#this took forever because i had to put my brain in a Sad Place for a long time

[mykoreanlove]

sleepy 💤

I got inspired to write a sequel to dating ban so special thanks to my brain and the lovely @hannahhbahng

Part 1 🖲️

Part 2 - enjoy :)

„I haven‘t seen you in forever – where the hell have you been Y/N?“

You took a sip of your mocha latte and thought of an answer. Your best friend looked at you worriedly, her green eyes full of concern. If it wasn’t her, you’d come up with a lie: work was killing you, you studied a lot, you visited your family or simply decided to take a social detox.

But since it was your best friend asking you decided to tell the truth. “I spent most of my time sleeping”, a smirk escaped your coral lips.

“Sleeping? Why are you sleeping so much? Oh my god, are you sick?” She took your hands into hers and scooched closer. Your best friend smelled like roses and nicotine – a scent that you grew up with. If it wasn’t her, you’d lie but why bother? Surely, she’d understand, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

You took a deep breath before answering: “No, I am not sick. I’ve been sleeping a lot because”, you gathered your confidence to tell her the truth, “because that’s the only way I can still see him.” You looked at you lap silently.

Your friend’s bewildered eyes observed you cautiously. “See him? Him? Him as in Hyunjin?” You nodded your head, still facing your lap. “What do you mean you see him? Does he appear in your dreams?”

You smiled, thinking back of the first time it happened. It was a cold winter night in Seoul, the air was crisp and the heater in your apartment barely worked. You put on everything you had in your closet before you wrapped yourself in a thick, wool blanket. After Hyunjin broke things off you became a homebody, not really wanting to engage in life anymore.

Instead, you spent countless nights in front of your window looking at the moon, wondering if he was doing the same. You understood why he had to end it between you two but that didn’t soothe your pain, at all. You often fell asleep thinking about him, wishing it were his arms around you and his love illuminating the night instead of the moon.

One night it just happened. It was as he was sitting right next to you, holding you, talking to you. You saw his features so clearly – his black hair framed his beautiful face, his eyes turned into crescent moons when smiling and his plush lips turned into a smirk when he caught you gazing at him.

Ever since that night you tried to sleep as much as you could, just to be close to him. You knew it was a dream, but it felt so real, you felt as if he was right here with you and that was all you needed in that moment.

“So? What does he say in your dreams?”

You blushed. “Oh, sometimes he just says things, like, how much he misses me and stuff.”

When it happened the first time, he took the blanket off of you and embraced you in his strong arms. He smirked, looking at you dressed like the Michelin male. “Are there actually any clothes left in your closet?” You slapped his chest, pouting. “Okay, okay, I am sorry”, he laughed. “You better be. After all, it’s your fault you’re not here to keep me warm anymore.”

Even in your dreams you felt the sadness in both of your chests. “You are right, Y/N. And I’m so sorry. I miss you like crazy; you have to believe me. I started seeing your name everywhere, the guys are already fearing I’ve become mental.” He tightened his grip around you. “I know this sounds selfish, but I’m happy you haven’t moved on, yet.”

You looked at his face – his lips smiling happily but his sorrowful eyes giving him away. Before you could say anything, he placed his index finger on your lips, silencing you. “No please, let me go first. I know that this is my fault. I should have never dated you in the first place, Y/N. I never wanted to hurt you like that. I never wanted us to part like this. I am sorry but I-”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Your eyes shot open, your whole body tense. It took you a couple of minutes to understand what had happened, to process all of this. And then you remembered – Hyunjin being there with you. You felt the loving warmth in your body, your chest expanding and smiling. You thought of him being with you, holding you, apologizing to you, still loving you.

And then it hit you – the sadness rolled over you like a vast tsunami. It was a dream, nothing but a stupid dream.

You started to cry, clenching the blanket wishing it was him. The pain was unbearable – why couldn’t he stay with you?

Weeks went by until you had the next dream – ironically, it was the night of your cousin’s wedding. It took all your determination to power-through that day, to be happy for her while you felt in shambles. And when you fell asleep that night, he visited you again. Hyunjin was dressed in a tuxedo, as if he had been wanting to accompany you to that wedding.

“I can’t wait until it’s our turn, love!”

He smiled at you brightly. You giggled while lacing your fingers together. “Yeah, you’re going to be a fantastic bride, Hwang.” Hyunjn faked a shocked expression, loving every minute of it though. “Listen, I mean it. Don’t you ever think about our future together?”

“No way, that’s too creepy!” Your friend interrupted you. You smirked once more: “Ya think?” She moved closer, basically sitting on your lap now. “I mean, I don’t get it. Didn’t you know that you were broken up in your dreams?” You sighed, heavily. “I guess, kind of? But do you know when you’re dreaming, like flying, you don’t even notice you’re dreaming, because it feels real? And when I saw Jinnie in my dreams, I don’t know it felt as if we’re together. As we should be.”

You paused with a heavy heart. “As we were.”

Your friend squeezed your hand. You tried to smile once more asking her if she wanted to hear the rest. “Sure, but let me order some real drinks first. I feel like I’m gonna need those.”

She came back with a tray full of tequila. “Bottoms up. We need these, trust me.” The alcohol burned your throat, but you kind of liked it. You gathered your thoughts: “So, where was I?”

“I mean, I think of our future all the fucking time. Like, when this whole idol thing is over, I want to get married. To you Y/N!” He practically beamed at you with love. You believed that he loved you but marriage? As if he could read your thoughts, he started to explain himself. Hyunjin took your hands into his and drew small circles on them while declaring his love for you.

“Y/N, you know how little girls dream about their wedding? Well, I guess I did the same, just as the little boy-version, I guess. I always fantasized about being married to the woman of my dreams. I even built a small vision board, silly right?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What was on that board?” He was glowing, eyes turning into half moons again.

“Well, I put a lot of things on it, actually. I wanted her to be beautiful and cute, of course. I wanted to parade her through town and show off, because my girl was the prettiest in the whole wide world. I also wanted her to be charming and funny – even as a small boy I knew that life could get hard, and you needed some giggles. Furthermore, I wanted her to be smart and expressive. That makes totally sense, right? Like I love to draw, and I want her to have a passion of her own. I also wanted her to be compassionate and kind. I guess I wanted to date my best friend.”

You were in awe of him – even at such a young age he knew exactly what he wanted. “And as for the relationship, or marriage I should say, I wanted us to feel happy and loved. I wanted it to be fun yet peaceful. The feeling you get when you come home.” He squeezed your hands tightly. “That is the feeling I have when I’m with you. You exceeded my every expectation Y/N and that’s why I want to marry you.”

Your friend started heavily sobbing, the tequila probably adding to that. “You alright?”, you asked worried. “Am I alright? What do you mean am I alright? Are you alright? I can't believe this!” Her cries and screams got the attention of the other guests, so you tried to calm her down quickly.

“Y/N, this breaks my heart. You two belong together. Hyunjin can't even let you go in your fucking dreams! Are all of your dreams emotional like that?”

In fact, they were not. Sometimes, when you got really lucky, you dreamed of him being intimate with you. You shuddered just remembering this, but he always had that effect on you. Hyunjin loved to tower over you, taking advantage of his height. He grabbed you by the chin, tenderly, while looking into your eyes with the most intense gaze.

“Baby girl”, his lips touching yours slightly, “do you know what I’d love to do to you, right now?” His hands roamed your body, squeezing all of his favorite parts before breathing into your ear seductively: “I want to pin you down on this mattress and make love to you all night long. I’m gonna make you cum over and over until you can’t scream my name anymore. And when we’re done, I’m gonna hold you in my arms and praise you. I’ll tell you what a good girl you were for me while kissing your bruises. Will you let me do that to you, baby girl?”

You poured that shot of tequila in one go. Your friend was right – you needed it. Bullshit, what you needed was Jinnie. Ever since you started dreaming of him that nagging voice in the back of your mind got louder.

“Do you think he’s dreaming of you, too? Or maybe he’s using some kind of dark magic to communicate with you?”

You laughed whole-heartedly, the first time in weeks. “Magic? What are you, nuts?” Your friend scoffed at you. “Listen you punk, haven’t you seen Harry Potter? Remember when Voldemort was writing to Harry in that ugly notebook? What if it’s something like that? What if Hyunjin got himself a notebook, probably one with flowers on it because he’s a sissy like that and writes to you from time to time. And when he does, he appears in your dreams!”

You got up from your seat and grabbed your coats: “I think we’ve had enough tequila and I think we need to go home. And sleep!” Both of you left the bar and got greeted with the chilly air of springtime Seoul.

“Y/N, I fucking mean it. What if-”  she looked up at the full moon, “-what if Hyunjin was talking to the moon right now? Hey moon, it’s your boy, Hyunjin from Stray Kids, and I need to tell you something!” You crackled up at your friend imitating Jinnie.

“Listen, moon, I see you are shining especially bright today, and I wish I could say the same about me. But I can’t. Because I made a big fucking mistake some months ago. I let go of the LomL, oh right, the moon doesn’t know that term, it’s love of my life, sorry moon, anyway and now I am miserable. I might turn ugly from sadness, is that possible? I miss her so fucking much. Do you miss her, too? You probably don’t because you still get to see her every night.”

Thankfully, you were so drunk that you forgot how painful all this felt for a short moment. You looked up at the moon and felt peaceful for once. “Hey moon”, you whispered, “you can tell him that I miss him, too. Send him my love, alright?”

You felt your friend lay her arm around your shoulder. “Let’s go home and sleep, shall we?”

[casdeans-pie]

Part 4 of Flustered Castiel Accidentally Explodes Lightbulbs And Causes Power Outages Especially When Dean's Fingers Are In His Hair

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3.

Happy birthday to me! This is my birthday gift to myself so it's deliciously self indulgent for the final part. I honestly could have just kept going with this forever, I adore flustered!Cas and his angel powers lmao

This part got so big I couldn't put the whole chapter in the tumblr post sorry!

Taglist: @dreampencil , @mymisfitsbabe , @fivefeetfangirl , @kerryweaverlesbian , @give-bucky-his-boyfriend-back , @mooshroomister , @castielsbloodynose , @the-great-pumpkin-67 , @casavanse , @homoangel - thanks all for your interest, hope you like the conclusion!!

-----Read on AO3-----

---------

If stubbornness was a sin, Dean knew he would be going straight to hell when he died. Again.

There were a million reasons that Dean could think of for why Cas had distanced himself (that buzzed around his brain like insistent bees whenever he lay down to sleep at night) but if they didn’t talk about them then none of them were real. The ache in his chest at Cas’s absence, familiar from when he used to leave them for stretches at a time, felt like it dug in deeper and deeper with every passing day – but he still just couldn’t bring himself to talk to him about it.

The biggest surprise became the slow realisation that the saying ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ wasn’t just some made up cliché bullshit that people said to each other, because seeing Cas, even briefly before he scurried away, made Dean’s heart sing like a lovesick teenage girl.

Sam only suffered through so much before he started using his Sad-Sam-Eyes whenever he saw them both, hoping they would finally sort out whatever was going on between them, but he didn’t mention it otherwise. Somehow that made it even worse. If Sam told them to talk to each other, at least that could have been a good excuse. But no.

Dean had to do something on his own.

He had to.

He’d started all of this by being a jerk about Cas’s powers, so it was time to dip into that Dean Winchester Courage, have a real conversation about all of this, and face losing his best friend – the Angel that he loved – head on.

------

Then they finally had a hunt together. Alone.

Dean’s bloody machete hung in a loose grip by his side as he kicked the toe of his boot at the decapitated body on the ground beside him. The head lay nearby.

“Think we finally got ‘em all,” Dean said with a grin. His clothes were covered in splashes of blood, and he could feel some drying on his cheek that he was itching to scratch off with his nail. “I love a good vamp nest clear-out, but if I’d have known there were gonna be this many, I would’ve brought Sam as extra back-up.” Dean didn’t want to mention that the reason he’d told Sam to stay behind in the first place was because he’d finally stopped being chickenshit scared about sorting this thing out with Cas. “Not that we didn’t handle it.” He gestured towards the headless bodies scattered around them with his machete.

Cas didn’t reply. He’d been quiet in the ride over and had kept his distance for the whole fight.

Okay. Time’s up. Time to do this. Dean took a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes. “Cas, listen-”

“Dean!” Cas yelled, slamming into him just as the sound of a gunshot exploded nearby.

