midwife leave, she bursts into tears Adam puts Delilah down in her cot and rushes over to his wife "Hey, what's up beautiful?"

She looks up at him "Everything I'm covered in blood, I'm still in this awful thing. I want get into bed, but I can't sit on there like this! I want to cuddle my baby, but my arms are cover in blood. I feel dirty like I'm a cast member of the walking dead! And from what it sounds like we have a snorer the other side of this stupid curtain" He lifts up his wife's chin "Watch Delilah I'll be back in a minute" he gets up and leaves the cubicle through the curtain.

10 minutes later he comes back with a wheel chair and a midwife "You help her into the chair and grab her bag I'll grab baby" the midwife tells Adam. Wiping her tears she looks up at him "What's going on?" He smiles at her "You'll see now come on!" He lifts her out of her chair and into the wheel chair. They walk down the hall and through a door. Once inside she spots another bed and a bathroom "Adam?"

She looks up at him "This was the last one they had!" She looks at him still confused, he laughs, "£90 a night for a private room with a bath in the bathroom and this lovely lady has said if you've had over 80 percent of that drip she'll take it off you, so you can go for a soak" her eyes well up and she starts to cry again.

"It suppose to make you happy not sad!" He laughs, "Happy tears!" The midwife smiles at them both as she catches sight of Ellie, she shook her head "Oh dear, look at the state of you! They let you come up here like that! You poor thing, let me put her next to the bed and get you off this. Even if I have to put you back on after you can't sit like that!" She puts Delilah next the bed and takes Ellie off the drip before helping her to the bathroom.

20 minutes later all fresh from her shower, she emerges from the bathroom in her own comfortable clothes. Adam is changing Delilahs nappy. He looks up "Feeling better?" She smiles as she nods at him before she gets onto the bed next him. She places a kiss on his cheek, "Thank you!" He looks over to her "Why are you thanking me? You did all the hard work!" He places Delilah back in her cot "You were calm while I was losing it! I crashed your hand and you spent money on a hospital room just to make me happy!"

He laughs, "I did have my own motives! No one, not even me was going to sleep with a motorbike snoring next door!" he pulls her to his chest and pulls over the blanket over the both of them "We better sleep while she does. So, night beautiful!" She kisses his cheek "Night! I love you!" She feels him chuckle "I love you more"

Continue reading this story here - Chapter 2.

[rosie-janeposie]

Closed Doors

PART 4 of Stolen Moments Collection

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24538531 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Summary:

           "There's a 93.7 percent chance I could make it up to you later," the blond grinned and gave her a wink. "I have somewhat of a good memory you know." He sat forward in his seat, "So, you found another vault?" McNully’s held sympathy for the girl he was getting to know. The rumors at Hogwarts seem to always convey this fearless girl who dove headfirst into danger. But, here she sat hiding away a part of herself. The part that was scared.  Notes:    Hello, my Lovelies! We are heading back into Ellie's second year at Hogwarts. Cause come-on finding the vaults has to be rattling. That and the MC is supposed to be a pre-teen to teenager, so hormones are all over the place. So, Ellie is taking some time to herself... or at least that is what she thinks.

McNully is her break from reality at this point.

For those who may not know, for reference. There is always a year difference between the Quidditch characters (Skye, Orion, McNully) and Friends in Ellie's Year (Rowan, Ben, Penny, Etc.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Hogwarts Mystery. Nor do I own Murphy McNully, if I did we would see him a lot more in-game.

I do own Ellie however and any shenigans she may do in later drabbles.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)            

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  If anyone had asked the little redhead why she was hiding up in the commentator's box, she would not be able to tell them why. Only that her glasses have not been on her face, and her head had nothing but pounding for the last hour. "Jacob, what did you get into?" The small redhead whispered, rubbing the tears from her eyes. Had her brother really been up to something when he had disappeared? She was so upset about her brother's disappearance that she had overlooked the possibility of Jacob getting into serious trouble. Vaults… Black Quills…

And now this Cursed Ice.

The Ice that trapped Ben in the corridor before classes were even in session. He must have been so scared, in that dark, deserted Hallway. She couldn't imagine Ben alone in that cold embrace for as long as he had been. Then Rowan to be placed into the Hospital Wing because she decided to help Ellie break into the vault. Rowan was lucky for a stunning spell.

The sob left her lips before she could stop it. Her arms came up to cover her head. Her fingers were weaving into her hair.

"Oh. Bennett," A male voice snapped her out of her breakdown, "I didn't realize anyone was up here yet."

Her head shot up. Her puffy-red eyes were met with the sight of the Quidditch commentator and her impromptu Quidditch coach, Murphy McNully. "McNully…" She sniffed as she tried wiping your eyes, "So-sorry, I can leave…"

Ellie had never seen McNully in his full school uniform before. The gray pull-over and cloak just looked so out of place over his signature white button-up.

"There's no rush." His prepubescent voice cracking slightly as he rolled somewhat closer to the girl who was pressed against the wall, "You okay?"

She sniffed as she tried to push back the red-mop that she called hair plastered to her cheeks. "Ye-yeah, I am okay…" she tried to stop the tears.

McNully watched her quietly before he turned his head to the stairwell, "I know how to charm the lock on that door?"

"Huh?"

"You're looking to escape prying eyes, right?" McNully smiled gently as he rolled to the door. Ellie paused at the quiet click and "Collorportus." McNully pushed his chair so that he was in front of the Ravenclaw girl once more. "That way, no one can get up here…" he paused before he tilted his head, "Well, unless they use 'Alohomora.' But for the most part, we are 76.4 percent safe."

"Only 76.4 percent sure," the redhead quipped, a sniffle sneaking through, "and why did you decide to lock the box? Your adoring fans are looking to you for Quidditch knowledge..."

"They'll live. I had the sneaking suspension," He started moving to set up the commentator's megaphone, "that Hogwarts Curse-Breaker wanted some privacy."

"It would be nice…" she whispered as she attempted to pull her hair back into a ponytail.

McNully opened the box containing the mouthpiece. He pulled away before he connected the mouthpiece to the magic megaphone, "I have to warn you, it's gonna be loud, though."

Ellie smiled, standing from the back row, "I think I could handle a little noise…" she dusted off her school skirt and became preoccupied with straightening her tie.

"So, is it true that you snuck into the Gryffindor common room?" McNully asked casually, trying to make light conversation.

"Oh, you heard about that, did you?" Blue-green met Honey-gold, Ellie placed her glasses back onto her face, "Why am I not surprised…"

"News about you travels fast," He answered with a shrug as he looked out onto the pitch. She followed his gaze to the field. Various shades of faded red-pinnies Gryffindors trickled onto the ground. "So the question is… why?"

"A Black Quill…" Ellie sighed, dropping her head into her hands; McNully quirked an eyebrow to the Beater. "Merlin, I feel so stupid saying it out loud now." She went to turn, almost falling off the bench she was standing.

McNully laughed lightly, holding out a hand for her to grab for balance, "How about you take a seat. There is only room for one person in a wheelchair at a time."

"MCNULLY!" The redhead giggled as she accepted his hand, nearly falling in the process.

"What?" He chuckled back as she settled onto the bench next to him, "I believe I have a right to say that. So, you broke into Gryffindor Tower for a black quill?"

"The quill was a transfigured note from Jacob; it had some sort of connection to the curse vaults…" she muttered. Ellie turned to pout at the Quidditch commentator, taking him back, "Merlin, I really do sound mental… plus, I had to miss your commentary on the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match…"

"There's a 93.7 percent chance I could make it up to you later," the blond grinned and gave her a wink. "I have somewhat of a good memory, you know." He sat forward in his seat, "So, you found another vault?"

Ellie looked away from him, "Unfortunately, yes. And this time, Rowan got hurt."

McNully's had sympathy for the girl he was getting to know. The rumors at Hogwarts seem always to convey this fearless girl who dove headfirst into danger. But, here she sat hiding away a part of herself, the scared part. "How bad?"

"She's going to spend the next few nights in the Hospital Wing…" she admitted hugging herself, "But she keeps saying she is better than ever."

"That's good, though! I'm sur-" McNully was shocked that the practice whistle through the air. He was momentarily flustered to see what had happened. Ellie smiled as she started to make herself comfortable amongst the benches. She smiled, watching her new friend (Was he her friend?) sink seamlessly into his pastime. She liked seeing this caring side to McNully, a piece reserved for something other than Quidditch.

The stress of the day's events began to tire Ellana out mentally. She felt eyes start to become heavier and heavier. She felt the sudden weight and warmth of a blanket drape over her. It smelled of chalk, Sprucewood, and mint. It was familiar and so comforting.

A few days later, Ellie would deny it if brought to the attention of anyone, but she didn't mind having to hand McNully back his cloak in front of the whole common room.     

 Notes: 

Alright, my Lovelies! If you enjoyed it leave a kudos and/or comment down below.

Summer Mid-terms are around the corner, so I may not be able to produce any shorts relatively soon.

So, while I am working on mid-term papers and tests, don't be afraid to leave prompt ideas or suggestions (they can, but don't need to involve Ellie) here or on my Tumblr. I would love to see what you have in mind for McNully!

Until next time!

~Rosie 🌹

[ijustwant2write]

The Butterfly Effect-Bucky Barnes x Powers!Reader

(GIF credit to @rubyslaugh and UGH I LOVE THIS ONE)

Masterlist

Requested by anonymous

Summary: Okie so this is kinda a request but idk exactly what I want 😂 so basically like the reader is an avenger cause she got powers on accident in a lab (like banner) and she has the ability to control plants and like nature and bugs, and basically when ever Bucky is around butterflies form and start flying around her and the rest of the teams realizes but he’s oblivious. Eventually she admits her feelings but he’s not sure cause he’s scared to hurt her, but the end up together? Thank youuuu 💗

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Powers!Reader, mentions of Avengers

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: slight swearing, mention of injuries, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tenderly watering the plants in the greenhouse, I smiled as they instantly lifted around me, growing a few centimetres taller, a little more vibrant in colour. Ever since the accident, my love for gardening grew, as well as my observations. My (dream) job had been working in a lab with different plants, some common and some rare; we were developing ways to grow vegetation quicker to help with problems such as deforestation. However, the company in charge and supplying the money for this huge project didn’t care as much as the scientists did, using radioactive chemicals as well as many other unknown substances. Of course we had protested about this but they didn’t listen. And for some reason, I was the one who took the fall. It was all a big accident, they were testing the substance without my permission, and I I tried to stop them it had spilt all over me. Then I discovered my new abilities.

Plants responded to me, I was able to control them, and now I could even form them out of my bare hands! Recently, insects had also started to respond to me, and one night after a wonderful dream, I awoke to find a butterfly unfolding in my hand. It was truly beautiful, but I had had to keep it a secret. Though I must have not done a good job of that seeing as I was recruited by the Avengers. I had never thought about fighting with plants, however after they showed me the aggression I could use behind it, I found that I was creating massive, twisted vines, enough to crush bones, to pull up the ground and split it open. The grounds weren’t looking too neat after that.

“Hey, (Y/N)! There you are.” Scott announced as he walked into the greenhouse, a wilted cactus in his hand.

“Hi, oh, he’s not looking too good there.”

“Yeah, that’s what I actually came here for.”

“Scott, that’s one of the easiest plants to look after, what happened?”

“Hey, it’s hard being a superhero and a plant mom too!”

“You can’t keep coming to me for help when a plant starts dying.”

“It’s only happened twice before. Please, I will take care of it.”

I sighed before taking the cactus from him, concentrating on making it better. It slowly straightened itself, a beautiful green colour slowly creeping up from the bottom of the plant to the top, the soil now a dark brown and wet. I handed it back over, feeling like a mother telling off their child.

“Thanks (Y/N). Foods ready by the way.”

As I followed him, I had one of those cliche moments; who would ever imagine being in a situation like this? An accident in a lab gave me powers and here I was, fighting with the Avengers; I was an Avenger! All my life I had been the nerdy girl, obsessed with vegetation, friendly but quiet, never speaking up unless absolutely necessary. Yet here I was, surrounded by these amazing people, not only amazing because of their powers and strengths, because of who they were and how they had accepted me. 

In a rare event that everyone was at the base (Steve, Tony, Nat, Clint and Bucky just back from a mission), we were all able to sit down and eat together. Wanda had taken on the role of chef here, a passion she had relighted to keep her happy and busy. She had plated up, some of the team already sat down. I went to grab a plate, bumping into Bucky. Immediately I retracted my hand, suddenly my usual composure tensing, heart beating slightly louder.

“Sorry, you get yours first.”

“Sorry.” I hated how quiet my voice was.

As I went to pick up the plate, three small appeared in my hand. I flinched as I saw them, causing them to flutter away. Wanda opened a window, watching as they flew outside.

“Sorry.” I repeated.“I didn’t actually mean to do that.”

Taking the food, I scurried to sit down, getting into the seat between Tony and Scott. Why had that happened? Was it just an absentminded thought? Was it nerves? Whatever it was, it was making me feel embarrassed for some reason, though no one said anything or even look bothered. Yes, I was an over-thinker, but I had done that in front of Bucky. 

No one could deny the alarmingly good looks of the former Winter Soldier. He was the typical strong silent type, mysterious and brooding at first until you got to know him. At first he had observed me, wondering what I would be like as a part of this team, as did the others. But once I was welcomed, his true colours showed. He was a sweetheart, he would always help me with whatever I needed, reassure me that I was meant to be here. He even tried gardening once but complained when the soil got into the metal of his arm. But I knew a relationship would never happen. We were Avengers, and although Scott and Clint had families, I didn’t see Bucky wanting that, understandable when you look back to what he had been through. It was another secret for me to keep from the world. 

The next morning, I joined Wanda and Nat in training, still thinking about the butterfly incident. It was distracting, and I didn’t know why I couldn’t just push it to the back of my mind. My own thoughts were pissing me off. Sighing to myself, I started warming up beside the others. I was too nervous at times, I needed more confidence in myself, I needed-

“Morning Bucky.” Wanda greeted him.

Fuck.

Great, just great. Just the distraction I needed. He was lovely enough just standing there, but working out? God that was another story. I smiled at him, making my way to the treadmill. Concentrate. Keep your mind focused. Don’t think about him, don’t wonder if he’s looking at you, if he’s lifting those extremely heavy weights....I hated myself sometimes.

“(Y/N)!” Nat startled me, suddenly beside me. I managed to keep my balance, still running.“Do you mind?”

“What?”

“The butterflies again!”

I looked around me, eyes widening and gasping as I saw the amount of butterflies around me. As I realised that there were definitely almost twenty of them, I lost my footing, falling onto my arm as the treadmill threw me off it. Screaming as I thudded onto the floor, I felt hot tears already falling down my cheeks, curling up into a ball when pain surged through me. Everyone fussed around me, giving me space once the shock passed.

“(Y/N), are you OK?” Nat asked, looking at my arm.

I winced.“It’s just my arm.”

“Your foot doesn’t look too good either.” Wanda pointed out.

“It’s fine.” I moved it, crying out when I realised she was right.

“I’ll take you to the hospital ward, there’s no way you’ll be able to get there by yourself.” Bucky said, already manoeuvring me into his arms.

“I’ll message Dr Cho, get her ready for you.” Nat got her phone out, texting away as Bucky stood up, holding me carefully. 

I tried to not cry, not wanting to look any worse in front of Bucky, but it was extremely hard when I couldn’t feel my arm and my foot was throbbing. I had one arm wrapped around his neck, the bad on tucked into my torso, trying not to lean into him. I was stiff in his arms, desperately thinking about anything other than Bucky, especially now and how he was so easily holding me; what a man.

“Oh, they’re back.” He smiled, nodding his head to the two butterflies appearing, they rested on my hair, and I huffed. God, would this nightmare ever end?

“I’m so sorry. This must be so annoying for everyone.” 

“I mean, it’s kind of pretty. At least it’s not flies or wasps, or any other annoying bugs.”

“I mean, I guess so.”

“How come they’re appearing so often? It’s never happened before.”

“Uh, I’m not actually sure. Maybe I’m not as in control of my powers, though I don’t know how that would happen.”

“Maybe you’re overworking.”

“Maybe.”

