#tbi stands for traumatic brain injury by the way

[trenchgardens-ooc-ooc-ooc-ooc]

Moss seaweed apple!

Moss! Would i kiss them.

Perpep Pepnep - maybe "Oftcas" Niptur - maybe

Detheo Ordeor - maybe Detheo Niptur - maybe

Somati Visoma - probably not The Sanguine, Ur-Clown, Ur-Crane - probably not

Declan "Bluebell" Ferics - probably not The Halfiron - probably not

The SetMedic "Azokie" Axilla - probably not Plexus Axilla - maybe

The Hungjury - most likely not Dlicti Secutu - maybe

Calixtus - yes

The Critical - most likely not Tirent Bawurz - probably not

Bucket Gemnat - yes The Pailborn - yes

Feralone- yes Banyet Cleeaw - yes

Oomani Cartor - probably yes The ShortOut - yes

The Unstrung - yes Qadrum Tunead - yeag

Borrel Brunze - probably The Bullkill - maybe

The Dittched - yes ###### - also yes

Seaweed! What are they most self concious about?

Perpep Pepnep - The stunting. She hates it a lot, that she's always going to be just "worse" than other people, the way she sees it right now. She hates that she cant form the only kind of relationship shes ever had, i.e. the fucked up quad thing she has with her culler, with anyone she knows for reasons that she didnt know she was unnacceptable in, i.e. age, that the whole world works on a ruleset that she was never told about. Why does age matter now when it didnt then type beat, he's twice her age. People say that older people are more mature so it would be a power imbalance but she feels uniquely less grown up than literally anyone she knows. it makes her want to just go back, since it would be easier and safer and she would maybe be happier, at least she thinks so, if she could go back to the life she had before people wouldnt be telling her the only person shes ever knwn and her closest friend and lover is a monster. She had the bandage ripped off and it took the skin with it, but the skins necrotic, just putting the bandage back on would be worse, and you couldn't've worn it forever "Oftcas" Niptur - Ironically, also kind of similar. Not stunting though, that she never had the chance to be a kid, and that she's now the oldest person in any given room. Tv always shows teens having like romances dates and coming come to their lusus or having grill outs or whatever, she never got that. She only really even talks to a peer ever though i guess talk is the wrong word because the halfiron is almost fully nonverbal. Her psionics are tuned towards social environments, she gets *lonely*. Its why she hangs out at the hospital so much, its a huge group of people she can be around. but even when she was able to go out in public without wearing a ghillie suit or a lusus fur cloak she couldnt get close to people, not intimately. if anyone saw her gills- the ones she didnt burn fused- the ones on her ribs, dead. and forget pailing. Someone would have to really not know what olive is supposed to look like to not notice... maybe she tried tattooing her bits olive like she did with her scars... hm. She's an intersex analogue and a trans analogue. She does what she has to to survive. On Continua, Detheo B is gonna have a lot of work once he's in a state to start holding up the pale side of the whatever they have. Sixty years of unpacking once she can finally let out that held breath. Twenty eight sweeps of sawing parts of herself off so her hexagon can fit the square hole.

Detheo Ordeor - His facade. He considers the ... pet regressed? version of himself he indulges in in the garden to be the real him. He hates talking, he hates people. Detheo Ordeor is a character he plays. And he fucking hates that guy. Detheo Niptur - His baby face. Not lacking facial hair-- i mean not Not lacking facial hair, but its not weird for his age for that-- He's small, both naturally and due to the stress he went through when he was hiveless he's just gonna be small. like forevver, it knocked a few inches off his already short stature. Hell on Beforus where he had really soft life when it comes to basic needs like that Perpeps half his age and still taller than him. He. Hates. being underestimated. He's not that scared prawn anymore- he spars with an adult troll and he wins more often than any other she spars with. The fastest way to die around him is to act like he isnt a threat. It frenzies him. It. Pisses. Him. Off.

Somati Visoma - the way his mutations made his proportions wrong. he's the height of an adult purple at nine sweeps, but he didnt grow normally, his skull is taller for one, hands and feet are bigger, the gigantism is most obvious in places with many small bones, because they all keep growing. Its why he wears baggy clothes. He also feels useless. His culler puts a lot of work into being sunny around him but it just feels fake to him, makes him feel like more of a dead end, like he should do more in return, or hurry up and die so she can get on with her life. The Sanguine, Ur-Clown, Ur-Crane - The same dysmorphia. Probably a bit more acutely, especially as he ages, especially as the ur-clown. it was part of his act when he was in the carnival. When they stopped calling him serial culler and started calling him a cryptid,,, well.

Declan "Bluebell" Ferics - To be honest, probably just their disabilities. Mental ones more than physical but all of it. They're stubborn, they're spiteful, its a cover for how sensitive they are about it. They've been made to feel like shit for needing accommodations, and their hive is a legal trial of overthinking pseudo laws. They have to justify anything they want with legal precedent. The Halfiron - Atrocious bedside manner. Thats whats plexus is for.

The SetMedic "Azokie" Axilla - She transitioned late. She's butch but shes not very confident in her femininity yet. Most self conscious about her boobs i think Plexus Axilla - Her blood. Her appearance. Her blood. She hates it. So much. It and everything it represents, every obvious fuckup she did that would have gotten a burgundy killed, every lowblood patient who died for no fucking reason, its the part of her she hates most.

The Hungjury - God... I have no idea. Dlicti Secutu - The scars. Specifically the mouth scar and her manacle and collar scars... and that little :c) scar on her right bicep. And a few others under her clothes. She doesn't fault herself for them and her rational brain doesn't hold them against her and knows on principle that she shouldnt let herself feel ashamed of them, but. she doesn't like looking at them. She has to trust you a lot to feel comfortable with someone looking at them too closely.

Calixtus - Lack of identity. Cali doesn't feel like they have an internal life. They've debated the idea that maybe they're a philosophical zombie, nothing behind the eyes. They don't know if its a mediator cherub thing or just something 'broken' with them, but they. hate talking about themself. a lot.

The Critical - Lack of friends, lack of quadmates. Tirent Bawurz - ...Also that. In the dream bubbles he feels violated, knowing his murderer and his first ghost companion saw his face unpainted. not the same as self conciousness but. yeah. He's very self concious. just in general.

Bucket Gemnat - Yes. Everything. All the time. She's self concious about her horn shape, her name, her transness, her caste, her 'failing to pass,' her 'horrible personality,' her lack of energy, her cruel friends. Her intrusive thoughts. The Pailborn - Everything the same as on Beforus.

Feralone - Her kind of inability to exist in society. Banyet Cleeaw - Gender dysphoria. She's cis, but she never thought she looked enough like a girl, being hairy, flat, and stocky. She channels this into her music.

Oomani Cartor - Oomani struggles with. everything after her violent burnout, but he just doesn't take care of herself. She's sensitive about "how far hes fallen" going from a psion prodigy to legally incompetent. Even without the dissorder she would be depressed right now. No wonder his culler needs to use jedi mind tricks to get her to shower. The ShortOut - The Short Out is dead... if ghosts keep their mental dissabilities then she'd also be. uh. kind of. braindead as a ghost. The same thing that happened to Oomani happened to the ShortOut, but alternian implants are more invasive, not intended to let you be a person who can leave at will, so she got off a lot worse. he got off a lot worse...

The Unstrung - He's self concious about being a stoner hippie. A failure by traditional values. He always kind of feels like he failed his lusus. Qadrum Tunead - Ditto. Universal constant.

Borrel Brunze - She's hard of hearing due to a tbi and cant volume control, shes. sensitive about that. The Bullkill - Having to kill lusii. Its literally her job, she hates it like a lot. She wishes she could use anything other than a bolt gun.

The Dittched - Ditto as their Alt self, but with extra cullee trauma. ###### - Their 'broken brain.' Their lusus abandoned them and they starved as a wriggler too young to hunt, they ate sopor to fill their stomach and it rotted their brain and rotted their stomach. They aren't doing well, even now that they can lay traps. Some days its hard to resist getting back on sopor just cause at least then they'd feel less, even as it destroys them.

Seaweed ! Favorite lie.

Perpep Pepnep - That she was never abused. "Oftcas" Niptur - The plausible deniability that her policy of cutting ties with proteges once they're self sufficient gives her, so she doesn't have to know if they die.

Detheo Ordeor - That he has never abused her. Detheo Niptur - "Short people are more dangerous cause we're closer to hell" or maybe "you know seadwellers are poisonous?" theyre more of jokes but he finds them so funny that he wrote them on some of his communication cards

Somati Visoma - That if he doesn't think about it it will be easier. That he can forget he's dying. The Sanguine, Ur-Clown, Ur-Crane - I don't know if he has one. Seer of Doom means he's not often wrong about things... He has a comfortable delusion he indulges in, sleep, omori style, but its not a lie, really.

Declan "Bluebell" Ferics - Ferics hates lies as nearly much as Perpep. The Halfiron - all of the lies that hide the hospital from prying eyes.

The SetMedic "Azokie" Axilla - The dark carnival, the afterlife. It comforts her even distanced from her faith as she is to think her cullee could exist happily after death. Plexus Axilla - Her identity as One One One, or Onthri her work persona.

The Hungjury - "Justice is blind" Dlicti Secutu - That eating watermelon seeds makes them grow in your stomach.

Calixtus - Everything will be okay.

The Critical - Purple Supremacy Tirent Bawurz - probably also that.

Bucket Gemnat - Escapism, she indulges it a lot. The Pailborn - Also that. Bucket doesn't change much across dimensions.

Feralone - I have no idea Banyet Cleeaw - I have literally no idea

Oomani Cartor - Miketrap. the fnaf theory. its funny to him. The ShortOut - uh...

The Unstrung - ancient aliens Qadrum Tunead - conspiracy theories

Borrel Brunze - ??? The Bullkill - That its more peaceful to use a bolt-gun.

The Dittched - That their lusus was killed, that they didnt leave on purpose. ###### - ditto.

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

The Grand A-Z List of Whump 3/3

This list contains 194 items listed R to Z

As always, I heavily encourage people to research topics thoroughly when writing as it is important to avoid stereotypes/misinformation. This list's intention is to not glorify/romanticise sensitive topics in any way.

This is a comprehensive list of injuries, Illnesses and tropes - including those from the Whumptober 2023 trope vote!

All submissions are listed in italics, and those who wanted to be tagged will be included at the end. If you have any more submissions: please send them via DM/my ask box.

[A-H] [I-Q] [NSFW List]

List below the cut:

R

Rabies

Radiation Poisoning/Exposure

Radio Silence

Ransom Note/Video

Rashes

Recovery

Reducing breaks or dislocations (bonus: out in the field with no painkillers available)

Reflection

Rejection

Reluctant Caretaker

Reluctant Whumpee

Reminded of trauma

Reopened Wound

Repressed Emotions

Repressed trauma resurfacing

Rescue

Rescued by the enemy

Rescues gone wrong

Respiratory Distress

Restraints

Reuniting

Revenge

Ringing Ears

Ritual sacrifice

Rockslides

Role Reversal

Rope Burns

Running fingers through hair (maliciously or comfortingly)

Running Out of Air

Ruptured eardrum

S

Sacrifice

Sadistic Choice

Sartorial constraints

Scars

Scoliosis

Scraped Knees

Scratched corneas

Scratches

Seasickness

Second impact syndrome

Secrets

Sedated

Seeing double

Seizures

Self esteem issues

Self induced injury to escape

Self sacrifice

Self-aid

Self-inflicted injury (to escape)

Semi-consciousness

Sensory Deprivation/Overload

Sentimental Items

Separation

Sepsis

Servitude

Setbacks in recovery

Severed Artery

Shaking Hands

Shipwreck

Shivering

Shock

Shock collar

Shot (gun, arrow, dart, etc...)

Shrapnel (blast/wounds)

Sick/injured at a party

Skull fracture

Slapped

Sleep Deprivation

Sleep Paralysis

Sleeping in the cold

Sleeplessness

Smashing their head into a wall

Smoke Inhalation

Snake Bites

Sneezing

So sick they can barely even stand or stay awake

Significant other taking care of wounds

So weak they have to hold on to something or someone to walk

Solitary Confinement

Special object being ruined/torn apart

Spinal Cord Injury

Split lip

Sprains

Stab Wounds

Stabbed (sword, spear, knife, TRIDENT!, etc...)

Stabbed through the back by the only person the whumpee trusted

Stage fright

Stalking

Status epilepticus

Stiches

Stings (insect, creature, plants)

Stitches

Stoic/Defiant Whumpee

Stoic/Rude/Harsh Reluctant Caregiver!Mentor & Ball of Sunshine Hurt!Mentee (platonic)

Stomach ache

Stomach Ulcers (a cause for vomiting up blood)

Stomach virus

Straight Jacket

Strangling

Strangulation resulting in bruised or swollen vocal chords and loss of voice + the process of regaining your voice and everything that comes with that trauma.

Stress (this could induce headaches/general illness)

Stress Position

Stumbling

Sucking chest wound

Suffocating

Sunburn

Super glued to toilet

Surgery

Surgery gone wrong

Surrendering

Survivor's Guilt

Swollen Lymph Nodes

T

Tachycardia

Taking the bullet

TBI (traumatic brain injury)

Team as a family

Team has a certain amount of time to get to their Whumpee before they’re killed

Team teaming up to take care of sick teammate

Temporary Loss of Sense(s)

Tendonitis

Tetanus

The Final Straw

Thrown from an explosion

Time Loop

Tiny whump

Tonsillitis

Tooth knocked out

Torn Ligaments - Achilles, Meniscus etc.

Torn Muscles

Torture

Touch Aversion/Touch Starved

Tranquilizer Dart

Trap

Trapped (whether this is after an explosion, car accident, natural disaster…)

Trapped Limbs

Trapped underwater

Trauma reveal

Tremors

Trust Issues

Truth spell/serum

Tuberculosis

Twisted ankle

U

Undead (vampires and ghosts and zombies, oh my!)

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

Unresponsive

Upper respiratory infection

Used as bait

Usually big, strong and boisterous whumpee becomes quiet and weaker as the whumper conditions them.

UTI (Urinary Tract Infection)

V

Vampire whump

Vampires Thrall

Vehicular Accident

Venom

Vertigo

Very badly hurt and on life support - with slow recovery

Virus

Visions

Vocal chord paralysis

Vomiting/Vomiting blood

W

Waterboarding

West Nile virus

Whip scars

Whipping/Flogging

Whumpee being psychologically tortured via fake escape scenarios so when they are actually getting rescued they don't believe it. bonus point if they still don't think anything is real.

Whumpee dreams of a loved one happily inviting them “home” (They're actually dying IRL)

Whumpee getting the upper hand over whumper.

Whumpee stabbing whumper or beating their head into the ground over and over while sobbing, even when they’re clearly dead because they NEED to take their emotions out.

Whumpee turned Whumper

Whumpee watches caretaker take a bullet/hit/poison for them.

Whumper turned Caretaker

Whumper turned whumpee

Whumper with a crush

Wincing/Flinching

Wing whump

Wisdom Tooth Removal

Withdrawal

Withholding Medical Treatment

Witnessing. (Whumpee sees someone die in a brutal way. Whumpee sees someone get possessed/turned into a zombie/some other horrifying thing and they just stare horrified.)

Working for the enemy

Working through injury/illness

Working to Exhaustion

Wrists rubbed raw

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Wrongfully Accused/Arrested

Wrongfully fired

X

Xeroderma. (Extreme sun sensitivity)

XMRV is a newly identified human retrovirus that is similar to a group of mouse retroviruses (called murine leukaemia viruses, or MLVs)

Y

Yellow Fever

Z

Zombie virus, etc.

Zoonotic Hookworm

Zoonotic illness (It’s a disease carried or transmitted by animals to humans like tularemia or psittacosis)

Zosler (Shingles)

Zygomycosis (Fungal infection)

TAG LIST: Thank you very much to the following people for submitting ideas! (I apologise if some tags did not work, I'm not sure why tumblrs not letting me tag you!)

@I-eat-worlds | @greygullhaven | @letsgowhump | @cyberwhumper @firapolemos05 | @originaldeerhottub | @whumpilicious | @drawing-dinos82 | @carenrose | @stellarinuscronicles | @gottheseasonalblues | @marvelflame2010 | @sowhumpful | @avamcu | @courtneygacha | @lordofthewhumps | @autismmydearwatson | @kuddelmuddell | @the-most-handsome-ginger | @whirls-and-swirls | @painsandconfusion

[kurlyfrasier]

Hallucinations

Pairing: None. Well, Din Djarin & The Darksaber.

Synopsis: The darksaber really wants attention, but its new owner is ignoring him. OR: Din thinks he’s hallucinating.

Word Count: 1187

A/N: So this came out of nowhere. Kinda funny. I enjoyed writing it, anyway lol so I hope you enjoy reading it!

Warnings: Threats of death. Haunted!Din. Name calling. Hallucinations, to my knowledge, are not a symptom of concussions or traumatic brain injuries, just fyi. Let’s just say Din isn’t thinking straight, which is a symptom of concussions and TBI’s.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Star Wars/Mandalorian anything.

All Mando’a translations I get from mandoa.org.

“Kill him!” I roared, ghostly hands clenched into fists, hating that I could not kill the hut’uun myself. How good that would feel. To slice the shabuir’s head off, feel the flesh burn around my blade. To feel his life force disintegrate. But Din Djarin could not hear me. Not yet. If only I could move my hilt into Djarin’s hand, where I rightfully belonged.

What was taking him so long anyway? Any other person wouldn’t have wasted a second to claim me and the glory I give. I looked down, fists relaxing at my new form, proud to be wearing beskar’gam again after years of that ridiculous plastoid and cape. 

“Bah?” My vision tunneled to the source of the sound. A familiar small, green, big-eared creature stood just inside the hall holding up his tired little arms for someone to take off his cuffs. So innocent. So scared. And so very strong with the force. Unbearable guilt bore down heavy in the surrounding Force. I had never been used for something so despicable as to hold a baby hostage - old as he may be. I hoped, in that moment, to be destroyed. Not even the worst of Mand’alors had been so cruel as to hurt an ad.

Djarin hissed at Gideon to cuff himself and strode to the kid with more determination than physical strength to carry him there. The cuffs were quickly snapped apart by his hands. Immediately, the child’s Force presence grew to immeasurable heights, all encompassing. The sense of safety and home enveloped me like a blanket the moment Grogu was in the crook of his buir’s arm. The sight lifted my guilt enough to become bearable. My blade may have once been close enough to singe the baby’s robe, but at least I was not forced to give the final blow.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Gideon quirked a brow, acting as though someone could truly forget about me. Ha! What a joke. 

“Come, Djarin,” I demanded, voice venomously low. “Let me do the honors of ending the life of this pathetic Imp.”

“The darksa-”

“What,” I growled over Gideon reminding him of my presence. “How do you not remember winning me in combat?” My gloved finger pointed at Djarin accusingly as he made his way over. “You flung me over here when you disarmed him.” 

I scowled behind the helmet, watching as Djarin picked me up from the ground, tugging me closer to scrutinize and looking as though he had no idea the power he held. Grogu’s tired gaze flicked between it and my ghostly self before finally cooing a quiet hello. 

“Move,” Djarin stated firmly, moving back toward the Imp, pulling my ghostly form with him. Out of habit, I moved as though I had legs of my own. When Gideon didn’t respond, I sang my darkest tune, morphing from a ghostly presence to a piping hot silhouette of a blade.

Gideon understood the threat for what it was. A promise of death I would gladly handle. Now moving, I reached out to Din.

***

Din Djarin was hallucinating. A concussion, maybe? It was the only explanation, considering the hammering he received by a dark trooper minutes earlier. One moment the laser sword-thing was on, and the next it morphed into a ghostly looking version of himself, standing between him and Bo-Katan.

“Not once,” it said, flabbergasted as Moff Gideon explained what the laser sword was. “Not twice. But three times!” Its arms raised in exasperation. “Three times you tried to give me away. To her,” it looked over its shoulder. “She, who was not worthy the first time I was given to her.”

Pointedly ignoring it and Gideon, still not understanding why Kryze wouldn’t just take the stupid thing, Djarin gently set Grogu down on the floor for safe-keeping.

