#tw cpr description

[loopspoop]

Lupin fans, welcome to a little AU I like to call the Snowmon AU!

Based off a current fixation on ice elementals and everyone’s favorite samurai >:3 I present the first chapter!

TWs: hypothermia, drowning, near death experience, descriptions of CPR, emetophobia

Trudging through the polar snow, Goemon had to admit the amount of white out here was getting vaguely annoying to look at. Lupin’s latest set of shenanigans had brought them to the Shackleton Ice Shelf, over 13,000 square miles of barren white snow and ice making up a rather small portion of Antarctica. They generally tried to avoid places this cold, except that one time with the penguins. Despite that general avoidance, here they were.

“Remind me why the fuck we’re out here again? I’m freezin’ my ass off!” Jigen huffed, pulling his thick coat firmly around himself.

“I told you already!” Lupin called back, smiling as he looked the tattered piece of paper in his gloved hands over for the umpteenth time.

Goemon remembered the exact conversation they had had pertaining to this expedition from several weeks ago.

“Who-?” Jigen looked out at the thief from under his hat, pausing stirring their dinner.

“Douglas Mawson. He was a geologist. Helped with the Antarctic explorations? Seriously?” Lupin raised an eyebrow as he pouted. “Damn, okay. Basically-“

“Yeah, yeah, discovered Antarctica or whatever, your point?” Jigen waved his hand, turning back to the food.

“Rude.” Lupin huffed, flipping down beside the samurai on the sofa. “He didn’t discover it. He explored it. What he actually discovered is loads better!”

“So what did he discover?”

“I’m so glad you asked, Goemon!” Lupin smiled broadly, tossing a tattered paper onto the coffee table. “The worlds largest diamond to date!”

“Diamond? This isn’t for Fujiko, is it?” Jigen frowned, turning the burner off as he walked over skeptically. “If it is, I’m out.”

“No, no, no. This is for us.” Lupin shook his head. “A diamond this big? I could chip a piece off for her and keep the rest for us and we would barely notice it’s absence! It’s huge!”

“How big exactly?”

“Supposedly, it’s over six inches and over 7,000 carats.” Lupin smirked, looking the map over carefully. “About halfway into the Shackleton Ice Shelf in a crevasse.”

“And why exactly did this Mawson guy just leave a find like that sitting in the ice for any petty thief with a plane to come take?” Jigen cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“It was the early 1900s. They didn’t bring enough necessary technology to get to it since it was pretty deep down and Mawson never made it back to retrieve it. He marked it on this map which I managed to snatch from a successor.” Lupin snickered. “So now all we have to do is get to Antarctica and we’ll be the proud owners of an extremely valuable diamond.”

“Here! I found the crevasse!” Lupin called, waving them over frantically. “Goemon, think you can reach it?”

“Step back.” Goemon waved them back, taking stance before unsheathing Zantetsuken.

In one fluid motion, metal against ice sung through the air as the samurai traveled about seven foot down into the crevasse. Landing at the bottom, he sheathed his sword once again before looking around. It seemed that the crevasse was an opening to a smaller cavern. He could see the diamond sticking out of the ice, deep blue in hue and, indeed, extremely large. Stepping up to the stone, Goemon glanced back at the light pouring in from above.

“You’ve got it, Goemon! Just grab it and jump back out, okay?” Lupin called down cheerily. Goemon could practically feel the excitement in his tone.

“Okay!” He called back, turning back as he grabbed onto the gem.