Dr Cho was waiting for me, gesturing towards the bed Bucky could place me on. When he asked if he should stay, I insisted that he leave. He didn’t need to see me like this anymore, and we didn’t need anymore butterflies in this place. Bucky reluctantly left, a kind smile on his face as he walked away. I let out a sigh of relief, happy that Dr Cho wanted to assess my injuries straight away. When she informed me that I had a minor sprain to the foot and a bad bruising on my arm, I groaned, pissed off at my own clumsiness. She advised that I use a wheelchair to get around (seeing as I couldn’t use crutches yet because of my arm), but when she asked if Bucky should come back, I immediately refused. She was surprised by my snappy tone, though brushed it off as I text Natasha to come get me. I seriously needed my girlfriends right now.

Nat wheeled me to my room, only speaking of my injuries until we got inside. With her help, we hauled myself onto the bed, propping my foot on top of pillows. She sat beside me, both of us resting against the headboard; my head lulled to the side, finding Nat already looking up at me.

“Nat, what do I do?” I moaned.

“What do you mean?”

“The butterflies, they keep appearing.”

“And we all know why.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“To everyone but him.”

“What if he’s playing dumb because he thinks I’m weird?”

“How can you be weird here? You’ve got super soldiers, secret spies, a girl with telekinetic powers, a man who shrinks, a hulk-”

I laughed.“OK, I get it. Still, I just don’t think he would be interest in a relationship.”

“Why?” she whined.

“Superheroes don’t date, especially not each other. Plus, have you seen him? No one would ever put us together.”

“Except everyone living in this facility right now.”

I hid my face in my hands.“Nat, stop getting my hopes up!”

“What, it’s cute! There are butterflies erupting from you every time you see him, it’s the sweetest thing in the world!”

“It’s mortifying.”

“Stop it! You put yourself down too much.”

“I’m being realistic.”

Before we could continue our endless cycle of arguing, someone knocked on the door. I called them in, nerves kicking in again as Bucky poked his head around the door. I glanced at Nat who had a smug smile on her face, instantly wriggling off the bed. I couldn’t say anything, not in front of Bucky.

“What good timing Bucky! I was about to get some more painkillers, you can keep (Y/N) company!” Natasha practically skipped out of the room, and I knew she was wearing a smirk.

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked over, looking down at my foot.“I heard it’s sprained.”

“Yeah, it’s not too serious though. About four or five weeks resting.”

“Well I know where you’ll be spending all of that time.” He perched on the bed next to me.

“Where?”

“In your greenhouse of course. You’re in there for all of your free time anyway.”

I giggled.“I just miss my career, that’s all.”

“You always had a connection with plants, even before your powers. It’s obvious.”

I looked down at my hands, my head hurting from stopping the butterflies showing.“Thank you for earlier. It was sweet of you to take me to Dr Cho.”

“Just call me your knight in shining armour.”

I hesitated, wondering if I should just bring up the elephant in the room.“Bucky...you, uh....you must have noticed all the butterflies suddenly appearing.”

He slowly nodded.“Yeah?”

Oh my god, I’m an actual idiot. Can I even form a sentence anymore?

“Well, they only seem to be here when I’m near you and....well, uh....I think it’s for a reason.”

He stayed silent, only making me more nervous.

“I-I know the reason. I have feelings for you, and I think because I’ve been hiding them, it’s thrown off my control on my powers; and instead of admitting these feelings before, my powers have taken over to express myself.”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and I seriously could have burst out crying there and then.“(Y/N), I....”

He doesn’t feel the same. That’s it, I’ve ruined everything.

“I won’t lie and say that I’ve never thought about it.” He ducked his head down, but I could see a small smile.“But why me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, with everything that’s ever happened, I just.....(Y/N), you’re delicate and I’m...I’m not.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not saying I don’t like you. It’s the total opposite. But, I’d be scared to hurt you.”

“Hurt me? How would you hurt me?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really want to think too far into it.”

“I’m sorry Bucky, if you don’t want this then-”

“That’s the thing, I do. I’m conflicted with myself. I guess....after everything that’s happened to me, it seems bizarre that anyone would want to be with me in that way.”

“How could you say that? All of your past, it wasn’t you, it was HYDRA. You’ve turned your life around so much since then.”

“I always thought that I would just focus on my work and then whatever happened, happened, My love life was just forgotten. Until you showed up that is.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, something happened when I laid eyes on you. You were beautiful, extremely smart and you wanted to do the best you could in any situation, despite it all being scary and new. I really respected you, I still do. I think if it were possible, there would be butterflies coming from me too.”

I sheepishly smiled, blushing profusely.“So, what are you saying?”

“(Y/N), are you sure you would want me?”

“I’m certain, I wouldn’t have even started a conversation like this if I wasn’t.”

“I..I’m not even sure what to say.”

“Say yes. Let’s make a go of this. I’m not a confident person, so right now I’m really shocked I’m even saying this all right now.”

He gleamed that gorgeous smile.“Then yes.”

As we smiled at each other, I felt something tickle my hand. Opening it up, we both looked down, a beautiful light red butterfly opening it’s wings. This had to be a sign, or at least something to add to the mood.

“I think this might stop the butterflies for now.”

“I hope so, but what if it has the opposite effect? What if more come?”

“Then we’ll be living in that greenhouse of yours.”

[shotosbabie]

𝓑𝓮𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓷||𝓑𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 𝓚𝓪𝓽𝓼𝓾𝓴𝓲

☽~ It's yo boi, back at it again with the tried-failed angst fic, it's a bit rushed as well, whoops

☽~ I got inspired by a song a again so here's the finished product

☽~ Warnings! Self harm, thoughts of suicide, swearing

☽~ Word count of 1.5k

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

You couldn't remember when you started being in and out of the hospital, but you knew it's been a long time now.

‘I got to know you’

Every day, there was a guy that visited the hospital, he had blonde spiky hair, his ruby eyes were always some type of anger. You never got to talk to him as he leaves in a rush and didn’t look like the type of guy that would hold a friendly chat. But as you were eating breakfast, the door was opened to him. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, a burst of colours, ranging to blue, yellow and orange. His eyes widened as he noticed that he walked in the wrong room.

You assumed that he’s been visiting the hospital for a long time now that he wouldn’t make a mistake of going inside someone else’s room. As he was about to leave, he mutters a quick ‘Sorry’. “Wait!” You yelled, he stops midway and looks at you, “What?” he said, slight annoyance in his voice. “I-.. can you stay? For a while?” you asked, the loneliness finally getting to you. “And why should I? I need to give these to someone” he replied. “Im way too lonely in this bland hospital, I haven’t gotten any real interaction with people my age, always old people. It’d be nice to talk to someone different and-” He cuts you off with a grunt, “Fine, after I give these to my grandma.. I’ll come back, I guess” He said as he shuts the door.

‘I told you countless, derailed stories’

“Why are you here? You seem healthy” he said. You shook your head, “I guess I’m not healthy enough.. It’s just they want me to take a few more tests and then I’ll be free!” You said, trying to get his mind off your condition, he clearly knows that but decided not to push. “Well I gotta go home, the old hag might be looking for me..” You smiled at him “You’ll come back right?” “I.. will”

‘Like a fractured hospital room, Im blankly waiting for you’

You waited for his presence for 2 months, but he never did come. Until one day. The door opened to the same blonde haired guy you’ve been waiting for. “You said you’ll be back.. 2 months ago”, he looked dejected and his eyes were red, “I couldn’t bring myself to come back to this fucking place” He said, his voice growing louder, “Why? Was it something that I said?” you asked. “No” “Then tell me what is it?! I waited for you, I thought you forgot about me” you said, “I couldn’t bring myself to come back here because back then I couldn’t handle that my grandma was gone!” He finally bursted. “So if you want to curse at me, do it, I don’t blame you” he said, his voice breaking.

‘Even as I curse you like that, and know it will bring sadness’

You tried standing up, but falling as you tried to step closer to Bakugou, he rushes to you, and whispers “I promise, I’ll visit you every day from now on”  as he picked you up and placed you back to you bed. “Thank you”

‘I hope you come looking for me’

He did as he promised and every visit he brought you flowers and just like the flowers, a relationship bloomed, Katsuki would tell you stories from his U.A journey, and promised that he’ll be the number one hero, just for you. “And then when were getting our licenses, shitty hair got turned into a blob and I had to fight the other extras” he told you, you smiled at his stories, placing a hand on top of his. “Anyways, I have to go study, big exams tomorrow. I’ll be back, as promised”

“Wait Katsuki! Take this” as you tried standing up, and handed him a blue envelope with a bear sticker, kissing him on the lips as you said “Let’s live happily, and hey have I told you I like you? Like a lot?” You clasped your hands. “Yes dummy. I like you too, a lot. Now rest well princess, I’ll read this later okay?” “No! Read it tomorrow after school! It’s a surprise!” you said heading back to the bed, as he tucked you in and kisses your forehead. “Sweet dreams angel”

‘And tell me with a kind voice that I did the right thing and ask how I’ve been’

“I hope Katsuki won’t be too mad at me”. As morning came, you took one look at the window, texting Katsuki ‘I miss you. Remember, let’s live happily yeah?’ as your nurse called you down, sitting on the wheelchair, “There’s a 50% that you’ll live and another 50% of..” she trailed off, not wanting to say what it is. “It’s fine, I hope it’s the good 50%” You joked around.

‘It’s gloomy and lonely, it seems like you’ll still hold onto me’

He couldn’t believe what he was reading, “A fucking good bye letter?! You better be fucking kidding Y/N” he said as he rushed to the hospital. As soon as he entered the hospital, dashing to your room, the doctors recognized him as they stopped the young man. The results were not as he expected. “She’s gone?” his voice was slowly breaking, just like his sanity. “I’m sorry, we did what we could”. He didn’t put up a fight, his mind was blurred, couldn’t think straight, as he dragged himself home, not answering to his parent’s questions. He just wanted to be alone.

‘But last night and even this very moment, it seems like I’m the only one who can’t sleep’

These past few nights were a struggle. He kept seeing her in his dreams, her voice saying “It’s not your fault”.

‘I hang myself like that, even as I know I’ll die’

He contemplated, but he knew you wouldn’t want that, you wanted him to be better than to mop around, you wanted him to achieve his goal, for the both of you, that’s the least he could do.

‘You didn’t throw me away, didn’t you?’

Some nights he thought that he just wasn’t good enough for you that you would just leave him like that, of course he didn’t blame you, that’d be heartless.

‘In a kind voice, you tell me you like me. And say let’s live happily’

He kept reading your letter and texts, like it was a broken recorder, the words stuck in his mind.

‘As you were about to cry, you tell me “I’m sorry I can’t see you”  but with those words now you can see me so I should embrace you, but why is it that I just pull out sharp scissors instead?’

He resorted to self harming, to numb the pain he’d say, but he knew he was just fooling himself. To justify his actions, it was stupid really.

‘Now you cover my eyes, you’re so calm but when you break down’

He took it as a sign, he would close his eyes to make him calm down, but he only sees your smiling face, tears were streaming down, his break downs were the worst. Heavy breathing, quickening heart pace and non stop warm tears.

‘How am I to resent you? Even now, we are connected. This isn’t your fault you know?’

“You know Y/N, it was pretty selfish of you, *hiccup* I can’t believe I lost you! You didn’t even tell me beforehand, I’ll never fall in love again *hiccup*. He cried so much that night, it became his routine, normal at day but broken by night.

‘Now it’s too late to say you don’t need any of that. Take a look at my wrists, already stained scarlet’

“I didn’t even get to say I love you” he cursed that damned hospital, it took 2 lives that he cared for very much. “We did everything we could, my ass” he mocked, as that’s the only way he knows how to cope, poor boy.

‘From what point was I unable to stand being within you? Couldn’t stand it’

Even though you told the most corniest jokes, the cheesiest pick-up lines, he would do anything to hear them again, but he couldn’t stand to hear someone else make the same jokes and pick-up lines like yours.

‘Even until this very moment. You whisper, “You’re the only one for me” You would call out my name with a smile’

After many consultations and comforting from loved ones he accepted the fact that you were gone, but never forgotten, he drove to be number one, just like promised. He knew you’d be smiling from up the heavens, proud of how far he’s become. Now walking to your grave, with the same flowers he used to give you every day, he still visits you every day, still talks about how his day was, talks to you like normal, like how it was before.

‘Goodbye to all that, everything. You said we were only a momentary relationship’

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

~Plus Ultra Peachie!

[mywingsareonwheels]

Coffee, cake, and ineffable solidarity - a fairytale on a sad day

We drifted by the shop twice before stepping in. Exhausted from the protest, cold, scared, sad, soaked to the skin. Fatigue and pain hitting. Really, really not ready to cope with the journey home yet.

And it’s not like the shop looked all that welcoming - dimly lit, a bit dusty. But it looked light, and warm, and more or less open. In sharp contrast to everywhere else. Bran managed to more or less navigate my wheelchair inside.

A white-blond curly head looked up from an endearingly old-fashioned counter, and then beamed at us. Then a tall, gangling person with red hair, a long black dress, and incongruous sunglasses rushed to stop the door closing on my back wheels before we were all the way in. I got the distinct impression that we’d passed some sort of test. I had no idea how.

The blond figure emerged from behind the counter -- suit, waistcoat, bow tie, and pocket watch all complete. He - I was assuming he - was about the most perfect owner of an antiquarian bookshop I could possibly imagine.

“I was about to close,” he said, “but you look like you could do with somewhere to be for a while. Coffee? Tea? Cocoa?”

“Oh Gods, coffee would be amazing,” I said. Bran seconded me heartily. The bookseller - Mr Fell, I assumed, from the name of the shop - ushered us both to a back area with a worn sofa, was blessedly unfazed when I got out of my wheelchair and snuggled up next to Bran, and went off into a small kitchen area to put on what sounded like a proper old-fashioned stove kettle.

The redheaded came to join us. “I’m Crowley; he’s Fell,” they said.

“I’m Bran.”

“Sulien.”

“You both use they pronouns, yeah?” They waved at our badges.

“Yes! You?”

“Ah, varies. Usually he, but today I kind of wanted to be in solidarity, y’know? Be a bit more visibly part of the awkward squad. Hence the dress. Well, that plus I look great in it.”

We agreed, grinning. They really did.

“So, they’s good just now. You been at the protest?”

“Yes.”

“Good for you. Ridiculous bloody result.”

I tried to speak, but suddenly found myself tearing up. I tried to apologise, but Crowley waved it away. They passed me a handkerchief (black, silk), and patted my shoulder. Bran kissed my head.

The kettle whistled. Fell came back in, bearing a tray of mugs, and a victoria sponge.

“You know,” said Fell, as he served us all coffee and cake, “there’s something exceedingly frustrating about humans sometimes.”

“There really is,” said Bran.

“And you’re both disabled and transgender, yes?”

“Yep,” said I. “Queer too.”

“Ah, yes.” Fell took Crowley’s hand. “So are we. At least, Crowley’s all three of those, and I only count as cisgender if you define it rather rigidly. I suppose we’re immigrants too, yes?” He turned to Crowley.

“Yes, angel,” said Crowley, grinning. “We are immigrants. Bloody proud of it too.”

“Yes,” said Fell. “So, um. Solidarity, my dears? You’re very welcome.”

We clinked our mugs together. The coffee was perfect. The cake was better.

Bran and I spent the whole evening in the shop. Nobody else came in. We got take away after a while. Fell brought out extraordinary amounts of alcohol, and when I told him that I don’t drink, served me a nonalcoholic wine that was uncannily similar to a Chateauneuf-du-Papes that I drank once in boozier days twenty years ago.

Fell was charming, odd, sweet, effortlessly generous. Crowley was caustic, funny, and gentle, with the manner of a rough character who has had to work on becoming kind, and thus gives that kindness both nervously and joyfully.

When we finally headed home, we both had that bit more hope and strength, all of our connections went smoothly, and all the lifts were working.

I remember that at one point I briefly mentioned to Crowley, who’d been muttering something about the need to make the Tories look as silly as possible, that I wished I could turn myself invisible and tie all their shoelaces together on their first day in parliament. I’d have cause to recollect that not long after. It was only Johnson’s, Raab’s, Duncan-Smith’s and Rees-Mogg’s in the end, but did give some great satisfaction to many people. So did the leaks to the press, not to mention the leaks in the 10 Downing Street bathroom.

I remember Bran and Fell both sharing an impassionated rant (very much in agreement!) about the need for determination and courage, for solidarity and compassion and love between all opposers of the far right, for those with privilege to honour and uphold those without. I had cause to bring that to mind too, in the weeks that followed.

I remember mentioning that I’m a singer, and being asked to sing something hopeful. I gave them a favourite of mine, a setting of words by Tolkien.