Dean went hurtling down as another gunshot rang out. He landed heavily – the floor winded him and disorientated him enough that he couldn’t get straight back up, and he shook his head rapidly to try to clear it.

There were sounds of Cas wrestling with the vampire nearby. Dean watched dazedly as the vampire snarled and bared his fangs as he threw a punch at Cas’s nose, and his fist connected with a thud. But that gave Cas the opportunity to wrench the gun out of the vampire’s weakened grasp, and he tossed it aside, making it skitter harmlessly across the floor into a dark corner of the warehouse.

Red bloomed through the top of Cas’s trench coat on his left shoulder.

“Cas!” Dean warned, finally scrambling to his feet just as the vampire grabbed Cas and threw him down with a hiss onto the dusty, blood-spattered floor.

The vampire loomed over him with an open mouth full of needle-sharp teeth just as Cas sat up with a grunt and threw up his hand with his palm out. Dean recognised the gesture, and he immediately braced himself for the blinding light of Cas’s angelic smitey powers, but only a faint sputtering glow emerged from his hand.

After a moment, where Cas stared at his hand in confusion, the vampire hissed and lunged.

He never got any further.

Dean’s machete swung in a clean shining arc through the vampire’s neck, and he collapsed in a heap like a puppet with cut strings. The spray of blood caught Cas, smattering his face and hair with even more crimson alongside what currently trickled out of his nose and soaked his shoulder.

Dean groaned in relief and threw the machete to the concrete floor with a clang. “Definitely the last one,” he declared with a deep breath. “Damn that got close for a second there. Come on, up you get.” Dean offered out a hand to help Cas, but he pushed himself up with a groan instead, pointedly not looking at the hand as if he hadn’t noticed it.

Dean tried to shrug it off again, just like he had all the other times that Cas refused to touch him recently, but he could feel the hurt burning in his throat and behind his eyes. He clenched his fist so tightly it almost hurt as he returned it to his side.

“You okay?” Dean asked instead with a frown, thinking of the gunshots, and noticing the blood stain on Cas’s shoulder increasing in size.

“Yes. The first bullet got me, but the second bullet missed. I think it went clean through. Didn’t hit anything vital.” Cas touched his shoulder and winced, then observed Dean – his blue eyes raking him up and down from head to foot. “What about you? Are you hurt?”

Dean shook his head, the mixture of hurt and concern and happiness at the closest attention he’d got from Cas in weeks making his words come out harsher than he intended when he snapped, “Nope. My bullet-proof friend pushed me out of the way, and then revealed that he’s not so bullet-proof today.”

Cas smiled ruefully. “Ah. Yes. Looks that way.” He dusted his trench coat off as best he could and lifted an arm to wipe his sleeve across his nose – though he only succeeded in smearing the dust and blood around. He closed his eyes and rubbed again.

Dean pushed down his confusing cocktail of emotions, like he always did, and forced on a smile. “You’re just making it worse, buddy. Why’s killing vamps always such a bloody job?” He reached over without thinking, while Cas was still rubbing at his nose. “Nose doesn’t look broken at least, but your shoulder’s probably gonna need stitches while you’re low on power like this.”

Dean’s fingers had barely even grazed the fabric on Cas’s shoulder before Cas flinched back violently.

The lights in the warehouse groaned and buzzed as they flickered and dimmed, and then just as quickly returned to normal.

Cas’s eyes were wide as he took another step back.

Dean felt all his confusion sharpen into a frustrated stab of white-hot anger. He gestured violently at the ceiling. “Okay. Y’know what. That’s it. Let’s talk. What the hell is going on with you, Cas? Why have you been avoiding me? What’s the deal with the lights?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Nothing you need to know about.”

“Nothing I- are you even hearing yourself right now? You’re really gonna admit to keeping secrets again after everything we’ve been through? And- hey, what’s up with your face? What are you doing?”

Cas had screwed his eyes together so tight that it pinched his whole expression. “Concentrating.”

“On what? This conversation that you’re trying not to be in?”

“On using my Grace to heal my shoulder and clean all of this off, but it’s not…” Cas gritted his teeth and opened his eyes. They glowed faintly. “It’s not working.”

Dean took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Shit, Cas. You know you’re low on power right now, you really want to use up what little juice you got left before you get chance to recharge? The motel’s only twenty minutes away.” He scowled. “You can even sit in the back. Far away from me, like you want.”

Dean didn’t wait for a response, he turned, reached down for his abandoned machete, and stalked back to Baby.

By the time Cas finally got into the car – in the back – Dean had already texted Sam to tell him that the nest had been cleared out and they would be spending the night at the motel.

They’d be back at the bunker tomorrow, and then Cas could keep avoiding him like before. Or maybe he’d finally just admit that he wanted to leave… and he’d go. The thought made Dean clench the steering wheel with a grip that made his knuckles white.

He couldn’t imagine his life without Cas in it.

The ride to the motel was tense and silent except for Baby’s engine that Dean pushed harder than he should. (The twenty-minute ride only took them ten. Cas didn’t comment on it.)

As soon as they were through the door Dean toed off his shoes, flicked on all the lights, and went to wash his hands in the bathroom. He didn’t look back to see what Cas was doing. It was none of his business. If he didn’t want to talk about it, then what did he care. (He tried to tell himself, even as the ache in his chest pounded and felt cavernous.)

Dean splashed some water on his face and gripped the sides of the grubby sink. Water plinked pink from his chin into the chipped basin, as the vampire blood washed away down the plughole.

After a deep breath Dean grabbed a towel and rubbed it over his face, careful not to inhale at the same time – he’d learned a long time ago that it was best not to know what motel towels smelt like – and reached for the first aid kit he always left in the bathroom when they went on hunts.

Sufficiently calmed down, and feeling less like his heart was caught in the vice grip of a homicidal ghost, Dean turned and emerged back into the main room. He froze mid-step at what he saw: Cas had his head in his hands, perched on the edge of his bed, while the blood stains from his bullet wound were soaking through his coat down his arm. He hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, and there seemed to be a particularly troubled tenseness to the set of his shoulders. Even more than usual. Despite their strained relationship recently, it cut Dean deeply to see him like that – so clearly suffering and so human.

Dean sat heavily onto his own bed opposite Cas. The old springs creaked loudly and protested at the sudden weight. “Alright. Coat off.”

Cas startled and snapped his head up. The lamp beside his bed flickered weakly. “What?”

Dean’s usual enthusiasm for the phenomenon of the flickering lights wasn’t his priority this time, and he pushed his curiosity aside. “Stitches,” Dean said simply, brandishing the first aid kit.

“I don’t need them,” Cas grumbled, looking away. “Once my Grace has recharged enough it will heal on its own.”

“Oh okay, so you’re just going to wait and see if your mojo recharges faster than you bleed? And you’re, what, expecting me to just sit here while we find out? Because I am not okay with that.”

“Yes.”

“Cas. Just let me put some damn stitches in your damn shoulder.”

“No.” The muscles in Cas’s jawline clenched.

Dean scowled as he ran a hand through his hair. It was sticky and matted with drying blood, but that was nothing new. “Let me put it this way. You either take off your coat and shirt willingly, or I will tackle you to that bed and remove them myself” – the lamp flickered again – “so help me God, don’t think that I won’t. Your choice.” Dean had his eyes locked on Cas’s narrowed ones. “I will not let you suffer when I can do something about it. Yeah, you might heal it up yourself in an hour or two, but I’m not going to sit here watching you bleeding and in pain, when I can help. Don’t ask me to.”

“Dean… This is just… It’s a bad idea.”

“A bad idea? To stop you from bleeding out? C’mon man, you’re always healing me up after hunts, let me repay the favor for once. Besides, you took the shot meant for me – it should be me sitting there with the bullet hole.”

Cas went suddenly pale, and his eyebrows drew together in a serious line. “If it were, I would use up whatever Grace I had left to heal you.”

Oh.

Dean blinked in surprise.

Huh. But Cas had been avoiding him so much lately... He’d assumed he didn’t care anymore. “Uh,” Dean faltered, “no, that wouldn’t be okay either. I wouldn’t want that. But maybe I should teach you some basic first aid now that your mojo gets patchy sometimes.” He shook his head. That would require them to be in the same room for more than five minutes. Stupid suggestion. “Look, if you’d want to heal me that badly if we were swapped over here, that’s what I want to do to you right now, get it?”

“I um. I think so.” The line between Cas’s eyebrows grew deeper. “It’s fine now anyway. It barely hurts,” he lied, gripping his shoulder tightly.

“Sure. Okay, Black Knight.”

Cas squinted.

“The Black Knight – ‘‘tis but a flesh wound’? Guess you didn’t get Monty Python in the pop-culture upload. We’ll add it to the list we-” But Dean remembered that they didn’t watch movies together anymore. “Doesn’t matter. Just take your damn coat off, you stubborn son of a bitch.”

That finally cracked a smile onto Cas’s pale face. His lips twitched and the corners of his eyes crinkled endearingly.

Dean felt a strong flare of affection at seeing Cas’s smile, after seeing him looking so defeated before, that it immediately softened all of Dean’s concern-masked-as-irritation and he found himself smiling back. He’d missed this. So damn much.

“I’ll patch you up,” Dean said gently, “then you get dibs on the first shower, since you’re the one covered in the most blood. Winchester tradition.”

“I don’t need-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you can just magic your mess away when your power’s back on, but you’re really just gonna sit here like that until then?”

Cas looked down at himself. “You have a point.”

“Always do. Looks like you’ll just have to enjoy shitty motel water pressure like the rest of us.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows. “And going first means you get the hottest water.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said.

“Then we can both go to sleep so you can recharge your batteries. You can sleep when you’re like this, right? But stitches first. After that there’ll be no touching involved,” Dean added, before he could stop himself. As much as he enjoyed talking to Cas again, it only served as a depressing reminder that they weren’t like this anymore. He gave a sad, weak little laugh, and even he could hear the pain in his voice when he said, “Y’don’t even have to look at me.”

Cas immediately slid off his bed with a rustle, and he was on his knees in front of Dean in the time it took for him to open his mouth to ask what was happening. His eyes shined wetly in the dingy motel room lighting as he gazed up intensely – vulnerable and raw – into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, no. This wasn’t supposed to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you,” Cas said in a voice thick with emotion. “Doing this – distancing myself… It was supposed to make things better, but it… only made everything worse. I hate being apart from you. I hate it. This wasn’t- it’s not- it’s not your fault.” He spoke haltingly, like he was struggling. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry. I- I don’t know how to explain-”

They were closer than they had been in weeks, and yet Dean could still feel the distance. His heart sunk. “This is starting to feel a whole lot like the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, man.”

Cas scrunched his face up, and Dean knew he was trying to think of a way to say what he meant. He wondered if Angels weren’t very big talkers in their true forms. It was reminiscent of when they first met, and how Cas used to struggle with sarcasm and slang.

Cas already told him once that he’d only started to feel real, strong emotions (Dean called them his Real Boy Feelings) since rescuing him from Hell, so it made sense that he still struggled sometimes. And anyway, Dean had been human his whole life and it wasn’t like he was much better at the whole sharing your feelings crap.

Cas finally looked up through his lashes at him – his expression wary. “Hold out your hand, Dean.”

“What?”

“Hold out your hand, please. I can show you what’s been going on.”

---- Read the rest on AO3 ----

[redjademilktea]

Hello hello!! I don't usually write things for Doctor Who, but I've been having the world's worst writers block and for some reason the only thing my brain wanted to actually put out into the world was this silly idea I had about an alternative Fourteenth Doctor. For some reason, this silly little part-of-a-story (or, first chapter in a longer fic?) is the only thing that would unclog my brain and allow me to actually write. It worked, and I am able to continue diss writing again, but I figured I'd share what I wrote here just so this thing has a purpose other than unblocking my writers block haha.

For context: this is an alternate idea for the Fourteenth Doctor. What if, instead of reaching for the face of a previous incarnation, the Doctor at the moment of her regeneration in Power of the Doctor instead reached for a past companion? One whose loss the Doctor had not yet fully processed? Whose presence meant so much to them? What if, when the Doctor regenerated, she found herself with Clara's face, instead of Ten's?

