#this is about his sister who we kept as a physical therapy treatment

[the-magic-school-bus]

i just realized my cat litters actually did follow the pattern of every other littler one kittens dies, it just took almost five months for the kitten to die this time

[emcant]

Really sick reason to be happy but I can't stop smiling

TW/CW child abuse, mental illness, SH

One of my aunts calls our family "yours, mine, and ours", which is accurate. We've got me, my (step)brother, my dad, my stepmom, and my (half)sister. My brother is seven weeks younger than I am. Our parents got together when we were around four- "work spouses" who were both recently divorced- and our little sister came a few years later.

My bio mom and my brother's bio dad are a mess, somewhere between incapable and unwilling to parent full time. I've been in therapy off and on for most of my life and got my C-PTSD diagnosis at 15. My brother, god love him, just reached his first year of sobriety, having started drinking around the same age.

Naturally, every time we had a chance to say "This isn't normal" to our shared folks, we'd be told "Well of course you'd think that, you're used to your other parent!". The other person was a shovel used for digs: "This isn't their house!". They'd call me by my mom's name when I made them upset.

I assumed I was broken either because of my mom or because of the split. I can't know for certain, of course, but I think the cause of the C-PTSD was specifically that they traded custody daily, at my mom's request, until she moved out of state. She gives the silent treatment. My stepmom screams. The rules changed on me literally every 24 hours until I was 13.

Life evened out a lot when she did move away - but not entirely. I wound up in screamland 90% of the time rather than 50. I couldn't figure out why it didn't feel right or why it kept happening to me, but I believed my folks: I wasn't used to it because my mom's "parenting" is different and worse. I felt sickened to be involved with my mom at all. I thought that if only she wasn't waiting in the wings, I'd be entitled to a normal childhood, but because of her influence, I deserved everything I got.

Anyway, I have been texting my little sister about Christmas gifts for our brother, and out of nowhere, earlier this week, she tells me she's going to therapy for the first time... because she's realized it's not normal for your mom to scream at you literally all day and your dad to not intervene.

I haven't been home for more than three days since I moved out over a decade ago. I had a chance to pass through the town earlier this year, didn't do it, and still had panic attacks for two weeks straight. I can't hack it as someone's daughter; it makes me physically sick.

But that isn't a me problem.

Not a one of them could hack it as parents.

I've stopped hearing my mother's doubts in my head - I cut her off when I moved away. I've never been quite able to shut off my stepmom's. The screamer versus the silence... it fits.

I'm not a poser if I can't create when I don't have a comfortable space to work. I should not self-reject because I'm frightened. In the absence of an abuser, I'm finding that holding ideas in also hurts a lot.

I'm not stupid or useless or gearing up to be a failure for needing the introvert rest period and knowing my limits. It will not hold me back in life.

It isn't normal to want to hurt yourself. It isn't normal for people to laugh it off and talk about themselves when you tell them you want to hurt yourself.

The mandatory insincerity I grew up around has thankfully faded a lot - I don't think I could summarize that anymore if I tried.

I'm heartbroken that my little sister is going to need to learn these things - but ecstatic that she will, and is actively moving towards it. Had a similar conversation with our brother a few years ago, but of course, he has his dad in the wings; it hits differently now knowing that it would have happened no matter what. Children in that home are screamed at, hit, and not defended. Simple as.

I'm not what they wanted me to be.

I'd say that's "fine" but that doesn't even begin to cover it. It's exemplary.

[highly-flammable]

Things Peeta did that demonstrated his love for Katniss after being hijacked:

1. Saved her life multiple times:

- Moved her away from the flesh-melting rays in the Capitol underground system

- Forced her to climb up the ladder to the upper level to escape from the lizard mutts

- Got her out of the Capitol bombing (he was the only person to know her disguise who could have done that, and we know he was in the city circle because he had burns as well)

- Stopped her from committing suicide with a nightlock pill after killing Coin (and he said “I can’t” when she told him to let her go)

2. Fought against his demons after she kissed him and asked him to stay with her, when he was triggered by the lizard mutts to the point that he had lost all sense of reality

3. Came back to District 12 to check in on her after his treatment, even though his whole family was dead and being there was guaranteed to be difficult for him with his recovery ongoing (oh and Katniss was waiting for him, and that’s the one reason she didn’t kill herself, so he technically kept her alive AGAIN)

4. Planted primroses in front of her house in memory of her beloved sister who was blown to bits, so that Katniss would have somewhere to mourn

5. Kept her company and looked after her day in and day out (tucked her into bed when she fell asleep crying, showed up at meals)

6. Aided Katniss’ recovery process by helping her with the memory book (she originally pitched the idea to Dr. Aurelius, so it was clearly part of her therapy)

7. Found coping mechanisms against his flashbacks to make sure he wasn’t dangerous anymore to the very person he was programmed to kill (the worst thing he does is hold on to the back of a chair)

8. Stayed with Katniss for 15 years before children and built a life with her

9. Gave her kids that made her happy (plenty of people like to yap about how Katniss wasn’t supposed to be a mother, when she had always been a nurturing person who loved children, and in spite of her fear, she had indeed found joy in having her kids)

10. Comforted her against her problems physically and verbally for the rest of their lives

Sure, sounds like an extremely dysfunctional, broken kind of love to me. Certainly not how a guy would treat the love of his life.

”peeta will never love katniss the same post-war” SHUT UPPPPPPP

[requiescat-aria]

My DAIMYO is dead. I only want BUSHIDO. | Nori | Epilogue

It’s hard to stand on your own two feet again.

The theater is as familiar as ever, with its cobwebbed corners and the permeating smell of dust. The constant looping de-deng of a shamisen from the brittle speakers of an old CD player. Little has changed since the last time he was here, though he can only hope that the building’s fixtures are more secure. Having a lead actor shattered under a mountain of wood and cardboard should be a wake-up call for any respectable businessowner. 

He fields the usual questions, the ones he’s been rehearsing in his head so as to not stumble over his words. Going through the motions, like usual. Yes, he’s alright. He’s still going back to the hospital for physical therapy, his limbs atrophied from the medical bed’s stiff frame and starched sheets. It might be a while before he takes another role, but he’ll be back. He just wanted to come visit and see how everyone was doing. It’s been a while, after all. But it’s a real shame what happened to Shishou. Still, he passed away in his home, surrounded by loving friends and family. 

And isn’t that nice? Not everyone gets to die that way. Shouldn’t we all be so lucky.

The hospital’s stark, white interior bore little difference from the clinical atmosphere of the TRIAL. When Nori first opened his eyes, there was a flash of panic. Maybe he’d never left. Could it have been a lie? But before he could process that, he was flung back to reality by arms thrown around him and the sobbing of an-chan, oh, god from his younger sisters. Asuga, red-faced and looking as if she’d like to slap him for making them all worry so much. Kaida, barely restraining herself from pouncing on him like an old friend she hadn’t seen in years.

And their mother, teary-eyed and trying to find the right words with which to greet her son.

Welcome back.

There was some sort of mysterious theatergoer who had gone to see The Love Suicides at Sonezaki that day. A foreigner, one of his fellow actors would later tell him, maybe some kind of tourist. If so, it was kind of strange that he was at their humble establishment rather than a more famous one like the Kabuki-za. The story was relayed to him of how this man, with a strange name that his fellow actor butchered every time he tried to say it, rushed the stage after the collapse of the tree and started digging through the rubble, finally managing to pull the comatose lead actor out by the arm.

Nori listened, and a smile tugged at the edges of his lips. He was met with a scolding. What are you laughing about?! You almost died! 

It was kind of funny, though. Picturing Crocell carrying him bridal-style out from the remains of the set.

But he kept this to himself. How would he explain it to anyone?

He was still at the hospital for treatment, but he went with his family to Shishou’s funeral. People stood and spoke in hushed whispers, eyeing the kabuki master’s portrait sitting on the butsudan. But there were flowers, so many flowers, and the whispers were those of fond memory. His teacher had affected the lives of so many, not just him.

Nori tugged at the cuffs of his suit jacket and tried not to think of how, if not for his luck, his family would have had to sit through another funeral. 

Shishou’s widow approached him as his family prepared to leave. The Yagyu name is yours now, she said. She held his hands in her own, and he could feel her every raised vein and the wrinkles on her palm. Do what you like with it. But know that you are welcome here, always.

During the TRIAL, he had thought of hanging his hat and leaving the stage. It felt like the world was changing around him, but he stayed the same. Had he gained anything meaningful from the experience? It felt like the others had, and that he had fallen behind. The detective and dealer had found love. The idol and the killer had found family. 

What did he have, but a name he felt he could not live up to? But the pity of others as they crested so easily through the water while he floundered and struggled for air?

Maybe what he had found was resolve. A desire to keep living. He had viewed himself as a flimsy reed, incomparable to the might of a great tree. But a reed bends in the wind. It does not break, and it does not fall.

Taneyori Yagyu IV stands on the theater stage in plainclothes, his shoes directly on the tape-marked X where he was meant to stand during that fateful performance. He wouldn’t be returning to the theater for a while. Right now, his stage was the couch in his therapist’s office, and she was his only audience. 

Someday, he’d come back. He’d cake his cheeks in paint again and sing to the heavens in hopes that those who stayed behind would hear. He’d reach out to the others and finally be able to face them without feeling that they had something he fundamentally lacked. He’d grow old and withered and pass on his name to another aspiring actor, like his mentor had before him, and his before that. 

For now, though, he stands on his own. Soon, he’ll be able to run.

「終わり」

[originalwinnercheesecake]

Chain of Iron theories: the adopted baby

Here is another hot discussion topic in the fandom. CC has hinted that their will be a special baby, and that they will need to be adopted. So Questions, who is giving a baby up and why? I am assuming that this is a Shadowhunter baby. I cannot see either Hypatia Vex or Kellington who party, operate a secret saloon, and take pleasure in seducing interesting artistic individuals deciding to devote themselves to parenthood. Woosley Scott is set to show up, but their is no way he wants to adopt. Every other downworlder has appeared in the future and never made reference to having raised a baby. So which shadowhunters in this series of so many parents, children, and would be couples are looking to adopt? We know that shadowhunters adoption program isn’t perfect; Ariadne being adopted by an elderly white couple who know nothing about Indian culture and Tatiana somehow being allowed to adopt Grace despite the fact that she is aggressive, clearly insane, and famously unable to care for the one child she gave birth to. But I want to hold on to hope that whoever this little baby is their story will end happily with being given a nice home and family. My Theories

Anna and Ariadne  adopt Eugenia’s baby. (retracted)

  This was my original theory. In COG2 we learnt that Eugenia temporarily left home because of some scandal no one really wants to talk about. It apparently involved her and some guy being caught in a “compromising position” after which said guy could have saved things by asking to marry her but did not? ??? This led many people to believe she and this guy had been immanent and that she might now be pregnant., but unable to raise the baby on her own. So she would give it up for adoption. Eugenia’s older sister Barbara had an understanding with a very nice gentleman named Oliver and kept trying to get Oliver to purpose. I wondered if maybe a reason Barbara was in such a rush to marry is she was hoping for her and Oliver to adopt Eugenia’s baby and pass them off as theirs. Now that both Barbara and Oliver are sadly deceased Eugenia would need to look into finding new  parents to take he unborn child. Well spoilers relating to Eugenia state that despite having different interests and hobbies, she and Anna get along well. She also is set to become friends with Ariadne. Ariadne who really wanted to be a mom. So I thought that if Eugenia was pregnant and looking to give her child up for adoption then maybe she would ask Anna and Ariadne to adopt her baby. That had the potential to be sweet.

  But we have gotten more information now, and surprise surprise, people jumped the gun to quick on what happened with Eugenia. While we still do not know what the scandal was, it is hinted to have been way less extreme/serious than premarital intimacy, and she is very unlikely to be pregnant. I am now hoping that her ex got into a fight with some other guy, she stepped in to hit the other guy with a parasol, and her ex got embarrassed about having to be saved by her and broke up with her. Something that shows the guy was a real loser.

Elias puts Baby Carstairs up for adoption

  In COG2 we got a huge surprise that Sona was pregnant with her third child, unexpected as the family tree only lists her and Elias as having two children. Well actually actually the Carstairs family line is tree has parts of it that “Were lost to time”. So something clearly happened. Jem was clearly hiding something.

   This pregnancy was clearly unplanned and does present some worry’s. For starters Sona is well past the age where it easier/safest for women to give have children. She was already starting to have a difficult time with it during COG2 when she finally confessed to Cordelia that she was about 3 months along. This means that she will be about 7 months along (almost ready to give birth) when we pick up again in COI. Well in the early chapter read Alastair said that his mother has been put on Bed rest with her husband staying by her side and silent brothers monitoring her. This does not sound good. Several people have theorized that even with the brothers help, she will not make it through childbirth. Now lets talk about the babies father Elias Carstairs. Elias Carstairs is even older than his wife. He spent his youth traveling the world (I read a tweet that said he has even gone between dimensions before) leading special expeditions and hunting rare and powerful demons. This sounds grand, but it was a grueling life that left him physically and emotionally scared. Tragically the Clave does not recognize mental health as a need, so they do not provide any kind of therapy or treatment for those who become traumatized. Like many poor soldiers throughout American history Elias was there for the Clave when they needed his help but it that help was not reciprocated at the end. The only comfort he found was at the bottom of the bottle. It took Elias until he was already in his 40′s to start a family, and he has struggled with being able to take care of himself enough to act as a father to the two children he and Sona have already raised. Elias is 63. He is sad and tired, and struggling to keep a handle on his sobriety. This child was unplanned. I have read tweets that show he is at least trying to support Sona, but CC reveals he is questioning if or if not he can really do this a third time. If Sona dies there is no way Elias can raise this child himself. I won’t fault him if he makes that choice, it might be the most loving thing he can do.

   Who would adopt the little guy. Well the most common theory is that Alastair and Thomas would become his new dads. Now the family tree does suggest that both Alastair and Thomas are dads in the future. It also doesn’t list the names of either of their spouses (I am guessing neither had wives) so their is nothing to suggest that they do not live together raising a group of adopted children. Given the way the Cave feels about homosexual parents that could also be why Jem “lost” the records. I will not deny Thomstair becoming adopted parents is plausible, but I am not completely sure that baby Carstaris is who they will adopt. Babies are hard, they are a lot of work, and I am not convinced either Alastair or Thomas will be up to it. Look at Alastair. He is not exactly in a good place at the start of COI, and whenever fans ask CC if Alastair will make any friends she always reply that he won’t until he learns how to speak nicely to people and to be there for them when they need him. Honestly that is a thing he struggles with. He obviously loves Cordelia, but he totally pulled an  Queen Elsa on her where he shut the door and shut her out for roughly 7 years of their lives, leaving her as alone as Anna was. He claims to have loved Charles but the pair spend most of COG arguing because Alastair wants Charles to spend all his time with him and Charles is struggling to balance his promotion, his public reputation, and Alastair (Important I am not saying it was wrong for Alastair to be upset about Charles engagements or to break up with him. I am just saying it seems like Charles did try to see Alastair as much as he could, and Alastair trying to pin all his emotional needs on one person, who already had so much going on, was unfair). On Thomas side well lets just say he has a lot of mixed up and complicated feeling of his own he needs to work out before he will be able to be in a healthy relationship let alone raise a child.

  If Thomstair aren’t able to take care of Baby Carstairs I bet I know a long time married, long time Carstairs loving couple, who would be happy to take the little guy in and have enough resources, experience, and love to give him a great life. Hey in the future Tessa says she has kept watch over three families: the Herondales, the Carstairs, and the Blackthorns. The Herondales and the Blackthorns are her and Will’s grandchildren. If she were watching the Carstairs because they were once her friends wouldn’t she also watch out for the Fairchilds and Lightwoods?

Blackthorn Babies with Mundane and Shadowhunter mommies and daddies

  (Okay this is one will involve some hopping around and several references to the family tree, so stay with me people, stay with me.) We aleady know Jem made some changes to this line. Lucie is not 12, she is 16. Tatiana is probably not going to live another 15 years. Also the tree said that Jesse dies 59, yet he actually died at 17. But future wife Lucie wants to resurrect him... which is highly illegal and should she be successful she will probably face terrible repercussions. Jesse also might not be able to live as a shadowhunter after being brought back. So even if we don’t want it, for the sake of this theory lets assume that upon Jesse’s resurrection both he and Lucie are banished and become a mundane pianist and writer. Let’s assume they also get married and have children. In order for the TDA Blackthorns to be shadowhunters at least one of Jucie’s kids would have to become a shadowhunter and move to the shadow world. I feel like Luce and Jesse would be willing to let their kids go in that case. That was all Jesse wanted growing up and Lucie is Will’s daughter. The children would just need someone they could stay with.

  Now lets hop to the Lightwood family line. According to the tree Christopher and Grace get married (Grace is also listed as a Cartwright so was her adoption overturned and she rejoined her bio family?) and continue the Lightwood line down to TMI. Grace and Christopher are set up to bond  (over science) and many fans are willing to believe that they are an endgame ship. But fans are also doubting that they are the ancestors of the TMI lightwoods.  For one thing Christopher is heavily coded to be asexual; and Grace herself seems to have a very.... twisted and warped view of physical acts. So now lets say Grace is somehow saved from punishment over Jesse’s resurrection or because of her past trauma is given a lighter sentence. Lets say Gracetopher really do get married. if they got married they probably will apt out of having children; at least biological children.

   Christopher has a younger brother , Alexander Lightwood, who seems like a much more likely candidate to continue his family line. Alex has been noted to have those dark blue eyes that while once a Herondale trait later become a Lightwood trait. He shares a first name one of TMI’s most prominent characters, and that is just about the only way baby Alex could have relevance to the story given that he is way to young to help out in the war. If Alexander Lightwood the first is one who carried on the Lightwood line why are his descendants listed under his brother and sister in laws names?

   Well way back before the CC launched TLH I remember her posting a tweet that said Grace could become an ancestor of either the Herondale or the Blackthorn line. This upset a lot of people who thought that it meant that Grace may have a baby with either James or Jesse. (No, just NO!!!) But what if instead of Grace having a baby with Jesse, She and Christopher adopt one of Jesse and Lucie’s babies so that that baby could be raised as a shadowhunter? I could see Grace and Christopher doing do: they each love one of the respective parents and are set get to know the other. The only good thing about Tatiana adopting Grace was she got Jesse as a brother. Should she ever recover from having Tatiana as an adoptive mother I could see her becoming very critical of other adoptions and refusing to allow Jesse’s children to potentially end up like she did. I am in love with a head cannon I have that Christopher will become a science professor at the academy. If Lucie and Jesse have to leave the shadow world, and they have to give up their children then I want to imagine that child living in Malec’s future academy suit with Shadowhunter mommy and daddy Gracetopher while they secretly get gifts and send letters to their mundane mommy and daddy Juice. (It is the least CC can do for the pain reading about that potential exile would cause me.)

[kazoo5480]

Ruth woke up early and got herself ready. She also had her first treatment today, which should have been a little more terrifying to her, but she wasn’t. She had spent so many hours sitting with those undergoing their treatments, that she knew the drill, and laid out everything she might need once she got home within reach next to her bed.

Emma was making coffee, and already dressed. She had swapped her shifts around this week, thankful to M’s and the other waitress they had hired, and Zelena of course was understanding. She and David were joining their mom today, and her mom came out of her room as the thought crossed her mind.

“Hey Momma,” Emma said and placed a glass of juice on the table for her, and some buttered toast. Between David’s research and pamphlets, they were well-versed in making foods tolerable for their mom and what they could expect.

Dave had compiled a list of phone numbers on the fridge for everyone from Doctors to hotlines, and Ruth was adamant that they continue with their lives as normal as possible.

��Ruby had gone all out, Ruth had amassed a collection of scarves within days, all colors of the rainbow, and Ruby’s grandmother had knitted her some nice soft hats to keep her warm.

 The boys had taken over all lawn care and kept the house in tip-top shape, Regina brought freezer meals for at least a week, and a plethora of soups she could reheat at moment’s notice. Ruth smiled to herself, her tribe remained strong, and she would beat this. She was sure of it.

 Killian had hardly spent any time at all at his place once he returned from seeing Liam and Elsa off. He had been spending most nights at their house, and Ruth noticed his clothes mixed in Emma’s hamper more often than not, and the same with M’s in with Dave’s.

Ruth smiled at that, but she knew that they were there supporting her kids, and her and her kids were supporting each other, so brave and determined to help out.

Emma waited for her mom to finish, and Dave came down with M’s, and M kissed Ruth’s cheek as she headed off to work. The three of them got into the bus, and Emma headed towards the hospital, following her mom’s directions of where they should park and enter.

Emma and her mom held hands tightly as they walked in, and she eyed her brother as they sat in the uncomfortable orange chairs, while their mom checked in.

Dave put his arm around his sister and pulled her in kissing her hair. They had made sure everything was in place, and Emma seemed fidgety. She hadn’t been in the water in days, and he knew she was going to snap if she didn’t get a chance to get out, get away from this overwhelming situation.

Emma had been there every step of the way and only agreed to keep her job to ensure they had more than enough income in the bank in case they needed it.

Dave felt guilty at that, Emma was still a kid, about to enter her senior year and she was working her ass off to help them ensure everything remained normal.

At first, he bristled at Killian’s constant presence in her bed, at their kitchen table, until he realized M’s was there just as much, helping make dinners, cleaning, folding laundry alongside his mother. Killian and Emma making dinner in the kitchen, making sure to feed their mom healthy meals.

They were an unconventional family, but it was theirs, and until Ruth said no more to any of it, their tribe would continue taking care of them all.

Dave watched in trepidation as his mom came to sit next to them, Emma scooting over a chair so he could hold her with his good arm.

“It won’t be long” she sighed and patted both of her kids’ knees. A few moments later, a nurse who introduces herself as Mal led them back to a room and helped Ruth up onto the bed.

Emma and Dave took opposite chairs at the end, and Emma handed Dave a book from her bag, and pulled out a surfing magazine, occupying her mind while the nurse got things ready. Dave watched and looked over noticing Emma watching the nurse’s actions as well.

Emma was soaking it all in, every movement, and the way the nurse measured the medications, laying out instruments on the small tray, and the nurse smiled at them letting them know Dr. Whale would be in soon to see them.

A blonde man strolled in, and smiled at Ruth, holding her hand, and explained to them what was going to happen. Dave and Emma listened and nodded, and Dave balked when the blonde doctor leaned down kissing Ruth’s hair, whispering something in her ear that made her smile.

“Friend of yours?” he asked his mom confused, and a little taken aback at his informality.

Ruth nodded, “Vik was one of my interns, and has been here a long time now. He is a wonderful physician David, do not imply otherwise. He was simply offering me some support, as he was the first person I went to after my diagnosis. He is my friend, that is all” she said, and Dave nodded at his mom letting it go and feeling a little silly for questioning his mom.

Emma sat there watching as the nurse came in, and set the IV bag upon a pole, and offered her mom a warm blanket. Emma knew that the medication could cause her mom’s body temp to drop, and she also eyed the basin placed next to the bed in case her mom got physically sick during it.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes calling out to her dad, begging him to help her momma get through this.

The window was cracked and the sun shining in, and Emma felt a warm breeze blow in. She smiled, it may not be him, but she liked to think it was him responding to her request. Ruth smiled at her daughter, feeling the breeze blow in too.

“Sunshine, read to me, anything, an article, or from the book,” she asked smiling.

Emma nodded, and took the book from Dave, and began to read aloud. Her voice soothed Ruth as she felt the medication slide into her system, setting her veins alight in protest. She took a deep breath, and Dave slid his chair beside her grasping her free hand, and gently rubbed it.

Emma kept reading, she watched her mom every once in a while, and Dave keeping her mom content.

Ruth looked up at the ceiling, the burning had subsided. She felt tired, but nothing major. She was hopeful, maybe her treatments wouldn’t be as nearly as bad as she had prepared for.