Still, Din swore it muttered something along the lines of Mand’alor the Di’kut, even as alarms blared and the dark troopers boarded the ship. He ignored it. It would go away. Eventually. After a good, long sleep. For now, he had to figure out a way to get Grogu to safety. He’s all that mattered. The only thing that mattered.

“Use me,” it stated like a soldier volunteering for war. “Di’kut,” it spat at him after not immediately responding, and not for the first time. “I can slice through those droids like butter,” its arm flung out, gloved hand pointing to the door the droids were quickly pounding open.

But Din had never fought with a sword, let alone a laser sword. To go at those things with a weapon that felt heavy enough to be a bag of wet sand just carrying it around sounded like a bad idea. So, Din pretended he didn’t hear it. Pretended he didn’t see it standing there in his face, smacking him in the helmet with its vambrace. The clang of beskar against beskar was deafening to his already pounding head.

“Jetti,” he heard the apparition say, sounding put-out for missing out on the action currently playing on the small security screen. Of a cloaked figure with a laser sword of his own, easily destroying darktroopers left and right. The apparition looked straight at him and he could feel the accusation as it muttered an ‘I told you so’ under its breath. 

Still, Djarin thought, he had nowhere near the skill with the sword like the Jedi clearly had. His shoulders sagged, disheartened he would have to give Grogu, his son, away to a stranger - a stranger who could clearly keep the kid safer than he ever could - just after reuniting with him. 

The pounding at the door stopped. He slammed the button with more force than necessary, opening the doors when nobody else would.

Everything after that was a blur. He remembers telling the kid to go, that he would see him again, of showing Grogu his face, of a non-existent being incessantly badgering him with the same accusations over and over and over. Like a backwards echo, getting louder and louder.

“He is your son.”

“You are his buir.”

“An aruetii, really?” It huffed. “And a Jetti, at that.”

“Mand’alor the Dar’buir.”

That’s when he snapped, unable to take anymore of its abuse, not caring if everyone on Fett’s ship would hear and think him crazy, even with the door closed to the bunk room.

“HE WILL BE SAFE. WITH HIM,” he roared, throwing the helmet he had yet to put back on at it only for it to fly straight through and hit the wall with a loud BANG. “Can’t you see? Life with me- It’s dangerous- Not safe,” he pleaded through gritted teeth before deflating, his second wind done and gone. Long before the Jedi flew off with his son. “Grogu needs training and not the kind I can give him,” the words tasted bitter on his tongue, no matter how true they were.

“So, now I exist,” it sounded triumphant.

“No,” Din shuffled over to a bunk and fell on it, not caring that his armor pinched and dug into his scratched up, body bloody and broken. “Leave me alone.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

Wanna read more by me? Click here!

Taglist: @readingfan [(hopefully it worked this time lol) Also, hopefully you don't mind there not being a Reader insert 🥴]

[laora-ryn]

Just a general reminder that I work in a polytrauma rehab center, where you go after the trauma center once you're medically stable (ie you're not bleeding out, nothing is ruptured, you don't need ICU level of care anymore, just "standard" hospital care)

Friendly reminder to not ride a fucking motorcycle because when you crash, if you're not wearing a helmet you will probably die. If you ARE wearing a helmet, you'll probably survive to end up in our PRC with JUST a severe traumatic brain injury along with whatever burns/amputations/shattered bones/other trauma injuries you sustained.

You're looking at months of intensive physical/occupational/speech therapy after the month+ of initial trauma treatment to get you back up to your new baseline, which is definitely not what your old baseline is. If you're lucky, you get to relearn how to stand and walk. Either way you'll be fitted for a wheelchair because long distances aren't going to be doable for you anymore. You'll have to relearn how to do activities of daily living, like dressing yourself, feeding yourself, showering, using the toilet, brushing your teeth, navigating down a straight hallway to get to a room you've been to every day for the last month. You might need to relearn how to talk and how to swallow solid food. Your short term memory might just be GONE, along with your ability to make judgments or rational decisions like "I can't put weight on my legs, so I shouldn't stand up."

At our hospital you'd see each type of therapist 5-6 days a week for an hour at a time. Very occasionally you'll walk out of the unit after 3 months or so. Sometimes you're transferred out of here once you hit a plateau in recovery, and have to live in a skilled nursing facility since your family doesn't have the means to give you round the clock care. Sometimes you're somewhere in between these two.

If you're VERY lucky you'll be able to "graduate" to our next level of care, which is where you relearn to do instrumental ADLs including cooking, shopping, meal prep, budgeting, stuff like that. Maybe 20-30% of the patients we see here are candidates for that program. Everyone else depends on their spouse/children/parents/siblings/caregivers for these things, because they can't do them anymore.

So anyway. I'm just feeling very strongly about this right now because I just got off our weekly interdisciplinary team call. The floor covers anyone with brain damage, including any kind of TBI (motorcycle crashes, car crashes, gunshot wounds, etc) and non-traumatic BI (stroke, aneurysm, OD).

Over half of our current patients are in from motorcycle crashes.

One of them is discharging today and is going home with his brother with a rollator and a wheelchair. One of them is in a minimally conscious state and chances that that will change are diminishing. The other 10 are somewhere in between in varying stages of rehab.

And this is an extremely long winded post to say: PLEASE don't ride a fucking motorcycle. I have an answer to people who say "oh maybe you'll be one of my providers one day!", which is: I hope I'm not, because if I'm seeing you then you're in a really bad way one way or another, and I'd love to never see you at work. You do that by not doing risky shit PLEASE take care of yourself

[ocat4tbi]

Understanding OCAT TBI Testing: A Crucial Tool for Personal Injury Cases

In the realm of personal injury cases, particularly those involving traumatic brain injuries (TBIs), having access to accurate and comprehensive testing is crucial. One such tool that has gained prominence in recent years is OCAT TBI testing. Understanding what OCAT TBI testing entails and how it can impact legal proceedings is essential for both legal professionals and individuals seeking compensation for their injuries.

OCAT TBI testing stands for the Ocular Concussion Analysis Tool, specifically designed to assess and diagnose TBIs. Unlike traditional imaging methods like CT scans or MRIs, which primarily focus on structural damage, OCAT TBI testing delves into functional changes within the brain. This includes evaluating eye movement patterns, which can provide valuable insights into the presence and severity of a TBI.

At Ocat4tbi.com, the emphasis is on providing not just legal representation but also understanding the medical intricacies that underlie personal injury cases. With OCAT TBI testing, attorneys can better comprehend the extent of a client's injuries, leading to more informed legal strategies and ultimately, better outcomes.

One of the key advantages of OCAT TBI testing is its ability to detect subtle brain injuries that might be overlooked by traditional imaging techniques. TBIs, especially mild ones like concussions, can manifest in various ways, including cognitive difficulties, balance issues, and visual disturbances. OCAT TBI testing can capture these nuanced symptoms through precise eye-tracking technology, aiding in a more accurate diagnosis and treatment plan.

Moreover, OCAT TBI testing is non-invasive and can be administered relatively quickly, making it a practical tool in legal settings where time is often of the essence. By promptly assessing and documenting TBI-related symptoms, attorneys can build stronger cases for their clients, ensuring they receive appropriate compensation for their injuries and related expenses.

Additionally, Ocat4tbi.com emphasizes the importance of compassionate legal representation alongside technical expertise. Dealing with a TBI can be emotionally and physically challenging, and having a supportive legal team can make a significant difference in navigating the complexities of a personal injury claim.

In conclusion, OCAT TBI testing offered at Ocat4tbi.com represents a valuable advancement in the assessment and diagnosis of traumatic brain injuries. By leveraging this innovative tool, attorneys can better serve their clients by understanding the full scope of their injuries and advocating for their rights effectively. For individuals impacted by TBIs, accessing comprehensive legal and medical support is essential, and OCAT TBI testing plays a vital role in achieving a favorable outcome in personal injury cases.

For more info:

OCAT TBI testing

TBI testing at OCAT

[reasoningdaily]

Boss Decided To Fire Good Employee Because They Refused To Come In On The Weekend

The OP tells Bored Panda that he shared this story partly out of frustration and just wanted to vent. But he also wanted to make sure that he didn’t make the wrong next step. “I also hope my story can help be a warning to people,” the Redditor tells us. “That despite how hard of a worker you are, and how much they claim they value you, you are replaceable to them.”

The OP also told us more about what the unpleasant work environment at his last job was like. “[It] was up and down a lot,” the employee admits. “I had workers who I got along with and others who I butted heads with.” According to the Redditor, one colleague would “throw tantrums all the time,” and u/TylPlas26 has recounted these stories on other subreddits before.

“Another worker acted like a know-it-all,” the Redditor goes on. This individual would boss the OP around despite not having the same government training. “Luckily, I [ignored] him on that because a few things he suggested would actually be against the law [or were things] that would get me into a lot of trouble.”

“Another worker gave me the silent treatment a lot and was insulting me behind my back,” the Redditor tells us. There’s also a longer story with this individual, which the OP recounted for us as well.

“Last year, I had to have minor surgery. And there was a miscommunication on when I would return. So he was called in on the day they thought I was returning, which was his day off. After that, he started the silent treatments.”

“I don’t know where the miscommunication was. I suffer from a TBI (traumatic brain injury), so my memory can be off. So I don’t know if it was me who miscommunicated or [if] the staff heard me wrong.”

“But because of my TBI, I suffer from frequent and intense headaches that would keep me in bed the whole day. Every time I would call out [of] work sick because of one, this coworker would go back to giving me the silent treatment for a week or so,” the Redditor shares.

According to the OP, the boss was also not a dream manager

As for the OP’s boss, the Redditor says that he lacked communication skills. He had many more similar stories and shared one about a stolen day off. “He crossed out one of my vacation days without consulting me in any way within a week of my vacation starting, saying, ‘I didn’t realize how [short-staffed] we would be when I approved it. So I figured if you were still home, you could work it.'”

The boss also repeatedly demonstrated how he didn’t respect OP’s time and personal life. He tried to get the OP to make deliveries past his shift. “When I refused, he said he could do what I was gonna do that night while I do the delivery.” When the OP’s grandma went into surgery, the boss apparently wanted him back on the job the next day.

“He would always promise customer or friends deliveries from where I worked, without first checking to make sure it was possible,” the OP goes on. For some time, the author was also the only driver doing deliveries, but the boss didn’t have a problem assigning him more, even if his day was full.

A lot of these deliveries were also to the boss’ friends or family members – not sketchy at all. “He lacks any kind of leadership skills that a boss needs to possess,” the Redditor believes.

So, as a person working in retail for 15 years, the OP also has some wise words for people whose bosses take advantage of them. “Don’t be afraid to stand up for yourself,” he says. “If they demand for you to give up your regular time off, don’t.”

“If they don’t value your time off, it means they don’t value you as a person. They only see you as a body that’s helping [bring] money for them. Money comes first, employee lives and wellbeing are so far down their list, [it’s] virtually nonexistent to them,” the OP concludes.

[birminghamlawattorney]

Ways An Experienced Traumatic Brain Injury Attorney Can Help

Have you or a loved one suffered a traumatic brain injury (TBI)? Are you uncertain about the next steps to take? After receiving medical attention, it can be beneficial to reach out to an experienced traumatic brain injury attorney. At Belal Hamideh Law, our unwavering commitment is to deliver expert and assertive legal representation, ensuring you receive the full compensation rightfully owed for your injuries.

We have assisted countless individuals facing circumstances similar to yours. Recognizing that TBIs impact not only the victims but also their families, we have successfully secured the substantial settlements that our clients deserve.

Traumatic Brain Injuries: Causes and Effects A traumatic brain injury results from physical trauma to the brain, typically caused by sudden and severe incidents that necessitate immediate medical attention. Collisions, jolts, and impactful blows to the head or body can lead to TBIs. Distinguishing itself from acquired brain injuries (ABIs), which stem from pre-existing conditions, illnesses, or similar factors, TBIs are a direct consequence of head trauma.

Slip and fall accidents, numbering in the hundreds of thousands annually, top the list as the primary cause of TBIs. Traffic collisions, with so many incidents each year, also contribute significantly. Other vehicular accidents, falls involving objects, violent crimes like assault and battery, all pose potential risks for TBIs.

If your TBI resulted from someone else’s negligence, we stand ready to help you secure the compensation you rightfully deserve.

Symptoms of Traumatic Brain Injuries to Watch For Not all traumatic brain injuries exhibit visible signs, underscoring the importance of seeking immediate medical attention if there’s even a remote possibility of injury.

Physical symptoms may include persistent headaches, slurred speech, changes in vision, fluid leakage from ears or nose, dizziness, and more. Additionally, non-physical signs such as unusual behavior, agitation, confusion, and difficulty concentrating may signal a TBI.

If you believe there’s even the slightest chance that you suffered a TBI, receive medical attention.

Valuing Traumatic Brain Injury Compensation in California Compensation for a TBI in California can be obtained through settlements or verdicts, with the majority of cases settling out of court. While it’s challenging to pinpoint an average settlement, recent California brain injury verdicts reach, on average, more than a million dollars, which is over the national average.

Economic damages cover medical expenses, therapy, lost wages, and property damage, while non-economic damages encompass pain and suffering, mental anguish, loss of enjoyment of life, and loss of consortium among many others.

Book Your Free Consultation with a Traumatic Brain Injury Lawyer Traumatic brain injuries present formidable challenges, potentially leading to serious, long-term consequences. Whether your injury appears mild or severe, seeking representation from an experienced traumatic brain injury lawyer is crucial.

Belal Hamideh Law has a proven track record of securing substantial settlements for clients. While most cases settle out of court, we stand ready to assertively represent you in court if necessary. If you suspect you have a case, it’s worth it to reach out to us for a free consultation. Se Habla Español. 

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🦇 Book Review 🦇

Rating: ⭐⭐

❝ I'm telling you that I love you. In a million little ways, in so many quiet, tiny, little ways, that they all add up to be greater than the biggest love in the whole world. I love you in so many little ways that it almost hurts. It almost hurts to love you. ❞

❓ #QOTD If you had a second chance at a lost love, would you take it? ❓ 🦇 Gemma Jacobs is ready to start her new life with fiancé Josh Lewenthal and their soon-to-be-born baby. Everything changes right before those two, beautiful words—"I do"—when Gemma has a seizure at the altar. It's not until after she wakes up from a coma (three months later!) that she learns she had pre-eclampsia. Having also suffered a traumatic brain injury (TBI), Gemma finds she no longer feels the love she once had for Josh. Can their love story survive what happens AFTER happily ever after?

💜 Sarah Ready does a wonderful job at highlighting socially relevant topics. While the first novel focused on the struggles of IVF, the sequel discusses medical subjects like TBI, pre-eclampsia, and the aftermath of nearly losing a loved one. There might have been more emotional enlightenment if we saw part of the story from Josh's perspective, though—namely while Gemma was in her coma.

🦇 Sarah Ready returns to Josh and Gemma's love story in an unnecessary sequel. Unfortunately, this book reads as more of a redemption story for an over-exaggerated villain than a true love story. Nothing is given the full extent of attention it deserves. Gemma abandons her plan to rekindle her love for Josh too quickly, there are few one-on-one moments illustrating the disconnect between her and her daughter (aptly named Hope, which I'm sure triggered a flashback for The Originals fans), and though the novel tries to bring attention to TBI and pre-eclampsia, we don't learn much about either diagnosis. This plot might have worked better as a stand-alone for two new characters, or as a novella from Ian Fortune's point of view. Due to Gemma's diagnosis, she's emotionally distant for most of the book, which keeps us as readers at arm's length. Even the smut feels rushed, with none of the love you'd expect from these characters.

🦇 Recommended for anyone desperate to dive back into Josh and Gemma's story. Don't hold out for any real emotional connection to these characters, though.

📚 Sequel 💜 Second Chance Romance ⚖ Redemption Arc 🧠 TW: TBI, Pre/Eclampsia, Coma, NICU

🦇 Major thanks to the author and publisher for providing an ARC of this book via Netgalley. 🥰 This does not affect my opinion regarding the book.

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Chapter 1

Series Summary: There are moments in our lives that have a major impact. The interactions, the adventures, and the love, all make up who we are. But when Harry can't remember those moments with YN, they are both left wondering what that means for themselves and their relationship.

Chapter Summary: This is the start of their story. Well, the start of the switch in their story, if you will. And if sympathy is in your soul, you'll want to pull it out because they will need it from the get go.

~~~~~

Chapter Warnings: Car accident, hospitalization, memory loss, medications, and a lot of angst

~~~~~

It's a surreal experience, to say the least. Everything happens in slow motion, but too quickly at the same time.

It was supposed to be a simple date night for you and Harry. Your plans involved having dinner at Tasty Palace, your favorite Chinese restaurant, and seeing a movie. You hadn't even bought a ticket, because the two of you wanted it to be a 'spur of the moment' decision- a fun way to make it interesting.

Your plans did not include a drunk driver, or an ambulance ride. Your plans did not include pacing outside of a room with your boyfriend on a hospital bed, waiting as he lies still and quiet, wishing with everything you have that he would wake up.

So you stand out there, staring at your phone, hoping that you were able to form some sort of sentence during your call with his mother, Anne.

As your eyes turn back towards the door, your vision becomes blurry and your mind becomes fuzzy. You feel your body start to get weak and barely hear someone calling for help.

•••

A soft voice brings you back to normal, and you blink your eyes open to see Anne kneeling in front of you.

"Oh thank goodness. YN, are you alright?" She asks, her eyes pointed at you without any sign of moving.

"I think so. Did I faint or something?"

"Yes. I arrived right as the nurse grabbed you to keep you from falling."

Your mind clicks into gear and your body sits up straight as can be, and your head snaps over to Harry's room.

"He isn't awake yet, darling." She sighs, and your shoulders slump down. "I'm here now, if you want to get some rest. You should rest."

You slowly shake your head. "I want to be with him."

"YN…"

"No!" You shout, causing a frown to form on your face at the shock of your own tone. "I'm sorry, Anne."

"It's alright, darling." She moves to sit in the chair next to yours, placing her palm on your back as she rubs it up and down to soothe you. "S'gonna be alright."

Tears flood immediately, and your face drops into your hands.

"I can't… I don't…" you utter, unable to keep your mind from beginning to think the worst.

She wraps her arm around your shoulders. "It's going… it's going to be alright… it's going to be alright."

She rests the side of her head against yours, as her own tears start to fall down her cheeks.

•••

Two days you've both been there, waiting. Calling family, friends, your boss, his boss… and waiting. Unable to give any updates, unable to give any answers, unable to process any of what happened, and unable to do anything but wait.

It is your turn for what you and Anne are calling a 'shift'. One of you stays in Harry's room, while the other takes a break to grab some food or coffee, reply to those texts and calls with no new information, and to clear the chaos of thoughts swirling around in your head.

You find the coffee machine that has the least disgusting choices, which are nothing to be excited about, and fill up two cups.

As you come back up to Harry's door, you notice a few more people have entered, and you take a deep breath before you walk in.

As you move around to where you see Anne standing, your gaze darts over to follow hers, seeing Harry's gorgeous and deep green eyes open for the first time since that daunting night.

"Oh my god." You whisper, handing Anne her coffee, as you try to keep your composure while the doctor explains the situation.

"Harry, you've suffered a TBI, which is a traumatic brain injury. Do you remember what happened?"

Harry just shakes his head.

"You were in a car accident, sweetheart." Anne exclaims, eyes flickering to yours with an grateful and relieved expression.

You just want to hold him, and kiss him, and nuzzle into his neck as you feel the joy of finally seeing him awake again.

"I… I was?"

"Now, we don't really know the extent of your injury. Only time, and maybe a few tests, will tell. But you are awake, and that's the first step. It's a good sign."

"Oh my god! I'm so glad you're okay!" You blurt out, rushing to the bedside just to touch his arm.

"Oh… Umm… Were you in the accident too?"

"Yeah, but I'm okay. Just some scratches, and bruising." You smile, squeezing his forearm, relieved to feel the muscles contract.

"I'm… I'm sorry." He utters.

"Don't be, Harry. It wasn't your fault."

"Oh. So…" He pinches the bridge of his nose. "So… does that mean… your car hit mine?"

"What?"

"Did we crash into each other?... Or…?"

"Sweetheart, now is not the time to joke around."

"Harry. It's me. YN."

"I'm sorry… I don't know… I don't think we've met…"

Suddenly, your heart stops and you stand up straight, taking a step back from the hospital bed.