A blinding flash of light and a large crash met the samurai before everything went black.

~~~~~~~

Lupin stumbled and fell back as the ice below him shook and powered snow was blown out of the crevasse. Glancing over at Jigen who was flat on his ass and just as shocked, Lupin could feel the blood drain from his face.

Something had just exploded.

Body moving before he even thought about it, Lupin flung himself to the edge of the crevasse and looked in frantically. Was Goemon injured? Had the crevasse caved in on him? What the hell had even exploded???

Goemon wasn’t there. The ice at the bottom had shattered and broken through to the ocean below.

He heard himself screaming before he realized he was actually the one screaming, sliding down as quickly as he could as he tried to find any trace of the samurai, any signal he was there and okay. Zantetsuken was lodged between two rough pieces of ice, it’s master now where to be seen. It made Lupin more panicked than anything else.

“Lupin-!” Jigen shouted, sliding down beside him quickly as he looked around frantically. “Where is he?!”

“I don’t know, I don’t-! Goemon?! GOEMON?!” Lupin screamed, searching the clear water for any sort of sign.

Blue. It was his kimono. Under the surface of the water.

“NO-!” Lupin screamed, voice cracking as he lunged for the water.

“No, don’t-!” Jigen yelped, grabbing him around the middle as he slipped down the ice a bit. “You can’t help him if you’re in shock from the cold!”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Lupin cried, hands shaking as he shot the clip from his watch and latched it around the samurais ankle before he pulled him in quickly.

“Come on, come on!” Jigen grabbed the back of Lupin’s jacket and Zantetsuken, hauling both back out of the crevasse.

Lupin pulled Goemon up, laying the soaked samurai on the snow as his hands shook. His lips were blue. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing. God, he wasn’t breathing!

“Lupin! Lupin, do somethin’!” Jigen looked at him anxiously, unsure of what to do.

“I-I-“ Lupin fumbled, hands shaking before he put them on the samurais chest.

Pump. He had to pump his chest. Make his heart beat.

Pumping his chest, Lupin could feel, could hear, Goemon’s ribs crack and crunch under his hands. Blowing air into his lungs before he pressed his ear to the samurais freezing chest, Lupin prayed for a heartbeat, a sound, anything. And then he began again. Counting the compressions, listening for breaths or a heartbeat, going all over again. He didn’t know how long he went for, frantically begging Goemon to open his eyes in between.

And suddenly the samurais body jerked and water gushed from his mouth as he tried to draw in a breath. Lupin rolled him onto his side as he gagged and choked, retching onto the ice as the thief held his hair back and nearly cried from relief.

“Goemon! Oh, thank god!” Lupin rubbed his back, frowning at the large amounts of water he was spitting up. “Easy, bud.”

“Christ…” Jigen frowned, body relaxing slightly. “I thought…”

“I know.” Lupin frowned. He didn’t want to finish that thought. “Goemon..?” He looked him over anxiously.

Goemon slumped against him, eyes lidded as he panted and shivered. Frost was gathering on his hair and on his clothes as they began to freeze over from the cold. Lupin could hear the residual fluid rattling in his lungs as he breathed. He pulled the samurai close to his body as he looked back at Jigen anxiously.

“We need to get back to the plane.” Lupin looked back at Jigen quickly. “Help me with him.”

“Fuck, on it.” Jigen quickly wrapped an arm around Goemon’s torso as he helped Lupin get him up. “Shit, he’s freezin’!”

“Just hurry!” Lupin urged anxiously, going at a half run with Jigen toward the plane.

Jigen threw the door open, helping Lupin bring Goemon inside. Leaving the thief to handle things, he jumped into the pilots seat. He needed to be able to get them to their hideout in Perth as quickly as he could make the plane go. He had to cut a nine hour flight down to as soon as possible for Goemon’s sake.

“Easy, bud, easy. I’m right here.” Lupin assured, helping Goemon out of his soaked coat and kimono until he was completely undressed.

“L-Lu-“ Goemon choked out, clinging onto his arm as he doubled over and retched up more water.

“I’m right here.” Lupin frowned, sitting him down on the bench as he grabbed some blankets as he wrapped them around him. “I’m right here.”

Undressing down to his underwear, Lupin pulled Goemon in close to his chest as he wrapped all the blankets around them tightly. Taking Goemon’s freezing hands in his own, Lupin tried his best to keep them warm. He knew he couldn’t massage him…making him too warm too fast would be dangerous, but he had to stave off frostbite. He could feel the samurais breathing, slow, wheezy, rattling. He was shaking so badly..teeth chattering as he shook. His body was devoid of any warmth, and Lupin was worried his heart would stop again.

“D-Di-Diam-mond-“ Goemon wheezed through shivers, hazily gazing toward Lupin.

The thief could feel his heart clench in guilt. Goemon just nearly left them for good and he was worrying about that damn diamond? Biting his lip hard, Lupin pulled him in closer as he shook his head. Diamonds could be replaced..Goemon couldn’t be. He spent so much time seeing Goemon as an unstoppable force…but he wasn’t. He was just a guy who was way too hard on himself and maybe they were just as hard on him too.

“It’s okay, Goe. Don’t worry about the diamond.” Lupin carefully tried to dry him off with the blankets. “Just save your energy.”

[gardenstateofmind]

watching the 911 episode where karen's lab explodes and they won't stop with this cpr nonsense 😭

it made me so annoyed i went out looking for research to back up my annoyance (which karen would respect)

anyway i found this article and everything in it is so true

[unicornpopcorn14]

Skk angst scenarios that live in my head rent free but I have no courage/time to write them as a full fic (Part 1):

Tw: (temporary) character death, detailed description of wounds, bit of gore, blood, and anguish overall...

Link to the fic on ao3 at the bottomless pit that is this post! :D

Teen skk, where Dazai gets a nasty blow during a mission, the kind that hurls his body a couple of feet in the air until gets abruptly stopped by an object.

But it's not something Chuuya hasn't seen him withstand before. In fact, Chuuya had met Dazai that way, sending his weak ass flying before he or Hirotsu had a chance to blink. So he ignores the wailing urge to go check and focuses on taking care of their powerful enemy.

Until he does go check, reaching his passed out partner in careful strides in case he's faking it like the bastard has last time, and his knees fail him.

Dazai isn't breathing.

Dazai... isn't alive.

And Chuuya would be damned to let him get his way so fucking easily.

He gets on with perforning cpr before his mind can even register what's going on. One set, two, three...

Fifty...

Dazai, clearly, is a stubborn fucking bastard, clinging to death with his nails and teeth now that he'd tasted its alleviation. Chuuya is going to snatch his relief no matter what, he's not gonna let him win, he's not, he won't-

Arahabaki stirs inside, howling curses without fear now that his tamer is out of the picture. Chuuya can't handle it-

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"

He wants nothing more than to feel No Longer human again...

This turned into a full fic without my consent ┐⁠(⁠￣v￣⁠)⁠┌ enjoyyy~

Also, tysm to @kauenelikha for beta-ing this!! <33

Part 2.1→

[nobully]

He can't keep a lookout and steer the car at the same time, so Wang Yi puts his trust in Break and gets back to clown driving school once he hears an affirmative. Things get weirder after that—for a bit he's sure he's gone blind when everything goes dark, then wonders if he's driving through a tornado with all the howling gales around his ears. He wouldn't put it past the mist to summon bad weather just to further screw with them both.

Break is awfully quiet throughout it all, slumped so stubbornly against his seat that Wang Yi wonders if he's fallen asleep. But then again, it's only on TV that you hear people screaming attack names and their own life stories when fighting against their enemies.

More wind. More howls. The familiar scrape of metal and a dog's high-pitched cry. Wang Yi never hears Break's cough in the cacophony drowning them both, but he feels bandersnatch well enough, dragging them sideways and threatening to flip the Jeep.

Yeah. Whoever wrote that novel should've invested in Hummers instead.

And so Wang Yi throws his weight against the window as much as he can, spinning the steering wheel towards him like a lazy Susan as he's forced to speed off the road just to stay upright. The asphalt gives way to grass and then a copse of trees; Wang Yi drives straight through an almost-too-narrow gaps and hears a satisfying whump as the bandersnatch's body slams into one with a whine, jolting his claws loose. He doesn't stop to check if the thing's actually fallen off but keeps speeding through the woods until the sound of water reaches his ears. Before he wonders if they've hit a stream, a fancy flower garden opens up before them. There's even a familiar swan-lined fountain up ahead, which would be nice if he wasn't speeding towards it at 70MPH*.

'Oh shit!'

He slams on the brakes and turns—the car swerves again, tires slipping on the damp grass—they don't hit the fountain head-on but sideways, with the stonework tearing through the back seats of the Jeep like battering rams before the whole, shuddering vehicle comes to a stop with its rear wheels soaking in the round, shallow basin. The fountain itself is still working fine, water cascading above their heads and sending a soft drizzle of cool mist onto their heads from the holes in the car roof.

Wang Yi takes a second to check that he still has all his limbs before whipping his head towards his passenger.

'Break, Break—I mean, don't actually do that.' Ugh, he really has an unlucky name.

'Hey Xerxes, you okay?'

(*112.65KM)

   HE CAN'T KILL IT. he can't kill it. he's already used mad hatter plenty of times before stumbling across wang yi, most of its appearances involuntary on his part. controlling his chain within the mist has turned out to be increasingly difficult, draining him far quicker than he's used to, control slipping from him when he's usually clinging to it. consciously summoning his chain isn't an option. he can't kill bandersnatch without passing out.

   or worse. who knows, at this point?

   ' ugh, alright— ' the space is too tight for him to concentrate mad hatter's powers within the sword. but bandersnatch knows him— bandersnatch knows his chain. even if it doesn't carry the memories of the incident at isla yura's mansion, and break is fairly sure it does, considering its vicious anger, it still knows mad hatter's power intimately, created for this one, sole purpose.

   break pulls backwards, into the seat, pressing himself against it as hard as he can, trying to keep stable in between the car going every direction imagineable. he hasn't hit his head yet, but he might as well have. his ears are ringing. one arm against his chest, he pulls forth as much of mad hatter's powers as possible, shadows near swallowing the both of them up in the small space of the front seats.

   the darkness is pulled higher, frantically, with a strong wind, high-pitched howling through the metal, reaching for the hound desperately. mad hatter's insistence to kill stays in his mind as it keeps mumbling, screaming, but break is silent even as bandersnatch yelps, its claws digging deeper into a different part of the roof, closer to his own head, in response to the sudden pain.

   just a little more. just a little more.

   break pushes. mad hatter shoves. a wet gasp escapes him, half a bloody cough, his chest burning, but it seems to somewhat reach a desired goal— bandersnatch is catapulted backwards, and as it tries to cling to the back of the car in an attempt to get back up, the vehicle swerves, thrown off balance entirely.

[schumachersricciardo]

Shiver

Chapter Five - P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney

♡ Mick Schumacher x Reader, Best friend!Danny Ricc x reader, AND A SURPRISE!!!

♡ TW: Swearing, inaccurate timeline of F1/F2/F3, badly translated German using Google, blood/injuries (not graphic, but there is are mentions of it!), mentions of misogynistic thoughts and self doubt, not really graphic, but describes the sound of what doing CPR could lead to, not proofread, angst, badly written medical terminology, etc.

♡ She/Her pronouns are used, nothing descriptive about reader except that her hair is long enough to pull back into a ponytail or braid, no reader insert, timeline skips. ALSO: WARNING!!!! I will barely be mentioning Michael Schumacher. I do not presume to know what he is thinking, or would say in these fictional scenarios. I am trying to be respectful of their privacy and not make any assumptions!!!!!! He will be mentioned here and there, but I do not believe any dialogue will be associated with him. If you do not like that, then do not read it. :)

♡ A/N: I also did this on mobile, so I will format it better if need be tomorrow morning on my laptop!

♡ 8.3k words

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Qualifying, Silverstone

The paddock once again was absolute chaos as you entered it. There were more cameras than you could count and more people flocking to ask you what seemed like the same seven questions. Being at Silverstone meant a lot for Mercedes, but even more now since Lewis Hamilton still could not race due to personal matters. He had missed the past four races, and to miss his home race was sure to add insult to injury.

And a majority of yourself felt terribly, because you were at an all time high. You and Mick scored second and third place in Monaco. In Canada, Mick scored his maiden grand prix win - a literal first for him. But the highs didn’t end there as Spain rounded its pretty face.

As the first female reserve driver, and now having to take over Lewis’ spot while he’s absent, the pressure was higher than ever. At the Aramco GP, Mick again scored first and you second. Mercedes hadn’t see ‘One-Two’ victories like this in a very long time.

But there was nothing to compare to the feeling of winning your first maiden grand prix when the Austrian Grand Prix came to you. In a stunning act of grit and perseverance, you managed to edge out Mick for first place. You don’t think you could ever have topped that feeling while the United States’ National Anthem wrung out at the racetrack. Soon, your DMs and socials were being flooded with girls and women that were inspired by not only you, a woman in motorsport, but a winning and successful one. You couldn’t help but feel moved and ecstatic that you finally had an impact on the world. And if anything, you wanted that to be your legacy.

“You and Mick have had an excellent run these last few races. How are you feeling going into Silverstone and does the weather affect your confidence at all?” The interviewer sat across from you with a polite smile on her face.

“Thanks so much,” You began with a wide smile. “I think if you’re in the UK this kind of weather is to be expected, so I don’t know if I’m really shaken about it - But, obviously the wet weather poses more issues than solutions, but I think we’re both confident in our abilities as individuals, and as a team.”

She asked you a few more questions and after the interview was done, you knew you had to get ready for qualifying. You headed to your driver’s room only to find an all too familiar blond haired boy waiting for you.

“Don’t you have your own room, Mick?”

Your friend opened your driver’s room door and allowed you to step into it first. Closing it softly behind him, he took a quick scan of the room.

“Yes, but I don’t like the thought of you being all the way over here by yourself.”

Ever since your father had come back about a month ago, Mick had grown even more protective of you. And you really didn’t mind it; you knew there was no arguing with him about that. You’d see him stealing glances at you during press interviews, and keeping an extra eye on you as you went to the Mercedes motor home for a coffee. You couldn’t blame him.

“Hopefully the rain lets up tomorrow…” You mumbled as you sorted out your fireproofs and race suit. “I don’t think it will though.”

“Probably not…” Mick straightened his posture in the chair provided in the room. “It will be your first race in the rain, Smidge.”

“So?” You shrugged, putting on your clothes.

Your bruises had healed quite nicely and thankfully, before your next race no one had inquired about your cheek. You had a slight inclination to feel as though a boy named Mick had something to do with that…

“Ich mache mir Sorgen um dich (I’m worried about you).” Mick stopped you as you finished zipping up your suit, his suit already tied and hanging at his waist.

Looking down at where he sat, he grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles. You reached with your free hand and moved some of his hair. Mick hummed happily as you moved your hand down to his cheek, caressing it reassuringly.

“Du machst dir immer Sorgen um mich (You’re always worried about me).” Mick shrugged in relinquishment, then stood to his feet and kissing the top of your head. You relished in what little privacy the tiny room gave you.

Between all the cameras, fans, interviews, and paparazzi - You two seldom had private moments together since your team’s winning streak began. Enjoying each other’s company in the quiet and stillness of your driver’s room, you leaned your head up against his chest, the steady beating of his heart giving you more than just comfort. As you inhaled the smell of his cologne, you made a mental note to save this moment for a rainy day.

“We should get going, or else people are going to get suspicious.” You finally pulled yourself away from him.

“Schätzen, people already think we are secretly married or leaders of a cult or something. I do not think us being absent from the paddock for five minutes will make them think any differently than they already do.” Mick let out a soft laugh as he opened the door again for you. Strutting out, you both went to your perspective sides of the garage to prepare for qualifying.

And as it came to be, you qualified fourth while Mick qualified second position. Your grid-mate Max Verstappen qualified with pole position. Overall, you and the Mercedes team felt quite confident for tomorrow’s race. Despite the inclement weather, everyone was excited for Silverstone as well as wishing Lewis was here as well. It was a weird and contradictory feeling that almost everyone had, too. This was his home race and being unable to race in it after not missing it for years, just had to be gut wrenching. But like Mick said, if it weren’t a serious issue, Lewis would have raced. And in truth and maybe a little bit of guilt, you had spoken to Lewis a few times asking him how he was doing and if he was okay. Always the gentleman, he reassured you that of all people, he would want you to be the one to take his place and that nobody but you deserved his seat - even if it was temporary.

You truly didn’t feel as though you deserved the friendship he’s was offering you and the encouragement he so freely gave. Yet, your words always overflowed with gratitude to the best of your ability.

You changed out of your suit and fireproofs, and back into the clothes you came to the paddock in originally. Waiting for Mick to do the same, you decided to go to the motor home to grab one more coffee. About ten minutes later, a very panicked and surprisingly of breath Mick rushed by your side while you sipped on your coffee.

“Schätzen! What did I say about leaving without me? I do not want… I just… Please do not scare me like that again.” Mick licked his lips, hunched over the coffee bar counter as he tried to catch his breath. Mick ran a very anxious hand through his now, undone hair, slowing his breathing down. All you could do was grin at the disheveled boy in front of you.

“I’m sorry, Mickey… I was thirsty?” You made your last word a question, because you know that coffee was not the way to replenish your thirst, but you wanted to try your luck at convincing him anyway.

“Schätzen… That is… Coffee…” Mick’s total lack of amusement shown across his deadpan expression. “And not for lack of trying, but why are you having a coffee this late in the day?”

“For funsies.” You grinned again as the two of you began to walk towards his car.

“I do not know what a funsies is, but how are you going to get any sleep tonight?” Again, you shrugged nonchalantly trying your best not to laugh at him. “How am I going to get any sleep?”

"What does your sleeping patterns have to do with my consumption of a very thirst quenching coffee, I might add?"

“You will be up talking in my ear all night during your caffeine high, no?” Mick finally broke the silence as he filed into the driver’s seat after making sure you were comfortable.

“No! I will not be doing that, in fact, I am going to… Do the opposite of that.”

Mick made his way to the hotel room making certain that he did not make you car sick. He always thought it was very strange that you would get carsick sat in the passenger seat, but not while driving at 200mph. But that was one of the many, many things he adored about you. About twenty minutes later, the two of you arrived at the hotel and made your way into his suite. You insisted that you could sleep in your own room… Three doors down… But Mick was more persistent than you had the energy to argue with, and what could it hurt?

The night went on and you both had gotten ready for the long awaited sleep. Trying to hide your caffeine high, you played some stupid game on your phone as you waited for Mick to get off the phone with his mother. Soon, he strode in and stopped in the doorway. There you were again, the picture perfect image of the life he longed for that he always kept near to his heart. You hadn’t heard him come into the room. You were still trying to focus on whatever game had your attention.

Mick quietly leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest, gleaming and glowing over the fact that he was going to share a bed with you. And sure, there have plenty of times the two of you have slept in the same bed, but there was a feeling pitting in the bottom of Mick’s stomach that he should pay extra attention to this exact moment. He didn’t know what it was, but most of the time his gut and instinct were right. You looked up from your phone and met eyes with Mick. His facial expression was soft and serene. Despite the tiredness you could see wafting off of his body, you too had that strange feeling in your stomach. His gray t-shirt clung nicely to his torso, while his navy blue sweats sat just so on his hips. It was as if you were taking a million mental pictures of this silent interaction between the two of you.

Mick made his way to the side of the bed you had cleared for him. You awaited for him to get settled before tucking yourself safely underneath his arm. Mick hummed happily to himself as he began to feel sleep take over his body, his eyelids becoming heavier and heavier with each blink. Wrapping yourself tightly around him, intertwining your legs with his, you extended your neck as far as it could go to try and kiss his check, only for you to land on his jaw. His jaw pulsated in response and you could feel the breath catch in his chest. You. never wanted to forget this and you hoped that he wouldn’t either.

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Race Day, Silverstone

You took several deep breaths, exhaling as slowly as you could. It was indeed raining outside, which would make this race harder than usual… But also more dangerous. The famous Maggots, Becketts and Chapel turns hounded and clouded both your vision and your mind as you did your best to center yourself. You truly wanted to make not only Lewis proud, but yourself proud. Finally feeling grounded enough, you put your race suit on and made your way out to the garage.

You spotted Mick talking to his engineer out of the corner of your eye, hoping he caught you with his - knowing he would want to make sure you were alright, even if he couldn’t talk to you at that very second. Managing to get a few more stretches in, it was time for you to enter your car. From where you were sitting in the garage, you could tell that it was raining hard, but not hard enough for them to stop the race completely. Which had to mean the race conditions were safe enough for the drivers, which meant you felt immediately more relieved than you did ten minutes ago. Soon, it was time for the driver’s to line up for their formation lap. You could see Mick’s car two positions ahead of you, and you could almost hear him talking to himself you knew him that well. The lights went off and the formation lap began.

It wasn’t a terrible lap either, but you definitely could feel a difference in the way that the car handled in wet conditions versus when it is a dry race. And you were indeed reminded of so when you could feel the grip of your tires not performing the way you wanted them to even during the formation lap. You didn’t want anything to stop you from this race though, so you put that thought behind you. It was just rain after all. Taking one last deep breath, you focused on the lights ahead of you turning green - and away everyone went.

Lap 14

You were having trouble with your car, but not enough to want to retire it. It seemed like many other drivers were having issues after realizing just how rainy it was. Still, you persisted and managed to edge your way up to P3, while Mick held a steady pace behind Max. You were doing your best to fend off Daniel behind you.

Lap 22

Eight laps later and Mick had overtaken Max to claim P1. You were still holding strong at P3, which you really didn’t mind. If you could keep the pace you were going until the end of the race, you’d get a podium and you’d get points. And that’s all you could think about as you began lap 23.

That was until Max had dodged something on the track unexpectedly, and because of the rain you couldn’t react as fast as you needed or even see what it was that he was evading. The tires underneath you were not gripping the pavement below them either. And being that you were just behind him during the Maggots, Becketts, and Chapel you really tried your best to keep focused on the race. Max did his best and swerved out of the way of the debris, but you were not so fortunate. Maybe it was because you were a female and you didn’t have as fast of reflexes as a man… Or maybe it was because you didn’t train hard enough to be prepared for such a wet race. Or maybe it was just simply bad fucking luck.

Max expertly swerved and managed to save his car and maintain his safety, but he ended up clipping the right corner of Mick’s rear wing. Mick spun slightly out of track limits and hit the barrier as he was on the straight now.

“Mick, you alright?” Mick’s race engineer could be heard on the radio.

“Yeah, just fine. Sorry about the car.” Mick sat quietly in his vehicle for a moment, honestly only feeling a bit of whiplash.

Mick quickly exited the vehicle and made his way over to the safe side of the barrier.

Seconds later, he could hear the unmistakable noise of a high speed crash. Fairly close to him too. He crouched down and put his arms over his head instinctually even though he was still wearing his helmet. He didn’t know what had just happened.

You attempted to also swerve to avoid whatever Max was avoiding, but you had lost all control of the car, and vision of the racetrack in front of you. The rain was heavily falling and if only your visor had tiny little windshield wipers, maybe the entire thing could’ve been steered cleared from originally. Seriously struggling to keep your car on the ground, something must’ve happened between the time you tried to steer into the infamous turn, and when you tried to steer away from the barrier.

