#warning: self harm

[moonlight-breeze-44]

Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt Fill - "Disowned by Family"

Shelter From the Storm

When Gregorio comes out to her mother, the fallout leaves her falling back into old habits. Pride, however, is determined to remind her that she isn't alone in her struggles and that there are people that care about and love her just as she is right there in New Orleans. Sometimes, family doesn't have to be blood. Sometimes family can be found.

Pairings: None main; background PerSalle

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Self-harm, self-worth/esteem issues, general mental health issues, homophobia, disownment, blood/injury

Read on AO3

Gregorio knew it was only a matter of time before she had to make the phone call, but it didn’t mean getting the courage to dial her mother’s number and press call was any easier.

Now, alone in her apartment, she wished her heart would stop pounding into the beginnings of a panic attack and let her fucking breathe. Her hands were so clammy with sweat that she half-expected the phone to slip and fall to the ground. She wondered if maybe it would be better if it did. It would mean she didn’t have to face this.

Gregorio loved her mom, but that was half of the problem. Her mother could be old-fashioned, and Gregorio had been raised in the countryside of New York with two dogs, an old cat, and no father to speak of. In some ways, Gregorio was a lot more like LaSalle than she wanted to admit.

As she waited for Emily Gregorio to pick up her phone, Tammy paced; she was her mother’s only child, and if what she said today devastated her like she feared it would, she doubted there would be another chance for them. This stupid fucking phone call was going to define their entire relationship, and the fear was enough to make Tammy grab the chair in front of her for support, nails scrabbling for purchase along the worn fiber.

No turning back now.

“Tammy?” Her mother’s voice, pragmatic as always, filled Gregorio’s ears and she flinched. Maybe she wasn’t as ready for this as she thought. “What’s wrong?”

It was a response that most other people would consider harsh or brusque, but in reality, Emily was just being realistic; Tammy almost never called unless she was backed into a corner and needed something. Her mother never called unless someone had died. It was a routine that Tammy couldn’t bring herself to feel bad for, considering her mother’s part in it and the lack of warmth between them. But their lack of contact made what Tammy had to say even harder to reveal.

“Mom, I have something to tell you,” Tammy breathed, trying to keep her voice as steady and strong as she could while the panic rattled in her ribcage. She could do this. She had to.

“Oh my god, are you pregnant?” Emily exclaimed, and Tammy heard the blatant delight in her voice at the thought. She shook her head, even though she knew her mother couldn’t see her. This was going to make it even harder to burst her bubble. When the silence stretched on a beat too long, she rolled her shoulders, shaking them out, trying to calm her nerves.

“Uh, no, Mom, I’m not pregnant,” Tammy replied, heaving a deep breath. “I, uh…I-I’m…”

“You’re what, Tammy? Spit it out.”

“I’m gay,” Tammy burst out, chest heaving with having the pressure of her secret released. She felt herself begin to tremble and leaned more of her weight onto the old chair in front of her. “I’m, uh, I’m a lesbian, Mom. I like women.”

The silence that followed her revelation felt like claws around Gregorio’s neck, choking and scratching into her windpipe. She waited with bated breath. Everything hinged on her mother’s reaction. Tammy’s hands were shaking with fear. Even if they weren’t close, she still loved her mother. She still wanted her to be a part of her life.

“Tammy, I…I’m not sure what to say.”

“Anything,” Gregorio begged, hating how desperate she sounded, but she couldn’t wait any longer. “Just say something, please.”

“Well, you know this isn’t what I wanted for you,” Emily stated, and Tammy knew it was true. Memories of her bisexual phase in high school rushed to the forefront of her mind, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe past the mental images of her mother’s disdain when she was fifteen and dating Zara Matthews. The coldness in her mother’s voice, then and now, felt like Tammy had swallowed a burning hot coal that was beginning to scorch her insides.

“How will you have children, Tammy?” Emily continued, obviously distraught. Tammy’s fingers tightened on the phone, and she tried to take a deep breath; get herself under control.

“I can adopt,” she replied calmly, “Or find a surrogate. Or…” She paused, hesitating. She was already six feet deep and buried with her mother, it seemed; why not put the nail in her own coffin? “...or maybe I won’t have kids.”

“Tammy,” her mother said reproachfully, “You have to have kids!”

“Says who?” Tammy retorted, her hands trembling where they still held the back of the living room chair for dear life. “I mean, look at me. I’m okay, aren’t I? I’m happy. I, I don’t have to have kids. Besides, I’m an NCIS agent. Who would want a mom who does what I do?”

“A child that understands the meaning of sacrifice,” Emily snapped. “Which you clearly don’t.”

“Mom, I…”

“No, Tammy, just don’t.” Gregorio fell silent, biting her lip hard to avoid letting out the tears that had gathered in her eyes sometime during the phone call. Her mother loved her, she was sure. But Tammy could never be who she wanted, either. And if she had learned one thing from her time in New Orleans with Ethan, before NCIS, it was that sometimes love wasn’t enough.

“Look, dear, I’m not going to say that this is the end of things.” Gregorio’s breath hitched, and she had to fight to keep her emotions in check. She knew that tone well enough to know what her mother was really saying, and it was the end of things. God, she knew her mother wouldn’t approve, but to know it and to have it confirmed were two very different feelings.

“But you should know how I feel about this,” Emily continued, ignorant to her daughter’s pain. “I don’t think it’s right. I don’t think it’s natural. I always thought you grew out of that phase you had in high school, especially after you married Ethan. Which, I know that didn’t work out, but one bad apple doesn’t mean the whole barrel is bad. I-I don’t know what you want from me here, Tammy. You are my daughter, and I love you. But I will not support this lifestyle. When you’re ready, you can come back home. We can work this out. But until then, don’t - don’t call. Don’t visit. Please. Spare us both. I’m sure you won’t feel this way forever, Tammy. When you change your mind, I’ll be here. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Mom - ”

“Tammy, please. Don’t make this any harder than it already is. Just-Just sort yourself out, okay? I’ll be here when you need me. I love you.” With that, the call dropped, and Gregorio sank to her knees behind the worn out chair, breathing hard and fast, on the verge of a fucking panic attack from the call. Emily was gone. She recognized the situation for what it was; her mother had given her an ultimatum. Become straight, or say goodbye to her and their home back in New York forever.

It wasn’t a choice at all.

With the sound of the dial tone in her ear, her mother’s final words before she hung up way too loud in her head, Tammy allowed herself to cry, the weight of the emotions she had struggled to hold back before escaping in full. She sobbed into her knees, her shoulders shaking. She couldn’t be something she wasn’t. She couldn’t change, even though there had been more than enough times that she wanted to. She couldn’t give her mother what she had asked for.

In all the ways that mattered, it was over.

She and her mother had never been close. The truth was that Tammy expected the call to end like this, but it was still more of a blow than she had ever expected to know that the woman who raised her would never accept her for who she was. Tammy felt lost, and cut open, like someone had twisted a knife in her and then left her to die on a street corner. She didn’t know what her next steps were, if there even were any, and more than anything, she felt vulnerable.

It was a feeling she wasn’t used to, between her secrecy about her private life and the walls she built around her heart, but it made her want to hide and protect her six from whatever was going to hurt her. But there was nothing to shield herself from, no imminent threat or dangerous gunman; just her own damage and that goddamn dial tone still humming in her ear, a reminder that she would never be able to call home again.

The thought of home sent a fresh wave of tears cascading down her cheeks, and Tammy finally ripped the cellphone from her ear, throwing it across hardwood until it crashed into the side of her refrigerator. She would regret that later, she was sure, but for now she didn’t care. She couldn’t. The only piece of herself that seemed to matter was in New York, probably opening a bottle of whiskey and no doubt planning to pray for her in church the next day.

Home was gone forever now, even if she hadn’t called it that in years. It was still the place where she was raised, and where she’d learned how to fight for herself in more ways than one. She loved the sprawling hills on their property, and the well where she had nearly drowned once as a child. She loved the fucking tire swing and the garden beds and the old barn where she used to go with the dogs when she needed to be alone. Their house and grounds were so beautiful that sometimes Gregorio hardly believed that she lived in New York growing up. All of it would become a memory now, and she would never be able to touch the wildflowers that grew along the fence line ever again. It shouldn’t have affected her so much, considering it had been years since she even wanted to go home, but the thought of losing it all forever was more than she could handle.

