#surgery regret happens dude

[kalkydra]

in 12ish hours i will be getting up and starting to get ready for my doctor appointment... and then i will come home and get high for the first time in a month.... oh baby

[drdemonprince]

Can you really not experience misogyny anymore if you transition? I thought that even if you were a trans man it would follow you forever, but from your posts it sounds like most people just treat you like a cis man now? Last week, I just barely managed to escape a situation where my "friend" tried to rape me, and I've been thinking that if I was a cis man that would be a much less likely situation. But maybe being a trans man would also make that less likely. I feel like i could pass pretty well with top surgery and T, I'm tall and narrow-hipped. Basically the only fear that's stopping me is that I might regret it and develop gender dysphoria. Would it be a bad idea for me to go ahead with transitioning anyways? I'd rather dislike my body than deal with constantly being aware that everyone else thinks I'm lesser because I have boobs

Honestly? Yes. I don't get street harassed, I don't get talked down to, I don't get hit on by random people, and any time that I have experienced a sexual consent violation as a man it's been because I've put myself in a pretty outlandish relatively high-risk scenario where I acknowledged to myself at the outset that it was a possibility (and because of my own stuff, I desired things playing along the fringes of consent).

If you can manage to be stealth at work, you'll remove a lot of sources of harassment and sexist from your life pretty much forever. That's not feasible for everyone, that's a huge caveat that I want to throw out (and if I didn't other people would raise it). Passing as a man is easier to attain among random members of the public than within social groups that get to know you well or spaces where you are vulnerable such as work or schooling institutions (though it's still possible and happens for many of us). Even if you never pass a cis dude specifically, transitioning to male does change how people see you and interact with you and it limits a lot of the entitlement that people show to your body.

I assume that if you are considering this, you are in a place in the world where transitioning is possible and some number of trans people do exist, because obviously that changes things. But honestly? I've found it easier to escape sexism and pass as a dude in space where people know *less* about trans topics. I pass virtually all the time in cisgender society and super normie places where they just don't think about people like us. It's in more self-consciously queer spaces where people do weird wack shit about it.

Honestly I'd tell anyone who envies that trans men get to escape a ton of sexism to give it a try, because you can have a lot of this for yourself. It rules to not have to think or worry about. Not having periods is very cool too.

[therealsasori]

To emotions and good coffee Part 1 (a hidekane story)

Hide thought the world must be playing a joke on him. How exactly does he always end up in these unfortunate situations?

Don't get him wrong. Seeing Kaneki alive and relativly well, is something Hide feels glad to witness. And regaining contact with his best friend after 4 years, and when he isn't some kind of monster rampaging trough tokyo is a blessing to him. He does not take it for granted. Really.

He's glad he was able to help Kaneki in any capacity. Glad he could be of use to him and his friends. Glad neither of them is rotting in the ground. Honestly, Hide feels blessed.

However - there is a certain strain, an akwardness, in their interactions that is unknown ground for both of them. After Kaneki was outside of dragon and the war was over and things had been said and done - the initial flowing conversations between them have come to a halt. There is no longer negotiations or strategies involved in their talks. When thinks get personal, they struggle.

And not because of what you would usually think to be the reasons- like a torn off face. Sure, Hide admits his recovery was painful, long and hard. Memories of skin ripping and blood spilling make him shudder. Nightmares haunt him every other night. Looking in the mirror hurts - even though after plenty of grueling surgeries his face resembles a face much more than it did during the war.

But Hide can't regret the decision he made that day - not after it saved Kanekis life, not after everything he's done the past 4 years was for Kaneki. Not after it meant kissing Kaneki.

No, fuck, shit, stop thinking that Hide.

There's an awkward cough and some shifting. Hides had snaps up, staring wide eyed at his best friend who's uncomfortably fumbling with the sleeve of his black turtleneck. The converence room they're in feels so much bigger than Hide remembers. It's honestly funny how everyone left so quickly and how they ended up alone. Super funny. Especially how they use the space of this room to be as far away from each other as possible.

Hide has to surpress a snort - really. Two bros in a room, 5 feet apart because one of them is decidedly not gay and has a wife. Haha. Ouch.

"So...", Kaneki breathes. Hide feels almost sorry for him. Almost.

"Good meeting huh?" an uncomfortable chuckle.

Hide tilts his head to the side. Really?  God, this is painful. Hes unimpressed though.

"Sure. If you're into that kind of stuff." Hide sighs. He wants to bang his head on the table. Kaneki looks- sad. Defeated. Until he doesn't.

The man he loves takes a deep breath, straight backed, determined eyes and he strides. Two long steps and hes in front of Hide. Did the room shrink?

Hide has always prided himself in being good at reading people. At reading his best friend. But 4 years of distance and pain can and will change a man. And Hide isn't sure what he's searching for in Kanekis eyes. Recognition maybe? The boy Hide spent nights with talking on the playground, the boy who cried when they found a hurt bird in elementary school. His Kaneki. His? Please, Kaneki has never been his. Hide has to swallow the bile thats coming up at that thought.

Staring back at him is a somewhat scary, confident man, with beautiful grey eyes that- Huh?!

Eyes that are suddenly swarmed with tears. A trembling mouth - a sob. What is happening?

"Yo, Neki, is that really how the most feared and strongest man of tokyo should behave? Haha, shit dude if I tell the press about this they will go wild."  Hide feels honestly overwhelmed.

This is not how he thought this would go.

Kaneki bites his own lip to surpress the sobs. And, ah, shit- Hide wants to do that. Stop!

"H-Hide.." Kaneki tries to speak but he just ends up crying more. Hide almost laughs, if he wasn't also very much concerned.

"Hey, man if this is about my face again - really Kaneki we've been over it. It's fine ok? I am not mad or anything.." he tries to reassure the beautiful man infront of him. But he's having a hard time focusing on anything but how gorgerous Kaneki is.

Man, the gay is strong again today.

Hide sighs, "Listen dude, its really fine. And it's kinda getting late and you should probably go home to your wife. I am sure you'll feel better. I mean, nothing a pretty lady can't fix, right? "

Hide feels a headache coming on.

Everything stops. The sudden silence makes goosebumps rise up on Hides skin. Kaneki is still, staring at the ground. Hide isn't even sure if he's breathing.

"Why?... why do you keep doing that?"

The sudden question combined with those steely grey eyes take Hide aback. There is so much hurt in those eyes and Hide wants to melt into the ground.

"What? " Hide asks, voice somehow barely louder than a whisper. But in the all surrounding silence he might as well have been screaming.

Kaneki makes a sound, something between a chuckle and a sob, shakes tears out of his eyes and forces Hide by sheer willpower to look at him. Hide can see how so many people follow this man- he commands the room. But then again, he's always done that for Hide.

"Talk about Touka. You always talk about Touka whenever we are around each other. You avoid having an actual conversation with me. Why?"  Kaneki hands are trembling, he pushes them trough his hair and folds them together. Hide swears he feels the vibrations of Kanekis tremble on his insides.

"I- I don't understand. She's your wife. You love her, so why is this a problem? I am just happy for you man." Hide scratches at his face. Part of him wants to scratch out his eyes.

Kaneki still looks so so sad and Hide can't handle this much longer.

"Because it's not about her! You keep avoiding me. I, fuck Hide, I miss you. YOU. Thats who I want to talk about." The tremble has reached Kanekis voice, to Hide it's shaking the whole building.

Hide swallows, hard. Tries to breathe. It doesn't work. Ok no more lies. It hasn't helped them in the past.

"I miss you too. I just- don't...know how to be around you.."

He might as well have punched Kaneki in the face. The love of his life flinches. Looks at him like a kicked puppy. Like Hide just broke his heart. Funny how that works.

"Hide, I would never hurt you. Never again. Please, what can I do to prove it to you?" He's almost begging, desperate. Needy in the worst way.

Hide laughs, a sad broken sound and shakes his head. "I am hurting Ken. All the time. And it's not fair, not to you or me."

Kaneki comes impossibly closer, searching for answers in Hides eyes. "Why?" a soft touch to Hides cheek. Stormy grey eyes- and they're full of love just not the kind Hide wants. An angel, really, thats what Kaneki looks like to him.

Hide can't stand it, how weak he has become. A dam breaks.

"I managed it so well, for years. I could handle it. But I am afraid too much has happened since. I don't know how to keep it in Ken. You know, I've been thinking - Maybe I should have died in those sewers. " wet cheeked he tries to stiffle his noises, keepin his dignity.

Kaneki looks alarmed. "What?! What are you talking about? Hide y-"

Ah. It's soft. Warm, allthough a bit too wet for Hides liking. Their tears combining on their faces. But Hide isn't one to complain. He takes it, every last drop. Bathes in the warmth. Embraces the ache. And he wants. He wants so badly. But he can't have what he wants, and it kills him.

Hide pulls away, disconnecting lips. He so craves to remain right there. But it isn't right. Those lips aren't his to claim.

Thread rushes into him, realization of his mistake setting into his brain. He's ruined it. The last bit of connection they had.

And Hide runs. Only for a second before he bolts for the door he sees wide grey eyes. Stunned. Confused. Shocked. And surely in a moment disgusted and Hide really doesn't want to see that.

He doesn't get very far. Admittedly he isn't sure why he thought he could outrun a ghoul. Even less so the one eyed king. But a part of him had hoped Kaneki would just let him go.

Instead there is an iron grip around Hides left wrist- sending ice crawling trough his veins. Hide closes his eyes.

"Don't run from me." A surprisingly soft voice begs of him. The grip on his wrist loosens a bit. "Hide... I want to talk to you. I need to talk to you. Please."

Hide feels like he might explode. He spins around, eyes fierce. And is met by Kanekis soft stare.

"How haven't you atleast punched me yet?" Hide demands. He is confused, scared, angry and in love. He's so so so in love.

The love of his miserable life just laughs. "Why would I do that? I don't intend to use force, unless you try to run away again. I am sure we'll figure something out, Hide. Don't you think?"  And Kaneki smiles. Smiles at him with so much love in his eyes it makes Hide forget how to breathe. And he takes his hand and squeezes, pulls. Hide stumbles. Kaneki sighs and murmurs against Hides temple:

"Let's go home, Hide. I'll make us some coffee."

[kaye-go-moo]

Shapes and Strange Ciphers AU: Twins

SaSC by me

Shapes and Pines by @/void-dude

Next Part

Background

Stanley and Stanford Pines are twin Euclydian ovals with eye mutations. Stanford has two eyes, one on his side, the other on his face. Stanley has one eye on his side with a split pupil. Both could see the stars, Stanford better than Stanley, but they wanted others to see them.

After years of planning, Stanford had devised a way to show everyone the stars, and Stan's help was crucial. However, when it came time, Stanley wasn't there. He was late and Stanford had grown impatient. He's waited all his life to show everyone what they could see, to prove he and his brother weren’t crazy.

He justified doing the plan without Stanley, telling himself that it was nothing more than an insignificant role he could easily fill. So Ford [][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]. It was all gone.

Stanley

Stanley found himself outside of his now destroyed dimension. He remembers bits and pieces of what happened – hearing [][][][][][][], seeing [][][][][][][], and feeling a searing pain in his right shoulder before everything went black. The only thing he knew for sure was that Ford and his plan had caused it. However, Stan didn't blame Ford for what happened. He blamed himself. If he had been there, Ford's plan would've worked. He was a genius whose plans never failed, and Stan was the idiot who dragged him down.

-

Stan traveled the multiverse, plagued by guilt and regret. For years, he tried to rebuild his life, but his self-hatred led to self-sabotage, leaving him back at square one. Eventually, Stan turned toward a life of crime, fueling his cycle of self-destructive. Each prison sentence made it harder for Stan to find a reason to keep going. If he was going to rot in a cell or be on the run for all of eternity, then what was the point? It wasn't until he discovered Ford was still alive that Stan finally found a reason to keep moving.

Stan wanted nothing more than to find his brother and apologize, but he held back, telling himself he wasn't good enough. In their time apart, Ford had who had become a powerful and well-known figure, while Stan had only become a low-life criminal. He needed to prove to Ford that he wasn't the same screw-up, that he could be better–he could be perfect.

Stan spent the next hundred eons improving himself–even got surgery to fix his eye, though he still needed glasses. Along the way, he heard plenty of great things about his brother, but he also some alarming ones. Still, he would convince himself that people had gotten the details wrong or just didn’t understand Ford's intentions. After all, Stan's brother was kind and caring. Sure, Ford had his moments of lashing out, but who hasn't? And, yeah, a lot can change in the years they spent apart, but certainly not enough to turn Ford into some kind of monster… right?

-

Stan's past criminal actions were catching up to him, bringing some very angry people along for the ride–old partners Stan had burned and were now looking for revenge. If Stan could deal with them first, he'd have a much easier time improving his life. He thought getting more money would help him pay them off, so he tried finding a job, but his criminal history made that nearly impossible. This forced Stan to keep committing crimes. He didn’t want to, fearing Ford would disapprove of his criminal past, but he wasn't left with much of a choice.

By the time Stan was confronted by one of his former partners, he still hadn't managed to collect much money. He was chased down, cornered, and on the brink of receiving a brutal beatdown when a 'backdoor' to another world opened nearby. Without hesitation, Stan jumped in.

Stanford

Stanford was left with the wreckage of his home. His mind went into immediate damage control, deluding himself into believing everything was Stanley's fault. If only Stanley listened to him and had arrived when told, none of this would've happened. They could be watching the stars with their family if Stanley wasn't such an idiot. Stanford is a genius whose plans never fail, but Stanley ruined that. He should've never trusted Stanley with such an important plan because now Stanford was alone, his entire family was dead.

-

Stanford traveled the multiverse, using the knowledge he gained and the things he researched to distract himself. Forget stars. They were nothing more than balls of gas, and there were greater things to discover. He began to seek not just knowledge but power. His unchecked narcissism led him to conquer worlds, doing whatever he pleased.

Along his travels, Ford met many creatures. The few he found interesting or useful would be offered to join him and gain knowledge. However, if they no longer served use or started to become burdens, Ford would [][][][][][][][][][]. He didn’t need anyone slowing him down, he didn’t need more Stans.

