#the ambulance sound in the background?? crazy choice

[thegonse]

so midas man was crazy

[myonechicagoworld]

CHICAGO FIRE – LEADERS LEAD (S01E22)

Kelly Severide: A promotion, huh?

Tara Little: You need to stay away.

Kelly Severide: You get a promotion, and meanwhile, I could go to

                           jail?

Tara Little: Get away.

Kelly Severide: They’re talking about filing criminal charges. Why

                           the hell are you doing this? I didn’t do a damn

                           thing to you.

Tara Little: I said to stay away.

Man 1 (Shopper): Are you okay, ma’am?

Kelly Severide: She’s fine.

Man 1 (Shopper): Ma’am?

Kelly Severide: We both know nothing happened that night.

Man 1 (Shopper): Hey.

Kelly Severide: Tara!

                                        [car door shuts]

                                              cutscene

Matt Casey: I have a request.

Hallie Thomas: Yeah? What’s that?

Matt Casey: [groans]

Hallie Thomas: Jeez.

                                            [chuckling]

Matt Casey: We don’t move from this spot for the entire day.

                                        [kissing sound]

Hallie Thomas: And you skip your shift?

Matt Casey: Hmm? I’ll just have truck pick me up here if we get any

                     calls.

Hallie Thomas: Tsk. I don’t think these boxers are going to stand up

                           against a fire.

Matt Casey: I’ll just call out orders from this spot. “Cruz, grab a 2 ½.

                     Mouch put down the sandwich.”

                                         [kissing sound]

Hallie Thomas: At 24 hours and 1 minute, I wanna be right back

                          here.

Matt Casey: Deal.

                                            cutscene

                                        [car door shuts]

                                         [kissing sound]

Matt Casey: See you later.

Peter Mills: I’m happy for ‘em.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, me too.

Peter Mills: Are you?

Gabby Dawson: Without a doubt, yes.

                                [Mills & Dawson chuckles]

Peter Mills: Good.

                    So, um, this might be a weird time but um… I was just

                    thinking this whole two rent thing, it’s… it’s crazy.

Gabby Dawson: The two rent thing?

Peter Mills: I mean, you know, you’re basically living with me

                    already, and we don’t call each other to say, “Hey, I

                    mean are you home yet?” So… how about I give you

                    a key, we make it official, you move in? I realise…

                    that was the complete opposite of being romantic.

                    Um…

Gabby Dawson: No, no.

Peter Mills: No, look, I know I’m really, really bad at this. I-I keep

                    beating around the bush all the time. Look, I love you.

Gabby Dawson: Uh…

Peter Mills: I think we should live together.

Gabby Dawson: I’m…

Peter Mills: Oh, God. God, that was awful. That was really awful.

Gabby Dawson: [chuckles] Yeah, it was.

Peter Mills: Look, take the time you need to think about it. Let me

                    know. No pressure.

Joe Cruz: [groans]

Christopher Herrmann: All right, hey! Peter Mills, hurry up! ‘Cause I

                                         gotta take your money after I finish with

                                         Cruz here.

Peter Mills: [sighs] Okay, duty calls.

Leslie Shay: What up, sunshine?

                                     [station alert and buzzes]

                                         [ambo door closes]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Squad 3, Ambulance 61. Building collapse, 800

                  South Carpenter Street.

                                             [sirens wail]

                                           [horn honking]

Leslie Shay: He loves you. That’s great news, right?

Gabby Dawson: I don’t know.

Leslie Shay: Out with it. What?

Gabby Dawson: I… [groans]

                            I still haven’t come clean with him about Boden

                            and his mom. And it just… it feels like this dark

                            cloud hanging over us.

Leslie Shay: Over you, you mean?

Gabby Dawson: Well, to be fair, yes.

Leslie Shay: Okay. So repeat after me. “It’s not my business.”

Gabby Dawson: Shay.

Leslie Shay: I’m serious. That is between Boden and what’s her

                     name.

Gabby Dawson: I just feel guilty is all I’m saying. A lie of omission is

                            still a lie. And if we’re gonna be getting this

                            serious…

                                     [sirens continue to wail]

                                     [indistinct radio chatter]

                                    [background commotion]

Police Officer (Jim Barnes): Chief. All the schools are on spring

                                                break, big party. We were here on

                                                D&D when we saw the whole thing

                                      ��         collapse, one porch on top of

                                                another.

Police Officer (Nicole Sermons): There’s at least a dozen trapped.

                                                       Just tell us where you need us,

                                                       Chief.

Chief Boden: Get the surface victims first. Set up cribbing columns.

                        K-12, sawzalls to cut away the timber.

                        (into radio) Battalion 25 to Dispatch, we have a three-

                        story deck collapse, multiple victims. Give me an

                        EMS Plan 2 and two extra truck companies for

                        manpower.

Dispatch: (over radio) Copy that.

Woman 1: No! No, God! Oh, God.

Chief Boden: Ma’am?

Woman 1: Oh!

Chief Boden: Ma’am, stay back. Come back, come on.

Woman 1: No, let me go. Let me go!

Chief Boden: Okay. Look at me.

Woman 1: No.

Chief Boden: Look at me, look at me. We are gonna do everything

                       in our power to help your friend.

Woman 1: Paul. His name is Paul. He’s my fiancé. Tell me he’s not

                  dead. We were just talking [cries]

Chief Boden: Okay, Katie.

Woman 1 (Katie): [sobbing] No.

Chief Boden: I need you to listen to me.

Woman 1 (Katie): [sobbing] No. Please don’t say it.

Chief Boden: Katie, he’s gone. He’s gone, he’s gone.

Woman 1 (Katie): [sobs] No!

Chief Boden: Katie, you gotta stop. You gotta stop.

Woman 1 (Katie): [sobs] No!

Chief Boden: Okay?

Woman 1 (Katie): [grunts]

                                       [slapping sound]

Woman 1 (Katie): You did nothing! [cries]

                              You did nothing! [cries]

                               [sobs]

                                        - title screen -

                             [victims yelling in background]

Victim 1: [sobs]

Joe Cruz: I got one!

Victim 1: [sobs] I’m gonna die.

Gabby Dawson: You are not gonna die, ma’am.

                            You are not gonna die.

Firefighters: Watch that.

                      Yeah, I’ll get it.

                      You got it?

Gabby Dawson: She’s got an impalement in her chest and lots of

                            blood. We gotta get her free enough to transport

                            her and this piece of wood.

Victim 1: I can’t breathe.

Peter Mills: Take slow breaths, okay? Slow breaths. Slow breaths,

                     all right?

Police Officer (Jim Barnes): Hey. We got one.

Leslie Shay: We need some more hands!

Victim 1: I’m not gonna… I’m not gonna… I’m not gonna…

Gabby Dawson: Hey, what’s your name?

Victim 1: Valerie.

Gabby Dawson: Valerie, you’re gonna make it. You have to believe

                            that, okay?

Victim 1 (Valerie): Don’t lie to me. You’re not telling me how bad it

                              is.

Peter Mills: Okay.

Kelly Severide: Okay, Valerie. Keep still.

Victim: [whimpers]

                                       [saw whirring]

Victim 1 (Valerie): Aah!

Kelly Severide: All right, clear.

Gabby Dawson: All right, let’s get her on the backboard! Now!

                                         [siren wails]

                              [monitor beeping slowly]

Gabby Dawson: Heart rate’s dropping.

                                  [monitor flat-lines]

Gabby Dawson: She’s crashing, Shay!

Leslie Shay: (into radio) 61 to Lakeshore, we’re coming in hot with a

                     trauma victim. 20 years old, impalement injury,

                     respirations are dropping.

Dispatcher: (over radio) Copy that.

Gabby Dawson: [heavy breathing] Come on.

Hallie Thomas: I need a crash cart. Call for respiratory and blood.

                          Let’s hang units of o-negative. Let’s get x-ray and

                          CT standing by.

                          Push an epi now.

                                      [pumping ambu bag]

Hallie Thomas: Stop compressions.

                          We got a pulse! Let’s get her into trauma! Let’s go!

                          Nice work, Dawson.

Leslie Shay: Wow.

                                               cutscene

                                            [truck beeps]

Mouch: Could’ve been a hell of a lot worse. Two DOAs and I bet we

              saved a dozen or more.

Joe Cruz: That right there is what it’s all about.

                                        [Japanese on TV]

Christopher Herrmann: All right.

                                        Hey.

                                              [clapping]

Otis Zvonecek: What are you doing?

Christopher Herrmann: I’m supposed to speak to Luke’s class

                                        about fire safety. So I’m gonna rig one side

                                        of the house with flammable materials and

                                        then the other side with flame-resistant

                                        type stuff. Then, I’m going to demonstrate

                                        the difference. Kids are gonna love it.

Otis Zvonecek: Oh. What could possibly go wrong?

Joe Cruz: Guys, guys, I have an announcement to make. Please, I

                  need everybody’s attention. Today, I came across

                  something so upsetting that it literally shook me to the

                  core. I was in the laundry room. I was pulling my stuff

                  from the washer to the dryer, and I discovered these left

                  inside.

Everyone: Oh!

                  [chuckling]

Christopher Herrmann: Don’t look at me. I’ve been a fruit of the

                                         loom man since 1975.

                                            [laughter]

Mouch: 20 bucks to whoever finds the owner.

Joe Cruz: Lieutenant!

                                   [roaring with laughter]

Joe Cruz: No!

Matt Casey: First, they ain’t mine. Second, these don’t come down

                      until the owner steps forward. I can’t unsee this.

                      Someone has to pay.

Otis Zvonecek: He who smelt it hath dealt it.

Joe Cruz: You’re nuts. Those look like something that a Russian

                  would wear on his wedding night.

Otis Zvonecek: They’re not mine, but I will put my money on Capp.

Mouch: Keep deflecting, Otis. That’s a good strategy.

Otis Zvonecek: Oh! Whoa! Whoa!

                               [dog whimpering and barking]

                                    [extinguisher spraying]

Christopher Herrmann: Maybe I’ll just let the kids wear the oxygen

                                         mask.

                                    [extinguisher blows]

Woman 2: Excuse me?

Christopher Herrmann: Yeah.

Woman 2: Hi. Uh, I was wondering, um, do you guys allow kids in

                  here to take a picture on a truck or something?

Christopher Herrmann: Yeah, of course we do. Where are the kids?

Woman 2: Oh. Um, I’m just checking. Some other time.

Christopher Herrmann: Okay.

                                               cutscene

Chief Boden: You confronted her in a parking lot.

                                          [water running]

Kelly Severide: I’m facing criminal charges. Damn right I confronted

                          her.

Chief Boden: You are not helping yourself.

Kelly Severide: Chief, I did nothing wrong.

Chief Boden: You did today. You strengthened her case.

Kelly Severide: Whose side are you on?

Chief Boden: I am trying to help you here.

Kelly Severide: Well, it doesn’t feel like it. I’ll handle this myself,

                           thanks.

Chief Boden: No, no. You contact her again, you go within 100 feet

                       of her, you will force me to take away your Squad.

Kelly Severide: That’s your way of helping?

Chief Boden: Yes.

Otis Zvonecek: Hey, Chief. Taking bets on the red skivvies from the

                           laundry. You interested?

                                              cutscene

Gabby Dawson: My dad used to tell me, “You have a choice. You

                            can either choose to be in a bad mood…”

Leslie Shay: Right.

Gabby Dawson: “Or you can decide to be happy.”

Leslie Shay: Where is this going?

Gabby Dawson: Uh, at first, I… I wasn’t sure about Mills, right? Was

                            he too young? Was I just rebounding? Did we

                            move too fast? But then I realised, damn it, he’s

                            good to me. Be happy.

Leslie Shay: So you love him ‘cause you choose to?

Gabby Dawson: [laughs] No. Because I do.

Leslie Shay: Aw. My little Dawson’s all grown up.

Gabby Dawson: Oh, shut up.

Leslie Shay: What about the mom thing?

Gabby Dawson: I don’t know.

                                    [ambo door shuts]

                                [station alert & buzzes]

(Over PA): Ambulance 61. Man down from unknown causes.

Gabby Dawson: Looks like it’s one of those days.

                                        [siren wails]

                         [thunder rumbling, siren blares]

Gabby Dawson: Hey there, bud. How you doing?

                            Hey.

                            His pulse is fast. Let’s sit him down and check his

                            heart rate. Come on.

                            All right.

Leslie Shay: Oh.

Gabby Dawson: Here we go, bud. All right.

Leslie Shay: Okay… Virgilio Ventura. Welcome back, pal.

Victim 2 (Virgilio): [groans]

Gabby Dawson: You had a couple cocktails today?

Leslie Shay: No, I think something a little heavier. What’s your

                      flavour, Virg? A little H?

                      Huh. He’s clean. What’s up with you, buddy?

Gabby Dawson: Okay.

                                    [monitor beeping rapidly]

Gabby Dawson: His heart rate’s racing at 150. He’s in SVT. We’re

                            gonna lose him if we don’t stabilise his rhythm.

                                             [shirt ripping]

Gabby Dawson: Cardioverting at 100. Stand back.

Leslie Shay: Dawson, wait! His ears. Look at his ears. Look.

Gabby Dawson: Shay, he’s got an electrical burn.

                                           [clothes ripping]

Leslie Shay: His shoe’s missing. It’s a third degree burn. He’s got

                     an exit wound.

Gabby Dawson: He was hit by lightning. We can’t shock him. His

                            heart’s had too much trauma. 6 mils of adenosine.

Leslie Shay: Yeah, yeah!

                                   [monitor continues beeping]

Gabby Dawson: Hang in there. Hang in there.

Leslie Shay: Okay.

                      Ready when you are. On three. One, two, push.

                                          [monitor flatlines]

Victim 2 (Virgilio): [gasps]

Leslie Shay: Okay, it bought us some time. Let’s get him out of

                      here.

                                                cutscene

                                        [thunder in distance]

Christopher Herrmann: What is it?

Chief Boden: Ah, nothing. Rough shift.

Christopher Herrmann: Yeah.

                                            [car door shuts]

Christopher Herrmann: Hey, what are you doing for dinner tonight?

                                         I’m doing all the cooking now that Cindy’s

                                         in the home stretch. So it’s either gonna

                                         be pizza or steak. It’s your call.

Chief Boden: Well, I can never turn down a Herrmann steak.

Christopher Herrmann: All right. Great.

                                         Bring the beer, all right?

Chief Boden: I will.

Christopher Herrmann: All right.

Chief Boden: Thanks.

Peter Mills: Hey! Excuse me, Chief! Um, I was wondering, can I pick

                     up a couple shifts next week? Maybe pull 48?

                     These-These Squad classes are breaking the

                      bank, so… I just need the extra money.

Chief Boden: What did your Lieutenant say?

Peter Mills: Check with you.

Chief Boden: Well, we can make that happen.

Peter Mills: Yeah?

Chief Boden: I’ll talk to second watch.

Peter Mills: Thank you.

Chief Boden: Okay.

Kelly Severide: I’m not exactly one to sit on my hands, you know.

Leslie Shay: Yeah, well, you shouldn’t.

Kelly Severide: Yeah, well, that’s not what the CFD is advising.

                           I’m running out of options here, Shay.

Leslie Shay: I’m telling you, the more I think about it, the more I

                     think that she targeted you specifically. She knew

                     your background, and she took what, all of two

                     seconds to start flirting up a storm? Anyone do a

                     background check on her?

Kelly Severide: I’ve-I’ve been on my heels this whole time, no.

Leslie Shay: Yeah, exactly. It’s time to turn it around, go on the

                      offensive.

                                       [car door shuts]

                                        [engine starts]

                                            cutscene

Gabby Dawson: You thinking about jumping?

Peter Mills: Hey.

Gabby Dawson: Hey.

Peter Mills: You made it.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, bearing carbs.

Peter Mills: I see.

Gabby Dawson: Hey.

                                         [kissing sound]

Gabby Dawson: What is it?

Peter Mills: You never answered my question. I know that I’m… I’m

                     moving too fast. I…

Gabby Dawson: Peter. I love you too.

Peter Mills: Really?

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, really.

Peter Mills: [chuckles]

Gabby Dawson: I just got one question for you. Am I gonna have to

                            borrow Antonio’s pickup, or are you gonna help me

                            move?

Peter Mills: I will help you move.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, that’s what I thought.

                                        [kissing sounds]

                                             cutscene

Antonio Dawson: Hey.

Kelly Severide: Hey, man. Thanks for meeting me.

Antonio Dawson: You sure you know what you’re doing?

Kelly Severide: Tsk. Like I told you on the phone, I’m-I’m feeling out

                           of options.

Antonio Dawson: Well, it might be worse than you think. I called the

                               Assistant State’s Attorney. That Rutkowski’s

                               testimony landed, and they won’t be accused of

                               playing favourites for a firefighter. They’re gonna

                               approve criminal charges. I ran a background

                               check on Tara Little. She worked at an ad

                               agency. There were criminal charges filed and

                               then withdrawn.

Kelly Severide: Against her?

Antonio Dawson: No. A fellow employee there named Clay White.

                              There’s an address in there.

Kelly Severide: I appreciate it.

Antonio Dawson: If I was smart, I’d tell you to let a lawyer handle it

                              from here.

                                             cutscene

                                          [bell chimes]

Man 2: May I help you?

Kelly Severide: Are you Clay White?

Man 2 (Clay White): I am.

Kelly Severide: I was told to talk to you about Tara Little.

Man 2 (Clay White): A-Anything you wanna say about her, you can

                                 tell my lawyer. Now get the hell out.

Kelly Severide: It’s… it’s not like that. I-I need your help.

Man 2 (Clay White): I was a mid-level executive at Ramsey-Cole, a

                                  high-end ad agency on Michigan Avenue. Tara

                                  was one of 20 graphic designers we had on

                                  staff. Tara and I had hit it off. Was it

                                  inappropriate? She was game, and I wasn’t

                                  married. It was all consensual. We had some

                                  fun but went in different directions, ended

                                  totally civil. Then we lost an account. The

                                  rumour mill started flying about downsizing.

                                  Next thing I know, Tara makes a claim, says I

                                  took advantage of her, it was a hostile working

                                  environment. I was fired and ostracised by the

                                  whole industry.

                                  I’ve got an MBA [chuckles]

                                  And this is what I do to pay my mortgage. She

                                  got a nice settlement from what I heard.

Kelly Severide: Sounds familiar. Would you consider coming

                          forward?

Man 2 (Clay White): I signed a non-disclosure agreement, so she’d

                                  drop the criminal charges.

Kelly Severide: You didn’t answer my question.

                                              cutscene

Hallie Thomas: Let me take a look at him

Patient (Miranda): [winces]

Hallie Thomas: Wow. What happened?

Patient (Miranda): [sighs] I was texting on my phone, and I walked

                                into a damn tree.

Hallie Thomas: Oh, that’s a new one. All right, I’m gonna walk you

                          back to a bed, where we can get that thumb set.

                          You can walk with me?

Patient (Miranda): Yeah.

Hallie Thomas: No texting while you do it.

                                          [chuckling]

Hallie Thomas: One sec.

                           Thanks.

                                       [door buzzes]

Hallie Thomas: Hey.

Matt Casey: You used to always drop by the firehouse with lunch,

                      so… I’m returning the favour, if you have time.

Doctor (Margaret): Got you covered.

Hallie Thomas: Come on.

                                       [door buzzes]

Hallie Thomas: I’ll show you around.

Matt Casey: Okay.

Hallie Thomas: We have five beds. But we can stuff eight in here if

                           we need to.

Matt Casey: All right.

Hallie Thomas: Um, a couple of visitation rooms, a couple of

                          offices. There’s where we keep the meds. This is

                          our bathroom. One bathroom, mind you, for all of

                          us, including the patients.

Man 3: Hallie.

Hallie Thomas: Oh, Steven Goody. He started the clinic. This is

                           my… this is Matt.

Man 3 (Steven Goody): Hey. Nice to meet you.

                                        Listen, Hallie, do you think you could help

                                        us out on Sunday, maybe, uh, noon to

                                        5:00-ish? Dr. Arend can’t make it.

Hallie Thomas: Yeah, I think so. I just have to check my schedule

                           over at Lakeshore.

Man 3 (Steven Goody): Great. Just let me know, okay?

                                        Nice to meet you, Matt.

Matt Casey: You too.

Hallie Thomas: One sec.

                                          [door buzzes]

Hallie Thomas: Huh. That’s weird.

Woman 3 (Bridgette): What?

Hallie Thomas: Uh, well…

Woman 3 (Bridgette): Oh, yeah, I know about this. I’ll take care of it.