The tears, which hadn’t stopped or slowed in the slightest, were becoming overwhelming and almost nausea-inducing, so Gregorio took a deep breath, moving her hands roughly down her legs, then her calves, then her ankles, trying to ground herself and move away from the precipice of her breakdown. But instead of finding stability in her old brown Doc Martens, like she had hoped, her hand brushed a cold piece of metal, and it sent her heartbeat racing again.

She knew what it was, the feeling unmistakeable against her fingers. It was a sterling silver razor blade, years old at least, tucked into a fraying patch on her boots since November of 2018. She had played a dangerous game with it, allowing it so close; on one hand, it could become dislodged at work and she ran the risk of someone investigating her for psychological issues if they saw where it had been hiding. On the other hand, she could lose it in the field, and she would never have to worry about it, or remember the temptation, ever again.

Neither of those things had happened, apparently, and she knew from the feel of it against her fingers that, somehow, it hadn’t even been scuffed. It was the perfect deadly instrument, even after all these years. Gregorio’s hand trembled.

She hesitated for a second, but pulled the razor blade from the patch on her boot, turning it over and over in her palms like precious gold. A coil of longing hit her like a punch to the gut, and Gregorio tried to suck in a deep breath, wanted to put it back, wanted to throw it away and pretend it never existed, but she couldn’t bring herself to.

If this razor blade had somehow managed to survive three years working as a field agent for the FBI, and one as an NCIS agent, not to mention the countless parties and clubs she’d been to, it had to be a sign. Gregorio didn’t believe in fate, but maybe the gods that weren’t were trying to tell her something now.

It had been five years. It had been half of a lifetime. Part of Gregorio didn’t want to risk it, after fighting so hard to get clean in the first place, but the other, larger part of her that wanted for the quick pain of metal against her skin argued that because it had been so long, it wouldn’t matter now. A relapse wasn’t really a relapse if it only lasted a day, and if she got her act together right after. She could do this, and hide it, then throw it away the next day and no one would ever have to know.

“It’s not like last time,” Gregorio muttered to herself, trying to believe it. “I won’t let it get out of hand.”

She didn’t know if she could keep the promise to herself or not, but it didn’t matter. Her mother’s words were still burning like acid in her lungs, and she just wanted the pain to be replaced with something new, something better, until she was able to get ahold of herself. It was the best, most efficient option, and then she would stop. One cut, she told herself, and after that she would curl up in bed and watch Desperate Housewives or something. One cut, and she would be okay.

Tammy rolled up her sleeve, took a deep breath, and pressed the razor blade to her wrist.

The relief was immediate, almost as overwhelming and euphoric as a drug, and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks at the feeling. It didn’t take away her mother’s homophobia, or the way her abandonment made Tammy feel, but it replaced the worst of it with white-hot pain and the familiar sting of a fresh cut instead. Blood welled like storm clouds in the wound, and slid down her wrist until it began to drip onto her pants. Lazily, Tammy remembered she needed to do laundry and didn’t have another pair of work pants. Another, bigger part of her, however, couldn’t be bothered to care.

Instantly forgetting the one-cut promise, Tammy sliced her way through six pristine cuts before stopping to take a breath, her chest heaving with the relief of giving into the old addiction again. She didn’t remember much from three years ago, the last time she cut, but she could swear it had never felt this good before.

Looking down at her arm, a pageant of crimson lines sluggishly bleeding, Tammy felt the calm settle into her bones, numbness chasing away the pain. She exhaled hard, letting her head thump against the forgotten chair in front of her. She got what she needed. She should stop.

She didn’t.

It was close to midnight before she threw the razor blade down and stopped to admire her work. She wasn’t sure how much blood she would have to clean up, or how much she had lost, and she hadn’t eaten today either. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to just sit there after what she’d done, but her head was swimming, and she was so exhausted that even attempting to get up would have been too much for her. So, instead, Tammy rested her arms on the bloodstained slacks, and let her head loll against the back of the living chair. She had slept in worse places.

~ ~ ~

In the morning, Tammy’s alarm came blaring to life at 6am, startling her awake from where she was slumped over next to the chair. Her arms felt like they were glued to her pants, dried blood sticking to the fabric, and she could feel a telltale crustiness on the seat of her pants that meant, somehow, she had managed to sit in a puddle of blood. “God, make it stop,” she muttered, and struggled to get to her feet to turn off the fucking alarm. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this bad.

By the time she made it to the kitchen, where her phone was at, miraculously not dead but down to the last 5% of its battery, it was almost 6:30 and she was going to be late for work if she didn’t hustle.

Tammy made it to her bedroom with less difficulty, though she still felt lightheaded, and got to work peeling the blood-soaked slacks off and painfully removing her shirt, which had a few spots of blood on it from her careless cutting the night before. She searched through her closet as fast as she could for the most lightweight long-sleeved shirt she had, that was a dark enough color to mask the blood if her cuts opened up while she was at work. After that, she selected a pair of dark jeans, even though they were against the agency dress code, and headed to the bathroom to do what she could for her appearance.

To her dismay, her eyes were still a little bloodshot from last night, and her hair was a mess. She would need makeup to cover up the circles underneath her eyes, evidence of multiple nights of restless sleep in preparation for the phone call with her mother.

The thought of her mother made Tammy’s heart seize up, and she pressed on one of the new cuts, hissing at the sharp pain it brought. It was enough to snap her out of her head, at least, and she got to work applying makeup to cover up what she could of her turmoil. Finally, she was able to run a brush through her hair, grab her gun, badge, and car keys, and head out the door.

Just before walking into the Navy Yard, Tammy hesitated, and considered calling in sick. But as tempting as it was to go back to her apartment and stay in bed all day, that wasn’t a good idea; the NCIS team was like a big fucking family, and they were sure to stop by if they got word she wasn’t feeling well. Not only was her apartment a mess, but the pool of blood by the chair in the living room, as well as the razor blade that had caused all of this damage, was still out in the open for any prying eyes to see.

Still, Tammy knew it would be hard to keep what she had done from her teammates. She would have to be on her guard. They were perceptive, even if they weren’t trained profilers like her, and much worse, they knew her. It would take all of her skills at hiding and lying and pretending to fool them into believing she was fine.

The cuts pulled tight as the fabric of her shirt shifted, making each step and movement she made towards the office painful. She had learned how to hide the pain a long time ago, but a part of her wished she had bandaged the wounds before coming in today, instead of hiding the first-aid supplies in her bag in case of an emergency and hoping for the best. But Pride was already going to kill her for being late, and it would take another fifteen minutes at least to deal with the fallout of her habit. She didn’t want to come off any more suspicious than she already was.

Taking a deep breath, Gregorio etched a smile onto her face, and walked into the NCIS office like everything was fine, as always. Nothing is different today, she warned herself, trying to drill it into her brain. Nothing has changed.

“There ya are, Gregorio! Was startin’ to wonder if we was gonna have to send out a search party,” Chris greeted her with a smile, and Gregorio gave him one of her patented bitchfaces in return.

“I got caught in traffic,” she lied, and watched his face for any signs of disbelief as she made her way to her desk. She clocked the slight raise of his eyebrows, his posture lengthening, and reminded herself to adjust her tone when she was lying.

“Didn’t think there was hardly any traffic on Bourbon Street,” Chris commented, and Tammy turned to place her bag next to her desk and start up her computer. It was easier to lie to someone when she didn’t have to face them.

“There isn’t usually,” she replied, keeping her tone light and casual. “Guess today was my lucky day.”

“Guess so,” Chris responded, and Tammy turned around just in time to see him giving her one of his famous, milliwatt smiles. She grinned back, bumping his shoulder playfully on her way into the kitchen. One down, two to go.

By the time she caught up with Pride and Sonja, it was almost midday, and the hot, humid weather prompted a picnic invite from Pride to eat lunch at the bridge in town. Chris, Sonja, and the others all agreed, leaving Gregorio as the odd one out. She knew she couldn’t decline without offering an explanation, lest they become suspicious of her motives, but she couldn’t accept the invitation when she knew either Chris or Sonja would try to roll up her sleeves the second they arrived, either to tease her or out of care for her wellbeing. Refusing their help against potential heatstroke when it was summer in the middle of New Orleans was a one-way ticket to having her secret revealed.