This story is my excuse to imagine Jenna Coleman as the Doctor, because she was incredible in Flatline (and all throughout her time on the show)!! And I wanted to see more of that. So, Clara!Doctor it is!!

This story takes place right after The Power of the Doctor and Thirteen's regeneration on those rocks by the ocean. The story itself largely occurs in Monterey, California, USA in October, 1994. It's not complete, but I actually will probably finish this up, since it was so fun to write. What I have of the story below!!

----

"Blossomiest blossom." The Doctor took in a deep, labored breath. She felt it surging now, the burst of temporal, regenerative energy jolting through her core. "That's the only sad thing, I want to know what happens next."

How many more sunrises would she get to see? How many more planets would she set foot on, the endless stars dotting their skies, stretching out towards infinity. So much possibility, all of it rapidly fading as the orange pink of sunrise crested into the more tangible reality of day.

How many more traps were there to purposefully walk into? And to barely escape from by the skin of her teeth and a face full of mattress (she still hand't thanked the TARDIS properly for that, for another lifetime, she supposed)? How many more beaches, endless waves and cool ocean rocks skipping along the rolling waters? How many more stones cast, hoping, wishing, begging that it could go on forever?

How many more places and timezones would she flee to, skip by, before the stones, the wishes ran out? How many more faces, how many more life times, until it all catches up to her? The angry, vengeful tide of time lost crashing over her like a ravenous tsunami? How many more scoops of ice cream would she muster up, before-

Well, no time for that now. That's up to the next one.

"Right then, Doctor-whoever-I'm-about-to-be," she smiled, the gentle warmth of the steady sunrise blending with the growing fire of change within her. "Tag, you're it."

----

She blinked. "She" was still the right way to describe who was doing the blinking, right? It felt correct. About the only thing that felt certain right now. That and the crashing waves. Why were there waves?

She looked down, tattered grey coat flapping in the cool breeze, enough to put out the remaining embers. She wobbled slightly as she attempted to ground herself.

Speaking of the ground, it was definitely closer now. About three inches closer. No. That wasn't right. She wasn't hunching like normal. Is that normal now? How was her posture? She should check now that she's- Wait, no, focus! Focus! What was she doing? That's right the ground. It was four inches closer, not three. Silly, silly...

An ominous clang from about twenty feet behind her. That was odd. That sounded incredibly familiar. Not a good familiar. The thought excited her. Oh, excited? Do ominous noises excite her now? She supposed they always did, to a degree, but something about the possibility here, the unknown, made the hair on her neck stand. Oh, she had a neck! More good news. What other body parts were-

Another clang, louder, more demanding. As if the sound was deliberately calling to her. She turned around, her hazy vision clarifying on the visage of a blue box. Box. Ship. Home. ...TARDIS!

Oh. The TARDIS, with scorch marks crisscrossing the front paneling. That must have been- She really needed to be more careful of where she chose to do this sort of thing.

She rushed towards the door, fumbling for where she left... The door openy thing. The metal jangly thing that let her inside places. Sonic! Wait no, that's not right. K-key! Yes her key. Where was-

The door clicked open as if pulling her inside. That certainly saved her rather valuable brains capacity to better orient herself. She ran towards it, the breeze blowing her hair back on the way in. Hair! Was it- No. Not ginger. She would know if it was ginger. That's not something one could miss. This hair felt... Well she didn't know what it felt like. It felt a little longer than last time, about shoulder length. It felt... well whatever it felt like, it didn't feel ginger. Maybe next go around.

Another clang rang out as she made her way towards the console. The dazzling array of vibrant and emphatically glowing buttons caused her already racing hearts-beat to skyrocket in anticipation. So many buttons. So many options. She should spend some time to figure out- Unless... she hand't pressed that one before. Who knows what that one did. She better check. It could very well solve whatever had the TARDIS acting up. At the very least she'll know that it wouldn't fix it. And knowledge gleaned was knowledge gleaned.

She reached for the blaring button, eyes glimmering with anticipation. The smirk was already firmly on her face before it registered in her mind. What next? She hit the button.

With a loud whirr and an even louder crash, she found herself on the floor, no mattress in sight to break her fall. Another crash sent her careening towards one of the glowing pillars surrounding the console. She may have to re-check her posture after that one. Reassess.

Another explosion and a screeching whirr and another toss and-

----

October 25th, 1994 - 3:32 PM

Monterey, CA, USA

Cass sighed. She hated working on Tuesdays. Granted, she hated working here on any given day, but Tuesdays were a particularly awful experience.

She looked around the diner, idly noting the older woman in the corner sitting with a coffee and her newspaper and the family of tourists seated towards the counter. For a brief moment, she considered checking in on either table before deciding against it. There were only so many times she could ask if they needed refills before it started affecting her tip.

Another exacerbated sigh. All the empty tables had been wiped down. The floor was spotless. All dishes and cups were cleaned and put away. All the décor dusted (a notable feat to be sure, the eccentric collection of 1950s themed paraphernalia seemed to always have some pore or crevice or corner that needed cleaning, the task was almost sisyphean in Cass's opinion).

She walked over to the photo of John Steinbeck hung over the jukebox in the corner, the tinny chiming of Buddy Holly and the Crickets growing louder as she approached. She leaned over to realign the portrait. Whether or not the portrait was askew before was unimportant, the goal of sating her boredom was accomplished. As she pulled back to admire her unnecessary handiwork, the door chimed.

"Grab a table wherever, I'll be with you in-" the familiar sight of Mae's denim jacket caught the corner of Cass's eye as she glanced over the photo. Perfectly straight. Like it had been before. She turned to face her friend more fully.

"Slow day huh," Mae said, nodding her head in the direction of the portrait.

"You could say that," Cass responded, smirking as she headed towards the counter. "You want the usual?"

"I could probably use it, got a long night of fish house keeping ahead of me I guess."

"At least it's not the otters."

"If it was the otters I'd at least have a cute reason for smelling like death."

"Fair," Cass laughed as she finished pouring the coffee into the mug. She slid it over to Mae, who had taken up her usual stool at the end of the counter. "Anything new going on?"

"Other than grad research and fish kicking my ass? Not much really," Mae answered, taking a small sip and blowing on the surface of the coffee in an effort to cool it.

"Gonna at least head out this weekend for the beach before the weather gets too bad?" Cass leaned onto the counter, giving Mae her full attention.

"I can't. Oh! I didn't tell you. I got new ink!" Mae shrugged off her loose jacket to reveal the sight of a wrapped tattoo on her upper arm. "So freaking cool, right?"

Cass looked over the tattoo, the wisping clouds of inky smoke surrounding the number 27. The font was striking, and the line work and artistry lent itself to the gothic imagery that Mae so readily embraced.

"Woah, this looks incredible," Cass moved closer. For a half second, she swore the smoke looked like it was drifting up. She blinked. The static image remained before her. Brushing the tinge of confusion aside, Cass looked back up at Mae. "Where'd you get it done?"

"This new place that opened up a few blocks down. Jaime told me about it."

At that, Cass raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were 'never talking to that asshole again'?"

"Look, he helped me after his shift was over and I was drowning in work. Can you blame me? Plus, I'm not not gonna notice a sick tattoo like this, regardless of what asshole it's attached to."

Cass sighed as she met Mae's eyes, the green of them assuaging her mild annoyance. "Mhmm. Just... be careful this time? Okay?"

"Hey, I learned my lesson. You don't have to worry," a smile lined with the warmth of affection grew on Mae's face. "Plus, I know you'll kick his ass if he does something stupid."

At that, Cass laughed more fully. "Sure. But you can't expect me to be there every time a guy needs his ass kicked. I have a life too."

"What? Admiring old Johnny back there keeping you occupied?"

"Hey, careful. He's got grapes of wrath headed your way if you keep talking shit."

"Oh? That's the kind of guy you're into huh?"

A slight sting. It really shouldn't still bother her. She knew what she was signing herself up for when she moved back. The familiar trappings of a well-worn closet. She was used to it. She could handle the gentle suffocation. She was used to it.

"Something like that." Cass pulled back, standing up a little straighter. "I'm always here if you need anything."

"I know," Mae responded, placing a gentle hand over Cass's. Cass found her cheeks flushing slightly. She pulled her hands away.

A loud crash and the frantic cling of the door chime caused both women to jolt upright. They were greeted by the sight of a woman, short, dark brown hair, flowing grey trench coat, all but falling over as she burst through the door.

"Sorry! Sorry." She made eye contact with Cass. Something about the intensity of her gaze threw Cass off balance. "I'm looking for..." the woman sighed, massaging her temples. "What was it?" she squeezed her eyes shut, as if struggling to keep focus. "Paper clips! Yes, do you happen to have 3 paper clips? About this big? Or a stapler. But no more than half full."

Cass blinked, the shock giving way to utter bewilderment. She looked to Mae, who wore a similarly confounded expression.

"Half full... of staples?" Cass managed to find her voice.

"That's it," the woman responded. Was that... British? "Actually, I take that back. The paper clips are probably more versatile. Unless you happen to have those smaller ones that you can carry around and open up. Not the bulky ones. Those will-"

The woman stopped suddenly, as she took in her surroundings. "Hang on," she looked around. Cass followed her line of sight as she scanned the diner. "Have I been here before?"

While Cass honestly had very little idea what was happening in the scene unfolding before her, she certainly knew the answer to that question.

"Definitely not," Cass said.

"Are you sure?" the woman responded, continuing her survey of the space around her. Her brow furrowed.

"I think I'd remember if a British lady with a scorched jacket stumbled into here before, yeah." Cass said, a bemused grin now firmly in place.

"British la- Oh that's right! Does it still suit me?"

"What?"

"Never mind. I'm sure it does. Your accent... American. With a bit of vocal fry. Californian? Not Southern Californian. Am I in California?"

"Wow," Mae blurted out, breaking her stunned silence. She turned back to Cass, matching her incredulous smile. "And... where did you think you were?"

"Last I remember, by the ocean," the woman whipped around, looking out the diner window. "And it looks like I still am. Different ocean though. Judging by the wave patterns at least."

"And that ocean was... here? On planet Earth?" Mae asked. Cass swatted at her non-tattooed arm. "What?"

"Don't make fun of her."

"I'm just curious!"

"The Atlantic if I'm remembering right," the woman continued on, seemingly unfazed. "Last few hours are a bit fuzzy," the woman responded, still firmly peering out the window at the beach.

"I bet they are," Mae said under her breath. "Ow, hey!"

Cass pulled back her hand from the follow-up swat. Then, to the woman, "Are... Are you alright? Can I get you anything? Call... some... one...?" Her voice trailed off, uncertain of what she was even supposed to do in a situation like this.

"What like a doctor?" Mae laughed.

At that, the woman turned around. "Why? Do you know one?" She quickly made her way back to the counter.

"No. At least not personally?" Mae responded, taken aback by the woman's sudden proximity.

"Oh. Shame. I feel like a doctor would be helpful right now, but I can't put a finger on why. Wait." The woman turned back abruptly, heading straight towards the portrait of John Steinbeck in the corner. "Oh, old Johnny. I haven't seen him since the whole thing with those angry grapes."

Mae and Cass exchanged looks. The woman stepped back slightly.

"If he's here then... Monterey? Cannery Row. And..." the woman walked over and yanked the newspaper out of the hands of the elderly person who was taking in the scene in stunned silence. "Ah! 1994." She placed the paper back into the older woman's hands. "I figured, with a coat like that," the woman nodded her head towards Mae.

"Wh-wait what is that supposed to mean?" Mae stuttered as Cass burst out with laughter. "Have you even looked at what you're weari-"

Suddenly, a loud whirlwind of noise emanated from outside. A cacophony of caws echoed through the air, almost filling Cass's lungs and knocking her over with their sheer volume. A scream from a man rang out as a blur of black feathers swarmed past the window.

"What was that?" Cass said, moving towards the window. The woman followed.

"Ravens," was her only response before she all but ran out the door. Cass looked at Mae and then out to the rest of the diner. Before she could even begin to second guess herself, she took off after the woman.

----

"Hey!" Cass shouted as she gasped for breath. This woman was incredibly quick. She seemed to change directions as fast as she changed trains of thought. "Wait! What are you-"

The woman turned her head as Cass caught up to her, but she didn't slow down. "Aren't you still on the job?" is all she responded with as she bolted towards the source of the sound.