I will not say the day is done, I sang, Nor bid the stars farewell.

Crowley cried at that. Funny, how words and stories can bring good people together, even when everything seems lost.

[youngjusticeslut]

My Love, My Life

Fandom: Young Justice Links: FF.net // AO3 Characters:  Jade Nguyen, Roy Will Harper, Lian Harper Ships: Light RedCat Summary: All that mattered was that they were alive, and safe. If that meant removing herself from the equation, so be it. Rating: T Word Count: 3,854 words Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters.

“Jade, are you sure?” Paula asked, her fingers tightening around the handles of her wheelchair. “Think about it, please.”

Jade didn’t lift her eyes from her mug of tea. She knew her mother would react this way. She knew that she would try to convince her otherwise, to change her mind. Jade was set on her decision, she knew it was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do in this situation.

“Mom,” she warned. “There’s nothing to think about.”

“A baby could be a good thing. A new start,” Paula implored. She wheeled closer to Jade, resting a hand on her shoulder. “You won’t be alone.”

“Won’t I?” Jade scoffed. It’s not like Roy would be there; he didn’t even know this kid existed. The moment that obnoxious plus sign showed up on the stick, she’d grabbed a duffel and penned him a letter saying she was done. Jade wondered if he’d cared when he’d found her things missing, or if he’d just thrown back another bottle of liquor and continued his search. Either way, it hurt.

There were a lot of things Jade wasn’t sure about right now. What she was going to do with her life being one of them. It wasn’t like the Shadows would take her back so willingly, not after she’d betrayed them. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to live. A kid was the very last thing she needed, or wanted. With absolute certainty, the only thing Jade knew was that she wasn’t about to have this baby, his baby, alone.

“You won’t,” her mother promised, squeezing her shoulder hard. “I will help. Artemis will-”

“No,” Jade insisted. “No. I’m not considering this. Tomorrow morning, I’m going to the clinic.”

“You won’t even tell him?”

“Roy doesn’t need to know. Believe me,” Jade said, setting the tea down on the coffee table and standing up to leave. “He won’t even care.”

“You don’t know that. People can change.”

“Why on earth would a baby change him? I tried, Mom. I tried for years.” Jade couldn’t disguise the bitterness in her voice. Her mother could preach all the wanted, but Paula hadn’t been there. She hadn’t lived with him. She hadn’t begged him to come to bed, to forget about Speedy for just a few hours so he could rest. She hadn’t cooked for him, despite being unable to cook anything with more than three steps of preparation, because if she hadn’t, he wouldn’t have eaten anything. She hadn’t kissed him so hard just to bring him back, for only a minute or two, to be the man who had convinced her there was more to life than following other people’s orders.

“He’s gone,” Jade said, her shoulders sinking as she turned away. “A baby won’t bring him back.” The squeak of her mother’s wheelchair edging closer made her want to jump out the window and never look back.

“Jade, please. Look at me.”

“Mom-”

“Look at me.” When she didn’t, Paula grabbed her hand and turned her with a ferocity that Jade had forgotten she possessed. “When things get hard, you run. You think that it’s that easy? I know you’d love nothing more than to get rid of this child and move on with your life. But you can’t-”

“I can.”

“Enough, Jade,” Paula snapped in Vietnamese. Jade frowned; Vietnamese meant that Paula wasn’t in the mood for argument. “This isn’t something you can run from.”

Jade narrowed her eyes, snatching her hand away. “So what am I supposed to do, have this baby? Are you insane?” She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to ignore the nauseous churning in her stomach. “The moment this kid is out of me, the Shadows will come after it. Or maybe they won’t even wait that long. I wonder how long a pregnant person can last in a fight.”

“They won’t come after you,” Paula waved off.

“You’re a fool if you think that.”

“I was in the Shadows a lot longer than you were, I would know.”

“You didn’t betray them,” Jade spat.

“And what, you think that betrayals aren’t a common thing? Stop making excuses, Jade. If you want this child, we will make it work.”

Jade was about to retort back, but she paused. What did want have to do with anything? Having this child wasn’t a possibility; not in her line of work, at least. In her entire life, she’d never even entertained the thought of being a mom. What kind of shit mom would she make, anyway? Any kid she mothered would hate her before they were old enough to talk. And yet, if Roy were himself… she would have considered it.

“I’m not having this baby without its father,” she insisted, balling her fist. “And he’s in no position to be one.”

“Then go back to him, Jade. Set him right again.”

Jade shook her head before going to the door. “I can’t.” She rested her hand on the knob, letting out a shallow breath. “Not until I’ve found the real Roy Harper.”

--

Calling in her chips to find a lead on the original Harper had been the easy part.

Jade made use of every minute she wasn’t visibly showing and tracked down every potential favor she had. In a matter of months, she already had a solid idea of where to go next. When the baby started to kick, she put Cheshire away for a second time and rented an apartment in Star City. Roy didn’t live there anymore, but having their baby in the city in which he’d spent most of his time felt right.

Being pregnant was the harder part. If she had a choice between single handedly taking down a hundred Shadow lackeys or dealing with morning sickness for a week, she’d readily pick the former. At least then she knew what she was getting into. Nevertheless, she persevered through it. The baby was going to have enough of a difficult time with her and Roy as its genetic parents, the least she could do was give them their best chance at being born healthy. That meant going to every checkup, taking every uncomfortable test, and especially restraining herself from pushing too hard in her exercise regimen.

Paula begged her to stay in Gotham, but Jade knew that she wanted to be alone. She hadn’t even told Artemis. Sometimes she thought about popping in on her, given that her sister’s place at Stanford was so close. She changed her mind every time; Artemis didn’t need her pregnant sister making her life any more stressful. She was already upset at her as it was for leaving Roy. When Artemis had found out, she’d made a point to find Jade and attempt to talk some sense into her. She kept her mouth shut tight; Jade would tell her when the time was right.

At first, she put off finding out about the gender. Jade told herself she didn’t care what they were having. The bigger she got, the less she found it to be true. During her sixth month sonogram, she caved and asked.

The technician smiled. Her name was Linda something and she smelled of lavender. “Of course, Mrs. Harper. Give me just a few minutes.”

Jade tried her best not to grimace. When Roy proposed, he’d asked if she planned to change her name. Jade told him that if he ever so much as thought about it again, she would take a sai to his throat; it had almost made him smile. Jade Harper was the dumbest sounding name she could conceive of. The irony that she was using it for all her doctor’s appointments didn’t escape her. As far as they knew, she was Jade fucking Harper and her husband adored her but worked too often to attend any of her appointments.

She wished it were true.

Linda looked closely at the screen, slowly moving the wand around on her stomach. After a few moments, she nodded in triumph.

“You’re having a girl. Congratulations.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s perfectly healthy. Nothing to worry about.”

Jade let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

--

“I’m not sure whether to congratulate you, or kill you.”

“Either option carries its pros and cons, Crusher.”

Jade hadn’t been too surprised when her father met her outside the doctor’s office after one of her appointments. She knew it would only be a matter of time before he found out, and honestly she was impressed that it had taken him this long. Either Paula had told him, or her dad really did keep tabs on her. She wasn’t sure which one annoyed her most.

“Seems you’ve gotten yourself into quite a mess, little girl,” her father growled, keeping up with her brisk walking pace. “Pregnant with the clone’s kid. Who woulda thought?”

“Lian,” Jade corrected. “Her name is Lian.”

Lawrence rolled his eyes. “How original. Does she even know?”

“Nope. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t tell her.”

Her skin crawled at his amused expression, and she wished that she could gouge his eyes out for the way he looked at her stomach.“Don’t think you’re in much of a position to be making threats, Jade. Besides, I have better things to do with my time.”

It took a remarkable amount of control to keep Jade from attacking him in public. It was moments like this that she knew laying low was the worst decision she’d ever made. “What do you want, Dad?”

“Just wanted to see how my little girl was doing. Thought I’d take her out to lunch, make sure she was eating for two.”

“I’d rather get hit by a truck.”

“Coffee, then.”

“I don’t drink coffee.” She walked faster, but it didn’t help. Given her condition, he could outpace her without even trying.

“Jade.” Lawrence grabbed her arm, stopping her from going any further. “You know you can’t have this kid.”

“Watch me.”

--

Lian looked like her father.

Jade held the infant in her arms, still in a state of shock despite delivering her hours ago. The hospital was quiet, given that it was just past three in the morning. People were probably sleeping. Lian was sleeping too, nestled in her thin arms without a care in the world. Jade couldn’t even think of sleep. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from her daughter, unable to believe that she’d made something so small, so innocent.

Babies were supposed to cry when they were born. That’s what Jade had thought, at least. Imagine the panic she’d felt when no cry came. She’d resolved herself to the worst, but then the infant coughed and the doctors announced she was just fine. Jade hadn’t let her go since.

She ran her fingers along her daughter’s feathery hair, wanting to cry at how red it was. Roy should be here, and in that moment she hated herself for not telling him. She hated herself, and yet she knew she’d made the right decision. Roy was in no place to raise Lian, not yet at least. Their daughter deserved the world, she deserved everything that she could give her. She deserved much better than a broken father.

It was good that Jade had done this alone. Artemis would have teased her for the way she cried when she first held her. Paula would have cried with her, and Jade would have just felt guilty. No, she didn’t regret any decision she’d made regarding how Lian was born. For now, she was hers, and hers alone. Jade wouldn’t have given that up for the world.

In a few weeks, she’d follow up on those leads. She would do everything in her power to find the original Roy and bring her Roy back to himself. But for now, Jade was content to just hold Lian and press her lips to her head, promising that she’d make everything right.

For her, she had to.

--

If she were being honest, Roy and her didn’t make a bad team.

Artemis looked about ready to call child protective services when Jade had told her that Roy and her were parents. Jade didn’t blame her. On paper, Roy and her were the last people who should have ever been given the responsibility of a baby. Somehow, they made it work out in their own way.

It wasn’t anything close to normal. Between finding the original Roy Harper and her sister’s faked death, tension had been a constant presence in their new apartment. Her Roy still wasn’t completely back to himself, but he was getting better. Some nights he still refused to sleep, but instead of turning to heroin and alcohol, he held their daughter and rocked her. More often than not, Lian slept between them, both of them on the alert and ready to protect her if need be.

They still fought, but they always would. Lian would laugh if voices were raised, and Jade would smirk at the wary look on Roy’s face. He was convinced it wasn’t normal, but what could she say? It was genetic.

Roy was better with Lian than she was. He knew what she wanted when she cried, something Jade still had difficulty deciphering. Roy had more patience for her games, repeated back her baby talk with vivid encouragement and was happy to do the annoying things. Jade did her best not to show just how content she was. He was finally happy, with a new purpose. Not that she’d ever admit it, but her mother had been right.

“Jade?”

“In the kitchen,” she responded, rinsing out the last of Lian’s bottles and setting it on the drying rack. Roy had taken Lian to the park with Kaldur. Out of respect, she kept her distance from the Atlantean. She hadn’t completely forgiven him for the stunt he’d pulled with Artemis.

“Mama!” Jade turned to see Lian, wobbling to her on unsteady feet. She’d just started walking and insisted on doing so everywhere that she could. Jade bent to her knees and scooped up Lian as she came closer, kissing her cheeks. She pretended not to notice the tender look on her husband’s face as she did so.

“Did you have fun at the park with Daddy?”

The toddler nodded enthusiastically and Jade picked her up , resting her against her hip. “She was good?”

Roy nodded, taking a water bottle out of the fridge. “She’ll be out any minute. Poor Kal, I think she wore him out more than he did her. She had both of us chasing her, and she’s fast, Jade.”

“Maybe she’s the daughter of the other redhead,” she noted without thinking. They both fell quiet as they realized the impact of what she said, but Roy kissed her cheek and broke it first.

“Can’t be. She likes arrows too much.”

“Rows,” Lian chirped, looking around for the objects. Jade shook her head and smoothed down her hair.

“Not yet, kid. Not until you’re three.”

“Jade.”

“Fine, six.”

“Doesn’t that terrify you?” Roy asked, opening up the water bottle and taking a long drink. When he finished, he wiped his mouth and looked back at Lian. He’d been right, she was starting to fall asleep. “She’s going to have both our skill sets. She’ll be a menace.”

Jade held her daughter closer, unable to answer. There were plenty of things that terrified her; Lian taking their mantle wasn’t one of them.

--

“I think she’s growing less ginger by the day.”

“Shut up, Dad.” Jade watched Lian climb the steps to the slide, keeping a careful eye in case she should fall. They were the only ones in the park, but she was always on alert. Her father sitting on the bench beside her certainly didn’t help. Oddly enough, he was watching after Lian just as intently as she was.

“How’s the clone?”

“None of your concern.” He was going by Will, now. Artemis had moved in with them six months ago, so her and Will decided it was time to purchase a house. They chose Star City, figuring it was only right to come full circle. Lian adored their new home almost as much as she adored having her aunt and Brucely around full time.

After a little while, Lawrence sighed and broke his gaze away from Lian, instead looking directly at Jade. “How long do you think you can keep this up, little girl? You can’t play house forever.”

Jade narrowed her eyes, refusing to meet his gaze and instead continuing to watch as Lian slid down the slide and squealed in glee.

“Jade.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Jade, they’ll find out. You may be an idiot, but you’re not stupid enough to think that they’ll never come after you.”

He was right. It hurt all the more, coming from him. Lian clambered off the slide and immediately went to the steps to go again. She’d just turned two last week.

“I don’t want to leave them.”

“You don’t have a choice, little girl. You made your bed when you betrayed them. Now you have to live with it. It’s either you, or them, Jade.”

“There has to be another way,” Jade insisted, finally looking at her father. His expression bore the same sourness it usually did, but it lacked the mocking malice it often carried with it.

“Not this time, Jade. If you want them safe, you have to go back.”

She turned her head away so he wouldn’t see the tears burning in her eyes. Lian cheered again as she flew down the slide. When she finished, she ran up to Jade, grinning ear to ear. “Mommy! See me? See?” she chirped.

Jade nodded but found herself unable to smile. “I did, Li. I did.”

--

Will slept beside her, his arm heavy on her waist. He’d taken her and Lian to see his new office today. Bowhunter Security, he called it. If she hadn’t been so distraught at what she was about to do, she would have told him how proud of him she was. He had everything he ever needed here. A home, a family, and now a business.

She was about to destroy everything.

Carefully, she untangled herself from his hold, going slow so she wouldn’t wake him up. The last thing she wanted was a confrontation. He wouldn’t forgive her either way, but at least this way she wouldn’t have to see his face. When she was out of the bed, she plucked her duffle bag out from under it and went to the kitchen to get dressed.

Brucely stirred as she entered the kitchen and padded up to her. She didn’t particularly care for the dog, but she gave it a gentle pat to try and convince him to go back to sleep. It worked. He wasn’t too much of a barker, so she wasn’t worried on that front. It was odd getting dressed in front of a dog, but what could she do? She couldn’t risk waking anyone up.

The baseball cap felt heavier than it ever had before. She kept telling herself that this was the right thing to do, that she was doing it for them. Lian and Will would have each other, that was what mattered. They had each other, and Artemis and the dog and all their friends. Jade was just extra, they would be just fine without her there. Lian was young, she would forget her mother in a few months. Artemis would serve as a good enough, maybe even better, replacement.

Jade hoisted her duffel on her shoulder and went to say goodbye to her daughter. It was likely that she’d wake her up, but it didn’t matter. She wanted to hold her one last time, lost in her own thoughts, just as she had on the night she was born. Jade opened the door to Lian’s room, her heart aching at how lavish it was. Will and her had given Lian everything she would need outside of spoiling her, both of them agreeing to give Lian the childhood they never had.

Her daughter slept peacefully in her new bed. She’d outgrown the crib a few weeks ago. It made things easier now. Jade set the duffel on the floor and crawled in beside her, lifting Lian up into her arms and holding her tight against her chest. Just as expected, the toddler stirred. “Mommy..?” she mumbled.

“It’s okay, Li. It’s just me. Mommy missed you.”

Lian yawned and nodded, resting her head against Jade. “Mommy okay?”

Jade nodded, running her fingers through her auburn hair. No, she would never be okay. Not with this. “Yeah. Don’t you worry,” she whispered, kissing her head sweetly.