Ford would do anything to further his research and allowed nothing to get in his way, not even himself. Only one of Ford's eyes could see in front of him, the other was on his side, 'getting in the way.' With the help of one of his 'friends' he got rid of his 'useless' eye. The surgery left Ford with a chunk of his form missing. However, his eyesight did not improve. He'd lived with both eyes all his life, so his eyesight needed time to adjust. As a result, Ford started wearing glasses.

Ford had made quite the name for himself. He was either a bringer of great knowledge or destruction. People created shrines, some out of respect and many out of fear. Ford had traveled far and wide, leaving a scar of devastation that crossed the multiverse.

However, Ford eventually became bored. He had access to so much, but it all felt so small. He wanted to explore places he couldn’t reach but realized his form was too limited. He needed something better. He deserved better. He needed pawns and knew exactly where he could get them, from a place he could only access through the minds of lower beings. It had been years since Ford's last visit, but he had already left his mark. It was only a matter of time until someone useful came along and found it.

_____

Lore comments

[cononeillbreastingboobily]

I heard a phrase once that goes something like "growth lies outside the comfort zone".

And holy shit my dudes. It's right.

In just 9 days I've spent at a hospital, I changed. I can't say "completely", but... Wait, no, I can!

I came out of the hospital a different person than the one who entered it, and I genuinely mean it. I described it in many ways. "As if somebody broke me out of my shell", "like I don't have a layer I used to have" or simply "I'm back". It feels... So good, yet so unfamiliar.

Everyone I talked to since I came home who knew me before then, is shocked. They say I smile more, I have a completely different energy, they say I got my spark back that I used to have when I was a child.

I think what happened was the result of many, many things, but mainly:

• Being forced to confront my trauma head on

Hospitals. I had some very painful surgeries, as well as painful and humiliating testing done when I was a child. It screwed me up in so many ways that I can't even articulate to this day. I experienced A Lot of physical and emotional pain during this recent hospital stay. I didn't run from it, couldn't. And I do have to say it contributed to my experience, can't describe in what way exactly just yet.

• Having no privacy and thus, no space to suffer in silence. And thus, having no choice but to let people in

Sharing a room with 4 people, I hardly had any space for myself, except for my bed and nightstand. I tend to cry all by myself when I'm going through something. At the hospital I was going through A Lot, and yet I couldn't hide from curious eyes.

• Having people do many uncomfortable things to my body, and having to just go with it

Well, it's not like I didn't have a say in whether certain things happened to me. I could potentially protest if I didn't want to have some testing done or didn't want someone to wipe me down etc. But my desire to reach a diagnosis was so strong that my limitations in that regard dissolved rapidly. Plus, like. These people are at work. I'm not gonna let my embarrassment keep them from getting their jobs done. Otherwise we would be here all day.

• Being taken seriously, but gently

I was faced with so much kindness during my hospital stay. It helped me remember that somewhere out there the world can be really kind and that there are good people out there. I think I completely forgot about that.

• Being given hope

I didn't realise just how much I had given up on myself and just life in general, over the past few months. And yet I had people gently hold my hands on 3 separate occasions and tell me "It's gonna be okay". How does one not start to believe it even just a little bit after that?

• Being reminded of my passions

I had a very intense talk with the head of the department that took me in. He asked me about my gifts and abilities, and pointed out other ones I missed. I kept finding myself thinking of more I could've mentioned days later.

• Being shown a way forward

This ties in with the point I made two paragraphs before, but I do think it deserves it's separate section. Along with the hope that I might get a full diagnosis, and that what I'm suffering from right now is reversible, I had a spark lit up in me, one that I lost a long, long time ago. I was reminded that I love to learn new things, and that I want to go and study new topics. I'm going back to uni! This time a post-graduate program tho, I'm not pursuing a degree (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)

So, there you have it. I knoooow that these are highly personal and subjective, but I'd regret if I didn't share my experiences and observations even a little bit. If by sharing this I inspire just one person to do and change something, or to look at things differently, I would consider it as a job well done.

[gravityghosts]

Review of the debate:

Trump, unsurprisingly, kept going off about complete bullshit

Harris looked like about how I did but kudos to her for not laughing in his face bc I absofuckinglutely would’ve. Better than Biden looking like he wanted to kill himself several times over.

Had to watch it for my social psychology class and trumps “it never would’ve happened under me” or whatever he said is literally a perfect definition for the FAE tho so at least I know what I’m talking abt for my assignment

The moderators also had me fucking dying re: “okay but the question was: do YOU have any regrets” being asked multiple time and the passive aggressive “we know the peaceful change of power is vital to our democracy” dude probs wanted to go OFF. Love the “there is No state where you can execute a baby after it’s been born” as well

Genuinely have no clue where the transgender illegal immigrants prison surgery came from but can i have one too

[elsadaisywrites]

The illusive path to healing: Exploring the persistence of traumatic dreams.

I wake up often covered in sweat. My heart racing, trying to determine if what happened in my dreams was real.

And last night, was the first in a while. I had thought this was an issue I conquered.

Thanks for reading Elsa’s Substack! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Subscribed

 Supposedly, rooming with my boyfriend, a man moves into a room upstairs. He’s older, and yes, looks familiar to me. Act’s familiar, too. 

He was white, and scruffy, His hands were calloused and his shirt was dirtied. 

 I had a drink with him, trying to get to know my new roommate, and he admits to drugging me. I don’t remember a thing after he lays me in his bed. Someone out of the corner of my unmoving eye laughed at me laying so still, then he shuts the door.

The feeling of waking up and knowing something happened. Like blacking out when you’re too drunk, and waking up with a road rash. Not even remembering, but imagining.  

Moving my body out of his twin bed. The gut feeling of seeing him laughing at me. 

Scared to squeeze my legs together. My public area throbbing and swollen and dry and burning.

Next, the fear of trying to get away from this man i lived with. Sneaking around, trying to get into my car. Still having to live with him. 

Somehow, he drugged me again and I was paralyzed, but awake this time. And he went on about how fun it was to dress his “little Elsa.” 

Long white socks, a vintage flowing dress, things that I’d never wear. 

Again, familiar. 

And the next day, the crying. Wanting to get rid of a thing that a surgery doesn’t exist for. 

Crying about how what is done is done, and the past is the past. But instead of making you feel better that puts you in the darkest place of your mind.

A recurring dream I’m forever thankful I don’t get anymore, was one that took place in my freshman year college dorm.

I’d be laying on my back in my twin sized lifted bed. My blue duvet that I picked out with my dad made neatly underneath me. 

My book is in my hands and I am fully immersed. A man comes in, and he looks at my legs. I can’t remember exactly what I used to say, but something along the lines of, “Yeah, sure, whatever gets you off dude.”

Lifting my legs above my head, he would begin to eat me out. (TMI?)

I feel nothing, and continue to read. He taps me, and I look up. He has no face. 

The faceless man points at my leg while I feel glued to the bed, and he snaps one leg off. The best description is a twisting motion, and a crunching sound, like he were breaking a crab leg. I am trying to scream but my screams are small and ignored. He snaps the other off.

The list of dreams I incur is numerous. I was almost diagnosed with a nightmare disorder, before my psychiatrist decided a better diagnosis was PTSD. 

I have dreams about my mom, childhood, regrets, inner fears. However, I think none compare to the amount of sexual nightmares I get.

The question: Why do i still get these dreams? Is not really one I have been prepared to answer. It’s painful, and uncomfortable. I didn’t even like typing what I just wrote. 

The question above brings up another painful, complicated question.

Have I not processed enough? I thought I had for a long time. I decided that to ruminate over things I desperately wanted to put behind was pointless. I mean, just move on. Why was this such an issue? 

Id ask myself: At what point is processing self harm? This was the wrong question to ask. Because I wasn’t really processing anything. I was just letting myself become succumbed by memories and feelings.

I just really want to be done. For the processing to be over and to feel better already.

The issue is, these themes in my dreams come from real life, traumatic memories. 

I refuse to address a lot of my trauma. My body and my mind make me remember. 

In these dreams, multiple memories and events are combined into one little bite sized terrifying movie. Ruining whatever day they occur on.

Yeah, I was drugged once, but I was ok in the end. Nothing bad happened, as far as I know. But it was scary, and I’d never think to “process” it. How do you even do that?

Yes, the man in the dream who raped me, was a man I dated. A man who did scare me, who did not respect my boundaries. A man who was much older. 

The faceless man is also a familiar man to me. My stoic nature letting him do what I think he wants to do, what would please him. My screaming and lost limbs a symbol of what it was doing to me. 

Getting dressed in clothes I would never wear is reminiscent of a teacher I had in high school, who would always make me change clothes. Not because of a dress code violation, just because she didn’t like what I wore. (Yes, she did say that.)

But I can’t speak on it too deeply. I am scared. Judgment, insecurity, regret, pain. They all make me want to shut up. Even now, the pit in my stomach is telling me to stop.

But all I want to do is talk about it. So… it isn’t over processed. 

Do you see how little I know what I am doing?

Alright, so I googled it. Good ol’ google is always there for me <3

Lets see where I went wrong.

The Royal College of Psychiatrists says to firstly “give myself time.” It’s been a long time dude. Next.

“Talk about the event.” 

No, I thought I processed much of my trauma. I journaled. I tried to open up to others, but often I am not able to divulge what is needed to “process.” I was in therapy for years, and I liked her, but somehow we never got around to processing my trauma, even though i did ask many times. Maybe I am resentful for that, but I digress.

Who would I talk to? The little I have shared makes people uncomfortable. If it doesn’t, my fear of “trauma dumping” or second handedly traumatizing someone weighs on me. I do have close friends, but why put this on them? 

Maybe, I also don’t want them to know. I am embarrassed, and don’t want people to see me differently. I am also scared I can’t reciprocate when the time comes. I’d try, but what if I can’t? What If I already haven’t. 

I tried to open up to my boyfriend about my co-dependent high school relationship. 

He listened, he was sincere, I talked it out. 

Okayyyyyy… I couldn’t decide if I felt better. Even now, a couple weeks later, I don’t know if it helped. Maybe I need to do it often? Or to multiple people?

This brings me to step 3. “Speak to others that have experienced the same thing as you.” Okay, what the fuck?

How? 

I scoured the internet for a sexual assault survivor group. I knew they would be engaging and sincere, but I had (still do) this itching feeling that after I share my story they would collectively share a look. 

I did find a group. But I am still scared to go, even though it’s on zoom. Sue me. I have anxiety.

What I did do, was go on Reddit. This is how every horror story starts, I get it. I found groups of people who were kinda like me, I guess? I even made a lot of memes about my traumas which I shared, and they were quite popular (I am blushing, if you can’t tell).

Yeah, it helped I think. I am not sure if I want to continue though, I may have hit a wall there.

The issue? Reddit somehow made me feel more isolated. 

Four: “Ask for Support”

I remember telling my grandmother in high school, when I was on the brink of suicide, that I was depressed. She told me blankly, while walking away, “You’re not depressed.”

You could say it’s hard for me to open up to people now. 

How could they even support me, when it’s an internal struggle? I continue on with my life, just like many others do, and asking for support with a task that I might need is too big of an ask.

Five. “Avoid Spending Lots of Time Alone.”

Asshole, some of us don’t have a choice, ok!

Six: “Stick to your routine”

What if trauma started so young, there isn’t a routine to return to?

Seven: “Consider seeking professional help”

I did. I was in therapy for four years. I saw a psychiatrist. I read self-help books. All that. 

Eight: “Notice how you’re feeling”

Not good. Sometimes I’m ok. 

Nine: “Ask for support from your employer”

No.

Ten: “Take Care”

Thank you.

Eleven: “Avoid Consuming too Much Media About the Event”

N/A

Ok, so I’m going to go back to step two: Talk About the Event.

My point in all this, is how difficult it is to just feel better. The advice given is simple, and I am sure it helps, but difficult to apply. I’ve been diligent, too!

Like I said, my nightmares take inspiration from real-life events. Something I have come to realize is, those events don’t just affect me in my sleep. 

Getting better is a daily struggle, and I’ll probably have nightmares for years, but one day, I won’t.

Thanks for reading. :) 

[twfarlan]

Damn but I miss this crew. Wild nights, chummers.

Alt text for those looking for it:

Okay, sit back, cause y'all ain't gonna believe this drek. Hand to sky, this happened exactly as I'm going to describe.

I'm driving the van, which Rook has named "Harold." I legitimately do not want to know why. Rook's passed out in the back, as is Dex who has learned that there's a reason the shake machine at Stuffer Shack is meant to be broken. (He's calling it "Suffer Shack" and I cannot argue.) Butch is polishing her suit or something; lady, I have a tailor in Missoula that you DESPERATELY need to meet. Deadeye is performing surgery on that frickin drone, mounting the Eye of Sour-bun on it. Damn wiring smoke is worse than the leftover Meat Haters pizza Butch claimed. There's a reason no one else had touched it. Dandelion sprouts do not belong on deep dish pizza.

We get a call from Mr. Smuggler Guy, something I may regret. Wants something smuggled, there's a shock. Oh, he wants a LOT of it smuggled. Oh, we have to pick it up. Oh and we probably need to steal it. From the people who stole it in the first place. It's bound for a clinic in Minneapolis-St. Paul, a place where literally nothing and no one else is bound for. I'm thinking of blocking Guy's number.

We pick up a call from a femme of military bearing whom I've decided in hindsight to refer to as "Uniformed Asskicker." She's got field intel and an address, so she's already ahead of us. We park at the Stuffer Shack across from the place we're going to hit to review the plan: she's going in to rough things up, and then we come in like a horde of rabid squirrels. Great plan.

