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high-functioning-lokipath · 3 years ago

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SH - Sherlock x Depressed!Reader - With a Little Help from My Friends - Words: 2,793

IMPORTANT A/N - PLEASE READ: As stated in the title, this story contains discussions of depression. There is mention of suicidal thought and self-harm. I personally don't think it's too intense in it's descriptions HOWEVER!!! If this will trigger you, for your own health and safety please do not read. My messages are always open if you'd like to talk. I wrote this partially based on my own feelings so I can understand to at least a degree. You're amazing and I love you all. As far as this story goes, just remember: it has a happy, very fluffy ending but it doesn't start that way. I hope you enjoy it, feel free to leave a comment!

Brief Backstory: Reader is friends with John and Sherlock. She is a nurse who works with John. The three met shortly after Sherlock came back. Sherlock and Reader have crushes on each other but won't admit to it. I think the story explains everything else.

"Y/N, I'm going to be honest," John said, putting his hand on your shoulder comfortingly. "I may have PTSD but I cannot fully put myself in your shoes. My depression is different than yours." You had called your best friend, John Watson, in a mild panic. You had been feeling depressed for some time, as he knew, but that day had been especially bad. There was no particular reason but your depression had gotten so intense that you knew you needed help to get past this particular wave. John invited you over to 221B, assuring you that his flatmate would be out for the next couple of hours. "As a doctor, I am going to prescribe you some medication. Lowest dose possible and only because I want to help you get some immediate relief but I know you do not want them to become permanent. Let's work on finding another solution for you, ok?"

"I don't know, John," you replied. You'd asked John to be your Doctor since you didn't go to one regularly and he didn't mind your irregular checkups. "I've tried just about everything. The only outlet that seems to help is writing and even then," you trailed off, trying not to cry again. "This feeling just won't go away and I don't even know why it's there in the first place. I just want it to stop."

"I think you should talk to Sherlock."

"What?" You squeaked. "Why in the world would I talk to Sherlock?"

"I can't tell you why, Y/N. As both your Doctor and Sherlock's, I have to respect certain amounts of patient confidentiality. However, as your friend, I think you should talk to him."

"I don't know."

"Trust me," He replied. Smirking slightly, he added, "Doctor's orders."

"Ok, John," you chuckled. He smiled and hugged you. "Thanks."

"Now how about we go and fill this prescription and then maybe get some ice cream?"

"Well, honestly," you sighed. "The ice cream sounds great but I didn't sleep well last night. I was actually wondering if I could just take a nap here for a bit. I sleep better here sometimes." You blushed but John nodded understandingly.

"Of course," He replied. "I'll run down to the drugstore and fill this for you. Meanwhile you get some rest. I'll let Sherlock know you're here just in case he ends up getting back before I do. Will you be ok by yourself?"

"Yeah," You smiled. "This is a safe space for me. I'll go grab a blanket. Thanks again."

"Don't mention it. Just remember, talk to him."

"I'll try."

About 15 minutes later, Sherlock arrived back at the flat. He'd gotten John's texts.

John: If you get home in the next 45 minutes, be quiet. Y/N is over and she's taking a nap. I have to run out for something.

Sherlock: Is everything ok? - SH

John: She said she had a bad night.

Sherlock: She must have had a reason to come over in the first place though. - SH

John: She's going to need to tell you that herself. Don't ask. Do you understand me? Let her tell you. Be nice, ok?

Sherlock: When am I not nice to Y/N? - SH

John: Ok, that is true. You like her too much to be rude to her. If you could just hold back your deductions for one second I will say this: you two have more in common than you think.

He hurried home, not to wake you up of course, but because he wanted to see you. If there was something seriously wrong, he wanted to try and brace himself for it first. He couldn't help the smile playing at the corner of his lips when he thought of you. You two were good friends, that much was obvious to everyone. But Sherlock could see the potential for something more. He liked you a lot. You were just as smart, sassy, and sarcastic as he was. But you also could be extremely kind and caring to others and especially to him. He still didn't quite understand why you cared for him so but he was grateful. Before he could dwell on that too much longer, he arrived at 221B.

He quietly slipped inside and smiled at what he saw. You were curled up on the couch, sleeping like a baby. Apparently, though, you'd kicked off the blanket you had grabbed. Instead of picking up the blanket, he decided to take off his long coat and carefully lay that over you. You quickly cuddled into the warm fabric, unconsciously taking a deep breath, inhaling his unique signature left behind on the coat. Satisfied with what he'd done, he took off his suit jacket and went to the kitchen to prepare some tea for when you woke up. He knew you had a favorite tea and, unless John moved it or drank it all, there still would be some in the cupboard.

You woke to the smell of your favorite tea and a hushed exclamation from the kitchen. Opening your eyes slowly you saw Sherlock in at the counter trying to set up a tray with the teapot and cups. Recognizing your surroundings a bit more, you realized what was on top of you. Sherlock was just about to bring out the tray but you decided to pretend you were still asleep. The chances of fooling the Detective were low, but you wanted to try.

"There," He whispered to himself, setting the tray on the coffee table. You could hear him settling down on his chair, likely getting into his 'palace pose' as you called it. For a moment you were happy. You had actually gotten some quality sleep, you were currently cuddled up in Sherlock's famous coat and Sherlock had even made you tea. But that feeling quickly faded. Tears threatened to spill out of your still closed eyes as self-deprecating thoughts filled your mind.

'John probably told him to make me tea. He probably covered me with his coat so I wasn't as much of a distraction. He doesn't want me here. He never does. Why does he even tolerate my presence? He probably wishes we'd never met,' You thought. Your mind was going a million miles an hour and gaining. Without your notice, the tears began rolling down your cheeks and quiet sobs escaped your lips.

"Y/N?" Sherlock whispered. You're eyes shot open. You hadn't heard him get up. Now he was kneeling right next to you, one hand hovering over your arm. "Are you ok?"

"Oh, Sherlock!" You cried. "I-I wish I knew."

"C'mere," he said, motioning for you to sit up. Once you did so, he pulled you into a tight hug.

"What's this for?"

"You always give me and John a hug when you see us. You haven't done so for the past 5 days. I-" he paused briefly before lowering his voice and continuing. "I missed it."

"Oh." You weren't quite sure how to reply to that. You leaned into his embrace, letting yourself get lost in the moment.

"Y/N? Is there something I can do to help?"

"How much did John tell you?" You asked. You wouldn't have been mad exactly if John had told Sherlock to talk to you, but you wanted to think Sherlock was reaching out on his own.

"He told me you had a bad night."

"That's all?" You asked, surprised. You pulled away slightly and stared into his eyes. Sherlock nodded, frowning slightly as he tried to deduce you.

"Why are you afraid to talk to me?" You turned away, embarrassed and unsure what to say. "Be honest."

"I don't want you to make fun of me. I have-" You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves and preparing to just jump right in. "I have been extremely depressed lately and I didn't want to hear another speech about how all I need to do is exercise and eat right and stop thinking about sad things. Well you know what? I can't stop it! I can't help it if I feel like a useless pile of trash that should be thrown in the bin and burned." By the time you finished your little tirade, you'd gotten up and started pacing the floor. Then you turned and faced Sherlock. His expression was neutral but there was an obvious sadness in his eyes, one you didn't expect to see. It wasn't of pity. If you had seen that you also would have given up on the conversation. No, it was almost an understanding, an empathy. His eyes were actually glistening with tears.

"Have you ever felt like," he paused, voice unsteady. "Like giving up?" He whispered, unable to hold eye contact. You nodded silently. He got up slowly and walked towards you. At first, you thought he would hug you again but then he started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Uh, Sherlock?"

"Just wait a moment. I want to show you something." He carefully shrugged off the purple shirt that you, admittedly, loved so much and tossed it on the chair. "Only one person knows about this. You will be the second. You remember I told you about Moriarty's network?"

"Yes, the day we met. I asked you about your work, a simple question. And I got an answer that lasted 3 hours." Sherlock chuckled dryly.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Oh, no. Please don't apologise. I-" You sighed, rubbing your forehead. "I tend to make jokes when I'm nervous."

"I know." He smiled at you with, yet again, a completely unreadable expression. "You remember though." You nodded, opting to stay silent as he explained. "Well, those 2 years dismantling his network weren't easy. Not physically and certainly not emotionally. As a result of the different missions, I received many wounds on my body in various locations. I was," He paused, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. "I was depressed, guilt-stricken and suicidal. I figured I had hurt my friends enough. If they thought I was dead maybe I should just go on with it."

"What changed your mind?"

"I didn't want to do it on a mission. I wanted to see home again one more time. So to temporarily relieve the pain I," He sighed. Well, I wouldn't let my wounds heal. I'd pick at them. Mycroft finally convinced me to come back officially because he needed my help. I never told him about this. I think he knows but we don't discuss it." He looked down, obviously embarrassed and feeling more emotionally naked than physically. "You can look," he said. It was as if he'd read your mind. You were trying to be respectful and not stare but you realized that's what he wanted to show you. You had, on occasion, seen him shirtless before but you had never realized how bad some of the scars were.

"Sherlock, I-I don't know what to say. I-" You were completely shocked. Not offended. But actually comforted that he understood you. "Thank you," You finally said.

"Actually I wanted to thank you. I didn't just show you this to prove that I understand your feelings." You looked at him confused. "The day we met. You were leaving work, correct?" You nodded.

"It had been my first day there. John had been happy with my work and requested that I stay assigned to his office permanently. John had already finished up and headed home but there was some paperwork I had to finish so I was leaving about an hour late. Come to think of it, John said he had plans with you that evening. Why were you there?"

"That's what I wanted to tell you. I met you less than a month after I came back. I had still been quite depressed so I was still picking at my injuries. That day had been a bad day for me. So I cancelled my plans with John and I decided to go back to where I started this whole mess and finish it."

"Wait, are you telling me that-"

"You saved my life." Sherlock took one of your hands in his own and held it tightly. "I had memorized the work schedules of most everyone there and knew how to slip in unnoticed."

"But you didn't factor in me."

"Correct. When I ran into you, quite literally in fact, as I was entering the building, I was surprised. Not just by your presence but by what I deduced about you. You intrigued me. I had to find out more about you so I invited you to have a cup of coffee with me."

"Which turned into dinner." Sherlock nodded. "And since you were so intrigued by me, you forgot all about that."

"In a manner of speaking. You weren't a cure-all, mind you. You helped, though, by giving me a new mystery to investigate: you. That night, when I got home, I told John everything. He helped me too and when I mentioned you he couldn't stop singing your praises. He is very proud of you and your work you know."

"Yeah, I guess so," You replied, a little embarrassed. "Thank you, Sherlock. I'm sorry that you went through all that, but, I'm glad I have someone who understands. And I'm glad you're here to help me."

"Me too, Y/N. Me too," He replied.

"Can I, um, can I have another hug?" You asked, blushing and smiling. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"If you must," He sighed, holding his arms out. Any other day, you would have thought he genuinely didn't want personal contact. But today you realized he was simply teasing. You wrapped your arms around his waist and leaned your head on his chest. You felt him relax as he leaned forward a little to cocoon you in his arms. "I care about you, Y/N. I don't care about many people but you mean so much to me. I-" You looked up at him and pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him.

"You don't have to say it, Sherlock. I know." He smiled and looked somewhat relieved. You knew he wasn't good with feelings and that was fine with you. "I love you too."

"I wanted to be the first one to say that," He pouted. You chuckled softly and booped his nose.

"You already have." He smiled and kissed your forehead lightly.

"I know this won't fix everything right away. I know you'll still have bad days. But I wanted you to know you could come to me too."

"I know. Thank you again, Sherlock." At that moment, John walked in with a bag from the store.

"Oh, hello!" He chirped, happy to see you hadn't gotten into a yelling match. Then he noticed Sherlock's shirt, or rather, lack thereof. "So, uh," He stuttered, unsure of what to say. "What should I do with this?"

"First of all, thank you, John, for giving me the guts to talk to him about this. And second, I think I'll give it a try. You know, to try and prevent a really bad day when you guys aren't available or if talking still isn't enough. But for today I think I'll be alright," You said, turning to John with a smile.

"Well, I'm glad. So did you just talk about that or did he finally tell you that he's had the biggest schoolboy crush on you from the moment he met you?"

"John!" Sherlock yelled. You laughed loudly.

"Not in those words exactly, John," You replied. "Don't worry," You added, turning to Sherlock and ruffling his curls. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Good. Now if you don't mind, I need your input on this case."

"Me?" You asked, quite surprised.

"Yes," He said as if it was obvious. "You're a woman after all!"

"And that is important because?"

"The killer was a woman obviously but I can't understand why she would do it!" The two of you went off into your own little world, completely ignoring John as he cooked dinner.

John: Ok, mates, get your tuxs out. Won't be long now.

Greg: He finally proposed? 😀

John: Not yet, give it a week.

Mycroft: John, you forget I monitor his spending habits.

John: And?

Mycroft: He's had a ring purchased for some time now.

Greg: 3 days tops.💍

Mycroft: I would estimate about 3 days as well, Detective Inspector.

Greg: We're in a Group Text. Talking about our friend like a bunch of teenage girls at a slumber party. I think you can call me Greg.

Mycroft: If I must.

John: So, girls, will you help me make the plans?

Mycroft: Of course. He is blood after all.

Greg: Count me in! Wouldn't miss it! 🕵️👰

Sherlock BBC Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@ladylulu143

@gaitwae

@for-hearthand-home

#sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfic #sherlock x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock oneshot #depression #ptsd #mentions of torture #self harm discussion #potentially triggering #trigger warning #TW #anxiety #good friends #john watson #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade

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destinationtoast · 4 years ago

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In case it helps anyone to know -- if you struggle, you are not alone.

I think many people who who've followed me or known me for a long time probably think I have my shit pretty together. And in a lot of ways, my life is great, and I have done some cool stuff. But despite that, I struggle with mental health, and my brain is sometimes a terrible place to live. I've spent a bunch of time recently:

Feeling incompetent and like a complete imposter

Feeling like a failure and a disappointment

Feeling like I'll never be able to do any job well and will end up penniless and without healthcare (but still with chronic pain) and an enormous burden to everyone

Feeling like a waste of resources -- "I have so much privilege, and so many advantages, and I squander them by being useless and by not even enjoying my life"

Feeling like I'll never enjoy anything again

Feeling like life will never be anything except stress and despair

Lying awake feeling all my muscles clenched and my heart racing

Having a tremendously hard time getting out of bed

Having an even harder time attending work meetings or doing work

Not being able to eat much and experiencing nausea and digestive issues (where usually I tend to eat larger amounts than usual in response to stress, occasionally it flips and I have to force myself to eat)

Crying unpredictably, e.g. while doing dishes, and having to awkwardly explain to housemates

Feeling numb and impatient and distracted while trying to read/watch TV/browse Tumblr

Feeling So. Much. Guilt. And. Shame. Just constantly.

This is all in spite of the fact that (a) I have substantial and even recent evidence to the contrary about a lot of this stuff (e.g. I got feedback at work not that long ago that I was doing really well and could consider going up for promotion soon). And (b) I've had intense episodes of anxiety in the past and then gotten better, so I have plenty of examples of how these intense feelings don't necessarily predict the future.

Despite all this data, and despite my loved ones telling me wonderful, helpful things, I have spent a lot of time feeling viscerally quite horrible over the past few weeks (as well as for much longer stretches, at times in the past). And parts of my brain have compellingly argued that this will probably last forever.

I've dug myself partially out by talking to a doctor (though I realize healthcare is a privilege not everyone has, though we all should) and getting a short term Rx to help me relax at night enough to sleep. And signing up for therapy again. And discussing longer term possible changes to my meds (I'm on an antidepressant that had been working well till recently). And doing simple breathing exercises. And forcing myself to go do some small amount of work -- especially to make progress on a couple of the things i was most dreading, or to ask others for help with them. And forcing myself to eat and go for walks. And spending time petting kitties. And admitting to my closest peeps that I am struggling, and getting them to say that they'll still like me even if I lose my job. And remembering all those past episodes of anxiety and depression (as well as panicky bad drug trips) that I was sure would last forever at the time, but didn't. And realizing that life is long, and there are many ways to survive and find joy in this world -- and even if I thoroughly fuck up one path, there are other things to try.

I also had to do a big hard thing at work this week that was very stressful (definitely the dread of this has been one contributing factor in my recent spiral). Afterwards, I immediately felt drenched in relief, and feelings of interest and joy and hunger have started to flood back into my life again. "HAHA JUST KIDDING," the unhelpful parts of my brain suddenly said. I still would like to get to a much more stable place mentally, and I'm going to continue to work toward that, and to develop my toolbox for coping. But the sudden easing of some of the terrible sensations feels miraculous, and I'm grateful, and amazed at how fast my internal state can change. And even if maybe it turns out I feel worse again tomorrow, I'm going to enjoy today and try to remember that I did so.

So. If you're struggling, I empathize so much. And it's worth trying to keep in mind that:

Strong feelings of incompetence and/or certainty that the future will suck don't stem from reality. Our brains+bodies sometimes make us feel these things strongly even when actual evidence says otherwise.

That means anxiety/depression is like a bad drug trip. It feels very real, but you're likely to feel at least somewhat differently -- and sometimes substantially better -- if you can hang in there a while.

Just because your brain may be lying to you doesn't mean the resulting struggle isn't real. It's legit hard sometimes to do the basics of survival -- Eat. Sleep. Move the minimal amount needed to get food & water, go to the bathroom, etc. When you're finding those things hard, you're ill. And you deserve time off and self care and a trip to the doctor, if you can manage any of that. If you can't? If you're taking care of others/working or going to school/doing anything else on top of being ill? You're a superhero. I hope you can get others to help take some of your duties for a bit, or to help you book a doctor's/therapist's appointment, or to at least listen and sympathize and send you cute animal pics or memes.

Other people who may appear to have their shit together may not. Many of them are going through big struggles of their own.

The pandemic & state of the world right now are making things much harder for so many people. My doctor (general practitioner) told me that nobody she's seen in the past year is doing that great mentally, and the number of people having acute mental health issues has skyrocketed. Be as kind and forgiving toward yourself as you can manage (in general, and even more so now).