Hallie Thomas: Okay.

Matt Casey: Everything good?

Hallie Thomas: Yeah. I’m starving. Let’s go.

Matt Casey: You really like it here?

Hallie Thomas: Yes. When I was away, I remembered why I got into

                           medicine in the first place. I remembered a lot of

                           things I wanted to reclaim for myself when I

                           returned.

                                              [laughter]

                                              cutscene

                                    [overlapping chatter]

                              [video game in background]

Christopher Herrmann: All right.

Herrmann Kids: Look it, look, look, right there.

Christopher Herrmann: I won! Yes! Turn that thing up. Screw the

                                         neighbours [chuckles]

Chief Boden: Uh, uh, no, no. Doing the dishes is my specialty.

Cindy Herrmann: You’re sweet, Wallace.

Chief Boden: Anyway, ain’t you supposed to be in bed?

Cindy Herrmann: You think I’m going to trust Chris alone with those

                               monsters?

Herrmann & Boden: [laughs]

Chief Boden: Get outta here.

Boden & Cindy: [chuckles]

                                     [glass bottles clinking]

Christopher Herrmann: So?

Chief Boden: So?

                       Okay. I, uh… I think I’m losing the respect of an

                        important man in the house.

Christopher Herrmann: Severide?

Chief Boden: Between this Benny and this Tara thing… I think he

                       thinks I’m the bad guy here.

Christopher Herrmann: Eh. What’s that you always say? “Leaders

                                         lead from the front.”

Chief Boden: Yeah. Sounds like me.

Christopher Herrmann: Up front can be lonely, that’s for sure.

                                        But… it goes with the territory, don’t it?

Chief Boden: Yeah. Thanks.

                                       [bottles clink]

Chief Boden: Again.

                                           cutscene

Matt Casey: Otis. Ready to lay claim to your undies?

                                          [chuckling]

Otis Zvonecek: Yeah, you wish.

Mouch: Just come clean, Otis. No one will judge you. This is a safe

              room.

Otis Zvonecek: [sighs] You know what? No. I-I can’t stand to look

                           at these another shift.

All: Oh!

                                           [laughter]

Mouch: That’s it. Now I know they’re yours.

                             [station alert blares & buzzes]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Squad 3, Ambulance 61. Vehicle accident.

                                        [sirens wailing]

                                         [horn honking]

Woman 4 (Bystander): The Taurus there was just pulling out of the

                                       hotel parking lot, when, bam! The trailblazer

                                       hit it straight on.

Matt Casey: Thank you.

Kelly Severide: We’re on the trailblazer.

                           He’s DOA.

                                           [indistinct chatter]

Matt Casey: Ma’am, try not to move until we get you collared and

                      braced.

Victim 3 (Lady): I need the report to say we’re just co-workers, and

                           we were coming from a lunch when that jackass hit

                            us!

Matt Casey: We don’t report that kind of stuff, ma’am.

Victim 3 (Lady): I gotta get out of here.

Matt Casey: Ma’am, you need to remain still.

                      I need that collar!

Peter Mills: Here you go, Lieutenant.

Matt Casey: Thanks.

Chief Boden: (into radio) Struts, wedges, and cribbing. Stabilise that

                       car so you can get that woman out.

Kelly Severide: You heard him. Get that cribbing in place. Capp,

                           centre part!

                                        [glass shattering]

Kelly Severide: Get it piped down. How are we on the other side?

                                         [metal clanging]

Joe Cruz: Almost there.

Chief Boden: Good. Let’s cut that roof away.

                                        [machine whirring]

Kelly Severide: Watch for sparks.

                           Roof’s clear.

Christopher Herrmann: C-collar.

Leslie Shay: Copy that. Flying in.

Kelly Severide: All right, you ready?

Leslie Shay: Take her out as straight as possible.

Victim 3 (Lady): Where are you taking me?

Gabby Dawson: Lakeshore.

Victim 3 (Lady): Will you call my husband and tell him you found me

                           by myself?

Gabby Dawson: Ma’am, you’re gonna have to take that up with the

                            doctors at the hospital.

Victim 4 (Man): [groans]

Kelly Severide: Hey, I’m gonna need you to cover for me for an hour

                           when we get back to the station.

Harold Capp: You got it.

                                            cutscene

Tara Little: You’re supposed to stay away from me.

Kelly Severide: Am I?

Tara Little: [scoffs] You’re finished. You hear me? I am about to

                   scream so loud.

Man 2 (Clay White): Hi, Tara.

Tara Little: [scoffs] He can’t. He signed…

Kelly Severide: A non-disclosure and confidentiality agreement?

                          What else can you take away from him? I checked

                          with the union attorney, and it turns out in cases of

                          fraud, the courts don’t care much about those

                          agreements.

Tara Little: Fraud?

Kelly Severide: Maybe we take you to criminal court, get testimony

                          on the record or you retract your lie, quit this job.

                          We never see each other again.

                                            cutscene

Woman 2: Excuse me.

Christopher Herrmann: Yeah.

Woman 2: Hi. Um, I was the one that asked about the pictures.

Christopher Herrmann: Aw, yeah, of course. How are you?

Woman 2: Hi.

Christopher Herrmann: Hey.

Woman 2: Uh, this is my husband, Roger…

Christopher Herrmann: Hey Roger.

Man 4 (Roger): Hey.

Woman 2: And our daughter, Charlotte.

Christopher Herrmann: Aw.

Woman 2: Would you mind?

Christopher Herrmann: Naw, no. No problem at all. Come on

                                        Charlotte. I’ll show you around here.

                                        Come on.

                                        How old is she now?

Joe Cruz: One, two, three.

Woman 2: Uh, 12.

Christopher Herrmann: That’s incredible.

Joe Cruz: Tighter, tighter.

Woman 2: Yeah, plus today is her birthday. So here we are. She’s

                   really something.

Christopher Herrmann: Yeah.

Joe Cruz: Hey, one more. Let’s do one more. Everybody smile…

                  hold it.

Christopher Herrmann: Hey, do you have a few minutes. Because I

                                        think we can do something a little better

                                        than a couple of photos.

Joe Cruz: Great.

Woman 2: Sure.

Christopher Herrmann: Yeah? All right.

Woman 2: [laughs]

Joe Cruz: Get in there.

Woman 2: Okay.

Christopher Herrmann: Hey, Chief. We got a kid’s birthday party in

                                        the common room, and they’d like to see

                                         you.

Chief Boden: You tell little Danny or Billy or Leo happy birthday for

                        me, but I have a mountain of paperwork that I need

                        to get through.

Christopher Herrmann: This one’s important, Chief.

Chief Boden: Okay, where are the other kids?

Christopher Herrmann: Well, it’s not that kind of party, Chief.

Joe Cruz: Later I’ll grab all the guys from the truck, take a picture

                 together.

Chief Boden: Hey.

Girl (Charlotte): Are you Chief Boden?

Chief Boden: Yes I am. And are you the birthday girl?

Girl (Charlotte): Yeah.

Chief Boden: And um, what’s your name?

Girl (Charlotte): Charlotte.

Chief Boden: Charlotte. And how old are you, Charlotte?

Girl (Charlotte): 12.

Chief Boden: Well, Charlotte, happy birthday [chuckles]

Girl (Charlotte): Do you recognise me?

Chief Boden: Um, I’m… I’m sorry. No, I don’t.

Girl (Charlotte): 12 years ago today, I was left on the doorstep of

                            this firehouse. He said you were the fireman

                            who found me.

Chief Boden: I always wondered what happened to you.

Girl (Charlotte): I was adopted. I live in Indiana now.

Chief Boden: Look at you. Don’t you look great?

Woman 2: She’s always wanted the truth.

Girl (Charlotte): When my mom and dad told me where I came

                           from, I had to come here.

Chief Boden: And I am very glad that you did.

Girl (Charlotte): Thank you.

Chief Boden: No, thank you, Charlotte. ‘Cause you have made this

                       Chief… a very happy man today.

Christopher Herrmann: Okay. Here we go.

All: Happy birthday to you; Happy birthday to you; Happy birthday

       dear Charlotte; Happy birthday to you.

                                [applause and cheering]

                                            cutscene

Otis Zvonecek: You’ll still pay a $20 bounty on these briefs?

Mouch: If you’re ready to admit they’re yours.

Otis Zvonecek: You wanna know something curious? I looked at

                           the tag here. Interesting that they’re a Japanese

                           brand of underwear not sold in the United States.

                           Japanese. The same language you’ve been

                           studying.

Mouch: That… that doesn’t…

Otis Zvonecek: Japanese. The same proverbs you’ve been

                           spouting for weeks, one of which you used to

                           fleece me out of 20 bones.

Mouch: Fine.

Otis Zvonecek: [chuckles] Thank you… very much.

Mouch: [sighs] Go ahead. Go, tell everyone. Get a good laugh.

Otis Zvonecek: Oh, I will. I will.

Mouch: I’ve been dating a Japanese woman. I’m doing everything I

              can to impress her, because quite frankly, I’m not getting

              any younger. Now, she mailed me the underwear as a gift.

              So that’s a good sign, right?

Otis Zvonecek: Wait, wait. Mailed? From where?

Mouch: Well, we’ve been uh… our relationship is, uh… we haven’t

              actually met yet.

Otis Zvonecek: An Internet girlfriend.

Mouch: I’ve talked to her on the phone…

Otis Zvonecek: Hmm.

Mouch: A lot.

Otis Zvonecek: Right, right. How much have you spent on her?

Mouch: Eh, not much.

             Yeah a little.

Otis Zvonecek: [chuckles]

Mouch: Please don’t bust my balls on this, Otis.

              Otis!

                                               cutscene

Chief Boden: Hey, just the man I was coming to find. I don’t know if

                       you’ve heard, but miraculously, Tara Little has quit the

                       fire service and recanted her testimony against you.

Kelly Severide: Did she?

Chief Boden: What’d you do?

Kelly Severide: Well, I-I…

Chief Boden: You know what? I’d rather not know.

Kelly Severide: It was on the up-and-up, Chief. I promise you that.

Chief Boden: Kelly. Throughout all this, never doubted you. I want

                        you to know that. Just had to be a Chief.

Kelly Severide: I know. I appreciate it.

                                             cutscene

Gabby Dawson: Can we talk?

Peter Mills: Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: Uh, not here.

Peter Mills: Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: Apparently, it happened during a time when your

                            mom and dad were already separated. Boden 

                            and Ingrid got together, but Boden backed away

                            as soon as he found out that your dad and mom

                            might reconcile. And I didn’t know what to do

                            with the information. And I didn’t think that it

                            was my place to tell you, so I just sat on it. But

                             the more I thought about how close you were 

                             getting, the more I thought that maybe I should-I

                             should just tell you, so…

Peter Mills: Boden and my mom? [sighs]

                    And you knew about this how long?

Gabby Dawson: Since the big banquet.

Peter Mills: [sighs]

Gabby Dawson: Look, I know I should’ve told you sooner. I know it.

                            But you have to see it from my point of view.

Peter Mills: Oh, do I? Is that what I need to do, Dawson?

Gabby Dawson: Peter, I’m sorry. If I’d have known you’d have this

                            kind of reaction, I would’ve just come right home

                            and told you then.

Peter Mills: But you didn’t, okay?

Gabby Dawson: I didn’t know.

Peter Mills: Yeah. I need to be alone.

                                [station alarm buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Squad 3, Engine 51, Ambulance 61. Building

                   fire, 3331 West Halsted Road.

Matt Casey: That’s Hallie’s clinic.

                                        [horn honking]

                                        [sirens wailing]

Matt Casey: Oh God.

                                   [indistinct radio chatter]

Kelly Severide: Let’s go! Why aren’t those hydrants open yet?

Christopher Herrmann: We’re gonna need this vented. Get that

                                         aerial to the roof.

Police Officer (Nicole Sermons): My partner, Barnes, he went in

                                                       further. He found a woman, but he

                                                       couldn’t get to her.

Matt Casey: Hey. Back door is there.

Kelly Severide: Fan out! Look for victims. I’ll stick with Casey.

                                           [coughing]

Police Officer (Jim Barnes): [coughs] I couldn’t reach her!

Matt Casey: Where?

Police Officer (Jim Barnes): [coughs]

Matt Casey: Get him out of here!

Police Officer (Jim Barnes): [coughing]

                                     [siren wailing]

Police Officer (Jim Barnes): [groans]

                               [ambulance beeping]

                                    [car door shuts]

Kelly Severide: Fire department! Call out!

Matt Casey: Hallie!

                               [metal cage shaking]

Matt Casey: Hallie!

Chief Boden: (into radio) This is an oven. Everyone out!

                                  [metal clanging]

Mouch: Hallie’s in there.

Police Officer (Jim Barnes): Who?

Leslie Shay: His girl.

Matt Casey: Hallie!

Chief Boden: (into radio) Casey, where are you?

Matt Casey: No! No! No!

                     [whimpers & groans]

                                  [wood creaking & splitting]

                                                [explosion]

Chief Boden: (into radio) Casey, where the hell are you?

                       (into radio) Casey. Casey!

                                       [explosion continues]

Chief Boden: (into radio) Talk to me. Where the hell are you?

Kelly Severide: We got her! We’re coming out!

Chief Boden: [sighs]

Gabby Dawson: Get oxygen on her and into the ambulance now.

Police Officer (Jim Barnes): We’ll lead the way.

Matt Casey: I’m coming.

                                        [ambo door shuts]

                                             [sirens wail]

Matt Casey: [heavy breathing] Breathe, Hallie. Breathe.

                      Damn it, baby. Breathe.

                      Come on! Breathe.

                      Breathe. Damn it, girl.

                      Breathe.

                                      [ambo door shuts]

                                        [sombre music]

Matt Casey: [sniffles]

                     [sobbing]

                     No!

                     No! [sobs & wails]

                                              - end -

Definitions:

D&D = Drunk and Disorderly

K-12 = Fire/Rescue saw. It can be used for forcible entry, ventilation, USAR (Urban Search and Rescue – technical rescue operation that involves the location, extrication, and initial medical stabilisation of victims trapped in an urban area, namely structural collapse due to natural disasters, mines and collapsed trenches), RIC (Rapid Intervention Crew - team of two or more firefighters dedicated solely to the search and rescue of other firefighters in distress), and vehicle extrication

Sawzall = Term often used to describe any brand of reciprocating saw. These saws cut in a back and forth motion, similar to a handsaw that’s just downed four espressos

EMS Plan 2 = 5 Ambulances, 1 Paramedic Field Chief, 1 Deputy District Chief, 1 Command Van, 1 Triage Van, Media Affairs Unit

SVT = Supraventricular tachycardia (SVT) is a condition where your heart suddenly beats much faster than normal

Cardioverting = An electrical cardioversion is a treatment which aims to get your abnormal heart rhythm (arrhythmia) back to a normal pattern. It’s done by sending controlled electric signals to your heart through electrodes placed on the chest

Adenosine = Used to bring your heart back into a normal rhythm

[unbridgeabledistances]

i love ur new fic! only a couple of requests - more parts to it! and...more softness between the two of them 🥺 we hardly get given any in the show </3

:)) ty so so much, anon!!! as requested, here’s another installment of the alternate POV fic (this time from tami’s perspective) and a whooole lot of domestic gallavich softness (featuring very sappy kitchen slow dancing)

--

Tami knew that the pandemic had taken a toll on its fair share of relationships— hell, hers and Lip’s included. But as much as she and Lip bickered and miscommunicated and regularly put up solid walls of lies between each other, at least, the very least—

At least they weren’t like Ian and Mickey.

At some point between being head-over-heels, fuck-all-night crazy for each other and getting married, something between Lip’s brother and his stellar choice of a Southside boyfriend had definitely changed. Tami wasn’t really close to either of them, other than Ian’s borderline obsession with Fred and her gratefulness for the cooing baby voice that came over him every time Tami thrust her tired arms out for him to take the screaming toddler in her arms, and she barely crossed paths with Mickey in a situation that wasn’t coordinating frozen waffles for breakfast or sitting across from him in the living room during Gallagher family movie nights that always inevitably turned into a passionate thirty minute screaming match about which movie to pick— but ever since the first time she set foot into the slumped and sagging Gallagher house, Tami knew that Ian and his choice of a prison-break boyfriend were something special, at least at the beginning.

She’d seen it the first time she met the two of them, when these two grown men were willingly crashing in that shitty single bed in the boys’ room while she and Lip were slumming it in the ever-so-spacious privacy of the cramped room with the accordion door, back when the halls were crawling with strangers making tamales and Fred was barely weeks old and Tami was inches away from losing her shit; Tami couldn’t imagine being in a smaller and more confined space than the one that she was in, locking herself in the bathroom behind an actual fucking door every chance for some peace and quiet, distancing herself from Lip every chance she got— and then there was Ian and Mickey down the hall, sleeping pressed together on a concave mattress meant for a single teenager, pouring each other coffee and trading glances as they sat next to each other at the breakfast table, and pulling each other closer every second they had the chance despite the fact that they’d just gotten out of a months-long prison stay together. There was something so earnest, and so weirdly romantic, about seeing a hardass like Mickey Milkovich, someone with “Fuck U Up” tattoos on his knuckles and more of a sailor’s vocabulary than Tami had, turn to putty whenever he was in proximity to Lip’s little brother. Tami had to be honest—she was kind of impressed. These guys clearly had the teenager, puppy-dog kind of love for each other that hadn’t really gone away, something that she didn’t think that she and Lip ever really had, or ever really would— so as much as she felt like her life and her relationship with Lip was spiraling towards a series of cascading failures, it was nice to know that at least someone in the Gallagher house had a sturdy, stable relationship.

And then, of course, the pandemic hit.

When all this COVID shit started, Tami had counted her infinite blessings that she and Lip had gotten a place of their own outside the Gallagher house before all the sprawling weeks of lockdowns; Tami couldn’t imagine the kind of unforgiving hell on earth it would be to quarantine in that tiny slumped house, in a tiny cramped room, for months on end until the U.S. tangentially got its shit together. So it made sense, really, that everything between Ian and Mickey had changed.

She’d noticed it that first morning, when she and Lip finally dropped by the house after weeks of hunkering down to have breakfast with everyone, carrying a box of cheap pastries they’d gotten on the walk over— and the first thing she’d noticed when she walked into the kitchen was how far apart Mickey and Ian were sitting, on opposite ends of the rickety kitchen table, any scarce dialogue between the two of them turned brittle and stale.

There were spats, now, and gentle shoves that turned less gentle; she and Lip weren’t around the house much anymore, thank fucking god, but what few conversations she did see between Ian and Mickey always ended with raised voices and them both practically having steam coming out of their ears, or with some stray bystander needing to plant themselves in the middle of the married couple to tell them to calm the fuck down. Tami would lock eyes with Lip as they scuffled in the kitchen, her eyebrows raised in a message that she knew Lip understood: “See, this is why I never want to get married.”

So that was pretty much the situation Tami expected to be walking into, late one afternoon when Lip was presumably off doing some shady shit with those stolen bikes and Tami was stuck at the Gallagher house waiting to meet up with him so they could keep working through “Operation Sell the Gallagher House to Gentrifiers.” Tami had expected Lip to be here a couple of hours ago, and was honestly debating just saying fuck it and going home— but Fred had passed out in Tami’s lap as they were sitting on the couch a couple of minutes ago and Tami was not going to wake this monster child up before he was ready and took another hour of crying and writhing to settle down again. Tami was leaning back, closing her eyes and enjoying a rare moment of peace in this godforsaken house… when she was snapped back into reality by the sound of a kitchen cupboard slamming shut.

Huh. Tami had apparently drifted off, but Freddie was still sound asleep in her lap, pinning her down. It was definitely the early evening by now— the sun had started to set, glowing purple from behind the thin curtains.

A clang came from the kitchen again, and Tami craned her neck as much as she could without stirring the sleeping toddler in her lap to peer into the kitchen from the open doorway to see if Lip was home— and instead, she saw Ian standing by the counter opening something with a can opener, and Mickey beside him.

It looked like they’d been in the kitchen a while—from the corner of her eye she could see Mickey perched on the countertop sipping a beer, his legs swinging while Ian milled around him pulling things from the cabinets and manning the stovetop. She knew both of the boys weren’t much of a cook, and from what she’d seen Ian’s culinary abilities didn’t exceed heating up canned soup or spreading butter on toast— but it looked like he was chopping onions and opening a can of black beans for something, which struck her by surprise. There was music playing low from a little portable speaker in the kitchen, presumably something Ian had brought down from the bedroom— right now there was some 80s hit playing that reminded Tami of the music her dad used to listen to while he was putzing around in the garage when she was little, if she was bring totally honest. But Mickey seemed to be enjoying it, his head bobbing slightly to the beat while he scrolled through what she recognized as Ian’s phone.

