#which. the medication is literally supposed to be helping with. the literal thing its supposed to be helping is worse now

[electoons]

god please let me sleep a full uninterrupted night tonight or I will do something about it. amen

[in-a-slanted-outhouse]

.

[ladamedusoif]

able

(Joel Miller x disabled F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader

Summary: "I just don't think she'll be able for patrol". But then it's just you, Joel, and your trusty walking stick in the middle of nowhere...

Content/warnings: Reader is disabled (she has rheumatoid disease/arthritis in addition to panic attacks, she uses a walking stick as necessary); Reader had a sister; Reader is an art teacher; strong violence; blood; description of panic attack; references to impact of chronic illness and disability; references to medication; references to disease and death; non-canon compliant; Jackson!Joel; strong language; ableist language and abusive language

Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI

Word Count: ~3.7k

A/N: After making a plea earlier in the week for people to actually write disabled Reader fic, as opposed to forcing writers to feel they have to tag literally everything in an able-bodied Reader story, I knew I had to put my money where my mouth was as a disabled, neurodivergent writer with various mental health things going on here and there. And this one-shot is the result.

This one is a little personal. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid disease about ten years ago, and Reader’s experiences are informed by my own (though, thankfully, I haven’t had to contend with an apocalypse that meant I couldn’t access the medication that has kept me going). She’s also inspired by @agentjackdaniels, who acted as consultant extraordinaire on walking sticks and panic attacks, and suggested the Joel picture for the moodboard. Thank you, Luce, for this, for fighting the good fight for representation in fic - and for beta-ing the story. 

(A note on terminology: rheumatoid disease/arthritis are sometimes used interchangeably. ‘Arthritis’ often sounds like it’s ‘just’ osteoarthritis to people who don’t know the difference. Rheumatoid, unlike osteoarthritis (which is shitty in its own ways), is a systemic, lifelong, chronic illness and an auto-immune disorder that affects the entire body, not just bones and/or joints. So personally I use ‘rheumatoid disease’ as it conveys more of the impact of the condition. It's also often seen as an 'old person' disease but this simply isn't true - not that this stops mobility aids being modelled by people in their 80s all the time...)

Please follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to stay up to date with my work.

Dividers by @saradika - moodboard by me

You weren’t supposed to make it.

Twenty-odd years in the apocalypse with your fucked-up joints and no steady supply of the meds that kept you going, pushing through the cycles of fatigue, and fighting off your own goddamned immune system as much as you were fighting clickers and raiders. 

You really weren’t supposed to make it. But you had Annie.

You were sharing an apartment when the outbreak happened, a quirk of shitty personal circumstances - she’d just broken up with her long-term boyfriend - that probably helped save your life. Annie was the all-action sister - the kind of person who thinks there’s nothing weird about spending your weekends doing triathlons and “Tough Mudder” challenges, who had a perfect bill of health your entire lives, who bounced out of bed in the mornings while you cracked and creaked and stiffly manoeuvered yourself into being. 

The good days generally outweighed the bad in the years between your diagnosis with rheumatoid disease and the initial outbreak - or maybe you had just gotten used to the aches and pains and the occasional flare-ups of fatigue. You invested in a walking stick to help on those days when mobility was particularly bad: solid, heavy, and carved in a pale yellow wood. It felt like a comfort in your hand, more a sign of strength, to you, than of weakness. 

Annie helped you through the panic attack that consumed you on outbreak day, working with you to regulate your breathing and relax your tense muscles until you could finally say what was on your mind.

“My meds. What am I going to do without my meds?”

Nothing a quick smash and grab at the local pharmacy couldn’t fix. It was the first of many, stockpiling the little yellow tablets you relied on and taking as many packs of over-the-counter painkillers as you could carry. Useful currency in the apocalypse, as it turned out.

All-Action Annie was never going to cope with life in a QZ. She got the two of you out after months of planning, nights of whispered talk about a town out west that was normal - or something close to it, anyway. She hadn’t entertained your protestations about you slowing her down, holding her back.

“You think I’m leaving behind a girl who’s so handy with a weapon?” she’d teased, pointing to your walking stick. “Be real. We’re busting out together.”

The infection took hold in her about three days from Jackson. Fuckin’ barbed wire, tearing a jagged line through Annie’s hand and leaving behind an old-fashioned kind of threat to life, the kind penicillin had mostly dealt with. But that was then. This was now. 

She died in an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, you holding her hand until the end, talking to her about your childhoods and trying to keep smiling until she closed her beautiful eyes. 

It took all your strength to dig her grave. And then, somehow, you found more.

You weren’t supposed to make it. But you did. 

Jackson stands before you. 

He sees you for the first time in the community dining hall, talking animatedly to Maria as you hungrily devour the food set in front of you. Eyes wide, face grubby, clothes ragged. Half-wild, he thinks, like most of the new arrivals. Like him and Ellie, once upon a time. He returns to his bowl of soup and his own thoughts - at least, until he’s interrupted by Maria.

“Joel? Want to introduce a new member of the community, just arrived.”

He doesn’t quite know why he’s surprised when he realises you’re leaning on a sturdy hand-carved walking stick in a solid, light yellow wood. Maybe it’s because he knows how physically hard it is to get here. Maybe he just assumed folks who needed a stick wouldn’t have been able to manage the journey. 

For a second he can hear Sarah’s voice in his head, chiding him for focusing on what a disabled person can’t do instead of what they can. 

“Joel?”

He snaps out of his reverie and looks from Maria to you. “Uh, hi. Sorry, just…sorry. Forgot my manners.”

“I was just saying how glad we are to have someone who can offer some art education in the town, isn’t that right, Joel?”

Your eyes are warm and mischievous as you meet his gaze, silently conveying your amusement at Maria’s rather brusque manner. It’s all Joel can do not to laugh.

“Sure is. You’re an artist, then?”

You shake your head. “Not a real one. I was an art teacher, before. Long time since I created anything, though, so I hope I remember how.”

He smiles softly, his gruff exterior receding a little. “Bet it’s just like riding a bike,” he says, before his face falls as he looks at your walking stick. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean… Shit. Hope I didn’t offend.”

“As it happens, I can ride a bike, Joel. The apocalypse just doesn’t give me much cause to.”

You leave him with a smile and a wink as Maria ushers you to meet other townsfolk. He watches you as you walk away, the tap-tap-tapping of your stick beating out a new rhythm in the heart of Jackson.

You think of Annie every morning when you wake up in the little house you’d been assigned. Sometimes, as you potter around the kitchen, still revelling in the novelty of making yourself morning coffee for the first time in two decades, you even talk to her. You tell her about the town, the townsfolk, your work in the community vegetable garden, your art classes. 

“Honestly, An, you wouldn’t believe how popular they are,” you tell the Annie who, in an alternate universe, is sitting at the kitchen table with her own mug of coffee. “I’m setting up extra sessions to cater for demand.”

There’s something uplifting in how hungry the people of Jackson are to make art, no matter their experience or existing skill level. They’ll draw stuff from memory, they’ll dutifully work on a still life, they’ll even traipse outside with you, wooden sketching boards in hand, and make rapid-fire sketches of the goings-on on Main Street. 

Joel doesn’t join a class - but the teenage girl Maria refers to as “Joel’s kid” does, all potty-mouthed and enthusiastic and pretty damned talented, to boot. Ellie tells you how she’s pinned up the drawings she’s proudest of in their home, “like our own fuckin’ art gallery or some shit.” 

You pull up a tall stool and sit beside her, resting your stick over your thighs. “Joel’s got his guitar and those dumbass model figures he paints,” she continues, leaning around her easel and squinting at the woman who’d volunteered to act as a life model for this week’s classes. “But this shit? This is real art.” She adds a little highlight to the woman’s sweater and leans back to assess the work.

“You probably got exempt from patrols, I’m guessing. On account of the stick, an’ all.”

“Maria asked, and I signed up happily. I got all the way here, didn’t I? I’m sure I can manage patrols. And it’s the least I can do - they’ve even found me some of the medications I need.”

Ellie nods, somewhat convinced, and returns to sketching out the contours around the model’s jaw.

The day of your first patrol arrives. You bundle up and set out early for the stables, allowing extra time to get there on account of the flare-up you’d been experiencing the day before. 

You arrive early - just in time, in fact, to overhear a heated conversation between Joel and Maria.

“She’s doing enough, ain’t she? I just don’t think she’ll be able for patrol.”

“You’ve seen her out and about, Joel. She’s mobile. She’s competent. She’s good with the horses. She got all the way here, the last stretch on her own. What more proof do you need?”

“You’re seriously gonna send a woman with a walking stick out on patrol?”

“I seriously am. Sent you and your bad back out, didn’t we?”

“That ain’t the same and you know it.”

“Just saddle the horses, Joel. And, in case you’re wondering - yes, I paired you together deliberately, just until she gets settled.” You hear her footsteps recede as she leaves him.

You had misjudged how much your already-limited grip would be further impeded by the gloves you’re wearing. The stick clatters to the ground.

“Who’s there?”

You emerge from the shadows. “Me. Sorry.”

Joel rolls his eyes and gruffly points out the tack and supplies.

The first patrol passes in silence. You wonder what happened to the softer man you’d caught a glimpse of the first day you arrived.

On the second patrol, you ask him questions about himself. On the third patrol, he asks (fewer) questions about you. By the fourth, you’re having something approximating normal conversation. 

“Sarah loved to make all kinds of stuff,” he ventures, leading the way on his chestnut horse. “Those beaded bracelets, that girly Lego in the pink and purple, all of that. My girl had enough Magic Markers to supply a whole elementary school. Maybe two.”

You can hear him smile, even without seeing his face. His shoulders relax a little as he recalls the memory.

“So she was a creative kid?”

“Creative, sporty… she could do anything. Made the school soccer team, she was so proud. Just a…” He pauses. “A great kid.”

There’s a few beats of silence, punctuated only by the sound of the horses snickering and the steady rhythm of their hooves on the ground. 

“What about your sister, was she arty like you?”

You’d told him about Annie on the last patrol. This was the first time he’d asked about her explicitly.

“She was the sporty one. I think that’s why I survived so long, truth be told. She was so strong and fast and tough as fuck.”

He chuckles, the burr of his voice resonating in the cold air. “Sounds like a good balance, though.”

“It is - it was. Was.” Your voice grows quieter as you repeat the word to yourself, chest starting to tighten. The horse slows, responding to the tension of your body, as Joel continues to trot on, not realising you’ve come to a halt behind him. 

And then the tell-tale snapping of a twig, the sound of footsteps, and the realisation there’s someone else there, emerging out of the woods. Two someones. 

Raiders. 

The panic attack that has been building inside you gives way. An innate fight or flight response kicks in as you roar his name. 

Joel turns and charges back towards you, just in time to see you take out one raider with a crack shot from your pistol. He slows the horse and readies his rifle, staring at the other man who is now trying to haul you off your mount.

“Get the fuck off me, motherfucker!” You flail against him, desperately shifting your weight to the other side of the saddle to try to shake him off. 

Joel takes aim. 

You think you’ve kicked the raider off. And that’s when you hit the ground.

He can’t take the shot now, not with her half-hidden from his view and audibly fighting off the man who’s dragged her to the ground. Joel is still a little distance away, slightly too far to see exactly what’s happening. 

Why didn’t he hear her slowing? Why didn’t he realise she was further behind than she ought to be? Why did she slow in the fuckin’ first place?

Joel quickly dismounts, rifle in hand, moving closer so he can get a clearer shot at the guy who’s now standing over her. The horse’s elegant neck obscures the raider’s hands from Joel’s vision - he has no idea if he’s pointing a gun at her or not. 

He thinks he has a clear sight on the guy’s head, provided he stays in the same position. He readies the rifle. 

Suddenly, the raider disappears, letting out a primal roar before he hits the ground. 

“You fucking cunt!”

Joel can see she’s standing now, the man prone before her. As he rounds the horse he sees her lift her cane, hands securely gripping the pointed end of the stick. 

She brings the solid, weighty handle down on the raider’s leg with a sickening crunch. Even Joel recoils a little at the sight and the sound.

“F-f-fucking…c-c-cunt!”

Thwack. The other leg. 

Fuck. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

”Keep calling me that, and I’ll keep the blows coming.”

Holy fuck. Who is she?

”C-c-c-cripple.”

”Excuse me?”

The raider props himself up on his arms. “I said, cripple. Fucking crippled cunt.”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth.” Joel cocks his rifle. 

The stranger sneers at Joel. “Awww, he’s actin’ the big man now. Weren’t too quick gettin’ back down here to save your cripple woman, were ya?”

Before Joel can react, she swings her stick over her head and brings it down on the man’s skull with a furious scream that seems to come from the very depths of her being. 

She screams and screams as she hits him, over and over, eyes wild in her blood-spattered face. Joel recognises this: in himself; hell, in Ellie. It’s the moment when the floodgates open and all those years of pain blend together and zone in on this convenient target, an avatar for everyone and everything who had forced loss and trauma upon you. 

He roars at her to stop, but knows she can’t hear him. It’s just her and the raider, now: her rage and fear and grief finding their expression through a walking stick turned cudgel.

A single shot ends it. She turns sharply, as if snapped out of a trance, and sees the smoke leaving Joel’s pistol. 

“Hey. Hey. You alright?” His broad hands grip your biceps as he looks into your eyes.

Yes, you tell him, yes. You’re fine. But Joel keeps asking. 

“Talk to me. Are you okay? I’m worried about you. Please, just talk to me.”

You are moving your mouth, but no sound is coming out. The familiar vice is tightening around your chest. You look down at your blood-stained hands and you struggle to breathe. 

“‘M dying, Joel. Can’t breathe. All the blood. So much. Why can’t I breathe?”

Oh, he realises with a pang. She gets these things too. And I know how to help.

“You’re okay, you hear?” He’s rubbing your arms gently, keeping his gaze on you. “You’re alright. Breathe along with me, okay?”

It’s difficult to find the rhythm, at first. Joel’s hands find yours and squeeze them in time with his breath.

”In through your nose, that’s it. Slow and steady. Now out through your mouth.”

He can see your muscles starting to visibly relax. A wave of relief courses over him.

”Yeah, that’s it - you got this. You got this, good girl, you’re just fine. Gonna be alright.”

When he’s confident your breathing has settled and the panic attack receded somewhat, he gently guides you away from the body of the dead raider, one hand holding your horse’s bridle and the other holding yours. 

“Why don’t you have a seat for a minute, huh?” Joel gestures to a long, low tree trunk lying near the forest’s edge and opens his saddlebags, rummaging until he finds a cloth, a battered hip flask and a bag of dried apple slices.

”Here.” He wipes the blood as best he can from your hands and proffers the flask, settling his substantial frame beside you on the log. “Have a sip or two, just to relax you a little bit more. Got a snack, here, too.”

You flinch at the taste of the liquor, but take a second sip regardless. The apple slices barely taste of anything in the afterburn of the moonshine. Joel nibbles on some jerky and stares into the middle distance. 

You take a break from patrol, agreed with Maria, and a few days off your art classes. It was tempting to keep going, to return to the light and airy studio and to your students. But you feared a relapse.

And your body needed to recover physically, too. You ached from head to toe, fingers and toes puffy and swollen and movement seriously restricted. You ration out the supply of medication you’ve secured since getting here, and use hot water bottles and plenty of rest to try to ride out the flare in your arthritis.

Three days after the incident, there’s a knock on the door. You hobble to answer it, leaning on your trusty stick for support.