“Okay. Love you.” Within moments, she was asleep again, her hand clutching onto her mother’s shirt. Jade ran She was better off without her. Will was all she would need. He and her sister would make sure that she was safe and taken care of. They’d make sure she was loved, and protected at all costs. Jade would be doing her part, but from the outside.

All that mattered was that they were alive, and safe. If that meant removing herself from the equation, so be it. Not a day would go by that she wouldn’t think about her, but it wouldn’t matter. Lian was more important, she was her life now. She’d do whatever it took to protect her.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket; Lawrence was waiting for her outside.

If there was ever a time to cry, it would have been as she tucked Lian back into bed, alone. Jade was past tears now. She’d made her choice, and it was the right one. Jade bent down and kissed Lian’s head one last time, her fingers still buried in her hair.

I love you. So much.

Jade thought it, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. If Lian woke up again, she’d never leave her. She straightened up, Lian’s hair slipping through her fingers as she pulled away. Without looking back, she picked up her duffel and opened the window, climbing through with relative ease.

She met Lawrence at the end of the street. His face pinched in annoyance as she finally arrived. “Took you long enough,” he muttered.

Jade narrowed her eyes, pushing away the thoughts of the sleeping family she’d left behind. “You mentioned a new partner?”

“They won’t be easy on you. You’ve gotten yourself quite a reputation, little girl,” he noted, shoving his hands in his pockets as he began to walk.

Jade lowered the baseball cap over her eyes. “Do they know?”

“Not the specifics. You’ll have to be careful.”

“So I can’t come back.”

“No, Jade.”

Jade nodded, resisting the urge to look back at the house. It wouldn’t do her any good. When it was safe, she’d come back to see her again from a distance. Maybe she’d run into Artemis, get her to tell her something about her daughter. It would have to be good enough.

“Then let’s get it done.”

[colormusicdying]

When It Rains . . .    .49.

If I had written the book i'm not going to write because I am writing this, there would have been a chapter titled: "The Hundred Things I Never Told You." All those things, way more than 100 really, plus all the things I have told you, is why I have PTSD.

In this life, the 100 things were things we had to do as defiance, statements that say come on and get us, there is no quit here. You can take life away, but you can't take away our life. It's a nasty fight beating on you every day, and it is exhausting. In the fight you wake up and you're crying and then you realize you weren't asleep and so you didn't wake up, you are just awake, crying. You know the day it started; you don't know the day it will end.

Honestly, it is hard to go through 100 things like this:

Before the first brain surgery, there was, among other things, the Wada test. This test is a very old-fashioned test to check to see what side of a brain does what, so the surgeon will know how to approach removing the tumor. The patient goes to the hospital, gets dressed in a gown and answers some simple questions. But before that, the patient must sign a paper which says they may die during the procedure.

The procedure begins by cutting into the femoral artery and running a tube up to one side of the brain and somehow chemically shutting off that side. The questions are asked again, and that is repeated by pulling the tube back out and running up to the other side of the brain, shutting it off and asking the questions again. In the recovery room, they say now you must not move for seven hours or you might bleed and die.

We did that. I waited with Pam for the seven hours while they brought her little drinks, and she did not move. Did not die right there. Then we went to dinner with friends. Even though this was before the surgery, her eyesight was already damaged and she really couldn't read the menu. We faked ordering together so no one would know.

When you have had your hundred things, or your thousand things, you can start feeling like every bad thing is directed at you. You drop the saltshaker and it breaks. You're trying to hurry out the door but stub your toe, trip and fall, tearing your new clothes. You brought home milk from the store, but it was already spoiled.

For me, PTSD means when I walk out the door, I expect a brick to fall on my head. So many things have gone wrong. With all this, the daily ordeal of illness and death, you can feel the rain is beating on you. And it is, but

All over the world, people like you are getting Wada tests. Staples in their head. Crashing into a dashboard. Falling out of their wheelchair. Trips to the ER in the night. A banging MRI. Breast cancer. Infusions every week. Skin cancer. Chemotherapy. Brain surgery. Calm after a storm. Flowers for their birthday. A gooey cupcake. A kiss before falling asleep. A forever beloved present. An anniversary dinner. A good, silly laugh. The best coffee ever. A very heartfelt Valentine. Some things that go right.

When it rains . . . the saying goes that it pours, and it sure feels like pouring, but it isn't pouring on only YOU . . .

    It's just raining.

[grootiez]

The Joys of Raising a Teenaged Groot- Chapter 46: Independence

As soon as Groot arrived back at the nursing home and he was in his room in the Transition Wing, there was a knock on his door. The other Guardians came by to visit him and Rocket.

“Hey, Groot, Rocket.” Peter warmly greeted them. “How’re you guys?” He asked as Groot let forth a big yawn.

“We’re doing good.” Rocket replied to Peter���s question. “Groot’s a little tired though. We hit a little bit of traffic coming back, so he wants to go and take a nap.”

“Oh, okay. Well, uh, we can leave if you want.” Peter scratches his head as he turns to the other Guardians.

“No, stay.” Groot called out as he used his talker to communicate his wishes. “I’d rather have you guys over just having only Daddy all the time.”

“Alright, Groot. We’ll stay overnight in town for a few days so we can hang out.” Peter responded as he leaned on the handlebars of Groot’s wheelchair. “Plus, I agree with you. I think that even a sane person would be driven crazy if they only had Rocket around for company.” He whispered in Groot’s ear, as the teen croaked forth a laugh, while forgetting at the same time that Rocket has enhanced hearing.

“I heard that...” Rocket grumbled loudly so that Peter could hear him as Azrik entered the room.

“Hey, guys.” Azrik greeted the Guardians as he looked at Rocket. “Uh, Groot’s therapists want to see him right now if that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah, that’s alright with me.” Rocket replied. “If it’s important, then definitely get him down there.” Groot groaned at his father’s answer, as he wanted time to relax.

They got Groot down to the therapy wing. Groot, surprisingly, was upbeat as Azrik pushed him into the room.

“Hi, Groot.” Talia greeted him as she was putting some equipment that one of her other patients was using for their session away. “You ready to get started?” She asked as Groot squeaked.

“Oh, guys, as you can see, Groot had his halo removed a couple of days ago and he no longer needs to wear his neck brace.” Azrik informs Talia and the other therapists. “He’s afraid to move his neck, though, so can you guys work with him on that?”

“Yes, of course.” One of Groot’s other therapists, Miska, answered Azrik. “Anything else you want us to check on?”

Azrik glanced at Rocket, who gave him an approving nod.

“Yes, there is one more thing that we want to check on with Groot.” Azrik replied. “As Rocket was getting him ready to come back here, he noticed that Groot made his big toe on his right foot twitch. On his own. So, I want to see if Groot has regained any feeling in his legs at all and what that could possibly mean for him.” Azrik stated.

“Alright, well, we can take Groot over to the massage room where we can use the electrodes to see if he has any other reflexes or sensations in his legs.” Zeliek proposed as they went into the massage room and Qu’lo and Talia lifted Groot onto the exam table and attached the electrodes to the teen’s legs. “Groot, it’s okay, you won’t be wearing the electrodes for long and we’re not even going to be putting them on your arms, we just want to see if you have any feeling in your legs or if you can move them a little.”

After they got the electrodes on Groot’s legs, Miska activated them. At first, she had it on the lowest setting, so not to scare Groot, and slowly turned it up. Somewhere around one of the middle intensities, Groot let out a squeak.

“What is it, Groot?” Rocket quavered, a trembling paw reaching for Groot’s hand. “What is it, buddy?”

Groot looked at his legs, confused.

Azrik took out a pen from his shirt’s front pocket, the cap still on the end. “Groot, can you feel this?” He asked as Groot gave a confirming squeak.

This stunned Rocket. He couldn’t believe what he just saw. Groot was starting to regain feeling in his right leg, the same one that Groot twitched his toe on.

“Alright, Groot, can you feel this on your other foot?” Azrik then repeated the same action on the sole of Groot’s left foot. Unfortunately, Groot showed no reaction.

Groot was on the verge of tears, thankfully, Rocket was there to console his son. “Groot, it’s okay. It’s okay, you did good.” Groot still was upset. “Hey, you’re gonna have to take it slowly. Do you see me crying? I’m proud of you no matter what.” Rocket placed his finger underneath Groot’s chin to make him look at his father in the eyes. The raccoon then kissed Groot on the forehead as his therapists disconnected the electrodes from the teenager’s legs. “I love you, Groot.”

“Okay, Groot, you ready to go to your therapy session now?” Azrik asked as Groot squeaked. Qu’lo and Zeliek lifted Groot from the table and got him into his wheelchair.

Groot’s therapy session went by without a hitch. Talia and Miska worked with Groot on moving his head and neck without pain and by the end of the session, Groot has mastered that with flying colors.

“Hey, Groot, you did such a good job today that we’re going to let you leave therapy a little early today so that you can go and do something fun with your family.” Azrik told Groot and the other Guardians as somebody came into the therapy wing pushing something that was covered by a huge canvas cover.

The person asked Azrik if another patient was in the therapy wing. Azrik replied that the other patient was outside with their caretaker, who he would text to bring the patient in to test out the thing that was brought to them today.

Groot was curious as to what was underneath that drape. “What’s underneath there?” He asked with his talker.

The visitor took off the cover. Underneath was a brand new power wheelchair. It was a mid wheel drive power wheelchair with all of the upgrades loaded on it.

Groot was interested. “Can I try it out?” He begged Azrik and Rocket.

Azrik was gentle in answering Groot’s question. “Sorry, Groot, but that’s not for you. Your therapists and I have to decide if you’re even ready to use a powered wheelchair. Maybe down the road as you get stronger and can use your hands better.”

Rocket wouldn’t take no for an answer to Groot’s progress and willingness to try something that would give him more independence. “But, Azrik, you’re always saying that you guys are constantly trying to find ways for Groot to become independent. The other patient ain’t even here yet, so how about Groot tries it out until the chair’s new owner shows up?” The raccoon proposed as Azrik got another text from his phone.

“Alright, Rocket.” Azrik nodded as he tucked his cell phone away in his pocket. “Groot can try out the chair. The chair’s owner needed to take a nap anyways, so that gives us an hour and a half for Groot’s test drive.”

Azrik and Zeliek unbuckled Groot from his current wheelchair and carefully lifted him into the powerchair. Groot was surprised at how much more comfortable the power wheelchair’s seat was compared to his manual wheelchair’s seat. Instead of a cloth back and a cloth gel seat cushion, the powerchair had a back that was completely stitched in black leather, as well as ergonomic handlebars for pushing when the chair lost its battery charge and an air/gel seat cushion that was leather too. The headrest was larger and contoured better for Groot’s head and neck and as an added bonus, provided ample room for his protective helmet. The chair even had a full lighting system complete with both front and rear lights, flashing blinkers, and left and right turn signals. The seat belt, chest harness, and foot straps on the dual footrests were more comfortable for Groot too and wouldn’t dig into his skin, as all the restraints were padded considerably. The full-length armrests carried on the leather, but were a very soft (and squishy) gel material. Also, the armrests were contoured and molded so that Groot’s arms could sit comfortably in them and wouldn’t need the tie down straps for his arms. One more added feature of the armrests was the single post that was built in, but if Groot had to get in the chair from the side, the post would unlock from the frame and the armrest could flip out of the way for the transfer.

“How do you like that chair, Groot?” Qu’lo asked the teenager as Groot attempted to give a thumbs up. “You want to see how it works?” He added as Groot nodded.

“Groot, can you push this button?” Talia pointed to the button that she wanted Groot to press on the joystick. Groot obliged as the touchscreen on the joystick and all the push buttons lit up.

“Alright, Groot, is it?” The salesman got the teen’s attention. “Hi, Groot. I’m Rhojak and I’m going to show you how you can use this chair.”

Rhojak directed Groot’s attention back to the joystick. “How about we start with the electric recline? Now, Groot, can you tap the back of the chair’s picture on the screen so it lights up?” Groot did as he was told. “Okay, now pull the joystick handle back.” Groot has a little bit of trouble with this, so Rocket helps him out.

“We can get a handle for Groot that’s easier to grip for him.” Azrik told the Guardians. “I would recommend that Groot gets the Terran Football Post handle.” He advised Rhojak as the salesman monitored the recline on the chair.

“That would be my recommendation as well, so I’ll write that down on the order form.” Rhojak agreed as Groot went back all the way on the powered recline.

“Groot doesn’t look too comfortable laying like that.” Mantis observed.

“Well, he’s going to put his feet up next.” Rhojak replied. He then guided Groot’s right hand over the touchscreen again as Groot pressed the picture for the footrest. “That’s right, Groot. Now just do the same thing that you did for the recline.” Groot obeyed as the electronic footrest went up and his feet were elevated. “You’re a fast learner, aren’t you, Groot?” He complimented the teenager.

“Then why can’t he pass English in his Terran Studies?” Peter muttered to himself as Rocket casted the humie an angry look.

“Groot, do you want to sit back up now?” Rhojak asked Groot as the teen nodded. “Alright, now you can do each mode separately, or you can do both at the same time and I’m going to show you how to do that. Now, do you see how you have the footrest selected right now?” Groot nodded again. “Okay, select the back on the touchscreen.” Groot did as he was told. “Good. You see how both the footrest and the back are highlighted? When you use the joystick-.”

Groot didn’t need Rhojak to finish his instruction to know how to bring himself back into a sitting position.

“Groot, if you don’t want your legs stretched out, but you still want to lay back and relax, the chair has a tilting function that you can use to achieve that. Now to tilt the chair, touch the seat of the chair on the joystick and-.” Rhojak began as Groot figures out how to put the top half of the wheelchair into tilting mode. “Alright then...”

“What else can this chair do for Groot?” Drax asked.

“The last major seat function of the chair is that it has a seat lift built in so that Groot can get another point of view of the world around him.” Rhojak explains. “Now Groot, to make the seat go up, tap the base of the chair on the touchscreen.” Groot did this effortlessly as he pushed the joystick forward and he was now at the maximum height that the powerchair would allow.

“Hey, Groot. Did you grow another inch or two?” Peter said jokingly as everyone, including Groot, laughed.

“Groot, you did so good on learning how to control the chair so that you’re comfortable in it.” Azrik complimented the teenager.

“Groot can learn anything mechanical and how it works pretty fast.” Rocket stated as Groot brought the chair seat back to its natural position. “He has a gift there.”

“Yeah, like Groot trying to blow up the Milano when he was a baby!” Peter coughed, hoping Rocket wouldn’t take notice.

Rocket turns to Peter, tapping his footpaw angrily and crossing his arms. “Excuse you, Star-Munch?”

“Nothing...” Peter pipes up, not wanting to get into a fight with the raccoon.

“Nice job, Groot.” Azrik praised the teen. “Now what do you want to learn?”

Groot glanced over to his talking device, which was still mounted on his own manual wheelchair. “What else is there to learn?” He asked through his talker.

“There’s plenty of things to learn.” Rhojak told Groot. “Do you see those toggle buttons located behind the joystick? If you’re having issues with the touchscreen, you can always press those buttons to control the positioning of the chair.” He demonstrates how the buttons work. “Anything else?”

Groot was staring at the base of the chair. “Does this thing have lights too?”

“As a matter of fact, it does. It has nighttime lights, warning lights and turn signals too both on the front and the back, so people won’t bump into you if you want to make a turn.” Rhojak told Groot. “Now, that’s everything. Do you want to take it for a test drive?” Groot nodded as he began to tilt the seat. “Uh, sorry, Groot, the chair won’t let you drive it if you have it tilted or reclined. But you can drive with the seat lift applied. You can’t go full speed, but you can drive at half speed.” He told Groot as the teenager activated the seat lift. “See how it brings you up to eye-level with other people? That makes it better for you to interact with people.”

Groot then test drove the power wheelchair around the therapy room with Azrik, Rhojak, and his therapists as the Guardians looked on. Azrik and Groot’s therapists looked at how Groot was driving the powerchair and gave Rhojak recommendations on what would make Groot’s own power wheelchair optimal for the teenager. They then returned to talk to Rocket and the other Guardians.

“Well, Groot, you did so well driving the power wheelchair that I’m going to recommend that you get one of your very own.” Azrik stated as Groot cheered. “Now, you will have to wait a couple months so that it can be built and customized for you, and get things like a holder for your talking device, a telescoping pole for your feeding bag, and a lap tray, but you’re going to be getting one so that you can be more independent.”

“Yeah, customize it so that Groot can’t run over our toes.” Peter commented as Rocket growled at him.