"What?" You whisper, turning your head directly to the doctor.

"It's possible he is suffering from some memory loss. There was no brain bleed, but we can order some tests to see if we can get some more answers."

"Thank you Doctor Green." Anne replies.

The nurse checks the monitors and they both exit the room, leaving the three of you alone to process everything that just happened.

"Harry, you really don't remember YN?"

He stares at you and simply shakes his head.

"She is your girlfriend. You live together. You… you love her."

"That… no… what? No… That's not right…" He states, running a hand through his hair, and clearing his throat. The telltale sign that he is nervous. "I'm… I'm with Tabitha…"

Now your heart sinks, and your stomach turns to knots, as Harry claims to be with the woman he was once with. The woman who came before you. The woman who he told you had hurt him tremendously.

"Is she here?" He asks, and you turn around as tears return to the corners of your eyes. "I... would like to see her."

"Sweetheart-"

"No, Anne." You grab her hand and give it a small squeeze. "It's okay."

"Y/N…"

"He's probably overwhelmed, and needs some time. It's okay." You state, hoping your shaky voice seemed steady enough to convince her of some sincerity in your words.

She nods, and you turn back to Harry, displaying the most minimal smile you can manage.

"I'll see about getting you some food."

"Thank you… umm… YN?" He replies. "But please no chicken noodle soup… I hate it."

Your head drops and you let out a deep sigh.

"I know."

You open and exit through the door, taking a couple of steps until you are out of their view. Your hands cover your face and your back slides down against the wall, tears streaming down in a sob as your heart begins to break.

•••

The test results did not bring any comfort. There was nothing visible to indicate any concerning physical trauma, which is actually common.

The neurological exams determined that Harry has good motor function, reflexes, and coordination. But, it was confirmed that Harry was suffering from retrograde amnesia, and it's unknown how long it will take for him to get his memories back, if he ever does.

This is Harry. The love of your life. The man who dragged you outside into a storm because you told him you'd never been kissed in the rain. The man who learned to make your coffee order just so that you could stay just a few extra minutes at home with him before heading to work. The man who sat on the bathroom floor with you, all night, holding you while you cried.

He means everything to you. Everything.

So... how can what they're saying be true?

How can it be true that you mean nothing to him, because he doesn't remember you?

But he doesnt. He does not remember you. He does not remember your relationship, the entire two years and a half years that you've been together. He does not remember your first date, your coffee order, or your love for each other.

As if that wasn't heartbreaking enough, the person he does remember being with, the one he does remember loving, is the one who actually broke his own heart.

Tabitha.

Nothing, literally nothing, can prepare you for this. What are you even supposed to do now?

•••

As you stare out the window, you feel those strong, warm, tattooed arms wrap around you from behind, and Harry's lips on your cheek.

"So…"

"I love it! Absolutely love it!"

"I knew you would! This is ours, Cupcake. Our new home together."

You twirl around to face him, being met with a wide, dimpled grin. You wrap your arms around his neck as your lips hover in front of his.

"I can't wait to get our furniture in here and really make it feel like us. It's what I do best!"

A mischievous smirk displays across his face. "Well, the bed is set up, I can make you feel something right now… I'd like to think that's what I do best."

It has been decided, moderately protested by Harry, that you will take him back to your place. Hopefully the familiar surroundings can help him regain some memories, or at least bring him some comfort.

"I'm sorry the elevator was a bit loud. They keep telling us they'll fix it soon, but you know how that goes…" Your eyes widen with your statement. "Or… umm… I'm sorry."

"S'alright." He states, looking down at his feet as you slide the key into your front door. "I do know how those things go."

"Right. Of course." You shake your head as the door opens, and you toss your keys on the entry table.

Your eyes stay fixated on him as he looks around the place, his gaze stopping every once in a while on different items, but quickly returning to scan his surroundings.

"Do… you remember anything here?" You ask timidly.

"Not really." He lets out a deep sigh. "It, umm, it feels like it could be mine, though."

You stay quiet, continuing to let him embrace the living space.

"Where… umm… where is the bathroom?" He asks. "I'd like to take a shower, if that is okay?"

You clear your throat, hoping to keep yourself steady. "Oh, yeah, it's, uh, right through here."

You make your way to the bathroom, and open the bedroom door.

"Your clothes are in here." You state, opening his drawers.

"Thanks." He replies, grabbing a pair of shorts and his favorite shirt. He's had it forever. Longer than he's known you. Long enough to still remember it.

"I can order some food, if you want." You suddenly state.

He shrugs. "Sure. What's your favorite?"

Tasty Palace. But there's no way you're suggesting that. Maybe not ever again.

"There's Chico's." You reply, staring at your hands as you pick your nails. Harry stays quiet, and when your eyes move back over to see his confused expression, you realize your mistake. "Oh. Umm… it's a Mexican restaurant down the street. You… you like it."

"Okay." He shrugs. "Would… you mind just ordering what you… know… I'll like?"

"Of course." You smile, leaving the room and closing the door behind you.

•••

After sitting in silence, eating as much as you can manage with your new lack of appetite, Harry finally speaks.

"This is awkward to ask…" he swirls his fork around on his plate. "But, are we… going to sleep… in the same bed tonight?"

If you didn't know that the current situation was the cause of the pain, you would've been sure you were having a heart attack. Your chest tightens and your breath escapes you.

It's not even something you had thought about until this moment.

"That's up to you." You look up at him, hoping your expression gives him some ease.

"It's just… because… umm, I feel-"

"Harry, it's okay. This is…" you sigh. "Weird. For you."

"This isn't weird for you?" He asks, and you actually see his subtle, genuine smile push through for a moment. The one he does when he thinks he's done something cheeky.

You can't help but almost cough out a laugh. "Oh, it's definitely weird. But probably not as bad since I'm the one that…"

"Remembers." He nods.

"I can't imagine how you feel. And if sleeping separately is more comfortable for you, then that's what we will do."

"Umm, m'sorry, I think it might." His gaze flickers up to you before shooting back down to his plate.

"Okay." You reply. "Are you wanting to go to bed now?"

He nods.

"Okay. Let me clear the plates and I'll just grab my stuff out of the bedroom."

"What?" His eyes finally meet yours for more than a few seconds, and for a moment, you get lost in them. Those beautiful, bright green eyes that you've stared at a million times.

"Oh, so I can sleep on the futon in the office."

He shakes his head. "Absolutely not. I'll sleep there."

"Harry, you've been laying in a hospital bed for the past few days. You can sleep in the bed. It's fine."

"I can't do that to you. M'sorry. This is your-"

You both fall silent, your gazes immediately dropping to the floor. Your breathing quickens slightly and you look up to him before tears trickle down your cheeks. Your chest is tight, but you don't want to push this and make things more uncomfortable for him than it already is.

"Okay. Thank you. But let me know if you change your mind." You state, doing the best to send him a smile.

"Alright." He quietly replies.

You grab his pillow, a clean sheet, along with one of his most used blankets, and help him make it comfortable.

Once it's done, you both stand there, staring at the bed, not really knowing what to do next.

"Well, uh, yeah, goodnight." You mutter, maneuvering your way towards your bedroom, and stopping in the doorway.

"Goodnight, YN."

"I love you." Your eyes widen immediately and you wince at your words.

"Oh… umm… yeah… I…"

"It's okay, Harry. I'm sorry. Have a good night." You blurt out, rushing to the bedroom and closing the door.

You immediately flop onto your bed, simply shimmying off your pants, and curling under the covers. The bed feels larger, and colder. It doesn't feel right. But of course, none of this feels right.

Suddenly, the sobbing starts, and you bury your head in your pillow, hoping and praying and wishing -doing anything and everything you can- to have your Harry back in the morning.

•••

As your body begins to shift, your mind begins to wake up, and you can smell the scent of breakfast wafting through the house.

You open your eyes and instinctively reach over to the other side of the bed, before sighing and getting up to throw on some comfortable clothes.

You walk out and see Harry fumbling his way through the kitchen, opening and closing some cabinets before moving on to the next.

"Good morning." You state softly.

"Oh fuck!" He shouts, jumping and spinning around to see your face. "M'sorry, umm yeah, good morning."

He pulls his lips inward, telling you he is embarrassed by his reaction.

"Sorry I scared you." You chuckle.

"S'alright." He replies, a tiny blush appearing in his cheeks. "M'trying to find the mugs…"

"Oh!" You move into the kitchen, standing next to him, feeling his warmth, and point to the cabinet above you. "You were almost there."

"Fucks sake." He mumbles as he shakes his head, opening it up and looking at his options. He points to a white one, with a smirk growing on his face. "Whose is this?"

Your eyes follow his finger to the mug with big, bold letters printed on it, spelling out the words 'Fuck it'. You can't help but giggle.

"Yours."

His smirk grows a bit deeper to show off your favorite dimple. "Yeah, that tracks."

He pulls it down and fills it up. "I still… umm… drink black coffee, yeah?"

You nod. You bring down a plain mug, filling it up and adding some vanilla caramel creamer from the fridge.

"So… I, umm… took a while to find everything, but I made some pancakes if you want some... I hope that's okay?"

"Of course it is. They're your favorite." You clear your throat. "Thank you."

He plates a few for the both of you and moves to sit at the kitchen table, followed closely by you.

"You have an appointment this morning." You state, causing him to look up from his plate.

"Already?" He asks, his brow furrowing in the way it always does when he is slightly confused.

"I guess that's normal with brain injuries." You quietly reply. Just saying those words makes you feel queasy.

"M'kay." He shrugs.

"But your mom wants to have us over later, if you want to do that."

"Yes!" Harry exclaims, excitement in his tone for the first time since last week.

"Alright. Good." You nod, taking one last bite of pancakes before standing to clear your plate.

You move around your chair, your plate in hand, and lean down over Harry's head, placing a kiss on top.

He clears his throat and his eyes flicker up to you for only a moment before you straighten up.

"Shit." You mumble. "I'm so sorry. It's just a habit. Well… for me… not for you, I guess… not anymore… I need to shut up."

Your free hand covers your face and you stumble into your chair as you try to make your way into the kitchen.

As you place your plate in the sink, trying to compose yourself, you hear Harry's chair squeak across the floor and feel his warm presence close by.

"Umm…" Harry utters. "M'sorry this is weird for you too, YN."

Your eyes shoot up to his. His gorgeous green eyes, that once looked at you with vibrancy, but now just stare back at you with uncertainty.

"It's…" you inhale a deep breath, turning your gaze back down to the sink. "It's not about me. It's about you. Getting you… back to you…"

He chuckles, placing his plate on top of yours in the sink, and beginning to walk toward the office. "Whatever that means."

Exactly. What does that even mean? Because, who is he now? What if he never gets back to being… your Harry?

•••

"So, Harry, how are you feeling this morning?" Dr. Green asks.

"M'fine." Harry reluctantly replies.

"How are you really feeling?" She asks again.

He sighs, looking down at his hands and fidgeting with his rings. "Sore."

"What's sore?"

"Everything."

She nods, typing his answers into her computer, then looking over to you.

"And what about motor function, balance, things like that? Have you noticed any changes Miss YLN?"

You sit up straighter, not realizing you'd be asked any questions. "Uh… everything has seemed fine."

"Good. Good." She types again. "And now, let's discuss memory. Any improvement?"

Your head drops down too and you hear Harry sigh.

"I… umm… it's… it's just…" He stutters.

You quickly look over to him, watching his fidgeting increase, and turn your gaze to Dr. Green.

You lean over, placing your hand on Harry's forearm like you always did when he was anxious.

"I'll wait in the lobby." You state. He lifts his head and looks over to you, only responding with a nod.

You get up, your chest tight at the thought of Harry, your Harry, feeling more comfortable without you by his side.

You exit the room and find the closest chair, starting to feel faint again, like you did that first night in the hospital.

"Are you alright, Miss?"

You look up to see a nurse glancing over from the front desk of the office.

"Yeah. I'm okay. Just…" You breathe in to try and gain some control of your lungs. "It's just a lot."

"These things are." She nods. "But he's lucky to have you here with him."

"Mhmm." You mumble.

"It's so important and helpful to have the people who love him, and who he loves, around to support him."

You scrunch your face, staring at the ground, as your heart starts to sink.

The people who love him. Yes. But the people who he loves? That might not be you anymore.

The door opens and you stand up to join Harry as he shakes the doctor's hand.

"As long as nothing gets worse, we will see you in a week, Mr. Styles." She looks at you and you nod in confirmation. "Remember to relax and let your brain heal itself. Don't pressure yourself. But do those few, small tasks to exercise it too. It could help regain those memories for you."

"Thank you Dr. Green." Harry replies.

You shake her hand and lead Harry back to the car.

As you settle into the driver's seat, you look over to see a solemn expression on his face.

"Would you like to go back home… back to the apartment… first? Or straight to your mom's?"

He perks up at the last suggestion. "My mum's! Umm… yes, my mum's please."

"Sounds good."

"You… umm… know the way. Yeah?" He mutters.

"Yep." You state casually. "I do."

•••

"Should I bring something? I feel like I should bring something."

"You're biting your thumbnail again."

"I'm nervous!" You exclaim.

"You're really cute when you're nervous." Harry smirks.

"I'm meeting your mum. I want her to like me!"

Harry stands up from the couch, walking over and pressing his body right up against yours, the sweet scent of his favorite Tom Ford cologne instantly calming you.

"She's gonna love ya." He states, kissing your forehead as you grab onto his arms. "How could she not? I do!"

The drive to Anne's house is usually quick, but feels painfully long today, with your thudding heartbeat being the only noise you can hear on the car ride over.

You let out a small sigh of relief as you pull up into the driveway, but feel a little disappointed when you hear Harry do the same.

Anne immediately opens the door once you knock, and wraps Harry into a big hug.

"Bloody hell, Mum. I'd like to breathe, if that's alright." Harry whines.

"I get to hug you as tight as I bloody well please, thank you very much." She replies, releasing him and pushing him into the house.

"Alright, fair enough. M'gonna grab something to eat." He walks right through the doorway and straight into the kitchen.

"At least he still remembers where things are in this house." You sigh.

"So nothing's changed?" She whispers, shutting the door behind you, as you both stand in the entryway.

You shake your head and cross both arms around your body.

"I don't know what to do Anne."

She wraps you into a big hug, one palm rubbing up and down your back for comfort.

"It'll be alright, darling. I just know it will." She pulls away, grabbing both sides of your face and lifting it to meet her intense gaze. "It'll be alright. I love my son, but I also love you, and I'm here for you too. Yes?"

"Okay." You whisper, choking back to lump in your throat.

"Let's go sit." She suggests, guiding you into the living room. As you walk in, you see Harry sprawled across the sofa, humming a tune and peeling a banana. He looks comfortable right there. But even better, or maybe worse, he also looks happy right there.

"Your sister will be by in a bit." Anne states, causing Harry to look up with a distinctly mischievous smirk. More noticeable than the one last night. It shows off one dimple, his left one, every time. It's a dead giveaway that he's about to throw out some major sass.

"I remember her being a pain in the ass." He chuckles. "I remember that correctly, yeah?"

"Harry…"

"M'just checking, Mum. Just tryna remember the important thing-" His eyes shoot over to yours and your stomach drops. You do your best to give him a small smile, and even a shrug, hoping he will believe that you don't mind.

Because who wouldn't mind the love of their life not even remembering that they love you, right?

The doorbell rings and you are snapped out of your thoughts, thankfully, as you see Gemma walking through the door.

"YN! Lady! I've missed you!" She exclaims, walking over and giving you a tight hug. "I'd ask how you've been but…"

She pulls away, holding both of your shoulders in her grasp, and stares into your eyes.

"Yeah." You shrug.

"M'fine by the way!" Harry shouts, grabbing his head and groaning from raising his voice. You reach in your bag and hand some medication to Gemma, as she makes her way over to him.

"Okay, lil brother, this'll be a rare sappy moment from me…" She hands him the pill and squats down next to his spot on the sofa. "But, I'm so glad you're okay. How are you feeling?"

"Yeah. Umm. M'fine, I guess. Everything hurts." He mumbles as he swallows the medication. His eyes flicker over to you before looking back to her. "And m'confused as fuck."

You grab a glass from the cupboard and pour some water, taking a gulp to swallow the lump in your throat.

Gemma's gaze then flickers over to you, and you see her smile. "Well, I know YN has always been good at taking care of you when you're sick so you're in good hands."

"M'not sick, Gem. I'm injured." He replies, with the stern furrow of his brow, that you know means he's fully serious.

"I know. Still applies." Gemma shrugs, kissing his forehead and standing back up.

"Harry, sweetheart, I pulled out a photo album." Anne states, pulling a large book off of the kitchen counter. "I thought you could take a look. Maybe it'll help to jog your memory."

"Can I please just relax first?" He sighs, leaning his head against the back of the sofa. "Feels good to finally relax."

"But-"

You place your hand on Anne's. "He's right. He should relax."

She returns your gaze with the most compassionate expression that eyes can give someone, and reluctantly nods.

"Maybe later then." She replies, placing the photo album back on the counter.

"Mhmm." He hums, placing his hands behind his head and closing his eyes.

Anne motions for you and Gemma to follow her to the backyard, and you walk out to the patio.

You sit down in a large, cushioned patio chair, and bring your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them for comfort.

"So, what did the doctor say?" Anne asks.

"Not much when I was in the room." You shrug. "Just that he needs to relax, not to pressure himself too much."

"Anything about his memory loss?" Gemma asks, and you shake your head.

"I guess she gave him some things he can do to help but…" You sigh. "I don't know."

"YN. It'll be alright." Anne states.

"I know he'll be fine." You reply, feeling your voice start to shake and some tears start to form. "But… I'm… I'm like a stranger to him now."

Anne shakes her head. "He'll remember."

"He loves you!" Gemma adds.

As you rest your chin on your knees, the tears begin to fall.

"Does he? Because I'm worried he won't remember that he does. And…" Your breath begins to quicken. "I'm worried he won't again."

They both move to sit on either side of you, on the arms of the chair, and run their hands up and down your back.

"It's been one day." Anne whispers. "I know it's hard. Give it a bit of time. He loves and adores you. He'll remember. It'll be alright."

You don't respond. You just bury your face in your knees and begin to let the tears flow freely. Anne kisses your head and both ladies stand up.

"We'll be inside." She whispers, and you hear the back door shut.

You know she's right. It's only day one and you're thinking the worst? You can't give up that quickly. And you have got to be strong for him.

You let out the last few tears that are sitting at the corners of your eyes, take in a deep breath, and shake out your hands.

You make your way back inside and to the living room to find Anne, Harry, and Gemma sitting on the sofa, flipping through the photo album Anne had pulled out earlier.

"These are your students at a recital last year." Anne states, directing Harry's attention to a photo in the middle of the page. In it, he had a huge grin of his face as he kneeled between three kids, their instruments in hand.

"So I still work at Edison Arts Academy?" He asks, looking up at his mom with a smile, seeing her nod. "Good."

"And this is you, Sarah, and Mitch at a gig downtown." Gemma points to another photo. "You remember them right?"

"F'course!" He exclaims. "But… we actually played gigs? That used to just be a dream I had."

"You were… are… really good." You chime in.

"I'd hope so. Otherwise I'd be glad to not remember embarrassing m'self."

He looks over the rest of the page and flips it over, landing on one filled with photos of just the two of you. Things he remembers absolutely nothing about.

"I… we… went to Jamaica?" He questions, his finger placed on top of a specific photo, which you took as he sat in front of a jerk chicken stand.

"Yes. You, YN, and a few of your friends." Anne responds.

"Never… I never thought I'd do that…"

"You volunteered for a summer program over there, to help teach kids to read music." You state.

"Oh… okay… that makes sense." He quickly looks to his side to meet your gaze. "So, do you teach as well?"

"Oh. No. You had asked me to go with you all. So we could have a little vacation together too." You clear your throat and sit up straighter.

"Oh." He looks back down at the photos. "That sounds nice."

You smile to yourself, remembering the late nights with everyone on the beach and the fit of giggles you burst into when trying to get up on the surfboards. Remembering the walks around the town with a delicious Jamaican coffee in one hand, and Harry gripping onto the other. Remembering the glow he constantly had on his face after those morning classes, beaming with pride over a student who had learned to play a new song.