Good luck. Hang in there as best you can. I'm rooting for you. 💗

(Feel free to reblog or to reply, but I may not have energy to respond to comments... responding is hard right now.)

#mental health #anxiety #depression #my stuff #toasty life #long post #50

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stayevildarling · 3 years ago

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Sally McKenna x Wilhemina Venable x Reader - A little help Pt 5

word count: 3.1k

warnings: smoking, mention of drugs, hints of smut, cursing, panic attacks, anxiety

A/N: This is an eight-part story, hope you enjoy

Rushing through the busy halls of university, your mind is racing, the thoughts so loud it sounds like bees in your head and the thoughts just won't stop buzzing, causing your vision to blur slightly, ears ringing and trembling hands, the feeling of panic and losing control of the situation any moment. You rush into the nearest bathroom, bursting the nearest door open and quickly closing it, dropping your bag and books onto the floor and sliding down the wall, trying to calm down.

Shakily you try and reach for your phone to distract yourself, maybe playing a video or maybe even messaging them but you feel woozy with every movement of your body and so you close your eyes and abandon the thought of getting your phone out of your bag. ''Breathe idiot'' you remind yourself and you try a technique that has occasionally worked in the past before, whenever you felt a panic attack coming.

''Breathe in 4-3- nope nope not working too much too loud'' you try but fail miserably at keeping your breathing under control. ''Shit'' you mutter, noticing that the feeling isn't passing and the panic only growing but how the hell did you end up hyperventilating, sitting on the bathroom floor of your university?

After Sally's relapse a few weeks back, you taking her to Mina's work and going cold-turkey, things have changed and somehow took a more unexpected turn than you expected to. Sally struggled and she struggled badly at first, she couldn't cope, constantly having you or Wilhemina around, not able to get out of the house, only on walks where you two would accompany her. There were times when she felt hatred towards you two, but not really you two more what you are doing to her or rather keeping Sally from doing to herself. There were a lot of sleepless nights, you and Wilhemina taking turns, watching her and guiding her through this journey of detoxing her body from the drugs. It was constant ups and downs, it was really hard at first with all the withdrawal symptoms and the times she would just be throwing up everything she would eat or drink and you and Wilhemina often debating whether you need to get doctors involved.

There were the good days when caffeine and nicotine helped Sally's urges and you three actually had really good days together, snuggled up on the sofa, watching everyone's favorite movies and enjoying the quiet and each other's company. Then things started going downhill, with Wilhemina having to go into work again and you looking after Sally while she was still at home , blogging from home and posting a lot to distract herself from the withdrawal symptoms.

Everything went okay at first, Mina leaving early in the morning like she usually would, with a lunch bag you packed for her the night before, just like you usually would. You woke up, snuggling closer to Sally and enjoying some quality time with her, before she sat on the sofa, working on her blog and you decided to carry on finishing your thesis because deadlines were coming up. You two sat on the sofa together in comfortable silence, just working and it was almost calming but just almost.

You were unaware that day, that Sally was fighting the most recent and hardest battle with her addiction and that her body was craving something more than just caffeine to fight this empty feeling. Maybe it was the fact that Wilhemina had to go to work and Sally knowing you are different than Wilhemina, not as strong, not as strict.

At first you thought everything was okay and when she got up, you absent-mindedly asked what she was doing, only for her to tell you she is going to the toilet. You didn't think too much of it until you heard things smashing, being thrown across the bathroom and so you instantly rushed inside the bathroom, only to find a very overwhelmed Sally, searching through every draw and cabinet to find something, anything even Mina's painkillers, just anything so she could feel release and at peace but you and Mina were smarter than that beforehand and hid any potential dangers.

''Sally'' you pleaded, understanding immediately what was going on. ''I don't fucking care Y/N I need something'' she screamed in your face while tears streamed down her cheeks. ''Where are your cigarettes?'' you asked feeling helpless, although you are very aware that cigarettes and the stuff Sally is used to, are very different. ''I ran out'' she admitted and you took a step closer to her, putting your hands on her shoulders, your eyes begging her to calm down.

''We can go and buy some right now, let's get dressed okay?'' you asked and it took two more meltdowns before she agreed to leave the house with you.

From that day on, things took a more positive turn however and you and Wilhemina got Sally to agree to go to group counseling therapy, where she would sit with a group of people, twice a week to talk about her feelings and experiences.

At first she really didn't want to go and begged you to go with her and of course you did. Sally settled in surprisingly well and she actually started looking forward to those meetings, you and Wilhemina insisted on driving her and somebody would always take her there and pick her up again after an hour. Whenever you drove her for the first few weeks, you would actually wait in the parking lot, just making sure she doesn't just pretend to go inside and leave again as soon as you or Wilhemina left.

But she didn't and you didn't learn the reason for this until a while later, because the aspect of socialising at these sessions really helped Sally. Having a group of strangers there, sharing similar stories and her finally understanding her behavior and learning that she isn't responsible for this and that it's a cycle that is very hard to escape, especially when attempting to fight it alone. She would regularly walk back to the car with the happiest smile, reaching another milestone, one week clean, two weeks clean and soon it will be one month.

Sally would talk about what she learned that day, what the others shared, she talked about someone there relapsing and how it made her feel. To motivate her further you bought this calendar and hung it the kitchen where she can mark her appointments but also her milestones.

Just when Sally, one of the two most important people of your life started doing better, you still aware that she isn't magically cured and still on this hard path of battling and fighting her demons, your other lover Wilhemina at last cracked under the pressure of the past few weeks.

With Wilhemina it's different than Sally, you would never find her broken and sad on the sofa after crying herself to sleep. You would never have her admit something is wrong, you would never hear a single complaint coming from her and that's the dangerous thing with the redhead. She is a master at hiding and shielding her emotions, of course, you got her to open up gradually and break those walls down, to get her to open up, get her to be honest, and communicate feelings or things on her mind, just like she would expect of you.

It all started with her physical therapy appointments, for years she has attended those for her back, she would do exercises there or do them at home. You being the mastermind at planning every aspect of your and their lives, you also wrote her appointments in the calendar and usually Wilhemina and Sally would tick of their appointments when finished but inspecting the calendar a bit closer one afternoon, you noticed that she hasn't ticked one off in a very long time.

''Maybe she forgot but went there'' you tried convincing yourself, remembering the many times she has told you she went to an appointment or did the exercises at home when you and Sally would be at work. It wasn't until two days later when you found out the truth, after Wilhemina calling you from work

''Little one, are you free?'' she asked and even though you were sitting in the university library, working of course you said you are because you know whenever Wilhemina calls and needs a favor it's urgent. ''Yes what is it Mina?'' you asked

''Can you call the doctors I need my pain medication again, I'm heading into a meeting now but I can pick up the prescription tomorrow morning'' she let you know and of course you did as she asked.

However, when ringing the doctors office, that you have sometimes rang or been to before when Mina needed something, they informed you that Wilhemina shouldn't be receiving any pain medication for another week, because she should still have some left and on top of that they informed you that she hadn't attended her physical therapy appointments in a while.

When the call ended you felt this silence, despite sitting outside of your university, hearing students talk, cars drive by and even some bird chirping, it was silent. Because that moment was a wakeup call, a slap from reality right in the face, reminding you that Sally isn't the only one fighting her battles even if she fights them more openly.

''It can't be a coincidence'' you tried reminding yourself and as you drove home that day your anxiety was so high, fearing Wilhemina's reaction and confronting her because you knew deep down already, no matter how you would possibly say it, she will be mad.

''For fucks sake Y/N I have attended those shitty appointment and I don't have medication left, those doctors are useless'' she cursed and neither you nor Sally have seen her like that in a while. You debated whether to fight her on this, get her to lash out but in the end admit the truth, let you and Sally in so you could be there for her and comfort her, just that never happened.

''It doesn't matter I will call them myself in the morning'' she told you. This has now been about a week ago and things became a little strange at home, Wilhemina and you wouldn't talk as much, of course, you talked, greeting each other and small talk but there was this huge wall standing between you two, none of you knowing whether to start and break it down.

Your mind being occupied by something entirely different, made it difficult to focus on Wilhemina or Sally in this past week, of course you asked them how they are, you listened, you made them baths, you did anything but university pulled you right into this ocean again, waves of responsibilities and deadlines crashing right at you.

Maybe you pushing away your own problems, stress and anxiety for over a month now, solely focussing on your two girlfriends and their wellbeing, reality and the lack of self care is finally hitting you, causing you to almost collapse on the bathroom floor of your university.

The sad part is that you did it, you finished your thesis about three days ago and today is finally the day where you are allowed to hand it in and finally have the stress come to an end, with no more obligatory classes now and you just having a break until you recieve your grades.

For the past five days or so, you haven't been able to sleep, eat or drink a lot. Of course you would occasionally force yourself to have a bite or some water or fall asleep, sitting in Mina's office in the middle of the night, reading over your thesis and work again and again. Usually before these things Mina would read over it, making sure you didn't get anything mixed up or any spelling mistakes, from all the hours of writing, researching. But within this past week, things have been so strange that you didn't want to ask her.

Still hyperventilating you are pulled out of the buzzing and loud thoughts when you hear your phone ringing. Closing your eyes, you hold your hand out and try reaching for your backpack and you manage to find a strap and pull it onto your body. Momentarily you wrap your arms around your bag as if it was a shield, stopping this crushing feeling in your chest, the pain and the thoughts, as if bullets of thoughts are being shot against you and your backpack shielding you.

But the vibration of your phone is tugging you out of this state yet again, even just for a moment. Somehow you manage to open the zip of your bag and you reach for your phone, the vibration making it easy to find with your eyes still closed, the dizzy feeling still too strong. Finally you manage to open your eyes and see Sally's photo through a blurry vision and you press the green button on your screen and the speaker button next, thinking it will be too much to actually lead the phone to your ear.

''Hi pumpkin'' her angelic voice rings through the speakers and somehow, even in this dark and scary moment you manage to smile. ''He- hey'' you manage to say and you can hear ruffling in the background

''I'm just going to one of my meetings and I was wondering how my pumpkin is doing'' she says and the crushing feeling in your chest, replaces with a fluttering feeling, you feel whenever being referred to as either their little one or pumpkin.

''By the way me and Mina were wondering when is your thesis due?'' she asks while lighting a cigarette in the car. ''I- today'' you say, feeling your breathing very slowly calming down and going to a more normal state.

''Today?'' she asks a bit shocked and she pauses for a moment, confused why you didn't mention that before, knowing how important that is to you. ''Yeah'' you mumble ''How come you didn't tell us, I could have taken you there today pumpkin or Mina could have read it again'' she asks.

Opening your eyes now, you see the time and realize you have to hand in your thesis now so you quickly try and prop yourself up, Sally's voice still right there, making you feel save and relaxed. ''I'm sorry I gotta go I have to hand it in now'' you explain and Sally nods before saying ''Good luck, love you pumpkin''.

After standing up and grabbing your bag slowly, you hold onto the bathroom walls, the last bit of stability that you have right now to hold on to, to shield you and keep you from losing control. After taking one more steady and deep breath, you unlock the door and walk towards the sink, putting some cold water on your wrists and also your face.

You open your backpack and grab a lemon gum because the sour taste usually distracts you from whatever is bothering you and the buzzing thoughts. Finally leaving the bathroom, you walk past the classrooms and hallways filled with students, for what kind of feels like one of the last times.

Your time at university flashes before your eyes in this moment, you see the main entrance and you remember the many times Sally or Mina would take you here on a monday morning after spending a beautiful weekend with them and them not having to go into work until the day later.

The places you stood, like your locker for instance, where Sally would sometimes call you and ask for help or Mina calling you and asking about your day and classes. You remember wandering these halls a few years back, before meeting Sally and Wilhemina and feeling confused as to how on earth you could ever get rid of this lonely feeling or the little skip of your heart, whenever you saw a couple kiss or hold hands. Then just about a year after, you found them and you then knew what it feels like to be held, to be kissed or to intertwine your hands with theirs.

''Oh hi there'' you hear Miss Anderson's voice and suddenly you snap out of your memories and thoughts. ''Hello Miss'' you reply with a polite smile and as you look at her you can see her features changing. ''Oh dear you don't look so well, are you okay?'' she asks and you simply nod, not really wanting to go into any details about your panic attacks or the state you were in moments before, but you can't deny how pale you are and how shaken you seem.

''Have you handed in your thesis yet?'' she asks but you shake your head ''I was just on the way'' you explain and she gives you an emphatic smile before saying ''I was just on my way over there too, come on'' and you follow her to the classroom where you are meant to hand it in.

As you arrive, you see some of your classmates, leaving the classroom, high-fiving each other and leaving with such a relieved and carefree expression, all the assignments, all the stress and exams finally over and the many sleepless nights now feeling like they were worth something.

You are greeted by Miss Parker ''Hi dear'' she greets you and you open your backpack and hand her your thesis with shaky hands, still not completely recovered from the panic attack. She looks at you, then Miss Anderson while retrieving the big folder that you carefully picked, every font, every word filled with so much detail. ''You just need to sign here now'' she explains and you do and she gives you a document after, that confirms you handed the biggest part of your entire work and time here, in now.

''You should probably get home and get some rest after all this exhausting time'' Miss Anderson suggests and you nod before Miss Parker jokingly says ''Oh come on she's young, she should be out celebrating'' and you smile at them before saying ''I will'' without explaining which suggestion you actually referred to and leaving the classroom with a polite smile.

#sally mckenna #wilhemina venable #sarah paulson x reader #ahs apocalypse #ahs fandom #american horror story #ahs icons #sally mckenna x wilhemina venable #sally mckenna x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #ahs hotel #writing #watpad

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mascwhump · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 3: She Burns Like Heroin

This came out a bit quicker than the last one, eh? Hope you enjoy! Oh and by the way, I’m still getting use to tagging TWs. Please let me know if I missed anything that might be triggering so I can edit the list :)

TW: Noncon drugging, drugs (mentioned), kinda creepy whumper, needles

Tag list: @whatwasmyprevioususername @milk-carton-whump @whumpasaurus101 @whatwhumpcomments @mnmlover2002 @ashintheairlikesnow

Charlie was moved into a larger room. The one before might as well have been a closet. This new room had white tile floors, white painted walls, and was sufficiently lit. The door was metal, leaving no hope of breaking it down. The only other way out of the room was through an air vent on the ceiling, but the ceilings were at least 10 feet high. Not that Charlie would fit into it, anyway. In the corner of the room was a little bathroom. It had a sink, toilet, and bathtub inside, with a curtain instead of a door.

Charlie was attached to the wall by chains on his wrists. They were about 5 feet long, which allowed a little movement. Small hooks stuck out of the walls in multiple places, along with some in the ceiling. Mallory had come in a few hours ago to show Charlie that the team had indeed been released.

Strangely, he wasn't as afraid as he could've been. He knew the team would be looking for him. He didn't think about whatever Mallory had planned on doing with him. It didn't matter. He'd be home soon.

Sleep came often. It was the fastest way to heal. When he wasn’t sleeping, he’d passed the time by daydreaming or counting to high numbers in his head. He was at 2,452 when someone entered the room. It was a small blond man carrying a tray.

"Hello, my name is Basil. I've brought a sandwich and some water for you," he said.

"Thanks, I guess,” Charlie replied.

Basil set the tray in front of Charlie and sat cross-legged a few feet away.

"I'm supposed to make sure you don't choke to death," he said.

Charlie laughed as he took a bite of the ham and cheese sandwich. He didn't like being watched while he ate, but he too hungry to care. He finished the sandwich quickly and downed the glass of water.

"Do you need to use the facilities?" Basil asked.

"'Facilities'? Yeah, I guess so," Charlie replied.

"Alright. Before I remove the restraints, do you promise not to attack me?" Basil asked.

"Yeah, I promise," Charlie said.

He was amused. The soft spoken tone and interesting word choices intrigued him. Basil definitely was out of place.

He used the restroom and was put back into the chains. Basil picked up the tray and left the room. He was almost robotic. It was like he was brainwashed into being some sort of orderly.

Charlie fell asleep soon after he left, counting to 300.

Days went by. It was the same routine every day. Basil would come three times a day to feed Charlie and take him to the restroom. The only other person he saw was a doctor. The doctor would check on his wound and change the bandages as needed. She never said a word to Charlie, aside from commands telling him what to do with his arm.

He was beginning to go a bit stir crazy. One could only count so much before all the numbers became a jumbled mess. He started a small exercise routine, mainly consisting of things he could do with his limited movement.

On the fifth day, things were a different. A few hours after Basil had given him breakfast, Mallory entered the room.

"Miss me?" He asked, walking in with a briefcase.

Charlie didn't reply. Mallory approached him, taking in his appearance.

"You look better than when I last saw you," he said.

"What's in the case?" Charlie asked, ignoring his comment.

"Remember how I told you that you're going to help change the world? Well, that starts today."

"I thought you said that would be after I healed."

Mallory opened the briefcase and pulled out a syringe. Inside of it was a dark blue liquid. It appeared to have a gold shine to it when the light hit just right.

"What the fuck is that?" Charlie questioned, pushing himself closer the wall.

"You're right, I did say it would be after you healed. And this here is what is going to heal you," Mallory explained.

He removed the cap of the needle and flicked the glass before commanding Charlie to put out his arm.

"No!" Charlie cried out, the sight of the needle making him dizzy.

He pulled his legs up to his chest and shielded his arms between them. He tucked his head down, effectively curling into a ball.

"Come on, Charlie," Mallory cooed, "don't you want to feel better?"

"Fuck you! This wasn't part of the deal!" Charlie yelled into himself.

He was shaking. Needles had always been a fear of his, and not knowing exactly what was inside of the syringe didn't help.

"I fulfilled my end of the deal. You fulfilled yours. Now, this isn't a deal. This is part of the real reason I kept you," Mallory explained, "I already knew everything you told me. I don't care about your team; they're useless to me. But you, Charlie..."

Charlie looked up. Mallory was kneeling in front of him now.

"When I had my surgeons fix up your shoulder, I also had them draw some blood. We did some tests. Charlie, you're perfect for this. You're just what-"

"Fuck. You," Charlie spat.

Mallory sighed. Something changed in his eyes. Charlie began to react when Mallory lunged forward and jammed the needle into his neck.