A large flock of ravens circled the late afternoon sky. Further down the road by the pier, a man stood, seemingly at the center of the confluence of feathers and caws. The man screamed again. As Cass and the woman closed in, she could make out the terrified look that locked itself onto the man's face. He stood in the plaza at the front of the pier, in front of a monument depicting several bronze figures in various poses around and on top of a jutting pile of rocks. The ravens circled, cries increasing in volume. The cacophony was almost disorienting.

The woman stopped on the corner of the street, directly across from where the man whose growing panic manifested in more regular screams. The ravens seemed to respond, almost a delighted symphony of calls, as if toying with the man. Cass came to a crashing halt at the woman's abrupt cessation of movement. The looming red of the building next to them seemed to amplify the sheer confusion and anxiety now rippling through Cass.

"What's-" Cass panted, "What's happening?!"

"Quantum shades." The woman responded, plainly.

"Qua- what?"

"Quantum shades. I've seen this before. Where have I seen this before?" The woman began rubbing her temples, her eyes squeezing shut as if struggling desperately to recall something.

"This is a common thing?" Cass asked. She wasn't sure what answer she was expecting. Or what answer would quell her frayed nerves.

"Not common. At least not in this corner of the universe anyway. Not right now at least. Give it twenty years. Hang on!" the woman seemed to light up at an apparent connection that flew right over Cass's head. Along with about twenty thousand other things, she supposed. "That sounds familiar! You don't plan on stranding yourself in London a few decades from now do you?" the woman gave an inquisitive look at Cass. Cass could only respond by opening and closing her mouth several times.

Suddenly, the beats of wings and the rain of dark feathers grew more frantic. The man continued to let out horrified yelps as he climbed the center art fixture, crouching among the statues in a vain attempt to find cover. In response to this, the woman reached into her flowing coat and produced a peculiar looking device.

It was gleaming silver, intricate patterns carved along it. The shape and bend of the object was akin to a bulky looking spoon, however the "handle" end of the object was capped off with a strange looking stone.

The woman held up the device, pointing it at the frenzied flock. With a whir, the stone at the top of the device glowed a bright orange as it rotated. Cass's eyes widened at the sight. The woman held the device sideways, as if reading something. Her face shifted from determined curiosity into worry.

"That's what I was afraid of," she said, eyes shifting back to the man.

"What's happening? Is he alright?" Cass asked. Her worry for the man's safety doubling.

The woman seemed to consider her question for a moment. She turned to face Cass more fully. Her deep brown eyes betrayed a calculating stare, as if she was assessing every aspect of Cass's being. Cass shuddered.

She seemed to find what she was looking for, as she stepped back slightly and straightened her posture. "Quantum shades," she repeated. "Beings of pure probability. Their motives are..." the woman paused, looking back at the terrified man who was now attempting to swat away the circling birds. "Their motives are hard to pin down. Almost like they change the moment you look away." A rueful smirk appeared on her face. "But some outcomes are more likely." She began walking slowly towards the man, a stunned Cass right behind her.

"These birds? Are quantum... They- they're not crows?" Cass asked, a half a step behind the woman.

"Ravens." the woman corrected. "And no. They take on a form when observed. Otherwise, they exist purely as a wave function across space and time."

"Across space and..." Cass muttered under her breath. "Okay... then what do they want with that man?"

"They're hunting." At Cass's bewildered expression, the woman expanded. "They feed off of the unrealized potential of a being's wave function. Every being, every object, every particle has a wave function. It represents all the possible paths one can take. For example, I could turn right and walk down the street at this moment. Just totter off. And never look back."

"And you're not going to?"

At that, the woman smiled. She looked down at the name tag on Cass's lapel. "Cass, eh? Good name. I'm... I'm..." the woman stopped in her tracks, brows furrowed. "Ugh I knew I was forgetting something! Never mind," she turned back to Cass. "Like I was saying. I could bugger off in that direction. Stop by for a cuppa at a café. Maybe take a stroll through the aquarium near sunset."

Cass raised an eyebrow. "And...?"

"And, I could keep walking straight. Right towards that man. These choices. All of it is possible. And they radiate out across time and space as a wave function. Some things are more likely than others of course, but anything is possible."

"I don't understand," Cass said, looking towards the scene before her. "What does this... why do they want him?"

Another scream as the ravens began pointedly swooping in, swiping at the man'n shoulder.

"What are they doing?" Cass asked, stepping forward as if compelled. She didn't understand why. But she wanted to do... something. "What- Can we help him?"

The woman turned back, smile returning more fully now. "Now you're asking the right questions." She reached out, and before Cass could process it, the woman had her by the hand and was pulling her towards the central plaza.

"Quantum shades hunt by collapsing the wave function of a being into a single." The woman explained, pulling Cass along. "Every possibility, every moment of their possible futures, every place they can run..." The man swatted furiously as he continued to scream, clinging to the peak of the rock pile. "All transfixed into one point on the fabric of space and time. And that point becomes their death."

"They're going to- How do we help him?" Cass's fear had melted away slightly, to her surprise. In its place, something strange. Determination?

"That all depends on what kind of shades we're dealing right now. Right now. I should clarify." The woman held up her silvery device again. "If I scan them, it should collapse their wave function to this moment and we can get a read on what their goal is." A whir, then a few more buzzing sounds as the woman squinted at the device. "Like I said, some things are more likely than others. It looks like these shades are looking for..." A grim look flashed across her face. "Unrealized potential."

"His unrealized potential."

"Yes." The woman responded, flatly. "Alright Cass," she grabbed onto Cass's hand again. "Let's put those waitressing skills to the test, yeah?"

----

[yril-writes]

— PARTNERS

synopsis ; years have passed and you mysteriously came back from the dead, and from the moment you've been revived only one goal in mind came to you and that is to see your partner.

scenario ; you've made a contract with a devil to bring you back, but this is not meant to go on forever. Until you achieved your goal you live, that is why you came looking for them causing havoc to an extent even.

type ; drabble

include/s ; kishibe

pairing/s ; kishibe x gn! reader

genre ; angst and a mountain filled with sad corn

"Who would've thought I'd see you like this again." that same familiar voice tone, made you look back only to see a not so familiar face. He looked older and by the looks of it the man standing behind you had these empty eyes, smoking cigarettes like there's no tomorrow, he shrugs and takes a step closer to you. "You, have I met you somewhere?" he raises your chin to take a good look, to the left and to the right then he sees something familiar with a birth mark, shaped almost like a flower. He racks his brain, trying so hard to remember who is this human nor devil in front of him. But you didn't speak, too speechless to even say a word, now that you had a closer look at him as well you knew him by his scent and by those pesky cigarettes of him. (Kishibe, it's been a long time...I'm sorry I had to erase your memories back then.) Kishibe doesn't remember a thing, he doesn't remember his first partner before Quanxi came along, it's because that partner of his died the first week in the job. And the catch is that, ever since then he doesn't remember even having a partner or the small tiny moments they had, just like a bubble, popped and disappeared into thin air. And that bubble was you. You made a contract with the Dream Devil, and for the last time you implanted that the day you died is nothing but just a mere dream for him, so that he could forget. (Kishibe, it's really good to see you again like this...) giving a smile, Kishibe furrowed his eyebrows perplexed as to why this shadow figure in front of him seemed familiar a while ago and then turned into this. "A fiend. Why did you seem familiar to me? Do you perhaps know me?"taking a stance, he grabs a knife from his coat and points it towards you. "You may not know me but I know you, nothing about me seems interesting at all. But you, you are interesting, Kishibe.) covering more of yourself with the shadows of darkness the more you feel alive and strong, but of course you expected to be killed by this. Before you could've explained something you were slain without hesitations. On your last breath you removed the curse from Kishibe, it took a toll on him to remember it all, but he does now. And even more, because he had slain you. Cemetery, yes, the place where he mostly goes. Now looking down at the grave, he remembered why he would always stand on this peculiar grave he knew nothing of, it was because this was the grave of his first partner that had died. You didn't want to burden him, you didn't want to blame himself to what had happened to you, so your last resort was to make him forget and it did work. He forgot. "You, you are a complete fool. When you became my partner I told you not to break easily, and within a week you died. And the worst thing is for you to be cursing me for years now, I underestimated you. You are strong even the dead couldn't stop the curse...did you only come back to lift this stupid curse, from an old man? If so, thank you..." leaving a bouquet of flowers on the grave stone, he walks like the wind swiftly away from the grave. "I see you now..." he utters as the wind carries away those words to the horizon.

a/n ; thinking of making more chainsaw man fanfictions in the future, I've been obsessed with csm and have these cool ideas to put together with!

taglist ; @sammushy @ryuuudesuwa @gcj-doesart @jasugoi

masterlist ; more stories here!

[adibkhorram]

Dear Mr Khorram,

I recently read one of your books, Darius the Great Is Not Okay, and I’m so glad that I did. I had heard talk of the book floating around and I never knew why, but now that I’ve read it, I’m incredibly grateful that I did. Reading about Darius’ experience with his culture, his family, and his depression hit me right in the heart, as I have gone through very similar things. Seeing someone else go through things that I’ve gone through makes me feel so much less alone, and even if it’s still hard, I know that it’s a feeling that I can share with others.

Originally, I read this book as a way to look into another perspective, a type of ‘window,’ but the more I read, the more I saw myself in Darius. I understand how he feels when his father seems disappointed in him all the time for things he can’t control, because I’ve been through that too. My parents don’t always understand that sometimes the best I can do is just getting up and staying awake. Being excluded from the group, dealing with bullies that target you for things you don’t have control over, and struggling to understand what you’re supposed to do when you’re around others isn’t too far from home. It made me sad to realize that Darius and myself had gone through very similar situations.

More than that, I saw myself in Darius’ experience trying to connect with his culture. My family comes from many different places, and I’ve never been as connected as I’d like to be. I didn’t even know about part of my heritage until I was older, since my parents never talked about it. The lack of knowledge made me feel like I couldn’t really claim the culture as my own. Darius’ hesitancy to engage in things and his uncertainty about how to talk with other people in Iran, felt like someone had taken my anxieties right out of my brain and put them onto a page, just with a different background. It makes sense that plenty of people feel that way, especially when you’re the child of an immigrant, but it still was very special to see that struggle represented.

The thing that was maybe most impactful to me was Darius’ connection with his grandfather. I lost my grandfather around a year ago, and since he lived in Germany, I didn’t get to see him as much as I would have liked. I also had to leave knowing that I wouldn’t get to visit my grandfather again, and I’ll admit that I cried a bit reading that part of the book. Losing someone is always hard, but knowing that you won’t be able to go visit them again hurts. Losing someone hurts even more when it feels like you haven’t had enough time with them. The way that you talked about Darius’ feelings hit me right in the gut, and I still haven’t fully gotten over it.

Darius’ story was a reflection of mine in so many ways, and I’m forever grateful that I took the chance and read your book. It was a book that I will probably think about for some time to come. Darius’ struggles with his mental health, with connecting to his culture, and with knowing that he won’t get to see his grandfather again all painted a very realistic portrait of teenage life, and I’m glad that I read the book. Congratulations on your newest book! I hope to hear back from you. It would be awesome to get a ‘letter’ back from an author I admire, and my teacher promised me extra credit points if I got a response back, although I was not expecting this to be done through a tumblr ask.

Sincerely,

Tobie

Hi Tobie,

Thank you so much for your lovely message. I'm so honored you saw yourself in Darius's story, and I hope it was a balm to you through your own rough times. I wrote it for folks who feel like you do—and like I do too, tbh.

I'm sorry to hear about your grandfather passing away. Mine are both long gone, but I think of them often, especially my Iranian one, who went through so much in his life but, in his later years, was more content than maybe any person I've ever known. He would sit on the porch of my aunt's house (where he lived), looking at the garden and the sunlight, and say "Khaylee khoob" (very good) to himself.

I hope you're taking care of yourself as best you can. And I hope, like Darius, you find the people that love you for who you are.