"It really was."

He flips through some more pages, stopping to look at some photos of Christmas spent with his whole family, a couple of his cousin's new baby, and one particular photo that you didn't even know existed until this moment.

Anne holds the page down before Harry can move on, pulling out the photo and holding it in both of her hands.

"This is one of my favorites of you two."

You lean in closer, as does Harry, and see yourself sitting next to him on a piano bench. Your head is resting on his shoulder as his fingers press down on the keys.

"When was this?" You ask, looking back up at Anne.

"It was last spring, when I was really sick." She replies. "You both took the day off to take care of me. And when I came out from an afternoon nap, seeing this, I…"

She pauses and wipes some tears from her cheeks, holding the photo against her chest before bringing it back down to her lap.

"S'alright, Mum." Harry says, gently, rubbing his hand over hers. "What were you saying?"

She looks over to him with a smile, and then to you, turning her body slightly more towards yours. "It was the moment I knew that you truly loved Harry. And that we were important to you too."

Your eyes fill with tears again as you wrap each other in a hug.

"It's going to be alright." She whispers, pulling away and nodding when she meets your eyes.

Your attention is suddenly taken by Harry, watching as he pinches the bridge of his nose and groans.

"Fuck. This is a lot…" He mumbles. "I think I need to take a break."

"I'm sorry." You scoot away on the couch.

"No… you don't… you don't need to be sorry." He states, quickly meeting your gaze. "It's just…"

"A lot." You sigh.

He nods.

"Umm… I was thinking… I'll take a nap."

"Yeah, that's good." You reply.

"Mum, does my old room still have a bed?"

"It's a guest room, so yes. There's extra blankets in the closet." Anne states.

"My favorite one?"

Anne looks over to you, and you begin to bite your thumbnail, before quickly composing yourself and looking back up to him.

"It's at our place. You brought it with you when we moved in."

"Oh… okay. S'fine." He mutters, giving his mom a kiss on her forehead and stopping next to you. "I'll… be in there then."

You give him a small smile and turn around to watch him walk down the hallway.

"Do you want to take a nap too darling? You can use my bed, I just put on fresh sheets." Anne asks. "You deserve a rest too."

"No. Thank you." You sigh. "I think I'm gonna use the restroom and then sit outside again."

She gives you a kiss on your temple and moves to put away the photo album, so you head to the bathroom.

As you get inside, you splash some water on your face and dry off with a towel. You place your hands on either side of the sink, staring down at the drain, and wonder what it would be like to just get washed away. Find yourself somewhere else, and not have to deal with all of this.

You shake your head to shake out those thoughts. You can't feel sorry for yourself. Harry is going through a much harder time than you, and feeling down isn't going to help anyone. You're here for him. He needs you, even if he doesn't know it. He needs you, right?

You open the bathroom door and begin to walk back down the hallway, when you hear some hushed chatter coming from the guest room. You can't help but to stop where you are, unsure if you should listen in, but unable to move in any other direction.

"It's just weird, Mum. It's so weird." Harry whispers. "I don't know her."

"You do, Harry. You know her, and you love her." Anne replies.

"Everything is just so strange. So different. So confusing." You hear him sigh. "Like, this guest room feels more familiar than that flat I apparently have now."

"Just give it time, sweetheart." She utters. "I promise, it's a great life you have now."

You hear him sigh again, and your chest feels tight. It hurts that things aren't back to normal, but it hurts more that it's causing him so much uneasiness.

You head to the kitchen, turning on the sink and grabbing the dish soap.

Anne walks in and stands right next to you. "You're doing this to distract yourself, aren't you?"

You look up at her and nod. She knows you. You love that she knows you. At least one of them does.

"Alright. I'll be watching some shows. You don't need to clean the whole house, so join me when you're done."

"I will."

"YN…" She squints in your direction, waiting until you meet her gaze. "Please. Come relax with me when you're done."

"Okay. I will."

•••

Footsteps down the hallway cause you to look up from your phone, and sit up on the sofa.

Harry appears, running his hand through his hair as he looks over to you.

"Hi." You utter. "Good nap?"

"Mhmm." He replies. "Definitely need it. Where's my mum?"

He looks around the room.

"Oh, uh, she got called into work. And Gemma had some plans or something."

"Alright…" He replies. "So, should… we just head out then?"

"If you want to."

He shrugs. "Nothing else to really do, s'pose."

"Right. Okay."

You both grab your things and head to the car.

As you pull out of the driveway and head down the main road, you turn on the radio. You figure it'll feel like a long trip back, so some music will help ease the uncomfortable silence.

"I love this song." Harry states, as the first chords of a Rolling Stones song begin to play.

"You sing it all the time." You reply. "You actually play it at some of your gigs."

"I do?" He rubs the back of his neck, a sign that he feels awkward. "Guess that makes sense."

He turns to look out the window, tapping his fingers on his thigh, and humming along to the song.

"Hey… umm… would you rather stay at your mom's house?" You sigh, readying yourself for the answer you assume is soon to follow.

There is silence. You're not sure if that's any better than a quick response.

"Harry?" You utter, looking over to him as he stares out the car window.

"Hmm?" His head turns to you. "Sorry."

"It's okay." You look back to the road. "I was just saying, uh, that if you'd rather stay with your mom then I understand."

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his head drop as he fidgets with his hands. He's nervous.

"I… umm… no." He utters, and your head shoots back over to him. "It's… it's only fair to you… for me to try to, like, remember…"

"I don't want to put any pressure on you." You reply, trying to hold back the sudden, but subtle, fluttering you feel inside.

"No. No. You're not." He gives you a small smile, then furrows his brow slightly as he looks back down. "I want to… remember… I want to make sense of things. Y'know?"

"Yeah." You nod, turning back to the road with a tiny smile yourself.

Maybe this will work out. Maybe it will actually be alright. Maybe you'll get your Harry back.

"Is there anything specific you wanna know? Or do?" You ask timidly.

"Umm…" He shrugs. "What do you do? Like… for a job?"

"I'm an interior decorator for businesses."

"What does that entail?"

"I help businesses create an interior atmosphere that works best for the space that they have." You pause, noticing out of the corner of your eye that his gaze is fixated on you. He's always been an attentive listener, and it's nice to see that hasn't changed. "But, in basic terms, I pick wall colors and help place furniture in offices and restaurants."

He chuckles, and god you've missed that sound.

"I once heard… that the color blue… helps to decrease your appetite… like mindless snacking."

You unintentionally let out a big laugh.

"Is… is that wrong?" He asks quietly.

You shake your head and take a few breaths to calm down your reaction.

"No." You giggle once more, then clear your throat and completely compose yourself. "No. It's right. You just… you said the exact same thing the first time I told you what I do."

"I see." He chuckles again. "So… where… where did we meet?"

You instinctually bite your lower lip, looking over at him to see his wide eyes and lips pulled in, the expression he uses when he is calmly waiting for an answer from you.

"At a coffee shop called Way Cup."

"Way Cup?" He smiles. "Oh I get it. Clever."

"We… can go there if you want?" You bite the inside of your cheek, nervous and uncertain of what his answer will be, and how it'll feel to take him there.

"Umm… sure! Sounds nice." He agrees, and a mild flittering reappears inside.

•••

"Oh shit! Oh my god! I am so sorry!"

"S'alright." Harry chuckles. "Minor wounds to my sweater."

You shake the coffee off your hands, throw the now empty cup away, and pick up the cupcake you had just dropped on the ground.

"Poor thing didn't serve it's purpose."

"M'sorry… what?" Harry asks, causing you to finally look up to see the most beautiful green eyes you've ever come across.

"I… uh…" You let out a breathy exhale of a laugh. "I was treating myself. The cupcake was my reward. Now that it's on the ground, it doesn't get to do the job it was made for."

And now you are witness to the deepest, dimpled smile you've ever laid eyes on.

"That's poetic." He replies.

"Also makes me feel less guilty for indulging in it."

He looks down at the hand of yours that's covered in frosting, and then down at his sweater.

"Well, I think I need to get some napkins inside. And I'd love to help another cupcake achieve it's baked good goals. Can I buy you another, and a coffee?"

You feel your cheeks flush.

"It was my fault. You don't need to do that."

"I'd like to. To be fair, I wasn't really paying attention either." He motions towards the cafe door and you nod, leading the way back inside.

You reach the counter and order a foamed vanilla latte with caramel and another cupcake.

"Wow. You really like your sugar."

"Hey, I told you I am treating myself." You smile. "Plus, isn't that how life should be?"

"How's that?" He asks, with a raised eyebrow and a smirk to match his curiosity.

"Sweet." You bite your lower lip. "Life should always be sweet."

You both sit in silence at your table by the front window.

"So we met in this coffee shop." He nods as he stares down at his mug.

"Technically outside."

"Right." He nods again. "And we came here a lot?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm." He continues his head movements. "I just… wasn't normally one to… go out for coffee…"

"Yeah." You shrug.

"How long ago?... Like… how long ago did we meet?"

You begin to bite your thumbnail as you pretend to do a quick calculation in your head. But you know the answer.

"About two and a half years ago."

"Two and a half years?" He exclaims. "I've lost two and a half years?"

"Well…"

"What?" He looks up to you and scrunches his face.

"It's more like, three years. If…" You feel a knot forming in your stomach. "If you remember being with your ex…"

"For fucks sake!"

He rests his elbows on the table and runs his hands over his face.

"M'sorry, Harry." You whisper, holding back the tears beginning to appear.

"I just… I don't…" He sighs, now resting his face in his hands. "How can I… not remember?"

"I need to know something." You state timidly.

"Alright…"

"What is the last thing that you do actually remember?" You immediately regret asking, your heart bracing itself for some hurt that is inevitably headed in your direction.

His eyes shoot up to yours.

"Are you sure?... Like, I don't…" He clears his throat. "I don't want to… make you uncomfortable…"

"I want to know." You shrug, looking down and biting your nail again. "Maybe we can figure out where to start."

"Well… I remember… getting ready for an event…" He furrows his brow, wrapping one arm across his body and bringing the other hand to pull on his lower lip. "A fancy event. I was in a suit."

You know. You know exactly what event it was.

"I think…" You sigh, feeling another large knot forming within. "I think I might have a way to help you out, with the memories."

"What's that?"

"I think there's someone who could maybe help clear things up…"

"Oh?" Harry perks up. "Who?"

Your eyes squeeze shut, and so does your heart, as you take in a deep breath. You can't believe you are about to say it.

"Tabitha."

~~~~~

Series Masterlist

If you'd like to send extra support, I love coffee 💗Bee xx

~~~~~

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[tomtenadia]

A Little Braver - 68

weekend chapter.. I like this one.. a lot for so many reasons... Rowan and Aelin take a huge step in their relationship. Rowan has a meeting with an old acquaintance and Aelin gets to fuss over him. CW: death, description of wounds, language. There are a few medical abbreviations thrown around: GCS stands for Glasgow Coma scale CSF is cerebrospinal fluid DOA means dead on arrival TBI is traumatic brain injury

Slowly the months had turned and the new year came along too.

Aelin’s team had been on shift since they had the solstice off. 

It had been a hectic hogmanay and they had plenty of calls. Fires started by fireworks going wild and all sorts of other issues. Aelin hated it.

But what she had hated the most was that at midnight she had not been with Rowan. The ambulance had gone on a call on their own and later on they had been called too to another site where a group of teenagers had set off the fireworks far too close to the bushes of someone’s garden and almost set the house on fire.

She had run to kiss him as soon as she got back.

Now it was their day off and were both in the living room enjoying a relaxing afternoon. Outside was bitter cold and they had both decided to have a cozy day at home.

Rowan was sitting on one end of the sofa staring intently at his phone, while Aelin was laying down with her head in his lap and a book in her hands. 

With one hand Rowan held the phone, while with the other he stroked her head.

Aelin stopped reading for a moment and looked up at her boyfriend. His brows furrowed in concentration “Why are you staring at your phone as if you are mad at it?”

No answer.

“Ro, I am touching myself in a sensual way.”

That caused a reaction. He shifted his gaze from the screen and looked down at her “don’t tease me.”

“At least I got your attention.”

“Hm?”

Aelin huffed a puff and sat down “What at you looking at in such deep concentration?” She angled her body to sneak a peek and noticed a real estate website.

“Why are you looking at houses?”

He placed the phone on the side table and pulled her to him “I know we discussed this in passing a while ago, but how do you feel about buying our own place? Something bigger, perhaps in the outskirts…” he had been thinking about it for a while “it’s okay if you don’t want to leave this house. We can stay here. I love it anyway.”

Aelin straddled him and her hand brushed his cheek “I love the idea of buying our house. For our family. I love it so much.”

A big smile illuminated his face then he grabbed his mobile once more and showed Aelin some of the places he had been browsing.

“I still have all the money that I got from my flat. I set it aside.”

She looked at him in surprise.

“Once we made my move official I decided to keep the money in case one day we took the decision to take a bigger step.”

Aelin kissed him “and we can add the money from when we sell this house. It’s in a nice part of the city, we should be able to get a good deal,” she grabbed his phone “let me see what you have.”

For a while they just kept on browsing and discussing every single house they looked, until Aelin swiped to the next house and gasped “Ro…”

The image in front of them showed a lovely detached house with pastel green walls, a porch and a garden at the front. It was over two floors. At the back it had a larger garden and they could see the woods in the distance. Rowan checked the map and noticed that it was in the north of Orynth in the outskirts. The driveway at the front was nicely kept and it had also a shed. They started looking at the picture of the interiors and it was love at first sight. The kitchen was rustic with a big island and the furniture in a light toned wood. The living room was spacious and Aelin started thinking on how many bookcases she could place. On the ground floor it had the utilities room, a spare bathroom and a smaller room that could be a studio. The upper floor had four bedrooms. The master one had an ensuite bathroom and Rowan commented on the size of the shower room. The bedroom also had floor to ceiling windows and access to the balcony.

The other rooms were generous in size too and there was a communal bathroom down the hall. 

The house came with an attic too.

“Rowan we need to go and see it. This is the one.”

Rowan frowned.

“What? This house is amazing.”

“I know… the price is far too low for such a huge house. I wonder if it has issues.”

“It’s the location,” she explained him “Ae and Lys are looking too. They had started with the city but the prices for such houses were astronomical. As soon as they decided to move to the outskirts the prices went down by a lot and are now looking at the northern end too. According to Lys all the good deals are there.”

“What if we end up bidding against them?”

Aelin laughed “Oh no, don’t worry. I know which houses Lys has her eyes on. We are safe.”

Rowan kissed her head “So, what do you think, fireheart? Shall we start this new chapter?”

Aelin kissed him deeply “Yes, Ro. Let’s do it.”

*

Eventually the magic of two days off had vanished and it was time to go back to work. Aelin and Rowan had taken their new mission very seriously and as soon as they decided to go ahead and look to buy a house she had contacted the estate agency dealing with the sale. Rowan, being always the rational in the relationship had told her that it was worth it to keep shopping and have at least two more alternatives to look at. Aelin being the impulsive one had told him that she did not want to look at other places and that he could live precariously for once. Rowan had eventually yielded. They had managed to organise a viewing for the following day and Aelin had been buzzing. 

The house turned out to be stunning, but Rowan had started asking a lot of question, to enquire about its state and age and they had found out that the neighbourhood was a new residential area built only in the past twenty years. The house was fifteen years old. The family selling it had to move away due to a job relocation. The real estate agent had explained that being a new build it was extremely well insulated and that the current family had installed appliances that were environmentally friendly. Both of them had loved that. Insulation in a place like Orynth was key to avoid enormous gas bills. Before leaving the meeting, Rowan had asked to have a copy of the house report from the estate agency and he had spent the evening perusing it, looking for possible issues, but it seemed that the previous owners had taken great care of the house.

The following morning they had phoned their agent and made an offer. It was going to be a long painful process but Aelin hoped they would manage to get that house. She had fallen in love with it.

In her office she was busy as usual when Lys popped in.

“Hi you…”

The dark haired woman sat down on the chair “so, how did it go with house shopping?”

Aelin smiled. Of course she had texted Lys and showed the house they had chosen and was relieved when her friend told her that it was not on their shopping list. Lys had told her that they had chosen well and Aelin had confessed that they had placed a bid.

“We are still waiting for an answer. I want that house, Lys.”

Her friend laughed “Ae and I just lost one. Someone apparently made a much bigger offer and it was far more than we could afford so we had to pass.”

“Was it option 1 or 2?”

“1…”

“Rich bastard.”

Lys laughed “we have now option 3,” and on her phone she showed Aelin the place “it’s in east Orynth towards the Florine. This one comes with a bit of land too. Ae is already thinking about building a vegetable patch and grow his own spices and veggies.”

“Lys, this place is incredible, it looks like a farm.”

“It was, but it has been modernised and transformed into a house. I love it.”

“Are you going for this one?”

“Yes, we made our offer too.”

Aelin stood and went to hug her friend “look at us, you are married and pregnant and now buying a  house.”

“I need to convince Rowan to pop the question too. He is back now. He has no more excuses for waiting.”

“Lys…”

“What? What is he waiting for? Don’t you want to snatch him up forever?”

“Yes, a lot… we are just… waiting…”

“For what?”

Aelin sighed. Lysandra had no idea about Rowan’s past with Lyria.

“We will, when we are ready.”

In that instant dispatch alarm went off calling for the ambulance “Saved by the bell.”

Lys ran to the ambulance and joined Elide and Rowan and took her place in the passenger seat “fuck, do not run when pregnant.”

“Just don’t be sick in the ambulance,” joked Elide while passing her one of the ginger biscuits she kept in the vehicle. Lys was fine most of times, but while in the ambulance she would get queasy very easily.

They arrived at the site very quickly and got off the ambulance. Rowan froze when he recognised the person walking towards them: Helen. His ex mother in law. Fuck.

Elide and Lys walked to the house but he stood facing the woman. He then shook his head and walked away to join the two women.

He found them in the kitchen. One of the ladies was explaining what happened and he caught the tail end of it. The woman had slipped on some water and had badly bashed her head on the marble floor and fell unconscious. He crouched down slowly and Lys told him to take the lead. In that instant Helen walked back in and when she saw Rowan near her friend she lost it “do not let him near her. Get him away from my friend.”

Rowan ignored her and kept working on the patient. Elide stood and went to deal with the screaming woman “I’ll sue you. You touch her and I’ll sue you. And then I’ll drag you down as well for killing my daughter.”

Lysandra’s head snapped up and looked at him, but Rowan remained focused. His attention all on the woman in front of him. He spoke to Lys after having assessed the situation and she approved of his treatment. Once the patient was stable he stood and walked to Helen “I am just doing my job. Are you suing me for helping your friend? Go on but don’t cry when you lose,” his chest was heaving “and Lyria died in an accident. I wasn’t even in the fucking country.”

“No exactly. You were never here. You killed her with your absence. Your marriage killed her.”

Rowan tried to calm his nerves “I have to go…”

“So, the airforce finally kicked you out? Did you change job because your woman got tired of you?”

Rowan collected his jump bag “If you want to see your friend we are taking her to Med. And call her husband or next of kin if she has one.” Then he walked away ignoring his ex-mother in law.

Ignoring old wounds threatening to open once more.

He jumped in the back of the ambulance and sat down staring at his shaking hands.

They dropped off the victim and once free, Lys dragged him to the coffee cart outside the hospital with Elide.  He took the coffee and they sat down in silence until Lys spoke “I have to ask…”

Rowan sighed “Before I met Aelin I was married,” he started. He owed them an explanation “Her name was Lyria. Our marriage was… complicated. We were happy at the beginning, but Lyria started hating that I was in the airforce very quickly. We fought. Badly. Every time I came back from deployment she resented me more and more.” He took a sip of the coffee “then she became pregnant. I was happy. Until the night before one of my deployments when I found divorce papers in a drawer and a letter from her lawyer saying that I would not win any custody of the child,” another sip to give him time to gather his thoughts “While I was away she had a car accident. One that you guys attended. She and the baby died.”

Lys placed a hand on his shoulder “Our marriage was a mess but I still grieved…” he looked at them “I also always had a suspicion that the child was not mine and Helen confirmed it last year. While I was away Lyria had been living another life with another man.”

Only Aelin and Lorcan fully knew the details of his marriage “Helen met Aelin and… well, Aelin was amazing at holding her own.”