You couldn’t see or feel anything, but the car flipping at least twice while you were still in it. The G-Force was so great you could feel yourself almost immediately passing out from it. Then you had hit something else besides the barrier… Something like a car.

“Can we know your status? Can you talk to us?” Your race engineer had repeated your name, trying to get your attention. You couldn’t figure out where you were or even what to say as you felt an overwhelming dizziness take over you.

“Okay, red flag. There’s been a crash. Red flag. Red flag everybody, please return to the pit lane for now.”

The audience could overhear every single driver’s engineer tell them the same thing. All the drivers wanted to know was who crashed. As the individual drivers began to return to the pit lane, there were several of them that had to drive past you to get there. Soon, silence and quiet so thick and looming fell over the entire racetrack. Even the grandstands were silent.

Mick finally stood up from where he was crouched, also attempting to make sense of what happened. He knew he would get fined if he went back onto the track, but truly the person who could’ve possibly crashed that soon after him… That wasn’t Max… Because he saw Max drive past him after he crashed into the barrier… Would have been…

Faster than he had ever ran before, he sprinted to where your car was hanging sideways and partly upside on the barrier. He didn’t care about any fines or penalties as he hastily scanned the cockpit of your car for any signs of injury. Motionless, you slightly hung with your helmet weighing your head down. He knew he shouldn’t touch you, or move you. He wasn’t a professional and he didn’t want to hurt you any further… But his heart seemed to break into billions of pieces when he saw you there as lifeless as you were. He removed his helmet, to try and get a better look at your status.

The rain was pouring harder, but Mick remained unmoved as he waited for emergency service to get to you. He was soaking wet, and probably very cold… But he didn’t notice. And what seemed like in no time at all, they finally arrived and started to assess the situation and the best way to get you out of your very damaged car. Mick stood idly by, doing his best to not get in their way. He knew for a fact he’d be riding with you to whatever hospital they were going to take you to, but the anticipating and the painstaking slow process of trying to rescue you was making him feel anxious and afraid.

“It looks like she broke her leg, maybe her arm too”

“Her helmet is a bit cracked on this side”

“Is she breathing?”

“Okay, on three, the two of you are going to release her belt, and then we will catch her”

“Is the gurney ready?”

“One… Two…”

“Three.”

The emergency service successfully lowered your body from where it had been hanging ever so slightly. Mick immediately was at your side as they put your unconscious body on the gurney. Mick had asked someone if he should remove your helmet, just in case it was obstructing your breathing, but they insisted that they would do that at the hospital. Mick could only trust them now. Climbing into the back of the ambulance with you, Mick scooted as closely as he they would allow him to while they hooked you up to the various monitors. Again, commotion started and Mick was demanded to move over so they could begin chest compressions.

Mick could hear the way your ribs broke underneath the weight of the man trying to save your life.

It was a sound he never wanted to hear again.

In record time, the ambulance reached the hospital, the man still doing compressions. The back doors flew open and the emergency room staff arrived at either side of you to begin triage.

“Sir, you’re going to have to wait in the lobby”

“Sir, you can’t come back here”

“Sir, we are going to do everything we can, but you need to give us room and head to the lobby”

“Sir, we will call security-“

Mick reluctantly conceded as he huffed out of the emergency room, only to catch your feet behind wheeled into some room. In a state of total shock and disbelief, he headed to the emergency room and approached the front desk.

“Hi… Hello… Emmmm… My friend was just admitted with serious injuries to your emergency room… Will there be any way I could receive… Emm… Updates?” Mick nervously tapped on the front desk, his race suit dripping water onto the floor. His hair had finally stopped dripping too as he waited for an answer. He could hum in anticipation.

“Are you related to this person?” The receptionist gave a polite smile.

“Emmmm, no. Not technically, but I am really all she has…” Mick pleaded with his big blue eyes to the receptionist, trying his best not to give up and cry in a ball on the floor.

“I’m sorry, sir. Unless you are family or her husband, then we really won’t be able to share information with you. But please, take a seat and we will do our best for her.” The receptionist motioned to the lobby behind Mick. It had a few people in it, which made Mick’s heart ache even more.

The driver thanked her and took a seat in the far corner. Sitting down, he took a deep breath and exhaled. He cursed to himself in German when he realized he didn’t even have his phone with him. Groaning, he put his head in his hands and covered his face with his now clammy palms. He truly didn’t know how much time had passed before he felt someone tapping on his shoulders. Mick rubbed his eyes and glanced up from where he sat.

“Hey… I uh, hope you don’t mind me being here. brought you your phone and like a change of clothes, and stuff… I thought you might want it.” The Australian accent permeated through the soundless lobby of the hospital. Daniel stood there with a slight smile. He was also still in his race suit.

“Oh god, thank you. I was just, uh, thinking about that.” Mick thanked the Aussie again, basically begging him to take a seat. To Mick’s surprise though, many more drivers, Toto and your race engineer, began to file into the lobby.

Mick stood to his feet and greeted everyone that had arrived with whispers of gratitude. He wished you knew and that he could tell you just how many people care about you. The drivers talked amongst themselves trying to recall what led up to that moment. Mick himself tried to get some answers. But to no avail, there wasn’t a solution to everyone’s current problem. The automatic doors opened once again and as if it were shot in slow motion, every single person’s head turned to the newest person joining the group of concerned drivers.

There were looks of worry, and some of disbelief exchanged throughout the lobby as everyone stayed still as they waited with bated breaths. Sure enough, Mick walked over to the man and pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… I’m… Fuck, I’m so sorry, mate….” Max Verstappen was in the embrace of not only his fellow grid-mate, but his lifelong friend. The Dutch driver did his best to hide his tears of frustration at himself. Mick pulled away and gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

“It could have happened to any of us, it is not your fault, I promise you.”

The other drivers and team members seemed to relax after the interaction between the German and Dutch driver. About an hour maybe two later, Mick said more goodbyes and more thank you’s to the people who came by, but needed to leave to finish up their own reports and debriefings of the now canceled race. Daniel stayed behind to keep Mick company. As close as Daniel was with you, he couldn’t imagine how this was affecting your best friend… Or rather, your soulmate. Daniel in true form, cracked some jokes here and there trying to ease the tension. And Mick did his best to reciprocate in kind.

Four hours later, Daniel was fast asleep as he had head leaned up against the hospital wall and his arms folded over his chest. Mick tried to get some shut eye as well, but at any moment he could have news about you. The German driver once more heard the automatic doors open and now to his astonishment, an all too familiar face entered.

“Lewis? Wha-What are you doing here?” Mick brought Lewis in for a tight hug.

“I saw the crash and heard the news, I was a bit far, but I drove as fast as I legally could to get here.” Mick remained silent. “I’m so sorry, Mate. That… It really should’ve been me.”

“For Schumacher?” The nurse spoke aloud as she held her clipboard tightly to her chest, looking around the room for anyone that might respond.

Lewis and Daniel traded extremely confused looks, while Mick just stood there awkwardly, trying to process if he heard the nurse correctly. Again, she repeated herself.

“Schumacher…?” Daniel half whispered/mouthed and half said aloud with a chuckle. The nurse just nodded. Daniel ended up having to elbow Mick to get him to snap out of it.

“Right, oh so sorry. I am Mick. Schumacher. Mick Schumacher!”

Even if the boy had been trained by PR his entire life, it definitely did not show now as he timidly stepped towards the nurse.

“Lovely. Please come with me, Mr. Schumacher.”

Before Mick followed the nurse, he jogged back to Daniel and whispered something in his ear that was inaudible to the Brit.

“Don’t let her dad anywhere near this hospital.” Daniel just nodded in response, going over all the ways he was going to prevent that from happening while Mick was busy. Daniel frankly, would rather eat snails before he let your dad near you.

Mick followed the nurse to some room of the hospital. You weren’t in it, so Mick didn’t quite care for it.

“Hello, my name is Carly and I am one of the nurses here. We see you are here for…” Carly searched the clipboard as fast as she could for your name. Saying it out loud making sure she got it right, she put the clipboard down. “She sustained many injuries during her crash, all of which the doctor on call will go over with you very shortly. I am just here to get you to sign a few papers.”

“What do I have to sign? I will be paying for every medical bill she has, that is not an issue.” Mick stated as a matter of fact while she put the pen down in front of him.

“That’s good to hear, but this is just more of a legal thing. We need your signature on these three papers indicating that you were made aware, consented to, and further agreed that you are now her official medical proxy.”

“Me? But we are not married or anything.” If he wasn’t confused before, he sure as hell is now.

“Right, well you don’t have to be married to be named someone’s medical proxy if they named you legally in the case of not being able to make proper medical decisions of their own volition.” The blond haired boy listened intently as she continued. “Legally, she has named you her medical proxy for all decisions relating to her care, and if needed end of life care.”

Mick continued to ask questions, but of course he signed what needed to be signed. The nurse thanked him for his time and instructed him to wait for the doctor to arrive shortly. Mick pulled out his phone and replied to a few people before he heard the door open again.

“Hi, Mr. Schumacher, I’m Doctor Collins and I am the on call ER doctor. This is the on call ER surgeon, Doctor Wyatt.” The two doctors shook hands and took their seats across from the troubled boy. Mick’s anxiety once again began to rise.

“We want to be as honest with you as possible, because if it were our loved one we wouldn’t someone beating around the bush.” Doctor Collins cleared his throat and took out some x-rays, while Mick only could nod in response, frozen in fear. “She sustained a broken leg in four places, her arm in two, and some broken ribs too. She also has a bruised spine.”

“I was able to put some rods in her leg to stabilize it while it heals, her arm in a cast , and as for broken ribs and a bruised spine, there’s not much to do about those except for pain management.”

All the medical jargon was causing Mick’s head to spin in circles as he tried to catch up to them. They went over your extensive injuries and did their best to be as docile, but straightforward as promised.

“We saw that her helmet was cracked when she came in, but until she wakes up, we won’t know if she has brain damage. Her CT and MRI both came back clean as of now.” Doctor Collins reiterated with the smallest sliver of hope tinged in his voice.

“All in all, we believe she will make a full recovery…” Doctor Wyatt began. Mick leaned forward in anticipation. “We did have to put her in a medically induced coma for now. The trauma to her body and the fact that crashed at such a high speed, is cause enough for it. And while it will help her leg and ribs heal… We unfortunately, wont know the full extent until she wakes.”

“How long will she have to be in that coma for, though?” After several minutes of receiving and attempting to retain the information being thrown at him, Mick finally spoke up, his voice small and scared.

“We’re unsure of that, really. It could be a few days, or a few weeks. The good news is that she does still have brain function. She does respond to stimuli, so the coma is really for her internal healing.”

Mick and the two doctors traded more information, finally allowing Mick to go and see you. They were exactly as you said you would be, your leg propped up with absolutely ghastly rods sticking out of it. Your arm was elevated with a pillow as it lay snuggly in its blue cast. You were attached to a ventilator, your eyes closed. Even so, you looked so peaceful, more peaceful than Mick had ever seen you. Mick tiptoed into the room, pulling a chair beside the left side of you. His eyes couldn’t help but tear up at the sight. They moved up and down your again, broken body as he shuddered with sadness and fear. Your body was never meant to look like this… It was the most beautiful thing Mick had ever seen, and yet here you were… You were still beautiful, by god were you, but you didn’t deserve any of this.

“The doctors said that you might be able to hear me… Even though you are… Sleeping,” Mick wiped the tears from his cheeks. He sniffled trying to keep his composure. You were all he had. “I just wanted to tell you that you will never be alone while you are here. I do not care if I end up having such bad body odor, I am not leaving!” Mick laughed to himself knowing that someone was going to eventually make him leave and shower.

“Oh, Smidge… Smidge, what have we done?” Mick’s voice went just above a whisper. “I keep saying I am going to protect you, but I never have been able to… But if you can hear me… Just know that… Just know that I am going to be here for you.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

A week went by and true to his word, Mick only would go to his hotel room to shower and change clothes. You had many visitors, too. Mick’s mother and his sister often came by when it was time for Mick to rest. The other members of the current grid had sent you numerous bouquets of flowers, with Daniel and Lewis visiting you when they could. Mick had also announced that until you were better, he wouldn’t be driving and that there was an entirely new team for Mercedes. They showed great potential and everyone was thrilled to see what they could do.

Mick was startled awake by someone knocking on the door. Mick did a quick stretch and went to the door. To his delight, someone very special stood there with a bouquet of giant sunflowers.

“Uncle Sebastian! What on earth are you doing here?” Mick brought him into a close embrace, holding him closely for several seconds. Gesturing for him to come into your room, Mick thanked him for the flowers and put them aside.

“I guess flowers weren’t the most original idea.” Sebastian Vettel, four time world champion, smiled widely at the wide variety of bouquets that crowded one corner of your hospital room.

“Oh, please, you know she loves flowers and that sunflowers are her favorite. See, there are no other sunflowers here.” Mick put the sunflowers down and turned to face his closest family friend. Pulling out another chair for him, they both sat beside you. “So what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see her and maybe spend some time with her. And of course, to check on you.” Sebastian did his best to keep his expression neutral as he looked at your healing, but still wounded body.

“Did my mother send you?” Mick was only half joking, because his entire other half already knew the answer.

“Would you be surprised if I said yes?” Sebastian and Mick spoke for another handful of minutes, catching up and making sure each of their family’s were doing well.

“So what are you really doing here, Seb?” Mick finally felt brave enough to ask. Sebastian just smiled again, looking over at his friend.

“I’m here to take over for a few days. You need to get sleep that’s not in a hospital cot, and you need to eat something that’s not hospital food.” Deep down inside Mick knew this was a losing battle. “I watched her grow up, you know? I want nothing more than to sit with her and watch her heal now.”

With some hopeless arguing, Mick started to gather his things.

“Seb, do you think I could… Just have a few seconds with her? I just want to tell her that I will not be here for a few days.”

Sebastian pulled out his phone and decided to call his wife back home while Mick said goodbye. Mick made his way over to your bedside once again, and grabbed your hand.

“Schätzen… It seems as though I’m being forced out for a few days,” Mick let out a chuckle. “But I am just a phone call away, and even better - Uncle Seb is going to be here! I remember how much you love him… So, that will be fine…” The youngest Schumacher was finding it exceedingly difficult to leave you.

What if you woke up and he wasn’t here? What if you didn’t wake up and he wasn’t here? His mind was plagued with thought after thought as he mustered up enough courage to say goodbye. Placing a longing kiss on your temple, he exited the hospital room.

“Call me if there are any changes, even if they are small.” Sebastian pulled his friend into a hug and reassured him again. Mick took one last look at you before heading down the long corridor.

Sebastian headed back into your room, getting comfortable in the chair beside you. He hummed to himself as he relaxed the best that he could. Maybe that’s where Mick picked it up from… Sebastian grabbed his backpack off of the ground and rummaged through it for a few minutes. Finally, he pulled out The Fellowship of The Ring which was one of your favorite books. Sebastian debated reading to you in German, but he decided against it because trying to translate J. R. R. Tolkien was far too much effort than he wanted to put in this evening. He just hoped and prayed that Mick could get some much deserved rest.

“When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Three days had passed and Mick was due back any minute now. Sebastian truly loved the time he got to spend to you as he read your favorite books, and got to recall some of the fondest racing memories he had. He hadn’t told you some of the stories in a very long time, and some not at all before then. You always saw him as someone you could look up to, and the fangirl in you wouldn’t believe that four time world champion was reading The Lord of The Rings to you of all people.

Mick Schumacher walked up to the room door, knocking politely as to not to startle Sebastian. Mick pressed on at the welcome of Sebastian voice. Your bruising was much better, and even though you were still comatose, Mick could tell just by looking at you that you were in fact healing quite nicely.

“She was wonderful company. She quizzed me on the entire F1 Grid once again.” Sebastian grinned and winked as he scooped up his belongings.

“Again, huh? You already beat everyone in Grill The Grid with that!” Mick teased elbowing his friend in the side.

Soon, the two friends exchanged goodbyes and Mick once again left alone with you. He sat in his normal spot, recounting his days “off” to you. There was still media coverage about your crash, but he managed to make sure that your privacy was respected and that no one outside himself and the hospital staff knew of your condition. He was still protecting you even when you couldn’t protect yourself.

Another two days had passed, and Mick was down in the cafeteria looking for some lunch. It was only until he was making his way to the elevators and back to your room, when his name was being called over the intercom. The entire hospital was looking for him, which meant only one of two things:

Either you were dead.

Or you were finally awake.

There was a steady beeping that you could notice, yet do nothing about. Your body felt absolutely frozen where you lay. And truth be told, you had little to no memory of how you got to this spot. Your eyes felt crusted with over tiredness and too much sleep. Your body for some reason too, felt like it had just been stampeded by a herd of antelopes - paralyzed by the fear of your autonomy being stripped from you. You had to know though where you were and you were going to do anything you could in order to force your eyelids open to see the world around you.

Ever so slowly you began (or attempted to at least) to relay messages to your brain to try and open your eyes. You could feel something irritating your throat, taking up all space in there for air and for swallowing whatever saliva you could possibly muster. This did not feel good. As your vision came finally into play, you were more confused than you were before you decided to end your stream of unconsciousness.

You were in a hospital room.

And you were pretty sure you were hooked up to a ventilator as well, considering the low and unwavering noise that they make ringing in your ears. You could recognize that sound anywhere. It was one of the last things you heard before your mother passed away… And how ironic would it be if it were the last thing you heard, too.

You began to viciously cough as your body awoke from its seemingly comatose existence. Your own body was rejecting whatever tube or mechanism was down your throat. You just wanted it out, and over with.

Get it out. Get it out. You repeated in your head, hoping someone would hear your thoughts. The previous steady beeping of the heart and vitals monitor began to pick up as you continued to panic. It was as if your body was on fire, but as much as you doused yourself with water, it persisted and began to seep into your skin. You couldn’t escape.

A few seconds later, you could hear someone yelling, but your auditory system had not caught up to whatever conundrum you had found yourself in currently. Your vision was still blurry, though you had been awake for what seemed like minutes. A cacophony of shouting and other words you didn’t understand surrounded you as your eyes darted from blurry figure to blurry figure. You tried your hardest to focus your vision and your breathing, but something inherently was stopping you.

“Push the morphine, we need to get her relaxed while we extubate her”

“Careful not to hurt her neck, we won’t know the stages of her injuries until we can talk to her”

“Okay, can you hear me? My name is Nurse Elsie, I’m going to be removing the tube in your throat”

“Just keep your eyes on me, I know it’s scary”

“Tube’s out, let’s get her propped up and her vitals rechecked”

“We’re going to call your friend in here now, too”

And just as quickly as you had to watch and feel this hospital staff tend to you, was just as quickly as your mind began to play tricks on you.

Minutes later, you thought your shitty vision was really messing with you now. You remained silent as they entered the room, a small glimmer of hope echoed in the lines creasing beside their eyes. This had to be heaven, it just had to be. You had finally passed and soon your mom would be striding in, too.

Coming into clear view, the blond haired boy grabbed your hand and gave it a minimal squeeze. He didn’t want to hurt you any further. He looked older than the last you remember him to be. The lines on his forehead apparent that he’s aged some. He was also more muscular, his hair longer than the short almost buzzed hair you could last recall that he had.

But as he leaned in, you could see how bright his blue eyes really were under the fluorescent hospital lights. Suddenly, you felt a calming wave of relief wash over you. All that was left to do now was figure out how the fuck you got into this situation. Moving some stray hairs behind your ear, the boy you have loved your entire life parted his lips with a small smile - filling your now working ears with the sweetest voice you’ve ever known.

“Smidge?”

You could hardly believe your eyes.

“Ja (Yes.)”

Mick’s smile just grew wider and wider as he heard your voice for the first time in almost two weeks. The nurses continued to check your vitals and did their best to work around a very thrilled Mick. You were frightened though, knowing that you were in a hospital but had no recollection of how you got there. Mick wasn’t able to sit beside you just yet, but as he hung back his eyes never moved from yours. After the nurses were all done checking your throat and your leg that still had the rods in it, a very official looking doctor walked in soon thereafter.

“Hello, it’s good to see you awake. My name is Doctor Reynolds, and I’ve been watching you and your progress for the last two weeks.” You remained staring at Mick for any type of advice. “I’m just going to ask you a few questions, just to kind of gauge where you are. Is that alright?” Your eyes went from person to person as you looked towards Mick for the go ahead. Mick simply gestured slightly and nodded. And you followed suit.

“Great, can you tell us your name?”

You did your best to talk, but your throat was killing you. You took your time as you very weakly pronounced it.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Im Krankenhaus, glaube ich (In the hospital, I think).”

Mick’s ears perked and his attention turned fully. You hardly ever spoke German to anyone else, but Mick. You were always afraid of making a fool out of yourself with such a seemingly difficult language. The doctor’s eyebrows furrowed while he wrote something down.

“Right, okay. Do you remember how you got here?”

“Ich kann mich nur an bestimmte Dinge erinnern (I can only remember certain things).”

The doctor sighed as he turned to face Mick. Trying to keep it as hushed as possible, the doctor leaned in closer.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know that much German. Do you think you could translate for me?”

“Of course… But why is she speaking German?”

“It’s hard to say, but maybe this is just her brain’s way of comforting her. She seems to know you, and seems to know that you know German. I think she’s trying to figure out a way to come back to earth, in a way.”

The pair spoke briefly some more as you waited for the doctor to return. You looked around the room and saw what had to be twenty different bouquets, cards, and gifts on the other side of the room. The sunflowers particularly caught your eye as you sat and wondered who might’ve given them to you. Eventually, Mick pulled a chair and sat between you and the doctor. He grabbed your hand, and gave it a squeeze.

“Alright. Do you remember anything before two weeks ago?” Mick translated the doctor’s question in German for you. You shook your head. “And how do you know Mick?”

“Ich kenne ihn aus der Schule (I know him from school).”

“Do you remember anything about your car crash two weeks ago?” Mick was doing his best to catch up with the two of you.

“Das Letzte, woran ich mich erinnere... Ich wollte, dass Mick mit mir zum Abschlussball geht… Das konnte er aber nicht, wegen eines seiner Formel-3-Rennen (The last thing I remember was when I wanted Mick to go to the prom with me, but he couldn’t because one of his Formula 3 races).”

Mick’s face dropped, his expression deeply saddened. He remembers how badly he wanted to take you, but he was just starting his new season and couldn’t afford to miss it at the time. But again, that was years ago, and the fact that you couldn’t remember anything since…

“Okay, last question and then I’ll let you get some more rest…” The doctor took a deep breath and sighed. Looking between the both of you, the doctor knew this was going to be a long journey, and there was absolutely no way of telling if this was retrograde amnesia or something more serious.