“Well, this chair model does it one better.” Rhojak stated as he took off a similar joystick from its holder on the backrest which was connected to the wheelchair by a cord. “This is what’s called an attendant control and it has all of the features and functions of the main joystick, but if Groot gets tired or can’t drive the chair on his own, you can do it all from back here.”

“Now, Groot, it’s time for you to pick out what your chair is going to look like.” Azrik mentioned. “What color do you want the tires to be? Black or gray?” He asked as he held up the two pictures of the tire tread colors. Groot pointed to the black tires.

“I agree with you, son.” Rocket patted Groot on the back. “The black tires will give your chair an edgier look.”

Azrik then flipped the brochure over to another page. “Now, Groot, what color do you want your chair to be?”

“What’s wrong with the color of the chair he’s sitting in now?” Rocket questioned as he Peter, Gamora, Drax, Nebula, Kraglin, and Mantis stifled their words. Rocket looks at them quizzically. “What?”

“Rocket, do you think that Groot wants a HOT PINK power wheelchair?” Peter said while trying to suppress his laughter.

The raccoon then looked at the wheelchair that Groot was sitting in. There was no mistaking the hue of color in that it was the pinkest pink that’s ever been pinked. The rodent was flushed in embarrassment. “Well, yeah, I mean, uh... LOOK, Groot can have whatever color he wants. I’m not gonna force my choice on him. And by the way, real men like pink. It doesn’t mean ANYTHING, Quill so stop smiling!” Rocket snapped at the humie as Peter backed away. “So, Groot, pick out your new chair’s color.”

Groot looked at the different color options for his chair. He then settled for a bright green color.

“Ah. Taluhnian Forest. Nice choice, Groot.” Rhojak said as he wrote down the color name on the order form. “Now, would you like the trispokes on the wheels to match? How about your joystick? What about the cover for the backrest? And do you want the attendant control to have the same color too?” Groot nodded at each option as it was read to him. Rhojak checked off each box.

“Alright, Groot. Your therapy session is over with for the day.” Azrik told the teen as he unbuckled Groot from the powerchair, carefully picked him up and placed him into his manual wheelchair. “You can go hang out with your family and I’ll give the order form over to Rhojak so that we can build your new power wheelchair.” He added as he buckled Groot in.

“Now when can Groot expect his new chair to be ready?” Gamora inquired as she placed her hands on the stroller handle of Groot’s manual wheelchair.

“If everything goes right and there’s no delays, probably by the time he comes back here from his home trial run.” Azrik answered as Groot cheered. “Now, I have to finish talking to Rhojak about your new chair and attend a couple of meetings, but Groot, I’ll see you just in time for your nighttime feeding.” Azrik said as the Guardians left with Groot in tow.

Groot waved goodbye to his personal caretaker as the Guardians pushed him to his room so that he could decide what to do with the free time that he had with his family.————————————————————————————————————————

Read on Ao3.————————————————————————————————————————

@trashpandaorigins @thejollymilano @thatcrappypuppy @madness-on-the-milano @mattchewystuff @rr4901 @rocket-roquill-raccoon @rocket-ringtail-raccoon @sesshouki @skarabrae-stone @janetgenea @thejollymilano @vic394 @whoop-whoop-grocket @woozletania @canuckscot @i-sudoku @netbug009 @pineapple-crow @sesshouki @skarabrae-stone

[perryavenue]

Elementary, My Dear Anderson; Complete!

Chapter Thirteen                                Also on AO3

Chapter One Chapter Two  Chapter Three  Chapter Four  Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve

Note: This fic is complete! I hope you've had as much fun reading it as I've had writing it. Thank you for coming along for the ride on this Klaine/Sherlock Holmes mash-up! Huge thanks to @flowerfan2, my beta, my dear friend, and the one who happily pushed me into resurrecting this two year old idea from the ashes. And thank you to @slayediest @klaineadvent and @todaydreambelieversfic for keeping the candle lit for us.

Day 24: Santa

“Blaine? Blaine, honey, can you hear me? Do you know where you are?”

Blaine felt like he was swimming up from deep water.  Everything seemed really heavy and slow.  He tried opening his eyes but the light was too bright and it hurt.  His head ached, he was nauseous, and the left side of his body was sore. What had happened to him? He would be panicking, except that was Kurt’s voice next to him, and Kurt holding his hand tightly. He tried squeezing back, but he seemed to have lost most of his strength. A lighter press would have to do.

He smelled Kurt’s cologne, and then felt his lips on his cheek. Maybe he should try opening his eyes again.

There was his husband, his face bent down close to his, with red-rimmed eyes and a very scared expression on his face.  That was a look that never failed to gut Blaine. All he wanted to do was make it go away.

“Hey,” Blaine said softly. “What happened?”

Kurt swallowed and gripped Blaine’s hand more tightly. Blaine tried to lift his other arm to pull Kurt to him, which was when he realized it was tethered to an IV. That frightened him.

“Kurt! Am I okay?”

Someone else came into view, a woman wearing a white medical coat.

“Hi, Blaine. I’m Dr. Abutra. I’m a neurologist, and you’re at Lima Memorial Hospital. You’re going to be fine.  Nothing’s broken. You hurt your head, and we’re treating you for a mild concussion. You also have bruising along your left arm and ribs. Do you remember what happened to you?”

Blaine’s thoughts seemed all jumbled.  He had memories of Kurt as Sherlock Holmes and him as Dr. Watson (why was he Dr. Watson? Kurt had been in that play, not him!), and somehow, most of the people they knew in Lima had been involved, too.

Blaine closed his eyes again. “I’m trying to remember but everything seems all mixed up.  I think it’s making me feel worse. Ugh, my head hurts, and my stomach...”

“That’s okay,” Dr. Abutra said soothingly.  “That’s a normal response to a concussion.  No more questions for a while, then. Try not to think too hard about anything right now. Do you meditate?”

Blaine started to nod but doing that hurt, too. “Yes.”

Dr. Abutra looked pleased. “Good. Concentrate for now on emptying your mind and breathing slowly, in through your nose and out through your mouth.” Blaine immediately began to do just that, and found it helped.

Kurt still looked worried. “Can I stay with him?”

Dr. Abutra nodded. “Of course.  But it is starting to get late. We’re going to keep him overnight for observation.  Right now, the best thing for him is rest.  So you should decide if you want to go home at some point, and come back in the morning, or stay here. Blaine, I’ll be back to check on you later.”

Once they were alone, Blaine pressed Kurt’s hand again. “My eyes are closed because the light hurts, but I’m awake. You can talk to me.”

Kurt leaned down to kiss Blaine again, and he could feel the wetness from Kurt’s tears.  

“Please don’t cry. You heard what the doctor said. I’m going to be fine.”

Kurt wiped his eyes with a tissue. “You have no idea how scared we were. They couldn’t tell us if you were badly hurt or not until maybe a half hour ago, when all the test and scan results came back.”

Blaine shifted slightly on the mattress to get more comfortable. “How long have I been like this?”

“Maybe four hours? I don’t think you’ve been unconscious the whole time though.  The doctors and nurses said you were mumbling a lot. They actually got concerned, thinking you were hallucinating.”

Kurt giggled despite himself.  “They said they couldn’t make out most of what you were saying, but one word you kept repeating was ‘Holmes.’  They thought that maybe you were a builder or worked in real estate until I figured out you must have been talking about my play.”

Blaine groaned. “Oh my god. It was like I had entered a parallel universe.  We and our friends all existed but somehow did different things? You and I had English accents, I was Watson, and I don’t even think we were married to each other.  Plus Rachel made a pass at me.”

“No way!” Kurt exclaimed. But then he looked thoughtful. “You know, for Rachel, that’s not a surprise.”

Blaine groaned again, but this time from the headache and nausea.  “I think I may have just pushed my brain too hard. I’m going to do the breathing exercises again.”

Kurt sighed. “Oh sweetie. Let me go outside for a minute to speak to Dad and Carole while you rest. I’ll fill them in, and we’ll figure out what we’re doing.  I’m the only one they’re allowing to see you for now. I’ll be back.” Kurt leaned down and kissed Blaine again, but on the lips.

Blaine smiled, keeping his eyes closed.

*

The next morning, Kurt was at his husband’s side, both listening to the nurse’s discharge instructions.

“Blaine, for the next few days, you need to take it easy.  That means you want to limit your thinking/remembering activities to prevent your symptoms from getting worse.”

Blaine and Kurt nodded. That was easy, Blaine thought. He could do that.

“You also need to avoid any strenuous physical activity.”

Blaine and Kurt exchanged glances.  Did that mean no sex??

The nurse caught on and smiled at them. “I’m sure you can figure out how to be intimate in gentle ways. It’s only for a few days.  The rule of thumb for any activity is, if the activity worsens your symptoms, don’t do it until you can tolerate it. If your symptoms don’t worsen, then the activity is okay.  Also get plenty of nighttime sleep.  Give your body what it needs to heal.”

They talked for a few more minutes.  Then Blaine signed off on his discharge papers. The nurse gave him the written instructions to take home. “The wheelchair attendant will be here in a few minutes to take you out. Kurt, do you need to bring your car around?”

“No, my dad will be waiting for us at the front entrance.  I just have to text him when we’re ready to leave.”

The nurse smiled, and shook their hands. “Feel better soon, Blaine.  You still have a few days to decorate the tree and get ready for Christmas.”

Kurt shook his head. “Blaine’s not doing anything with tree decorations except supervise from the sofa.”

Blaine and the nurse both laughed. “Sounds like a plan,” she said. “Merry Christmas, guys.”

Once they were alone, Kurt lifted Blaine’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better today.”

“Much better,” Blaine replied. “I’m glad I have pain killers for the headache and my side, but I’m a lot less groggy today. I still can’t get over that crazy dream I had.

Kurt put both of Blaine’s hands in his. “If it’s going to be a crazy dream, at least I’m glad I was in it.”

Blaine nodded. “Oh, you were brilliant.  Sherlock Holmes saved the day for McKinley High School, and I got to be your faithful Dr. Watson.”

“Now you’ll have a story to tell every Christmas.”

Blaine pulled Kurt to him. “Speaking of Christmas, what do you want Santa to bring you this year?”

Kurt sighed happily and sank into Blaine’s hug. “All I want for Christmas is you.”

The End

End Notes:

The genesis of this fic goes back to 2016, when I submitted the following prompt to the TodayDreamBeliever’s 2016 Gift Exchange: Klaine as Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. You get to pick who inhabits which character. You can have them doing anything, e.g. solve a mystery in the style of Holmes or just be hanging out while Holmes plays the violin, or Watson writes his stories for Strand Magazine, as long as it's true to the Sherlock Holmes' canon.

When a different prompt of mine was picked instead, I asked if I could have this one back.  I’ve been a huge fan since childhood of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. He wrote numerous long form and short stories featuring these characters, and one of my cherished possessions is a copy of The Complete Sherlock Holmes. If your knowledge of the Holmes canon is from film and/or television, or from contemporary authors such as the brilliant Laurie R. King, who writes the Mary Russell – Sherlock Holmes novels, you owe it to yourself to read what started it all, the stories by Conan Doyle. Begin with the first one, the origin story, A Study in Scarlet. You won’t be able to put them down.

This fic is a mash-up of Klaine and Sherlock Holmes, with a bunch of Glee characters making “cameo appearances” (thanks @flowerfan2 for using that term, I’m stealing it from you for this note!). Throughout the chapters, I have liberally sprinkled a bunch of Glee references which I hope made you smile. I also used some famous Sherlock Holmes quotes from Conan Doyle’s books. In the interest of transparency, and my need to give proper credit, here they are:

“Come, Watson, come! The game is afoot. Not a word! Into your clothes and come!“ FromThe Abbey Grange

“It is a capital mistake to theorize in advance of the facts.” From A Scandal in Bohemia

“And you don’t want your name to appear?” “Not at all. The work is its own reward.”  From The Norwood Builder

“How often have I said that when you have excluded the impossible whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?“  First used in The Sign of Four

[stratus-skye07]

Sense Of Love [Finale] | Minho

Visions of a brighter side.

[Masterlist] [Nine]

MINHO

The minutes that passed once we arrived at the hospital were the worst. I got separated from Y/N when the doctors went to take her into surgery. Hours had gone by as I waited for the doctor to come back with information. In that time, Jonghyun and Onew arrived shortly after, followed by Taemin and Key once Onew called them. All of us pacing around waiting and with no way of calming our nerves.

Eventually, one of the doctors came out of the operating room. He seemed exhausted but had a calm expression on his face.

“Are you all here for Y/N?” He asks the five of us.

I nod, “Yes, is she gonna be okay?”

He smiles and nods, “There were multiple contusions and lacerations on the left side of her body along with some head and spine trauma. It was push and pull for awhile but she’s stable now.”

“You said head trauma? Is there a possibility of her loss of vision?”

He shrugs, “We won’t know much more until she wakes up.”

“Can we see her?”

The doctor has taken us to the room. Upon entering, I had to hold onto Onew and Jonghyun for support or else I would’ve collapsed on the floor from the sight. Y/N was lying in the bed with a neck brace on along with bruises, a cast on her arm, and a bandage on the side of her head from where she was bleeding from earlier. My heart breaks from how much pain she must be in. All because of me.

It seems like so much time goes by as I sat at her bedside watching her and waiting for her to open her eyes. Her hand resting in mine without any movement each time I squeezed it. I told Onew and Jonghyun to head home since there was nothing more for them to do. I stayed along with Key and Taemin.

With my eyes feeling heavier, I get a tap on my shoulder. Looking up, I see Key gesturing towards the door.

“Come on, let’s get some coffee.”

I shake my head, “I’m fine.”

“It’s okay,” Taemin adds, “I’ll stay with her.”

I hesitated to leave her side but ultimately stood to walk out of the room with Key. The aching feeling of leaving Y/N made me want to run back into the room but I needed to get myself together first.

Key puts a few coins into the coffee machine. We stay silent for a moment until a thought comes to mind.

“Was she okay the last time you saw her?”

He sighs, “You mean after you crushed her heart? No, she was trying to put up a front but I could see that it was destroying her on the inside.”

“I love her. I love her so much that I had to make sure she didn’t get mixed up in my bullshit. I never thought that her feelings were mutual.”

“She took a car for you. If that isn’t love then I don’t know what is. I know that Taemin and I have given you nothing BUT shit but we only did it because she means a lot to us. We only want what’s good for her especially since she’s been through so much crap growing up that she never deserved. When she got involved with you, I was worried but then I saw how much happier she was and thought that maybe this was her time. It was time for her to love and be loved.”

“I’m sorry for how I’ve treated her. If she loses her eyesight again I will gladly give her mine without hesitation.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t wanna hear apologies about what you did. What I want to know is are you gonna be there when she wakes up? No more bullshit on your part?”

“Yes. Vision or no vision, I’ll take care of her.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Time continued to pass as the days kept going. It had been a week since the accident. Police came to talk to me about Hyun-Ki and I told them everything they needed to know in order to get him behind bars. Him and his friends won’t be an issue for me anymore since they already have numerous charges against them from not just me but other people they blackmailed for money. Plus, Hyun-Ki was getting a harsher sentence for attempted murder on me along with a hit-and-run charge for Y/N.

Onew has been holding off the media from following up on everything. I haven’t done any interviews about my win or any media things since the fight. Key and Taemin keep assuring me that they would stay with her but I don’t wanna leave Y/N for anything.

We were just waiting at this point for her to wake up. Doctors have taken scans of her brain and they look normal but they don’t know why she hasn’t woken up yet. They say that there’s nothing to worry about but each passing day I’m scared the worse might happen.

It’s the middle of the night as I stay by Y/N’s side with her hand in mine. Key asleep on the pull out bed and Taemin dozing off on the armchair in the corner. Or so I thought.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. I mean you were an ass but I understand that you did it to keep Y/N safe.”

I shake my head, “Some plan. I wanted to protect her but she ended up protecting me.”

Taemin ruffles his hair, “Never thought I would say this but I’m actually jealous of you.”

“I’m used to it.” I say jokingly.

He scoffs, “It’s not for anything physical. Since I’ve known Y/N she’s never sparked any type of interest in anyone. Then you came along and all that changed for her.”

“How long have you had feelings for her?”

He smiles reminiscing on the past, “Since she started training me at the cafe. Key was less helpful training me so she took it upon herself to teach me the right way. She took her time to make sure I understood everything without any worry.”

