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astralflower-writes · 1 year ago

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just visiting

♡ pairing: alex karev x female! reader

♡ genre: angst to fluff

♡ warnings: small season 9 spoilers (plane crash) & family issues

♡ part two, part three, part four, special scenes

♡ check out my grey's anatomy masterlist here

going back to seattle will never be one of your plans. but, your mother had to pick seattle as one of the destinations for your so called family road trip.

to add more, you had to stay in town for a few days. it's not like you hate the city.

it's where you've met your soulmate. your person, alex.

but when you were on your last year residency, you had to leave. not only because of all the crisis that hit seattle grave mercy west that time, you were also offered a job at hopkins, your dream hospital. to start your fellowship.

fortunately, alex was also offered to start a fellowship there.

but, the plane crash happened.

he couldn't just leave the hospital. especially with what happened to arizona.

"you can't be for real y/n." he said following you onto your shared bedroom.

he proposed that morning and now, you're packing your stuff up.

"we said we'd stay!"

but, now you can't.

"is this about your family y/n? is that why you can't answer me? i swear if they're talking crap about me again i'll–"

"you want to know how they're treating me because of us?" stopping at by the doors.

"you know about this. alex i–"

"and yet you listen to them huh." scoffing at what you said.

"if you walk out of that door, we're done y/n."

after five years, you were back. you convinced yourself you were just visiting and checking the sights you never seen or had the chance to see when you were still living in the city.

you were on your hotel room when your four year old boy, lucas, who just came back from a walk with your parents suddenly threw up on the carpet.

"i don't feel good mama."

you called for an ambulance and of course it brought you to where you started your career as a doctor.

as your son was brought in the emergency room. one of your former colleague and a very close friend noticed you.

"y/n?"

"meredith!"

she walked towards you. "how are you? and you've got a kid!" she said hugging you.

"i'm fine, mer." you replied, hugging her back.

"are you staying long?"

"does alex—" she was interrupted when your son started to cry and vomit again.

you came back to his side and started to rub his back for comfort.

"no. he doesn't know i'm here." you replied shortly.

"just so you know he's the one on-call on peds today."

"and let's catch up after work." with that she hugged you again before going back to her patient.

while waiting for the doctor on-call to come down. you made the time to pray that it's arizona or another doctor will come down.

"where's the–" he stopped in the middle of the emergency room.

he certainly did not expect you to be somewhat in seattle. and of course, he did not expect for you to have a kid.

he saw the way you were talking to the child. promising something which made the kid smile. but shortly after, the kid reached for the basin and vomited again.

from that, he got out of his daze and walked towards the two of you.

"how are you feeling little champ?" he said standing on the bedside.

"i don't like it." he said turning himself towards you.

alex looked at you and asked you what happened. "he was fine before he went out with my parents. he said he ate something from the sea."

"from the sea huh." alex said examining your kid.

"i tried to ask which is it but he's really not in the mood to be specific." you said brushing his hair out of his face.

after alex looked at him more "he's already getting fluids and i already ordered some meds but i'd like to keep him overnight for observation."

you agreed. "y/n i–" he was interrupted when lucas started to call for you.

"i'll check up on him again later." he said before letting himself out of the emergency room.

after settling in and calling your parents. you had the chance to take a breather. walking in the halls with some of the staff recognizing you. you finally reached the cafeteria.

"can we talk?" alex's voice came from behind. you motioned for him to take the vacant seat in front of you.

"so...you've got a kid huh." he said starting the conversation.

"yeah. he's smart and funny..."

"i met him three years ago from a program we did back at boston. and instantly fell in love with him. can't believe that i'd be falling in love an infant though." both of you letting out a laugh.

"you know, i waited for you text or something." he spoke again.

"i waited over there too." you said smiling sadly at him.

"so you're the chief of peds surgery now huh." you said pointing at his coat. "yeah. robbins gave me the job, so she can do neonatal."

"are you staying?"

you stood up from the table before answering. "we're just visiting."

after that talk with alex, you went back to lucas' room. he's finally asleep after vomiting all afternoon.

"you can go back to the hotel and rest up." sitting at the end of the bed. "lucas' doctor, karev. isn't he that ex-boyfriend of yours?" your father asked as they were gathering their things.

"it's a good thing you listened to us cause you're doing way better than him, i mean have you seen him? hopkins is way better than this–"

"can we drop this conversation dad?" you said sighing as took as seat beside your child's bed.

"i'm just saying that you're doing way better than–" with your father not dropping the subject, it made you mad. all those years of torment of them hearing how great you are now just because you listened to them and left seattle.

"do you think i was fine after i left this hospital? i listened to everything the both of you said because i can't bear how you were treating me."

"the only good thing that happened to me over there is lucas! and don't think i didn't know what you said about me adopting him cause i–" you received a slap from your mother.

"how dare you speak to your father like that? we were only looking out for you and you adopting a kid you just saw at a program was–"

"out. i've heard enough." your mother protesting woke up lucas. "mama... where's grandma and grandpa going?"

"the-they're going home sweetie. we'll just visit them after we go home tomorrow okay?" rushing to his side so you could help him go back to sleep.

after your parents left, meredith was standing by the door. "are you okay? cause this is just my cup of tea y/n, i mean, mommy and daddy issues?"

laughing from what she said, you let her take a seat on the chair by bedside. "so you heard the whole thing."

"pretty much."

"well, hopkins was great. but you know, this place was my home, mer." sighing, and thinking that all of the things that happened today made you tired enough for days.

"i could hire you." she said nonchalantly. "are you serious?" you said in disbelief.

"you don't think i'm serious? i kinda own this place now."

"we could head down and sign the contract." looking at her, checking to see if she's really saying the truth.

"no. i–i can't." standing up and hushing your child as he started to turn again. "why? is it alex?"

"it's kinda stupid but yeah."

"what's stupid is the both of you are still in love with each other and you're not together."

"pretty sure he moved on mer. the minute i walked out on him. we were done." you said getting a cup of water and some apple slices which you presume was for your child.

"no. he still loves you."

"i left him after he proposed mer."

meredith stopped at what she was about, shocked at what she's hearing. "he proposed?"

"then i left him." you sternly added. "so that's why he always have this small box on his coat or pocket."

"what?"

"i think you weren't supposed to know that." she suddenly changed the topic about you and your program at hopkins and it turned to how you met your kid and how she loves her kids. just the both of you catching up.

the next day, meredith came back to check on the both of you for the third time. "are you sure you don't want to work back here, cause i told bailey and she's more than glad to have you back."

"mer–"

"we're moving here mama?" your kid said looking up from where he was playing with his toys.

"do you want to live here, sweetheart?" meredith asked him as she sat beside him.

"can we live near auntie mer?" lucas asked too excited. meredith looked at you with a smug grin on her face.

"bailey has an offer that tops hopkins." she said as she started to play with your kid again.

"fine. i'll talk to bailey, but i don't promise anything."

"i'll take it."

you didn't know how she convinced you to talk to bailey about your job here. but boy, meredith and bailey pulled out the big guns.

"look, i love the offer dr. bailey, but i just got here yesterday and–"

"we'll keep the position open for you dr. y/l/n, it would be really great to have you back with us." with that, you left the office wondering how you and lucas would be happier here.

to your surprise, alex was the one playing with your child.

"hey, where's aunt mer?" asking as you walked in. "she has a person to cure, mama." your kid said not looking up.

"your mama's back now, champ. i'm going now." alex said as he ruffled lucas' hair. "don't go! i love playing with you!"

"baby i'm sure dr. alex has some patients to cure too." your kid started to have tears forming on his eyes, but he tried his best not to let one tear out.

"how about we, uhh--" you can't find a pretty good excuse for lucas to feel better.

"hey how about this. you and you're mom are going home in a few hours, right?" alex asked and he nodded. "you play with your mama first, and i'll come back after curing my patients?" lucas looked at you for a signal and you smiled at him which he took and nodded at alex. "you promise uncle alex?"

alex was quite taken aback by the way he called him. the whole time the both of you were around, he always called him by 'dr. alex'

"yeah. i'll be quick."

you mouthed thank you at alex and went to your kid's side, starting to play with him.

"ma?"

"yes?" the both of you are now eating your lunch, well you're doing most of the eating.

"auntie mer said uncle alex is special to you." almost choking at what he said, you tried to hide the coughing. "she told you that?"

sipping water trying to compose yourself. "h-he is, sweetheart."

#grey's anatomy imagines #grey's anatomy x reader #greys anatomy imagines #greys anatomy x reader #alex karev x reader #alex karev imagines #astralflower-writes

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macgyvermedical · 9 months ago

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My Experience in Inpatient Psych

So I know a lot of people on here have talked about their experience in inpatient psych facilities, but I'd like to add mine just to give all you writers out there a writer-focused one. It's below the cut just in case you have to sit this one out for your own reasons.

To give you some background, I am 30 years old and have had hallucinations since about 16 and bizarre intrusive thoughts (someone living in my house that wasn't supposed to be there, somebody poisoned my walls, etc...) for about a decade, as well as very severe anxiety since I was about 3 years old. This is something not a lot of people know about me, even people I am friends with IRL.

The only thing I am actually diagnosed with is anxiety, which I'm starting to think is a failing of the psych systems I have been a part of. I have had counseling off and on and prior to this hospitalization I took escitalopram, aripiprazole, and gabapentin prescribed by my primary care doctor- all for the severe anxiety.

Quite frankly, I should have been in inpatient psych at least a few times before this, and it's by sheer dumb luck that I've survived to continue this blog.

On Friday, I was at home alone and made a few pretty bad decisions. I wont say what they were because frankly they're embarrassing, but they have to do with self-harm. I was scheduled to work Saturday and at about 9pm I realized that if I drove myself to work I would crash my car. Since my wife drives me sometimes, I figured I would just ask her to.

I told my wife and she asked- even if she drove me to work, since I was a nurse, would I be able to keep myself safe around insulin or other potentially dangerous drugs? I couldn't answer that question. We talked for a couple hours and came to the conclusion that I probably needed to go to the emergency department.

At this point I figured they would evaluate me and release me because I couldn't possibly meet the criteria for inpatient. I was wrong in this assumption. After telling them the decisions I had made that day, the feelings of wanting to die in a car crash, plus about a previous attempt, they recommended inpatient. Turns out, when you're a nurse, you can make some really bad life choices with the knowledge you have, and they didn't want to take any chances.

I was given paper scrubs to wear (so I couldn't hurt myself with my clothing or a hospital gown). I was also given a patient companion (someone who sits in the room and makes sure you don't hurt yourself).

They gave me the option of signing myself in voluntarily, or putting me on a writ of detention. A writ of detention is a piece of paperwork that allows a medical professional or law enforcement officer to hold someone for 3 days in a psychiatric facility against the person's will for the purposes of psychiatric treatment. Whether you sign the voluntary or get placed on a writ, you cannot sign yourself out. You need to wait until the psychiatrist taking care of you thinks you're ready to go.

I didn't believe at this point I needed to go inpatient, but I took the voluntary option because there are some perks, like being able to leave within 3 days if appropriate. At this point I was convinced I was probably going to have to call off work Saturday and Sunday, probably be out of the hospital Monday, have a few days to rest and be back at work on my next scheduled shift after that, which was Thursday.

Well, that's not what happened.

Because of some of the decisions I had made, along with bed availability, they wanted to keep me in the observation unit overnight before they sent me to psych. I stayed overnight in a unit that shares staff with the unit I work on, so I was taken care of by my coworkers. This was surprisingly not that bad. I like my coworkers and they were really professional about it.

Saturday I felt like I was in a fog all day. I couldn't watch TV. I couldn't color or write. I worked out some in my hospital room and paced the halls once or twice. Mostly I hung out with my wife and occasionally talked with my companion, but even talking was difficult. I had refused ativan because I felt like I had no hope of finding a medication that made me feel better, and I figured I didn't want to take the one medication that might actually work and then not be able to get it ever again.

Around 7PM I took a 45 minute ambulance ride to the facility. Getting my blood pressure taken is a big anxiety trigger for me, but my brain felt so scrambled that I couldn't express this well. They took it every 10 minutes on the ride there and by the time I got there it was in the 170s/100s (BP goes up when you're having severe anxiety). This was not their fault of course, but no matter how much I thought about telling them or refusing the BPs, I just couldn't do it.