“Okay, the recipe website says you’ve gotta add cumin now. What the fuck is cumin?”

She could hear Ian’s dry laugh. “A spice? I think? We probably don’t even have it, I’ll just add a shit ton of chili powder and it’ll taste fine.”

“Whatever you say, Rachel Ray.”

Tami could see Ian lean to flip Mickey off, then turn to poke through the cabinets. Weird. Ian had flipped Mickey off, sure, but there wasn’t any malice in it; for the first time in a while, it seemed like the two of them were actually coexisting peacefully for once— which, thank god for that, at the very least because it meant Fred would stay sleeping on her lap for a while until Lip got home.

Now that she thought back on it, Ian and Mickey had seemed a bit more settled lately— she’d heard bits and pieces about all the stuff with Mickey’s abusive asshole of a dad moving in next door, and about the two of them starting a security business together in that random ambulance that was always parked in the street now (Tami wasn’t even going to ask)— she could imagine that running errands around Chicago together all day long in matching jumpsuits would bring anyone closer together. This was the first time she’d really seen them enjoy being in each other’s space since the pandemic started, just casually hanging out around the house without something fiery about to erupt between them, whether from anger or passion— and honestly, it was kind of nice to by in proximity to, just listening to their chatter floating back and forth and the sizzling of onions and chili flakes in a pan while the music drifted between them.

Tami sat there for a while, closing her eyes again as the shadows in the room grew deeper, listening to some Bon Jovi song play low in the background and feeling the solid weight of Fred breathing evenly pressed against her chest.

A couple minutes of minutes later, she heard the stove being turned off, and the clanking of plates being taken out of the cabinets as the song ended.

“Hey, can I pick a song?” Ian asked, over the sound of him putting the sizzling pan into the sink.

Mickey burped loudly, and Tami could see that he was still perched on the edge of the kitchen counter by the stovetop.

“Yeah, but put on something good, man. None of your techno bullshit.”

“Pass me my phone.”

Ian fidgeted with the phone for a moment—and then a familiar song, a lot softer than the cheerful drumbeats of the melodies before, came streaming through the speaker.

“I found a love, for me…”

Immediately, she heard Mickey chuckle loudly, like he was surprised.

“Fuuuucking softie,” Mickey groaned, but when Tami craned her neck again to slyly peer at the two of them in the kitchen she could see that he was grinning. At first Tami was confused, but then a memory started to stir— this was their wedding song, wasn’t it? She remembered hearing it waft through the front hallways of the dingy polka house while she and Lip were having their screaming match over Fred. Ah, good memories.

Ian stepped closer to Mickey, and Tami promptly heard the pad of Mickey’s feet hitting the ground as he slid off of the kitchen countertop.

“Dance with me?”

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Mickey breathed, and then they were silent. From where she was sitting, Tami could see Ian’s broad shoulders standing in front of where Mickey had been seated— his head was curled downward slightly, and Mickey was pinned close against him, his face pressed into the upper half of Ian’s shoulder.

Well, damn. Tami smirked to herself. I guess that security business has worked some magic after all.

Out of nowhere, Fred started to stir and wriggle in Tami’s lap.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath. She didn’t really want to break up the sappy moment, but Freddie was definitely due for a diaper change and was going to be a fussy mess in about five seconds if she didn’t scoop him up right now.

She quickly rose from the lumpy couch, cradling the back of Fred’s head in her hands and beelining through kitchen doorway.

Instantly, Mickey nearly jumped out his skin when he saw Tami— he immediately detached himself from Ian’s shoulder and detangled himself from Ian’s arms. Ian just grinned sheepishly and leaned against the counter, letting Mickey ever-so-slightly slump against him.

Tami paused, taking the scene in and trying to hold back a knowing smile as Freddie fussed on her shoulder.

“The fuck’re you looking at?”

Mickey’s neck turned blotchy and flushed, and he darted his eyes to Freddie and then back to Tami.

Tami knew she had a sloped, sappy smile on her face. “Nothing. Just good to see you guys not ripping each other’s throats out for once.”

Mickey let out a slight breath, slumping back towards Ian’s chest even more— then he rolled his eyes, but the gesture was light and fond.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said dismissively. Ian was still practically beaming, and draped a hand across Mickey’s waist— and Tami watched as he slowly, slowly pressed a kiss to Mickey’s temple and Mickey’s posture immediately softened, like the air was being let out of him.

Wow. Okay. Guess the old Ian and Mickey are back.

Tami raised Freddie slightly onto her shoulder, then pushed past the two of them towards the back stairs, where Tami could hopefully go up and change her son’s shitty diaper in peace— and as she started to climb the stairs, she heard one final quip from Mickey:

“Your brother can’t sell this house fast enough, man.”

[herohotline]

It’s Gonna Be Okay (It Has To)

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

A/N: because apparently I can only write dark shit if Deku is involved

Request from Ao3:  Can I get an Izuku x Reader? Reader is another student with a weaker quirk(they can heal others, but in order to do so they must take on the wound themself, maybe?) Maybe kinda the “Are you crazy? You almost lost your life!” prompt.

Warnings: Descriptions of gore, trauma, angst. Also some dadzawa because I’m weak

Like many quirks, yours had an upside and a downside to it. Your parents called you blessed to have such a quirk; as if you were some sort of angel. You didn’t really agree with that phrasing- and you soon had to run away from your parent's eager hands so they stopped abusing your quirk. You took refuge in U.A- once you barely passed the exam you explained your situation to the teachers, they were quick to take you in. Aizawa had interestingly enough decided to house you- but he made it quite clear that even though you were in his class he wouldn’t be playing favorites and you would be graded fairly. 

Your quirk is simple enough. You have the ability to heal others completely, but it might cost you your own life. You take their pain and transfer it to yourself- sometimes it’s not a big deal, and sometimes it is. For instance, you are not allergic to peanuts, but if someone else is and starts to choke from the effects, you can easily snatch that away and save their life while having no real consequences yourself because your body is not allergic to peanuts. 

Your parents thought of you as a lifesaver; anytime they were presented with discomfort, they demanded their angel take it from them. Not only was this abusing your quirk, but it was abusing you in the process. You had since learned from Aizawa housing you that you are not required to heal anything and anyone- you have a choice in the matter. 

Today, you made a rather… drastic choice. 

It was a completely normal day. You, Midoriya, and Uraraka had been traveling Musutafu for fun when you had heard about a villain attack nearby. Of course, your blood boiled at the thought of another villainous attack, but you knew that you were still in training and going in to help was the last thing anyone needed right now. Convincing Midoriya was difficult- in the end, you weren’t even able to win- but you made a compromise. 

You’d go look at the damage, and once the villains were dealt with, you’d help with damage control and any civilians that needed a hand after the attack. That sounded fair enough. 

When you arrived at the scene, everything was pretty much taken care of, to your relief. There was some rubble and people needed help getting out from under them, so Izuku and Uraraka used their abilities to help while you observed from the background. Your quirk wasn’t exactly useful in this area, but you could help with any minor injuries people may have. 

As you look around the area, you notice something moving from underneath all the rubble. At first, you think it’s a civilian, but claws snatch out from the rocks and the nails make angry marks as the thing pushes itself up from the boulders. 

You freeze in shock. It’s a Nomu- of course it is, when is it not? 

“Deku!!” 

You scream, your vocal cords shredding as you do. It’s not enough time- you were too late with your warning as you watch Midoriya get pummeled into the ground by the Nomu. You can hear everything-

Midoriya and Uraraka’s screams, the heroes nearby telling everyone to evacuate, the vibrations in the ground as people run and scatter. 

You don’t even get a choice to run in and help- a hero scoops you up in his arms and runs away with you. He can't get very far until the Nomu has clawed his back- the whole thing looks like an insane, mutated bird. It has fierce wings, but the most threatening thing about it is its strong legs with talons that are sharp as knives and several inches long. He picks the hero up with the talons, flying him up into the air before swinging and dropping him onto the ground below. It all happens right in front of you- 

The blood. The limbs, the guts… flying everywhere- what used to be a man is scattered in several disgusting pieces- all over you, all over the concrete, all over all over all over- 

Your scream is bloodcurdling. 

Uraraka scoops you up as you scream, and you’re vaguely aware that she’s taking you somewhere, but you don’t know where. You don’t stop screaming, you don’t stop crying- you don’t stop because you can’t. All you can see is blood, blood, blood, and it makes you want to vomit. 

Uraraka keeps running. 

Eventually, the chaos ends, but you’re unsure exactly when. You don’t know how long it’s been, you don’t know if you’re even alive, really, but police cars and their sirens fill your senses as well as the ambulances. Your friend places you in one before quickly running off again, and you don’t even get to say anything. 

Can you say anything?

There’s doctors, nurses- people, they’re all just people in uniform- checking your vitals and asking you questions you can’t answer. You feel partially numb, partially scared and partially frozen. You sit there and let them do what they need to do, but they don’t do a good job. Nothing will help the white noise in your ears and the pictures in your head and how your body just won’t stop shaking. 

As you stare at all the damage the Nomu caused, there’s a stretcher being carried into another ambulance. You can barely see who it is from your spot, but there’s a glimpse of green hair. Your stomach flips when you think about who it could be.

You don’t ask the doctors for permission. You know that nothing is wrong with you, nothing but your head, so you tear out all the wires they put in you and jump out of the vehicle. You don’t listen to them calling out for you as you rush toward the stretcher, breaking your way through the several men in white that surround him- Midoriya. 

He’s covered in bruises, scrapes, and gashes. There are three gnarly, ugly tears on his side that look like the very definition of worrying. The voice you couldn’t find before suddenly comes back. “Will he make it?” You look at the doctors. 

“Please get out of the way!” 

“No!” You scream, holding onto Midoriya’s stretcher with all your strength. “Is he going to live?!” 

“We don’t know-”

Not good enough. 

“Okay, okay,” you breathe shakily, looking down at Midoriya. He’s barely lucid, you can tell- his eyes are open and unfocused, looking in several different directions in a haze. Tears run down your cheeks and snot down your nose as you grab his face with shaky hands. “Okay, Midoriya. Listen to me- okay? Listen. You’re gonna be okay, I swear- I swear you’re gonna be okay. Everything is going to be okay.” 

Your hand drifts down to the torn-up flesh on his side. You can do this- you know you can do this. It’s just as easy as taking a paper cut. 

Another shaky breath leaves you as you sob, preparing yourself for the pain- and then you activate your quirk. 

---

You hate the color white. 

It’s not even a color- it’s meaningless and void of anything real. It’s the beginning of color but isn’t a color itself. It is ugly and dark in your opinion. 

When you wake up, you’re surrounded by that non-color. It’s all white- the walls, the ceiling, the bedsheets, and your gown. You know where you are immediately. Only a hospital can bring you such dread. 

No one is in the room at the moment and you’re glad. It gives you a moment to think about what happened. There’s a burning sensation on your waist, something that hurts more than you think you’re processing at the moment- you’re probably drugged. Sloppy and heavy hands lift up your bedsheets and your gown, revealing the fresh, dark scar. It hugs your entire waist, curling around you as if it were a curse. 

But you think it’s a blessing. You saved Midoriya, right? God, please- he’s still alive, right? 

Alone in the hospital, you cry again. It’s silent, the tears leaving in streams but you don’t have the energy to sob. You lean back into the uncomfortable, stiff pillows on your bed and let yourself sink into the mattress. Tears fall into your ears and your hair, but that’s okay. 

You’re alive- Midoriya is alive. He has to be. 

---

The next time you wake up, you’re not alone. 

There’s a doctor on one side of your bed, her hands on you and doing something you don’t really know. On the other side, there’s a familiar shade of green sitting on a plastic chair. They’re both talking but it’s all muffled in your ears- you’re too drowsy to fully grasp what you’re seeing and what they’re saying. 

But the green- it makes your heart feel warm. 

“Deku,” you whisper. 

And then you fall unconscious again. 

--- 

You’re a lot more lucid when you wake up next. You’re once again alone in your little hospital room, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Soon, the door straight in front of you opens, several people walking in at once. They’re doing their best to be quiet as they walk around your bed and you can’t help but smile. 

“Hey, guys,” you croak- your throat more dry and hoarse than you realized.

Midoriya, Uraraka, Iida, Todoroki… and surprisingly, but maybe not so much, Aizawa. 

“___!” Uraraka speaks first, a hand slapping over her mouth as she gasps. “You’re-” her eyes are already watering, “you’re awake!” 

You give her a sad, broken smile- but before anyone else can say anything you watch as Aizawa makes his way over to the front of the bed. He stands right next to you, his eyes boring holes as he reaches forward and grabs at your forehead with his hand. 

Something that’s meant to be threatening, but he’s much too gentle for the message to really stick. 

“What were you thinking?” He asks.

“I wasn’t,” you tell him honestly, looking your teacher- your parental figure- in the eye as you speak. “I was scared. I was really, really scared, and I made a choice. But I’m not sorry.” Maybe you haven’t had a lot of time to fully process what happened- what consequences your choices might have- but this you are sure about. Your lip quivers slightly as you try to take a deep breath, holding Aizawa’s wrist gently and taking his hand off your head. “But I am sorry for worrying you.” 

It’s silent for a long moment- the tension was tight enough to wrap around your throat and it’s hard to breathe, but eventually, it loosens as Aizawa’s tense shoulders sag and he huffs. He turns on his heel, heading right for the door. “Come on. Let’s give them some privacy,” he says, a hand reaching out toward Uraraka’s back and gently pushing her toward the door. Iida silently waves as he leaves alongside Todoroki, and then the door shuts- silence once again coming in waves as you sit alone with Midoriya for the first time. 

“...You’re not sorry?” He asks, a hand grabbing the foot of the bed. You can see how it shakes. 

You know it might not be what he wants to hear, but it’s the truth. Your eyes fall to your lap as you tug on the scratchy blankets with your fingers. “I’m not.” You tell him. “...You were dying.”

“So were you!” He suddenly yells and his expression flashes to an angry one as he frowns. “You… you were dying! And it was my fault!” 

“It wasn’t!” You yell back at him. “It was my choice!” 

“Well, you shouldn’t have made it! You- you weren’t in the right mind to make a choice like that!” 

“But I did!” Your voice raises again- there’s a frantic pounding in your chest and you’re sure Midoriya can hear it through the heart monitor. 

You don’t want him to be angry at you- you don’t want to fight. You just wanted to make it better. 

“I made my choice, and I- I’m sorry it hurt you, Midoriya,” you keep fighting back your tears as you stutter along with your words. It’s hard- your eyes are stinging like crazy- but you don’t want to cry in front of him. You don’t want to make it worse. “I’m sorry I made you sad… I just… At that moment- I couldn't bear it. I couldn’t do it again- I couldn’t watch another person die. I didn’t want you to die!” 

Quickly you use your hands to cover your face as you start hyperventilating. The tears come in bursts, and you can’t help it, so you try to wipe them away and cover them up. The beeping from the monitor is driving you crazy. 

You feel something touch your wrist, and then fully grab it, pulling your hand away. Midoriya is by your side now, his eyes wet and his lips wobbly as he grabs your other wrist. He pulls them up to his lips, closing his eyes and placing your hands against his mouth as he stands there. You watch him with wide eyes, your breathing still coming out in funny waves, but it slowly starts to even out as Midoriya continues to calmly stand next to you. 

“___,” He finally speaks. It’s squeaky and quiet- he clears his throat to try again as he finally opens his eyes and looks at you. “___, thank you… Thank you for helping me… But you have to be more careful, alright?” Midoriya’s hand reaches out, cupping your cheek and wiping away the tears that lie there. “Cause… cause I don’t want you to die either, okay? So please- please be more careful.” 

“You too, okay?” You bite your lip. “No more going into fights. We… We don't do anything until we’re called in. If there’s an attack somewhere… you don’t do anything until we graduate. Okay?” 

Midoriya clicks his tongue, giving you a watery smile as he shakes his head. “I guess that’s fair, huh?” You smile back and nod, and as Midoriya lets go of your wrists you place a hand on top of the one on your cheek. 

You’re alive- Midoriya is alive. Things are okay.

Things will be okay.

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Monster Part 10

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Damon Salvatore x Reader

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Character death, canon typical blood. 

Author’s Note:  I want to apologize for how long this has taken to for me to post for you guys. It has been a crazy ride trying to get this part posted. There was so much I wanted to toss into this part, but it wasn’t going to happen. So I decided to make this story a bit longer for you guys. After reading this one, you’ll see why. 

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

You’re a Monster, but I want you What does that say about me?

The softness of the song that played in the background had been concealed by the screams that now echoed through the place. Even though several vampires made themselves known because of the elixir Y/N had consumed, it was nothing compared to the chaos that followed after Katherine had shoved a dagger into Y/N’s stomach, causing the smell to be intensified.

Damon couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched Katherine do it. He watched as Y/N looked at the woman in confusion before she lost consciousness. Damon had barely made it in time before she hit her head against the floor.

Katherine smirked as she looked down at Damon. Her eyes flickered between the vampires in the room that were in a frenzy over Y/N’s sweet smelling blood and Damon. “You may hate me now, but you’ll be thanking me later.” Without another word, she was gone.

“Get her the hell out of here, Damon.” Liz said the moment she reached his side. Her instincts as a sheriff should have told her to call for an ambulance. But with the way the vampires were closing in, that wasn’t the best option.

Even though Damon had Y/N in his arms, he was trying everything he could to keep himself from sinking his fangs into her. The sweet smell that took over his senses made it difficult to keep himself in check. He shook his head, trying to keep the darker thoughts at bay.

“I can’t.” Damon said through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Right now she is bleeding out and if no one helps her, she will die from blood loss from the wound or from the vampires that are here.”

There was something in Liz’s words that stuck with Damon before he adjusted himself to bring Y/N up into his arms before rushing out of the building. He wasn’t about to be the reason she died there. Not with several vampires wanting her blood.

His mouth watered at her scent. No matter how much he tried to keep his mind off of it, he couldn’t keep his face from changing. The way her blood smelled was intoxicating. But as tempting as it was, he kept himself from doing the one thing he promised himself he wouldn’t do. Hurt her.

Y/N’s heart was beating. To human ears it would have been faint. But it was all Damon needed to know she was still alive. That some part of her was fighting to live through the blood loss. Once she was safe behind some protection spell, or even a barrier, he’d heal her. He couldn’t risk stopping and doing that with her in his arms. There were several vampires following her scent. Stopping would surely mean her death.

“Just a little further.” He said to her, even though he wasn’t sure she could hear him or not. He was sure she was barely hanging on with how much blood she already lost. Anymore and there’d be nothing left.

The moment he reached the boarding house, Damon yelled out for Bonnie and Elena. Walking over to the couch, he gently placed Y/N down on it. His eyes moved down to her wound before his hand gripped around the handle of the blade. Pulling it out quickly, he tossed it aside.

Biting into his wrist, he quickly brought it up to her mouth, hoping that his blood would work in their favor. He watched as his blood poured into her mouth, and he couldn’t help the thoughts that played through his head.

What if because of the elixir, she wouldn’t heal? Katherine was capable of some crazy things that he wouldn’t put it past her now. Even though his mind was going around with negative thoughts, every other part of him was holding on to hope.

“What happened?” Bonnie asked the moment she came down the stairs and took in Y/N.

“I’ll explain soon, but I need you to place up a barrier spell.” He said never taking his eyes of Y/N. “There’s about to be several hungry vampires on doorstep.” From the corner of his eye, he could see Bonnie running towards the front door.

“Come on,” He said softly as he saw that nothing had changed. Worry filled him as he tried listening for Y/N’s heart. But the faint sounds he heard earlier were no longer present. “Don’t you dare die on me now.” He said as he looked over her face before he began the only thing he could think to do. Pulling Y/N down onto the floor, he began CPR.

If his blood wasn’t going to help her, he hoped that the most human thing he had ever done to help someone would work in his favor. But even he knew she had lost a lot of blood as it was. His blood was supposed to help heal her. It made him wonder if he had been too late.

“Is she?” Elena asked as she walked into the room noticing what Damon had been doing.

“I swear to the devil himself if you aren’t Elena, I’ll stake you myself.” Damon said, never taking his eyes off of Y/N, or stopping his movements, to look at the woman.

“She was there tonight, wasn’t she?” Elena asked, taking another step towards him.