”Came by to see how you were doing. Got you some things if you needed ‘em.”

Joel is standing on your front porch, holding a jute grocery bag. He pauses, as if waiting for you to give him permission to say more.

”That’s so very kind of you, Joel. Come in, won’t you? I was able to set a fire so it’s nice and cosy.”

He watches as you lead the way into the living room, noting how much slower you were today. Guilt laps at his conscience. He said she shouldn’t go on patrol. He knew.

”You want me to bring these into the kitchen for you?”

“That would be a great help. Thank you.” He’s glad to see you smile, after the trauma of the patrol. “If you want a drink, I’ve got some tea and coffee in the cupboard just to the left of the sink.”

He pops his head back into the living room. “What would you like?” 

“A tea would be perfect. Mugs are in the cupboard to the right.”

You wrap yourself back up in your blankets on the couch, making room for Joel when he returns with the drinks and a couple of cookies, sent over by Ellie as part of his care package for you. The mug feels like a comfort in your aching hands, its heat assuaging the inflammation ravaging your joints.

He sips his coffee and you sit in silence for a little bit, watching the flames dance over the firewood. 

“Have you, uh - you been okay, doing okay, since…”

Joel stares into his coffee cup and then looks at you, a little awkward. You smile, hoping to reassure him.

”I’ve been okay. Just the physical pain and exhaustion, mostly. And - well, you saw it. The panic. It can leave you drained.”

He nods and takes another swig of his drink. “I know. I - I’ve had times like that, too. Real fuckin’ scary, when you’ve never gone through it before.”

You study his face for a moment or two, noting the little scar on his temple, the lines on his face, the stern expression completely undermined by the warmth of his deep brown eyes. For an instant, he seems so vulnerable, this strong, tough man sitting on your little couch. 

“I haven’t had an attack like that in a while. But then, I hadn’t done anything like that in a while.”

This time Joel turns to look at you properly. “Not your first rodeo, huh?”

You giggle at the turn of phrase. “Not quite. Let’s just say my stick did a lot of work over the last twenty years. He wasn’t the first to feel the brunt of it.”

Joel nods, and you feel strangely relieved that he doesn’t seem surprised. “Doesn’t get easier, though, does it?”

“It does not. Which is why it’s better to avoid having to do it.”

”I agree. Gotta say, though, I - I was worried you wouldn’t be able for patrol, y’know?”

You arch an eyebrow at him. “I know. I overheard you, remember?”

He blushes. “Aw, shit. Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I just didn’t want anything happening to you, what with your - condition, and all.”

You sigh softly, not really noticing the affection in his voice. “Most of the time, I’m fine. Y’know? I’m slower, but I do okay. I get tired more easily, but I manage. I didn’t come here to be a drain on the community.”

”You aren’t.”

”I know, but I want to keep it that way. I want to pull my weight. I’m able, Joel.”

He huffs in agreement. “Not like I’m a perfect specimen these days, either. Knees, fuckin’ back, deaf in one ear…” 

You chuckle. “And you thought I wouldn’t manage patrol? Anyway, you’re not doing so bad, are you?”

He gives you a little smile, but that constant sadness still haunts his eyes. He stares at his coffee for a moment.

“You knew what you were doing, though.”

”I did. But I didn’t feel like I could stop.” You sip your tea, swallowing hard. “And I’m scared that makes me some kinda monster. You know?”

Oh, he knows. He knows it too well.

”You aren’t a monster.” Joel resists the urge to put an arm around you. “You just… something snapped, I guess. All that - well, all that hell you’ve gone through. It… it changes you. But it doesn’t make you a monster.”

He realises you’re crying before you do, spotting the fat tears that roll down your cheeks. He finds a clean handkerchief in his jeans and offers it to you. 

Fuck it. 

“Can I - can I put an arm round you? Just for some support?”

Your eyes light up, tears or no tears, and you nod enthusiastically. Joel is warm and comforting, his broad chest and strong arms a kind of anchor in the emotional storm. You nuzzle against him, and he gives you a little squeeze on the arm.

”You’re a really brave woman, you know that?”

His voice is quieter, more intentional. You look at him quizzically from under your lashes, unused to praise of this kind. For an instant you think about asking him what he means. But the safety you’ve found in the broad arm draped around you is all you need right now. 

You nuzzle a little against his chest, and watch the fire dancing for the rest of the night. 

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 14

Hey, guys just a couple chapters left. The story is done. I kind skip over the Mind Flayer bit and get back to the heart of the story, Eddie and Steve.

It will be some time before I start the last one. The lack of interest for this one made it hard to finish and as you're aware I don't really like having to rely on canon so much. And the last one will have to feature it in someway. But we'll see.

In this we get Eddie calling in the cavalry, Steve and Robin are captured and Steve plays hero.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

~

To say Eddie was worried would be an understatement. He had gone to the mall to pick Steve up from work and he wasn’t there.

But he knew about the Russian message and he knew that there was one thing Steve couldn’t stand and that’s was letting a literal child rush headlong into danger, not if he could help it.

So he started looking around. There were bound to be clues. And sure enough, the ladder had been moved and vent wasn’t properly screwed on anymore. But there was no way that any of the three Musketeers would fit through that space and he shuddered to think what or who they would have gotten to go down that tunnel.

He put his hand on his hip and scratched his chin. Then he snapped his fingers. There was nothing for it. He was going to have to call in the cavalry and by cavalry he meant Uncle Wayne.

Eddie went to a payphone and pulled out a quarter. He dialed home.

“‘Ello,” Wayne greeted gruffly. “Wayne speaking.”

“Uncle Wayne!” he cried. “I’m at the mall and I can’t find Steve. His car is still here, but I can’t find him. Which his car being here is weird as I was supposed to pick him up.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Wayne said, nice and low, “This is about those comics, ain’t it?”

Eddie straightened his spine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t be playing games with me, boy,” Wayne growled. “If your boy is trouble I need to know everything.”

“Meet me on the north side of the mall and I’ll tell you what I know,” Eddie whispered, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t want to say much over the phone.”

Again there was a beat then, “I’m on my way.”

~

The arguing was starting to mess with Steve’s head. In that he meant it was going to give him a migraine and then he was going to murder them. Particularly since he didn’t have his medication with him.

Because they were trapped in a fucking elevator underneath the mall and no way out or back up.

“Shut up!” he huffed. “I don’t care about Tina or Uncle Jack’s party, mmk?” He cocked his head forward for emphasis. “Look if we don’t find a way out of here, there wouldn’t be any parties or shit, because we’d all be dead. No one is looking for us, because they don’t know where we are.”

Erica popped her hip and placed her hand on it. “Maybe no one is looking for you. But my parents are absolutely looking for me.”

Steve covered his face with his hands. “Not what I meant! I mean no one is going to look for a secret Russian base under the mall because that’s fucking insane!”

Time went on and it was looking less and less likely they’d find a way out even with Dustin constantly trying to use his little communicator to reach out to anyone who could help when Robin heard someone coming.

They all ducked behind the crates when Steve got a bright idea. Taking Erica’s vial of green glowing liquid, he leapt into action.

As the elevator door closed, he stuck the vial between the floor and the door, effectively stopping its descent. He signaled to Dustin and Erica to get out first and then Robin. He rolled under the door just the vial’s strength gave out.

It shattered, its contents spewing all over the floor. Then to their horror it began to eat away at the floor and the door.

“Shit!” Dustin swore and Steve agreed. He barely missed rolling into the stuff and really didn’t want to know what it did to flesh if it did that to fucking metal.

They looked around but the only way to go was further into the base.

“Out of the frying pan,” Robin said with her hands on her hips, “and into the fire.”

Steve sighed and walked toward the long hallway, the other three following close behind.

~

Eddie paced in front of the movie theater. He was really worried about Steve now. He had asked a couple of the other people in the food court if they had seen anything, but the only thing they mentioned was that they closed early.

He wished not for the first time that Steve had thought to call him. But he knew why he didn’t. There were several reason that came to his head. That Dustin was super pushy about it and Steve wasn’t allowed the time to call. That Steve didn’t want him involved in whatever the hell this mess was. Which fair, but a head’s up would have been nice.

A beat up pickup pulled to a stop in front of him and he nearly sagged with relief. Uncle Wayne would know what to do.

Wayne was out of his truck and gathering Eddie up in his arms before his lip could even wobble.

Eddie told him everything Steve had said about weird shit in Hawkins and how everything was tied to that lab. He had been slowly prying it out of Steve over the last month whenever they were alone.

“We’ll find him,” Wayne said fiercely. “So he’s car’s here, which means it’s probably been left here overnight. Whatever happened, didn’t happen today. Which isn’t good. Who might he have gone to?”

Eddie frowned. “I’m pretty sure Dustin is already with him, and probably his co-worker, Robin Buckley.” He thought about the comic with the dire wolves. “Lucas Sinclair and Max Mayfield.”

“Ed,” Wayne said slowly, “those are children you just named.”

“Uh...” Eddie said, wrinkling his brow in concentration. “I know there are a couple of actual adults involved, but I don’t know who. I mean, I’d guess Mrs. Byers because her son is in the middle of all this shit, but...” he just shrugged.

Wayne rubbed his eyebrow in frustration. These were children, Steve included. He didn’t care if the boy just turned eighteen, Steve was only sixteen when all this shit started. None of them should have been anywhere near this shit.

“Hopper!” Eddie cried, snapping his fingers. “Steve said the police chef knew about the goings on here in Hawkins.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Wayne muttered darkly.

Secretly Eddie agreed. He was usually all about down with the man and conspiracies and all that shit, but the chief of police knowing that things are fucked up and not doing more to protect this town from whatever the hell this all was? Yeah, fuck that guy in particular.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Wayne said firmly. “I’m going to go the police station and hunt Hopper down, see if he knows about anything under the mall. You are going to stay here, keep an eye out for him at the mall. Since his car is still here, he’s got to be somewhere on the property.”

Eddie nodded, pursing his lips together and rocking back on his heels.

“Good,” Wayne groused. “I’ve got a pair of walkies in the cab of my truck, we’ll keep in contact that way, okay?”

Eddie heaved a sigh of relief. That made it easy to know where each other was at all times. He took the walkie talkie from Wayne and headed back into the mall.

He knew that Steve wouldn’t be in the food court, wherever he had gone, was away from the ice cream shop.

So he setup his vigil on one of the benches half way between the food court and the theater so that he could keep an eye on the two busiest locations.

He pulled out his little notebook to make it look like he was drawing or whatever to not arouse suspicion and settled in for a long wait.

~

Steve was fucking terrified. He wanted to run back to Forest Hills and crawl into Eddie’s bed and never come out of it ever again. They were only supposed to find out what the Russians were up to so that they could report it to their ‘friends’ at the DOE and be lauded as heroes instead of heaps of NDAs and admonishments to keep their mouths shut.

But now they were walking into something they didn’t even fucking know how to get out of. No one knew where they were. Or even where to start looking. Dustin had almost used up all the battery on his little communicator trying to get into contact with their friends and no one had answered.

And then he saw it.

It was a good thing he hadn’t eaten in who knows how long because he absolutely would have lost it.

“What the hell is that?” Erica said, reeling back in disgust.

“Dustin,” Steve implored. “Please tell me that isn’t what it looks like.”

Dustin grabbed his hand. “Uh...nope. It’s exactly what it looks like.”

They had reached a room where there were a lot of scientists running around, calling out in Russian and making notes on clipboards. In the center of the room was a red pulsating mass.

They ducked behind some boxes and Steve bit back a whimper.

“Is it open?” Steve asked Dustin.

Dustin peeked over the boxes and then ducked back down. “No. Not yet. But I bet that’s what the green goo is for.”

“Shit,” Steve hissed. “Of course they’re trying to open a Gate. What else would Russians want with Hawkins?”

Dustin looked devastated, because Steve was right. There was only one thing a foreign government would want in their fucked up little town. The Upside Down.

They managed to sneak around the scientists and found themselves in a control room. A mostly empty control with a single guard.

Steve plan was stupid. But it was all they had.

And it ended better than he thought it would if he was honest with himself. Robin and he had been captured while Erica and Dustin had gotten away.

They kept asking him over and over who they were and who they worked for. Steve did everything he could to keep the attention on him. Robin didn’t know anything. She didn’t know anything about Gates and monsters, and alternative dimensions. He kept repeating the truth over and over again.

“Steve Harrington, I work at Scoops Ahoy!” he chanted, his voice slurring after the fifth strike to the side of his face.

Again and again they didn’t believe him.

Then they took him away and the beating intensified. He was crying now and he didn’t care. He just wanted to have a barbecue with his boyfriend and his uncle. His parents had called him again to say that they wouldn’t be home. He hoped and feared that Eddie and Wayne were looking for him.

Then his world went black.

~

I'm not going to show Steve being tortured. This story isn't about that. It's not even really about season 3. It's about Steve and Eddie.

Part 15 Part 16

Tag List: FIVE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @blondie1006

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades

7- @mugloversonly @y4r3luv @greeniebean911 @birbsauce @acingthecounts

8- @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts

9- @clockworkballerina @bluelightsinthevoid @blcksh33p1987 @i-go-pink-in-the-night @mamafaithful

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Hey I saw you have a titanium ankle - how does having that kind of implant feel? Obviously not the same thing but my dad's getting a hip replacement soon and I wanna know more beforehand

In my case it's a bit different, if I understand hip replacements correctly - rather than anything being replaced, I got... bolt-ons. Literally.

(Basically, to keep a boring story short, when I was 24 I walked down some stairs, an act I have performed my whole life without incident. This, I suspect, was the problem. I forgot to Respect The Stairs. So one moment I was moving smoothly and one might say procedurally downwards from one step to the next using both feet in an alternating fashion (that being the style at the time), and then the next I was falling.

And I caught the bannister! I went maybe three steps at most. But unfortunately, when I tried using my right foot in my usual manner (i.e. to support my body's weight in an upright position), I apparently placed it sort of... on its side? With the sole of my foot angled outwards to the right rather than directly down.

So when my weight came down I literally snapped my foot off. Those are not my words, you understand. Those were the words of the medical professional who looked at my x-rays, closely followed by "Your skin is holding it on.")

Anyway it took three operations over two weeks to bolt it back on, so what I have is an extensive and beautiful Mechano-like construct made of plates and screws holding the bones together. I have naturally slim ankles, so if you pay attention you can see that one is a bit wider than the other now (which does affect boots); also I can feel the edge of one of the plates if I press with my fingers.

But actually other than that, there's no difference. I can't feel a weight difference at all. I can't point that foot as well as the other, but that's the injury rather than the plates. The doctors at the time told me I could eventually have them removed if I wanted, but only after five years; but honestly, I haven't been affected enough to care. It's actually a stronger ankle now than the bio-one, so eh.

Also I did try magnets. Didn't take, titanium is not magnetic.

OH - it also doesn't get picked up by those walk-through airport metal detectors, but it does if they have to use the wand on you, because that's more powerful. I imagine that will be the same for your Dad. So it shouldn't affect travel or what have you.

In any case, I hope any of that was helpful, and good luck to your Dad! They're supposed to be magical things, hip replacements, so fingers crossed he gets his smoothly and without complications.

[ms-demeanor]

I went diabetic earlier this year, since then I've had far more serious health concerns to really focus on it. I've listened to my primary care and reduced my average a1c from 13 to 7. I've recently been looking into diets and what not that are the best. Currently, I'm trying to cut out all carbs, on my doctor's orders. What I'm seeing though is that a plant based diet is best. It looks like a ketogenic diet is what my doctor wants me to follow? I've watched videos on both diets and I don't know, I agree with you that keto is evil. What are your thoughts about this?