When I got to the facility I was greeted by a tech who took my BP again (150s/90s this time), showed me around and looked through my personal belongings (basically just the clothing I came in with since my wife took my phone and wallet knowing I wouldn't be able to have them on the unit) to make sure I didn't have anything I wasn't allowed to on the unit. She showed me around my room and was really thorough with telling me how things worked, what the rules were, etc..

The rules included:

No patients allowed in other patients rooms

No personal belongings that had strings, belts, or laces, or that could be used as a weapon

No caffeine after lunch and no free access to caffeine

No personal electronics (including eReaders and watches). There was a TV in the day room and 2 phones mounted to the wall for patient use

A little later my nurse came into my room and asked me a ton of questions. Here's the thing about any hospital- you get asked the same questions over and over. By the time I'd gotten there I could give my story in under a minute. Or at least, that's what it felt like. There were only 2 clocks on the unit, at the nurses stations.

The unit itself was laid out in a "T" shape. There was a main nurse's station at the place where the two hallways intersected. At the end of the long hallway there was another smaller nurses station, a cafeteria/day room, and a "comfort room" which was a small room off the day room that had a collection of the oldest and worst donated books that have every come together on a bookshelf.

I did some pacing that night and then went to bed, but didn't sleep particularly well.

On Sunday morning the tech woke me up to take my blood pressure, which was, not unsurprisingly, still high. It was about 5 AM so I got up and paced the longer of the corridors for about an hour. Breakfast was served at 8 and the food wasn't that bad. The coffee was about the worst I'd ever drank, which I suppose helped with the no caffeine goals.

Just after breakfast I met with a psychiatrist on an iPad for about half a minute, and I'm not exaggerating there. The only questions he asked were whether I was suicidal and whether I would be fine with tripling my dose of aripiprazole in light of the hallucinations. I had had a 50-lb weight gain in the last year so I asked to switch my med. He switched the med to cariprazine. That was all.

I had a much longer meeting with my nurse later. All the nurses did an excellent job of assessing me, asked tons of questions, and it seemed like they really tried to figure out what was going on. That day I also met with a social worker, and a therapist, and a nurse practitioner. Each of them did an assessment to see what my needs were while I was there.

There was also a music therapy session where I cried my eyes out to Because of You by Kelly Clarkson.

I was really tired by the end of the day but I also didn't think I could sleep so I asked for trazodone. I should clarify that when I say "I" in this piece I really mean my wife convinced me to ask because I legitimately didn't believe I needed or deserved any of the things I asked for at this point. To my utter shock and surprise, they gave me the trazodone.

My first night on trazodone was amazing and I realized I hadn't slept well in a long time. With trazodone I fell asleep and stayed asleep until the blood pressure cart came rolling down the hallway at 5am. The second I got up on Monday morning I was wide awake.

I paced a lot Monday. I went to a goals session in the morning where I gave a goal to write 3/4 of a page. I didn't know if I could do it or what I was even going to write about, but I know I like to write and it might be a reasonable introduction to getting back to life.

I also was having kind of a rough day brain-wise. My brain was coming up with all the ways I could hurt myself in my room. There weren't a lot of them, but it was trying. I told the nurse during her assessment and she asked if I felt I could keep myself safe. I asked her what she would do if I said no. She said they could move me to a more secure part of the unit and give me more supervision. I knew what part of the unit she was talking about, and I didn't want to go there (no space to pace, and pacing was keeping me alive right then). So I told her I could keep myself safe (if anything, the idea of moving was good motivation to do stay safe in itself). I hallucinated some black and white blood cells falling from the ceiling and music coming out of my vents.

I also had another meeting with the social worker to figure out discharge plans. I voiced in the meeting that I wasn't sure that I could trust my wife, since it felt like at the time she was the one who exaggerated my symptoms to get me in here. The social worker said we had really good communication skills, since this was something I felt needed to be said in front of both of them and we both stayed really calm through the whole thing.

I finished the day with an art therapy session that really helped me turn a corner. The prompt was to draw the emotion(s) you felt right now on one side of the paper, and to draw the emotions you wished you could feel on the other side. For the first time I realized that my emotional state was actually really bad and that the suicidality hadn't come out of nowhere, and that I needed help.

When my wife came to visit later that night I was able to tell her about my breakthrough, even though I still felt a little bit like she had done something to get me in here and I still wasn't sure I needed to be inpatient.

Tuesday was a lot better. I felt like I had woken up out of some kind of fog and I had no idea how long I'd been in it. I went to goals group, a spiritual group, and group occupational therapy. My goal was to be more social and I made a friend and we paced together and worked out. I read a quarter of The Martian by Andy Weir (my wife brought it for me because the best thing on the bookshelf was Louis L'Amour). I wrote about how good I suddenly felt. Turns out, I thought, a few days of good sleep, lots of therapy, and a new medication or two will really change things.

A quick side note about The Martian. I highly recommend it to anyone who is chilling in a psych hospital but has the ability to read while they're there (I sure didn't the first few days). I don't really know why, but the first few times I read it, I felt like they had created this superhuman character in Mark Watney just so they could throw a ton of wild things at him for the story. This time reading it, as a suddenly not suicidal person, I realized anyone with Mark's skill would have done the same thing and not just died on Sol 7 to get it over with.

Wednesday I woke up not feeling nearly as good as Tuesday, but still like the fog had lifted. I was a little disappointed (I hallucinated my cat (thanks for coming to visit me, Corina), some spiders, and just felt kinda meh. But I remembered how good I felt the day before, and that really kept me hopeful about going home.

I saw the psychiatrist again and asked to go home. He joked a little about me staying till Christmas, but ultimately he said as soon as his note was in I could go. I ended up leaving at about 12:30 with my wife.

In the time since leaving I have required a lot of support from my wife. The medications are all locked up, so are the blades and anything I could use to hurt myself. My wife has me in eyeshot at all times. I can't drive due to intrusive thoughts, so she does all the driving now. I quit my job because I feel like it was a big part of why I ended up as bad as I was. As someone who has been a pretty independent person this is a big change of pace, but something that is really necessary to my healing.

Ultimately at the end of my hospital stay, I was prescribed escitalopram, gabapentin, trazodone, cariprazine, and then a few days later propranolol. I'm currently on a total of 5 psych meds and honestly I don't care one bit because its so much better than being not on them at this point in my life.

#mental health #personal #writing reference #inpatient psych #suicide mention #hallucination mention

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atimeofyourlife · 4 months ago

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Worried about your love

It wasn't the first time they'd been called to a collapse in a hoarder house, hell it wasn't even the first time they'd been called to a collapse in a boobytrapped hoarder house. It made just about everything about the job more difficult, not knowing where they could step without triggering a collapse or a trap. Buck was heading in first, making sure the way was clear and using a pole to detect any traps before they reached them.

He froze when a pile of newspapers ahead wobbled. He slowly crept forward, hoping to be able to sure it up with a beam that Eddie was following him with. But then it collapsed just before he reached it. And triggered an unseen trap. Buck didn't have chance to see what it was before the suspended heavy weight hit him in the head, sending him to the ground and knocking him out.

Tommy was in a good mood as he finished his shift. It'd been a good, easy shift. No bad calls, no major emergencies. Just enough calls to keep them from getting too bored. A couple of stuck hikers and a handful of medical transfers. He was going to head home and start dinner for when Evan came over. Evan's shift was a couple hours behind his own, but then they had a rare three days off together, and they'd planned to make the most of it with Evan coming over after the end of his shift. His good mood quickly soured as he reached his car and his phone rang. There was no good reason for Eddie to be calling while still on shift.

Evan had a head injury. He'd been knocked unconcious by a booby trap in a hoarder house. He may have broken a handful of traffic laws as he drove across town to meet the 118 at the hospital. Apparently the scene had been handed off to another company on the account of Evan's injury. He barely remembered to put his car in park before he was rushing in to the waiting room.

"How is he?" He asked as he approached the group in the corner.

"He's getting checked out. He did wake up in the ambulance but he was pretty confused. Slurred words and everything." Howie replied. "They're waiting on results of the scan before making the decision if he needs to be kept in overnight. It's far from the worst he's had."

"Thanks, Howie." Tommy let out a sigh of relief, and took a seat alongside the rest of them.

"You good, man?" Eddie asked, sitting down next to hi, and offering him a cup if the lousy coffee on offer at the hospital.

"Yeah." Tommy did his best to swallow back his feelings. "Yeah, just worried about Evan."

"I get it. We're all worried about him, but the rest of us have more experience with Buck being injured. We've all seen him bounce back from a lot worse. But it's your first time seeing him injured."

"But I've known about all the other injuries. That he came back from being dead."

"Knowing it and seeing it are two very different things. And I know Buck will be just as worried if and when you get injured. It's natural when you love someone." Eddie said quietly.

"I. We haven't-" Tommy didn't try to deny loving Evan. It'd been so easy, so fast for him to fall in love with him.

"You don't need to have said it yet. It's obvious to the rest of us how much you guys love each other at this point."

Tommy didn't reply, just ducked his head slightly. They lapsed into a comfortable silence while waiting for more information.

A nurse came out a while later. "Family of Evan Buckley?"

They all got up and made their way over to her. "How is he?" Bobby asked.

"He's awake, but there's still a little confusion. It's a grade three concussion, and we will be keeping him in a little longer for observation, but he should be able to head home tonight as long as he has someone to watch out for him. He can have visitors, but we are limiting it to a maximum of two people at a time, and we request you keep your voices down." The nurse explained. "Now, he's asking for Tommy."

"Go on, man. We can see him later."

Tommy nodded and followed the nurse down the hall.

"It's my Tommy." Evan said, his voice slightly slurred. His face had lit up the moment he noticed Tommy enter the room. "Sheila, I told you my Tommy would come."

"Hi, baby." Tommy said quietly, taking the seat next to the bed. "How're you feeling?"

"Hurts." Evan pouted. "But 's okay. They got me on the good stuff."

"Mmm, I bet. Make the most of it because once I get you home all I've got is tylenol." Tommy replied, aiming to get Evan to smile.

"Can I- can I tell you a ssecret?" Evan's eyes darted around the room, as he said it, stumbling a little over the words.

"You can tell me anything, Evan."

"I loves you." Evan tried to whisper, but failed. "I loves you so much 'm gonna marry you one day."

"I love you too, Evan." Tommy replied, a soft smile forming. "But lets leave the marriage talk until after you feel better."

#whumptober2024 #no.11 #blow to the head #slurred words #911 fic #911 spoilers #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #tevan #bucktommy fic #evan buckley whump #atimeofyourwrites

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 1 year ago

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Stuck Between a Jock and a Metalhead

Summary: Nancy, on a whim, decides to visit Steve at Scoops Ahoy, which leads to her overhearing confessions from Steve that leads her to think about the decisions she's made. A few days later, she decides to come back. She finds him being hit on by the town freak. What's a girl to do? Oh, get stuck in a freezer with the both of them.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Nancy sighed as she watched Steve sleep. He was lucky he didn't have another concussion or internal bleeding or broken ribs, but the doctors said he was going to be sore for a while, and they wanted to keep him overnight for observation. Him and Eddie both. Eddie did have a broken nose and a mild concussion, much to Eddie's annoyance. Nancy had managed to bully the doctors into letting them have the same room. So, now here she was, sitting in between both of them. El was snoozing against Wayne on the other side of Eddie's bed. Wayne had tried to get the girl to go to Joyce's house or their trailer, but she had been determined to stay by her brother's side. It was amusing how they were both snoring in unison, and Nancy wondered how such a loud sound could come from such a young girl.

"They're definitely related," Eddie said dryly as he looked at his sister and uncle. "How can Steve sleep through this?"

"Steve’s always been a heavy sleeper," Nancy said in amusement.

She reached over and started brushing her fingers through his hair, just like she used to do after she spent the night. She used to study his face and try to map out the freckles on his body like they were constellations. Nancy always thought that he was bigger than this whole town, that someone who had stars written on his body deserved so much better. She stroked Steve’s hair for a while, and she let her finger trail down until her knuckles were brushing his cheek. He leaned into her touch, still fast asleep, just like he always used to. She hadn't realized that she had been crying until Eddie touched her shoulder. When did he get out of bed?

"Nancy?" Eddie asked softly.

"Why does it take something so horrible to happen to realize just how much someone means to you?" Nancy asked softly. "I love him, but it's so complicated."

"Why is it complicated?" Eddie asked.

"Because he's with someone else, and I don't want to get between them even though I - ," Nancy stopped herself.