Charlie sat frozen as it began to feel like ice was flowing through his veins. Mallory pulled out the needle and tossed it to the side, watching as Charlie's pupils dilated. The ice quickly turned to fire, but the burn was almost pleasant. Charlie put his hands on Mallory's shoulders to hold himself steady as overwhelming euphoria took over his body. The hairs on the back of his neck and arms stood up, and he let out shaky, shallow breaths.

"Talk to me," Mallory whispered, "how does it feel?"

Charlie couldn't get a word out. The pain in his shoulder suddenly subsided, and he couldn't help but giggle, as if he was on laughing gas. His arms went limp and he began to tip over, so Mallory took hold of him to keep him upright. After a few minutes, the effects began to decay.

Once he could hold himself up again, Mallory let go to begin unwrapping the bandage from Charlie's shoulder. Once off, it was revealed that the wound had completely healed, only leaving a small scar.

"It worked," Mallory said, almost in disbelief.

Charlie moved his shoulder around. Before, it would've been agonizing, but now, it was like he had never been shot.

"That's... how did you do that?" He breathed, still recovering from the intense sensation.

"That's one of the serums we've been working on," Mallory said, "the lab is calling it Q-179 for now."

"It's like some sort of healing potion," Charlie said, "I can't believe it."

"What did it feel like? I lost you for a minute there," Mallory laughed.

"Like nitrous oxide met heroin, or at least what I'm told heroin feels like," Charlie explained, "I've never felt anything like that before in my life."

Mallory retrieved the needle from where he had thrown it and put it back in the briefcase.

"So, it worked. Am I free to go now?" Charlie asked.

"No," Mallory said, "that was just the first test."

"What else do you need to test?" Charlie questioned, standing up.

"Its effectiveness on other types of wounds," Mallory replied, leaving the room before Charlie could respond.

Charlie sat back down. Other types of wounds? He was completely healed now, so that meant...

He pushed the thought away by thinking about what he just experienced. What kind of concoction could do something like that? What could make him feel like that?

After an hour, there were no signs of any hangover symptoms. If this got out, it would surely be a success, just for the recreational aspect. Charlie had never done drugs before, besides the one time he accidentally ate an edible, and he drank and smoked occasionally. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. About how good it felt.

Basil came in to feed him, and the routine went back to normal. He didn’t see Mallory again for three days.

#whump oc #whump #whumper #whump story #whump writing #oc

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keiratheraven · 4 years ago

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Bentley 8 Squad: Forgive and Heal

(I dedicated this post for this October AKA Mental Health Awareness month)

Every member of the Bentley 8 Squad has a dark past. All of them were problematic in their late teen or early young adult years.

Angela Pleasant (Bentley Queen). The miss “perfect”. She was a queen bee, cheerleader captain, honor student, and the girl squad leader. Her parents (Daniel and Mary-Sue Pleasant) put pressure on her to be the flawless daughter. She dedicated herself to become “The Perfect Princess”, but actually she thinks she’ll never be good enough. But she didn’t tell anyone about her battle with Bulimia, and no one believed her when she said there’s something wrong with her body. Everyone just said it’s just bad cramps, nothing more. Then she was diagnosed with Endometriosis at age 19. Although she was surrounded by many people, No one understands her pain and struggles. She's pursuing a master's degree in psychology from Sim State and has the ambition to become a psychologist, but her conditions keep restraining her.

Lilith Pleasant (Bentley Gothic). The black sheep of the family. Daniel and Mary-Sue favored Angela over her and abused her. They didn’t teach her to talk, walk, and use the toilet. They blamed her for everything. They liked to and slap and yell at her. She and Angela also hated each other and they’re always fighting every day. One time, Lilith ran away from their house because she couldn’t take it anymore. But eventually, the police found her and took her home. Since then, Daniel and Mary-Sue treat her better and Angela apologized to her, but later on, she was diagnosed with Type 1 Bipolar Disorder and Borderline Personality Disorder. She pours all her emotions into arts and music, then took the art major at Sim State because her dream is to become a rock singer and illustrator at once. But her fluctuating moods and her addiction to self-harm make her questioning the future.

Dustin Broke (Bentley Rogue). The delinquent criminal. The death of his father and the way he died made him mad at the world. He took over his late father’s position as the man of the house and eventually became a criminal to support his family. But his mother became an alcoholic who liked to beat him up and throw an open bottle of alcohol at him. He also has substance abuse after he became a drug dealer. One time when he was in his college dorm at Foxbury, he sent Gordon King into boiling rage after he told him that he spent the drug-selling money for gambling besides his tuition, and Gordon beat the shit out of him mindlessly. Because of his drug addiction, he was diagnosed with Mild Schizophrenia. Sometimes, he thinks he’s already wasted. He doesn’t get enough sleep every night and always looking at the ceiling while he lies on the bed.

Dirk Dreamer (Bentley Brain). The genius, nerdy guy. He always put a good effort to do well in his life. He was an honor student in high school. But the death of his mother really shocked him, and his grades took a downfall. Eventually, he rose to make his late mother proud and his grades back to the top. Although he was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes at age 16, he keeps studying hard and he got a scholarship to Sims University Medical School. He became the assistant lecturer of Dr. Worthington. But, not everyone admires him. The son of Dr. Worthington named Dr. Mark punched him hard when he was alone after finishing a class. He said that Dirk will never take over his place as a devoted medical student in their faculty because his father kept comparing him with Dirk. Dirk keeps it to himself and he never told Dr. Worthington. Although he wants to become a psychiatrist to recover his beloved seven friends, He almost gave up as a doctor because of his illness. He muses about it every night when he's alone because he has to act as a strong, resilient young doctor in front of everyone.

Ophelia Nigmos (Bentley Flower). The mysterious and anxious girl who was desperate for a family. Her parents died when she was ten, and she was raised by an (allegedly) murderer aunt. She was haunted by many ghosts in her near-graveyard house, and Aunt Olive wasn’t the nicest person to be around with. She liked to scold her over the smallest things. She was cold and indifferent to her. One time, she humiliated Ophelia in front of her high school. Many people looked at them, but Ophelia couldn’t do anything to hide the shame. It caused her to have Anxiety and Paranoid personality disorders. Because of this, Ophelia is always anxious when she has to talk in front of many people, so she dreamed to become a novelist and songwriter. Eventually, Aunt Olive died when she was attending La Fiesta Tech. Ophelia mourned her death, but the wounds that Olive gave to her aren’t easy to forget.

Puck Summerdream (Bentley Fancy). The lucky fairy guy who was adopted by loving parents and also a kid sister. He didn’t want to get involved with Capp-Monty feuds in Veronaville and always be kind to them. He also had a crush on Hermia Capp, who became his girlfriend after they kissed for the first time at Puck’s party. But Mercutio Monty didn’t like it and got mad at them. The next day, he beat Puck's ass and took his money at the schoolyard. "That’s for stealing my girlfriend", he said. Puck hid his feelings and cried when he got home. Later on, he attended Academie Le Tour with Hermia. He took double majors: music and mathematics cause his dream is to become a classical musician. But, a tragedy struck. Hermia got shot in a mass shooting and died when she was buying heart medications for Puck. Puck fell into a Major Depression, and his heart condition got worse. Years have passed, but he couldn’t forget her despite many women want him.

Ripp Grunt (Bentley Clown). The tragic hyperactive joker. His mother died when he was eleven, and he was raised by the disciplined-yet-abusive General Buzz Grunt. Buzz liked to punch him when he didn’t obey him, and his brother, Tank Grunt, used him as his punching bag. One time, Tank threatened him to tell Buzz about Ripp’s bisexuality just because Tank didn’t like that Ripp partnered with his crush, Anna, at the school lab. But Ripp never showed his real feelings, except for Ophelia and Johnny. He smiled, joked, and laughed a lot, but actually, deep down he’s crying. He cries a lot and is also tortured by loneliness when he’s alone, but he keeps hiding his feelings by “The Funny Guy” mask. Despite the abuse of his father and brother, Ripp has the talent to entertain others by acting, singing, and play the guitar, so he took the drama major at Britechester. He suffers from ADHD, and gastritis caused by the longtime stress of the abuse. He misses his mom so much and always musing about her.

Johnny Smith (Bentley Leader). The carefree green guy. He was happy. Being the “normal” family in “abnormal” alien descent made him proud of his heritage. Despite having green skin, Johnny was so confident. He’s a sporty jock guy who likes to exercise, play soccer or basketball. He tried so hard to fit in at his high school and every surrounding. His neighbors see him no differently, except Buzz and Tank Grunt. He and Tank always fighting with each other in high school, but it didn’t affect Johnny’s happy life. Then, one night changed everything. When he was 18 and attending as a freshman at La Fiesta Tech, he got attacked by nine people and stabbed on his abdomen due to a hate crime against alien sims. When his blood ran down, the culprits threw him into the smelly and filthy dumpster. He fell into a coma, but luckily for him to have alien blood, he recovered very quickly and regained consciousness after five days. But since then, he has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. He got Minor Depression and having suicidal thoughts as well.

However, everything gets better when all of them get together. They’re having medical treatments for their mental and physical condition, counseling, and group therapies. They’re completing each other and have special bonds. Their stories might be different, but that’s what makes them united besides their love for Bentley cars. Together, they learn to be stronger, nicer, wiser and be a better person. They also want to recover from their past traumas through medications and strong friendships.

In the end, they learn to let go and forgive everything in their pasts. They realized it’s useless to blame themselves, and everything happens for a reason. Because the past doesn’t define who they are. Trauma might be hard, but eventually, they have to face them instead of avoiding them. That’s the meaning of growing up, healing the wounded souls, and moving on. They never stopped chasing their dreams despite their disabilities and keep supporting each other just like a real family.

And it was an early fall in Bridgeport, Sim City. At the anniversary of their establishment of Bentley 8 and Im-perfection community, they decided to go to a resort. They had some fun there. Angela made grilled salmon and cheesesteak for their lunch. Johnny and Dirk played soccer. Meanwhile, Ripp, Dustin, Ophelia, Lilith, and Puck roasted some marshmallows. When they are together, They’re creating memories because tomorrow is never guaranteed. But, no matter what happens tomorrow, they are grateful to still have each other.

"The past can't haunt me if I don't let it

Live and learn and never forget it

Whoa, gotta learn to let it go

Learn to let go, learn to let go

Learn to let go" - Kesha, 2017

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cirrius-akiyo · 4 years ago

Text

KALEIDOSCOPE MIND

-Sequel to "Hold On (Let's Go Home)" & "Unpack the Baggage"-

____

Eddie has been told that the journey of recovery for his husband is a long one. Buck is still at various state of consciousness, drugged up to the point that he is befuddled in his wake or in and out of nightmare fueled doze.

They are still far from passing the crucial point in determining whether Buck will come out of this without deficit or not. Everyday is a waiting game for them.

Everytime Buck is awake, he will just simply look at Eddie as if he is trying to commit Eddie into his memory. Not a single word has come out from his mouth, just small smiles that have carved his lips and occasional hums. Eddie tries to convince himself that Buck needs the rest. That his brain has been injured and it will take some time to heal.

Eddie just want his husband back. They haven't really talk about the cursed night. Maybe it is his selfish desire to avoid anymore guilt and continue living on knowing that he might be the cause of his husband's death, but Eddie really despise the universe as much as himself for putting Buck in this state. He is so terrified to think that there's a possibility that Buck will die with the thought of Eddie's infidelity to be the last thing on his mind.

Their family and friends have come and go, providing neverending support and encouragement to both of them although he can feel like they are directed to him more than Buck. Carla has been bringing Chris from time to time, letting the boy to cuddle up with his Buck. Between the two of them, he feels like Chris is the pillar of strength that's supporting Eddie from crumbling down now that his foundation is currently fighting for his life in hospital bed.

Holding his husband limp hand in his grip, Eddie sometimes think that maybe...just maybe Buck doesn't want to wake up into this reality. That maybe Eddie had hurt him so bad that it pains him to wake up. Maybe Buck is happy to stay in the solace his mind had created.

"Lover of mine

Maybe we'll take some time

Kaleidoscope mind

Gets in the way

Hope and I pray

Darling, that you will stay

Butterfly lies

Chase them away

Hmm"

///

Eddie is at his side, thumbing the beautiful birthmark that he has comes to love while whispering soothing words into Buck's ears. Buck looks peaceful today and he's so beautiful like that despite the garish surrounding.

"I love you, Evan and I've missed you. I've missed you in our bed, in our home sweetheart." Eddie murmurs to the back of Buck's hand. The house seems like it has lose its colour. Chris had since been staying with Abuela or Carla and Eddie had went back only once to pack a bag for them.

The mind is a complicated thing, Eddie tries to ingrain the mantra into his belief. Buck is scheduled to be transferred out from ICU in day five post surgery. Today is day four of his stay.

Suddenly Buck's hand twitch in Eddie's hold, just like he had done sometimes before. Eddie is expecting to see another bout of Buck silently gazing at him while still swimming in the haze of sleep like he always do in his waking. What Eddie doesn't expect is for the hand to continue twitching and Buck's whole body suddenly jerking in an awful uncoordinated movement.

Seizure, his mind supplied. Buck is having a seizure. Eddie screams for help to the doctors outside while pleading for the twitching to stop. All the little progress Buck has made now might as well be useless.

Doctors and nurses come spilling into the room with one of them pushing Eddie out to the corridor. After a while, the heinous jerking stop and his husband is wheeled out of the room.

"Where are you taking him? Is he okay?" Eddie tries to follow through when a nurse stopped him from doing so.

"We'll do everything in our power to help him," the nurse said, not really a promise.

Just like that, Eddie is left alone again to wait. Unable to follow to where his husband is going.

"Dance around the living room

Lose me in the sight of you

I've seen the red, I've seen the blue

Take all of me

Lead to where your secrets are

Where we've been a thousand times

Swallow every single lie

Take all of me"

///

Buck had suffered another small ruptured aneurysm and now they are back to square one, maybe even backward. Now he is on ventilator again and just like that the timer restarts.

Eddie feels like they were hurdled back ten yards with every ten steps forward they took.

Their family and friends have come running when he told them the news, preparing for the worst.

Chris is a welcomed weight on his lap that is doing a great job at keeping Eddie grounded. While Eddie's one hand is keeping Chris steady on his thighs, the other is playing around Buck's wedding ring between his nimble fingers.

Both weight assuring his tired mind that Buck will come back from this. He must be...he should be because Eddie doesn't know what will happen to him and Chris if he doesn't. Shannon's death had been devastating but Buck... No, he will not let his mind spiraling down there.

Instead, Eddie let his memory drifts to the moment Buck had said yes. The twinkle of his eyes can easily light up the highest skyscraper there is. Eddie knew then that he had made among the best decision in his life at that exact instant. And the twinkles make their appearance again when Buck walked down the aisle with Bobby giving him away. But the twinkles were even brighter when the judge decreed Chris' adoption paper.

The twinkles never really stop. Buck keeps showing them in different ways. When he calls them for dinner. When Chris hums in delight with every bite. When Chris says his goodnight. When Eddie compliments Buck's new shirt or sweater. When Eddie says the 'I love you's.

What he would give in order to see those bright twinkles again.

"I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made that mistake

If my name never fell off your lips again

I know it'd be such a shame

When I take a look at my life

And all of my crimes

You're the only thing that I think I got I right

I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made

Already made that mistake"

///

"S'hurt." Buck whines into Eddie's soothing caress. He stubbornly shuts his eyes close with a hand, sluggishly trying to block whatever light flashing at him.

"I know sweetheart, but Dr. Stevenson needs to test your cognitive functions so they will know you're okay." Eddie tries to comfort his distressed husband. Light sensitivity is to be expected but it still hurt Eddie to see Buck constantly flinching in pain.

"Alright Evan, can you tell us your full name again?" Dr. Stevenson then proceed to ask.

Buck huff in annoyance. Why can't they leave him alone to sleep? He already told them his name yesterday. He's so tired, why can't they see that?

"Evan..." Buck tries. Huh. Weird. He should know his name. "Diaz...uh," Buck's face contorted in panic as he tries to jog his memory. "...Buck." He cries in frustration. He should remember his name. Why can't he remember his name?

"Hey, hey Evan. It's okay if you can't remember now. You'll get it right soon." Eddie calms his upset husband while Buck kept whimpering in anguish.

Despite the initial scares, Buck's prognosis has been quite promising. He's off the ventilator and has been moved out from the ICU relatively quick. It took him some time to properly speak and even longer to open his eyes without flinching.

Most of the times he will be asleep, passed out from exhaustion from doing simple cognitive exercises. He is still experiencing memory gap and fogginess but that is all to be expected. His motor function is also improving despite the mild numbness.

"Eddie, m'scared." His voice barely a whisper. Confusion lacing his whole face. His head feels heavy and the fatigue just doesn't seem to go away.

"Come here." Eddie slides into the hospital bed, wary of the wires and IV snaking around Buck. Buck automatically latched himself to Eddie's side while Eddie wipes some stray tears that are staining Buck's cheek away.

"Tired. Hurt." Buck sniffles brokenly, face nuzzling deeper into Eddie's neck.

"I know. I know. But you are doing so much better, sweetheart." Eddie gingerly tracing patters on Buck's back, feeling the warm puff of breath cradling his own neck.

Comfortable silence slowly stretched between them with Buck is finally at the edge of sleep. Eddie pulls Buck tighter into his embrace, anchoring Buck to his chest.

"Don'wanna forget you n'Chris," Buck mumbles, already half asleep.

It never gets easier to see your supposedly strong and healthy husband broke down in tears for not remembering his own name. At how he was defeated by his own mind.

"Lover of mine

I know you're colorblind

I watched the world fall from your eyes

Ooh

All my regrets

And things you can't forget

Light them all up

Kiss them goodbye"

///

After three weeks of camping at the hospital, Buck is finally home. Little by little, the colours are coming back to their little house.

Buck amazingly had come out relatively unscathed after two brain surgeries aside from frequent dizziness, mild exhaustion and occasional numbness.

Abuela has moved in with them temporarily despite Buck's protest, arguing that Carla is still going to be there from time to time and that he'll not be left alone for more than one hour at most. That Chris is also capable to call for help if anything (God forbids) happen.