Rook wakes up about the time I drive Harold through the gate and Tokyo drift one orc ganger onto his ass. This would be just in time to see Deadeye kick the back doors of the van open, flip up onto the roof, and start preparing to lasso a semi. Seriously. Butch slings a fierce spell at some concrete that was insulting her, or we can admit she missed. I pull up to the driver's side of the semi, which Deadeye swings over next to planning to hogtie it or some damn thing. Butch takes another shot at the gangers coming our way, this time blasting what I can assume is the next pothole the yard owner will have to fix in the tarmac. (coughwhiffeditcough)

Deadeye sticks that revolver of hers in the face of the semi driver who apparently forgot how to start a push-button semi... well paid rigger, right there. Dude thinks he can grab a gun outta his face, so Deadeye talks cowboy shit and drills him one all over the inside of the cab. Rook has her CDL, thank the spirits, and Deadeye has to sit in the wet spot. Me, I warned Butch to cover her ears, cause Ares makes a shout when he speaks. Damn near strips the clothes off that poor guy I shot. Butch hears the glory of the coming of the bells of St. Mary or some equally tormented metaphors, but still managed to glower at the guy so hard that his soul withered and died. His buddy, seeing the better part of valor, runs headlong into Uniformed Murdergirl, and that's the end of his story.

After the most exciting stuffing of a shack that joint had ever seen, we roll the frag up the highway for a couple of hours. Deadeye is treating us to round 84 of Seelie Dan or Dr. John and the Electric Mayhem or whatever off-key Western mess she was singing, when lo and behold, we find ourselves making a new friend! Mr. Five-Oh pulls over the semi; I can't imagine what made it stand out aside from being graffitied to death by NeoScum and being stolen. I mean, we stole it from people who stole it; doesn't that cancel out? Double negative or something? Butch is sleeping through this and refuses to believe me, but Deadeye was hiding in the sleeper cabin and heard the whole thing. Rook... gave this poor rookie smokey a line of such radioactive bullshit that it made him reconsider being a cop. He walked away; he left his car, man. She punched him in his will to live as a human being. Last I saw him, he was walking off the highway into the woods to join a sasquatch commune. I quit as the resident liar; Rook is Mes ti'Dungmouthiesh: she follows the Way of the Bullshit Artist.

Hand to heaven, y'all. If I'm lying, I'm dying. ... At least, if I'm lying about this. Don't pin me down on anything else right now.

-- Will Rill Hetrick, no regerts (except about deafening Butch; gomen-nasai, omae.)

[starry-skies-116]

ROTTMNT HEADCANONS BECAUSE I WATCHED AND LOVE THIS SHOW AND AM HYPERFIXATING AGGRESSIVELY ON IT NOW:

They keep the surnames of “Hamato” despite abandoning the strictly traditional practices of the Hamato clan whilst also taking more eclectic inspiration from their arts to their own.

They all brumate btw. Pry this from my cold dead hands. Every time brumation season comes, the Disaster Twins Inc. hog the couch.

Donnie, because he’s autistic and is a softshell turtle, has sensory issues and is very picky about what food he eats and which clothes he wears, as well as what surfaces he touches. He secretly has a casual list catalogued about what sensory things he loves versus what he hates, and there’s a small area in his lab that’s sensory heaven for him.

All the turtles have different eye colours. Leo has natural heterochromia, one eye being cobalt blue and another eye being bright amber. Post-movie Raph has heterochromia from being turned into a Krang zombie for a short amount of time- one eye is emerald green, and another is a bright magenta purple. Donnie has warm brown eyes, and Mikey has baby/cornflower blue-ish grey eyes. April has hazel green eyes.

Teenage Mutant Intersex Turtles, anyone?? They’re all different variations of intersex on the intersex spectrum. Leo was presumed to be a guy and does have some male traits, but is biologically female- he’s both intersex and a trans dude (and I’m all here for it).

Raph is an aroace bigender (both transfem and demiboy), Mikey is genderfluid and greyaroace pansexual and panromantic, Donnie is nonbinary, asexual and greyromantic biromantic, and Leo is FTM trans, demisexual and gay (did I mention they are all intersex).

Yes I do headcanon disaster twins, and that Donatello was taller than Leonardo when they were younger but Leo is 3 and a half minutes older than Donnie and takes every damn opportunity to brag about it.

“We need CaCa and Maggie~!” “JUST SAY CALCIUM AND MAGNESIUM GODDAMNIT-”

In the future, all of the turtles have cloaking brooches and stable jobs that earn them great income. They also have apartments close to the sewers that is their home.

Okay, we all know Donnie’s canonically autistic. But what if all the turtles are on differing parts of the spectrum. More at 5.

Donnie in addition to being autistic has insomnia, BPD and misophonia and does have sight issues and is prone to migraines due to staring at screens and not getting enough sleep, Raph has panic disorder, dyslexia, OSDD-1a and GAD, Leo has ADHD-I, autism, GAD and is bipolar, and Mikey has ADHD-HI, dyscalculia and autism. All of them have some form of PTSD post-movie.

Leo does know how to play chess please and thank you. He just does it for fun and doesn’t really practice.

Splinter has PTSD, is autistic and is bisexual (the most unrealistic thing is young Lou Jitsu/Hamato Yoshi in his 20’s NOT kissing men and enby hoes in addition to women). He’s not a bad father, he just passed some of that generational trauma of everything that’s happened to him, as well as his regrets and grief, down to his kids without even knowing and feels terrible about it once he realizes. He may have made so many mistakes as a father, but he deeply loves his sons beyond what they could ever comprehend, and he’d send anyone to the shadow realm if they laid a finger on his beloved turtle children.

Donnie and Leo (mostly Donnie) bite each other for no reason at all- not enough to hurt or draw blood, but enough for the bitten to yelp and want an apology from the one who did the biting.

April O’Neil is an also autistic lesbian polyamorous demigirl. She’s saving up enough money by working at The Foot shoestore partially for her top surgery. Sunita is her best friend soon-to-be girlfriend. They’re gay disasters your honor.

Cassandra Jones is MTF trans. Fight me on this one.

Sunita, despite being a teenage slime yokai, does celebrate and participate in Indian culture and does consider herself Indian (let me have my rep I’m starved of please). She’s also a lesbian demigirl, and is asexual and autistic. She also has the ability of superhuman bodily elasticity, even in human form (though it is restricted somewhat in human form). Sunita WILL call pilaf ‘biryani that needs therapy’ okay, she’ll fight you if you say they are the same thing.

Queerplatonic/non-romantic Apritello where they have a super close relationship greater than best friends but cringe at the idea of being in a romantic relationship together wya <3

April’s African American, we all know, but what about her being of Afro-Iranian Jewish descent and her mother’s Shakshuka and Latkes and Rugelach and Sufganiyot being her absolute favorite among all the stuff she makes. She gets MAJOR hyped by the time Hanukah comes around and tells the Turtle boys and Splinter about it.

And there’s more, but I’ll tell y’all about that later, or we’ll be here all day.

[stickynotestoletters]

Yandere BNHA Boys pt 2

Okay, this is a continuation of the first yandere ones I did because I wrote that in basically a night and was too tired to do more, I'm probably gonna post some after for the pro heroes and villains if I have time, I might finish those on the weekend then post it.

This is just a bunch of headcanons I have about the boys in BNHA and what they’d be like as yanderes. Only the really fluffy or good things about them listed here. Neither of these works are a good depictions of a real yandere and make sure to be careful to identify yandere traits in real people around you. It’s a very dangerous world and stay safe!

sorry if you were waiting for me to come out with these and I literally took forever lol, link to the first one is here. It's basically just me comforting myself with the sweet things that I think they would do as yanderes.

Warnings: Brainwashing, blood, gore, death, trans headcanons, body dysmorphia, nonbinary they/he Sero, they/them pronouns + nonbinary headcanons for Tokoyami, he/they nonbinary headcanons with Shinsou, a little NSFW because if I don't specify then they are aged up (around 20-25 is where I imagine the timeline that they actually captured you and have a hero carrier going for them already), manipulation, regular yandere things, kinda just turns into dumbass horknee headcanons at some point after Shinsou (sorry lmfao), objectification

Sero Hanata

so basically the first time they saw you they immediately wanted to come up to you

they love to give you back hugs because once you stop trying to fight them he's gonna be so honored you finally trust him

Big time slut [non-derogetory] for you

Likes to have an apartment that's high up, probably a secured penthouse with lots of windows

If you're afraid of heights they will get a ground bed for you two, they would also vibe with a low hanging hammock if you allow it

they really really like just putting you on a custom made leash, not inherently in a sexual way just in general likes to have it look like that with their tape on you at all times

they really really like it when you come to them for hugs and comfort

If you're a trans reader, if you want a binder he will get you one as soon as you ask, cried when you told him about it.

they cried way more than you though...

Was very accepting as an nb person as well

they custom made you a tape binder of his

Kinda as a joke but high key felt like they were gonna combust at the thought of you wearing that for them

Takes you to pride but you cannot speak

only takes you to pride after they are 1000% sure that you're not gonna speak to anyone but them

Takes you to it as a part of their float because they'd been invited onto the Hero Float

You are in a costume that's exactly like his, helmet and everything, you aren't allowed to be looked at

After that though, it's gonna be your choice to go or not to go

they trust you a little more after you run away from some assholes though and after that sometimes lets you take your helmet off during pride, you have to give them a lot of kisses though

When/if you ever consider any type of surgery he is 110% on board

they demand that you have to have it performed by someone who has done this a million times before, trusts no one else

If there's a way for you to go through it without the surgery they're excited but he's more excited if there is surgery because they love the idea of you being so cuddly and clinging to them for their comfort

Tokoyami Fumikage

haha they're in love with you

like, intensely in love with you the moment they first meet you

Dark shadow thinks you're adorable but says nothing more about their obsession with you

when you met them before UA they absolutely cannot handle being around you in a 10-foot radius

Eventually, though they do try and become a friend of yours

After that, it's a hop on the manipulation train, my dude

they basically make you see them as your savior from a mean uncaring world

they love talking to you about things that make you happy and loving you in little ways

hugs, hand holding, a lot of time it's just a little peck (haha) on the cheek

they love living with you though, like really love it

they like baking and making dinner for you

but especially baking

like really, baking

the manipulation they use makes it seem like everything is okay when you only talk to them so that's what you do and to you, it seems so much better than anything you could do

they haven't come out to you by the time you come out to them so your trans journey really helps them figure things like that out as well

The first time you explain that gender is a made-up construct they're like "yeah......isn't that how everyone feels? Like, not a gender????" we love this for them

you both kind of heal each other through this process

they like seeing you when you're most comfortable so they get you as many binders as you need

also gets you a custom binder like Sero but with feather designs, not like stupid printable patterns but something that is soft and the softness isn't feathers it's regular fluffy cloth

idk I'm not a designer that's why I gave up and became a writer lmao

they also get you a compression corset because they're emo

if there is surgery it takes a lot of time to convince them

they don't ever want you to regret anything they helped you with so it takes a lot of long-winded conversations about it

there was a lot of nervousness on their part because (this is just my headcanon) they were almost convinced to get surgery to construct their face to look human-like

they had a lot of their family tell them that, because of the way they looked, they had less of a chance to become a hero, they were immensely traumatized by this and thus wants to make absolutely sure you were okay with this

but when they finally find themself comforted by you about it it happens quickly and in the safest way you could possibly imagine

Shinso Hitoshi

Shinsou didn't want to approach you at all, he was so scared you'd run away or tell him he's a villain

they always thought that they weren't good enough for you

he loved you but you needed to say hi first

and you did

so he whisked you away

they like to just brainwash you into tasting certain types of food when you're craving them instead of just getting you food

he likes to talk to you in a voice like he would talk to a kitten, not like husky or anything sexy, but something cute and adorable

especially when you're brainwashed and can't say anything to him

He likes to give you lots of soft stuff like I'm talking pillows upon pillows and squishmallows

once he gets his own house they get it in a place that's more comforting in the dark than in the light

they really like the dark and outdoorsy vibe anyway so if they choose a place somewhere in the forest to keep you what's the added bonus if no one can hear you scream?

a little bit of spice; he has this whole a/b/o fantasy (idk it's his vibes that he'd read that fanfic and stuff lmao) and kinda treats you like you were an omega

sometimes if you guys do have sex they'll brainwash you to act like an omega or once he's more experienced with bodily manipulation involving their quirk they'll make you do all of the......omega things

when you come out to them, if you're trans, they're definitely gonna not care

like if you need comfort and stuff about it they will not make a big deal about it

he legit is like "okay .....can I still fuck you or?????"

HE JUST GIVES OFF REALLY HORKNEE VIBES OKAY?????

definitely brainwashes you into not feeling dysphoric anymore though

like loves it when you come up all sad to him and uncomfy just to ask them to brainwash you

he melts over you cuddling them after those times though

if you want surgery they're gonna make sure that it's between him and the doctors that y'all are there

like no one knows you're there, completely off radius, in and out like nothing (he's basically a cryptid in the woods by the time you guys have the surgery, so they wanna make sure no one questions it)

Monoma Neito

bold of you to assume that man can express literally anything when he wants to just sit you on his lap and look at your pretty face

love at first sight taken literally but not in a shallow way

he loves just having you around him

kinda treats you as an accessory at times, talks like you're a purse or something and people don't really comment but it's really freaking them out sometimes when you don't speak up on it

likes to say he's the only one to understand you cause he's afraid you'd leave him

a hardcore fan of collars though

definitely has lots of jewelry that represents him even though you don't go out he still loves the idea of it

big time cook

loves providing for you, never lets you do a damn thing other than watching pre-approved cartoons and hobbies

absolute fucking disaster about hugging you

always has to be touching you

he thinks you're so fucking gorgeous and body worships you even out of the bedroom

if you're trans he will definitely be weird about it at first

he's just diet transphobic

he's not denying it but sometimes he's like "Are you sure???" and stuff

he clears this up with the help of you being pissed enough to not eat or talk to him until he apologizes

he then educates himself on it and comes to the conclusion that he was in fact being an asshole

talks to you about binders and stuff like that

doesn't really believe in surgery, he would never allow you to do that just because it would be too painful for him to see you go through

he instead literally searches the whole fucking globe for a person with a body-altering quirk to make sure you don't get hurt

he seeks out homophobes, transphobes, and other dumbasses on the regular just to kill them like literally it just started out for your approval but now it's just for fun

Anyway, the villain one (if I do it) will probably become just horknee brain rot cause I am a slut. Request some stuff and I'll try to put up some works if y'all want ig.