"He's with someone?" Eddie asked, and she looked at him with teary-eyed confusion.

"Shouldn't you know?" Nancy sniffled.

"Why should I know?" Eddie asked with wide eyes.

"Because you're dating him," she replied.

"I am?!" He asked.

"Aren't you?" She asked.

"No!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Oh. . . "

"Not that I don't want to, but I figured that you two would be getting back together, and I'm not getting in the way of that," Eddie replied.

"He deserves better than me, especially since I also have feelings for someone else," Nancy said.

"Please, tell me that it's not Byers again," Eddie grimaced.

"No. It's you," Nancy said.

Eddie's eyes widened, and he scoffed. He stared at her for a moment.

"I also have feelings for you," Eddie said softly.

"So, wait a minute. . .both of us stepped back because we thought that the other should get with Steve only to find out that we both have feelings for Steve, but we also have feelings for each other as well?" Nancy asked.

Eddie and Nancy burst into laughter. Eddie leaned against the top of the chair, his forehead against the cool plastic.

"You're both idiots," they heard Steve say. "Actually, we're all idiots."

"What?" Nancy asked as she turned to a now wide awake Steve.

"Sorry, Nancy Wheeler, you're an idiot. Do you really think that you don't deserve me?" Steve asked.

"After all that I put you through - "

"You don't need to apologize for that anymore. Do you remember after we got back together? I kept apologizing for the whole theater debacle. It wasn't my proudest moment. You said that I didn't need to apologize for it anymore because the minute I walked into the house, picked up the bat, and put my life on the line for the both of you that I more than made up for it. You came back into my life, Nancy. You took responsibility for what happened. You apologized, and you don't have to keep doing it anymore," Steve said. "I always thought it was me who didn't deserve you."

"You deserve to get whatever you want, Steve Harrington," Nancy sniffled.

"I want you. . .and Eddie," Steve said.

"Well, I think you've got us, big boy," Eddie said, smiling.

"How is this going to work?" Nancy asked.

"I suppose like any other relationship, just with an extra person," Steve said.

Suddenly, Wayne let out a giant snore startling the three of them.

"Jesus," Eddie muttered. "You know, he once snored so loudly that he woke himself up."

"Jeeze," Steve said, and Nancy giggled.

Suddenly, Eddie pulled her up, causing her to squeal as he slid into her spot and pulled her into his lap. Nancy slapped his chest.

"Asshole," Nancy said, and he cackled.

He attempted to kiss her cheek, but his broken nose hit her cheek instead.

"Ow."

"Okay, no kissing until both of you are healed," Nancy said.

"Aww," Steve and Eddie said in unison.

Eddie rested his chin on top of Nancy's shoulder while he grasped Steve’s hand with his own.

"I'm glad I have you guys. I'm not sure if I'd be able to get through this shit if you weren't here. Although, I wish none of us had to deal with this. I mean, El's just a fucking kid and she's just - how the hell do you guys handle this?" Eddie asked.

"Well, clearly not very well," Steve said, and Nancy snorted.

"You should definitely not take a leaf out of my book, Eddie," Nancy said. "I've tried to run away from my feelings in the past. Just try to face them head-on as best you can, and you do have us to talk to."

"All those people absorbed into that. . .thing. . . I'm going to have fucking nightmares forever," Eddie shuddered.

"Yeah, no kidding," Steve muttered. "It makes my stomach churn."

"Tom was an asshole but he didn't deserve that," Nancy said.

"And Hopper. . .man, he was one of the only adults who actually looked at me and didn't see my dad, you know?" Eddie said.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Steve sniffled.

Nancy's eyes filled with tears again as she thought about Hopper. She remembered how often he had come to check up on her after Barb died. He knew how frustrated she had been with what happened, and despite all of her venting to him, it hadn't been enough. Nancy had appreciated how often he tried to be there for her, especially knowing that he was also hiding El in his cabin at the time, and he was also trying to be there for Joyce as well as the other kids. Nancy would miss their long walks, and she would miss him. She couldn't help but think about unfair it was for El and that she wouldn't have her father in her life anymore. Nancy turned and buried her face into Eddie's neck, letting out a hard sob. Eddie held onto her tightly. She felt Steve leaning against her, hugging her back in what she was sure was an awkward position for him.

"That can't be comfortable for you, Steve," Nancy cried.

"Big boy, lay on your side as far back against the bed as you can," Eddie said.

Steve did as he was told. Eddie nudged Nancy into cuddling up next to Steve before he crawled in behind Nancy. The bed was small, but it managed to fit all three of them.

"This is much better," Nancy muttered.

She pressed her head against Steve’s chest as Eddie threw the blanket over the three of them and wrapped his around them. Nancy sighed in contentment, completely safe in the arms of the two men she cared about.

"I'm definitely wrapping you both in bubble wrap," she muttered before drifting off to sleep.

When Nancy woke up the next morning, the boys were still asleep, and El was staring at her from beside the bed. Wayne wasn't in the room.

"Are you dating both of them?" El asked.

There wasn't really a way to explain herself out of this one, and El would probably be able to sniff out that she was lying.

"As of yesterday, yes," Nancy mumbled sleepily.

"You can do that?" El asked.

"If it makes you happy, yes. People will be bothered by it because they're taught that relationships like this are wrong, but they're the ones who are wrong. It's as normal as any other relationship," Nancy said. "Although, I never really thought about having a relationship like this until recently. I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone yet."

"Okay," El said softly.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Robin skidded into the room. Eddie jumped up, but Steve continued to sleep.

"My parents finally released me," Robin said, and then she stopped as she stared at the people in the bed.

"They are just cuddling!" El said quickly.

"Uh, yeah, your uncle and Mrs. Byers sent me to tell you that they wanted to talk to you out in the hallway," Robin said to El.

El nodded solemnly and headed out in the hallway.

"What was that about?" Eddie asked.

"I don't know, but I have to ask. . . Although I'm not sure if I should. . . Is this a thing?" Robin asked, pointing at them.

Eddie shared a look with Nancy, unsure if they should say anything or not.

"Uh, well. . . Is he still asleep?" Eddie asked. "Buckley barging in here like a bull in a china shop should have woken him up!"

"Hey!"

"Like I said, heavy sleeper," Nancy giggled.

"I'm not going to judge you if it's true," Robin said and paused to look at them for a moment. "I'm going to tell you what I told Steve here on the floor of the bathroom of Starcourt. . .I'm strictly into boobs."

Nancy and Eddie shared a look before grinning.

"Boobs and dicks for me," Eddie laughed.

"I'm up for anything regardless of a person's genitals," Nancy giggled.

"So, yeah, we're a thing," Eddie snorted.

"I knew you liked both of them," Robin said. "That day in Starcourt when you and Eddie came in with Holly. . . That's when you realized it, isn't it?"

"Yes," Nancy blushed.

"So, what was it? Me standing up to the troll?" Eddie asked.

"No, it was how sweet you were with Holly," Nancy blushed.

"Oh, kissing you right now would be worth the pain," Eddie said.

He pressed his fingers to his lips and then pressed the same fingers to Nancy's lips. It was a very sweet gesture until Robin spoke.

"You better hope he didn't scratch his ass with those fingers," Robin said.

"You don't have a filter, do you?" Nancy asked.

"Not really, no," Robin shrugged.

"It's okay, neither do I," Eddie laughed. "But next time, don't step on my moment."

"Oh! Hey, speaking of that troll of a delivery guy! He was actually a Russian!" Robin exclaimed.

"Seriously?" Nancy asked.

"Yeah, Steve totally knocked him on his ass. He was like, 'That's for scaring Holly!' You two would have gone all gooey eyed over it," Robin said.

"Aw man, we missed it," Eddie whined.

"Well, you got a couple of badasses on your hands there, Munson. I'm sure they're not going to waste a chance to show off every once in a while," Robin said.

"Hell, I would let Nancy shoot me if she allowed it," Eddie sighed dreamily. "It'd be an honor to be shot by Nancy Wheeler."

"Almost as honoring as being killed by Eddie Munson in a freezer," Nancy teased.

"Oh, you do that once, and you never hear the end of it," Eddie sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Excuse me," Nancy laughed and started to climb over Eddie.

"Aw, are you trying to cuddle or get frisky? You should know that Robin's still in the room and Steve's still alseep," Eddie said.

Nancy scowled and slapped his chest.

"I'm trying to go to the bathroom," Nancy said.

Eddie cackled and maneuvered until Nancy was freed from the bed. She shook her numb legs and walked into the bathroom. When she came back, a still sleeping Steve was tucked in Eddie's side with his face pressed against his chest.

"Isn't he the cutest?" Eddie cooed. "I just want to nibble on his face."

Nancy laughed and stroked Steve’s hair before bending down to kiss his forehead. She brushed her knuckles against his cheek and sat down in the chair next to the bed.

"So, how are you dealing with this, Robin?" Nancy asked.

"I don't know. It kind of feels like I'm having an out of body experience," Robin said. "If I wasn't here right now, I would think it was all a nightmare."

"I've been through this a few times, and I still feel like it's all a nightmare," Nancy said.

"I feel like I'm going to need a shit ton of therapy, except we can't talk about what we went through due to all the NDAs that we had to sign," Robin said. "They could have thrown in a free therapist in there except knowing what the Lab did, I wouldn't trust them at all, so what's left?"

"Well, we can always talk to each other," Nancy said softly.

"So, we create our own group therapy?" Eddie asked.

"Actually, that's not a bad idea," Nancy said.

"It is? I mean, of course it is. I came up with it, after all," Eddie grinned.

"I mean, of course, we can't force the kids to talk, but maybe if we let them know we're there for them and maybe if they see us talking to each other, they'll want to talk too," Nancy said.

"Maybe," Robin said.

It was then that Steve woke up with a loud yawn. He blinked sleepily at Robin.

"What did I miss?" Steve asked.

"We've decided to create a cult, baby. We're going to dye our hair bright pink and start talking backward," Eddie said. "And we all worship at the feet of Scooby-Doo."

"What?" Steve asked, blinking slowly at him in sleepy confusion.

"Munson, how in the hell do you have powers?" Robin asked.

"My powers are very passive, thank you," Eddie said and stuck his tongue out at her.

"She's my new best friend. You have to get along," Steve said, poking him in the chest.

"Anything for you and Nancy," Eddie sighed.

"If we must," Robin said, but she was smiling, indicating that she really didn't have a problem getting along with Eddie.

"So, where would we meet for this group therapy?" Eddie asked. "My trailer is not big enough."

"My dad already complains about Mike, and the basement plus, it wouldn't exactly be private," Nancy said.

"And I'm moving out of my house," Steve said casually.

"What?!" The three of them exclaimed.

"Yeah, I figured my parents don't really want me there so. . . Why not? I figured once I get the place cleaned up, I would move back into the apartment above my grandfather's salon," Steve said. "I was digging through more of his things, and apparently, he left me the place. So, it's all mine."

"I feel like I'm missing some things," Robin said.

"His parents are evil, vile villainous homophobic - " Eddie trailed off as he found himself unable to speak.

"Assholes!" Nancy exclaimed.

"Ah, gotcha," Robin said and paused. "Homophobic?"

"Very," Eddie and Nancy said.

"That sucks," Robin said softly.

"You get used to it," Steve said, shrugging.

"Does he do that a lot? Downplay something in his life that's clearly tragic?" Robin asked.

"Yes," Eddie and Nancy coursed together.

"I have my work cut out for me, don't I?" Robin asked.

"Kind of," Nancy grinned.

"I am right here!" Steve exclaimed.

"We hear you, and we see you," Robin said, touching his foot. "My parents went to couples counseling. The therapist made them say that to each other."

As Nancy laughed with Eddie, she remembered the first time she went through this and how alone she had felt afterward. She was glad that she wasn't so alone this time, that she could stay out of the dark cloud of regret to finally help others through this dark, helpless time. She only hoped that she could actually help them, and she realized that the best way to do that was to make sure that they didn't feel all alone. Nancy could already feel another bond forming between them. One had already forged between Nancy, Steve, and Eddie. Another had obviously formed between Steve and Robin, but now it was connecting between all of them. Nancy could feel it solidify into a friendship much like Otis, Irene, and Steven. One side platonic, one side romantic. Both of equal value.

Chapter Eleven

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gaysullengirl · 4 months ago

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𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞, 𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧. stay here

warnings: mentions of blood, nudity.