I am not a medical professional so i can't give you medical advice, but I'd say that you should ask your doctor for a referral to a dietician (an RD or an RDN, NOT a "nutritionist" - RD/RDN are protected terms that mean they have completed specific training and have specific board certification) and ask the dietician for advice on your specific dietary needs for your specific medical conditions.

What I can say is that trying to cut all carbs is pretty dangerous - not only is it a macronutrient that our body uses as the most available fuel for your body processes (we *can* get fuel from protein and fat, and ketones can *theoretically* replace sugars for energy but nobody is actually sure how long our bodies can do that and we know it's a LOT less efficient, it's supposed to be less efficient, and what that means is it makes a lot of people feel exhausted when they try it because they literally have less available energy) but also there are certain nutrients that are fortified in the US that are going to be hard to get if you're cutting carbs completely. The example that I always use is folate, because when I had to cut wheat out of my diet (i have grain allergies and celiac disease) I didn't know to supplement it and ended up with a form of anemia and stuff like "fainting" and "dizziness" and "low oxygen saturation."

Which is part of why massive diet changes should be undertaken with the assistance of a dietician! That's why I started studying nutrition! Because nobody supervised my medically necessary diet changes and it went very poorly!

Your GP very likely doesn't have a ton of training on nutrition, and is even less likely to have training on nutrition specific to your condition. If your GP is telling you to cut all carbs, they are telling you to do something dangerous and not nutritionally sound (even really restrictive keto diets call for 20g of carbs a day). Ask either them or your endocrinologist for a referral to a dietician (again, you are looking for a Registered Dietician or a Registered Dietician Nutritionist, RD or RDN, NOT just 'nutritionist') who is familiar with helping diabetics manage their nutrition.

Now, all of that said, in the choice between two fairly restrictive diets I will always say to try the one that requires less effort. It is much easier to eat a plant-based diet long term than a keto diet, and it is vanishingly unlikely that you are going to end up protein deficient (the primary concern for most people who are starting plant based diets, and it's just not all that likely - we need a lot less protein than a lot of people seem to think; though if you're going completely vegan you do need to be careful to supplement your B vitamins and to ensure that you're getting plenty of omega fats)

Because the thing is, for a diet to "work" you have to be on that diet forever. If you stop being on that diet, and stop adhering to its restrictions, whatever benefits exist for that diet go away. So the best diet for *anybody* is one that will provide them with the nutrients they need in a way that they can access regularly and affordably, that they enjoy eating and can comfortably maintain for long periods of time, and that includes a variety of fruits and vegetables because the only diet advice that is nearly universally applicable is that people should be eating more fruits and vegetables and they should be eating a wider variety of them.

I am not a fan of "diets" as a concept and I think that people should think of nutrition in terms of "my diet" not "the diet that is meant to be one-size-fits-all for millions of people that I am attempting." Your diet is what you eat and drink, and that is what you should be looking at adjusting. If you want to reduce carbs in your diet it's better to tweak your consumption than it is totally replace your diet with a one size fits all keto diet. If you want to increase fat in your diet it is better to tweak your consumption than it is to replace your diet with a one size fits all atkins diet. If you want to go plant based I think it is better to start by adjusting your diet to include more plants and to slowly replace animal based products than by trying a one size fits all vegan diet right out of the gate. You can always (and should!) make adjustments to what you eat as circumstances change and you may end up at a vegan diet or a low carb high fat diet and find that that works for you, but part of the reason that I think nutrition studies on diets are so screwy and hard to pin down is because your body is going to *flip the fuck out* when you change from, say, an average american diet to a study-provided Mediterranean diet for a 12 week experiment. If you drastically change your diet all at once and get good results immediately it's very hard to say if those results will be lasting because your body may just adjust to the "new normal" of your diet six months down the line.

But like seriously if your GP is telling you to cut all carbs you need to see a person who specializes in nutrition, and to prepare for your appointment with that person you should make a list of your goals (for you it sounds like you want to manage your blood sugar levels, reduce a1c, and *ask about* low carbs if that is something that interests you), a list of things you think that you'll have trouble with or that you want to include in your diet because they're important to you (if you really like nuts but have to be on a low fat diet, ask if there's a way to work around that with your needs, for example; if there is a cultural staple that you will find difficult to cut from family meals, TELL THEM THAT), a list of questions that you have about different types of diets, and *VERY IMPORTANTLY* information about your food budget and cooking skills. Be clear about it if you can't cook. Be clear about it if you can't afford certain ingredients.

Anyway. Once again, not medical advice, please speak to a medical professional, good luck.

[saintsenara]

SORRY I KNOW ITS WEIRD ASKING A HP TUMBLR BLOG FOR LIFE ADVICE BUT IM SO CURIOUS HOW DO YOU MANAGE YOUR TIME

this is a genuine answer.

i think it's very important for there to be no doubt about the fact that - without medication - i would be fucked. there are plenty of non-medical ways of helping to manage adhd, but stimulant medication is the frontline treatment for a reason - no matter what the latest moral panic says. you cannot girlboss your way out of having an incurable neurological condition - and i will be honest that the few people in my life who think that you can are also the few people in my life i consider to be actively contemptible.

time management starts and ends with easily having executive function - and "easily" is the operative word. i can - of course - survive without medication - but i do so while stalked by a constant state of nervous energy which is just exhausting. not least because it ruins my sleep.

[the experience of realising that - no - you're not semi-nocturnal, you've just never before been properly calm the first time you take your pills... exquisite.]

and when i'm in the state of relative normality that legal amphetamine use brings, i manage my time by...

1. wearing a watch

no checking the time on my phone - i'll just get distracted by scrolling.

2. setting huge numbers of alarms

beat time-blindness with this one weird trick.

bonus points - if you're someone who finds it hard to switch between tasks or gets stuck hyper-focusing on things, then set the alarm and then put the device it's on far enough away from you that you have to move in order to turn it off.

3. putting everything on the wall

if you are dopamine-challenged, the best tip i can give you is that you are deluding yourself if you think you can use normal diaries/planners/to-do lists. this is why you probably have cupboards full of them.

stick everything on the wall, where you can see it, and set it up in a way that you can easily move tasks around [i.e. by using a whiteboard you can erase, or sticking your planner inside a plastic wallet and writing on it, or by having everything on sticky notes you can move around].

numbered task lists [i have to do x first, then move onto y] are a no-go - because if you don't do x, then you won't move onto y. but having groups of tasks - organised by urgency or difficulty, for example - which are right there in front of you can be selected from work much better with the adhd brain.

4. being a shark

by which i mean, being constantly on the move. desk chairs are the enemy. never sit still.

if you have adhd - and, to be frank, even if you don't - you will find that doing something physical while you need to concentrate on a task improves your ability to focus on that task. it also helps with managing time-blindness, task-switching, hyper-focus which is to the detriment of what you're supposed to be doing, and being easily distracted.

when i'm at work i literally never sit down. i use a standing desk [which, if you have a diagnosis of adhd and you're uk-based, counts as a reasonable adjustment your employer has to provide for you, fyi], and i have an under-desk treadmill [which i had to pay for myself, which i do not regret in the slightest] for tasks which really need a lot of effort to power through.

at home, i have an adjustable desk which i use as a standing desk or which i sit at while using an under-desk bike [which i use when i'm likely to get stuck hyper-focusing on something and need not to be - like if i'm writing fic but i need to meet up with friends at a certain time - because it's really uncomfortable and it therefore compels me to get up] or an exercise ball [the effort of not falling off really helps with concentration].

obviously, these types of movement are possible for me because i'm not physically disabled - it will look different for everyone, but any level of physical movement [including using fidget toys] helps with time management by improving focus.

5. body-doubling

this is a classic adhd-and-productivity thing, which means having someone physically with you while you work. they're not there to supervise you [or indeed to engage with you at all] - they're working on their own things - but the way that the adhd brain is primed for pattern recognition [and is very good at mimicry] means that you end up falling into the same rhythm as the other person.

if you need to complete something in a finite amount of time, then having someone you can body-double with is really useful, because you're less likely to get distracted from or overwhelmed by the task at hand. similarly, having a double helps prevent you getting stuck hyper-focusing.

6. owning my shit

everyone - even the most neurotypical of people - is late, or misses deadlines, or forgets meetings, or puts off tasks sometimes. it will happen no matter how brilliant your organisational system is. it's part of life.

but if you have adhd, it's very easy to fall into "well, this is just what i'm like" thinking - both self-critically ["i can't improve this, i'm a fuck-up"] and self-indulgently ["he has no right to be angry at me for being late for his party, he knows i have adhd"].

untrue. if you struggle with time management you have a responsibility to get a grip on aspects of those struggles which inconvenience other people. you will have to be quite strict with yourself in order to do this - i've ended up in a position, for example, where i'm always extremely [and often inconveniently - i do a lot of lurking outside the function waiting until it's time to go in] early for things. this is because i know that if i give myself an inch ["oh, i can wait fifteen minutes before leaving, it'll be fine!"] then i'll take a mile ["fuck, i should have left half an hour ago"].

so too with tasks. that "you can do this later... just go on your phone for a bit" voice is the devil speaking. do not listen.

i'm afraid that i've not found this becoming more intuitive with time - i have to be constantly strict with myself, in a way that neurotypical people don't - but it's just the way it is, you just have to do your best.

be community-minded about the things you need to do, be proactive in identifying what your weak areas are and thinking about how you can get around them [as i've said, mine is being late, and so i'm always hyper-alert about not slipping into complacency around this] forgive yourself for the odd slip, say sorry without caveats to people you inconvenience, thank people who are gracious, and extend grace in turn.

7. taking every bit of help going

i'm open about my diagnosis at work - which is a piece of good fortune which isn't available to everyone.

[although, if you're uk-based, a diagnosis of adhd counts as a disability under the equality act - your employer is obligated to make reasonable adjustments for you, you can't be dismissed just for having adhd, and you are entitled to bring a claim of disability discrimination if you are not provided with reasonable adjustments. you are also entitled to apply for an access to work grant - which provides financial assistance for adjustments which fall outside of the reasonable costs your employer is legally obliged to incur.]

i have adjustments at work [not only my standing desk, but things like permission to record meetings and to have all instructions issued in writing] and i feel absolutely no shame over it. if i can get something for free from the government to make my life easier, i will take it.

i am also absolutely shameless about taking advantage of my colleagues to help with time management - using them as body doubles, or asking them to get me from my office so i'm not late to things, for example - and i take advantage of my friends and family along the same lines.

human beings are social creatures - this is literally what we're designed to do - and it's incredibly important to reject the "i owe nobody anything" paradigm [which is one of the most egregious crimes of modern, poorly-regulated therapy]. i receive support, and i repay it turn by doing things for the people who help me.

8. constantly having a little treat

i am a grown adult with three degrees and a mortgage. i have also been known to use a star chart for a little flutter of pride in myself.

if you have a time management triumph, give yourself a little treat. you deserve it.

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Chapter 1 - Next - Series Masterlist - ao3

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: romance, smut, light angst, strangers to lovers to disgustingly in love, medic!reader

Word Count: 25k

During the last months of training for the 104th cadets… 

As a general rule, (Y/N) tried not to make a habit of disobeying direct orders out in the field, but seeing as how the person yelling at her was technically not her boss, she felt that a little resistance to stupid orders in particular wouldn't get her court-marshalled. Or, at least she hoped that was the case, because if not, she was so screwed. 

“Hell if I’m going to forsake my duty here! Take your cowardice and get the fuck out of my OR, you’re contaminating it!”

Okay, so maybe the operating room in question was a field medic’s tent, and maybe it wasn’t as sterile as (Y/N) would have liked it to be in the first place, but it was the principle of the thing. She would not abandon this operation just to save her own skin. She would not . 

“That was an order!” barked the squad leader, barging over to grab her arm. “The signal for retreat was just fired, and we can’t afford to lose any more medics—”

“Cara, bring me the forceps, now!”

The squad leader huffed, exasperated.

“(Y/N), you fool, we’re pulling back with or without you. When we’re gone, there'll be no protection, no cover for you, and we can’t afford to wait around for you to finish! We have to get back inside the walls before the gate closes or this expedition will have been for nothing!"

“Then go! Leave me a cart and horses, I’ll make it back through the gate myself.” (Y/N) looked up from her work, glanced around at the frightened faces of her comrades, and added, “I don’t need an assistant for this, everyone else may go.”

“(Y/N)-san…” began one of the younger medics, but (Y/N) cut her off.

“Go,” she said, her voice more steady than she felt. “All of you. Take everything and go, but leave me the sutures and a scalpel.” 

The sutures, (Y/N) would need to finish the operation. The scalpel, well… that was for emergencies. Its purpose remained unspoken but anyone who had worked in the field would understand. As realization dawned, the medic who had spoken up choked back a gasping sob, placing a hand over her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. 

“This is madness,” declared the squad leader, “I won’t stand for it! I’ll drag you out of here myself if I have to, you mulish little—”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Every head in the tent turned at the sound of that voice, including (Y/N)’s. Captain Levi Ackerman stood at the opening, bracing one hand on the flap of the tent, which allowed the breeze to catch his hair as it passed by. He cut a hell of a figure, standing there as a shadow against the brightness of the world behind him, and (Y/N) nearly forgot that she was supposed to be sewing a man back together as she stared.

“Go ahead and get your men and these medics back through the gate," the captain ordered, his eyes fixed on the operation table. "I’ll watch after her, and we’ll make it back before the gate closes.”

The captain’s tone brooked no argument, but still the squad leader tried to protest. 

“But sir, if you don’t, then—”

“Then you’ll close the gate exactly as you would have, regardless of whether we make it or not. Now, get these people out of here. That’s an order.”

This time, the squad leader did as he was told and began to usher the medics and their tools outside the tent and onto one of the carts. As (Y/N) resumed her work, the captain approached, stopping right before he reached the make-shift operating table that held her patient. She half expected him to offer her a rebuke or to question her stubbornness, but instead, he simply said:

“Tell me how I can help.”

It took a moment for (Y/N) to find her tongue, but once she did, her training quickly kicked in, and she shocked herself by giving orders as though she were speaking to an assistant and not a literal living legend. 

“Move the injured who can’t ride to whatever cart we’ll be taking, and find a horse for those who can. Bring as many of the deceased to their cart as you can, but don't worry if you can’t get them all.” (Y/N) paused for a moment, then added, “Try to get the least-mangled ones you can find first. Some of them… well, it’s better that their loved ones don’t see them like that. You’ll know which ones I mean when you see them.”

The captain nodded and moved to do as she had said, but stopped before he had turned fully away.

“Try to piece that poor bastard together as fast as you can,” he said, his expression unreadable. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Hai, heichou. I’m working as fast as I can.”

The rest of the operation went by in a blur. By the time (Y/N) snipped the last suture, the tent had been taken down around her, and nothing was left but herself, her patient, the captain, and the cart. The captain was casually leaning on the side of the cart, arms folded, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel his gaze on her as she glanced over to him. Swallowing her timidity, she stared right back and asked for help carrying the wounded soldier on her table to the cart, and soon they were ready to start the journey back to the safety of the walls.

“Can you drive this thing?” he asked her as he took up the reins. “You’ll need to if we run into any titans.”

(Y/N) nodded, and before she could stop herself, she admitted aloud that she always won the cart races at the spring festival in her hometown.