“Was ist die Frage (What is the question)?”

The doctor looked at the both of you, your hand wrapped tightly in Mick’s. With a faint smile, the doctor made his way to the door before turning on his heel.

“Are you comfortable with going home with Mick so you can recover at his house or is there someone else we want us to call?”

You took pause as Mick translated the question for you. Truly, you almost felt offended at the question. But again, you really were in no position to argue since you had rods sticking out of your leg and your arm in a cast. And certainly, there was probably a certain legal/liability reason behind it on the doctor's end. Taking one last look around your hospital room, you finally answered. And unbeknownst to you, it was the answer Mick Schumacher had been longing for you to say since the first time he laid a very confused, but adoring eye on you all those years ago.

“Yes…" You began in English, your throat dry and your voice coarse. "Er hält mein Herz in seinen Händen. Es gibt keinen Ort, an dem ich lieber sein könnte, als bei ihm zu sein (He holds my heart in his hands. There is nowhere I rather be, than be with him).”

[fedtothenight]

tw for graphic description of suicide and cyber bullying

on october 9th, 2023, an italian call of duty cosplayer going by the name inquisitor committed suicide on live tiktok.

for hours his body lay offscreen as hundreds of people watched the stream, and some ironised that the phone set-up, angled towards a glass door to the outside, with no speaking and music in the background, was him being “mysterious”.

then, a hit against the glass door. another one. another one. a man was seen break in, crouch down off screen, receiving instructions on how to perform cpr from a woman still outside, on the phone with a 111 operator.

the live ended just after paramedics came into view, thanks to the reports of some users who had understood what had been unfolding in front of their eyes.

for a day, conflicting information regarding the outcome of his attempt flooded tiktok. it is now seemingly proven that he is no longer on this earth and that his funerals are today, october 11th 2023. in italy, it is common for funerals to happen within a 48-hour window from passing.

inquisitor was 23 at the time of his death.

weeks prior, inquisitor, who had privated all his accounts before reactivating for this last live, was accused of grooming and pedophilia. screenshots came out of him allegedly flirting with a 17 year old and/or a 15 year old. the cod community rallied around the minor(s): he was, to put it in tiktok terms, ‘cancelled’. he was named a p*dophile and a groomer.

other popular accounts, with thousands of followers, posted ‘call out’ videos about him, spreading the voice. the same accounts, the ‘batman of the fandom defending minors’, barely old teenagers themselves, mocked his live as it was happening — claiming it was for clout.

it had since emerged that the allegations were, allegedly, false. yesterday, multiple other cosplayers and users in the fandom posted screen-recordings of the minor admitting that they had lied about their age to flirt with him—who had a ‘minors dni’ in his bio.

it has since further been alleged, with screenshots, that the minor and their boyfriend orchestrated the call out, with the latter, who claims to be in the us army, egging the minor to ramp up their flirting until it became sexting. it is not proven it ever got to that point. the intentions to ruin someone’s reputation, however, were apparently there.

in italy, which is not the usa, and where high school is compasses ages 13 to 20 for those who do repeat years, it is also culturally accepted for someone in their early twenties to flirt or date someone who is around 18.

this is true irrespective of anyone’s feelings about it.

regardless of all that, regardless of whatever amount of the allegations, it not all, were false, a young man is dead and his death was live-streamed to thousands of people. in his own words to one of his friends, who showed some of his last messages, he committed suicide live on purpose to show what the past few weeks had done to him.

it should have never come to this point. at least please let it be a reminder that mob mentality is deadly, that we should never let go of our empathy, and that all suspected crimes, especially if this serious, should be reported to and dealt with by the proper authorities, not people on the internet.

i won’t stay his name because to the best of my knowledge he only gave it out privately, but: he was 23. he loved star wars and worked in a tattoo shop. he lived in bologna. he liked tortellini. he had a cat named loki and a sister who sometimes joined his lives off-screen. he was loved. all this information he gave freely.

although denial still wants to make me hope he made it out, and that he is okay, and alive and well, because what’s what denial does, my thoughts go out to him, to his family, to his friends.

inquisitor, if you're not here anymore: sit tibi terra levis.

[ray935sworld]

VR's academy of supernatural rider (Part 5: Distract yourself)

TW: Short mention of injury and a vague description of surgery (I have no idea about anatomy and that stuff)

Alex eyes were empty. His gaze was soft but tired. It was like he looked at something without really seeing it.

Orange. Honda orange. Marc was racing in-

He wanted to though. He wasn’t stubborn refusing to see that he wasn’t alright. He simply couldn’t.

He wanted to be able to interact with his surroundings. He wanted to stare at the weird pictures on the walls with optical illusions and asked himself who thought that was an appropriate decoration for a hospital waiting room. They’d give him a headache if he would look at them for too long.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t care less about the pictures. He didn’t even noticed the kind looking man that was probably somewhere in his 80s on the other side of the room. He was busy crocheting something that looked like a scarf.

Normally he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off the activity. He was fascinated by the movements. He loved watching it because he failed to do it. But now it seemed to be impossible to concentrate on it and figure out how to do it.

Now he was busy keeping his head clear. He knew if his thoughts drifted away he’d break down. His gaze met the orange wall.

He was busy trying to get ride of the memories that hunted him.

The sky was dark but he didn’t notice it when he stared out the window. His mind yelling at him to stop was louder. He didn't even realized that there was a little boy that was playing on the bottom of the waiting room next to a young woman, maybe his mother or his sister.

They sat in front of the window he was currently trying to stare out. But for him they weren’t there. If you’d asked him the room was empty but filled to the brim with the thoughts he tried to avoid to keep his sanity.

Unlike the way he had put his hand on Marc chest a few minutes – or hours? – ago. Violent punches. One, two, three. Repeat. CPR. Again and -

He forced himself to constantly look away. He tried to think about something else.

He needed changes. Yesterday. Yesterday was a good day. He was at home. Everyone safe and sound. Shira and Stitch had both fallen asleep on him. Luca had taken a picture before putting dog food in their bowls. They had jumped up and ran towards him. Afterwards the two humans had made themselves food as well and cuddled to a movie. What did they watch? He couldn’t remember.

Luca had put his hand on his chest. That was more important. His warm soft hands had softly met the skin of his chest. It was a delicate and warm gesture.

No.

No please. Another story. Anything.

No. No, Alex, no. Concentrate. Now!

Luca had talked to him on the phone a few months ago. It was in the middle of the night and the academy had one of their after training parties so they were all awake and outside and he had snapped him a few pictures.

There was a drunk Bez with his head in Franky’s lap who just went along with it. Who knew how often that had already happen. He was the oldest member of the group after all. He was probably used to this. That why he was so comfortable patting his curls. Another picture was a selfie with Vale –

Vale who had left Marc. Marc. What would he say if he knew Marc was here? If he had seen him like Alex had seen him? Weak. Broken. On the verge of slipping away. Would he care? Would he be worried? Would he -

He sat up straighter, shaking his head. He tried to shake his dark thoughts away.

Stop. Please.

Luca. He had to concentrate on Luca. Luca was the light at the end of the really dark tunnel. He had to focus on Luca.

Luca had called him not long ago. He was drunk but Alex didn’t really care. A drunk Luca spoke about fears and the things he wanted but couldn’t have yet. He had told him that he’d be with him one day. Really together. They’d move in together. Italy or Spain be damned, he didn’t care. He would move to Australia for him.

He had told him that one day he’d be at the ranch, getting drunk with his friends and then they’d cuddled in his bed and in the morning Vale would snap embarrassing picture of them. He had said that everything would be okay. Everything would be okay.

They would be okay because they loved each other. He loved him. He loved him. He loved him. He couldn’t have lie. So it must be true. They’d be together like this one day. Maybe not right now but in the future.

Luca had spoken like he meant it. He had spoken so careful with him. His voice was warm and filled with love. He had spoken in a way he couldn’t believe it could ever be a lie.

He never screamed at him or spoke in anger. Just this one time.

“Call an ambulance! Alex!” He had screamed but Alex hadn’t moved. He had stopped at the hill and looked down at the scene. He had felt like a kid not understanding what was going on.

“NOW! FUCK! DON’T LOOK!” He had screamed so loud. How did his voice cords not break? He sounded so panic. He sounded scared. It was serious. Luca was panicked.

That didn’t made sense in Alex mind. Luca was calm. And Marc was alright. He must be. There wasn’t a world where he wasn’t. He was Marc. Marc always stood up. He was the idiot that would always fight his injuries. You would have to restrain him to make him actually rest.

He’d be okay. So why sounded the Italian so panicked? Marc was alright.

His lover was his voice of reason, the one of two braincells of the academy. He must know that Marc would be alright.

Luca had turned around a little bit so that he was now facing his back, to cover the scene. But it was too late. He had seen what was going on.

He just didn’t understand it.

Luca had sat in the gravel, his hand on his brother’s bleeding chest. He had pressed down. Then stopped then repeated it. He stopped and continued. Marc’s helmet was elsewhere.

Alex was almost begging himself. He wanted to forget that those pictures ever existed. He just wanted to wake up on Luca’s chest, shaking him awake and asking him to confirm everything was just a nightmare. He would call Marc – even if it was the middle of the night – so he could tell him he was actually okay.

He didn’t want to remember that it wasn’t just a bad dream. He didn’t want to remember that his brother was currently laying on a table or wherever with doctors all over him. But he failed again. This time he didn’t find the strength to distract himself.

His mind drifted away imagining what was happening to his brother at this moment, while he was sitting here, in the most uncomfortable chair in existence.

Marc was laying there being cut open, bleeding. Someone would watch his heartbeat and another one had to made sure he wouldn’t wake up and stare at the surgeon in horror.

He imagined how Marc may look like on the table.

His body had already turned red beside the part where he wasn’t hurt, if that even existed. His skin was torn and blood had escaped the vessels. It was running all over him. Alex had seen how his suite had changed colour.

Now he was probably wearing one of those ugly hospital gowns that was just heedless draped over him to protect at least some of his dignity but he doubt that mattered right now.

His whole neck had changed its colour. He hadn’t seen even an inch of his toned skin colour. He couldn’t imagine what his actual flesh looked like.

It must be disgusting.

But they couldn’t swap his neck. Or his spine. Or his brain. No.

He continued to think about it. He asked himself what he would do if he understood human anatomy like someone that had spent years studying it. He wanted to understand. Maybe it would easier.

In reality it was partly to torture him. Marc was suffering and the Marquez brothers did everything together.

He tried to compare the human body to a bike. He understood bikes. It was like a part being broken and the mechanics would swap it.

No. They would cut him open. They would cut his flesh like a fruit.

Maybe they were cussing cause he lost too much blood. Were they screaming? Screaming for blood supply.

His hand went to the place they always used to draw blood. He and Marc regular donated blood. As people who put themselves constantly at risk to need one of them, it was important to them to try and help others.

Marc. Were the doctors worried about him? Asking for help from other surgeons or specialists.

He was sure someone had asked about the family. They always asked.

Did they knew him? After all, the name Marquez had become quite famous in Spain over the last decate.

The sudden picture of masked figures looking at each other came to his mind. Fist they would give general information. Gender. Age. Then they would explain why he was there. Then his medical history.

“Patient’s name?” A female voice, the head of emergency surgery would ask. “Marc Marquez” “The Marc Marquez?” A young doctor, maybe fresh from university, maybe in their first or third year of residency.

A young woman, still called a girl from time to time. A little genius. 25 years old. Has a cat and a lovely girlfriend waiting for her at home. Her mother was an angle. Her father was abusive, that’s why he studied a lot. She wanted to get out. MotoGP saved her and now it was her duty to save one of them.

“Do you know the patient,-“ He didn’t know her name. Annie, his brain submitted. “Annie?” “Yes- No. Not personally.” Her cheeks turned pink under her mask. “Marc Marquez is a professional motorcycle rider, one of the best actually. He won 8 titles.” “So no pressure. We just have to save an international star.” “Well that didn’t saved him from crashing on his dirt bike” He didn’t like the older doctor with the sarcastic comments. But he didn’t need to like him. He just needed him to perform the fucking surgery.

“They have to perform an emergency surgery.” He had flinched when he heard it the first time in the ambulance. “They need the agreement from a close family member” The young man had explained.

Alex hadn’t really listened. His brain was only doing what he had to. The rest was focused on staring on the broken body he failed to recognized as his brother. It was just a mess of limps and blood.

That wasn’t the boy that would swim under him in the pool and lift him on his shoulder. He did it when they were 7 and 4 the same way they did when they were 30 and 27.

“Our parents are on holidays. They-“ “As long as it’s a blood relative and an adult, it doesn’t matter.” He had nodded. All he needed to know was whether it could safe his brother and he’d sign it. He had signed everything. He gave them all the information they needed.

He had given them Marc’s medication schedule and told them he didn’t took his pills regular. He didn’t like being reminded of his injuries so he ignored it from time to time until his symptoms started to return. He told them about his supplies, not sure if they even mattered and gave them a short overview about his surgeries and where exactly in his body was titanium instead of bone material, blood or flesh. They needed to know that for the emergency surgery.

Marc was depending on so many people right now. Marc. His independent brother had to relay on the help of others right now. There was no way for him to be strong on his own like he usually tried to paint himself. He must hate it.

Emergency surgery.

What an ugly word. His brother was an emergency. He was considered a sudden priority to save and not because of his name. He had gotten so hurt that he couldn’t left him waiting. It couldn’t be scheduled and prepared. Marc couldn’t talk to the doctors. No. It was an emergency. They needed to act fast and now. Not losing a minute. Emergency.

What would he say about himself? Would he be angry for not paying more attention? Would he curse himself for not being stronger or being unable to prevent those injuries? Would he already analyse what he should have done better? Probably.

No. No he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t think about himself. That was his idiot brother. He would probably tell Alex that it’s okay.

Like that made it better.

Another picture came in his mind. It was a memory.

Alex looked up. He hadn’t noticed that he had let his head fall down while his eyes started to get clouded by his tears. They were dripping down his cheeks, hitting the dirt bike trousers he was still wearing. Through his tears he suddenly saw his brother. Marc.

But it wasn’t the Marc he just lost. His arm wasn’t pained with his injury yet. His body wasn’t scarred from success. There was a band-aid on his noise. He had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept a lot last night.

It was a younger Marc. He looked like he was just 18 years old. Maybe 19. It was weird seeing him younger than he was himself.

“I’m sorry” Alex whispered to the teenager. “I am so sorry, Marc. I can’t safe you”

“Alex?” he asked him. Fuck. Even his voice was slightly higher than it was now. He smiled weakly at him. The sight of him squeezed the last bit of strength out his body he didn’t know he had. Seeing him even as a hallucination hurt him.

His face had gotten a little but wider during the years. His hair got longer. The uneven skin, coloured with pimples got clean and was now hunted by the first wrinkles. God, his brother was really getting old.

He was once more reminded that they weren’t teenagers still haunting their place in the world. He kept forgetting it. When they were together, walking the street od their hometown to get ice cream at the gas station at 2am there was no difference between a 15 year old with his 12 year old brother and the same boys at 31 years and 28 years. They would still talk about everything and laughed about every stupid joke just to get scolded by their mother when she found out about her sons sneaking out.

“When something like that… Happens to me…” Like that? He frowned while he looked at him. He knew he had no control about neurotic hallucination. He had tried it. But that was even for the back of his mind a little vague. If he was already having hallucination about his potentially dead brother, they could at least tell him what the hell he needed to hear. “Promise me to be okay. I need you to continue, no matter what happened” He stared at the small Marc. He tried to make sense of his words.

Just a wrong move. A helmet that wasn’t adjusted right. A mistake in the making of their equipment. A wrong decision by the mechanics. They’d suffer the consequences.

Then it fell into pieces. A date flashed in his mind. 23. October of 2011. The Marc in front of him was 18 years old. He raced in Moto2 when it happened. Back then his mechanics had told him that the team had decided to stop debriefs. No one was able to actually do their work after the events of the MotoGP race.

He had just waited for that. He had sprinted to see his family. Alex wasn’t there. He was still racing in the Spanish nationals and with his mother at home. They had called and he and their dad had taken the first flight home, going straight to the airport. Marc and Alex were still on the phone.

Too many hours later they landed in Spain and Marc ran throw the entrance hall. Marc hadn’t even looked at his mother before he clutched the 15 year old against his chest. He had pressed him against him, refusing to let him go just now and whispered. “You know that I love you, right?” They all understood that the two brothers needed that. After all they were both riders and now that had seen firsthand how fast they could lose each other. “And you’ll always be my little brother. No matter what happens or what you do? You will always be my little brother. my first priority and I’ll do anything to protect you”

Alex remembered that day. No one could forget it. Seeing the consequences of their career unfold like that right in front of him at such a young age was something he couldn’t forget. He couldn’t forget how terrifying and scary the thought was that he could lose Marc that easily.

Like Marco Simoncelli. That was Marc’s ‘Like that’.

He wanted him to be okay. To move on. Like he moved on from his exes? That was impossible. Marc was Marc. Marc was his brother. The only brother he ever had and ever would have. He couldn’t move on from him.

He suddenly sat up. Moving on would mean he had lost him.

Of course he knew that what was going on. That was what was already almost killing. That was the risk. That was why Marc was currently at the hands of some medical professionals that didn’t do anything else than prepare themselves for a situation like that since they were 18, maybe 20. But the actual realisation hit him like a train. It hurt so bad. He wanted it to be gone. It took the breath out his chest. It suffocated him. He choked on the thought.

His brother might be dead the next time he saw him. He’d see his cold body. He’d just be gone. He’d be dead. Actually dead. Not sleeping, not drugged to the point he thoughted Alex was his reflexion, not unconscious from medication. He’d be dead.

A part of him was ripped out of him when he thought about it.

He lost his sanity over it. All he could think about was Marc. Marc laying dead in front of him.

He couldn’t even remember what the last thing he said to him was. No matter what it was, it wasn’t supposed to be his last words to his brother.

He would never talk to him again.

He would never hear his annoying comments and dirty jokes again. He hated them. Now he’d give anything just to hear them again.

Just once more.

He needed his soft voice again. He needed his eyes to make weird expressions at him over the dinner table when his parents weren’t looking at him. He wanted to force himself to stay silent when his brother was pulling faces when their parents didn't saw it.

He wanted them to be their parents. He didn’t want to be the only child alive. He didn’t want to be the brother that was left. behind by the older.

He wanted Marc at their wedding. He needed him as his best man on his side. Who else was supposed to calm and adjust his tie and tell him that he looked good. And that Luca was head over heels in love with him and that he would properly marry him with a huge smile even if he was wearing a dirty hoodie and baggy trousers.

He wanted to be able to call his brother. He wanted to be able to tell him about his race and throw himself on the ground of his motorhome, his arms and legs spread away from his body in frustration, complaining about a bike set up that didn’t live up to his expectations.

He wanted to be able to introduce his boyfriend’s parents to his brother. He wanted the two families to spent Christmas together like they used to. That included their brothers, no matter what had happened between the two of them. They had to get along, Alex just decided that they would. Luca and he had a right to spent Christmas with Valentino and Marc at the same time. Screw them and the stupid argument they had years ago. They were adults. They’d get over it.

He and his boyfriends were supposed to spent the holidays, their birthdays and every celebration they wanted with Marc and Vale while Roser and Stefania would exchange embarrassing details about their childhood, with the older Italian occasionally adding some as well. Julia and Massimo could talk about alcohol or racing or politics or whatever they talked about while the kids lost interested in their conversation. They didn’t need to be best friends, just civil, maybe even friendly.

He needed him on his side. He was just a boy. He needed his big brother. He couldn’t live without the boy that was always on his side. He-

Marc had to be part of his future. He needed to be the uncle for the kids they might adopted when they both retired. Marc couldn’t just be a picture on the wall his kids pointed at and ask “Papa, who is that?” And he had to explain that this was the ‘Super-Marc’ their other Papa always told them about in their bed time stories. That he was his older brother which was now watching over them.

He needed Marc to take them, lift them on his shoulders and running around just to give Luca a heart attack from worries.

“Alex?” A voice interrupted his thoughts. His head spun around. Next to him sat a young men. Dark blonde hair. Blue eyes. Italian accent.

Luca. His saviour was here. He was finally here.

“The bikes are home” he said taking his hand without further question. His hands were warm but he didn’t notice it. He didn't notice the softness of his skin. The bikes? Oh. Yeah. Right.

They had split up. Alex had dealt with Marc. Luca had dealt with everything else.

He handed him a back with some normal clothes. There was a jeans and a more comfortable one. There was a shirt and a hoodie. Right. He should get change. He couldn’t stay in the dirty, sweaty sportswear when he was in a hospital. It may seem disrespectful now that he could change. Thanks to Luca. He was his connection to the reality he was slowly using.

He never wanted to lose him. He gave him the best broken smile he could manage.

“Do we have news?” Luca had no idea of the horrors he could no longer hide in his head. “Beside the fact that I might go insane and I’m sure he is already…”

He couldn’t say it. His voice broke. He didn’t want to say it and when Luca put his hand on his thigh he knew he didn’t had to. He understood it already. “It’s okay.” He whispered like he actually believed it.“He won’t. I promise you, you won’t get those news.” “You can’t guarantee it” He felt like a child arguing back.

“I can't? Have I never told you about my magic powers?” His fingers traced over the back of his hand. He painted a beautiful invisible drawing while giving him a small smile. He tried to cheer him up and Alex wanted to work with him. He wanted to laugh about the jokes and be happy with him. But he couldn’t without Marc. “I’ll just hex Marc okay. He’ll wake up and make a totally inappropriate joke about you being high because your eyes are red. You’ll see”

“Okay” he agreed. Maybe if Luca believed it, he could convince himself that the unsettling feeling in his chest was just hunger and not a bad omen of what was to come.

[traegics]

[ Casey Deidrick | he/him ] A new face takes refuge under Dark Skies. RYKER BRADENTON, an 27 year old WEREWOLF, is one of those from the PRESENT learning to navigate this changed world. People say behind their back that they’re UNPREDICTABLE but the truth is that they’re really COURAGEOUS. Their style can best be described as LEATHER JACKET, MOTORCYCLE, AND CRIME SCENE TAPE, and we’ll see how that helps them fit in. ( Sushi )

TW: Child/Domestic Abuse

BASICS

Name: Ryker Levi Bradenton Nicknames/Alias: Ry Face Claim: Casey Deidrick Age: 38/42 Gender: Male Sexuality: Heterosexual Date/Place of Birth: May 29. 1991 in Seattle, WA Currently: New Orleans, LA Nationality/Species: German, Irish, Italian/Rogue Werewolf Occupation: Police Officer Rank: Lead Police Detective - Homicide

PERSONALITY

Positives/Virtues/Skills: Confidence: feeling or showing confidence in oneself; self-assured. Intuitive: using or based on what one feels to be true even without conscious reasoning; instinctive. Courageous: able to face and deal with danger or fear without flinching Adventurous: willing to undertake new and daring enterprises. Self-Aware: having conscious knowledge of one's own character and feelings. Jiu Jitsu Boxing Weaponry Technologically Proficient Machinery Knowledge (Heavy machinery and vehicle knowledge, the ability to work on and fix cars and trucks) Efficient in multiple languages (Spanish, Italian, French, and German) Coding Mathematics and Accounting Public Speaking Photography and Photo Editing CPR First Aid