[yniswaifu]

The bet - 5

Your eyes are glued to your phone screen, millions thoughts running through your head.

Will you see us off before we leave for the game?

Even if the message from Suna, whom you had been very close to these past days following the incident, it still didn't change the fact that he was part of the volleyball team.

The team that also had Osamu, your (ex) boyfriend.

It had taken everything in you to not jump in his arms when you saw him at the practice the other day. You had completely forgotten that there was a chance you'd encounter Osamu when you went to deliver Ginjima something your mom sent.

And boy did you regret going there.

Maybe deep down you had wished he wasn't. And that he got a plastic surgery to change his face or something, since you weren't sure what you'd do if you saw him. So when his deep voice echoed through the gym calling for Suna, your eyes instinctively connected with Osamu's face and you were thinking just why it had to be this way.

He was still the same as you remembered him. Except, his eyes looked hollow. You were observant, and you knew he wasn't doing any better than you, but you still was a wuss to confront him.

Loser of the year award goes to y/n.

Looking at the text again, you breathe out and reply with a yes. The circumstances were against you, but you could still meet your friend and cousin before they go for the game, even if Osamu would be there.

You'd be in and out in a flash.

Determined to avoid Osamu, you shut your phone to retire for the day when it pings again. And the text is from someone you least expected.

Can we talk?

***

You don't what went in her head, when f/n came all the way to your house to talk about something in the middle of the night. Even though you two belonged to the same neighbourhood, it was weird and dangerous for her to be walking around alone.

"you could have spoken to me in school tomorrow as well." you say, frowning. Somehow you always had a protective streak towards f/n.

F/n blinks up at you, her lips on the straight line. "but...it was urgent."

"so urgent you had to come all the way here in the middle of the night?"

Rolling her eyes, she lets out an impatient sigh. "yes. And it's only 10pm. Now listen."

Taken aback by her tone, you stared at the girl in front of you. The air around her had a slight change. She still looked sweet and kind, but that also held a firmness that wasn't present earlier. Did something happen?

F/n searched your eyes for something, but you just kept quiet and looked at her. You were extremely confused by this sudden meeting and became more confused by her next words.

"I want to be friends with you."

Huh?

For a few seconds you weren't sure what you heard. She wants...to be friends? What?

"I'm sorry?" you say aloud, trying to comprehend what's happening.

F/n fiddled with her hands and looked away. "you heard me?" she mumbled.

"yeah. Yeah I did. But I don't understand. Why?"

Giving you a side glance, f/n sighed again. "because I think you're really cool."

You were beyond confused at this point. You were one of the reasons f/n had a shitty love life, and here she's standing and asking you to be friends again?

"But–"

"I know." she cuts you off. "I know what you did. What you all did. And I pray no one has to go through it." taking a step towards you, she holds your hands. "but these past few days I've been thinking, and watching how you're trying to take all the blame on your shoulders. You were the one who told me the truth, when you could have hidden it forever. You could have blamed Ginjima for being part of the scheme too but you went out of your way to tell me he's innocent. And you could have pretended things are alright when they're not. You sacrificed your love for me and chose the truth, and I don't know who could be more admirable than you at this point. "

You hadn't even realized the tears gathered in the base of your eyes when f/n finished her speech. You hadn't realized how her words struck a cord in you and how the cord snapped. You hadn't realized how much weight you carried on your shoulders for this.

Tears wouldn't stop flowing from your eyes as you watched f/n, speechless. A soft sob breaks out as you palm your face, trying to hold it in. But it wasn't really possible when a pair of warm hands wrapped around you and you let out all the pain you had stored in you.

You hugged f/n back and cried till you couldn't physically cry anymore, and f/n just held you, rubbing your back in silence.

After you calmed down, you part from her and wipe your face before saying, "yes I'll be your friend."

It was so random and straightforward that your new friend couldn't help but laugh. "I'm glad." she says, shedding a few tears herself. She didn't have to tell you that she has forgiven you, and you didn't have to thank her for forgiving. It was all conveyed through your actions.

You both giggle and smile at the newfound friendship when you suddenly remembered.

"ah, I'm going to meet the volleyball team tomorrow before school starts, you wanna come?"

At that f/n's face drops. You knew what she was thinking so you add. "you don't have to if you don't want to." you knew you could handle yourself by avoiding Osamu, but the same couldn't be said about f/n. Or Atsumu for that matter.

F/n gives you a sheepish look. You understood she still wasn't ready. And that meant she's also not attending their games.

"sorry." she says.

You shake your head and squeeze her arms lightly. "that's fine. Take your time. It's not easy, I know."

She nods. "are you attending the game?" she asks.

You shrug. "I don't know. Maybe not."

"you won't cheer for gin?"

You smile. "of course I will. From the four walls of my house. Because there are other people in the team I don't want to meet...yet."

F/n makes an 'o' and suddenly giggles. "boy problems suck huh."

You join her and giggle too, nodding. "it sure does."

You suddenly get a wave of deja vu as your meet with Suna comes to mind. It's like you found a friend in f/n again, after him.

It's not bad at all.

***

You stand a little far from the volleyball team, hiding behind the building. There was everyone, including the twins. Your eyes lock on Osamu, who is looking as handsome as ever. Gosh, if only you could hug him. You missed hugging him.

Shaking your head, you take out your phone and call your cousin.

"hello?"

You see Ginjima standing with Atsumu. Shit. "hey, have you guys left for the tournament?" you ask. You seriously weren't ready to see them all together.

"no. We're waiting for coach. Where are you?"

You see Suna walking up to Ginjima and you heard a voice in the background asking who it is, to which Ginjima says your name.

Suna takes the phone from his hands and says, "I thought you said you'd come to see us off? Where are you?"

Trying to stop the smile forming on your lips, you reply. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

Suna nods to no one in particular. "hopefully we don't leave in those few minutes."

You giggle at his tone. In the time you hung out with him, you noticed Suna had the ability to make you laugh for no reason. It's just the way he spoke, or his way of thinking, that amused you.

Your eyes turn to Osamu, who was eyeing the two boys curiously. Your heart wrenched at the thought of not being able to greet him, and you curl your hands in a fist. The impulsive part in you said screw it and go to them. But the anxious part of you reminded you of all the worst case scenarios if you did that.

"oh whatever." you mutter and straighten your uniform before stuffing your phone inside the back and appearing from behind the building. The boys hadn't noticed you yet, so you try to plaster a smile and walk towards them.

Shit, what are you doing! Turn back! Turn back!

The voice inside your head screamed at you to return and say you couldn't make it on time. But you chose the reckless option. You just wanted to breathe the same air as Osamu, even if that sounds creepy as heck.

Speaking of Osamu, he was the first one to spot you. Your eyes connect and they widen for a moment before turning back to normal. At least for you it does.

As for Osamu, poor dude cannot look away. All the determination he had gathered to make up with you crumbled as soon as he spotted you. You were beautiful, even if you were in the school uniform that he has seen a million times. It still doesn't change the fact that you made him weak in the knees.

You made a beeline for your cousin. "Gin!"

Ginjima and Suna, as well as the others look in your direction. You wanted the ground to open up and swallow when you felt a pair of gray eyes on you, boring holes. Not only that, but his blonde twin was doing the same. You hadn't any contact with either of the twins, and this is the first time after the fight that you were so near them.

Suna's face breaks into one of those rare smile he gave when he sees you. To anyone, specially a gray head, it may look like you're someone special to him, or that he had a thing for you. But it really wasn't that. Sure, you were special because you were cool enough for Suna to openly respect you, but that's all. He saw a good friend in you and you did the same.

"so you came." he states, the smile still playing on his lips.

You give him a small smile yourself. "of course. I did tell you I'll come."

You throw your arms around Ginjim's shoulders, who looked nervous. His expressions were so open you couldn't help but laugh at him sometimes. "what got you so nervous kid?" you ask.

Scowling, he mutters. "I'm just three months younger." but makes himself smaller in your embrace.

"Aw. Don't worry. You'll do well."

Suna laughs at the baby voice you use on Gin. You didn't treat him like a baby, but sometimes just to tease him you used that voice.

"hopefully." he says, and you let go of him to greet the third years when they come around you.

You fall into a casual conversation with them, and the twins were the only people away from the group. Atsumu had his eyes narrowed at you, and Osamu looked like he had entered the sad Romeo stage again. There was longing in his eyes to hold you, but alas, what could he do about it.

Atsumu eyes his brother and rolls his eyes. He looked pathetic. He wasn't any better, but what's with that expression. He couldn't bear to see his brother like that.

Letting out a huff, he shoves his twin towards your direction. "go and talk to her."

Osamu turns to look at him with surprise. "I thought you hate her?"

Atsumu didn't say anything. He didn't hate you. He never did. He was just mad at you on that day because he wasn't seeing anything except the break up, and that you caused it. But when he calmed down and assessed the situation, he knew what you did was noble. But his ego was big and he didn't want to let go of that just yet.

"just go." Atsumu replies in a soft voice, almost a whisper as he shoved his brother again. Osamu gulped and gave him one last look before dragging his heavy steps towards you.

To say he was nervous would be an understatement. He wasn't this nervous even when he asked you out behind the gym after gawking over you from afar in the morning assembly every day since the day you helped a girl who had passed out. Something about you just caught his attention. Maybe it was the serious aura about you, the 'no-nonsense' attitude but also a softer side that was very discreet. His eyes would look for you in every assembly after that. After getting shuffled during the new year, Osamu finally managed to stand in the row beside you. He would catch glances when one day you caught him staring. And he took a leap of faith.

Good thing that leap worked.

But the leap of faith he took in the present scene didn't take him far, for he was just a couple feet away from you when he saw their coach arriving and instructing the team to enter the bus. It was time.

A small part of you broke when you saw Osamu's approaching steps falter at the sound of the coach. You may be a loser, but he sure as heck wasn't and you were grateful for that. You wanted him to approach you, talk to you. Because if he started running towards you, your feet would soon follow. But sadly that wasn't the case.

Osamu contemplated whether he should continue his trek towards you or go to the bus. He was almost tempted to forget the darn game and run to you. But your next words stopped him.

"you got it."

His eyes flicker to you in surprise. The rest of the team was already on their way to the bus, so they were out of earshot, except for Atsumu who was behind his brother. You turn to the older twin, and smile. "you too Atsumu."

Atsumu wasn't surprised, he was touched. Anyway, he was guilty for misbehaving with you, and didn't find the courage to apologise, but if you're giving him the smile you always did, like a sister to a brother, he takes it as a sign of forgiveness.

He couldn't help but smile. Maybe you two didn't even need to talk, maybe this was the closure. "I'll do my best. And name a serve after you." Atsumu says, as he walks past you with a pat on your shoulder.

You chuckle at his words and wave him goodbye before looking at Osamu, whose lips quivered slightly. Dang, it's not the time to get emotional. That's not what you intended when you took the step first towards him.

"go." you say, amusement lining your eyes when you see him struggle to not hug you. Things weren't completely okay, and you two had a lot to talk. But that comes after this tournament.

Osamu nods, wiping his eyes with his jersey jacket. He puts on his mask and eyes crinkle at you, indicating a smile. You give him a smile of your own before he walks away, glancing at where you were standing a couple of times.

Step 2, check.

Things are coming to an end guys. One more chapter to go. It's the first step towards getting back together. For both the twins. Stay tuned.

[k1ckback]

this is more of fig psychoanalyzing eef

it’s a bad thing at this point to be left with a keyboard and a raging fixation

tw: talk about ephraim’s past abuse and trauma, spoilers and his eventual last scenes 

-anyway ephraim’s like running theme is a fear of being left vulnerable because one of the last time’s he was, his dad literally displaced his shoulder,  -this runs through the book as the constant replacement of vulnerability to anger, whether it’s caused by confusion, fear, ect, he’s always going to be the first one to argue about something.  -not to mention the amount of trauma this kid already has?? like his dad, and he literally saw a dude half alive after an accident. -ephraim does not process things like the rest of the kids do, because anger’s always been his first reaction. if he can make the other person fear him there’s less of a chance he’ll get hurt.  -this runs into his “stunts” and haphazard dangerous things he does to cope with the amount of anger he has yet to process, i’m sorry but does the “i do stuff that could easily get me hurt or killed to suppress other emotions” sound familiar to anyone who struggles with mental health issues?  -HE HAS LIVED HIS WHOLE LIFE BEING CONSTANTLY COMPARED TO HIS ABUSIVE FATHER. he looks like a mini version of him, his tempers like his, + the impulsivity. not to mention his mother being terrified of him turning out like him. leading him to have the same fear, and try to further suppress his emotions to not have them come out like they do. he didn’t get a chance to process the shît that happened to him, nor his own emotions living as someone predisposed to traumatic events, ptsd, and MAJOR stressors. most of his life he hasn’t been able to readily communicate this stuff with his mother because he’s too scared of reminding her of his father.  -Not to mention when he was talking about that tiger, he literally asks if feeling that way about it was alright,  -He never got the chance to process, nor work through his emotions and had a mother who more so feared the display of those emotions more than what could be making him feel those ways 

-so you pick up a kid, with unprocessed emotions and trauma, and put him on an island, where one of the only ADULT men he looks up to at this point gets a deadly unknown illness, and there’s a threat he’ll get it to?? he’s literally a bomb waiting to go off.  yk how people reacted when covid first came?? now picture it 10x, on an island, and as a kid with no authority members but the one you just watched make your friend perform makeshift surgery on, before locking him in a closet and having him DIE.  -PLUS watching tim, the only decent male role model start to unravel into panic and doing shit that outright put the boys in danger, which probably outright reminded him of his father 

-don’t even get me started on shelley, this man was manipulating half the group by the time tim was relatively near the closet. -he had genuine regret about his fight with kent + max, i mean max was one of the only people he had put his trust into being vulnerable around. but within seconds shelley was right next to him, pulling the strings and blatantly reminded him of his dad before he planted the seed of eef being sick into his head.  -by the time eef was by himself? and by the time shelley had slipped him the radio? eef was basically already long gone.  -eef’s fear of being vunerable and not regaining the control hit him again, shelley stood being the only one listening to him about his “symptoms” which at that point were part of his brain falling prey to gaslighting (thank you so much shelley you ass) -he took it into his own hands to fix, because he was so scared of not knowing what was gonna happen to him that he needed to prove to himself that he was gonna be okay.  -the brain does this funny thing when you’re in traumatic situations, have not eaten or consumed water in awhile, not to mention being gaslighted by someone who was supposed to survive with you. he hallucinated.   -when the boys find him again he’s held onto this theory that shelley’s right so hard that regardless of them knowing he’s probably not infected, they kinda have to go with it  -he than for the first time trusts someone with his life, sadly this is shelley and it’s because he’s so convinced the hallucinations are true that shelley seems to be the first one on the trip that has tried to “help him” and continued to “support him” throughout that event.  his last thoughts are ridden with such stubborn belief that shelley wouldn’t lead him down the wrong path (which, truthfully is ridden with being in shock from his wounds, shock from the past traumatic events and the amount of manipulation that he’s been through, not to mention the lack of food)  and there and then there he lights himself on fire, in a risky stunt, seeing no other way to drive the parasite out of him.  let me take a minute to mourn him again bc this whole scene had me sobbing during my first read through. 

ephraim manages to trust one person with helping him, in a state of fear, panic, shock and overall terror from the past events and he’s repaid by being manipulated to the point of dying.  UGH. i will never fully get over how fucking tragic his character is to me. i trauma bonded so hard to him bro. 

