#yeah that but for hundreds of years of diseases

[grinchdelia]

In principle I agree with some of the points made above but nonetheless, I do feel the wounds. Funny thing is I don't think you need any ecological training to see it, most laypeople are just conditioned to accept extractivist murder machine as normal. Remembering a certain place where a couple years after the clear cut, they went back and burned all the old snags that had been decomposing and providing habitat since before the loggers came. Thinking of the grasslands in the CA central valley and OR Willamette valley and how much is left. And that little is still hurt, not what once was.

Yeah these places were so full of life specifically because of human care, the thousands of years of tending by the indigenous nations who lived there. Yeah these places never existed in a state of permanence. And the difference on those landscapes before settler diseases and colonization, vs now, could not possibly be any starker. That is a wound. Look at a map of the great prairie. What's left? That is an ONGOING murder. No, they haven't wiped out the entire ecosystem. Indigenous people are still here, fighting for what's left. Restoration is make believe, it's not possible or desirable to set everything back the way it was. But we desperately need to get to work on healing. To heal, we need to acknowledge that what has happened in the last few hundred years is not just "change". It is in fact harm. It's hard to overstate how serious the harm is. I'm not going to look it up now but there's some pretty interesting charts comparing the biomass of humans and our domesticated animals, vs all other vertebrates. If you can't go out for a walk and see the bleeding, those charts are worth looking up and thinking about. Humans are just one type of being on this shared earth and we've seized control over most of the land to put in our fuckind death machine.

Got emotional at the end there but this should be an emotional topic. I'm in grief and I don't understand how other people aren't?

[chronal-anomaly]

Thinking about Lena being sick as a dog when they were doing her pre slipstream vaccination batteries

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Space Ice

Alien: By the gods……what did you do?

Human: What do you mean?

Alien: Luminal III was a desert world, and you’ve been on the world for half a century and now it’s a lush planet.

Alien: What did you do?

Human: Simple.

Human: Space ice.

Alien: What?

Human: Space ice.

Alien: I….I still don’t follow.

Human: Well it’s a desert world with almost no water, so we went out and got some.

Alien: You got some….in space ice?

Human: Well yeah.

Human: There are literal hundreds of thousands of chunks of frozen ice just floating in asteroid belts or orbiting planets in rings.

Human: So we sent a couple dozen harvester ships to grab them and then bring them back to the planet.

Alien: ………………..

Alien: Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?

Human: What do you mean?

Alien: Do you have any idea what was in that ice?

Alien: Possibly frozen organisms or diseases that are in those chunks of ice.

Human: Yeah we knew all about that.

Human: We’ve watched “The Thing” enough times to know what could be frozen inside random blocks of ice.

Human: We had each block scanned and detoxed before introducing it to the planet’s surface.

Human: By the end of twenty years into the operation enough water had been distributed that several large underground lakes were filled to capacity.

Human: Water on the surface continued to evaporate and condense into clouds causing temperatures to slowly decrease. This coupled with the underground water supplies resulted in land masses becoming more temperate and damp.

Alien: Thank you for explaining basic science class processes to the species that mastered inter-dimensional travel.  

Human: Well if you’re so god-damn smart why didn’t you think of this?

Alien: *Opens mouth to counter but stops

Human: You’ve encountered at least a hundred desert worlds and never thought, “Hey, maybe if I add water things will get better?”

Alien: *Stares in angry silence.

Human: Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Human: Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go make a second amazon rainforest called “Amazon+”.

Alien: But why?

Human: For shits and giggles mostly at this point.

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Thirteen: [Panic Room]

Summary: Jakes darkest fears come to fruition when surgery doesn’t go as planned and the months to come bring a new reality he never saw coming.

Warnings: MAIN CHARACTER DEATH Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion.

Word Count: 5.5k

Author Note: A big show of appreciation and love to @a-reader-and-a-writer (Vee) for constantly being ready and willing to help me with my writing. You have been the backbone I needed to get this done!