The hair loss she could handle, Ruby and Granny had gotten her set for that, but maybe physically the treatments wouldn’t be so bad, maybe she could still work. She held onto this thought that maybe she would get to keep a piece of her normalcy.

She smiled when Dr. Whale came in and sat at the end of her bed. “How is it going so far?” he asked her and dragged another blanket over her feet, tucking it beneath them.

“Just fine so far Vic, burned a little at first but it subsided. Now I am just tired, but overall, not nearly as bad as I had prepared myself for” she said.

He nodded at her and looked at her kids. “How are you two holding up? Any questions I can answer for either of you?” he asked, acknowledging Dave and Emma both.

“When she gets home, what can we expect, will she be nauseous right away?” Dave asked.

Vic thought for a moment before he responded. “Each patient is different and I know that is such a general response to your question. But the therapy affects every individual differently. Some carry on normally, with mild fatigue, others are completely wiped out and in bed for days between treatments. But your mom is stronger than she looks” he said and eyed Emma.

“You remind me a lot of your mom Emma when I began my residency” he smiled at Emma, and she smiled back and looked at her mom who gave her a wide smile.

“That’s my sunshine right there Vic, and this one here, my protector” Ruth said cupping her son’s cheek.

Dave nodded, “so it’s a wait, and see?” he asked, and the doctor nodded at him.

“I am afraid so. But here, I thought you might like to have this, I don’t think they give this out, but Ruth is my friend and a mentor to me. So, in the event you need help, or she needs help, side effects, any time day or night, call me. That’s my home number. I live a few blocks from you guys, so I can be there in a few moments” he said, and Dave clutched it in his hand like a lifeline.

“Thank you, Dr. Whale,” Emma said, and the nurse came in, smiling at Dr. Whale and Ruth.

“Ready Ruthie?” She asked, and Emma watched her extract the IV and tape her mom’s hand. She handed Ruth some saltines, and a cup of water, and adjusted the bed to a sitting position. “Take your time, I will be back in about 15 minutes to check on you, and we can get you out of here,” she said patting Ruth’s hand.

“Thanks, Mal,” Ruth said to her friend, and Dave handed her the crackers. Emma glanced out the window wistfully, and Ruth had an idea.

“When we get home, I think you should head to the beach Sunshine,” she said. Emma’s eyes widened and she began shaking her head.

“No momma, I will be there. Dave and you need me around today, It’s ok I promise” she said.

Dave looked at his mom and nodded in agreement. “Em, you heard Mom. She feels ok, you can help me get her home in bed, and I am not going anywhere. We both think you need a break” he said gently.

Emma looked down, “I should be there,” she said sounding small.

“Honey don’t be silly. Dave will be with me, and you have been there, every single day, all the paperwork, you both have been here for me. Bless Killian and M’s for knowing how to cook because you two are hopeless” she teased them. Emma laughed, and so did Dave.

“I can cook” Dave protested, and smiled at his mom.

“You can grill honey, different thing. But seriously Sunshine, it would make me happy to see you go to the beach, get a break” she said encouragingly.

Emma looked at Dave and he nodded, “I want you to Em. I need you to, you need a break” he said.

Emma looked at him, “I could say the same for you Dad” she said teasingly, and he blushed nodding.

“I’ll take M’s on a date this week, don’t worry about me,” he said, and Emma nodded.

Mal appeared again, and took a look at Ruth, removing her heart monitor, and handed Dave the instructions for aftercare and helped Ruth to her feet, and Dave wrapped his arm around his mom’s waist and led her to a wheelchair that Emma stood behind, and they led them to the exit.

Emma ran to the bus, and pulled up, Dave assisting Ruth into the front seat. He rolled the window down for her and hopped in back, Emma pulling away from the curb and headed home.

Emma went in and popped into her mom’s room realizing her mom had prepped her entire room for herself. Emma swallowed thickly, her mom needed to control what she could, and Emma had to respect that. She held the door open as Dave led Ruth inside, and got her into her bed.

Emma watched from the doorway, and Ruth leaned over grabbing her water, and her book, and smiled at her. “Go on Sunshine, catch some waves,” she said winking at her.

Emma smiled and nodded, she walked to her and leaned down kissing her head. “I’ll be back in a bit,” she said and left a note on the fridge. Killian was working until 4, so in case he came by he would know where she was.

She headed up to change and grabbed her bag. Dave hugged her on her way out, “I’ll see you later princess” he said and nudged her out the door. Emma pulled up at the beach, and she immediately felt like a weight lifted off of her chest.

She grabbed her board and headed toward the water. She dropped her stuff in a pile and spotted Ruby and Graham in the water. She paddled out, and Ruby turned to her and shrieked.

“Ah! Em, how did she do?” Ruby asked clasping Emma’s hand, her hazel eyes on Emma’s green ones, searching her friend’s face.

Emma nodded, “Great, as expected. Even set her aftercare at home up before we left” Emma said and smiled a small smile. Ruby laughed, and nodded, knowing how independent Ruth was determined to be.

“They kicked you out huh?” Ruby teased, and Emma nodded.

“Where’s Jones?” Graham asked, and Emma told him he was at work. Rob paddled up, and Emma was surprised she didn’t see him.

“Ah, our Marvel has arrived. Get ready, a set is rolling in with your name on it” he said smiling and patted her shoulder. Emma nodded and paddled out, the sun beating down on her skin, and the saltwater splashing her face. She smiled, a wide, real smile and it felt fucking fantastic.

Emma watched it rolling in, a solid 5-footer, and she swung around, crouching on her board. She waited, eyeing it, and turned forward as she felt the familiar tilt, and she skated down the face, a perfect tube forming and she sailed into it, running her fingers along the wall of the green room, keeping her eye on the opening ahead.

She sailed out, and she could hardly hear the hollers and whistles as she skated into the shallows. Emma sat a moment, and looking up, saw the most perfect rainbow in the distance.

“Thanks, Daddy” she whispered and paddled back out.

By the time they all paddled in, collapsing on the sand, Emma was not surprised at all to see Killian walking down the pier towards them all. He sat behind her, pulling her into his chest, nuzzling into her hair. “You ok Swan?” he asked, and she nodded, leaning her head back on his shoulder, kissing his jaw.

“Let’s get you home, M’s making dinner, actually Ruth told me everyone is invited if you want,” he said aloud to everyone.

“Did you move in Jones?” Graham elbowed him, and he shook his head.

“Nah, just spending a lot of time there to help Dave and Em the next two weeks, in case Dave needs help moving or lifting Ruth. Wasn’t sure what to expect mate, but Ruth looked ok when I left to come here for Em. Resting on the porch swing with a book” he said.

Graham nodded and clapped him on the back. “We should take the girls out next weekend,” he said, and Killian nodded.

“Let me just clear it with Dave, make sure he doesn’t need Em, or a night off himself, maybe Rob and Gina can stay with her, give them both a night off,” he said.

Emma held her hand out to him and pulled him to his feet. He grabbed her board from her and led her toward the bus. Emma tossed his skateboard in the back with her board, and she waited for him to climb in heading to his apartment. He looked at her confused.

“Arent we heading home for dinner?” he asked her curiously.

Emma nodded, “Yeah, but I need you,” she said and he grinned, opening the door, and running to grab her bag.

He unlocked the door quickly and as soon as it closed behind him Emma was in his arms, her legs around his waist as he made his way toward his bedroom, bumping into boxes, and the wall. Emma was only in her bikini, and he pulled the strings at the back and sides as he held her in one arm, mouths latched together. He set her to her feet and she lifted ripped them off, laying back on his bed.

Killian shucked off his shorts, and tee, and was on top of her in a second. Emma was grabbing his hair, as he latched on to her nipple, kneading and tugging the opposite one. She was panting, and he slid down, trailing kisses and his fingertips toward her hips.

He bent down splaying her thighs wide, his thumbs parting her pink folds, and dove in. He hummed as he began lapping at her, tasting her sweetness, and saltwater washing down his throat. Emma’s hips bucked as he inserted a single digit, warming her up, and added a second when he felt her walls relax.

Emma was thrashing against the pillow, his mouth doing dangerous things to her clit, but it wasn’t enough. “Babe, I need you, I need more” she cried out desperately.

Killian stopped, and wiped his chin on her thigh, crawling up her body, placing soft kisses along her chest and neck. He licked into her mouth, Emma’s hands gripping his neck, pulling him closer to her.

“Em, I am right here love, just hang on,” Killian said unlinking her hands from his neck and dropping them on his pillow.

“What? I can’t touch you” Emma said, looking nervously at him like she might cry.

Killian shook his head, “Of course, love, but I can hardly move like this” he kissed her and leaned back on his heels, pulling Emma up onto his lap. “Come on love, let me love you” he whispered with a smirk.

Emma’s heart stuttered in her chest as he pulled her into his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. She rose above him and sank slowly. Killian’s hand gripped her hip, tilting her back and the other snaked up her back into her hair, curling against her scalp and holding her as he kissed her, tilting her head to kiss and nip at her neck.

Emma ground herself deeper onto him, feeling so full that was going to burst. She panted and moaned as she rocked up and down him, his hand tightening on her hip, and in her hair.

Killian felt like his eyes were going to roll out his head, Emma squeezed his cock with each shift, her cries turning him on so much that he was fighting the urge to blow right there. He released her hip and rubbed at her clit and was rewarded with a warm gush of heat inside of her. Emma moaned and tucked her face into his neck, her pants heavier and louder.

Emma felt her orgasm coming, and she wouldn’t be able to stop it. Killian hooked his arm over her shoulder cupping it, pulling himself as deeply as he could fit inside of her, and his rubbing and grinding into her set her off like a goddamn firework. She screamed his name and gripped onto him, her knuckles white, his groan in her ear loud, as she felt him pulse inside of her, the warm jets enhancing her aftershocks.

They stayed wrapped like that for moments, breathing hard, not wanting to release the other. He leaned back and tipped her chin up to gaze at her. “I love you, Swan, so much,” he said tipping his forehead against hers. Emma felt the dam break and tears ran down her cheeks, and he just held her, letting her release everything in the privacy of their bed.

When her tears had slowed, he lifted her gently off of him, laying her back, and used his tee shirt to wipe at her, and clean her off. He hovered above her, “are you alright?” he asked gently.

Emma nodded, and her eyes finally looked into his. “I just love you so much, I need you so much” she whispered, and Killian smiled.

“Well that’s a good thing, I need you too,” he said and kissed the tip of her nose. He looked at the clock, “We need to get you, home love.”

Emma got up and walked to his bathroom with her bag, and came out a moment later dressed in a sundress, and scooped her bikini up and into her bag. “You’re coming right?” she asked anxiously.

“Of course,” he said and grabbed a few changes of clothes throwing them to her to put in her bag, and grabbed his mail as they exited to the street. He drove them to her house, and Emma slid her board out of the bus leaning it against the garage.

M’s eyed them as they walked in, Emma heading to the porch to see her mom, and Killian stopped to ask M’s if she needed help with dinner. She laughed and nodded. “You two ok?” she asked him.

He nodded, “just needed a moment,” he said and winked at her, and she nodded. She got it, she and Dave went to her place when they needed a moment too, sometimes the house stifling with the situation, and it was their self-assigned job to be supportive and love them, be strong to support them.

“Hey, um Graham asked if you and Dave and Emma and I wanted to go on a date next weekend. I said I would clear it with Dave in case you guys needed a night out yourselves” Killian said shredding carrots for the salad.

M’s hummed to herself, “We have a date Friday, I work the morning shift and Dave works the afternoon shift Saturday so we would probably be spending the night at my place. But I will ask him about next weekend, I am sure Rob and Gina would be happy to hang here, or Will and Belle” she offered.

Killian nodded, “Swan and I got Friday covered, I work the morning, and she works the afternoon, so I will be here all night with Ruth. You two go, enjoy yourselves” he winked at her.

M’s flushed and kissed his cheek, “I used to think I was so lucky with Dave, that he finally noticed me ya know? I know Emma felt the same after pining away after you. But now I see it as a big picture kind of thing, we are all lucky, to love and be loved the way we do” she said.

Killian turned those words over in his head and nodded. “Aye, I am lucky every day that she chooses to have me,” he said quietly, and M’s rested her head on his shoulder as she stirred the pasta.

Dave was reading to their mom on the porch, Ruth bundled in a blanket, and watching her son read. Emma came out the front door and kissed her mom on the head, and then her brother, sitting in the wicker rocker. “Hey Momma, how do you feel?” she asked.

Ruth sipped her lemonade, “Just tired Sunshine. Did you have fun at the beach? Catch any good ones?” and Emma’s eyes lit up.

“I got a solid 5-footer, and when I came out, a perfect rainbow was above it. I think it was daddy” Emma said smiling.

Ruth smiled, “I bet you it was. I have been chirping in his ear all day, asking him to watch out for you at the beach,” she said, and Emma nodded.

Dave interjected, “I am going to see if dinner is coming soon. You hungry yet Ma?” he asked.

Ruth nodded; will you pull that squash soup out of the freezer for me babe? I think I will have that and some noodles, no sauce” she said, and David nodded heading through the door.

M’s called everyone to eat a few minutes later, Killian coming out to help lead Ruth inside while Emma gathered her book and blanket off the porch, setting it on her rocker in the living room. They all ate and Emma and Dave cleaned up, Killian helped Ruth to her room and went to sit on the porch.

Thinking about his mom, his brother, he wanted to call Liam, he would do that tomorrow and let him know how Ruth’s first round went. Dave came out, handing him a beer.

“You alright?” Killian asked and Dave nodded at him.

“Long day is all. How was Em?” he asked Killian and Killian nodded.

“Seemed like the break was good for her, Ruby, Graham, and Rob were there too, she wasn’t alone. But it looked like some weight lifted off of her” he said.

Dave nodded, “Thanks, for her, dinner, just being here,” he said quietly, and Killian squeezed his good shoulder.

“We are family mate, any way you cut it. I am honored to be here for your mum, for Em, you. So are M’s and everyone else. Your mom has seen each of us through good and bad, the least any of us could do is be here for her, repay her in any way we can” he said.

Dave sniffled, and Killian allowed him his privacy keeping his gaze straight ahead drinking his beer. “I asked my mum to keep an eye on her, between her and your Da, Ruth will be right as rain Nolan,” he said and clapped Dave on the knee, walking inside.

Emma was laying in bed when Killian came in shutting the door and locking it behind him. He kissed the top of her head as she flipped through the Syllabus her high school had mailed out and was looking over the dates, so he let her be, and climbed into the shower.

Emma bit her lip as she looked, she marked her classes and electives and folded them up to mail back tomorrow. She was nervous, with School starting in another month, she thought to her mom, and how this was going to affect her schoolwork.

She would have to tell her counselor soon, that way if she needed to leave, she could. Dave couldn’t do it all on his own, he had the police academy coming up, and it wasn’t fair to expect him to carry the load all alone. She would talk to her brother tomorrow. Killian came out of the bathroom, already dressed for bed. He climbed in beside her, and Emma rolled into his arms. He stroked her back and placed a kiss on her hair.

“I’m glad we got some alone time today” she murmured.

“Aye, I as well love,” he said and pulled her closer, letting her snuggle into his chest and she laid her hand over his stomach. He sent another round of prayers up to his mum, for Liam, for Ruth, and Emma and Dave. His last thought when he fell asleep was how good it felt to hold his love in his arms, to be her strength, and how grateful he was for her.

Ruth woke up the next morning, and after tossing and turning all night, a restless sleep, she readied herself for work. The chemo only made her sick once in the night, and she made sure to be quiet, as not to wake any of the kids. She showered, and combed her curls out, dressing in her favorite yellow scrubs, getting ready for work.

Dave was in the kitchen making some toast and tea for his mom, knowing she was hellbent on going to work her shift as normal. The only comfort he had was that If something happened, she would already be at the hospital.

Something irked him about Dr. Whale, his affection toward his mom, and hers for him. Their mom had never dated or even tried after she lost their dad, so he wondered if there was another secret she had been keeping, something private only for herself.

He wouldn’t fault his mom for trying to find love, someone to care for as she got older, and have a partner. No one would ever replace their dad, and he had to come to terms that his hunches might not be so far off that Dr. Whale and his mom held a more personal relationship than she let on. He shook the thought off as his mom came into the kitchen looking normal,  and ready for work.

“Good morning, did you sleep alright?” he asked her.

She nodded, “A little restless babe, but nothing I wasn’t anticipating. I have a short shift today, I should be home by 3,” she said taking the toast to the table, sipping at her tea.

Dave nodded, “Any dinner requests?” he asked.

She shook her head, “I’ll be fine with anything. Do you work today?” and he nodded.

“I have a 10 am shift, I should be home by 5, Killian has the same shift, so I am just going to ride with him,” he said.

Ruth nodded, “Emma?” she asked.

Dave shrugged, “I think she works the afternoon and night tonight. But M’s had the morning, and Ruby mentioned she would be by this afternoon at some point. Hunt is coming to cut the grass today at some point, not sure when” he said.

Emma walked into the kitchen at that point, Killian was still fast asleep. “Morning guys,” she said and looked at her mom. “You look, good Momma, sleep ok? She asked her, and her mom nodded.

“Do we have stamps Emma asked them” as she searched the kitchen drawers. Ruth got up and pulled one out of an envelope.

“What do we have to get for school Sunshine?” she asked. Emma shrugged, “I don’t know yet, but probably stuff I already have. I have to mail in my schedule preferences today, but I am going to contact my counselor, let her know the situation here, so if I need to be somewhere, that my teachers are flexible” she said.

Ruth nodded and looked at Dave. “And the academy?” Ruth asked him.

“I don’t start until mid-September, it will be after your last cycle, so I should be good,” he said sipping his coffee.

Killian came in the kitchen bidding them all good morning, kissing Emma’s cheek and then Ruths. Emma handed him some coffee, “We should make a calendar” Emma said. “That way we know where everyone has to be and when.

Ruth smiled and nodded. “That’s a great idea sunshine, you guys can all add your work schedules on too, in case,” she said.

Killian grabbed Emma’s envelope, “I’ll drop this off for you when we get to work, there is a box outside he said, and Emma smiled and nodded at him.

“Alright kids, I am off to work. Wish me luck!” Ruth said and waved them off, grabbing her badge and keys, heading toward her car.

“Ride together?” Killian asked Dave and he nodded.

“I am going to jump in the shower,” he said and headed upstairs.

Emma looked at Killian and he caged her, arms on either side kissing her softly. “You ok? Ready for school to start?” and Emma shrugged.

“I wish that I was in your grade, that this was over ya know?” she said.

Killian nodded, “it goes by fast, and you will have Ruby and M’s with you. It won’t be so bad at all,” he said smiling at her.

“You’re not going to be around though, in the mornings, or at night,” she said sadly.

Killian rubbed his finger over the ring on her right hand, “I am always here” he said rubbing it. “A few hours apart is the same as work, and I will be here at night, for dinner, sometimes sleeping, but you have my place too Swan. Let’s just worry about now, your mum has 2 more rounds to get through, the rest will fall where it may” he said and tucked a curl behind her ear.

Emma smiled at him and nodded. “Ok, yah. You’re right. I am getting ahead of myself. Anyways, M’s and Dave have a date night Friday, so I am going to hang here. If you want to head out and have a guy’s night, or whatever that is ok with me. You don’t have to hang here” she said.

Killian balked at her, ���I am where you are Swan” he said and kissed her head. “But I am going to get ready for work and headed up the stairs.

Emma sighed, looking at the clock she realized her shift wasn’t until 3. She bounded up behind Killian and locked the door behind her.

“Swan?” Killian asked her, and she bit her lip walking towards him.

“I just wanted to make sure you had a good day is all,” she said smiling, and he grinned at her curiously. Emma toyed with the shorts he had just pulled on, unbuttoning them.

Killian eyed her, “Emma, now is hardly the…”

Emma sank to her knees, and pulled his pants down, pumping his cock. Killian was caught completely off guard by her, and the moment her mouth was surrounding him he sunk his fingers into her hair, grounding himself.

He wanted to groan loudly as she took him into her throat, quietly humming around him, he looked down at her and she looked up at him, her pink lips taking his cock in and out of her mouth, her warm tongue swirling around him.

“Fuck” he said as quietly as possible, and he felt Emma’s lips smirk around him. Her hand cupped his sac, and his hips jerked involuntarily. He was trying to keep her breathing steady, but Jesus christ she felt good.

Killian was lost in the sensation of her, he gripped her curls steadying her, and pumped himself in and out of her mouth faster, her jaw going slack around him, letting him take what he needed. He plunged in and out of her warm mouth at a punishing pace as she continued lightly cupping and rubbing his sac.

“Gods, Emma, I am going to cum” he growled and he stilled himself, Emma began slow sucks, and he erupted, shooting long ropes of cum down her throat. Emma took every drop, and licked him clean, tucking him back in his pants. She stood and began to button his pants, and he steadied himself by holding on to her hips in a daze.

He looked at her menacingly, and pulled her lips to his, kissing her deeply, tasting himself on her tongue. He placed his forehead against hers, “that was…”

“A way to ensure you had a good day,” she said sweetly and kissed him chastely heading toward the bathroom to brush her teeth.

He shook himself out of his daze and righted himself. Dave knocked on the door “Jones, let’s go” he hollered.

“Coming man, be right down,” he said. Walking up behind her, he kissed the side of Emma’s neck.

“You don’t play fair love” he murmured.

“Emma spit and turned to him. “I love you, have a good day,” she said and kissed him again, tasting of mint.

“I love you, more than anything,” he said, and she nodded.

“I’ll see you tonight babe” and shooed him away.

Killian bounded down the steps where Dave was waiting for him and pulled his keys out of his backpack as they headed to his car. He dropped Em’s envelope in the mailbox on their way in, and they jumped into their day.

Emma tidied up the house, made sure her mom’s room was clean, that dishes were clean, and looked at the clock. She had three hours to fit in, and she thought she could probably hit the beach for a little bit. She scribbled a note out and stuck it to the fridge, taking her uniform with her, and her hairbrush. She threw on her suit and headed to the beach.

She spotted Jefferson and Will laying on the sand, the water looked calm.

“Hey guys,” she said heading toward them.

“Hello Nolan,” Will said, and Jeff nodded in her direction. She noticed a bottle of blue juice next to Jeff, and Will and he both appeared to just be laying in the sun.

“What’s up? You guys just laying in the sun?” she asked with a smile.

“I was in the water, but nothing really rolled in, and ran into Jeff here, and decided to park it,” Will said.

“Jeff, you have any water?” Emma asked, and he held up a bottle in his other hand as an answer. Emma eyed Will and he grinned at her and held the bottle to her and she smiled shaking her head. “I work in three or I would say yes,” she said.

Will nodded, “I am going to throw a party next weekend, Belle’s birthday,” he said smiling.

Emma smiled and nodded. She wasn’t sure if they could risk leaving their mom like that, all night and it wouldn’t be fair to Dave at all. Maybe Dr. Whale would come to sit with her, she thought. She had been thinking a lot about the blonde doctor.

She spread her towel out and will slather her back in sunscreen for her, and she laid looking at a magazine. The guys were completely content being quiet, so she thought to the man who she thinks perhaps might have a thing for her mom. Her mom was a gorgeous woman, she had been alone almost 12 years now, and it would be wholly unfair to expect her to live the remainder of her days alone.

While Dave may not like it, Emma understood it. She thought she should maybe broach the subject with her mom, but decided she would make a family decision and call the man, ask him to come to stay with Ruth for the evening.

They had a couch he could crash on, and her mom would actually enjoy the company if he was free. If he wasn’t, she would let Dave head to the party and stay in with her mom, pamper her a little, watch a movie or something. But Emma just had a feeling that a not-date with the doctor might cheer her mom up. She knew better than to tell Dave this plan, but she would call him so he had notice, and surprise her mom.

Emma flipped, letting the sun beat down on her face, the sun warming her bones. She smiled, and Will noticed.