Meanwhile, Eddie has returned back to work albeit reluctantly. Shifts, long or short are never the same without Buck sitting next to him in the rig or at dinner table. He was mulling over some chores when suddenly his phone pings with new notification. With Buck stuck at home, Eddie never lets his phone out of sight in case if emergency.

The content of the notification put a wide grin on his face. It was a shaky image of Buck sleeping on the couch while holding what seems like Eddie's t-shirt from last night. Which Eddie knows has been put into the laundry basket. Eddie can't really make out the details of Buck's features with the image being so blurry. Not that he'll tell Abuela that if he wants to keep receiving them in the future.

As for now, he has another six hours to go before he can go back to cuddle his awaiting husband.

///

The house is silent when Eddie returns with darkness washing over every corner, save for the night light coming from Chris' room.

Naturally, Eddie skips over to Chris' room first to check on his son and found him safely tucked in bed, deep in sleep. A soft smile cracked on his lips.

He then proceeds to check on Abuela who is residing in the guest room. Abuela is making a habit of leaving the bed room door cracked open a little, in case Buck or Chris need her.

Satisfied, Eddie slowly enters into his and Buck's bedroom, tip toeing on his feet as to avoid disrupting his sleeping husband. Instead, Eddie is met with an empty room. Confused, he checks the bathroom but only to find it unoccupied.

Worry starting to creep into his gut when the couch in the living room is also vacant. He double check to confirm Buck's jeep is still parked beside his truck.

Eddie is ready to tear down the house and even the street to find Buck when from the corner of his eyes, he can see the light in the backyard patio is on.

Lo and behold; there lies Buck, sleeping on the patio swing, snuggled between a thick blanket and fluffy pillow. The book he was reading long forgotten on the wooden deck. Eddie can't help from smiling.

Another side effect that come out from this is Buck's ability to fall asleep almost anywhere at anytime seems to be amplified.

He's lucky the night is not as chilly as usual or he'll get a nasty scolding from Abuela (and Carla, even Athena and Maddie, Hen included, oh and not to forget Bobby's disapproval and Chim's teasing) if he's able to get a cold cause he 'foolishly' slept outside instead in their warm bed.

Eddie steps forward to his husband, expertly avoiding any creaking wooden planks before kneeling in front of the slumbering man. He can't help himself but to stroke the soft curls casing Buck's face. Days without any products bring about the glorious wave of hair. Buck needs a haircut sooner than later, or he'll fuss over his hair being unmanageable.

"Evan." Eddie calls softly, trying to pull Buck out of his sleep.

"Hmm." Buck ends up snuggling even deeper under the cocoon.

"Let's go to bed, darling." Eddie coaxes.

"Don'wanna."

"I promise you, you'll regret it tomorrow." Eddie threatens passively.

"But it's so comf'able, Eddie." Buck whines, all bleary-eyed.

Eddie sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose. Buck can be stubborn if he wants to, no matter how adorable he might look doing it.

Gathering all of his might, Eddie scoops up Buck, still swaddled in his blanket. Surprisingly, no protest is coming out from his husband. Rather, Buck nestles his face into Eddie's chest while his hands embracing Eddie's neck like a koala. Eddie can't stop but to notice how much weight has Buck lost. They'll work on that later.

Eddie then cautiously deposit Buck onto their bed, fixing the blanket and fluffing his pillow. Just like that, Buck is off to his dream land again.

Buck is a constant ball of energy. Bright, bold and loud. Seeing him sleeping so much is disheartening even though Eddie knows he needs it.

Encassed in the deafening silence of the night, Eddie chest tightens whenever he thinks about how he almost lost this. Sense of dread envelopes him everytime he remembers how Buck almost slipped from his hold.

Pulling Buck tighter against his embrace, Eddie renews his wedding vows silently under his breath.

"Dance around the living room

Lose me in the sight of you

I've seen the red, I've seen the blue

Take all of me

Lead to where your secrets are

Where we've been a thousand times

Swallow every single lie

Take all of me"

///

They are in the kitchen, trying to decide on dinner now that Abuela has returned back to her house. Not before leaving lengthy strict instructions for both of them with quarter of them related to their 'rumpy-pumpy'. "That boy needs his rest, Edmundo." She had quipped before leaving.

Giving his husband a quick glance, Eddie feels like it's the time to address the elephant in the room.

"Evan, we haven't exactly talk about that night." Eddie starts, trying to fish out Buck's attention, whose face currently deep inside the freezer trying to formulate the course of dinner.

Buck closes the fridge and slowly turns to face Eddie, expressionless. Eddie can't help but to reminisce how Buck's face was frozen on that fateful night. Tingling sensation suddenly wash over his whole being.

"I know you were in pain, perhaps still are but...please tell me how can I make it up to you." Eddie continues when Buck remains silent. He then delicately pulls Buck waist towards him, embracing into the warmth.

After a beat, Buck lets out a deep breath, returning Eddie's hug and settling against his chest.

"I was angry at you Eddie, I'm not gonna lie." Buck starts. That got Eddie all wide eyed. He tries to loosen the hug, but Buck keeps him at his place.

"When I was under, I thought about how Ana could replace me in your and Chris' life." Buck whispers into the crook of Eddie's neck.

"How easy for her to fit it in. How easy for Chris to love her. How easy for you to love her. How she's able to give you a child or two if you want to. How perfect the picture will be. How easy I am to be forgotten." Buck forlornly confess. The ominous shadow of his mind is not some place inviting.

Eddie frowns with guilt and shame but as he tries to say something, he is quickly cut by Buck.

"But then, I woke up to your voice, your hands warm against mine. And when I am able to see, watching you sitting there beside me, all of my insecurities fly away. I know I must have look horrible but you still stay. Laying in the hospital bed is not exactly sexy, you know." Buck chuckles, tightening his hold against Eddie's strong back.

Eddie laughs lightly but it was hard to imagine how Buck must have felt at that time. Confused and in pain. Unable to control his body and mind.

Eddie then slowly moves his hand upwards to cup Buck's face, short stubble soft against his palms.

Gazing into the baby blues, Eddie can see the uncertainty storming under the irises. Eddie tenderly brush the bottom of Buck's lips with his. "Evan, no matter what condition you'll be in the future, I promise you, I'll stay. I've made a mistake and I'm going to make it right by you if you let me." Another soft kiss lingers.

Eddie's fingers later find themselves cupping Buck's neck and Buck melts into the kiss. Before they know it, they keep kissing like their lives depend on it.

"I actually thought if I was killing you with my confession. Whether it was better if I just keep my mouth shut." Eddie admits a bit later, with their foreheads against each other fighting for a breather.

"Hey, don't do that to yourself. If anything, I'm partially to blame. I've been ignoring the signs, dismissing them as stress or lack of sleep." Buck tries to balm Eddie's guilt. "And it's better for the news to come out from your rather than hearing it from someone else."

Nevertheless, Eddie still can't forget how limp his husband body was laying against him in the station's locker room. At how pale his husband has been. No matter how hard Eddie tried to rouse him, Buck's eyes had remained shut.

Easy silence washed over them, swaying together in a tight embrace to the mute music only they can hear.

"Evan, I am sorry."

"I know."

Eddie paused. "No, seriously. I am so fucking sorry."

Buck smiles fondly. "And I seriously fucking know it."

"Just don't do it again." Buck parroted what Eddie had previously said to him with a sly grin. Oh God, the sexual tension back then had been overbearing.

Just like that, Eddie feels like the axis of his world sets to right again, spinning gracefully. Not as halted or indented as before.

"I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made that mistake

If my name never fell off your lips again

I know it'd be such a shame

When I take a look at my life

And all of my crimes

You're the only thing that I think I got I right

I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made

Already made that mistake"

(Lover of Mine - 5 Seconds of Summer)

#cirrius akiyo's bunkdump #buddie fanfiction #buddie #buddie fic #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #911 fics #911 fic #911 fanfic #Rambler not Writer #evan buckley #edmundo diaz #songfic

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blarrghe · 4 years ago

Note

"Watching me while I sweat from exercising" for Dorianders because... of reasons? XD

Up on AO3 or uner the cut! (the formattinig is probably better on AO3 tumblr is the actual worst)

Befriending Magister Dorian Pavus continued to be the worst decision Anders had made since the one that had landed him in Tevinter in the first place. Not at the least because being friends with Magister Dorian Pavus was, on a scheduling level, practically impossible. It was almost maddening, how neither of them ever seemed to have any blighted free time. There was Dorian, very important and very busy, always rushing off to meetings or press events or fundraisers or galas, only available for a quick coffee or for trying to convince Anders to go out clubbing at two in the morning. Which, frankly, he had less than no interest in doing — for several reasons, only minimally to do with the fact that the music gave him a headache (the thought of standing by and watching Dorian dance and practice his smarmy lines on attractive club goers made up most of the rest of it). And then there was his own life, overflowing with unkempt medical notes and overdue bills, and a schedule packed with night shifts and on-call hours that made maintaining a regular sleep schedule impossible, never mind a social life. But despite all that, it was nice to have someone to talk to again. Someone passionate and revolutionary and witty and… just about as lonely as he was, so better not to go messing it up. Better to try to maintain this one terrible friendship — the only one he had that wasn't with a "work friend", or a cat. It was just a really difficult thing to do, between the unrepenting workdays and restless nights filled with dreams of his beautiful Maker-damned face.

Dorian, however, was remarkably good at being his friend. He always managed to make time. Drew it out of thin air, it seemed, conjured it up like magic between his press conferences and business trips. He had this impossibly serendipitous way of always seeming to send a text offering to meet for coffee right as Anders' break was coming up, and thanks to his own life of impossible hours he was always amenable to a spot of caffeine well into the evening. Other times, he'd offer up an address, saying "meet me here tonight if by the end of your shift you're still alive", and Anders would reply "doubtful", and then show up later anyway to the movie theater, or concert hall, or burlesque playhouse, only to fall asleep in his seat once the lights went down — which, at the burlesque playhouse at least, everyone seemed to find incredibly amusing.

Today, his shift would be finished at an uncommonly early hour, having started at one that was painfully so. And even though his work-to-sleep ratio for the week was currently hovering at around four to one, when a text came in from Dorian during his break that read simply, "lunch later? Meet me if you have an hour free." He cheerfully replied "I'm off at noon!" And decided to postpone his much-needed afternoon nap. Friends with Dorian, he smiled, terrible decision.

----

Anders did not work out. Whatever strength he had he came by naturally, by way of pushing hospital equipment around and running up and down stairs all day. His calves, as a result, were particularly firm, and he had defined, if skinny, biceps. His core was probably strong enough, what with the constant balancing act that was keeping up with his daily life, but if he had wanted abs he would probably have to do something about his diet; more protein, fewer sugary carbs, meals that weren't eaten while standing on a city bus. But a personal beauty routine had always been low on his priority list. If he was looking to impress someone, he usually tried to get his bad jokes and the somewhat trashy rebel-mage aesthetic (which he also came by naturally) to do the job for him. It was not, historically, the best strategy. But he also wasn't looking. Dorian, on the other hand, had beauty routines for his beauty routines. Apparently the way to make up for the sleeplessness of a busy life was to exercise regularly, drink exceptionally expensive vitamin concoctions (despite the fact that his friend, who was a doctor, had told him repeatedly that the vitamins in such quantities were oversaturated, contradictory, and essentially useless), and to apply a laundry list of products to one's skin and hair — that, at least, seemed to work.

And so it was that when Anders showed up at the designated spot, practically asleep on his feet and slouching eagerly off the bus towards the promise of an hour of good company and food, that he discovered that the place Dorian had instructed him to meet at was not a restaurant, or even a coffee shop, but a gym. A gym with wide glass windows facing the street, so that the gorgeous, obviously affluent, gym-membership-holders could sweat it out while on display for the benefit of all the less beautiful and less lucky passersby. Or perhaps it was the other way around, and rich people got a kick out of running in place for their health while watching working folk run breathlessly after the busses that pulled up to the dirty old bus shelter on the street outside. Anders didn't know, he didn't go to gyms. But Dorian did; he went to this gym. He paid an exorbitant membership fee and wore a tight t-shirt branded with the gym's logo while he ran himself sweaty on a treadmill, spraying fancy water into his mouth like he was advertising the stuff, and towelling himself off with the clean white towels provided while still running, panting with the efforts of his impressively athletic exertions. This, Anders discovered by staring at him as he did it, through the clear glass window from the street, his mouth falling open and throat going dry until Dorian spotted him, and he snapped his mouth shut while his cheeks went red. Dorian's cheeks were also red, a bead of sweat dripping down over one in a long glistening trail from his temple. He pressed some buttons on the treadmill, slowed down to a walk, smiled, and waved. Anders, like a dumbfounded puppet on a string, raised his hand and dropped it again, in some approximation of returning the greeting.

Ten minutes later, Dorian met Anders outside the door of the clean, white and minimalist setting of the gym's lobby with his regular (still tight) clothes on and his damp hair fragrant with some kind of rich, flower-infused cream.

"You got here faster than I expected, sorry you had to wait."

"Good bus timing," Anders shrugged, pointedly not looking at him. One intolerable sensation at a time, and he still smelled amazing.

"You know there's an app for the schedules, GPS tracking and everything." Dorian commented. Why he knew that, when he'd probably never taken public transportation in his life, Anders couldn't guess. But then, Dorian was infinitely more organized than he was; good with schedules. Anders, meanwhile, struggled to keep his own thoughts straight, never mind the kinds of itineraries that Dorian kept. So he just nodded along, certain that he would never remember to check, or even download, the recommended app.

Dorian led them up to the intersection, and pressed the button at the crosswalk, every simple movement somehow upright and deliberate. "So, lunch? I'm starving, there's a great place across the street."

Anders glanced back at the gleaming white and chrome of the gym, and the equally sleek boutiques to either side of it. He frowned, fingering the well-worn leather billfold in his pocket. "How great?" He asked, cautiously.

"Great as in healthy, all vegan food and local produce and the like." Dorian smirked at him, and Anders made the mistake of looking at it. He blushed, and frowned some more.

"Oh, great." He said, with very little enthusiasm. A twelve dollar salad and one of those ludicrous vitamin waters, just what he and his malnourished billfold needed.

"You're a doctor, you can't live on cup noodles and granola bars all the time. It sets a bad example." Dorian berated, lightly, in return.

"At least cup noodles have salt." Anders protested, "Maybe too much, but that's better than none at all. And you know organic is just a buzzword, not everything organic is healthier. And the hoops of getting branded "Organic" just make it harder for actual family owned farmers, who grow perfectly healthy crops, to market to sellers," he ranted about it, albeit halfheartedly, until Dorian sighed and shook his head.

"Which is why I said local, not organic. And I've been, I promise they use seasonings. You really think I'd debase myself by dining somewhere that didn't know how to properly use spice?"

Anders grunted, still disapproving.

"It's good, really. You'll like it there, they have cats."

"They have…?" Anders spun to watch Dorian, squinting in confusion at him as he brightened the world about him with another one of those obnoxiously perfect smiles.

"Cats, they're all very tame. You can sit with them while you eat or play with them afterwards. An endeavour of the local animal shelter to help encourage adoption, as I understand it." Dorian explained casually. Then the light changed and he set off walking. Anders followed, significantly less grumpily, though now his stomach was turning flips for an entirely different reason besides hunger.

Forget Kirkwall, actually. Befriending Dorian was, hands down, the absolute worst decision he’d ever made.

#dorianders #dorian x anders #my fic #my writing #modern au #dragon age fanfic #friends to lovers #mutual idiot pining #dorian #anders #what if we were

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ndragoon · 4 years ago

Text

Seems like it's one of those nights.

I don't know. It feels like I need to get so much out of my head, but every time I try to put any of it into words it just ends up as some rambling word salad. None of it makes sense, or else it is just something I've probably said here a hundred times already.

I hate myself. I hate everything about myself. I hate how I feel like I must have done something horribly, unspeakably awful to deserve a punishment like this.

My brain doesn't work. I can't think, I can't remember, sometimes I just can't think anymore and my brain needs to do a full reset before it can start doing anything again. Typing, speaking, walking, you name it. I'll just stop in the middle, stare off into space, and then need to take a moment to reorient myself and hope that I can find out what I was saying or doing so I don't look like a massive idiot.

My thoughts feel like a bunch of clashing gears all struggling to keep the mechanism going. Sometimes they manage to coordinate enough to get something done, but it feels more like sheer coincidence rather than actual intention. It feels like if I can't do something on mindless autopilot, then it requires 150% of my maximum brainpower while I can only run at a strict maximum of 40%.

Memories, but especially names, escape me. Not just people names, but names of objects, places, and whatever else. I need to describe them or their use. It's difficult to talk to people about my special interests without making a complete fool of myself, because I can tell you the underlying mechanics and storyline, but then I have to describe items, cards, gems, weapons, characters, places, you name it. It makes me feel like a failure because others with special interests can tell you every single detail of every single thing using all the names and they can just recite them like an actor would for a play.

I need to stress the memory part more because I used to practically have an eidetic memory for some things, like how I could draw maps of places after only being there once (assuming it wasn't some kind of sprawling complex where every single room and hallway and nearly identical). Now, it's just a fog or a haze and I can only remember things roughly at best for places I've been multiple times.

It feels like having gripes about my appearance are so...superficial? Shallow? It feels like I'm supposed to like myself and every bit of my exterior unconditionally, and wishing anything was different is just something that people who only care about their appearance are supposed to do.

I don't mind my gut, surprisingly. It's smooth and round and doesn't have all the folds and rolls that some lighter but bigger people have that I dislike the look of.

I do dislike how thin and sparse my body hair is. I do have some traces on my thighs, belly, forearms, underarms, and my pubes - though they are all so thin and sparse you have to actually look for it because it barely counts as hair. I do have a single tuft in the middle of my chest, though, for whatever reason. It's the thickest, darkest patch of hair anywhere.

The only traces of facial hair I have is a thin line of hair on my upper lip, 5 tiny and short hairs right below the middle of my bottom lip, and a bunch of thick, wiry, and obvious hairs on the area between my chin and neck. It's a patch the size of my palm and stays consistent.

One of the things I envy about most other overweight men is the fact that their penis is external all the time. Even flaccid, it just dangles there for all to see or to play with. Meanwhile, even when I'm hard mine stays hidden. It was small from birth, stayed small through puberty, and got even smaller for whatever reason since then.