❝ but please stay. ❞ - please stay, lucy dacus.

"Where's Juliana going?" Isabelle asked, a worried look as she watched the ambulance depart, "The hospital, they're going to keep her overnight for observation." A paramedic responded.

"Spence." Isabelle whispered, "Yeah?" He asked, "I just wanna go home." She said, tears running down her cheeks, "Oh- Okay, yeah."

Spencer walked over to Hotch, "Isabelle wants to go home, I can drive her, is that okay?" Spencer asked, Hotch nodded, "Of course."

Spencer walked back to Isabelle who was sitting in the back of an ambulance, getting the wound on her arm cleaned, "We can leave as soon as they're done." Spencer said, referring to the paramedics.

A few minutes passed and Isabelle was cleared to go home, She was sitting in the passenger seat, staring out of the windshield, "Do you maybe wanna try to fall asleep?" Spencer offered, She shook her head, "I won't be able to."

"O- okay." He stuttered, Spencer didn't know how to care for her, he tried to recall how he wanted to be treated after he was kidnapped by Tobias Henkel but he honestly couldn't remember.

୨୧

After the long car ride, the two had arrived at Isabelle's apartment, Spencer turned the car off and looked at her, her face dimly lit by the parking garage lighting.

"We're home." He said simply and she nodded, Spencer walked around the car and opened the door, Isabelle shakily unbuckled herself and attempted to get out of the car but fell back into the seat, "Everything hurts."

"Here, Um- Can I hold your waist?" Spencer asked, "Mhm." She hummed, He wrapped his arm around her waist, helping her out of the car.

After they got up to Isabelle's apartment Spencer unlocked it, He lead her to couch, "I'll go get you pajamas, is that okay?" He asked, he noticed the way she was still staring directly ahead, her eyes watering.

"No, I need to take a shower." She said, Spencer furrowed his brows, he assumed Isabelle was still in shock and must've not noticed that she could barely keep herself up.

"I don't think you can take a shower without getting hurt." "A bath." She responded and he nodded.

Spencer helped her to the bathroom, "Lavender or Vanilla?" He asked, holding up two bottles of bubble bath, "Lavender." She said.

"Lavender it is." He gave her a weak smile, He ran the bathtub for a few minutes, making sure it wasn't too hot.

"Okay, I'll leave now, I'm gonna make tea or something." He smiled, "Spence." Isabelle said weakly, "Yeah?"

"I don't think I can do it, my arms hurt too much." She said, tears flowing down her cheeks again, "Okay- I could help you?" He offered, "Please" She whispered.

It's not like Spencer hadn't seen Isabelle naked before, they used to take showers together all the time, but it was different this time- it had been four years since then.

Isabelle grabbed the hem of her shirt but once she raised her arms she felt a stinging pain in her arm causing her to groan, Spencer looked into her eyes, "Can I?"

Isabelle nodded and he grabbed the hem of her shirt, carefully pulling it off to make sure he didn't hurt her.

"I'm gonna keep this on." Isabelle said, pointing to her bra, "Okay." he hummed, Isabelle pulled her pants off slowly, then her socks.

She carefully stood up, clutching the counter to make sure she wouldn't fall over, Spencer put his hand on her her back to support her, holding his other hand out for her to grab.

They walked over to the bathtub, she got in before slowly sitting down, "If you don't wanna get in that's okay, I just need help washing my hair." "No it's okay, I'll get in." Spencer said, he undid his belt, it falling to the ground with a thunk.

He took his socks and sweater off, getting into the bath with only his underwear and button up shirt on.

She sat in the tub her arms covering her chest, Spencer grabbed her shampoo, pumping some into his hand then rubbing them back and forth, he began massaging it into her hair gently.

He used his hands to scoop water up so she wouldn't need to lean her head back, he applied her conditioner and awkwardly sat behind her.

Isabelle should've felt uncomfortable, right? Her ex boyfriend was helping her bathe because she was so weak she couldn't, but no.

She felt the most safe she had in years.

Isabelle leaned back, her head resting on Spencer's chest, hecontemplated wrapping his arms around, 'No, that will make her uncomfortable' He thought.

"You don't have to be scared." She whispered, Spencer wrapped his arms around her gently, inhaling the coconut scent of her conditioner.

Somehow an act that should've been sexual wasn't, it was intimate- but different, they sat there for a few minutes, in each other's arms- completely safe.

"Are you falling asleep?" Spencer chuckled slightly, "Yeah." Isabelle responded with a smile.

"I'll rinse this out so you can get to bed." Spencer pulled away from Isabelle, once again using his hands to scoop water and wash the conditioner out of her hair.

Spencer reached for her body wash, he gently scrubbed the dried blood off her arms, turning the clear bath water into a foggy pink.

Spencer got out of the bathtub, the water that soaked into his dress shirt dripping onto the floor, he grabbed a towel, handing it to Isabelle then drying himself off.

"I'll wait for you in the living room." Spencer said and Isabelle nodded, she got out of the bath slowly, making her way to her room and putting on her pajamas.

She opened her bedroom room, "Here's some big sweatpants and a shirt." Isabelle said.

Spencer nodded, walking to the bathroom and closing the door behind him, Isabelle peeled her covers back, climbing into her bed.

Her muscles ached so bad she figured she'd be able to fall asleep with no problem but she couldn't, she felt like all her safety was gone.

The bathroom door clicked open, he walked out, his face immediately dropped when he saw the expression on Isabelle's face.

"Isa? What's wrong?" He panicked, sitting on the bed and taking her face into his hands, Isabelle didn't respond, she just melted into his touch.

"Can you stay here? Please, please, don't leave me." She sobbed, "Honey, I'm never gonna leave, I promise." He said reassuringly, rubbing her back gently.

authors note!

sorry updates haven't been consistent lately, i got covid then started school again but hopefully they will become consistent again!!

thank you for 30,000 reads, i'm so honored that so many people have read my work, i love you all 🫂🫂

#jade’s works ⋆·˚ ༘ *#gay sullen girl #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #matthew gray gubler #fbi #fbi agent #alexa demie

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autism-swagger · 1 year ago

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i hate you for what you did (and i miss you like a little kid)

It’s moments like these that Tara misses Sam the most. Everything would be better if Sam were around. She’d pay the bills, she’d make sure Tara was fed, she’d love him like their mother was never willing to. Sam wouldn’t have let Tara get hurt in the first place.

But Sam isn’t here.

(Nobody is going to help.)

5 times Tara misses Sam while in the hospital + 1 time she doesn't have to.

3,095 words of Tara having an awful awful awful life. And then getting a hug at the end.

Trigger warnings: suicide attempt, child abuse, abusive relationships, authority figures being awful at their jobs, brief mention of implied past sexual assault/harassment

—

Age 15

—

Just this once, Tara wishes Amber wasn't the way she is.

If Amber were any less overbearing protective, she wouldn't have climbed through Tara's bedroom window, angry about her texts going unanswered.

(Amber never did like being ignored.)

He knows she’s pissed at him, but what else could he do? How can he be expected to keep going on like this?

Sam is gone .

She left.

She packed up her belongings and left everything behind without so much as a goodbye.

It’s been three months now, and Tara feels disconnected from everything. None of this is real, she’s sure of it.

How could Sam just leave her behind?

She left.

And Tara is still here.

So, three days after her 15th birthday, she swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills, followed by one of her mom’s beers.

She didn’t anticipate Amber wanting to hang out.

They pumped her stomach. Her throat hurts from the tube and her stomach hurts from Amber making her throw up. It’s miserable.

He thinks he hates Amber right now. No, scratch that. He definitely hates Amber right now.

She wishes Amber hadn't found her.

She wishes Amber hadn't called 911.

She wishes Amber just left her to die on that bathroom floor.

She’s alone in the hospital room. She threw things and screamed at Amber until she left.

He wants to cry but he doesn’t have the energy. He wishes it worked.

Everything is awful. Amber probably hates her now. Her mom is never home. There’s barely any food left in the house.

Sam is gone.

There’s nothing to keep going for.

—

Age 16

—

Tara isn't quite sure what he did to make his mom's boyfriend so angry. She doesn't even know the guy's name, for god’s sake.

(It's not the first time something like this has happened. It won't be the last.)

They're in a different hospital than the one she normally goes to. It's a couple counties away, to avoid the staff asking questions. You can only have so many “accidents” before people start to get suspicious.

“Transverse radius and ulna fractures,” the way-too-cheery-for-this-time-of-night nurse had told him, “they’re commonly caused by falls like the one you had. You sure are lucky your mom found you when she got home!”

Right. Lucky.

The story they’re going with this time is that Tara slipped and fell down the stairs while home alone, only to be found by her mom when she got home from work. It’s not true, obviously. Tara’s not sure if her mom even has a job right now. She was there. She watched it happen.

(She sat and did nothing while Tara begged and pleaded for her mom to help, just this once please mom please–)

They’re keeping her for observation overnight, just in case. Her mom is long gone, having only stuck around long enough to drop her off.

It’s fine though. That’s just their routine. Tara gets hurt, Christina reluctantly drives her to the hospital, and they both pretend like nothing is wrong. Everyone is happy and everything is fine .

(Tara wishes the hospital staff would ask more questions. He’s so tired of all of this.)

Looking at the cast on his arm, he starts to panic. How is he supposed to pay for all of this? Tara has a shitty minimum wage job and a couple hundred bucks in her get-out-of-Woodsboro fund. That’s not nearly enough to pay for all of this. She did the math, a broken arm costs upwards of $2,500. Christina’s last job provided insurance, but she just had to go and get herself fired.

The buzz and chime of her phone snaps her out of her spiral. When she checks it, she sees a text from her shift manager:

James called out for tomorrow. We need you to cover his shift in addition to yours. You’d get paid overtime.

His heart sinks at the thought of a double shift, really of working at all , tomorrow, but what other choice does he have? Who else is going to pay for this?

(Some small part inside of her rages and weeps at the unfairness of it all. The Amber-Christina part tells her she deserves it.)

But Sam isn’t here.

(Nobody is going to help.)

It’s hard to type with one hand, but Tara manages.

I’ll be there.

—

Age 17

—

There are rules.

In the Carpenter household, that is. There are rules to follow if you want to stay uninjured and safe. They go unspoken, but Tara has them all memorized.

Don’t talk about dad.

Definitely don’t talk about Sam.

Don’t complain.

Tara is exceptional at following them. She keeps her head down and her mouth shut at home, never so much as rolling her eyes or looking sad. It doesn’t really make a difference either way, Christina always finds some excuse to get upset, but still. It’s the principle of it all, he supposes.

(Some small part of her hopes that if she just keeps following the rules, it’ll all turn out okay. Maybe her mom will finally love her. Maybe Sam will finally come back.)

Of course, she had to go and fuck up the most important rule: stay away from mom when she’s drunk.

He was just trying to tell her that his teachers and principal had requested to meet with her. He didn’t see the bottle until it was too late.

So. Here Tara is. Waiting to get her left eyebrow stitched up at urgent care.

A wine glass to the face will do that to you.

They didn’t even ask any questions this time. Just handed her the intake paperwork, directed her to a room, and told her when the doctor would be in.

Not for the first time, Tara questions the professionalism of the officials in this town. Is nobody even a little bit suspicious? Surely it’s weird for one person to get in this many “accidents.”

(Do they all know? Do they just not care?)

The room is cold. They always are. It makes the warmth of the blood almost painful in comparison. The entire left side of her face is throbbing, even with the icepack and painkillers. She can already feel a black eye forming.

Tara wishes Sam were here.

Tara always wishes Sam were here.

Sam would’ve reminded her to keep away from mom. She was the one to come up with the rule in the first place.

But Sam isn’t here.

She’ll never be here again.

Sometimes he gets so angry at her he can’t breathe. For leaving. For being absent long before she was gone. For a lot of things.

It’s not fair, Tara thinks, in his darkest moments where he’s just so resentful that it scares him, that Sam is the one who made it out. Why did she get to be the one to leave?

Sam was a burnout drug addict who just barely graduated high school and would probably never amount to anything.

Tara is good. She makes decent grades and she plays piano and she babysits on the weekends. She never complains. She doesn’t talk back. She’s good and quiet and does what she’s supposed to.

And yet he’s the one who’s still trapped in this town.

He was born here and he’s going to die here. By his own hand or his mother’s or some creep in a costume.

That’s how it was always going to be.