“She’s the reason Y/N’s heart isn’t beating.” Elena hadn’t missed the hurt in his words and the anger that radiated off of him.

Damon was supposed to protect her tonight. The moment he stepped away from Y/N to speak with his brother, he left her unprotected. He had been so focused on the fact that Stefan was telling him Katherine was back in town that he didn't notice she was already there in the same building as them.

Katherine played Y/N just as she had with any other bystander. While Damon had no idea what game it was she was playing this time, he was going to make sure she got what she deserved. Katherine wasn’t going to walk away from this alive.

“We’re sealed off.” Bonnie said as she came back into the living room. “But Mayor Y/L/N just pulled up.”

A glare formed on Damon’s face as he looked up from Y/N and looked over to the door. Her father stood there at the entrance with his face filled with worry.  But no matter what it was that was in front of Damon, all he saw was rage.

His eyes went back to Y/N. He was afraid to leave her. He wanted to make sure that she would make it through this. But as he took in her lifeless features, the way her dress was torn from the blade, and even the dried blood that covered her hands and skin gave him every reason to leave her for a few moments. There was one thing Damon was good at, and he was going to enjoy this.

In a blink of an eye, Damon was no longer by Y/N’s side. Instead, he had Mayor Y/L/N pinned against the entryway wall with his hand wrapped firmly around his neck. A smirk pulled on Damon’s lips as he watched the man struggled against his grip.

“This whole time, you were working with Katherine.” Damon said as his eyes narrowed at the man before him. “You knew she would use Y/N and instead of killing Katherine, you let her go after your own daughter.”

“You were supposed to protect her.” Mayor Y/L/N struggled to say against Damon’s hold.

“In order to protect her, I would have needed to know you were working against her.” Damon’s hold on his neck tightened. “Makes it an easier job knowing what I’m up against. Seeing as you are working with Katherine, it’s not hard to see why your daughter doesn’t have a heartbeat.”

Her father was unfazed by Damon’s words. Any father would have given some kind of sadden expression over their own daughter’s death, but the Mayor hadn’t. “She’ll come back. Katherine fed her vampire blood with the concoction she gave her.”

At the words, Damon dropped him. As he fell to his knees, attempting to catch his breath, Damon crouched down in front of him. “If Katherine wanted her to be a vampire, she would have been one already. Some information out of you would be nice before I tear your heart out.”

“Damon,” Bonnie said, taking a step closer to the two, wanting Damon to not act out on his words. “Maybe we should hear him out without threats of violence.”

Damon looked over his shoulder at Bonnie. His eyes narrowed at her before turning his attention back to the Mayor. “You are lucky they are present. Otherwise, this would be done my way, and you wouldn’t live to see how this all ends.”

Standing, Damon allowed him to get to his feet without any interference. As he did, Damon heard the beginning of vampires reaching the barrier just outside the driveway. While he had been able to get a hold of himself on her sweet scent through his anger, he could see that not everyone would be the same.

Bonnie and Elena watched as Mayor Y/L/N walked over to where Y/N had been. While Damon had been threatening him, Elena moved her back onto the couch. There was a look of regret on his face as he looked down at his daughter. While he hated the decisions he made, it was either her or his younger daughter, and he made his choice.

“Tell us what she has over you.” Damon said as she watched him. He didn’t like this one bit, and the way her father was giving off the guilty demeanor, Damon believed he was going to get everything the man deserved.

“My family wasn’t always caught up in Vampire business as we are now.” Mayor Y/L/N began. “It had never been by choice, but because of our bloodline.” He never took his eyes off of Y/N as he spoke. “There was a time where our family thrived in several locations throughout the world. You would find villages of our family, and we always welcomed witches into our home. We lived side by side with them. That was until Esther Mikaelson created the vampire race.”

He turned to look at the others for a moment. “Because of our blood, the more vampires the Mikaelsons created, the more our people were slaughtered. As the years went by, our potency of our bloodline diminished as we mixed bloodlines. Mixing with other humans in hopes to hide our scent from the creatures that hunted us. We managed to do that in recent centuries. That was when councils, like the very one here in Mystic Falls used us to lure out vampires. While our blood potency had diminished, mixed with the right herbs in our system, we can become a beacon to lure vampires out. While I had every intention of using my own blood to rid this town of vampires, Katherine had other ideas.”

“Do tell what those ideas were.” Damon crossed his arms over his chest.

“We all know Katherine has been on the run from Klaus. While from my understanding, you’ve been through the doppelgänger situation with her plenty of times.” He said looking over at Elena before looking back at Damon. “But the one thing that can ensure her safety from anyone and everything, is having Y/N by her side.” He watched as the other’s eyebrow raised at his words. Looking back at his daughter, he sighed. “Her mother and I were from two different bloodlines of our family. Y/N has more potent blood than the rest of our family had in a long time. Doppelgänger blood has been labeled as one potent bloodline for magic. Mix it with ours, with the herbs and vampire blood, you’ve got yourself one hell of a hybrid.”

“What kind of hybrid?” Damon asked as his eyes moved to Y/N before looking back at her father. He was worried about what change was happening to her. If Katherine’s blood was able to turn her, she’d come back as a vampire. But it was the word hybrid in general that worried him.

“Assuming everything Katherine had said was true, we’re about to meet the first Vampire-Fae Hybrid.”

Always & Forever Tag: @taylordrunkonwhiskey @thewolf-and-thesheep @wayward-dan @neeadinghugs @fafulous @kenmen02 @elizamonet @dora-the-grownup @mschellehitt @xanderling @fandom-princess-forevermore @buckysarm4 @hi-my-name-is-riley @helenasingers @alka16555 

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[justimajin]

It’s a Reverse Basket ◍ Part 5

⇝ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

⇝ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ Basketball AU, Crossdressing AU

⇝ Words: 3.1k (short chapter but it still has its own craziness) 

⇝ Summary: The goal has never been in your favor, and despite all your best efforts, you don’t think it ever will be. But that’s right when you finally get the chance to turn things around, to do things the way you’ve always wanted to and to go after what you truly love. However the problem isn’t if you can do it, it’s how much are you willing to do…?

⇝ Warnings: pg13 (please check out the disclaimer on the first part); none

gif credit.

⇝ Previous Parts: Moodboard Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

⇝ Next Update: Tuesday, April 14

A shiver passes through you when the cool breeze nips at your skin, locks of tangled wet hair still sticking to your neck. Using your two hands, you attempt to collect as much water as you can when you wring it out, a pool forming near your bare feet.

With a sigh, the mop of hair still sits against your neck, damp and heavy. You take a peek beyond the curtains, noticing with relief that your clothes were sitting outside – staying entirely dry. Leaning down, you begin to rummage through them until you reach the bottom, not finding the familiar bottle of soap that can take the unpleasant grime away from your soaking hair.

Glancing around, your eyes catch onto the sight of a soap dispenser and you freeze – quickly shuffling back behind the curtains. There’s a loose towel covering your form and no one in plain sight, so you take into consideration that you have two choices.

You could simply go home with unwashed hair and silently pray that Taehyung’s actually out of the bathroom by the time you return (although there’s a rooted feeling in you that proclaims the thought is definitely going to end up being false based on what you’ve observed these past couple of days.)

Or….

You bolt over to the very inviting dispenser and pour as much as you can in your hands, then scurry back to hide behind the curtains.

Pursuing your lips at both suggestions, your mind oscillates between them through the pin-drop silence the remaining showers contain. After a solid stretch of time, you clench your teeth and choose the second.

Foam spills out when keep pushing against the dispenser, the soft mixture covering the entirety of your hands until you’ve collected a decent amount. Spinning around, you instantly prepare yourself to head back promptly.  

Your steps halt.

The mixture is long forgotten, beginning to frizzle onto the ground. A hue of red scatters across your skin, hands roughly fisting the material of the flimsy towel covering your form.

“C-Captain…”

He looks up like he hasn’t noticed someone had called out his title, eyes sleepily blinking until they catch sight of you. The gesture unfortunately also gives you a lovely view of what he’s not wearing, vision only catching onto the flimsy pair of shorts he has on until you can only seem to stare at the ground when the colour on your cheeks inflares.

“Y/N.” He states, voice sounding considerably normal which at least brings some peace to your mind. However, the speed of questions racing though your mind is unbelievable the longer you stand there right in front of him.

Is it obvious? Is he wondering why your wearing a giant towel to cover yourself? Should you say it’s because you’re really shy or something? Does your hair look weird?

You freeze.

­Y-Your hair….

You abruptly straighten up, a hand slapping against your neck to conceal the locks as you hug the towel tighter to your form. He raises an eyebrow and you swear his eyes flatter downward for a moment as he catches the movement, but then he straightens up similar to you and clears his throat.

“Did you need some soap?” His voice comes out surprisingly normal again, but you slowly nod.

“I just forgot to bring my s-shampoo…” You flinch when he leans down, hand rummaging through his own bag and you try to very discreetly ignore the fact that’s bare from waist up, eyes staring up at the ceiling as if you were minding your own business.

“Here.” He plops something into your hand and take a short glimpse at him, surprisingly noticing a slight speckle of pink running down from his neck all the way up to ears. You abruptly blink, attempting to focus your attention onto what he’s given you.

It’s a small green bottle, more than enough for you to wash your hair. “Give it back to me when you’re done, I’m going to go shower.”

You slowly nod as if still processing exactly what was going on until Yoongi moves away without another word. After that, it snaps into you that you’re still standing in broad daylight and quickly zoom back behind the shadowing curtains, mind still boggled about the man you just encountered.

It seems like…he doesn’t know…You ponder for a moment, struggling to gauge if there was any slight indication through your ill endeavour at wanting to cleanse your hair that the captain could have easily deciphered. Yet the whole interaction doesn’t suggest that was at all the case, him just simply handing you the shampoo he had on him and then heading off on his way.

Fluttering your eyes close, you rapidly shake your head and grasp onto the small bottle. The knob is twisted and a drizzle of water covers you, only one thought being left behind.

He doesn’t know.

***

Heading back to your dorm, a groan escapes you when you stretch out your tired limbs. From having to wake up early for basketball meets and then keeping up with school, to doing vigorous training and even becoming part ninja to get a decent shower, you truthfully feel exhausted. However, the layer of exhaustion weighing heavy on your bones isn’t enough to whisk away the events that had occurred, your hands unconsciously flittering to your bag to reveal the bottle Yoongi gave you.

You wonder if it’s his personal one, because if it is, then he’s actually has a keen choice for smells. When you had begun to lather onto your hands, you had missed the original shampoo you had been using for quite some time. It had a simple floral fragrance, not too light but not too strong either, enough for you to acknowledge that even though you’ve enrolled into this school and joined the team, there was a piece of you that hasn’t completely changed.

It was a small thing, but it allowed you to have something to keep your identity linked to. After all, if there was no way you could tell someone, at least it was a way for your bottle of shampoo to keep the hidden secret sealed.

And yet when Yoongi’s shampoo came into contact with your locks, you had been expecting a lot of things. You were silently praying that it wasn’t a heavy musky smell, something you’ve noticed to frequent the changerooms whenever you entered, or a strong stench that just further drilled into you that this was a certain changeroom you really shouldn’t be in.

Surprisingly, neither of those were the case. The scent from the substance was more lively and fresh, almost balancing between the smell cedar wood and delicate traces of musk. You had been taken aback in the midst of your shower, wondering if it was truly shampoo until the details on the bottle confirmed your suspicions.

Even though you had just briefly run into him, it’s bizarre to admit that the incident had lead you to knowing more about your captain rather than your meets, in which he typically avoids you at all instances.

Sighing when your mind wanders over to other places, you carefully tuck the borrowed soap back into your bag and make a mental note to eventually give it back to him. Taking out your keys, you eradicate your mind of all thoughts and the door to room 613 is opened.

When the door widens, you don’t enter, instead you remain standing at the entrance and appear completely perplexed.

“Jungkook, Jungkook!!” Hoseok’s voice screeches, his form cowering behind Jimin who appears to have seen a ghost.

“Okay, okay.” Jungkook mumbles, a cereal box in his hands as he narrows his eyes onto the wall. It’s then you notice the giant black dot standing out from the white background, only catching a glimpse before the box slams against it and all is left behind is a splattered mess.

You grimace as Taehyung exits the kitchen, a familiar floral apron tied around his waist and a white mixed batter in his hands. His smile falls as a look of revolt crosses him instead, brows contorting.  

“What the– EW!” He points to the very notable stain on the wall, “You guys left bug juices all over my wall!”

Your eyes trail over to the door that’s right next to the stain and surely enough, it’s the one that leads into Taehyung’s room.

“Guys seriously, that’s just nasty…” He gets closer to the remains and the disgust just seems to intensify, “Someone better clean this up because I am nowhere in hell going to touch that.”

Hoseok pleadingly stares at Jungkook who pouts.

“I’m the one that killed it…”

A sigh leaves Hoseok, dragging himself over to the sink to grab some water and a sponge. The door clicks behind you as you set your bag onto the ground, a smile rising on Jimin’s lips.

“Hi Y/N!” His voice seems to take everyone out of it, noticing your presence one by one after the catastrophe occurring because of one single bug.

“Hey gu– WOAH!” Something large buzzes by your ears as you quickly swoop away, a hand resting on your racing heartbeat.

From a distance away, Hoseok is screeching like an ambulance siren, “THERE’S ANOTHER ONE?!?”

Jungkook grabs onto the cereal box again, dashing over to it as the rest of you cower away, the only exception being Taehyung who stands across his wall in defense.

“Kill it over there!” He shouts when Jungkook nears, however instead of the bug landing gracefully on the wall, it lands on Taehyung.

He freezes; eyes darting up to see Jungkook’s determined ones, voice shimmering considerably down.

“Hey Jungkook…” Taehyung sweetly whispers, but when Jungkook leaps forward there’s a scream unleashing from Taehyung as he scatters away.

You are completely confused with the situation, only being able to catch up with Taehyung’s excessive sprinting and Jungkook’s tendency to knock everything down as he goes away with hitting the cereal box against every surface Taehyung escapes from.

After a mess forms from their running, Hoseok bravely stands in front of Taehyung and grasps onto his arms, gaze wavering as he glances over to Jungkook.

“Just kill it already!” He shouts, a loud smack resonating through the room when you and Jimin stare at each other bewildered. Taehyung leans away as if his shirt had been infected, your eyes not really keen on what the bug’s residue ending up looking like.

After Taehyung complains that he can’t trust Hoseok anymore and that he’s going to shift over to a different room, Jungkook apologies and Jimin coaxes him. You on the other hand feel like you’ve just gone through a whirlwind, exiting the situation entirely as you withdraw to your room.

Landing exhaustedly on your bed, you take your phone out and dial a familiar set of numbers.

***

The steps you take are slow and cautious, hands clasped onto each other when you enter the room. You take a deep breath when there’s still three boys sprawled all across the room, watching a movie with eager eyes.

“Um…” Your voice is so faint that only Jimin catches onto it, eyes perking up.

“Something wrong Y/N?” Before you know it, the movie is paused and there’s a set of three intrigued eyes glancing over at you.

The stares cause you to falter, eyes drifting over to the door unconsciously.

“No…nothing’s wrong…” You mumble, but Taehyung draws closer, curiosity spiking in his eyes. He doesn’t get the chance to ask you further about it, a light knock residing outside of the door.

“Oh!” You jolt suddenly, beginning to walk towards the door as all the eyes follow along with your every movement. “Uh…so, one of my friends wanted to come over.”

“Friend?!” Hoseok hollers, a wide grin on his features as he reaches out for the door before you do. “Then let them in Y/N!”

You’re far too late in stopping him, wishing to yourself that he had given you the opportunity to explain first. The door swings wide open, a flash of bright red greeting your eyes immediately. There’s a pair of sunglasses perched on top of her nose and a heavy bag grasped in her hands, lips frowning when she takes a step in.

She captures the attention of everyone in the room in an instant, Hoseok’s mouth falling agape when she scoffs and flips a lock of brown hair away from her shoulder.

“Where is Y/N?” Her tone is demanding, only seeing a room full of guys gaping at her instead of the person she’s searching for. You step out from behind Taehyung, lips warmly smiling when the bag in her hands meets the ground, arms instantly wrapping around you.

You welcome her hug with open arms, watching her detach from you and throw her arms into the air.

“Surprise!!” A bubbly laugh escapes her and you join in, noticing Hoseok slowly inching closer.

“Your friend…is a girl?” He wonders, Hyerin plucking off her sunglasses and placing a hand on her hip.

“And…?” When Hoseok’s caught off guard, she cocks up a brow. “What? You’ve never seen a girl in your life before?”

“T-That’s not what I meant!” He stammers, eyes pointing accusingly at her as she darts a “seriously” look at you instead that just makes you laugh.

“He means that girls aren’t allowed in our dorms.” Jimin speaks up, walking over to you with a smile, “Which is why it’s hard to believe that you’re here.”

“Mhm, so I’ve heard.” Hyerin picks at her nails, “They gave me ten minutes.”

She turns to you, “That should be enough, no?” You nod and she smiles, everyone’s expression morphing into one of sheer shock at how friendly you two are.

“Wow.” Taehyung whispers, “Who knew Y/N was such a ladies man?”

Hoseok snorts at that and Jimin giggles, causing you to glance between them bewildered at why they would think such a thing when you’re simply just talking to your best friend. That’s when it hits you like a pile of bricks.

Here you were, their roommate, a member of their team and a guy being comfortable with a girl you claim to be friends with.  

You glance over at Hyerin and see her trying to repress a laugh, something that truly brings out a smile from you. “Ohh, so even looking at her makes you smile, hmm?”

More laugher erupts in the room and you look up bewildered again. Hyerin shifts, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she loops her arms around yours and batts her eyelashes.

“Well, what do you say Y/N? Would I make a good girlfriend?”

She snickers and you lightly shake your head, but the guys around you are suddenly shouting, voices raised up high. However that’s when Hyerin lets go of you, hands on her lips as she struts towards them, “You guys have been nice to Y/N, right?”  

“We have been!” Hoseok squeaks in defense, and Jimin nods.

“We even celebrated when he got accepted into our team.”

“I see…” Hyerin pursues her lips, looping her arms around yours again, “Well if I ever come to find out that’s not the case, then……”  

There’s a near threatening look residing in her eyes, a look you recognize too well as the one she uses when she needs to get something she wants. Hoseok darts behind Jimin, cowering away.

“There won’t be a case like that.” Taehyung says, causing Hyerin to stare at him before she hums.

“Good.” She settles back down, eyes coming into contact yours, “Shall we?”

“Oh, right!” You grab the bag that’s been flung onto the ground and hand it back to her, “Guys we’ll be out for a while.”

Hoseok smirks, “Have fun on your date~”

Jimin laughs and you shake your head again, closing the door shut behind you and then locking it. When you turn to face Hyerin, she has the same smirk that Hoseok had.

“So where are you taking me out tonight?” There’s a lengthy sigh drawn out from you and Hyerin laughs again, walking alongside you until you exit the building.

***

“You were right, they do seem nice.” Hyerin hums, moving to grab a pair of plastic gloves and a bottle of conditioner.

“Right? There’s nothing for you to worry about.” You quickly assure, leaning back in the black leather chair. “I’ve seen them as a team and live with them, so I think I got pretty lucky in that way.” 

She hums again, “How has practice been going?”

“Good, I’m just trying to get used to being apart of the team.” You sincerely smile with the words. Although you had already met majority of your members prior to being placed into the team alongside some newer faces, you quickly learned that there was heavy focus on learning to play together rather than individually.

“That’s nice.” Her hand reaches out, removing the short piece of mop stuck on your head. Your hair pools out and she throws the mop away with a look of disgust, causing you to chuckle.

“Hate that thing.” She whispers, hands weaving through your long locks with sympathetic eyes. A defeated sigh passes through her lips, strands of your hair falling out of her hands.

“Are you really sure you want to do this?”

“Hm?” You glance up at her, a lopsided smile on your features.

“I have to Hyerin.”

She affectionately touches your hair again, “But your hair is so beautiful.”

“I know…but I can’t take any chances.” Your mind flashes back to the time of try-outs, how easily it would have been to simply take the wig off of your head to discover your true identity when you had passed out. Although there’s some things that are out of your grasps because of how you are physically, this is something you can control and if it means cutting away your long-grown hair for basketball, it’s something you would do within a heartbeat.

“Please Hyerin?” You send her a gaze and it seems to break her, letting go of it with frustration.

“ARGH! FINE!” She takes out the scissors in a flash and tugs on a strand, eyes still faltering for a moment. With a sigh, she shuts her eyes and shakes her head, bringing down the light metal until one strand begins to pool around your feet.