“She’s always been caring.” I say looking at her sleeping face.

“Never changed and she’s always stood her ground against anyone so no one could ever take advantage of her.”

“I can see that. You and Key have been with her for so long. Your friendship being the most valuable to her. What do you have to be jealous of?”

He smirks before looking at Y/N then back at me, “The way she looks at you is how I’ve always imagined her looking at me someday.” He sighs, “The sad truth is that she only sees me as a little brother and I’ve slowly but surely come to terms with that. As long as I can see her be happy then that’s all that matters to me.”

The next day, Taemin and Key leave the hospital to deal with some business related things with the cafe. They didn’t want to leave Y/N but knowing her, she would’ve been upset if they let anything happen to the cafe.

I just finished cleaning up around the room when I sit at her bedside. I stare at her sleeping face with my eyes begin to well up again. Since bringing her in to the hospital, I’ve been holding back the tears. Now that I was alone with her I felt that I could let it out.

“Another day gone by and you’re still sleeping.” I chuckle to myself thinking back to the time when she woke me up early in the morning, “You hassled me to get up the first time you came to my house. Now it’s my turn to get you up. Right?” I ask as if she was gonna spring up to shoo me away.

Wanting so badly to hold her, I slide into the bed at her side and wrap her arm around me with my head lying on her chest. “Don’t you think you’ve slept enough?”

The silence continued. The only thing I could hear was her heart beating.

The tears begin to slide down across my eyes, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry for being an asshole to you since the beginning. You never deserved to get treated like shit. I just kept pushing you away once I realized how much you really meant to me. I hurt you so much but you still went and took a car for me. Once you wake up, I’m gonna give you so much scolding for doing something so dumb especially for someone like me. Then when that’s done with, I’ll kiss you like crazy and make love to you. I’ll give you everything you deserve because I love you.”

I begin to sob in her chest when I feel something run through my hair. I reach up to grab it to feel that it was a hand.

“You still talk a lot.”

I look up to Y/N’s fluttering open, “Y/N?” I sit up to take a look at her to be sure that I wasn’t imagining things

She hums, “Did I miss the afterparty?”

I cup her face as I cover her face in kisses, “I was so scared that you wouldn’t-” Before I could finish, she places her fingertips over my mouth.

“I’m okay but are you okay?” She asks with a smile.

“Physically, thanks to you but emotionally, not so good.”

“Don’t worry.” She smiles. “I’m a trooper.”

I begin to think that all my worries about her vision are put aside until I start to realize that familiar gaze she had.

Y/N

I wasn’t surprise when I woke up to see nothing. My vision wasn’t completely dark but it was foggy enough to not be able to see anything in detail. Even though I couldn’t see anything, I knew that Minho was the one at my bedside when I woke up.

Soon after waking up and a couple tests were done on me, I was discharged from the hospital since I had no major injuries to my body besides a couple fractures and a broken forearm. I was confined to a wheelchair for some time since my body was still recovering from the hit.

With a lot of arguments from Key and Taemin, they wouldn’t let me come to the cafe because they knew that I would try to work with them. They knew nothing could stop me from working, even vision.

I’d visit the school a few times but not as much as I’d like since I was still pretty weak to be able to spend time with the kids. Minho took my place in playing around with the kids as I sat nearby to hear the laughter and fun they were having. I loved hearing his laugh while he played with them. I could hear the joy return to his voice since waking up.

Minho’s been the most supportive since getting out of the hospital. He never lift my side for anything. After being released, he started staying over my apartment since he’d get worried leaving me alone. I suggested being together at his place but he argued by saying that my apartment was where I knew it best to get around. So he basically moved in helping me with anything that was too difficult for me to do. Being blind was almost like riding a bike after ten years.

Eventually, the feeling of guilt ended up occurring since he just won the championship belt. He should’ve been celebrating his win with parties, doing interviews, and filming commercials, but instead he was stuck with me. He quickly set it straight that being with me all the time was the biggest reward than any championship win.

Once I was able to leave the hospital, I came to see Dr. Park for a diagnosis on my eyes. Minho came with me as well. He ran the usual test on my eyes that I was used to but something tells me that I was going to be getting a different opinion than usual.

I hear him sigh, “I wish I could say that everything looks normal but this time I can’t be sure.”

“What do you mean you can’t be sure?” Minho asks slightly raising his voice which causes me to search for his hand to calm him.

“There’s still some bruising in your brain which makes it difficult to determine whether your blindness is temporary like Minho’s case or if it’s permanently damaged from the accident.”

“Your saying there’s still a chance for recovery?” I ask.

Dr. Park is silent for a moment before he answers, “To be honest, in any other case, there’s a low chance of regaining your vision after already having surgery done.”

“And in my case?”

“I’d say anything is possible since we’ve already been here once before when you were a little girl.” He adds, “If you would like we can schedule for another check up once the swelling in your brain has gone down to see if anything can be done.”

I shake my head, “That’s okay, Dr. Park.”

“Y/N?” Minho calls out to me with a worried tone, “It’s not okay.”

I stop him before he could go into a whole lecture about it all, “No, really. I’m fine. I was given a second chance to see and I feel like I’ve gotten to see as much as I wanted in that time, including the most handsome man that I fell in love with.” I smile picturing his face staring at me. “I can continue living in happiness with that.”

MINHO

As time past, I was concerned for Y/N. She was fully accepting of losing her vision again but I got worried that she might begin to fall into depression after a while. To my surprise, she was as happy as ever. As much as I wanted to take extra care of her, she would constantly take me by surprise with how well she could take care of herself. After awhile, I was able to let go a little bit.

A little over a week goes by when I surprise her with a weekend getaway. Y/N has felt bad about me not having the chance to celebrate my title win so I made this vacation the excuse. I also wanted her to get away from home for a while.

Once we arrived from the airport, it was still dark out since it was early in the morning. I rented a car and drove to the hotel while Y/N took a nap. Before we head to the hotel, I decide to take the opportunity to do something for Y/N.

“We’re here.” I say guiding her out of the car.

She smells the air, “I don’t recall our hotel being near the ocean.”

I chuckle, “Of course, I wouldn’t be able to hide anything from you.”

We arrive to the beach where the sun would be rising soon. Even though she couldn’t see it, I knew that she would be experiencing it through her senses. Before reaching the sand, I kneel in front of her to take off her shoes and socks.

I lead Y/N through the sandy opening until we reach the shoreline. Once we stop, she takes a breath of air when she smiles then leans into my side. Soon enough the sun started to rise lighting up the entire ocean in front of us.

Y/N grips my waist tighter, “Thank you, Minho.”

I kiss her temple, “Anything you want I’ll do everything I can to make it happen for you.”

“What about you? What do you want?” She asks.

“Being here with you is everything I’d ever want. To be honest, I wish you still had your vision. Not because it’s hard but because I feel like I’m the only one enjoying our time together since you can’t see every bit of it happening.”

“Minho, I’m happy. Just because I don’t see everything that doesn’t mean I’m not aware of how much you love me.”

“I just keep thinking about how it should’ve been me to get hit by the car. At least with me, I would’ve been fine.”

She smiles shaking her head, “You could’ve risked your career. I had nothing to lose but you. When I took the car for you, the last thing I was thinking about was my vision.”

I shake my head, looking down at the sand. “I just can’t accept that.”

“Can I tell you something?” I nod as her hand strokes my cheek, “Not to ruin the moment or anything but I’ve been holding it in since we got off the plane?”

I nod, “What is it?”

She points at my eyes, “You have some crusties harboring in the inner corners of your eyes.”

“Oh, I didn’t even bother to check that. It was a long flight and-” As I’m rubbing my eyes the statement starts to hit me, “How did you…?”

She smiles as her eyes look deep into mine differently than before, this time they knew what they were looking at. “Surprise.”

My heart begins to race as I pull her into a hug, “How long have you had your vision?”

She shrugs, “A few days. Things started to get clearer day by day until I could see everything again then that day we went to the school, I could see you playing with the kids. I wanted to surprise you during our time away from home and now seemed like the best time to do it.”

The joy I was feeling was bursting in my heart. I lift Y/N into my arms and swing her around. “Let’s get married.”

“Huh?” Her eyes widen. “Don’t you think that’s a little soon?”

“Not at all but I just wanna top this happiness.”

Dr. Park was right. Y/N’s case is different than any other person. She’s been through so many things over her life that nothing could ever bring her down. She faced death twice and still came back with a positive outlook on life. Before meeting her, I had no care in the world for anyone. My only objective in life was to fight. When Y/N came to me, I found that I don’t always have to fight on my own. At this point, I can’t see myself without her. She saved me multiple times and for that I owe her my whole life. I plan on making it up to her by marrying her, having kids with her, and growing old together. I plan to love her until the day I die.

[Epilogue]

[yueqqi]

Lost Requiem - Chapter 1

Summary: A man from New York seeks a new life after a terrible mistake that locked him in eight years of imprisonment, only for him to be greeted again by the gates of Hell.

A/N: Since I’m a broke-ass tryna get by as a computer science student juggling a part time job, I can’t donate to the Kickstarter. BUT, I’m going to try and help with the social media goals as per the RE:H Kickstarter page, so I guess here’s a new fic serial.

New York City, New York, August 2nd, 1995

Pain exploded like a spilt pot of hot chowder against his cheek. He stumbled back, barely catching himself against the table where other inmates had long abandoned since the fight broke out.

A chant. “Oh, fuck! Fight, fight, fight!”

Another fist swung out, tattooed with gentle black strokes forming lilies, and he ducked before it could connect with his face again. With a grunt, he threw all of his weight forward and latched onto the taller man’s waist.

The other man swayed from the sudden force. Success?

He found himself winded with the sudden loss of altitude as he was slammed into the hard, cold floor with a massive block of muscle on top of him.

A disappointed voice yelled into his ear, “Dammit, you weak-ass lawyer boy! I woulda thought you get better at this shit after eight years!”

He snapped, “Maybe I woulda if I got a degree in sumo wrestling like your dumbass self, Brandt.”

The weight lifted from his back, and a fresh breath of air entered his lungs. The man sat up, reaching a hand up to test the swelling that rose on his cheek. He let out a hiss.

“Yo, ‘zekiel, sorry ‘bout that bruise,” the same gruff voice apologized. A large hand offered itself for him to take. As he took the hand, the crowd of people dispersed as everyone returned to their lunches.

“Thanks. And it’s not much of a problem.”

Brandt was a tall, buff man with a shaved head at least five inches taller than Ezekiel’s six feet. A terrifying man with a terrifying stature and a terrifying gaze, he was the most feared inmate at the Lincoln Correctional Facility. Like Ezekiel, he wasn’t in prison for the right reasons.

In fact, most of them weren’t in prison for the right reasons.

If Ezekiel could legally take a look at every inmate’s profiles, he was sure they’d all have the same background. A poor kid of a minority, born and raised in the ghetto part of town. Could be the Bronx, like him, or other areas in lower-town Manhattan, or immigrated from an even poorer town outside the States ridden with war, drugs, and grime. A family of a single parent and a couple kids; sometimes both parents were in the picture, but rarely could they climb above the vice of poverty because of the poor pay and the cost of surviving.

Like him, they were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time—that, or they were forced into the life of crime just to feed their families.

Like Karael.

Brandt’s boisterous voice interrupted his thoughts, “So, how’s it feelin’, bein’ the nasty dealer finally gettin’ out today?”

A chuckle escaped his lips. “Eight years late, but I can’t complain; coulda been a full twenty-five. It’s just about damn time.”

Ezekiel was grateful, though the taste of ashes still lingered on his tongue at the thought of it; just eight months ago, his case was appealed to the judge again, and it was by a stroke of luck that the first judge who gave him a sentencing had been transferred to another court so he had a chance, however slim, to crawl out of this hellhole. After weeks of looking over the court transcriptions from his case file, the new judge was sympathetic enough to see that an all-white jury plus the original judge’s spoken words all led to an unfavorable outcome: as Ezekiel figured, bias outweighed the evidence supporting his case in the end.

A simple, formal apology was made and the judge gave the prison’s executive director the order for his release; of course, the paperwork was an “issue” and his release was postponed for eight months. Seven years turned to eight, and both Ezekiel’s and his family’s patience was wearing thin until finally: the long-awaited release date.

Still, an apology wasn’t much compensation for the stolen eight years, nor was his quiet release later in the day in which he silently bid the others farewell and only hoped that they would stumble upon luck as he did.

The dusty silver sedan waited for him the second he stepped into broad daylight in fresh clothes: a pair of jeans, a white cotton shirt, and a cheap, black zipped hoodie. He didn’t know what happened to the leather motorcycle jacket he wore when he was arrested, but as much as his heart ached for it, it was a remnant of the past he had to leave behind.

A young woman no more than twenty-five with her once curly hair braided in cornrows long ago now straightened and shoulder-length stood leaning against the car hood in a pinstriped button-up shirt with navy trousers, the passenger door left open as an older woman in her late forties sat in the seat in a familiar sweater and pants. Upon hearing the barbed wire fence buzz as the prison guard opened it for Ezekiel, both women looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes, the same viridescent as his own.

The younger of the two bounded up to him with wide strides—Ezekiel didn’t remember her being this tall—and embraced him tightly with a tearful eyes. She whispered, “Welcome home, Ezekiel.”

He laughed, reaching up a hand to ruffle her hair. “Easy there, Duma, we ain’t home quite just yet. You’re not so short anymore—ouch!”

Duma punched him in the arm none-too-lightly, but grabbed him by the hand to pull him to the sedan. The older woman, Hasielle, grinned at the two as she stood, latching onto the car to balance herself so she didn’t sway, and waited for Ezekiel to approach before she pulled him in for a hug.

Ezekiel smiled warmly as he wrapped his arms around the shorter woman. He greeted softly, “Hey, Ma.”

Hasielle pulled back for just to moment to reach up and pat Ezekiel’s cheek, where the bruise had already formed from earlier. Eyebrows knitted together, she said, “They haven’t been treatin’ you nicely here, huh? You need to eat more too, you’ve gotten so skinny!”

“Well, I’m always lookin’ forward to your chicken and rice; I’ll even help cook.”

Hasielle smirked, “Well, I’m supposin’ you need practice after awhile. Let’s make it a competition tonight. You in, Duma?”

His sister paled at the mention of cooking. “You want me to burn down the house?”

“Chemistry, cookin’, all the same thing, aren’t they?” Ezekiel challenged, eyebrow raised.

“It’s chemical engineering, Ezekiel. And I’m not doing anything with cooking for the program I’m in, anyways. I’d burn the whole city down on accident!”

“Well, you better find someone who can cook for you, Duma,” Ezekiel chuckled. Duma’s cheeks reddened.

“Shut up, you.”

Their mother’s eyebrows rose, “My, my! Has my daughter found someone?”

“No, Ma! Not yet! The next person I’m gettin’ married to is science herself.”

Amidst the warm laughter, a hollow ache still pervaded a part in his chest. Once, they were a family of five, then four when he turned seven many years ago. And again, one was missing.

They all stepped into the car; Duma was driving since Ezekiel needed to reapply for a driver’s license and Hasielle’s condition had worsened over the years: after years of fighting through her anemia to juggle three jobs to support the three of her children, she finally took a break from working once Duma was able to help support them both after getting through college at MIT on a scholarship.

Once the chuckles died down and Duma turned down the road toward the city graveyard, Hasielle glanced in the side mirror at Ezekiel, where he sat in the back, and commented, “Hon, your hair’s so short.”

“Is it?” Ezekiel reached up to rub at his head, feeling the prickliness of his cropped curly hair between his fingers. He supposed it was a lot shorter compared to how he kept it years ago, but he had gotten used to his hair being this length.

“I miss your old hair, but I’ve been seein’ them old-style movies, like Victorian-era and older. Just a thought, but maybe you should try growin’ out your hair longer. I remember you tellin’ me awhile ago in a letter that you’re workin’ on a novel as a new start to your life, so maybe gettin’ a new start in style might help too.”

A new start, huh? A new life… Sounds nice.

“Maybe I will.”

The car pulled into a parking space at the mausoleum some miles away. In spite of the sun that beat down on them, the place still seemed awfully dim and quiet—as expected, Ezekiel supposed, yet it was unsettling not unlike the prison at night.

As Duma pulled out the wheelchair from the trunk of the car for Hasielle, Hasielle spoke, “Ezekiel, Duma and I are goin’ to see Pops in the yard. Why don’t you go on ahead to the mausoleum first and we’ll see you soon?”