“Rowan… I am so sorry,” whispered Elide.

“That’s why it took Aelin and me a while. She was grieving Sam and I was… dealing with my mess.” 

Lys grabbed his hand “I love Aelin… madly. I want to marry her but my fears hold me back. I have the ring… but I can’t ask her yet. I am terrified. I cannot fuck up things with her.”

Lysandra smiled and all of a sudden a lot of things made sense. Some of Aelin’s admissions all fit into place after Rowan’s confession. But of one thing was certain: Rowan loved her and Aelin did too “Rowan, you will not fuck up. I can see how in love you are. I have seen her with Sam and it was not like this. I never told her because she is my best friend and I love her, but I don’t think she and Sam would have lasted long,”

Rowan looked at Lysandra in surprise.

“And by the way… your ex wife sounds like a bitch.”

Rowan finally chuckled “Sorry about inside.”

“Are you kidding me? How you managed to stay calm with that woman shouting was beyond me. I was about to punch her for you,” added Elide.

“Looks like military training has its uses.”

“I’ll sue,” shouted Elide imitating Helen “you keep obstructing us and I call PD on you. Bitch.”

Rowan laughed “now I can see why Lorcan is so taken by you. He likes women with a very strong personality.”

Elide smiled smugly.

Rowan eventually stood “let’s get back to quarters.”

Back at the station they parked the ambulance and Rowan said he was going to the storage room and grab some supplies. Lys and Elide exchanged glances and walked quickly to Aelin’s office.

“Can we come in?” Lys knocked on the door and opened it.

“What?”

Lysandra blurted out in a second all of that had happened on their call and mentioned the fact that Rowan had told them about Lyria.

Aelin’s heart ached “where is he?”

“Stocking up.”

“This does not leave this office. Rowan felt he could tell you but it must have not been easy,” her tone hard, feeling all of a sudden very protective of him “It’s a painful topic for him and I think he had enough pain so far.”

“Of course, I would never reveal anything this personal.”

“Thank you.”

“I had no idea he was married and now a lot of what you said in the past makes sense. Everything about you two is finally clear.”

“I think you should go to him. You know that the stock room is the paramedic equivalent of the gear room for you guys.”

Aelin nodded “Thank you for being with him.” Aelin hugged them both and ran out of her office. She climbed the stairs two at a time and burst in the storage room and spotted Rowan looking out of the big window, his hands braced on the ledge.

“Ro?”

His head turned and she could not make up his expression. In a few quick steps she was against him and buried her face in his chest while her arms wrapped around him. Rowan kissed her head and held her “I guess they told you.”

Aelin nodded and looked up at him in his green eyes.

“I am okay,” and she felt his arms squeeze her “I am more mad than anything else. The fact that she was trying to stop me from doing my job.”

“Are you sure?”

A soft kiss on her head “I am really okay, fireheart. My therapist and I have dealt with this as well and I am fine. It’s in the past.”

She looked at him and saw it was the truth. Gone was the deep grief she had seen in him when they met Helen the first time “Lys was impressed by how calm you were while she was shouting at you. Iceman indeed.”

Rowan chuckled “I had to explain it to Lys and Elide too, though.”

“Ro, it’s your past. If you are comfortable sharing it, I have no issues.”

He kissed her.

“If you are fine why did it look like you were contemplating murder?”

“My knee,” he said quietly “I sat on my haunched a bit too long during the call and it has been stiff all day. Must be the weather.”

Aelin laughed “You sound like such an old man…”

“It’s true. It has something to do with barometric pressure dropping.”

“So, bad weather is coming?”

He smiled “maybe rain.”

“Go and ask Lys to give you something for the pain.”

“After…”

Aelin looked at him with curiosity, then his hands landed on her hips and clumsily reached the wall and Rowan pinned her against it. His mouth found hers and Aelin melted in the kiss “hmm…”

“Someone is needy today,” she hummed against his mouth.

“For you… always.”

They kissed for another good five minutes then Rowan pulled back “I better take some stuff down and get painkillers from Lys.”

Aelin kissed his nose “Go, my sexy paramedic.”

Rowan grabbed his basket with the supplies and walked to the door but before leaving he turned to Aelin “Love you.”

Aelin moved to the big window and stared at her team going about whatever chore Manon had assigned them and smiled. The woman would be the perfect person to replace her if for any reason she had to stop being a captain. The idea pained her, thinking about leaving the firehouse was scary, but thanks to Rowan she had another plan for the future. She wanted kids. After Lys’ announcement she had realised that she wanted that for them too. To see Rowan being a dad. Aelin had no doubts he’d be wonderful.

She studied him laugh with the team and smiled. The whole ordeal after Gavriel’s death had been hard on him, but as she looked at him now she saw a man who seemed finally at peace with himself. No matter how happy, before, he always had a sort of sadness in him. Looking at him he was now a changed man and she thought she could not love him even more than what she already did. He looked up at his eyes met hers. With his hand he waved at her and gave him a huge grin. Aelin waved back and blew him a kiss. Then an idea popped up. Aelin walked to the clear door and exited on the small landing area and went through the small gate that allowed access to the pole. There was only one meeting room left upstairs, the rest had been converted into storage room for the paramedics, so the pole was barely used now. She then did something she hadn’t done in a long time. Her hands grabbed the pole and slid down squealing with delight.

She was walking back to her office when dispatch alarm went off “Let’s go!” She shouted to her teams while running to the engine. Gear on, Aelin climbed on her seat next to Nox.

“Lorry crashed in a shop.”

The three vehicles sped through the streets. The holidays were over and kids were back at school and people at work after the break and the roads were busy once more.

Even with the sirens blaring, traffic would not move. Aelin honked a few times angrily “move the fuck away, you idiots,” she shouted while hanging outside of the window. The traffic finally peeled away and they managed to pass through, all the while Aelin was raging. The longer it took them the more they were endangering possible victims. They finally reached the location and Aelin gasped. She knew it. It was a small deli shop that she and Rowan visited from time to time. The vehicle had slammed right into it. That was going to be a mess.

“Manon, you Ress and Ansel work on the driver,” assessing the situation she started to deploy her teams “Luca, check for fuel leaks,” then to the rest of the team “spread around the shop, look for victims, assess them and take them out.” Then grabbed the radio “paramedics, multiple victims coming your way soon. You are not coming in unless I say so.”

Over the comms Lysandra copied and in the background she heard Dorian’s voice.

The shop was a mess. The lorry had plowed through, aisles were all knocked over and the entrance looked quite unstable “Brullo, try and clear the entrance, we cannot have it collapse on us while we carry people out.” The older man grabbed Borte and the two went to work.

Aelin grabbed a victim laying on the floor, her head bloodied and the leg at a wrong angle “Wes!” She shouted at the man “go outside and grab a backboard,” in the meantime she kept assessing the woman. She was breathing, that was a start. Wes came back quickly with the board “I am setting the leg, then we are taking her out.” Luckily there was a small gap where they could walk through. Aelin grabbed the woman’s leg and fixed it as she had been shown. The victim responded at the pain and Aelin took that as a small victory. With Wes she then loaded the woman on the backboard and walked outside.

A few more ambulances had joined theirs. Her three paramedics ran to her “GCS 8, I reset the leg.” Lysandra directed the victim to the ambulance and walked to Aelin “you need to let us in.”

“No.”

“Aelin, if you have multiple victims you cannot deal with all of them. You are delaying treatment.”

Aelin breathed in “I am not placing more people in danger. The structure is not stable and I cannot allow you inside.”

Lysandra tried to protest “I am the captain. You do as I say,” and walked away.

Back inside she saw Manon’s group free the driver, he had a head laceration and her lieutenant mouthed the word unconscious. Turning to the window she spotted a man with glass stuck in his abdomen. She ran to him and kneeled and looked around “Dorian, I need you to send one paramedic in. Man with glass in his abdomen, he is conscious.”

Dorian’s response came over the radio.

“Hi, what’s your name?”

“Sebastian.”

“Sebastian, you have glass in your belly, we have paramedic coming in. They will look after you.” She took his hand and stayed with him until Elide walked in. She nodded to the man and let her friend work while keeping an eye on the ceiling. Having Elide inside she was now worrying. They were taking the last two victims out when it happened. The structure, weakened by the crash,               collapsed all over them. She shouted in time and they all flattened on the floor and covered the two civilians. And while on her belly on the floor, that’s when she spotted something under the lorry. Fuck fuck and fuck. Quickly she stood, removed her jacket and ran to the van. It was a person.

“Cap, what are you doing?” It was Nox but she ignored him.

Slowly she squeezed under the vehicle “there’s a person.”

A  moment later Ansel removed her jacket and joined her from the side. They were the only two who could actually fit under the vehicle and had paramedic training.

Aelin froze when she discovered it was a boy. Nine, maybe ten.

“Manon, update Dorian, we have a boy stuck under the van. We are assessing him.”

The lieutenant reported to the chief and Aelin went back to the little boy. There was so much blood.

While Ansel checked his abdomen Aelin looked at his head “someone pass me a small torch.”

From under the van she spotted Ren kneeling and passing her the item. She forced his eyes open and flashed the light. Pupils non responsive. Her eyes met Ansel and both knew it was bad.

“Manon,” she shouted “report out that the boy’s eyes are non responsive he has a head contusion, Ansel says he might have internal injuries and—”

She stopped when she felt something near his ear that was not blood. Fuck “I think I have CSF coming from the ear, the skull feels cracked.”

“Aelin you need to extract immediately.”

“We are trying, chief.”

She looked out and saw her team passing her a backboard. Ansel grabbed the other end and together in the cramped space they placed the boy on it. And slid him out where someone caught him.

She breathed out and leaned her head against the cold floor. Ansel’s hand went on her back “we did all we could.”

“No, we didn’t.” Slowly she crawled out and saw that the shop was clear. Aelin felt tears sting.

They had missed the boy. With a heavy heart she collected her hat and jacket and walked out. The ambulances were all away but her team was there for her. In a fit of rage she threw her jacket on the ground and walked away and sat in a corner. Knees to her chest and let the tears flow. 

Dorian was kneeling in front of her a moment later.

“Aelin…”

“I fucked up.”

“No, you didn’t,” he told her knowing full well that Aelin tended to blame herself for every death.

“No? Dorian, I fucking missed a child under the lorry. And he is dead. Because I am a joke for a captain,” she growled “damn your father was right. I am not good for this.”

Dorian was always calm but he knew what his father had put Aelin through. He knew her since he was a captain at west and she just an eager firefighter. She had been amazing from day one.

“My father was a joke of a firefighter. He would never risk his life the way you do, and crawl under a van? Fuck, the man would send someone else. Do not let the bastard affect you,” his words harsh “You dealt with the victims you had around. They were your priority. It was probably a fucking mess inside. I would not have thought about looking under the van straight away.”

Aelin sobbed “if I checked before…”

Dorian placed his hand on her shoulder “it would not have made the difference. I saw the wound in the day light. The skull had caved in. He was DOA. The front of the lorry must have hit him head on.”

“What about all of the other victims?”

“All to Med. The man with the glass in the belly was stable. Lys hooked him on pain meds and padded the wound for transport. The victim with the broken leg was okay too. A lot of bruises, cuts, no other major injuries.”

“What about the boy? Was he there on his own?”

“No one was asking for him,” and then he pointed to a bike “he probably came here on his own. PD is asking around for and ID on him and call the family.”

Aelin nodded and sighed heavily and then stood “Lys is going to have my head.”

“You made the right call. Too dangerous to send them in and you were right. The ceiling came down.”

“You tell her that.”

“I did.”

Eventually they walked back and her team stared at her and Ansel went to her for a hug “There was nothing we could have done for him.”

“I know,” whispered Aelin hugging the woman back.

Brullo handed her back the jacket and hat “Chief, can we quickly drop by the hospital for an update?”

“Just shed the bunker gear, it’s covered in shit and I can see Sorscha kicking you all out.”

“Well, you can put a good word for us,” joked Ress.

“I don’t have all that power.”

Aelin rode to the hospital with a heavy heart. All the what ifs running through her head. If only she had done things differently maybe… A deep sigh left her when Nox announced they had arrived. They shed the dirty and dusty bunker gear and remained in their uniform and dirty faces.

Dorian went in first and they followed. Sorscha went to them as soon as she spotted a wall of blue “You are not coming any further than that.”

“But the gear is off,” protested Dorian “they are relatively clean.

“They are covered in dust and who knows what else. You are staying in the lobby and do not set foot in my A&E.”

“She is bossy,” Ansel gently elbowed Dorian and wiggled her eyebrows at him.

“The victims are all being treated. The man with the glass in the abdomen is in surgery but doc thinks he will be fine. The lady with the broken leg is in ortho and whoever reduced the fracture saved the limb.” She then looked at all of them “the boy arrived here dead. The TBI had been catastrophic. He very likely died on impact, the edema was very severe.”

“Did you manage to find his family?” Asked Aelin from her corner.

“PD has asked around. He was know to the locals. He was eleven and lived with his grandma, an old lady and he looks after her. The parents are gone and she is the guardian. A social worker keeps an eye on the case. He goes there to buy fresh food for his gran.”

Aelin wanted to scream. What kind of society would leave an eleven years old boy with a sick grandmother and let him do everything?

“The neighbours helped them in all the way they could,” added Sorscha.

Aelin walked outside and sat on the bumper of the engine pushing down her pain. Why that death affected her so much? She had seen far more gruesome stuff but for some reason losing that boy was reducing her to a wreck.

Her team joined her ten minutes later and Nox pulled her to the cabin “let’s go back, cap. At the station we’ll have the captain fuss over you.”

“Oh, he’ll love that.”

Nox patted her leg “we are here too.”

“I know…” whispered Aelin while the engine slowly glided through traffic and back to quarters.

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp​ @swankii-art-teacher​ @whimsicallyreading​ @aelin-bitch-queen​ @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity​ @acreativelydifferentlove @mis-lil-red​ @thegreyj​ @sailorsassley​ @leiawritesstories​ @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire​ @sv0430​ @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon​ @rowanaelinn​ @backtobl4ck​ @susumaus98​ @gracie-rosee​ @mybloodrunsblue​ @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah​ @whoever-you-choose-to-love​ @theywillnotsingforme​ @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water​ @goddess-aelin​ @lovely-dove-zee​

[dannyboy-writes]

Broken - Part VI

When they arrived on base the team of doctors that Maria had asked for took you off her hands, and immediately sent you to an OR.

“Do you need anything?” Maria asked. “Do you want to hit something?”

Natasha shook her head. “No.”

“Do you want me to do anything?”

“No, thank you. I just- I need some space,” she said, looking at her blood soaked hands.

Maria nodded and patted her back, leaving to file the paperwork and to interview the hostages again.

Natasha was hypnotized by your blood all over her. Frozen in her spot, replaying everything you ever said to her.

I’ll be back before you say my name.

Now she wished she had cut you off and made you leave immediately.

Her mind blurred every sound it found as she made her way to the showers. The floor started to spin under her and she had to hold onto a nearby wall to not collapse.

Once in the showers she got rid of her blood-drenched clothes and turned on the hot water until it burned her skin, trying to feel something other than helpless.

She scrubbed her hands so hard that her skin turned red. But at least she didn’t have your blood on her anymore.

You’ll see, you’ll replace me in no time.

Her tears became enraged sobs as she thought of that conversation.

If she could go back she would’ve told you to quit right there. No last bang. No last nothing. She would’ve dragged you out of SHIELD and given that letter to Fury herself.

After crying all the water within her she left the showers and went to the med bay, hoping you were already out of the OR.

-

When she got there, she saw you hooked to machines and wires. Bandages all over you.

She pulled a chair to your side and played with your bracelet; her mind wandering to the darkest of places.

She saw Doctor Cho approach her and loosened her grip on your wrist, shifting it to her own hands.

“Their injuries are extensive,” Dr. Cho explained as Natasha now fiddled with her fingers. “There is no way of telling when they’ll wake up.” She paused.

“What,” Natasha inquired.

Part of her knew the rest of that sentence, but she hated the thought of it.

“There’s no way of knowing if Y/n will wake up. They’ve had several traumatisms to their head, the damage is too large,” Dr. Cho raised her hand to her nose and sighed. “I should’ve insisted on that desk job.”

Natasha blinked in surprise. You hadn’t mentioned any desk job.

“What desk job?”

“They didn’t tell you? I assumed they would’ve. I’m sorry.”

“Tell me what, Hellen?”

“The last time they were on desk duty, I put them there. They’d just returned from a mission with all but a broken skull,” she paused to see how Natasha was dealing with the information. “I told them about the TBI, but they insisted on continuing their work. One last mission they said.”

“TBI…” Natasha searched her mind for the syllables.

“Traumatic Brain Injury,” Dr. Cho clarified.

Everything clicked in Natasha’s brain.

The holidays, the dizziness, all the months stuck on paperwork. Even the bitter coffee.

Why hadn’t you said anything?

You should’ve said something.

One last mission.

So this had been happening for some time already. She replayed every conversation with you to try to find that first moment, but she found nothing. Only memories that left her breathless.

At some point Dr. Cho was called about another patient and left Natasha with you. But she didn’t notice, too lost in her thoughts.

She only realized moments later, when the light the woman was covering hit her in the face, breaking her off of her daydreams.

-

She visited every day, even asked Fury to put a hold on her missions or, if need be, that they were near the base.

The man had asked her if she wanted time off, but she declined. Working kept her busy, and she didn’t like where her mind went when she wasn’t busy.

She went to your parents house, who understood instantly.

Your mum broke into your father’s chest, who just held her close. He was still standing but his eyes were empty now.

After that day they moved you to another hospital, one where your parents could go visit at any time without having to face all that red tape.

Natasha found a letter in your apartment. Sealed and with nothing but her name in the envelope. And after many tears she found one for your parents as well.

After a long two months of visiting you, of endless hoping, your parents told her the news. Heavy news.

They were letting you go.

Her heart shattered in a million tiny pieces, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

“It’s what they wanted, we are very sorry, miss Romanoff,” your father said.

Apparently the letter you’d written for them had a will attached to it.

It took all of Natasha to not cry in front of them and she gulped before asking, “When is it happening?”

-

She stood in your grave for almost two hours after the ceremony, with the sky getting darker by the minute.

Warm tears rolled down her cheeks, as she knelt by the stone, muttering promises and goodbyes.

She headed to the bar after collecting herself and sat in your usual booth.

It felt too empty.

She waited for her drink and gave an empty toast.

It was tradition but now that you weren’t there it felt wrong.

You were gone, and she was broken.

[talkfastromance4]

Falling into Place--Calum Hood (part V soulmate!au) Final

A/N: this has been a long time coming. Thank you to those who have read and been patient with me while I finished this. This is my first soulmate!au and I enjoyed every minute of it. Please let me know what you think :)

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: mentions of TBI (traumatic brain injury) and PTA (post traumatic amnesia) after a concussion, mention of car accident, angst, mentions of smut

donate to my ko-fi here :)

Masterlist

The Click || Measured in Moments || Fractures || Against All Odds 

• • • •

It’s been a week since Rose has woken up, a week since Calum’s light was restored and destroyed by three little words. Who is he replays on a loop in his head every second of the day.  He thinks of that day while he gets ready to head to the hospital, he’s been staying at home during the nights since Rose woke up. It’s easier for her but harder for him.

He lets the hot water fall over him as he remembers the moments after Rose asked who he was.

Dr. Robbins pulled him quickly from the room talking about how Rose has PTA and Calum’s confused by the letters associated with a club of parents at schools.

“It’s Post Traumatic Amnesia, there’s no telling how long it will last but is very common in patients who have been in a coma for so long,” she explained kindly.

“What does that mean exactly?” he asked.

“Rose is in a state of confusion, she’s very disoriented. When we get back in there I’m going to ask her simple questions like her name, how old she is and who the President is. This paired with her traumatic brain injury is going to be very difficult for Rose. I need you to be calm for her and not stress her out, she’s under enough as it is.”

“But…she doesn’t remember me,” Calum stressed, brown eyes befuddled.

“Sometimes that happens, her memory should return but for right now we need to focus on her walking in therapy after we remove the fixator and continue to ask her questions to try and refresh her memory.”

When they went back into the room, Rose’s eyes still fearful and apprehensive, Dr. Robbins asked her the questions aforementioned and Rose answered easily. Her eyes lingered to Calum.