Flaws/Weaknesses: Stubborn: having or showing dogged determination not to change one's attitude or position on something, especially in spite of good arguments or reasons to do so. Blunt: uncompromisingly forthright. Unpredictable: not able to be predicted Aggressive: ready or likely to attack or confront; characterized by or resulting from aggression Takes on to much Likes to take risks Introverted Sensitive but doesn’t show it Confrontational

Archetype: Boss: A person in a position of power, namely in a company or job. Guardian: Protects the weak. Gentle Giant: Friendly and warm, in contrast to how they are perceived because of their size. Good Guy/Traditional Hero: The character archetype of a traditionally all-good protagonist. Their goal is to save others from evil. Hard-boiled Detective: Stock character of a tough detective who solves crimes because of their persistence. Macho Action Guy: Stereotypical action protagonist who is usually strong, good-looking, and good with guns.

Likes: Favourite colour? Red Favourite foods? Anything meaty (favorite meat is ribs and burgers), Peanuts, Snickers, 3 Musketeers, Honeycombs, Pizza, Louisiana Crab Boil Favourite music? Somewhat versatile, listens to Classic Jazz a lot Favorite books? Thrillers, Dystopian, Comics Fears: tbd

RELATIONSHIPS

Parents: Levi Bradenton † (Father) Kennedy Bradenton † (Mother) Siblings: Unnamed Bradenton (Younger Sister) Children: N/A Other family: N/A Spouse: N/A Current Partner: tbd Ex-Partners: tbd Boss/Employer: Charlie Kenner Co-Workers: tbd Friends: Peyton Morgrave Enemies: TBD

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Build: 6′5″ 165 lbs Tall and Muscular Hair Colour: Dark brown Eye Colour: Dark Brown Distinguishing Marks: Scars from his childhood (scars of child abuse) Wolf Form: Muscular Body, Deep Brown Fur Accomplishments: Graduated top of class from the Police Academy, Turned down Lieutenant Position Regrets: TBD Secrets: TBD

HISTORY

Coming Soon

[luna-writes-stuff]

Chapter XXXVIII

A Kili X OC fanfic

Previous chapter // Next chapter

Tw: oh boy. Light hypothermia, descriptions of drowning/running out of air, blood, battle, mention/description of injuries. CPR knowledge from books, Azog (ew), crying. No - sobbing. Life or death situation. So much angst. Descriptions of fatigue. I probably missed some. Let me know <3

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Kili might need a hug

The second Azog and Raewyn fell down, there was dead silence of Ravenhill. Thorin's eyes were frozen on the newly formed ice hole, desperately hoping for the ranger to come swimming up any moment. Bilbo had taken a running start towards the pair left on the ice, his breath in his throat as his heart beat at irregular speed. A ragged breath tore from Kili's throat as his eyes were glued to the newly surfaced water as well.

Farris had flown down the second her own disappeared from sight, her claws tapping over the ice as she tried to locate her. In desperation, Kili tore the chainmail coat around him off, throwing it on the floor as he neared the floor.

"What do you think you're doing?" Thorin stopped him, holding a hand in front of his nephew's chest. For once, Kili didn't seem to be bothered by it. Instead, he shoved the hand off of him, continuing his path.

"Kili!" The king called again, but he was ignored once more. Grasping the sleeves of his tunic, Thorin held onto his kin. "Don't. I can't lose you too."

Tears welled up in Kili's eyes as he stared into those of his uncle, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I have to," He started, his voice cracking slightly before looking back at the water. "I can't leave her there, Thorin. I'll never forgive myself."

"You'll die." The older dwarf argued. Whilst the water would be enough to drown anyone, he knew about the wounds littering his nephew's body. With his injuries, he'd never manage to resurface again.

"I don't want this life if it is without her." Kili begged, a tear slipping down his cheek as he gave his uncle a final look. Heartbreak and desperation were sewn into his features, and Thorin could not help but let go of his sleeve.

A loud ticking filled the air as Farris' beak kept beating down on a particular place on the ice. Loud banging came from the other side and the three could almost feel their hearts sinking upon the realisation.

"Raewyn..." Kili breathed, running towards the owl before kneeling down next to her. There, he spotted two hands against the ice, the rest of her figure vaguely seen through the dirty war. "Raewyn!" He called again, pounding his fists against the ice as well, trying desperately to break it as she had taken his arrows with her. A anxious smile appeared on his face through the tears, his eyebrows furrowed together in a foreign combination of frustration and hope.

"Hey!" he called, hoping she could hear him. "I see you! Hold on!"

Her figure suddenly faded from view and the pounding stopped. Kili's movements halted at the sight, his head shaking furiously. "No," He mumbled, resting his palms against the lake as he tried to peer down. But when there was nothing else to see, heartwrenching pain gutted through him, his hands slamming down in frustration. "No!"

Bilbo knelt down beside the dwarf, trying to spot his friend underneath the ice, but all he could see were the snowflakes flowing through the streams. Kili had risen quickly, walking back to the opening into the lake.

"Kili," Thorin called. The younger dwarf was prepared to argue again, pushing the king away if he had to. Instead, Thorin grabbed the back of his neck gently, pushing his own forehead against Kili's. When they parted, the prince was given a mere nod and a sad smile.

And then he dove in.

Silence. Again. Deafening silence. Farris had ceased her movements on the ice, no longer sensing her owner. Instead, she jumped over to Bilbo, sitting down atop his knees. Bilbo was too terrified to respond to the owl accordingly.

"They'll make it," he tried to tell himself. To tell Thorin. "They will."

No response came from the dwarf. He had wandered back to the place of battle, his hands wrapping around the giant chain that had carried the boulder. Bilbo's head turned towards the dwarf, not standing up from his spot, but offering him a confused glance.

"Thorin?"

The king had used the chain as Raewyn had, now hitting the ice angrily, causing cracks to appear on the floor.

"Give them a path to get back up." He panted, not letting the hobbit know anything else. But it seemed enough for Bilbo to comply with him.

Letting one hand wander over Farris' feathers, he urged her off of her. As he stood up, he unsheathed his sword, aimlessly hacking down on the ice, copying Thorin's movement.

From a distance, two figures walked down the hills, staring at the dwarf and the hobbit attacking the ice wildly. They quickly ran down the slope, spotting Fili against one of the rocks. One leaned down, checking on the dwarf before swinging the prince's arm over his shoulder. Tiredly, Fili slumped his feet with him, his weight on Balin.

"Thorin!" Dwalin called from beside his brother, waving at the two. Giant eagles flew from the skies, taking all orcs and goblins with them. It seemed the battle was coming to an end. Yet, the pair could not catch a break.

Fili's blood ran cold as he seemed to process what the two were trying to do. And why they might be trying to do that.

"Break the ice." Thorin grunted, not sparing his old friend and confidant one glance. His gaze was set on the ice where his nephew had disappeared into only seconds ago. A few seconds too long. He wasn't as bright as Fili. Dwalin heard an order and followed, his feet carrying him across the ice as Balin dubiously carried the crown prince with him.

"Where?" The big dwarf asked, wielding his axe in pride, as if he hadn't been exhausted by all the orcs and goblins he had to slay to still stand there.

"Everywhere." A simple answer. Whilst Dwalin took it as enough, Balin hesitated, still not understanding the situation. From beside him, Fili swallowed thickly tears welling up in his eyes as he realised who exactly were missing.

"Kili and Raewyn." He whispered. Something that went heard by the older dwarf. His grip on Fili momentarily faltered as the gravity of the situation suddenly began to increase on him as well.

Slowly, he helped Fili sit down on the floor, before he grabbed the club he had carried earlier. Then, he walked towards the crowd, following suit, breaking the ice with every step he took.

Meanwhile, under the ice, all Kili could feel was cold. When he had jumped into the water, a freezing temperature suddenly took over, which shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did. Between all the fight and adrenaline, he had forgotten what the temperature had actually been like. But now, submerged by nothing but freezing water, he had to assimilate quick. Too quick for his liking.

His vision was awful under water, and he could see nothing but black ends dragging all the way to the bottom. If there even was one. For a lake on top of a small mountain, the body of water made him feel smaller than anything ever had.

He had immediately swum to the point he had last seen Raewyn, aware of the fact he was held back by ice as well now. Sharp rings suddenly echoed through the water as he saw shadows appearing somewhere on the other side of the ice. Sun slowly began to seep through before it came from directly above him as well.

Turning around, he set his feet against the ice, pushing himself further down without having to spend too much breath. He had never been a champion in holding his breath, but now, it seemed as if he had just dived in, instead of seconds ago. He now knew what he was doing it for.

The further he went down, the more pressure build on his ears, especially adding the terrible sound waves echoing through the water, but he was looking nonetheless. The water seemed to become darker with ever kick of his feet he gave and the water seemed to freeze off his finger tips. Yet, he kept going.

A thousand thoughts ran through his head. What if he would find her, but he had been too late? Or what if he wouldn't find her at all? What if all this was for nothing and he would resurface without her? What if he wouldn't resurface?

His lungs were screaming for him to swim back up, to not go down this far. Raewyn had cursed him for not being stubborn enough. He'd show her stubbornness.

And then he saw it. A hand floating into his vision, below him. Pushing his feet away from him once, twice, he grabbed onto it tightly, a floating feeling entering his stomach. He had found her.

Forcing himself back up, something held him back. Slowly, a blade neared him, scratching his arm. Tugging harshly, he tried to free Raewyn from Azog's deathgrip. But the orc wouldn't budge. All air had left Kili's lungs by now, and he was swimming on final oxygen. Angrily, he kept one hand on Raewyn, using the other to swim down, kicking his boot down harshly on top of Azog's head. The movements were difficult in water, where gravity had decreased immensely, but with two kicks, Raewyn's figure felt a lot lighter.

His mind wasn't on the orc. He needed to get Raewyn out there. That is why he was down there. Thus, his feet kicked up as quick as they would allow him, adrenaline seeping back into his features as he was now made painfully aware that the orc was still giving one last fight. He wasn't chasing Kili, thankfully, but he did not know that.

Trying to be closer to her in case Azog struck again, Kili wrapped his arms around the Asha's waist, forcing her against him as his legs kept trying to push his body to the surface. It was only now that he noticed the sky above them appeared brighter than ever. His head became lighter the closer he came to the surface and his legs grew tired. He was so close, yet he felt so far away.

His legs began to fail slowly and he felt himself grow desperate for some air. He wouldn't make it. He could have cried upon the realisation. He wasn't able to save her. It was almost poetic how he'd die with her after she had done everything in her power to keep him from doing so.

A soft smile climbed onto his face as this came to his mind. There were worse ways to go. He had made peace with this. His fighting was done and though he did not want to think it, he knew her fight was finished as well. Maybe it was all meant to end like this eventually.

That is when a hand grabbed the back of his collar harshly, tugging him and Raewyn with it as it raced to the surface. As soon as they broke from the water, Kili inhaled greedily, clinging Raewyn to him as he tried to regain his breathing.

"You weren't giving up on my down there, were you, nadadith?" Fili asked, his eyes red as his hand loosened from his brother's collar. From the solid ice that was still stuck to the rocks, Dwalin extended his arms, grabbing the Asha from Kili's arms.

Exhausted, Kili tried to climb onto shore. Two strong arms pulled him up as they noticed his struggle. The minute the young dwarf was atop the ice, Thorin pulled him into a tight hug, uttering a silent prayer to Mahal as Fili sat down beside the two of them, his hand clutching the wound on his thigh which had now been immerged with salt.

"Raewyn..." Kili mumbled into his uncle's tunic, breaking from his hug anxiously. Crawling away from his kin, he sat next to the ranger, who had been laid down on her back.

Balin's hand was hovering above her mouth, looking for a sign of breathing, but his face fell as he noticed none. Then, he held two fingers just under her ear, trying to find some sort of pulse.

"Lad," He uttered in a hushed mumble. "I am no medic, but-"

"No." Kili shook his head, furiously blinking back tears as he forced himself closer to the ranger, brushing wet strands of hair out of her face. "Amad saved a dwarfling from drowning once."

"Lad, her pulse-" Balin began again, but Thorin held his hand up as a silent order to let him stop. He noticed the shaking hands of his nephew, the broken expression on his face and the scratching of his voice. Maybe it was too late, but he wouldn't let someone tell that to him. He'd have to figure it out on his own.

"Fi, help me." Kili pleaded, a sob tearing from his throat as he finished his words. Wiping the tears from his eyes, Fili crawled over to his brother. "I- I can't remember. How did amad save him?"

Helplessness crossed the older brother's features as he shook his head, looking down at the limp body of his friend. "I...I don't know," He admitted sadly. "Not exactly."

"Push her chest." Thorin sighed, knowing the attempts were futile, yet offering his nephew a tiny sliver of hope. His hands folded over each other as he demonstrated to Kili, ushering him to copy his movements. "You have to force the water out."

Nodding in determination, Kili did as the older dwarf had told him, pushing his hands down on Raewyn's chest gently. Trying to find the proper rhythm, the prince kept forcing his hands down, blood dribbling down from the new wound on his shoulder. It didn't seem to bother him at that moment.

Beside him, Bilbo had turned around in desperation, hot tears trailing down his cheek as he held his hand in front of his mouth, trying to stifle his sobs. Farris neared the hobbit, trying to offer him some form of comfort, but her presence seemed to do the exact opposite.

Fili held his head up to the sky as he tried to force his tears back, knowing his brother might need him more than ever now. Even the other dwarves stood there in pure silence, emotions processing through them in a whirl storm.

But worst of all was Kili; he, who had been doing his absolute best to keep the ranger from failing him. She has saved them so often, he almost seemed to forget she wasn't immortal. And the realisation was horrible. He couldn't properly see through his blurry vision, his head was aching, his throat felt as if it was burning, and his hands - which had been doing such hard work - would not stop shaking.

"You'll have to push harder." Balin offered through a whisper, nearly scared to break the tension on the field.

Kili didn't look up, didn't stop his movements. "I'll break her ribs." He answered hoarsely, a sniff following his words.

Swallowing thickly, the eldest dwarf frowned sadly: "It isn't supposed to be pretty."

Whilst his head seemed to stop working when those words were spoken, his hands did not. A million thoughts flew through him whilst the tears streaming down his face seemed to multiply instantly. And then he set more pressure.

His hands now began to hit the Asha's chest even harder. He didn't want to, being fully aware of how fragile bones could be. But in this life or death situation, he had to make decisions he wouldn't like. If this would save her life, he'd do it ten times over. His mind flashed back to his mother, tearing up when telling him and his brother tales about his father when he was younger. How he had barely known him, and how it still broke his mother. He always felt bad for it, but now experiencing it made him wish his mind hadn't taken him there.

He could already picture it: his mother returning to the mountain, returning to her brother, returning to her sons. Just to figure out there was very little left of her youngest. He knew how heartbreaking it must be. He wanted Raewyn to meet her, to introduce them. He was sure his mother would've loved her. He would be lying if he said he'd never picture them talking about his embarrassing childhood. Things that used to stir up so much unease in his mind now became something he longed for. He wanted Raewyn to laugh over his ridiculous bath time stories, he wanted her to make fun of the names his mother called him. He wanted her to haunt his nights with her teasing and laughter.

Subconsciously, his hands started pushing even harder, slight anger in his movements now. Angry at himself for not having flung himself at Azog earlier. Angry at Fili for not leaving with her, instead of returning to aid in the battle. Angry at Thorin for fighting with her throughout the entirety of the journey. Angry at Raewyn for not having left with him back in Laketown. Angry at her for not knowing when enough was enough; of not knowing when to leave the battle for what it is. Angry at her for being as stubborn as she was. Angry at her for being so endearing and breathtaking and making him want to abandon his entire life just to spend it with her. Of all the creatures on Middle-Earth, he had to fall for the best of them; for the one who was so selfless, she'd sacrifice herself for the one person who had made everything so sour for her.

"Lad..." Balin tried again, pulling him back to reality. How long had he sat there? How long had his hands been pushing and pounding? It had begun to feel like hours. He hadn't noticed Fili breaking down beside him, or Bilbo clinging to Raewyn's frozen hand, his cheeks swollen and red. He hadn't even noticed Dwalin had left, likely to round up the remaining dwarves.

"No." He whispered, shaking his angrily. "No, not yet."

"Ki," Fili rasped out, his hands falling atop Kili's.

"No," He repeated, not ceasing his movement. "This isn't how this ends."

Pain filled Fili's heart as he watched his younger brother desperately try to push the water out of the Asha's chest. Praying for some sort of miracle to save her. He couldn't hear it, but he knew he was doing so.

His fingers now tightened around Kili's, gently trying to pry him away from Raewyn's body. But broken sobs tore through the body of the youngest dwarf, wailing in defeat: "You can't do this to me!"

In frustration, attempting to get rid of his brother's hold, Kili's hands formed into fists pounding down in agony. Grief had turned into anger and regret.

Regrets for not having taken her place when he still could have.

—— Nadadith: Little brother, in Khuzdul (Dwarvish)

----

Taglist: @errruvande @writingawaymylife @justnerdystuffs @spidergirla5 @fallenangeloflight @bianavacker-is-bi-as-hell @lxdymormont @deathofafangirl01 @the-cranck-hobbit @chaoticpaintsplatter @zaddyluvr @bxtchopolis @derangedcupcake @radbarbariancupcake @gay-destiel

[chrysochroma]

Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist!

@febuwhump i made it babeyyy! thank you so much for organizing this, i had a lot of fun!!

Total Word Count: 25,212

Day 1: helpless - “show us some good entertainment"

Hermitcraft, Teen, 1.1k

TW: blood, violence, broken bones

Day 2: solitary confinement - within your walls (desire, desire, till there’s nothing left of me)

Hermitcraft, Teen, 2.4k

TW: Kidnapping, Torture, Human Experimentation, Temporary Character Death

Day 3: ALT 4: human weapon - These are the Glorious Days (TGD) Ch 1: Slice, Come Paradise

Generation Loss, Teen, 1k

TW: Major character death, Blood, Flashbacks

Day 4: ALT 1: human shield - Starting With Them

The Owl House, Teen, 1k

TW: Possession, blood, violence

Day 5: rope burns - Black skies change to blue

Tangled the Series/Varian and the 7 Kingdoms, Teen, 1.3k

TW: Blood, Injury, Rope burns, Tourniquets

Day 6: “you lied to me” - Everything Moves Ch 1: So many angles, so many lines

Varian and the 7 Kingdoms, Teen, 1k

TW: crying, yelling, betrayal

Day 7: suffering in silence - TGD Ch 2: I give you the Judgement of God!

Generation Loss, Teen, 1k

TW: Dissection/surgery, Derealization, Graphic description of dissection

Day 8: “why won’t it stop?” - Kill The Rabbit (KTR) Ch 1: Eclipse

Original Work, Mature, 3.4k

TW: Arson, Death, Derealization, Panic Attacks, Scars, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Day 9: bees - Futurum Ch 1: Humanity

Original Work, Teen, 1.2k

TW: Death

Day 10: ALT 9: lightning strike - Sacrosanctity

Original Work, Teen, 1k

TW: blood, lightning, cult ish

Day 11: time loop - KTR Ch 2: Waxing Crescent

Original Work, Mature, 3.2k

TW: Murder, Blood and Violence, some Very distasteful discussion of suicide

I just realized that i forgot to make a tumblr post for it but its too late for that now so

Day 12: ALT 6: immortality - In a Tulip Field (Tulip) Ch 1: Always More

Original Work, Teen, 232

TW: discussion of death

Day 13: “you weren’t meant to get hurt” - Everything Moves Ch 3: So many ways to see the sunrise

Varian and the 7 Kingdoms, Teen, 1.2k

TW: Violence, injury, crying

Day 14: blood stained tiles - Neon green and scarlet red

Danny Phantom, Teen, 857

TW: Dissection/vivisection/surgery, self loathing, bad parenting, blood

Day 15: “who did this to you?” - Rusty Repair Kit (RRK) Ch 1: A Bright Red Poppy

Hermitcraft, Teen, 658

TW: Mourning

Day 16: came back wrong - “You don’t remember?"

Malevolent Podcast, Teen, 642

TW: yelling, swearing

Day 17: hostage situation - I’m Gonna Win Ch 1: I’ll be Bloody and Bruised

Traffic Life, Teen, 100

TW: Defeathering, Violence, Reference to past trauma

Day 18: too weak to move - Thrill of the Chase

The Magnus Archives, Teen, 162

TW: Violence

Day 19: “please don’t” - Everything Moves Ch 2: To keep the pulse alive in you

Varian and the 7 Kingdoms, Teen, 594

TW: Yelling

Day 20: ALT 7: last words - Tulip Ch 2: Those Who Remember

Original Work, Teen, 187

TW: Discussion of death

Day 21: unresponsive - “All you have is your fire"

Traffic Life, Teen, 100

TW: Unconscious

Day 22: “you weren’t meant to be there” - I’m Gonna Win Ch 2: I’ll be Laughing Alone

Traffic Life, Teen, 200

TW: Yelling

Day 23: presumed dead - Tulip Ch 3: For Them

Original Work, Teen, 181

TW: Discussion of death

Day 24: “i’m doing this because i care about you” - Molten Gold

Traffic Life, Teen, 959

TW: Kidnapping, Flashbacks, References to past trauma, Fire powers, Yelling

Day 25: ALT 5: CPR - Make a mercy out of me

Hermitcraft, Teen, 200

TW: Drowning, Burns, Crying

Day 26: “help them” - Boogeyman

Traffic Life, Teen, 100

TW: Violence, Betrayal, Lying

Day 27: left for dead - RRK Ch 2: Bloodstained Gears

Hermitcraft, Teen, 842

TW: Violence, Blood

Day 28: “no…not like this” - TGD Ch 3: Hail His Majesty!

Generation Loss, Teen, 100

TW: Panic, Yelling

Day 29: not allowed to die - Success

Traffic Life, Teen, 100

TW: Panic, Suicidal thoughts

[protege-not-protagonist]

Criminal Minds: The Protégé Chapter 7

Ch 7: My Brother's Keeper Pt. 4

Blurb: The team Race to save the Tilsbury Family and Grace and Luke are forced to confront the unsub without back up. Does Grace have enough confidence in their profile to be able to talk him down?

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Audience: Recommended mature audience for depictions of violence and sexual references Author's Note: if you see a trigger warning that concerns you, you can scroll to end and I'll have a brief description what happens. I think that system should work well cause then those who don't want spoilers don't have to read the trigger warnings at the start and get spoiled. TW: Ableism, child death, violence, crime scene depiction, kidnapping, hostage situation, Nightmares.

Groton golf course, Groton, SD 11:00AM

They pulled into the parking lot and saw the van was already there. Her eyes swept over the chaotic scene. There was a state trooper giving CPR to a staff member at the blood spattered kiosk. The sheriff was forcing the van’s side door open, trying to free the parents cable tied to hand holds in the back. There was no sign of Alice or Brodey. There was also one of the three golf buggies missing from their designated parking spots near the kiosk.

‘He’s shot an innocent to steal a buggy. He’s devolving. There are too many obstacles to his fantasy.’ Grace concluded. ‘Alice doesn’t have long.’

Alvez turned off the siren, ‘I’m about to a very pedantic groundsman,’ he muttered and floored the accelerator. They tore across the car park and on to the green. Perfectly manicured grass flew in a wake behind them.

Grace radioed Prentiss, ‘The unsub is here, one civilian casualty. We need a medic, unsub currently has Alice. We’re engaging unsub.’

‘We’re five minutes out. Do not engage-’ They crested a hill and saw Brodey dragging a struggling Alice out of the buggy.

‘We have eyes on unsub. Prentiss, Alice doesn’t have five minutes.’ Grace relayed.

Prentiss was quiet for a few seconds, and Grace felt guilt settle in her stomach. The delay was because of her. Only one of them was armed.

Finally she said, ‘We’ll be there soon, do what you can.’

As they approached, Brodey pulled Alice to his chest and pressed a gun to her head. They stopped the car. Exiting the vehicle, they both took cover behind their doors, Alvez poking his gun around the side. Grace, her taser. Immediately, Brodey fired a shot at them. It whizzed into the grass. No casing left the chamber. She was right; it was a revolver, a six shooter.

‘Brodey Phillips, we’re with the FBI! Put down the weapon, step away from Alice!’ Alvez instructed.

He fired another shot at them, and Grace crammed herself behind her car door.

Alice screamed.

So did Brodey, ‘Come any closer and the next one’s through this squirt’s brains!’ He pressed the gun to Alice’s head, and she cried out, tears leaking from her eyes. He pressed it harder against her. 'Shut up!’

‘Let me goooo!’ she sniffled.

‘Listen to her, Brodey. She’s not your brother Jeremy, she not going to fix it.’ Alvez tried.

Brodey’s eyes went wide at the mention of his brother. ‘You’re ruining everything! You don’t understand! It’s not right! They have to fix it!’ He pointed the gun back at them and then flicked back to Alice quickly. It was an odd action, like he had slipped up. Grace then realised why.

Two shots to kill the Giles parents, one for the golf course staff member, two warning shots at them and if Brodey hadn’t reloaded in rapid city…. He couldn’t take them both, but he could take out Alice, so that is where he kept his gun trained.