Followed by another, and another.

[indescribablechoices]

these nights never seem to go to plan

Part Three to guess I’d rather hurt than feel nothing at all

Pairing: past Rafael Aveiro x MC (Cora Chase), background Kyra Santana x MC

Word Count: 1569

Listening Suggestion: Stay With Me - Sam Smith

Fic Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn​ @nazario-sayeed​ @dadrianraines @jamesashtonisbae​ @rafaveiro​ @omgjasminesimone​ @emichelle @dcbbw​ @aworldoffandoms​ @the-moonlight-huntress @caroldxnvxrs​ @yaushie​ @maria-soederberg​ @awalker965 @tacohead13​ @freedom-kitty​​ @vika-rafa​​ @choices-lurker​​ @moonluvx​​  (I think I got everyone, so sorry if I missed anyone!)

Synopsis: Cora finally tells Rafael about the pregnancy.

(Part one, two and the beginnings of Cora and Kyra’s relationship can be found on my masterlist)

It was a few days later that Cora finally worked up the courage to talk to Rafael. She knew that this couldn’t go on for much longer before her pregnancy would become obvious to anyone that was looking at her. People were already starting to take note of her changing behaviour, but she wanted people to find out on her terms. She didn’t need the interns spreading rumours.

She spotted him through the doors of the ER one afternoon, seeing his familiar form headed out towards the ambulance bay.

“Now, or never Chase,” she said quietly to herself, before quickly firing off some orders to Esme regarding the patient they’d been checking on.

She jogged out the door, spying Rafael by the ambulance. She took a deep breath and headed over to him.

“Raf, can we talk?”

He looked around at the sound of her voice, but quickly went back to what he was doing, barely pausing in his actions, continuing to load up the ambulance, “We’re heading out in two minutes. I don’t think now’s the best time.”

“Can I come by yours later? I really need to talk to you,” she insisted.

“So now you want to talk?” he slammed the doors shut hard, turning to look at her. There was a hard expression on his face, something that she wasn’t used to seeing.

She met his eyes, “It’s important.”

He let out a sigh, ““Fine. I get off at eight.”

“I’ll see you later then.”

“Yeah, I guess I will.”

She could barely remember what happened the rest of the day. She made her way through patients, checking on Esme’s work, nodded along through a meeting with the diagnostics team, and the minute her shift was over, she changed out of her coat and scrubs, turning down an offer of a trip to the bar with her friends, telling them that she had something to take care of.

She arrived at Rafael’s door just after half eight, knowing he would be back by now. She knocked on the door, and he answered almost immediately. He had clearly been waiting for her.

She stepped inside, hating how comfortable she had once felt here. The kitchen where he made her breakfast after she stayed the night. The couch they curled up on together. The stereo that played music for them to dance to during those strange hours when their shifts worked out for them to spend some time together.

He glanced at her as he closed the door, “Should I take your coat?”

She knew exactly what he meant by that. How long was this going to take?

“Yeah, you probably should,” she nodded, and he helped removed her jacket, hanging it up by the door.

“Can I get you anything? Coffee?”

“Have you got any peppermint tea?”

“Sure… Take a seat, I’ll bring it over.”

They headed into the living room, perching on the edge of the couch as he made some tea. He brought it in after a few minutes, and the hot beverage helped sooth her twisting stomach, both from the pregnancy and the anxiety of this conversation.

But before she could open her mouth, he spoke first.

He let out a sigh, setting his coffee aside, looking at her, “Look, Cora, whatever it is you came to say, just let me say this first. I’m sorry that we haven’t really spoken since that night. I guess I didn’t know what I could say to make things better and that frustrated me because I always used to know how to make things better with you… But I heard about you and Kyra. I’m happy for you, really. You’d have to be blind not to see how crazy you are about each other.”

The look in his eyes was softer that it had been that afternoon in the ambulance bay, and she knew that he was being honest with her.

She took a sip of her tea before setting it aside, “I appreciate that, I really do, and I’m not sure if it makes what I have to tell you any easier or not.”

“What’s going on?”

She wrapped her arms around herself, all of the courage she had built up to come here and speak to him suddenly gone with the honest confession he had just made.

“Hey…” his voice was soft as he looked at her, noticing how nervous she was, “Whatever it is, just take a breath and say what you need to.”

She took a few deep breaths, before she finally spoke, “Raf… I’m pregnant.”

There was a long moment’s pause as he stared at her, face emotionless. His mouth began to flap a little, unable to form words, “I… You… You’re pregnant?”

“I am. And to clarify, it’s yours.”

He ran a hand over his face, clearly still processing, “But I thought you were on the pill.”

“I was,” she said, “But these things are never fully effective. I could have missed my dose that day, or we could have just been one of those statistics. I don’t know.”

“How long have you known?”

“Nearly two weeks.”

“Two weeks…”

She raised an eyebrow at him, “I wasn’t exactly going to come running over to announce the news. We haven’t spoken in weeks, Raf.”

He nodded, “No, you’re right, I just… I can’t believe it. It’s a lot to take in.”

“Yeah, try processing that and throwing up every few hours as well,” she said, sarcastically, before she shifted a little in her seat, “Do you want me to leave? So that you can think.”

“That’s the last thing I want.”

They sat quietly for a while, Rafael deep in thought, occasionally asking questions about how she found out, who else knew, how bad her sickness was. She answered them all, then went and made them another drink each. When she set his coffee down in front of him, he looked up at her.

“So,” he said, What happens now?”

“I’m going to have this baby,” she told him, “You can be as involved as you want to be. There are no expectations here if this isn’t what you want. That’s not what I came here for. I wanted you to know the truth so that you could make your own decision. I won’t hold it against you if you don’t want to be a father, I truly won’t, neither of us will planned for this. But I need you to make that choice before the baby comes. I can’t have you changing your mind when I’m depending on you. And I can’t have messy custody battles. We know each other well enough to work this out like adults.”

“I want to be involved,” he said immediately, no hesitation in his voice, “I want to be a dad. We can work things out with shifts and holidays and whatever we need to do… But what about us? The last time we spoke didn’t exactly end on good terms. Are we… good?”

She gave a slight nod, “I’ve been thinking about this as well. But, yeah, we’re good… I am sorry for yelling at you that night. I was lonely, and you were there, and you were saying all the things that I wanted to hear months too late. And instead of talking it out, I just kicked you out. So for that I’m sorry.”

“I think we both made some bad calls that night,” he said, “I was lonely as well, and it made me realise how much I missed you, but I was inconsiderate of how you were feeling as well… But we’ve got a chance to change that here and now. I know you’re with Kyra, and I’m really happy for you, but if we’re going to have a baby together, we need to both agree that we talk to each other, about whatever it is. Custody arrangements, holidays, how much we leave under their pillow from the tooth fairy, we talk it out, okay?”

She swallowed back against her tears, overwhelming emotion swelling in her chest, “You’re going to be such a good dad.”

He moved closer to her, offering her a soft, apologetic smile, “I’m sorry if I upset you, I didn’t mean…”

“No, no, you didn’t,” she told him, “You said all the right things. You wanna talk about tooth fairy money. It just makes the whole thing very real, and that’s scary and so amazing at the same time,” she put a hand to her stomach, “We’re having a baby, Raf.”

He glanced at her hand, “Can I…?”

She nodded, “Of course.”

He pressed his palm to her abdomen, feeling the very slight taut curve, barely noticeable, but it brought tears to his eyes as well, “Hey there, little one, I’m your dad.”

Her own tears overflowed at that moment, unable to hold it in any longer. Without a thought, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. She leaned against his chest, breath quivering with tears, but she felt secure enough to just let her emotions out.

“So we’re really doing this? Having a kid together, like adults?” she asked quietly, a little later, after her tears had stopped.

“Yeah, looks like we are,” he smiled, “Though I have to ask… What about Kyra? Does she know yet?”

“Not yet,” she said, “But I’ll tell her soon. She has her own decision to make.”

(part four coming soon!)

[ournewoverlords]

Rocketman is great, go see it!

I'm not the man they think I am at home Oh no no no I'm a rocket man Rocket man burning out his fuse up here alone

Oh man, I was surprised by how much I enjoyed this movie. I’m apathetic towards biopics and I barely know any Elton John songs outside the Disney ones (yes, I’m a heathen, my excuse is that I didn’t get to America until 1995 and some combination of Britney and N’Sync consumed my formative years) but I had a big doofus grin throughout this movie and discovered a lot more sympathy for a celebrity I had in the back of my head as “the eccentric old dude who seems nice enough but probably doesn’t have all his marbles?”. That’s not because the film glamorizes Elton John by any means - it literally starts out with him declaring he’s done a great many horrible things, and concludes with him sighing that he’s been a cunt since 1975 - but you see the man inside the glittery bird costume, broken but trying, and I think that makes it a success in my book.

It’s a “musical fantasy” - honestly, a straight-up musical - that hits some pretty familiar narrative beats: main character bursts into rehab in the opening, looking like he needs a shower, a shave, and a hug, and now we’ll learn how he got there. No surprises, but it’s a clever way of unspooling his character arc as the movie progresses, because we watch him start his account with flat-out lies - “my dad was great, always there for me” - and then as he keeps going, it starts pouring out of him and he can’t help but begin to confront the truth. One character arc, the literal arc, is about his downfall, but the other one - the one behind it - is about his healing. It’s not an “X happened, then Y happened” kinda biopic, the journey here is as much inward as temporal - this is Elton, coming back to face the words a musician early in his career told him: “You gotta kill the person you were born as in order to become the person you want to be.” But who is the person Elton wants to be? What if the person he wants to be is just... himself?

And who is that, anyways? What I love about the movie is how it’s interested in what’s behind all the glam, the glitter, the outrageous costumes and crazy heels and rock n’roll - but it’s not afraid of those things either. You don’t have to be one or the other, extrovert or introvert, dazzling showman or a shy kid who only ever wanted to play for himself. Because the man IS fucking fabulous, he clearly had big emotions and a big life, and what I love about this movie is how it’s not afraid to throw itself into that, the same way camp is a kind of defiance against both the people who take life too seriously, and the people who don’t take it seriously enough. It punctuates again and again that this whole thing is about the hole in Elton’s heart, the hole that one’s parents are supposed to fill, and how his outrageous talents both lift him out of there and then give him too many things to fill it with — luxury clothes, booze, sex, drugs, eating disorders, pushing away the only people who care for him as if self-hatred were its own addiction. It’s a bottomless pit, and the struggle Elton faces is whether there’s anything worth salvaging at the bottom of it. It doesn’t sound like a very heroic choice, but it is: choosing life.

Some notes I jotted down right after watching, spoilers under the cut:

There were some things I didn’t think worked as well, though it wasn’t that they were bad, just that I wish there was more there.  

For example, I thought that the final sequence where the characters from his past re-appear in this kind of cliched therapy sequence felt a bit too on-the-nose and forced, or at least clunky compared to the deftness of many of the earlier scenes. As a climax, it didn’t really land for me. This is part of my general wish that the story had more “meat” on it — i.e., a bit more prose and less verse — because it feels like it should be building up to this realization that Bernie was the one who truly loved him this whole time (not romantically I mean, but, in the more meaningful sense, properly). Because Bernie essentially becomes a peripheral character after their initial honeymoon — he’s always kinda in the background, but they drift apart over the years to underline Elton’s fall — so their relationship doesn’t have as much weight as it could’ve to me even though it is a thread that runs throughout the movie.

Don’t get me wrong — the scenes they have together are sublime, especially that “Your Song” scene, where the look Elton gives him really makes me wonder if Elton’s aborted kiss really was just a young man confusing his momentary giddiness for a crush. Jamie Bell gives this wonderfully gentle performance that keeps him as this North star in your mind, the one you want Elton to find home by. I just wanted more, especially in the latter half of the film, because I think the core of this film is about a love story, between Elton John and the things that save him: his best friend, and his love for music.

That’s my critique of the film in general, if I had to have one — despite running over two hours long, there’s some parts that feel oddly compressed or skimpy. John Reid, Richard Madden in an incredible performance as Elton’s frighteningly intense yet undeniably attractive business (and pleasure!) partner with the Hugo Boss suit and smoldering black eyes, goes from what girls want the dude in Fifty Shades to be to an abusive, cold-blooded asshole in the span of what feels like two scenes and ten minutes. It’s like one second, Elton’s star is rising and he’s flying high — and then in the next, he’s snorting coke, fighting with John, and drinking too much. It is heavily implied that: 1) getting famous was synonymous with doing drugs at the time, and because of Elton’s personality he couldn’t brake (but I still wish they made this subtext a bit more text) and 2) that behind this lurch downwards is his inability to be honest about his sexuality — John, of course, wants him to marry a beard “for the business” — but it’s strange that that’s not brought up earlier as a theme, when he was secretly getting kissed by the trumpeter and then happily trysting with John.

“Living a double life”, though, is a huge theme in another way: it’s the contrast between Elton’s happy, extravagant show life and Reginald Dwight, a lonely little boy trapped inside a miserable man trapped inside a mansion that provides so much of the pathos in the “adult” years of the film. None of the fame and fortune have brought him love, only adoration. If that’s a familiar thesis in biopics about famous people, it still works for me here because Taron Egerton’s performance is just SO GOOD. He gives it his all in every moment, not just the big singing and dancing ones. Behind all the little drug-induced twitches and grimaces of self-loathing (but also just the tiiiny bit of ego all great performers have), you can see the sweet kid who deserved better, who just wants to “go home”, if only he could find it.

I think the fundamental reason behind my “I wish there were more stuff” is the fact the movie structures itself after a musical, and for musicals the non-singing parts are more about how you get from one big singing part to the other. That’s a hard space for a biopic, especially one that gets into pretty serious territory and has years to cover; song and dance end up competing with time for character work. But the director does something I think is really clever, though, and that’s to use those musical sequences as part of the story — the moments flow into the song, and the song crystallizes the moment/theme/feeling in this natural way. They’re not an excuse to check off Elton John’s biggest hits, but rather fulfill a cinematic purpose in capturing an emotional rather than factual truth.

Not just the songs, but there are a number of these deft little scenes I really liked because they make the “point” in a single shot/cut/image, with very little dialogue. Some examples:

- The first time Elton and Bernie meet, Bernie mentions the country song Elton’s prospective manager had just disparaged and Elton kinda smirks, then in the next beat realizes that maybe that was kinda asshole, and he clumsily hums out the first verse, and Bernie perks up and follows with the next, and soon they’re both banging on the diner table and singing it together with huge grins. What’s especially great about this scene is that you can’t figure out if they’re doing this in “reality” and everyone thinks they’re crazy, or if this is one of those musical fantasy sequences. The point is that the distinction between them doesn’t matter, because that sequence is about the feeling of the moment, and at that moment they feel connected. Love at first sight.

- The scene where many years later Elton, now successful and dare-we-say perhaps even hopeful that his father might accept him now, finds the man with his new house and family — and after the expected awkward intro it seems to be going ok, his father’s invited him to come sit and chat inside. So there’s his father sitting on the couch… and then this pair of boys, his new sons, comes over and he just wraps his arm around them so easily, and your gut sinks instantly, before it even cuts to Elton, whose face has shattered all at once

- Nice studio girl, lifting her voice with his in his darkest moment -> cut to wedding -> cut to morning at the house, each opening their own door and greeting each other with an excruciating level of politeness. Says it all in three scenes.

- The levitation during his performance at The Troubadour. PERFECT. You can say “this and this happened”, “and then he gave an amazing performance”, but that’s not as powerful as showing the feeling Elton John must’ve felt during that performance: a lonely little boy turned struggling young man who felt, for just a moment, that he could fly.

- Another musical sequence - Elton’s suicide attempt, where they carry him onto the ambulance and he keeps batting away the oxygen mask to keep singing. It works on so many levels because he’s just a kid who wants to sing, he’s the star who was born to sing, but he’s also a man who doesn’t want to live.

[zipp0flare]

Infection part 1

(So, this is an old relic piece back from when I first started playing Left 4 Dead. I loved the character and infected designs so much back then (still do, tbh) that I actually made several characters, whom I still love to this day. I only have stories for two of them, back from my deviantArt days, which is why this may look familiar. Anywho, this is the origin story for my Hunter, Luke (based off a GaiaOnline avatar I made one day, which is why the design choice is kinda funky.))

The rave that was so often filled to the brim with people on Saturday nights was close to being empty, mainly only filled with the loyal regulars that spent their free nights dancing amongst the music and flashing lights. A young male made his way to a small group of men gathered around the bar, some of which gave him surprised greetings.

"Whoa, Luke! Didn't think we'd see you here!" A man with a large, orange dyed mohawk called as he motioned the other male over. 'Luke' merely scoffed and sat down next to the man, as well a second man, wearing a ridiculous, tie dyed ski cap. "You know you look like a moron with that on, right Mal?" Luke asked, to which he received a punch in the arm from 'Mal'.

"You don't look any better. What's with the goggles, and the hood? Hell, what are you doing here in the first place?" Luke gave Mal a scowl, which only grew when the first man piped up; "Yeah, he's right. I mean, you have heard about the Green Flu going around, right?"

Luke leveled a glare at the man. "I could ask you the same question. I could ask everyone here the same question. I came here because I had planned to ever since Tuesday. But it looks like the hype about this flu has caused everyone to run for home with their tail between their legs."

Luke coughed into his arm, causing his two companions to inch back a little farther. "Damn, did you come here with it? What the fuck were you thinking?!"

"Vince, I don't have the flu, my throat's just been sore. You can calm down." Mal and Vince still looked leery. "I think you should go back home. You don't know if you're not infected, and none of us want to come down with the thing. I mean, I've heard some people are dying from it." Vince actually sounded somewhat worried, though it was hard to tell if the worry was for his friend, or for himself.

"That's just the media making this whole thing look worse than it did. Remember their last, so-called 'epidemic'?" Mal choked back a laugh. "Yeah, you boarded yourself up in your apartment for a week and a half. You thought the world was ending or something." Mal may have controlled his laughter, but Vince had begun to guffaw at the memory.

"And nothing happened, which made me look like a damn idiot."

"Yeah, you did look like a fool when you finally came out of your 'house of safety' with the fire axe you practically stole from your apartment building."

"Exactly. So, just like nothing happened then, everything's just going to go over in a week or so, and everyone will soon forget about the Green Flu." Luke raised a hand into the air with three fingers up, and waved to the bartender, earning a nod as the woman behind the bar got to work.

"So... you're sure your not infected, right?" Vince asked cautiously. "Yes. I know I'm not infected. I haven't even been near someone who's sick. Though..." His face scrunched up in disgust, to which his two friend gave him odd looks. "You remember my weird ass neighbor? Who lives in the apartment to the right of mine?"

"You mean crazy old hag Meri-something?" Vince received a nod. "What the hell did she do this time? Start up a story about her toe jam again?" Mal had to keep from retching when he heard Vince, even though he hadn't been there for whatever this story was, unlike poor friends. "No, not another toe jam story. I went to get my mail this morning and saw her walking my direction. I've gotten to the point where I wait for her to start going through whatever crap she's received until I leave. I stood there for two minutes and she didn't start rummaging through her mail. Instead, the crazy bat reaches over and bites me in the arm!"

"The fuck?! I knew she was out of her mind, but biting people?"

"I have no idea what was going through her freaky mind, but it was hard enough to break the skin." Luke rubbed his bandaged arm, currently concealed under his black arm warmers. "What did you do?" Mal asked, knowing that the story couldn't have ended there.

"I immediately elbowed her in the stomach out of reflex. She whined like a dog and took off after that."

"She broke the skin? Did you disinfect and all that crap?" Luke nodded. "I pretty much bathed it in rubbing alcohol, which burned like hell I might add."

Mal and Vince still looked disgusted with the story, thankful that neither of them had a out-of-their-mind neighbor that went around biting people. "Maybe you should head back home." Vince piped up after a few moments of silence. "If she bit you and all, maybe she's infected?"

"I'm sure the cause of that is from being out of her mind. I'm fine." Luke stressed the word 'fine'. "So, you wanted to come here on a Saturday, mainly only because we always do. You also think that all of this is just the media hyping things up a bit. I still don't see you going out, risking getting sick. You're the one who's always against that kind of-"

"It's nothing!" Luke exclaimed, startling his two friends, along with other people that were close by. "It's... just your normal flu."

"Dude... what the hell has your panties in a bunch? You're never this worked up." There was only silence from Luke, who seemed to almost be refusing to answer Mal's question.