He was speechless for a moment, before given his mother a quiet nod. Ezekiel left the two and walked in long, slow strides toward the large, Grecian-style mausoleum, steps ginger and uncertain. The place was eerily quiet when he entered, the door shutting silently behind him, though the sunlight filtering through the skylights and brightening the marble floors created some imitation of a welcoming aura. To his left was a small alcove with a sign hanging above it, Flowers.

Ezekiel shuffled into the small shop, where a short old woman waved at him from behind the counter. He smiled, a bit stiff, and waved back before he turned to observe the array of flowers sprawled through the expanse of the shop.

He had no idea what to buy for his brother. In fact, he didn’t even know if his brother ever liked flowers—they were never that close especially during their last few years spent together before Ezekiel ended up behind bars.

In the end, Ezekiel settled for white lilies and baby’s breath. White for purity, but also white for a blank sheet, for possibilities. Paying for the flowers, he left the shop and ducked into the nearest corridoer while keeping an eye out for the signs designating alphabetical order.

Q-T. Thomas. Timmison. Torvald.

Travis.

A framed photo of a young man with a smiling face, a mustache forming on his upper lip, stared back with similar verdant, yet faintly honey-colored eyes at Ezekiel. Ezekiel let out a soft breath as he placed the flowers in the vase attached by iron-wrought wire to the wall beside the box of ashes set into the marble wall, engraved in a delicate font.

Karael Travis, December 22nd, 1969-February 17th, 1991

Loving son and brother who always did his best

A whisper, deafening in the echoing silence, “Long time, no see, you poor bastard. Just what did you get yourself into when I couldn’t be there to catch your fall?”

[vcg73]

Witch!Kurt #28: Kurt’s Turn

I second guessed the song choice a lot, but it was meant to be something Kurt would never choose for himself so I went ahead with it.

Friday afternoon tech was a study in organized chaos. Actors old and young had arrived in the large auditorium, only to find themselves pushed and pulled all over the stage as prop masters, set designers, costumers, and lighting techs from across the student body of NYADA swarmed over them, measuring and marking. Kurt himself was everywhere at once, guiding the action, issuing direction and answering questions with a level of ease and self-assurance that would have shocked most of his high school teachers, but virtually none of his peers.  He was in his element and this project was his baby.  Kurt had mapped everything out inside his mind so many times that he knew exactly what he needed from every single person.  

 Far from being hesitant to follow these directions, the other students were pleased to have such a steady hand on the wheel. Kurt asked nothing of his crew that he was not willing to do himself and it was clear as the day progressed that unlike with many other student projects, Kurt knew when to take control and when to back off and let an expert handle things. What’s more, he gave credit and praise where it was due as he wove and danced among the crowd. He had also made up a mock Playbill for the production that included the name and department of every single individual who had helped him bring his vision to life, much to the crew’s appreciation.

 Everyone worked like a colony of busy bees to transform Kurt’s white-boarded directions into a working production, nodding and muttering among themselves as they jotted down notes and checked things off the master task list. The world of ‘The Real Housewives of Albany’ began to materialize around them, spreading to fill the large staging area more smoothly than anyone had rightfully expected.

 Out of deference to his cast of senior citizens, Kurt had tried to keep the staging modifications to a minimum, taking up some of the extra space with a collection of vintage furniture from the prop building, but the veterans proved to be troopers who loved every minute of the preparation, happily offering suggestions and encouragement wherever they could. Andy Collins was in his element, full of smiles and compliments, flirting with anyone who stood still long enough. Maggie Banks was like a tiny drill sergeant, barking orders to her fellow Lexington residents and passing along Kurt’s instructions to the rest with brisk efficiency. Mary Ellen Kaufman and Kate Woodrow, playing Maggie’s two sisters, both had limited mobility but excellent memories and they cheerfully pitched in wherever they could help.  

 As Kurt had feared, a high speed storm out was beyond Mary Ellen’s physical capabilities, but then he had an idea, suggesting that after the big argument in Act 1, she and her son – played by one of the Apples – should dramatically exit to the left as he pushed her wheelchair off the stage, while Mary Ellen went to the right using a walker.  As soon as they had tested this idea, Kurt knew it was a keeper. The ‘dramatic’ exit took almost a full minute as the eighty-five year old shuffled her way across the large stage with an attitude that could have put Rachel Berry’s best diva antics to shame and every crawling second just made the scene funnier. By the time she made it all the way past the curtain, the student actors and techs were almost in tears trying to stifle their laughter.

 By the end of the day, everyone was tired but elated. They had only the full dress rehearsal to get through on Monday and then another day to make any necessary last-minute adjustments and it would be show time. It was nerve-wracking, but at the same time deeply satisfying. Even if the dress rehearsal fell apart in chaos, he could feel it in his bones that the final production would be a huge success.  Everything had come together like magic today and he hadn’t even used any of the real stuff!

 NYADA projects were fully expected to take months to develop. It was more usual than not for a student to keep adding, changing and revising their work right up to the deadline of the last two weeks of the school year. This inevitably led to a certain amount of procrastination, a few emotional breakdowns, more than one outright failure, and a lot of competition for venues and attendance.  

 As a junior, Kurt had been required to complete a work-study, spending a minimum of 80 hours with one or more willing theater veterans, learning from their experience. The next step had been to show what that internship had taught him, using what he had learned from his mentor(s) to complement the skills he was learning at NYADA and then parlay that valuable combination into a presentable work of his own. That Kurt had managed to get a fully fledged original musical ready to stage by the first of February was practically unheard of and knowing that gave him some doubts. Would he be one of the over-ambitious failures? Was he rushing things? But another part of him, the side of Kurt that had always been secure in his own style and confident in his own talent no matter how many nay-sayers he encountered, knew that he was ready.  

He had first conceived the idea last year, after meeting Maggie and co-starring in her production of “Peter Pan” at the retirement home and he had been working on the project in his own time long before it came time to turn in his proposal to the faculty.  The “Old Housewives” story was already sketched out and the songs half-written by the time he approached Dean Tibideaux for permission to do his junior work-study with the actors at the Lexington Home for Retired Performers, knowing that his particular idea would require some licensing permissions from the owners of the various Housewives television programs. Fortunately, a request from the prestigious New York Academy of Dramatic Art was not unusual, even in Hollywood circles and the permissions had been granted in plenty of time for Kurt to proceed.

 Too much revising and second-guessing at this stage would only be a detriment. Kurt’s fellow actors and stage-crew knew the show as well as he did by now and it would not be fair to start tweaking everything just because he was starting to get a little nervous about the approaching performance. 

Adam, having been through his own first staging at NYADA nearly four years ago, agreed with this and advised Kurt to put the show away for the weekend and concentrate on other things.

 “I didn’t follow my own good advice at all,” he admitted when Kurt questioned the self-deprecating shake of the head that had accompanied this suggestion. “In fact, I was a right fool. I had done my junior work-study with Michael Foster Pellam and I was so sure that I was meant to follow in his hallowed footsteps that I conceived the brilliant plan of performing a one-man medley of the Bard’s greatest soliloquies.”

 “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Kurt said. “I’ve heard you recite Shakespeare a few times and you’re amazing at it.”

 Adam smiled warmly. “Well, you may be a bit biased on my behalf.  I will concede that I’m a decent actor, though composing and stage-craft are my real loves, but while I may not have been as full of myself as most of the young divas who grow like weeds in the NYADA fertilizer, I was absolutely certain that I could handle this task with no difficulty. After all, was I not an Englishman born and bred? Was I not the grandson of the great June Dolloway?” He struck a dramatic pose with one hand clutched to his chest, making the other two laugh. Adam grinned and shook his head. “Gran was a lauded actress in her day, before she retired from performing to built up her talent agency with my grandfather and I was convinced in all my not-quite-21-year-old arrogance that I had inherited the entire crop of apples from that particular tree.”

 Kurt laughed at his rueful sarcasm. “Something tells me that the one-man Shakespearen extravaganza didn’t go too well.”

 “And you would be correct. I had declined all help and suggestions from my friends and had worked myself down to a frazzled nub the week before I was to go on. I rarely ate, hardly slept and must have changed my mind about the speeches I wanted to perform at least a dozen times. I kept deciding it was perfect, then recalling a different one that I was sure would impress Professors Utley, Cameron, and Kurtz far more than what I had already chosen. Finally, on the day of my performance, I went out thinking I had everything in order.”

 Already cringing in sympathy with the younger version of his beloved, Kurt asked, “What happened?”

 “To begin, I had been so neglectful with my eating habits during the last month of the school year that I had managed to lose nearly a stone, but hadn’t considered that my costume would need to be taken in accordingly, so I looked rather like I’d been raiding my dad’s closet. Assuming that he owned a doublet.”

 “Doesn’t everyone?” Kurt said, batting his eyes and drawing a chuckle.

 “Plus I was so frazzled from forty-eight hours with no sleep that I had entered something of a fugue state.  I started off reciting a passage from “As You Like It” and without quite realizing it, I segued into an unrelated piece from “The Merry Wives of Windsor”. Then suddenly I realized that I was giving the wrong soliloquy and forgot my lines. I just stood there like an absolute git for a good thirty seconds before Professor Utley gave me a cue so I could begin the next piece. It was the classic ‘to be, or not to be’ soliloquy from “Hamlet” and that went reasonably well. I’d even venture to say that my haggard state helped me to do an unusually convincing job of it, until I reached the line ‘to sleep – perchance to dream: aye there’s the rub’ and fell prey to the power of suggestion, whereupon I yawned like a great gaping beast and set off the entire judging panel, which got me started laughing. And as you may recall, that piece isn’t exactly meant to be giggled through.”

 By now, Kurt was doing some giggling himself, though he tried to hide it. “Oh, poor baby Adam. You must have been so embarrassed.”

 “I was, but fortunately I was able to pick it up and finish before I could forget the rest of my performance. And as I had got all the way through it, however butchered it may have been, I at least had no worries about receiving an incomplete. Not surprisingly, I did not receive the best marks in my class that year, but to my good fortune one of the ballet dancers tripped over her toe shoes and fell off the stage into the orchestra pit that same grading period. Her broken leg saved my sorry arse and I did not receive the lowest marks either. Combined with my mostly excellent work over the rest of the year, I managed to successfully pass into senior year, but I did so with a slightly tarnished reputation and a sadder and wiser heart.”

 Kurt smiled, half suspecting the story to be fiction but appreciating it nonetheless. “So, what you’re getting at is that I shouldn’t over-think my show next week?  That I should get some rest this weekend and start fresh next week?”

 Adam beamed at him. “Precisely! It’s brilliant just the way it is and your entire team is ready to go. You’ll relax and concentrate on other matters this weekend then have your final rehearsal on Monday and sail through in Bristol fashion on Wednesday.”

 The perfectionist side of Kurt was tempted to argue, but he knew that Adam was right. The show was something to be proud of and he had worked hard to make it so. “Okay, you win. What do you say we work on our wedding plans instead?”

 “Love to,” he agreed, “but first, how about I get you off to a good start with some of that helpful distraction, eh?”  He hitched his blond brows playfully and ‘attacked’ Kurt with a tight hug and a kiss that made his toes curl.  

 ~*~*~*~*~

 With his fiancé’s advice in mind, Kurt spent the weekend finishing up his contribution to Isabelle’s upcoming Spring Showcase, working on the Mid-Winter Critique that was scheduled to be performed just two days after his show, and writing his wedding vows. That last ‘chore’ was the most rewarding and most difficult. The ceremony at the courthouse would be a simple civil service, exchanging rings and pledging “I Do’s” before a judge and their small party of witnesses, then going on to the reception. But from what Elliott had been telling him, the earlier rite with his coven would be a spiritual ceremony that would require a more formal and heartfelt exchange. For that, he wanted his words to be perfect.  

 Speaking of words, Kurt could not help but smile as he looked over the song that Adam had told him had been a gift from Lord Tubbington.  Adam was to be starting his new job at the tea shop tomorrow and had decided that the occasion warranted a new shirt. Since he was feeling good today, he’d asked Elliott to give him both a lift and a second opinion on whatever he ended up choosing. Afterward, he had got them both an invitation to jam with the Apples. Elliott did not attend their school, but any friend of Adam and Kurt’s was a friend of theirs, to the group’s eyes. Not coincidentally, this day out would give Kurt a few hours of privacy.  He was far from shy when it came to performing, but he hated being listened to when he was picking his way through an unfamiliar song and Adam knew that.  It still caused Kurt to marvel sometimes that his fiancé could be so casually accepting of such simple concepts as the need for a little personal space, after Blaine had always made him feel like he was committing a felony if he wanted time alone.

 Flipping the sheet music, Kurt idly wondered what had made Tubbington buy this piece. The cat was correct in his belief that Kurt was not a fan of country music. Living in a small Ohio town with more than its share of rednecks, it had been tough to escape from country and southern rock. To a young Kurt, constantly ribbed if not outright mocked for the Broadway tunes and power pop ballads that he personally preferred, that music had felt like an anthem to the intolerance that people like him were forced to endure on a daily basis. 

However, as he softly hummed the tune while sight-reading the notes, this song began to appeal to him. It had come out before he was born, but the song had enjoyed a long shelf life and still popped up frequently at weddings and dances. Often enough, in fact, to make it feel a bit too cliché to include in his and Adam’s own wedding reception. But as a stand-alone piece for the Mid-Winter Critique, it might do very nicely. A bit simplistic by NYADA standards and there was a chance he would be docked a few points for that, but it was still a solid song that had good potential.

 All he would need to do was slow the arrangement, perhaps drop most of the instrumentation and play it as a piano solo while he sang. He was no maestro, but Kurt wasn’t half bad on piano and he had never demonstrated that particular skill at school. He knew that Carmen didn’t always like the ‘distracting’ dancing and props that he enjoyed, he’d had past notes telling him so, so she would probably appreciate a simple performance as long as he put heart and a decent amount of technique into this.

 Turning back to the first page, he began to sing out loud.

 “Our love is unconditional. We knew it from the start. I can see it in your eyes. You can feel it from my heart. From here on after, let’s stay the way we are right now. And share the love and laughter, that a lifetime will allow.”

 A lifetime with someone you loved could be as short as a few years, or even a few months. Kurt hoped and even prayed though he could not have said to whom, that this time his life with Adam would last a lot longer.

 “I cross my heart, and promise to, give all I’ve got to give, to make all your dreams come true. In all the world, you’ll never find, a love as true as mine.”

 He would have to remember to thank LT for bringing him this music the next time he saw him. Country song or not, the lyrics spoke to him.  

 “You will always be the miracle, that makes my life complete. As long as there’s a breath in me, I’ll make yours just as sweet. As we look into the future, it’s as far as we can see. So let’s make each tomorrow, be the best that it can be.”

 Finding himself unexpectedly tearing up, he let the music trail away. Adam’s unwavering love and trust were a kind of miracle. As was his endless patience, particularly back when they first dated and Kurt was struggling to let go of a love that had pierced and twisted itself around his heart like barbed wire, holding him in a painful, still-bleeding grip that he had been too afraid of causing deeper pain to let go of once and for all. 

Adam had given Kurt a new dream, a new reason to trust and the courage to start over again. Even after Blaine’s self-serving menace had cost Adam everything, somehow that beautiful soul had survived and kept faith. Today he continued to love Kurt as truly and deeply as any human being could. He had held on to the promise of a better happier future together and now that future was within their grasp.

 Wiping his eyes, Kurt closed the music sheets before picking the booklet up and moving to the center of the room.  Looking around the empty loft, Kurt’s eyes traveled the large space, pausing at the spot that had been the center of his coven’s warding circle on the day he had first learned of his newly realized Potential. His perusal continued slowly across furniture, pictures, little pieces of a happy life that had transformed the loft into a true home. 

The deep armchair that Adam’s dad had Transported all the way from the Crawford family home in Essex, to help his recovering son be comfortable during his recovery.  Dani’s red bean-bag chair in the corner; a place to flop down with her guitar and strum while the gang hung out and talked. That odd mosaic-tiled floor lamp that Brittany had made and been so very proud to give them in place of a crappy IKEA lamp that Blaine had left behind.  The sectional sofa that Tubbington had nicknamed “The Accordion” after Johnny, Kurt and Elliott had manhandled it into the apartment to replace the old one that had held too many bad memories of the past. 