Yours,

Adib

[chuuyaposting]

One day I hope I'm friend shaped. I miss having friends that would just call randomly to catch up or talk about random things, I miss getting calls at odd hours like "dude guess what.. this is what happened at work today. Im gonna dye my hair, u wanna come over?" And then we'd hang out and yap about random shit. Or "im going to run errands, u wanna come with?" And then talking and laughing together through the day. I miss the simple things, they were such big moments for me. Mfers could ask me if i wanna go to a doctors appointment with them and i was like "yah sure!" And we sit there in the waiting room sending snapchats back and forth making each other crack up, or going out for midnight drives and parking in a parkinglot somewhere just to chat, I play something really loud and random over the car speakers and we both bust out crying laughing. Sitting around doing nothing together was so fun too, i was genuinely so happy to be doing nothing with a friend. Sitting outside and smoking weed together and laughing at the most brain rot shit, but then having one of the deepest heart to heart talks I've ever had in my life, sneaking downstairs to go smoke in the bathroom and just listen to music together, we start sending each other shit on our phone and trying not to laugh too loud and wake everyone up. Going out to the skate park just to happily watch my friend practice tricks on his bike and tell him how fuckin cool it was as we left to grab pops together, sharing music with each other and yapping about our shared interests. Being sent random memes like "THIS IS SO YOU LMAO" and friends even noticing when i was feeling down and being like "alright im coming over. We're gonna hang out. No you dont have a choice, today's gonna be a good day." Like... yeah. It was a good day. You made it a good day. Those memories will stay with me forever and i will always treasure these moments. I miss having friends. I miss spending all night at a friends house just bouncing from topic to topic and doing little crafts together and going out to random places just for the hell of it. Despite everything going on in the world around us, for those few moments, life was so simple because we made it to be. The mutual support, the camaraderie, the inside jokes, it meant more to me than I could ever put into words. I still use the incense you burned to cheer me up and change the mood when I was depressed in my room for weeks, I still drink the same drink you got me when ya took me to that rooftop bar and I lost my glasses, I still think of you when I see a can of hormel beans because you just kept saying it Over and over like it was the funniest shit you'd ever heard, i still think of you when i eat mac & cheese from this one place now because i remembered it was your favorite, mac & cheese with chicken and caramelized onions and old bay seasoning with the mashed potatoes to mix together. It was really good and i think you have good taste. I still think of u when I see some of the funny videos we used to quote all the time. I hope they know how much every moment we shared meant to me. But we're so far away now, they've got better friends now, people change and grow apart instead of growing together and it makes me really sad. I don't have that anymore. I don't think i know how to make friends. But I'll always treasure the ones I have like gold.

[flowersofstarlight]

Hi @ericaportfolio

If you’re reading this, I wanted to let you know about my thoughts about Nick Nack’s past and thinking about him having PTSD. I’ve been thinking a lot about Nick’s childhood and going through trauma and abuse by his father in your AU. And it kinda got me to psychoanalyze him and theorize what he’s feeling, what he’s afraid of and that he might be going through depression after he and the Handeemen manage to escape from Francis and his mob.

I’m not a therapist or a psychiatrist or psychologist, but I have learned a little bit about how the brain works when people have experienced schizophrenia, PTSD, trauma, etc. from the videos of Therapists reacting to Arcane: League of Legends, talking about Vi’s trauma and Jinx/Powder’s PTSD and schizophrenia. Both Moxxie from Helluva Boss and Hunter from The Owl House were also abused by their parent/guaridan like Nick. It might make sense to mention them having similar situation as Nick did.

This is going to be sad what I’m about to say and long to read, but take the time you need to check it out later and if you have some free time. And let me know your thoughts about this in the comments or reblog. I am curious what you think and I think Nick needs a lot of hugs.

So, after Mortimer and the others escaped from Fracis, Nick probably would be at home blaming himself for getting the others dragged into that situation with Francis and his mob. Obviously he didn’t know that he would see his father again and didn’t know what to do. He thought he got away and never had to go back to the place he grew up in. I feel like Francis’ manipulation has pushed Nick’s sadness to guilt, making him think that it’s Nick’s fault for what happened to his mother and what was about to happen to Mortimer and the others, the way Scar did to his nephew Simba.

If Francis told him things, when he was a child and internalized those messages in his head, Nick would have a hard time challenging them as an adult. He might still carry that guilt and what Francis said to him. He probably would feel like a burden to everyone in their life. Feeling like he carried so much weight on them to stress out and felt like the one who put them in danger. He would even hate himself because he didn’t ask for anything bad to happen to the Handeemen that got dragged into that mess, he didn’t ask to be born, and never asked to be the son of the Mob Boss.

Francis’ words and manipulation would be stuck into Nick’s head, and Nick would be going through depression, fear and probably hallucinate hearing negative words around him and having nightmares and trouble falling asleep. His mother Jancis, was very kind and loving to him, like the light that guides him and there to comfort him. But since Francis took that away from him, he would felt helpless and be treated like a toy or moved around like a pawn on the chessboard.

Nick might be thinking that it’s his fault for his mother to disappear because he is her weakness. Although Jancis does love her son dearly and wanted to protect him, it isn’t true that Nick is the responsible for her disappearance because he was (I assumed when he was eight) just a kid and didn’t do anything wrong to her. It was Francis’ choices that made Jancis disappear. And that affects Nick really badly, causing him to have PTSD, and Francis hitting his own son (like an abusive father he is) makes him never forget those scars and would haunt him forever.

Of course, Nick ran away to start a new life where he can be himself and follow his dream and years later, he found others who truly cared about him and like him the way he is like Valentino, Mortimer and the others. But after meeting Francis, Nick probably felt he does not matter to anyone and is just a problem that dragged others to get hurt because of him. He is sick and tired of being the victim and wants to bury that pain or other negative emotions down in the ground forever, but it gets worse. It really doesn’t help if you keep suppressing your own emotions.

He probably would push everyone away, so that they won’t get hurt again. But he needed to realize that bad things are going to happen to everyone, including the good people. He has people who cared about him, but that scared him the most because he’s afraid that Mortimer and the others will disappear like his mother or be killed or worse and that he can’t do anything but watch it happen right in front of him, and he thinks it’ll be all his fault because he did nothing and let it happen.

Valentino may not understand what Nick is going through or what it feels like to be in his shoes, but they can sympathize that because they were mistreated by someone who treats them like they’re nothing, but a tool or pawn. Before Val opened their own boutique, they used to work with their boss who is a famous fashion designer operating in London.

Valentino was extremely happy that they got the job to work with their idol and create the dresses and suits to show their creations. But after a while working with their idol, Val told Nick that they were getting abused and under so much pressure by their boss. Valentino felt they needed to be perfect around her and keep pleasing her to do what she demanded because they are one of her best designers to create new clothes that are worth selling. She was very manipulative to them and would steal their ideas, and also insulting their appearance. And Val once said to themselves, “If I don’t complain, if I do my best, if I do every simple thing she asks of me, maybe one day she will throw me a bone. Maybe one day, I will gain her enough satisfaction that she will give me the respect and show her gratitude.” Which obviously is not good, and is unhealthy relationship to have with someone.

They worked with her for almost 3 years and it really made Val feel miserable and felt like they haven’t rested since forever. It even made them forget about their family and why they do it in the first place. However, their boss is not just awful to Valentino, she is awful to every fashion designer who works with her and would fire her least favorite designer if she didn’t like what they created.

But after Val met a friend who was very kind and gave them the wisdom they needed to hear, Val was happy that they worked up the courage to quit and say “I deserve better” and walk away from a toxic relationship. After they quit, they felt a lot happy like they haven’t been that happy for so long. Now they get to reconnect with their family and catch up for lost time, they find peace and went to therapy to talk about their emotions they felt working with their idol (well, used to be their idol). Val gives Nick advice to go to see therapy that their old friend could help.

Nick needed to realize it wasn’t his fault for putting the Handeemen in danger and his mother disappearing. He needs to see that he’s not alone and has people who are there to support and care about him. He also needed to be honest and show his vulnerability to himself and others to grow as a person. And have self-acceptance, opening up, and relinquishing his fears to build trust and honesty with others.

I think if Nick will give time to heal, he’ll finally start accepting the past and move on. And maybe he’ll be able to let go and find peace and he’ll be okay despite everything that happened.

It would be interesting to see his character development grow, seeing him standing up to his father, fighting back to protect his loved ones, seeing Riley and Nick working together to escape, and helping others to escape from Francis and his mobs. And maybe it would be cool to see Nick vs Francis if it’s possible. You know, like fight scenes. But knowing that Mortimer’s Handeemen is a kids show, I don’t think they’ll allow that. But if they do, the battles would probably be similar to Muppets as long as it is not dark, not too violent or inappropriate to watch for the kids.

Anyway, that is all I want to talk about. Again, feel free to reblog or comment what you think. And I hope you’re doing good and find it interesting what I talked about Nick having PTSD.

[fandomworldofdreams]

Hospital For Souls

"I'm fine in the fire. I feed on the friction. I'm right where I should be. Don't try and fix me. So lost for so long. To find my way I failed to follow. I'm out of place"

-10 Years

Previous: prologue, CHP1, CHP2

Chapter III: Fix Me

The metal table was cool against her hands as she fidgeted with them, the cuffs around her wrists clinking. Her father sat across from her, sweating.

"Eria I'm sorry I wasn't there," his voice cracked and he brought his hand to his lips.

She just stared at him. Her face a mask.

After Dr. Crane's act she had been put in a straight jacket and escorted to a room with padded walls, where she sat in silence for hours.

No food, no light. She was finally released and taken back to her cell after a while, and the jacket was removed.

She had tossed and turned, trying to sleep, until a guard entered and informed her she had a visitor.

So here they were.

Her father was a short and stout man. But not in an ugly way, in a grandfatherly way. His beard and hair were graying. Half from the stress, the other because he never dyed it.

"What could you have done?" Valeria's voice was curious.

His mouth opened and closed, eyes searching hers. "I-I could have talked to you! Helped!"

She sighed. "It's sad how people wait until someone falls that deep before trying to help." Her look was pointed and his face fell.

"Try not to blame yourself, I would have done it eventually. Your need to feel your actions could have changed my decision is in vain. You had no control over the situation."

He exhaled a little and his shoulders sagged. Valeria bit down on her tongue. "I saw on the paperwork that you attacked your doctor and so now they're keeping you longer? What happened?"

"Dr. Crane said some things I didn't like and I snapped. It's done."

Her father's eyebrows raised. "Dr. Crane is the head here?" She nodded.

"Huh, haven't seen him in forever."

"You know him?"

"He taught at the university for a while. You and Sebastian actually met him a couple times when I brought you with me. He was one of the youngest professors there."

Valeria looked at him in shock, trying to rack her brain for any memory of Dr. Crane. But it all came up blank.

"I guess it's a small world," her dad chuckled. She found this situation anything but humorous.

"I'm tired," she said. Her dad nodded, they both stood to their feet.

"I'll come back and visit," he offered a small smile. "I love you, Eria " She bit back the 'don't bother' and turned to the guard who grabbed her arm and began walking.

"Are you okay?". She looked to the guard and took him in. He had black hair, maybe late twenties.

His eyes were a dark brown, like his skin.

"Yeah, I'll be okay. Some people only pretend to care once it's too late."

"I get that, I'm Teddy by the way."

"I'm Velaria." She knew the introduction wasn't necessary, but it felt mannered.

"Dr. Lecter asked I bring you to his office after your visiting time," he explained as they turned another hallway.

She wasn't sure why he was being so kind to her, but for right now she didn't feel like questioning it.

Dr. Lecter's office was a warm reprieve. She sat across from him and studied his relaxed demeanor.

He had requested Teddy remove the cuffs. Teddy gave a cautious glance to her and she smiled.

"Don't worry, his face isn't as punchable." Teddy uncuffed her and seemed to hide a smile before exiting the office.

"How was your visit with your father?"

"Dull." Her father was the last thing she wanted to discuss. "Wouldn't you rather discuss how I went off the rails and attacked Dr. Crane?"

"If that is what you wish to discuss during our session."

Valeria tried to calm her anger, she knew he wouldn't believe her and she needed to come to terms with the fact she now had to overanalyze everything.

"I didn't attack him to the extent he claims." She still felt this need to prove herself to Dr. Lecter. Prove she wasn't a bad person. "He said very hurtful things to rile me up. My actions were my own and I shouldn't have retaliated with violence. But he was trying to push me."

"Perhaps he saw you would benefit from being here longer." She looked to Dr. Lecter and saw no trace of mockery on his face.

"It doesn't matter. Please just get on with the questions."