“There’s not a better driver in the whole district,” she added, thinking back to the obstacles that always found their way onto their little makeshift racetrack. “You can count on that.”

“Good,” said the captain as he urged the horses on, “Because if that rumbling is any indication, we’ve got some incoming trouble on the left.”

With that, he passed the reins to (Y/N) and stood lightly on the driver’s bench next to her. Silently, she marveled at his poise and grace; balancing through the rough and bumpy ride was surely difficult, but there was nothing in his disposition to indicate anything but casual ease. Such a talent could only have come from years of experience with ODM gear, and yet (Y/N) felt that it must have come naturally to him on some level, like a cat using its whiskers, or a wolf using its fangs. 

For a while longer, there was peace and quiet on their path. The world outside the walls was so vast and beautiful that in that moment, side-by-side with humanity’s strongest soldier, (Y/N) could almost pretend she was driving somewhere new and exciting to start a life far away from the voluntary captivity of the walls. The sun had never seemed so bright, nor the grass so green, nor the sky so blue from within humanity's protective prison bars; the very air of the world beyond confinement seemed sweeter, and (Y/N) allowed herself to dream, just for a moment, that humanity was free. It was a beautiful dream, even a perfect one, and she wondered whether it was a dream the captain shared. 

“Steady on,” he said, and (Y/N) was jolted out of her thoughts. Curious, she followed the captain’s westward gaze and found a relatively small— but surprisingly swift— titan approaching on the horizon. As instructed, (Y/N) continued driving the cart forward, maintaining their steady pace, and once the titan was in range, the captain lept from the cart and began to engage.

By all rights, (Y/N) should have been watching the ground in front of her, but her traitorous eyes were drawn to the captain as he sailed through the air with the grace of a falcon closing in on its prey. Observing him in action was like watching some sort of intricate, predatory dance; no movement was wasted, no weakness reared its head, and the kill itself seemed to have a rhythm filled with graceful syncopation. It was truly a breathtaking sight, and (Y/N) felt truly grateful that she had been witness to it. 

Once he had finished, the captain returned, landing nimbly in the same spot from which he had lept only a few moments earlier. He was silent for a moment, but then he glanced down at (Y/N) and said in an off-handed sort of way,

“You drive well.”

(Y/N) couldn't help herself. She burst into laughter.  

“Oi, brat,” he huffed testily, “I was trying to give you a compliment.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she apologized, poorly stifling giggle. “It’s just that you just sailed through the air like whoosh , right, and you brought that titan down like you do it every day right after reading the morning paper, but it’s— it’s my driving that you find impressive!”

The captain had no response to that, but (Y/N) could have sworn she saw the corner of his mouth tick upwards. 

Fortunately, the rest of the ride was uneventful, with the exception of the occasional titan appearing here and there along the way, but the captain always dispatched them with such speed and efficiency that their presence was almost inconsequential. By the time they reached the gate, (Y/N) realized that with the captain by her side, she had forgotten to be worried at all. 

The rumors certainly don’t exaggerate his abilities by any stretch of the imagination, she thought, hazarding a glance up at him only to find his gaze on the horizon. He’s truly a giant among men, even if he’s a bit on the short side. 

They crossed the threshold of the gate just as it was beginning to be lowered, and happy, excited tittering came from those waiting at the opening for their return.

“I’ll be damned,” said the squad leader from before as (Y/N) slowed the horses, pulling the cart to a halt. “You made it just in time— and without a scratch on you, I see!”

“I’m surprised you were ever in doubt,” (Y/N) replied with a teasing smile as she accepted a hand down from the cart. “With Levi-heichou, it seems that anything is possible.”

The captain, who had climbed down on the same side, shrugged. 

“It was as much her as me. She never lost her nerve not once, titans or no titans, and the horses responded well to a calm hand.”

(Y/N) felt heat rise to her cheeks; whether it was from embarrassment or pleasure, she couldn’t tell. “You over-exaggerate, heichou.”

The captain turned to look at her then, and as the full force of his gaze fell on her, (Y/N) had the strongest urge to take a step backwards. She felt at once like a fox who had yipped at a hound, but she refused to look away or do anything else to let anyone know that she was anything but self-assured. 

“I never got your name.”

He spoke each word strangely, as though he had chosen them very carefully, and (Y/N) felt the need to choose her response with equal care and consideration.

“(L/N). (Y/N) (L/N), head medic of the 84th division.” More out of muscle memory than anything, she extended her hand for him to shake. “It’s been a pleasure working with you, heichou.”

The captain studied her for a moment, then took her hand in his own, his grip pleasantly firm.

“Levi Ackerman. Drop the heichou, just Levi is fine.”

The whole world seemed to fall away then at the touch of their hands. Of course, the general movement of the troops away from the closed gate was partly to blame, as it created a sense of standing still in a world that was moving— but there was something about the way that he looked at her just then, something about the way his hand felt in hers that seemed strangely, cosmically inevitable.

It felt like fate.

“Then… thank you, Levi, for helping me today,” she said as their hands parted. “Without you, I’d be titan fodder by now, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“No need,” he replied, utterly unreadable. “You were doing your duty, I did mine. There’s nothing to thank me for.”

(Y/N) frowned.

“Heichou— I mean, Levi,” she hastily corrected herself as he raised a brow, “I— I don’t mean to be rude, but you must know that helping me… that wasn’t your duty. You— you didn’t have to do it, but… you did it anyways.”

The captain— Levi— shook his head. “What are you getting at? I did it, it’s over. There’s nothing more to it.”

“But— why?”

The question was out of (Y/N)’s mouth before she quite realized she’d spoken it, but thankfully Levi didn’t seem offended. He only studied her for a moment— looking suddenly exhausted and somehow softer— before he answered. 

“Because you’re a gallant and a fool for talking back to that squad leader and risking your neck for a single patient,” he said, “And of all the people in the world, gallants and fools are those of whom I'm most fond."

(Y/N) was floored. She hadn’t known what sort of answer she had been expecting but… it certainly wasn’t anything as profound as that.

“I— thank you.”

That should have been the end of the conversation— after all, what more was there to say?— but neither of them moved. They stood there in silence, staring at one another as though it had never occurred for them to look elsewhere, and (Y/N) fought the urge to fidget under the captain’s scrutiny.

“Do— do you sleep well after an expedition, Levi-heichou?”

Once again, her mouth had moved before her brain, and the captain’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t see how that’s any concern of yours— and I said drop the heichou.”

(Y/N) allowed herself a small smile. If she was going to make a fool of herself, she may as well have fun while she was at it. 

“I’m asking in a professional capacity, Levi . Do you sleep well after an expedition?”

The captain acquiesced. “Initially, I crash, but after…”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence for (Y/N) to understand exactly what he meant.

“Almost everyone I know has the same answer,” she replied, her grin broadening. “One more question. Do you know why the medical corps always camps out in the open the night after an expedition instead of staying at an inn in town with everyone else until they can return to their permanent duty station?”

It was clear that the captain was becoming more and more perplexed, but his answer was simple.

“No.”

Ah, what the hell. What was the worst that could happen?

“Well, if you can’t sleep tonight, or even if you’d just like to find out, slip out to the largest tent in the center of the medical corps camp at dusk,” she told him, refusing to allow herself to hope that he would even consider the invitation once it was out of her mouth. “It’s just what the doctor ordered for any ailments a man might have. Good day to you, heichou— I've got work to do now, but if you decide to go, do look for me there. I’d love to show you around.” 

With that, she turned on her heel and wandered to where the wounded were being helped into places where real treatment could be administered, leaving the conversation behind. Even as she walked away, she felt brazen and foolish, but she couldn't contain the buzz of excitement that bubbled through her veins at the thought that the captain might actually take her up on her offer.

Idiot girl, she scolded herself as she put her hands to work, He probably thinks you’re some stupid hero-worshipper. He’ll never even think about it after today, except maybe to laugh about it with his friends.

That offer was the only think Levi could think about as darkness fell. 

When he’d told Erwin and Hange, they’d nearly laughed him out of the room.

“I bet she has nurse lingerie lying in wait for you,” Hange giggled, her eyes bright with mirth. “She seems all cool and collected on the outside, but on the inside there’s just another rabid fangirl foaming at the mouth for the famous Levi-heichou. ”

“Hange, don’t bully him,” said Erwin, though the laughter in his tone belied his reprimand. “I’m sure she’s well-intentioned. I think going would be good for you, Levi.”

Levi had scowled, ready to adamantly refuse, but Erwin wasn’t finished.

“How long has it been since anyone sparked your interest, hm? Tell me, exactly how long has it been that someone looked you in the face and openly held an intriguing, engaging conversation with you that wasn't meant to flatter or charm you?”

Erwin already knew the answer. It had been a long time— too long. Still, that had little relevance to the matter at hand.

“So what?” Levi replied, crossing his arms. “So she’s chatty, so she’s got a decent head on her shoulders— that doesn’t mean I should take her up on a shady invitation to ‘the medic’s tent’ or whatever in the hell.”

“She’s letting you into her world,” Erwin said, sipping his cup of tea. “It could be her way of saying thank you.”

Hange grinned. “Or it could be a trap, and her way of saying ‘thank you’ could be a drunken frolic in the forest where, y’know, anything could happen, and then you end up with little Ackerman babies running amok and wreaking havoc on the general population— ow!”

Levi had thrown his cup at her, and still wasn’t sorry. 

That conversation had given him a lot to think about. On one hand, he was unbearably curious about this woman; she was sharp and brave and witty and unpredictable, and he was frighteningly eager to see her again. On the other… there were so many ways that the evening could turn sour that it wasn’t even funny. She could drug him and sleep with him for clout. Worse, she could not drug him and manage to coax him into bed anyways for clout— or to have his babies like Hange had suggested. Ugh, what a horrible thought! She could get him drunk and make a fool of him for sport, she could ask him to dance and step all over his newly-polished boots, or heaven forbid, she really could turn into a rabid fangirl and rip out some of his hair for a keepsake… and yet he was still considering it. 

This is stupid, he thought to himself as he pulled on his boots. Why should I leave my nice, comfy room in this nice, comfy inn? To see a woman I only met today and will likely never see again? That’s lunacy.

He was going. He had to, right? He’d picked out what to wear and everything, there was really no reason not to.

Other than the babies thing. 

Fuck.

It was an hour or two more before Levi made his final decision. He’d paced his room like a caged tiger, unable to get a moment’s peace without thinking of that smile, that voice, that offer … it was maddening. He had to go, or he’d implode his brain trying to take his mind off of it. With an agitated sigh, he shrugged on his uniform coat and forced himself down the stairs, fighting the urge to grumble all the way. 

“Oh-ho, looks like Levi decided to meet his booty call after all!” Hange laughed from her seat beside Erwin at the inn's dinner table, “There’s a man who knows he’ll make the walk of shame in the morning!”

“Shut the hell up, shit-glasses,” he shot back, but there was no real venom behind it.

“I love you too!” she replied with a cackle, and Levi cracked a smile even as he let the door slam shut behind him. In a way, that had been her blessing, and for all that he had never needed anyone’s approval, Levi still valued and appreciated hers.

It was a short and pleasant walk to the medic’s camp. The streetlamps had been lit for the evening already, casting everything in a soft golden light. Crickets chirped merrily as Levi wandered through the grass, and a gentle breeze rustled the nearby leaves and brushed feather-light kisses along his exposed skin as it passed. Suddenly, faced with the quiet beauty and understated splendor of a truly pleasant evening, the frantic indecision and subsequent bout of self-loathing that had previously dogged Levi vanished, leaving only a strange, ambient calm that wasn’t unlike a light buzz from taking a sip from Pixis’ flask.

“Hey, stranger.”

Levi turned his head to the sound of a now-familiar voice— (Y/N)’s voice— and found her standing a few feet away with a mason jar in one hand and her lamp on the ground. Instead of her medic uniform, she wore a loose-fitting white sundress, and her hair was no longer pulled back in a soldier’s updo, but was worn down to frame her face freely. She practically glowed in the lamp-light, and Levi wondered if this was how a wraith would appear to a passing stranger on a foggy night, intent on luring them into a field, moor, or forest, never to be seen again.

“Hey,” he replied, moving to approach, but (Y/N) held up her hand. He paused, and a second later, a firefly lit up directly in front of her. With a smile to rival the sun itself, (Y/N) wasted no time in sweeping the mason jar forward, effectively trapping the firefly in it by screwing the lid on tight. That done, she motioned for him to come forward and thrust the jar into his hands. 

“Isn’t it pretty?” she asked as it lit up. “My friend dared me to try to catch one tipsy, and I told her I could do it piss-drunk, blindfolded, and smoking a cigar.”

Levi grunted. He was almost inclined to believe her. “You certainly caught that one quickly enough.”

(Y/N) laughed, and he noticed the pleasant flush of her cheeks from the drinks she must have had. 

“Oh, I followed that one all the way from the big tent. You just happened to catch the grand finale.”

“I see.”

Levi wracked his brain for something else to say, but came up empty-handed. (Y/N) didn’t seem to mind, though; she just smiled sweetly and studied him, seemingly amused by some unspoken joke.  

“So, you decided to come.”

“I did.”

She shook her head. “I rather hadn’t thought you would, or I wouldn’t have had quite so much to drink so early in the night. I’ll make a terribly giggly guide.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

(Y/N) nodded, then pursed her lips in thought. After a moment, she placed her hands on her hips and began to circle him. Self conscious, Levi crossed his arms and very nearly asked her what the hell she was doing, but then she tutted, coming back to the front of him so that he could see her mischievous grin.

“This won’t do at all,” she told him, gesturing to his attire. “Like this, you’re still the captain— stiff, formal, easily recognizable. Here with us, you’re to be the freest version of yourself. Even though we’ve all agreed to pretend that we don’t know each other around here, it’s still polite to be a little more… loose. May I?”

“Just don’t get anything dirty,” he warned, and that was all the permission (Y/N) needed to start touching him. 

First, she ruffled his hair, fucking up the part beyond all repair. After a bit of consideration, she untucked his shirt with an unceremonious yank and unbuttoned enough of it to expose much more of his chest than he strictly felt comfortable with; that done, she took his belt and fastened it around her own waist and gave him another once-over before pulling at his jacket, which he then obediently shrugged off and handed to her. 

“Lovely,” she beamed as she put an arm into the sleeve of his jacket. “Now you almost look like a proper layabout— I hardly recognize you.”

Levi was only partially listening. It was unfair, he thought, that she should look so much better in his jacket than he ever could, or that she could just slip a man’s belt on over a dress of all things and make it fashionable.

“Am I presentable?” he asked as her eyes roamed where they would, and she gave a saucy wink. 

“More than. I’ll have to beat the girls off of you before the night is over— unless, of course, you find one you like.”

Levi huffed a laugh. Wordlessly, he offered her his arm, and she took it, looping her arm through his. It was nice, allowing himself to feel her beside him; the action felt more intimate than it had any right to be, but then, Levi figured, it was only right that gentle, casual touch was so pleasant and frightening at the same time when it had been absent for so long. Anything different, and one might get comfortable, and there was no room in life for anything like that.

Arm in arm, they walked on, their pace slow and leisurely like a Sunday stroll. There was no rush, no driving need to barrel headlong into the next stage of the evening; it seemed to be (Y/N)’s preference to savor the moment at hand like one might a glass of wine. Even their conversation was slow and easy like the slide of honey in a jar, and Levi found that he was beginning to grow quite fond of such easy company. 

“Out of curiosity,” she said, peering over at him with sparkling eyes, “Do you drink?”