I hate saying anything about it because just mentioning it comes across as your typical "shallow male complaint" of "I wish my dick was bigger, 7 inches is too small". But I can't top because of it, and nobody wants to touch it because they all expect something much larger.

Recently, I've been dealing with one of those infamous anal fissures. They are so dang painful and perpetually bleed so much. It just adds to the strictures (basically scar tissue on the sphincter) my doctor said I had, and looking them up just told me that I basically either take a few years to manually stretch things out to get at least some stretchiness back, or forsake doing things back there entirely. I'm more inclined to just forsaking things entirely since just going to the bathroom after taking my meds for a few days was enough to cause a tear.

And this part is less shallow.

I was doing some thinking, because even though it is difficult to recognize and point things out as they happen, sometimes you can realize it after the fact. My exhaustion and easy fatigue have been around for a while. Putting it lightly, of course. I had realized I showed signs for years now, albeit nowhere near as bad as now.

Giving a bj to my fourth ex, G, was difficult because even though I greatly enjoyed it, my jaw started to hurt and ache so incredibly quickly. We chalked it up to inexperience and I tried to practice, but never got another chance to try with him. When I got to my eighth, J, I was having the same issues. Except I also had issues with my hands, where my arms would ache and become incredibly weak to the point of uselessness before I could get him to climax. No matter how many times I tried, I never got or felt any better and it was a point of frustration to him. Even though he never reciprocated (except for once, but that was a nightmare) I don't blame him for feeling that way, I'm frustrated with myself because I get that way just taking care of my own thing. Plus, even just eating is enough to make my jaw ache and feel swollen anymore.

And another thing is the whole vacation bit I mentioned in another post. When I was working, I always thought that it felt like I'd go to sleep at the end of the day, and instead of being fully rested my batter would only be at 99%. And then the next day it would only be at 98%. It wasn't always a literal day between, but that's how it felt. Taking a week long break didn't make me feel any better, I felt like I was at a permanent 75% regardless of how much sleep I got during that week. Even talking to a buddy, he told me that staying awake for two days and then sleeping at a normal time makes you feel like a god, but it just made me feel even more tired and worn out.

But now, I feel like I'm at a permanent 25%. All it takes is anything more than just one quick trip to the local small store to wipe me out for the whole day. If I spend a day with friends (don't bark at me, only two of them work, one is tested almost daily and the other refuses contact because of the high risk of their job, the rest stay at home all day) then I come home feeling like I just ran a marathon and need to sleep. Taking a walk around the grocery store takes me out for the rest of the day.

And I just...I don't know. None of the docs are willing to cooperate because I don't spend an hour a day exercising, because I have this junk food diet that they assigned me upon first sight, because I'm not working.

I'm socially dead because I'm not working. Every time I talk to someone, it's about where I'm working, what job I moved to, what I'm doing now that I'm not still stocking shelves. If I say my health declined and I'm trying for disability, they always just give me this look like I'm just one of those lazy kids who want to work the system and that's that.

My head is just so cloudy and it's getting difficult to think. So I think I'm done writing and rewriting and rewriting and rewriting this. It's already a massive essay that nobody reads, but at least I have a written record, albeit anonymously, of how things went down so at least someone can see my body when it fails someday and know my history and what I went through up to this point. I don't want it to be a huge mystery to everyone just because my family discounts how I feel and try to pretend nothing is wrong.

#Personal #Medical #Rant #Whining #This one is a really long essay #Not that anyone reads these #If you do I'm sorry you put yourself through this just for some stranger on the internet #You don't need to reveal yourself to me #I'd just be glad knowing someone knows my story

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mediocre--writing · 5 years ago

Text

Sinking

Peter Parker x OC (Tessa Kennedy)

Summary: Things take a turn for the worse when TK receives earth-shattering news that could affect the rest of her life. How will things work out when everything is sinking around her?

Word Count: 5,548

Warnings: cancer, panic attack, language, gay couple(?)

****haha let’s pretend that Endgame never happened :)

Tessa Kennedy, a junior at Midtown High School, an amazing school full of nerds, that for some reason had multiple sports teams, that weren’t that bad. Tessa, known to everyone by TK, was on her school’s Varsity Soccer team, one of the best on the team.

She was eager, confident, tactical, and had more energy than 14 Red Bulls. Beyond the soccer field, she was also friendly to most everyone at her school, save for Flash Thompson, who was the world's biggest douchebag.

She wasn’t all that smart at Midtown, where the kids there were all geeky and nerdy, but she still did well, never getting lower than a B in any of her classes.

TK wasn’t popular like you might think she is, but she is well known, she just doesn’t hang around the “popular kids,” but stays within her little group, consisting of Peter Parker, MJ, and Ned Leeds, who were all odd in their own special ways.

Peter was a geeky little twerp, one that couldn’t say a sentence without stuttering at least once, but he was also someone who loved his friends and family fiercely and without hesitation. Ned, also a huge geek, was kind and soft, sweet and always meant well, even if he didn’t exactly do well. MJ, unlike Peter and Ned, was more of a nerd, keeping to her books rather than a movie franchise, and knew more about everything than she would let on.

TK loved her friends, she enjoyed watching Star Wars with the boys and reading whatever poetry book MJ was into at the moment, but she liked being active more than they did, she didn’t sit still for too long, and always had energy to spare and definitely didn’t need an espresso shot, something Peter learned in their Freshman year after a little incident where she shattered the lamp in his room because she was jumping and dancing around after he got them coffee.

Nevertheless, the quartet was best of friends, and they all knew Peter’s little secret after an incident after Homecoming when Ned spilled the beans to the girls during his babbling rant about how he’s worried about Peter.

Through the ups and downs of their friendship, they were always there for one another, TK went to all the decathlon competitions she could get to and in return, they would attend her soccer games. They would always lift each other when they were down, MJ would distract, Peter would comfort, Ned would use the phrase “laughter is the best medicine” and execute it perfectly, and TK would be there to binge-watch Netflix or eat until there were no carbs left untouched.

All different, yet all the same, the quartet stayed together for the past three years, being there for each other and smacking (whether literally or metaphorically) Flash when he was being a douche.

Now, it was November, the month of TK’s birthday, and she was getting more and more excited for the 9th to come around so she could celebrate with her friends and dads, but something was happening.

TK was constantly getting pains in her right leg that were off and on, but the pain was excruciating. It seemed as though her ankle and knee were also growing as if swollen, but she couldn’t get it to go down.

She didn’t like having problems, it made her feel like she was incapable of anything, but she knew something was wrong when, after a few weeks, she had lost fifteen pounds off her muscular body. She was eating, she was still exercising, and everything was going just fine, but her leg would bother her over and over again, and no medicine was helping ease the pain, so she needed to make a decision.

“Dad, Bub,” TK said coming into their apartment’s living room, where her fathers sat on their gray couch, drinking their evening coffee.

“What’s up, darling?” Her Bub, Kris, said, turning over the back of the couch to face her.

TK’s Bubba (or ‘Bub’ for short), Kris was a brunette, tan skin, and a muscular build, very active, and TK’s real father. Her dad, Anthony, was blonde, a pale guy, but one of the kindest that she’d ever met, very empathetic and understanding.

“I think there’s something wrong with my leg,” TK said as she sat down on the other end of the couch, across from where Kris had his arm around Anthony, but they parted when they heard what was bothering her.

“Why, what hurts?” Anthony asked, placing a hand on her arm, between her shoulder and elbow.

“I don’t know, it’s like, not how a bruise hurts, it’s deeper than that, but it doesn’t feel broken, and my joints on my right leg are kinda swollen, but Advil or whatever aren’t helping with pain and, I don’t know, just thought I should tell you.”

She finally raised her head from where she was playing with the pattern on a pillow, distracting herself. Her hazel eyes met theirs, and she felt pity for herself just by the way they were looking at her.

“Okay, do you wanna go to the doctor, I can make an appointment?” Anthony asked her, rubbing up and down her arm, comforting her nerves as he ran his hand over the goosebumps on her arm.

“Yeah, dad, I think--yeah.” TK stood from her spot on the couch, walking back to her room at the end of the hallway, limping slightly.

When she sat on her bed, she thought her leg might just break, the pressure from the rest of her body made it feel as though it was a piece of uncooked spaghetti that could snap with the slightest pressure.

Letting out a breath, she laid back, pulling the thin blanket over her body, knowing good and well she would be stressing through a better part of the night.

She couldn’t sleep, it was hard enough to think about how she was nervous about her leg, but she didn’t feel the slightest bit excited about her 17th birthday tomorrow, which she had been looking forward to for the past month or two, thinking of what she could do with her friends on her special day, but now she dreaded the thought.

About 3 months later, TK was facing the final decisions.

Turns out, Bone Cancer runs in the family on her mother’s side and was a contributing factor to why she died. And, apparently, it was a huge problem that she wasn’t telling her friends, at least, according to her Dad and Bubba.

She knew what had to happen, it wasn’t a decision, the cancer was spreading and rejecting the chemo treatment, TK either had to let cancer spread to her other bones or amputate her right leg.

So many thoughts went through her head as she walked through the halls of Midtown High on Friday, the fact that she wouldn’t be coming back for the next few weeks, and the fact that she still hadn’t told her friends. There was also the fact that she wouldn’t be able to play soccer this season, and this was when they began to look for scholarship options for college, but what else did she have to lose?

A leg, she had a leg to lose.

The tan lockers mocked TK as she walked the halls to her locker, next to Ned and Peter’s.

“Hey, T,” Peter said as he dug through his locker, looking for whatever he was looking for, Ned on the other side of him.

“Hey, boys,” TK said softly, placing books in her locker and grabbing what she needed for gym and English class. “What plans do you guys have after school?”

“Nothing,”

“Patrol,” Peter and Ned said at the same time, looking over to TK’s freckled face, which looked much paler than she usually appeared.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, stopping the search for whatever he needed in his locker, turning fully to the brunette next to him.

“Something,” TK sighed softly, “That’s why I wanted to talk to you guys, and MJ, after school, at my place. Pete, can you stay for like half an hour, just for a bit, it won’t affect any part of your patrol, I promise.”

“Yeah, sure,” Peter said, his brown eyes looking at TK’s face, then trailing down to where she leaned more on her left leg, leaning against her locker weakly.

TK continued shutting her locker and walking off to her gym class, where she would be gleefully doing sit-ups instead of the mile run that would be happening next week, but not for her.

“She look...like, super sick to you?” Ned asked from Peter’s shoulder, causing the brunette to turn quickly, his curls flopping on his head as he saw Ned’s face.

“Yeah, kinda.” Peter watched as she walked over to MJ, who was a few lockers down, talk for a moment, then limp towards the gym. “She’s all limpy, and sad. I don’t like it.”

“Yeah,” Ned said as he looked in his locker for the last time, then turning to Peter, “We better get to gym class.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter said blankly as they walked towards the gym.

Through the day, Peter, Ned, and MJ would always be watching TK around the school, because at least one of them would be in the same class as her, then lunch, then the last two classes of the day.

Finally, TK’s Bubba picked up the four of them from school, since none of them bothered to get a drivers license given they could ride a train, taxi, or bus wherever they needed to go.

The car ride to her apartment complex was tense, Kris tried to turn on music in order to fill the car with a sound other than breathing, but it was useless, the once happy, cheery, daughter he had was now falling into a depressive state, now that one of the only things she loved was being ripped away from her, possibly for good.

Once parked, they all grabbed their bookbags and walked to their apartment, each teen grabbing a bottle of water and some snacks from the pantry, then retreating to TK’s room.

The boys and MJ were staring at her, and though they all held different expressions, they were all eager to hear what was wrong with their friend.

“Tomorrow,” TK began after taking a sip from her water bottle, “I’m being admitted into the hospital for about a week.”

She took a deep breath in, trying to not cry again, she’d been doing enough of that lately.

Peter, Ned, and MJ were all shocked, confused, and curious.

“I- I have bone cancer that started in my right thigh, and has spread down.” TK’s voice was breaking, making it hard for her to talk clearly, “And I tried chemo, but my body rejected it, and now the only option is to either let it spread, or-or I…”

MJ grabbed her hand, squeezing it softly, encouragingly, as if telling her that it’s okay and that she’s fine.

“I have to have my entire right leg, and some of my hip, amputated tomorrow.”

With the final admission of truth, TK pulled MJ closer, holding onto her jacket with a death grip as she sobbed into her shoulder, brown hair sticking to her teary face.

The room was no longer tense and awkward, it was now sad, depressing, and filled with understanding. While MJ was hugging her, a few stray tears fell down her face, and Peter and Ned said nothing, only staring into the abyss, conflicted on if they should say or do anything.

After a good 10 minutes of TK getting herself together, MJ comforting her, and the boys looking at the girls, then each other, the moment ended.

“Do you guys wanna stay over?” TK asked, wiping the stray tears off with her sleeve, “Bubba already said it was okay as long as you guys slept on the floor and we left the door open.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, ignoring the fact that he should be patrolling around now, TK was a larger priority then a purse getting stolen. “Let me call Aunt May real quick,”

MJ and Ned also texted their parents, getting the okay that they could stay over, Peter was the final decision.

“I can stay, I just gotta talk to Mr. Stark tomorrow around 10 am,” Peter said with a dorky smile.

“Great,” TK grinned, leaning on the pillows at the head of her bed. “Let me ask if we can order Chinese food or something, what do you guys want?”

They all agreed on the Chinese place a few blocks down, ordering delivery from TK’s phone, then they proceeded to talk and laugh. After they ate their food, talked some more, watched Netflix, talked even more, then got in their places for bed (MJ and TK on the bed, the boys on the blow-up mattress on the floor), they finally began falling asleep.

All except TK and Peter.

“Why’re you up?” Peter asked, looking at TK’s freckled face in the moonlight from the window.

“Nerves, I guess.” TK turned on her side to face Peter, “What about you?”

“Well, it’s only 2 am,” Peter chuckled, “I’m usually swinging from building to building right now. Guess it’s an internal clock.”

“When do you have time to do anything, Pete, like you always have homework done, you never look tired, and yet you only go to class and swing around in upgraded spandex.”

They both giggled at her statement, “Dunno, guess it just all clicked together after a month or so, didn’t need much sleep, and I do homework in class.”

“Wow, I don’t even understand the material when I’m paying attention, don’t think I could do homework during it too.”

“Eh, not that bad.” Peter shrugged, “Go to sleep, T, you need it. You’ve been a zombie for the past few days.”

“Only if you do too, P.”

Peter sighed dramatically, “If you insist, I guess I’ll get more than two hours of sleep tonight.”

“How can you live off two hours of sleep, I’ve been sleeping like six hours for all of high school and I still sleep in class.”

After chuckling again, Peter didn’t say anything, and after a few minutes, he felt himself drifting asleep to the sound of Ned’s snoring and the girl’s soft breathing.

The next morning, Peter woke up with the light shining in his eyes from the large, open window in TK’s room.

As his eyes adjusted, he realized that Ned was gone and the girls were on the bed giggling because of whatever was on TK’s phone.

He took in the sight, a late morning, the rough sunlight across his cheeks that wasn’t from watching the sunrise on top of his building, and not having to worry about what was going on in the streets below.

“Hey, Peter?” He heard a voice, TK’s, from the bed as he sat up slowly. “It’s 9 and you have to meet with Stark at 10, so you may want to get ready or whatever you do,”

Peter sat up a bit quicker, he was still in his clothes from yesterday and his hair was probably a mess, as it was in the morning, and he had to talk to Mr. Stark.

From TK’s view, he looked adorable, his eyes couldn’t focus and his hair was every which way, and he was freaking out because he was about eight seconds away from Stark Tower when he swung over.

Her attention was pulled away from her, however, when MJ showed her another meme on her phone.

The morning was slow, Ned had left at around 7 because his parents needed him home, and Peter left at about 9:30, after attempting to look like he hadn’t slept in the clothes he had on and used some of TK’s Bub’s deodorant religiously.

Little did TK know that Peter had a huge surprise up his sleeve for her.

TK had to leave for the hospital at around noon, and MJ said that, if it was okay, she would go with her then leave when she was taken back for operation, as moral support. In reality, TK knew that MJ just didn’t want to go back to her bland house where her parents were probably at work anyway and she’d be lonely. She appreciates the thought anyway because she needed her Emotional Support MJ with her right now.

It was a long car ride, or maybe it just felt that way because she knew what happened when the car stopped. Michelle ignored the death grip on her hand when they were in the backseat because she knew that TK was so ready for this to be over, but she also never wanted it to end, because it would be the end of something much more important.

“Hey, MJ,” She asked quietly, as to not get the attention of the men in the front seat, though it was impossible for them to not hear, though they remained impartial to their daughter’s secrets that were being shared in the backseat.

“Hmm?” MJ replied, turning to the brunette next to her, pulling her hair from where it was squashed between the seat belt and TK’s sweatshirt that was borrowed years ago, yet never given back.

“Are you still going to look at me the same after this?” It came out so tense, MJ could tell that it had been said multiple times in her head before actually coming out.

“No,” MJ told her simply, causing TK’s eyes to widen and snap to hers as she chuckled, “I’m going to see you as someone who is so much stronger than I thought before. As someone who does so much for everyone else that she is now going to realize that we’re here to help you too. And we’re not helping you out of pity, we’re going to be there for you because it’s what you would do for any of us, what you have done for us all.”

TK wiped a tear off her face, “Fuck you,”

The girls laughed as Kris shot her a glare through the rearview mirror, but there wasn’t much he could do, she had inherited his sailor's mouth.

Then, the car stopped, they got out, they prepared for the worst, TK was taken back, MJ was driven back by Anthony, and the kids didn’t hear from either father about TK all day, or the next day.

But they went through it, it was fine.

She was strong, she would be fine.

At least that’s what they kept telling themselves.

It had been three days since TK’s surgery.

She was finally letting her friends come to the hospital to see her. She didn’t truly want them to come, but she knew that if roles were reversed, she would want more than anything to be invited to see her friend when they weren’t well.

So she invited them all, Peter showed up first, with flowers (that were missing a few petals, she assumed that he swung to the hospital), then MJ, and finally Ned.