“Tammy, you’re not going to lunch with us?” Percy pouted, her eyebrows drawn up in that Percy way, that said she was more concerned than disappointed, but was too proud to put voice to her feelings. “Come on, don’t you want to hang with the gang?”

“As much as I would love to ‘hang with the gang’,” Gregorio used air quotes and gave Sonja a playful smirk, “I have a prior obligation.”

“Oooh, someone’s got a hot date,” Chris said, walking into the kitchen with an ice chest for their drinks. “So who is it, Gregorio? Black-haired beauty? Feisty redhead? That’s my type.”

“Excuse you,” Percy retorted, raising her eyebrow in his direction.

“Pardon me,” Chris corrected, giving Sonja a fond smile, “That’s usually my type.”

“Better,” Sonja affirmed, before turning her attention to Gregorio once more. “But seriously, T, where you goin’ that you can’t come hang with us?”

“Well, Chris wasn’t exactly wrong,” Gregorio replied, lifting her coffee mug to her lips to take a sip so she could avoid having to look either of them in the eyes. “A certain mayor’s secretary asked me out the other day, and I can’t leave her hanging a second time.” Though it was a lie that they had a lunch date, it wasn’t a lie that she’d been asked out, so Gregorio didn’t feel as bad as she maybe should for using Amber as her scapegoat.

“With that one, you better not,” Chris replied, chuckling. “I’ve heard she’s got some high standards.”

“Of course she does,” Gregorio retorted without missing a beat. “She’s going on a date with me, isn’t she?”

Sonja and Chris both laughed at that, the latter ribbing her good-naturedly for a minute or two before they calmed down. She allowed her smirk to play on her lips, knowing she could pass it off as satisfaction at her joke instead of her lie. They weren’t suspicious of her anymore, not after she’d thrown them a bone. For now, she was safe.

~ ~ ~

Later that night, when the team was getting ready to wrap up and head home, Pride caught her eye, gesturing her into the kitchen. Tammy dropped her bag and took a deep breath, heading in to meet him. She could feel her heart skip a beat.

Of all of them, Pride was the most likely to figure out that something was wrong, even if he was the least likely to react with anything other than kind, calm patience. Still, the idea of her boss finding out her most guarded secret was more terrifying than she could fathom.

Without speaking or otherwise acknowledging Pride, Gregorio took a seat on the barstool across from him, crossed her arms, and waited. She could feel her heart pounding in her throat, but forced herself to be motionless and keep her expression blank, lest she give away the anxiety she was feeling.

“So, Gregorio,” Pride said, taking in her position and folding his arms across the top of the bar, “Want to tell me what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Gregorio replied defensively, before she could stop herself and try to temper her tone. “What makes you think something’s going on?”

Pride raised an eyebrow at her, unimpressed. “Well, for starters, you came in late today, said it was traffic when traffic is nonexistent on your street, you’re actin’ awful odd, and then you lied to Christopher and Sonja about who you were with for lunch today.”

Gregorio opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Pride held up his hand and continued, “I have it on good authority that the mayor’s secretary didn’t leave her office all day.” He softened, giving her a worried look, and said, “Just want to know you’re okay, and if anything’s goin’ on that we can help with.”

“It’s nothing,” Gregorio sighed, letting her shoulders slump in defeat. There was no use pretending she was fine if Pride already knew something was up. She didn’t have to tell him everything, but maybe if she told him about her mom, at least, he’d leave her alone.

“Just a little upset from a phone call with my mother yesterday,” Gregorio admitted, picking at her nails to avoid meeting Pride’s eyes. “I came out to her.”

Pride nodded, his eyes filling with support and kindness for her, and moved to wipe down the kitchen counter, in an effort to give her space to talk as much as she wanted to. Gregorio knew the tactic, was familiar with it from teasing the truth out of LaSalle when he was being particularly stubborn. Though she was loathe to admit it, she appreciated it. “How did she take it?”

“Not well,” Tammy sighed, pressing her nail into the pad of her thumb to resist the urge to burst into tears again. She had already done enough crying in the past 24 hours. “She basically gave me an ultimatum; stop being gay, or stop coming home. Permanently.”

“Oh, Tammy,” Pride breathed, sympathy pouring out of him and into her. “I’m so sorry.” He reached across the bar to lay a hand on her shoulder, and against her will, Tammy leaned into the touch.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, closing her eyes to avoid letting Pride see how glossy they had become. “W-We were never really close.”

“Still, that’s gotta hurt,” Pride said, withdrawing just enough to allow her time to fight back the tears and open her eyes once more. “Parents’ rejection is…one of the worst things that can happen to a child. No matter how old they are.”

“Yeah,” Tammy breathed, the weight of her own exhaustion hitting her as she slumped on the barstool. She couldn’t remember the last time she had let something damage her like this. Who knew her mother’s decision would have such an impact on her? She sighed and tugged lightly on one of her sleeves, until it was down far enough on her arm to cover her fingers. Pride caught the movement, but said nothing. “To make matters worse, she tried to frame it like she loved me, and she was going to be there for me.” Tammy laughed bitterly, emotion swelling up in her throat. “She’s so convinced I’m going to change, Pride.”

“Not the way it works,” Pride said fondly, giving her a warm smile. His hand, still on her shoulder, was like a grounding wire, keeping her settled, and she felt like she was being comforted by the father she never had.

“Yeah,” Tammy said, again, and her voice wobbled on the last syllable. Under Pride’s kind, supportive words and gentle ministrations, she could feel the dam in her chest threatening to explode, and she slid sideways off of the barstool, grabbing for her coat and heading towards the door. She had to get out of here, before she lost it completely. “Anyway, I should go - ”

“Wait,” Pride called, and moved to follow her, grabbing her wrist to stop her from leaving. Without thinking, still trying to calm the tidal wave of emotion in her chest, Gregorio hissed in pain.

“Tammy,” Pride said slowly, releasing her wrist with some reluctance, “There something wrong with your arm?”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Tammy replied, giving him a quick, panicked smile. “Just bruised it on the countertop when I was getting ready for work this morning.”

“That so?” Pride asked, and he sounded suspicious enough to make Tammy’s heart skip a beat in fear. She curled her fingers around her sleeves protectively. “Mind if I take a look at it?”

“Don’t bother,” Gregorio replied, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “I told you, Pride, it’s nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Pride replied, and he reached for her wrist again. Determined not to give anything away, Tammy kept her face purposefully blank, allowing him to hold her arm in his hand even as his fingers pressing against the cuts felt like a sharp knife against her skin. “Thing is, Tammy…” Pride moved to grasp her sleeve, and Gregorio’s entire body tensed, waiting for his next move. This was not happening.

“You haven’t worn long sleeves this dark, especially during summer, all year,” he continued, “and that first time we talked, up on the balcony in your hotel when you first came here – you wore a tank top, and I don’t think you thought about it then, but I noticed something the others didn’t get the chance to see.” He lifted his gaze to meet Gregorio’s eyes, and she knew, without having to ask what he meant, that she was done for.

Pride knows.

“I’ve seen the scars on your wrists, Tammy,” Pride said softly, “And I’ve never mentioned it, because it’s not my business and I don’t want you to think I’m judging you for it. But if your arm is hurt…after all you’ve been through in the past few days, you understand why I need to check, right?”

Tammy nodded tightly, trying not to cry, as Pride moved to roll up her sleeve. At the last second, just before he could grab the cuff of her shirt, she blurted out: “And what do you think you’ll find, if you check?”

“I think you and I both know the answer to that,” Pride responded, his voice as kind and understanding as ever. Tammy choked on a sob, losing the battle against her emotions, and pulled away from him, running her hands through her hair so hard that she was sure she’d left red, inflamed scratches on her scalp. She heaved a deep breath and choked on it, trying to hold in the breakdown that wanted to happen, fighting to remain in control. Pride couldn’t see her like this. No one could.