"May I see your hand?" She looked at him in confusion.

"What?"

He repeated the question and she hesitantly held out her right hand. It ached to flex it and the knuckles had turned a dark purple. Her third knuckle's skin had opened and dried blood covered the wound.

She jumped when he leaned forward and his hand rested under her palm to move her hand and examine it. His skin was warm in contrast to her cold one.

"I had assumed they did not check." His eyes flickered up to hers. "May I clean and wrap this?" All she could manage was a curt nod. He stood and let go of her hand to retrieve some things from a cabinet.

Valeria tried to steady her breathing.

He moved his chair closer and sat next to her, pulling her hand to him. His knee pressed against hers.

"Have you ever punched anyone before?" He asked, as if this were a completely mundane conversation.

"No, though luckily I've seen enough television to know not to tuck my thumb." He chuckled. "I honestly barely remember, everything kinda went black until I felt the pain."

He cleaned the dried blood off of her hand with some alcohol and applied an antibiotic cream.

"Anger is a very consuming emotion. Most people believe it is about losing control. But when a person is angered neurotransmitters are released called catecholamines. This can have an energy increase effect for several minutes, which is why sometimes people feel a need to take immediate action to protect themselves."

He began to wrap her hand with gauze.

"Blood rushed to the limbs and your awareness sharpens, mostly only on the subject of your anger. The prefrontal cortex handles judgement, which would overpower the emotional response of the amygdala."

She was glued to every word. His voice was a soft lull and she couldn't help but stare at him as he finished up the gauze and held an ice pack to her knuckles.

"Of course during those several minutes, amongst other neurotransmitters, hormones are also released, triggering a lasting state of arousal."

His thumb brushed over hers. She told herself that it was an accident, or that she imagined it.

"The high levels of arousal can cause trouble remembering. Your reaction was purely instinctive."

She gulped, aware that his aura had darkened a little and widened to try and surround her.

She cleared her throat and just like that it was back to normal.

"Are you afraid right now?" Hannibal asked, not threatening.

"Yes. I've spent my life not being fully seen and wearing a mask. Here it feels like I'm, for lack of a better term, naked. Like the walls I've built up suddenly have windows."

"Why does someone seeing the true you scare you?"

"I'm not sure."

"Alright, have you ever had any romantic relationships?" He was serious and Valeria had to laugh at the normalcy of the question.

"I've had three."

"What were they like?"

"Average, I suppose."

"Who ended them all?" He seemed to already know the answer. She wanted to shift, but his hand was firm and eyes stuck her to the seat.

"I did."

"You turn away from anything that becomes to serious because it frightens you that someone may see the real you and reject you. So you break it off first, thus rejecting them to save yourself the heartbreak."

Valeria cringed and looked away from him. "I suppose."

"Do you believe this stems from your father? His inability to see and provide for you has led you to believe that everyone will fail you at some point or another?"

Valeria paused, contemplating the question. "I believe that would be a logical conclusion. That and the fact that two people whom I loved died."

"Yes, especially so young. Do you believe yourself a curse?" Valeria snapped her eyes to him, realizing he hadn't asked it as an insult, she relaxed.

"I blame my father, if anyone. I believe I am just meant to be alone. As soon as I let myself care is when they leave."

"Perhaps that is something we need to work on together, Valeria." He smiled and she tried to return it, but her face felt heavy.

When the session was over she was escorted to the rec room where she found another book and plopped at the table where Sebastian and Jane were.

"I heard you beat the shit out of Crane!"

Valeria inwardly groaned at having to discuss this for a third time today.

"Hardly, I punched him. It seems he wants me to stay longer." Janes grin was contagious and Seb chuckled from beside her.

"Shit, three days in and you're already beating people's ass, maybe we should put our hands in your pocket when we travel around."

Valeria rolled her eyes. "Can we talk about someone other than me? I've already extended my capacity for sharing today."

"Sure, what do you wanna know?" Seb asked.

"Do either of your parents come and visit?"

"My aunt does. Both my parents were killed in a robbery gone wrong when I was twelve. My Aunt took me in," Seb smiled sadly.

"Mom and dad do drugs. I sometimes hear from them asking for money, but I'm mainly close with my grandparents, they stop by every other week," Jane said.

Valeria looked at them and nodded, not sure what to say.

"Um, mom and brother are dead. Father says he'll visit." She turned her attention to the book on the table.

'The Three Musketeers'

She chuckled at the irony.

"Well, on that mood-dampering note," Seb chuckled, "Aquarius?"

Valeria looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What?! You're detached and logical." Seb raised his hands in defense.

"True, but she doesn't seem like much of a conspiracy person," Jane added thoughtfully. "Not enough sexual appeal for a Scorpio."

Valeria burst out laughing. "One more guess."

"Virgo?" Jane asked.

"Capricorn," Valeria smiled.

Seb smacked his hand on the table. "That was my next guess. Whatever, bet you can't guess ours!"

Valeria surveyed them, first looking at Seb. "Pisces." Her eyes slid to Jane. "Sagittarius."

Both their mouths dropped. "How'd you do that?" Jane asked.

"I just know a lot about astrology."

A voice cleared behind Valeria and she looked up to see a guard.

"Dr. Crane would like to see you."

[colrana]

i miss parker do you also miss parker (this is a request to hear more about your megan + parker interps)

omg...thank you for handing me the mic im so touched

the answer is yes! i do miss parker macmillan. i also miss megan ito! i miss them both so much. (also i feel deranged how it is confirmed that the book was the reader but im keeping my megan ito as reader thoughts forever!!!!)

i mainly focus on their relationship / megan ito more than just solely parker, but thats just how i go i suppose! parker to me kinda works in my brain how i believe that megan ito would exactly see him, and its kinda fitting in that way? (i do feel bad for that though) (im also paging @citadarkisle because hes my fiance and my parker interp is *heavily* based off his! he got more indepth thoughts on parker than i could ever muster)

so the way megan would describe parker would be this: a broken player who is a rival both and a friend, and full of *potential* melded up in one ball! with one issue: the parent issues. at least, thats how megan ito summarizes him and his issues. she kinda molds him into her narrative and makes him ripe for the saving and for the salvation that she truly believes she can bring to him.

parker in the meanwhile is kinda...passive to this? she isnt particularly harmful to him, and just having his boundaries be, as he would maybe describe, *gently* walked and trampled all over isnt really as bad compared to the literal hell his life is with being pulled at ten million directions and somehow being hated and revered at the same time... so like megan? yeah shes kinda like...maybe agreeable to that.

they have a roommates situation at megans place which is kinda pathetic-sad. awkward, quiet nights sleeping in the same bed because their relationship is like........ .............. incalculable. there is admiration there, but wrong? its to the left. there are arguments and boundaries crossed, but never to the point where they ever break off their friendship. and even saying *friendship* is odd. they were friends, yes! but then they got into a weird grey area........

i dont think theyve ever held hands or kissed or brushed arms or anything like that, actually. i dont think theyve had the silent-love filled room moments where they lock eyes and are smitten or like, believe that each other held love for each other. i think they knew they were in some *position* but not sure what it was. i mean they sure as hell were something more than basic friends. i think parker had normal friends somewhere in his teams! and megan too! but oh my god i think they were just in an interlocked battle that parker want *nothing* with but megan just had the fixation to keep holding him on.

i believe that megan is at heart a kind person and didnt mastermind the stolen forcefield out of ill will. i saw that action as a last resort for her. that she was willing to put their friendship on the line to make *visible* change in parkers life. she had an infatuation with fixing his issues, to finally pull him out of his shell, and to be *right* most of all. its kinda why i draw megans gaze towards the symbolic *orb* whenever i draw them together. i just love the symbolism of her being so fixated on something that doesnt exist, or doesnt need to exist, or that she never really properly took his words or history or anything truly to heart because she *felt* for his *situation* more than *him*.

you ever feel compelled to solve something for someone else? a problem that is so deep and beyond your means but feels so *tangible*? that youd do anything and would throw yourself into it to finally have it accomplished? to solve it *for* them, because you think you can see it from the outside and that gives you the authority and allows you to rob them their agency? these are the sort of questions that i play around with the parker + megan relationship as a whole....

i hope this wasnt too long!!! id love to elaborate more on specific details if anyones curious, but yeah! thank you ; - ;

[mycastlescrumblingdown]

fearless tracks 5-11 review

WHITE HORSE

i'm going to be honest, this one is a little bit boring to me sometimes. i'm not the biggest fan of it. i'm not a hater, but i'm not a fan. as taylor said, "it isn't love, it isn't hate, it's just indifference."

some of these lines are also so sad though. like wdym "I'm gonna find someone someday who might actually treat me well"

this song is just a little forgettable to me

score: 3/10

points for style, instrumentals, extra points because it doesn't deserve to be rated lower than that's when

favorite line: my mistake, I didn't know to be in love you had to fight to have the upper hand

YOU BELONG WITH ME

ah yes, the pick me anthem. 'tis a bop though

all jokes aside, this song doesn't bother me as much as it does some people. like yes, it's mildly annoying if you think about it too hard, but this is not a song you're meant to think about. just sing, it's a fun song.

and the music video! I love this music video. took me waaay too long to realize the brunette girl was Taylor though.

i also think the bridge is a great part of this song. i will admit it is elevated by the eras tour, but what isn't.

also, if you haven't heard the weird al parody of this song, i would highly recommend it. it's honestly really good, and it highlights the weird sh*t the paparazzi are allowed to get away with

(side note: I am wearing my junior jewels shirt as I review this. I did not plan to do so, but yay. happy accidents, am I right?)

score: 5/10

points for style, bridge, instrumentals, vocals, pretty privilege

favorite line: I'm the one who makes you laugh when you know you're 'bout to cry *clap clap*

BREATHE

i like this song pretty well. I had a little phase with it a year or two ago and I just listened to it and tell me why on repeat. it was awesome, and i'm shocked that I didn't wear this song out.

my dad thinks this song sounds a little whiny. honestly, I don't really see that. I think Taylor sounds pretty nice on this song.

i do kind of forget that there's a feature on this song. I think it would be ok to leave it out, to be honest. everyone talks about Lana on sotb, but no one talks about colbie on breathe.

there's not very much to say about this song. it's pretty repetitive, and that doesn't really bother me on this song, but I do think it will ultimately lower the rating just because there's not very much there.

score: 4/10

points for style, personal bias, verses, instrumentals

favorite line: you're the only thing I know like the back of my hand

TELL ME WHY

this song is filled with absolutely AMAZING lines

"you could write a book on how to ruin someone's perfect day"

"why do you have to put down my dreams so you're the only thing on my mind?"

"why do have to make me feel small so you can feel whole inside?"

just... the entire chorus

if someone wrote this song about me I might actually hide forever.

the actual song itself sounds pretty good. I love when she say temper. every single time without fail, she goes "here's to you and yous tAMPER" and it scratches my brain so perfectly. and just in general, I really like her vocals on this song. I think they sound really nice.

i do find the mean streak line super comedic because I picture thug story, but that's unrelated.

overall, I think this articulates the anger of breaking up with someone pretty well. (I say, never having been in a legitimate relationship)

score: 6/10

points for lyrics, style, chorus, bridge, instrumentals, vocals

favorite line: you could write a book on how to ruin someone's perfect day

YOU'RE NOT SORRY

this one is kind of a skip. I like piano, but it feels kind of out of place on this album. I don't know where it would be better suited-maybe red tv?- but it just feels out of place.

i like the verses pretty well, and the vocals, but my favorite part is probably the instrumentals. it's a really pretty song.

overall it's fine, I guess, but it's just not really it for me most of the time

score: 4/10

points for verses, instrumentals, vocals, and pretty privilege

favorite line: you got your share of secrets and I'm tired of being last to know

THE WAY I LOVED YOU

my dad made a pretty compelling point about this song. he heard it in the car when I played it and said something along the lines of "so she's in a really great relationship and she hates it?" and yes, but I do think he kind of missed the point of the song. to me, it's more about that she just doesn't really feel very much in her current relationship because it is so smooth and reliable. she is saying she felt more when there was that level of uncertainty and she wants that instead of the safety of her current relationship. I think his issue with it is that he doesn't understand that perspective, and so he won't consider it because it seems silly, for lack of a better word.

my opinion on twily is that Taylor doesn't really come off sounding the best on it story wise, but i really love it otherwise. it's such a good song.

and the instrumental? flawless. the line delivery? amazing.