It was surprisingly nice, how they didn’t seem to treat her any differently than before, how normal it seemed, and how odd it was that they didn’t mention the fact that she never took the blankets off her legs -- leg.

Not that it wasn’t hard, Ned almost asked multiple times, earning a kick from Peter, and they wanted nothing more than to see her true feelings, how sad she was about the situation, even though it did help her in the long run.

She was happy, joking, smiling, but it wasn’t real.

Her wonderful hazel-blue eyes didn’t glitter like they usually did and she wasn’t talking with flailing arms like she did when she was passionate about something.

She left her hair up in a bun the whole time, when it was known that she hated the shape of her face when it was up too tight.

She was careless about herself, and only talked about her friends, homework assignments, or whatever nurse drama she’d heard.

Though Ned wasn’t as close with her as MJ and Peter, he still saw a few ticks from her that screamed oddity, but he wouldn’t bring it up. If the others, who knew her better and longer, didn’t talk about it, then he had no right to either.

They played Uno for about an hour, and it made TK smile, genuinely smile, more than she was before, when Peter continuously got +4 cards, courtesy of MJ, who was switching with Ned, and giving them to TK, who enjoyed the fact that Peter, at one point, had 32 cards in his hands.

It all ended around 4:15, when a nurse came in and told them that visiting hours were over, and they had to leave.

TK didn’t smile for the rest of the day.

For the rest of her time in the hospital, she made sure to FaceTime Peter and MJ twice everyday, unless they were together, then she only had to do it before she went to bed.

None of the friends had yet to see anything below her ribs, either, they understood why, but they felt bad that she felt the need to hide it from them, whether it be intentional or not.

On the 8th day, TK was finally released from the hospital, led from the hospital to Anthony’s car in a wheelchair, and sat in the backseat, Anthony in the drivers, and her Bubba in the backseat with her.

“What’s going to happen now?” TK asked quietly to Bubba as they drove home.

“You’re going to physical therapy for the next few months, then it will only be biweekly or so.” Kris babbled off.

“No, no.” TK said, closing her eyes in frustration. “I mean what’s going to happen to me? I’m not able to go to school for a while, and Prosthetics cost a fortune, and I can’t do anything, and how am I supposed to go to college now? I’m only average at school and soccer was the only thing that would stand out in a college resume and I can’t even do that anymore, so what am I doing? What’s going to happen?”

He was taken aback, and so was Anthony, this was not what they expected.

“I-- I don’t know right now, Darling,” Kris swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing, “But we’ll all be okay, I promise.”

He pulled her slowly and gently from her spot in her seat into his side, rubbing comforting circles into her shoulder, leaning his head on hers.

“I’m sorry,” Kris told her after feeling the small drops of water on his shoulder and her sniffling nose. “I’m really sorry.”

“‘S not your fault, Bubs.” TK said blinking as more silent tears flooded down her face, tracing her cheeks like rain on a window.

Her lips quivered as she bit down on the inside of her mouth, holding in a choked sob.

“This is real,” She sobbed, turning her head further into his green shirt, leaving a large wet mark as he unbuckled himself, adjusting so he was hugging her tightly, his soundless crying contrasting her loud sobs.

“Tess, listen to my breathing, please.” Kris told her as he noticed her hyperventilating breaths get faster and faster. “In and out slowly,”

She choked on air as she breathed in slowly through her nose, that was clogged from her sobbing prior.

Her body was convulsing as she tried to calm down from her hiccuping sobs and racing mind. Eventually, she came down and was breathing normally again, but it was soon discovered that it was due to her tired, sleeping body that was slumped on Kris as they parked the car in the parking deck under their apartment.

“Should I even get the wheelchair or are you just going to carry her?” Anthony asked his husband from the front seat after parking and unlocking the car.

“Just get her bags, please, I’ll take the elevator up with her and put her in bed.” Kris told him, brushing TK’s brown hair from her face, looking down at her freckled cheeks, only seeing the small four year old that would fall asleep on him after movie night on Saturdays.

“It’s gonna be alright, Kris,” Anthony told him, turning in the driver's seat to face the other two. “I can call my aunt Rachel and see if she can lend us a little if we need it, she already said that she would do anything to help.”

“I don’t want to take other people’s money,” Kris told him, still looking down at her.

“What other choice do we have at this point, Kris?” Anthony asked quietly as his eyebrows raised up, showing the sorrow and compassion he held for his daughter, even if she wasn’t really his daughter. “I can try to find another job, but I’m already at the coffee house six days a week, so I’m not sure anyone will want to hire me.”

“No, don’t stress yourself, I could ask for a raise at work, I’ve been working there for 8 years and I’m still getting paid like a first year.”

“Kris,” Anthony complained, “Let’s just talk about it later, alright, because I bet that, even if she is actually asleep, she can hear everything we’re saying.”

The men smirked at the claim, which was more than likely true, but they got going quickly after.

Anthony aided Kris in getting TK out of the car and back in his arms while he got in the elevator, Anthony getting the bags and whatnot, getting in the other elevator after they were gone.

TK was actually asleep, and didn't hear a word that the men had said, and it was obvious she was tired and sleeping when she moved her head to lean on Kris’ chest while he held her bridal style, admiring his baby girl on the way to their apartment.

It’s such a shame that parents are supposed to have a kid then automatically know how to raise them and find good jobs to support them and treat them the same when they’re obviously different and how they shouldn’t hide things from their kids but simultaneously have to hide everything behind the big red curtain of reality.

But they would get through it because they were the Kennedys. They never quit when things were hard and never let life get them down when beautiful things could still be seen in every direction, you just needed to look a little harder.

It’s been a week at home for TK. She’s been bored out of her mind yet somehow equally more stressed than ever trying to catch up with her school work, something Peter constantly came to her aid for when she was dying trying to understand Calculus.

He was one of the only things keeping her sane these days. She would stay up for no good reason stressing about things she can’t control and when Peter would be doing his patrol, he would make sure to check through her window a few times each night to make sure she wasn’t awake.

TK began getting closer to Peter, not that she wasn’t before, but she felt like he was just more present now because she was injured, and though she hated the attention she got because of her injury, she liked Peter, a lot, and was happy to have his company, even if it was out of pity.

The hardest thing for TK so far was balance when sitting down. Due to having her leg amputated, they had to take part of her hip as well, so she lost balance when sitting, but it also meant she got like three pillows to cuddle with in her room or on the couch.

Therapy was going ok, she had only had to go Friday because she wasn’t healed from the surgery yet, but it was more of a here-is-what-is-gonna-happen meeting than actual therapy, but the lady was nice and made her feel comfortable, so that was good.

TK wasn’t allowed to go to school for at least another two weeks, when she was healed completely, but she was getting antsy at home all the time, so she’s been going to her soccer practices as more of a bench-warmer, but Coach Cox promised that, since she was the MVP last year and most definitely would have made the team this season, that she could be his assistant coach when she came, which made her heart swell with joy.

Though, after going to a practice, all she got the next day were texts from people at her school who she didn’t even know asking if she was ok, and assumed that the girls on the team had spread the word pretty damn fast.

She just responded to the texts with false politeness, then ranted to her best friends about the annoying kids who didn’t give two craps about how she was, just wanted to be seen being sympathetic and get brownie points.

After three long, long, long, long months, it was summer, and time for TK to finally be fitted for a permanent prosthetic, since the one she had been practicing with wasn’t permanent and she only got to practice with it at therapy.

As the months went on, TK finally got a prosthetic, got back to school, and got a confession of love.

Peter and TK, who had been voted “Most Likely to be High School Sweethearts” since freshman year, were finally dating after an eventful day that resulted in Peter informing TK that he and Mr. Stark had been working on a prosthetic for her, one that would be similar to Bucky Barnes, yet without, as he put it, “Serial-Killer Features.”

TK got the prosthetic exactly eight months after her amputation, which meant that they had to celebrate with cake.

Some Stark technology created a feature similar to the invisible feature on the Quinjets, which made the artificial limb look skin colored to match TK’s body, but it wasn’t exactly modeled to look exactly limb-like. It wasn’t weird or anything, just that you could see the metal plates on it.

But he promised to try and improve that, but TK didn’t mind it, said it gave her an edge; also the fact that Flash didn’t mess with Peter as much after she threatened to kick him with it, not that it had any better strength than a normal limb would, but Flash didn’t know that.

Months continued going, TK got to join her soccer team again under the strict promise that she didn’t get any modifications to her leg that would give her a major advantage, since she didn’t really qualify for any “special needs” or “disabeld” teams, given the technology was so advanced.

Once again, it was that time of year, the beginning of their senior year.

TK, Peter, Michelle, and Ned took their first day in stride, all happy, not a single problem beyond homework in any of their minds.

TK continued to stress about collages, but she also knew that she was developing a knack for technology as she had to constantly do assessments on her leg to keep it running properly, so if she didn’t get a full ride in soccer, she knew that she could get an academic scholarship for her excelling grades in engineering. Kris and Anthony were doing better financially, since they didn’t have to pay for the prosthetic or any therapy since Tony (motherfucking) Stark was volunteering to do it all for free, stating that the only payment he needed was using TK as a guinea pig in the lab and getting a free ticket to each of her games.

Peter was adapting to having a girlfriend for the first time in his life, he’d liked TK for so long it felt as though nothing had changed from the transition from friendship to relationship other than the makeout sessions they had when they were alone. Spiderman was being put on the back burner as Peter focused on his senior year, remembering his friends and these truly memorable moments instead of talking to the churro lady, who he was pretty sure was Ned’s grandma.

Michelle was continuing to be a weird little black hole of information, but they loved her. TK even got her to wear a pink dress to their junior prom, which made the boys snort punch out of their noses, which is a moment nobody needed to record because you can’t forget their eyes at the burning sensation of spiked punch going through their noses.

Ned was already being offered scholarships to colleges because, though none of them knew this, he had a 4.9 GPA, and was like some sort of genius who was also one of the most clueless people you could ever meet.

The only thing taken from their junior year was that even when you’re sinking in the quicksand, if you have the right people around you, they’ll sink with you trying to pull you out of the depths you’d fallen into, and that's all anyone would ever need:

Someone to save you when you feel like you’re sinking.

#peter parker x oc #peter parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home

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orvillian · 5 years ago

Text

Remember (Langst)

He hasn't eaten in....he doesn't remember how long it's been. He hasn't slept for almost as long. He doesn't mean to. He just forgets. He forgets a lot of things nowadays.

He thinks the team notices but he doesn't remember how they treated him before. He just knows that they look at him differently. He sits in his room mostly. Sometimes he thinks. Most times he just stares. His mind goes blank and he stays like that for hours.

He was staring now. No thoughts. Just...nothing. It was a knock that pulled him out of his staring. It was coming from his door.

"Hey buddy...it's time for dinner. I made your favorite." a voice said from the other side of the door. Who was it? He couldn't remember. He didn't recognize their voices anymore. He had to see them to tell them apart. He was standing at the door. When did I get there? He doesn't remember. He opens the door and sees who's standing before him. Who is it? He has to think for a moment. It's Hunk. He smiles at the man. This is Hunk.

He doesn't remember exactly who Hunk is. He just knows that he's important. He doesn't know why. He chooses not to think about it too hard. If he thinks he gets lost and he doesn't want to get lost.

Hunk is walking away. He thinks he's supposed to follow him. He does.

He's in the kitchen now. I don't remember walking here. He ignores the thought. He ignores everything he forgets. It's better that way.

"Hey, Lance. How are you holding up?" A voice asks. He looks towards it. Who is it? He thinks again. That's Shiro his brain supplies. He nods. He know's he likes Shiro. He doesn't know why. He just does.

They're all staring at him, he realizes. They want him to answer. He forces a smile. "I'm fine" he says. He's lying. He doesn't even know what he's lying about. He just knows he is.

He's sitting at the table. He doesn't remember sitting down. A plate is placed in front of him. He stares at the hand. Who's hand is it? He can't remember. He looks at the face. That's Coran his mind tells him. The orange hair gives it away. The man, Coran, smiles at him. It's not a happy smile. He remember the man's happy smiles. This isn't one of them. He frowns. Has he made the man mad?

He looks back to his plate. What food is this? He remembers the man-Hunk-told him it was his favorite. He doesn't remember what his favorite is. He doesn't remember anything he likes. Except for the people. He looks around the table. He remember he likes them.

He looks back at the plate. He still can't remember what it is. "It's garlic knots" a small voice beside him provides. He looks over at it. Pidgehe remembers. He looks at the plate again. Garlic knots. That sounds..right to him. He thinks maybe it really is his favorite.

He picks up a fork. He tries the food. It's good. He eats more, and he realizes he is starving. When was the last time I ate? He asks himself. He realizes he can't remember. It's probably been a while.

His plate is empty. Did I eat everything? He doesn't remember eating. He knows he did because he feels fuller.

"Do you want more?" a voice asks. He looks up. That's Hunk. He shakes his head at the other boy. He's already forgotten his own hunger.

"Lance..we're having a team training exercise. I think it would be nice if you participated." He looks at the speaker. She's pretty. Allura, he remembers. He looks around. Everyone is staring at him. He nods. Maybe it can help me remember. He knows it probably won't but he has to try.

They're in the recreation room. He doesn't remember how they got there. He tries not to think about it.

Why am I in the recreation room? He's already forgotten. He looks to the others in the room, hoping they can explain. A voice starts speaking from the corner. It's Allura.

She's explaining the exercise. It's a mind melding exercise. What's that? He doesn't remember what mind melding is. A hand is on his shoulder. "You're gonna need this. We're opening our minds to each other." The voice is attached to the hand. He looks up at the face. The boy is pale. He has dark hair. He's holding out a...headpiece? That's Keith. Take the headpiece his mind says

He listens to it. He takes the headpiece and puts it on. This seems to make the pale boy- Keith- relax. He looks around. Everyone else is wearing a headpiece too. He doesn't know why. He knows Keith told him what but he can't remember what he told him. He just knows it was important.

The woman is speaking again. Her name is...Allura? She's telling them that they're going to be opening their minds to each other. It's a trust exercise, she says.

He thinks that sounds like a good idea. Maybe it can help him remember. He doesn't even know why he wants to remember. He just knows that he does.

They're not in the recreation room anymore. They're someone else. He doesn't know where. He looks around. The others are here as well.

Allura is speaking again. They're in some sort of......astral plane? It's where all of their minds connect.

Why are we here? He's already forgotten what they're supposed to be doing. He knows where they are but he doesn't know why.

Someone is speaking. It's the smaller one. Pidge. They say they're gonna go first. Go first in what? He tries to remember. Memory sharing. Opening minds. Trust. fragments of a memory erupt. That's right he thinks. That's what....Allura? said they were going to do. Maybe this really will help.

They're in a...classroom? Where am I? How did I get here? He doesn't remember coming here.

The small one..Pidge is speaking again. It's their memory. School. Right before Matt left for Kerberos. Who's Matt? He looks around. No one here is Matt.

Another memory. They're somewhere else. He see's a ship. Pidge is there. They're talking to someone else. He looks like a taller version of Pidge. Matt he remembers. Pidge's Brother. He hands Pidge his glasses. That's where they come from.

A new memory. The TV is on. A woman is crying. Pidge's mom. Pidge watches from the stair case. A ship has crashed. A mission gone wrong. Kerberos. It says that they're dead. Who? He tries to remember. He knows he knows. Matt. Pidge's Dad. Shiro.

Pidge is cutting off their hair. They sneak out. They have signed up for something. They arrive at a building. The Garrison. They enter.

They're on the garrison roof. He is there. So is..Hunk? Something crashes. Shiro. They try to rescue him. The pale boy shows up. Keith. He takes them to his shack.

They're all in a cave. He is standing in front of lion. Blue. She's mine. He knocks. She takes them in.

They're in the castle. Allura falls out of a pod. They are safe.

They're back in the astral plane. Pidge is crying. The others seem.....proud.

Why are they proud? He's already forgotten what he saw.

Keith is next. They start at a graveyard. Keith's dad. Keith is crying.

They're in a......Foster home? Keith is in a bed. He's crying again. He has a knife in his hand. It looks...familiar. He knows this knife.

They're back in the astral plane. When did we get here? He knows there was more to Keith's memories. He just wasn't there for them. He does that sometimes.

The tall man comes next. Shiro. They start at the Garrison. A tan man is there. Adam. Shiro's fiance. Shiro is smiling. He seems happy.

He retreats. He tunes it out. He doesn't mean to. He tries to return. They are back in the Astral plane.

The one who gave him food is next. Hunk.

Lance isn't even there for the first memory.

He's back on the plane. They're telling him its his turn. My turn for what? He can't remember what they want him to do.

Open your mind his brain says. That sounds right.

He opens his mind.

They're in Cuba. A smaller version of himself sits on the beach. He is happy.

They're in America. He is pressed against a wall. 3 older boys are there. The leader of the group is hitting him. It's because he speaks Spanish.

That's the first time he starts to forget.

They are at his house. He isn't eating. He isn't speaking. He can't remember anything. His family is worried. They take him to a doctor.

That's when they hear it for the first time. He's depressed. Major depressive disorder.

It all goes downhill from there.

He's at the garrison. There is where he has his second major episode.

Useless. Cargo Pilot. Should've been like Keith. Not good enough. Nothing.

That's what everyone said.

It happened again. He stopped eating. Stopped Sleeping. Stopped talking. Stopped thinking. Stopped remembering.

He stayed like that for months.

It was Hunk that finally pulled him out of it. His only friend. Things were okay for a while after that.

They were at the castle now.

It happened again.

Be more like Keith. Be more serious. Seventh Wheel. Useless. Should've done better. Should've been better. Worthless. Nothing.

That's what the team said. That's what he thought.

He dealt with it for a while. Until it got too much.

So he stopped eating. Stopped sleeping. Stopped thinking. Stopped talking. Stopped remembering.

He's back in the astral plane.

The others are hugging him. Why? They are apologizing. What for? He doesn't remember what they did.

They are back in the recreation room. He looks around. Everyone is crying. Why? He doesn't remember.

They say it's going to be okay. They're gonna be better.

He closes his eyes and hugs them back. He doesn't remember what's gonna be better but he believes them.

Everything would be okay.