“Just - Just please don’t demote me,” Tammy begged, straightening up and gasping for breath, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. “D-Don’t put me on desk duty. I can still handle myself in the field, I promise I’m not a liability, Pride.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Pride said, and her heart sank. “For now, we need to get you taken care of.” He glanced at his watch, and muttered, “Loretta might still be here, I’d have to check the morgue.”

“No – please,” Gregorio pleaded, embarrassment creeping up to settle like fire on her cheeks. “No one else needs to know about this.”

“They do, Tammy,” Pride argued, raising his eyebrows at her. “They’re your teammates. Your family. They care about you. Of course they should know about this.”

“Please,” Tammy said, raising her arms to hug herself, trying to get some semblance of comfort in the least embarrassing or incriminating way possible.

“Look,” Pride said, gesturing for her to sit down across from him in the kitchen once more, taking a seat opposite her on the island, “I know you’re scared. You’re worried about what the others might think. But they love you, Tammy, and they want to help you. I do too.”

“What if they hate me?” Tammy breathed, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. She knew she looked like a wreck, pathetic even, but this was her worst nightmare come true and she couldn’t pretend anymore. “Pride, I’m weak.” She gestured haphazardly at her arms, at herself, and shook her head, avoiding his gaze by staring down the marble kitchen tile. “They’ll see me differently.”

“Maybe so,” Pride conceded, “but not in the way you think. They won’t consider you weak, Tammy. I don’t.” He reached out to lay his hand on her arm, comforting and grounding her with the touch. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, Gregorio.”

“Even now that you know I - ” Tammy gestured to her arms once more, at a loss for words. “ - Again?”

“Even now,” Pride confirmed, giving her a firm nod and a steady look that swore honesty. “Tammy, no one on this team will think any less of you for struggling with this.”

“Promise?” Tammy whispered, letting some of the vulnerability she was feeling slip into her voice as she asked the question.

“Promise,” Pride affirmed, and gave her arm a soft, gentle pat.

Gregorio nodded, her shoulders slumping in relief as some of the tension was alleviated. “Do you have to tell them tonight?”

“No, not tonight,” Pride responded. “But soon.”

“I understand.” Gregorio looked away, the fear thundering back to life in her chest. For an instant, under Pride’s reassuring words, it had disappeared.

“It’s gonna be okay, Gregorio,” Pride promised her, moving from the opposite side of the bar to wrap her in a tight hug. “The team’ll take care of you.”

“Shouldn’t have to,” Gregorio protested weakly, but Pride shushed her with a hand in her hair, stroking gently.

“We want to,” he said, and Gregorio was struck with how much she wished he could have been her real dad. Maybe her future would’ve turned out better if he was. “This is somethin’ that everyone is more ‘n willin’ to help you with. We’re gonna get it taken care of. Got your back, Tammy, not just for work.”

“Thanks, Pride,” Gregorio whispered, too emotional to express her gratitude any further. She was sure Pride understood. In his arms, trembling, Gregorio could admit that maybe what she had really needed was the support and acceptance of her loved ones. Maybe her mother would never love her the way she was, but she had an entire family here in New Orleans that did.

Maybe that was what mattered.

And if, the next day, when Loretta called her down to the morgue and told Gregorio about her mother’s issues with self-harm while she bandaged the fresh cuts on Tammy’s arms, she felt a small piece of her heart begin to heal, she didn’t mention it. And if, when Sebastian gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek and offered to call her and ramble about whatever came to mind when she was having urges, she started to tear up, well, no one could prove it (she had threatened Sebastian with removing his Power Rangers collection from the lab if he told anyone). And if, when Chris said nothing but drew her into the tightest hug she could ever remember receiving, and Percy showed up at her house without warning to sit on the couch with her and watch basketball, she began to realise this was all the family she needed, she knew she could blame Pride for most of it.

Getting clean again, and resisting the urge to take a blade to her arms whenever she felt like her world was falling apart, was a fight that took months, and she did end up on desk duty for some of it, but despite the silence that stretched between her and her mother, she found that the most important thing was the family that she had right here.

Maybe she didn’t need what used to be her home when she had a better one here in New Orleans.

[femslashrevolution]

Title: Difference of Opinion

Creator: Meda Kahn

Length: 5139 words; also has a podcast reading at 37 minutes

Rating: Not rated, likely Teen but not for sexual reasons

Summary: “A romance conducted in asides and ellipses, a love story that never was.” A doomed relationship told in first-person, from the perspective of a developmentally disabled janitor on a space station.

Warnings: Self harm, ableist violence, eugenics

Submitter comments: Heed the warnings, but: disabled sci-fi-horror femslash is femslash. The story is a gut-punch.

[tofixtheshadows]

I've been thinking a lot lately about how Kabru deprives himself.

Kabru as a character is intertwined with the idea that sometimes we have to sacrifice the needs of the few for the good of the many. He ultimately subverts this first by sabotaging the Canaries and then by letting Laios go, but in practice he's already been living a life of self-sacrifice.

Saving people, and learning the secrets of the dungeons to seal them, are what's important. Not his own comforts. Not his own desires. He forces them down until he doesn't know they're there, until one of them has to come spilling out during the confession in chapter 76.

Specifically, I think it's very significant, in a story about food and all that it entails, that Kabru is rarely shown eating. He's the deuteragonist of Dungeon Meshi, the cooking manga, but while meals are the anchoring points of Laios's journey, given loving focus, for Kabru, they're ... not.

I'm sure he eats during dungeon expeditions, in the routine way that adventurers must when they sit down to camp. But on the surface, you get the idea that Kabru spends most of his time doing his self-assigned dungeon-related tasks: meeting with people, studying them, putting together that evidence board, researching the dungeon, god knows what else. Feeding himself is secondary.

He's introduced during a meal, eating at a restaurant, just to set up the contrast between his party and Laios's. And it's the last normal meal we see him eating until the communal ending feast (if you consider Falin's dragon parts normal).

First, we get this:

Kabru's response here is such a non-answer, it strongly implies to me that he wasn't thinking about it until Rin brought it up. That he might not even be feeling the hunger signals that he logically knew he should.

They sit down to eat, but Kabru is never drawn reaching for food or eating it like the rest of his party. He only drinks.

It's possible this means nothing, that we can just assume he's putting food in his mouth off-panel, but again, this entire manga is about food. Cooking it, eating it, appreciating it, taking pleasure in it, grounding yourself in the necessary routine of it and affirming your right to live by consuming it. It's given such a huge focus.

We don't see him eat again until the harpy egg.

What a significant question for the protagonist to ask his foil in this story about eating! Aren't you hungry? Aren't you, Kabru?

He was revived only minutes ago after a violent encounter. And then he chokes down food that causes him further harm by triggering him, all because he's so determined to stay in Laios's good graces.

In his flashback, we see Milsiril trying to spoon-feed young Kabru cake that we know he doesn't like. He doesn't want to eat: he wants to be training.

Then with Mithrun, we see him eating the least-monstery monster food he can get his hands on, for the sake of survival- walking mushroom, barometz, an egg. The barometz is his first chance to make something like an a real meal, and he actually seems excited about it because he wants to replicate a lamb dish his mother used to make him!

...but he doesn't get to enjoy it like he wanted to.

Then, when all the Canaries are eating field rations ... Kabru still isn't shown eating. He's only shown giving food to Mithrun.

And of course the next time he eats is the bavarois, which for his sake is at least plant based ... but he still has to use a coping mechanism to get through it.

I don't think Kabru does this all on purpose. I think Kui does this all on purpose. Kabru's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder should be understood as informing his character just as much as Laios's autism informs his. It's another way that Kabru and Laios act as foils: where Laios takes pleasure in meals and approaches food with the excitement of discovery, Kabru's experiences with eating are tainted by his trauma. Laios indulges; Kabru denies himself. Laios is shown enjoying food, Kabru is shown struggling with it.

And I can very easily imagine a reason why Kabru might have a subconscious aversion towards eating.

Meals are the privilege of the living.

[kyri45]

Will Wukong have a huge panic™ because he thinks MK will never see him the same ever again?

Someone asked for hand holding so I gotta give you the most fluffiest elements in the most angstier of contexts.