—

Age 18

—

“It was an accident while we were cooking! She tripped while I was holding a kitchen knife. Tara, I'm so sorry! You know I'd never hurt you on purpose.” Amber directs the last part to Tara, instead of the doctor stitching up the gash on his left arm.

Tara says nothing in return. Just nods.

She doesn't want to make things worse for herself than they already are. Even now, hours later, he can still see the quiet rage behind Amber's eyes. If he just keeps quiet, then Amber won’t get more upset with him than she already is.

It’s Tara’s fault. Really, it is. Amber is still around. She puts up with Tara when no one else will. He should be more grateful. Instead, he just focuses on the past, on people who did nothing but hurt him.

Amber found the box of Sam’s belongings Tara kept under his bed.

(He knows that she would’ve had to have been going through his room to find it. He shouldn’t be keeping secrets from her anyways.)

She’s not supposed to think about Sam. Sam left her behind, so she’s supposed to forget about her. Sam didn’t love him like Amber does. Nobody loves him like Amber does. It’s why they all leave. She makes them leave. She’s just too hard to love.

That’s what Amber says anyways.

“All done! You should be more careful next time.” The doctor says as she packs up her supplies. “You’re good to go ahead and go home now.”

Tara stays silent as she and Amber make their way out of the hospital, only half paying attention to her friend’s nonstop slew of thank-you-so-much’s and I’m-so-sorry-I-didn’t-mean-to-hurt-you’s.

All pretenses are dropped when they get to the car. The apologetic look on Amber’s face disappears, with no sign that it had been there in the first place. All that remains in anger and indifference. Tara’s heart sinks at the sight of it.

He climbs into the passenger seat, flinching at the slam of the driver’s side door. When she risks a glance to the left, she blanches. Amber is staring straight ahead, jaw clenched and knuckles white on the steering wheel. In other words, she’s furious.

“I’m sorry.” Tara breaks the silence. “I know I shouldn’t have– I’m– I’m really sorry.”

Amber doesn’t respond, doesn’t even react. Just turns the key and pulls out of the parking lot. Five minutes into their drive, Tara tries again.

“Amber, I’m so sorry. I know I should’ve listened to you. I just–”

He cuts himself off, wincing. Amber’s eyes flash with something he can’t name.

“Just what? Are you seriously gonna try and make an excuse right now?” Amber seethes, grip tightening on the wheel.

Tara doesn’t reply, frozen in place like a rabbit spotted by a wolf. Her heart is thundering in her throat. He wonders if Amber can hear it.

“No, seriously. What were you going to say?” Amber continues her rant, steadily increasing in volume. “That you miss her? After everything I do for you? Am I not good enough for you Tara? You think I’m just sooo awful that you’d rather have some heartless bitch who abandoned you instead of me? Maybe I should just leave you too! God knows you make it hard enough to stay!”

She’s yelling at this point, voice filling up the car. Nothing she’s saying is new. None of this is. Tara tries to hold back her tears, afraid of giving Amber more ammunition. It doesn’t work.

“...I’m sorry.” Tara sobs. At the sight of his tears, Amber softens and pulls over. She parks and turns off the car as Tara quietly weeps.

“You know I just want what’s best for you, right? I know it hurts, but you need to hear this Tara. You deserve it.” Amber sighs, wiping away his tears.

(She’s holding his arm right where the stitches are. As she speaks, her grip tightens.)

“...I know.”

—

Age 19

—

Tara can’t feel anything below her neck.

Actually, that’s not quite true. He can still feel the burning agony in his- well, everywhere .

But that’s mostly mental, she knows. She’s so pumped full of opioids she’s surprised she can move.

(Had he been more lucid, Tara would be freaking the fuck out over being given painkillers, especially ones as addictive as opioids. She doesn’t want to turn into Sam her mom.)

Her friends (minus Wes, who’s off doing- something or other. Tara isn’t quite sure) are crowded around her. None of them seem to know what to do with themselves, all of them fretting over everything she does- and doesn't- do. Her drug-addled brain draws the comparison of a flock of neurotic chickens, making her giggle.

An action that is immediately regretted, of course. Laughing is excruciating when you’ve been stabbed in the torso.

Amber snaps to attention from her place at his side when he cries out, worry evident on her face. She grabs onto Tara’s bruised upper arm, making him wince.

“Are you okay? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” Amber questions. It’s nice, her concern. She’s not normally this nice about Tara’s pain. He hums in response, leaning his head forward to rest it on Amber’s shoulder as her arms wrap around his shoulders.

(Briefly, Tara entertains the notion that Amber could’ve been the one to do this, but the thought is quickly dismissed. Amber- she wouldn’t- she only hurts Tara when he deserves it. And he doesn’t think he’s done anything to deserve this.)

There’s a quiet knock on the door before Wes lets himself in, phone in hand. Tara can’t think of anything that sounds less appealing than talking (well. Last night was pretty rough), but the look on Wes’s face worries her.

“...w-what’s wrong?” Her voice is quiet and hoarse, vocal cords strained from screaming. Wes looks conflicted, thinking over his words. After a second, he moves to sit next to the bed.

“I don’t know how to– I just–” He sighs, running a hand down his face. “I called Sam. I didn’t think she would answer but she did. She’s on her way. She’ll be here in an hour.”

Tara doesn’t register Amber tensing beside her, doesn’t feel her get up, doesn’t hear the ensuing argument.

Sam is– Sam is coming here?

That– that can’t be right.

Sam wouldn’t just– she wouldn’t– she–

Tara doesn’t know what Sam would do.

Not anymore.

He’s stuck in place, paralyzed by the thoughts spiraling in his brain.

What if Sam never shows up?

What if she does?

What if Sam is the same Sam from five years ago? The Sam who yelled and slammed doors and couldn’t bear to look Tara in the eye?

(Tara doesn’t think he’d be able to handle that. He’d take that damned knife and finish the job himself.)

What if– what if Sam is better? What if she’s happy? What if she’s finally clean? What if the only thing preventing from reaching that point was Tara ?

What if Sam coming back to Woodsboro (coming back to Tara) undoes all of that?

Tara doubles over and throws up.

—

Age 20

—

Tara stares at the ceiling.

It’s a nice ceiling, he thinks, for a hospital at least. Sam laughs when he tells her as much. Rude.

“Fffine.” (God she loves opioids. Why was she so against using them again?) “See ‘f I ever– ever tell you how I feel ‘bout hospital ceilings again.”

Sam laughs. Again. Tara glowers. She could at least try to hold it in.

“How often are you seeing hospital ceilings?” Sam asks, still chuckling.

“Super often. I was in th’ hospital all the time when you were gone.”

Sam’s laughter cuts off. Tara looks over to see her sister sitting up in her chair.

“What do you mean?” There’s a weird look on Sam’s face, one Tara can’t figure out in the state he’s in.

“Got hurt. A lot.” Sam tenses up as Tara speaks.

The fog in his head clears a bit.

Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that.

“How did you– what were some of the injuries?” Sam asks, keeping her tone light.

They’re getting into uncharted territory now. They don’t talk about the years Sam was gone, preferring to dance around the topic.

Tara looks away. “I don’t– it was just minor things. Just– falls and whatnot. Nothing– nothing bad.” Her voice wavers on the last word. Fuck.

Sam is silent for a minute, before– “Tara.”

She can feel the burning pressure building behind her eyes. She desperately tries to keep the tears at bay, but it’s all for naught. Turning away from Sam, he tries again. “It– nothing happened, Sam. I’m fine. Every– everything is fine.” She scrubs at the tears on her face, willing her eyes to dry. It doesn’t work. “Fuck.”

Sam reaches out and lays a hand on Tara’s arm, urging her to turn around.

(Tara has to fight the instinct to pull away. She doesn't like people touching her, not anymore. It reminds her of Frankie's hands and Ethan's words and Amber taking and taking 'til there was nothing left.)

“Tara. Please look at me.” Sam’s voice is soft and gentle. It just makes Tara cry harder. His throat hurts from holding in his sobs.

Tara wishes none of this was happening. She wishes Ghostface was just a villain in a movie and her best friend was still alive and her mom didn’t hate her and her dad was still around and Sam never left and she bled out on the kitchen floor and and and.

Tara turns around.

Sam’s face falls.

“Oh, baby boy.” She breathes, voice full of regret and sorrow and love and a million other things Tara doesn’t deserve.

“...It’s not fair.” Tara cries. “Why– why did– I don’t– why did they hurt me? I loved them and– and they hurt me.”

He doesn’t resist when Sam pulls him into her arms, hand cradling the back of his head. His stitches are pulling and his left arm is in agony but he doesn’t care. Sam’s embrace is warm. He hasn’t been warm since she left.

Tara wails. She’s been holding it in for a long time. Her whole life, she thinks. Sam just hugs him closer to her body.

“Please don’t leave me Sammy pleasepleaseplease don’t leave again please.” He’s barely intelligible at this point, reduced to begging through his sobs.

“I’m not going to leave, I promise. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying.” Sam whispers into his hair. He’s just barely able to hear her over his weeping. She says it again and again, repeating it the entire time he cries.

Her face is covered in tears and snot and her arm is excruciating and she thinks she popped a stitch but none of it matters.

Sam is here.

—

#EEEEUUAAAAGHHG #somebody take the all lowercase song lyrics in parentheses titles away from me #this one is. rough.#in all senses of the word #Tara tag #horror tag #writing tag #tara carpenter #amber freeman #sam carpenter #scream 5 #scream 6

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mindyco · 1 month ago

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ARC 1: 07 ⚠︎

📢❗🚨 CONTENT WARNING: this chapter contains some gore and gross talk!

Review

She stepped back, wiping her hands on her apron, and tilted her head as she observed the contrast. The dark, grimy alleyway and the weathered dumpster stood in stark contrast to the bright pink goodie bag. The sight made her laugh softly.

"There was no way in hell he would miss it."

▼▼▼▼

The week had passed with an almost surreal sense of normalcy for her. After placing the goodie bag on the dumpster, she'd rushed to the alley the next morning, heart racing with anticipation as though it were Christmas morning.

When she saw the pink package gone, she danced around like a middle school play—he'd taken it!

(AU: someone else could've taken it bbygurl "( – ⌓ – )=3).

Business, however, remained slow.

She spent most of her days surrounded by silence, the hum of her phone playing the news.

Her eyes would drift toward the screen, scrolling through stories about mysterious gang takedowns happening across the city. Every report made her heart skip with excitement. It's him. It's gotta be him.

The streets outside were dark, save for the occasional flicker of passing headlights. Y/N stood at the workbench, dusting her hands with flour as she prepared dough to rise overnight. The rhythmic motions of kneading were soothing, her mind drifting as she worked.

A strand of hair fell into her face, tickling her cheek. She huffed, blowing it away, only for it to settle back in the same spot.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, as she used the back of her wrist to nudge the loose hair behind her ear, careful to keep the flour on her hands away from her hair.

Brinnggg!!!

The bell above the door chimed.

Her head snapped up, heart leaping. A customer? This late? She quickly grabbed the bag of flour she'd been using, her rolling pin wedged into the top, and rushed to the front.

She placed the flour bag and rolling pin on the counter behind the register without thinking, turning toward the door with a wide, eager smile.

Her smile faltered.

Four men lounged lazily at the counter, dragon tattoos winding up their arms.

The Purple Dragons.

Their presence felt like an oil spill on clean water.

Y/N stiffened, her fingers twitching at her sides. She could feel their eyes on her—gross and invasive, crawling over her like ants.

She forced a smile, her voice a little too bright to cover her unease. "Welcome! What can I get for you today?"

The men glanced at each other, smirking like they shared an inside joke. One of them stepped forward, leaning against the counter with a predatory grin. "What ya' got here?" he asked mockingly, his eyes scanning the run down bakery.

Her shoulders tensed. "I...I've got cupcakes," she said, her voice steady, though her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the edge of her apron. "They're not exactly fresh, but they're still good..."

One of the men chuckled, the sound low and predatory. "Cupcakes, huh?" he said, dragging the word out like he was tasting it on his tongue.

He leaned against the counter, smirking. "Nah, sweetheart, we ain't here for cupcakes. We're here to talk business." His grin widened, a dangerous glint in his eye that made her stomach churn.

Her stomach twisted in fear. "...Business?"

"Yeah," he sneered. "You see, my boys and I protect this area now. And protection ain't cheap. So from now on, ya' gonna start payin' us a lil' tax. Keep the bad guys away, ya' know?"