"it's a roller coaster kinda rUuUuUsh" sounds so. good.

i didn't rewatch the lyric video, but in my head the clock in the background is the one from the mastermind video. I don't know if the genius was Taylor or me here, but either way it's pretty cool.

speaking critically for a moment, I do feel like the verses leave a little to be desired. I just feel like i'm always waiting for the chorus, but the buildup is so worth it.

score: 6/10

points for style, personal bias, chorus, instrumentals, vocals, pretty privilege

favorite line: just so frustrating, intoxicating, complicated. got away by some mistake...

FOREVER AND ALWAYS

I love love LOVE this song.

"you looked me in the eyes and told me you. loved. me. were you just kidding?" I LOVE THAT LINE SO MUCHH

also the line "it rains in your bedroom, everything is wrong" makes me think of clean

i can't even think of how to express my love for this song. it's such a banger

i love the change from "when he said" to "when you said" to "when we said"

i go feral over this song

but no matter how much I love this song, I can't deny that it sounds a teensy bit out of place on the album

score: 8/10

points for lyrics, personal bias, chorus, verses, instrumental, vocals, pretty privilege, loopability

favorite line: you looked me in the eyes and told me you. loved. me. were you just kidding?

[she-karev]

A Day in Hell (Amber Karev Angst Imagine)

Previous Part

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: Four of Six

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Fancast: Bruce Greenwood as Ian Talbert

Canon Episode: Season 17 Episode 2

AN: I wanted to do a story to showcase the hardships health care workers faced when covid hit. The doctors and nurses put our health first during a worldwide crisis and we should be forever grateful for that even without a pandemic to prove what should always be known.

Summary: Amber continues to monitor a dying Ian who gives her a gift.

Words: 1350

Chapter Links Here: 1,2,3,4,5,6

April 1st, 2020

Amber enters Ian’s room after stepping out so he can talk to his ex-wife over zoom. It took until tonight for Ian to gather the courage to contact her and by then his cough was getting worse and his lungs were flooded from Amber’s last physical exam.

The young resident tries to put her own emotions aside as she continues to oversee Ian. The sight of another patient of hers dying of a virus makes her heart break and her mind crack more but she knows that as bad as it is for her, it’s even worse for Ian who is lying in bed looking more sickly than he did this morning.

Amber clears her throat inside her PAPR helmet before closing the tablet, “How did it go?”

Ian speaks in a raspy voice, “Fine I guess. We just talked about our regrets and what we could have been. She was crying and telling me no matter what I’ll always mean something to her even after everything. It was pretty sad.”

“It sounds like it was. How are you feeling?”

“I’m cold.”

Amber grabs a blanket for Ian covering him head to toe, “Um…let me give you a little atropine for that rasp.” She inserts the IV with the medicine, “It shouldn’t be long now. Is there anyone else we can call for you?”

Ian shakes his head and speaks clearer, “Everybody else is dead or wishes me dead…on the bright side for some of them I’m fulfilling their dream.” Ian chuckles and begins to cough violently. Amber ups his oxygen intake making him breathe much easier and his coughing to stop.

Amber decides to talk to him to ease his pain, “You know some teenagers came in this morning after their car exploded. One had third degree burns on over 70 percent of his body, one had a wooden spike over in his abdomen. The reason they were even out there in the first place was to go to a party in the middle of a pandemic. I’m a doctor so I know that they don’t know what they’re doing, they’re neurologically stupid because their brains aren’t fully developed. Plus, a pandemic taking away prom and graduation and walking to the mailing box instead of a stage to get their diplomas there was bound to be teenage chaos.”

Ian grins seeing the ire in his doctor’s face, “But that doesn’t stop you from cursing at them for their stupidity.”

Amber nods, “Or their dads for fighting in the tent in front of other family members making it infinitely worse for everyone in there. And from what I heard one of the dads knew and he let his kid go out anyway it is…”

Ian nods, “We all have a blind spot for our kids…did the boys live?”

“Um the boy with the spike he was in danger of losing his kidney but they were able to save most of it.”

“And the boy with the burns?”

Amber sighs, “He died in surgery. Even thought what he did was beyond stupid he didn’t deserve to die and not like that and not while his parents are outside.”

Ian nods in sympathy, “It’s a terrible time for everyone, especially parents and their kids.”

Amber inhales to subside her rage, “It is enraging how much worse this world is getting and we’re all just following and bringing each other down like we did before…I hate this, I hate everything. I wish I wasn’t here to experience the world at it’s worst.”

“…You sound like me after my daughter died. I wanted to burn everything and everyone around me, I spent so much time raging and so much time hating myself for not doing more.” Ian swallows the lump in his throat, “There is no worse feeling in the world than knowing you failed to protect your child.”

Amber looks at Ian in sympathy, “Tell me about her, your daughter, what was she like?”

Ian sighs, “She was…She was life. I don’t even know how to explain it. I never saw someone take such joy out of helping others or tell everyone how she was gonna be a hero. Olivia was this force of energy that couldn’t be contained. Even when she was a moody teenager nothing could stop her and whoever tried she would put them in their place.”

Ian smiles at the memory with Amber grinning, “I saw this person coming out of her mother, she had my hair and my eyes but still I thought, ‘I don’t know who this person is.’ It was like having someone from another planet into your home and you’re just a host. I don’t know if that’s how other parents feel but it’s how I felt when I saw my Olivia for the first time.”

“She sounds wonderful.” Amber says.

“She was, she really was.” Ian frowns and tears glisten his eyes, “The only time I saw her without that light…was when my wife and I identified her body. They shipped her to the VA and my wife and I prayed the whole way that it was someone else that it wasn’t our Olivia. But it was. She was…she was so burned and so dark, but I knew it was her because she had her tags on. She never took those off and neither did I when they gave them to us at her funeral. Her mother couldn’t take them, she was so broken, she couldn’t take them, so I did. I made sure they would stay with someone so that she wouldn’t be forgotten. She deserved to be remembered.”

Amber nods, “Everybody deserves to be remembered. And I am gonna remember you Ian, I promise.”

Ian gets annoyed by the sounds of the monitor, “Can you shut that off?”

Amber moves to mute the monitor while she does Ian takes off his daughter’s dog tags around his neck and holds them out to his doctor. Amber looks at the tags held out to her.

“What are you doing?”

“I want you to have this.”

Amber shakes her head not feeling worthy of it from a man she barely knows, “No I can’t take that.”

Ian is insistent and explains in a raspy voice, “Take it, don’t let her go to waste with me. I don’t have anyone to give this to.”

Amber feels sad over the ordeal this man has gone through. It is bad enough he has to die inside a box but to die alone with nobody around calls her compassionate side forward so this good man has someone by his bedside. She holds his hand with the dog tags and sits down in the chair next to him.

“I’m here. I am not going anywhere.” Amber promises holding his hand as he tears up from her kindness.

“I don’t blame you.” Ian states to a guilty Amber who closes her tearful eyes and looks down in shame, “I’m gonna see my daughter. Do you believe that?”

Amber sniffles and looks back up at her friend with tears in her eyes still holding his weakening hand.

“I didn’t give it much thought until this happened.” Amber admits, “But yeah, I want to believe there’s something good for you after all this pain. I really want to believe it.”

Ian’s breathing gets shallower, and he lays in bed looking up at the ceiling waiting for the release of death. Amber is still by his side holding his hand making sure he is not alone, it’s the only thing she can do at a time like this.

“Everything I have…is yours.” Ian proclaims.

A few moments pass before Ian stops breathing and lays still in bed with his eyes wide open. Amber looks and sees the monitors flatline without the sound. She looks back at Ian and let’s go of his limping hand to close his eyes. Her lip quivers as her eyes fill with tears before she sobs by the bed, saddened by what the world has come to and how many good people it’s lost in the process.

Next Chapter Here

[youredreamingofroo]

Alright for the oc questions, you can choose who each one is for whether it’s Roo or Leo or someone else! But I thought these might be fun to answer!

💍 RING — does your oc have any piercings? do they want any (more) piercings?

🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?

🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits?

AAA DAZEY TY!! Usually I just default to Roo when I do these (if an oc isn't specified), so I'll do Roo AND an extra oc if I can think of an answer for them :))

questions from this post/rb

[ under the cut due to length :) ]

💍 RING — does your oc have any piercings? do they want any (more) piercings? Roo does NOT have piercings! He's too much of a pussy to get piercings LMAO I don't blame him 🫂🫂

Hero, as you can see, has a lot of piercings LMAO (or ~sort of~ see idk), she has 8 piercings, 3 nose piercings, 2 ear piercings, and 3 lip piercings. Hero is currently satisfied with the amount of piercings she has, but if she WERE or WANTED to get another piercing, it would either be dimple piercings or the piercings u get under ur eye (i dont remember the name >:T)

🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace? Roo was born in Gothenburg, Sweden, but was swiftly moved to Washington, USA, this was around the peak of Virginia's (his mother) depression, so she [Virginia] was VERY prone to making irrational decisions, one of which is moving entire countries... anyways, I digress. Roo, obvs, doesn't live near his birth place anymore, he still resides in WA (where? I have not solidly decided :)), and due to funds, he does not plan to move back anytime soon, but he absolutely LOVESSS his birthplace and Sweden overall c: So unsurprisingly, he really wants to move back to Sweden (esp to see his little sister Deliahna)

Leo was born in Carmarthenshire, Wales, grew up in Carmar., Wales, and around when he was 18-19 years old, he moved to Luverne, Minnesota, sooo obvs, he doesn't live near where he was born LMAO Leo will often scowl and have a bitter taste on his tongue when he hears people talk about Wales, this is mostly due to his mental connection of Wales = His Parents, of whom he wants nothing to do with them :)

(^^ This question took me forever because I had to do research on regional accents and stuff so that I wasn't just spewing nonsense and nothingness for future references ajshjhdskj)

🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits?

3 of Roo's Neutral/Questionable traits: His Clinginess/Obsession- I consider this trait a very hit or miss trait, or in this case, questionable, due to the fact that his clinginess/obsessiveness is NOT apparent at first, and upon getting to know him more, his clinginess will show through more, but it becomes questionable when he starts to take interest in someone... he becomes obsessive out of nowhere, and it makes you wonder where on EARTH that came from, but it derives from his clinginess, it's kind of like a pokemon evolution... Attraction -> Clinginess -> Obsession... His silence- Roo tends to be very quiet, that's... that's kind of it LMAO There's really nothing questionable about it, it's just a neutral trait for him His humor- A questionable trait, as he uses humor a lot to cope and avoid answering serious questions (" are you doing okay? " " Who's okay and why am I doing them? " ykyk KDSAJKDAJKD), albeit a very socially acceptable trait, its undeniable that it's still. questionable. especially when the source material is his own trauma-

(^ I was gonna write more for this question but my brain genuinely fried typing this- it makes me so sad that my brain stopped working and I would put posting this off but I reallyyy wanted to answer this so KSJHSJKJ 😭 Im sorry- also hence why there's not a second character..)

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

HEY!! i passed out half way through reading it last night but guess who just finished it at 7 something in the morning (me, i did). doing that in the library is riskyy but also his whines 🤭 and the fact reader took did that twice in a row no break— hot. i truly do have an obsession with submissive men so id like to thank you kindly for blessing my eyes and mind. it really helps feed a girl’s delusions 💞

Read It Here: Tongue Twister - Sub!Gar Logan x (Dom)GN!Reader

"doing something like that in the library is risky"

meanwhile, I used to write smut on my laptop in the middle of class <3 and one time I literally had a teacher come up behind me when I wasn't paying attention while I was in the middle of writing an M/M anal scene (in this very famous fic of mine) and she said 'that doesn't look like the class website' - and she scared the literal shit out of me. but the second she walked away, I resumed writing the fanfic. I did not go on the class website at all that day. because I was trying my best to get transferred out of that class and get put into independent study

and what did I do during independent study? splitscreen Kamen Rider Ghost and my digital bio text book. and I still passed.

but yes - the fic!