You guys will never know how much this series means to me. And in the same breath, you guys will never know how much your support truly means. Merry Christmas Eve Eve 2024 ya filthy animals.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Researchers say the average length of a dream is two to three minutes long. But many people experience their dreams as hours, days, or even years if they can remember them at all. 

The science of dreaming has been questioned for hundreds of years. Some hypothesise that dreams are our way of processing real events that occur when we’re awake. They also serve as an outlet for repressed hopes and desires. Neuroscientists introduce a new theory every few years. But honestly, no one knows why we dream. 

Or why we have nightmares. We just hope that after the dream, we wake up. 

“We’ve gone over all the risks, weighed up all the possible outcomes, dotted I’s and crossed T’s. Today is the day, Mrs. Seresin.” Doctor Morrison was hopeful in his consultation. The white coat-wearing man reassured you as he placed your chart back where it belonged. “How are you feeling?” 

The question went unanswered for a moment or two. You felt like you were in a state of shock. Unable to truly express how you felt just hours before going into what could be life-changing surgery. You were giving everyone in the room a thousand-yard stare. Mentally and physically, you had checked out. Like you’d been stuck in a nightmare that wouldn’t stop torturing you. 

“We had some bad news last night. A close friend passed away unexpectedly,” Jake answered on your behalf. “Is there any way–” 

“We need to do this now, Mr. Seresin, or we won’t be able to revisit this for a few months,” Dr. Morrison explained with an emphasis on the matter of now or never. “I understand personal circumstances may have changed. However, knowing everything you know about risk and recovery and survival rates after double mastectomies, I recommend we stick to the organised care plan.” 

“Can we have a moment alone?” Jake asked cautiously as his hand came to rest gently on your shoulder. You hadn’t moved from what could only be described as a catatonic-like state for the entire duration of the conversation. 

“Of course,” Dr. Morrison nodded. “I’ll come back after I’ve checked in on a few patients.” 

It didn’t take long at all for the oncology crew to exit the room. But the second they did, you felt like you could breathe again. 

“I can’t go through with this surgery Jake,” you begged. Fear of the unknown had taken over your entire being. “I can’t do this,” 

“You are the strongest person I know, honey, the kids and I really need you to do this.” Jake tried his best to comfort you as well as remind you why this surgery was so important. “We need you, yeah? We need you to stick around and this fucking cancer, this disease, is trying to cut that time short.” 

“But Jensen–” 

At the height of the Great Depression, Harvard scientists started tracking students in hopes of discovering the key to a long and happy life. They looked at participants’ mental and physical health over seventy-five years. It’s the longest study of happiness to date. Seventy-five years and all they did was confirm what we’ve known since the beginning of time. 

The most powerful predictor of health and happiness is the quality of our relationships. 

Strong relationships protect us. Loneliness on the other hand…can be deadly. 

“Would want you to keep fighting and have this surgery.” Jake could have said he thought Jensen was a coward. He could have said how angry he was at that fucker for leaving you alone in this world with no one to confide in who knew the struggle, who knew the feeling of being told you’re sick and need to get sicker in order to get better. 

Jake could have told you how he wished Jensen had survived so he could kill him himself. Jake could have responded with the fact Jensen was terminal and there was nothing on this earth that could have saved him from his illness. 

Jake could have told you that Jensen thought you hung the stars and the moon in the night sky every night just for him…but then Jake would also have to admit to himself and you that maybe, just maybe, you should have moved on. 

“What would he say right now if he was here?” Jake settled on that question just to keep himself sane. He didn’t want to open yet another can of worms right before your surgery. This was all one big giant nightmare already, he didn’t want to make it worse. If anything, Jake kept pinching himself in secret just hoping that maybe he’d wake up on the couch and this cancer saga would all be some sadistic subconscious dream of his. 

He’d always been deathly afraid of not being good enough for you. 

“He’d tell me to do it,” you sighed as you let your head rest against the upright bed. “He’d tell me to be strategic about the battle, the war is the endgame.” 

“Exactly, one battle at a time, step by step,” Jake agreed with a cheeky smile. That signature Seresin smile you so effortlessly loved. “You’re not gonna hand in the white flag before the battles even really begins, are you?” 