“Oi little Nolan, whatchu grinning about?” He asked and she rolled to her side and shook her head.

“Nothing, just happy for the peace ya know?” and Will nodded looking at the water.

“Well Alice, I can tell you much peace may be found when you tumble down the rabbit hole” and winked at her. Emma laughed shaking her head.

“You are watching him, right?” and Will nodded at her. “You guys wanna go take a swim?” She asked. Will and Emma each grabbed one of Jeffs’s hands pulling him to his feet. Emma slathered sunscreen on his back and face, as he giggled.

They led him to the cooler water, and he exhaled a sigh of euphoria, floating on his back. Emma and will shared a look and cackled. The three of them laid there floating for a while, and Emma gave Will some ideas for gifts for Belle, and he asked about school. It felt nice to just have a normal day.

She guessed an hour had passed, and helped Will drag jeff back to the towels, and gave him some more water. She combed her curls out so they would dry normal enough to pull back for work. She checked her watch and realized she would be late if she didn’t take off then, so she said goodbye rushing to the bus.

She changed quickly inside it and headed toward Rae’s and walked in surprised to see Killian at the counter.

“Hey Babe,” she said and kissed his cheek, and she ran to clock in, and throw her skates on. When she came out, Killian was still sitting there and was looking at her curiously.

“Did you enjoy the beach?” He asked her, and she smiled nodding.

She rolled her eyes. “I cleaned the house before I went Jones. But Jeff took acid, Will was there with him, we swam, floated, and now I am here” she said.

Killian laughed, nodding. “Sounds about right,” he said amused.

“Where does Jeff get his money from if he doesn’t work?” Emma asked him, and he shrugged.

“I am fairly certain his folks left him quite an inheritance when they passed, Liam would know, they are closer,” he said.

“Whatever. Why are you here?” she asked.

“I was waiting to see you,” he said smirking at her, and she heard “order up!” She grabbed it, and looked at it, handing it over to him.

He leaned over the counter to grab it and kissed her, “see you later” he said with a knowing smirk, and she shook her head smiling at him.

God he was so hot , she thought as she watched him stroll out. He always turned girls’ heads, and she felt like a lucky bitch that he was all hers. She looked to the lot which was empty and dialed the number she had scribbled down on her pad.

“Hello?”

“Dr. Whale? Hi, It is Emma Nolan” she said.

“Oh Emma, Hi. Is Ruthie ok?” he sounded concerned, Emma smirked.

“Yeah, I was actually calling for a favor. I was wondering if you weren’t working next Saturday would you mind staying with her for a few hours?” she said.

“I am not on call; I would be happy to. Does Ruth know you asked?” he asked her.

“No, not yet. But Dave and I both have something to do, and if you are busy or get a call in, just let us know. We thought since Mom enjoys your company so much, and you are a Doctor, that we would feel comfortable with asking you. She could probably use a friend, and you two seem like friends. I think she could use a night off from a revolving door of teenagers babysitting her, but we aren’t wholly comfortable leaving her alone” she said.

“Oh. Ok, yeah. Count me in. I would be glad to, I will bring dinner along for us” he said.

“Ok, well I am at work, so have a good day, I would say come by around 7,” she said, and he agreed. “Thanks, Doc,” she said and hung up smirking.

Emma just wanted to make her mom happy, and if having a friend to watch a movie or show with, who could help her if she got sick was with her, who she appeared to trust was there, that would be best Emma rationalized. Dave was going to hit the roof at first, but he would come around.

Emma felt like all three of them needed a break from each other and the house, and maybe Dr. Whale would take their mom out, a drive, fresh air, or something. Couldn’t hurt right? She thought. Seeing a car pull in, she skated out with her pad and started her shift.

Killian dropped Dave off at their house and headed to his apartment. He went to the phone, and called Liam first, dragging a chair over, and waited while it rang. Elsa picked up.

“Hello?” She asked.

“Hey Elsa, Killian,” he said.

“Oh, Killian Hi! Liam isn’t home yet, is everything going, ok?” she asked him.

Killian told her most of everything going on, so she could relay it all to Liam. They were not coming to visit for quite some time, but Killian promised that no matter what he would go to them, or host Christmas with them at his place.

Elsa was pleased. She asked after Ruth, Emma, and how David was healing up. He gave her the just of it all, and she said she would have Liam call him.

Hanging up, he eyes the unpacked boxes and decided now or never. Cutting the first one open, he quickly put all his books on the shelves that Liam gave him, and it took him only two hours to empty and break down all the boxes.

His kitchen was now furnished, and he headed down to the drugstore. He picked up toiletries for him and Emma, extra stuff they may need, and ran upstairs to put it all away in the bathroom.

He placed a few of the stolen photos of him and Emma in frames that were now displayed around the apartment, it felt a little homier. The tall money tree that Ruth gave him for luck sat in the corner, and he watered it, tilting the shades so that it got some sunshine.

He tidied his room up, did some laundry and it was only 7. Emma still had two hours before she was off, but he called over to the house to check on Ruth.

“Hello?”

“Ruth, it’s Killian. Just checking in. How are you doing, need anything before I head over in a bit?” He asked her.

“Nope. But you are amassing quite a bit of wardrobe here sir, you have to be running low on boxers” she laughed, and he heard Dave in the background. “David I see quite a bit of M’s underpants as well, so hush” she chastised, and Killian stifled his laughter.

“Alright, well I am just finishing the unpacking here, going to take everything down to the dumpster, so I will see you shortly, I think Em is off at 9,” he said.

“Why don’t I send her by your place? You can show her everything unpacked sweetie? I will come by this weekend perhaps and you can show me yourself” She said amused.

Killian blushed furiously. “Oh, Um ok. Yah, are you sure?” he asked.

“Absolutely Jones. Tell your brother to call soon, I miss him. Otherwise, I will see you tomorrow, and Emma later tonight” she said resolutely, and he agreed hanging up.

He shook his head laughing, Ruth really did know them way too well. But now he had two hours to plan a date, and he was taking advantage of that. He headed down to the truck and hit the market, and the flower shop. He was throwing together a pizza for them, and he arranged sunflowers in a vase Ruth had given them.

He showered and flicked on the small TV, and checked the TV guide, seeing what was playing. He flipped on a show and heard a knock sometime around 9:30. He opened the door and Emma stood there with a bag in her hand holding it out to him.

“Your underwear sir,” she said laughing.

“Hey,” he said and shut the door behind her. She smelled clean and he watched her take it all in unpacked.

“Wow,” she said and walked to the bookshelf spotting a photo of them, and smiled at him. “It looks great, homey,” she said and he nodded.

She spotted the sunflowers, “For me?” and he nodded.

“Your mum said she was sending you here” he laughed, and she smiled and nodded.

“She sent Dave to M’s as well. He huffed about it, but she said since I was right around the corner it was fine for a few hours” Emma said.

“Are you hungry? I made pizza” he asked her as he pulled it out of the oven.

She smiled and kissed him, “absolutely.”

Killian popped the radio on, filling the space with some music, and Emma told him about her little plan for the party at Wills, and Killian sensed she might be right that her mom could use some company that wasn’t her kid’s friends. He knew Emma was smart, and if she sensed this was the right move for her mom, then he supported her. He also knew Dave would blow a gasket.

After dinner, he showed Emma the bathroom. Her shampoo and conditioner in the stall, a razor, lotion she liked, her toothbrush, and a hairbrush. She smiled, her cheeks wide, and kissed him. “You always know just what to do, don’t you Jones?” she murmured.

��I never want you to doubt that you don’t have a place in my life,” he said confidently.

Emma nodded, and he placed a spare key into her palm. “In case I am not home yet, you can always be here. You might need it, studying, whatever. While I am at work or school, this is as much your space as mine Swan” he said.

Emma swallowed, not knowing what to say. She looked at the key in her hand and just nodded. “Thank you,” she said and hugged him. “I love you a whole lot, a dumb amount,” she said and kissed him.

He laughed against her lips and surprised her by scooping her up and heading toward his room. Emma didn’t make it home until after midnight.

@holdingoutforapiratehero  @hookedmom @xsajx @kymbersmith-90 @kmomof4 @katie-dub @ohmightydevviepuu @lassluna @pirateherokillian @teamhook @stahlop @elizabeethan @whimsicallyenchantedrose @resident-of-storybrooke @therooksshiningknight @jennjenn615 @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @killianswannn @stories-enchanted @eleveneitherway @girl-in-a-tiny-box @withheartfulloflove @kday426 @lyssapup27 @swanlovato @kaoslikesstuff @djlbg @kristi555 @laschatzi @xarandomdreamx @lkles08 @wyntereyez @bubblegum1425 @xhookswenchx @yasbio2015 @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @hollyethecurious @let-it-raines @jonesfandomfanatic @searchingwardrobes @dreamingdreamsalways @oncechicagolove @andiirivera @vvbooklady1256 @gingerchangeling @everything-person @klynn-stormz @qualitycoffeethings @vampcoffeegyrl23 @enchanted-swans @cassy1511 @ohmakemeahercules @donteattheappleshook @bluewildcatfanatic @the-darkdragonfly @demisexualemmaswan @lavenderbudd @grimmswan @spartanguard @flslp87 @ultraluckycatnd @sarahpaq08 @thisonesatellite @captainswan21 @zaharadessert @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @xouatxcs @kiwistreetswan @batana54 @nadine200179 @probalicious17 @courtorderedcake @julesep3026 @jackieorioncat @whatthehell102082 @xemmaloveskillianx @jarienn972 @sthonour @linda8084 @carpedzem @pirateprincesslena @daxx04 @winterbythesea @artistic-writer @scientificapricot @cocohook38 @wisfan3000 @chrisilybrooke @pcrcabcth @captainswan4life85 @molly958 @kingofmyheart14 @badwolfreturns @itsfridaysomewhere @mcakers @chamomileandmint @fallingforthecaptain @lovethelifeyoulive1106 @onceratheart18 @strangestarlighttree @omgmarvelous @justanother-unluckysoul @anothersworld @purplehawkcaptain @jennjenn615 @sailtoafarawayland @superchocovian​

[aliaslua]

Right to live

Chapter 02 of my on going series: In broad daylight

Chapter summary: Michelangelo has a productive therapy session after his interview. April and Casey announce their wedding and in a jealousy crisis, Donatello has his first one-night-stand. Warning: This chapter contain light smut (mature, not explicit) if you're a minor please DON'T INTERACT. TW: Trauma mention (nothing too graphic or descriptive, but it does contain a short account of a panic attack).

Michelangelo started therapy after his first panic attack.

It was - maybe - the worst night of his life. At that point in time he didn’t even knew what a trigger was - and even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to identify or anticipate his reaction. If felt like he was dying in a literal, visceral sense. It was like having a bomb growing inside his shell, the beating counting down to a heart attack, he felt his lips cold, his head heavy and the touch of Donatello’s hand in his shoulders felt cold against his skin for the first time in his life. He could still remembers his brothers calling to him and his inhuman effort to look them in the eyes, just as he gazed into the house he grew up in and didn’t recognize the color of the new floor tiles.

The rest was a blur.

Dr. Miller was April’s last effort to persuade Leo and Raph that Mikey needed professional counseling. At this point, Mikey didn't have enough will to have a strong opinion on his treatment, he didn't have the will to do anything, really. All his days were spent sleeping by day and having terrible night anxiety, followed by an earth-shattering cry until morning, when he went back to sleep.  Despite their best effort to care for and protect the younger sibling, all of his brothers knew that he had become impossible to handle - and more important than that, his emotional and physical dependency got so intense that it was perfectly clear that there was nothing they could do: Michelangelo need help, professional help.

On the first day they entered Dr. Miller’s office, April had reassured everybody she had send the therapist recent photos of Mikey and explained all his possible triggers in detail. The clinic would open two hours early so that they could have privacy and that this first encounter would include Mikey, his brothers and Sara Miller only.

Mikey was so nervous he felt like this situation alone would end up triggering his next attack: his hands were sweaty, his chest heavy and the feeling in his stomach made him realize that maybe he would throw up all those recent pizza slices. When the door to her office opened, he felt an immediate relief upon looking at her.

Sara (as he would start calling her later) was a 67 years old black woman, wearing a knitted cardigan and a puffy ponytail. She looked at him with eyes free from any king of judgment: any kind of feeling at all, actually, it was very… neutral. After gazing at him and his brothers she had smiled lightly and then calmly said:

"Good morning. I am Dr. Miller. Are you Michelangelo?" Mikey just nodded " Welcome. Please, come in.”

So he did, on that Monday morning and all the next yet to come, for two years straight.

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

“Did you see the interview?” Mikey asked just as he entered her office, not even worrying about greeting Sara.

“Yes I did.” She answered with the same peaceful deep voice, unbothered by the absence of a greet “You looked very handsome.”

“I sure did!” The mutant turtle seated at the large red sofa, his body melting in the comfortable cushions, he grabbed one of the small pillows behind him and held it tight against his chest “Ugh! It was so fun!”

Sara smiled. She always gave him a kind of smile that made Mikey feel like she was the perfect embodiment of a fairytale grandma and for the first time, Michelangelo actually considered she might actually be someone else’s grandmother.

“I am glad to hear that. Did you do the exercises he practiced?”

Mikey hummed “It helped. But what really made all difference was that Leo was there. And April. Oh, April is getting married!” He announced “She and Casey told us about the engagement just after we all saw the interview air. It was a great night.” He stopped for a minute and laid his head against the couch, focusing on the abstract painting that always caught his attention since the first day he sat there, he knew his voice let out a sadness he was trying to hide. He didn’t need to pretend there.

“It was… Weird, I guess… Like, I should be happy for them, right? Casey is a nice man, he treats her right, they already have a life together, an apartment with a huge TV and an aquarium… I can’t argue with that, right? Right?” Sara didn’t answer, Michelangelo laid his head completely on the couch, staring at the sealing “She was my first love…. Or something like it. I feel so attached to her and…” He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, trying to measure all the feelings filling his chest “...I think I… Should I feel happy for her? Because I felt… Huh, I felt betrayed.”

“Do you feel resentment?” Dr. Miller finally asked, gazing calmly at him.

“Yeah, I guess… I didn’t know what I expected... and I don’t want to marry April. Not anymore, I mean. She is like a sister to me. No! It’s more than that… She’s like… I- It just.. it was all so fast! Everything is so fast right now, and she decided to announce just as the interview ended and I felt so… I felt so overshadowed!”

“You felt it was your night.”

“It WAS my night. And I don’t mean to sound selfish, you know? I just… Wished they had waited.”

Sara looked at her patient making a conscious effort to avoid giving away her own feelings, the enormous man in front her had a gloomy expression and tired eyes.

“Mikey, is not the first time you mention feeling like this.”

“Like what?”

“ Overshadowed .” She quoted him.

“Yeah… I guess it's something I’ve been feeling for a while.”

“You mentioned once that you felt… Smushed, is the word you used.”

“Yeah. Smushed between my brothers.”

“Hmm” Sara nodded “What about that?”

“Well, you know about that… They are all special in their own way. Leo is the leader, Raph is the muscle, Donnie is the genius, I am the… Comic relief?”

“You sound like you are all characters of a cartoon.”

“We look like it!” Mikey said, humorous. Sara did her best  to contain a tiny smile that formed in her cheeks.

“Well, you are your own person, Mikey. You don’t have to fulfill an imaginary role you fantasized for yourself.”

“Yeah I feel like you’re always telling me that.” He sighed “What this has to do with April?”

“You were telling me about her engagement…”

“Yeah. It was crazy… I mean, me, Leo and Raph kept it together but Donnie just… Bolted.” A nervous laugh escaped him “She told the news and he just… Left. I guess it was too much for him. You know, April was the only person we knew for so long… It was only natural to fall for her, right? She’s so nice, kind, and after the expected first meeting shock she treated us with… Dignity is the world Master Splinter likes to use... But then we all grew out of it.”

A long silence followed before he complemented:

“I guess Donnie didn’t”

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

Donatello felt his feet too tight against the leather shoe and considered for the third time on that evening that maybe this was a terrible idea.

Ignoring his own better judgement, he knocked.

Alicia Ellis awakened in him two utterly contradictory and madding feelings: disgust and lust.

Many times he had tried - and succeeded- at disguising the amount of attention he paid to her body, especially since the context they first met didn’t allowed for flirtatious endeavors and despite knowing his physical body was searching it’s hormonal peak, Donatello proud himself on being utterly respectful: an effort that he felt he was making alone. Ellis never even tried to hide her indiscreet wants, playing with their encounters just enough to not be considered harassment, but clear enough to not allow ambiguity. Was that even possible? Donnie asked himself. Did it even matter now?

He felt disgusted mostly towards himself, actually, knowing full well why he had come to her apartment after that eventful night, just as the women he thought he could win over announced her engagement to the man he honestly felt he could one day surpass - pathetic, he beat himself again, cringing at the mere fact he once imagined a possible future for them, together. What a pathetic, emotional, delusional monster you are, dreaming about the pretty girl that once held your hand… And now you surrender to your most selfish desire, luring this woman who will be stupid enough to let you in.

This is going to ruin you. Was the last thing he thought before she opened the door.

She was astonishingly beautiful, with her thick luxurious wavy hair and round plump figure, pressed against a tight outfit he didn’t have enough interest to notice in detail.

“Took you long enough.” She said in a malicious tone, grabbing him by his belt. The apartment was warm, had a delicious floral smell and it was lit in subtle yellow light that mimicked candles. It was sexy, inviting and terribly scary, just like her.

This is going to ruin me . The feeling echoed towards Donnie as he willfully closed the door behind him.

It wasn’t hard for him to understand why a woman like her would take interest in being with a man like him, the internet had allowed Donnie to have a very indiscreet access to the human world - especially since people seemed really comfortable in sharing online things they wouldn’t even tell a best friend - and he knew way before they even came out to the surface that most probably wouldn’t be difficult to find someone willing to share a bed with him. Alicia was just a part of a very niche - yet not so small as one may think - group.

The thought brought him a small relief and a strike of courage that he much needed at that moment.

“I didn’t think you would come.” She said, bringing two glasses of a clear-yellow liquid. What an inappropriate move to bring a glass of white wine to a young adult not-yet-of-age , his better judgment told him as he accepted the glass, but wasn’t he 21 yet? Yes, he was... Maybe it was just judgment.

“Me neither” He answered after a sigh, too honest for his own sake.

“What changed your mind?” She mischievously asked, crossing her legs in an angle that brushed against his knee.

Donatello considered for a minute to said the truth, my heart was broken and honestly I really want to have sex, how would she respond to that? Was there a polite way of saying it? Instead, he said: “I’ve decided to change my approach on things.”

“Oh, really?” She smiled honestly “...And how’s that gonna happen?”

I will take every opportunity that life gives me, irrespective of its consequences, “I’ll stop sabotaging my wants…” He turned his body a little bit in her direction, he had planned a second sentence to follow but it seemed like he had already said all she needed to hear.

She slid her knee between his legs to climb his lap, brushing the space between the buttons of his shirt lightly. How quickly she hopped on top of him and how quickly his body responded to the feel of her warm perfumed breath against his neck. “That’s great to hear.”

It wasn’t Donatello’s first kiss but the tension of feeling the soft lips of a woman he barely knew nothing about added to the oh-so-suggestive friction of her thighs against  his zipper made it an entirely new experience. If he granted himself a moment of reason, Donnie would most likely find her too hurried and eager - but again, what was his experience in this field? Wasn’t this how the encounter should go? What else was he expecting? Independent of what his reason may have considered, the friction of her palms against the now prominent bulge in his pants added to the delicious sounds coming from her throat made every single indecision go away.

He felt his head light and dizzy as their tongues danced against each other and the urge to feel relief made him bold. She answered the squeeze he gave her bottom with an audible moan that gave Donatello’s stomach a cold wave of shock along with the first visible stain in between his paints. She felt the thickness of his fluid against the fabric and smiled against his lips.

“Such a passionate… response.” She said in what sounded like a performative tone - well, she was a journalist.

He took her incentive and slide her tube dress above her ass, stoking it as he lowered his lips to her neck. Her skin was soft and the way it reacted to his mouth - the small flinches of her body and the building pressure between his legs could only compare to the amazing feeling of her silk soft thigh skin. She used her hands to guide his head further down, lowering the piece of garment herself, he instinctively took one of her nipples in his mouth, enjoying the contrast between the soft skin of her breasts and the beaded texture of her nipples.

When Alicia laid her body against him on the couch, he followed her moves and felt the soft pillow against his head, the discreet but unmistakable sound of his zipper being opened followed by her stocked gasp at his member followed by “Oh I’m gonna have fun tonight!”. Donatello held her waist closer to his own, trying to reach her lips again, wondering if he could say the same. The warmth between her legs and the delicious feeling that jolted through his body and she aligned him to her entry - and the irresistible pleasure of feeling his tip tease her plump lips - made him think that the most likely answer was yes .

...And what an unnecessary concern the wine proved to be: he didn’t even get to drink it.

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

“...you know, Raph made a friend.” Mikey had stood on his feet and now looked through the squared window. He had a regular habit of standing up during the sessions, usually as they were reaching the middle of the appointment. Sara it wrote down anyway, before adding:

“Really?”

Mikey hummed “...It’s a complicated story - but he left to buy a bear, this old man didn’t want to sell it to him, so he got really angry, so someone threatened to call the police, so he started to freak out and then this… girl appeared!”  He was switching his body height between his legs “Clara. What a name! Heh- I don’t get to say that, huh? Well, her name was Clara and he said she looked like an anime version of a character from Fresh prince of bel air … Can you imagine?” He turned to look at her. Sara just nodded.

“Wanna hear some really crazy stuff? Raph told me that they were talking and she told him she saw my interview… and she said she was in love with me!” He offered his therapist an incredulous happy smile “ME! Can you believe it?”

Sara hummed and made another note.

“I know she was kidding, I don’t think she loves me. But saying it like this sounds like… Like I am a celebrity! Like she would like to know me… Like…”

“Like you have been seen.”

“HELL YEAH!” He exclaimed, sitting down on the couch again grabbing his trust-worthy pillow “... And that sucker didn’t even got her number…” A deep sigh followed silence. Very discreetly, Dr. Miller checked her watch.

“It doesn’t matter, really, it just made me realize… That I wished I had someone…”

More silence.

“-I know I already have someone, if that's what you’re gonna say… I know my brothers are my care net and that I have friends and confidants, and bla bla bla”.

“Well I wasn’t going to…” She said peacefully.

“ I want… A lover . Someone to be my special one. Someone to cherish and spoil and share my life with! Someone who can say they’re in love with me… For real.”

More deep silence.

“... And why don’t you?” She finally prompted. Michelangelo turned to look at her with a impatient expression:

“Are you kiddin’ me?”

“I am definitely not.”

“You can’t be that cynical!”

“I am not.”

“Sara…” He sighed uneasily “... not this again.” she heard pain in his words.

“You have the right to live, Mikey.” She gazed at him with the same kind eyes, letting her strong words get to him “...Just like anyone else.”

This time, that was an anxious silence. Michelangelo rubbed his hands together as if he was facing a cold storm “What if it happens again?”

“Then you will do what we practiced.” She waited for an answer that didn’t come “... Do you wanna remember it once again with me?”

He simply nodded.

“I am more…” She started.

“...than people perceive me.”

“I’ve the right…”

“...to occupy space.”

“No one…”

“No one can deny me my right to live.”

“That was great, Mikey.” Dr. Miller said kindly.

He squeezed the tears away from his eyes, not even realizing they were there. “...Yeah… Yeah, it was.”

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

It was certainly.... Memorable , Donatello thought, staring at his brand new shoes as they made the path back to the lair. How was it again that he found himself in that situation? That sad looking, empty feeling, walk-of-shame. Oh, yeah, Alicia Ellis.