[super-secret-sick-fics]

hi! i loved your iwaoi fic so much!! if you’re still taking requests, i would love to see more iwaoi!! idc who’s sick but emeto is a yes :) no pressure and thank you! <33

Hi! I hope this is to your liking :)

I can’t promise that I’ll alway respond to requests this quickly or that they’ll always be 1000+ words. I’ve just been in the writing mood recently!!

Usually I hc Oikawa as super super overly-doting as a caretaker, but I think when it comes to Iwa’s migraines, he is so used to them (unfortunately) that he’s just like. “Okay this is what I gotta do.” If that makes sense?

Migraine: an IwaOi sick fic

Pair: sick Iwa, caretaker Oikawa

Word Count: 2,234

Warnings: vomit, swearing, slightly ooc Iwa

——————————————————————

Iwaizumi leaned against the wall of the elevator lethargically. He held the strap of his bag loosely as it leaned against his leg, suddenly too heavy to keep on across his shoulder. Why in the hell he and Oikawa chose to live on the 10th floor was beyond him. He was regretting the decision as each beep of the passing floors sent sharp, stabbing pains through his skull. The prospect of his bed called to him enticingly.

It had been a terrible day.

He woke up late and ran into someone on his way to class, spilling his coffee all over his notes. Then in each one of his classes, he found out that he did the homework for the next class instead of today’s, so when he was called on, he didn’t know any of the answers and each one of his teachers scolded him for not doing the readings.

During his lab, some dude passed out when they were practicing first aid assessment on a dummy who cut open his leg. (Apparently even fake blood was too much for the guy). Which wouldn’t bother Iwa usually, but when the kid fell, he knocked over the iodine and got it all over Iwa’s arm (which was now stained brown).

Then, during his clinicals, he was observing one of the trainers with rehab for a patient who only recently recovered from her shoulder surgery enough to start physical therapy. All he needed to do was watch so he could take notes on different types of treatment plans for shoulders. He was actually pretty relieved after such a rough day.

The universe was out to screw him apparently because the pain was a bit too much for the poor girl and she ended up throwing up down Iwa’s chest.

To top it all off, when he was writing notes for one of the certified trainers a little later, black spots started popping in and out of his vision and his upper arms started tingling. Anxiety immediately settled in his chest. Of course; the only way to end such a terrible day was with a migraine. He had at most thirty minutes from the start of the tingling to get home and take his meds before it became too late.

And of course that didn’t happen.

His notes took longer to finish because of the black spots interrupting his typing and the increasing difficulty he had starting at the blue light of his computer. Then his usual train route was under construction so they took a detour.

Now, here he was, an hour later, standing in the elevator, hating his very existence as the pulsing behind his eyes increased and nausea made his stomach churn.

Finally the doors to his floor opened and he stumbled forward, fighting his vertigo towards his apartment. The hall lights blinded him.

His fingers fumbled with the keys as he leaned against the door and when he finally got the door open, he all but fell inside. He dumped his stuff messily by the door (Oikawa would yell at him later for that) and made a beeline for his bedroom.

Iwaizumi could have cried when he finally got to his room. He didn’t bother with the lights and collapsed onto his bed. His head pounded relentlessly. He curled into a ball and whimpered.

“Iwa-chan? That you?” Oikawa’s bubbly voice from the hall cut through his brain like a knife and he brought his knees even closer.

“Iwa-chan, are you okay?” his voice was closer now. He was most likely standing in the doorway, a hand placed on his cocked hip.

“Migraine,” Iwaizumi moaned. Oikawa was quiet.

“Did you take your meds?” he whispered eventually. Iwaizumi was hella grateful for their life long friendship because Oikawa dealt with this before and knew exactly how to make Iwa more comfortable. Including toning down his usual obnoxious tone.

“Too late,” Iwa responded weakly.

“Tch. That’s not true and you know it,” Oikawa chided softly. Iwaizumi heard him moving around in the room before he felt the bed dip.

“Here. They might not prevent it from happening anymore, but you know as well as I do that it might lessen the symptoms,” he heard Oikawa much closer this time. He groaned in response but sat up.

He clenched in eyes shut to fight off the dizziness before prying them open again to look at Oikawa in front of him. He was holding the water bottle from Iwaizumi’s bedside table and his migraine meds. The look on his face resembled a chastising mother.

“I don’t know if they will,” Iwa said, “the aura started over an hour ago.” He took them anyway.

“You didn’t have anything with you?” He shook his head and winced at the motion.

“What’s on your arm?!” Oikawa screeched and Iwaizumi hissed when it sent sharp pains through his skull.

“Sorry, sorry I’m sorry,” the bastard whispered.

“Just iodine,” Iwa responded and looked down at the brown stains on his arm.

“Oh.”

It was quiet again then and Iwaizumi settled back in bed.

“Wait, do you want to change?” Oikawa asked and stood up. He moved towards the dresser before waiting for a response.

“I want to sleep,” Iwa grumbled, getting increasingly more annoyed. He knew Oikawa was trying to help, but he hasn’t had a migraine this bad in a hot minute and the swirling in his stomach was only getting worse. Throwing up always made it worse, so he wanted to try and avoid that if he could.

“Sit up,” Oikawa said and Iwa would smack him if he had the energy.

“Oikawa, please,” he moaned again. He sat up anyway, his legs dangling off the side of his bed.

Oikawa pulled his shirt gently over his head and replaced it with a soft sweatshirt. It smelled like Oikawa and Iwa felt comforted despite himself. Next his jeans were pulled off almost clinically, as if he would break if Oikawa went too fast or pulled too hard.

Oikawa helped him into a pair of basketball shorts and then finally allowed him to lie down.

Iwaizumi wouldn’t ever say it out loud because it would give Oikawa too big of a head if he knew changing out of his school clothes made him feel just the slightest bit better. His jeans had been adding to the sensory overload.

“We were supposed to meet up with the guys tonight. Want me to cancel?” Oikawa asked, scratching Iwa’s head gently with perfectly manicured nails. It gave him a temporary relief from the pulsing that threatened to crush his head.

“No. You go,” he slurred, falling asleep.

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” Oikawa hummed and continued running his hand through Iwa’s hair. It didn’t stop the pain, but it diminished it enough that eventually, he fell asleep.

***

Iwaizumi woke up with a strangled breath when pain exploded through his skull and down the back of his neck. He blinked a few times, staring into the dark room trying to clear his blurry vision.

This wasn’t right. No, sleep was supposed to make him feel better, but an intense pain covered his entire head. It felt like someone was squishing his brain in between their hands. Why why why.

Suddenly he was nauseatingly dizzy and he realized he was panting, depriving his already struggling brain of precious oxygen. He pulled his knees to his chest and tried to calm down his breathing.

His body didn’t want to give him a break though because as soon as the world righted itself again, his stomach contents swirled sickeningly in his gut. He tried to ride out the nausea. He didn’t want to throw up. That would make the pounding worse. The more he thought about it, the more his stomach turned and he realized he was fighting a losing battle.

In a vain attempt to stay in bed, he thought to try and call Oikawa into the room only to put together that the roaring sound that was hammering nails into his skull was the shower. So he was on his own. He needed to make it to the bathroom. Needed to make it to Oikawa.

With heavy limbs, he forced himself to sit up and almost lost it. He gagged, slapping a hand over his mouth. It pounded in his skull. He swallowed it down and slowly made his way out of bed.

By the time he made it to the bathroom, he almost lost it three times and the pain in his head was unbearable. His eyes stung with tears and he pounded on the door before throwing it open and tumbling into the room. He collided with Oikawa who squawked loudly, painfully. Iwaizumi ignored him and collapsed in front of the toilet.

As soon as he moved his hand away from his mouth, he heaved once and vomit poured from his mouth. It burned the back of his throat and his chest. The torture stopped just long enough for him to catch his breath before he lurched forward with another gag and threw up again. His chest was on fire and the lights in the bathroom seared into his brain and he really just wanted everything to stop.

The sound of the lights clicking off registered through his haze somehow and he opened his eyes (when he closed them, he wasn’t sure). Then, a gentle hand was on his back.

“Oh, Iwa-chan. It’s a pretty bad one this time, huh?” Oikawa said tenderly from beside him. He turned his head slowly and found himself face to face with his best friend. He was wearing pajamas, so he must have gone to change at some point since Iwa entered the bathroom.

Oikawa smiled sympathetically and something in Iwaizumi cracked. Suddenly, the flood gates were open and he found himself launching himself into Oikawa’s chest. Thin arms wrapped around his back as he sobbed.

“It h-hurts s-so b-bad,” he weeped.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry, I wish it didn’t.” Oikawa buried his face in Iwa’s hair.

“You need to calm down though. It’s only going to make you feel worse.”

As if on cue, Iwaizumi’s stomach lurched again and he tore himself away from Oikawa’s arms to wretch once again.

The nausea and pain made him dizzy. He was having trouble keeping himself upright, but thankfully, Oikawa placed a hand on his forehead to keep him from banging it on the toilet seat.

“Shhhh, it’s okay,” Oikawa soothed as Iwa stared into the toilet. His stomach still turned dangerously but he was on the verge of collapse. The tightness in his head only got worse and he really wanted to cut his own head off. He cursed his brain for being messed up and causing him such pain.

He started heaving again, but nothing was coming up and it hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt. Make it stop make it stop make it stop.

“Hajime, breathe,” Oikawa commanded quietly, rubbing between his shoulder blades. It did nothing though. His stomach kept rolling and turning thanks to his stupid stupid head.

Finally, the back of his throat gurgled and a wet hiccup brought up bile and the rest of his lunch. He coughed and sputtered into the toilet and gasped for breath. Maybe it was over.

A minute or two after the episode ended, Oikawa spoke again.

“Ya think you’re done?” He spoke so softly and so tenderly it made Iwa’s heart soft. He nodded.

Oikawa helped him lean back against the wall and a second later, handed him some water and his toothbrush. He lazily rinsed his mouth and brushed the nastiness away before spitting in the toilet. Oikawa flushed it and turned to help him up.

Once he was standing, the pain magnified tenfold and his knees buckled.

“I think I’m gonna pass out,” he mumbled and Oikawa caught him before he could fall.

“Hey, no. Not allowed,” he said and ran a wet wash rag over Iwa’s face (where did he get that?)

“Okay,” Iwa slurred, “not this time.”

“Thank you,” Oikawa chuckled. Together, they made it back to Iwa’s bedroom. Oikawa helped him under his covers and kissed his forehead.

“My poor Iwa-chan,” he sighed and scratched at Iwa’s head again.

“Stay here?” he asked pathetically. Oikawa blinked at him.

“Of course. I’ve already called the guys and told them we weren’t coming,” he said. He walked around the side of the bed and sat against the headboard, nestled beside Iwaizumi. Iwa turned and buried himself in the setter’s stomach and immediately, Oikawa’s hand was running through his hair. He sighed contentedly. This was by far one of his favorite positions.

“Go to sleep, Iwa-chan. Hopefully your migraine will be gone in the morning.”

These migraines really knocked him out. They stripped him of his usual personality and left him a sniveling, pathetic, clingy, mess. But he was a mess Oikawa was familiar with and Iwaizumi was eternally grateful for that. Oikawa knew what he meant when he couldn’t use as many words as he’d like. He knew how to make him comfortable, what foods he could tolerate and how to comfort him. There was no one else that Iwaizumi would ever want around when he got migraines. Hell, there was no one else Iwaizumi wanted around at all. As long as Oikawa was there, he’d be fine.

[hurricanery]

If the Sun Comes Up - pt. 1

Apologies for the long A/N: This is the start of an AU fic inspired by this prompt & this prompt. It follows Amelia & Link, along with many others, in their first year as interns at seattle grace hospital. Thank you for sending character requests about this one! I settled on a few, but other characters are likely to show up later on as residents/attendings. Also, sidenote: this is completely an AU, meaning I just kind of grouped people together based on my interpretation of age (not that age really makes sense in the greys world anyways). This chapter is somewhat boring, basically just a set up for the characters and dynamic of the story. Thank you as always for feedback and prompts <3

In summary, the main interns in focus are: Amelia Shepherd, Atticus Lincoln, Maggie Pierce, Winston Ndugu, Jo Wilson, & Lexie Grey. The ship this focuses on is Amelink <3

_______

That's how it starts

We go back to your house

We check the charts

And start to figure it out

_______

(Hour 1)

“No, no, no,” she mutters impatiently, hastily climbing out of her car, her jacket catching in the door as she slams it shut. “God dammit, son of a-”

She tugs her jacket free and sighs in exasperation as she begins walking at a pace that could quite possibly challenge olympic level speed-walkers.