“Kinda want to if I’m being completely honest with you,” you responded knowing Jake would appreciate the honesty. “But I guess you and the kids really need me to stick around, huh?” 

“Oh, I can’t even begin to explain how much we need you to stick around, honeybee.” it was as honest and as sincere as Jake could be. He wore his heart on his sleeve for you. He exposed every nerve he had just so you could dance your feather-like fingers across the tender strings that made Jake, Jake. 

“I’m so scared of being alone in the operating room,” you admitted as Jake leaned in to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I’m so scared they won’t see me as a person,” It was an explanation that broke Jake’s heart even though he believed his heart couldn’t be broken any more. “That they won’t remember I’m me, that I have a life and a family and people who will miss me.” 

Over the course of our lives, our relationships ebb and flow. We get together, break up, move away, or fall out of touch. It’s prolonged periods of loneliness and toxicity that wreak havoc on our health, our brain function, and our longevity. 

“You’re never alone,” Jake replied softly as tears threatened to spill over his waterline. “I’m always with you, the kids are always with you, Jensen, your mum, everyone will be with you during that surgery, we’re gonna be waiting on the other side.” 

“I love you so much, Jake Seresin,” you smiled brightly through a tight-lipped smile Jake wished he could save in his mind’s eye forever. “Let’s win this battle.” 

“And the war too,” Jake replied as he reached for your hand, gave it a soft squeeze, and brought your palm to his lips. “Let’s fucking do this, Y/n.” 

*************************************

Jake sat waiting by the vending machine as he picked at the small single service-sized packet of original Lays he’d nearly had to beg the machine to drop. His watch told him it was almost nearing the end of your surgery. He wasn't stressed, not when your surgeon had been so hopeful and calming. Jake had spent far too much of his time recently worrying about the what-ifs. He wanted to focus on the now. And that now was the fact you would have been nearing the end of your surgery. Which meant soon enough he’d get to see you again. 

The only thing that kept Jake on his toes was the ever-looming doubt that perhaps the treatment plan wouldn't be enough. He hoped that you had enough fight in you to make it through the journey. He needed you to have enough strength to fight. 

“She should be coming out of surgery soon–” Jake explained as he held his phone up to his ear and tried not to chew so loud. “The kids know that Rooster is picking them up to bring them home to Grandma Maz’s house?” 

“Yeah, Mum’s not too happy about it but she won't keal over about it,” Jasmine replied as she watched her brother's kids play with hers in the backyard she and Jake used to make mud pies in. “Rooster messaged about an hour ago saying he was close, he shouldn't be too far away now.” Jas continued in her own little world. Jake was used to not being able to get a word in with his youngest sister. “I can't believe Y/n has fucking cancer–does her side of the family have a history or…?” 

“Not that we know of, it's just really bad luck, Jas,” Jake sighed as he let his head fall back against the wall his chair was pressed up against. “But hopefully with this surgery and the chemo, she’ll be able to beat it.” 

“Well, you tell her that I’m pissed she gets a boob job before I do,” Jasmine tried her best to keep the situation as light-hearted as possible. “Make sure she gets a good rack, not too small or too big, like a good handful that's just right.” 

“I'll be sure to let her know,” Jake smiled, he really could count on his sister for that. “Oh, I gotta go, I see Y/n’s surgeon.” Jake sat up in anticipation as anxiety flooded his nervous system. “Tell the kids we love them for me.” 

“Have been every day,” Jasmine replied quickly knowing her brother probably had his phone down from his ear by now. “Bye.” 

Jake was quick to pocket his phone and wipe the crumbs from his shirt as he stood to greet your surgeon. However, something seemed off about the man who had seemed so confident before your surgery. 

“Mr. Seresin–” 

“How is she?” Jake asked. He didn't mean to interrupt, but he needed to know first and foremost before any medical mumbo jumbo. “My wife, how’d the surgery go?” 

There was a very telling pause that accompanied the sober look that Doctor Morrison wore, but Jake tried not to read into it all that much. He knew you would be fine. 