Shadowpeach Bio Parent AU (PREV / FIRST / NEXT )

Personal comments under the cut (mentions of past self harm)

Around 3 years ago I had some anxiety issues, one of the main things that I thought it wasn't self harm for so long was the fact that when something that involved other people went wrong because of a choice of mine (even just minor inconveniences) the pain of guilt was so strong that to turn it down I had to physically sting my skin with my nails. (I play guitar, so I always have a hand with longer nails to play arpeggio). Never it went to the point that it would bleed, but bc of that I thought It was no problem. Thanks to my therapist I know that just because it wasn't the "typical" self harm doesn't mean it wasn't a serious issue.

All of this to say that I might be projecting a little. And honestly I can't even imagine how terrible Wukong might feel everytime the guilt comes back to him...

[canisalbus]

What if I told you that RoobrickMarine went and wrote an entire novella starring my 16th century dog couple? It's very canon-adjacent, well researched and thoughtfully put together, has inspired me a ton during these past months and it's now publicly available at AO3. I highly recommend it.

✦ Separation ✦

[hardcoregayanalsegx]

"Why would you do that to yourself" I'm trying my best to soothe the pain, trying to cradle it so that maybe just maybe it will stop crying out

[lostinwonderland-13]

"Sometimes I cut myself to see how much it bleeds. Its like adrenaline, the pain is such a sudden rush for me"

Eminem really hit the nail on the head

[hugenthusiast]

[claypigeonpottery]

been awhile since I built anything, what with kiln time and packing orders. figured I should make something of my own as a warm up before diving into my next commissions

been thinking about this little ferret dude for awhile. his scratches won’t be red, but maybe blue

[moonlight-breeze-44]

Shelter From the Storm

Shelter from the Storm

Gregorio comes out to her mother. It doesn't go well. Pride is there to remind her in the aftermath, after Tammy falls into old, bad habits, that she has a team-family here in New Orleans that will always love her for exactly who she is.

Pairings: None main; background PerSalle

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Homophobia, disowning, mental health issues/self-esteem issues, self-harm, graphic descriptions of violence/self-harm, blood & injury

Read on AO3

Gregorio knew it was only a matter of time before she had to make the phone call, but it didn’t mean getting the courage to dial her mother’s number and press call was any easier.

Now, alone in her apartment, she wished her heart would stop pounding into the beginnings of a panic attack and let her fucking breathe. Her hands were so clammy with sweat that she half-expected the phone to slip and fall to the ground. She wondered if maybe it would be better if it did. It would mean she didn’t have to face this.

Gregorio loved her mom, but that was half of the problem. Her mother could be old-fashioned, and Gregorio had been raised in the countryside of New York with two dogs, an old cat, and no father to speak of. In some ways, Gregorio was a lot more like LaSalle than she wanted to admit.

As she waited for Emily Gregorio to pick up her phone, Tammy paced; she was her mother’s only child, and if what she said today devastated her like she feared it would, she doubted there would be another chance for them. This stupid fucking phone call was going to define their entire relationship, and the fear was enough to make Tammy grab the chair in front of her for support, nails scrabbling for purchase along the worn fiber.

No turning back now.

“Tammy?” Her mother’s voice, pragmatic as always, filled Gregorio’s ears and she flinched. Maybe she wasn’t as ready for this as she thought. “What’s wrong?”

It was a response that most other people would consider harsh or brusque, but in reality, Emily was just being realistic; Tammy almost never called unless she was backed into a corner and needed something. Her mother never called unless someone had died. It was a routine that Tammy couldn’t bring herself to feel bad for, considering her mother’s part in it and the lack of warmth between them. But their lack of contact made what Tammy had to say even harder to reveal.

“Mom, I have something to tell you,” Tammy breathed, trying to keep her voice as steady and strong as she could while the panic rattled in her ribcage. She could do this. She had to.

“Oh my god, are you pregnant?” Emily exclaimed, and Tammy heard the blatant delight in her voice at the thought. She shook her head, even though she knew her mother couldn’t see her. This was going to make it even harder to burst her bubble. When the silence stretched on a beat too long, she rolled her shoulders, shaking them out, trying to calm her nerves.

“Uh, no, Mom, I’m not pregnant,” Tammy replied, heaving a deep breath. “I, uh…I-I’m…”

“You’re what, Tammy? Spit it out.”

“I’m gay,” Tammy burst out, chest heaving with having the pressure of her secret released. She felt herself begin to tremble and leaned more of her weight onto the old chair in front of her. “I’m, uh, I’m a lesbian, Mom. I like women.”

The silence that followed her revelation felt like claws around Gregorio’s neck, choking and scratching into her windpipe. She waited with bated breath. Everything hinged on her mother’s reaction. Tammy’s hands were shaking with fear. Even if they weren’t close, she still loved her mother. She still wanted her to be a part of her life.

“Tammy, I…I’m not sure what to say.”

“Anything,” Gregorio begged, hating how desperate she sounded, but she couldn’t wait any longer. “Just say something, please.”

“Well, you know this isn’t what I wanted for you,” Emily stated, and Tammy knew it was true. Memories of her bisexual phase in high school rushed to the forefront of her mind, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe past the mental images of her mother’s disdain when she was fifteen and dating Zara Matthews. The coldness in her mother’s voice, then and now, felt like Tammy had swallowed a burning hot coal that was beginning to scorch her insides.

“How will you have children, Tammy?” Emily continued, obviously distraught. Tammy’s fingers tightened on the phone, and she tried to take a deep breath; get herself under control.

“I can adopt,” she replied calmly, “Or find a surrogate. Or…” She paused, hesitating. She was already six feet deep and buried with her mother, it seemed; why not put the nail in her own coffin? “...or maybe I won’t have kids.”

“Tammy,” her mother said reproachfully, “You have to have kids!”

“Says who?” Tammy retorted, her hands trembling where they still held the back of the living room chair for dear life. “I mean, look at me. I’m okay, aren’t I? I’m happy. I, I don’t have to have kids. Besides, I’m an NCIS agent. Who would want a mom who does what I do?”

“A child that understands the meaning of sacrifice,” Emily snapped. “Which you clearly don’t.”

“Mom, I…”

“No, Tammy, just don’t.” Gregorio fell silent, biting her lip hard to avoid letting out the tears that had gathered in her eyes sometime during the phone call. Her mother loved her, she was sure. But Tammy could never be who she wanted, either. And if she had learned one thing from her time in New Orleans with Ethan, before NCIS, it was that sometimes love wasn’t enough.

“Look, dear, I’m not going to say that this is the end of things.” Gregorio’s breath hitched, and she had to fight to keep her emotions in check. She knew that tone well enough to know what her mother was really saying, and it was the end of things. God, she knew her mother wouldn’t approve, but to know it and to have it confirmed were two very different feelings.

“But you should know how I feel about this,” Emily continued, ignorant to her daughter’s pain. “I don’t think it’s right. I don’t think it’s natural. I always thought you grew out of that phase you had in high school, especially after you married Ethan. Which, I know that didn’t work out, but one bad apple doesn’t mean the whole barrel is bad. I-I don’t know what you want from me here, Tammy. You are my daughter, and I love you. But I will not support this lifestyle. When you’re ready, you can come back home. We can work this out. But until then, don’t - don’t call. Don’t visit. Please. Spare us both. I’m sure you won’t feel this way forever, Tammy. When you change your mind, I’ll be here. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Mom - ”

“Tammy, please. Don’t make this any harder than it already is. Just-Just sort yourself out, okay? I’ll be here when you need me. I love you.” With that, the call dropped, and Gregorio sank to her knees behind the worn out chair, breathing hard and fast, on the verge of a fucking panic attack from the call. Emily was gone. She recognized the situation for what it was; her mother had given her an ultimatum. Become straight, or say goodbye to her and their home back in New York forever.

It wasn’t a choice at all.

With the sound of the dial tone in her ear, her mother’s final words before she hung up way too loud in her head, Tammy allowed herself to cry, the weight of the emotions she had struggled to hold back before escaping in full. She sobbed into her knees, her shoulders shaking. She couldn’t be something she wasn’t. She couldn’t change, even though there had been more than enough times that she wanted to. She couldn’t give her mother what she had asked for.

In all the ways that mattered, it was over.