She swallowed hard. "I... I don't have any money," she stammered. "No one's been coming in—there's nothing to pay you with."

The thug's expression darkened. He pulled a knife from his pocket, flicking it open with a menacing grin. "Wrong answer."

She instinctively took a step back, her pulse racing as panic began to set in. "Wait—please! I'm telling the truth. There's no money here. The register's empty!" She gestured toward the old, battered cash register as proof.

He took a step forward, eyes glinting with malice. "Then we'll just have to take somethin' else, won't we?"

She backed up, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Her back hit the counter, fingers fumbling behind her, searching for anything she could use to defend herself.

The Purple Dragon thug advanced on her, his cocky smirk widening with every step. Her fingers tightened around the rolling pin hidden in the bag of flour behind her.

She had one plan: swing the rolling pin and knock him out.

Simple. Effective. Foolproof.

Or so she thought.

As he leaned closer, his knife glinting ominously under the warm lights, Y/N clenched her eyes shut.

She swung her arm.

SLAP!

The sound rang through the bakery like a firecracker. The air went still, heavy with disbelief. Y/N's palm tingled, and she froze, confused.

S...Slap...?

She cautiously opened one eye, expecting to see the thug retaliating after slapping her. Instead, she saw him holding his face, his jaw slack in sheer disbelief.

His eyes were wide, his fingers pressing against the growing red imprint, outlined in white flour, of her hand on his cheek.

Y/N blinked, her mind blank for a moment.

Oh...

Well...

...I guess that works?

The other Purple Dragons stood frozen, their expressions a mix of confusion and horror as if they couldn't process what had just happened.

"Uh... okay then," she muttered under her breath, raising the rolling pin in her other hand. With all the force she could muster, she brought it down on his head.

CRACK!

"I—You—" he stammered, swaying on his feet like a drunkard. But somehow—somehow—he stayed standing.

"Eh...?"

Sir, what...?!

The thug's head jerked up, his face twisted in pure hatred. Blood dripped down from the gash on his forehead, running over his nose and down to his chin. His eyes gleamed with such intensity that Y/N could swear her soul left her body for a moment.

It felt like she was in the middle of a horror movie, and he was the monster.

Her hands went slack, and the rolling pin slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor.

"Hiieee—!!"

Her feet skidded slightly on the flour-dusted tiles as she sprinted for her gosh darn life. She reached the back door and twisted the handle, desperately trying to open it.

But before she could escape, a sharp yank pulled her backward. Her head snapped back as the thug's bloody hand gripped a fistful of her hair. "Ack—! My hair!" Y/N wailed, tears springing to her eyes from the pain.

"Let go, damn it! I'm about to go bald!"

He dragged her back toward the front of the bakery, her heels scraping against the floor as she flailed uselessly, her cries of protest falling on deaf ears.

Through teary eyes and blurry vision, she caught glimpses of the chaos around her. Her bakery—the small space she had poured her everything into—was in ruins. The display case was shattered, shards of glass glinting under the flickering lights. Chairs lay broken, their legs snapped like twigs, and her cupcakes made just that morning were crushed beneath heavy boots.

The other Purple Dragons paid her no mind. They were too busy tearing the place apart, swinging their bats and fists at anything that remained intact. Bags of flour were ripped open, coating the air with a white haze.

The bakery was unrecognizable.

He knelt down in front of her, his large hand still gripping the back of her head, forcing her to look up at him. His face inched closer, their proximity so unnervingly intimate that, to an outsider, it might have looked like a tender moment—a hot man gently holding his partner, leaning in to whisper sweet nothings.

But there was no romance here, neither was a hot man.

In Y/N's eyes, he looked like a demon dragged straight from the depths of hell.

"You think you can get away with that, huh?" he hissed, his voice low and menacing. His breath, reeking of cigarettes, hit her face, making her gag. "I'm gonna make you regret—"

Blood dripped from the gash on his forehead, down to his chin, before splattering onto her cheek.

"Mmph..." She flinched, trying to turn her face away. Her stomach twisted in revulsion as the warm, sticky drop slid down her neck.

"Don't you fucking turn away from me!" he snapped, his voice rising in anger. His free hand shot out, gripping her chin roughly and yanking her face back toward him.

"Agh...!"

His blood-slicked fingers dug into her skin, smearing streaks across her cheeks. The iron scent mixed with the stench of his breath made her eyes water.

I'm gonna be sick...

The lights flickered.

Y/N's breath caught. The thug paused, his head snapping up as he looked around. The other Purple Dragons stiffened, their smug expressions wavering. The room plunged into complete darkness, save for the faint glow of streetlights filtering in through the windows.

"What the hell is going on?!" the thug barked, his grip on Y/N tightening.

A soft sound cut through the darkness—barely a whisper of movement. Then came the sickening thud of something heavy hitting the ground, followed by a muffled groan.

"Boss?" one of the gang members called out, his voice trembling. "What's going—?"

Another thud. Another groan. The sound of bodies collapsing filled the room, one after another.

The thug holding Y/N froze, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulled her closer like a human shield. "Who's there?!" he shouted into the void.

Before she could even register what was happening, the thug was ripped away from her like a ragdoll. His hand tore free of her hair, leaving her stumbling backward against the counter. The cold edge of it pressed into her back as she clutched the counter for support.

A sharp cry of pain split the air, quickly followed by a heavy thud.

She didn't dare move, frozen in place as the violence seemed to swirl around her in the darkness. Her scalp throbbed where the thug had grabbed her, the warmth of his blood still slick on her skin.

She could hear the sickening crack of bones breaking—sharp and violent, like twigs snapping underfoot.

And then... silence.

The bakery was eerily quiet now, save for the soft, labored breathing of someone else in the room.

She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the faint light. She could barely make out the shape of a figure standing above the thugs. One of them stirred, groaning as he tried to get back up, but the figure moved swiftly—his foot pressing down hard on the thug's chest, pinning him to the ground effortlessly.

"It's over now," came the low, soothing voice, deep and steady, calming her frantic heartbeat. His eyes, though she couldn't see them clearly, were on her the entire time.

Her heart raced even faster. That voice... She knew that voice. Her mind whirled, memories of the alleyway flashing before her—the man she'd spoken to, hidden in the shadows. It was him.

୨ TINY THEATRE ୧

Thugs: Teehee, we've come to extort you!

Y/N: (◔_◔)💅 Guess you don't know who my manz is...

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

୨ Any constructive criticism? Please comment below! ˘ᗜ˘ ৎ

#x reader #tmnt #bayverse leo #leonardo x reader #bayverse tmnt #leo x reader #tmnt 2014 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt leonardo

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crimeronan · 2 years ago

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WHEW okay. ROUGH fucking start to the morning but things are gonna be okay now. putting under a cut for people who don't care abt my endless unrelenting medical drama but for those who do. Come On This Fucking Journey With Me.

so, necessary background.

i have been having intermittent medical emergencies since february and my doctor has been trying since march to get me a specialist rheumatology appointment. the rheumatology clinic keeps ignoring the referral and/or saying that they need more paperwork and documentation for it.

my doctor has at this point provided them with

her physical observations of my visibly abnormal symptoms

all of the many many many many Many medications i've been prescribed and their effects on said symptoms

multiple different types of positive ANA showing i have uncontrolled progressive autoimmune disease

all my negative antibody tests (have yet to test positive for any one specific antibody)

my doctor - who is excellent - has also followed up with them repeatedly to try to get me scheduled. because i am dying. like i try not to be super dramatic here bc i don't like worrying people and maybe i'm overblowing my symptoms but like. when you're at the point that one of your partners schedules an impromptu overnight flight to come up and monitor you for a week bc your other partner is on vacation & you're in danger of stroking and being unable to call an ambulance for yourself if someone isn't in the room to notice the signs...... i feel like at that point it's fair enough to say I Am Fucking Dying. i am dying. i've been dying for months. like very slowly and inconsequentially but MORE THAN MOST PEOPLE ARE DYING AT ANY GIVEN TIME.

so two weeks ago, after even more fucking phone tag, rheumatology was like. we have all of your tests and documentation now. we'll call to schedule you in soon :) if we don't, call us in two weeks!

today is, of course, the two week mark.

i thought it was strange that they hadn't called because my current symptom progression is usually triaged as The Top Tier Of Autoimmune Medical Emergencies. and my doctor herself has gotten me in for same-day appointments whenever i develop new symptoms because i am apparently not being fucking dramatic about how fucked up i am.

but! rheumatology is overburdened by a combination of COVID-era backups and a MASSIVE influx of newly disabled people with long COVID. and they're dealing with the same understaffing and shortages as the rest of the healthcare system. so it wasn't THAT weird.

called the clinic as soon as they opened this morning. was put on hold for a few minutes, which is normal.

guy gets back on the line. informs me they actually Don't have the test results that they need to schedule me (even though they TOLD ME THEY DID two weeks ago). and that they can't help me.

at this point i got off the phone and had a hysterical crying breakdown so profound that multiple partners swooped in to make a Shitload of Very Testy phone calls to various places on my behalf. bc they love me and are wonderful i am very loved. i have been taking the whole "actively dying" thing in stride for months for the most part but apparently this morning i hit my Fucking Limit. because OH MY FUCKING GOD.

so after an hour of hysterical crying, the receptionist at my main doctor's office calls back. she has always been very kind and takes calls from me / my partners extremely seriously, because of..... you know. The Everything.

she's just as kind and sweet and apologetic as ever but also there is kinda an undercurrent of apoplectic fury. she's spent some time trying to figure out What The Fuck Is Going On. turns out that

there was one more test rheumatology needed, even tho they said they had all my documentation. ok. fine.

my doctor did in fact order this test immediately after my last appointment.

i did in fact have the bloodwork done for this test immediately after my last appointment. like within an hour.

there was NO REASON for rheumatology not to have these test results.

except.

that the phlebotomist who took my blood.

ran every fucking ordered test.

except.

the one.

i needed.

to get scheduled.

with rheumatology.

so i've been waiting two weeks for fucking Nothing. because i thought i had my referral sorted. and the rheumatology clinic did not fucking inform my doctor that actually! they were wrong! about having the documentation to schedule me in!

the receptionist called up the lab to make sure that they Can run the necessary test. confirmed that they can. then she called up the rheumatology clinic and sent over all of my current documentation all over again and told them to be on the lookout for the final test. THEN she called the lab AGAIN to say, "hey, i'm sending you this order electronically, but i'm making an extra note that you guys need to do it right this time, AND you need to treat this as highest priority n analyze the results immediately. and i'm giving you the specific test number right now to make sure you fucking write it down correctly."

and then she gave ME the test number. and said "write this down. and when you get there, ask them what the number is for your test. and make sure that it matches."

which all took up most of her morning and truly was going above and beyond, all she really Needed to do was resend the lab order n tell me to go get more blood drawn. ESPECIALLY since it's an indie office & she handles ALL of the patient scheduling and bureaucracy.

but she is mad. and also i have dying patient privilege.

i felt much better after this because tbh half of why i was so upset was because i already know i have multiple forms of irreversible damage to various body parts and i really fucking physically feel like i get closer to dying every day and i really cannot fucking deal with being triaged as a non-priority possibly-faker hysteria patient.

but this does not seem to be the case.

so. unless something ELSE manages to go wrong with all of this bureaucratic bullshit, what's going to happen is: i am going to drive to a lab 45 minutes away to get my bloodwork done today bc that's the closest place with same-day appointments. i am going to call my doctor's office and tell them that the blood test was done, bc the receptionist said to call her from the parking lot once i'm finished. my doctor is going to receive the test results and send them to rheumatology either today or tomorrow. and within two weeks (Supposedly For Fucking Real This Time), rheumatology will ACTUALLY FUCKING CALL TO SCHEDULE ME IN.

in the most ideal and luckiest world, i will in fact be triaged as an emergency case. which means things will move fast in terms of both getting a call from the scheduling team and getting scheduled in. however it's also possible that they will have patients who are in, like, multi-organ-failure shutdown crisis, who obviously need to be prioritized above me. i do have endless paper documentation and visible physical symptoms stating that i am very very very sick, so. fingers crossed but i don't want to jinx it.

this post is very long. medical bureaucracy is a nightmare. i am very very very lucky and blessed to have so many life partners who are willing to advocate for me because as you can imagine, none of this is easy to navigate when you are unbelievably fucking sick and have a brain that is progressively losing the ability to retain language or executive function or memory.

in conclusion.

being sick is so stupid.