Right? 

“Mr Seresin, your wife's heart was weakened by the stress of her recent stroke,” Doctor Morrison began to explain as Jake stood there expecting good news. “She, unfortunately, went into a cardiac arrest–” the air around Jake disappeared. Almost instantly, he felt as if he were floating in space. “We tried to revive her for the better half of twenty minutes while she was on the table,” There was a pause. A telling moment where reality and fantasy were trying to battle it out. Who’s version of events would win? When Doctor Morrison saw Jake’s mind short-circling with an inability to process the magnitude of information, he felt as if he needed to continue explaining the severity of the situation. 

“It was catastrophic, and I'm afraid we've lost her.” Doctor Morrison had told far too many loved ones over the years that they had lost family members, but never in all his years had he ever seen such immediate denial written in the lines on someone's face. “Mr. Seresin, your wife has died.” The words Doctor Morrison was saying were not sinking in as Jake stood there completely blind to the reality happening around him. “I’m so sorry for your loss–” 

“Uh–” Jake frowned as the confusion kicked in. “I'm sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone else. My wife was fine before she went in for surgery, she was fine.” 

“Yes, yes, your wife was fine, yes–” Doctor Morrison tried to keep his composure, but even after all these years the losses still hurt. It made him feel human to experience the emotions alongside the family members, but in the first few seconds of watching Jake Seresin spiral into a hole of denial that you were, in fact, gone, Doctor Morrison, knew this particular loss would haunt him for the rest of his career. 

Speaking slowly, Doctor Morisson tried once more to explain what had happened in a way that Jake would understand. “The stress of the surgery along with her recent stroke…her body just couldn't handle the stress. Her heart experienced a cardiac episode and we unfortunately couldn’t revive her.” 

The immediate silence between the two men was all-consuming as it was telling. Jake’s heart was breaking in two. 

“Is there someone I can call for you?” Doctor Morrison tried to be as empathetic as he could be, this part of the job was never easy. The part where he was tasked with telling loved ones that the people they loved had passed on his table. They were few and far between, but the people he did lose would forever haunt him. He could name every single one and their family’s name too. Jake Seresin would be a name Doctor Morrison would remember for the rest of his life and into the next. 

“Are you out of your mind?” Jake pushed back almost immediately as he tried to wrap his head around what he was being told. This didn’t make any sense, you were just here. You were fine. 

“No, Mr. Seresin I–” Doctor Morrison tried to explain again, but it was to no avail.

“I–Okay, I think you must be mistaken,” Jake wiped his hand on his jeans as he stepped back. “I just need to ge–”

“Mr. Seresin, please.” Doctor Morrison tried to stop Jake from leaving the waiting area, but Jake just stepped further back with a frown of disgust and grief. He was still holding his packet of Lays. 

“No, no can you just, can you back up?” Jake nearly growled. “Can you leave me alone?” Jake looked around as he tried to remember how to breathe. People were staring at him like he was in a zoo. A caged and cornered animal begging to be left alone. “Can somebody get this person to just give me some space please?” It was as heartbreaking as it was cruel to watch Jake walk down the hall towards where he knew your hospital room was. 

“Y/n?” He called out hoping you'd be back by now. “You won’t believe this guy, honey. He just–” The moment Jake rounded the corner and saw your hospital room empty with no sign of you, he stood still. All the air had been sucked right from his lungs as his eyes scanned the room. Your Christmas lights weren’t flashing, your bed wasn't made, and your laptop sat open with a black screen, but just where you’d left it. You weren't back. 

“Y/n?” Jake whispered under his breath as his eyes continued to scan the empty hospital room just waiting for you to appear from out of the bathroom or sneak up behind him. But Jake knew you weren't about to appear even though he wished for nothing more. 

“Oh–” One step, two steps, three steps, four. Jake didn't know where he was but he was on the move. He couldn't stay here looking at an empty room. He had to find where you were. “Oh god, no, no no no no no, please no don’t take her away from me.” 