Amelia Shepherd was a lot of things.

Sharp. Cunning. Confident. Prepared. Most of the time.

But, throughout her lifetime, she’d also been described in less elevating ways. Unpredictable. Impulsive. Irresponsible. She laughs bitterly when her mind settles on the last adjective, as she scurries through the doors of Seattle Grace Hospital.

Because she was a lot of things. And late for the first day of her surgical internship was now getting added to the list.

_______

“Pierce, Lincoln, Wilson, Ndugu, Grey, Shepherd!” Chief Webber’s voice booms through the chaos of the crowded locker room. Interns begin stepping forward as their names are called. “Pierce, Lincoln, Wilson, Ndugu, Grey, and Shepherd,” he beckons again, “Your assigned resident is Dr. Karev.”

Alex scowls intimidatingly as five out of his six interns approach him by the door.

“Let’s move,” he mutters, starting to walk swiftly through the corridor of the hospital while the interns trail behind him.

“I have five rules,” he stops walking suddenly, and the sound of halting sneakers squeaks behind him. “First rule…” He trails off, turning around to look pointedly at each of their faces. “There are five of you here, who’s missing?”

The group looks between each other in confusion, shrugging amongst themselves. Alex peers down at each of their ID badges.

“Where’s Shepherd?”

More shrugs.

“Where’s Shepherd?” He repeats, louder this time.

“I’m here, I’m here!” Amelia’s breathless voice chimes distantly behind the group as she jogs to meet them. She comes to a stop, huffing out a breath as she pushes strands of her long, dark hair out of her face.

Alex glares at her, arms folding across his chest.

“Okay forget the rules, we’re out of time,” He growls. “You five,” He looks between those of his interns that were on time today. “You’ll be joining me in the gallery for a groundbreaking surgery.”

There’s excited murmurs throughout the group.

“I’m serious. The surgery you’re about to witness….you will likely never see anything like it again. You will be silent. You will take notes. And you will not embarrass me.”

The excited murmurs turn to anxious nods.

“Shepherd,” Alex continues, an evil smirk taking over his expression. Amelia gulps. “Your last name is not going to save your ass right now.” He laughs. “I have this dude who’s taking up a bed down in the pit. He won’t stop throwing up. He’s a junkie. You’re gonna go clean him up, give him an IV, and send him home. And then maybe you can come find us.”

Amelia sighs, stepping forward slightly to defend herself. “Are you sure? Don’t you think I should see-”

“I didn’t ask for a response,” he interrupts her. “I asked you to head to the pit.”

Amelia blinks, her hands dropping to her sides in defeat. She watches as the rest of her intern class hurries off to witness a groundbreaking surgery without her.

_______

(Hour 8)

Amelia slowly shuffles through the dimly lit basement of Seattle Grace, following the sounds of her fellow interns’ voices.

“Ugh, Atticus,” Jo laughs loudly. “Call him Link. I have never heard anyone call him Atticus.”

Jo’s laugh echoes through the hallway and Amelia uses it to guide her.

“Sorry,” Lexie giggles in defense. “It’s not like I knew that. Not my fault you all know each other already.”

Amelia finally approaches. And sees everyone sprawled out across the abandoned hospital bed in the hallway. The bed rests against a large window by the vending machines.

“Who all knows each other already?” Amelia huffs as she slides down against the opposite wall, settling herself on the floor and leaning her head back in exhaustion.

“Everyone, apparently,” Lexie responds as she takes a bite of a granola bar. “Maggie and Winston went to Tufts together. Jo and Link did the same undergrad program, and even worked at the same restaurant. I’m the loner here.”

“Well,” Amelia mumbles, eyes closing as her head rests against the wall. “I’m a loner with you, then.”

“Yeah, except for the fact that you’re a Shepherd,” Lexie laughs.

“And you’re a Grey!” Amelia bites back playfully. “We’re in the same boat here.”

“Wait, you’re a Grey?” Maggie gasps, practically choking on the handful of chips she’d just consumed. Winston leans forward, concern crossing his features as he rubs Maggie’s back. She slowly gets a grasp over her coughs. “You’re a Grey, too? Like….Meredith Grey?”

“Yeah….I’m her sister….” Lexie frowns. And Maggie’s eyes go wide. “What’s wrong with being a Grey-”

“Is everyone here somehow related to an attending or resident?” Jo interrupts, rolling her eyes in disbelief. “What in the nepotism….”

Maggie settles back in her seat, her eyes still wide as Winston watches her. Quiet falls between them all and Amelia resumes her previous position, eyes coming to rest as she leans back against the wall. She listens to the voices among the group as the conversation picks back up.

“I heard that every year, they pick the most promising intern on the first day to scrub in on something.” Jo announces. Amelia’s adrenaline kicks in a little bit at this information, but she keeps her eyes shut.

“During our first shift?” Lexie gasps.

“Mhm.”

“No thanks,” Lexie mutters. “I’d definitely screw something up.”

“I might ask Karev about it,” Amelia can hear the smirk in Jo’s voice. “Try and get a leg up on it.”

“Nah,” Link cuts in. “Don’t do that. Whatever happens, happens. You wanna be a shark about it?”

“Okay, Mr. ‘go with the flow.’” Jo laughs. “That kind of attitude is not going to get you anywhere.”

The comfortable silence that fills the hallway again makes sense. It reflects everyone’s current exhaustion.

But then a question gets voiced, and it takes Amelia a moment to realize that the question is directed toward her.

“How’d your patient in the pit go?”

Amelia’s eyes snap open as she searches for the face that voiced the question. Her eyes land on Link’s bright-eyed and sympathetic gaze.

“I….didn’t end up discharging him.” Amelia mutters. And she watches as Link raises his eyebrows at this information.

“Karev is not going to be happy about that.”

“He….uh,” Amelia sits up, bringing her knees to her chest as she explains. “The patient….he’s not a junkie.” She outwardly cringes at the word. “It’s not withdrawal. It’s something else.”

“What makes you think that?” Jo inquires doubtfully.

“His symptoms,” Amelia mumbles, somewhat self-consciously. “They’re not withdrawal symptoms.”

“Maybe Shepherd’s right,” Link offers, a kindness to his voice that surprises Amelia. She expects him to be more arrogant. Or maybe a little full of himself. Just based on his looks. But, everything she’s heard from him so far, has been nothing but positive.

“You going to tell Karev you didn’t discharge the guy?” Jo questions.

“I am,” Amelia responds matter-of-factly. And the hallway grows silent again.

“I could just take a nap right here, right now….” Winston eventually mumbles out.

And there’s a general hum of agreement. Before the quiet moment is interrupted by a chorus of pagers going off.

_______

(Hour 12)

They finally get a lunch break. And by the time it comes around, Amelia isn’t even hungry. After being vomited on in the pit all morning, her appetite is completely diminished.

She walks through the hallway towards the cafeteria and sees Maggie walking a few feet ahead of her.

“Hey!” She catches up to her.

“Hey,” Maggie smiles. “You grabbing lunch?”

Amelia just groans, shaking her head. “Not after the morning I’ve had, no.”

Maggie gives her a sympathetic look before she stops in front of the bulletin board outside of the cafeteria. Amelia watches curiously as Maggie pins a flyer to the board, then she reads the posting.

“You’re looking for roommates?” Amelia inquires, slowly becoming more animated as the idea settles in.

“Yeah, I have three rooms to fill in my apartment. My other roommates moved out but I want to re-sign the lease.”

“Um, wow,” Amelia is stunned by the obviousness of it. “Okay, me? I will be a roommate.”

They continue walking towards the cafeteria and Maggie turns to her, giving her an incredulous stare.

“We’re in the same intern class….” Maggie frowns. “We’re going to be around each other literally 24/7….you wouldn’t actually want to….live together, too?”

“I would,” Amelia persists. “I’m….crashing on my brother’s couch right now,” she mutters, embarrassed by the confession. “I would quite honestly rather live anywhere else.”

“I barely know you.” Maggie exclaims in disbelief.

“So! I’m great. I’m...I’m the best. Best roommate ever. I promise you won’t regret it.” Amelia grins hugely, wiggling her brows, trying to sell herself. And Maggie laughs, shaking her head.

They sit at a table, and Maggie unpacks the lunch she’s brought with her.

“Really,” Amelia tries again. “I’m a clean person. I do the dishes...most of the time. I pay rent on time. Always. And I’m fun, and-”

“Okay!” Maggie laughs. “Okay. You….you’re overselling it now. You can have one of the rooms.”

“Yes!” Amelia loudly squeals, and the outburst makes heads turn throughout the cafeteria. She quickly pipes down. “Sorry….you won’t regret it.”

Maggie just shakes her head, taking a bite of salad.

“So….” Amelia speaks up again after letting Maggie get a few bites in. “What do you have against Meredith Grey?”

And similar to earlier, Maggie almost chokes on her food again. She slowly works on swallowing her bite of salad before she speaks.

“I don’t have anything against Meredith Grey,” she mutters.

“Ha,” Amelia laughs sarcastically. “Your eyes just about burst through your head earlier when you found out Lexie was related to her. What’s up?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Hey, we’re roommates now. Spill.” Amelia folds her arms across her chest, leaning back in her seat.

Maggie glances around the room before she leans in, beginning to speak softly. So softly Amelia almost doesn’t hear her. “I came here….to Seattle Grace….I applied for this internship because my birth mother worked here. She was kind of….like a legend here.”

“Okay….”

“And I didn’t think I’d actually land the internship….”

“Okay….”

“And then I got the internship and….and I didn’t think I’d actually see her, or be working with her-”

“Who? Your mom?” Amelia interrupts.

“No,” Maggie breathes. “No….Meredith.”

Amelia just frowns, still not understanding how this ties together.

“Ellis Grey is my birth mother.”

And now it’s Amelia’s turn to choke on her food. Except she’s not currently eating anything. So, it’s more like she’s choking on air as she grips the edges of the table in shock.

But before she can voice her surprise, Winston approaches the table, sitting down to join them. And Amelia breathes out a huge breath. Glancing at Maggie and miming the motions as if she’s zipping her mouth shut.

Winston definitely notices the strange energy, and he looks between the two in confusion.

“I’m….” Amelia pipes up. “I’m going to go check on my patient in the pit. You two enjoy lunch.”

Amelia stands up, winking at Maggie mischievously, before heading for the door.

_______

(Hour 16)

16 Hours in and Amelia finally decides it’s time to eat something. She’s been on her feet all day, running labs and doing scut work for Karev. The patient she was supposed to have discharged earlier, is currently waiting on the neuro consult she’d ordered. So it feels like the perfect time to take a small break.

She’s been so busy, she’s barely even thought about food. Her stomach rumbles loudly as she makes her way back through the dimly lit basement, seeking out the vending machines she knows are down here. She could have picked any of the vending machines in the hospital, honestly, but she’s chosen this route because she likes the quiet, and hopes to have a moment to herself to unwind.

She rounds the corner, letting the subtle hum of the vending machines bring her comfort. But the moment doesn’t last.

“Hey, Shepherd!”

Amelia jumps, clutching a hand to her chest as her eyes settle on Link, where he’s once again sitting on the abandoned bed in the hallway.

“Shit, you scared me.” She exhales shakily.

“Sorry,” he smiles, then turns back to the textbook in his lap.

Amelia walks past him, continuing towards the vending machines. She considers the options in front of her, before deciding on a granola bar and an energy drink.

“You kind of stole my idea,” she mumbles as she turns around to face him.

“Hm?” he looks up from his book.

“I was going to come down here, and be all quiet and alone for a minute,” she smirks.

“Well, great minds think alike, I guess?” He laughs. “You can sit.”

Amelia gazes up at him through a pointed stare, biting the inside of her cheek as she weighs her options. She truly had been seeking a peaceful moment to herself before she realized Link was down here.

“And I can be quiet,” he adds, watching her think it through.

But she decides. She gives in and climbs onto the mattress, resting her back against the wall. She yawns hugely as she settles in a comfortable seated position, legs outstretched in front of her, mirroring Link’s current position.

“Those aren’t very good for you, you know,” he smirks, nodding towards the energy drink in her lap.

“What are you, a doctor or something?” she bites back sarcastically.

“Trying to be.”

Amelia smiles, popping open the drink and taking an exaggerated first sip. Link just shakes his head at her, turning back to his book.

Amelia sighs a few seconds later. “Is it just me....or do you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing?”

Link turns his head to the side, lifting his eyes from his book to her tired expression.

“I get that.”

“I mean,” Amelia lets her head roll to the side too, in his direction. “I was top of my class at Harvard. I really thought I’d have an impressive first day.”

“You….were late this morning….” Link stifles a laugh, squinting at her.

Amelia rolls her eyes. “Yeah….not off to a great start. You’re right.”

A moment later Link slams his textbook closed, muttering something about trying to squeeze in a nap while he can. He leans his head back against the wall, letting his eyes shut.

“Oh, come on,” Amelia mutters playfully. “Sleep is for the weak.”

“Sleep is extremely important,” Link responds, eyes still closed. “And I’m not sleeping, I’m just resting my eyes.”

Amelia laughs under her breath. “Sure.”

“Really,” he continues. “Resting your eyes? Feels fantastic. You should give it a try.”

Amelia doesn’t respond to this, instead taking another sip of her drink.

“Afraid you’ll fall asleep?” Link inquires a moment later, opening his eyes to glance sideways at her.

“No. I can rest my eyes without falling asleep.”

“Sure.”

Amelia watches as he resumes his previous position, his eyes slipping closed as he rests against the wall.

“Is this some sort of competition?” She mutters.

“I’m not competitive.”

He’s smug, Amelia thinks, as she stares at his restful expression. She sets her drink on the windowsill behind her, and lets her own eyes come to rest. It feels good to close her eyes. Way too good.

A moment later she hears Link whisper “I told you.” At least she thinks that’s what she hears. Her consciousness is beginning to slip away from her. And it’s hard to pull herself out of it, or to even think about separating exhausted imagination from reality.