I am glad that you enjoyed it <3 converting people to my submissive Gar agenda is just so perfect. like you can't look at him and his big beautiful wide sad eyes and tell me he's not the most submissive baby ever

also, the fic was 99% inspired by the fact that I have literally said before (multiple times) that I need to suck him so hard that his stomach collapses in like a capri sun. so the reader made him cum twice with no break because well - that's what he needs :)

like - I rarely write him as a dom, and when I do, it's the same way I write 'dom' Spencer - he's not being dominant because he actually has a desire to dominate. because he doesn't. he is being dominant because he is so fucking needy that he needs to take what he wants (aka your holes) or he feels like his brain will melt and pour out of his ears. he is just touching and consuming and mounting you out of a pure animal need. especially on Gar's part - because he is literally part animal.

but if someone is there who will shove him down and put him in his place, then he fucking loves it, and he whines about it like a sweet baby.

I could go on about Gar forever. but anyway - I am glad you enjoyed the fic <3 I absolutely look forward to you finishing up Titans so you can read my past Titans fics that have more context of the show, and you can enjoy my future ones <33

[flowers-of-io]

POST DOLLHOUSES 👀👀👀

I'm not home till Sunday so any recent pics will have to wait, but I do have a few photos on my kofi and also a semi-inactive insta! I was reaaaaally into this in high school.

[Putting a read more because I started to ramble, lol]

I'm dreaming of a time when I can finally have a proper workshop and keep all my miniatures and craft supplies there, because the time and effort it takes to take it all out and then put it back after I'm done working and/or I need the table space is a big turn off & the main reason I haven't been devoting much time to it recently. I don't have enough space in my flat to build and store a whole dollhouse, but I'm planning to turn one shelf of my bedroom cupboard into a mini loft <3

Oh I also have a few miniatures I bought at various random places, including a cast-iron pencil sharpener in the shape of a stove (with a tiny retractable drawer!!) I found at a market in Barcelona in 2018. It's not entirely up to scale (probably around 1:16, I'd say), but it's so werid and I love it.

I could go on and on about all the thought associations I have with miniature-making, like it's a cool hobby in and of itself but its quirkiness kinda... takes you places sometimes lol. I told my middle school history teacher (visiting her already as a graduate) that I was making those crafts and the most useful supply I was in constant need of were cardboard tissue boxes, so the next time I came around she gave me at least three and said she'd been putting them away for me. I still have them all, even after the move.

Also the reason I took this hobby up on the first place was that our English teacher in high school gave us podcasts to listen to, and my attentively deficient brain couldn't focus on that without something to occupy my hands. Don't ask me how I stumbled upon that first youtube tutorial, it was either through some nail art videos or pinterest, but find it I did, and I made that first tiny tissue box (out of a piece of a tissue box), and then I frankensteined a bed that took forever to dry, and then made a cupboard from an original project, and then these books that had decoupage paper glued to every page separately because I was sick and sad and had too much time, and it kinda rolled on from there.

A lot of it is connected in my mind to radio, and the hours upon hours of listening to my favourite program, knowing what show came at which hour and moving all plans aside to make space during that one hour from 9 to 10 pm every Monday-Thursday. Sipping green tea or cocoa and getting my fingers all sticky while the radio talked to me about the world, and mourning the fact I have to be in bed by 11 because the next day I wake up at 5:40. High school era was a weird mix of dread and solace, radio chatter, and many many new hobbies.

[lucygraysboy]

“don’t beat yourself up, baby,” he coos softly, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingertips, “it’s not always easy to speak about feelings, especially when you’re not sure how the other person will react to what you have to say.” what he’s trying to say is that he understands why she’s only just brought it up. there are quite a few things that he should confess and still hasn’t because he either doesn’t want to scare her off and put more pressure on her or lacks courage to open up and leave himself completely vulnerable. “i have this feeling that we’ll always find our way back to each other. after all, soulmates are forever.” he unzips his puffer jacket just enough to slip a hand beneath the collar of his purple sweater and pull out the locket that she mailed back to him a few weeks ago. the token of their friendship. he’s decided to wear it today for good luck. “i couldn’t live without you either, lucy gray. i mean, i lost my mind after that voice message you sent me and shaved my head when i realized you were really gone, that i’d lost you for good,” he admits with a sad, embarrassed smile, letting the locket go and restoring to rubbing his hands together as they wait for the heat to come on. he ends up pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening the maps app, searching for the nearest waffle house. 10 minutes. that’s not bad, he thinks to himself and hits go. he keeps the phone in his lap as the map loads.

“hey, don’t make me blush, pajarita.” he’d like to blame the color of his cheeks on the steady thread of warmth finally coming through the vents, but the truth is — it’s all lucy gray and the way she makes him feel loved. “buckle up, pretty princess.” musing sweetly as she scoots closer to him, he leans in and kisses the top of her head. his heart soaring sky-high. “lucy gray, you can’t be serious.” erupting into a fit of giggles as he listens to her stories about prissy math club girls and cowgirls at the fair and how she’d put them all in their place, it amuses him to the point where it’s making his lungs hurt. “i remember these situations, but i never noticed any other girls ‘cause i always only had eyes for my rainbow princess.” he’s not even exaggerating. if someone asked him to name those girls from the math club, he wouldn’t be able to. “gosh, they must have been green with jealousy when i took off my cowboy hat and put it on your head. or when we shared cotton candy at the ferris wheel. you know what else i remember from that fair? that i was trying so hard to impress you. i think i even won the shooting contest just because i really wanted you to have that giant plushie.” he also put on his best shirt and brand new boots, the ones that he was only allowed to wear on special occasions, doused himself in cologne. he was so in love with her then, and yet somehow he’s even more in love with her now. “cocoa’s my favorite, too. let’s add it to the list of things we want to get at walmart.” propane tanks for the heater and cocoa. interesting combination, he thinks with a smile, putting the car in reverse and beginning to back up. 

when lucy gray begins to sing, so softly and beautifully, like the sweetest hummingbird, billy’s heart does what it always does in such situations and comes to an abrupt stop. goosebumps appear on his forearms and despite so many layers of clothing he feels a shiver race up his spine. it takes him by surprise, both her voice and the song choice, and he finds himself focusing solely on her, icy hues gazing down at her with nothing but love and adoration. his hand hovering over the gear selector for a brief moment, suddenly uncertain how to put the car in drive. there’s not a single thought in his brain that doesn’t revolve around her, a dazzling grin stretching lazily across his lips. it’s a wonder he doesn’t burst into tears, nostalgia coiling around his heart like vines, but his eyes do become a bit glassy. emotion evident in them, written all over his face. “there’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach,” he hums shyly, resting his cheek atop her head for only a second. the parking lot’s abandoned so he’s not really worried about some psychotic, blind moron ramming into them, but as much as he’d like to stop the time and just listen to her singing their favorite song, let the memories of their younger years engulf him whole, he has to put the car in drive and head out onto the streets. the short trip to the restaurant is an otherworldly experience, huge snowbanks lining the road, snowflakes fluttering in the air and obscuring his view and clinging to the windshield, wipers fighting a losing battle against the winds. he rarely drives like a grandma, but this time is the exception. “are you puttin’ this song on? god, you’ll make me cry,” he laughs, but it’s a possibility so he’d like to warn her beforehand.

“it’s alright, i could’ve spoken about my feelings way back then. it’s not right makin’ you play the mind guessin’ game.” lucy gray shook her head, not wanting him to feel bad for it. eyes drop on his hands going for her zipper, happily moving them away and letting him zip her jacket for her. it caused her to happily smile, enjoying the little acts of love and letting someone baby her when she was used to always being the one who babied everyone else. then as he spoke, he just made the sentiment all the more better. making her heart light up at all this reassurance about her and jesse. “aww, well that sure means a lot to me billy bonney. you’re my whole world— that’s why i couldn’t live anymore when you were gone from it.” all those tears, heartache and screaming from the horrific pain. that’s not an exaggeration, he’s been her whole world since the second they met. “yeah, you’re an angel and a sweet dinosaur.” mittened hand lifts to gently pat his cheek, holding his hand with the other. “what do you mean? every girl who dreams of a prince for their boyfriend. those prissy math club girls on the playground in third grade, i remember that’s why i took your hand to show them you were my cowboy prince. not theirs. or when we got older and those cowgirl girls at the summer fair checking you out in your cowboy hat.” she adds, still feeling that jealousy like it was fresh. the cold pricking her cheeks and making her uncomfortable when the icy wind blows in with it after they step outside into the north pole. “cocoa’s my favorite so that’s just adorable, billy.” cheeks flush at the way he talked about her eyes, letting him help her in before sitting down and pushing the console up. so she can sit on the middle seat and buckle herself in. “we’re soarinnn’, we’re flyin’.” she playfully sung at the reminder of their high school musical phase, laughing and then wrapping her arms around his waist after he got in. she rests her cheek on his shoulder admiring him with her doe eyes before pulling away to connect her phone to the car, deciding to just put the song on.

[sevilla-v-poetry]

Death Discovered Me

I discovered death for the first time when I was 16.

It wasn’t that I didn’t know what it was-is, death was unavoidable even in life- people never stopped talking about it like it was the latest trend, I guess in some ways some people thought it was. But the first time I ever Truly realized what death was- what it meant, was sitting in my closet, I had been crying for an hour or two, uncontrollable sobs racked my body as I thought of all the stress on my shoulders.

Me, a 16 year old, face slippery with tears as I tried hard not to crack under the stress most adults would categorize as”overreacting”. I sat there thinking through all walks of life,what led me to that moment, what I was feeling, what I would do in the future- then I went too far, took a step too close to the edge of my brain’s safety border and something in me awakened.

My breath stuttered, my mind raced, heart pounded as I pondered- what was death? Truthfully I could register that death meant never seeing someone again, at least not in this life. I could take in the grief, feel empathy in waves crashing over me every time i passed a car crash with yellow police tape.

They teach you that black is the color of death, or red for blood, but for me I think it’s yellow. That icky textured color never brought me the happiness it claimed to have. The only thing flashing through my mind when I saw that tape was “why? Why death? Why that person? Why me? Why yellow?'' It's because it's alarming, it throws people off, and gives a warning. it’s bright.

Don’t people always mention that light at the end of the tunnel? A brightness pulling them in? Has anyone ever mentioned the color? Was it always white or did we just assume it was? Maybe it’s yellow, that sickening tacky, off-putting hue.

Still, I wracked my brain for an answer to the mysteries death brings, and as I filtered through every possible scenario I felt a thought creep up on me, so blissfully unaware sitting there in my sadness, drowning in a puddle of my own tears. Like an unexpected guest at the door it knocked on my brain “did you know,” it told me “that you are nothing one you die?’ like a Cheshire cat it disappeared from my head but it’s sinister grin laid planted in my head.

Such a minuscule thought you might tell yourself, but that wasn’t how it went for me. I hadn’t even realized that amidst my search for answers i’d stopped sobbing to think. After all i did all my best thinking while somber. I found myself outraged and scared- where do i go when i die? Of course i’d been raised on a heavy stern religious upbringing but i always did value science and fact over the unprovable. “What happened to my soul?” was the first question, while heaven seemed like a nice prospect- Eternity seemed like, well- forever.

Because it was of course,  but the idea itself exhausted me and i’d not even begun decomposing yet- let alone gained any wrinkles. Sure you’d be with people you loved- maybe- and in a place of what i’m sure would be a white woman’s idea of beauty, but isn’t part of what made life beautiful that fact that it was fleeting? we couldn’t have Everything Forever and it gave us a greater appreciation for the world around us- but unlimited access to unlimited beauty? In a place full of people filled with so much selfishness and hate? Disastrous.

-not to mention the value of the place would just plummet. So I had to think of other places, hell fell into a similar category, like twins- similar yet so completely different. I thought about the different ways i’d heard about the place- eternal suffering. Again with that word, really you’d think they’d start using a thesaurus by now.

I didn’t want to burn in hell forever in the same ways I didn't want to be stuck in a white person's dream home forever- both could be qualified as hell for me. And I wondered just how individualized the suffering was-how pitiful could a devil be? Really he just seemed like a human in disguise- with far too much power and far too much hate, a familiar concept.I wondered, would I be stuck standing for all of extremity?

I have achy knees and I can barely stand walking around town square for more than a few hours before I plop myself down somewhere for a break.

The truest of all suffering for me would probably be something uncomfortable enough to make me cry out in frustration and stomp my foot like a little girl- 

i am a little girl.

-Sevilla V.