“Jake!” The woman's voice Jake had come to know over the last few days broke through the fog that was clouding Jake's mind. He continued to stumble blindly down the ward. “I just heard,” Lydia explained as she rushed up to the man who she had come to know as your husband. “I'm so sorry, I wasn't expecting this to happen. I thought–” Lydia quickly reacted when Jake's knees buckled underneath him. 

“Woah! I need a little help over here!” Doctor Morrison was quick on the draw as he made his way over to where Jake now kneeled on the floor unable to breathe. 

“My wife–” Jake tried to talk as he hyperventilated. “Y/n!” he cried out for all to hear. “Y/N!” 

“She's gone.” Doctor Morrison had to make sure the fact was sinking in. 

“Oh Jake, I’m so sorry–” Lydia tried to console the six-foot-something man who had crumbled to his knees. “Your wife was an amazing woman.” 

Jake still couldn't believe it, he didn't believe it, and he wouldn't. The pain he felt inside his chest, the burning hot sensation was excruciating. He’d never felt such a feeling of grief mixed with denial and so much love. You couldn’t be gone. He was having a nightmare, wasn’t he? This wasn't real. He was dreaming. This was all one big dream. It had to be. It had to be a nightmare his subconscious had concocted. A nightmare where Jake lost it all. His biggest fears were realised. 

“I need my wife, I need Y/n,” Jake sobbed as Lydia kneeled on the ground in front of him just assessing his current state of shock. “I can't, she can't–no no no she's fine, please tell me she's fine.” 

“I'm so sorry, Jake,” Lydia confirmed what Jake wished so desperately wasn’t true. “She’s gone,” Lydia’s voice became distorted as she held the broken man in her arms. “You need to wake up before it's too late.” 

************************

Bradley Bradshaw was accustomed to losing the people he loved the most in this world. He’d lost his father, his mother, and his grandparents. For a while there he’d lost the only man who had ever slightly filled the shoes his dad left behind. But the loss of someone who was still there was something he’d never had to handle before. 

“Nat, he hasn’t gotten out of bed in days,” Bradley groaned as he cleaned up the kitchen. “The kids already lost their mother,” Bradley tried his best to keep his voice down, but the way little Lennox clocked Bradley from where he was sitting at the dining table made him realise he wasn’t one to talk on the quiet side. “They don’t need to lose their dad too.”

Jake stood just outside of Bradley’s eyeline, but he could hear everything the giant overgrown bird was saying. He couldn’t hear what Phoenix was saying but there was enough back and forth on Bradley’s behalf to easily fill in the gaps. 

“No. No, he hasn’t been down since the funeral.” Jake forgot how to exhale at the mere mention of your funeral as he hid in the hall. He couldn’t remember ever getting ready or speaking at your wake. He couldn’t remember who drove them or if the kids cried. He couldn’t remember hugging your mother or shaking your brother’s hand. Jake couldn’t remember any details about the flowers he’d organised or the people who were there. 

The anti-depressants weren’t helping. Nothing was. Nothing would. 

Until today, Jake couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. Without you, there was no point. He was begrudgingly okay with living a life in a world where you were still in it. But living in a world where you were no longer present wasn’t something Jake was willing to do. The kids would be fine with their grandparents. They’d be fine with Uncle Rooster. Lennox and Lucy and little Sammy didn’t need him. How was he supposed to look into their eyes and know he could never see the twinkle in yours ever again? 

“I’m really worried about him, Nat,” Rooster sighed as he held his phone up to his ear with his shoulder. He was working on making little Samy some banana pancakes. “As much as I want to, I can’t stay here forever, but he needs someone.” 

“No one is asking you to babysit me, Bradshaw,” Jake replied to the statement Bradley wasn’t expecting an answer to. “You can leave, trust me, I can drop the kids off with my mum.” 

Bradley stood stunned into silence as he watched Jake round the corner and into vision. He reluctantly reached for his phone and hung up as Phoenix questioned what was going on. 

“Hey man,” Rooster finally broke the silence as he watched Jake walk closer and closer to where Sammy sat in his high chair. “How you feeling today?” 