"Maddie's sick." Those two words were so quiet that Luke's friends almost didn't catch what Luke had said. Maddie, Madeline, was Luke's five-year-old sister; she meant the world to Luke. "Maddie's sick with it. And if I start freaking out about this whole thing, I"m basically telling myself that my little sister's going to die." He bit his lower lip. "So, all of this is just nothing, alright?"

"... Sorry, I.. I had no idea, man." Mal apologized. "How's she doing?"

"She's currently in quarentine with CEDA. Or, that's what I'm being told." Luke coughed into his arm again, a bit more harshly this time. "I'm not sick, you can drop it." Luke knew what his friends were thinking and his words shut them up before they could say anything.

The bartender came back with his drink, but Luke could tell that she was keeping her distance as well. "Damn, why the hell is everyone acting like this.." He growled. Luke was hardly ever this agitated but Mal and Vince took it as him simply being worked up about his younger sister.

There was silence amongst the friends once more (minus Luke's coughing every few minutes) none of them knowing what to say. The silence was broken by a loud swearing from Luke. "They need to turn down these fucking lights. My eyes are burning from them!" His friends cringed, not expecting Luke's outburst. "Uh... the lights are the same as they always are. You sure you're oka-"

"I'm fine! Dammit, I'm fine!" Luke held his injured arm close to him, his fingers digging into it. Vince simply held his hands in front of him as if to guard himself from Luke's verbal lashing.

Luke's coughing seemed to have quickly and steadily grown worse, and he was beginning to notice a slightly red stain decorating the inside of his arm. Maybe he was seeing things though, his eyesight seemed to steadily be growing worse, and it was hard to think of anything with the pounding headache that had suddenly overwhelmed him.

Luke could barely make out his friend's worried looks, only seeing their lips moving while no sound came from their mouths, but the music in the background seemed to only be getting louder and louder, the noise assaulting his eardrums and causing his headache to grow worse.

As his eyes began to slowly bleed was when he fell backward and off of his seat, his head making a sickening crack as it hit the floor. Luke could barely see now, barely think, barely even keep his eyes open. "Holy shit! Someone call an ambulance, or something!" Mal and Vince had only become more and more concerned for Luke, giving him questions and suggestions, both of which went unanswered. None of that, though, compared to the panic going through their systems when their friend suddenly fell off the seat, bleeding out of his eyes.

"C'mon, Luke! You've been through worse, stay with us!" Vince exclaimed with frustration, trying to make things not at bad as they seemed, as he crouched down next to his friend. The bartender had already called 911, though Vince and Mal were wondering if it would do any good now.

When Luke slowly started to come to, letting out groans and what sounded like low growling, the duo's hope skyrocketed. It came crashing down, though, when Luke suddenly rolled off of his back and onto his stomach, crouching and growling at his 'friends'.

"Whoa, calm down, buddy... everything's alright.. you're going to be okay.." Neither of them had anymore time to say anything before 'Luke' pounced and attacked them both.

When the ambulance finally arrived, along with several people in hazmat suits from CEDA, they found the rave a bloody, gruesome mess. Several bodies were scattered on the floor and against the bar's counter. All of them were viciously torn into. "We need to block this place off. Don't let anything come out or into here." One of the CEDA workers commanded. While several people rushed to various parts of the club, a lone ambulance worker looked out at the horrific scene and sighed. His eyes turned down to see a man at his feet, with a large, orange mohawk, who looked even more torn into than the rest of the bodies at the scene. He didn't seem to pay much mind to the smeared blood trail that led away from the body, simply assuming that it was caused by the thing that had caused all of this. "God, this sickness is horrid..."

[canaryatlaw]

alright, well today was actually pretty good! I had my alarm set for noon which would give me plenty of time to prep for the interview at 3:30. So I woke up then and spent an hour just having a bit of a slow morning getting some food and checking my computer. It was at this point that what was probably the best part of the day happened. Since talking to my old mentor the other day I shot OPG a follow up email asking if anything had changed in hiring status and I received a reply email today saying that while they did not yet have permission to hire, they have started conducting interviews and I will be “contacted shortly to schedule an interview” which was just such a big YESSSSSSSS moment after waiting months upon months for this opportunity that is literally my first choice job at this point. Like yes I would ultimately like to end up at a nonprofit but nonprofits don’t hire people straight out of law school, I need more experience with the system to do that job properly, so this is legit my number one choice right now. And honestly like, I don't want to get cocky or anything but I know I have a pretty good shot at getting hired, the number of people who work there who told me that they clerked there in law school was at least half of the office I’d say, and they keep all their performance reviews on record from their former clerks which means I have 3 semesters worth of stellar performance reviews on file for them to consult, including several from senior members of the office. so, I mean i think my odds are pretty good (but I don’t want to jinx it of course). So we’ll see what happens with that, but it definitely elevated my mood for the day. it’s just that that position would be so, so much more preferable than any of the other options, like they’re not even on the same scale because this one is so so so so much higher than everything else. So I will be very, very happy if this works out. But anyway. Around 1 I started getting ready, doing my make up and getting my suit out (my custom one of course, which I should probably get dry cleaned soon) and getting that on and making sure I had everything I needed before getting an uber at 2. Traffic can always be tricky so I never want to leave anything up to chance and get screwed over so I make sure to leave a solid amount of buffer time so that even if something goes wrong I won’t be screwed over. So I ended up getting there around 2:30, area I was familiar with, not too far from my school and right by my favorite pizza joint in a giant food hall that has so many great selections. So I went to the tea shop on the corner and chilled out until like 3:10, at which point I went to the building and found a bathroom to make sure I was still looking presentable before approaching the office at 3:25 (perfectly prompt). I had to ring the doorbell they had on the wall, which I was slightly stressed out about because I was like I hope this is a doorbell anyway??? since it wasn’t completely clear lol but thankfully it was and I was let in moments after. Got escorted to a fairly big conference room and a few minutes later first guy came in. I ended up speaking to all three of their partners, each one separately which was somewhat odd but not bad. They seemed fairly interested in my resume and cover letter, the first one said he really liked how excited and passionate I sounded in my cover letter, which made me happy to hear because that’s definitely what I want to communicate. I had to do some stretching and bending as far as experience because they’re not a family law firm and most of my Chicago experience is family law related, but I talked a lot about working at my dad’s firm when I was younger since they handle some of the same types of cases, and of course how I felt my experience in family court translated to different court and case settings (which I definitely believe it does). They were all very interested in me currently having my own “practice” which I had to explain was just me basically, and then had to explain to all of them what the Time’s Up Legal Defense Fund was and why it was on my resume because none of them were familiar with it, lol. But they all seemed pretty nice, seemed to be a somewhat laid back environment but they definitely stressed they have a lot of work and that often leads to late hours and working on the weekends which is not really the kind of thing I’m looking for right now, so that made me a bit hesitant, especially given my earlier info from OPG. But I carried on with the interview of course. They are looking for someone to start soon but they have a few interviews for next week they said and potentially another one after that so I’m not too concerned about hearing back from them before I could do anything with OPG. But yeah, overall it was pretty good I’d say. It was around 5 by the time I was leaving, I considered doing an uber pool home just because it was cold but the rates were super inflated because it was a high traffic time, so a pool was going to run me $30 and I’m not gonna do that (a normal uber was like $48, yikes) so I ended up waiting for the bus that takes me right up to my neighborhood. There are a lot of law offices right on that street because it’s right by the court building most of them practice in, so it’s pretty convenient transportation wise at least. By the time I got on it wasn’t totally crowded so I managed to grab a seat just before there was a large influx of people who had to stand, so I was thankful for that because standing on buses is so fun. It wasn’t the fastest of course, and probably took me a solid hour, but I managed. I got home and changed, then figured out what the plan was for the night and heated up some leftovers, and ate those while watching the news (mostly for background noise) until Blindspot was on at 7. That was a fairly interesting episode mostly because it featured a serial killer that was supposedly on Long Island (and my county too) so of course that sparked my interest, and the plot was pretty solid too. After that I switched to Crazy Ex-Girlfriend which was a solid episode but somewhat emotional honestly since it was dealing with kinda backsliding in treatment for mental illness which is a kinda difficult subject, but I think they did a very good job with it. The side plot was about Paula running herself ragged studying for the bar exam and when she finally makes it to the OB/GYN for what she thinks is early onset menopause he listens to her symptoms and is like “yeah I’m calling an ambulance you need to go to the cardiac ICU NOW” and she’d basically been walking around with a heart attack for 18 hours because she was so busy and determined studying for the bar and I was just like honestly that’s so believable like I would fully believe that as being something that actually happened, because studying for the bar is THAT intense. So I found that obviously sad plot still somewhat amusing. Once that was over I didn’t watch anything for a little because we were going over some super secret plans regarding stuff I’m not gonna post about yet, and then at 10 I turned the news back on and watched that for a little before deciding to start getting ready for bed, so I showered and then got my laptop and ended up going on a side track regarding a family I used to follow who lost their 5 year old son to cancer 3 years ago now and reading what’s been going on with them for the past 3 years and I just sat on my bed and cried a lot so that was good, then I finally got around to writing this post. Plans for tomorrow include brunch, then thrifting and probably a few other store stops for cosplay needs and of course a few other random things, should be good. And yeah, that’s about it for now, it’s almost 1 am so I should probably be getting to bed now. Goodnight dearies. Happy weekend. 

[hide-in-imagination]

My friend is writing a Simbar fanfic where she tried to kill herself but someone saves her and my other two friends where like "Is gonna be Simón/ Matteo/ Benicio" and A was like "Sure, whatever you want" Two weeks later she send us the rest of the chapter and is like "Ramiro run towards her while Delfi calls the ambulance" And they were really pissed off 'cause there was no romantic moment and she was shocked and said "She tried to kill herself, she doesn't need romance but to get better"

LOL True. 

Wow, that fic sounds dark and deep. 

Ok but, I get what your friends mean. In fanfiction one tends to focus on the romance storyline and leave other storylines in the background, unless your fic is plot driven and the romance is a subplot. So, I get why they would think that it’d be Simón or Matteo or whatever. Tbh, if it was me (although you’ll never catch me writing something that dark) it probably would’ve been Simón because I’m very romance centered (basically because dealing with the other characters is troublesome and means more pages skjdf), but I think that Ramiro was a great choice. 

Friendships can be very deep and be even more significant than a romantic relationship. In this case, I think it’s clear that she needs a friend. She needs support in general. If she tried to kill herself (what a dark fic your friend is writing srsly skdsls) then she clearly doesn’t love herself to a horrible degree, so in that condition you can’t love someone else. … I mean, you can, but you shouldn’t focus on someone else, you should focus on yourself. Like your friend said, your main focus should be getting better. 

So, I think the issue here is that your friends thought this was a fic about romance when in fact is a fic about mental health, about self-grownth, or maybe about the complete oposite: about hitting rock bottom and ending your life. The point is, your friend is clearly trying to tell a different story than what your others friends were expecting hahahah. And that’s fair and completely valid just as the opinions of your other friends are also valid. 

One could think “How can they be worried about romance when she just tried to commmit suicide!? What is wrong with them!?” but I assure you that if someone told them that same story but about a friend of a friend instead of a fanfic their questions would’ve been different, like “wow, is she okay?” “is she getting profesional help?” “how is her family?”. The reason why they were disappointed and asked about romance is because that’s what they expect from a fanfic, but that doesn’t make them crazy lol is completely natural. 

Anyway, you probably weren’t expecting an answer this long hahaha. Thanks for the interesting story! 

[almostviki]

Old Wounds

Wow look at that I’m updating a series I started??? What a crazy happenstance.

Anyway this is a continuation of Loop, which is a part of my Sanders Sides ghost AU. You don’t have to read Loop to understand this one, I suppose, but it would help with background information. Honestly, I’ve been staring at this for so long I’m beginning to lose faith in it, so I’m washing my hands of it before I get too melodramatic. So, enough of me talking:

Pairings: None Warnings: Death, Descriptions of Injury, Car Accidents, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Major Angst Abstract: Virgil is really not okay with how okay he is with being dead. It's mostly Roman's fault Word Count: 2.7k Ao3 Link

Virgil's own death hadn't bothered him much. Compared to Logan and Patton's deaths, his demise was mundane, ordinary. Car crashes happened all the time, after all, he'd known that even when he was alive. He didn't even get out of the car when he died. Instead, he'd sat in the passenger seat watching his own body bleed out, completely straightfaced. There was no loop, no destabilization, no moment of shock. It was one of the reasons Roman never liked him; he was messed up somewhere in his soul, too good at being dead. Aside from the moments of panic they all suffered, he was secure in his metaphysics. He didn't have Logan's irrational phobias or Patton's instability or Roman's strange aversions to dates and times and specific shades of blue. As far as he knew, that was a consequence of looping, a horror he'd escaped.

   Then he saw the SUV flip over the lane divider and he was trapped back in 2003, in the driver's seat of his car, dying all over again.

   Roman tried to pull him away but it was too late, it was already a wreck in motion. The wheels of the car caught on the ice and pivoted to the left. At the wheel, a man wearing dark glasses took on an expression of panic as he spun the wheel to right the car, but the rear wheels fishtailed out of his control. The vehicle swung tail-first into an intersection, and before the driver could catch his breath another car from oncoming traffic slammed into the passenger side door.

   Virgil's vision tunneled. Roman's hand gripped his arm but Virgil's feet remained rooted to the spot. All his joints locked, eyes frozen open in horror as he watched the car crumple like paper and skid along the road. A rear wheel hit the lane divider and the car teetered and flipped, skidding on its roof to the side of the street. The smell of gasoline mixed with the salt on the roadways burned Virgil's nostrils. Eerie smoke drifted out of the car window and solidified into a figure: a woman in her forties with dark hair and an expensive-looking coat. She opened her eyes and looked around, confused. Her boots left no footprints in the snow. Static roared in Virgil's ears as her eyes landed on the car with her husband's broken form and her own corpse.  

   She started to scream.  

   Virgil's throat closed up, his insides twisting, shifting into unnatural positions. Roman must've seen the panic on his face because he turned to face Virgil, making sure their eyelines matched up and Virgil knew he was being talked to. "Virgil, we have to go."

   "We-we can't leave her," Virgil stammered. "Her husband-"

   "There's nothing we can do. Someone will call an ambulance."

   "She's already dead." A cold feeling started in his chest and spread outward, crawling through his veins his limbs felt both weighted and nonexistent. The woman was still staring at the wreck in horror, her hands covering her mouth as tears cascaded over her cheeks.What must that kind of distress feel like? It's not like he'd know. He'd sat there for hours watching his own body settle, staring at himself like a scientist studying a body, as if that wasn't his blood on the dashboard and his bones jutting at unnatural angles and his fingertips turning blue as the dead tissues froze.

   "She's already dead, Roman. We can't leave her. No one will...no one will help her. We have to help her."

   "I'll come back for her once you're safe."

   "Safe?" The word was odd on his tongue. The woman was still screaming, raising the hair on Virgil's neck. Roman forcibly turned his head so Virgil was looking at him and not the wreck but Virgil's vision was shifting in and out, making him dizzy and unsteady. The buzzing in his head was only growing louder but it still wasn't drowning out the woman's screaming why did new ghosts scream so much?

   "I want to go home," he said, his tongue too large in his mouth.  

   "Let's go home, okay?" Roman's lips moved but the sound was a whisper overlaid with darkness and the smell of iron and copper and cold metal crumpled at the base of the tree like a piñata emptied of all its candy.

   "I want to go home," Virgil said again, or at least he thought he did. He couldn't hear himself speak. Panic hadn't set in yet but he could feel it building, except he didn't have lungs to hyperventilate or a heart to beat wildly or skin to perspire. He was only feeling memories of these things. He wasn't real anymore because he was dead, he'd died and he'd sat next to his body for hours doing nothing what kind of monster did that what kind of monster didn't care that they were dead?

   Roman reached out to him and Virgil took a step back, fear shooting up his spine. Roman didn't like it when Virgil acted weird. He was probably going to drag him away and scold him for dying in the street and making a scene. But he wasn't dying, was he? He was already dead. Roman hated that too. He hated being dead. Virgil was the only one who enjoyed it. That's something a monster would say. Only monsters were morbid and bloodstained like he was. Only monsters looked at their corpses and felt nothing.

   "Virgil, what are you talking about?" Roman asked, eyes wide and frightened, but Virgil didn't answer. All thought was replaced with the image of cars coming to sudden stops, busted engines, the crunch of metal, the snapping of bone. Home was supposed to be a million miles away in Albany, a place he hadn't been since he was nineteen and living. He couldn't go back there. He didn't even know where he was buried, hadn't paid attention when he'd followed his family to his funeral, hadn't seen the sign when he'd left without turning around. But god he wanted to go home. He wanted proof that this was real and not a nightmare, that he wouldn't wake up and find the past few years a dream, that he wasn't still sitting on an empty road in New York choking to death on his own collapsed lungs.

    Through his flickering and inconsistent vision, Virgil saw a sword materialize in Roman's hands. It was the long wide one, the one he used to hunt ghouls, the one he'd held to Virgil's neck eleven years ago because he'd thought Virgil was a monster. He was too good at being dead, too good at letting go. He'd never been hunted before but this must be what animals felt like in the moment before their pursuer catches them. He had nowhere to run. The wreck was still steaming behind him, in front of him, all around him, the woman was still screaming, Roman had something like fear in his eyes and fear only led to bad choices, mistakes, Virgil was a monster and he'd be better off alone, he should've taken Roman's advice eleven years ago and left when he still had the chance. His vision whited out, and then there was nothing.

..

  Virgil didn't wake up so much as become aware of his body again. He wasn't sure how long he'd been floating in the graveyard, but night had fallen during the duration, so it had been at least a day. A light haze muddied his thoughts but it wasn't any cause for alarm. He'd never gone into shock but he'd seen it happen to other ghosts when they saw their tombstones or faded photographs. They glitched out like computer programs,  vibrating as energy shot out of them like lightning. It was more than a little disturbing to watch, and he now knew-not pleasant to undergo.  

   Roman was really going to have his head for this one.  

   He pulled himself up and dragged himself to the city. The closer he drew to town the harder it was to keep a stable form, especially as he approached the street where the accident took place. All the debris had been cleared and the new snow covered any skid marks, but the broken lane divider peeked out from under a drift, a crack running down the point the car had slammed into it. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the flickering pallor of a shade taking root, possibly the woman from the crash, but he didn't look at it too closely because he didn't want to know. If Roman hadn't gone back for her, that wasn't Virgil's mistake to correct. New ghosts exhausted him anyway, especially ones that weren't worth saving. They screamed too much.  

   Before he could even raise his hand to knock on the door of their house thumping sounded from inside and Patton swung the door open with such enthusiasm that Virgil fell back onto the rotted deck.

    "Virgil!" Patton said, leaning down to help him, but like Roman's did, Patton's hand fell right through him. Patton's eyes widened and he stepped back, giving Virgil the space to stand up.

   "I'm okay," he said, but his voice echoed around them, splitting and spreading through the thick night air. Roman loomed behind Patton, watching them warily. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that he was tired of Roman watching him like he's was an ‘it’ instead of a person, and that he should've taken his out and left when he had the chance.

   "I shouldn't have come," he realized too late, voice flickering in and out. "I should go back to the cemetery."

   "Cemetery? Why were you at a cemetery? Please, Virgil, just come inside. You look terrible."

   "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come back. I should go." His voice broke in more ways than one, emotion overriding his shame. Too good at being dead, Roman had said. Maybe you should go haunt your hometown like the creeper you are.

    "Virgil, you belong here with us," Patton protested, only growing more confused. "What are you talking about?"

   "Patton, you should come back inside," Roman suggested quietly, but Patton didn't turn around.

   "No! This is ridiculous!" Patton's expression twisted more and more with each passing second and a knot of guilt solidified in Virgil's throat.

   "Patton, I'm sorry, I-"

   "Do you know how long you've been gone?" Patton demanded. Virgil shook his head wordlessly. "Two days! You've been gone two whole days! We thought you'd vanished or something! Roman said you looked like you were disappearing."

   "I'm sorry. I went into shock." Virgil hugged his arms around himself as the same cold feeling spread through him. "I would've warned you if I thought it would happen to me."

   "You knew this was going to happen?" Roman asked, stepping forward.

  Virgil opened his mouth to apologize again but Patton whipped around and gave Roman a sharp look. Roman crossed his arms and clamped his mouth shut, and Patton made a displeased sound in his direction.  

   "It's been a tense few days. We're all a little bit wound up, myself included. Virgil, you should come in and get some rest and tell us what happened."