Levi shrugged. “Sometimes. It depends.”

“I see.”

(Y/N) waited a long moment, then spoke once more. “The reason I ask is because if you do, you’ll not want to take a drink from anyone here but me. I did say that false anonymity is the policy here, but it is indeed patently false . If you’re recognized, I wouldn’t put it past some of our more promiscuous folks to take measures to see the great Levi-heichou pissed out of his mind.”

“Your concern is touching,” he replied, cutting his eyes at her with a dry look. “Anything else I should be worried about?”

“Absolutely nothing. How do you like dancing?”

Levi shrugged once more. “I don’t do it much.”

“I didn’t ask how often you do it, I asked if you liked it,” (Y/N) giggled, moving so that her hip bumped him gently. “If you don’t want to, you certainly don’t have to, but I was hoping you might dance with my friends and I.”

“Some choice you give me,” he teased, “Dance with you, or sit by myself in a den of medical-grade depravity.”

(Y/N) turned to him, and Levi was alarmed to find her suddenly quite serious. 

“I wouldn’t leave you to sit alone. That’s the last thing any of us needs right now. If you wouldn’t like to dance, I can have just as much fun just talking with you.”

Oh.

Levi was touched.

“I was trying to tease you. I’ll dance with you, if you’d like.” 

All he got in reply was a smile, but it said plenty. 

It wasn’t very long after that before they reached their destination. Surprisingly, Levi found himself reluctant to part with the peace and quiet of their walk— in fact, he very nearly suggested that they tarry outside a bit longer— but by the way (Y/N) increased the pace of both her feet and her chatter, he could tell she was eager to get back to the event. In any case, he supposed he could use the opportunity to sate his curiosity; after all, he had never heard of any post-expedition revelling by the medical corps up until that day, and if they had actually been hosting events out in the open without telling a single soul outside of the attendees, he would have to find out by what means that level of discretion was obtained in order to apply it in other, more useful ways. 

"Ready?" (Y/N) asked as they approached the entrance, pulling the flap back just a bit as she waited for his reply. 

"If you are," he replied, and (Y/N) led the way, stepping into the surprisingly crowded room with no hesitation. 

"Oi, listen up!" cried a young medic from across the room, stepping onto one of the tables as he lifted a glass. "(Y/N)'s the lady of the hour, somebody get her a drink!"

Faster than Levi would have thought possible, a pint was shoved into (Y/N)'s hands, and she took it with a grin. 

"For the fallen!" she cried, and the crowd cheered as she turned the pint up and chugged it as though she'd done it all her life and busted the glass heartily against a table. 

"Sorry about that," she told Levi sheepishly when the attention of the crowd had diverted itself. "It's a tradition that when someone notices you doing something either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid on a mission, you become the lady or gentleman of the hour, which basically means that you get free drinks and a toast to kick off the hour. I probably should have warned you that might happen."

"No harm done," he replied, but it didn't seem to lessen her embarrassment. "You mentioned dancing?"

At that, her eyes lit up. "Of course. Just let me find some of my friends, and we'll bully the musicians into playing something fun!"

(Y/N) slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, never once touching anyone or even brushing their clothing as she passed. Levi had no such luck; he was bumped and pushed and jumbled around until he would probably have lost his way if (Y/N) hadn't taken his hand and pulled him through with her. It was a relief when she finally found the friends she was looking for, and after introducing Levi to them as 'Lee-kun,' she darted off once more with two or three others to talk to the musicians, leaving Levi alone with a handful of male medics who appeared to be the dates of the ones who had left with (Y/N). 

“So, Lee-san, what do you do for a living?” asked one of the medics as an attempt at small-talk. “If you’re a medic, we haven’t seen you around anywhere. You work in neurology or something?”

“Ah, no. I’m a soldier.”

The medics exchanged looks and seemed to decide something among themselves before the one who had spoken turned back to Levi.

“I see. (Y/N) put you back together at some point?”

“Not yet. Fortunately, I’ve not had the pleasure of needing to be put back together recently.”

One of the others whistled lowly. “You must have some talent then.”

Levi was saved from the awkwardness of trying to formulate a response to that by (Y/N)’s abrupt return. With a fluidity that he was beginning to recognize as uniquely her own and as natural as a summer breeze, she slipped between the empty spaces in the bodies surrounding them to stand in front of him, hand outstretched. 

“Time to dance,” she said as the music picked up. “I hope you like to swing!”

Truth be told, Levi had no idea what swing even was or how to do it, much less if he liked it, but he was soon to find out as (Y/N) dragged him by the hand to the dance floor. As far as he could tell, it was a form of vaguely organized chaos; bodies were everywhere, the music seemed too slow for the eclectic movements of the dancers, and everyone— including (Y/N)— was twisting and twirling all over the place, but he was soon to get the hang of it as his body got used to the pattern of being pushed and pulled in certain directions. Soon, he was actively moving to the music, and he found himself smiling as (Y/N) shook her skirt at him with another promiscuous wink. 

“You’re a quick learner,” she commented as she spun, breathless from the exertion of the dance. “I can tell you’re brand new, but it took me years to get to where you are right now. I was sure you would have fallen on your ass by now.”

“Comes with being a prodigy,” he smirked. “ I was sure you would have spared a man who did you a favor the humiliation of a difficult dance, but it seems that I stand corrected.”

“Oh please, I thought you’d know how, or at least tell me if you didn't!”

The conversation went no further than that. It took all their concentration to keep up with the movement of the music. Around and around they spun, each laughing breathlessly at the other's missed steps and tired movements until the song was finally over and (Y/N) was begging for a break. Levi allowed her to lean on him as they made their way over to the refreshment table, and didn’t protest when she shoved a pint into his hand.

“Social lubricant,” she said by way of explanation. “You’ll need it when we’re tired of dancing and everyone wants to chat. Drunk medics can be… a lot. It’s best to catch up to them early.”

“Mh.”

So they ate and drank and made merry for as long as they could bear. It had been a long time since Levi had allowed himself to experience life in such a way— so long that he could scarcely remember the last time he’d watched a couple kiss lightly in the open, or a pair of best friends dare each other to act like fools in front of those they wished to impress. For years and years it had been blood and death and strategy and war… not love, not life, and surely not laughter. It struck him as he watched those around him that this experience, this microcosm of humanity, this was what he was fighting for, not rows and rows of unmarked graves. This was real. This was worth the bloodshed. This was beautiful. 

“Penny for your thoughts,” said (Y/N) from across the table, and Levi realized his expression must have been something between consternation and constipation.

“This is nice,” he replied. “Really nice. Thank you.”

Her smile was somewhat tired, but nonetheless genuine. “I’m glad you’re having fun. Beats staying in alone and being sad any day, I’d say.”

“Certainly.”

(Y/N) looked like she might have said something else, but something stopped her. While Levi had turned pensive for a moment, she had turned almost melancholy. They’d been drinking quite a bit, so Levi hadn’t noticed the gradual change, but as they sobered, it seemed that there was something heavy weighing on her shoulders. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, pushing a glass of water towards her. “You look tired.”

“I have a headache,” she replied, still smiling. “It’s nothing another reel won't fix, if you’re up for one. The band is still playing in the style, so we can jump in at the next song.”

Levi shook his head. Truth be told, he felt that if he danced any more he’d throw up. Moreover, he was becoming less and less convinced that (Y/N) was actually as energetic as she said she was. 

“Where are you sleeping tonight?”

At that, (Y/N) looked taken aback. “I, uh, have a personal tent on the far edge of the camp, but I’m not really ready to bed down yet, so I think—”

“Would you like to come back to the inn with me?”

(Y/N) turned so red so quickly that Levi was quick to amend his question.

“Just to sober up a little,” he said, raising his open palms to her, “No funny business. I just figured that you looked tired, and with that headache, having somewhere warm and quiet to be for a while would be helpful. Although, you could stay over if you wanted, just so that you wouldn’t have to sleep on the ground.”

(Y/N) studied him for a moment, her gaze somehow calculating even beyond the haze of drink, and then she nodded. “Alright, that actually sounds lovely. Do you have any coffee?”

“I’ve only got tea, but I’m sure the innkeep could procure some if you’d like.”

She smiled. “Wonderful. I’m ready whenever you are.”

He stood, and they said their goodbyes to (Y/N)’s friends. Lamps lit and arms linked, they slipped out into the night, a comfortable silence settling over them as they walked. Her skin was warm against the chill of the evening, and it made Levi wonder what it would be like to embrace her, to hold her close and feel her heat. 

It had been a long time since Levi had wanted to be warmed by someone. 

As they drew closer to the inn, a strange feeling curled round itself in Levi’s stomach, the sensation not unlike a cat winding itself into a little ball. He wondered briefly if this was what it was like to be nervous in front of the opposite sex, or if he was just sick from all the drink he’d had, but in any case, he had little time to reflect on it; soon, they were crossing the threshold of the inn and climbing the stairs that led to Levi’s room, and his mind was full of plenty of other things to think about. 

She really is beautiful, he thought as he let them into his room, watching (Y/N)’s expression, her movements, her unspoken thoughts manifest themselves physically through little tells that had somehow become familiar over the course of only a single night. If I were to make a fool of myself for someone… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it were someone like her.  

Truth be told, he felt a bit like he was making one of Erwin’s foolish wagers by letting the evening go as far as it had. Things had been lovely up to this point, sure, but there was no way to tell what was going to happen from this point onwards, no way to know what (Y/N) would do, what he would let her do… Levi felt more than drunk, more than tired, more than foolish. He felt everything and nothing, empty yet overflowing. He felt… he felt .

(Y/N) was exquisite with blushing cheeks and bright eyes as she turned to him, and Levi suddenly, desperately wanted to kiss her. 

“You alright there?” she asked with a questioning smile. "You look a little peaky."

Levi couldn't determine whether or not she was teasing him, so he ignored the question outright. 

"Make yourself at home, I'm going down to see if the innkeep has any coffee for you," he said, and he caught a quick flash of confusion on (Y/N)'s face before he turned on his heel and left, shutting the door tightly behind him. 

What the hell am I doing? He asked himself, pressing himself bodily against the front of the door, breathing like he'd run a marathon. I didn't drink that much, I shouldn't be thinking like that at all… 

But he was. He really, really was. 

It had snuck up on him like a thief in the night, this mad attraction; he couldn't pinpoint the moment he had noticed the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, the perfect shape of her mouth, but it was all seared into his mind like a cattle brand had put it there. Shaking like a newborn foal, he realized that he wanted more than just to kiss her— oh yes, much more. He wanted to hold her, to touch her, to consume her entirely… he wanted to wrap himself in her until he lost himself, until he couldn't tell what belonged to her and what belonged to himself in every sense possible. 

It terrified him. 

As calmly as he could manage, Levil peeled himself off of the door and started down the stairs, trying to get a grasp on the situation as best he could. So he was attracted to this strange, beautiful woman— that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, was it? Maybe he was going a bit overboard with it, but it really had been a long time, and he was only human, after all. He could control these urges… he could. And he would. He just had to breathe and think for a little bit. 

Breathe and think, he told himself. Breathe… and think… 

Fighting titans was so much easier than trying to be a person. 

By the time Levi had asked the innkeep for some coffee grounds and braved the stairs once more, he had calmed himself enough to have a plan solidly in place. If he wanted to keep his word to (Y/N) about the lack of funny business, he was going to have to yank on his own reins a bit harder than he had been; no more casual touches, no more teasing, and certainly no more wayward thoughts. He was going to keep his distance as politely and kindly as he could, even if that meant denying himself anything and everything he wanted. He wasn't going to fuck this up, not this late in the game. Failure wasn't an option. 

This should be fine, he thought to himself as his fingers touched the cold brass of the door handle. We'll just have coffee and talk, it'll never even cross my mind to want more. 

When he opened the door to his room, Levi found (Y/N) lounging against the headboard of the queen-size bed— the only furniture in the room— and his convictions were immediately tested as he imagined what it would be like to crawl onto the bed, straddle her legs, and kiss her breathless. 

It was going to be a long night.

They talked for so long and about so much that (Y/N) found it easy to say what was on her mind. Surely, if she could spill her guts about her father's intentions to arrange her marriage and her mother's death over their now-cold coffee, she could manage to scrape some honesty and transparency together to let the captain know how she really felt. 

She took a deep breath, exhaled, and steeled her resolve. 

“I didn’t come here to sleep with you, Levi-heichou.”

Levi’s entire body went even more rigid than it had been before (Y/N) had spoken, which was truly an impressive feat, seeing as he had been as taught as a bowstring from the moment he had taken a seat beside her on the bed.

“I— yes. I mean, no. Of course not, I never thought—” 

(Y/N) placed a hand on his shoulder and twisted her body to face him. They had been sitting side-by-side against the headboard in what should have been a relaxed, comfortable position with appropriate space between them, but with Levi being so fraught with tension, the atmosphere had been strange and awkward in a way that made (Y/N) feel sick with anxiety. It simply couldn’t go on that way, not when the whole point of the evening was for them to be able to relax and enjoy each other’s company; it was clear the air or take her leave, and (Y/N) had no intention of facing the night alone.

“It’s alright if you did,” she said, maintaining eye contact with him, willing him to understand her meaning. “It would be natural for you to. I wouldn’t even be opposed— a woman has needs as well as a man has, you know— but that’s not what I came here for.”

That awful tension remained for a moment more, then the captain’s shoulders sagged infinitesimally as he breathed a sigh of what sounded like relief.

“That’s— er, alright.” He ran a hand over his face, emanating exhaustion that was almost palpable. “I’m sorry, I’m… not a people person.”

(Y/N) found herself laughing. 

“I’m sorry,” she giggled, holding a hand over her mouth. “I don’t mean to tease you, I just— you’re funny. In a good way. I like that you aren’t a people person.”

Truth be told, (Y/N) wasn’t a people person either; she was just very, very good at faking it.

“Well, I’m glad to know that my turmoil amuses you,” he said in the nearly-expressionless way that (Y/N) had learned meant he was teasing. 

“Not at all,” she smiled, and she let her hand fall over his with easy familiarity. “I’m a medic— it’s my job to heal people and ease turmoil. I just want to know how I can help you. ”

The captain shook his head. “I’m perfectly fine. I appreciate the thought, but there is nothing that you can do to help me any more than what you have already done.”

‘Perfectly fine’ was a relative term, but even under the best of circumstances, (Y/N) would bet her life’s savings that he was anything but ‘perfectly fine.’ In any case, (Y/N) decided to let the subject drop in favor of collecting their coffee cups to set on the counter across the room. Sometimes, patients— people — didn’t know what or how to ask for something they needed. It was often the duty of the caretaker to recognize those needs and fulfill them, and (Y/N) was most adept at assessing the needs of those around her.

The captain— no, Levi — was followed by a cloud of unbearable loneliness, a dark, unrelenting cloud that never ceased to rain and rage. Though (Y/N) had known him for only a handful of hours, she could already tell that it had been a long time since Levi had allowed himself to be cared for by another person. It was beginning to show its wear on his tired features, and (Y/N) was inexplicably drawn to fill the missing space of companionship in his life.

“Tell me, Levi,” she said, coming to stand at the edge of the bed. “Will you allow me to do something for you?”

He eyed her warily. “That depends on what it is.”

“Oh, nothing hideous enough to warrant that look in your eye. I won’t do anything inappropriate, or anything you don’t like.” (Y/N) reached forward and tapped one finger on his shin. “How are your muscles right now? Tired? Sore at all?”