Behind the car door, she waved one hand at her side discreetly to attract Alvez’s attention. His eyes flicked to her hand across the inside of the car. She raised her index finger into a one then extended her thumb into a finger gun and mimicked it firing. Alvez didn’t look at her as he showed her a thumbs up. He understood her message; Brodey only had one shot left.

'They Have to fix it! It's not supposed to be like this! It's not fair!' Brodey continued to rave. slowly walking backwards dragging Alice with him.

'Brodey I know, They didn’t even get your baby photos developed,’ she tried.

His eyes snapped to her. His face quivered.

She knew what it was like. It was then she realised that she might be the only member on this team who could empathise with this sick bastard. The person who could talk there way out of this. She didn't have a choice, Alice was in danger and Brodey was spirallying. Now or never.

She spoke louder, ‘Brodey, I saw how they treated you. It wasn’t fair.'

‘You saw?’ Brodey asked and focused his attention on her fully now.

Luke kept his gun trained on him as she raised her arms and made a show of putting away her weapon. She needed him to leave Alice, either get him to surrender or waste his last shot firing at them.Getting Alice clear was not an option. They could run, Alice could not. They had bullet-proof vests, Alice did not.

‘I did, and I agree, it’s not right.’ She stepped away from the protection of the car door.

He didn’t turn the gun on her, but she had drawn his attention. He cocked his head in confusion. He hadn’t expected her to agree. She saw a pleased glint in his eyes.

‘Brodey, I understand. When it was just you, things were okay. Your life was perfect. But then when he came along, you would go days without talking to your own parents who lived in the same house… they’d be too tired to talk about your day. You’d have toast for dinner every night for months. They didn’t even say “good night,” or “I love you”… all they cared about was your brother. It’s like being starved. Isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, yeah! It is, they starved me of them!’ he nodded.

‘It’s not wrong to want that. It’s what every child deserves. You deserve to be loved. Your own family should have loved you, they should’ve stuck by you, they should have seen that you struggled, right? You didn’t want to hate Jeremy, but you hated the new school, you hated leaving your old friends. But it wasn’t his fault-’

But Brodey didn’t want to accept that. He was a narcissist. It would break his fantasy if he was to blame for the unfortunate parts of his life.

‘I was here first! I am perfect! I did everything right, and they only cared about him! He couldn’t even talk properly! But they listened to what he wanted!’

She took a step forward and held her hands up. ‘Okay Brodey, I’m listening and I know what you want. You want a proper chance at life, right? You want to have a happy, loving family and you want to do the right thing, cause that’s what you did when you got out of prison the first time, right? You were helpful. That’s who you are.’ She lied.

He nodded.

She gestured at Alice, ‘She isn’t going to give you that. Neither are her parents, Brodey, because they aren’t the people who did this to you. But I think you know that. I’m not going to lie to you. You’ve done a bad thing, because you kidnaped them, we have to take you in. We can’t just walk away. But if you let Alice go right now, and you tell your story, I think any sane judge would be lenient after everything you’ve been through.’ Grace said, hoping to make it seem like they didn’t know he had killed the Giles family or Jeremy. If she let on that they knew he had committed those murders, her lie wouldn’t make sense to him. He couldn’t know he was going away for life. He would feel cornered. Stroke his ego and let him think they only wanted him for kidnapping. Let him think he got away with it.

‘She’s right, Brodey,’ Alvez followed her lead, ‘This whole thing is understandable. You just want to make it right? You just want to be treated right. People will understand that. If we tell your story to the news and the papers, people will understand. You come in quietly and you’ll come out as a good guy.’

‘But I would rather not come in at all,’ he smiled and pressed the gun back to Alice’s stomach. ‘If my motive is so clear, they’ll understand why I did this. Do you think you can catch me if you’re too busy trying to save her?’

Grace refused to panic. Quickly and confidently, she spoke, ‘Do that and it’ll be like Jeremy all over again.’ Brodey glared at her at the mention of his brother’s name. ‘If you hurt Alice, no one will care about what happens to you. She’ll get all the sympathy. No one will care about what happened to you, only what you did to her. And when you go back to prison, Brodey, you know what they do to child killers in there, don’t you? Let her go and put the gun down. It’s the best option for you.’

‘I’ll shoot her, I will!’ He gritted and his eyes flicked between them and Alice.

‘Brodey, every trooper in the state has your picture. Feds and cops surround this golf course. We aren’t alone. You’re not going to get far.’ Alvez revealed.

Brodey began to tremble.

Grace took another step towards him. ‘I’m sorry Brodey, you’re not getting out of this, but how you come out of this, and the story the judge hears, that’s up to you. Hurting Alice isn't going to help you. Who do you want to be Brodey, how do you want to be seen? It's your choice.’

After a nail biting moment of silence, he threw Alice to the ground and lowered the gun to the ground and kicked it away from him. Alvez moved forward and pulled out handcuffs. Grace ran, scooped up the gun and grabbed Alice, lifting her further away for Brodey.

‘You’re alright sweetie, you’re gonna be okay,’ she reassured her and checked her over for injury.

‘I-I-I want m-my m-mo-m and d-dad,’ she sobbed.

‘Brodey Philips, you’re under arrest-’ he waited till the handcuffs firmly clicked on his wrist before adding, ‘-for the attempted murder of Alice, Mary and Joshua Tilsbry, the murder of the Giles family and the murders of Rita and Jeremy Phillips.’

‘No! No!’ Brodey screamed. ‘He never should have even been born. It wasn’t murder, it was mercy-’

Alvez grimaced in disgust, ‘Yeah, yeah, cool story, you have the right to remain silent-’ Brodey suddenly threw his weight against Alvez and got out of his grip. He charged towards her and Alice.

Without thinking, Grace stepped forward and grabbed his undefended shoulders and slammed her knee into his groin. He doubled over. She followed it with a punch to his solar plexus and sweeping his legs out from under him. Instantly, he lay face up on the ground sucking in breaths like a fish out of water. She brought down an axe kick to his chest to make sure he didn’t find any time to recover. He howled in pain. She drew out her taser and pointed it at him. ‘Don’t even try it!’

Alvez hauled him off the ground and into the car. ‘I’ll come back for her. I’m not going to put her in the car with him.’

‘You gonna be okay?’ She asked. Alvez stifled a chuckle. ‘Trust me, after that, I don’t think he’s got much fight left in him.’

She opened the trunk and pulled out an FBI issue jacket and the medical kit. She approached Alice again, offering her the jacket. The girl shivered and took it gingerly. Grace sat on the grass with her and helped her wrap it around her as they watched the car leave with Brodey.

‘You’re safe now Alice, I’m Grace, I’m with the FBI. I’m like a special police woman, okay? We’ve been looking for you all day. Are you hurt?’

‘No, I don’t think so, but he tied up my mom and dad. I want to see them,’ she said.

‘We saw them, they’re alright. I’ll take you to them when the car comes back, okay? They’re safe. Your sister is too. We’re flying her here on a plane super fast.’

‘Thank you for saving me. I was very scared.’

‘Well, that was very scary. I’d be scared too. You’re very brave, Alice.’ Grace smiled and spied a familiar character on Alice’s T-shirt. ‘I like your shirt, is that… Appa?’

‘Yeah it’s Appa, he is my favourite animal!’

‘Really? No way! He is my favourite too! I love Avatar. Who is your favourite character? Mine is Uncle Iroh.’ She saw Alvez speeding back towards them.

‘Sokka, I like Sokka, he’s funny.’

‘Woah, great choice. You’ll like my friend Agent Luke, he’s a bit like Sokka, He loves jerky and jokes.’ Alice giggled and Grace joined her. ‘Okay, I’m going to pick you up to get you in the car. You let me know if anything hurts, okay?’

‘Okay.’ Alice nodded.

When they arrived back at the parking lot, many flashing lights and uniforms crowded her vision. The golf staff member had been taken to the hospital. He was in a stable condition. It looked like he would pull through. Prentiss, Tara and Rossi had arrived, and seen Brodey off in the back of the sheriff’s car. Now, they were going to head back to the inn with the Tilsbry family and take statements. While waiting for the rest of the team and Bella to arrive from Rapid City. As Grace watched Mary and Josh embrace Alice with tears of joy in the parking lot, she allowed herself to smile. But it didn’t last. The feeling soured when she saw another vehicle pull up.

The Tilsbry’s had had a happy ending, but there was one young boy buried somewhere on this course that didn’t.

Rossi walked up to Grace as Dr Boland and the CSI team exited the car. He sighed and patted her shoulder affectionately. ‘Go find him, kid. We won’t be leaving till late tonight.’

She exhaled and stood up straight as the CSI team walked towards her for instruction. ‘Good afternoon, we have vegetation indicators that the body is located around the seventh hole. Once we locate the site, I want one by five metre surface transects of the area, and excavation in 5 centimetre spits till we reach bone, then I want every grain of dirt. It’s unlikely that Brodey will slip out of this one but, I want this to be nothing short of meticulous. Jeremy was nine years old. He deserves the respect of your time and care…’

--------

Gold Stallion Inn Groton, SD 7:00PM

Grace trudged through the doors of the Inn’s diner after washing the dirt off herself and packing her go bag. She had packed now, so the doctor could turn in early without being disturbed later. Dr Boland had opted to remain behind for an extra day to oversee the handover of the victims' bodies to the coroner and their families. Their Sunday brunch looked unlikely.

She made a bee-line for the hot water urn. As she brewed her tea, a voice interrupted from behind.

‘Good to see you still haven’t moved on to the hard stuff yet.’ She jumped, accidentally splashing too much milk in. Avery grinned at her holding a fist out to her.

'You're back,' she smiled and she bumped it with her own.

The rest of the team were back. She should have known. The room had grown louder. Her team were celebrating at a table where the hotel manager was delivering a tray of drinks.

‘Well, if you appreciate the real hard stuff my team’s about to have some, you wanna join them?’

‘I gonna have to take a rain check. I’m having an early one, I’m staying here with the good doctor, gotta make sure we wrap this up nicely. Though I’ve gotta say, not looking forward to flying commercially after I’ve had a taste of the lux life.’

She laughed, ‘Yeah, the lux life.’ She gestured to the case board and grizzly crime scene pictures.

He shrugged, ‘I get it now.’

‘Get what?’ She asked.

‘Why you chose the BAU.’

‘I’m sorry, Ave,‘ she sighed.

‘No, no, don’t be. We all knew you weren’t going to stay CSI forever. You’ve always been an instinct and theory girl. You never did like that your job just stopped at the collection of evidence. You always thought everything meant more. Every speck of anything, indicated a whole person.’

‘You can’t lead an archaeologist to a crime scene and expect them not to dig.’

Avery snorted, ‘True, but I think you like this part too.’ They both looked at the reunion of the Tilsbry family happening in the corner; their tearful smiles and deep hugs. They both smiled. ‘We never get this. Our only victory comes in a courtroom.’

‘Ave… this element of the job is a rewarding bonus we occasionally get, but I left because of something else.’

‘Wasn’t something I said?’ He joked.

‘No, you guys made it a very hard to leave.’ She said. ‘I was encouraged to apply. The BAU was already a man down and… it’s not common knowledge so don’t share this, but Rossi is retiring at the end of this year. That’s why Prentiss has been taking a more active role in the team while Rossi has been stepping back. With the scrutiny the units been under, it's likely they’re not going to hire another member once he goes. He and Prentiss both didn’t want to leave the team underhanded with the changes ahead, so they looked for someone young but skilled to fill the position. Someone who was gonna stay for a long time. Rossi’s an old friend, followed my career. He asked me personally if I would give the position a go. Thought I’d be a good fit. Also didn’t hurt that I was the one that figured out that Sicarius spiders where a C.O.D in that case. Made me a bit memorable.’

Avey let out a low whistle. ‘That’s got to be flattering, huh? Hard to say no to.’

‘I only did the trial period because Rossi asked, but I stayed because… I love it. I loved forensics, but it was just too final for me. I needed to feel like I could do something before it happened.’

‘I get that. But for me, that’s why I’m here. The dead don’t get deader. We can all take comfort in the fact that it’s done, that there’s nothing we could’ve done. Going from that finality, to constantly hunting these guys down, only to find another and another. That can burn you out. I just hope you’re not going to wear yourself out trying to save the world.’

‘I’m a realist Ave, I know I’m not going to save the world. I know there are always going to be people like Brodey… but it’s worth it if I save a few Alices along the way.’ She said with a sad smile. ‘ “You treated a symptom, the disease goes merrily on.” ’ She quoted with a sigh.

‘What is that, Freud?’ Avery asked and nudged her shoulder.

She scoffed, ‘No, BJ Hunnicutt, episode 23, season 7, of MASH.’

‘Ah should have known.’ He said and nodded at her. ‘Well, if you need someone to talk to, or watch MASH with when the disease gets too much, hit me up, I’ll try to keep an open mind and not beg you to come back to us.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind, but also please hit me up whenever you and the gang go out for trivia or do anything fun. I’m trying to hang out with people outside of the context of work and crisis. I miss the AntiSocial-Social-Club events.’

‘And the AntiSocial-Social Fund Jar misses you. We’re going to have to have tone down the Christmas Party this year.’

She scoffed, ‘Oh come on, I did not talk about decomposition that much. And we’re in CSI. It’s appropriate to talk about.’

Avery rolled his eyes. ‘It wasn’t the topic, it was the fact that you talked about that stuff at lunch Grace! By the way, you still owe the jar 15 dollars.’

---------

BAU Private Jet, 10:00 PM

Most of the team were asleep or trying to as Grace washed out her mug and prepared to fill it with a hot chocolate.

‘Hey, good work today,’ Alvez told her as he quietly stepped into the kitchenette to refill his mug. Grace inwardly winced as she recalled their interaction earlier today.

‘Thank you, but uh… not all of it was good,’ she murmured.

He frowned. ‘What? No, the way you empathised with Brodey was good work. How’d you know about toast for dinner?’

‘That’s what I ate when the twins were born. It was all I could make if my parents accidentally fell asleep and forgot to make me dinner, or all they had the energy to cook for me. I was five, but Brodey would have been a teenager, a male only child, who couldn’t handle someone else taking his parents’ attention. Pretty safe assumption he wouldn’t cook by himself. Hence, toast. Two-minute noodles would have been my second guess.’ She explained, then quickly added, ‘My parent were great normally, the twins just wore them out in those few months. I wasn’t starved,‘ She reassured him. ‘But Alvez, I was talking about the way I acted earlier at the house.’

Alvez shrugged it off, ‘That’s okay-’

‘No, it’s not. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I don’t have an excuse other than today has been a bit personally grating. I got defensive, and I lashed out and I’m sorry. I just don’t want you guys to think that I’m not capable. I can handle it. I’m working on it and I won’t let it be a problem in the field-’

Luke held up his hand to stop her there. ‘Woah, Five-O, none of us think you’re not capable. We just worry about you, when you had the nightmare-’

‘Technically, it wasn’t a nightmare. If it doesn‘t wake you up, it’s classified as night terror-’

‘Don’t distract from the issue,’ he cut her off. ‘See, that’s what worries us. You don’t talk to us. We hardly even know what happened to you for those three days, and then you get defensive when we try to broach the subject. It only makes me worry more.’

She bit her lip. The team cared, that was why they pried. Deep down, she knew that. But it was always hard to believe. Her therapist encouraged her to trust people and share parts of herself in friendship. If she felt she did not feel like she had deep relationships, it may be because she didn’t allow them. To that advice, she argued she didn’t like what that she was insinuating and she did not have trust issues. But the fact that every therapy session was like pulling teeth said otherwise.

She sniffed and wipe away a tear that had formed without her noticing. ‘Sorry, I know you’re just trying to care for me. Sometimes I-I just have trouble figuring out when people are going through motions or are genuinely worried about me. Some profiler I am, huh?’

‘Grace, you don’t have to-’

‘No, I want to explain… I don’t want you to worry.’ She paused and nodded more at herself, reaffirming her decision. ‘The Robinson’s case, the memories, what happened, it doesn’t really bother me, most the time. That case wasn’t what the dream was about.’

‘Okay,’ Alvez nodded. They moved quietly past the sleeping team with their full mugs to the empty set of chairs in the corner of the dim cabin.

‘Before I was in the BAU, I helped put away this serial killer. He was a Psychopath, but he had a code he followed simillar to an injustice collector. He would target people who he thought of as hypocrites, and would mutilate and torture his victims according to how he perceived there true nature and then he bury them elaborately. Anyway long story short, it was my presentation of evidence in court that put him away. And after, he wrote me a letter from prison promising… Well, nothing good. In my dream, we were in court again, and he revealed there was another victim. He told me it was someone he chose especially for me. And then I was excavating the grave…’

Alvez listened carefully. ‘It was someone you cared about, wasn’t it?’

She hesitated before shaking her head. She wasn’t ready to explain why it was who it was to anyone on her team. ‘I… um not really like that, I don’t have a boyfriend or anyone like that. But you remember Harrison, the other survivor of the Robinson’s case?’

‘Yeah?’ He nodded. He had taken Harrison’s statement.

‘Well… that’s why JJ thought I was dreaming about the Robinson’s case. That’s who’s name I was murmuring when she woke me up. It was Harrison, and we found him and he was...' She shook her head not even wanting to conjure those images. She exhaled and continued. 'And I… don’t know, it just shouldn’t have happened. He escaped that basement with me. He saved my life. He should’ve had a long, happy life, and there he was hacked to bits, buried in the woods like he was nothing. But the worst thing was… I dream in third person.’

‘Third person, what do you mean?’ Alvez asked with a frown and leant closer.

‘Most of my dreams are like watching a movie. So when I’m in it. There’s two mes, there’s the real me, my mind, my consciousness who watches, and feels emotion, and then there's another me who I watch in third person do the action, like an actor. This dream version of me, when she found Harrison, she just kept going about the scene like it meant nothing. But the real me, I was screaming, I was crying. It was like that part of me that cares was just locked out… Then JJ woke me up, and it wasn’t locked away anymore and I just burst into tears. And I know I wouldn’t actually react that way, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve had that dream four times now.’

They sat in silence for a few moments. Already Grace felt relief in her chest, not even realising it had felt heavy before. Alvez seemed deep in thought, with a pensive expression that almost didn’t suit his usually smiling face.

‘That sucks. I’m sorry. Are you okay?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve had worse dreams, but this one, it’s just stuck with me, and I can’t figure out why it disturbs me so much. I think that’s partly what’s been bothering me even more.’ She answered and rested her head against the cabin window with a deep sigh.

‘I have an aunt that is really into this stuff. She does readings, and she has this big book that will tell you what everything is supposed to mean. Personally, I don’t believe all our dreams are significant. I mean, you tell me what a dream where I’m singing a karaoke duet with Roxie and then my teeth fall out is all about-’

‘-Well, teeth falling out is a common dream associated with stress. Talking animals are an indicator that someone watched an early 2000s movie with bad CGI talking animals before going to bed.’ She smiled. ‘I’m joking. I don’t think the nonsensical parts have deep meanings.’

He gave her a small chuckle. ‘I agree, but I think if it’s troubling you, there may be something behind it.’ Alvez reached out to place his hand over hers to stop her nervous fidgeting, and she didn’t flinch away. ‘Five-O, I’m no dream doctor, but I think the reason the dream shook you up so much is because it showed you what you’re really afraid of.’

‘Finding people I know as victims?’ She already knew she had that fear.

He shrugged. ‘Perhaps, I think we all fear that. But I think your dream shows you that you’re afraid of losing something you don’t even realise you value; your compassion. You’re afraid that this job will make you cold. And let me say this, Matthews; you don’t have to worry about that, ever. You care for every victim we encounter, even when they are dead. It’s part of who you are. I think it would be impossible for you not to care.’

She stared at him in wonder. He was right. And he didn’t know how right he was. She was glad he thought she didn’t have to worry. She had him convinced it was easy for her to care, easy to be compassionate. It wasn’t. It was a choice. It was how she’d chosen to live and some days it was hard. It was hard when witnesses were accusatory and rude. It was hard when victims were horrible people. It was hard when unsubs were detestable. But she had seen what it was like to be cold. She even felt what it was like to switch off. Grace wouldn’t wish that upon her worst enemy.

‘Thanks, Luke,’ she managed a small smile at him as she wiped her face with the sleeve of her cardigan.

‘Anytime, hey, you can tell me anything. Okay? I’m a good sounding board.’ He rubbed her arm comfortingly, and she didn’t hate it.

‘I appreciate the offer, but for me, it’s more difficult to talk to… a friend, about this kinda stuff,’ she admitted. ‘And I do talk about stuff like this, just not with you or the others. I have a therapist I talk to. Just so you don’t worry that I’m bottling stuff up-' Luke grinned at her widely. She frowned. ‘What is it?’

‘Nothing, just reeling from the fact that you just called your friend,’ he said.

Her eyes widened. ‘I’m so sorry, if I gave you the impression that you weren’t-’

He stopped her. ‘No, no, not at all. You just said it out loud, and I’m savouring it.’

She snorted at that and dug around in her bag, pulling out her business card. Under where it said, “Profiler with the Behavioural Analysis Unit” she wrote in big block letters.

“FRIEND OF SSA LUKE ALVEZ”

She passed it to him, and he laughed. ‘Well, now you have it in writing, so we both don’t forget.’

--------

Next Chapter

TW:

Ableism: Unsub is targeting physically disabled people and uses awful language to describe disabled people. Says some pretty awful things when being taken into custody.

mention of Child death: previous victims remember

kidnaping: the unsub has kidnapped a family.

Hostage situation: unsub has a child hostage and at gun point for the first section of the chapter, it turns out okay.

Nightmares: Grace tell Luke her nightmare it involves being emotionless while examining the grave of someone close to her.

Crime scene description: there are multiple in this chapter. a bit of jargon below:

'Spits' are the term use to label the layers archaeologists work with. For example if a hole is dug 12 Inches deep, that will be broken up into layers that are sifted for evidence. So you could have 2 large spits of 6 inches or 4 smaller spits of 3 inches or 6 tiny spits of 2 inches and so on. The smaller the spits the more detailed the investigation is but also the more time consuming.

NOTE:

Woohoo! that's the end of the first case. Did you like it? To those who thought, 'oh I see, you're taking a young neuro-spicy FBI agent, putting her in the BAU and traumatising her as she gets older until they become like there washed up mentor'… Sorry. Slaps Grace on the shoulder like a used car this one comes pre-traumatised. But that's not to say, there's no room for more. Gestures to Grace this baby can fit sooo much trauma in it.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this and let me know what you think so far. If you love it, or even just like it, please leave a comment and/or like, reblogs, it is much appreciated and it really motivates me.

[watercolor-hearts]

I'm gonna finish most of my written finals this week and after that I'll finally have a bit more time and I wanna continue converting my story ideas into stories, but I feel like I have too many to choose from so I'm gonna put the titles and a 'little' description here and you can choose which one should I write next. 😊 (All of these ideas are from last season (except maybe the last one. Half of the idea is from last season but this season helped with it a bit.) I'm slow and I wanna finish them before writing stories based on the current season.)

Save the last dance for me | Max/Daniel

This one is about Max and Daniel at the FIA gala in 2022. Daniel's last FIA gala (only for a while, hopefully), he's sitting at a table with Max, Seb and some other people, thinking about Max and their future, how it'll be like etc. because he doesn't want to lose Max now that Daniel won't be in F1 anymore. Before Max goes to accept his trophy, Daniel tells him to save the last dance for him because the last one is special and since it's Daniel's last gala, he wants to make it memorable with his favorite person.

After Max goes to accept his trophy, Daniel tells Seb that he doesn't know how he'll survive without Max, without F1 (yeah no Daniel to Red Bull in this universe) and all the things that were in his life for all these years. And then Seb waits a few seconds, looks at Daniel and tells him that if he doesn't want to leave without Max then he should tell him because Max doesn't want to live without him either and they should communicate a bit better about their feelings towards each other.

So Daniel does tell this to Max. During their last dance. On live television.

(Or something like this but my stories usually change during the writing process.)

Forcing laughter, faking smiles | Daniel/George

I think I've already shared a few quotes from this one but I'll try to summarize it in a few sentences. TW: Self-harm!

So in this one Daniel cuts himself on the balcony of his hotel room after another shit weekend, and then when he sees all the blood coming from his arm he calls George because Daniel doesn't like blood and George had already helped him when he did something like this in the past.