   Virgil gnawed on his lip. The idea of rest appealed to him, but the idea of stepping into the house did not. His eyes flittered between Patton and Roman's faces and he flexed his fingers in his sleeves, preparing to turn around and walk away. "No, I think I'd better-"

   "Virgil...listen, I-I wanted to apologize." Roman's voice was uncertain in the way it always was when he admitted wrongdoings, but the words themselves were enough to make Virgil pause.

   Virgil froze. "For what?"

   "For...threatening you, if I may." A horde of melancholy and guilt accompanied Roman's words. "I didn't mean to scare you or make you think I was trying to do you harm. I'd never hurt you, Virgil. Surely you know that."

   "It's fine, Roman," Virgil said, waving away his words. "You had every right."

   Roman clenched his jaw. "No, I didn't. I'm supposed to protect you, not make you fear for your life. That's my job."

   "No." He felt weighted somehow, too tired to be having conversations like this. "My wounds were bleeding and I was flickering and it...it didn't look good. And I'm not your responsibility. If anything, I'm a liability."  

   Since his death, Virgil hadn't had many fears. Now that the threat of death was gone, a lot of other worries seemed non-permanent. Unimportant. When he was alone, before joining up with Roman and Patton, Virgil could escape any situation that got too heated. He could go to a different town or country and run from his problems the way he'd always wanted to when he was living. After meeting up with the others, all that had changed. He couldn't skip town whenever he wanted. He couldn't piss off other ghosts in town for the fun of it. He couldn't magnify himself or amplify his voice or walk around without glamours because those things were "monstrous". It was what ghouls did.  But despite Roman's beliefs, Virgil wasn't a ghoul.

   At least, not yet.

   "Don't say that," Patton said fiercely, approaching Virgil despite his obvious unsettlement at Virgil's continued intangibility. "You're as much a part of this family as anybody else."

   "I know," he said, but even he heard the nervous lilt in his voice. "I just mean that he was right to draw his sword. I didn't explain what was happening. The only logical conclusion would be that I was turning into a-"

   "Don't." Virgil had never seen Patton so serious. "Don't even suggest it. You'd never."

   "Might I interject," Logan piped up from behind. He'd been obscured by Roman, standing far back by the staircase to avoid the charged air of the threshold. "That if you were vanishing into thin air then explaining your predicament may not have been an immediate concern for you?"

   "And you do look unwell," Patton continued. "And not because you're see-through. Since Logan came you've been looking better but now you just-" He cut himself off and let his harsh demeanor drop. "Please come inside. I...I want you back home. I just want everyone back home."

   Home. The word rattled around in Virgil's head, misplaced and unfamiliar. He didn't think home was supposed to feel so much like a fishbowl.

   "I'm sorry, I can't," he said, hoping he had enough false bravado to hide his internal shakiness. "I can't- I should wait until I'm calmed down. You even said I looked horrible."

   "Virgil, don't-"

   "I'm not leaving," he assured him upon seeing the panic on his face. "I swear I'm not leaving. I don't even have anywhere else to go. I'll come back in the morning when I'm not...like this." He gestured to his flickering arms.    

   Patton still looked hesitant. In the background, Logan's eyebrows were pinched in concern. Roman was still looking right at him, worry written all over his features. The emotion was misplaced on all of them. Virgil was sure of it. He was at best a nuisance, at worst a legitimate danger to them. This had proven that. No matter what resentment Virgil held toward Roman for treating him as something lesser, he couldn't deny the facts. He closed his eyes and he could hear the woman screaming again, see the blood on the road and the blood on his own body both laced with frost.

   "It's not safe," he said, the words fractured as they fell out of him. "Roman is right. You should go back inside. I'll come in when I'm more...tangible." When I don't look like I'll suck the life out of anyone who touches me.

   "Swear it," Patton demanded, voice choked.  "Swear you'll come back."

   Virgil tried for a smile but he knew it wouldn't reach his eyes. "I'm coming back. I swear." Then he disappeared before he made any more ill-advised promises.  

[partyatmyhaus]

Late for the love of my life:// PEAKOVIC

V sad

Major character death

Ao3 MIRROR

It takes Matt a long time to come to terms with the fact, that even at 22 his world is still black and white. No bright ‘reds’ or ‘greens’, as his friends described. It took years of anger and wallowing for him to comes to term with the fact he might not have a soulmate. That his world will never be bright and...and colorful.

And Matt was okay with that. Having or not having colors wouldn’t change who he is. He’s quite, an editor, a health freak, and a little snide- none of these things would change if he had colors.

It takes him a long time to comes to terms with it- but it’s okay. It’s okay not to have a soulmate.

Honestly.

-

Adam never really put much thought into it. Sure, he wished he knew what the fuck his friends were talking about when they described the ocean, or the park during fall. But- having a soulmate, wasn’t something he needed. Granted- it would be cool to have another person around, someone that the universe decided would pair with him. Someone to be his other half- even platonically.

But, at 23- he’s mostly a lost cause.

98% of people find their soulmates before age 19. He’s an outlier.

And that’s fine.

Really.

-

It’s lucky- them meeting.

Then again, the best things happen due to luck it seems.

-

It’s the most stereotypical college party Matt has ever witnessed. There’s 3 kegs in the kitchen alone, Solo cups forgotten and littering the floor, and the music is starting to hurt Matt’s head.

Matt had been dragged to the party- unwillingly, but his friend, Jess, is a force to be reckoned with. So, somehow, he ended up in a house (he doesn’t know where), pressed to a wall- and spending more time looking in his drink than around the room.

Which is why- when Jess tugs on his sleeve- yelling over the music to introduce him to her friend Adam- he feels truly blessed.

Because the second he turns his head to say hello, to turn away from staring into the solo cup for the first time all night- his eyes burn for a moment, and after blinking it away.

Everything is...so…

Colorful.

“Hey.” The other man says, Adam- he remembers, and it comes out as a breath. And Matt feels flushed- all the way down to his toes, and holy fuck- he’s lucky. This guy is fucking beautiful. Holy Fuck.

“Hi.”

-

They don’t start dating, they don’t flirt. They never really talk about it- they know they’re each other soulmates- and that seems to be enough. Both seem to think that the other wants a platonic connection- and both being too complacent to risk changing anything.

-

Matt ends up taking a job with Adult Swim, and Adam starts his own crazy adventure. They should start spending less time together during this, but instead they spend even more time together. Adam learns what foods Matt likes, Matt memorizes Adam’s allergies. Adam spends an entire Tuesday night listening to Matt explain Star Trek.

They still live in separate apartments, but 5 out of the 7 days of the week- they’re together. Usually bunched together on the couch, laughing at whatever stupid movie Adam rented off Netflix.

It’s good.

Simple.

-

Adam and Matt both end up at Machinima. And the number of days spent together goes from 5/7 to 7/7.

They work together on projects, and therefore learn how to work through fights. Adam learns more weird editing tricks, and Matt learns a bit more about the producing side of their set up. It makes them appreciate each other more- in the long haul.

-

They all move to Funhaus- and it’s never been better. They make the content they want, talk about what they want, it’s better. It’s got a new energy, a new spirit.

Even when Matt moves into the bungalow, with the rest of the editing crew- Adam feels more relaxed than he has in years.

They all joke about Funhaus being the ‘accidental’ child of Roosterteeth, the ‘biggest mistake’ Matt Hullum has ever made- but Adam knows- Funhaus is the best choice any of them has ever made.

~

“Oh my God, can you just shut the fuck up about Matt for like- 20 seconds?” Adam knows Lawrence is joking- but he still flushes red and stops talking. He hadn’t been talking about Matt that much had he?

“Oh, Larr. Let the boy live.” Elyse yells over James who was in the middle of yelling ‘just fuck h-’. Adam sees out of the corner of his eye, where Elyse is sitting on James’ lap- a hand over his mouth. Preventing him from finishing his comment.

“Yeah, Larr. Let me live.” Adam says, he knows he’s still red- but he also knows his friends well enough- Yon’t go down without a fight.

“I still don’t get this. They’re soulmates- why aren’t you banging?” James asks, somehow moving out from where Elyse had put a hand over his mouth. And Adam hates how fucking blue James’ eyes are.

Adam sighs, they had been over this,

“He never really seemed like he wanted to take it any further.” Adam shrugs, “Let’s be honest. I’m lucky to have him in any capacity. Romantic or platonic.”

There’s a lull in the conversation- like there is every time. And Adam thanks God for Bruce Greene- his ever saving grace.

“Alright, enough about Adam’s sad sex life-” Bruce takes too much joy in saying that, it makes Adam level a glare at him, “We got shit to record.”

-

They’re in the middle of Demo Disk- and it’s been tough. His computer doesn’t seem to want to load anything. 13 fucking disks- none of them working. And Adam loves his friends, but this is already stressful enough without the banter being aimed at him.

“C’Mon Adam.” James jabs, and Adam wants to reply- but fuck, why won’t it work? It’s a new-er disk, it should load. He takes a deep breath.

“Oh, it’s not his fault, his fancy computer won’t work.” Bruce says and Adam pauses to rub at his eyes- he feels a headache coming on.

It’s when he drops his hand, he instantly feels sick.

The screen, which had been a bright orange fanart desktop background- was now a light grey. Adam tries to still his heart, and takes a deep breath closing his eyes- and slowly opens them again.

The background, is the same fanart, but is a very muted orange. It starts to fade in and out of the dull orange and grey.

“Adam what’s wrong?” Adam knows Bruce is worried, but he can’t look away from the desktop- he can’t.  Oh God.

“Adam?” That’s Elyse voices and fuck he’s shaking.

“Something’s wrong.” His voice is broken, and oh. He’s crying.

“What’s wrong? It’s just a Demo Disk, we can refilm.” And Bruce doesn’t get it. Fuck, no one knows, no one understands why this is so fucking bad.

“Something’s wrong with, Matt.” And Adam feels sick, “My colors are fading.”

Adam goes to add more, because the panic is setting in now- but as he goes to elaborate there’s a siren wailing from the street and Oh God. The sound seems to restart him and Adam needs to find Matt- needs to check on him- but he only gets as far as standing up, before Lawrence is catching him. Both of them ending up on the floor.

Nobody seems to know what to do- no one moves, and it’s only when the door slams open that everyone seems to restart.

And standing in the doorway is Bones- chest heaving and looking so fucking scared, if Adam wasn’t already on the ground- he woulda been. Is that fucking blood on Bones’ shirt? Oh God.

“What’s going on?” Bruce asks, no one comments on how his voice wavers. How their leader seems to be cracking- even if it is ever so slightly. Adam wants to yell out- to stop Bones from talking. To not say or confirm anything. “Matt fell on our walk back from lunch- and-” Bones adjust his eyes to where Adam and Lawrence are on the floor, “And a car hit him.” Bones is shaking, and so is Adam and fuck-

Nothing is flipping anymore, the room is just settling into black and white. No gentle hues or anything.

"Oh god, please, no no no on." And poor Lawrence is having to hold him, as Adam is shaking on the floor. They hear the ambulance siren stop- mid wail and that’s when Adam breaks. Breaks completely apart. He gives up on trying to hold himself up any longer, and stops trying to control his crying. Adam lets the worries of self control go- he knows his friends won’t hold this against him.

"Not Matt, not Matt. No, please." Adam doesn’t know who he’s talking to- what he’s trying to gain by saying this. But he can’t seem to stop. He can see the worry in all their eyes- all their colorless eyes.

“Please.” And Adam thinks he might be screaming- but he’s really not sure anymore. The only thing he can focus on- is how empty everything feels. How his chest feels hollow in a way he didn’t even know he could feel. His entire existence seems too big, too much for just one person to live alone.

“Not Matt.” He’s not breathing enough, he knows that- but he can’t calm down. He can’t. This isn’t fucking fair. Matt Peake is everything Adam wants to be as a person- kind, generous, smart, loving- perfect.

Everything Adam wanted to be.

Wanted.

Past tense.

[jordan202]

My Boys Drabbles - Elevator Ride

Hey guys. I wrote this story a couple of days ago and it probably deserved more decent editing by me. Since I’m on a train to Scotland doing basically nothing, I’ve decided to post it. :)

Thank you @jia911​ for your reliable support and proofreading!

This story is from the series My Boys Drabbles but it can also be read as a independent one shot.

The Prompt:

The lovely @bluebelle18 asked to write a story about Owen getting really angry at Amelia.

Timeline:

This happens before they had kids, after ‘Sunburn’ and ‘Pest Infestation’.

  My Boys Drabbles – Elevator Ride

 “Hey, Jim!” Amelia barged in the radiology room where the neurosurgery team usually gathered every Tuesday morning to discuss cases. “How was the weekend?” She playfully asked, suggestively giving her colleague a pat on the shoulder and a dirty gaze. “Yeah, look at that womanizer face you got there… I bet you had some fun!”

Jim Nelson gave her one mortified look that made Amelia crack up laughing. She loved to tease the other attending and that was no secret. Seeing her colleague’s usual lack of response, Amelia was about to add another teasing comment when her husband stormed into the room.

“I need you, ER, now,” He demanded, without offering any explanation.

Amelia frowned and looked puzzled from Jim Nelson to the door, but Owen had already left. Without much of a choice, she excused herself and followed his trail, wondering what in the world could justify Owen being in a hurry like that.

.

“You stay close and make sure you have your kits on you all the time,” Owen commanded, pacing back and forth to make sure the whole team was properly geared up. “Don’t forget to add the appropriate tags so patients can be removed after they were assessed,” He reinforced for the third time, taking one last look at the team of five doctors who were in the transport with him.

Owen made individual eye contact with each one, receiving affirmative nods in return. It was no surprise people were following his lead, considering his entire background. Owen Hunt was good in critical situations and everyone knew that. To have a strong, imposing leader like him inspiring trust and confidence was comforting for the team of surgeons who were just about to take big risks in a massive accident location.

Not twenty minutes before, the trauma team of Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital had been called in for help. A building had collapsed five blocks away from the hospital due to a gas explosion and there were dozens of victims at the scene. Pretty much every unit of firefighters, paramedics and trained policemen had been designated to the field but because of the severe injury of most patients, the situation demanded more trained personnel.

As chief of trauma, Owen had stepped up and assembled a team he believed would be up to the task. Riggs and Avery went as seniors attendings, overseeing Deluca and Wilson while doing their job. Meanwhile, April Kepner stayed back in the ER dealing with the overflowing influx of patients. Owen knew a neurosurgeon would be much needed and his first thought had been to spare his wife, instinctively preferring to leave her back within the safety of the hospital. But once he realized the other attendings weren’t up to her talent and skills, Owen reconsidered for the sake of the patients on the accident scene.

“Does everyone have their pagers?” Owen asked. “Alright people, stay safe and don’t go anywhere the firefighters haven’t secured yet. If you need help, page or run back here.”

Giving Riggs one final nod, Owen got off the car, knowing him and the other former army surgeon would lead others by example. Soon after, Owen was too caught up in work to be thinking about that, but every once in a while his eyes would search across the field for his team.

After at least three hours of intensive work, Owen let out a sigh of exhaustion and satisfaction, noticing the last critical patient being removed from the scene. The rescue team had completely evacuated the building and the only victims still there were stable enough to wait for an ambulance. Scanning the location with his well trained eyes, he quickly spotted Avery by one corner taking care of burnt victims as Riggs helped Deluca transport an overweight patient. Jo Wilson was doing sutures near the ambulance parking lot and Owen continued his search, hoping to catch a glimpse of his wife.

When he realized she was nowhere in sight, Owen nervously started to pace around, telling himself to remain calm. He asked the others if they’d seen Amelia, but all his colleagues said they hadn’t in a while. Doing his best to control a wave of bad feelings that had suddenly taken over him, Owen took large strides closer to the building site, away from where the victims had previously been securely located.

“Hey, have you seen the neurosurgeon on my team?” He asked one of the policemen who was keeping the perimeter of the place. “She’s about 5 foot 4, dark hair, blue eyes…?” Owen frantically searched around while he described her.

“No, doc, I haven’t, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to step back,” The officer said very seriously. “This area isn’t secure yet.”

Owen nodded affirmatively but he was hardly paying any attention. Feeling his stomach churning in discomfort, he searched around, trying to catch sight of his wife as he asked around about her. Half way through scanning the building perimeter, he noticed a small crowd that formed around one of the broken pillars of the construction. People were whispering nervously, as if speculating, and Owen somehow knew that he wasn’t going to like what he would see.

“What’s going on?” He approached the group from behind, trying to be heard through the wailing sirens and the screaming firefighters.

“Some crazy woman got inside one of the elevators,” A fame police officer raised her voice trying to compensate for the loud helicopter blades not too far from them. “The firefighters are trying to get her out now, but it seems like something snapped and the doors are crooked. I’m not sure they can get her out without compromising the structure of the building.”

Owen felt chills on his spine and he didn’t even need to look to know. Something was telling him exactly where he would find Amelia.

Ignoring all orders to stay back, Owen marched towards the pillar, pushing people out of the way that tried to stop him. When he finally made it to the inside of the building, amidst all the dust and bricks he saw the small hole on the wall through which two firefighters tried keeping a conversation with someone.

“Sir, you can’t go in…!” A firefighter stepped forward to stop Owen.

“It’s my wife in there!” Owen snapped, completely ignoring the orders. He bent down in front of the scene, squinting to take a good look through all the dirt. “Amelia?!”

In a fraction of a second, something grey moved inside the elevator but just as suddenly, two familiar bright blue eyes looked up and Owen let out a sigh of deep concern.

“I’m coming out!” Her voice sounded optimistic and comforting, even though she was the one in the dangerous position.

“Amelia, what are you doing in there?” Owen angrily stretched his neck to take a better view of her face. “Are you out of your mind?”

“I’m nearly done,” She replied, without explaining any further.

Owen looked from his wife’s eyes to the firefighters squatting beside him. Both men returned his look of absolute confusion, letting the trauma surgeon know they were just as oblivious as to why Amelia had jumped in there.

“Listen, doctor, you need to let me get you out!” One of them spoke again. “This pillar is very unstable and if it doesn’t hold there’s a big chance this ceiling is going to collapse right above where you are.”

“I’m in a metal box,” Amelia’s voice sounded muffled when she replied, as if it made her safe.

“No, you don’t get it,” The firefighter patiently tried to explain. “It is going to collapse and it when it does, you will…”

“Amelia, damn it!” Owen furiously snapped, interrupting everyone. “Get out of there, right the hell now!” He ordered, in a tone of voice that accepted no refusal.

Both firefighters looked up to the tense husband, their eyes wide with apprehension. Owen was about to crouch down and forcefully grab Amelia up, risking jeopardizing the whole structure, when she finally brought her face up, staring at the rescue team with a smile.

“Done!” She said, with what looked like a mix of happiness and relief. “I’m done!”

Before any of the men could ask what she was talking about, Amelia lifted up her arms and handed out what looked like a mass of wrapped blankets. Only when it discreetly moved that the rescuers realized it was a baby.

“She’s still breathing but she was trapped upside down in the stroller!” Amelia raised her voice to be heard in through the hole. “I think she must have cried herself to exhaustion and she definitely looks dehydrated… Here, take her.”

One of the firefighters got the baby and handed her out to a paramedic, who quickly evacuated the child from the scene. Owen was running his hand through his hair in frustration, looking from the pillar to the elevator hole, desperate for his wife to get out of there as soon as possible.

He saw a firefighter reaching out to hold her as Amelia swiftly moved her body up, crawling through a gap very few adults would be able to fit. She was almost fully outside when Owen’s heart skipped a beat as he watched her foot getting stuck in the gap between the doors. The trauma surgeon took one step forward, determined to help when he saw his wife forcing her way outside, pulling her leg with so much strength that the elevator slowly lost its balance.

Everything happened too fast and before Owen could catch up with the situation, heavy blocks of cement fell a few meters from where they were standing. The thick dust quickly ascended, preventing him from seeing much else. Two people screamed at the same time and instinctively, Owen bounced forward, grabbing his wife’s hand before he could completely lose her out of sight.

“Amelia…!” Owen cried out with a broken voice, fearing for the worst.

The fraction of second that came after felt like an eternity. Owen felt like an entire movie was playing in his head and he saw countless scenes playing in his mind.

“I’m fine,” Her distinctive voice resonated, allowing Owen to properly breathe again. “I’m out, I made it out.”

The trauma surgeon felt his entire body relaxing at the sound of her words but he didn’t stay calm for long. Furiously maintaining the hold on her hand, Owen helped her get up, protectively wrapping one arm around her shoulders while leading the way for the two of them.