Levi hesitated, but eventually nodded.

“I’m always tense after a mission, just from adrenaline and pushing my body so hard, but I don’t see what that has to do with you.”

(Y/N) grinned. It had everything to do with her, he just didn’t know it yet.

“If you’re okay with it, I’d like you to take off your shirt and trousers,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “I give the best massages— just ask anyone who’s ever had the graveyard shift at the infirmary with me.”

Maybe it was the remnants of the drinks they’d had earlier, or perhaps sheer exhaustion that persuaded him to comply, but in any case, Levi began to unbutton his shirt. Almost immediately, (Y/N) began to rethink the wisdom of her brilliant massage idea; the more the captain was exposed, the more dry her mouth became, and the less sure she was that she could keep her eyes where they belonged. He truly was a handsome, shapely thing— the sort of attractive that made a person rethink their standards entirely. 

“On your front,” (Y/N) told the captain once he was down to his underthings, and he turned over to lie on his stomach, exposing his lean, muscled back. The way his body curved against the mattress was frankly obscene; the bulk of his shoulders sloped downwards with the curve of his spine, which crescendoed with the swell of his perfect, peach-shaped ass. (Y/N) was sorely tempted to take one perfect cheek in each hand and just squeeze.

Stop, she scolded herself as she climbed onto the bed, one knee on either side of the captain’s hips. Appropriate, medical thoughts only. This is totally platonic, no need to get worked up. It’s just a massage, I’ve done it a thousand times with Sweaty Pete.

But Levi Ackerman was nothing like Sweaty Pete, not in the least, and as (Y/N) moved her hands to his trap muscles, she realized that trying to pretend he was would be an exercise in futility. 

Everywhere she touched was hot like a sunburn; (Y/N) was very nearly tempted to check him for a fever, but she couldn’t quite manage to pull her hands away from their work for long enough to manage it. As she moved up to his neck and into his hairline, the captain gave a sort of half-groan, and the sound went straight to the butterflies in their stomach, electrifying and exacerbating them. Almost subconsciously, her hands repeated their earlier motion in search of that sound, and her efforts were rewarded with a full moan.

“My lower back,” he said after a moment, his voice muffled by a pillow, “It’s really tight, could you—”

Before the request was even finished, (Y/N)’s hands found their newest territory, and the captain melted beneath her ministrations. 

“That’s good,” he told her, his body limp and boneless at her touch. “Really, really good.”

She just hummed in reply and kept on with her work. 

Later, if someone had asked (Y/N) how long she stayed there just touching his skin, she couldn’t have said. It felt like hours; it felt like an instant. She lost herself in the feeling of his flesh and heat and utter vitality beneath her fingers, and it wasn’t until he reached back with one hand to grab her by the wrist that she came back to the present.

“Enough,” he said simply, turning his head to cast a one-eyed gaze back at her. “Take a break.”

(Y/N), fully prepared to resume sitting at the headboard, moved away from him for a moment, but found herself frozen as the captain shifted beneath her to lay on his back, leaving her settled nicely in far too intimate a position for comfort or propriety. There was no mistaking the heat in the gunmetal-grey eyes of the captain; he wanted her, and would have her, if she wanted. 

She did, but she found that she couldn't speak even as he propped himself up on one elbow and brought his other hand to rest over the nape of her neck. 

"Your eyes are so bright," he murmured almost to himself. "They're beautiful."

(Y/N)'s breath caught in her throat. 

"Levi-heichou," she breathed, and suddenly he was sitting upright, their faces inches from each other. "I— you—"

"You're in my bed, in my lap," he said, threading a hand through her hair. "Call me Levi here at least."

"Levi," she tried again, bracing one hand on the obscene curve of his bicep, "I think— I want to—"

Words failed her once more, and she made up her mind. If words couldn't do the job, then she was just going to have to let her actions speak for her. Summoning her courage, she surged forward and closed the gap between them, pressing her lips firmly against his in a soft, gentle kiss that was enough to crack the edges of her own heart.

When they pulled back, (Y/N) was struck with the urge to move away once more, but Levi's hands— strong, calloused, and large— landed on her hips, keeping her where she was. 

"'Humanity's strongest soldier' my ass," he said, tightening his grip. "An hour ago, I swore to myself I wouldn't do this, and yet…"

He leaned forward and kissed her again, once, twice, three times, and when he pulled away, his eyes were hazy. 

"I'm so fucking weak that I can't make myself stop, knowing it was something you wanted enough to initiate."

"Why stop at all?" (Y/N) found herself asking as she settled her weight fully over him, feeling his firmness beneath her. "I told you earlier that I'm willing to accept whatever you have to offer."

Levi didn't answer, but the roll of his hips up into her made his intentions pretty clear. 

They kissed for what felt like an infinite amount of time. There was no urgency, no rush in their movements; just the act of tasting and touching and tempting was enough to satisfy them for the moment. As they explored each other, they created a rhythm, a push and pull that felt as eminent as the tide, and (Y/N) knew exactly what she wanted from the captain— from her captain. 

She wanted to devour and be devoured. 

"I want to taste you," she told him as his lips moved to her neck. "Lay back."

She wasn't sure why, but she was almost surprised that Levi went easily with her request; he moved backwards to brace himself against the headboard, and (Y/N) pushed her hands beneath the waistband of his boxers, pulling them off when Levi lifted his hips for her. The action revealed the hardness that (Y/N) had felt pressed against her earlier, and she was pleased to find that it was just as lovely as she had imagined it to be, flushed and swollen and delightfully red at the tip. 

"Oh my," she said, stretching out on her side to get better access to the newly-revealed territory. "A very fine specimen you have here, heichou. May I?"

The doe-eyed look of faux-innocence she gave must have done its job; Levi hummed, brushing hair away from her face, then nodded, seeming not to trust himself with speech just then. (Y/N) needed no further permission, and as she lowered her mouth to the weeping erection before her, she knew she had Levi exactly where she wanted him. 

What she didn't expect, however, was to be exactly where Levi wanted her. 

Just as she began to let his length slide farther down her throat, one of his hands reached down to search between her legs, pushing her panties aside. At the first brush of his fingers, (Y/N) couldn't contain the soft 'oh' that escaped her, and as he pushed three rough digits inside, she pulled off of his cock with a gasp.

"Oi, don't stop on my account," he said as his hand began to move, fucking her with his fingers. "Let me make you feel good."

(Y/N) didn't need to be told twice. She took him back in her mouth once more, this time focusing her lips and tongue on the tip while working the base with her hand, and was rewarded with smooth, punctuated thrusts of Levi's fingers inside her. Truly, the man was perfect; the pace he chose was just fast enough to be gratifying, yet slow enough to be satisfying. Her whole body moved with the rhythm and force of it, and (Y/N) couldn't remember the last time fingers alone had felt so good and so right. 

"Beautiful," Levi murmured as he watched her. "Beautiful, perfect creature."

(Y/N) preened at the praise. She redoubled her efforts to push him towards the edge, using a hand to fondle his balls, but he stopped her with a groan that gave her the impression that she was doing an even better job than she had thought. 

"Come here and let me kiss you," he said, and (Y/N) couldn't have said no even if she tried. 

Before long, (Y/N) found herself pulled back on top of Levi, settling nicely in his lap as his tongue explored her mouth. As they kissed, Levi's hands found her breasts, sliding beneath her dress to tease her nipples; the left one, (Y/N) noticed, was left damp and sticky from the hand that that had been inside her, and she shuddered against him as the cool air against it lent itself to her sensation. 

"I'm not going to last very long," said Levi as (Y/N) felt the sweet, solid press of his cock against the thin fabric of her panties. "It's been a while since—" 

"I don't care," she breathed, cutting him off with a biting kiss to his lower lip. "If you can't last, I'll ride your face and we'll go for round two when you're ready, just— I want you."

"Then turn around, but stay upright on your knees," he said, his voice dark and husky with desire. "Let's get rid of that dress while we're at it, shall we?"

(Y/N)'s pretty white dress hit the floor just before her panties did, and Levi nudged up behind her, his bare skin pressed against hers chest-to-back. One of his arms circled around her upper half, his hand coming to rest at the base of her neck; the other lined himself up with her sex and pushed in, then came around to circle her clit as they began to fuck.

And oh, what a fantastic fucking it was. 

Levi once more proved his virtuosity; in the art of love-making, he was just as adept as he was at killing titans or learning to dance. As they moved against one another, he held (Y/N) impossibly close and with enough strength to keep her upright even though her own muscles had gone lax against the onslaught of his jackhammer pace, and yet he was so tender and gentle with her that she was electrified by even the tiniest brush of his lips against the back of her neck. It was like actually experiencing one of those bodice-ripping novels she used to read in her spare time, except that it was so much better because it was real. 

"Oh God," she gasped as he relentlessly rubbed her clit in time to their coupling. "Oh, Levi, Levi — you're going to— I'm going to—"

"You don't need my permission," he said, his voice rich and dark as the warmth of his breath tickled her ear. "Do it, I'm close too."

She came recklessly and wildly apart in his arms, and not a moment before she had finished riding the waves of her own pleasure, Levi pulled out and spilled across her lower back with a grunt, his release hot and sticky on her skin. Gently, he lowered her to the mattress, and with a murmured "Stay still," he reached down to the floor to grab something to wipe away the mess he'd made. 

"There you are," he said, tossing whatever he had used aside. "I'm going to wash up. Make yourself at home."

When Levi returned, it was with damp hair and an air of utter exhaustion, and after (Y/N) had done her own washing up, she returned to find him asleep, his face buried in a pillow. She slid silently in beside him, taking care not to move the bed too much, but Levi cracked an eye open anyways, moving over to allow her some room before flinging an arm around her middle.

“S’alright?” he asked, shifting so that he could see her face. 

“Y-yes. This— this is nice.”

“And this?”

He pulled her even closer, tangling their legs together, and (Y/N)’s face hurt with the force of her smile.

“Of course.”

“Good. Will you stay till morning?”

“As long as you want.”

They fell silent for a moment, and the weight of the day seemed to crash into (Y/N) all at once. Exhaustion settled over her frame, and before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.

Levi woke up surrounded by warmth, and for once in his life, he resisted the urge to fully wake. 

There was something warm and soft beneath his hands. Half-sleeping, half-waking, he moved his fingertips against it, then pulled it closer, flush against him. Sleep overtook him again, and he knew no more; it might have been moments or hours later when a knock at the door finally jarred him awake. 

“Levi! Leeeeeeeeeevi!!”

Hange.

Levi sat bolt upright, the air of his sudden inhale stinging his nose and throat.

“Shut up, shit-glasses!” he barked, scrambling out of bed to find his shirt and pants. “Hold on, dammit, you’re pissing me off with all that racket.”

Halfway through buttoning his trousers, Levi froze.

There, sitting up in the middle of his bed, was (Y/N), bare above the sheets (and probably below them too), her hair falling messily around her shoulders, and a soft smile on her face.

“I honestly cannot remember if we had sex last night,” he said earnestly, resuming his frantic dressing. “But if you’ll give me just a minute to deal with that mad fucking disaster of a scientist, we’ll have this all sorted shortly.”

“We did,” she told him, her eyes shining in the morning light. “Carry on, take your time. I’ll just be here.”

Once Levi was out the door and in Hange’s face (as well as he could be, at his height) he suddenly lost the ability to speak at normal levels and was instead confined to whisper-yelling for fear of (Y/N) overhearing him. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, fisting his hands in the lapel of Hange’s jacket. That appeared to have been the wrong move; Hange only grinned wider and more maniacally.

“You smell like booze, Levi,” she giggled, tweaking his nose. “Did you get sloshed last night?”

“No! Even if I did, what’s it to you?”

“You weren’t up at your usual six-thirty sharp, I had to make sure you weren’t dead!”

Levi scowled. “No, you didn’t. You just wanted to see if I brought (Y/N) back with me.”

Hange’s cackle was answer enough.

“Look, four-eyes, I did, but it's not like that,” he huffed, shoving her away as he released her lapel. “You woke us up.”

“I woke you up? You really let her sleep with you?”

“Oh shut up!”

“Aww, Levi, you’re growing up!”

“Fuck off, Hange.”

“I want to meet her.”

“Never.”

“You are just no fun.”

“Are you gonna fuck the hell off now or am I gonna have to get Erwin?”

Hange held up her hands. “Fine, fine. But I will meet her one day.”

“Dream on, shit-glasses.”

With that, Levi turned on his heel and slammed the door in Hange’s face, barring it shut.

“I take it you had a pleasant first conversation of the morning?”

(Y/N) was every bit as lovely having just woken up as she had been the night before, fresh and well-dressed in fine clothes. It simply wasn’t fair, Levi thought once more, that she could be so comely no matter what she wore or how she was presented. She just… she was .

“It was fucking terrible, was what it was. Hange is too nosy for her own good.”

(Y/N) raised a brow. “Hange the scientist?”

Levi sighed. “The one and only.”

“Oh, I should love to meet her someday, her work is exemplary!”

Levi didn’t voice all the reasons why that should never, ever happen, but it was a near thing. 

“I’m sure,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “She would be thrilled to make your acquaintance as well.”

Silence fell after that, and Levi felt as though he were caught in a tailspin. He remembered the night before with startling clarity after the initial half-sleeping befuddlement he experienced from his harsh wake-up; now, however, even with all the facts together and in their proper place, he found himself at a loss for what should come next, if anything. It was perhaps made even worse by the fact that (Y/N) seemed perfectly at ease. In that graceful, half-drifting way of hers, she approached him, all easy smiles and warm touches and bare skin, but he found himself pulling back, taking a step away for every step she took forward.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, coming to a halt a few feet in front of him. “Are you alright?”

“Maybe.”

It was unconvincing even to his own ears.

“Well, then maybe I should go, let you sort things out for a while—”

“No! I mean… no. Just hold on a second.”

He didn’t want her to go, he didn’t want her to stay. To have her leave would be an irreparable slight to her; to have her stay was wreaking havoc on his mind. He had allowed this woman to share his bed for a night, had told her so much about himself and had listened to so much in return… and for all that, she was practically a stranger! He couldn’t trust her, not like he could Hange or Erwin or his squad; what did it matter that she’d told him her secrets in exchange for his? They had only met twenty-four hours ago! They knew nothing of each other. What was to come of this foolishness? 

Nothing? 

And yet nothing seemed so little, too little to walk away with from this. 

For the first time in a long time, Levi had slept soundly through the night. He had held another person close, and breathed in the scent of them as they slept. He had done this with her, with (Y/N), and she had made him feel truly alive, truly whole, even for a short amount of time. 

What would happen when she inevitably discovered that he was nothing but a killer? That he had darkness and rage and bitterness and resentment holed up inside of him like some insidious tumor, making him sicker and sicker as the years went by? Could he handle the rejection of companionship that he would bring on himself by revealing the fact that he was indeed the most rude, abrasive, hard-assed bastard in the Survey Corps and beyond it?

Would it be easier to kill this budding friendship now, or wait until it inevitably failed?

“Levi…” (Y/N)'s eyes were full of compassion and concern, and a cup rattled as Levi's back hit the counter.

“Wait… wait…”

(Y/N) approached him once more, and he forced himself to stand still and receive her advancements. She stopped directly in front of him, close enough to touch, but too far to do much else, and she cupped his cheek with a soft, gentle hand. 

“You’re freaking out,” she said softly, and the stroking motion of her thumb became soothing, grounding as she spoke. “There’s no need. You’re safe here.”