#Langst #Langst fic #fanfiction #voltron #no relationship #keep your ships off my langst #self projection #vent fic #writing #my writing #i tried #im sad #lance is sad #we're all sad

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tribridkissed · 5 years ago

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Everything Afflicting Lil’ Ol’ Me…

Sleep Paralysis:

Starting off with the basics here because this has been what sort of started it all. When I was little, I was super into the whole idea of spirits. I honestly still am for different reasons, but it started when I was young and having sleep problems. The doctors still don’t know why it started, but I’ve always thought I sensed ‘presences’ so I told ghost stories…because I saw ‘ghosts’ in my sleep, some of which were terrifying and would sit on my chest and I’d still feel that feeling when I woke up, so duh it was real.

When I was a teenager, I started getting these hallucinations far more vividly and the doctors started to take it a lot more seriously, especially when I was getting depressed and suicidal on top of it all. Turned out I had ‘Old Hag’s Syndrome’, or ‘Sleep Paralysis’, and there was now a logical explanation for it. Basically my brain wakes up sometimes before my body does, and I’m paralyzed but I can still see the hallucinations. Feeling pinned down and violated is honestly the worst, and it fucks me up for the rest of the day mentally when it happens. It is why I’m against lucid dreaming, and why I vehemently believe in demons and evil spirits even if doctor’s wanna just call it a hallucination induced by stress. Either way, I have insomnia sometimes too and my sleep is all over the place and that never helps one’s body.

Hormone Imbalances

My hormones have probably been all over the place my whole puberty experience? Like, my periods started out being heavy, irregular and painful. I know that’s mostly normal--we women handle cramps like a boss, okay?--but I would have to stay home from school once or twice in a row every time I got my period, because I was curled up in a ball hurling: much like I do now. Going on birth control helped for a while and then started to make it worse, so we took me off of the birth control and my period started to even out and I stopped getting so sick, unless I ovulated from both sides and not just one, which they found out was also happening. Yay for the possibility of twins naturally, but yikes to the extra hormone surges.

Paraxysmol AFib:

I went through a whole stint of my early 20′s having palpitations in my chest. I just attributed it to my anxiety, and to stress because I had just finished a whole High School career of only honor’s classes, and I had switched from Pre-Med to Early Childhood Development, and so even when the doctors from an arrhythmia, I just sort of dismissed it. I didn't have the time, I was working twelve hours days as a nanny, I was doing college, and I didn't have time...and then I had an AFib attack after exercising and ended up having chest pain.

That pain lasted a month and a half without going away or getting any better, I had a bunch of doctors tell me I was being a hypochondriac, and then I got put on a heart monitor. The heart monitor caught not one but two episodes in the span of three weeks, and it was only then that they took me seriously. So even though I was ‘too young’ and ‘healthy’, I ended up becoming a heart patient at the ripe old age of 25, and it has been part of my life ever since. I take medicine daily to keep my heart rate down, because it beats too fast on its own, and I had to cut down on coffee, which...I was a caffeine addict so that was rough, lol. I’ve had to change dosages, which stresses my body out for a week each time that happens, and it has just been who I am now. I have heart patient jewelry and everything, just in case of emergencies.

Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome

So this all brings me to the next big thing: cyclic vomiting syndrome. I have been sick for 6 months now, nauseous basically every day, vomiting stints every once in a while that land me in urgent care to get IV fluids and meds because nothing will stay in my stomach, it all comes up. This started back in August, now known actual cause, and it has been my main affliction these days. I am on antacid medications, my heart medicine still, and anti nausea I have to take every single day. My body is exhausted, and that’s not even the half of it.

The doctors aren’t even fully sure this is what is going on with me, this is just how they are treating me because they can’t find anything. I have had an MRI, CT scans, ultrasounds, blood tests of all sorts (food allergies, diabetes, etc.), and everything says I am healthy. I have had a tumor removed from my esophagus when they did the endoscopy in the beginning, and I had a history of cysts (I’ve had one in my head, in my arm pits, and now one in my right nasal cavity), and I have a second and third tumor growing in my right arm. They aren’t convinced any of this is related, they just know that my period problem from high school is happening again, so they’re convinced it is hormone induced cyclic vomiting syndrome...which has no for sure cause or cure, so, that has been nice, and has triggered my depression, but I’ve been dealing with my depression my entire life.

Depression/Abuse

Since I was a kid, I’ve had a messed up home life. My uncle did some truly horrible things before he ended up eventually in jail for four life sentences, and short story on that because I simply don’t talk about it, is he used to tape my sister and I shut in boxes, and threaten us with his pet snake. He even through a knife at my cousin once, and would put my sister and up on the top shelf of the closet and leave us there.

On top of that, my Dad was never around much, and he left for good when I was 7, the same year that my grandmother died from the chemo for her ovarian cancer. He is a whole other story in itself, but he only added to my abandonment issues when I was 21 and he showed back up ONLY to talk my sister and I out of making him pay off the back child support he owed (it was a whole thing), and having the audacity to say he stayed away because he loved us...but raised our half siblings, so...just. I don’t like talking about him either.

Then I had a mother who was constantly verbally abusing my sister and I--she still does--and calling us fat even when we were skinny. Telling us we wasted our potential, telling us we’re useless, etc., and only recently getting herself the help she needs for her own emotional issues because she too was abused. Our family is filled with abusers, and she’s much better now that we’ve all addressed we have some problems, but dealing with that on top of all the other things that I deal with now, has been rough.

I feel broken. My mother tells me not to say that, but all of my health issues, and my failed past relationships with boys that have thus kept me single the last three years, make me feel that way. I’m a demisexual person who had two boyfriends cheat because they couldn’t wait for me to be ready for sex, and one basically admit after a little while that he just wanted sex and was “putting up with my feelings until then”, and I dunno, I delved farther into writing and honestly, it has been my only constant.

I’ve been writing stories since I was 6, and this is a hobby, yes, but it is also an escape when I’m not working on my stuff to get published (I’ve actually been a published author since 2011). I’m editing my second book right now and it gets priority sometimes when I’m in a funk, but I have been so sick lately because of my stomach, and just so tired and stressed with work really only keeping me on because they can’t fire me when I have medical reasons and doctor’s notes, and I just thought you guys should know.

I try to be on because writing helps me not think about all of my issues, but sometimes I’m so tired, or so sick, that I just can’t do replies. Plus, my arm with the tumors has been hurting more and more lately, and I may have to get them removed, which will mean another two weeks of a sling and pain meds, and crying myself to sleep because recovery from arm surgery hurts.

So if I’m ever slow, something is up. I love being around to write--it’s my safe space--but I’ve been dealing with a lot lately. I really do love and appreciate all of you, and I’m so grateful that you guys are so patient with me. <3

#out of mystic falls // ooc #damn writing it all out makes me feel a tad sad lmao #tw: sleep paralysis #tw: heart problems #tw: depression #tw: swearing #tw: vomiting mention #tw: period talk #tw: long post #that isn't even all of it because i didn't go into a whole bunch of detail #but that is the just of it guys

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thelastspeecher · 5 years ago

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So yesterday I wrote two Lute-oriented things in the Reverse Portal Stanley McGucket AU. Here’s the more angsty one of the two, without a title bc I couldn’t think of one. Enjoy the angst.

Lute wasn’t expecting a phone call from Ford.

He’d tucked in his nieces and nephew for the night, lying through his teeth when they asked for reassurance, offering empty platitudes that tasted bitter on his tongue.

We won’t be able to keep things a secret fer much longer. He closed the door to the room the children were sleeping and made his way to the kitchen for a much-needed drink. Every day that we don’t hear from Stan, they get more suspicious. He looked at the phone on the counter next to the liquor cabinet, willing it to ring. It stayed silent. Dammit, Stanley, please just let us know yer all right. And Fidds is all right. And Stanford. Lute shook his head and opened the liquor cabinet. The phone rang. He snatched the phone off the hook.

“Hello, McGucket residence, this is Lute speakin’,” he said into the receiver, speaking so fast his words tripped over themselves.

“Lute…I…” Lute recognized the voice.

“Stanford?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes. It’s me, I-” Ford was breathing heavily, like he had just done physical exercise.

Or finished cryin’ or screamin’. Lute’s heart sank.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I- it’s-”

“If ya can’t answer that, put Stan on the phone, okay? It’s been ages since we heard from y’all and we’re gettin’ worried.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Put Stan on the phone.”

“Why not?”

“He- he’s gone.”

“He’s gone?” Lute yelped. “What does that mean?”

“It means he’s gone. He’s not- he’s not here.”

“Then where is he?”

“I- I don’t-”

“Stanford, what happened?” Lute hissed. Ford let out a sob. Lute’s chest tightened.

I’ve never heard him cry before.

“It’s a long story,” Ford said, seemingly gathering himself enough to speak. “I can’t tell it over the phone.”

“Well, yer goin’ to have to, ‘cause-”

“I need you to come here,” Ford interrupted. Lute’s eyes narrowed.

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere until I get more information.”

“I told you, I can’t tell you over the phone. I need to tell you in person. Please, just come here.”

“And I told you. I need more information ‘fore I go bail you out of whatever trouble you got yourself into.”

“Look,” Ford said desperately. “I know we aren’t close. And your decidedly mixed opinion of me is going to get much worse when I tell you what I’ve done and what happened to Stan. But don’t think of it as coming for me. Think of it as coming for your sister. Fiddleford is still- I don’t know where he is. Stan is- is gone. Angie’s all alone in Gravity Falls. She deserves to see a friendly face when she wakes up.”

“…Fine,” Lute whispered. “I’ll do it fer Angie. But the second I get there, you best tell me what happened to Stan, or so help me-”

“Yes, I’ll- I’ll explain everything.”

“Good. I’ll get there as soon as I can.” Lute hung up. He stared at the phone for a moment before someone spoke behind him.

“Lute, I heard ya shout, is somethin’ wrong?” Lute spun around. His parents stood in the kitchen, looking concerned. Lute ran a hand through his hair.

“I- I ain’t quite sure. That was Stanford. He wanted me to come to Gravity Falls.”

“Stan got through to him, then?” Pa McGucket asked.

“I don’t rightly know. He didn’t say.”

“You asked about Stan, right?” Ma McGucket said. Lute nodded. “And?”

“He wouldn’t elaborate. But I think somethin’ bad happened. Somethin’ real bad.” Ma and Pa McGucket exchanged a worried look.

“Go pack yourself a bag,” Ma McGucket said softly. “We’ll find ya a plane ticket so’s ya can get there faster.”

“Thanks, Ma.” Lute kissed his mother on the cheek. “When I leave, don’t tell the kidlets where I am. I don’t want to raise their hopes.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of ‘em,” Pa McGucket said. “Find out what’s goin’ on.” Lute nodded firmly.

“I’ll do that.”

-----

“I don’t understand anything that’s goin’ on,” Lute croaked, staring at the machine in Ford’s basement. He rubbed his eyes. “What- how-”

“It’s an interdimensional portal,” Ford said. When Lute had arrived less than an hour ago, he’d found the front door unlocked and Ford passed out on the stairs, visibly disheveled. But immediately after waking up, Ford had insisted on taking Lute to the basement, and Lute had reluctantly followed.

Not my brightest moment.

“An interdimensional portal,” Lute repeated. Ford nodded. His eyes were bloodshot, his face unshaven. It was difficult to take anything Ford said at face value at the moment. “And Stan went through it.”

“Yes.”

“So he’s in a dif’rent dimension.”

“Yes.”

“And Fiddleford went partially through it, and that’s why he ran off?”

“Yes.”

“Good Lord.” Lute groaned. “I don’t know how much of this I can believe, Stanford.”

“When we find Fiddleford, he’ll verify what I’m saying,” Ford said. Lute sighed.

“Okay, fine. If he backs ya up, I’ll believe ya. But he’s missing.”

“…Yes. He is. We need to find him.” Ford looked down at the ground. “I don’t want anyone else to suffer for what I’ve done.”

“Findin’ him is goin’ to be easier said than done.”

“I know.” Ford looked Lute in the eyes. “But I need to fix things.”

“I agree.” Lute glanced at the machine again. “And since there aren’t exactly a lot of people ‘round to help ya with that, I’ll do it.”

-----

Lute paced anxiously at the foot of Angie’s hospital bed. Fiddleford was dozing fitfully in the chair by her bed.

Got to figure out what we’ll be tellin’ the fam’ly. Lute chewed on his lip. Got to find a way to phrase it without it soundin’ like Stan left on purpose. One of the few things Lute and Ford had been able to agree upon was that the rest of the McGucket family wouldn’t be told the truth of where Stan had gone, deciding that it wouldn’t be right to drag them into the weirdness of Gravity Falls. ‘Course, I got dragged into it… There was a small groan from the hospital bed. Lute’s head whipped around. Angie was moving. His mouth went dry.

“Angie?” he whispered. Angie opened her eyes. Lute raced to the door of the hospital room and flung it open. “Could I get a doctor or nurse in here?” he called. “My sister’s wakin’ up!” He turned around to face Angie. She was staring up at the ceiling blankly. Lute shook Fiddleford’s shoulder. Fiddleford awoke with a snort.

“What?” Fiddleford asked irritably. Lute nodded at the hospital bed.

“She’s up.”

“She’s- oh goodness!” Fiddleford jumped up from his chair and rushed to Angie’s side. He took a hold of her hand. “Banjey?”

“…Fidds?” Angie asked quietly. “Where- what-”

“Try to stay calm,” Fiddleford said soothingly. “Yer in the hospital.”

“Why?”

“There was an accident.”

“Accident?”

“Yes.” Fiddleford squeezed Angie’s hand. “But don’t worry, yer daughters are safe. And Lute’s here.”

“Lute?” Angie asked, confused. Lute joined Fiddleford at their sister’s bedside. “What are ya doin’ here?”

“Stanford called me ‘n asked me to come,” Lute explained. Angie’s brow furrowed.

“Why would he ask ya to do that?”

“…It’s complicated.”

“Where’s Stan?”

“He’s…” Lute trailed off, uncertain of what to say.

“He’s not here right now, but don’t worry,” Fiddleford interjected. Angie frowned at him.

“That’s the second time you’ve told me not to worry. What’s goin’ on?”

“We’ll explain later, just try to stay calm right now. Yer in a delicate state, and we’d hate fer ya to lose the baby after all you’ve been through.” Angie’s eyes widened.

“The- what baby?”

“Yer pregnant.”

“I’m-”

“The doctors found out when you were brought in after yer fall,” Lute said. Tears welled in Angie’s eyes. “Is- are ya upset?”

“No, I’m- we wanted another kid. I’m happy. I’m assumin’ Stan knows?”

“Yes. He does.”

“Good.” Angie swallowed. “And- and Lute, I didn’t fall. I was pushed.”

“Pushed? Whattaya-” A doctor entered the room.

“Excuse me, I need to take her vitals,” the doctor said, pushing Fiddleford and Lute to the side.

“But-”

“We can talk about it later,” Angie said quietly. “When Stan’s around.” A tight feeling formed in Lute’s chest.

“Right,” he said quietly. “When Stan’s around.”

-----

Crying came over the baby monitor. Lute sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes.

Prob’ly Emmett. He’s the fussiest one. He got up with a small groan. The way he screams all the time, ya wouldn’t know he has bad lungs. He exited the guest room that was rapidly becoming his bedroom and made his way to the nursery. Footsteps sounded behind him.

“I can get him,” Angie’s voice said. Lute turned. Angie stood in the hallway, her hair in disarray and skin pale as a sheet. She rubbed her eyes. “He’s my son, after all.”

“You need yer sleep,” Lute said gently. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Go back to bed. I’m surprised ya managed to wake up as it is. The nursery’s pretty far from yer room. How did ya hear?” Angie looked away. Lute sighed. “Hand it over.”

“…No.”

“Angie, I know you grabbed another monitor. Give it to me.”

“No!” Angie shook Lute’s hand from her shoulder.

“Banjolina Quinn McGucket, you need yer sleep. You can’t get the sleep ya need if ya wake up in the middle of the night all the time.”

“They’re my sons,” Angie snapped. “What kind of- what kind of-” Her eyes welled with tears. “What kind of mother am I if- if I can’t even take care of ‘em when- when they’re cryin’?”

“Banjey…”

“I haven’t been able to do anything lately,” she sobbed. “I can’t help bring Stan back. I can’t- I can’t do my research. I can’t take care of my children. I’m- I’m useless.”

“Yer not useless,” Lute said firmly. Angie shook her head. “You aren’t.”

“All right. If I’m not useless, what can I do?” Angie asked. Tears still stood in her eyes, but the stubbornness she’d had her whole life shone through in her voice. “What can I do, Lute? Tell me.”

“Get better,” Lute replied. Angie straightened her back and brushed past Lute into the nursery. “Angie, don’t-”

“C’mere, honey,” Angie said quietly, taking Emmett from his crib. His crying died down. “You just wanted yer ma, huh? Don’t worry, I’m here. Yer ma is here.” Emmett began to cough loudly. “What is it, baby?” Emmett’s coughing grew more ragged. “Emmett-”

“He’s having an asthma attack, Banjey,” Lute said. Angie stared at him. “Please, give him to me, I’ll give him his medicine.”

“I- I can give him his medicine.”

“You’ve never given him his medicine ‘fore, ya don’t know how. Give him to me ‘fore he gets worse.”

“But-”

“There ain’t time fer this,” Lute said roughly. He grabbed the nebulizer off the shelf baby supplies were kept in and plugged it in. “He’ll get hurt if he don’t get his medicine.”

“…Okay.” Angie handed Emmett over. She slumped against Emory’s crib, watching silently as Lute placed the nebulizer’s mask over Emmett’s face. Emmett’s breathing steadied. Lute removed the mask.

“He’s goin’ to be fine.” Lute looked up at Angie. Tears streamed down her face. “Here, take yer lil boy.”

“Why? It’s better if I don’t.”

“He needs his ma.”

“He clearly doesn’t.” Angie wiped the tears off her cheeks. “I can’t protect him.”

“All we have to do is show ya how to use the nebulizer. It’s easy.”

“He’s three months old. I should already know how to use it.”

“You’ve been busy gettin’ better.”

“But three months-”

“You haven’t been gettin’ enough sleep to properly recuperate,” Lute pointed out. Angie was silent. “Once ya start sleepin’, you’ll bounce back. And you can take on more responsibilities, includin’ Emmett’s medicine.”