When Link’s pager goes off several minutes later, his eyes shoot open. The sound of it doesn’t even cause Amelia to stir. He turns to look at her. Her long hair covers half of her face, but he can tell by the pattern of her breathing that she’s fallen asleep. Link smiles to himself, deciding not to wake her. She had initially come down here seeking a moment to herself, and Link was going to let her have it. His pager beeps again and he stands up, quickly on his feet and moving through the hallway.

_______

When Amelia eventually wakes up, she has no idea how much time has passed. The first thing she notices is that she’s alone now. Link’s abandoned textbook sits open next to her. It’s much darker in the basement now, with less light coming in through the window. She frowns, checking her pager.

And that’s when she notices the red blinking light.

Signifying her pager is dying. Or needs new batteries. Or something. She doesn’t know. It’s her goddamn first day and she has no idea how this works.

She curses to herself, springing up from her seat and practically running towards the stairwell.

_______

By the time she reaches the pit, she’s completely out of breath. Her eyes scan the ER, trying to locate her patient from earlier. The patient she was supposed to have discharged. But instead of following Karev’s orders, she had called a neuro consult, because she knew that the case was something more. And now, as she stands in the ER, she completely regrets her decision to venture off to the basement and wait for a confirmation page from neuro. That decision was currently biting her in the ass.

Because now her eyes settle on the current situation.

She watches as Karev begins transport of her patient. Her mouth drops open, stunned as Karev kicks the hospital bed into movement, beginning to transport her patient to the OR. She grows even more stunned as she watches Link grab the rails on the other side of the bed, moving with Karev towards the elevator.

“Wait,” she steps forward. “Wait! That’s my patient, what-”

“Not anymore,” Alex growls. “It’s a tumor, Shepherd. No longer your case.”

“Right,” Amelia keeps pace with them. “I’m the one that called the neuro consult. I knew it! I knew that-”

“Shepherd-”

“That’s my patient!”

She stumbles backwards a bit as they navigate the bed to enter the elevator. She makes eye contact with Link as she watches them step into the elevator.

“Like I said,” Alex mutters, pressing the elevator button to the OR floor once they’re settled inside. “Not anymore. Maybe answer your page, next time.”

Her shock turns to anger as she holds eye contact with Link, and Karev’s words settle in.

“Beds 1-4 need stitches, can you manage that?”

The elevator doors come to a close and irritation flashes through her hot and fast. Because Atticus Lincoln, mr. ‘I'm not competitive,’ had just stolen her patient. Tricked her into falling asleep and then stolen her surgery.

_______

She tries to suppress her anger as she does scut work for the next few hours. As the time passes, she focuses on her bedside manner, and tries to improve her suture technique. Her anger subsides, and it gets replaced with disappointment. Mostly disappointment in herself. Because this was nobody’s fault but her own.

This was a surgical internship at one of the top hospitals in the country. It was allowed to be competitive. They were allowed to be sharks.

By the time she discharges her last patient in the pit, she’s feeling a lot of things. The feeling that stands out the most though, is the exhaustion.

_______

(Hour 24)

Amelia basically moves on autopilot as she exits the locker room, shrugging her jacket on and moving through the hospital’s corridor.

Her eyes feel heavy and all she can think about is going home and immediately going to sleep.

Her anticipation is interrupted, though, when she sees Link walking a few feet ahead of her. She stares at the back of his head, trying to remember any of the angry words she’d had for him earlier. But she’s just so tired, and she’s drawing a blank.

He comes to a stop in front of her, pausing in front of the bulletin board just outside of the cafeteria. Amelia slows her pace as she watches him read something on the board, and then he’s ripping off part of a flyer.

She catches up with him, not managing to walk slowly enough to avoid him completely. He notices her approach and almost instantly, a remorseful expression takes over his face.

They fall into step with each other. And Amelia clears her throat.

“Will you at least tell me how it went? With the tumor?”

Link nods sheepishly. “He’s in recovery now. The other Dr. Shepherd, who I’m guessing is your brother?” Amelia nods. “He removed it all, no problems.”

“That’s good,” Amelia mutters.

They approach the exit, and Link holds the door open as they make their way into the parking lot.

“I didn’t mean to steal your surgery, you know,” Link speaks up again, his tone apologetic. “I just….answered the page.”

Amelia smirks.

“Don’t feel bad. If you want to be a shark, be a shark.”

Link genuinely looks conscious-stricken at her words.

“I’m kidding,” Amelia adds. “It was pretty much my fault.”

Link looks down, crumpling the paper he’d taken from the bulletin board, and twisting it in his palm.

“What’s that?” Amelia inquires.

“Roommates wanted,” Link exclaims, smoothing out the paper and reading the brief description.

Amelia’s face falls.

“No,” she’s laughing now. “No way.”

“What?”

“You can’t be one of our roommates.”

“Who is ‘our’?” Link frowns.

“That’s Maggie’s ad,” she laughs. “And I already claimed a room, so I get a say here.”

“Well I think I’m going to inquire with Maggie,” Link smirks. “I just so happen to be looking for a new place right now. So, I kind of feel like I was meant to see this,” he holds up the paper.

Amelia sighs.

“I’ll get to her first,” she mumbles, beginning to turn towards her parked car. “And give her my input.”

The sun is starting to come up. 24 hours since the last sunrise. 24 hours since the start of their first shift. Amelia gazes up at the sky, grateful that it’s over. But grateful that it happened. Grateful to have the first day under her belt.

“Shepherd,” Link interrupts her thoughts. “I think I’ll be getting to Maggie first.”

“Huh?” She turns to him, and notices how he’s started walking in the opposite direction.

She catches up to him.

“We’re going to Joe’s,” he states, as Amelia steps into pace with him. “The bar across the street. Apparently it’s open 24 hours….but that’s on the down-low.”

Amelia halts, coming to a standstill.

And Link frowns, slowing to a stop when he notices her hesitation. “Jo, Maggie, Winston, Lexie….everyone, I mean. To celebrate a successful first shift?”

Amelia’s heart sinks. She hates this part. Hates having this conversation with anyone her age.

“I don’t drink,” she admits, clawing her palms with her fingernails as her arms drop to her sides.

“Okay,” Link says simply. “They have food there, right?”

She has to question whether she’s heard him right. Because she was waiting for the ‘why not?’ For the confused stare. Or for the uncomfortable chuckle. Which he offers none of. She was so prepared for the interrogation, that his reaction actually stuns her a little.

“Or music?” Link adds, when he realizes that Amelia is stuck inside her head a little. “Food. Or music. Or games? Shepherd, I know I said I’m not competitive, but that’s a whole different story when it comes to darts-”

“Okay,” she finally breathes, trying to hide her smile.

“Okay, you’ll come?”

Amelia nods, starting to walk again. Link catches up with her and she guides them towards Joe’s. They cross the street just as the sun comes up.

//

[starrybethany]

I’m Sure - Adam Boqvist Imagine Part 1

Word count: 3.3K

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

I heard about Adam before I met him. The guys had hung around my office, claiming they wanted to catch up with me, but I really know it’s just because they want to gossip. Hockey players are like that. We were catching up on how their summers went.

“Hey, did you see who was drafted, Y/N?” Dylan asks, wandering around the small room and staring at various objects.

“Nope,” I pop the ‘p’, scanning over the email recently sent to me. “Who was it?”

“This Swedish kids with sick hands,” Alex gushes.

“Really? Is he gonna be the next Patty Kane?”

“Please, like anyone could be like Showtime,” he scoffs.

Dylan pulled up some videos of his highlights, showing them to me.

I nod in approval. “Looks like hockey.”

They give me unamused looks.

We’ve had this talk plenty of times- they think that since I work at the United Center, I should understand hockey more, I think that since I work for United Center and not for the Blackhawks, it really doesn’t matter.

Adam had spent that season in London with the Knights. I had heard about him sprinkled into conversations here and there but really, I just focused on my work as being the suites advisor and making sure everything went smoothly. It was a great year for bookings, and apparently a great year for him.

Alex tried explaining the kid’s talent to me when we were on a double date with our partners, but I still couldn’t understand hockey that well, so I just smiled and nodded. He let that slip by.

It wasn’t until he was here in Chicago that I got it.

For some reason I had been down at the rink, watching practice take place. He had spent a few weeks with the Hawks- weeks that I had taken off to take care of my boyfriend after his knee surgery- and was sent down to Rockford almost as soon as I had returned.

The boys were really upset that I hadn’t met their new friend, Kirby especially, who was a new addition to our group almost as soon as Dominik introduced him to me.

But then there he was, back on the ice. I squinted my eyes, not remembering a ‘27’ on the team. The last name clicks, and I watch as he flies around on the ice, joking with the guys and passing the puck skillfully.

I got it. I understood then why the boys thought he was so talented and why he was back in the NHL at the mere age of nineteen. He played with confidence and speed, a conscious defenseman- something the boys tell me they’ve been struggling with.

Then I un-got it.

Alex had invited a couple of us over for drinks one night and my boyfriend, as he did often, accompanied me.

“Oh, you guys haven’t met yet,” Alex comments, pouring glasses of wine for all of us. “Y/N, this is Adam, the defenseman we’ve been telling you about. Adam, this is Y/N, she works as a suites advisor for the UC.”

“Nice to meet you,” I reach out, shaking his hand. I thought he was attractive, I won’t lie. From the detailed tattoos to the messy hair, he was just my type. But my boyfriend was sitting right next to me, so that was a line I didn’t want to cross.

It didn’t matter to Adam, though. He winked at me as we shook hands, which I found distasteful, but allowed myself to send him a tight-lipped smile.

“And this is my boyfriend, Steven,” I emphasis, resting my hand on Steven’s thigh.

“Oh yeah,” Alex mutters.

Alex always tended to forget about Steven. In fact, everyone seemed to forget about Steven.

“So, suites’ advisor?” Adam questions, ignoring the man sitting next to me. I could feel my boyfriend freeze up at the clear dismissal.

“Yep.”

“What do you do? Just say hello to all of the rich investors?” By the smirk on his face and the small sip of wine, I can tell the dig is intentional.

He knows there is much more that goes into this job than that, so I don’t know why he’s trying to get under my skin. Especially when we just met.

“Um, no, actually, I schedule who books suites for when, what suites are available, who caters what suite. A lot goes into it, actually,” I send him a fake smile.

His smirk just widens, digging under my skin even more.

Steven and I had left early that night.

~

I ungot it again at the family skate. I’ve never learned how to skate- the guys tried to teach me, but I get frustrated easily so they stopped attempting. I’m stumbling around on the ice by myself, the boys stopping by once and a while to check on me but quickly rushing off to be with their significant others. Steven has work today and we had an argument a few days ago, so I didn’t even bother inviting him to the family skate.

A hard body runs into me from behind, causing me to become unbalanced and hit the boards, catching myself before I fall right onto the ice.

“Ow,” I turn around to glare at the person who pushed me, narrowing my eyes even more when I see the familiar blonde boy and the smirk that he’s always wearing. “What’s your problem, dude?”

“What do you mean?” His accent is thick with his words, making my stomach flutter but the irritation replaces the fluttering quickly.

“You’ve just been rude to me for no reason. What’s up with that?”

He gives me a surprised look, like he didn’t expect me to confront him on it. But I don’t know why he would think that- if you’re going to be a dick, I have a right to call you out on it.

He scoffs quickly, an annoyed expression quickly replacing his surprised one. “You’re overthinking everything.”

I watch as he skates away in annoyance, Kirby replacing his spot next to me.

“You two are close, right?” I question.

He nods.

“Why does he hate me so much?”

He laughs at that and I’m the one who’s shocked now. “Isn’t it obvious? He likes you.”

I give him an unimpressed look. “You’re saying he’s acting like an asshole because he likes me?”

“Hey, I didn’t say it was logical,” he puts his hands up in defense, skating away.

I’ve always thought that was ridiculous. If you like someone, just tell them. And if you don’t, just avoid them. There is no reason that meanness is needed, especially if it’s because you really like that person.

I try to avoid Adam after that.

~

It doesn’t last long. About a week of avoiding him goes by before I find myself out at a bar with him and a few other players. I had just broken up with Steven, discovering that I no longer did my ‘in love’ giggle with him or smiled when I saw his name pop up on my phone.

But just because I fell out of love with him didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. It hurt. It really hurt. So that’s how I found myself one, two, three, four drinks in at the bar, too drunk to remember what I was saying and too drunk to care about how I might feel the next day.

I went on the dance floor to blow off some steam, swaying along to pop songs and screaming the lyrics.

Arms wind around my waist and I look down at them, spotting a familiar sleeve. I turn around in his arms, careful to not move my hands. I’m worried of what I might do if that happens- even though Steven and I had just broken up, I’ve been touch-deprived for weeks.

“What are you doing, Adam?” I question, leaning closer so that he can hear me.

“You’re single now, right?”

“Yes, but did I give you permission to touch me?” I raise my eyebrows.

He takes a step back with amusement, raising his arms defensively to show me that he’s respecting my boundaries.

Then I can’t help but think: fuck it. After being in a committed relationship for years, why not mess around with some guy I have intense sexual chemistry with? He’s hot, he’s sexy, sure he’s an asshole but I’m sure that confidence would do wonders in bed.

So, I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and tangling in his blonde locks as I pull him as close to me as he can get. One of his hands rests on my ass while the other rests on my hip, tugging me closer and closer to him.

He’s staying with Alex and Lyndsey, so we end up at my apartment in my bedroom. And when I wake up in the morning, I don’t regret it.

I regret it when I go to work the next day. He gives me a knowing look every time he passes me in the hall and even Kirby sends me a look or two.

It happens for a couple more days until one day he finds himself in my office with Dylan and Alex Nylander, another young rookie.

I’d been struggling with work all day, people bitching at me on the phone and numbers not adding up so all I really wanted was to finish the last hour of work and go home.

Then Adam gives me a look.

“What’s your problem?” I snap.

He gives me a confused expression, causing me to elaborate. “We slept with each other once and now you think you know so much about me? Do you think you can hold this over my head or something?”

Dylan chokes on his spit and Alex stifles his laughter, Adam flustering with words.