George of course helps him etc., but they almost start arguing because Daniel wants George to go away but George doesn't want to leave Daniel alone after all the shit that happened to him. George tells Daniel they should go back to the room but Daniel doesn't want to. So George gives him his hoodie (the Japanese GP one — this inspired the story) and they sit on the balcony for a while, Daniel thinking a bit too much, George's supporting him with his presence, holding him and taking care of his physical and mental wounds. (It'll have a hopeful ending. I don't do sad ending, you don't have to worry about it.)

The Heartbeat I Can't Feel | Max/Daniel

This was my first ever idea in this fandom. I think I've already posted about it a few times, you can find those posts if you tap on the title in the tags. (Also I might change the title of this one later because I don't really like it anymore. And the description of the story here might be different from the what's in the older posts about it because my stories always change, I forget some things, I add some things etc.)

This is really, really deep, so it was a bit too much for a first English story for me, that's why I couldn't finish it, but since then I've changed and added a few things so I think I'm now ready to write it. Short-ish summary below. Also TW: Self-harm, suicide attempt, mentions of CPR, blood and hospital!

Okay, so in this one Daniel's really deep in the shit and feels like he can't do this anymore, he can't get out of it and he doesn't want to live anymore. Daniel thinks Max doesn't love him anymore because Daniel doesn't have the mood for s*x and other things Max wants to do. (Not true, Max loves him but they can't communicate well enough.)

One day Max leaves for the next race and Daniel's at home in their apartment in Monaco and he feels like it's time to end it all, so he fills the bathtub with water and takes out a fresh, new blade. [I don't want to write it down here, I wanna leave if for the story but you know what happens.]

But in the meantime Max notices that he has left something at home and when he goes back, he finds Daniel in the bathtub under the blood colored water. He tries not to panic (he doesn't even know how not to panic when his boyfriend's dying), pulls him out and calls the emergency services. He does CPR on him and he feels Daniel's ribs cracking under his hand and he's really scared he's gonna lose him. Once the paramedics arrive he just sits in the corner praying for Daniel to come back. He comes back. [This is the first part.]

[And this is the second part.] Daniel is in the hospital, sleeping, Max is with him, carefully holding his hand, finger pressed on his pulse point, eyes fixed on his chest to make sure he's alive. His mind endlessly plays the moments of finding Daniel and trying to save him. He can't leave him alone ever again.

But then there's an unexpected visitor. Lewis. And he wants Max to leave Daniel alone for a bit so Max and Lewis can talk. (Lewis sees that Max's worried and all but he knows Max needs a bit of fresh air and someone to talk to about all the things that happened because this is too serious to just leave it for himself. So Lewis convinces Max to go with him. Then they almost start to argue over a can of Red Bull in the hospital cafeteria. None of them buys anything, instead, they go outside for a walk. And then, when it's just the two of them, Max dumps everything on Lewis. And Lewis listens and helps.

[And let me save the rest for the story because this post is already too long and I have two other stories to write about. But I promise this one will have a hopeful ending too and Max and Lewis has a good relationship in it, they don't hate each other and that argument over the energy drink is not that serious. They're just stressed.]

More than one | Daniel/George/Alex

In this one George and Daniel are in a relationship. Daniel is polyamorous, George of course knows about it. Daniel doesn't have any partners outside George at the moment but he used to be with Max, but Max didn't like the polyamory thing and the fact that Daniel was in love with George, too, while he was with Max so they broke up and Max's now with Charles but it's not a negative thing in the story. George isn't polyamorous. Or at least that's what he said to Daniel. But then once, in the middle of making love, George says that he might be in love with Alex too. And that it's strange for him and he doesn't know what to do. And since Daniel and George are really good at communicating, they talk about it and Daniel tells him that he can love more than one at the same time, that's totally normal. And then Daniel plays matchmaker for them, talks to Alex, arranges a date night for Alex and George at their house etc. This one is all soft and fluffy, I really love it, especially the end of it because that's a soft, soft, soft and sleepy polyam cuddle of the three boyfriends. (Also, Alex is with Lily and Alex tells her about being in love with George at the same time George does to Daniel. And Lily supports it too. So this is gonna be a big, happy polycule. ❤)

[Untitled] | Daniel/Lando

I don't have a title for this one yet but it's about Lando and his struggles with this year's McLaren. He's starting to understand a bit how Daniel must have felt in the last two years and he's worried that they'll treat him like they did with Daniel, and then they'll sack him and he won't have a job anymore and he's gonna have to work at a McDonald's and he's gonna be homeless so on.

And after one of the races Daniel's attended too, and Lando yet again had a shit weekend, Lando reaches the top of his anxiety and he goes to Daniel's hotel room, crying, not knowing what to do and in need of comfort.

Daniel's gives him what he needs and they talk about Lando's fears. And then it's a bit better. It's always better when he's with Daniel.

So yeah I think it's already too long so I'm gonna leave the other two newer ones for next time when these ones are all finished.

Please tell me which one would you like to read so then I can start/continue that one first. 😊 Also, feel free to ask about any of them if you have any questions. As you can see, I love talking about my stories. 😃

[heroftruth]

Guidelines -

General. I am multiverse, not timeline locked, duplicate friendly, and multiship. 'Main verse' indicates the black canon with Hilda being Reshiram's chosen. Interactions within this are flexible! I will interact with multiples of characters, same world, your world, etc. Other verses such as my white verse follow white canon and have Hilda as Zekrom's chosen. This was created specifically for instances where canons conflict with other unova characters.

If something conflicts, just shoot me a message. I guarantee you I will not be upset and will be completely open to developing a solution.

Messaging. If we are mutuals you can dm me and ask for my discord. If you have a plot idea, interaction idea, something to share, or even just a meme or pet pic you can dm me anytime. I like to share pet pics with people if they are cool with it myself lol.

Ships. Romantic relationships exist within their own verses and I will only romantically ship with one of each character. For example, there is a ship of Hilda and twilighttheater's Red, so I won't romantically ship with another Red but am absolutely open to other dynamics with other Reds. Everyone brings something different to their characters.

Duplicates. I am completely open to interacting with other Hilda/Hilbert/bw protag muses. It's fun to see how things differ to me. Events, other plots, & AUs. I generally do not reference events or other plots with people unless they were in that event or were a part of/going to be a part of that plot just out of respect. If we both did an event and we want to go back to something with it or reference it I am chill with that and will tag the event for those that weren't a part of it to filter. Same goes with plots like Ghetsis overtaking Unova for example, people involved in it are welcome to interact with it & I will tag. I do this out of respect for people's lore and also to allow filtering. Same goes for Royal Ball AU with friends and my friends' Ultra Space campaign. Events, specific plots, and AUs are tagged for filtering and accessibility. Triggers. I am a healthcare worker in emergency medicine. I love talking about emergency medicine and don't mind sharing knowledge at all with people for writing purposes. I don't mind writing illnesses and injuries. However, narrative descriptions of things like cardiac arrests, cpr, and death are triggering due to ptsd from working the pandemic. It's one of those things I can talk about from a science aspect but can not write or read descriptions of it happening. I will always tag 'tw medical' for anything medical and always am willing to add trigger tags to anything if needed for others.

[fanaroff]

TW: for graphic descriptions

The first time it happens, Superman is enraged. It’s not the first life lost he’s seen or been around, but each one makes him angry and distraught that he couldn’t keep it from happening. The mangled body was caught under debris, half peeking out with eyes wide open. Still caught in surprise.

If Superman put extra force behind his punches, no one blamed him.

He watched the body be retrieved. The attempt at resuscitation (there would be no help, he could see the wound cutting into the boy’s neck and the red that spilled from his abdomen). The loading of the body into the back of a paramedic. One of the paramedics straddled the body, still desperately attempting CPR as they pulled the gurney up into the ambulance.

It was when Superman started asking the bystanders around to see if anyone knew him so he could apologize to the boy’s family when the ambulance screeched to a sudden stop. The woman who had been on the gurney with the boy (blood still soaked her from the wrists down) stumbled out of the van looking frantic.

“Did you see him!?” She asked desperately, voice bordering on a screech.

“What? Who?” Superman barely had the chance to get out before the woman interrupted him.

“The boy!” She shrieked hysterically. “He vanished!”

The city-wide search ended in no answers.

—

Batman was told about the incident and hoarded as much information on it as he could. There were no answers to be had, but he kept a lookout for any.

Thoughts of it were out of his mind completely as his heart thudded in his chest and all he could think was that he had to get there in time.

The Joker had taken a hostage. Black hair, blue eyes he looked so much like—

But he was too late. Joker stood cackling over a too still body, emptied needle in hand and held in the air. “Too late Batsy!” The monster crowed and kicked the body over with a foot. Black veins spread over the neck, fingers curled toward it as if trying to hold it off. Mouth open in a last gasp.

The Joker had a long stint in the hospital before he was taken back to Arkham.

Batman received a call days later. The boy’s body was gone from the morgue. No one knew what happened. No cameras caught who stole him. He had flashbacks to Jason. Dead then stolen.

He began a new case.

—

Soon, every super hero had a story about a black haired, blue eyed boy that would be killed and his body go missing. They searched every place they could for him, trying to get any answers they could. Blood or hair samples would vanish. The body would vanish. No one knew what was going on.

It got to the point where if they noticed a civilian casualty that matched the description, they would feel horror moments later when they realized they felt relieved that it was the boy. That he would be okay or come back again and that the death wasn’t permanent.

Some had theories that he was a clone sent to spy on their battles and a new one would be made each time.

Each time they were able to communicate with him, he always said something snappy or quick witted before unfortunately succumbing to whatever injury was fatal but not immediate enough for them to get a few words with him.

He never answers their questions on what was going on.

But Martian Manhunter, the one time he came across him, managed to get the name ‘Danny’ as—

“After all, you’re my favorite.”

—

This was getting ridiculous.

To quote a show he’d started watching about a French heroine, “Utterly ridiculous.”

Danny did not expect that leaving Amity at all would lead to so many… incidents. Just because he couldn’t die did not mean the universe had to test this out. Especially not this often. Especially not while not having enough ectoplasm to really use ghost powers this far from the portal.

“Oh come on!” He got out before he was laid flat by a truck thrown by yet another supervillain. He was out for a while with that one. He was left basically a scrape on the ground. It took a while to reform but he got a decent nap out of it.

“Oh! I told you it was Danny!”

Danny looked up towards the voice as he pushed yet another morgue door open. He was in the Gotham morgue. Again.

“Just because there was a mass of meat trying to pull itself together did not mean it had to be Danny!” Another voice joined the first. He felt slightly embarrassed that they saw his… well… meat. Again.

“Who else would it have been? This is like the tenth time just for us! Dude attracts death like a magnet!”

Danny chuckled as he pulled himself out of the container? Metal bed? Compartment? Eh, whatever. The place bodies are kept. “Hi again.” He said.

Matt and Jessica were the two who handled bodies in one of the many Gotham mortuaries. It just so happened that this was the one his body was brought to the most in this city.

“Danny!” Matt exclaimed. “Got a coffee for you right here. And a snack. Well, half a snack. It took longer than we thought for you to pull yourself together.”

Jessica huffed. “Don’t act like you’re the one who thought that was Danny. I made the coffee and brought the snack. You ate half of it.”

She turned to Danny, holding out a white cloth. “I’ll go grab you some clothes, honey.” She turned and walked out of the room.

Matt rolled his eyes. “Want the deets this time?“ he asked.

Danny shook his head as he pulled the cloth around himself. It was a little chilly. “Saw the truck coming.”

“Damn dude, and you didn’t move out of the way?”

“You see if you can get out of the way of a giant truck being launched at you with super speed.” Danny said.

“Sure, if I could come back like you I would.” Matt replied, shaking his head. He grabbed the offered lukewarm coffee and held it out to Danny who took a sip.

He leaned a hip against one of the autopsy tables and crossed his arms. “They came poking around again.”

Danny paused in his enjoyment of the bitter, blessed bean juice. “The supers?”

“The Bats are really perturbed that the same person keeps getting killed over and over again. They think you’re cursed or trapped in a loop or something.”

Danny snorted. “Nah, just my unbelievably bad luck.”

“That’s what I told them!”

There came a sudden commotion from outside of the room and the door burst open.

“You can’t be in here! You need a warrant or- or at least call my boss! Wait!” Jessica shouted as the imposing form of Batman, followed closely by Nightwing, strode into the room.

They both froze seeing Danny up and wrapped in a single white cloth. He waved at them. “Sup?”

Short DPXDC Prompts #1030

Danny becomes that one random civilian casualty that always has some part of his business destroyed in the process. He’s akin to the “my cabbages!” fellow from AtLA. 

[lucky-punk-lemonade]

| Beacon Hills High School requires CPR certification. When you and Stiles come across a boy who needs it, the experience is surreal. [Warning! Angst/whump; graphic description of cardiopulmonary resuscitation; TW blood, animal attack, open wound, panic attack, mentioned death, PTSD/trauma] Reader and Stiles Stilinski; CPR Tragedy

Disclaimer! This piece contains graphic descriptions of cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR). All descriptions in the work are fictitious and are not meant to devalue the severity of any tragic situation involving CPR or the experiences EMTs go through. This is strictly a work of fiction set in the Teen Wolf universe. Wrote this to get into the October spirit. If any of the above-mentioned trigger warnings upset you, please don't read! Your mental and physical health matters more than a read; take care of yourself!

This work belongs to me, lucky-punk-lemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

“Are you gonna panic?” the instructor asks, an EMT volunteering a CPR lesson to the class. The CPR dummies are plain and lifeless and I can’t tell if that helps at all. A girl beside me shakes her head and he shakes his right back, the american flag patch on his baseball cap making me dizzy. “Yes, you will. That’s okay, just take a deep breath and step up.”

I wasn’t doing what he said. I didn’t even think about it. My breathing took on its own pace the second we saw someone lying in a pile on the forest floor. Stiles ran to him, and I instinctively followed. He was smeared in blood, and his neck was red and bruised. His breaths were agonal, and his eyes were shrouded in the dark of the forest, but I could tell they were panicked and strained, bloodshot. Crashing to our knees beside his body, I realized the blood smeared over him was his own from a laceration on his arm. Shirt wet with blood across his chest as if he had tried to reach across himself to hold his wound. Stiles asked him questions, the words sounded nasally when I was so panicked, his chest just sucked in, wheezing brokenly. Stiles took his flannel off and held it firmly over the boy’s open and bleeding wound, simultaneously looking for more, all while the boy gasped, and my breathing quickened, and time went sideways.

“The first thing you need to do…?” The instructor asks the class.

“Okay,” I whisper shakily to myself, answering my own thoughts, wondering how my hands are already wet with blood. It’s cold. Or is it sweat? The drying sensation of the substance as I wiped my hands on my jeans answered my question. I pulled my phone out and dialed 911. The flannel Stiles had been holding down onto the gash was soaked through three times over. Stiles ripped at the seam of the sleeve desperately and tied it around the boy’s upper arm, using a stick to twist it taught, then twist it further. We both watched the blood seeping from the deep slash slow after a moment. Stiles’ breathing was quick, too, though steadier than mine. I realized I couldn’t hear the boy’s gasping anymore, sitting up on my heels and dropping my phone into the leaves and pine needles and soil saturated with blood as it rang on the speaker phone. “Fuck, he’s not breathing.” Stiles looked up from his grip on the stick as I leaned my head down and held my hand up to feel for air coming out of his nose or mouth. Stiles tied the makeshift tourniquet in place and pressed the rest of the fabric against the wound. When I felt nothing, my eyes shot to his chest, hoping for movement. Still. 

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

I couldn’t answer. The guy– he couldn’t have been more than a year older than us– was in a visible shock, but that fear and tension were fading, draining with the blood that drenched Stiles’ flannel. My hands shake unreliably as I try more than once to grab for my pocket knife, cutting a hole in his shirt, cold and wet from the blood in the fall dusk. I pull the fabric open over his chest and feel over the boy’s sternum. He still wasn’t breathing, and my fingers struggled and scrambled to press firmly to find the right point. I couldn’t be sure, in my state, but I pressed the heel of my palm into the center of his chest and began pressing. The action itself made me breathless, but I closed my eyes and adjusted my shoulders above him, locking my elbows and pushing down with my entire body weight.

“Hello? 9-1-1, is someone there?”

“Yeah- Yes! We’re in the woods a mile- a mile east of Beacon Lake. Just send EMS, there’s-” Stiles’ voice falters every other word, fighting over his own heaving chest and cracking voice to steady himself. “We found a kid, he’s stopped breathing, he’s got a- a wound on his right arm. It was bleeding. I stopped the blood flow-”

The cartilage in his chest cracked and crunched each time I lifted the heel of my palm and every time I pushed down again. I watched his chest cavity push in with the weight I was applying and releasing. The crunch made me recoil, and the next push I took was softer. Not hard enough. So I went back in, eyes squeezed shut and breath coming out accompanied by panicked and scared gasps.

“Okay, take a deep breath. Are you alone? I’m gonna need you to start chest compressions if he isn’t breathing. Is that-”

“I’m with my friend, we both found him- they're starting CPR. When we- he just stopped breathing. Send EMS.” He said into the phone, no longer watching the boy. His eyes are focused on my harsh movements. My knuckles are white, one hand over the other, my upper body rocking all of its force into my palms. My breath fades in and out of my hearing as I try to find a pace. A rhythm to push for; I can hear the voice of the operator and Stiles trying to exchange information through the haze of panic, and I’m left there. Muffled voices, pushing in and letting up over and over, finding a messy rhythm. I can’t find the pace. This boy’s gonna die because I can’t do this right.

My thoughts catch up. My breathing catches up, still huffed with every push, but focused. Stiles dropped the phone back onto the ground and shifted to sit closer to my side. They were still talking, but his putting it down was a sign that help was en route. My hand hurt, and my shoulders were sore. It must’ve been a few minutes I was doing it already. My hair dangled haphazardly in my face, and my fingers were so cold they were almost numb, my wrists aching, and my jaw clenched uncomfortably as I drove my weight into the boy’s chest cavity. Stiles was talking. Hand on my back to get my attention and shakily speaking. 

“Hey, let me take over.”

I continued, even as my elbows ached and faltered, pace stuttering. Stiles spoke more firmly.

“They’re on their way. You’ve gotta let me take over. You can’t-“

Desperate and breathless gasps broke loose, and I bared my teeth at the force I tried to maintain, and I kept going, shaking my head.

When the paramedics showed up, they pulled me to the side and descended upon the boy with all kinds of tools and apparatus. I sat a few feet away, attempting to lean back exhaustively on my arms, but they gave out from the stress I’d put on them. My back hit the forest floor, and I began taking in the cold air, closing my eyes as the sounds around me began to get louder. When an EMT sat me up and asked me questions, my vision was fluctuating between blurry and hyper-focused on the denim of his jeans or the embroidered patch over his heart. I said nothing but leaned forward and picked a small cluster of leaves and pine off of his pant leg. 

They started to stand me up, Stiles sweeping me up and carrying me. I pull away as I see the blood soaking from my skin into his shirt but he holds me tighter. He’s cold, his flannel loaded up with the body of the boy in shreds. The CPR instructor’s voice, the way he looked down at his fingers when he spoke vulnerably, spoke softly in my memory.

“I’ve had 15 codes…and I’ve only saved three.”

The way it silenced the class, even briefly, as he would resume the jokes soon. “After every CPR, whether I save them or not, I usually have to separate from my partner and have a breakdown.” He says it kind of lightly, but he means it. “Every EMT I know, years of service, we all go to counseling.”

I knew the boy was dead. It wasn’t a matter of ‘how I knew’. It was more so what I would do now. What now?

Stiles sat me at the edge of the back of the ambulance and flattened my hair away from my face with both hands. He spoke to me, asking the same questions the EMT had, but it didn’t make me more susceptible to answer. I just shook my head and wrapped my frigid fingers around his wrists, closing my eyes and focusing on the fact that I could feel his pulse. It hurt to breathe, and it hurt to squeeze my frozen fingers over his. His breathing was shaky and direct. He kept saying my name, but it wasn’t to get my attention. It sounded like he was reminding himself of something. 

It wasn’t until Sheriff Stilinski and Stiles stood me up and sat me in the Sheriff’s cruiser that I started to take deep breaths. With the warmth of the heater and the smell of dust, as it worked overtime to heat the car, I could feel myself defrosting. The discomfort of the cold returned, though, as the Sheriff opened it and leaned in to hold my head. He told me I was okay, and Stiles sat behind me as we pulled off of the shoulder, his hand on my back.

[maybe-your-left]

Broken Pieces - Weeks

nothing like a calming bathtub.

Ren is not CPR certified.

Here is the masterlist for Broken Pieces, which is part two of the Unsalvageable Collection, please be sure to read Window Panes first. Here is the link to my Mega Masterlist, and my Random Ren Masterlist for more.

TW/CW: NSFW, degrading, not sexy talk degrading, explicit references to previous assault, flashbacks, triggering talk of child abuse (there is none, not once will there be in this fic), betrayal, infidelity, Dateline w Lester Holt, mentions of previous pregnancy, miscarriage mentioned from Window Panes, childbirth, breastfeeding, very apparent Stockholm syndrome still in place, therapy talk, Planned Parenthood, very talkative conscience, the narrator is losing her mind, Tom is Draco from Harry Potter, you’re welcome.

“Fuck, that feels good.” 

You rolled your eyes, shifting slightly on your side to get a better angle with your wrist. Smushed into a pillow and Ren’s bare back, scratching thick lines with your nails over the naked skin while he moaned into the dim evening. 

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, pressing his forehead into his pillow dramatically, “You’re so good at this, I missed it so much.” 

You scoffed, “I’m just itching you like you asked, nothing special…” 

Ren’s head turned to peer over his shoulder, hair flopping around wet from his shower, “It’s just been a while since I’ve had someone do this for me.” 

“I used to do it,” you stumbled over the rest of that thought because you used to do it before. When you were a prisoner/lover in his dungeon of a home, and then he was sent away to prison with no one to cuddle with… 

“What was it like?” you blurted out, pausing your scratches. 

Ren’s back tensed up, muscles clenching with irritation. You hadn't spoken about his time in prison, how he had only tried calling you once. That he sent you random letters with trinkets he thought you’d like, or how the last words he said to you before going in was, ‘I’m going to kill you!’. 

“What do you mean, love?” his tone was sharp, leaning off the bed to sit on the edge. Still facing away from you but now illuminated by the bedroom lampshade. Showcasing the red puffy scratch lines from your fingernails, along with some other deeper cuts you must’ve missed the last time you’d checked. 

Ren was always scarred under all his clothes, even when you were younger. But you’d never asked, he wouldn’t tell you anyway. However, some of these were fresher, still scarring and pink like they hadn’t had time to heal enough. 

You rolled on your back, looking down at your twisting hands while you thought about what to say next. Your curiosity peaked, desperate to know if he missed you, and desperate to know if he watched you or sent people to monitor you. 

It made sense really, the strange notes and gifts delivered around the time of your pregnancy. The phone call at your baby shower, how he knew Tom’s name without mentioning it to him. You had to know, the lizard brain squealing for validation from all the years you felt alone and guilty for missing him. 

Ren cracked his neck, the popping sound making you flinch from your spot. Tugging your blanket under your chin, he turned a little towards you. Showcasing a deep scar that you’d never noticed before across his abdomen and up towards his pec. You traced it with your gaze, feeling every raw slice of the skin on your own, feeling the painful toll that must’ve caused it, the complete agony- 