She and her mother had never been close. The truth was that Tammy expected the call to end like this, but it was still more of a blow than she had ever expected to know that the woman who raised her would never accept her for who she was. Tammy felt lost, and cut open, like someone had twisted a knife in her and then left her to die on a street corner. She didn’t know what her next steps were, if there even were any, and more than anything, she felt vulnerable.

It was a feeling she wasn’t used to, between her secrecy about her private life and the walls she built around her heart, but it made her want to hide and protect her six from whatever was going to hurt her. But there was nothing to shield herself from, no imminent threat or dangerous gunman; just her own damage and that goddamn dial tone still humming in her ear, a reminder that she would never be able to call home again.

The thought of home sent a fresh wave of tears cascading down her cheeks, and Tammy finally ripped the cellphone from her ear, throwing it across hardwood until it crashed into the side of her refrigerator. She would regret that later, she was sure, but for now she didn’t care. She couldn’t. The only piece of herself that seemed to matter was in New York, probably opening a bottle of whiskey and no doubt planning to pray for her in church the next day.

Home was gone forever now, even if she hadn’t called it that in years. It was still the place where she was raised, and where she’d learned how to fight for herself in more ways than one. She loved the sprawling hills on their property, and the well where she had nearly drowned once as a child. She loved the fucking tire swing and the garden beds and the old barn where she used to go with the dogs when she needed to be alone. Their house and grounds were so beautiful that sometimes Gregorio hardly believed that she lived in New York growing up. All of it would become a memory now, and she would never be able to touch the wildflowers that grew along the fence line ever again. It shouldn’t have affected her so much, considering it had been years since she even wanted to go home, but the thought of losing it all forever was more than she could handle.

The tears, which hadn’t stopped or slowed in the slightest, were becoming overwhelming and almost nausea-inducing, so Gregorio took a deep breath, moving her hands roughly down her legs, then her calves, then her ankles, trying to ground herself and move away from the precipice of her breakdown. But instead of finding stability in her old brown Doc Martens, like she had hoped, her hand brushed a cold piece of metal, and it sent her heartbeat racing again.

She knew what it was, the feeling unmistakeable against her fingers. It was a sterling silver razor blade, years old at least, tucked into a fraying patch on her boots since November of 2018. She had played a dangerous game with it, allowing it so close; on one hand, it could become dislodged at work and she ran the risk of someone investigating her for psychological issues if they saw where it had been hiding. On the other hand, she could lose it in the field, and she would never have to worry about it, or remember the temptation, ever again.

Neither of those things had happened, apparently, and she knew from the feel of it against her fingers that, somehow, it hadn’t even been scuffed. It was the perfect deadly instrument, even after all these years. Gregorio’s hand trembled.

She hesitated for a second, but pulled the razor blade from the patch on her boot, turning it over and over in her palms like precious gold. A coil of longing hit her like a punch to the gut, and Gregorio tried to suck in a deep breath, wanted to put it back, wanted to throw it away and pretend it never existed, but she couldn’t bring herself to.

If this razor blade had somehow managed to survive three years working as a field agent for the FBI, and one as an NCIS agent, not to mention the countless parties and clubs she’d been to, it had to be a sign. Gregorio didn’t believe in fate, but maybe the gods that weren’t were trying to tell her something now.

It had been five years. It had been half of a lifetime. Part of Gregorio didn’t want to risk it, after fighting so hard to get clean in the first place, but the other, larger part of her that wanted for the quick pain of metal against her skin argued that because it had been so long, it wouldn’t matter now. A relapse wasn’t really a relapse if it only lasted a day, and if she got her act together right after. She could do this, and hide it, then throw it away the next day and no one would ever have to know.

“It’s not like last time,” Gregorio muttered to herself, trying to believe it. “I won’t let it get out of hand.”

She didn’t know if she could keep the promise to herself or not, but it didn’t matter. Her mother’s words were still burning like acid in her lungs, and she just wanted the pain to be replaced with something new, something better, until she was able to get ahold of herself. It was the best, most efficient option, and then she would stop. One cut, she told herself, and after that she would curl up in bed and watch Desperate Housewives or something. One cut, and she would be okay.

Tammy rolled up her sleeve, took a deep breath, and pressed the razor blade to her wrist.

The relief was immediate, almost as overwhelming and euphoric as a drug, and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks at the feeling. It didn’t take away her mother’s homophobia, or the way her abandonment made Tammy feel, but it replaced the worst of it with white-hot pain and the familiar sting of a fresh cut instead. Blood welled like storm clouds in the wound, and slid down her wrist until it began to drip onto her pants. Lazily, Tammy remembered she needed to do laundry and didn’t have another pair of work pants. Another, bigger part of her, however, couldn’t be bothered to care.

Instantly forgetting the one-cut promise, Tammy sliced her way through six pristine cuts before stopping to take a breath, her chest heaving with the relief of giving into the old addiction again. She didn’t remember much from three years ago, the last time she cut, but she could swear it had never felt this good before.

Looking down at her arm, a pageant of crimson lines sluggishly bleeding, Tammy felt the calm settle into her bones, numbness chasing away the pain. She exhaled hard, letting her head thump against the forgotten chair in front of her. She got what she needed. She should stop.

She didn’t.

It was close to midnight before she threw the razor blade down and stopped to admire her work. She wasn’t sure how much blood she would have to clean up, or how much she had lost, and she hadn’t eaten today either. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to just sit there after what she’d done, but her head was swimming, and she was so exhausted that even attempting to get up would have been too much for her. So, instead, Tammy rested her arms on the bloodstained slacks, and let her head loll against the back of the living chair. She had slept in worse places.

~ ~ ~

In the morning, Tammy’s alarm came blaring to life at 6am, startling her awake from where she was slumped over next to the chair. Her arms felt like they were glued to her pants, dried blood sticking to the fabric, and she could feel a telltale crustiness on the seat of her pants that meant, somehow, she had managed to sit in a puddle of blood. “God, make it stop,” she muttered, and struggled to get to her feet to turn off the fucking alarm. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this bad.

By the time she made it to the kitchen, where her phone was at, miraculously not dead but down to the last 5% of its battery, it was almost 6:30 and she was going to be late for work if she didn’t hustle.

Tammy made it to her bedroom with less difficulty, though she still felt lightheaded, and got to work peeling the blood-soaked slacks off and painfully removing her shirt, which had a few spots of blood on it from her careless cutting the night before. She searched through her closet as fast as she could for the most lightweight long-sleeved shirt she had, that was a dark enough color to mask the blood if her cuts opened up while she was at work. After that, she selected a pair of dark jeans, even though they were against the agency dress code, and headed to the bathroom to do what she could for her appearance.

To her dismay, her eyes were still a little bloodshot from last night, and her hair was a mess. She would need makeup to cover up the circles underneath her eyes, evidence of multiple nights of restless sleep in preparation for the phone call with her mother.

The thought of her mother made Tammy’s heart seize up, and she pressed on one of the new cuts, hissing at the sharp pain it brought. It was enough to snap her out of her head, at least, and she got to work applying makeup to cover up what she could of her turmoil. Finally, she was able to run a brush through her hair, grab her gun, badge, and car keys, and head out the door.

Just before walking into the Navy Yard, Tammy hesitated, and considered calling in sick. But as tempting as it was to go back to her apartment and stay in bed all day, that wasn’t a good idea; the NCIS team was like a big fucking family, and they were sure to stop by if they got word she wasn’t feeling well. Not only was her apartment a mess, but the pool of blood by the chair in the living room, as well as the razor blade that had caused all of this damage, was still out in the open for any prying eyes to see.

Still, Tammy knew it would be hard to keep what she had done from her teammates. She would have to be on her guard. They were perceptive, even if they weren’t trained profilers like her, and much worse, they knew her. It would take all of her skills at hiding and lying and pretending to fool them into believing she was fine.

The cuts pulled tight as the fabric of her shirt shifted, making each step and movement she made towards the office painful. She had learned how to hide the pain a long time ago, but a part of her wished she had bandaged the wounds before coming in today, instead of hiding the first-aid supplies in her bag in case of an emergency and hoping for the best. But Pride was already going to kill her for being late, and it would take another fifteen minutes at least to deal with the fallout of her habit. She didn’t want to come off any more suspicious than she already was.