#medical #autoimmune tag #hank green's note of 'when the american healthcare system moves fast that's when it's time to worry'#YEAH I FEEL THAT. it WAS moving so fucking fast until all THIS.#hopefully now that it's sorted it'll be back to moving really fucking fast because I Need Healthcare Pretty Fukkin Badley

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lestappenforever · 3 months ago

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hello! i've had a really rough week so i just wanted to ask how your foster kittens are doing and if possible could i see a picture of them? 🥹 and how is your cat doing with them?

Hi anon!

I'm so sorry to hear you've had a rough week. I really hope the weekend and next week will be much better. ❤️

The foster kittens are doing great, thank you for asking! They're so affectionate, sweet and playful, and they’re growing so fast, which is amazing to see. They'll be 7 weeks on Monday, and last night was the first night they were allowed access to the whole apartment with Nadja overnight since they arrived. We've kept them in a puppy pen overnight and in the bedroom during the day when we're at work, to make sure they can't climb Nadja's cat tree, and risk falling down and hurting themselves. (It’s quite tall, especially for kittens that small.) But after observing them for the past week, we've seen that they have the balance and control to safely maneuver themselves up and down as they climb, so they no longer need to be contained when we can't keep an eye on them. And they’re loving having all that space!

Thankfully Nadja loves other cats and has so much experience with us fostering, as we've been doing it her whole life, so she adapts amazingly to having new foster cats and kittens in our home. She's still a cat, though, so she spent the first 24 hours after they arrived hissing and growling at them, and keeping her distance. But that was it – once they had been with us for 24 hours, she stopped being upset and territorial, and accepted them as her own. Now she loves them, and spends most of her time grooming them and playing with them. And they've both officially decided that she's their mother.

Here’s a picture of the boy, Rémi, sleeping in one of the hammocks of Nadja's tree.

And here's a video of the girl, Capucine, being groomed by Nadja, taken just a few minutes ago, just for you, anon.

Hopefully these can bring you some joy after a rough week. ❤️

#Fostering asks #Personal #Cats #Cat asks

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ofstoriesandstardust · 2 years ago

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SIDE QUESTS AND SPINOFFS 🖋️ rebel and rooster!

“are you hurt? you look hurt, are you sure everything’s okay?”

ky's 1.5k follower celebration!

sorry i got carried away and i know i've written about protective Rooster 2835564993 times with them but I just love it so much!!

warnings: emergency ejection, Naval inaccuracies, medical inacuracies, bruises, MavDad because I couldn't help myself

You sigh, nodding as the nurse explains that she needs to go confirm something with the doctor and will be right back, leaning slightly against the bed in the room.

After an emergency ejection due to what you were suspecting was a mechanical issue with your plane, it was safe to say your nerves were fried.

Physically, you were fine.

But you were tired and ready to go home to your dog and your bed and your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend, who was probably out of his mind with worry and driving the poor nurses crazy.

"you're up and standing, that's a good sign."

Your head lifts from where it's counting the dots in tilling on the floor at the sound of your Dad's voice.

"Hey Dad." You breath out as he strides over to you, pulling you into a hug. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make anyone worry."

"Hey hey." He says, shushing you. "Don't worry about it, you can't control a mechanical failing of your plane. You did what you were supposed to."

You nod against his chest, taking in the smell of jet fuel. "Where's Rooster?"

He huffs, chest vibrating with a laugh. "Driving the nurses crazy. They haven't cleared you for non-familial visitors yet."

You hum into his chest as the door opens again, thinking about how this might be different if you and Rooster were married.

"Lieutenant, Captain?" The sound of the doctor's voice sounds from the door and you both turn to face him.

"Lieutenant, we'd like to keep you overnight for observation. While we don't suspect that you have a concussion and we expect that the extent of your injuries is just some minor bruising, it's standard procedure for you to stay overnight for observation."

You nod, too tired to protest. "Of course."

"You also have visitors who would like to see you if you're feeling up to it." You nod, your Dad's hand coming to rest on your shoulder. "Captain, you are more than welcome to stay overnight with her, if you wish."

He nods, squeezing your shoulder as the doctor leaves the room. "I'm gonna run to your house and grab clothes and stuff for you tonight. Anything special you want me to grab you while I'm there?"

"Tell Buddy I miss him." You say, frowning with a huff. He laughs, nodding.

"I will absolutely do that."

The door opens again and you barely have the time to process your team is filtering into the tiny room before someone's arms are wrapping around you.

"Are you hurt? You look hurt, are you sure everything's okay?" Bradley rushes out in one breath, not letting you even relish in his touch before he's pulling away. His eyes scan over your body, thumb coming to rest just below your eyebrow where a cut resides.

"Hey." You say firmly, taking his chin in your hand, guiding his eyes to your won. "Despite the bruises on my body, I'm fine."

He frowns, clearly not believing you as he locks onto the one peeking out over your collarbone. "Are you sure?"

"Not even a concussion."

He licks his lips as he lets his hands fall from your body. "they wouldn't tell me anything. I thought the worst. When they told AMv he could see you, but no one else, I- I was so afraid of what he might come back and say." He whispers, eyes falling to the floor.

"B..." You whisper, prompting him to give a shrug.

"We heard you go down and I just thought the worst. We all did." He admits and it's the first time you register the pilots crammed into the small space, the way Coyote is hovering exactly a half foot behind Bradley, like he's waiting his turn for a hug.

He probably is.

"When can you go home?"

You shrug. "Hopefully tomorrow. They're keeping me overnight for observation. It's standard the doctor said."

He nods, sighing. "Okay. But just so you know, I'm gonna cuddle the shit out of you when we get home."

True to Bradley's word, he does.

It's been a few days since the emergency ejection and you've taken the rest of the week off at the doctor and Cyclone (and your Dad's) orders. Bradley had taken time off too, insisting you not move for anything.

Bradley had taken the doctor's orders of rest to heart, becoming only minorly unbearable.

You still showed no signs of a concussion and by some miracle, had by all accounts walked away from the ejection with nothing but bruises.

Bruises that had only grown darker as they had settled, a stake black and purple coloring your skin, particularly on your chest.

Bradley winced every time he saw them, even if he tried to hide.

You tucked your head into his chest as Bradley gingerly trails his fingertips over your skin. Buddy has his head resting on your thigh, nuzzling closer to you in his sleep.

"I hate these damn things." Bradley whispers, fingers tracing over bruise left on your chest by the harness. "Reminds me too much of the fact that I could've lost you."

"You know what, I don't hate them." You say with a shrug, taking his hand so he stops tracing over them and going crazy with what ifs. "They remind me I'm alive."

His eyes flicker to yours, but he doesn't say anything, just intertwines his fingers with your own.

"I survived and I have the bruising to show for it. It helps sometimes, I think. How I dealt with it when Coyote and I emergency ejected."

As the words tumble out of your mouth, you begin to wonder if that's why Bradley had been so overbearing since you'd come, the guilt that he hadn't been there still eating at him.

He was trying to make up for lost time.

He hums, pressing a kiss to your temple. "They remind you that you're still alive. That's a good way to think about it."

"I love you." You whisper.

"I love you."

#ky's 1.5k celebration #same mistakes

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drift-loon · 13 days ago

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A common side effect of the medication I'm on is "vivid dreams", and man, sometimes it gets a bit much! They're rarely scary which is great, but I quite often wake up not feeling rested because (I assume) my brain's been working overtime overnight to go ham on... the most bizarre stuff. It's weird for me because the mental imagery of certain dreams lingers for hours. Pretty great if it's something cool, not so great if it's one of those dreams that makes all my insecurities come to life in Technicolour 4K.

Another side effect is impaired/delayed reactions. It's even printed on the dispensing label. "Reactions may be impaired whilst driving." I was worried about that because I started these tablets a couple of months after I started learning to drive. I think I probably overcompensated for it by being extra observant (my instructor always used to tell me I don't need to check all three mirrors just to turn a corner, but I did anyway.) I'm still so proud of myself for getting a perfect score in my driving test. Sometimes I think ahead to when I'm not on these tablets anymore. I'm going to be superwoman behind the wheel 😆

I miss my driving instructor a lot. It was really nice spending two hours with him every week. I try not to let my insecurities eat away at me that he was only nice to me because I was paying him and that he couldn't wait to be rid of me, but it's hard. He gave me a really decent Pokémon card album. It had some rare cards in it too and he let me keep them. He always asked after the zines I'd submitted things to. He said some lovely, thoughtful things that will stick with me forever. I feel lame for getting so emotionally attached to someone I paid to essentially hang out with me, though a lesson I can take from it is that even one social thing a week is healing. I hate being at least an hour train journey away from friends at the moment. All the more reason to buy a car, I suppose!

My mum's neighbour is a mechanic and she's offered to help me find a second-hand car. She's always busy because she drives to various places to teach car stuff (we tried to find time when we were both free to talk cars over a cup of tea in December and it wasn't happening for us) but if I find something I like, she said I can ask her about it and she'll give me questions to ask, which is kind. She really is a lovely woman.

Her fiancé is a weed-smoking waste of space, and apparently an ex-celebrity hairdresser AHAHA. He always belittles her in front of people, and she often agrees with him about how dumb, clumsy, or useless she is, so naturally I can't stand him. I met her mother recently after they'd gone to try on wedding dresses. Her mother seemed so uncomfortable talking about the impending wedding, like she was gritting her teeth about her daughter marrying this asshole too. She should marry me instead LOL.

Why is it that so many outstanding women settle for such nothing men? That question plays on my mind more than it should, as it's not my life to live or my decision to make, but it stresses me out all the same. It's a terrifying concept to me. I guess what I should take from it is that the times I feel lonely or wish I had a partner, I should remember that a bit of loneliness is still miles better than being stuck with someone who not only doesn't value you but will slowly drain you of the value you have in yourself too.

Also, I'm so fucking happy I'm not straight. Fuck that noise 😆

#thinky thoughts #morning edition #no theme just rambling

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imtheiliad · 3 years ago

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you'll be a real good listener, you'll be honest, and one day you'll be brave [1k | 5x17 coda |uncle!buck | feelings realization (in more ways then one) | phone calls] {ao3} a/n: i srsly have no idea where this came from lmao. i started with the picture of buck talking through things with jee and then eddie called and then it was a thousand words 🤷. title inspired by a better son/daughter by rilo kiley. takes place a few minutes after the end of 5x17, major spoilers.

Buck stares at his niece, she's sitting in his lap, leaning against his legs that are propped up on the coffee table, and is studying the hem of her shirt intently.

"Eddie really chose the worst week to go to Texas huh kid," he sighs rubbing his thumbs over her toes. She looks up at him and scrunches her face, shakes her head and lets out a "Buh!"

"Sorry, I'm not pleasant company Jee," he pauses, "Your parents are being real silly you know that? But they've done this before. Took a minute. And then you happened!" He pokes her belly and she lets out a shriek of giggles, "But whatever happens, I hope you know you have the best mom in the whole world. She fought so many battles to have you, to be with you. And your dad, well, he put up with me, and survived so much too. You're a really lucky kid. But mostly cause you have me for an uncle," he smiles softly, and Jee's eyes begin to droop as he brings her to his chest, his hand spanning her entire back as he stands and makes his way to her room.

He sits in the rocking chair and reads her Pat the Bunny a couple times and then hums a few songs until she is solidly asleep. He just holds her for a moment. And a lump settles in his throat as a realization washes over him. He wants this. He has this. Well not this exactly, but something close, and close enough.

He sets her down in her crib, and she shifts and snuffles, but ultimately settles, taking a deep breath and sighing.

His phone is buzzing on the coffee table when he returns to the living room. He doesn't even look, and just hits the side button, sending the call to voicemail. Because it was probably Taylor. Calling to explain herself. And he can't yell at her. Not with Jee asleep down the hall. He doesn't want to talk to her anyway. He's not even sure what he would say.

His phone starts buzzing incessantly again. So he answers. Because she'll probably just keep calling. Even though that doesn't sound too much like her. So he answers, not even looking at the screen.

"Look Taylor, I can't do this with you right now. Jee is asleep, and if I yell-"

"It's not Taylor," Eddie's warm voice washes over him,

"Oh," he breathes out, the tension falling out of his shoulders, "your dad picked out a really shitty week to have a party. Chris isn't on the phone is he?"