I organize a stack of papers on my desk, not even bothering to make eye contact with any of them. “I think it’s best if you three leave.”

They respect my wishes. An hour later I lock my door with a deep sigh, turning to make my way towards the parking lot. A body pushes me up against my door suddenly, causing me to gasp and dart my eyes up to see who my attacker is.

My eyes meet familiar blue ones and my body relaxes at the sight, then freezes up again when I realize I’m stuck in between his arms.

“You know, I didn’t really like that stunt you pulled earlier,” Adam breathes out, breath fanning over my face. His head leans down and he nibbles at the skin on my neck teasingly.

I hold back a moan at the action. “You didn’t?”

“No,” he bites down a little bit harder, causing me to wince. “I think you’re going to have to be punished for that.”

“You think so?” I whisper out.

“I think so.”

“Then I think we should get started on this now, don’t you think?”

“I agree.”

~

And that’s how I began sleeping with Adam Boqvist. Neither of us are looking for anything serious- I want to live the single life after being in a committed relationship for so long and he wants to enjoy his single, youth years in the great city of Chicago.

Plus, he would be the last person I would date.

He’s cocky, selfish, obnoxious, loud- I could keep going.

But either way, the relationship between us, or whatever you want to call it, isn’t end game. He isn’t the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. He’s not the one I want to raise children with or sit with on rocking chairs on the porch.

He’s just a guy I want to have sex with until I find the right person for me.

So, tell me why I’m sitting in my shitty apartment bathroom with two pregnancy tests sitting on the small basin of the sink.

I crisscross my legs on the toilet, fiddling with my fingers anxiously. They have to be negative. They have to be.

I can’t have a child right now. I want to focus on my career and build my reputation in the field. I don’t want to have a baby just a couple years into starting this job. I can’t afford a baby anyways; Chicago is an insanely expensive city and I can barely afford to live by myself.

Hell, I live in a loft.

Besides, I can’t be connected to Adam for the rest of my life. I can hardly stand the guy as it is.

As the minutes slowly pass by, I convince myself that I’m not actually pregnant. The ache in my ankles and lower back are due to stress from work and the vomiting is because my eating habits haven’t been as consistent as they usually are.

I’m just going to completely ignore the fact that I let Adam have sex with me without a condom while I was off my birth control for a while due to the weird side effects it was giving me.

It’s like I’m watching from outside of my own body as I reach forward, grabbing the sticks and holding one in each hand.

Positive. Positive.

My heartbeat fastens and I can feel my breath getting shallow. I try to focus my breathing, counting to four over and over and it slowly helps.

My eyes open back up as I ground myself and I can’t help but just stare at the sticks, switching between the two. I’m pregnant. I’m having Adam Boqvist’s baby.

~

I really didn’t prepare myself for the next time that I’d see him. I’ve already prepared myself to deal with this on my own- whichever way I decide to do that. I haven’t really decided that yet either.

“Hey,” he grins at me as he enters my office, shutting the door behind him. “I have about ten minutes before Kirby starts to look for me, let’s have a quickie.”

“No, Adam,” I sigh, swallowing the lump in my throat. The words are just begging to come out. I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a dad.

“Why not? Is it because we’re at work? We’ve done it in your office before,” he protests.

I set the pen down next to the pad of paper gently, crossing my hands on the top of the desk and turning to focus him with a serious expression. His mischievous grin fades when he notices that I’m not in the playful or teasing mood that I’m usually in when I see him.

“What’s up?” He questions.

“Adam, I’m pregnant.”

His reaction is not one I expect. His face turns to one of confusion, like he’s genuinely unsure why I would be telling him this.

“Congratulations?” He says it more like a question.

My eyes narrow into a glare at the word. He doesn’t believe that it’s his child. I feel hurt, disrespected, and angry. Who does he think I am, the type of girl who has unprotected sex with everyone who walks?

Not that there’s anything wrong with those girls, more power to them, it’s just- he knows me. We’ve been in each other’s beds most of the time for the past couple of months. I spend practically every night with him, and he has the nerve to doubt paternity?

“It’s yours, idiot.” I can’t help but let that dig slide.

“Well how do you know that?”

“Because if I’m not working, I’m having sex with you,” I say slowly, like I have to spell it out for him.

“Well how do you know it’s not- uh- what’s that guy’s name- Steven’s kid?” Adam inquires, his eyes showing that he’s searching hard for an excuse to not take responsibility.

I scoff, leaning back in my chair. “Whatever, Adam, I don’t care if you believe me. I’m going to figure it out.”

“You better.” And by the way he says it, I know what he wants me to do. I know that he doesn’t want to be a father- although actions do have consequences, there is a reason that abortion and adoption are options.

I can also tell that now he knows for sure that he is the father. And he sure as hell doesn’t want to be the father.

~

I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s just scheduling an appointment- I can always cancel or reschedule.

But my finger rests over the call button for a long time, ‘Planned Parenthood’ looking up at me, mocking me, taunting me.

Do you want an abortion or not? Do you want to be a mother or not? Do you want to go through this pregnancy or not?

There are so many questions flashing through my head. Quite frankly, I don’t know what I want to do. I have no one to turn to- as much as I love the team, I don’t want to cause a rift between them and Adam, and I don’t want to think that we’re closer than we actually are.

I cut out my family years ago.

My friends are all party girls, they wouldn’t know the first thing about a baby if it hit them.

Everything is telling me that I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t want to raise a baby on my own, I shouldn’t want to be a single mother.

But why do I so desperately yearn for it? Why did I feel joy when I looked at those sticks and why do I get excited at the thought of little footsteps running around on hardwood floors?

I press the call button.

It gets two rings in before I end it, knowing I’ve made my choice despite all odds.

I need to keep this baby. I know Adam won’t be there for me, but he doesn’t need to be. All this baby needs is to feel love and support and it’ll get that from me and me alone. I need to start fresh, though, to make sure that I’m the best mom that I can be.

~

“I can’t believe you quit, just like that,” Alex states with a disappointed tone.

I told the guys I quit because I want a change in scenery. That’s not a lie, I’m excited to be moving to the beautiful state of Colorado to start new. But I also hid the news about the baby. They don’t follow me on social media, so they’ll never know- unless Adam says something to them about it. But I doubt he will.

“We’ll miss you,” Dylan adds.

“I’ll miss you guys too,” I respond, closing the cardboard box containing all of my office supplies. Picture frames, pens, cool knick-knacks. All packed into a box ready to be shipped to the mountain zone.

“Hey Adam, Y/N was just getting ready to say goodbye,” Alex says, making me look up from taping up the box with wide eyes.

Sure enough, the blonde is leaning in the doorway, looking unsure for the first time since I’ve met him. It’s weird to see him so hesitant. It’s not him.

But I also don’t feel bad for him. A real dad would step up and want to be there for their kid. A good dad would do that. But clearly, and unfortunately, I was right. Adam Boqvist is and always will be selfish.

I say my goodbyes to Alex and Dylan, the box in one arm while I lock the office with the other hand.

“You’re really leaving?”

“Let’s just get this over with, Adam,” I start, turning to him. He winces when I look him in the eye, seeing all of the resentment and anger I feel towards him. “I’m keeping the baby. I’m raising the baby on my own. Don’t worry, I won’t put you down on the birth certificate. You’ll never see us again.”

His mouth opens then closes. “Are you sure?”

I scoff at the question, shaking my head in disbelief. I go to push past him. “Oh, trust me, I’m sure.”

[betweentheracks]

Heyo! Not to be too nosy here but you mentioned you're in bad health and recovering, and I just wondered what happened? Also how would it impact your career since, from how you've made it all seem thus far, it's a highly active and demanding job?

Hope you take care and get well! You appear quite strong and not like you'd take whatever has happened just lying down, so here's to you!! 🙏💓

No sweat and no worries here, I dont find this particularly invasive. If anything, I'm flattered you care to ask after me lol. 😁

A few weeks back I met a friend I hadn't seen in some time for lunch. This was against my better sense of caution that I've held firmly to throughout the pandemic, but I would feel regretful and dismissive if I didnt agree to see her while I had the chance. I should've listened my gut and stayed safely at work because this "friend" failed to mention she had tested positive (she knew already by the time of our lunch date, she has since admitted) and had figured since she had no symptoms there was no harm in being in public.

FF only a few days later and I was feeling a little unwell but had put it off as an effect of the winter blast that had just hit where I live. I'd spent half a day out in the cold and snow for a photoshoot only the day before and thought it was probably due to that since I'm susceptible to weather influenced head colds and bronchitis. Fortunately, my job mandates a rigid COVID-19 screening twice a week due to our high profile clientele and as an assurance of health and safety for us all. Mine read back with a positive and with the way I had been feeling I was immediately sent home and the company closed its doors while the building was sterilized and our clients notified.

Thankfully I managed not to infect anyone I work with nor my son. Regrettably, I did infect my best friend since we're horrifically incapable of maintaining personal space and have weak shit immune systems. We both agree it is a wonder we made it this far into plague times without it catching us.

So I went and got looked over and sent on my way with my prescription of potent anti-virals and steroids. I was well prepared to abide the quarantine guidelines and had sent my son to my mother's home for the duration so that he was out of the danger zone. It was fine, I was kinda cool and keen on getting a few days to myself to rest up and all that jazz. But it wasn't meant to last and I found trouble in the form of being unable to remain conscious much at all and would pass out constantly. After a few times of this I gave my brother (he's a doctor and vaccinated) a ring and told him that my fatigue was no joke dude and needed him to come give me a better once over than the one I'd gotten before bc I was sure I was not meant to feel this badly. He found me unconscious in the shower that night, my head battered from crashing to the basin.

After ensuring I wasn't concussed and jokes on what a hard head I have to take such a beating and show no signs of registering it beyond bruising (a joke between us due to him having once accidentally put a golf club into my forehead and fracturing my skull but that's a different story) he told me to call him regularly so that he can review how I feel and the progression of my symptoms and left. By the morning I had already had two more instances of sudden fatigue and collapsing in on myself. I had been posting on my main blog here about how I was doing and due to this I caught the concern of @peekbackstage and upon their suggestion to have my O2 levels tested it was revealed that I was having issues with my blood not circulating oxygen as it should and nearing hypoxia.

Here's the rub. I have a heart condition that is already very dangerous and bleak which limits my heart's capability of delivering blood through my body as it should. Cardiomyopathy or, as it seems better known, congestive heart failure. I've had surgery for it and it has been a while since it caused me any real issues as long as I stick to my routine of care and manage my health, but when COVID-19 infiltrated my body it immediately snagged upon this weak heart of mine and sank its fangs in.

Within a day of being admitted to the hospital I had a grand mal seizure due to the constant fluctuations of oxygen in my blood and the way my body was working double time to supplement for it. And only 2 days after that and when my nervous system had finally quieted down, I went into full cardiac arrest with a heart attack at my young age.

My next weeks were spent connected to machines doing more for me than my own body could. I developed pneumonia in my lungs, acute though it was it was still another complication that my wrecked body had to overcome as it made my already ragged breathing even worse. I was steadily shedding muscle tone and definition due to a lack of mobility and the fact that my body felt like a deadweight I could hardly take command of, and generally very weakened. My heart, the horrible thing, was inflamed and trying too hard by beating too fast, too hard.

FF some more and I was doing fairly well and treatments were showing some improvement. My heart was still being an ugly and gnarled beast in my chest and throwing weird spikes on the monitor that raised alarms. The pneumonia was retreating and I had no further seizures. It was the dawning light of my first signs that I was recovering!

It took a while more and so fucking many tests day in and day out for me get cleared for release. I tested negative for COVID-19 and was ashamed that I actually forgot that that was why I was even in the hospital to begin with, given all that happened. I have to undergo physical therapy and counseling; PT for heart happy exercises as well as to manage to my depleted muscles, counseling bc I was rocked mentally from all the almost dying and the depressive haze of being holed up in the hospital and surrounded by people who, like me, came in with COVID-19 but unlike me did not come out of it.

I'm home now. I had to have a pacemaker implanted and must stay vigilant for any showing that my heart is not performing as it should. I still have some severe inflammation and chest restriction in my airways as well as my blood vessels but nothing too daunting. I also have a full battalion of prescriptions, most for my heart, and a nebulizer to ease any breathing issues. The worst is honestly that I still am very weak and have severely limited reserves of energy.

My job is required to make me take 12 weeks of leave for rest and recuperation. This is very upsetting since I had been requested by name to be an assistant stylist at the Grammys this year which is truly a dream (especially with BTS in the mix 😩😩) and also bc I'm just a workaholic by nature and love my job. When I return I am expected to learn how to properly delegate tasks that do not directly require me to handle and slow down the pacing of my projects. My boss terminated a contract with a client that was nearing the scheduled end of our agreement and was also incredibly problematic to help lighten my workload. It's imperative that I reign in my stress levels or my heart will not last until the next surgery I'll need, so I'm gritting my teeth and letting my job be picked apart to reduce my responsibilities.

My post awaits my return but I will not be returning to full activity for a while after, which means no rifling through the racks for hours alongside the archivists in search of the perfect piece. I'll be welcome to meet with my clients and oversee the glam teams, will still be the command tower for final verdicts on which styles to use. But I will not be running around showrooms nor personally handling matters any competent trainee could be tasked with like I've always done. I will no longer be able to fly out anywhere for destination shoots or fashion shows.

If, after my next surgery, things are better and my heart stable to the point that they are hopeful of things will be reevaluated. While it is difficult beyond measure for me to relinquish the reigns of my career and be restricted in what I can do now, I am very thankful to be alive and upright when that wasn't a certainty just a little while ago. This is such a humbling experience to have survived when my stats kept dropping every day. I've been told to expect that I will never make a full 100% recovery and to expect to stall out around the 70%-90% range, with 70% being the most realistic.

My best friend (the one I gave the plague to) will be moving in with me so that I am never on my own if things go tits up and to assist in wrangling a toddler since I am currently without the energy to do so as my child is, sincerely, a crazy gremlin spawn with limitless battery life. Slowly, my life will regain some normalcy 💖