The minute their stepped foot outside, reveling at the dust free cold fresh air, Owen blocked the way, standing up with his hands on his hips furiously staring at her.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Amelia looked up and met her husband’s angry, cold eyes. Owen was a tall, broad shouldered man, but when he was mad, he looked twice as big, engulfing her with his presence like a predator about to surround a prey. His voice sounded controlled but Amelia could distinguish the tone of contained rage it had.

“There was a baby inside there and…”

“You could have gotten yourself killed!” Owen interrupted her, taking one step forward as he grabbed her arm with his hand at the same time he forced eye contact with her. Amelia noticed how his crystal blue eyes, usually so serene and calm were now sparkling with fury. “Have you lost your mind?”

Amelia dodged his contact irritably, taking one step back to get away from his reach. She wasn’t sure who was talking to her at that moment: her husband, her boss or an army official. She supposed an unpleasant mix of both.

“I did what I had to do!” She snapped back, feeling angry at his exaggerated reaction. “Owen, there was a baby inside that elevator and if I hadn’t gone in there, she would probably be dead by now,” Amelia reasoned, trying to make him see it through her eyes.

As scary as it had been, the minute she’d heard the little girl crying, Amelia had stopped thinking completely. Realizing the gap between the elevator doors and the floor were too small to let one of the firefighters in, she had called one of them to help her out and before the guy could stop her, Amelia had slid inside through the gap, quickly finding the baby.

The little girl was trapped in the seat belt of her stroller, with her chest and hips angled in a dangerous position. There was no adult in sight and Amelia wondered what the hell had happened to justify a baby being alone in an elevator but before she could gather her thoughts together, her skilled hands were already working their way to unbuckle the child without compromising the integrity of the baby’s spine.

“A building has collapsed, you could have died!” Owen complained, unable to deal with her apparent serenity.

“It wouldn’t have fallen if my foot didn’t get stuck,” Amelia argued, as if it was obvious. “Besides, I saved a kid’s life!” She yelled, seeing Owen running his fingers through his hair in clear frustration. “You have no reason to be mad at me!”

“Are you okay?” He ignored her completely, taking two steps in her direction at the same time he held her face between his hands, carefully scanning her body for bruises. “Did you get hurt?”

“I’m fine!” Amelia pulled apart aggressively, too mad at him to care about it. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?  I can’t believe you’re making a thunderstorm out of this.”

When Owen looked up to meet her eyes, it was clear in his expression that he wasn’t the least bit touched by her words.

“We’ll talk more at home,” His voice once again sounded calm, but his tone was slightly alarming, as if reprimanding a clueless child.

Amelia opened her mouth to reply in outrage when, without another word, Owen turned his back to her and took large strides towards the team of doctors.

.

Amelia didn’t hear much from him on the way back to the hospital. Riggs, Avery and Wilson went on ambulances but she took the hospital car back with her husband and Deluca.

The intern seemed particularly uncomfortable with the utter silence during the entire trip back. The only time one of them spoke was when Owen gave directions to the driver. As soon as they arrived at their destination, the trauma surgeon left the car, shutting the door with more force than necessary.

Amelia noticed the inquiring look Deluca gave to her but she ignored him completely. It was driving her insane that Owen was actually mad. Minutes after he left her talking by herself, a woman in her mid thirties came running in her direction, thanking her for saving her daughter’s life. According to the woman, her babysitter had just been getting into the elevator with her daughter when the explosion hit. Unfortunately, the babysitter had been severely hurt, being quickly brought to the hospital when they found her by the corridor. The stroller had turned around, protecting the baby from the blast, but also preventing anyone from finding her.

If Amelia hadn’t heard the weak cries, it was very possible that the child would have been dead when they did find her. What she’d done had been a great, brave thing, even if it was considerably dangerous. Amelia refused to let her husband’s sour mood eclipse the fact that the baby was now safe, which, in her head, was all that mattered.

.

Amelia went home alone that evening because Owen had to stay back with a pile of paperwork to fill. It was past ten in the evening when she heard the sound of his footsteps entering the bedroom. She had mentally prepared herself for another battle. Owen had authoritatively said they’d talk more at home and never for a second had she doubted it meant he would finish ranting at her in the privacy of their house.

To her uttermost surprise, Owen walked in the bedroom and simply ignored her, stopping only to get clean pajama pants and a shirt before getting into the bathroom. Amelia frowned heavily but decided to stay in the comfort of the bed, trying to keep busy with some reading but she was far too distracted.

Telling herself she wasn’t anxious, which was a big fat lie, Amelia patiently waited for her husband to return to their room. She had seen Owen angry a few times before, and he had even been nasty and rude with her in one or two occasions, but she didn’t remember a time when he’d been this mad at her. And Amelia honestly couldn’t tell which was worst, having her husband shouting angry words or being icily glared at while he didn’t say a word.

Even though Owen was very intimidating when he was mad, Amelia did her absolute best to be the most insubordinate as possible. Her husband was very bossy and he could easily incorporate his typical army general attitude, which absolutely set her off. And despite deep down knowing he would never do anything such as physically hurt her, Amelia couldn’t help feeling alarmed by his powerful figure.

Owen interrupted her thoughts when he entered the room, visibly being just out of the shower. His hair still had droplets of water but he looked the total opposite of relaxed. His jaw was fiercely clenched and a heavy frown was lurking in his forehead as he breathed out through his nose, visibly struggling to contain himself.

“Oh, for God’s sake, just say it already,” Amelia lost her patience, seeing he was fuming with anger.

“I can’t believe you actually think you have any excuse in this situation,” Owen seriously replied, looking at her with disbelief. “You literally crawled inside the elevator of a collapsed building, risking your freaking life and you actually think you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Owen, I…”

“No!” He interrupted his wife, furiously looking at her while he pulled the covers on his side of the bed. “Do you have any idea what was going on in my mind when I found out you were inside that elevator?” Owen asked, giving up trying to contain his anger. Amelia noticed the vein pulsating on his temple at the same time his face was flushed red with rage. “Did you stop for a second to think that you could have killed yourself? That I could have been there to witness it?” He angrily hissed, too mad to let her talk. “Do you have any idea how I felt when I thought that ceiling had collapsed with you still inside that elevator?”

Amelia looked up to meet her husband’s gaze and for the first time, she saw beyond the anger. Owen’s eyes were scintillating with fury, but there was a distinguished shadow of concern and genuine worry. Amelia couldn’t explain why, but at that moment, she was deeply touched and in a matter of seconds, most of her anger was gone.

“I didn’t think, I’m sorry,” Amelia humbly admitted, now fully understanding why he was being so unreasonable about the situation.

Owen frowned harder, completely surprised by her honest apology. He expected Amelia to stubbornly insist she’d done nothing wrong while he spent all night trying to make her see why she couldn’t act as impulsively as she had.

“You are?” He swallowed hard, wondering if she was setting him up.

“I can’t imagine how worried you felt when you saw me there, so yeah, I’m sorry,” She sheepishly added, breaking eye contact with him out of embarrassment.

“Well…” Owen seemed lost for words. “Thank you,” He nodded once with his head, still looking too serious and too grumpy to inspire sympathy in his wife.

Devotion and care weren’t things Amelia was very used to and realization hit her too intensely, turning her feelings into a giant mess. At the same time Amelia was too proud to say another word, she was also mortified by his concern. As far as she could tell, no one in her life had ever loved her enough to stand up to her like that, not giving in to her argumentative manipulation and emotional blackmailing. The things Owen made her feel were far too new but somehow, Amelia felt like they were painfully familiar, as if she’d been lacking them all along. It was all too overwhelming and afraid she’d break down, the neurosurgeon turned around in bed, hugging her pillows like a child seeking comfort in a security blanket.

Not too long after, Amelia felt Owen gently lying down next to her, even though they weren’t touching. It felt weird to lie down on the same bed as someone without saying a word. Amelia wondered if that happened often in most marriages. Long minutes of silence followed, in which Amelia stay immersed in her own thoughts, trying to decipher the feelings that had suddenly assaulted her.

With his anger, Owen had made her feel patronized, but his worry and care had driven her to feel strangely important. The way he’d imposed himself, at times not giving her the chance to talk, had very much made it seem like he was lecturing her. Amelia knew indifference and neglect, but she had never been so familiar with such generous concern before, to the point of rejecting it at first, just to test if it was really real.

“I’ve heard the baby is fine and was brought to the PICU,” Owen’s voice broke the silence, as he patiently informed her.

Even though she had her back turned to him, Amelia could tell he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling with his fingers intertwined above his abdomen.

“Yes, I’ve heard,” She sheepishly agreed, unsure of what to say.

It was rare for the two of them to feel so awkward around each other and that heavy atmosphere was startling Amelia. She had no idea what else to say, but she couldn’t bear that silence any longer.

“She’s going to make it,” Owen’s voice surprised Amelia at the same time she was thinking of what to say.

“I’m glad she is,” Amelia replied, reaching her limit. Slowly, she turned around, searching for his eyes.

She found Owen in the exact position she imagined him to be. He twitched his lips restlessly, obviously feeling just as awkward as she was. The image of his obvious discomfort suddenly felt too hilarious and Amelia had to remind herself why they’d been fighting in the first place.

“What?” Owen asked with corner smile, contaminated by the mirth on her face.

“Nothing,” Amelia lied, unable to hold her laughter any longer. “It’s just that you really suck at small talk.”

Owen’s facial expression softened as he couldn’t help cracking up at her playful offense. Rolling his eyes in defeat, he took a deep breath, still smiling at his wife.

“I thought I’d lose you today,” He explained when her laughter had subsided. “I can’t, Amelia, I…” He struggled with his words, having a hard time explaining his feelings. “Just please don’t ever do something like that, again, okay?”

Amelia nodded with a sympathetic smile, touched by the progress of his attitude. After carefully thinking and rationally analyzing the situation, she admitted she really had acted on an impulse and that could have cost her life. Amelia could have simply notified the firefighters and asked for help but she had instinctively jumped inside the wreckage and if Owen had done something similar, she now realized it would deeply worry her too.

“Okay,” Amelia smiled, void of any residual anger. Slowly, she moved in his direction, wrapping an arm around his chest.

Owen welcomed her in his embrace, idly stroking his wife’s back as he finally relaxed enough to fall asleep.

“You drive me crazy sometimes, you know?” Owen let out a heavy sigh, looking at his wife with a conformed smile on his face. The adorable look on her face as she showed off her dimples already said it all.

“Yeah, I know.”

.

“What?”Amelia asked in frustration. It had been exactly one week since Owen had interrupted the Tuesday morning Neurosurgery clinical session and she could not believe her eyes when she saw her husband once again walking in there to summon her.

Owen smiled at her disbelief and discreetly led her to one corner, so the session could go on at the same time he talked to her.

“We’re not going to the field again today, are we?” Amelia widened her eyes in shock, wondering what was so important that Owen had to come for her again. “I’ll send Nelson this time,” She threatened.

“Don’t be silly,” Owen replied with an amused smile and explained. “Not sure if you know this but your brother once removed a neurofibroma from Webber’s optic nerve. He says he woke up this morning with a blurry vision but now he feels fine.” The trauma surgeon explained, trying to keep the information private. “Anyway, I saw his scans and it all looks clear but he is insisting that you go take a look at them as soon as possible. Catherine Avery is on his back about it and there might be a domestic incident soon if you don’t come,” Owen added, knowing the chief was probably overreacting.

Amelia processed the information, her mind already racing with other possible causes for the former chief’s symptom but she did as asked and followed her husband to the corridor.

“So…” Owen kept his hands inside his white coat pockets as he gently nudged his wife’s delicate shoulders with his own. “Would you really send out Nelson this time if it was a field call?” He asked with a teasing shine on his eyes. “Babe, you have to stop bullying him…”

“What?” Amelia asked with fake outrage. “I’m the most supportive of all! I’m actually the only one that talks to him in the entire department.”

“Does he talk back?” Owen raised both eyebrows at her, seeing that the answer was no in her eyes and proving his point. “He is afraid of you.”

“You’re crazy,” Amelia rolled her eyes, disregarding his opinion.

“He is intimidated,” Owen affirmed, with conviction. “He is not used to women talking to him, let alone a woman like you. Leave the poor guy alone,” He added with good humor. “And I doubt you’d send him if there was a next time.”

“Of course not,” Amelia pretended to be serious. “I couldn’t risk it.” As she realized Owen was confused to the meaning of her words, she carried on with her act. “I have to confess something, babe, and it’s gonna hurt,” She hid her smile by leaning forward to press the elevator button. “Jim Nelson and I have been having an affair right under your nose all this time.”

“Oh, really?” Owen scoffed, caught off guard by her joke.

“Yes,” Amelia said with fake indifference, trying her hardest not to laugh at Owen’s facial expression. “What can I say? I dig a hairy guy.”

That was all it took for Owen to give in to laughter and playfully pinch her waist before they exited the elevator towards the ER.

“I don’t even know what’s worse,” Owen confessed mirthfully. “Sending you to another field mission or having to picture you and Nelson together in my head.” He scowled, visibly disgusted by the idea.

“Well,” Amelia playfully said, dodging his reach right before she opened the door to the exam room where Webber was at. “Then I suggest you avoid the fifth floor on call room on Tuesday mornings.”

Owen laughed and shook his head in denial. Every day, his wife proved to be a box of surprises more and more. She was impulsive, didn’t analyze risks properly and had a serious problem with authority. But he could see beyond that and admired her kind heart, her generosity and freedom of spirit.

Amelia did drive him crazy sometimes but she also made him laugh like no one else ever had. Living with ease and spontaneity was something Amelia had introduced him to. He couldn’t imagine what life without her felt like anymore.

And luckily for Owen, he would never have to find out.

--

[benjamin-vague]

The Madness of Clarity

The fact of the matter is, I never felt saner than when I held a gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger. I never knew such calm or felt such firm resolution as when I upended a bottle of pills into my mouth and gulped them down. That’s what people don’t understand, what they fail to recognize. If you tell people that, you can watch the veil come down over their eyes; they stop truly hearing you. It was only a week ago now and already these moments have taken on a pristine clarity I can’t quite define; they are going to always be with me. 

 I don’t want to glamorize the act or romanticize it. I don’t want to frame it like a sad Victorian poem in which pain is pretty and dressed for dinner and misery is a song you hear always in the background, soothingly soporific. I don’t want to make it sweet or okay; I don’t want you to see it as an option or to feel pity for me. But this is the bare truth: I was never saner than when I made that mad, mad choice, alone in the dark. 

 I believe it’s every person’s right to choose the time and manner of their death. None of us asked to be here, did we? I know I didn’t. We were born without consent and told to fight, not to fail. Not to die. There is a kind of hypocrisy in what I am saying, I know: do not see death as an option, but death is an option. But there it is, really: it is okay for you to choose death. But please don’t do it. Please don’t. Live while you can. But that's not really part of this story…

 The gun failed me. It was old, an antique my grandfather won on some dismal battlefield in World War II that had been passed from hand to hand in my family. A pretty enough killer, I suppose, but I don’t think it had ever really been maintained. I am lucky for that. I know that now. I am lucky that when I sat in the grass listening to the night things move and pulled the trigger, physics or fortune said “No”. You know, it sounds silly to say, but I had the strangest moment after I pulled the trigger and the gun jammed when I wasn’t sure if I was alive or dead. Isn’t that funny? Maybe that isn't the right word.

 Well, anyway. Yeah, the gun jammed and that sense of clarity, of deadly resolution, became sharper, almost a tangible thing. I stood up and walked back to the place I call home and went to bed thinking that it was some special kind of ironic that I had failed even at failing. I remember feeling so pitiful, and so in love with pitying myself, that it was almost sweet in a way. Do you know that feeling? It can be a kind of comfort. When you think you’re pitiful, when you know it down to your bones, failure becomes acceptable, easy, something you deserve.

 That wasn’t the end of course. Not of my self-administered sadness and not of my story. You’re going to be reading this for a while yet; I want so much for you to understand and I think you will by the end. Stay with me, okay? Just stay. Maybe you need to hear this too. Maybe one day it will be relevant. Then again, maybe it will mean nothing at all. That, too, would be good.

I fell asleep thinking those nasty, jaundiced thoughts and I woke again the next day thinking those thoughts. I don’t recall any point at which my commitment faltered or faded. I don't think I had it in me then to doubt or question my choice. There was just this dreary sense of Get It Done Already. That’s when I decided on the pills. They were old pills, intended to save lives. Klonodine--people take them to stabilize their blood pressure. And Gabapentin--I didn't really know what those were for and I don't think I cared. It all seemed a perfect perversion to me at the time. After all, an instrument of murder had failed in its function… perhaps these medicinal measures might serve. Drama, right?

 I don’t recall much after swallowing them. There were perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes left to me of thought, of being aware that I was thinking. Every now and then I can catch snatches of memory here and there, like something out of a dream. Just imagery, really. My mother holding me, crying. Her voice on the telephone. I said something to her; it might have been "I love you" or it might have been nonsense. The ambulance; a handsome paramedic who looked at me with pity or disgust. I know I said to him, "Why are you stealing my choice?" Ah, but my mouth was so dry, my tongue so thick, I don't think he understood. He might not have anyway. He didn't have the madness of clarity.

At the hospital then. I was crowded around with people. There was a beautiful black nurse with soft, dry hands who told me how handsome I was and said I would be okay. Did I laugh or did I drowse? It didn't make sense then, not any of it. Another nurse; forcing black sludge down my throat that made me gag. The contents of my stomach in a blue bag that they took away along with the promise I made to myself.

Sleep was a constant companion for the next few days. They put me in one of those awful, sterile rooms where everything is beige and the sheets smell like stealthily sanitized sickness. I shared the room with another man, a fellow named Willie. He was mad, madder than me by far and in a muddled, shit-smeared kind of way. He spoke often to an invisible person, a woman I think, named Bubblicious. I silently inquired of myself if that was actually on her birth certificate or perhaps just a street alias. By the sound of things, it sounded very much like a torrid love affair between these two, Willie and his invisible Bubblicious. I was torn between envy and despair.

Of course everyone treated me well in a distant and polite sort of way. The way you're supposed to treat crazy people, I suppose. Like broken birds that might peck if you get too close. They weren't terribly important people anyway, though they stole my murder and saved my life. My biggest, clearest memory is of Willie. Shitty, mad Willie and his invisible mistress. Crazy Willie and the pendulum swing of his moods. Witty, funny Willie and his tacit acceptance of his own insanity and the ease with which he showed it to the world. Willie, insistent on life, insistent upon himself despite the miserable condition of his own mind. Willie, winning, having somehow made it into late middle age, alone and on the streets even with his mind like a tangle of barbed wire. I remember him like I remember my finger on the trigger and the taste of the muzzle that must surely have taken lives at some point but wouldn't take mine, like I remember the chalky taste of bad medicine going down, like I remember falling out of the world and suddenly not remembering anything at all. Such clarity.

It was a clarity given by madness, like I said; or maybe a madness granted by clarity. It's sort of a chicken-and-egg thing, you know? But my god, my god, Willie taught me something I don't think I ever really wanted to learn. I'm glad I shared that room with him. I'm glad I smelled his shit for three days. I'm glad I heard his ramblings. I'm glad I pulled that trigger and shot myself into that wretched little room because, you see, I finally understand that we can adapt to anything, absolutely anything at all, if only we try. No. That's not right. I think it's more true to say that we can adapt to anything if we can keep from trying not to.

So… yeah. That's it, really. My friend asked me to write about this, to frame it, and it seemed a good idea. I'm not sure what to make of it all other than what I have already described: the clarity of the crazy, the secret hugeness of will, and some peculiar bravery or wisdom of a sad, mad, mad man in a beige room who is, somehow, surviving. I think that choosing death, really choosing to die, is infinitely hard. It was for me. People call it The Easy Option, but it isn't. Really committing to my own murder was probably the most difficult decision I've ever made. It's the act of doing it that's easy. It's deadly easy, you see, and I mean that more than literally.

But life? Life is hard. Every week, every day, every hour and minute of it, is hard. Even the beautiful bits are hard, because you know as you're living them that they're passing by as well. And because of Willie, I think I understand why it's all so hard, why it is that people go crazy in the first place. It's because of the enormity of it all, this existence, and the fact of your total freedom to be and do anything. There isn't a Golden Rule concerning what to be, what to do, and for many people--certainly for myself--it really is enough to drive you goddamn crazy. It's empty space stretching out infinitely through all the days of your life, and a voice that doesn't truly exist saying, "Fill it how you will." Maybe that’s my Bubblicious.

Honestly, the whole thing just about kills me. But I think I am glad to be living it.