Something felt terrible wrong about that whole endeavor. He tried to think about the details, to analyze the facts: it has been clearly consensual, sober, communicative sex. So why did he feel like some part of him had been left behind in that apartment? Was it his clear shyness when they finally consumed the act or her generous overlook at his even clearer lack of experience? Had him fail his mission? Factually not! He performed… Fine - it was hard to measure, but she seemed pleased enough. He was also pleased… Physically, at least.

So why did he feel so… Empty?

He walked among the streets of New York without the concern his older brother seemed to carry. Donatello was always really good at not carrying - just as he was good at carrying too much . Oh, yes, his overthinking nature was still going to kill him, no matter how hard he tried to pretend like it didn’t matter at all.

Nothing mattered, everything mattered. What a contradictory and childish state of mind. Could he ever find balance? Would he ever be able to take risks and still be prudent? To be disappointed and not lose all faith? To love deeply and move over from it, stronger and ready to love again? Did he ever truly love her ?

He remembered her ring shining against the light, mocking his defeat. A zirconium, Casey Jones…  Can’t even buy her a real diamond . He muttered to himself and the night, kicking a small rock in the path.

The worst part, the real strike of the devil - was the fact that she looked immensely happy. Heartbreakingly happy. And there was nothing, nothing in this world that Donnie could think that could justify taking this away from her - not even the fantasy that she could be happier.

He took a deep breath and grabbed the keys in his pocket. That was no way out of it: we would have to get over her. At least now he knew that running away to unknown women’s homes was not a viable solution.

[synchronick-archived]

self-para - “therapy session” | likes & comments welcome, but please don’t respond IC timeline: 20 years old trigger warnings: physical and emotional abuse, kidnapping, rape

          “Just start from the beginning, and take as much time as you need. This is a safe space.” The therapist spoke in a calm, level voice. She stared at TAOJIN across from the coffee table of her office, poised and ready to listen.

          TAOJIN hesitated, not really sure where to start. Finally, he took a deep breath and just... began.

          “It was at one of those group meetings. Um, like the emergency therapy groups. The ones you don’t have to sign up ahead of time, you just show up, you know? Anyway, it was after one of those that we first met. He said he was there to support his sister who was part of the group. But... she never came over to find him. I didn’t learn until later that he didn’t even have a sister.

          “I think that’s what he would do. Like -- hang around places like that because he knew how vulnerable people there are. It was like -- well, like he was looking for someone like me, I guess. But he seemed really kind, and genuine. We started talking a lot and went out on some dates, and it was really nice and comfortable, I guess.

          “I was still living with my mom and dad at the time, ‘cos I’d just gotten out of the last of my treatment after the accident, right, and it was really hard. I wanted to get out, and... well, he offered to let me move in with him. I felt bad at first because I knew I couldn’t pay rent, and I wouldn’t really be contributing anything, but he kept insisting so... I did.”

         There was a pause, another hesitation as TAOJIN tried to decide if he really was ready to say what he was about to. This all felt so.. fresh. He still had some of the bruises on his ribs.

          “I don’t remember how things started getting scary. One day they just... were. I mean, I’m sure it had to have started with little things, right? That’s how it always starts in movies. But I don’t remember any of that. I just knew that all of a sudden everything was happening.

          “We started getting into a lot of fights, and he would get so angry that he’d hit me. I knew I shouldn’t be making him so upset. Like -- my job as his boyfriend is to make him happy, especially after everything he’s doing for me. So a lot of the time, it was almost like -- like I felt like I deserved it, I guess. If I wasn’t such a problem, then it wouldn’t he happening, you know?

          “I remember he kept thinking I was cheating, no matter what I said or did to prove otherwise. Um.. then I remember the lock on the apartment door. He installed it, like a deadbolt that needed a key to open on both sides. He said it was so he would feel better, like he knew I was safe and at home while he was out. I didn’t... I didn’t fight it.

          “So for a long time, I was only allowed to go out when I was with him. Most days I would spend all day inside just waiting for him to get home. I remember I would dread it. He would come home, and a lot of the time he was in a bad mood from work or something, and he would yell or hit me, or do whatever he wanted. Um.. he would touch me, and do things that I didn’t really like. One time I told him to stop, and we fought really bad that day, and it ended up happening anyway. I found if I pretended I was having a good time it would make it end faster, so that’s what I usually did.” He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable, before continuing on.

          “Um.. so, I was only allowed to talk to my family every once in a while. It was on his phone, and he’d always have it on speaker so he could hear what we were talking about. I guess my mom started getting worried or something, I dunno, because one day while he was at work my brother came to the apartment. He ended up breaking the lock on the door with some sort of tool, I guess, and he made me leave with him.

          “I never saw my boyfriend again after that. I think he came to my brother’s apartment a couple times, but I was always told to stay in my room. From what I heard, my brother kicked his ass pretty good. I dunno.. I miss him sometimes, though. It was nice to know that someone wanted me.”

          Silence hung in the air as TAOJIN finished his story. He looked over at the therapist, a sense of both closure and agitation overcoming him. He didn’t know what to say next.

[obscure-sentimentalist]

Prompt from @absentlyabbie, for the “lighthearted” prompt list: Old enough Boys, 18 (”Thank you for being in my life”)

[I’m just going to remind you, Abbie, that you originally threw the hurt in this one at me. But there’s at least still some comfort in here. <3]

Old enough ‘verse; direct continuation of this 

January 2013

“You know,” Tommy yawns, just as Connor is beginning to drift back off to sleep. “I think I dreamt about something like this, back then.”

The only response Connor is able to muster is an incoherent mumble that’s half-muffled by having his face smooshed into the recliner’s leather covering. Not for lack of trying for something clearer, but with his eyelids fluttering and much too heavy to hold open for any length of time, any sort of audible noise is an achievement.

Tommy lets out a little laugh at that, though it’s more sheepish than amused. “Never mind,” he says, prelude to the faint shuffling of couch cushions and blanket. “Kept you up long enough already.”

Connor isn’t so far gone that his bullshit sensors are in idle mode, and he makes that fact incredibly clear with a jab of his finger in the general direction of the couch. “Nuh-uh,” he snaps out around his own yawn as he separates cheek from chair with a delicacy and precision typically reserved for the OR. “You stop that.”

The demand is met with a moment of surprised silence, before it’s broken by a pillow whistling through the air and smacking Connor full in the face.

“It’s the couch thing, isn’t it?” Tommy asks wryly as Connor flails back into an upright position and tries to keep the recliner from tipping over. “Have you thought about getting a guest room at some point, so I’m not mistaken for a therapy patient with my usual overnight accommodations?”

Connor flips his brother off with one hand before lobbing the pillow none-too-gently back with the other. Tommy just catches it and casually tucks it back behind his head.

“It’s not ‘the couch thing’,” Connor asserts, running a hand through his mussed hair as he turns his full attention back to Tommy. “It’s the ‘my brother is an asshole who still changes the subject even when he actually wants to talk about his feelings’ thing.”

“Oh, right, that thing,” Tommy gasps in understanding, eagerly snapping his fingers and glancing over at Connor with wide eyes. “See, I’m only used to the first half of that in practice. You never want to talk about your feelings, or what’s up, doc.”

“Cute.”

“So I’ve been told.” Tommy offers up a cheeky grin at that comment.

It must be infectious, as Connor finds himself shaking his head as the corner of his mouth twitches. He allows himself a breath of a laugh, before sobering and trying again. “Really, though—what were you getting at, about dreaming something like this?”

Tommy goes quiet again at the rebound of his words and looks away from Connor, but the slight hunch of his shoulders is telling. The avoidance is not to ignore the question, but because Tommy isn’t ready to stare his brother in the face while unraveling another vulnerability.

“I just meant… this,” he says, settling back on the couch and flapping a hand in the air between the two of them. “The late-night talking. The witty repartee. The… the whole brothers thing, you know?”

Connor furrows his brow, not entirely certain of where this is going, but still hums in acknowledgement and encouragement for Tommy to continue. Whatever his twin is getting at, it’s entirely deserving of Connor’s full attention.

Still, Tommy must sense his confusion, as he glances back at Connor out of the corner of his eye and offers up a wobbly smile. “Sorry, that’s not the most coherent way of putting it, and kind of the middle of the story. Could backtrack a bit.” He puffs his cheeks and blows out an exaggerated breath as he gazes back up to the ceiling. “I told you, way back at the beginning, that I already knew I was a twin.”

It’s not a question, but Connor still casts his mind back nearly five years and south of the border, to a bar table and an identical face (half-concealed by a towel full of ice) on the opposite side of it. To the memory of jokes cracked about evil twins and concussions, before the gravity of the situation was taken into full account and… was not met with much surprise.

“Thomas” means “twin.” I’ve always found that kind of… morbid.

“I already knew,” Tommy repeats, interrupting his past self as the words echo in Connor’s mind. “For a long time, actually. But I didn’t always know.

“I was, oh,” Tommy lets out another deep sigh (if it wobbles a bit at the end, Connor doesn’t say anything) and sags deeper into the couch cushions, “five or six when I got bold enough to ask for a brother or sister. I mean, I had something close to it with Oliver, and it was still a few years before Thea came around, but I guess some other kid in class must have gotten a baby sibling and it got me thinking. So I, uh… I went to Mom.”

Connor’s breath catches quietly at the admission, both in surprise over the turn of events and the mention of Rebecca Merlyn. The few times Tommy has brought her up—both before and after the twins visited her grave—it’s always struck Connor how easily his brother drops any sort of possessive. Granted, mentions of Malcolm are given the same treatment (though much less respectfully), but it’s harder-hitting that Tommy doesn’t simply differentiate with a “my mom” when Rebecca hardly had and would never again have a chance to be their mom.

It’s the solid and calm knitting of Connor into the Merlyn family while he remains officially outside it and has another family that he still, complicatedly, thinks of as his own.

“She was… I mean, I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for her, getting pestered one day by her chatty, hyperactive kid about how much he wants a sibling of his own, and being hit head-on by the memory that there should be another little boy with his face.” Tommy pauses a moment to rub a hand over his face, before it lowers back to rest over his chest. “But she still told me everything, as best and kindly as she could for me to process it at that age. How I did have a brother, an identical twin, who grew with me before we were born and would have been just my age—an automatic best friend. And how, for one reason or another, he couldn’t stay with us or the world in general for very long at all.”

Connor tries his best to swallow the lump in his throat that slowly formed over the course of Tommy’s explanation, but his entire mouth feels dry. He can’t even fathom how he’d take it if he were in Tommy’s shoes even a few years ago, if he’d discovered that he had a blood sibling who’d passed before they’d had a chance to meet; knowing that Tommy had been given that heartbreak—as true as it was still presumed to be—at such a young age is a winding blow.

Tommy wrings his hands in the blanket, still staring up at the ceiling. “I think I understood in some abstract sense at that point—I knew I was supposed to have a brother and I was upset that I didn’t in the end, but there wasn’t really anything I could do about that. It was what it was.” He shrugs on that note and catches his bottom lip between his teeth in thought before quietly continuing, “So I didn’t actually process the enormity of the loss until just after Mom died and Dad left.”

“The nightmares,” Connor finally manages as his throat tightens even more, curling an arm around his abdomen as he shifts in the recliner. It almost physically hurts now, hearing his brother’s past pain unravel and knowing that part of it was due to the mix-up that landed Connor with the Rhodeses.

“More like the events that caused the nightmares, years later,” Tommy corrects, finally turning back to face Connor. “Just this big, empty house, and then me, this eight-year-old who doesn’t understand why everyone is gone.” He lets out a sigh, before shooting Connor a melancholy half-smile. “It figured that I tried to get through by reaching for the first person who left.”

And just like that, the penny drops.

“I dreamt up so many versions of an imaginary twin in those two years,” Tommy confirms before Connor can even attempt to say anything. “Can’t remember the specifics of any of them, but I get the impression that they were a bit less… stick-in-the-mud-y, to say the least.”

Connor doesn’t need his voice to greet that comment with a grumpy pout and withering glare, which only serves to delight Tommy.

He allows himself that moment of fun at Connor’s expense, before swallowing thickly and trying again. “Really, it didn’t even matter what they were like. All that did was that—at least in my head and my dreams, for just a little while—I had a brother to laugh and play and talk with, which meant I wasn’t alone.”

This time, when Tommy wipes a hand over his face, it’s accompanied by a small, smothered sniffle. Connor wouldn’t comment on it even if he could, given the haziness of his own vision.

The somber moment doesn’t last long, though, as Tommy whips the hand away from his face a moment later and claps, startling them both back to attention.

“And that concludes this year’s unpacking of emotional baggage,” he quips, though the amusement is noticeably forced. “That’s going to tide me over for a good long while, so I hope it’s satisfied any interest you may have had in dabbling in medical disciplines beyond your own.” Tommy rolls onto his side and tugs the blanket over his head before hitting the switch to the floor lamp again, plunging the living room back into darkness.

The abruptness of the dismissal leaves Connor gaping at the couch, but after a moment he lets out a lovingly exasperated sigh and pushes himself out of the recliner to stand. He should have expected that even though Tommy opened up after Connor’s nudging twice tonight, his brother is not content to let him take the win in full.

“Goodnight, asshole,” Connor tosses over his shoulder in a sleepy mumble as he makes his way down the hall to his room, intending to get at least a few hours of sleep in his own bed tonight. Comfy as that recliner might be short-term, he would prefer to avoid ending up at the chiropractor.

Connor has already crossed the threshold into his bedroom and out of hearing range by the time the couch cushions shuffle again and a hand nudges the blanket away a bit.

“Thank you for being in my life, Connie,” Tommy murmurs into the dark, as he at long last lets go of the chain of paper cut-out imaginary twins that carried him through a lonely childhood.

Not even the most carefully-crafted of the would-be brothers is worth trading the real one down the hall.

[the-homicidediaries]

Mary Bell

The Tyneside Strangler

TW: child death, sexual abuse, genital mutilation

•

•

•

•

•

Hello! So I’m back with another horrible story because people keep asking for them.

SO HERE WE GO

This is the story of Mary Bell, who is one of only a handful of the youngest murderers.. EVER.

Mary Bell was born to a 16 year old prostitute named Betty in Newcastle upon Tyne, England in May of 1957. (Yeah, this didn’t happen that long ago. Horrifying.)

Now, no one is entirely sure who Mary’s father is, but Betty made it very clear she wanted nothing to do with Mary from the very beginning, telling doctors, “Get that thing away from me.”

And the best thing the doctors could come up with was to continue to let Mary live with her mother.

Perfect. What could go wrong?

Well, a lot.

Things got way worse. Betty was away a lot in Glasgow for her “business trips”. When she wasn’t away, she subjected Mary to physical and mental abuse.

Betty’s sister testified that she once saw Betty try to give Mary away to a local woman who was unsuccessful in her adoption journey.

Betty’s sister also noted that Mary was very “accident prone”; i.e. “falling” down the stairs and “accidentally” overdosing sleeping pills.

After Mary’s “fall”, it was reported that Mary suffered horrible brain damage in her pre-frontal cortex, the part of the brain that deals with decision-making and voluntary movements.

(Richard Ramirez, John Wayne Gacy, Fred West, David Berkowitz, Ed Gein, Albert Fish, and several other serial killers also suffered brain injuries as they were growing up.)

(I want to mention here there is a bit of a debate amongst experts whether to Betty wanted to get rid of Mary because she wasn’t fit to be a mother OR Betty had Munchausen by Proxy, which should all know is my favorite mental illness. 😬

Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy (MSBP) is a mental health problem in which a caregiver makes up or causes an illness or injury in a person under his or her care, such as a child, an elderly adult, or a person who has a disability. The most famous case was Clauddinea “Dee Dee” Blancharde abusing her daughter Gypsy Rose Blancharde.)

Back to Mary.

According to family members, Betty began prostituting Mary out by the time she was four years old. (That’s hideous. That’s a year younger than Shiloh, my baby baby. I hope it isn’t true.)

I also read that by the time Mary was five, she had already had a brush with death, watching her five year old friend being run over and killed by a bus.

By the time Mary was ten, she was quiet, manipulative, and isolated herself from everyone.

In May 11, 1968, just weeks before her first murder, Mary was playing with a three year old neighbor when he was horribly injured from a fall at the top of an air raid shelter.

His parents deemed it an accident.

After this, though, a few of the neighborhood mothers came forward to the police and said Mary had tried to choke their young daughters. No charges were filed, however.

On May 25, 1968, one day before Mary Bell turned 11 years old, Mary strangled four year old Martin Brown in an abandoned house. Mary fled the scene and returned back to the body with her friend Norma Bell, (no relation), but found they had been beaten by two local boys who had been playing in the abandoned house and stumbled upon the body.

Police were baffled by what they saw. Besides a little blood and saliva on Martin’s face, there were no obvious signs of violence. There was, however, an empty bottle of painkillers on the floor near the body. This led police to believe Martin had swallowed the pain pills and his death was deemed an accident.

Mary might have gotten away with this had she not gone to Martin’s family’s house and asked his mother to see Martin. She explained to Mary that Martin was dead, and Mary said she knew, she wanted to see the dead body in the coffin.

Martin’s mother slammed the door in her face.

Shortly after, Mary and her friend Norma broke into a nursery school and vandalized it with notes taking responsibility for Martin Brown’s death and promising to kill again. Police assumed the notes were a morbid prank.

The nursery school installed an alarm system shortly after and Mary and Norma were caught at the scene of the crime but were later seen as loitering and let off the hook.

Just.. YA KNOW!? All the signs are pointing to this girl.

Mary even told her classmates she had murdered Martin Brown.

It’s aggravating as hell.

BUT I DIGRESS

On June 31, 1968, Mary Bell, now 11, strangled three year old Brian Howe to death in the same area where she strangled Martin Brown.

She later went back to the body and carved an ‘M’ onto Brian’s chest with a razor and mutilated his thighs and penis with a pair of scissors.

In a sickening twist, Mary and Norma offered to help Brian’s sister look for him when his family realized he was missing. Mary even pointed out the cinder blocks where his body was, but since Norma said it wouldn’t be there, Brian’s sister dismissed it and looked elsewhere.

Y’all. I cannot.

When the coroner’s report came back on Brian, police were shocked to find the ‘M’ carved onto his chest and the coroner reporting this death was most likely caused by a child due to the lack of force used during the attack.

MORTIFYING

Mary and Norma were not conspicuous at all; they were interviewed by the police and excited to learn new news pertaining to the case.

Mary was spotted lurking outside of Brian’s house the day of his burial. She was laughing and rubbing her hands together when she saw the coffin.

The police called Mary in to be interviewed a second time and Mary made up a story about an eight year old boy she had seen hit Brian, (police knew she and Norma had seen him the day he died), in the head and that he had a pair of broken scissors with him.

The 👏🏼 police 👏🏼 hadn’t 👏🏼 disclosed 👏🏼 anything 👏🏼 publicly 👏🏼 about 👏🏼 the 👏🏼 scissors. 👏🏼

This is where Mary done goofed. Only investigators and the murderer would have known about this clue.

Upon further questioning, Mary and Norma broke down and began blaming each other for the murders.

During the trial, which took place in December, the jury agreed that Mary had committed the murders.

Did she receive a murder charge, you may ask?

Absolutely not.

While the jury did find Mary Bell guilty, a manslaughter charge was given because Mary’s lawyer and the court psychiatrists argued Mary suffered from psychopathy, and the court agreed she was not fully responsible of her actions.

😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐😐

Norma Bell, however, was regarded as an unwilling accomplice and was acquitted.

Let’s look at the difference between manslaughter and murder charges and why this is so important.

man·slaugh·ter

/ˈmanˌslôdər/

noun

1. the crime of killing a human being without malice aforethought, or otherwise in circumstances not amounting to murder.

mur·der

/ˈmərdər/

noun

1. the unlawful premeditated killing of one human being by another.

I obviously haven’t gone to law school, but I would argue that the little neighbor boy’s “accidental fall” and the mothers coming forward about Mary choking their young daughters could be viewed as premeditated. She was trying to kill them, she just managed to kill two little boys instead.

Yes she had a brain injury, but giving her a manslaughter charge is offensive to me. Offensive for the families who lost their sons. If she has a brain injury and there were several cases documented where she was hurting other children, she should have been locked away forever. Just my opinion. I agree with medication and therapy, but anyone could relapse at any time and I don’t think that’s a risk anyone should take. Again, just my unprofessional as h*ck opinion.

(Ed Kemper went to a mental institute and tricked and lied his way into letting the psychiatrists let him leave after he had killed both of his grandparents at just 15 years old. They assumed he was rehabilitated; he just learned the right answers to their questions. He later killed eight more people, including his mother.

Just an example.)

(Another example, they medicated Richard Kuklinski after he was arrested and did not feel the need to release him even though he showed signs of improvement.)

Moving on.

The judge concluded that Mary was a dangerous person and a serious threat to other children. She was sentenced to be imprisoned “at Her Majesty’s pleasure,” a British term that basically means the powers that be would release her when they felt she had been properly rehabilitated.

Apparently, they were very impressed with Mary’s treatment and rehabilitation and felt like it was appropriate to let Mary Bell out in 1980, T W E L V E Y E A R S after Mary committed these murders.

She was put in very strict probation but was able to live amongst her community as a normal person.

The cherry on top?

Mary Bell was given a new identity to offer her a new chance at life and to be able to avoid the press.

She had to move several times because the press kept tracking her down, however.

Today, Mary Bell and her daughter are in protective custody at a secret address no one knows.

Norma Bell passed away in 1989.

Do I feel Mary Bell needs court ordered protection and should be able to hide her identity? No.

Do I think they released her far too early? Yes

Do I think Martin Brown and Brian Howe got justice? No.

Does this story anger me even though I’ve heard it and read about it fifteen million times? Yes.

Her mother should be responsible. She should be responsible instead of hiding. The victim’s families deserve better.

Below are pictures of Mary Bell aged 11, Martin Brown, Brian Howe, and Mary Bell aged 51.

[galemalio]

Dr. Flug Theory: Growing Up Neglected and Being the Scapegoat

Black Hat kept Flug after Flug crashed his plane into his house. But ever wonder why Flug chose to work under Black Hat?

Black Hat abuses Flug and constantly puts him under stress, fear and pressure. Yet Flug chose to work for him and chose to stay. 

Why?

If it’s true that Flug, 5.0.5. and Demencia have no shadows because they have sold their souls to BlackHat, what would Flug sell his soul for?

Warning: this is going to be a long post.

Growing Up Neglected

We first get a glimpse of this in “Villainous-Villain Orientation Guide: Mojo Jojo” where Flug gets emotionally affected by Mojo Jojo’s backstory. 

Mojo Jojo went on about how he was continuously overshadowed by his "sisters’" (Powerpuff Girls) physical power and how his "brilliant achievements went unnoticed".

Did Mojo Jojo’s story hit too close to home? 

The Family Picture

We can catch a glimpse of how Flug grew up on based further on one picture:

(screenshot from @gabygirl1243)

This picture is already evaluated by other Tumblr users such as gabygirl1243. In essence, I’ll just be summarizing what they have said, while adding my own thoughts to it. 

There are theories out there that Goldheart is Flug’s brother. 

When Goldheart first appeared, he was glowing yellow and wearing yellow. Therefore yellow might be his identifying character color. 

In the family picture, the woman in pink is the mom who’s intimate and shows affection to her yellow son while the man in gray can be the father standing proudly beside him. Their golden child.

Meanwhile, there’s Flug.  He wears blue, his identifying color that goes with his signature shirt. He keeps to himself, hands behind his back, with the way his mother’s back is facing him, there is distance between him and his family. 

If Mojo Jojo and Flug’s backstories are parallel, Flug is constantly overshadowed by Goldheart. Goldheart, a hero who can fly, glow and is seemingly powerful. He even got a heroic name to the play of words "heart of gold”.

Then there is Flug. No matter his brilliance, no matter his inventions, are constantly ignored in favor of his brother who has more impressive superpowers. Sure, Flug has a pilot’s license but Goldheart can fly! (Ouch.)

The family picture alone shows that Flug grew up with childhood neglect. 