“Can you try and tell me what the last thing you remember is? If you can’t, that’s okay,” Dr. Robbins assured her.

Rose’s brows furrowed as she played with the fluffy fabric of her blanket. “I remember driving…and it was raining and…” her brows furrowed more then lifted to look at Dr. Robbins. “That’s all I remember.”

“Okay,” Dr. Robbins smiled warmly, “let’s get this off of you now, hm?”

Calum stands in the corner of the PT room where Rose practices walking with her crutches. Her arms shook at her first attempt of walking with the aids and Calum desperately wanted to help her but kept his distance. Dr. Robbins had to continually remind him to give her a medium berth since she doesn’t know who he is.

They were distant while she was asleep but now that she’s here he’s never felt so far apart. She’s right within reach and he can’t touch her, hold her.

“That’s good, Rose!” Anna, the PT nurse who’s helping her praises. “Let’s do a couple more lengths and you can go back to the room where Jane and Dr. Robbins will explain the discharge procedure.”

Calum chews on the corner of his thumb, silently cheering his girl on as she continues to hobble across the room. Her determination and stubbornness hasn’t left which is good. Rose is still Rose, the part that loves and knows him just needs a moment to catch up.  

After discharge procedures were explained, the nurses and other staff members that helped Rose and provided comfort to Calum, all came to say goodbye to her with a large bouquet of flowers. She was hugged by many before being helped into her wheelchair that Calum would use to wheel her down to his car. Jane would accompany them by carrying the crutches.

While walking down the halls, her flowers in her lap, Calum wanted to bend down and kiss the top of her head. He wanted to find her rose and rainwater smell, something to ease his mind but he held himself back. His knuckles turned white from squeezing the handles so hard.

The car ride is silent as she gazes out the window, her hands lay perfectly still in her lap. Thankfully, the traffic wasn’t bad, so they arrived home in record time.

“Um, I don’t know if you remember but we do have two dogs, Duke and Honey,” Calum informs her. “I’m sure they’ll be excited to see you when we head in.”

“Oh. Okay,” she nods.

He stares at her for a moment, waiting for something more but when nothing comes he gets out of the car and grabs her crutches. He helps her from the car, making sure the crutches are in the right spot then leads the way to the front door.

When he opens the door, they’re greeted by a loud “WELCOME HOME, ROSE!” and thunderous claps. Unbeknownst to him, all of their friends are there with a large banner above their heads for her homecoming. Ashton and Ruby, Michael and Crystal, Luke, and Mali all wore smiles and then the dogs scampered across the floor. Calum stares in shock because he hasn’t had a chance to tell them about Rose’s current state of mind.

Duke and Honey sniffed at Calum and Rose’s legs, smelling hospital but still smelling that they’re family. Calum can feel Rose’s anxiety rising, he sees it in her eyes as she cowers behind him staring at people she loves but doesn’t recognize right now. When she grasps his hand tightly he’s filled with a mixture of happiness that she reached for him but then also sadness because it means something different to her. He’s only a familiar face to her right now because he’s been with her at the hospital.

“Uh, thanks everyone,” Calum clears his throat. “Rose is a little tired and can’t be on her foot too long so I’m going to get her settled.” He turns to her ducking his head near her ear. “It’s all right, you’re safe,” he whispers.

He gives Ashton a look then rests his hand on the small of her back while everyone else is confused at their quick departure.

“Do I know all of those people?” she asks once he’s got her settled in bed.

“They’re our friends,” he smiles sadly. “They don’t know about your amnesia but I’ll them now so they can leave.”

“Okay. I’m…sorry I don’t…remember.” Her brows furrow and she shakes her head. Dr. Robbins said her speech would be a little difficult at times and to be patient.

He has all the patience in the world for her.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby—Rose,” he quickly catches himself from using a pet name. He’s itching to reach out to her and comfort her, place his hand on her cheek, kiss her hair; but he doesn’t want to push too much when she feels so lost.

“Can the dogs…stay?”

He smiles then pats his hand on the bed for the dogs to jump up on. They immediately crowd her in snuggles, Duke licks her chin and Honey rests her head on her tummy. Rose smiles and pets them both, her anxiety lessening.  

He’s met with confused expressions and a thousand questions as he returns back to the living room. Ashton is at the forefront of it all, his eyes full of concern. Calum explains about her PTA, that she doesn’t recognize him or any of them, and his hopes that it will go away soon. Ruby and Mali cry at the bit of news and the guys are deflated.

“She doesn’t remember you at all?” Crystal frowns.

“No. She knows my name. Dr. Robbins and I have told her we’re engaged but…she’s just really lost right now. Her brain needs more time to catch up.”

“What can we do?” Ruby asks touching Ashton’s arm, her motion including them as a unit. As one.

“For now, go home I guess,” Calum shrugs then sighs. The day’s events are catching up to him. “I’m sorry you guys went through all this trouble. When she’s herself again we’ll have another party, okay?”

“Do you want one of us to stay?” Luke asks.

“I don’t want to overstimulate her. It’s been a tough day.”

The girls give him long hugs before leaving and the guys squeeze his shoulder before exiting the house. Calum collapses onto the couch then pulls her engagement ring out of his pocket. It winks in the light as if mocking him. At the hospital she gave it back to him explaining how she didn’t want it to fall off her thin finger, but it broke his heart all the same.

Calum stays in the guest bed that night and every night after. Both of them don’t sleep that well the first few days. He wants to be with her, and she feels lost in a new unfamiliar place. He’s stressed and she’s stressed. He’s taken up making all of their meals and helps her walk with her crutches.

It’s hard for her to form sentences and she’ll have random bouts of anger in activities that she’s doing. The days mull into one another, it’s as if they’re in a snow globe constantly waiting for the snow to settle. But they’re muddled.

Calum remains very patient with her and takes her to physical therapy and speech therapy and eventually her cast is removed, and she has a boot. He can tell how happy it makes her that she no longer needs to use the crutches and can be more mobile on her own.

He continues to be very cautious with her, never wanting to overstep but he also wants to help her in the worst way. It tears him up seeing her this way, how hard she’s trying.

A week after they’ve been home he finds her paging through one of her poetry books and he gets excited that maybe she’s recollecting something. Then she chucks it to the floor.

“What’s wrong, swee—Rose?”

“It’s hard to read,” she huffs. “Anything. But I see these, and I want to read but I can’t.” her lower lip trembles in her frustration and Calum lifts the book from the floor.

“I could read to you if you’d like? I did that in the hospital while you were…you know.”

She nibbles on her lips then nods. “Okay.”

Days continue to roll on by, he reads to her while they have breakfast, while they sit outside or at the beach. She requests to go to the beach a lot. While he reads she stares at the waves, hat and sunglasses perched on her head; the bright sun hurts her eyes. Calum’s noticed how sensitive to the light she’s become so he made sure he keeps the lights dimmed. Sometimes when she walks she needs to lean against the wall or the nearest chair because she gets a little dizzy, too.

While she holds her head, Calum stands near her until it passes. She becomes frustrated trying to remember things, it’s almost as if she’s forcing the memories to come back about Calum. He makes her favorite dishes but sometimes she loses her appetite fairly quickly. She apologizes profusely but Calum assures her it’s fine and that they’ll be in the fridge if she gets hungry again.

When it’s been three weeks since their home arrival, Calum completely forgot about a rooftop performance the band was doing.

“I can see if Mali can come by and keep you company—”

“I’d like to come,” she interrupts. They’re sitting outside after dinner, the dogs at their feet.

“You don’t have to,” he shakes his head, “I don’t want you to get overwhelmed by the commotion of it all.”

“I’ll be okay,” she smiles sweetly, “maybe watching you play will bring back my memory.”

At the performance Calum keeps his gaze on her the whole time, she’s near the back in case she needs a quick getaway. The workers knew of her situation and the fans did as well, he was thankful they respected their distance but noticed a few of them smile and say hello to her quietly.

When they sing ‘Lover of Mine’ he hopes it will spark something in her because it’s her favorite song. She loved the colors mentioned in the song because it reminded her of the colors she and Calum had for each other. When the crowd cheers a little more loudly he sees her jump and plug her hears.

Without thinking, he removes his bass handing it off to the nearest available hands then runs to her. He ignores fans calling his name and someone from management tries to get his attention as well. When he reaches Rose, he ushers her back inside into a quiet place where it’s a little dark, a large potted plant blocks them from view.

“Are you dizzy?” he asks in concern. Her face is scrunched in pain, eyes filling with tears.

“A little.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“Look right at me, focus on my eyes,” he instructs kindly bending down so she can look into his eyes. “Does anything else hurt?”

“My ears…”

“Can I?” he asks holding up his hands and she nods, eyes locked on his and he covers her ears to diminish the noise. Her hair is soft, her skin is warm beneath his fingers. Her eyes move rapidly from side to side as her head continues to spin within, then she hesitantly lifts her cool hands over his.

This is the closest contact he’s had with her in months, his heart is beating hard and he wants to hold her closer but refrains. Being this close she smells like his Rose, roses and rainwater. ‘I love you’ dances on his tongue but he bites it down. Her eyes stop shifting from side to side and he removes his hands from her ears, but their fingers intertwine.

“Okay?” he asks rubbing his thumbs over her skin. He’s filled with elation at holding her hands again, small and delicate but they still fit the same in his, perfectly. She nods.

“Can we go home?”

They leave immediately and he sends a quick text to the guys explaining what happened. Rose never lets go of his hand until she needs to get into the car. Since that day she’s been hearing some sort of song playing in her head, tickling at her brain whenever she looks at Calum.

**

One day he comes home with his hair dyed blond and he finds her in one of his shirts. It’s his MAINE one that he always loved to see her wear because it really brought out her eyes. She’s making herself a cup of cocoa when she turns at his entrance.

“Your hair’s different.”

“Yeah, I uhh…since I’m like a new person to you I thought a new change would be…helpful?” he makes a face realizing how backward it sounds now that he’s said it out loud. “If that makes sense?”

“It does, that’s nice of you,” she gives him a cautious smile.

“You’re in my shirt,” he points not even bothering to hide his smile.

“Oh,” she looks down, face apologetic. “I’m sorry. I found it and it smelled nice. I can change—”

“No! No, it’s okay it just…it makes me happy to see you in it, that’s all.”

She gives him another small smile then points to the Eiffel tower framed photos on the wall.

“I was looking at these…it makes me sad how happy I look but I don’t remember anything…I’m sorry.”

Calum glances to the framed photos then has an idea. “What if I took you on a little trip to our favorite places?”

Their first stop is at The Dainty Dove when he describes their first date. How he made a reservation at the fancier place across the street but in his excitement he forgot the correct time, so they wandered into this place dressed to the nines. She smiled at the telling of it, the words tickled something in her brain but nothing significant enough.

She loves the food they order and sighs in happiness at the sundae.

“This is the best sundae I’ve ever had,” she tells him, her eyes widening.

“It’s our favorite,” he grins scooping up a mixture of ice cream, chocolate sauce and whipped cream. “We always get it and you always eat the cherry.”

She scoops the red fruit on her spoon then pops it in her mouth, Calum laughs at her playfulness.

The next stop on the second day is at the CBS, Theresa already has her drink and cranberry orange muffin ready at the two chairs where they first met. Theresa reintroduced herself but still told Rose how happy she was to see Rose up and about again.

“This is such a nice little place,” Rose smiles looking around at all the books.

“This spot is where we first met,” he smiles, “well, for the second time.”

“Describe it to me?”

So, he told her how the first time they met was by running into each other outside the front door. Their books scattered everywhere and that’s when fate had them switch poetry books. She listens aptly, nibbling at her muffin. He explains how they both read each other’s little notes in books, how they became dizzy when discovering each other’s names.

“Then, we met right here, in these exact chairs. Your cup fell and when our pinkies touched…it was kismet. Everything fell into place and we went up to your place to talk some more and listen to music. And we…”

“What happened next?”

“We shared our first kiss.”

Rose blushes at that and Calum finds that a small victory.

Their next stop on the third day is at the beach where he throws a blanket on the sand and she pulls out their poetry books. He removes his sunglasses from his head placing them over her eyes. They sit next to each other as he begins to read, his voice harmonizing with the waves.

Rose gazes at him as words of love and sexual endeavors spill from his lips. The warm sea breeze ruffles his hair, the blond shining in the sun. she reaches over and cards her fingers through his new hair, he stops reading and goosebumps form on his neck at her touch. It’s so familiar and feels so good, he closes his eyes relishing at feeling her touch.

“I—I’m sorry,” she gasps removing her fingers. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“Don’t be sorry. You used to do it all the time.”

“Do you mind if I do it as you read?”

“Please,” he looks at her, “do it as long as you like.”

He picks up where he left off, that unfamiliar yet familiar tune is back in her head. Each day she’s spent with Calum retelling their life together, the song comes more frequently. It’s a soothing sound that usually comes when she’s stressed or her head kind of hurts. She’s hoping to hear the actual song someday, or maybe she’ll hum the tune to Calum, and he’ll know it.

**

One day she’s sitting outside with the dogs reading, she’s become better at it as long as she reads slowly. The more she reads the more she improves. When the sun becomes too much for her she heads inside and hears guitar music playing. Following the sound, she finds Calum in a room she hasn’t ventured to yet, he’s sitting on a small couch with a guitar.

Curious, she edges in the room closer, eying up the awards on the wall with pictures of him and the three guys that were here on her first night and he played with on the rooftop. She wonders when the last time he’s seen them was, has he been isolating himself with her as she treks through her muddled brain.

“Sorry, was I playing too loud?” he asks, and the music stops, his fingers smack against the strings to stop their vibrations. “I thought you were outside.”

“I was but the sun got too bright. That was really pretty,” she comments sitting next to him carefully. Being close to him is still new, exciting and frightening all at once. “Can I hear more?”

He nods then starts to play a string of beautiful notes. It’s an entire song that makes her reminiscent of something she can’t put her finger on. It brings tears to her eyes, the sound and the lost memories it unpacks.

“What if I never remember anything?” she whispers when he finishes the song. “I feel like I’m in someone else’s body. I see my face in pictures all over the place here and in my phone with you…and all those people…but when I look in the mirror I don’t know who I am. It’s not fair. And it’s not fair to you, Calum,” she turns to him now. His brown eyes are steady on her as she continues. “I can tell you loved—love me very much but I’m like a ghost of that person…of me. None of this makes sense. I’m so sorry.”

She’s full on crying now, tears falling down her cheeks like fallen stars shimmering on her skin. Calum pulls her to his chest, the thought of boundaries gone from his mind. His Rose, his soulmate, his one love is upset, lost, and confused and he wants to aid her in comfort the best he can. She cries into his chest, tears staining his shirt as he brushes her hair down her back.

Hesitantly, he kisses the top of her head. Her sweet floral smell makes him feel like home.

“I can’t even imagine how overwhelming this all is for you,” he murmurs in her ear. He makes sure not to speak too fast. Lately it’s been hard for her to follow along if someone speaks too quickly, she hasn’t watched tv in a few days because it made her head hurt. “And I know you probably feel alone but you aren’t, okay? I’m here with you every step of the way. I’ll never give up on you, Rosie. I promise you that.”

“It’s all so scary.”

“I know,” he squeezes her against him. “It’s scary for me, too, but we’re in this together, yeah?” her small frame trembles against him and he drapes a blanket over her from the back of the couch. “Why don’t you take a nap and I’ll make you some dinner when you wake up?”

“Please, don’t go,” she clutches onto his shirt tightly and his heart flips.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes…stay with me?”

Calum lays back gently, lifting his legs on the couch and Rose does the same, her body fitting along his like she was always meant to be alongside him. They adjust until she’s laid perfectly on top of him, her arm hugs his stomach while his are wrapped around her back. He combs his fingers through her hair, she takes a deep breath finally letting her body relax.

“I’ll always stay with you.”

They fall asleep together, their breaths and their hearts syncing up in perfect harmony with each other. His yellow glow and her red pulse together into their own rhythm. Their colors haven’t really glowed since that first time she woke up, but it seems something is changing now.

**

Almost a month and a half has passed since Rose has come home. When a long peal of thunder cracks the earth and shakes the house, she’s jolted awake in fright. Duke and Honey yip at the noise, she pets their fur in reassurance but when another shot cracks, she’s scrambling out of bed to turn on the light.

Somehow the dim glow makes her feel better as rain thrashes against the window then she spots something peeking from behind a framed photo of her and Calum. From her “past life” in the photo they were on a boat with the sea shown behind them. She’s kissing his cheek and they’re both smiling in the photo.

Rose shifts the frame carefully then sees a small black book that has golden words engraved on the cover in a language she doesn’t know. Was she bilingual before her accident?

Curious, she picks up the book and reads through all the poems, songs, and small paragraphs about her, to her, for her from Calum. As she reads, the music she’s been hearing in her head becomes louder and louder as she reads every word until she reaches the final page.

“No amount of words will convey my love for you, but I’ll never stop writing of the love we have. It has powers to cross the deepest oceans, withstand any storm and shines brighter than the sun. you’re my light, my life, my one love, and my soulmate. I will follow you to the ends of the earth. I have to ask you something, so look up at me with those beautiful eyes you have, sweetheart…”

Rose gasps.

Everything flashes into her mind all at once, the song only increasing as she sees each pivotal moment shared with Calum; that first collision outside the CBS, when their pinkies touched, their first kiss, the first time they made love, when they said ‘I love you’ and when their glow transcended into true form. The song in her head was sonorous, creating the montage in her mind of her and Calum’s love suddenly had a name to it.

It’s Moonlight Serenade by Frank Sinatra, their song that played at their first date, the song that played while they kissed in her apartment. The song that became a part of them, that helped define their love. Calum proposed to her right at the foot of the bed, she looks down and doesn’t see the ring on her finger then the accident shifts into focus.

She closes her eyes, the phantom noises of the collision echo in her mind while the song continues to play. The shattering of glass, tires squealing, and the way her world flipped upside down numerous times. She remembers seeing Calum’s face, chanting his name as something cold hits her face. When a deep voice said his name, her whole world went black.

The cloud she’s been under is clearing as she remembers everything. After the accident she could hear his voice, it was very soft and distant, like she was underwater but couldn’t quite reach the surface. His voice soothed her as she floated along the water trying to reach him.

Her days in the hospital after she woke up swirled into focus, the party with all of her friends and the fear she had of not recognizing them. Each touch Calum has given her, his warm brown eyes boring into hers while they were on that rooftop performance, her fingers in his hair—his hair! He dyed it and now she has to see it for herself again.

Rose opens the door quietly but instead of going into the guest room where Calum has been sleeping—it makes her sad when she realizes how long it’s really been since they’ve been in close proximity with each other—she moves to the living room. The record player is shut when she switches on a lamp and is happy to find the record she wants is already placed inside. ‘Moonlight Serenade’ stares up at her as she turns on the machine, she spins the volume dial all the way up. It hurts her ears a little at first, but she hums along with the song that has been in her head for days and waits.

Calum comes rushing out, his blond hair sticking up in all directions, his basketball shorts hanging low on his hips and his necklaces are perched nicely over his collarbones.

“What’s the matter? Are you okay? Is it the storm? You don’t like storms,” he shakes his head, his voice thick of sleep and he moves to the record player. He turns the knob down then hears the song that’s playing. “This is—”

“It’s our song, Cal,” Rose says quietly, her voice shakes. He turns around slowly, his mouth open and his eyes widening.

“How do you know that?”

“We danced to it in my living room after our first date and we were wet from the rain that drove us out of the park for that jazz concert. We missed our reservation by an hour and ended up at The Dainty Dove where we go almost every Friday and Saturday. This song has been in my head all this time, quietly buzzing and stuck until I read the small book you made for me when you proposed.”

She took small steps towards him and he hung onto every word, every memory that was shared between them.

“You remember?” he asks taking a slow step forward.

“I remember everything,” she nods and Calum lurches forward.

He cradles her head in his large warm hands staring into her eyes. He laughs nervously as his thumbs caress her cheeks.

“I told you to be patient with me,” she whispers then he’s kissing her.

Its days missed, his heartbreak, his worry, his fear, his love and gratefulness all rolled into one momentous kiss. She kisses him back with the same passion, her fingers slipping through his so she can remove them from her cheeks and down to her waist. Calum is quick to pull her closer while she links her arms behind his head, fingers threading through his hair.