“Well, my wife’s still dead, so that’s something,” Jake replied with a sigh as he picked up Sammy and placed him on his lap. Lennox could see the look of pure admiration in his younger brother’s eyes as Jake hugged the smallest of the Seresin kids. “Seriously, you’ve done enough for us, I got it from here.” It was the biggest lie Jake had ever tried to tell not only himself but his best friend. 

“Uh,” Bradley wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure? I mean–I wanna stay as long as you need man,” Bradley tried to plead his case as Jake went about his business with Sammy. The business being nothing. Jake stood somewhat dazed and lost in the middle of the clean-ish kitchen. A kitchen he knew where nothing was. It wasn’t his. It was yours. 

“I think the kids should come back to North Island with me,” Jake opted to ignore what Bradley was saying. Instead, he decided to continue with a vague plan for what the future holds. A future he didn’t want to have with you. A future he didn’t care about. 

“You want the kids to uproot everything they know?” Rooster frowned as he looked over to where Lenny sat watching on. The kids were down, to say the least. Bradley could recognise himself in the permanent pout that had taken shape across Lennox’s face. The puffy eyes and saddened expression really tied the whole look of mourning together. They were just kids, they didn’t deserve any of this. “I don’t think you should be thinking about coming back to work anything soon either.” 

“I don’t need you micromanaging me,” Jake hissed as he held onto his youngest son, all the while his eldest watched on with concern for his dad. “I need you to go home, Rooster, we’ve got it from here.” 

“You don’t got anything, Seresin. Are you kidding me right now?” Bradley didn’t mean to come across as so defensive. But he’d seen Jake in this grief-fueled spiral long enough to know that his destructive and depressive mindset would end up causing more distress for the kids than intended. Jake was a good dad, that had never been questioned. Until now… Bradley wasn’t sure if his best friend could handle parenting three small children without a village to back him up. “The kids haven’t seen you in days–” 

“Would you rather them see me at my worst or not see me at all?” Jake’s grief was eating away at him. So much so that Jake began to wish each time he closed his eyes he’d get to stay with the version of you his mind had envisioned. “I’m fine, I’ve got it from here,” Jake sighed as he hugged little Sammy with all the strength that he had. “I wasn’t, but I’m fine now and I just wanna spend time with the kids.” 

“I don’t believe a word you’re saying right now man,” Bradley replied as he caught sight of Lucy coming down the hall. She’d been sleeping much like her father was. Great, all three Seresin children were present for their father’s impending breakdown. 

“Get the fuck out of my house, Bradshaw.” This hadn’t been the first confrontation Jake and Bradley had gotten into while Bradley had been staying in Rhode Island as the Seresin kid’s personal live-in nanny. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was becoming an almost everyday occurrence. The only difference this time was the kids were here to witness it. “I don’t need you here–”

“You aren’t thinking straight, just–how about the kids and I go for a walk or something and you sort yourself out? Have a shower? Shave? Drink something other than alcohol for–” Before Rooster could finish his sentence, Jake was placing Sam on the kitchen floor with a haste that didn’t sit right with Rooster. Lennox was the first to move from his chair. He was the spitting image of his father. 

“I don’t fucking care, Rooster!” Jake shouted at the top of his lungs. So loud and with such rage that the veins in his neck were popping as his skin turned a nice shade of ruby red. He took fast strides across the kitchen until Jake was standing toe to toe with his best friend. The very friend who’d been taking care of his children since before your passing. “I have to live the rest of my fucking live without the woman I love, so, cut me some godman slack before I knock your smug ass head from your shoulders.” 

Bradley didn’t move. He didn’t retaliate. He watched over Jake’s shoulder how his three children all cowered on the kitchen floor, scared of how their father yelled. Jake was oblivious to his surroundings. He couldn’t see the kids were struggling too. 

“Jake?” Bradley sighed as he placed his hands on either side of Jake’s face. “When the fuck are you gonna get through all this?” Braley asked softly as he remained calm. “When are you gonna wake up?” 

“Wake up?” Jake repeated as he pulled his face from his best friend's grip. “Wake up? Bradshaw, I died with my wife! There is no waking up from any of this!” 