The fact that the family picture is torn from the neck up is scary. Because Flug still kept it. To me, this might be a process of impersonalization to rid himself of sympathy and warmth to what was once his family. It’s beyond emotionally distancing himself to them. 

He’s emotionally cutting them off by tearing off their heads. So that when he would meet them again, they would mean nothing to him. He would never be under their “control” again (more on this later).

The Drive to Prove Himself

Growing up overshadowed, Flug is constantly filling the void of what he lacked.

Flug lacked recognition, validation and attention so he looks for it outside his family. One of the other pictures in Flug’s room is this:

Based by the body type, hands and signature color blue of the shirt, the person on the right is Flug being interviewed by an anchorwoman. Whatever the story behind this photo, it was important enough for Flug that he puts it on the wall.

Even Flug’s dream in “The Dreadful Dawn” is about earning a praise from BlackHat and is the thing he anticipates the most at the end of the episode.

If Flug stayed around the side of the good guys, he would never escape Goldheart’s shadow. 

Goldheart would always outshine Flug no matter how many doctorates he would get or inventions he would make. (Which is kinda bad when he’s already ignored in his family). So that might be one of his reasons for going to the other side (aside from science without ethics allows him to experiment on others).

Perhaps his desire to start on the other side started in his teenage years.

High School

It’s very concerning that Flug graduated from a High School of Evil:

His posture is timid, anxious and wimpy. He’s a dog with his tail between his legs. 

Edit: This is young Flug with poor self-esteem. As Good Therapy states, “When a parent is not emotionally attuned to a child, there is no mirror held up, no positive reflection being shared with the child. Developing a positive sense of self, then, becomes more challenging for the child. ” 

I doubt that his parents even let him learn how to fight to defend himself since he’s not his brother. 

And why does he has a recycle bin over his head? It’s like someone put it in there and he’s too scared to take it off or he doesn’t want anyone recognizing him. But why would he choose such a filthy bin to cover his head?

Does his parents even know he’s enrolled in a high school for villains? Or they don’t care where he studies?

Flug, however, has a deeper problem than childhood neglect.

The ScapeGoat and the Golden Child

Comparing Flug and Goldheart in the family picture, Flug can be seen as someone who is closed off while Goldheart has his hand out in a peace sign, a more friendly gesture. Flug is dressed neatly, while his brother has a not so properly tucked shirt and a crooked tie. Yet his parents dote over him. Goldheart, in their eyes, is the son that can do no wrong. 

Goldheart is the golden child both literally and figuratively.

Scapegoats have their major achievements are dismissed. Any time, money or effort spent on them is the bare minimum which might explain how Flug was able to go to the high school of evil. 

Even if their parents see themselves as good people, I don’t think they realize how bad they’ve been treating Flug because having a scapegoat lets them project all the faults into, allowing the parents to think themselves and their son as emotionally healthier and more stable than they actually are. 

Edit:  “Goldheart” in Flug’s dream doesn’t have a heart of gold.

With their parents assigning them to these roles, it pretty much affected the relationship between Flug and Goldheart.

In Flug's dream, Goldheart said, "Admit it, Flug. You're a failure. They should call you Dr. Failure. It doesn't matter what you try."

With these words in Flug’s subconscious, I don’t think Flug was imagining that this was what his family thinks of him. This is just me but it seems like Flug has been hearing this his whole life that it got inside his subconscious.

Their parents may have said those words to him in one form or another, in many ways while growing up. With Goldheart as the perfect child, Flug was the "not good enough”.

Some scapegoats can become high achievers to disprove their parents' claims and the emotional neglect motivates them to perfectionism in order to be worthy to others. Scapegoats can become rebels at the constant state of being looked down upon. Some would find the strength to distance themselves from their abusive family and their reality.

This is what Flug did. Unfortunately he did it by going to the other side.

GoldHeart

Golden children is just a different flavor of abuse. Driven by the constant expectations on them, they lose their sense of self. As Psychology Today states, "It’s a world governed by external achievements, how good you look to other people (including your mother), and not at all about your character, empathy, or inner self."

Which might explain why Goldheart in Flug's dream is a jerk.

Parents of scapegoats and golden children are often narcissistic, seeing the golden child as an extension of themselves and living through them while projecting all their ills to the scapegoats. Goldheart grew up with this.

When Goldheart says those words to Flug in his dream, Goldheart is only reaffirming Flug's role in the family because it's the only way he has a sense of identity: being perfect compared to him.

He knew, subconsciously or consciously, that their parents' love is conditional and that if he stops being perfect, he's going to get treated like Flug. Worse, he might be the new Flug. So he tramples on Flug just to stay in place.  

Why Black Hat?

But why Black Hat? Flug could’ve chosen any other villain that would’ve treated him better.

Black Hat is the baddest villain of them all and Flug is going to associate himself to the best of the best of the other side. (If you can’t be loved, why not be feared?) Black Hat recognizes his skill and uses it so. 

His boss’ attention is mostly negative and stressful, but at least there’s recognition and validation through sales and being left to live for another day. Flug is basically a person escaping his abusive family and entering another abusive relationship to find what he’s lacking and interpreting the new treatment of abuse as some form of “better”.

All of these, are just theories and character explorations. I can’t wait to watch the next 6 episodes of villainous to learn more :)

[sandershospitalau]

Familiar Faces

(Trigger Warnings- Remus, Deceit, Attempted suicide, gangs, mentions of death/kidnappings, flashbacks)

Archive Of Our Own

————————

“Don’t get me wrong, sir, I know I’m gonna need some help starting out,” Nurse Venzon stammered as they padded through the halls of Sanders Hospital beside Virgil. “I’m just surprised that the director of nursing decided to be the one to help me.”

“We need all the good nurses we can get,” Virgil huffed, shrugging. “Until we can get the politicians to cancel that stupid nursing education bill, good hires are gonna be rare. Sanders Hospital needs to make sure its new hires can actually do their jobs.”

“Oh,” Nurse Venzon said, pursing their lips and staring straight ahead. “Alrighty then.” The two nurses looked like pale, lanky, purple sticks as they walked down the halls.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Virgil sighed, a tiny smirk he was pretty sure counted as comforting twitching on the edge of his mouth. “Like you said, you’re just starting out. Someone’s gotta show you the ropes.”

“Right,” Nurse Venzon said, nodding. The pair of nurses hugged the wall as a bed whisked past them, surrounded by residents and attendings. Nurse Venzon’s saucer sized eyes followed the bed. Their head spun around trying to see the bed all the way down the hall. Virgil’s smirk grew. The untapped excitement of a nurse fresh out of nursing school was always a treat.

“So we’re almost to Ms. Sutherland’s room,” Virgil explained, glancing at the room number behind him. “As the newbie, you’ll be stuck with grunt work. That means lab results, samples, prostate examines- well, probably not the last one with Ms. Sutherland.” Nurse Venzon nodded along to everything Virgil said. “When the doctor’s in the room, they usually control the scene, but you’re the one who’ll be with her more. But you heard all this in your orientation, so I won’t get into more details.”

“Got it,” Nurse Venzon chirped, bouncing on their toes.

“So,” Virgil huffed, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “Tell me about our patient.”

“But don’t you already know about her?” Nurse Venzon asked.

“I know her,” Virgil muttered. “I want to know if you do. Talk to me like you’re the expert on her and I’m the newbie.”

“Ok,” Nurse Venzon huffed, shaking out their hands. “Our patient is Natasha Sutherland, female, she/her, age fifty-two. She’s been seen at Sanders numerous times over the last few years for treatment involving her chronic back and neck pain. The pain is linked back to damage gained during her service in Iraq. A lot of her forms had St. Gemma’s insignia on them, so I believe she used to get treatment there until the VA stopped helping her. Lately the pain’s increased to a point where her usual home therapy isn’t working, so she’s opting for a surgical solution.”

“Good job,” Virgil said, pushing himself off the wall. “Let’s go meet her.” Virgil had to admit, as he padded down the hall with Nurse Venzon, a new case was as good of a break as he could get from the Nurse’s Rally. He’d been running all over the hospital, getting signatures from nurses to participate in the rally. Even though Roman was helping head up public announcement of the protest, Virgil had been interviewed enough times to last for the rest of his life. And then there were the semi-decent politicians emailing Virgil constantly about their support or ‘respectful disagreements’ with the upcoming march. Being a public figure was exhausting. How did Roman do it?

“Then how else do you suggest I relax?” a voice that sounded similar to General Leia Organa muttered through a half open door.

“Watch TV?” another voice suggested. “Maybe Grey’s Anatomy?”

“I’m in the hospital and you want to watch Grey’s Anatomy,” the first voice scoffed. “Of course.” Virgil tried not to roll his eyes when he realized that was Ms. Sutherland’s room. He knocked on the door and pulled it open completely.

“Ms. Sutherland?” he called into the room. Ms. Sutherland’s room was one of the smaller ones in Sanders, but it was big enough for her bed, the two nurses, and the chair beside the bed where her guest sat. Ms. Sutherland had close cut, traditionally masculine, sandy hair mixed with spots of gray. Her muscled arms rested on her lap. Her face had enough sharp features to cut paper, with vibrant cheekbones, a sharp tipped nose, and small lips. If Virgil was asked to pick out who he thought was a soldier out of a crowd, he would pick this woman. The person in the chair beside her looked to be a few years older, with more gray in his long brown hair. His hair was pulled into a loose ponytail. It touched the collar of his dark blue sweater and made him look like a sailor. He had the same sharp nose as Ms. Sutherland, but with softer cheeks and a pair of circular glasses dangled precariously on the edge of his nose.

“Just call me Natasha,” Ms. Sutherland huffed, waving a hand dismissively. “There’s too many Ms. Sutherland’s in my family as it is.”

“Whatever you prefer,” Virgil sighed. “My name’s Nurse Lawson, and this is Nurse Venzon. You’ll be seeing a lot of us during your stay here.” Nurse Venzon waved to Natasha.

“Nurse Lawson,” the man in the chair mumbled. He glanced up at Virgil. His eyes scanned the nurse up and down. A smile formed on his lips.

“Uh…” Virgil said. “Yep. That’s my name.”

“Hank, the little games you play with people aren’t helpful now,” Natasha sighed. The man, Hank, pushed the chair back and stood up.

“Now isn’t life strange,” Hank chuckled. “You dyed your hair since we met. I’m guessing you don’t recognize me?”

“Uh, no, sorry,” Virgil said, shaking his head. Hank chuckled, picking at the sleeves of his sweater.

“Would this jog your memory?” he asked. His bulky fingers slipped his left sleeve up, wrist out to the nurses. Long pink scars trailed up his wrists. Some were poorly healed, picked and scabbed into permanent markings, while the longest of the bunch were fainter, the mark of a doctor’s help. “The doctors at St. Gemma’s did a good job.” The memories clicked into Virgil’s head in an instant.

————————

(Years prior...)

Virgil Lawson would never understand how anyone in their right mind could have hired Remus for their maintenance staff. The man could easily have been Oscar the Grouch's long lost brother. Who escaped from prison. And then burned down Sesame Street. With every day, Virgil became more and more certain that the big brass of St. Gemma's were utter idiots.

"I mean, isn't that sort of blood more sanitary than other blood?" Remus asked. He leaned against his janitor's cart as he walked alongside Virgil. His mop dragged behind him, leaving a long wet trail on the tiled floor. "Vampires should use that blood! It's perfect for the lesbian vampires, isn't it?"

"Ok, you need to stop," Virgil grunted. Remus simply laughed and stroked his greasy mustache. Virgil kept his hands in the pockets of his black scrubs. Why the scrubs for the psychiatric nurses were black, Virgil would never understand. It made him seem less like a helpful hand and more of a grim servant of death. Not that he didn't like black, it was easily one of his favorite colors, but who's heard of black scrubs? Even Remus had a better color scheme with his dark green janitor's jumpsuit and the blue flowery logo of St. Gemma's stitched onto the chest.

"I don't see why I should stop!" Remus snorted. "You're the one who brought up vampires! I'm just suggesting places to get blood!"

"I'm not using actual blood for my vampire costume," Virgil huffed. "Do you realize how unsanitary that would be?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Remus laughed. Virgil groaned softly. He'd walked into that one, yet again.

"Unless you want Nurse Patty to throw down on you, I suggest you head off," Virgil sighed, stopping beside the third-floor elevators. "I'm heading to the psychiatry department."

"What fun awaits you there?" Remus chirped. He stuffed his mop into the bucket of murky water attached to his cart.

"Jumper watch," Virgil muttered as the elevator beeped and the doors slid open. Virgil padded to the corner of the large elevator. Remus boarded alongside him.

"Oof," Remus groaned. He leaned both elbows against the rails lining the elevator. "Details?" Virgil's guts hurt as he gave into Remus's demands. This was the most fragile moment of someone's life, and he was sharing it like it was no big deal. But what could he do? Remus was unstoppable when he wanted something. It was better to give him what he wanted. It would save Virgil a world of trouble.

"Overdose," Virgil mumbled. "Plus wrist damage. His sister found him. He's physically stable, but not emotionally."

"So you're his babysitter for the night!" Remus chuckled. "Fun times all around! You might be able to catch a few ZZZs while you're there. Your eyes are particularly dark and stormy tonight." Remus leaned over and booped Virgil's nose.

"Yeah, you try explaining to three different families that their loved one's treatment isn't working," Virgil snapped, rubbing his nose. The elevator beeped, and the doors opened up. "Now go. Not to say seeing you get chewed out by Patty wouldn't make my day, but I'm too tired to deal with that crap. Go clean the pediatric waiting room, there's always some kid vomiting in there." Virgil shoved past Remus and left the elevator.

"Whatever you say, oh dear Anxiety!" Remus chirped. He gave Virgil a melodramatic bow as the elevator slid shut.

"Don't-" Virgil snapped, but the elevator was already closed. "Don't call me that." Virgil shivered as cold air brushed past him. He rubbed his pale arms, wishing he'd grabbed his hoodie before coming up. He stalked away from the elevators and into the guts of the St. Gemma's psych department.

Most of the psych department was devoted to therapy and medication. Offices dotted the off-tan walls between informational and inspirational posters. Each office was the shiny face of the emotional dumpster fires that lurked in the long-term patient rooms beyond. Most of the offices were dark now- after all, who would schedule a session for the middle of the night? Virgil continued on, blocking out the muffled shouting that he drew closer and closer towards.

A single window looked into each of the tan rooms. In this department, patients often lacked privacy privileges. Virgil kept his gaze forward as he repeated the room's number in his head. He tried not to flinch when he heard a muffled scream bounce through the walls and when his fellow psych nurses scurried past him. He was used to the panicked screams of patients with brain damage and deep, difficult mental illness. Why should he be as jumpy as a visitor? His shoulders tightened, and he continued on.

His patient's room was towards the end of the department, near the hallway window that led to the fire escape. Naturally, bars covered the window. Virgil tried to drop his shoulders and knocked on the door.

"Come in," a familiar voice inside said. Virgil gritted his teeth, frowning, and entered. Harsh yellow lights flickered around the room. Like most of the rooms in the psychiatry department, the tan walls and white tiled floors were mostly barren. There was a TV that stood higher than any person of normal height could reach, with a matted recliner in the corner. A small stand sat beside the bed pressed against the wall. Virgil's patient, Hank Dragon (Virgil thought they were pulling his leg when he read the name), laid in the white bed, IVs trailing to his arms. His hair was a sweaty brown mess streaked with gray that reached the base of his neck. His small eyes were focused on Virgil. Had he already come down off the high caused by his medication? Was he staring off into space where Virgil conveniently stood? When Virgil moved to the side of the room, Hank's eyes followed him. Alright, he was definitely looking at him. He was also glancing at the doctor who stood by his bedside.

The doctor's black hair was smoothed back against his head with hair gel. A few dots of black paint sprinkled his doctor's coat. A perfectly straight black bowtie sat under his neck against his yellow polo. Blue rubber gloves stretched over his thin, still hands (at least he wasn't wearing those dishwasher gloves of his or, God forbid, the bowler hat). Then again, perhaps the bowtie was meant to distract patients from the wrinkled, scarred skin trailing down the left side of the doctor's face. It snuck under his collar and snaked around his face, claiming his ear and turning strains of his black hair brown. A brown eye and a golden eye scanned the numbers appearing on Hank's main monitor.

"What's up, doc," Virgil scoffed, leaning against the door with crossed arms. Dr. D looked up.

"Ah, Nurse Lawson," Dr. D sighed. "You're here."

"I'm sorry, was I not wanted at this exact moment?" Virgil laughed, grinning.

"Mr. Dragon, this is Nurse Lawson," Dr. D explained. "He'll be keeping you company, now that he's finally decided to grace us with his presence." Dr. D padded around the bed and towards Virgil. Hank's eyes followed him across the room. Virgil kept his fists from clenching as the doctor approached. "I trust you've been filled in on Mr. Dragon's medical details."

"I wouldn't be doing my job if I wasn't," Virgil huffed.

"Regardless, if you need any refreshers, you've got his board," Dr. D sighed. The board he was referring to was on the wall to Virgil's left. It was a rectangular whiteboard with various columns of information. Patient name, medication schedules, admittance, and other info. Stuck in the corner of the board were the words 'Watch- Virgil Lawson', scribbled under the medication schedule. "Goodnight, Mr. Dragon. Virgil." Virgil scooted away as Dr. D opened the door. His coat flapped behind him as the door clicked closed.

“Hank Dragon,” Virgil gasped softly as Hank slipped his sleeve back over his scars.

“What are you doing, Hank?” Natasha huffed.

“Tasha, you’ve got a great nurse taking care of you,” Hank laughed. He strolled over to Virgil and slapped his shoulder. “I can’t believe it! Virgil Lawson, treating a Sutherland kid once again!”

“Oh, are you siblings?” Nurse Venzon piped in, their wide eyes bouncing between Hank and Virgil.

“My older brother changed his last name shortly after he moved away from home,” Natasha explained. “I would like some clarification, Hank. When did Nurse Lawson treat you?”

“Well, Natasha,” Virgil said, picking at the inside of his scrub pockets. “The night after your brother’s… his, uh-”

“Hank and I don’t mince words,” Natasha sighed. “You can say attempted suicide. Words only have power when you give them that power.”

“Well, when he went to St. Gemma’s, I was assigned to his case,” Virgil explained.

“Lawson here helped my feet find solid ground!” Hank laughed, shaking Virgil’s shoulder. “Spent the whole night in my room chatting with me.”

“I see,” Natasha said, eyebrows raised. “Your help was greatly appreciated, Nurse Lawson.”

“Sorry, Tasha, I can’t get over this,” Hank chuckled, shaking his head. “We need to catch up! You know, see how our lives have gone since then!”

“I’m sort of working right now,” Virgil said, pointing at Natasha.

“Right, right,” Hank laughed, letting go of Virgil. “You got a lunch break or something? We could have lunch, my treat! You like ramen?”

“How do you think I survived nursing school?” Virgil scoffed.

“I know this ramen place, it’s not that far from the hospital,” Hank said. “We can eat there! What do you say?”

“How about we check on your sister first?” Virgil said, pointing towards Natasha. “Nurse Venzon?”

“So Natasha,” Nurse Venzon chirped, squeezing past the two men, finally given a chance to do something. “Let’s get your information updated.” Nurse Venzon’s words left Virgil’s conscious train of thought as Hank settled back into his seat. He hadn’t thought of Hank Dragon in a long time. That offer of ramen sounded a bit too good to resist.

————————

"Someone needs to teach that man some bed-side manners," Hank muttered as Dr. D closed the door to his room. His half-focused eyes trailed onto Virgil, following his every move.

"That’s just how he is," Virgil huffed. He trudged across the room and sat on the arm of the matted recliner. Hank let out a soft bark of laughter.

"The man needs to find another job, then," he muttered.

“Do you want to find something on TV or keep insulting Dr. D?” Virgil grumbled, cocking his head towards the TV.

“Dr. D,” Hank mumbled, shaking his head. “Dr. D. Doesn’t he have a name?”

“Of course he has a name,” Virgil snapped.

“Then what is it?” Hank asked. Virgil grabbed the TV remote sitting on the nightstand and flicked on the TV. America’s Funniest Home Videos popped onto the screen without sound. “Turn it off. I wanna sleep.” Hank closed his eyes and rested his head so he faced away from Virgil.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Virgil huffed, stalking around the bed. He crouched to Hank’s level and shook his shoulder. “You still have a cocktail of drugs you need to work out of your system. No sleeping for you.”

“I woke up at four this morning,” Hank sighed, turning his head to the TV. “Can’t I take a five minute nap?”

“You could try,” Virgil scoffed. He settled back on the arm of the couch. “But then I’d have to break out the airhorn.”

“There are other patients on this floor,” Hank scoffed. “You won’t wake them up.” Dang it. Even with half-focused eyes, Hank saw right through Virgil. The nurse let his mind wander as the TV played clips of crying toddlers and old ladies slipping on front porches. He’d had his fair share of sleepless nights, but being stuck in this room watching Hank would be a bit more difficult. Perhaps Virgil could ask one of the nurses to bring him some coffee. If the other nurses didn’t fear him, maybe. Remus would probably bring him coffee. On the other hand, Remus in a room with a suicidal person was a recipe for disaster.

“Are there photos?” Hank asked, not looking at Virgil.

“Considering I’m not a mind reader, you’ll have to be more specific,” Virgil huffed.

“They take photos during surgery, don’t they?” Hank asked. “For records, or something? Can I see the photos from my surgery? I’d check the results myself, but…” Hank lifted his right arm barely an inch off the bed before it fell back down. Thick bandages wrapped around his wrist.

“That’s not happening,” Virgil grunted.

“Alright,” Hank sighed. Virgil bit his tongue as questions hopped around his head. Hank didn’t need any stupid questions. All he needed from Virgil was a watching eye to keep him safe.

“I do have another request though,” Hank said.

“If it’s something that involves me leaving the room, no,” Virgil muttered.

“The new episode of Grey’s Anatomy is on tonight,” Hank said. “I thought I wasn’t going to see another one. Considering I’m still kicking, might as well watch it.”

“Now that’s something I can do,” Virgil said. He flicked through the TV channels, news stations and cartoons and ads flashing by. He settled on ABC, which was in the middle of a Grey’s Anatomy trailer. Half an hour later, the show’s theme played through the room. In a few ways, this was a good improvement to Hank’s condition. He was looking forward to something, even though it was something so small. Like Virgil always reminded himself, tough love worked. Even if it hurt.

“No way,” Remy gasped, pulling off his sunglasses for dramatic effect. “No. Way. In. Hell.”

“It’s a small world, I guess,” Virgil sighed, leaning against the counter of Remy’s little cafe. Remy’s brown satchel sat bundled on the counter beside the cash register just behind a glass tip jar. His little coffee shop name tag clung to his white shirt and a dark stain clung to his jeans (the mishaps of coffee).

“You’re drowning me with tea,” Remy chirped, an almost wicked smile spreading across his face. “So he’s here now? Not at St. Gemma’s?”

“His sister’s here,” Virgil explained. He drummed his fingers against the counter top. “He’s here to keep her company.”

“And you didn’t recognize the sister’s name when you got assigned to her or whatever?” Remy asked.

“It’s not like we exchanged contact information back then,” Virgil huffed. “Besides, his last name is Dragon, and hers is Sutherland.”

“Dragon,” a voice at the back of the little cafe scoffed. “That sounds like the name of a basement dweller with a D&D addiction.” The other person working with Remy turned around with a cup of fresh coffee in his hands. He too had an obsession with wearing sunglasses indoors, those his were circular and more like tiny mirrors attached to his face. He wore black leggings and an all-black long-sleeved shirt. A black yarn shawl wrapped around his neck, strings climbing over his shoulders.

“That’s quite the criticism coming from a dude we only know as ‘The Critic’,” Virgil scoffed, putting air quotes around the name.

“Dr. Sanders knows my name,” The Critic chuckled, grabbing a sharpie and scribbling a name onto the coffee cup.