"No, he's asleep," Buck can hear the soft smile that plays across Eddie's lips, "So, what happened? Why are you with Jee? Maddie and Chim okay?"

"Jonah kidnapped Hen and Chimney," he takes a breath, "Eddie, he killed him twice and brought him back twice thank God. He killed Claudette. They're both fine, just staying overnight at the hospital for observation, but Eds-"

"Holy shit. And where the piece Taylor fit in?"

"She helped put the Claudette pieces together. Or rather, had the evidence in the form of news footage. She said it was off the record but-"

"She reported it anyway," he doesn't question.

"She had this look in her eye, called it all fascinating. God I feel so stupid. She hasn't changed an inch in three years."

"You believed in her. Saw the good. That doesn't make you stupid. That's one of the things that makes you, you Buck."

"How's it going over there?" Buck asks,

"I'll answer but don't think that doesn't mean we're done talking about your stuff."

Buck rolls his eyes and huffs out a breath.

"So, guess who's dad has been hiding heart issues for over a year?"

"You're kidding."

"Three stents, Buck," he sighs, "and all it took was me berating him for making me grow up too fast."

"And you said that you didn't want any drama."

"Turns out I am the drama," he laughs a little, "May taught me that. We talked more later. I cried in front of him, Buck. I told him about my panic attacks, and therapy. And he told me he didn't want to miss anymore of my life. I never thought-"

"I'm so proud of you Eddie. So proud," Buck squeezes the phone in his hand wishing he could look Eddie in the eye right now. "And I'm gonna tell you again when I can hug you and- But I am so proud of you. And I'm happy for you. For both of you."

And silence washes over them. Listening to each other breathe.

"I have to break up with her don't I?" Buck sighs after a few minutes.

"You said it not me."

"And it's not just this one thing. I don't know that I'm in love with her. I kept telling myself that I had to be, cause she said she loved me. But when I think about the future she's not the one I'm thinking about. I think about my kids and my future and I-I don't see her, I don't see little red haired and blue eyed babies. And I need partner. Someone I can trust. Someone who doesn't make me look over my shoulder at every turn. Someone who has my-" he swallows the last word before he says it.

"Yeah, I think that's what we're all looking for at the end of the day," Buck hears the smile again, "and to quote you, that's not how you talk about someone you're in love with,"

"Yeah," he swallows, "Well, it's late there. And we both has weird days. So I'll let you get to bed. Give Chris a hug for me. See you at the airport tomorrow."

"Will do. See you tomorrow. Goodnight, Buck."

"Night Eddie."

He hangs up the phone and takes a breath. He pads down the hallway to check on Jee, still sound asleep. And grabs a pillow and a blanket from the closet before settling on the couch. It hits him, what he almost said, "I think about my kids and I see Chris...Someone who has my back."

"Shit," he whispers to the ceiling.

#buddie #911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #jee yun buckley han #aj writes stuff #tusercourty #tuserzee #thatbuddie #userceecee #usersharky #usercombat #useroliii #useryb #tagnic #userweres #buddiefanfiction

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bitchwhoreofastorm · 3 years ago

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prompt: almalexia has gay homosexual sex

1E413

"She's not my lover," Almalexia insists under her breath.

She and Sotha Sil sit close together, near-drowning in an overly-decadent sofa within the reception-room of Moril Manor. Though nobility both, the taste of the Ra'athim is too ostentatious even for them; as if being oppressed by the plethora of shiny trinkets, ornate furniture, vibrant rugs, gleaming geometric tiles and dazzling sun-catchers bearing in on them from every angle, they've glued themselves side-to-side in the middle of the least offensive seat and resorted to having their argument in sheepish whispers.

"Uh-huh," Sotha Sil whispers back to her. "She's merely your..."

"Duchess. Duchess of Mournhold."

"Ah, yes, I've been meaning to ask about that title."

"You're acting as if diplomacy is a scandal, when it's not." Almalexia crosses her arms, tucking her hands into her armpits, as if to refrain from gesturing lest she knock over something priceless. "The Ra'athim are an important ally to me. Giving a meaningless title to one of their own was the easiest way to earn their good will."

"Mm." Sotha Sil looks down at his tea-cup-- pure ebony, made of a multitude of faceted surfaces so expertly crafted that they're sharp to the touch, filled with a specialty brew from Red Mountain that contains flecks of imported gold. "Meaningless but for the salary, you mean?"

"What Mournhold pays her is a small price for her family's loyalty."

"And her overnight stays at the palace?"

Almalexia's face flushes red. "She's my friend," she says firmly, voice rising a little. "That's all."

"Do you allow all of your friends to stay the night in your..."

"Do not be crude! She helped me recover from my sickness after the coup, as a good friend does. That's all. And yes, as you observed, she often stayed the night by my side, but you know as well as anyone that I suffer from nightmares, that it helps to have someone dear nearby to--"

"Someone dear, Ayem!"

"Silence!" Both of their voices had raised, and Almalexia cringes when she realizes that her stern order has caused a nearby chandelier to sway slightly. "... I don't like you when you're jealous, Sil."

"I'm not jealous," Sotha Sil replies. "Why should I be jealous of a woman being paid handsomely by my Queen, bestowed with titles--"

"Seht--"

"Given a fine manor, allowed to share her bed in the night, but only for her nightmares, of course--"

"Sil, invitation be damned, I'll send you away from here."

"I'm not jealous," Sotha Sil repeats himself calmly, raising the cup of tea to his lips. "Because there is clearly nothing to be jealous of. Only court politics."

At that moment, the door to the chamber opens. "I'm so sorry to keep you waiting, my dear--" a woman’s voice sings out. "I was just getting ready, but I kept finding your garments buried in my own, and though they lead to such pleasant memories-- why, this one still smells like you, I do wish I could keep it as my pillow-case, for when you’re away-- anyways, I thought, well, she's coming over for lunch, I really ought to return them all, shouldn't I? So--"

And Duchess Ilinalta Ra'athim, arms laden with familiar clothing, comes to a stop in the doorway, blinking at her guests.

"Oh goodness," she says mildly. "Oh, what a fool I am. I completely forgot that I'd invited you to join us. Ah, serjo Sotha Sil, allow me--"

Almalexia, golden face flushed crimson, makes to say something-- only for Sotha Sil to burst into laughter, clapping his free hand over his face a moment too late to stop a mouthful of tea from spraying all over the expensive sofa.

#i am not posting smut on my writing blog. again.#fic

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lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 4 years ago

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They sat across from each other in the hallway, the sound of Maddie Fenton's shouting was muffled through the door of the principal's office.

Wes leaned back with his arms crossed as Walter Weston's voice broke through the noise, issuing an attempt at an apology that seemed to fall on deaf ears as the yelling continued.

"Your son might think it's just some funny joke, but I will not have anyone accusing my son of being that lying, manipulative, piece of ectoplasmic scum!"

Danny sank lower in his chair, face tightening with every word.

"You know they wouldn't say that stuff if they knew the truth." said Wes, cutting into the tense air between them.

Danny's head thumped back against the wall as he rolled his eyes.

"You cannot possibly be that fucking dense." Danny's voice was strained with frustration.

Wes felt heat flood into his cheeks as his chest coiled with anger.

"Well it's true." he spat. "They wouldn't think Phantom's a monster if they knew he was you."

Danny's nose wrinkled in an expression of mild disgust.

"For the most observant guy in school you are unbelievably blind."

"Oh I'm blind?" the squeak of Wes' sneakers echoed down the empty hall as he stood over the other boy. "You're the one who can't see how much easier your life would be if you just told everyone who you really are. But no, you have to keep it this big secret just so you can feel special, because you just wanna keep playing superhero."

He jabbed a finger in Danny's face as vibrant blue eyes glared up at him through dark bangs.

"You're choosing to get detention for missing classes, you're choosing to get beaten up by Dash all the time. You're choosing to be the least popular guy in school when you could turn it all around overnight if you wanted. You're choosing to listen to your parents talk shit about you-"

Danny's fist didn't race up to grab Wes by the collar, Wes simply blinked and cold fingers were suddenly curled around the neck of his basketball uniform.

"Have you even remotely considered that telling the professional ghost hunters that I live with that I'm part ghost might not be the best idea? My mom is literally yelling about how much they want to tear me open right now."

Wes couldn't help but notice that that was, in fact, exactly what she was currently yelling about.

"They wouldn't do that." Wes scoffed, batting Danny's hand away, it was like hitting a marble statue that only decided to move out of politeness. "They're your parents, they wouldn't hurt you."

"Are you sure about that?" Danny asked, Wes wasn't exactly sure when he got up from his chair, but they were standing face to face now. "Would you bet your life on it?"

Wes suddenly felt rather cold, but he refused to let Danny see him flustered.

"No, but I wouldn't go around betting my life on anything," Wes smoothed the wrinkles out of his shirt collar. "That's just stupid."

"Then why," Danny grit his teeth hard, "Are you so comfortable betting mine."

Wes opened his mouth to retort but suddenly found himself at a loss for words as Danny's question sank in and the cold chill in the room ran sharply down his spine.

They wouldn't really hurt him. He was sure of it, they were his parents. They would never, he was sure.

Would he bet his life on it?

"There's about three things that can happen if I tell my parents." said Danny, wandering slightly down the hall, looking down at his shoes. "One, they believe me, they put aside an entire lifetime of prejudice and accept me for who I am, hooray!" he shook his hands in a rather sarcastic gesture of mock celebration.

"Two!" he continued before Wes could interject. "They believe me, but they think of Phantom as some kind of disease, something that should be gotten rid of, something they can cure."

He turned on his heel to face Wes once again, holding up three fingers.

"Three... they don't believe me. They think Phantom is controlling me, or he's killed me and taken my place, that this is just some evil plot to manipulate them. They try to kill me."

Danny shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at a piece of rubbish on the floor.

"Which means I only have a one in three chance of things going okay, and that's being generous and ignoring all of the other things that could go wrong. I don't like those odds, Wes."

Wes swallowed hard. He hadn't thought of it like that, he hadn't even considered it at all, but one in three? That didn't seem right.

"What do you mean one in three?" Wes asked, "Only one of those was really bad, what's wrong with them finding a cure? You hate being Phantom."

Danny looked up at him with a surprised expression, before frowning hard.

"I don't hate being Phantom, and it wouldn't matter if I did. Phantom is a part of me, I can't get rid if it. The last time I managed to split my ghost half from my human half it took half of my personality with it, and if I'd stayed that way for too long both sides of me would have died, for good."

"You don't know that it's impossible." said Wes, refusing to back down out of pure stubbornness at this point, even though the conversation was leaving a sour taste in his mouth. "Your parents are geniuses, if anyone could figure it out they could."

"Wes," Danny rubbed a hand over his face, looking very tired. "I asked the most powerful omniscient ghost I know if it was possible, there isn't a single timeline where I survive a permanent split. It can't be done, and I don't want it to be done."

"But why?!" Wes' arms opened in a desperately questioning gesture. "You don't even use it for anything! All you do is fight ghosts and lie to everyone! Why would you want that?!"

"It doesn't matter why." Danny hissed. "This is my life, my body. I get to choose what I do with it, and I should get to choose who I tell about it instead of having some selfish prick outing me to everyone without warning!"

"He WHAT?!"

The boys both turned around to find Mrs Fenton and Mr Weston standing in the doorway to the office. Maddie had a hand over her mouth, and Walter's jaw was hanging from his head.

"Did he just say what I think he said?" Walter asked.

"Yes! Finally! Dad he's-"

"You outed him?" Walter grabbed Wes by the shirt and marched him down the hallway. "You can't just do that sort of thing with someone's personal life! The ghost thing is bad enough but this-"

"What?" Wes' eyes widened as he realised what his dad was saying, "Wait, no! That's not what we were talking about-"

"We are going to have a very serious talk about this." Walter turned around, still shoving Wes ahead of him. "Mrs Fenton, Danny. I am so, so sorry about this, all of this."

Maddie slipped a hand over Danny's shoulder and squeezed as the Westons disappeared down the hall.

"Did he really tell everyone about that too?" Maddie asked in a dark tone. "If anything happens to you because of this I'll-"

"It's fine mom, it's fine." Danny assured her. "It doesn't matter what he says. Nobody ever believes him anyway."

He really hoped Wes learned something from that conversation, but somehow he doubted it would change anything.

#lula's fanfics #danny phantom #wes weston #danny phantom fanfiction #I just really wanted to write that betting your life on it scene

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