A few deep breaths later, and everything came back into perspective. (Y/N) stood in front of him, patient, pensive, and he brought a hand up to cover the one she had placed on his cheek. Gently, he lowered their hands but linked their fingers, allowing her touch to continue to ground him, and eventually, she began to smile once more.

“There we are. Now, do you mind telling me what that meltdown was about, or would you rather not discuss it?”

“You can safely assume I never want to talk about a meltdown.”   

“But do you need to?”

Levi sighed. “I hate medics.”

(Y/N) grinned at that. “Hate us all you like. You’ll find that very few of us actually care very much about how you feel about us one way or the other.”

“Sadistic creatures, all of you. I’ve never seen anyone but a medic dig around in the human torso with excitement.”

It was clearly a deflection, but (Y/N) allowed it.

"Speaking of which, I need to go," she told him, covering her chest with her arms. "I have patients to see to— torsos to dig in, you know, that sort of thing— and I'm already late…"

Levi's heart sank. That left precious little time to think about their options.

"When will I see you again?"

"I'm stationed just inside Wall Rose, west of Trost," she said. "I can give you the address to the apartment I rent there, that way if you ever want to get in touch, you can write or— or drop by or something."

Levi nodded. It wasn't much, but it was something, and he would take all he could get. 

"Yeah, that's great. Let me see if I can find something for you to write on around here…"

After a little searching, he found stationery and a pencil in a drawer, and (Y/N) scribbled down her information. 

"There," she said, handing him the paper. "You're welcome to write or pop in anytime."

Levi nodded once more, and (Y/N) busied herself with dressing. Watching her, Levi felt detached; he knew something was missing, knew that he should be doing something, saying something, but he didn't know what or how or why. All he knew was that he didn't want her to leave, and that he was powerless to stop her from doing so. 

"Stop."

(Y/N)—  now dressed— put her hands on her hips, and Levi was torn between amusement and befuddlement.

"Stop what?" he asked, and she walked over to where he stood, stopping just in front of him. 

"Whatever you're thinking that's making you miserable, stop thinking it. It won't change anything, and it won't make you or anyone else feel better." A small, gentle hand found his shoulder, and his throat threatened to close up. "We'll see each other again, on this side or the other. It'll be what it is until it isn't, and until then, we'll make do."

Her eyes were bright and full of utter certainty; she was so brilliant that Levi could hardly bear to look at her. "Of course."

"I'm going to leave now," she said, withdrawing her hand. "Please write me, if you feel like it. It would make me very happy to hear from you."

An idea slapped Levi right across the face. 

"Hang on just a second," he said, brushing past her to look around the room. It took some digging around in the blankets and under the bed, but Levi eventually found the jacket that (Y/N) had borrowed from the night before and shoved it into her hands. 

"I want you to have it," he told her as she gave him a questioning look. "It looks better on you than me anyways, and I have plenty extra."

"Levi, I couldn't possibly—"

"Really, I insist."

"Is it even legal to give away official uniform jackets?"

Levi gave her the driest of looks.

"And who, exactly, is going to scold me for lending my jacket to a lady?"

"Giving, Levi. You're giving this jacket to a civilian ."

He cracked a grin. "Yeah, but they don't know that."

He half-expected more persistent protestation, but (Y/N) seemed to be making a habit of smashing his expectations; instead, she let out a sweet laugh and threw her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck.

"Thank you," she said as her hair tickled his nose. "I'll treasure it."

Levi chuckled, extracting himself from her embrace. "You had better. Now get out of here, brat, before I decide to keep you."

"Hai, heichou," she replied, parroting the first words she had ever spoken directly to him with a smile like a shooting star. "I'm going."

In parting, Levi pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then she was gone, the door shut tightly behind her. 

"Be well, bright-eyes," he said to the empty space she'd left behind. "I'll be in touch."

[youngpettyqueen]

Since you are asking for DS9 short fic requests, could you please do #6 “You can’t die. Please don’t die.” of the writing prompt list with some Julian Bashir whump? (But no character death please!) ❤️

you got it anon! and worry not, writing character death fics isnt really my thing, so no chance of me killing anybody <3

also since you didnt specify anybody else in the scene I decided to have Miles be there! hope that's ok I just have them on the brain

Miles wonders if this is how Julian feels every time a mission leaves him half-dead.

He can't stop pacing. Back and forth, back and forth, he's going to pace a ditch right through the cave floor at the rate he's going. He tried sitting and holding still, but that just made him feel like he was itchy under his skin, twitchy with nerves. So, pacing it is. Pacing and cursing how quiet it is.

Any other day he'd be grateful for the quiet. Today, though, he hates it. Because Julian isn't quiet, he isn't capable of being quiet, and right now he's dead silent.

Miles glances over. Julian is just as unconscious as he was last time he looked over, which was all of two minutes ago if he's being generous. Still and quiet, so goddamn quiet. He finds himself moving closer, just so he can make sure that Julian's chest is, in fact, still rising and falling.

And then he's kneeling down. He's checking the dressing over Julian's stomach. Again. He's not a doctor, he doesn't know what he would even be looking for here, but he's checking anyways. He can't help it. It makes him feel better.

The dressing is still clean. Miles is sure that's a good thing- that means he hasn't bled through it yet. Considering all he's had to work with is a dermal regenerator on the fritz and some bandages, he'd say that's pretty good. Sure, Julian might be able to save the entire station with less than that, but, well... Julian's the one who needs saving this time.

It was supposed to be a simple away mission. It's always supposed to be a simple away mission, really. They were delivering medical supplies to a Federation colony, helping them deal with a nasty outbreak of some sort of flu that Miles can't remember the name of. They were well on their way, spending the time arguing over who actually won their last game of darts, casual as can be.

And then they got shot down.

Miles didn't see who it was. Could've been Cardassians, could've been Maquis, could've been literally anybody this side of the Quadrant. All he knows is one second things were great, and the next his console was exploding and throwing him across the cockpit, and Julian was wrestling with the controls to aim them at the closest planet. He threw himself back into his seat and did his best to help, but there was no saving their landing. They crashed. Violently.

Miles woke up on the floor, bruised all over but still breathing. And Julian was hunched over the console, unmoving just like he is now. But there, he was awake. He was all-too awake, and he wasn't moving, because he'd been flung into the splintered console, and it was embedded deep in his gut.

He's never going to forget the sounds Julian let out as he pulled him off the console. It was a mercy he'd passed out right after, going limp and lifeless in Miles' arms the second he was free. Gave him a bloody heart attack, thinking for a brief second he'd just up and died, but it at least made it easy to gather Julian up in his arms and carry him out of the wreckage.

It's not a good situation. Their medical supplies was destroyed in the crash, and the medkit and all its contents were either damaged or broken beyond use. The dermal regenerator barely managed anything before it sparked out and nearly exploded in his hand. They've got a transmitter, at least, but it was damaged in the crash and he has to check it every few minutes to make sure it's still working.

And Julian won't wake up.

Miles' gaze travels up to Julian's face. Perfectly still, damn near peaceful, except there's a thin sheen across his forehead and he's pale under his skin. A pinch to his brows betrays the pain he's still in, even unconscious. The kit had one working hypo that he could find, and he'd given it to Julian without hesitation. He's not in the best shape himself, battered and bruised as he is, but that's all small potatoes compared to Julian.

It's probably a mercy that he's staying unconscious. Miles doesn't envy the pain he'd be in if he were awake. Still, there's a big, selfish part of him that wishes Julian was awake. Because then, at least, it wouldn't be quiet. He's never hated quiet before today. He'd be happy to never have to deal with complete silence ever again.

"I don't know if you can hear me," He says, mainly just to fill the space, "And I really hope you can't, because I'd never say this to you if you were awake, but... you're the best friend I've got, Julian. And I'm really not ready to let that end here," He admits, his voice quiet even though there's nobody else around, "Cause, y'know, we've got that holosuite reservation next week, and Quark won't consider your death grounds for a refund. And... I'd miss you, so there's that," God, this is hard. Julian's fucking unconscious and this is still so hard, "I'd... I'd really miss you, Julian, so... I guess what I'm saying is... you're not allowed to die," He reaches, like he's going to take Julian's hand, but comes up short, "You can't die. So, please don't. Die, that is." He ends up patting Julian's arm. It feels awkward and stiff, but anything else feels too much like he's saying goodbye, and he's really not trying to say goodbye right now.

"Is that..." Miles' head snaps up, and he finds himself meeting Julian's half-open eyes, "Is that... an order, Chief...?" He asks weakly, managing an obnoxious smile, even now.

"Oh, you bastard," Miles breathes, because yeah, of course Julian woke up in time to listen to that, "You right bastard. How much of that did you hear?" He asks.

Julian grins, blood painting his teeth. "Enough," He replies, like an asshole, "You'd... miss me?" He questions, looking far too smug for a man halfway to death.

"Absolutely not," Miles informs him, sniping purely out of habit and with no real heat behind his words, "But Keiko would miss you, and I hate to see Keiko upset, so I guess I need you to stay alive." He continues.

"How's it feel... knowing your wife would miss me?" Julian asks, still grinning like a smug clown.

"Don't push your luck, Julian," Miles tells him, with undeniable fondness, "It'd be far too easy to make it look like the crash killed you."

Julian croaks a laugh. And maybe this is the moment where Miles should say something heartfelt. Like how he actually would miss Julian, a whole hell of a lot. Or how glad he is that he's alive. Or how relieved he is to hear the sound of his voice. But Julian already knows those things, and spilling his heart out while Julian bleeds his guts out would feel way too much like they're having their final conversation. This banter, though, is familiar. It's them. And it lets him say we're going to get through this without actually saying it.

So, he doesn't say anything nice. Instead, he gets back into arguing about darts. Because then Julian is talking, and it isn't quiet anymore, and he can hide in the familiarity of their arguing and convince himself that everything's going to be ok.

(And it is. Miles has to kick the transmitter a few more times, but a rescue comes. Julian is fine, he won't even have a scar. And if Miles relents and begrudgingly admits, at last, that maybe Julian won their game, well... maybe that's his way of saying he's glad Julian's alright.)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

wibta if i held an intervention for my cousin?

strap in bc this is gonna be long, but first i need to introduce this little cast of characters: I (26f), my sister (23f) and my cousin (22f) are literally the only young ones in my family. my fathers siblings never married, and i have only my mother's sister (50sthF) who has married and also has a kid. so this made us kind of close since we were kids, especially my sister and my cousin (due to their close ages) were always together. we did live far from each other, and could only meet one or two times in a year.

my cousin and my sister have ocd. i have depression. we all have anxieties. my aunt and my mother both have anger issues, so we kind of can guess what kind of house my cousin is living in. and also from what we could see during our short visits. so yeah, we're all fucked up, but ever since i started therapy and forced my sister to go as well, things started to change. my cousin kept making excuses about money issues, and not really needing any therapy, but her ocd started spiraling down very quickly after her cat got sick last year (we'll get to that soon).

so here's where the problem lies: my cousin has ocd, and needs to constantly ask for approval. she also has severe separation anxiety, to the point that she cant even think about a family member or her cat dying. and see, i get that! we also had beloved pets who died and honestly it still fucks us up, but she is getting delusional about it. god forbid we mention that the cat is now an old lady, or say that shes not as sharp/agile as she was before—this makes her cry immediately. also her ocd is very focused on her cat: she thinks she can carry diseases to her cat, she gets hysterical if we change our clothes near the cats bowl, asks everyone repeatedly if sth unrelated might make the cat sick. shes also of the belief that if someone uses an insect spray, then the poison will stay there till she goes to that place and carries the poison to her cat and making her sick. we kept explaining to her that if the sprays would work like that then we wouldnt suffer from a serious ant infestation for the third year in a row, but as it goes with ocd, she just cant accept it. she only believes what her mother says, and well. her mother gets agitated Very Quickly and they start fighting which makes everything worse.

usually id interfere and tell my aunt to just get along with my cousin as shes going through therapy and medication, and i saw it first hand on my sister that it takes time for ocd to get calmer. its not like oh u started therapy? why arent u already performing like a mentally healthy person?? this is what i suffered from when i first started my therapy. but my aunts main issue isnt her ocd. the ocd is par for the course—the main problem is that my cousin never helps around the house.

we knew this, since we have been together forever, that my cousin never works. she complains a lot, even snaps if u ask her to do two things at once (even if its like hey check the kettle and btw put this glass in the sink as well). and my aunt has zero tolerance for her attitude, which leads to her doing the chore herself and well this kind of encourages my cousin to get away from the chores by complaining. she was like this ever since we were KIDS. she'd play with us and make a mess, but when we were supposed to clean everything shed either not do a thing (saying "i dont know how to" even to simple things like put the thing in the basket) or shed just. vanish. whenever we ate lunch or dinner, shed immediately go to the bathroom, and come out after everything was cleaned and washed. and before u say there might be sth else, it really wasnt. she even admitted to it later. she just didnt want to do a single shit. and well, now that shes older, its getting kind of upsetting. whenever she's alone at home she does NOTHING. and when my aunt comes back from her trip SHES the one who has to clean after my cousin, even tho she has just arrived home. this is why no matter how much she asks us to go stay with her when shes alone, we never go. bc we dont want to clean after her. or when she comes over to our house she just. barely does a thing.

this is taking a huge mental and physical toll on my aunt, bc shes physically disabled (severe migraines caused by a bubble in her head, and recently due to her bad workplace her right hand and arm are also not doing well), and even tho she kind of brought this on herself (but indirectly encouraging my cousins behavior), its still really upsetting. whenever we go to their house, my sister and i try to shoulder a part of chores, bc 1) our aunt shouldn't have to do everything by herself and 2) we were taught to help. my parents never had any tolerance for us slacking off.

cut to last week when we went to their house, and it was a huge war zone. my aunt kept shouting at my cousin for things that werent her fault (like her asking for approval or complaining about sth someone did), and on the other hand my cousin kept dodging the chores, and when my aunt asked her to do ONE thing she kept snapping at her and complaining like it was a huge deal (it really wasnt. example: my aunt asked her to put her clothes which she had already folded and put on her bed away. my cousin snapped at her that she would do it and she should get off her back and then kept complaining that her folded clothes arent bothering anyone and she shouldnt be forced to put them away. this is not an exaggeration.) i also realized that part of the problem with their relationship was how my cousin kept complaining about everything to my aunt, which makes my aunt go insane bc she needs a break from the negativity, but my cousin is very clingy and would call her multiple times a day just to bitch about sth. and hey, i also bitch about things to my mother, but i dont call her that much when shes/im away, and also i try to balance it with good fun stories. i know my cousin isnt like having a very bad life, she just likes to complain about everything. but this, coupled with her insistent need for approval, and her clinginess, makes for a bad recipe.

so, when i finally had a private moment with my cousin, i told her that she needs to do chores, and this would do wonders to the current tension! i said this very gently and very quickly bc i didnt want my aunt to overhear us, and my cousin started crying and nodding and said she would try. this made me feel a bit calmer about the whole situation, until the next fucking day when my grandparents came to my aunts house and my cousin, u guessed, did nothing to help my aunt. at one point my sister found her kissing her cat instead of setting the table, and it made us both extremely mad.

i think that gently talking with her wont do good, bc she'd probably do the same thing again. i feel like i need to be more stern and a little bit harsher to hammer the point home, bc apparently she doesnt understand anything unless its shouted at her. im not gonna shame her or anything, im just gonna say that she needs to a) continue her therapy (which she has dropped for 5 months) b) take her pills regularly (which she doesnt) c) enforce a clear boundary between herself and her mother no matter how close they and d) do the chores. if she doesnt do these stuff, then she wont be able to get any sympathy from me, and my sister. also cant complain about it anymore if she's not going to do any fucking thing to improve her situation.

so, wibta?