“Yeah, cause he’s our boss,” Virgil huffed. “You can’t exactly get hired without a name. You’re the director of food services, why are you even here?”

“Exactly, Francis,” The Critic said. He strolled beyond the counter and towards the sea of seats filled with cafe customers.

“That’s not my-” Virgil snapped, but the Critic was already gone. “What does that mean? Remy, what does that even mean?”

“Whatever,” Remy chuckled. “Your order’s almost ready. You’ve got a lunch date to get to.”

“Don’t phrase it like that,” Virgil groaned, elbows on the counter, head in his hands. “This is weird enough as is. I mean, this isn’t what being a nurse is like. Most of the time, you take care of a patient and you never see them again. Now I’m supposed to go get ramen with this guy?”

“You agreed to it,” Remy scoffed.

“I agreed to it,” Virgil groaned. Remy slid a cup across the counter.

“Just relax,” Remy sighed. “If he’s a weirdo, you can pull out that kung-fu of yours and deal with him. Take a break, and enjoy the free food.” Virgil took the cup and handed over a few bills. He dropped $5 in the tip jar and stalked towards the exit.

Maybe Remy was right. Virgil had been working through lunch the past few days on the rally. Maybe this would be good for him. It was just lunch. Lunch with a stranger. Virgil should have grabbed his hoodie- things were always better with a bit of his mom’s flannel at his side.

————————

“You haven’t asked yet,” Hank said halfway through the new episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

“Asked what?” Virgil asked, glancing at the man.

“All day, people have been asking me the same question,” Hank grumbled. “‘Why’d you do it, Hank? Why’d you try to throw your life away?’” Hank gently waved his unbandaged arm in the air. “You haven’t asked me yet. Waiting for the right words to say?”

“I haven’t met many people who self harm or try to commit suicide that want people to pry into their darkest moments,” Virgil scoffed. “My job is to make sure you don’t try it again. It’s not to figure out why you did it.”

“Eh,” Hank chuckled. “That’s fair.”

“My only question is why you want to watch a medical drama when you’re literally in a hospital,” Virgil muttered, waving a hand at the TV. Hank laughed again, the same sort of soft, short bark he did before.

“You do have a sense of humor, don’t you, Nurse Lawson?” Hank chuckled. “Tasha would have said the same thing.”

“Who’s that?” Virgil asked, sliding into the body of the comforter.

“Tasha’s my little sister,” Hank explained, a tiny smile emerging. “She’s a lieutenant, fighting back ISIS and such over in the Middle East. Well, not right now. She’s finished a tour of service, came home last week.” The barely living smile slipped away. “Memory’s a little foggy. Pretty sure she found me. I think I forgot she was home again.”

“There’s always a catch in plans,” Virgil muttered. “Guess you should, you know, never try it again.”

“Heh,” Hank sighed. “You’re probably right.” The empty space in the room filled with the soft tunes of whatever indie song was playing over the surgery on TV. “I don’t think I help Tasha’s army credentials a lot.”

“That’s not how the army works,” Virgil huffed, totally unsure of his statement. “They don’t care about someone’s sibling.”

“Even if that sibling is a criminal?” Hank scoffed. Virgil’s entire body tensed. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t murder. I ran with some gangs in my past. Some time in jail sorted me out. Can you turn off the TV?”

“What, no more Grey’s Anatomy?” Virgil asked, restoring his false air of confidence.

“No one knows the full story,” Hank muttered. “Not even Tasha. She doesn't know everything I did. I just want someone to know. I'm sick of keeping everything in. It's made me sick. ” That was all Virgil needed. He flicked the TV off and hopped off the recliner. He rolled his shoulders, even though that didn’t help his terrible posture.

“Alright then,” Virgil huffed. “Spill it.”

“You want all the details?” Hank asked. “They aren’t all pretty.”

“I want the full story,” Virgil growled, glaring down at Hank. He’d do whatever Hank needed to recover. After all, he wasn’t the only person in the world burdened by all the hidden details of a life story. Virgil was in the same boat. Even if Virgil had no one to confess to, he would give Hank someone.

Virgil pushed open the door to the ramen shop. The wall beside the door was a large mural of a cartoon alligator slurping on a bowl of ramen. The words ‘Gator Noodles’ stretched over the alligator’s face. The theme song of an anime Virgil couldn’t remember played over the speakers. Servers stalked around the square pale wood tables with trays of deep bowls filled with soy sauce soaked ramen. Rich afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows facing the street. Pastel colors covered the restaurant, like Virgil was stepping into a children’s anime. Virgil’s mouth watered as soon as the bell on the door chimed and the smell of soy sauce hit his nose.

Hank sat at a booth against the wall, closest to the bathrooms. He flipped through the pages of a gray paperback book. His fingers tapped against the table to the rhythm of the song overhead. With the basics of kung-fu going through his head, Virgil approached Hank’s table. The former patient noticed Virgil before he got there.

“You came!” Hank laughed, his voice still retaining the barky laughter from that night in St. Gemma’s. Hank slid a menu into his book and stood up.

“You invited me,” Virgil muttered, suddenly feeling very out of place in his scrubs. He really, really should have changed.

“Tasha was certain you wouldn’t show up,” Hank chuckled. “Sit down, sit down.” Hank slid back into the booth. Virgil shoved himself into the other seat and quickly grabbed a menu pressed under a metal stand of sauces.

“I didn’t recognize you when I saw you again,” Hank admitted. “The purple hair threw me off.”

“Yeah, uh, I started dying it a while back,” Virgil said, self-consciously pulling at a few strains of his hair.

“Check this out,” Hank said. He pushed his book across the table. It was a gray cover with prison walls near the bottom that read ‘Locked In.’ “You’d be surprised how many criminals have written books. This is only one of the books I picked up after we met. Never was much of a book guy, but it gave me something to do.”

“Good for you,” Virgil said, nodding. He glanced around the restaurant, hoping someone would come by and take his order.

“You seem happier,” Hank remarked. He slipped his book into his lap. “Less… I dunno, dark?”

“How much do you even remember about me?” Virgil asked, squinting.

“I’ll be honest, there are parts of that night that are totally lost,” Hank chuckled. He rested one elbow on the table and waved his hand around like a joystick. “But you? You are preserved in perfect detail. I mean, you’re the first person I ever really talked to about my issues.”

“I’m someone people can vent to,” Virgil sighed, shrugging.

“I know that now, but here’s the thing,” Hank huffed, pointing at Virgil. “You did not look all that welcoming. The black scrubs you nurses wore made you look more like angels of death.”

“St. Gemma’s is idiotic like that,” Virgil sighed.

“Sanders seems to be a good fit for you,” Hank sighed. “St. Gemma’s was fine and all, had some great care and fancy techniques, but you feel more human at Sanders, you know?”

“I know,” Virgil sighed, smiling.

“There was something off about half the folks there,” Hank chuckled. “Like that doctor who did my surgery, the one with the scars on his face.”

“Dr. D,” Virgil muttered.

“Right!” Hank barked. His hands soared around him in giant windmill patterns. “It’s still a weird name, even after all these years.”

“Are you ready to order now?” a server popped out of nowhere beside the booth, notepad in hand. Finally. Virgil pointed to the miso ramen dish on the menu, while Hank ordered the shoyu ramen. The server disappeared as quickly as they appeared.

“Alright,” Virgil sighed. “The question’s been on my mind all day, and I’m pretty sure you’ve answered it by now, but- how are you doing?”

“Well, it’s been an uphill battle,” Hank admitted, resting his wild hands. “I fiddled around with medication to help me until I decided to drop it all together and try something else. I’ve been seeing a therapist once a week, probably spent enough on therapy to cover those med school bills I hear so much about. Tasha’s been a big help too.” Virgil nodded softly. His insides churned. Even talking to him as a patient was easier than this. How was he expected to respond? Virgil just tried to settle his insides and make the ramen cook faster.

————————

“I’ll be fair, I’m not a storyteller,” Hank sighed, staring at the ceiling. “Most of this probably won’t make sense. Should I start at the beginning?”

“It’s your story,” Virgil muttered. Hank closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. For a moment, thoughts of Hank falling asleep and not waking up flooded Virgil’s head. But Hank opened his eyes again and started telling the story.

“I wasn’t a poor kid growing up,” Hank explained. “My family had cash, enough to live in one of the nicer parts in this city. Tasha was born a year after me, so we basically grew up together. I think my parents had the idea that I’d join the military out of college, maybe be a Navy guy like my dad. Tasha was always more like him, though. I took after Mom. More domestic, kinda, since I liked cleaning and cooking and whatnot. God, I loved cooking. Loved running around the kitchen. Didn’t make me a popular kid, though. Tasha and I really just had each other in school. She was the one who stood up to people for me.” Virgil couldn’t hide a little grin. After all, he’d been like that too- knitting and stitching and playing with whatever scraps of cloth he could find in his free time. But when was the last time he knitted something?

“When I started high school, Tasha was only in the eighth grade,” Hank continued.

“So you didn’t have any friends?” Virgil finished the thought.

“Right on the nose,” Hank sighed. “For the first part of the year, at least. Without Tasha, I didn’t know what to do with myself. No one talked to me after the first day. Eventually I made a friend, a guy I thought was a loner like me. Other guys like us migrated towards him. If you were a weirdo that everyone ignored, you had a place in our little group. You lost your mom and you’re angry at everyone around you? Come join us, we’re gonna drink on the beach. Everyone insult you for bad grades? Grades don’t matter when you’re skateboarding down the street. That’s right, I was a skater boy.” A dull ache swirled through Virgil. The ache had been with him since he graduated nursing school and got his job at St. Gemma’s. It was that ache that discovered St. Gemma’s, in a convoluted way. “I was an absolute idiot in high school.”

“Most people are,” Virgil muttered.

“That’s fair,” Hank admitted. “I think I took the cake, though. Most high school idiots stayed out past curfew or went to a few crazy parties. Meanwhile, my friends and I decided to get initiated into a gang of heartless little- like i said, stupid.”

“These guys were the only friends you had, right?” Virgil asked. “I can see anyone getting themselves into that situation. Doesn’t make you stupid.” Something clawed at Virgil’s chest. He ignored it for the moment.

“I was ruining my life and I didn’t even know it,” Hank scoffed. “Even after Tasha got to high school, I was long gone. I was out all night doing drug deals and pushing people around and playing with stolen guns. I stopped getting bullied. I thought I found people who cared about me. I got pretty good at running from the cops. I was having fun.” Hank’s good hand moved towards his bandage. Virgil grabbed his wrist and set Hank’s arm back to his side, gripping his wrist just a bit too tight. The arm was limp in Virgil’s grip.

“Don’t mess with your bandages, ok?” Virgil sighed. “We need to let them heal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank huffed, squeezing his eyes shut. “It took me till after high school, when Tasha was just getting ready to graduate from West Point, to snap out of it. Ya see, that friend of mine dragged me into a kidnapping. It was some kid, not that much younger than I was when I joined. He said the kid was just collateral, some junkie owed us cash or whatever. He had nothing to do with anything, he didn’t deserve to get hurt. I got out of there as soon as I could, and I dialled 911. Heh, imagine what that operator was thinking. ‘Yes, hi, I would like to report a kidnapping. I just kidnapped a child and would like to return him please.’” Hank let out a bark of laughter. “I don’t think I said that exactly, but something like that.”

“Geesh,” Virgil groaned.

“I sat out there, waiting for the cops to show, and when they did, I brought them in,” Hank explained. “The guy I spent all of high school with, thought he was my best friend, he pulled a gun on me. Got shot in the shoulder for his troubles. Since I helped find the kid, I got some deals, so I got sent to a different prison than my friend and a shorter sentence. My parents stopped talking to me after that, which I honestly deserved. Tasha was the only one who stuck around. She’s too good for me.” Scenarios danced through Virgil’s head. Hank sitting in jail, Hank getting a gun pointed at him, Hank’s fear at his friend, Virgil’s fear at his friend- no, what was he doing? He was making things about himself. That wasn’t right!

“When I got out of jail, Tasha helped me rebuild my life,” Hank sighed. “She let me stay at her house, paid me to take care of the place when she was deployed. Since I had a gang out for my blood, I didn’t leave the house much. It was me and my thoughts all the time.”

“A horrible idea, really,” Virgil muttered.

“You said it,” Hank chuckled. “I didn’t have a schedule to follow anymore, so I just slunk around. I was a burden to Tasha. I’d ruined my life, and I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t get a job, couldn’t get a place of my own. I’ve done a lot of bad things, but I couldn’t do anything about it. The only option for me was to remind myself of how badly I’d screwed up and how horrible I was.”

“You feeling regret is a good thing,” Virgil huffed. “It means you know you made mistakes. It means you aren’t that horrible.”

“Not sure how true that is,” Hank muttered.

“I’m serious,” Virgil grunted, crossing his arms. “How many people would have the courage to call the cops on themselves?” Hank’s gaze trailed between his hands, opening and closing his fists.

“Maybe,” Hank sighed. “I still took my sister’s cash. I wasted away in her house, ordering fast food and binge-watching TV all day. The few times I left were for groceries or with Tasha. She wouldn’t give up on me. So I gave up on myself.” Silent words of understanding and empathy entered Virgil’s head. Memories of mirrored emotions fluttered past. They both sat in the dim hospital room, each thinking different, but depressingly similar thoughts.

“I don’t think there’s much I can do to help,” Virgil admitted. “That’s a lot to unpack.”

“You let me tell my story,” Hank sighed.

“I’m also staying with you,” Virgil declared. “You’ve got two people who aren’t willing to give up on you now. Your sister, and me.”

“A horrible idea, really,” Hank chuckled, shaking his head.

“Well,” Virgil huffed, throwing his hands in the air. “It sucks to suck, I guess.” Hank’s mouth twitched. Virgil’s shoulders flew to his ears as Hank let out a loud bark of laughter. His chest heaved, his laughter making him bounce on the bed. For the first time in a while, Virgil showed a genuine smile. It was tiny and barely visible, but it was there, without sarcasm or anger or fear.

“After all that, he still sang Happy Birthday?” Hank laughed, stirring his ramen with a chopstick.

“They jacked up his painkillers,” Virgil scoffed. “He was out of it. Logan never sings, ever.” Virgil took a bite of his ramen. He really hoped he was eating normally.

“These friends of yours sound great!” Hank declared, taking a large bite out of his ramen. Noodles clung to his chin, but he wiped them away and let them plop onto the table.

“They’re tolerable,” Virgil said, smirking.

“They’re loyal, from the way you talk about them,” Hank said through a mouthful of noodles. He swallowed, then said “If I had found friends like that as a kid, I probably would have turned out better.”

“Alright, they’re great,” Virgil admitted, shaking his head. “If Roman heard me say that, his ego would grow ten sizes too big.” Virgil stabbed at his ramen. Thoughts danced on the tiny ripples in the soy sauce. He might as well tell Hank. He kept gushing about Virgil changing his life, so he probably wouldn’t get laughed at. “You keep saying I changed your life, but I’m thinking you changed mine too.”

“How?” Hank asked, glancing between Virgil and his ramen.

“The people I was with were toxic,” Virgil explained. “I wasn’t in a good place. I was trapped at St. Gemma’s in the same way you were trapped with that old friend of yours, and your sister’s house.”

“The house is less of a trap now,” Hank chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I still live there, but it’s a lot happier.”

“I thought the others were my friends, but…” Virgil sighed. “As you were talking, I realized they weren’t good for me. I was dying. It’s what drove me to join Sanders, in the end.” Hank’s bark of laughter ripped through Virgil’s ears.

“Nice to know we both made a difference,” Hank chuckled.

“I need to head back,” Virgil sighed, slipping out of the booth. “Thanks for the ramen.”

“Thanks for talking to me!” Hank laughed, scrambling out of the booth. He held his hand out to Virgil. “It really was great to see you.”

“I’ll probably see you again, considering I’m on your sister’s case,” Virgil said. He gritted his teeth and shook Hank’s hand. Awkward awkward awkward! Why was his hand all loose and weird?

“Yeah,” Hank said, nodding. Virgil shot Hank a two-fingered salute and, checking his pocket for his phone, strolled towards the exit of Gator Noodles. The anime music ringing through his head finally stopped. Virgil tugged at the collar of his scrubs and sighed. It really wasn’t the worst lunch ever. It was rather nice, if Virgil was being honest. But what it really was was a reminder- a reminder of what Virgil had escaped. He let out a long, deep breath. He stuck his hands into his pockets and started on his walk back to Sanders Hospital.

————————

(Years prior to Hank Dragon and Virgil Lawson’s first meeting…)

Virgil’s fellow nursing graduates screamed around him as their hats flew into the air. Virgil only tossed his a little bit above him- he didn’t want to lose the memento of all his hard work. The end of nursing school. The day had finally arrived. His graduating class hugged the people around them, sharing high fives and cheers. Virgil was perfectly happy to stand there, not touching anyone, and fix the hat back on his head.

His classmates swarmed towards the stands where their families waited, cheering for their kids and siblings, sharing the accomplishment. Virgil padded the opposite direction, towards his now former university. He had no one in the stands for him. His family was back in Atlanta, waiting for him to drive home. It wasn’t like Virgil wasn’t a bit annoyed his mom couldn’t come to his graduation. She’d been there for all his other major events. Still, it couldn’t be helped. His mom had so many backed-up sessions at the tattoo shop, she couldn’t drive down to Florida now. That was honestly preferable. Now that he was done with school, he could finally go home. He could find a job in Atlanta (after all, he’d gotten nursing licenses for both Georgia and Florida, just in case), stay with his mom until he found the right apartment, and start his life. And that was, quite frankly, terrifying.

Virgil paused underneath a tree thick with large, green leaves. He shuffled under his robes and pulled his phone out of the pocket of his dress pants. Sure he wasn’t supposed to have the phone during graduation, but what if someone called needing something? He leaned against the tree and dialed his mom’s number. He looked into the leaves above as the phone rang and, for a few moments, his anxiety was lifted.

“Hello?” someone asked on the other end of the call.

“Hey Mom,” Virgil said. “I didn’t fail nursing school, it seems. I’m not sticking around for all the kissing and crying and whatever. Once I get some stuff from my apartment, I’ll start heading home.”

“Who is this?” the voice asked.

“Uh…” Virgil stammered. “Virgil? Your son?”

“You’re her son?” the voice gasped. “She had a son?”

“Wait, you aren’t Mom,” Virgil huffed. Something churned in his stomach. “Who is this?”

…

no.

…

No.

…

No no no no NO NO NO NO NO NO-

He was burning underneath those itchy, itchy robes. Everything hurt, everything was too much, the world was too much. The grass stabbed his feet, the tree ran daggers down his stiff, burning shoulders. He wasn’t sure when he sat down. His hat fell off. His tears hadn’t come yet- even in his worst moments, the tears were always the last thing to show up- but the stabbing, choking sound coming out of his throat was enough for now.

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. Not now, not when he wasn’t there, oh God he wasn’t there, how could he not have been there, he should have been there!

“This graduation had become much more interesting,” someone muttered. “It seems the joy of the moment has become too much for you.” Virgil didn’t bother opening his eyes. He stayed curled into himself, trying not to suffocate. “In case you’re too panicked to fully process that, that statement was sarcastic. Let’s try to breath, shall we? Maybe then I can understand if what you need is a few tissues or an ambulance.” Virgil’s hand flew out, dismissing whoever stood beside him. He didn’t need someone poking their nose into this. He couldn’t even say what it was. Words wouldn’t come out of his mouth.

“It may not be clear to you,” the stranger huffed. “But I am trying to help you. If you can’t talk, then I’ll figure things out the best I can. We’ve got a phone here-”

“Don’t touch that!” Virgil roared, eyes flying open. A black gloved hand was reaching for the phone at Virgil’s side. Virgil grabbed the phone and held it to his chest. He finally looked up at the stranger trying to help him. Scars ran down run side of his face, illuminated by the sun poking between the leaves. It looked like someone had taken a torch to half this person’s body.

“So you can speak,” the stranger sighed. They crouched to Virgil’s level. Their heterochromatic eyes tried to stay level with Virgil’s. “I am sorry to have upset you further. Perhaps I could have a name?” Virgil’s fists rested against his forehead, pressing into his skull as the tears, the late-comers they were- finally decided to show up.

“Virgil,” Virgil choked out, still sobbing.

“Virgil,” the stranger said. Virgil’s name rolled off his tongue. “Like Dante’s guide through the inferno. Poetic. You were the only one to go this way when the caps flew. I can only assume that whatever happened, it’s a new development. Since no one else seems to have noticed your distress, I suppose you’ll need my help.”

“You can’t help,” Virgil snapped. “I don’t even know you.”

“Then let’s change that,” the stranger sighed. He put his hand to his chest. “You may call me Dr. D, or simply D for now.”

“What-” Virgil stammered through his sobs. “That’s not a name.”

“I don’t entrust my name to many, so that is what I go by,” Dr. D huffed. He settled onto the grass in front of Virgil. “Now then, Virgil. Would you like someone to talk to?”

————————

Taglist-

@watchoutforthefanfics @moonlight22oa @purelyreblogstsedition

[ashtheshortstack]

take my scars & make them stars - ch 4

Rating: M Ship: Kristoff/Anna Chapter Four

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Sick Fic, Cancer Fic, Chronic Illness, Chemotherapy, Modern AU, Coffee Shop AU, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Angst with a happy ending, Mutual Pining, Mentions of Character Death

Read on Ao3

Previous Chapter/Next Chapter

It was a date. He said it was a date. As much as that excited her, she didn’t want to jump into something too soon. Especially with her health. And when she explained that to Kristoff, he completely understood. Which only made her like him more.  

So, they were dating. But there wasn’t a label. Anna couldn’t bear saying she had a boyfriend during this trying time of her life. 

But, even though Kristoff wasn’t her “boyfriend” didn’t mean she didn’t start popping by the coffee shop on the regular to pay him little visits. It was always the same excuse—that Elsa wanted coffee. They both knew it was a lie, but it gave her a reason to go up to the register.  If she stuck around too long, sometimes Kristoff would take the coffee. S’mores lattes weren’t his favorite, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Anna had never used Snapchat—she’d thought it was silly to send pictures all the time—but after Kristoff asked if she had one, she downloaded the app in an instant. And, quickly, that became the way she kept him updated throughout her day. Kristoff’s snap stories were very sophisticated. They didn’t usually feature his face, but mostly the coffee shop with different work-day filters. Lots of snaps of Sven being excited when Kristoff arrived home from work. On the occasion, there would be a Sven shaming story if the dog tore something up while he was away. 

But the private snaps he sent to her privately were much goofier. And she appreciated that. Anna liked that he was so real with her. So himself. Maybe he put on a front for those who viewed his stories, but not her. 

Kristoff sent her a picture of a large spill of coffee all over the floor of the shop with a caption of “why” and that’s all. Anna couldn’t help but giggle from her seat in the hospital lounge. At least the chairs she sat in during chemo were comfortable. And with Kristoff sending her entertaining snaps, it made her day just a little better. He always had a way of cheering her up no matter how miserable she may have felt. 

She sent him a selfie of her grimacing and looking away from the camera with the caption “at least it’s not vomit this time”. Did she keep bringing it up? Yes. She was mortified about the whole situation, so making fun of it at least let Anna live down her shame. 

His response was quick. A selfie of him grinning stupidly with “i’ll clean up your vomit anytime” attached. She snorted at that. Why was he sweet and disgusting at the same time? But she appreciated it nonetheless. 

Dr. Mattias entered the room with his usual smile, preventing Anna from returning a snap. She’d have to wait and send him a response later. 

He greeted her as usual before sitting in the chair across from her. “So, Anna, how are you today?” 

“Pretty good, considering,” she replied with a smile. She couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy. It was probably a bit obvious to Dr. Mattias that she was bubblier than usual. But that was okay. Everyone was allowed a good day. Especially when on chemo. 