“Let me see your hair,” she whispers around his lips.

“Later,” he mumbles shaking his head. Their foreheads are touching and with each word spoken their lips brush against one another. “I’ve missed you so much, Rosie.”

“I missed you, too.”

Their tears mix together on each other’s lips, she swipes away at his cheeks and he kisses her thumb.

“Come back to our bed, please?”

They lie tangled up in each other talking softly, catching up on other things that Rose has missed while she’s been absent. When she rubbed the side of her head, Calum knew what that meant and shut the light off, his fingers probed over her head. He sang her to sleep and he finally felt content and at peace when he shut his own eyes.

The next day they went to the beach, she sits between his legs as they watch the waves and boats in the water. Their hands play together, and he kisses her side tenderly. He’s missed holding her in his arms, he never wants to let go.

“Everyone wants to see you, but only if you’re up for it. I know how badly your head still hurts.”

“I want to see them, too,” she sighs. “I want to do so many things, but I know I can’t yet.”

“Like what?”

“I want to be close to you again…I want to write and read…but thinking about it makes me tired.”

“We’ll take it one day at a time, sweetheart,” he kisses her temple again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know…thank you for all that you did for me. It couldn’t have been easy.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he sighs sadly. She hears the pain in his voice.

“What was it like, for you?” she asks tracing the tattoos on his arms.

“I don’t think you want—”

“Please, honey. I want to know.” She kisses the inside of his wrist, breathes in his warm skin then turns her head so she can look up at him.

“It was like half of me was missing,” he sighs tightening his arms around her as if she were to disappear right into thin air. “It was so hard seeing you like that, so still and hurt. I hated not being able to help you. But I knew you’d come back to me. I felt it, just like I felt when you got into the accident.”

“How do you mean?”

“While I was waiting for you at the venue, I fell over and blacked out for ten minutes. My head hurt and I knew you were in trouble.  Then I got the call form the officer who was at the scene. The first few days were the hardest, I couldn’t wrap my head around what happened to you. Then I started reading to you and played your favorite songs and talked to you…it rained nonstop while you were asleep. Then, I had a dream that we were at The Dainty Dove, we were dancing, and you said the rain was coming…”

Calum stops midsentence, he completely forgot about the dream he had before she woke up.

“You dreamt of me? What else did I say?”

“You said…” his brows crease in concentration. “’The rain…it’s coming here. I am too.’ Then you asked me to promise you something and I said anything, and you told me, ‘be patient with me. The rain is coming and I’m in close proximity.’”

The waves crash along the shore creating a peaceful ambience and the softest white noise that Rose can tolerate. She continues tracing designs into his forearm, and he breathes in her rose and rainwater scent that is distinctly her.

“After I read that poem, your eyes opened and so did the sky. I got my sunshine back.”

**

Rose has her good days and her bad days. Today is a bad day.

Calum watches her surreptitiously from the back of the room, it’s Ashton and Ruby’s engagement party, Calum could tell right away when they woke up there was a storm cloud hovering over Rose. She brushed off his comforting and worrisome advances claiming she’s fine.

She mumbled to herself angrily all day while she did tasks around the house. She turned on her music about four times and on the fifth she shut it off completely. Calum knew she was going through a rough period. Dr. Robbins explained this might happen, it’s common in TBI patients to have bad days where they’re extra sensitive to lights or sounds, making them more prone to migraines or dizziness.

It’s been seven months since her accident and five and a half since she woke up. Calum has become attuned to her emotions very easily and picked up on small things she did. Like now, for instance, she was talking with Mali while twisting her fingers together, a habit she’s formed when things became too much. He really notices that she pays special attention to her ring finger that is still bare of her engagement ring.

With everything else going on, her memory loss, her recovery, and pulling through some episodes, they haven’t had a time to really discuss them. When Rose bites her lip that’s when Calum steps away from the bar to stand next to her. He gives his sister a smile then ducks his head to Rose’s ear.

“Are you all right? We can leave if you want to.”

“I’m fine,” she says tersely, and Mali moves to speak with someone else in attendance. Rose exhales leaning against Calum, he holds onto her waist and kisses her cheek. “I don’t want to go before Ashton has said his speech.”

“I can tell you’re uncomfortable,” he turns her face towards his with his finger under her chin, “if something hurts, tell me.”

“Nothing—all right, my head hurts,” she sighs after the look he gives her. “But I don’t want to go and have people pity me because of my…injury. I don’t want to miss out on more things.”

“Sweetheart…”

“I promise, as soon as Ashton’s done with his speech, we’ll go,” she promises cupping his cheek. She leans up to give him a soft kiss. “But stay close.”

“Always,” he grins nuzzling his nose against hers.

It isn’t until almost two hours later when Ashton makes his ‘thank you’ speech. Calum is practically chomping at the bit as they waited. When Ashton finished, Calum was quick to tell everyone goodbye towing Rose to their car.

Once in the car he turned the volume down on the radio and held her hand.

“Can you turn it off, please?” she asks softly. He obliges quickly pushing the button then slips his hand back in hers.

“How bad?” he asks.

“Spinning…a little.”

Calum goes silent for the rest of the ride; he knows the more he talks the more it upsets her when her head spins and the constant chatter of the party probably didn’t help. She explained it once that his words jumbled together and seemed foreign, none of it made sense. He rubs his thumb over her skin the whole drive, listening to her breathing and thinking of going away somewhere, just the two of them.

Once home, he sits her down in their bedroom and lets the dogs outside the sliding doors along their wall then grabs a suitcase from the closet.

“Where are you going?” she asks as he starts shoveling clothes in his case.

“We are going away for the weekend.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

“Okay, we’re going away for a long weekend,” he grins then grabs some of her clothes.

“Why?”

“Because I think it’d be good if we both got away from all of this…noise. I already talked with Dr. Robbins and she said it sounds like a good idea.”

“When did you ask her that?”

“The last time we saw her.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

He drops a pair of her leggings in defeat, his eyes meet hers and he can’t read her expression. Is she teasing?

“I’ll try to convince you then, I guess. You really don’t want to get away for a while?”

“How would you convince me?” she gives him a teasing smile and he relaxes.

He kneels in front of her, cradling her face in his hands. “I’m not going to tell you where we’re going but it’s secluded, and we can bring the dogs and it will be just you and me— “he pecks her lips”’—alone.” Another peck. “No distractions.”

Another peck to her lips that turns into something longer, his fingers comb through her hair while hers clasp around his wrists. Both of them are held captive by the other in more ways than one. He pulls away before it goes too far, he doesn’t want to push her, and she pouts while he finishes packing their backs. She watches him dazedly, her heart hammering, lips tingling.

“Are we leaving early in the morning?”

“Nope, as soon as I’m done here. I know you don’t like the early mornings, so you can sleep on the way.”

“You’ll get too tired.”

“I’ll be fine, Rosie. I promise.”

**

Calum took her away to the mountains in a cottage surrounded by snow and fir trees. Rose grew up with the snow and she missed it terribly. When she’d bring it up she would talk about the fun times she had in winter, making snowmen, sledding, having hot cocoa while snuggling up to the fireplace.

When he asked Dr. Robbins about the trip he assured her they wouldn’t fly and that he’d continue her physical and speech therapy during the evenings. Dr. Robbins thought it was a wonderful idea, someplace a little isolated and a little cooler would be very beneficial to Rose’s healing and gave the okay to travel.  

They arrived around nine a.m. in the snowy tundra town of Walden, a picture-perfect town like from a movie. Rose ogles at the little shops and restaurants along the main road. After unpacking at the cottage, they lazed around until dinner time where they went to a nice restaurant with excellent steak. The lighting was dimmed which helped Rose and she couldn’t stop smiling.

Back at the cottage they made hot chocolate and sat out on the patio with a large fluffy blanket staring at the stars. When Rose fell asleep on him he carefully carried her to their king-sized bed where they both had a restful night’s sleep.

The next day after a late breakfast they took the dogs for a walk through the snow-covered town until it became too much for Rose; the cold turned bitter and started to give her a headache. She went to lay down for a while as Calum started dinner then ultimately ended up falling asleep. Calum woke her with soft kisses to her forehead and cheeks.

“How’s your head?” he asks rubbing her temple.

“It’s more of a dull ache but not too bad,” she smiles sitting up then kisses his cheek.

“How about a bubble bath after dinner?” he asks, and her award-winning smile is answer enough.

When dinner is finished—lemon chicken with green beans and rice—he can sense her anxiety as she’s getting things ready for her bath. He can’t quite place why the anxiety is present, but he turns on his Bluetooth speaker then presses ‘play’ on the playlist he’s created for them with their favorite songs.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart? Do you hurt?” he asks touching her back as she swirls the bubbles around the large tub.

“No, I just…” she stands up, eyes meeting his warily.

“What is it?” he asks feeling her anxiety as his own now.

“I miss being close to you.”

“I’m right here, Rosie,” he smiles.

“No, I mean…Will you…Can…I want you to join me. In the tub.”

They haven’t discussed this part of their relationship since she’s woken up and got her memory back. The main priority has been her recovery, not that he hasn’t thought about it, but her well-being came first. The last time they were intimate with each other was on the night of their engagement, a week and a half before her accident.

Dr. Robbins mentioned that any sexual activity might trigger her TBI, it could be too much for her at one time, but Calum’s missed being close to her as well. He doesn’t want to risk hurting her in any way, she’s been through enough pain. She senses his battle, it’s the same one she’s been having for days.

“We don’t have to do anything; I just want you with me. Is that okay?” her voice is small as she asks, the fear of rejection hangs between them. The thought of him not viewing her as desirable has crossed her mind more times than she’d like.

She has an odd scar on her head from the stitches, her hair is still a little weird from where the doctors shaved it and her leg has scars along her ankle up to her knee.

“That’s more than okay,” he rubs her shoulders trying to assuage her. He feels her anxiety lessen but also feels her heart thump faster.

She turns the water off and he closes the door to keep the draft out, the warmth of the tub is already creeping steam onto the mirror. When he turns around she’s unzipping her hoodies, her fingers trembling as she took her arms from the sleeves. Calum yanks off his own long-sleeved shirt, his gaze never straying from her careful movements as she removed her t-shirt and bra.

At the same time, the pair pull off their pants and underwear. Rose wraps her arms around her torso on instinct.

“No, don’t,” he steps forward pulling her arms apart. She looks up at him, nervousness evident in her deep ocean eyes. He lifts her hands to his mouth so he can kiss her knuckles. “Please. You have no idea how beautiful you are, Rose.”

He kisses her forehead then helps her get into the large tub, he’s quick to follow and sits down first so he can guide her gently down into the water. The music plays softly in the background and he wraps his arms around her, the easiest action in the world. He closes his eyes breathing her in, feeling her skin touch every part of him and sighs in happiness.

“Is this okay?” she asks nervously.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed this—missed you.” He kisses her head.

They sit there for a long time, playing with each other’s fingers or his fingers run over her collarbones then zig zag down her chest. His breathing is shallow, the intimacy of exploring her body is erotic in a warm way as the tips of his fingers brush over her nipples. The red glow of her chest arises, pulsating as their hearts leap at the intimate touches.

Rose sits up, water falling down her naked body as she turns to face him, her face full of longing and passion. In four heartbeats, their lips are on one another’s, her hands grip his shoulders, and he lifts her more onto his lap. He squeezes her close to his body.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she whispers on his mouth then trails her lips down his jaw and to his neck.

He uses this pause to suction kisses to her neck as well her shoulder, but he’s missed her lips most of all so he tilts her head back up so he can kiss her again. Their hands explore each other’s bodies as if it’s the first time. That first time was under a heavy rainstorm, and now, it’s serene as snow falls out the window. It’s as if their love has frozen to something much more touchable. When his fingers move to her hair that’s when she slows his movements.

“Did I hurt you?” he pants, eying her carefully.

“No, I…I know I look different. My scar on my head and all along my leg—”

“You’re perfect just the way you are, Rose. No scar will ever diminish your beauty, inside or out.”

She sniffs, tears welling in her eyes then nods before pecking her lips softly to his. “Will you take me to bed?”

Their love making is slow. He begins by kissing each scar on her leg, stamping his love all over her body and when they finally come together with fingers locked, their chests are glowing. They whisper each other’s names followed by ‘I love you.’ Their glow collides like before but this time it lights up the whole room, filling them both with warmth and drowning them in an eternal sunset as she moans in pleasure.

Afterwards, he makes sure she’s not in any pain or is dizzy. She assures him she’s fine then traces his tattoos with her fingernail.

“I wasn’t in pain, you know,” she tells him as the fire crackles behind them. “When I was in my coma.”

“What do you mean?” his fingers play with the curls in her hair.

“You were with me the whole time…it was like I was in a dream. I knew it wasn’t real, but I felt…safe, with you there. We were always by the ocean, the sand was soft and squishy, like the best bed. It had the best sunrises and sunsets, and the moon took up the whole sky…it was very peaceful.”

“You remember all of that? That’s what you saw while you were in your coma?” he sits up a bit more to look at her clearly.

“Yeah. It felt wrong though. Like I knew it wasn’t real, but I never wanted to leave you. Then it shifted and we were at The Dainty Dove and we were dancing, and I felt myself slipping…and then I was awake.”

“Wow,” Calum falls onto his pillow staring at the ceiling as he processes this information.

“Cal?”

“Hm?”

“Could I…Can I have my ring back?”

His fingers still in her hair, he sucks in a breath then slips out from under her quickly. He pulls out the small box from his luggage, he never left home without it just waiting for the perfect time to place it on her finger again or for her to ask like now. Rose giggles at his speed as he hops on the bed, his naked thighs cause her to roll closer to him. She holds the sheet against her chest then sits up leaning against the headboard. Her fingers try to tame his mussed up blond locks.

Calum takes her hand gently then opens the box. It’s prettier than she remembered and her stomach flips.

“Our love really can cross the deepest oceans—even metaphorical ones like in your dreams—and no one will ever love someone as much as I love you, Rose. You’re my one love, will you marry me?”

“Of course, I will,” she smiles. He slips the ring on her finger, symbolizing a new chapter in their life. This one is a fresh start; it holds more promise and surety in their future together.

One Year Later

Rose twists her wedding band with her diamond ring around her finger as she sets her feet on the plush chair across from her. Her feet have been hurting her a lot more lately, but she doesn’t mind sitting and watching Ashton spin Ruby across the dancefloor. They’ve been husband and wife for exactly three hours and haven’t been away from each other’s arms.

Other people are dancing around them, Rose smiles and waves when Ruby makes eye contact. Rose glances around the room waiting for Calum who arrives upon her thought of him with two glasses of water in his hands. He sets them down on the white cloth in front of her then kisses her cheek.

“Iced water for you, my love,” he says lifting her feet so he can rest them in his lap. He removes her shoes as she splutters on her water.

“What are you doing?! Now I won’t get them back on again!” she complains but then moans quietly as he starts to rub at her heel.

“That’s what I thought,” he winks then continues to rub her sore feet. She leans back against the chair, sighing at how good his thumbs and fingers rub her toes. “I may be biased but I liked our reception better. No shoes, and we got to dance in the sand.”

“You’re completely biased,” she laughs. “Thank you, you have no idea how good that feels.”

“My pleasure. Is our little one enjoying the party?” he asks touching her swollen belly with his other hand.

“Yes, our little one is going to take a long time to fall asleep when we get home.”

“I’ll sing to her.”

“Or him,” she says smugly.

It’s an ongoing debate of whether they’re having a boy or a girl. It’s become a sort of game as they guess who is right, but they love their baby no matter what it is. Calum’s hand trails higher up her leg under the skirt of her dress, his fingers heating up her skin as he moves over the faint scars.

“Hey, watch your hands,” she teases but makes no move to stop him. He gives her a cheeky grin, pinches the side of her thigh, then moves his hand back down to her foot.

“How do you feel?” he asks reaching over to take a drink of water.

“Happy,” she responds then rubs her belly. “Loved. Excited.”

Calum leans over to kiss her softly, murmuring an ‘I love you’ which she reciprocates. The glow in their chests burst forth while the one in her belly also glows.    

“Everything has fallen into place.”

• • • •

Taglist: @calpalirwin  @thecurlsofgod @myloverboyash @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh  @katiaw2 @g-l-pierce @fairyintheglass @gosh-im-short @banditocth @dezzym17 @koalacal @lukeisbaby @spicycal @mysticalhood @notinthesameguey​ @wastedheartcth​ @atlcalm @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @calumance​ @babylon-corgis​ @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt​ @lanternlover2​ @istaywithmyjonas​ @calteahood​ @sarcastically-defensive17​ @another-lonely-heart​ @devilatmydoor​ @frontmanash​ @philthepegacorn​ @mantlereid @lukedorkyhemmings​ @addietagglikesbands​ @kikixfandoms @sanrioluke​ @mayve-hems​ @morguelth @haikucal​ @thatscooibaby​ @meghanrose05​ @idontneedanyone​ @dinosaursandsocks​ @haveufoundwhaturlooking4​ @suchalonelysunflower​ @burstintocolor​ @zhangyixingxing1​ @dead-and-golden​ @mymindwide​ @everyscarisahealingplace​ @stardust-galaxies​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @redrattlers​ @lovelybonesetc​ @karajaynetoday​ @quasighost​ @i-like-5sos​ @creampiecashton​

[ashintheairlikesnow]

hi ash! i know you said before that you're not autistic you just did a lot of research to depict chris realistically- do you have any advice for finding resources on writing disabled characters that isn't like... horribly abelist? im writing someone with an intellectual disability from head trauma and who is nonverbal, and i want to get it right but everything online seems very autism-speaks-y. im autistic and semiverbal but i dont have an id and i want to be realistic and respectful.

I cannot speak with any expertise or sense of speaking from enough experience to be taken as an expert here, and defer as always to those with lived experience with intellectual disability!

But I will give a few more general tips for what to do when looking to write a character with a neurological makeup that doesn’t match your own, as far as what has worked for me with Chris:

1. The story should never be ABOUT their lived experience if you do not also have it. Chris’s story is not about autism, or being autistic. I would never presume to try and write a story like that because, whatever my intentions, I don’t have that knowledge that comes from living it. I would at BEST be taking the experiences of others, their voices. At worst, I would be someone standing with a megaphone shouting over those who deserve to be heard.

Making the disability what the plot revolves around is... generally just not going to be a good idea, in any sense. It’s moments like this where I feel like it’s best to defer to the writers who have lived it, instead. 

This is not to say “never write someone different than yourself”, because... I don’t think that’s at all good advice. I think that way lies stunted writers who never push themselves. But it does mean “do not center the story on this thing if you have not experienced it and don’t have that knowledge and understanding”.

2. At the same time, don’t try to be coy or dance around or hide the disability behind purple prose or refuse to acknowledge its reality. Trying to make a disability sound cute, or talk around it instead of speaking it out loud, can be minimizing or shaming in ways that I think it’s easy to miss, if you don’t live with that disability yourself! To me, this touches on one of my hugest pet peeves - characters who are written as having a particular neurodivergence in media, or shown on tv, but they never expressly admit to it or name it. 

I know I hesitated with Chris, more because I didn’t feel comfortable giving him a diagnosis until I understood autism better myself, and I do regret how long it took me to embrace that reality about him. I just thought it better to err on the side of researching before I embraced. But I do feel some guilt about waiting so long when I had readers who were identifying so heavily with him, and I kind of knew, but just didn’t feel comfortable owning it yet.

3. On a related note - disabilities in a story that become melodramatic tragedy or turn the disabled character into a ‘redemption story’ for an abled character. This is so, so prevalent in common media and pop culture and once you recognize it for what it is, it’s so hard to not see it in so many places. Think of how many movies, novels, etc contain a disabled character who exists to teach abled people some virtuous lesson about living life to the fullest or ‘what it really means to be human’ blah blah blah blah blah. Don’t do that. Please. (I mean, I kind of feel like you definitely won’t, but I’m just speaking very generally here). If you find the story going in a direction in which abled people learn something from the disabled person, please think very carefully and critically as to why the story is heading in that direction.

Language alone can also be a problem here - think about the difference between openly describing a character moving around their life with a wheelchair vs. calling them “wheelchair-bound” or “reliant on a cane”, when the cane or wheelchair may actually represent freedom to that person - an aid they need, yes, but one that allows them to live with far more agency than they might have had otherwise. 