“What was prison like, Ren?” 

He popped his lips a few times, bringing a hand to lay on your blanketed chest. Just a slight amount of pressure on the bandages, “Why do you want to know?” 

You paused, trying to take a few calming breaths under his glare. 

“I just thought I’d ask,” you shrugged it off, “You kept me locked away for so long, I just wanted to know how you liked it.” 

Ren’s hand was around your throat faster than you could blink, squeezing the light from your vision in a violent transition. 

Another hand made its way to your scalp, ripping into your hair while your hands scrambled to latch to his wrist. Snarling above you, “You know nothing of what I went through, stupid girl.” 

Your head lolled to the side, silently screaming for him to let up. Lips popping while he squeezed enough for your ears to burst, “Plea-a-s-e…” 

“I spent every day fighting,” spit flew from his bared teeth, caving in on your blackened vision. Spots filtering in and out, you were surely going to die for this. He wasn’t letting up, voice warbling through your jelly ears, “To think of any way to get out, to get home to you. Fighting to stay alive and in one piece. You think I’m scary? That I’m violent and punishing? I met men who ate people like you for breakfast. Do you fucking get that? I needed to get out.” 

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks, gasping as your vision went out. Moments before you would pass out, you heard his voice turn gentle again. 

“I needed to get out to see you.” 

—----- 

“Ren,” you spoke from the kitchen, not looking up as you chopped away at carrots. Next would be celery, maybe some salami for a nice pasta salad for lunch. Luke loves eating it back at home… you thought it would be nice to have something to remember it by. 

“What?” Ren's voice echoed from the living room, glued to the couch watching TV. Beer in hand while he sat and stared, the news was talking about local weather or something else. 

Too domestic for your taste. 

You sighed loudly, whispering to yourself, ‘asshole’, making a show of how annoyed you were with his attitude. Since getting across the border, you’d refused all of his advances. Even when he pinned you to the mattress, choked at his hands, and delirious from the blood rushing to your ears. 

Pushing him off you when he leaned over the couch to caress your scalp, play with your hair. Kiss your face in long languid strokes while you try to perform menial tasks. Anything really, you knew you were pushing your luck. 

Sooner or later he’d snap and force you to go down on him or something else truly bone-breaking. 

You cleared your throat again, chopping away another carrot, “We need to talk about Luke.” 

“He’s fine,” he clipped back at you. The TV volume rises over the sound of your thoughts. You rolled your eyes, fucking child. 

“He needs to go back to school, Ren.” 

Silence. 

You scraped the food off the cutting board, mixing it together in a large blue plastic bowl. Pleased to have some comforts of home, Ren let you have an allowance at a local target. 

Spending all the money you could on laundry detergent, toys for Luke, and cleaning supplies. Anything to make you feel at home, while you blend further and further in with society. The thoughts of freedom you harbored wasting away every day. 

Luke zoomed past your island, running around with a toy spaceship you found on clearance. The boy was so bored, nothing to stimulate him since Ren had confiscated all the electronic devices from your grasping hands. All part of the dance, you wouldn’t give him what he wanted so he took something that you wanted. 

Genius really, Ren was acting like a toddler in front of his own. 

You scooped in some cheese slices, satisfied with the amount before turning back to the biggest man baby, determined to win this round. You wiped your hands on your apron, another great find, checking your face in the hall mirror. Brushing away some flyaways from your ponytail, perfect. You looked like a housewife, which is what Ren craved from you, and now you would exploit it. 

Stepping over the massacre of toys on the floor, you rounded the couch in calm steps. Being sure to sway your hips seductively, Ren’s eyes flashed towards you for only a moment before turning back to the television. Taking another swig from his bottle before letting it hang loose in his grip. 

He cleared his throat, “What do you want?” 

You shrugged, playing cool, “Nothing, I just wanted to come say hi.” 

Ren squinted at you, “No, you didn’t.” 

You shook your head, leaning over to plant your hand on his kneecap, nudging it open slightly for you to shimmy between. Cutting off his view of the screen, but that was okay. You needed his full attention on you, “What else would I be doing? Can I not come say hi to my,” you took a deep breath, “husband?” 

“Mm,” he looked away from you, “So, I’m your husband now? I thought I was an asshole.” 

You grit your teeth, of course, he heard you. Retrying your approach, you climbed into his lap, which he let you. Glad to accept any affection you assumed, you watched Luke run past again. Not batting an eye at the scene of you climbing on his daddy. You wrapped your arm around the back of his neck, slinging your body to the side. 

Being sure to push your chest in his face, just to be sure it would work. 

Ren rolled his eyes at the display, taking another drink before smacking his lips, “Why are you on top of me? You’ve been pushing me away for days now.” 

“I just wanted to come talk to you, is that so wrong?” 

He snorted, “Alright. What do you want to talk about, love?” 

You keened at the sound of your nickname, he had been sparse with it since shoving him off recently. This was good, you brought your free hand to his face. Dragging a finger across his temple and down to his jawline, careful to touch where they connected. Yours had fibrous scar tissue there from years ago, but he was smooth. A little bit of stubble there, but littered with moles across his cheeks. You brought your lips close, stealing yourself for what the repercussions might be. 

“I wanted to talk about you and me.” 

“Hm.” 

You pressed your lips on his cheek, kissing a few times as soft as you could. Watching Ren take in an unsteady breath before leaning into you. Pressing a few more on his prominent freckles, you made your way towards his ear. “And about what we made together.” 

He hummed again, “What did we make together?” 

You rocked your hips forward, putting pressure between your legs from his heavy belt buckle. You whimpered at the feeling before getting back to your task, voice low and husky, “A baby.” 

Ren's eyebrows shot up, smirking a little as he turned his face into your neck. Mumbling against the steaming skin while you moved in slow circles on top of him, “We did make a baby.” Ren kissed your neck, “Would you like to make another one?” 

You shook your head, “Nooo, I wanna talk about the baby we already have.” 

He pulled away at that, huffing an irritated breath through his nose, “What about him, then?” 

With a deep breath, you gently grabbed onto his shoulders for support. You pouted your lips forward to try and capture his in a kiss. “I want to get him enrolled in school.” 

Ren froze. 

Dropping his head back against the edge of the couch, he stared at the ceiling. Working his jaw side to side while you waited. It’s been nearly a month since Luke was taken out of school in the states and you were terrified of him falling behind, he was six. He couldn’t be kept in a cave, Ren couldn’t do that to his miracle child.

Could he? 

You leaned in closer, pressing your chest to his in a desperate attempt to get him to focus back on you. Kissing at the underside of his jaw a few times as it ground together painfully slow, Ren's hands snaked their way around your waist. Gripped tightly as you rocked forward. 

“Please?” you whispered as seductively as you could, “Please,” your breath caught as you chose your words carefully, “Please, daddy, can we please put him in school?” 

Ren grunted, shifting lower on your couch so you were forced to completely straddle his lap. Pressing your front into his even harder than you intended, backtracking a little. 

Too much for what you wanted to do, too much in front of Luke. 

You lifted your head to spy on him, but not seeing him anywhere in the living room made your blood pressure spike. 

Where did he go? 

Eyes darting around the living room while Ren laved at your neck, using his plush lips to create more bruises around the beltline of marks that marred you. Moaning a little between each smack, you reeled as you looked around. Getting ready to call out for him, when Ren startled you. 

“Why does he need school, baby? Can’t you teach him like the good little thing you are?” 

You whimpered as he bounced you in his lap, pressing hard on the belt buckle between you both. Catching your clothed core just right to have you yelp, “Ren-stop.” 

He growled, “I don’t think so, you seem to be enjoying it. Aren’t you?” 

You took a wet breath, leaning in as he ground you on your clit. Sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body, “I don’t-No-stop please Ren.”��

He frowned, “What happened to daddy? Huh? Don’t want our baby hearing you call his daddy the same name?” 

“No-I-oh…” 

A hot tongue made its way across your skin, curling up towards your earlobe in the process. You moaned out louder than you wanted to, flushing from embarrassment before letting out another. Ren rocked you hard in his lap, making steady waves over and over. 

You felt the telltale bulge grow in his jeans, pressing incessantly at your apex. You dug your nails into his shoulders, arching your back as he lapped at you. 

Pressing messy kisses all over your skin, a short suck between his teeth to catch a mark. You moaned long and loud, Ren echoed you with his own. 

“I think you’re trying to pick a fight with me, you’re so bored and pent up from pushing your daddy away that you’ll do anything for attention…” he husked in your ear. Another kiss, “What you really need is a good fucking, don’t you?” 

“I-“ 

“Say it,” he growled, hands traveling down to your ass. Grasping roughly through the fabric of your leggings, kneading the flesh in his palms. “You want to get fucked. Hard. And dirty, like the dirty girl you are, isn’t that right?” 

“Y-yes,” you stuttered, brain cloudy with pleasure as you forgot your original goal. Seeming so insignificant while he grinds on you, all you could think about was his large hands caressing you. Lips teasing you, hard body pressing you down onto the very exclamation point of his rock-hard- 

“Mommy! I want lunch!” 

Little feet stomped into the living room, running at full speed towards the haughty display of you riding your captor on the couch. You scrambled to get away, Ren was having none of it, clenching his teeth to sink into your pulse point without hesitation. 

You screamed as Luke’s eyes met yours over the couch. Color draining from his face as he saw you, in a confusing position. “Luke-baby,” you panted, trying to not burst into tears as Rens canines ripped into your skin and tugged hard. 

Grasping the base of Ren's skull and digging your nails in hard. 

You did what he would do to you in this situation, sending shockwaves of pain through his body as he let up on his bite. You shivered as his red lips kissed at the mark he made. 

Puckering indents of his teeth, shiny with spit all over your front as you unlaced yourself from his grasp. Careful to not look down and only focus on Luke, who backed away from you slightly. 

Lip trembling as you quickly made your way into the kitchen, gasping when you touched the tender skin. Paper towels were all you had, the medicine cabinet was locked from you. 

“Luke,” your voice croaked, “L-lunch is ready-y f-for you. Come w-wash your-r hands pl-please.” 

You caught a glimpse of Ren as Luke walked into the kitchen. 

Lips painted with your blood as he smirked at your trembling form, mouthing out something you couldn’t understand. 

No. 

He would not win this round, after almost biting your jugular, you were going to beat him. 

Luke came next to you with a bowl in his little hands, holding it up for you to scoop out some pasta salad for him. You took a calming breath before speaking, “Guess what, baby?” 

“What?” 

Your eyes flashed back up to Rens. 

“Daddy's gonna bring you to your new school tomorrow!” 

——— 

“Stop touching it or else it’ll start bleeding again.” 

You fidgeted with your turtleneck sweater, annoyed with how it scratched your skin, “That wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t fucking bite me yesterday.” 

Your eyes looked over at the other family a few steps away, briefly making eye contact with the mother who blushed. 

If only she knew. 

You rolled your eyes, grabbing at Luke’s collar to straighten for the millionth time. Rens hands on his shoulder to keep him from bouncing around from excitement. 

After your announcement yesterday afternoon Luke wouldn’t shut up. 

Screaming out thank you’s to Ren while explaining all the little things he used to do at school when at home. Jumping on his lap and squealing for all your neighbors to hear, and nearby dogs with how high-pitched it got. 

You were in serious trouble. 

Ren finally cracked and forced you to give him what he wanted, after you so rudely went against his word. 

Last night you did what you weren’t proud of, but oh how your body needed the release… 

Bent on all fours, crawling towards your master, duct tape across your mouth and tits. Another strip to cover your cunt, Ren wasn’t touching you where you needed it. 

He spent the whole night filling your ass, stuffing his rock-hard cock inside you over and over. Copious amounts of lube slicking the way for him to hammer hard enough to bruise. 

He didn’t stop until early in the morning, hole sore and red, barely able to pucker for him when he commanded you to. Just a hole for him to cum inside before he ripped all the tape off. Leaving you screaming on the bedroom floor all the rest of the morning. 

It had been so long since you’d slept on the floor, and your back was aching from it while standing in line at the registrar's office. 

Your little family stepped forward as the line moved, closer to the desk where the woman would take your… 

“Fuck,” you whispered, quickly grasping onto Ren's coat sleeve and yanking. “Ren-how is this supposed to work? We don’t have residency here… or even IDs?” 

He rolled his eyes, shaking your hand off. “Be quiet. This was your stupid plan, you should have to figure it out yourself.” 

You wrung your hands on the straps of your purse, wallet inside empty after Ren took everything from you. How would you prove who you were? The fake passports were back in the car, but that wouldn’t be enough to establish residence, you didn’t even know your address! 

“Next please.” 

You stepped up to the desk, nerves catching up to you as the woman eyed your outfit. Completely covered in black knit and large sunglasses over your still semi-bruised eyes. It looked like you hadn’t slept in weeks, which would be an understatement. 

Luke bounced in Ren's hold, unbelievably excited about the school's prospects. He was desperate for human interaction, steady friends once again, and maybe some stimulation that could keep him calm at home. You were still worried Ren would turn on him, so far so good though! 

“Ahem,” the woman cleared her throat, “I have other people needing to be registered… if you could please hurry?” 

“Of course,” you scrambled, pushing up your glasses. You cringed when her eyes went wide at the sight, smiling a little to assuage her worry. “We want to register our son, Luke, in 1st grade?” 

“Can I see proof of residence, ID, and birth certificate?” 

You swallowed, “Sure.” 

Sneaking a glance at Ren, who was smirking while he held onto Luke. You reached into your purse, purposefully being slow before wetting your lips. “Uhm, what counts as residence? We just m-moved here?” 

She sighed, “Bills, any mail you have with your name and address on it? Is everything alright ma'am?” 

“Y-yeah.” 

You dug in your purse, grabbing at receipts and other items. Looking at your wallet, empty. You cleared your throat, “Um-honey?” 

“Mm?” he cocked a brow, hiding a grin from your struggle. 

“Did you bring our stuff?” 

Ren thought for a moment, sucking his teeth. “I’m not sure… this was so sudden I don’t think we have anything to prepare.” 

“Ren,” you begged, flashing a smile again to the woman who was growing more irritated by the minute. “Can you check?” 

Ren let go of Luke, dramatically reaching in his coat pockets. He raised his eyebrows, “Oh! Well, you’re in luck, my love.” 

Low and behold, he produced every document. Setting down a bill for the water, which you didn’t know had been charged yet. IDs, even a birth certificate, Luke’s real certificate with his name on it. 

You slyly added Ren's name to the original years ago, in a depressive episode where you missed him terribly. 

Short-lived, of course. 

Luke was invited on a tour of the classroom, which you happily agreed to once your nerves settled. The cage for your son was opening up more and more each day. That’s all you wanted, and soon enough the door would be open enough for both of you to be free. 

You just had to wait. 

——— 

It had been four weeks since you’d arrived in Canada. 

Four fucking weeks of domestic bliss one would say, no fighting or shouting. No intense beatings that couldn’t be covered by your concealer. Just a firm backhand or bite to keep you in check. 

It was strange, quiet. 

Too quiet. 

Your body had an ache, a hollow need for him to punish you. For something, anything really. A sick twist of your gut every time you did something wrong, or spoke back at him, or even spilled food down the front of his shirt. 

He would just breathe a heavy sigh and walk away from you. 

“Come, love,” Ren's hands reached for you from across the table. You'd been sitting there for twenty minutes, staring at the wood grain while everything else moved around you. “Lukes in bed, why don’t we take a bath, huh?” 

“Okay,” you whispered. 

Your feet felt like thousand-pound weights as you followed Ren to the bedroom. Through the bathroom door and standing still in the center. Like before, he undressed you, filling the tub full of steamy warm water. Swirling it while you blinked, was this it? 

Your life? 

“Why haven’t you done anything to me?” 

You blurted out, catatonic as you sat in the tub. Perched on Ren's lap while he rubbed your back, humming in soft tones while he massaged your tense muscles. He froze, brow furrowed in confusion. 

“What do you mean?” 

He looked dumbfounded, while you stared at him with wide eyes. Just as confused by the beating of your heart, roaring over your eardrums. This calm, docile man wasn’t the one you knew. Expecting him to be colder, more brutal, worse than before. But he was soft, smooth, gentle with you, and it was infuriating. 

“I don’t understand you, Kylo.” 

A breath. 

“For years, you tormented me. Kept me locked away for your own selfish gain, kept me as a pet for you to play with day in and day out. Marked me with thousands of scars that I can never recover from, and for what?” 

He stayed quiet, hands unmoving from your back. 

“For you to play nice all of the sudden? Act as if nothing happened? Like you didn’t murder nine fucking people to just keep us afloat? Kylo-I don’t know you anymore…” 

Tears welled in your eyes, trembling as the water cooled around you. And he stayed still. How? 

How? 

“Fuck!” 

You launched at him, wrapping your feeble hands around his throat like he used to do to you when he loved you enough to care. Yes, that's what your brain was telling you, he didn’t care anymore. Everything he said was a fucking lie, a lie like he always did, that was it. 

Digging your nails in hard, Ren barely moved as you thrashed on top of him. Hips straddling the outside of his slippery thighs, you squeezed as hard as you could, bringing his reddening face close to yours and barred your teeth, just like he did before. 

“Fight me, dammit! Anything is better than this limp dicked man you are now,” you spat at him, saliva flying on his cheeks as you readjusted your grip, “What the fuck happened to you?” 

“Let go of me.” Ren hissed at you, hands stopping their caressing movements on your back to cling to your spine. He thrashed his head to the left, throwing your weak hands off his throat as he took deep breaths. 

You pushed hard on his shoulders, slamming him against the wall of the bathroom. Tile echoing as they smacked, “Come on-fucking pussy.” 

“Oh?” 

Ren cocked a brow, mirroring your own as you kept steady pressure on his shoulders. 

“You want me to fight back at your lazy attempts to rile me? Treat you like the garbage you came from? Huh? Keep doing it, you aren’t going to like what happens.” 

“Oh-shut up! Your threats are empty, you haven’t done anything since we came here, and I think it’s because you’re scared. Scared that I’ll leave with Luke, you’re terrified of being alone.” 

“Am I?” 

You thought for a moment, confusion lacing your bravery with something else. Fear maybe, slinking up your spine and wrapping around your throat in a tight squeeze, what was he saying… 

“I was alone for six years, love.” 

Silence. 

“I think you’re the one terrified of being alone.” 

Ren's hands moved up your spine, one hand resting at the base of your skull, but you paid it no mind. Focusing your angry stare at his cold eyes, searching for any feeling whatsoever. He told you that you were his universe, and where was the passion? Where did it all go? 

“You think I’ve forgotten,” his voice dropped low, leaning in, “How delicious you taste when you’re so broken. How much fun it was to break you in half every morning, just to put you back together again in my image.” 

“No-that's not…” 

“Hush now, I’m talking-you’re not talking.” 

Your mouth closed involuntarily. Whimpering as his fingertips dug into the muscle, “Okay.” 

“You don’t feel loved? Hm? Feel like I’m going soft with you, because I haven’t put you in your place, huh baby?” 

Ren nodded condescendingly towards you, eyes wide and shimmering with glee, you tried to thrash away from him. But his hold only grew worse, you felt the phantom pain of his teeth sinking into your throat from earlier in the weeks. Not wanting to feel it again, you took a deep breath and let it release out of your nose, Ren mirrored you. 

“We can’t have that, can we?” 

You shook your head, a pitiful no echoing through the walls of the bathroom. Bouncing back to ring around in your molten skull, fuck. The way he spoke to you stoked the fire in your heart, desperate to claw at him in the throes of passion like before… 

He pulled you closer, angling your face to stare directly into his eyes. He licked his lips slowly, your body seizing up with the inevitable blow to your psyche. 

Ren's voice was small, “Do you want me to remind you, my love? How fragile you really are, and how much power I have? You seem to have forgotten… Maybe you’ve forgotten all of my other lessons. Do you know who controls if you live or die?” 

“N-no… I-I know,” you whimpered. 

He clucked his tongue, rolling your answer around for a few moments, “Do you though?” His grip tightened around the back of your neck, squeezing tight until your vision went foggy. You moved to throw him off but his fingertips pushed too hard on your jugular until it felt like you were a flounder gasping for water out of the surf. 

“How well can you hold your breath, my love?” He smiled, and your heart sank, realizing where you were positioned. The cooling water around you a prison, “Wait-no-Kylo…” 

“Let us find out.” 

Ren flipped you backward, the back of your head slamming on the porcelain in a deafening crack through your water-logged ears. Your hands scrambled back to try and release yourself, legs pinned between the walls and his strong thighs. His other hand coming up to circle the front of your throat as he tightened his coil, you gasped. 

Water burning as it entered your lungs, you tried so hard to stop the involuntary reflex, the waves crashing down as your brain went cloudy. 

This is it. 

—-----

Your chest ached. 

Throat burned. 

Back broken. 

Your eyes burned as you woke up, staring directly at Ren's bored face, hair slicked back from his face while he grasped your cheeks. Feeling coming back from the stinging of your fingertips and toes, all the way to your scratching eyelids. Gasps of air shot lightning bolts of pain emanating from the center of your chest, you were sure you were lifting your hand. Looking down with wide eyes to see your blood-tinged fingers to touch… 

Touch… 

Your-you… 

“K-ky-kylo?” 

You rasped another breath, pain shooting once again while you tried to blink away the spring of tears that clouded the view of his face. Eyes dancing around you, he smacked your cheek a few times, going from barely feeling it to searing pain. You wailed, screams echoing around the cavern that once housed your lungs. 

“You'd make a poor mermaid.” 

Ren chuckled above you, brushing his hair that fell on his face before leaning over your body. You felt his breath, hot on your cooling skin. “Tell me-if you can-do you want to be alive? Do you want me to help you, or do you want to waste away here? Leave me with Luke, mold him into whatever I see fit.” 

You tried to shake your head, muscles aching as you brought in more and more life-giving air. It burned as it settled in the remnants of your lungs, “Pl-please…” 

“P-p-please?” he snorted, “Please what? Please let me live? Use me how you see fit? Hm? Do you want me to use your broken and beaten form? I had to break your fucking ribs to save you, can you feel it?” 

You nodded. 

“I saved your fucking life, and you have no chance of staying that way without me. Do you fucking get that? Do you remember? I control if you live or die, bitch.”

He heaved you off the floor, blood rushing from your ears down to your feet. You could feel how much you lost in the fight, when he caved in your chest with life-saving compressions. Your lips tinged from him biting in when giving you life-giving breaths, he was so generous. He could've let you die, and taken Luke all for his amusement. 

You owed him your life. 

Your brain tried to process the information while he brought you to the shower stall and hosed you down like livestock. You caved in on yourself like a dying star when he let go of your forearm, spinning you until your cavern was flush with the cold tile wall. You moaned at the feeling, yes, feeling… 

Ren hauled you off to the bedroom, pushing you down on your back while your chest rattled with broken bones and open sores from his rough thrusts. You moaned again when he laid ice packs on the burning skin, ripping open gauze and other bandages with his teeth. You blinked at the ceiling, counting the sheep jumping over the fence that danced in your head. Falling sleepier the more he moved you, everything felt like it was in slow motion. 

Your head as it raised to brush through his damp hair, he purred into your touch. Kissing your open palm with soft kisses. Your entire torso stuffed with gauze and sealed with Coban tape, Ren rolled you onto your side. Stuffing a pillow under your tender head and one in front of your chest. Pushing you gently forward, the pressure a pleasant lull from the pain of each breath. 

“Stay still little one,” he whispered, but you didn’t pay any attention. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, curling around the pillow while he propped your upper leg at an angle. 

Ren slipped inside you with a smooth thrust. 

Grunting in pleasure when he met your wetness, your body finally getting what it craved. The strict life-giving pain of being with him once more, you wanted it so bad. Whimpering out soft kitten yips as he picked up the pace. 

Ren held you carefully, kissing your shoulder and up the curve of your neck. Lingering on the faded scar there before he huffed in your ear. 

“Do you really think you're better off alone? When you could die so easily? No. You’re much better here, with me.”

______

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