“That’s great,” he said, clicking his pen. “How are your symptoms?” 

Her mind flashed to her date with Kristoff. Pursing her lips, she glanced away. “Um, I was wondering about physical therapy?” 

Dr. Mattias seemed stunned at her words, his brows raising, but he answered her anyway. 

                                                     o~o~o~o

  Anna sent Kristoff a snap video of her walking on the sidewalk downtown towards the coffee shop. In response she got a blurry image of his face with “oh shit” across it. She couldn’t help but giggle. He really was funny, even if he didn’t want to admit it. She could tell Kristoff was jittery and had a rough exterior… but she planned on cracking it down. 

The bell rang above her head as she entered the door. There was a new barista there she didn’t recognize. The girl had raven hair and a darker complexion… she actually looked a lot like Ryder. Maybe, they were related? 

Kristoff smirked when he saw her. “Why hello there, how can I help you today?” 

“Hello, Christopher,” she cooed. 

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. “Oaken ordered me a new name tag, will you stop harassing me?” 

“No.” 

He snorted. “So, a s’mores latte for Elsa? ” Kristoff smirked, a knowing glint in those honey-brown eyes. 

Anna shook her head. “Nope! I’m having a cheat day. It’s getting chillier so I can reasonably get a hot cocoa. For Anna. ” 

“Well, well, well,” he grinned. “I finally get to write your name on a cup today.” 

Humming in response, Anna pulled out her wallet. “I guess it’s just your lucky day,” she teased with a grin before handing him her card. 

“Yeah, sure. It’s a true blessing when I get to write ‘Anna’ on a cup. As if it isn’t a common name.” 

“Bet you think about me every time another Anna comes in.” 

Kristoff’s cheeks flushed at that. “Shut up,” he pouted as he snatched a cup from the counter and headed over to the machine. 

Giggling, Anna moved to the side as the girl took the next customer. Her name tag said “Honeymaren.” Jeez, no wonder the owner couldn’t order the correct names. Did anyone here have a basic name? She was a little jealous of the uniqueness of it. Perhaps how her name was pronounced was a little different, but still. 

Kristoff returned with her cup and handed her the credit card as well. “Here’s your special cheat day drink, feisty pants. Glad you went with a caffeine free option.” 

“Well, I can’t get too crazy.” 

He laughed.

“When do you get off?” she asked, smiling slightly. 

Shoulders slumping, he sighed. “Still got a few hours today.  How about we meet up tomorrow? I have some work on the job site first, but I can see you afterwards?” 

Anna sipped at her hot cocoa with a smile. “I’d like that.” 

“I’ll text you?” 

“Yeah,” she said with a smile. 

                                                 o~o~o~o

  It didn’t take long after she left the coffee shop for the snapchats to start again. It was nice that she received so much attention from him. Kristoff really knew how to make a girl feel special.  

When Anna made it home, she was utterly exhausted. She crashed on the couch, finishing off her hot cocoa with a sigh. Setting the cup on the side table, she flopped back on the cushions. 

“Hey, long day?” 

Anna sighed when she saw Elsa rounding the couch to sit on the arm with a smile. “You don’t know the half of it,” she murmured. 

Elsa smiled at that. “I see an Arendelle Roasts cup, so someone paid Kristoff a visit.” 

“I did…” 

Her sister just gave a knowing smirk before looking away. “Sooo, how was chemo today?” 

“Same as usual… Miserable.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Well, it was a little better actually. Kristoff convinced me to get a Snapchat, and we’ve been snapping each other a lot. He sends me some really funny stuff. I dunno, it was just a nice positive during treatment today. Does that seem silly?” 

Elsa was smiling at her. “Whatever makes you happy, Anna. Just a little pick-me-up is better than nothing,” she paused, “but we both know Kristoff is a little more than that.” 

The dreamy sigh that left her lips was a bit embarrassing. She couldn’t help it though. Kristoff made her mushy inside. He really did make her happy. It was a nice change of pace. 

“He’s really great, Elsa. Why couldn’t I have found him sooner? Ugh, I wish he’d gone to academy… maybe I’d never been with Hans.” 

Her sister gave a small shrug. “Life works in funny ways. This was just the right time to meet him.” 

Humming, she nodded. “Maybe, you’re right. He did say he used to be kinda grumpy.” 

Anna heard a faint laugh before slowly nodding off to sleep. 

                                                 o~o~o~o

  Kristoff had asked her to meet him in the park the following day. Anna wore appropriate fall clothing. She was so excited that it was finally cooling down. The heat was so exhausting, especially while she was on chemo. The treatments made her feel so weak and heat did not mix well with her symptoms. It sucked. A lot. 

Fall would be a calmer time. She hadn’t yet experienced chemo with the cold… she wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. But her light jacket over her purple dress and dark leggings was comfortable and worked well with the temperature. She was a little disappointed she wouldn’t be able to participate in the pumpkin spice craze as it began due to her ban on caffeine. But it would just make it all the worthwhile for next fall. 

Anna sat on a swing that overlooked the pond. Ducks waddled by, making her giggle at their quacking. There were a few girls sitting on a picnic blanket nearby… but Anna chose to ignore their frequent glances in her direction. It wasn’t exactly a poor you stare, so Anna wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. So, she stared at her phone and ignored them the best she could. 

Only when Kristoff told her that he’d arrived did she look up from her spot. She waved at him when she saw him crossing the browning grass. He wore a clean green flannel, but the skin beneath glistened. His hairline was damp as well. Clearly, he’d gotten a bit sweaty while working on the site. It was strange… the sudden spike in her libido at seeing him like this despite her sex drive practically being nonexistant since her first few months of chemo. Sure, she’d had thoughts about Kristoff before, but not like this. She hadn’t felt desire for someone in so long. And Kristoff definitely triggered such a reaction from her. 

But how was she to help it? His shaggy blonde hair, tanned skin in sight where his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, rugged torn jeans, and work boots… it suited him. And Anna couldn’t get enough of it. As much as she loved Kristoff in a cream colored apron and a button up, this just did many different things to her. 

Kristoff returned her gesture, waving a large palm in her direction as he sped up to reach her. There was a grin etched along his lips as he approached. When he came to sit with her on the swing, it seemed entirely natural for him to place an arm on the back of the bench behind her as Anna snuggled into his side. 

“Hey, how was work today?” she asked, smiling up at him. 

Giving a lopsided shrug, he hummed. “Nothing too exciting. Building, measuring, hammering--the usual,” he glanced down at her. “How was yours?” 

“Laid around, puked some, drank a smoothie because I can’t chew--the usual,” she laughed bitterly. 

“It’ll get better, you know.” 

Sighing, she nodded and leaned her head against his chest. “I know.” 

“Did you talk to your doctor about your symptoms?” 

Anna sighed. “Yes, we decided on some physical therapy options to help blood flow to my fingers. I just--God, Kristoff, I can’t wait until this is over. I mean, I know it’ll never be over over. Dr. Mattias already told me I’ll have to go back for regular number checks the rest of my life once in remission. But there can’t help but be that part of me that wonders if there’s more they don’t know about. If I’ll never actually be in remission and--oh, jeez. I’m sorry, Kristoff, I’m totally being negative and rambling.” 

Kristoff’s palm patted her upper arm lightly. His eyes seemed so sad when he regarded her. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re free to rant as you please. Don’t stop for my sake.” 

She couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you. I don’t mean to just--talk about myself so much.”

“I like hearing you talk about yourself.” 

She snorted. “Don’t lie.” 

Cocking a brow, he smirked. “But I do. I really admire you, ya know? The way despite how everything you’re going through, you manage to keep a smile on your face.” 

Anna felt herself swoon at the compliment and hoped her reaction didn’t show too much on her face. Even though she trusted Kristoff, she had jumped into a relationship too quickly before, so she didn’t want the blonde to know how crazy she was about him. How much his compliments meant to her. Even the small ones. 

She responded by snuggling closer to his chest, pressing her body against his own. God, he was so much bigger than her. Anna knew she was scrawny from treatments… would he still be this broad compared to her even when her body returned to a healthier weight? She glanced down between them, noticing his hand sitting on his own thigh. Without a second thought, she grabbed his palm with both of her own. Anna idly played with his fingers, really noticed the contrast with her own. His hands were so healthy while hers… were so boney. And tiny. And weak. Her fingers ached just trying to squeeze his. 

Kristoff chuckled, turning his palm over and opening his fingers to her. Anna’s lips twitched and she gazed up at him as she intertwined her fingers with his. Humming, she relaxed into his touch as his thumb gently rubbed the back of her hand. The touch actually sent a warming sensation to the tips of her tingly fingers. 

It was nice being like this. To just enjoy one another’s company. She was sure she would find something else to talk about, but for now… this was enough. 

As she opened her mouth to speak, she looked up at him. Only to see him scowling off in another direction. His brows were pinched and a tight frown was etched along his lips. Anna followed his line of sight to see who he was glaring so harshly at. It was the two girls who had been staring at her earlier. They were giggling and whispering at their phones until they looked up and saw Kristoff’s eyes on them. The smiles on their faces quickly fell as they both glanced around uncomfortably, each looking very ashamed. Kristoff didn’t stop his squint until the two girls packed their things and quickly left. 

The entire encounter didn’t last but five minutes, but it felt like an eternity to Anna. What had they done to make Kristoff so angry?

“W-What was that all about?” 

His face relaxed as they watched him leave, eyes softening when he gazed at her. “Sorry, they were taking pictures.” 

Anna felt her cheeks flush as she glanced down at her lap. “Oh…” There was a beat of silence for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. “Well, I now know what you meant when you said you used to be grumpy. That glare could scare off anyone.” 

Snorting, he shook his head. “Sorry… People like that just piss me off. It’s not your fault that you’re going through this. You aren’t a side-show attraction.” 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” 

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s you that’s amazing.” 

She giggled at that before tapping on her knee and pursing her lips. “I… I-I need to know, Kristoff. What did you really think of me when you first saw me?” 

“That you’re beautiful. You have the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen, and your freckles are adorable.” 

“That’s it? You didn’t think ‘oh, poor thing she looks sick?’” 

He shook his head. “You’ll never look like that to me, Anna.” 

Her lips twitched. “Yeah? What will I look like?” 

“A fighter.” 

Anna’s eyes went wide. Her cheeks flushed as she glanced away. “That’s just cheesy, and you know it.” 

“But it’s true,” he said with a grin. 

“You think I’m really a fighter?” 

“Yeah, like a warrior who has a battle to win. And I have no doubts you’ll see this fight to the end. Don’t you believe so?” 

Anna squeezed his palm. “As long as I have you.” 

[iamjjmmma]

tldr: I have bpd. (Loong text ahead)

Note: All names have been changed for privacy.

 I never like to open up about mental health. Not only is it messy- it's also degrading. But this is an exception. 

So I'm going to lay it out for you. Right here, right now.

 I have borderline personality disorder.

 I'm telling you because, unlike with so many other things about me, you deserve to know this. And the way I got my diagnosis was long, narrow, and harrowing. So get comfy. 

Of all things, it all started with a death. About a month ago, a family friend who wasn't any older than three or four died. My entire family was devastated, but for seemingly no reason, I seemed to be the one who cried the most, who felt the most heartbroken. Not even my cousins, who were closer to her, cried this much. Of course, my sister noticed and encouraged me to get myself into grief counseling. I love my sister more than anyone else in the whole wide world, so it didn't take long before I was booking my first appointment with a Catholic counselor 45 minutes away who knew me ever since I was little. 

"Hey there, Sk3ltal. Something seem to be a problem?

" I get angry. I'm in your office, I think. How the hell would there NOT be a problem? I think. But over five years of this kind of anger gives you a kind of knack for brushing it off as hormonal and pretending your fine.

 "Well, Manuela...something does seem to be a problem. Somebody...close to me died. And she was young..."

 At this point, I'm bursting into tears. I wonder why. I get the "oh, honey, it's okay" treatment. She gives me a hug, offers me all the tissues I need, even lets me hold her dog if I can get past the fact that he's just about as still as a blast of wind. Thirty seconds later, I'm fine again.

 "Manuela, I want to make sure that I'm fine. That it's not grief and just sadness. I want to know how not to lose it in public. Because I feel crazy."

 Manuela bites her lip. "Grief does make the most ordinary people act like insane asylum patients, no?" 

A week later, I'm back in her office. By now, it's almost the end of September. And something"s eating at me. For the first time in my sixteen years, a movie not only humanized the villian, but made me relate to her. Relate to her enough to do this. BPD. Only heard about it once or twice before. Asked my mom if I had it, then she laughed and said it was just me being a teenager and that yes, crying four times a day and slamming the door EVERY TIME YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO was completely normal.

 So was the scratches on my skin I convinced my parents was "wicked eczema", and so was me pulling out my hair and banging my head against solid objects. And now, people were talking about how a movie character had it, and how many symptoms she exhibited. Suddenly, hunger for knowledge reached out its hands. I wanted to know.

 Could it be I had this? And what was it? 

Manuela was a little concerned, but considering I was getting bored as usual in her office, she let me take the questionnaire. Five minutes pass by, half of which I spent taking the quiz. And I think the moment I saw her face turn pale was the minute things started to fall apart and go back into place, all at the same time. "Honey, I...you're positive." ... 

Of course, I wasn't diagnosed right then and there. I had to make sure I could point it back to a specific event when it started- in this case, what happened when I was ten between my childhood best friend and i; she ghosted me, and i haven’t heard a word from her since- so they couldn't blame it on my "womanly teenage hormones" (yes, I was telling the truth; the event just helped to rule out those hormones). My family and close friends, whatever the hell the last one was, were interviewed. When my dad was interviewed, I could feel his face turn pale this time as he whispered, "Oh, my God. You just described my kid. Something's wrong with my kid." 

Next was a rudimentary physical with my family practitioner. to make sure nothing physical, other than me being a teenager, could be causing the symptoms. When the doctor said "nothing's wrong other than what you keep on seeing me for so far", my heart didn't sink. I didn't feel anything. The diagnosis was made official a short time later, but I didn't feel anything then either. And that's, ironically, a huge part of borderline personality disorder.

 Borderline personality disorder, to flaunt it in a more colorful way, is your mind constantly being fucked by a tornado of emotion while the borderline, which is what the disorder is named after, obtains a corporeal form and joins in the fuckery to create a massive threesome. Four if you count Lonely, my friend in the back. 

Getting my diagnosis may havw been one of the most quietly difficult things I've ever done. 

There's the fact that some mental health professionals are afraid with those with borderline personality disorder, or think it's completely impossible for children or adolescents to have it. If not for the relationship Manuela and I already had, I most likely would have been misdiagnosed again. On to the misdiagnoses, which are staggeringly common in those with borderline personality disorder. I was diagnosed...

 -three times with some type of anxiety 

-twice with PTSD 

-once with bulimia 

-accused hundreds of times of being demonically possessed because of my "temper". that priest now knows better.

 But now to the real criteria. There's nine of them, and to be diagnosed, you need to get at least five.

 -Abandonment issues 

This was the biggie. It was almost like I grew up, then regressed. This all started when I was eleven, and my mind would switch from being 4 to being the 11 year old I was. I have too many stories of me being left alone for a ridiculously insignificant amount of time, then me acting like a scared toddler in solitary confinement about it. The time at the high school when I got locked in the bathroom. The time I got left in the car for 5 minutes and almost broke the door trying to get out. There's so many more, but this one, I think, takes the cake.

 I was twelve. They had the house childproofed because of my sister, who was 7 at the time and had autism, so she tended to be grabbier than then average bear. The acting out was at its peak back then, and my parents made the mistake of putting me in time-out by locking me in my bedroom for five minutes. 

What happened next was almost indescribable. Imagine the outright terror the character in the movie feels when he or she is stranded and realizes they're utterly alone. No one will come to save them. No one. The helicopter they came in is empty. The island always has, and always is, empty. Or imagine the terror you felt at school during that one time it WASN'T a drill. Now multiply that feeling by about sixty. I was nothing more than an animal that day. I screamed.

 "LET ME OUT OF HERE!" "SOMEBODY HELP ME!" "DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE!" "I DON'T WANNA DIE HERE!". Bang, bang, bang, bang, BANG, BANG. 

My parents always tell me that I would've beat that damn door down had they not gotten me out. They open the door. I practically jump on them to hug them. They bump me off, and while I'm not hurt, it's not like that made me feel any better, either. 

"What is your problem, young lady?! Can't we leave you alone for five minutes? How are you going to be able to be an adult and be like this?"

 Tears poured down my face. I didn't know. 

Hell, I still don't know. 

-"Borderline" way of thinking when it comes to relationships...always seeing others as either perfect angels or a bucket of nasty-ass toxic waste. 

-Self-harm. 

No, I don't cut myself. that's the stereotype, although there's people I know who self harm in this way. I didn't know what it was called or what I was going.

 but all I knew was that I was relieving whatever tension I had, even if it meant hurting myself. I quickly learned how to keep it hidden, and that was by realizing the millions of nerves on the surface of my skin and how that would cause pain without much overall damage. so I scratched myself. and scratched. and scratched. and scratched. pulling my hair was also a good option. if I feel really crummy, I start to bang my head into solid objects or bend one of my bones, although not enough to break it.

 at first, it was to transfer emotional pain into physical pain so I wouldn't have to feel it emotionally anymore. 

and it's still that now, to an extent. except it's more about controlling my anger and not letting it show in public, instead keeping it chained to my skin. and I'm sorry if this sounds emo or cringy, but it's true.

 now, it's turned into an impulse.

 -unstable relationships.

 my friends can all tell you that I love them dearly, more than the vast majority of the people they know. and they also know that I'm also more prone to lashing out or doing things in the relationship that don't make sense, like purposefully ignoring texts and phone calls for a day.

 -shifting self-image. 

what I wanted to be when I grew up was sometimes as fickle as the time of day. I wanted to be an actor during one point in my childhood. it consumed my everything, kept me from eating, from sleeping. and at another short point, I know wanted to be a singer.

 in the course of one particular year, I wanted to be a nun, then an author, then an engineer, then a truck driver, then a nurse, then a teacher. it was ridiculous,

 and all happening during a period where the education system expected me to decide what I wanted to be. 

and what about who I was? was I a girl? a boy? young? old? the best Catholic there was? a solid atheist?

 I have my 5. there's more, but I don't want to share it all, at least right now. and most of it is actually because the program I'm using to type this is really shitty when it comes to saving huge chunks of text lol. 

Treatment:

 I've started therapy. So far, both Manuela and I are still researching BPD so none of us are blind to stigma. However, there's a long road ahead of me, and a road I most likely wouldn't even consider taking if it weren't for my love for my sister (which I'm begging is genuine and not just a product of my mental illness). Finding a medication will be tough, seeing as there's no official medicine for BPD but so far, for the first time, I can feel the "BPD me" fading away when I drink tea with ginseng (a mood stabilizer). 

getting "better" from BPD, or at least working to alleviate the symptoms, requires just that: work. lots of patience, persistence, and just lots and lots of hard damn work. 

it'll take us getting rid of societal stigmas and working through the root causes, which unfortunately I can't just be "taken away from" as with those whose BPD diagnoses came while they were still living in broken homes. 

 And the worst part of it all is that I still love my best friend.

[peterparkers7evilexes]

I’m getting older too [winterspider cult AU - T]

Chapter warnings: guns, descriptions of physical violence and blood, descriptions of cult-like gaslighting

[Part 1]

Group therapy was hell.

All it had taken was one crazed man grasping for straws, and before long everyone knew Bucky’s life. ‘Negligent, selfish, violent’, they chanted. ‘Abandoned your sister, lost your way, purposeless and useless’. It wasn’t a unique treatment. Everyone got ‘broken down’ like this, everyone was debased and humiliated in front of the whole room. It was supposed to be part of the healing process, Emrys insisted. Only by breaking one down to his core vulnerabilities could he be rebuilt. “Today,” he said, cupping Bucky’s face in his withered old hands, “is the first day of the rest of your life.”

Gazing up at Emrys through blurred tears, Bucky ground his teeth hatefully and wished him death. It was hard to not let their words get to him, and there was only so much violent brainwashing he could withstand.

Having Sam and Peter around helped - to a degree. Peter had been able to pull some strings and get Bucky moved to their cabin, and just having a safe place away from the pervasive cult mentality was a relief. But the group therapy sessions didn't seem to hit the other two nearly as hard.

"Just let it roll off you man," Sam said, not unkindly. "Water off a duck's back."

"They don't actually know you," Peter added. "Nothing they spout in there is true. You're stronger than them, Bucky."

And yet, Bucky only felt weak and broken after group therapy. Rebecca had always been the stronger of the two of them and he felt certain that his little sister, all four feet nine inches of her, would have laughed in everyone’s faces and let their words bounce off her like so much wasted breath.

On one night after a particularly rough group therapy session, Bucky had laid sullen in his bunk, useless tears slipping down his cheeks as he thought of Rebecca and how badly he’d failed her.

He wasn’t expecting it then, when a soft voice broke the silence. “We’ll get out of here.”

“What?” he said, hating how his voice came out a little nasally, betraying his weakness.

“This isn’t forever.” Peter’s head popped down from the bunk above, his brown hair flopping messily around his face as he gazed at Bucky upside-down. “This place is designed to break you. But we’re gonna get out of here.”

“I know,” Bucky said automatically, wiping the wetness from his eyes and sitting up in bed.

Peter stared at him for a long moment, cocking his head to one side. He nodded to himself and, with a little ‘oof!’, swung down from the top bunk and fell gracelessly into Bucky’s lap, long legs smacking him in the face. “Scoot,” he whispered, thankfully blind to the way Bucky was suddenly flushed bright red at their positions.

Bucky pressed himself against the wall, staring quizzically as Peter laid down next to him, his body a line of warmth against his side.

“Hi,” Peter said, tucking his toes under Bucky’s calves and giggling when the older boy tried to squirm away. “What’re you gonna do when we get out of here?” He asked conversationally, keeping his voice down as to not disturb Sam who was snoring gently in the other bunk.

“Oh, I dunno.” Bucky murmured, throwing half of the blanket over Peter’s legs. When Peter just nudged his shoulder patiently, Bucky sighed. “I’m gonna find my sister. I’m getting her out of the foster home and we’re gonna take care of ourselves.”

“That sounds nice.” Peter curled into a little ball on his side, dark eyes blinking at Bucky. “You’re a good brother.”

Bucky shrugged, staring at the underside of the top bunk. He didn’t feel like he was. “How about you? Did you ever live… not here?”

Peter nodded, his fingers tracing an unidentifiable pattern on the sheets between them. “With my aunt and uncle. They were good people, took me in after Dad split. But they died a few years ago, so I got sent here to live with him anyways.”

“You don’t seem anything like him,” Bucky mused. “You’re not… not as--”

“Evil? Maniacal? Power-drunk?”

Bucky laughed. “Yeah. All of those things.” He turned to look at Peter, his heart rabbiting in his chest at the way the kid stared at him, curious and unguarded. “What about you?” he croaked. “Where are you going?”

“Dunno,” Peter said, tearing his eyes away from Bucky. “Always wanted to go to school, but… That’s probably not realistic. Not for awhile, anyways.”

“You never know,” Bucky murmured, pushing down the fear of uncertainty rising up his chest. “You’re smart, Queens. You could figure something out.”

Peter gave him a tentative smile, nodding and burrowing into the blankets. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Hey, Brooklyn.”

Bucky looked up from the potato he was scrubbing. Peter was leaned up against the steel worktable in the commune kitchen, grinning at him and holding up a peeler.

“What’re you doing here?” He didn’t see much of Peter around the farm during the daytime - while he and Sam were relegated to the kitchens or the garden, Peter was usually put to work in the infirmary or helping out with the weekly task scheduling.

Peter bumped his hip, grabbing the thoroughly scrubbed potato from his hand. “Got done with stuff. What, can't I just wanna see your pretty face?”