What are these acronyms?

[sparklecareforrealjustice]

why is marco's insomnia caused by the cometparents having earth shattering gay sex every single night instead of genetic or caused by medication or his narcolepsy or something. literally why

honestly bro i thought for a long time marcos insomnia was supposed to be tied to anxiety which would have been a cool plot point to pull with and work with but with kc just saying its gay sex then in the next couple pages ignoring this drop.... cuz we see marco is now confiding in the dog person about having a nightmare and feeling stressed by his home life and it feels like that instead of building off the preexisting plot point about possibly tackling marcos issues related to hearing his parents fuck every night it immediatly swaps back to this weird alien thing and marco feeling pressured to fulfill a role in the family it makes it come across as kc realizing she wants to fix marcos sleep issues and instead of seeing him get help or therapy or figuring out the solution it just turns out its noise pollution every night not even a subtly building an arc where its dropped and he tries to find a solution, such as sleeping during the day and going out at night instead the only way for it to be relevant is a random drop where in the next scene hes just sleeping at howies parents home it feels like it could have been an arc but in the moment kittycorn didnt wish to subtly build kits character instead so desperately wanting to rush to this next key plot point and if she just wanted marco out of the house then it still would have worked with marco escaping to someone elses house at night and slowly realizing he wants to leave but instead howies parent has to be a mouth piece to just tell marco to leave because of the nightmare he had this should have been treated as a heavy plot point or something serious but instead its denoted to a lil side gag and isntead this arc has to be about this particular point related to marco instead of the many other things and with deciding that the cause for his insomnia was the parents fucking that also means that kc can just... have him leave and suddenly hes completely cured of all his issues which is wholeheartedly and genuinely frustrating to think about and downplaying the struggles of insomniacs who have genetic or biological issues especially when just earlier i was thinking the marcos insomnia seemed for once well written and well handled without it being unnecesarily cured and it just being an aspect that marco is learning to deal with i genuinely thought based on earlier dialogue we could see him develope and learn to cope but we dont get this learning phase it can just be cleansed by him moving out and leaving plus i feel nervous that maybe we arent really gonna get this arc about marco realizing how fucked up these orgies are also most folks that have kids and in their 50s to 60s with several kids tend to calm down on all the sex anyways as libido with age calms so it just feels like an ass pull that this is the excuse but yeah also unrelated nickpicks why is his allotopun narcolepsy yet it doesnt seem relevant and why is his image on the toyhouse have him twink i fied -uni

[echoesofadream]

is adhd medicine (concerta) supposed to make me feel like this

-all the ways which when it comes to function, I am more, and all the ways I am not I am less

- i do things super fast, everything is a hurry .I get things done but a most of them are bullshit like tumblr blogging or checking every internet chronic kpop fan fomo outlet there is .

-I cant do something that isnt top priority in the world because I cant relax enough to do that. its better to sit on the floor and be in prepared mode instead of reading or painting or anything like that

-i have never been on speed but I would assume it feels like this based of the name

-I feel like I can do anything! except read a single page of text of course. thats literally impossible

-everything is on fire I need to put the fire out. right now. first though. where is it

-cant do anything that doesnt give instant gratification (what I mean by adhd medicine induced adhd)

-did I mention that Im quick. and super active. wait the h in adhd stands for hyperactivity....this is wrong...I do this and this and this and this and this and STOP. IM STUCK:

-incredibly hard to move out of situation when im stuck in it. like i could be doing ANYTHING and im like. I cant stop. doing this. whatever it is. I cant move on. this is a familiar feeling that everyone has including me before medicine but now it's like. so much worse. you know the feeling when you cant get out of bed. or youre in the couch and too lazy to get ready for bed. this is like that but dream (nightmares when you cant move) level of lethargy. its like im sitting at the kitchen table. I just got home. but then it's been three hours. and Im still sitting there doing whatever im doing. it's like. so bad. im like. I need to shower. okay this has been sort of an obstacle for me sometimes. but now it's like. shower. I need to shower. hours pass. I havent showered. maybe I just wont shower today. this dysfunction is making me realize how functional I can be in some areas of daily life actually.

-^above would be good if I was working a busy job when things happened all at once. and I had to get things done and not get distracted. but im literally an unemployed uni dropout. im trying to increase my level of focus. im trying to learn how to be in the present and breathe and be less anxious. this medicine is doing the absolute opposite for me. I started this medication because I want to be able to study but how is this supposed to help be in any area in life except like working at the ER or if my job is just answering emails and that kind of thing. all I can do right now is make posts, talk during movies (never been a me thing im very serious about silence during film watching), have a stomach ache and too fast heartbeat, actually work on a novel instead of creating a document that I abandon after the first and only time I write on it, be anxious, eat hot chip and lie

Help??`????????

[shreddeddescent]

“all of this has led me to like his inner turmoils (diagnosis) and the other characters inner turmoils more. how they feel about each other how theyve coped.” ohh I so wanna ask about this, like how does that show up for each turtle?

leo copes with weed and being a normal kid. he copes by hanging out with the twins and letting them all get away from their TWO moms. hes got hangups maybe hes ignoring, self medicating and stuff. absolutely keeps it away from them though, but will do it in front of them. he copes a looooot with humour, he'd rather say something gross than be emotionally honest. he might end up saying something corny and then brush it off as if he didnt mean it. but honestly id say he's the most well adjusted. he's FINE with his mom, he sees her as a mom he's just very disappointed by her and so he wont trust her with his shit.

mikey copes by babyfying himself, letting people dote on him for shit he might not really need. he honestly worries more about everyone else than himself, and thats really bad for him. he tries to take care of everyone more, cooks a lot, tries to pull people out of their thoughts more. 'leo you havent smoked in like a week and you keep worrying about everyone else go fucking do that' and then has to put him to bed when he overdoes it. things like that. it starts to reach a point where raph worries he's gonna do to mikey what his mom did to him, ala make him ignore his own shit just to take care of the QUOTE UNQUOTE adults in the room. like he genuinely SEEMS really self sufficient and well balanced but its an act.

donnie just keeps to himself most of the time. he likes to be helpful, he likes to do stuff with his hands. he had april teach him a lot of mechanic shit so he likes to prove he can do it on his own after years of being useless. but he gets shit in his head and hes like "ok THIS is what needs to happen NOW" despite maybe everyone else telling him "hey. thats not helpful. we need to calm down first donnie". like he refuses to let raph make comments about himself as if he's a girl and stuff, when raph clearly just wants to self deprecate to deal with it. i wrote something before where you can see him literally use something raph told him in private as a weapon against their mom. he doesnt get boundaries, he's like "this is whats wrong so lets all say it and fix it now!" but like. people need time and gentleness that hes not always willing to give.

and raph doesnt cope with most of it. he copes by ignoring it. he copes by repressing it. he uses casey to cope, the fighting purple dragons all night, the sex they have which is very much NOT about him. he likes to feel used, maybe. he thinks that all he's supposed to be. it makes their friendship really hard cuz he cant decide if he's okay with it or not. she's supportive of him though, even if he cant always see it. i feel like ive probably explained enough abt raph over the course of the eeeeeeverything else here, but lets just say his version of slash is himself. locked up in that broken fucking brain of his.

[daybringersol]

if asexuality or aversion to sex comes from trauma, that is absolutely something a therapist and you are supposed to address, that's not queerphobia and equating it to conversion therapy is kinda disgusting and queerphobic itself lmao

That is not what I said in the slightest, to a point where im questioning if youre asking me this in good faith at all. Please actually read and/or reread the words I typed before accusing me of things like this. My initial post was not even worded in a way that was vague enough to be misinterpreted this way.

If you still don’t understand how misguided you are, here is my attempt at putting it more clearly :

Yes, aversion to sex and/or romance and lack of sexual/romantic desires can come from trauma. Therapy can help that, if you find the right therapist. However, from my own experiences, I can tell you that the way a lot of therapists approach this is at best, ineffective, and at worst, downright retraumatizing. If sex and/or romance makes you uncomfortable, being convinced to take part in sexual/romantic acts without you having desires for it or being downright averse to it is a recipe for disaster (for most people). It just puts you into more non-consensual and traumatizing positions. That is what exposure therapy is, and that is what most therapists have tried (and sometimes succeeded) to do to me. Horrible experience, would not recommend to anyone. This approach tries to cure the symptom instead of the issue, and is deeply based in ace/arophobia (seeing “fixing” a lack of attraction as more urgent and important than addressing the source of the issue, the actual trauma).

Also, no. If someone doesn’t feel like fixing their trauma for any reason, nobody should push them to. A therapist can absolutely inform the patient on the benefits of doing so, but trauma work is incredibly hard, very much a long-term thing, and can put the patient in an extremely vulnerable headspace. It’s the mental equivalent of breaking a bone to set it right again. For an abuse victim who just got out of that situation, it is completely understandable for them to want to enjoy their new-found freedom and joy as much as they can, for as long as they want. Pushing them towards trauma work without the right environment, mindset or literally anything else they feel might make this not the right time for it can cause further damage, especially knowing how the current psychiatric institution works.

Asexuality and aromanticism, however, do not come from trauma, or any other neurological differences. It might be affected by it, and people with life experiences similar to aro and/or ace people are welcomed in the community (for exemple, sexual and/or domestic abuse survivors that are sex/romance averse), but it is not caused by it. Most therapy settings are not informed about asexuality, and assume it is a symptom of a underlying issue, that needs to be fixed. The same kind of exposure therapy that I talked about earlier is often used to “cure” aro and/or ace people, putting them those same non-consensual and traumatizing situations. That is conversion therapy, and medical use of coerced corrective rape. These therapists are, often with methods similar to gaslighting (and I use the original meaning of the word here, not the diluted tiktok version of it), convincing people to do sexual and/or romantic acts that they have no desire to do, to fix an issue that doesn’t exist, with the explicit goal of making someone not queer. Please explain to me how that is not conversion therapy.

Other forms of arophobia and acephobia are prevalent in psychiatric institutions as they are today, tho I wouldn’t call most of those conversion therapy. You only need to look at the notes on my post to see what I’m talking about.

I genuinely hope that this is a formative experience for you, and that in the future, you learn to actually read what is written before you send messages like this. Have a good day.

[coldresolve]

rambling again but now its about trans healthcare and mental health. and the danish nhs' take on both those things which is, yknow, shit

its less rambling and more of a rant bc im tired lol

i read a statistic today that suicidal ideation for trans people who sought medical transition but were denied treatment rose by 67%. which was affirming in the sense it made me realize that maybe im not a pussy for being pretty badly affected by my last 2 denials, but also its depressing in the sense of like, good god, please just allow me to access the healthcare i need. what the fuck

i was at my GP a week ago and asked for another referral, and he was like "well its only been 5 months since they refused you last time". and i told him they wouldn't even agree to the 6 month full team psych eval that preceeds any actual prescriptions of hrt, they just called me "unstable" after a 1 hour conversation in which i specifically directly told them that i know myself, i was in a stable place in my life, im settled in my decision, i know the risks, i'm well aware of the scope of treatment, this trans thing isn't some recent thing for me, etc etc. they called me "unstable" and denied even evaluating me for treatment, because i was only 3 months in remission from a major depressive episode. which isn't a good prognosis for a trans guy who's had to deal with chronic depression for the last decade and a half. when will i ever be "stable" then? it's not like they gave me a clear timeline. (also - as if being denied treatment ever helped any trans person with depression lol. again, that statistic huh). i told my GP i want to put pressure on them, because that's literally the only option i have right now for recieving healthcare. and even after telling him all this it took a good 10 minutes of conversation before he agreed to give me a referral

and im not an unreasonable person but if they refuse treatment again im gonna file a complaint with the patient rights thingy, even though i have never filed a complaint about anything before in my life. im willing to go to the media, idgaf. i just want to be treated for dysphoria instead of being left to deal with it on my own, in the way i have been since the first time they denied me. i'm not "unstable". its been a year. i want medical care. that's it.

and the most infuriating thing is, this whole process is kinda showing me exactly why i'm not alone in this? a THIRD of transgender danes get prescriptions and surgery referrals outside the nhs, either gendergp or the black market or whatever. i don't understand how more people aren't appalled by that statistic, in a fucking supposed welfare state. like what do you want us to do? "they're self medicating" say the danish critics of gendergp, and yep, that's how it works. a person with chronic pain who gets denied treatment will probably also look for alternatives. what else do you expect them to do? are they supposed to just... be miserable?

moreover, what do you expect low income trans people like me to do, who can't afford gendergp because the cost of living crisis + insufferable rent leaves us with basically no disposable income? yo, quick question, bøgens fædreland,

what the fuck do you want me to do

[aingeal98]

its me, still peeling cass like an onion. do you think cain had like, evil doctors on call? ig he probably handled most first aid himself, but like... the possibilities of an Evil Dentist enchants me. on a slightly more serious note, if they existed and they did any surgery on her, it was probably without sedatives or analgesics of any kind. reason 19468 why cass' pain sensitivity is stupidly fucked up

I love this ask so much. My first thought was like hmm maybe Cain blackmailed decent professionals into doing it because learning it all himself would be too much and evil people could try and double cross him. But honestly I think someone with a moral compass would always be more of a risk even if you're threatening their family like they could one day snap and try and take everyone down with them because the ethics just got too much for them to bear. So his best bet would probably be getting evil doctors and evil dentists who have zero morals and REALLY love their job. And Cain's like hey do you want a really fun test case where you'll be payed really well and can do literally whatever you want with your spare time as long as you don't damage this one girl permanently and I'm convinced it has a benefit? And you also have to use your medical knowledge to keep her healthy, but you can throw in as much pain as you want if that's what floats your boat.

Evil Dentist is a delightful thought. Most kids grew up with the tooth fairy. Cass grew up with a man in a lab coat who would collect her baby teeth for "experiments" and in return he helped deal with cavities and general oral hygiene. The first time her mouth went numb at the dentist she probably panicked so hard because wtf why are they drugging her? They're supposed to just fix her teeth! Where is the extreme agony and drilling? Where are the tests to see which nerves in her mouth can make her faint when forced to experience high levels of pain?

Cue Barbara and Bruce sitting outside in horrified silence contemplating this new aspect of her childhood they've just learned about. And the fact that there's a random dentist in Macau that may have her baby teeth and could be cloning her right now.

("We should fix that right? Cain probably killed him but we should track him down just in case?"

"She has a doctor's appointment right after this. Let's just try and get through that alive first.")

And if Cass isn't used to anesthetics, hospital visits and surgery must also be so annoying at first like OK I have shrapnel in my stomach. Get it out. Why do I have to be sleeping for this wouldn't it be much more helpful if I'm awake to make sure you're doing it right. Alfred stop feeling sorry for me this is a good thing. Makes me more competent.

Most of the time I think she probably wouldn't reference it too much because she's seen ordinary hospitals and how Leslie works in the clinic. She knows that her childhood medical treatment was uh... Not Normal. But sometimes it slips out when she's trying to be comforting.

Steph: My mom might have to get surgery to deal with her stomach acid problem and I can't lie, it scares me a little.

Cass: Don't worry. The stomach is messy and warm but it doesn't hurt that much when it's cut open. Not compared to legs and arms.

Steph:

Steph: You know what? I think I'm going to just go ahead and change the conversation topic