“…Maybe.” Angie looked into Emory’s crib. She reached into the crib to stroke Emory’s cheek. “Emory looks so much like Stan.” She let out a shuddering breath. “He’s always wanted a son.”

“They’re good kids.”

“Yeah.” Angie bit her lip. “We can’t teach ‘em how to throw footballs. Stan ‘ll be sad if he doesn’t get the chance.”

“I don’t think we know anyone who can throw a football anyways,” Lute said. Angie managed a weak smile.

“Good point.”

“Go back to bed. I’ll handle things from here.”

“Okay.” Angie walked over to Lute, kissed Emmett on the forehead, and then exited the nursery. Lute looked at his nephew, surprised.

“She didn’t try to fight it,” he remarked. Emmett yawned widely. “Good point, you need sleep, too.” Lute carefully put Emmett in his crib, then went back to the shelf to put away the nebulizer. He paused.

Is this… He picked up a baby monitor that hadn’t been there before. This must be the one Angie hid in her room.

“Thank the Lord,” he whispered. “She can fin’ly sleep.” Crying emanated from Emory’s crib. Upset by his twin’s crying, Emmett also began to fuss. Lute rubbed his forehead.

Well, at least one of us ‘ll get some sleep.

#I've been meaning to write some things with these particular scenes in this AU #and might as well use Lute for them bc I don't write enough from that boy's perspective #Reverse Portal Stanley McGucket AU #Lute McGucket #Angie McGucket #Stanford Pines #Fiddleford McGucket #Stangie Family #my writing #ficlet #speecher speaks

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croissantbae · 5 years ago

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Letter to Naya re Her Entry Into This World

You were born on June 24, 2019; four days past your due date but right on time from my perspective. You came on a Monday and gave me and your dad one last weekend to relish (though I think the most exciting thing we did was watch a movie). I don’t know if I should tell you this but before you were born, I wanted you to stay inside for as long as possible. You gave me no discomfort from the womb. In fact, my belly was small enough that even nurses said I looked 6 months pregnant instead of the 9 that I really was. You gave me no heartburn, no constipation, no major aches and no stretch marks. My fingers got swollen and a nice thick double chin grew in but I don't know if I can really blame those things on you - I gained 40 pounds through my own hard work. Other than the nightly hiccups and kicks in my gut, we (your dad and I) were all comfortable with your then-present living arrangement.

On June 23, I started feeling cramps but they went away after a few hours. I never even woke your dad up. I just endured the painful ones from bed and then got up to eat a mango. That seemed to appease you because the contractions died down after that and I went back to sleep at around 3 am. The day passed by without any issues but at 11 pm the contractions came back. They got stronger and stronger so I woke your dad up around midnight. I’d scared him a few times before as a joke so I don’t know if he realized it was actually go time but I showed him the contractions calculator and then he freaked out. He started packing things up getting ready to go but I knew this process could take a while so I got my work affairs in order and put my out of office message up. Your dad was not pleased with me. You’ll learn this soon enough about your dad but when he’s in a mood there is no reasoning with him. He gets into a zone and you just have to let him ride it out. So I put my things away and got ready to go to the hospital as well. I told him we were leaving too early but away we went, at his insistence.

We got to the hospital at 2 am and when the doctor checked my cervix, I was 3 centimeters dilated and 80% effaced. This will mean nothing to you until you have a child of your own but the hospital’s policy is to admit women only once they are 4.5 centimeters. I was given 3 options: (1) walk around the hospital floor for a few hours and check if I’ve progressed afterwards, (2) go home and come back if my contractions get closer together or (3) get pain medication and go home. I opted for number one so your dad and I walked around the fourth floor of the Kaiser hospital on Sunset from around 2 am to 4 am. I’m not entirely sure how to describe contractions. I want to say it’s like a stabbing pain but that’s not quite right because it’s all over your stomach. I wish I could describe it better but it appears I’ve already forgotten the precise sensation. It overtakes you at first but somehow I was able to endure it and after a while they felt tolerable. To speed up the process we did squats and talked about how strange this whole thing was; that your dad and I were about to enter into parenthood. I’m thankful we were there at such an odd time, without people everywhere, because I was farting all over the place and just could not hold it in. They were both noisy and smelly. Right before going back in to see how far dilated I was, I also pooped. Sitting on the toilet and pushing poop out while also feeling contractions was quite a journey. It felt impossible for a second but I conquered it. I was both glad that I was getting cleaned out and embarrassed that the doctor would be checking me immediately after a dump. Such is the business of giving birth: it’s messy. Trying to thoroughly clean myself, again, while feeling contractions, was another challenge. There’s a theme here.

Afterwards we went back in and I was exactly 4.5 cm dilated (though a part of me suspects that the doctor just had sympathy on us and admitted us out of pity). Once we were officially admitted, they asked me if I wanted to get the epidural then but I said I’d wait and walk around a bit more to keep the process going. We started walking again and I immediately regretted my decision. Once offered pain relief, each contraction felt unnecessary so the roaring, rolling pain became intolerable. Instead of walking for an hour like I had hoped, we walked for 30 minutes and called it quits. It was around 5:20 am and your dad and I were both exhausted. We went back and requested the epidural and ice water. The doctor who administered the epidural was an Indian woman with a British accent and she came in like a true veteran. She was there for business - no pleasantries were exchanged and it was perfect. She moved swiftly and was out within 5 minutes flat. She was there for such a short period of time but she left a big impression on me. I wish i caught her name so that I could request her again for the next time (assuming you’re going to have a sibling). The epidural felt like a drink of cold water for my entire body. Once the epidural numbed the contractions, your dad and I slept for the majority of the day. Your grandma came and went, leaving us to sleep and to run a few errands for herself, particularly since I stopped progressing and I had to be administered pitocin to encourage the contractions to keep going. I don’t know if it was because of all the medication but even though I hadn’t eaten in almost twenty four hours I had no appetite. I was cruising, letting my body absorb the cold epidural that was administered hourly. Throughout the day a sweet and soothing white nurse was assisting us, bringing us ice water and just being a calm angelic presence in the midst of everything. She left us alone for the majority of the day to just catch up on rest.

Finally, and suddenly, at 4:30 pm, the doctor confirmed that I was 10 centimeters dilated and the time to push had come. He noted that pushing would commence at 5 pm. While we waited to push, a Korean nurse with a thick accent and blunt demeanor took over. She received several personal calls and would leave the room to talk to the caller in Korean. There was one occasion where her and another nurse snapped at each other. Needless to say it seemed that it wasn’t just us that weren’t fans of her. I wasn’t sure what caused the switch but it looked like we were stuck with her and her alone. Unlike my assumptions about the process, instead of having a whole team of medical professionals in the room with us, only the Korean nurse was in the room with us, guiding us through the miraculous process of bringing life into this world; and her instructions to me were to “push.” Your grandma was on the right side of my body and your dad was on the left side trying to guide me in breathing exercises. Your grandma lifted up my right leg and your dad was trying to stay near my head so he wouldn't see my nether regions. That was the plan all along. As I began to push however, the nurse informed me that I wasn’t pushing correctly and that I needed to push better. Very helpful instructions. I knew what she meant though; all the pressure from my pushing was unfocused and diffused itself throughout my body. I was pushing with all of my might but it was useless if I couldn’t aim it appropriately. It was sort of like studying for a test but reading the wrong chapter. Grandma was already holding onto one of my legs but I asked her to put her palm against my foot so that I had something to push against. It helped immensely.

I asked Jason to do the same with my left leg. I could sense his hesitation but he did it; he really had no other option. Inevitably, he saw the gory mess I presumed my vagina had become. And, he cried. The nurse saw him and bluntly asked “why are you crying?!” He fumbled between tears, saying he hated to see me struggling and going through so much pain. Incredulous, the nurse then asked me “are you in pain?” I really wanted to tell her to shut up but instead I explained that while I couldn’t feel the contractions, I could feel pressure down there and I could feel waves of something. Once your dad and grandma applied pressure to the palms of my feet I was finally able to get into the hang of pushing and the nurse (whose name was Boedul) seemed pleased with my results. She told me I was doing a good job pushing. She asked if I wanted to see what was going on with a mirror. My mind was telling me no but my mouth said yes so she brought out a small mirror and I saw that which was formerly known as my vagina. As I pushed, hairy blackness appeared. Genuinely confused, I asked if that was you or me. It was you. I expected you to be bald so it was a complete shock to see so much thick black hair. At first I thought my pubes has gotten seriously out of control.

When I stopped pushing, the blackness disappeared. Even when I could see it, it was only a sliver of your head. Discouraged, I said in exasperation, “this is impossible!” But Boedul assured me again I was pushing well and she predicted that we would be pushing for another 20 minutes or so, 30 maximum. I couldn’t fathom how a whole head (I wasn’t even going to think about the body) could fit out of there that quickly. It genuinely seemed like an impossible task. Around this time, Boedul raised stirrups so that I could use it to push. I stared at her, incredulous that she was holding out on me. She must have sensed my anger because, unprompted, she explained that she didn’t raise them earlier because then it would be too tiring, which made no sense to me. After the whole process your dad and I had a moral dilemma as to whether we should call her out in the survey they send asking about our experience and anyone we interacted with in particular but in the end we decided to be cool and not say anything. Back to pushing, shortly after using the forceps, and making a lot of progress, a team of doctors and nurses came rushing in. Perhaps for the best they moved the mirror away so that the doctor could place herself in front of my vagina and guide the baby out. They said we’d be doing a few pushes together and I’d have to hold the push when they told me. We did maybe three of these guided pushes and all of a sudden your head was out. I couldn’t believe it; my job was done and I relaxed, ready to pack it up. But the doctor said I had to keep pushing to get your body out. I made one feeble push and the rest of you seemed to slip right out.

I don’t know if it was because of the medication or the adrenaline that was pumping in me but I didn’t cry or feel much of anything. I saw them take you to a station nearby to clean you up. I just observed everything, without fully feeling anything. I was neither happy nor sad. I just watched everything going on around me. I was surprised by how big you were. Given my belly size i thought you’d be small but at 21 inches you seemed like a full grown baby (not a newborn). They placed you on my chest and even then all I could do was observe the strange creature you were then wriggling on my chest. I won’t go into the details of what happened next (long story short, Eileen and your paternal grandmother and Jordan came to visit and your dad yelled at them for coming in during the golden hour - he was definitely hyped and still trying to process everything himself so he was a little jumpy and made Eileen cry; also your maternal grandma and Jason were hovering over you after they took you off my chest to get examined, but a particularly high level of hovering came from your maternal grandma I will say).

It wasn’t until about 24 hours later that I felt an overwhelming rush of emotions. Everyone was gone and your dad was sleeping on the pull out couch in the hospital room. You were laying in the plastic bin that hospitals use as a bassinet, next to my bed. Even though the room was dark, I stared at you, thinking about how perfect and wonderful you were and how thankful I was to God and the universe for allowing me to birth a healthy baby. I teared up as the feelings of love and gratitude filled me.

You’re almost a month old now and I love you so much more now than I did then. I even love it when you cry intensely and inconsolably; everything you do is so precious. Sometimes I just want to stare at you crying (but don’t worry I don’t do it… for too long). You make a duck face and stretch out when you wake up and after you eat. You grunt and cry for nipple, sometimes even when it’s already in your mouth. You’re getting more alert but also startled more. I know there will be (many) days where you’ll aggravate me (like last night when you wouldn’t sleep in your bassinet no matter how many times you fell asleep on my nipple) and I just won’t like you but for now I love you and everything you do, everything you don’t do and every sound that comes out of you.

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jademarine · 6 years ago

Text

Unexpected life Part 2

Just between you and me, the level is way too hard in the absynth.

* *

I reached my office in a bad mood. After this night spent watching the mad girl from the infirmary here I was, engaging with even worse : the lessons to the best of the best of my recruits. And, if I had the choice, I’d run back to comfort the hysterical freak instead of seeing this bunch of hypocrites in my laboratory. This gifted class of five fuckers was the most pathetic thing I had ever come to see. Between them, nothing seemed prohibited to win a tiny bit of affection in my heart. Which was frankly useless as I hated them all from the bottom of my guts. I had already told Miiko I’d pick anybody in the bottom of the absynth gard before to see one of them as my successor, but she had insisted. For the appearances at least, she had told. Well, since it was only for the appearances, I had decided to have a bit of fun.

Today, I declared as I entered my lab, I put in the lead the first one to bring me something to eat.

Immediately, the five head-slaps threw themselves in the stairs in a almost-suicidal rush, and I sighed slightly to see them making it out alive. Less than one minute after they were back with, for most of them, their honey ration. Kayvin only, maybe because he had already used his, brought me a cup of coffee.

- Kayvin, one point for originality, I said while taking a first sip of the hot liquid. Half a point for everybody else.

And, as I loved to see the deception on their faces, I finally decided to take back half a point to all of them. On this day, I kept them busy with a project requiring several years of intense study, I choose to digest and to catch up with my sleep at the same time. Vera, the most shameless suck-up, was the one to wake me up by letting a test piece down.

- Vera, rear of the field, I groaned, batting my eyes. It’s over for today, you’re way too stupid for me to stand you any longer.

In an instant, it was another race to scurry away the fastest possible, and five students (with one on the verge of crying) bumped into Ewelein when she tried to enter the lab.

- Well well well. Looks like they have a hard time.

I laughed, bringing back their exercises, and I took a look at them to check if the level was suitable. None of them would deserve more than one or two points, and my grin stretched up.

It was perfect.

- Look at this, I said, holding up one of the sheets to my nurse. It’s not that hard.

She mumbled something when she read the first statement, and gave it back to me.

- I don’t see anything the unit law couldn’t solve.

- Excellent. You should think about joining my deepening lessons. I’d give you five points to encourage you.

- There’s no way in hell I’ll join, Ezarel.

Smiling, I let myself sink in my seat.

- If you’re not here for my precious lessons, you must be in need of a potion. Which one ?

She came to my desk and played a few moments with a bright-orange filled flask. When she smelled it, though, she put it back in place immediately.

- I wanted to see you about Laure, she started, but I was at a loss already.

- Who’re you talking about ?

- Laure, the witch you’ve looked after yesterday.

- Oh. How is doing PTSD ?

Even if she frowned, Ewelein said nothing. She didn’t mind me mocking everybody, but her patients was the holy limit I shouldn’t cross, which of course reinforce my desire to trample it vehemently.

- Actually, she’s asking for you. I don’t know what you told her but it was effective. She refuses to talk to anybody but you.

I had to really work myself not to burst in laughter at her face. I had been obnoxious, and if that poor girl wanted to see me so bad, her mental health was even worse than what I expected.

- As you can see, I raised my arms to embrace the empty room, I’m really busy. My students need my training, you know.

- I’m just asking for a little time, Ewelein sighed. Just to make her eat and you’ll be free.

- You’re telling me she’s on a hunger strike ?

I complained and grunted, but finally ended up by following my employee. I was determined to shorten this damn encounter with the crazy patient and to enjoy my calm afternoon with my books. At least, they ad something clever to say, compared to most of the people around me.

At the infirmary, I discovered the young patient still firmly tied to her bed, this time in a sitting position. Even if her eyes still gave me this feeling of contained hysterical, at least she seemed slightly calmer than the day before. When she saw me, a light in her gaze made her look almost normal.

- You wanted to see me ? I asked, sitting on the same chair I used last time.

- Yes, I’m happy to see you doctor.

- Don’t call me like that.

- Like what, then ?

Praying to finish this quickly, I raised my shoulders.

- Ezarel.

- Oh, okay. My... my name’s Laure.

There was something ridiculous in this weak statement. That girl was handcuffed to the bed, but she was introducing herself like anybody. As I always been found of these crazy people, I smiled.

- Well, Laure, why did you want to see me ?

Her face suddenly lost her gladness and in a second she was sserious again.

- You talked to me yesterday. About... me.

- Yes indeed. Do you remember everything ?

She bit her lip and shook her head like a little girl. Somebody must have brushed her hair because they looked almost neat.

- I do, I remember. You told me things... did you mean it ?

- When I said I was going to silence you ?

- Oh yes, every word.

- No, no, she said really seriously. When you talked about my captors. And about me. Were you saying that just to calm me down ?

- No, of course not. You’ll get used to the idea. It’s the truth.

In her way to look at me, I could see she wanted to believe me, but she was still too much confused to trust me completely.

- Can I ask you questions ? She finally asked. To see if my memories are correct.

- I don’t know every details of this case.

- You’ll just answer what you know.

Eventually, I accepted. It was the fastest way to go back to my lab ridden of any troublemakers.

- Okay, she whispered slowly, as if she was going to do a surgical move. First thing, when have I been kidnapped ?

- One year ago.

Or at least this is how the story had been told to me. Everybody was talking about it, in the HQ, but I gave no credits to gossips.

- And has my family asked you to find me ?

- I can’t answer this one. Maybe we can find somebody on charge of your case...

This time, Laure’s face lost its sanity. She widened her eyes like a scared child.

- No ! No I don’t want anybody !

Worried, I sat back slowly, not to scare her any further. I had chosen alchemy to avoid people, and I here I was, playing the babysitter. There was a reason if I asked Ewelein to be in charge of the infirmary.

- Okay, I breathed. We’re not calling anybody. Keep on.

She seemed relieved, and leant back on her cushions.

- That’s better, she muttered. I don’t want to see them.

- You’re talking about...

- My family.

- Why don’t you want to see them ?

She looked hesitant, and I raised my eyebrows softly to indulge her to answer. She fell for it instantly, patients were always fragile enough to believe the first nice gesture. It was pretty sad, but I wasn’t really one to think about it in the first place.

- I think they sold me, but I’m not sure if it’s a false memory or not.

- Is there something else you doubt ?

I saw her little body tensing, and I jumped back when she suddenly pulled on her arm so strongly I thought she was going to break it. Exactly as yesterday, she started crying without warning, and I immediately noticed the blood tainting her inner lips. I got it in a second, and I was on my feet as quickly.

- Ewelein ! I yelled. Tranquilizers, now ! She’s bitting her lips !

#ezarel #eldarya #original female character #ezarel eldarya #writting #big trouble coming

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