Bucky grinned, glad for the company. “You're a terrible liar, Parker.” He dumped another basket of potatoes into the sink, setting to work scrubbing that batch too. Looking around the kitchen to be sure everyone else was heads down on their own tasks, Bucky said in a low voice, “Everything set?”

“Yeah.” Peter smiled sincerely at him, managing to look completely charming while elbow-deep in potato peels. “Got you on the schedule as a delivery hand tomorrow, and Sam for later today. Once you’re in the rotation, the Guard will be more relaxed about letting you guys out on runs.”

Security had gotten considerably tighter after the first riot. Emrys formed a militia called the Community Guard and equipped them with rubber bullets and police grade batons, and of course every violent cult member with aggression issues had immediately signed up to enlist in the Guard.

Within a week of the Guard’s formation, six more teenagers were sent to the infirmary with severe concussions and there was no more whisper of escape attempts. At least, not outside of their cabin.

It felt like a slice of normalcy, sitting on Peter’s bed while the three of them talked through their plans and what they'd do afterwards - laughing and talking quietly amongst themselves, like they were normal kids instead of planning a secret escape from an isolated cult. Bucky didn't know what would become of their friendships once they got out. Sam had parents he wanted to return to, and Bucky had Rebecca. He thought about asking Peter to stick with him - at least until he figured something more permanent out. But whenever Bucky thought to mention it, his tongue sat heavy in his mouth and he couldn't quite summon the words. He'd wait until they actually managed to escape, he told himself. Get out of this hellhole first, then they'd figure out where to go.

Their plan moved forward into action. With Peter pulling the strings behind the work schedule, Bucky and Sam became regulars on the delivery rotation.

It was dull work mostly - perched in the back of a pickup truck with another farmhand, Bucky was responsible for hauling produce to the various farmers’ markets and isolated towns far flung from the rest of civilization. The buyers never looked at Bucky, didn’t even really like interacting with the drivers, it seemed. They’d fork over a wad of cash and take the bags of produce without so much as a ‘thank you’, all adhering to some unspoken rule not to engage with anyone from the compound more than was absolutely necessary.

On one occasion, the farmhand Bucky was working with - another kid who’d been discarded from the juvenile center - dared to ask a woman at the market to use her phone. She had looked nervously between the boy and the pickup driver, and made up some excuse about not having her phone on her. (Bucky didn’t miss the faint rectangular outline in her apron pocket.)

When they got back to the compound, the driver grabbed the kid and marched him in the direction of Emrys’ quarters, and when Bucky reported on what he’d seen, Peter confirmed grimly that he’d been asked to pull the kid’s name from any future delivery rotations.

Sam and Bucky kept their heads down, did as they were told while out on delivery, and they pretended to swallow Emrys' lies. It was all to get back to Rebecca, Bucky told himself firmly. It wasn't forever.

Their opportunity finally came a week later. "Schedule's set," Peter said breathlessly, bursting into the cabin after the nightly sermon, his face pink from running across the compound. "You two are out on delivery with Joe tomorrow, but I'm gonna take care of him during breakfast."

Sam sprung up from his bunk in excitement and ran at Peter, hugging him and twirling him around in a celebratory circle. "Thank God!” He bellowed, and Peter batted at his shoulders, laughing even as he shushed him.

“We’re getting out,” Bucky said in amazement, sitting stunned at the edge of his bunk. “This time tomorrow, we’re gonna be out of here.”

Once Sam let him down, Peter crouched down on the cabin floor and pulled a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket. “Okay, it’s not the prettiest,” he said, flattening the sheet, “but this is a general map of where we oughta go tomorrow. The first market stop is here,” he pointed to a dot on the traced map. “And the closest town is fifty miles south of that, Clear Creek. All we gotta do is make it to Clear Creek, then they can’t touch us if we’re in someone else’s jurisdiction.”

“How do we know Clear Creek’s law enforcement won’t just turn us back over?” Sam asked, looking down at the sketch.

“We don’t,” Peter admitted, looking up at them. “So we try not to get caught and keep going if we can. Think of Clear Creek as our waypoint marker.”

“Sounds risky,” Bucky said, meeting Peter’s eyes. “Let’s try not to get caught then.”

Peter grinned. “That’s the plan.”

The following morning, Bucky was thrumming with nerves and anxiety. He made his way to the dining hall through a light misty rain, keeping his head down low and flicking his eyes from side-to-side, terrified that any moment, a Community Guard would pull him aside, their plan discovered.

The morning sermon went on without incident though - as he filed through the breakfast line, Peter gave him a little smile before slopping some oatmeal on his tray, but that was the only acknowledgment they made to one another.

Rain was still falling light and dewey across the compound, shallow mud puddles squelching underneath his boots as he made his way to the car port. He caught sight of Sam already hauling burlap sacks of carrots, sweet potatoes and onions into the bed of a dirty white pick-up and began helping out, neither daring to speak to the other just yet.

Peter ducked out of the car port a moment later, shielding his face from the rain. “You boys ready?”

Bucky bit back a nervous laugh and nodded. Sam jumped up into the bed of the truck and perched himself among the burlap sacks of produce, extending a hand down to help Bucky up as well. Catching his eye, Sam gave him an anxious grin and squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“Let’s go,” he called, knocking the top of the cab.

Peter got up into the truck cab and turned the ignition over, looking up into the rearview mirror. His eyes locked with Bucky's in the mirror, and then they drove off.

Mud splattered thick and viscous all around them as Peter drove through the compound, caking the wheels and leaving deep wet tracks in the earth behind them. The rain drizzled on, flattening Bucky's hair against his face and he had to squint to see more than a few feet in front of the truck, so his fingers tightened around the edge of the truck bed when he felt them rolling to a stuttered stop.

"Hold up," called a voice, and Bucky felt his stomach plummet as a Community Guard strolled up to the cab, rapping his rubber baton against the hood.

Peter leaned across and cranked the window down, smiling at the guard. "Hey!" he greeted him cheerfully, fingers wrapped tense around the steering wheel.

"I didn't think you were cleared for driving," the guard said in a gruff voice, squinting back to where Bucky and Sam sat in the pickup bed.

"Yeah, just got trained," Peter said.

"Is that so?" The guard's eyes lingered on Bucky, then on Sam, taking in their stiff posture and nervous silence.

"We got a couple deliveries to make, can we go?" Peter asked, an edge of impatience creeping into his voice.

"Hold on." Bucky watched with mounting dread as the guard's hand strayed down to the gun at his belt, a clear threat. "I don't want you driving out in this weather if you're new at this. I'm gonna check the schedule, see if someone can switch shifts."

Sam and Bucky exchanged a panicked look. "We already asked," Sam shouted quickly. "Clint was gonna, but he said he wasn't feelin' too good. Something about stomach cramps.” When the guard gave him another dubious look, Sam said, “Look, we're already gonna run late with the rain, but if we slow down anymore, half these people won't even buy this stuff. You know how they hardly trust us," he added ruefully, with a commiserating shake of his head.

The guard gave an annoyed sigh, but his hand lowered from the gun at his belt. “I still don’t like you driving out in the rain,” he scowled. “Let me drive ‘em, your dad’ll kill me if I let you get into a wreck.”

For a hair of a second, Bucky saw Peter’s eyes flick up to the rearview mirror again and meet his, terror communicated between them wordlessly. “Please Rollins, c'mon," he pleaded, pasting on a charming smile. "If I never drive in these conditions, how'm I supposed to learn?" When the guard's forehead furrowed in doubt again, Peter leaned forward, throwing out their last hail Mary. "Come along for the ride. Just let me practice," he wheedled.

Rollins chewed at his lower lip thoughtfully, then sighed, his shoulders slumped in defeat. It worked. "Yeah, okay," he relented. "Budge over."

Peter gave him a winning grin and threw the car door open, letting him in.

The door slammed shut behind them and Rollins cranked the window back up, leaving Bucky and Sam to stare at one another in quiet dismay as the rain fell around them.

Slowly, the pickup drove on away from the compound, the fields and shacks of the isolated community fading into the gray afternoon mist as they went on with their escape, complications and all.

"What are we gonna do?" Sam murmured in a low voice, his fingers clenched tense around his knees.

"We gotta get rid of him along the way. Maybe… Maybe make some emergency, so he has to get out of the cab." Bucky dug around the truck bed, looking for some kind of tool. "Fuck, should've brought a shovel or something," he mourned.

"We could use a big carrot," Sam said drily.

"Come on, Sam," Bucky said fretfully, but as he looked around the truck, wielding produce seemed more and more like their only option. "Fuck," he said again.

All too quickly, they made it into their first stop, a small market far flung from the compound and still well beyond any incorporated town to speak of.

Sam and Bucky got to work hauling bags of produce off the truck, unable to speak with Peter with the guard sitting idly in the truck cab. It was as Bucky was summing up the price that he saw Sam fiddling with one of the vendors' wooden stalls. Sam was leaned casually against the post like he was just sheltering himself from the rain, but Bucky caught his fingers twisting something under the wooden slats of the stall.

His heart pounding in his chest, Bucky stuttered over the numbers, losing count. "Shit, sorry," he mumbled, scrubbing his face and smiling apologetically at the vendor. "Never was good at numbers."

The vendor made a derisive sound under her breath but just tapped her foot impatiently while she waited for Bucky to count again.

He summed the prices up, watching Sam out of the corner of his eye. Sam tucked his hands into his pockets and headed back to the truck, stooping to retie his boots. Only when he had hopped back up into the truck bed did Bucky give her the total, holding back his sigh of relief.

The vendor scanned over the numbers doubtfully, but finding no flaw, sneered and handed over the cash.

Bucky smiled and thanked her, and jogged back to the truck, joining Sam among the sacks of produce.

“What took you so long?” Rollins asked in an annoyed growl, jerking the passenger side door open just enough to take the wad of cash out of Bucky’s hand.

“Bad at math,” Bucky shrugged.

“Fucking delinquents,” Rollins muttered scathingly, slamming the door again as the truck rumbled on.

“Thanks, man,” Sam said quietly.

As Peter drove them on, Bucky tilted his head to the side, hearing an odd metallic clanking like something was rattling underneath the truck. “What did you do?” he asked.

Sam grinned, uncurling his fingers and showing Bucky a long, rusted screw. “Messed with the exhaust pipe,” he murmured. “Mostly harmless, but it’ll sound like something bad is fucked up - hopefully fucked up enough that Rollins gets out to check.”

Bucky grinned at him.

Sure enough, Rollins started shifting in the cab, looking around in annoyance and at points, leaning over the dash to check what he could see.

Not wanting them to get too close to the second stop, Bucky rapped on the back window of the cab. “Hey!” he called, and the truck rolled to a slow stop, tires squelching in the mud.

The rain was falling harder now, a consistent downpour that soaked Bucky and Sam to their bones, although the adrenaline pumping through him kept the cold at bay. Rollins reluctantly opened the cab door and got out, hunching himself under his jacket. “You guys hear that rattling too?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, wiping the rain from his face. “It sounded like it’s comin’ from underneath the truck, I think.”

Rollins scoffed, looking disgruntled as he circled the vehicle. “Yeah, that’s where all the car parts are, genius. ‘Course it’s coming from underneath the truck.”

“I know something about cars,” Bucky volunteered, hopping out of the bed. Rollins raised an eyebrow but stepped back to make room for him. “Probably something with the, uh, serpentine belt,” he fished, wincing when Sam gave him an unimpressed look. Thankfully, Rollins didn’t call him on his bluff.

Feeling a little emboldened, Bucky crouched by the side of the truck, his eyes flicking up to where Peter was sitting in the cab, brown eyes blinking curiously at him. “Here, I’m gonna try tightening the muffler valve. Can you get close to the exhaust pipe -- yeah, just kinda next to it, and can you tell me if you hear something hissing?”

Rollins grimaced, clearly not relishing the thought of taking orders from the new kid, but he went to the back of the truck, stooping just a bit.

Bucky seized his opportunity. Jumping up to his feet, he kicked at the wet earth, spraying thick mud into Rollins’ face and making him roar.

Sam hefted up a sack of carrots and flung it at Rollins, knocking the man off balance and flat into the mud. “Go, go, go!” he roared, just as Bucky grabbed onto the passenger side door, barely hauling himself into the cab in time as Peter slammed on the gas pedal.

“Fuck!” Peter cried, but he was laughing hysterically as they peeled away, tires spitting up mud in their wake.

“Tighten the muffler valve!” he could hear Sam howling, his own laughter bubbling out of his throat in amazement.

As he watched Rollins stumble to his feet in the rear mirrors, he swore as he realized Rollins was pulling his gun from his holster. A loud crack rent the air and Bucky ducked his head instinctively. “He’s fucking shooting at us,” he shouted indignantly.

“Don’t worry,” Peter called back, “they’re rubber bullets! Shit, I dunno where we’re going, can you get my map--”

Another crack sounded, this one louder than the last. Bucky’s ears were ringing, and he realized with almost slow-motion comprehension that glass was sprayed all across the truck cab, shards of it discarded across the peeled leather seats.

He hauled himself upright, staring as Peter’s eyes found his, wide and frightened. “You’re okay,” he said instinctively, wanting to comfort the other boy, and then the truck veered to the side, too fast for country roads and Peter slumped bonelessly into his lap.

Bucky’s hands went to cradle his head, adrenaline dragging time to a crawl. “Hey,” he started, his fingers slick and wet in Peter’s hair. He didn’t understand - Peter hadn’t gone in the rain, why was he wet - and as he pulled his fingers away, he stared uncomprehendingly at the thick red rivulets running down his palm.

“Bucky!” Sam roared behind him. “Drive!”

“Oh god,” he heard himself say, and when another crack sounded through the air, Bucky snapped back to himself. He cradled Peter’s head as best as he could and slid into the driver’s seat, his body twisted awkwardly as he rammed down on the gas pedal while trying to keep Peter in his lap.

Another two gunshots rang out, one embedding itself in the metal of the truck, but Sam kept screaming, “Drive, don’t stop driving!” so he curled his arms tighter around Peter’s fragile body and kept on the gas, numb and trembling until his vision was blurred with the pouring rain.

[ruffiorocks]

James Olsen Issues with powerful men and women (anti James, but only because i think i finally see the issue!)

OK, so after the last episode i have come to the conclusion James is and has been in need of some serious therapy since he first came to National City and even before then! I've started to see a pattern of jealously towards both powerful men and women. Essentially, people more relevant that himself.

Kelly stated that Lex has tried to kill James 8 times now.

We’ve also learned that Lex kidnapped and tortured James to get to Superman. 

That is a lot of bad s**t to happen to a guy and not have him work through it. That is guaranteed to cause some kind of issues! 

When James got to National City the first thing he did was get involved with yet another super, even though he clearly hasn't worked through the issues that being involved with the first super had caused. This was a super he could get involved with and influence, have some degree of control over.

After seeing his poor treatment of Kelly (before the end of the ep) im wondering if this is what has caused him to have issues with women telling him what to do or being his superiors. 

Hear me out (then you can tell me if you think im wrong,which is fine, each to their own).

So ever since James met Superman he has been in the shadow and the side kick of the most powerful alien on Earth. A man that James is even taller than! In addition to this James has been in the middle of a battle royale between the most powerful alien on earth and the most powerful man (Lex). James’ only role in this rivalry was to be kidnapped, tortured and basically nearly killed 8 times. James has basically been a damsel in distress. Maybe this is what led James to go and get himself a black belt. 

So, James has never been able to be on par with the men in his life while in Metropolis. Clark is Superman so no competition there, Lex is a billionaire genius, James cant compete and he worked for Perry White a powerful man in the media. Who is James here other than the guy who gets kidnapped? He isnt really relevant in the grand scheme of things and he just takes photos. (By relevant, i mean he is no different to any other civilian other than the fact he knows Superman).

Now James goes to National City, pretty much just after he has been kidnapped, tortured and been given 18 scars. The first thing he does? Gets involved with the shenanigans of yet another super and put himself in yet more dangerous situations with no way to really defend himself. By rights the guy should already have PTSD and should have been in therapy and having a looong get away somewhere quiet without super drama (pun intended).

In the very first episode after Kara meets him and says Cat doesn't like to be kept waiting, James replies with ‘whats she going to do? Fire me right after hiring me?’ His attitude towards his new female boss here is not a good start. A prelude to how he will later treat Lena as his boss? 

James also thought he was enough of a big shot to sit on the arm of the couch in Cats office while everyone else was standing up in respect and fear. One look from Cat was enough to nip that in the bud! James got a reality check here.

The first season he got annoyed that Winn knew Kara’s secret, like he was the only one that should have known it. He made a point to flirt with Kara even though he still had a girlfriend he hadnt broken up with.

When his girlfriend came after him he tried again with her while continuing his flirtation with Kara. He then got annoyed at Lucy for working at Cat Co, he broke up with her, he then got annoyed when she came back and Kara revealed herself to her. James was annoyed when Lucy said ‘and you’re back in Kara’s loft, nothings changed then’. Lucy wasnt willing to have a boyfriend who had no respect for her and outwardly flirted with other women in front of her. 

So what was James' issue with Lucy? A strong, independent woman who was career driven? Well, maybe that was exactly it. Remember how Lucy was/is a Major in the army with respect, status, is involved in alien, government, DEO business? She’s also freaking tiny and James is like 6 foot tall. he couldnt handle a small in stature girlfriend being above him in any way. James also stood up Lucy to help Kara and always put Kara first, the only one willing to put any work into that relationship was Lucy. James put Superman first, then Supergirl. Lucy Land deserved so much better than James. Lucy would later be made the head of the DEO and work with Supergirl and Alex, being relevant where James was just not. 

General Lane, even James’ girlfriends father was a man of more power , influence and relevance than James was. Out shined by both your girlfriend and her father. Even more out shined by your girlfriends sister since shes the Daily Planets top reporter. Who also happens to be the girlfriend of  his best friend and the man he will never outshine. 

Then we had Barry Allen show up and James was instantly jealous of the attention that Kara gave him. He was once again shown up (in his mind) by a man who was more powerful than he was. A man that could help Kara take down enemies that James couldn't help with. 

Winn, well Winn contributed more to helping Kara save the day than James ever did, both in season 1 and when he put on that ridiculous Guardian outfit. Winn was a smaller, none athletic nerdy guy who was 100xs smarter than James and way more useful. James in season 1 was a glorified love interest who didnt do much. 

When James did try to help in season 1 he managed to piss people off. He called Clark because he didnt believe Kara could handle Reactron because her male counter part couldnt. (proved wrong)/ He went snooping after Maxwell Lord and got kidnapped and got his ass handed to him again by a billionaire man more powerful and relevant  than himself. 

When James turned up at  the DEO he was told by Jonn to go home, he wasnt wanted there because he wasnt needed or relevant. 

Winn was asked to join the DEO and he left Cat Co to go and continue to be a valuable relevant member of the team. Winn was wanted and needed by the DEO, Jonn and Alex. 

Remember when Kara was on red K? James wanted nothing to do with her afterwards. Yes she absolutely assaulted him, but that just backs up my point of James’ experiences with someone far more powerful than himself and a woman to boot. 

When Lena turned up James was instantly suspicious, another powerful billionaire with more influence than himself. A woman he instantly judged for her family name, even though we learned last week she was kidnapped the same as him by the same guy. She was also the reason that Lex was caught. Lena did what Clark and James were incapable of doing. 

James became Guardian because he felt he had the same call to help people and he was ‘meant for this?’ No, James was watching everyone else he knew be relevant and was watching people more powerful than him have influence and was jealous. 

James demanded that Winn finish his suit because he couldn't stand being left out and watching the people whose job it was to deal with threats and were perfectly capable of dealing with them handle it.

James told Kara she had no right to decide who gets to be a hero, true, but then he thought he deserved to be one because he had a ‘call’ and he had a black belt. Go join the freaking police academy then! He couldnt stand Kara telling him no’ another powerful woman with more influence than him. Kara didnt want her human friend to get hurt, her untrained human friend. She did meet Oliver, Sara and CO, but they had years of intense physical and psychological training. They didnt get a black belt and put on a Halloween costume and think they were the s**t. Even Alex had to train for month before Jonn let her out into the field. 

Alex? Another powerful more relevant woman than James will ever be. She told James and Winn to tell Kara the truth and he didnt. 

James couldn't deal with Mon El, ‘I had to deal with the civilians’ ‘Mon El cares about you and himself!’ He didn't believe Mon El could be a hero and didnt want to give him a chance. What was his issue with Mon El? Another man more powerful than him, replaced him as a love interest and was welcomed at the DEO to be part of the team.  

Cat leaves James in charge of Cat Co, a job he has zero experience in. But he finally gets to be a man of influence, this shows in later seasons, especially with the COL story line. James has become a man that now has some influence and is more relevant, his words now mean something. But then Lena buys Cat Co and James just thinks he’s going to keep his position and he’ll continue to run things the way he has been and will give her weekly updates. Well she soon nipped that in the bud didnt she? He even said they didnt have an office for her. Well technically his office was still Cat’s and since Lena bought it it becomes her office. He was even rude to her when she asked where Kara was running off to and he got annoyed that Lena held a meeting without him. Sure she probably should have told him, but dont forget this is a man who had no love for Lena and she had no reason to like him, so maybe she wanted to meet the staff without James’ influence, so she knew what she was dealing with. 

This was clear example of yet another powerful, influential billionaire being more relevant and one upping James. To add to it she’s another woman who can now tell James what to do. 

James realized Lena was staying? Well he’ll just get romantically involved with his boss, that will keep his position and influence in tact.

James looked beyond annoyed when he touched Lena’s bare shoulder and she squirmed (yes squirmed) out of his grasp.

James was approached by the COL who saw something in him and wanted to work with him. James was so flattered by this he got involved with them without even thinking about it, leading to of course disaster!! 

Lena told James as his boss not to go and meet with the COL because she had booked him to debate with Ben Lockwood on TV, something that would have made more sense. But James told her she wasn't allowed an opinion on what he does because its work. He told this to his BOSS! She then had to pull rank on him and he couldn't stand the fact that a woman could tell him what to do. He ignored her and sent an inexperienced rookie reporter to do it instead.

James even got pissed at Lena because she saved him from going to prison for a long time for coming out as Guardian. Instead of thanking her he got mad and rejected her love. Another/same woman able to do something that he himself would never have been able to do. He was once again saved by a woman and someone more powerful than he was. A woman who supported his stupid decision to come out as Guardian in the first place. 

James gets dumped and decides he may have to look into the lead he tried to squash on his girlfriend. Take down the woman who dumped you? Your boss? Using her resources? 

James gets shot and his sister authorizes the use of a drug to save his life. He wakes up and is instantly disrespectful to her and tells her she just wants to tell him what to do and she should go home! 

OK so, i conclude from this that James’ traumas in Metropolis has given him serious issues. He is always being kidnapped by male billionaires and beaten up. He cannot stand that there are both alien and human women that are more powerful, relevant and influential than he is and have authority over him. He cannot stand being on the outside looking in, he has to get involved in whats going on even when he’s told not to and people dont want him to. His romantic interests always consist of women who have more power and influence than he ever will, whose thoughts, opinions and decisions actually matter in the situations the gang find themselves in. When those women tell him ‘no’ or pull rank on him, he even dumps them, tells them they cant tell him what to do or he makes them feel like they are in the wrong. 

He cannot stand that there are humans out there more relevant and useful than him (Winn) or aliens (Mon El).

James needs therapy, all of this trauma has turned him into this man that doesn't like female authority, cant stand men of more influence than him and has left him with a desperate need to be in the thick of the fight when in fact he has no business being out on the battle field at all. James’ time as the ‘dude/damsel in distress’ when he was with Superman has left him feeling weak and vulnerable and his masculinity has taken a huge hit. 

General Lane said ‘You surround yourself with special people, but that doesn't make you special’. Probably the truest words ever spoken to James. James is/was special in his own way, he should have stuck to being a photographer. Like a few episodes back when he got back into that again. All of the above is just James trying to be something he will never be.

Either that, or poor writing. You decide.