So many changes. So many things that somehow belonged together, no matter how odd or different they might look from the outside. Kurt and Rachel had cohabitated this space, with Santana, Brody, Blaine and Sam coming and going as they pleased; and Kurt had lived more or less harmoniously with all of them, but there had always been a sense of ‘Mine’ and ‘Yours’ about everything here. Kurt had felt the need to fiercely protect his individuality, as represented by his furniture and decorations. As if letting go of even one of those visual representations of his presence would be to erase him.  

It had not been a conscious act but looking back, Kurt knew that had felt defensive and on edge most of that time. He had never felt appreciated, or even particularly welcome in his own home. The more the others seemed to be pushing him out, or treating him like a servant who had no real place of his own, the more stubbornly he clung to this apartment’s visual identity; to the proof that Kurt Hummel was here and he would not be erased.  

 He smiled, shaking his head. How strange it seemed now.  Everything in this loft, from the furniture, to the mismatched assembly of coats and hats constantly decorating the rack by the door, was now a study in willing compromise. And somehow, everything fit together and worked together just as the coven did. Just as he and Adam did.

 Drawing a deep breath, Kurt let it out slowly, finding his center and drawing the magic to him. He remembered the first time he had done this, when he had held on to the magic, afraid to let to go even when it started to feel painfully overwhelming because he feared he would never be able to feel that way again. Dani had advised him to let go, assuring him that the power would always be inside him. And Kurt had not questioned her, or Brittany, or any of the others. For the first few weeks of training as a witch, he had somehow given them his trust with little hesitation, allowing them to guide and protect and occasionally correct him when he needed it.  

 But when Adam had returned from the Void and Kurt had learned just how badly Blaine had mistreated them both, he had withdrawn into the safety of his own space.  Without even realizing it, he had starting shutting everyone else out. Even Adam and Elliott had been shut out to a degree. Kurt had used the need to protect Adam in his painfully vulnerable state to push them all away. The reminder of Blaine and how easily trust could be turned against him had brought Kurt’s protective walls slamming shut around him. The rigid control of his emotions and distractions of his all too busy life had given him a reason to avoid using all but the most rudimentary magic. Because if he used the magic, if he let the power inside him grow and develop, then he would have to reopen that channel that had formed between himself and his coven.

 It was a chasm that Kurt had not been able to bridge, or even to see, for a few weeks. He had been frustrated that the coven seemed to expect so much from him, annoyed that they weren’t being open with him, hurt that they seemed to be excluding him from discussions; but he had been doing the exact same thing to them. He had seen how thrilled they all were to revive the bonds of friendship and togetherness. Had felt the rightness, of putting the puzzle pieces together into a coherent picture, that had filled him repeatedly during the recent blizzard weekend that they had all spent together.  

 Friday at school, working with so many different people from different departments, majors, and even generations, trusting each person to contribute to the production as a whole, Kurt had finally seen what should have been obvious the entire time. He had had faith in all of those people to do right by him. He had given his trust that they would be up to the challenge and bring all the individual pieces together into a satisfying whole, and they had responded with enthusiasm and enjoyment, giving their best in return. 

Working on his Finals project had been such a fitting analogy for his life as a coven leader that he felt stupid for not making the connection earlier.

 Trust was hard. It always had been, ever since Kurt was a little boy who had trusted doctors and nurses to perform a miracle that could not be delivered. He had trusted his dad to always be there for him and that had been let down painfully, though that relationship was finally being rebuilt. He had trusted his friends to be as much in his corner as he was in theirs and they let him down repeatedly; something that could not be entirely attributed to Blaine’s interference. He had trusted adults in authority, only to be disappointed by their narrow minds and uncaring attitudes. He had trusted his loving heart to someone who had treated it like an emotional raquet-ball.  

 Somewhere in the middle of all that, he had stopped trusting himself.

 It was time for that to change. Kurt had put his faith in Adam and allowed that healing love to mend his broken heart. He had put down tenuous roots with his band and they had bloomed into something bigger and better than he had ever dreamed of. He had taken a chance on Brittany Pierce and Lord Tubbington the day they had proven to be anything but “fair weather” friends and received a gift beyond his wildest imagining.  And now he was starting to exercise confidence again, taking charge of his working life, his school life and the training of his powers that would help him thrive in his magical life.

 But before he could truly be a leader, before he could move forward and conquer his fears and his past in the person of his ex, Kurt had to believe in himself. The coven was constantly reinforcing the need to be comfortable with his magic and to practice his fine control.  Kurt knew he needed to do that without anyone else around to catch him if he stumbled.

 Taking another deep breath, he found the magic and willed it to grow.  He turned toward the mirror and blinked his Sight to life. Seeing the aura flash bright and blinding, he smiled, realizing it had been a long time since he actually looked at himself this way and appreciated what it meant. Magical auras did not reflect the way regular light did, but Brittany had very seriously explained to him one day about how fairy tales with magic mirrors in them were about witches who had infused their regular looking glasses with magic, and that real witches could do the same thing. 

Kurt had spent a lot of time in front of this mirror when he was making new outfits, primping over his hair, and perhaps most importantly, while practicing his singing and doing good-luck rituals during his father’s cancer battle. All of those things had infused the glass with his personal magical signature, long before he was consciously aware that he could do such a thing. It was the reason he could See his own magical Potential/Power in this glass and not in others, which had confused him when he first started looking at the world through the eyes of witchcraft.  

 Leaving the Sight on, he turned it inward and found the connection to his coven, allowing that feeling to drift outward along the strings of power he shared with Adam, Elliott, Dani, Monica, Johnny, Tubbington, Brittany and Santana, and giving the strings a soft ‘pluck’ that immediately resonated back with a startled alertness as they each recognized his call. Kurt willed a sensation of calm back, reassuring everyone that he was just practicing and not calling for help. A less defined sensation of approval and warmth came to Kurt as he lightly withdrew the connections. It had not been quite like the emotional bond he shared with Adam, or the Witch-Familiar bond he felt with Elliott. More like the tap of a shoulder or wave of the hand. Just a way to say hello. It was heartening to realize that the others had recognized it as such.  

 Next, Kurt opened his eyes and willed away the Sight, but kept his inner focus and picked out the voices of his personal ‘choir’. Watching in the mirror, he rapidly changed outfits a half dozen times. For some reason, doing it all at once was still much easier than willing a particular piece off or on, but he resolved to find a few minutes to practice each day until he became equally adept at both. His lips twitched as he recalled just how much Adam liked his magical strip-teasing. Perhaps it would not be difficult to get in some practice at that.

 With that happy thought in mind, Kurt deliberately levitated himself a few inches off the floor, holding himself there until his uncertain balance became rock-steady. He tried swinging his arms, high-kicking, dancing on air, just to see if he could maintain his position. This had varying results. The arms did not seem to have a detrimental effect on his concentration. He was even able to telekinetically fetch the matched pair of sai from his trunk in the bedroom and twirl them without setting foot on the ground, but for some reason if he moved his feet too much, he flailed and stumbled like a drunk. The high kick failed his levitation entirely and landed him flat on his back in the middle of the hardwood floor. Repeatedly.  

 Finally deciding that he needed to put that particular trick off until he had a nice thick practice mat handy, Kurt rubbed his sore behind and re-centered himself back into a steady float. This time he levitated the sheet music up with him, using a flick of his finger to turn the pages as he studied the notes and memorized the words.  It was difficult but not impossible to manage both at the same time, so he kept going as he began to sing. Elliott and Dani had taught him months ago to separate singing for fun from singing a spell and in fact he had avoided using incantations for all but the most rudimentary magic, but Kurt knew that it was vital to become at ease with magical multi-tasking.  He had to believe that he could blend his magical talents as harmoniously as he did his musical ones.

 This was no different than managing a stage full of costumers, actors and lighting techs. The moving parts were different, but the skill needed to make every element mesh and work together should be the same. Like singing, dancing and acting all at the same time. He had been able to do that since he first played a tiny Oompa Loompa in a Lima Community Theater version of “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” when he was five.  It was just a matter of making it all flow. He knew how each individual skill worked. He just needed to figure out how to blend everything into a workable performance.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~

 When Adam and Elliott came home at five o’clock, bearing take-out from the best Chinese restaurant in Brooklyn, they were both shocked at what they saw. Kurt was stretched out on the sofa, limbs sprawled, mouth wide open in a none-too-gentle snore, his hair and t-shirt both crusted with dried perspiration. The floor of the living room was littered with sheet-music, swords, discarded clothing and a half-scorched end table.

 “Why do I have a feeling we missed a great party?” Elliott asked, pointed eyebrows twitching with amusement as he lifted an abandoned pair of boxer-briefs by the waistband with one outstretched finger.

 Adam was more concerned with the fact that their less than quiet entrance had not disturbed Kurt’s nap. He gently shook his shoulder. “Kurt? Darling? Are you all right?”

 The bag of Chinese food in his other hand was only a few inches from Kurt’s face and his eyes blinked open as he ended one snoring breath on a sharp snort. “Huh? Oh, food,” he moaned, licking his lips as he sat up and wiped a trace of drool off his cheek. He captured the bag and scooped out a box of steaming pork fried rice and a pair of chopsticks, sailing in with enough enthusiasm to do Lord Tubbington proud.

 Adam and Elliott looked at one another in surprise. It wasn’t like Kurt to begin scarfing down his dinner without so much as a proper hello.

 Apparently Kurt realized this too after the initial rush of starvation was satisfied. He looked up at the puzzled duo and blushed, reluctantly setting down the box and utensils as he stood up and gave Adam a kiss on the cheek. “Uh, hi. Sorry. Guess I overdid the magic practice today. I forgot how much it can take out of a person. Did you guys have a nice day out?”

 Realizing that Kurt had simply gotten overenthusiastic and worn himself out, not to mention seriously revved up his appetite, the others relaxed. “Yeah, it was good. I felt mostly calm today,” Adam agreed. “Got a couple of new shirts you’ll probably like. I have my doubts about one of them, but Elliott thinks it’s posh so I took his word. We had a good session with the Adam’s Apples too.”

 “They’re a really cool group,” Elliott said, helpfully picking up the abandoned sai and scattered papers. “I liked ‘em a lot. Talented too. So, uh . . . I felt you reach out this morning. Seemed like you were okay, but now I’m wondering if we should have come back earlier.”

 Kurt looked at the floor and his face flushed for a second time. “Aw, crap, I meant to clean all of that up before you got home. I was just practicing. I wanted to see if I could still access that spider web of power that I touched the first day, when you all warded my apartment. Remember?”

 He smiled fondly. “Yeah. That was a great day.”

 “I thought so too, and it occurred to me that it’s been a long time since I let myself enjoy the magic and trust the connection I have with you guys to keep my power steady. When I reached out to you, I just wanted to see if the web was still there. It didn’t occur to me until l started to feel really fried that I could probably pull a tiny bit of backup power from you guys that way. Didn’t want to do it until I made sure it was okay, though.”

 Waving away his hasty reassurance, Elliott said, “Of course it is. You’re the coven leader, it’s your right to use the connection when you need it. We all agreed to that the day we set it up.”

 “Oh, well that’s good,” he said a trifle awkwardly, “but I didn’t want to just take without asking. Especially since I didn’t exactly need it. I was just playing. Holding myself in mid-air while using my other powers to move stuff, change clothes, control a fireball, practice singing and . . . singing.”

 From the emphasis, the other two men understood just what he meant. “So you did a bit of mixing and matching of power,” Adam said, moving to the remains of the table and giving the pieces a little nudge with the toe of his shoe. “Looks like this one got away from you.”

 Kurt’s nose wrinkled. “I got overconfident. I was already tired and having trouble holding my balance when I tried making a fireball. I dropped down suddenly and I automatically put out a hand to catch myself and I, well . . .”

 “Murdered a poor defenseless table,” Elliott concluded with a laugh. “At least you picked the ugly one.”

 “I snuffed it out just as fast,” Kurt said a bit defensively.  “It didn’t even set off the smoke alarm. I was going to clean it all up, but then I sat down to take a breather.”

 Adam chuckled and kissed his pouting lips. “And thus the spectacular nasal symphony we walked in on.”

 Horrified, Kurt said, “I was snoring?”

 “Your dad would’ve been proud,” Elliott told him cheerfully. “Good work on the magic, though. Seriously.”

 Side-eyeing him, Kurt began to help clean up the mess. There was no crack in Elliott’s proud smile and Adam looked equally pleased as he moved to the kitchen to get out a few plates and start dishing up the food. “I agree, that’s really quite remarkable considering how uncomfortable you felt combining your magic only a short while ago.”

 Kurt’s tense posture relaxed as Elliott helpfully winked out with the damaged table and then back in a moment later, dusting off his hands. Clearly he had removed the evidence to some handy trash bin. Carrying his scattered possessions back to the bedroom and putting them away, Kurt smiled. He had been afraid the others might think it silly if they found out what he had been doing, but apparently they were more than fine with it, since he hadn’t done any real damage.

 As he came back into the room, keeping one new outfit of clean underwear, lounge pants and sweater, to put on after he grabbed a quick shower, he said, “Thanks for not getting mad about the fire. I really thought I’d be able to control it. Most everything else went great.”

 “You didn’t do any lasting harm and I have to trust you to discover and understand your own limits, just as only you can decide when you’re comfortable with your powers,” Adam said simply.  “Of course, I’d have felt differently if you’d burned the building down, but you didn’t. You kept enough awareness of your surroundings to immediately douse the fire once it started, even in a moment of panic.”

 His nose wrinkled. “You felt that, huh?”

 “I did, but it was only a few seconds,” he admitted. “You’ve trusted me enough to not come charging in like the cavalry every time you felt a surge of panic on my part, and Lord knows there’ve been enough of those, so I had to give you the same courtesy. Believe me when I say I would have been here in a heartbeat if you hadn’t calmed so quickly, though.”

 “That’s good to know,” Kurt told him with a fond smile. “I suppose that’s part of the reason I was confident enough to try it, though, knowing that it was just a matter of reaching out for help and you guys would be here.”

 Elliott patted him on the back. “I’m glad you know that. Glad you’ve been practicing on your own too. It’s good for you and good for us.”

 “I trust you,” he said, knowing how much more complicated that admission was than it sounded and feeling happy as he realized once again that it was completely true.

 Elliott seemed to know exactly what he was not saying, though, for he winked and said, “Good. Now, go take a shower before you drive us back out of the apartment.”

 “I’m not that bad!”

 He smiled and popped an egg roll into his mouth. “You’re the one who was so overpowered he passed out on the sofa.”

 “I was tired!”

 “Go, love.  We’ll keep it all warm for you.  I’ll make sure Elliott doesn’t take all the sweet and sour,” Adam said, refocusing Kurt’s attention back to his empty stomach, which immediately growled in agreement with this.

 Pointing a finger at his grinning Familiar, Kurt said, “You’d better not.”

 He waved a dismissive hand. “Go on. Hurry, though, or I won’t side with you in making Adam put on a fashion show for us after dinner.”

 Kurt perked up at once. He did love a good fashion show.  “Be right back!”

 As he strode toward the bathroom, Kurt could not stop smiling. The ongoing cheerful banter between his fiancé and best friend sent a warm feeling through him. The two had become good friends in their own right in the months since Adam’s return. Practically like brothers. Hearing them reinforced the certainty Kurt had felt earlier today. They were so sure, so confident in each other and in him. Even Adam, who had been through so much in the past couple of years, trusted whole-heartedly in Kurt and in the coven he had built around them.

 For the first time in far too long, Kurt had a great feeling of confidence about the future. There would be failures and upsets, and not everything would go his way. He would experience disappointment and there would be some losses. That was just life, unfortunately.  But there would be many good things too and good people to share them with. It was important to appreciate the positives and not let fear of what might be overcome his ability to trust.

 As he paused in the doorway, watching them playfully fight over possession of a dish of spicy beef, Kurt smiled. A half-forgotten daydream of bright blazing lights flickered through his memory, and with it the recollection of a fabulously fuck-you outfit and a soul cleansing song and dance performed by a teenager who had feared he would never find anyone to appreciate his true self.  It had taken a few years longer than he had initially hoped, but it looked as if the wish of that sadly hopeful boy had finally come true.

 “Everything’s coming up Hummel,” he sang, so softly that the notes went unnoticed by the other men. Watching them a moment longer, Kurt deliberately sent a quick pulse of affection down the web of his connection to the coven, then smiled and continued on his way.

 THE END

 A/N: Kurt’s song was “I Cross My Heart”.