To describe them, especially from their own POV, as “wheelchair-bound”, may ring false to disabled people who understand that the wheelchair isn’t a cage, but a tool that allows that individual person to feel less caged by being able to more freely leave home.  

(This varies person to person, just providing an example)

4. Educate. Research. And don’t just do so by asking people with disabilities to tell you their stories. I often express gratitude to the autistic readers, those with ADHD, etc who spoke up about Chris, talked about their own experiences, identified with him, found him very resonating for aspects of their own lives. 

These stories, this information, this sharing of their lives was given freely to me, and I’m fucking amazed and grateful for how welcomed Chris was, and how willing readers were to share about themselves when talking about him.

Their willingness to speak about these things is something I treasure. But I absolutely would never believe that a single person owed me the story of their life to make sure I got Chris right. That was my responsibility, you know? I try to keep in mind the concept of ‘emotional labor’. Asking a disabled person to be your resource is asking them to give, and give, and give of themself. They may want to give you that kind of labor, they may not. But I definitely wouldn’t ask it of anyone without understanding it was something they were happy or felt comfortable giving.

Research, on the other hand, is essential. You mentioned things being “autism speaks-y” when trying to research on your own, and oh god, do I feel you. It sucks that autism speaks is the first thing to pop up when trying to research the lives of autistic people - and in my research, I was lucky to already know AS sucks and write them off and anyone who heavily referenced them as not helpful. I can see how someone might not know that, though, and stumble on them and believe they were a helpful resource for writing autism when they... well. Nope. 

Try to think about the express disability you are writing for this person, and why, and then go research! I looked up “books on autism recommended by autistic people”, and found some invaluable books, yes, but also papers published online, websites, etc! Each of them vetted and looked over and recommended by autistic people, so I knew I was getting information that came from people with those experiences and that understanding. A good example - I picked up a book on the history of diagnosis and treatment of autism in the United States, mentioned it here, and @redwingedwhump recommended a book called Neurotribes... which turned out to be immensely more helpful, spot-on, and provided some really excellent foundational information I wouldn’t have found in the first book at all.

There’s a lot of information out there on Traumatic Brain Injuries and their lasting effects on individuals who receive them, so I would start there. What you’re describing sounds like a TBI with lasting effects! So I would start your research there, and also look up being nonverbal separately, as well as combining the two. Make sure you’re not just looking at the top links - often paid ads or problematic organizations that are able to pay more for better exposure - but also scanning for blogs, nonprofits, lived-experiences stories, too.

I found a lot of information on the second or even third page of results i would never have seen if I only stuck to the first. Remember the algorithm on search engines is usually showing you what other people are clicking on, not necessarily the best source.

5. This is one you the asker already know, but I want to include it for general reasons: do not ‘dumb down’ the thought processes of a nonverbal or semi-verbal person. I see this in fiction surprisingly often, and I think it’s this sense we have as abled people (’we’ just meaning I’m including myself) that being verbal is required to have a highly complex thought process, and it’s... it’s just fucking not. Speech and though are related but not completely wound around each other, and the ability to verbalize is not the same as the ability to think. 

Like I said, I know you know this, asker, but it’s something I see in fiction/media and it drives me up the wall. So I wanted to include it.

6. For the love of God, do not use medical terminology unless you actually know what you’re doing/talking about. Many disabled people or those with serious medical conditions become what amounts to experts on their own diagnoses, because they have to. They have to be experts to receive the care they should be able to rely on. If you constantly fuck up terminology - trust me - it will be noticed, and it will take people out of the story or hurt their ability to suspend disbelief while reading.

There are ways to do medical scenes/conversations with doctors that avoid falling into this problem! I would just be very very careful to heavily research before using any complex terminology.

7. This disabled person does not exist to evoke pity. They are a human - nuanced and multi-layered - living their life, and their story should always, always reflect that. I don’t really have anything else to add to that.

I would love to hear further advice from anyone with anything else to add.

[butterflyinthewell]

A thought regarding Gargoyles and stone sleep.

Stone sleep heals a lot, but I don’t think it heals everything.

Hudson is blind in one eye after a fight with the Archmage, and he didn’t regenerate a functioning eye after a daytime stone sleep. He hit a rock falling down during his fight and the trauma probably broke his eye socket, crushed his eyeball and ripped the retina loose, so something was severed and couldn’t regenerate via stone sleep. Hudson moves his damaged eye normally along with his unharmed one, but he can’t see out of it.

So it stands to reason that if a gargoyle has a totally severed limb (no tendons or anything holding it on, the entire limb is gone) or sustains a complete spinal cord transaction injury, stone sleep would heal the stump and not regrow a new limb and it would knit the broken spine and heal the severed bits of spinal cord without fusing the severed ends of the spinal cord back together. So that gargoyle might still need a wheelchair and possibly a ventilator to survive.

Imagine how disabling it would be if a gargoyle lost one or both of their wings like that.

A human might look at them and go “but you ain’t disabled, you can still walk up stairs.”

The gargoyle will look at the human and say “One who cannot glide will never understand my situation just as you, one who walks, cannot understand the situation of someone who uses a wheelchair. I am limited to where I can walk, where I can climb, where I can leap and utilizing other air transport to get places my brethren can reach without accommodation. Isn’t that a disability, human?”

This brings about even more interesting questions...

Why don’t piercings seal up? Maybe keeping jewelry in is the key? Does a gargoyle re-pierce whatever part they wear jewelry in? (If it’s a genital piercing, ouch!)

What if a gargoyle was bitten by a rabid animal and turned to stone at dawn, would that cure the rabies?

Suppose a gargoyle has the flu, would that heal?

What if they developed a tumor, or a blood / bone marrow cancer like leukemia? Or would stone sleep prevent that from even happening in the first place?

Would a gargoyle having a fatal heart attack still turn to stone and be fine, or would they wake up just in time to die from it, or would they live to see the sun for the first time and die right there?

What if a gargoyle has a devastating stroke? Does that heal during the day, or do they wake up the next night with all the stroke effects still happening?

What if a gargoyle with epilepsy is having a seizure as the sun rises, will they wake up from stone sleep feeling refreshed or in a post-ictal state?

What if a gargoyle has a shattered leg bone or shattered ribs, will that heal or will they wake up with skeletal issues / nerve / muscle damage?

What about a gargoyle who acquires a traumatic brain injury that requires life support to keep them alive? Stuff like a gunshot to the head, a bad fall from way up high, or some other even that causes hypoxia? Would they wake up from stone sleep fine, or have the issues people with TBIs often face?

What if the gargoyle is brain dead on life support, would they turn to stone at all?

Soooo many questions!

What do you think?

[strawberrypheonix]

Horsback Riding is a Sport-Part One

Have you heard of a sport where your “equipment” has a mind of its own, or where you fall off a moving animal going 30 mph? Horseback riding is a sport and it would be ignorant to even dare to label it as a matter of opinion. One would not question soccer or football’s standing as a sport, neither should we question that horseback riding is a sport. Many people are ignorant to the point of complete disregarding that there is any work at all. Although being an Olympic sport, many people deny its position as a sport with nonsensical remarks such as: “You just sit there” or “The horse does all the work”. Considered by many as the world's most dangerous sport equine injuries send around 78,279 people to the hospital each year.Horseback riding is a sport because it is recognised by major Sporting events, such as the Olympics, is great exercise and is even considered the world's most dangerous sport. Competition is often considered one of the most important parts of defining a sport, and horseback is not lacking in competition. Not just one branch of equine sports are represented in the olympics. Some equestrian events in the olympics are dressage, jumping hunter and eventing. Like many sports horseback riding is organized into categories and leagues. Horseback riding is one of the few Olympic sports were boys and girls compete against each other. One example of a highly competitive sport is Polo. Polo is most easily described as hockey on a horse. This branch of equine sports is popular among several European monarchs, especially Great Britain. Polo leagues are divided by experience and mastery. Competitive Hunter/Jumpers often face off in large world renowned shows such as WEF, Tryon and the Kentucky show circuits. Many people downplay the dangers of horseback riding with snide remarks such as “I fall when I walk, doesn’t make it a sport.” In fact, according to several credible websites horseback riding is the most dangerous sport in the world, with an average of 100 horse related deaths a year. In a sport where with a change of mind the horse can kill you, wearing helmets is incredibly important. According to a medical database, horseback riding is the leading Cause of Sport-Related Traumatic Brain Injuries. In the database, 45.2 percent of TBI (traumatic brain injuries) among adults were related to horseback riding, dwarfing the other causes. Equine sports are the third leading cause of TBI in children and adolescents. Despite the danger, competitive horseback riding is a great way to get exercise. Learning how to communicate with a half ton animal that neither understands you nor knows what you want, has its challenges. In order to properly control your animal you need to be physically strong. Horseback riding is an amazing way to get exercise and strengthen muscles. Equine sports strengthen your core, abdominal, and leg muscles. Even taking care of a horse takes great physical strength on an everyday basis I have to lug around 40 pd saddles, shovel wet shavings into a wheelbarrow, and hoist enormous bales of hay. Horseback riding also mentally challenges you, you have to have the will and stubbornness to insist that the horse does whatever you want. If you do not firmly tell the horses what they have to do, they will simply refuse in front of an oxer, or refuse to correct their lead.

[thedarkknights]

The Dark Knight: The Joker’s (possible) origin

I know this horse is long dead, but I’d like to try beating it with a different stick if you’ll permit me. I post this as a new thread because I haven’t seen anyone else bring these points up as yet. Then again, I may just be looking in all the wrong places. If that’s the case, feel free to link the theory, as I’d like to read it myself.

My “credentials”: I was Army, deployed to Iraq, spent several years as both a combat engineer and EOD.

I’d like to propose that the Joker, as portrayed here, most likely served in Iraq/Afghanistan as a combat engineer, then EOD, and was most likely an NCO (SGT and above for that non-military out there).

I’ll try to stay on track with this, addressing the video points in the same order, but I tend to ramble. Apologies in advance.

A truck full of soldiers comment: I’d wager that he got his scars from that (after all, we don’t have face armor) and that he ALSO got some form of TBI (traumatic brain injury) which may have been what pushed him over the edge. This also ties into his “what doesn’t kill you only makes you stranger” comment: the blast didn’t kill him, but it altered his brain function. The scars may well have resulted from battlefield reconstructive surgery, such that it is, hence why they are so prominent.

Honor Guard: If he was a career soldier and NCO, as I suspect, it’s fairly likely that he not only participated in an Honor Guard detail, especially around the time of the Iraq war, but he very well may have trained and lead the detail. However, EOD typically doesn’t do this… but Combat Engineers do. I’d suspect he was an engineer, then went into EOD. His incident with TBI probably occurred after his EOD training, hence why he would still retain the knowledge for the honor guard. One thing I don’t see mentioned is that the Honor Guard, no matter what organization, is a very prestigious position and duty, and the uniforms, movements and overall appearance will always be very closely scrutinized. It shouldn’t be too big of a deal to think that he highjacked the honor guard, but to actually kidnap the original HG, get all their uniforms, find people the exact same dimensions of the original HG, then clean up their appearance (haircut, shave, etc etc), then train them accordingly so they could get close without anyone noticing, not to mention making sure they all wore the uniforms correctly, shows he has incredible attention to detail and probably did it before somewhere.

Weapons and explosives: Gaining proficiency with weapons isn’t difficult, being proficient and knowledgeable with SEVERAL weapons gets tricky. The fact that he can, and does, utilize them all with such confidence and success should showcase that he may have been familiar with them through some formal training. EOD typically goes through “Weapons Intel Training” where they address every single weapon one could think of, and some you can’t, and how they operate. As to the explosives, simply knowing what they are and how they work from a regular soldier’s perspective wouldn’t be enough. Sure, he could dig around and find some things out on the internet, deep web, whatever, but what he uses is far too advanced for that. He doesn’t just utilize explosives; he used BBIED’s (body-borne IED’s) with cell phones, straight out of the insurgent’s handbooks (so to speak) from Iraq/Afghan. To make this work, and make it work consistently, he’d have to have more than a passing familiarity with simple explosives and detonators. He also has a safe/arming switch on at least one (the ferry) detonator. That belies a little more professional knowledge of the subject. And of course, the explosives he uses, for the most part, are not “military grade”, probably because they are too easy to trace… he “is a guy of simple tastes” like gasoline, gunpowder, and dynamite because they are more widely available and much more difficult to link to a specific time and/or place.

Interrogation scene: I’d like to point out in the scene directly before he gets his head slammed into the table, he asks Gordon “ Does it depress you, commissioner? To know just how alone you really are? Does it make you feel responsible for Harvey Dent’s current predicament?”, this reminds me of the feelings a lot of leaders have if they get hit, lose their soldiers, and survive. Moving on, one could argue that his “head” comment means he interrogated someone before, possibly in other situations, but it may also be referring to the head trauma he may have suffered when hit by an IED, or perhaps (if my theory is to be believed) he worked with other agencies while deployed and watched these interrogations himself. He then points out that Batman got people killed, then let Dent “take his place”, and that “even to a guy like [him], that’s cold”, further making me think he was an NCO who took responsibility for his soldiers deaths and feels he should have been killed in their stead. Obviously, he thinks letting someone else “take the bullet” for that person’s actions is reprehensible.

Stories about scars: completely fabricated, probably on the spot, and as far from the truth as possible, HOWEVER, I don’t think he did it himself.

His “creation”: There’s a saying among veterans and soldiers: PTSD is realizing that you’ll never be anywhere near as badass as you were while deployed. If my theory holds then it stands to reason that a thought process like this could have contributed to his creation, but I don’t think that’s the ONLY reason. He is far too smart for a simple “he needs to be challenged” explanation. I think TBI pushed him over the edge, but what got him “out the door” and working towards everything was simple: he was bored. So, TBI altered his mental state drastically, Boredom got him out the door, and finally, Batman was a challenge, and we do so love to overcome challenges in the military, EOD even more so. (DISCLAIMER: I’m not saying that everyone with TBI is insane, I’m simply saying that brain injury has been shown, in some cases, to cause people’s behavior to radically change, and in rare cases, they become violent sociopaths).

I’ve heard people theorize that he “had no goal” or “end game”, except pure chaos. I think he had goals, and that his goals never shifted. They were the same from start to finish. This will take some explaining, so bear with me here.

In the military, and especially with leadership, we have two VERY well known processes: Backwards planning, and risk assessment. Backward planning, simply, is planning to achieve a desired result or goal. Now, where the Joker is concerned, if I had to nail it down to one goal I’d say that he wasn’t interested in money, power, “running the city” or anything close to that. His goal was very simple and he even stated it in the beginning, in a way: “We kill the Batman”. I don’t think he meant this literally, but that his goal was to destroy the idea of Batman and anyone who might have the same ideology. Now that we have established that his desired result was killing an idea and not a specific person (which, oddly enough, is exactly what we were trying to do in Iraq/Afghanistan), we can start some backward planning. Since the Joker is working backward, and the police are forced to react to everything, working forwards more or less, it may seem like he “conveniently” knows everything or plans for everything. However, since his goal isn’t necessarily a specific person, it’s MUCH easier for him to be flexible in real-time, whereas the police are stuck in a waiting game. This helps fill in some of the plot holes, but not all of them. How did he know to have a BBIED in jail, for instance? Enter my second point: risk assessment.

In the Army (where I served) risk assessment is what leaders live and breathe. A simple breakdown is this: you have your goal, then begin your backward planning. During this planning phase, you think of every possible hazard that may occur during the course of reaching this desired goal. IE: we plan to drive tactical vehicles out to a range, could the roads be wet? will there be a lightning storm? could one of them break down? could there be an accident? could God himself smite one of the drivers? As ridiculous as it may sound, no possibility is considered too extreme (although it’s usually shortened to relevant hazards because let’s face it: we’d never get done writing them), in theory. He knew that in the course of attempting to capture Harvey he may very well be captured himself. He also knew that if he WAS captured, he’d most likely be taken to that jail. He also knew that he needed a way to get out that was simple, undetectable, and that the police would be unprepared for, hence he used a BBIED. He planned this long beforehand not because he KNEW that he’d be there, but because he recognized that it MIGHT happen, and established and applied “controls” appropriately, just like you’re taught to do with risk assessments.

At this point, I’m sure you’re saying “but what about the phone call? How did he know that he’d be able to make it, much less that there would be an officer he could overpower in the interrogation room?” Good point, but he didn’t. He had no idea, and I’d be willing to bet that he had someone on the outside (remember he told Gordon that Harvey and Rachel were being moved around depending on the time?) who was told to wait and call the number on the phone at a certain time. He may have even had that person outside the building, observing, to make sure the joker wasn’t close enough to be injured or killed by the blast and waiting for the appointed time. As far as the officer in the room, that’s what we would call a “target of opportunity”. It wasn’t necessary for him to be there, but it made it much easier in the end.

Some other points: Why knives? Bayonet Assault Course. Everyone went through it back then, and I think he realized how psychologically powerful even presenting a knife is in a fight, much less threatening someone with it up close. The fact that knives never need ammo is dangerous in every direction and never jam probably didn’t hurt either.

His lack of a back-story is important in that it presents the idea that it isn’t important who he is, (or was), where he came from, etc. The important thing is the idea of him, and his opposition to the idea of Batman. Again, in the military, it’s drilled into you that as a person, you are simply a small part of a very very very large machine, and what matters is the goal/mission and not yourself. This is also reinforced by the fact that the Joker is willing to sacrifice anything and everything, including himself, to accomplish his goal.

His comment “they need you right now, but when they don’t, they’ll cast you out, like a leper!” was very telling as well. A lot of veterans feel this way after their service.

In the end, everything above is just my theory and not really any different from any other theory presented. I just figured id provide a look at this through “army EOD goggles”. Either way, Heath Ledger did an amazing job, and the movie was great.

EDIT 1: on fingerprints, DNA and dental records:

First off, the fingerprints. Now, if he was EOD, he would absolutely have fingerprints on record with the DoD, as is required for people with that level of clearance. However, as EOD, he would also have gone through a course we call “Sensitive Site Exploitation” or SSE for short. This is similar to what a forensic investigator would do at a crime scene, the only difference being that it would be done on deployment. This was primarily used to identify and exploit intel that might be found at weapon caches, or evidence leftover from an IED strike (said evidence would have been collected by EOD in a Post Blast Analysis, cataloged, and sent to labs for further testing). Again, I won’t get into specifics regarding the techniques, I will say that fingerprint collection was a large part of this process, just as it is in civilian law enforcement. It was at this point that he would learn that fingerprints are unique… but if they are damaged, by thermal/chemical burns, cuts, sandpaper, etc, then they will not match the original fingerprints taken. The damaged prints would still be unique, but the person would have to be fingerprinted again for them to be entered into any database. It would have been too easy for the Joker to burn off his prints, knowing exactly how to do it.

As for the DNA, I’d like to say that the theories you’ve presented are a good guess as to a clandestine involvement with CIA, Delta, whomever. But of course, the answer is nowhere near as interesting. As per Per DoD Instruction 5154.30, Section 3.c.(1), which is absurdly dry and a little confusing if you don’t know which parts are simply “administrative” data that you can skip, any service member who has completed their obligation can request to have their DNA sample destroyed. It must then be destroyed within 180 days, and confirmation sent to the veteran.

So the (admittedly boring) answer is: he had the DoD destroy it after he got out.

I wish it were more interesting, but again, it’s just my take. :)

And about dental: The service would definitely have a copy of all dental records of any soldier. However, with the advent of DNA, they tend to use those records strictly for medical purposes. Also, Congress had to pass a law to allow outside agencies to use the DoD DNA database for criminal investigation/prosecution, and only after exhausting all other resources and getting an order from a judge.

Considering HIPAA and its implications, id wonder if dental records would be even more difficult to obtain than DNA… but good point.

To add to the dental records: I double-checked, and if it had been more than 2 years since someone the last appointment, their records would be in the Archives and would require a written request for the specific records. The request would need Full name and SSN and the date and location of the last treatment. Keep in mind, that’s to get a paper copy. There are simply too many medical records for them to scan everything into any sort of database, assuming they didn’t lose it first (it is the govt, after all).

━ Submitted by u/swampfoxy2019 on r/fantheories