Taking a deep breath, Gregorio etched a smile onto her face, and walked into the NCIS office like everything was fine, as always. Nothing is different today, she warned herself, trying to drill it into her brain. Nothing has changed.

“There ya are, Gregorio! Was startin’ to wonder if we was gonna have to send out a search party,” Chris greeted her with a smile, and Gregorio gave him one of her patented bitchfaces in return.

“I got caught in traffic,” she lied, and watched his face for any signs of disbelief as she made her way to her desk. She clocked the slight raise of his eyebrows, his posture lengthening, and reminded herself to adjust her tone when she was lying.

“Didn’t think there was hardly any traffic on Bourbon Street,” Chris commented, and Tammy turned to place her bag next to her desk and start up her computer. It was easier to lie to someone when she didn’t have to face them.

“There isn’t usually,” she replied, keeping her tone light and casual. “Guess today was my lucky day.”

“Guess so,” Chris responded, and Tammy turned around just in time to see him giving her one of his famous, milliwatt smiles. She grinned back, bumping his shoulder playfully on her way into the kitchen. One down, two to go.

By the time she caught up with Pride and Sonja, it was almost midday, and the hot, humid weather prompted a picnic invite from Pride to eat lunch at the bridge in town. Chris, Sonja, and the others all agreed, leaving Gregorio as the odd one out. She knew she couldn’t decline without offering an explanation, lest they become suspicious of her motives, but she couldn’t accept the invitation when she knew either Chris or Sonja would try to roll up her sleeves the second they arrived, either to tease her or out of care for her wellbeing. Refusing their help against potential heatstroke when it was summer in the middle of New Orleans was a one-way ticket to having her secret revealed.

“Tammy, you’re not going to lunch with us?” Percy pouted, her eyebrows drawn up in that Percy way, that said she was more concerned than disappointed, but was too proud to put voice to her feelings. “Come on, don’t you want to hang with the gang?”

“As much as I would love to ‘hang with the gang’,” Gregorio used air quotes and gave Sonja a playful smirk, “I have a prior obligation.”

“Oooh, someone’s got a hot date,” Chris said, walking into the kitchen with an ice chest for their drinks. “So who is it, Gregorio? Black-haired beauty? Feisty redhead? That’s my type.”

“Excuse you,” Percy retorted, raising her eyebrow in his direction.

“Pardon me,” Chris corrected, giving Sonja a fond smile, “That’s usually my type.”

“Better,” Sonja affirmed, before turning her attention to Gregorio once more. “But seriously, T, where you goin’ that you can’t come hang with us?”

“Well, Chris wasn’t exactly wrong,” Gregorio replied, lifting her coffee mug to her lips to take a sip so she could avoid having to look either of them in the eyes. “A certain mayor’s secretary asked me out the other day, and I can’t leave her hanging a second time.” Though it was a lie that they had a lunch date, it wasn’t a lie that she’d been asked out, so Gregorio didn’t feel as bad as she maybe should for using Amber as her scapegoat.

“With that one, you better not,” Chris replied, chuckling. “I’ve heard she’s got some high standards.”

“Of course she does,” Gregorio retorted without missing a beat. “She’s going on a date with me, isn’t she?”

Sonja and Chris both laughed at that, the latter ribbing her good-naturedly for a minute or two before they calmed down. She allowed her smirk to play on her lips, knowing she could pass it off as satisfaction at her joke instead of her lie. They weren’t suspicious of her anymore, not after she’d thrown them a bone. For now, she was safe.

~ ~ ~

Later that night, when the team was getting ready to wrap up and head home, Pride caught her eye, gesturing her into the kitchen. Tammy dropped her bag and took a deep breath, heading in to meet him. She could feel her heart skip a beat.

Of all of them, Pride was the most likely to figure out that something was wrong, even if he was the least likely to react with anything other than kind, calm patience. Still, the idea of her boss finding out her most guarded secret was more terrifying than she could fathom.

Without speaking or otherwise acknowledging Pride, Gregorio took a seat on the barstool across from him, crossed her arms, and waited. She could feel her heart pounding in her throat, but forced herself to be motionless and keep her expression blank, lest she give away the anxiety she was feeling.

“So, Gregorio,” Pride said, taking in her position and folding his arms across the top of the bar, “Want to tell me what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Gregorio replied defensively, before she could stop herself and try to temper her tone. “What makes you think something’s going on?”

Pride raised an eyebrow at her, unimpressed. “Well, for starters, you came in late today, said it was traffic when traffic is nonexistent on your street, you’re actin’ awful odd, and then you lied to Christopher and Sonja about who you were with for lunch today.”

Gregorio opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Pride held up his hand and continued, “I have it on good authority that the mayor’s secretary didn’t leave her office all day.” He softened, giving her a worried look, and said, “Just want to know you’re okay, and if anything’s goin’ on that we can help with.”

“It’s nothing,” Gregorio sighed, letting her shoulders slump in defeat. There was no use pretending she was fine if Pride already knew something was up. She didn’t have to tell him everything, but maybe if she told him about her mom, at least, he’d leave her alone.

“Just a little upset from a phone call with my mother yesterday,” Gregorio admitted, picking at her nails to avoid meeting Pride’s eyes. “I came out to her.”

Pride nodded, his eyes filling with support and kindness for her, and moved to wipe down the kitchen counter, in an effort to give her space to talk as much as she wanted to. Gregorio knew the tactic, was familiar with it from teasing the truth out of LaSalle when he was being particularly stubborn. Though she was loathe to admit it, she appreciated it. “How did she take it?”

“Not well,” Tammy sighed, pressing her nail into the pad of her thumb to resist the urge to burst into tears again. She had already done enough crying in the past 24 hours. “She basically gave me an ultimatum; stop being gay, or stop coming home. Permanently.”

“Oh, Tammy,” Pride breathed, sympathy pouring out of him and into her. “I’m so sorry.” He reached across the bar to lay a hand on her shoulder, and against her will, Tammy leaned into the touch.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, closing her eyes to avoid letting Pride see how glossy they had become. “W-We were never really close.”

“Still, that’s gotta hurt,” Pride said, withdrawing just enough to allow her time to fight back the tears and open her eyes once more. “Parents’ rejection is…one of the worst things that can happen to a child. No matter how old they are.”

“Yeah,” Tammy breathed, the weight of her own exhaustion hitting her as she slumped on the barstool. She couldn’t remember the last time she had let something damage her like this. Who knew her mother’s decision would have such an impact on her? She sighed and tugged lightly on one of her sleeves, until it was down far enough on her arm to cover her fingers. Pride caught the movement, but said nothing. “To make matters worse, she tried to frame it like she loved me, and she was going to be there for me.” Tammy laughed bitterly, emotion swelling up in her throat. “She’s so convinced I’m going to change, Pride.”

“Not the way it works,” Pride said fondly, giving her a warm smile. His hand, still on her shoulder, was like a grounding wire, keeping her settled, and she felt like she was being comforted by the father she never had.

“Yeah,” Tammy said, again, and her voice wobbled on the last syllable. Under Pride’s kind, supportive words and gentle ministrations, she could feel the dam in her chest threatening to explode, and she slid sideways off of the barstool, grabbing for her coat and heading towards the door. She had to get out of here, before she lost it completely. “Anyway, I should go - ”

“Wait,” Pride called, and moved to follow her, grabbing her wrist to stop her from leaving. Without thinking, still trying to calm the tidal wave of emotion in her chest, Gregorio hissed in pain.

“Tammy,” Pride said slowly, releasing her wrist with some reluctance, “There something wrong with your arm?”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Tammy replied, giving him a quick, panicked smile. “Just bruised it on the countertop when I was getting ready for work this morning.”

“That so?” Pride asked, and he sounded suspicious enough to make Tammy’s heart skip a beat in fear. She curled her fingers around her sleeves protectively. “Mind if I take a look at it?”

“Don’t bother,” Gregorio replied, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “I told you, Pride, it’s nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Pride replied, and he reached for her wrist again. Determined not to give anything away, Tammy kept her face purposefully blank, allowing him to hold her arm in his hand even as his fingers pressing against the cuts felt like a sharp knife against her skin. “Thing is, Tammy…” Pride moved to grasp her sleeve, and Gregorio’s entire body tensed, waiting for his next move. This was not happening.

“You haven’t worn long sleeves this dark, especially during summer, all year,” he continued, “and that first time we talked, up on the balcony in your hotel when you first came here – you wore a tank top, and I don’t think you thought about it then, but I noticed something the others didn’t get the chance to see.” He lifted his gaze to meet Gregorio’s eyes, and she knew, without having to ask what he meant, that she was done for.

Pride knows.

“I’ve seen the scars on your wrists, Tammy,” Pride said softly, “And I’ve never mentioned it, because it’s not my business and I don’t want you to think I’m judging you for it. But if your arm is hurt…after all you’ve been through in the past few days, you understand why I need to check, right?”

Tammy nodded tightly, trying not to cry, as Pride moved to roll up her sleeve. At the last second, just before he could grab the cuff of her shirt, she blurted out: “And what do you think you’ll find, if you check?”

“I think you and I both know the answer to that,” Pride responded, his voice as kind and understanding as ever. Tammy choked on a sob, losing the battle against her emotions, and pulled away from him, running her hands through her hair so hard that she was sure she’d left red, inflamed scratches on her scalp. She heaved a deep breath and choked on it, trying to hold in the breakdown that wanted to happen, fighting to remain in control. Pride couldn’t see her like this. No one could.

“Just - Just please don’t demote me,” Tammy begged, straightening up and gasping for breath, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. “D-Don’t put me on desk duty. I can still handle myself in the field, I promise I’m not a liability, Pride.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Pride said, and her heart sank. “For now, we need to get you taken care of.” He glanced at his watch, and muttered, “Loretta might still be here, I’d have to check the morgue.”

“No – please,” Gregorio pleaded, embarrassment creeping up to settle like fire on her cheeks. “No one else needs to know about this.”

“They do, Tammy,” Pride argued, raising his eyebrows at her. “They’re your teammates. Your family. They care about you. Of course they should know about this.”

“Please,” Tammy said, raising her arms to hug herself, trying to get some semblance of comfort in the least embarrassing or incriminating way possible.

“Look,” Pride said, gesturing for her to sit down across from him in the kitchen once more, taking a seat opposite her on the island, “I know you’re scared. You’re worried about what the others might think. But they love you, Tammy, and they want to help you. I do too.”

“What if they hate me?” Tammy breathed, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. She knew she looked like a wreck, pathetic even, but this was her worst nightmare come true and she couldn’t pretend anymore. “Pride, I’m weak.” She gestured haphazardly at her arms, at herself, and shook her head, avoiding his gaze by staring down the marble kitchen tile. “They’ll see me differently.”

“Maybe so,” Pride conceded, “but not in the way you think. They won’t consider you weak, Tammy. I don’t.” He reached out to lay his hand on her arm, comforting and grounding her with the touch. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, Gregorio.”

“Even now that you know I - ” Tammy gestured to her arms once more, at a loss for words. “ - Again?”

“Even now,” Pride confirmed, giving her a firm nod and a steady look that swore honesty. “Tammy, no one on this team will think any less of you for struggling with this.”

“Promise?” Tammy whispered, letting some of the vulnerability she was feeling slip into her voice as she asked the question.

“Promise,” Pride affirmed, and gave her arm a soft, gentle pat.

Gregorio nodded, her shoulders slumping in relief as some of the tension was alleviated. “Do you have to tell them tonight?”

“No, not tonight,” Pride responded. “But soon.”

“I understand.” Gregorio looked away, the fear thundering back to life in her chest. For an instant, under Pride’s reassuring words, it had disappeared.

“It’s gonna be okay, Gregorio,” Pride promised her, moving from the opposite side of the bar to wrap her in a tight hug. “The team’ll take care of you.”

“Shouldn’t have to,” Gregorio protested weakly, but Pride shushed her with a hand in her hair, stroking gently.

“We want to,” he said, and Gregorio was struck with how much she wished he could have been her real dad. Maybe her future would’ve turned out better if he was. “This is somethin’ that everyone is more ‘n willin’ to help you with. We’re gonna get it taken care of. Got your back, Tammy, not just for work.”

“Thanks, Pride,” Gregorio whispered, too emotional to express her gratitude any further. She was sure Pride understood. In his arms, trembling, Gregorio could admit that maybe what she had really needed was the support and acceptance of her loved ones. Maybe her mother would never love her the way she was, but she had an entire family here in New Orleans that did.

Maybe that was what mattered.

And if, the next day, when Loretta called her down to the morgue and told Gregorio about her mother’s issues with self-harm while she bandaged the fresh cuts on Tammy’s arms, she felt a small piece of her heart begin to heal, she didn’t mention it. And if, when Sebastian gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek and offered to call her and ramble about whatever came to mind when she was having urges, she started to tear up, well, no one could prove it (she had threatened Sebastian with removing his Power Rangers collection from the lab if he told anyone). And if, when Chris said nothing but drew her into the tightest hug she could ever remember receiving, and Percy showed up at her house without warning to sit on the couch with her and watch basketball, she began to realise this was all the family she needed, she knew she could blame Pride for most of it.

Getting clean again, and resisting the urge to take a blade to her arms whenever she felt like her world was falling apart, was a fight that took months, and she did end up on desk duty for some of it, but despite the silence that stretched between her and her mother, she found that the most important thing was the family that she had right here.

Maybe she didn’t need what used to be her home when she had a better one here in New Orleans.

[femslashrevolution]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Machineries of Empire - Yoon Ha Lee

Rating: Teen

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Ajewen Cheris/Kel Khiruev

Characters: Kel Khiruev, Ajewen Cheris

Additional Tags: Femslash February, Suicidal Thoughts, watch repair

Summary: Khiruev finds the will to live for herself and to choose what she wants.

[jazzstarrlight]

MD:MI Ch.3 Pg.21-&-22

N's dream continues, as Lexi spent the last 2 hours cutting her arm to remove that accursed rubber sleeve; reminding herself that she's had worse injuries than a few scratches. Plus, we meet a new alien lifeform, the LuxLoppr! A rabbit-like omnivore.

[sleepsucks]

[demaparbat-hp]

keep the AU kisses coming you say?

kintsugi AU where Katara kisses Zuko's wrists after finding out how he got those scars...

If you know, you know.

[phleb0tomist]

people love telling me not to isolate myself when I’m having a crisis- reach out, don’t hide, etc- and while that’s a lovely sentiment, a lot of people don’t seem to understand what it entails in practice? like they truly don’t seem to have considered that me being open during my mental health crisis will mean them actually Seeing and Hearing small parts of that crisis.

“don’t hide yourself” seems to come with a secret caveat of “but don’t be unpalatable either”. often my openness leads not to support but to an ethics debate about whether it was condemnable of me to let my struggle be slightly visible. interesting. when i wear short sleeves or make casual mention of the long-term aftermath of my self injury, it’s somehow perceived as me saying “self injury is awesome! i think the whole world should do it!” instead of being perceived as me living exactly as i always have, just hiding a little less, bringing you into my world a tiny bit, like you asked. healed scars are the only ones i allow to be seen, i cover up healing injuries and i don’t talk about methods or anything overly specific or sensational. i openly discuss harm reduction measures & therapeutic strategies. but somehow ppl still disapprove of the snippets they see when i reach out.

if you want people to reach out during crisis you have to accept that theres no way for a person to make themselves palatable while theyre showing you their severe mental illness lmao. they’re not going to provide you constant caveats while sharing their feelings like “ive been having trouble coping so i fell back on self injury. but i don’t condone it! YOU shouldn’t do it and I condemn myself for having done it btw! I will never forgive myself for this expression of mental illness, i’m so sorry I revealed it to you.”

this post might be a vent I can’t rly tell. open to conversation if anyone has any similar experiences 👍

[betweenblackberrybranches]

Warning. The following contains references to SH in Arc3. Please be carefull if this might be triggereing to you!

Okay here the update on my personal au now containing Arc3 i hope this will be readable its all gotten a bit small! I am just making a whole new post for this updated version so its all in one place

Sorry if its hard to read id recommend reading the light and dark parts top to bottom on Arc3