“Maybe–” Bradley shrugged as he walked over to where the kids had been huddled together. It was only as Jake followed Bradley’s trajectory that he realised how much he’d scared his children. Something he never wanted to do. “There's always hope though.” 

“Kids,” Jake sighed as his tears began to fall. He dropped to his knees right then and there in the kitchen he wasn't familiar with. In a house that was now cold and dark without your constant radiating light to keep it warm and bright. “Guys, I'm sorry, huh–Dad didn't mean to raise his voice, he’s just–” Before Jake could finish his sentence, little Lennox was finishing his father’s sentence for him. 

“You’re just sick, dad.” 

“What?” Jake frowned as the kids made their way over to where Jake was kneeling on the tiles. 

“I said you’re just sad, Dad,” Lennox replied once more as he gave his dad a hug. “We’ll take care of you.” 

************************

December 31st 

Jake Seresin tried his best to hide the wet tears that fell down his cheeks as he sat with his kids on the lounge of the home that he had tried his best to keep as tidy as he could. There was a lot of uncertainty, a lot of frustration, a lot of fear and unbelievable sadness that surrounded Jake and your three small children. The unknown was truly tragic, terrifying and treacherous, but Jake wasn’t about to let his kids see the way he so desperately wanted to cry. 

Things had changed since Jake fell mind, body and soul into an unimaginably deep hole of depression. So much so that days had become to feel like one long dream. A paradox of grief and manic love. Your mother had told Jake to feel every ounce of emotion he had locked away. Maz had told him that grief was just someone’s residual love with nowhere else to go. 

Once Jake was able to understand that the pain of losing you was his love for you, he understood why it hurt so deeply on a cellular level. He understood why it hurt to look at the children he’d created with you. He understood why the kids had wanted to sit and open the small, still-wrapped Christmas present Lenny had found in Jake’s bag when he was looking for his dad’s wallet. 

Because it was one of the last things you ever gifted someone. It was one of your last acts on earth. 

“What did Mum get you for Christmas, Daddy?” Jake held the small present in the palm of his hand, the present he had yet to open. The present he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It felt like something he’d held before, the weight felt all too familiar. It haunted him the more he carried it around, held it in the palm of his hand and contemplated the inevitable. 

“I dunno buddy, you reckon I should open it?” Jake asked as he kissed his son's head. “S’not Christmas anymore.” The Naval Aviator had recently shaved his head, it had been the closest to a number one he’d ever had. It was in solidarity, union. A decision he made in the blink of an eye but one he did not regent or ever would. 

“We haven’t taken the tree down yet,” Lucy added her two cents into the conversation as she laid her head on her father’s thigh. “Mum would be upset if you didn’t open it, Dad.” Jake knew that much was true, you probably would be pretty bent out of shape if he never opened it. 

“Alright, I’d better open it then huh?” Jake shook the small perfectly wrapped box he could hold in the palm of his hand. He heard what sounded like a rock rattle inside. His heart nearly exploded inside his chest. 

Fuck….Jake knew what it was and he really didn’t want to open it. 

“Hey, Dad?” Lucy’s voice sounded completely different to anything Jake had ever heard before. She was looking right at him yet her eyes were trained on something one hundred miles away. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Jake replied just as he was about to open the present you’d given him before his life was turned upside down. 

“You need to wake up now,” Lucy’s voice sounded familiar, but it wasn’t her own. “You’ve had enough time here,” 

“What are you talking about Lu?” Jake frowned as he looked at his daughter. An extension of himself and you. “Lucy? Are you feeling okay?” 

“You’ll be a good dad soon,” Lucy smiled as she unwrapped the small ring box in Jake’s hand. The ring box that held what Jake assumed to be your engagement ring. But as little Lucy opened the wrapping, a blinding light burst through the cracks. A light so bright it forced Jake to squint. 

“Please wake up, honey,” Jake heard your voice clear as day as Lucy opened the ring box to send a piercing white light into the living room. Jake was completely captured by the light around him. So much so the entire room was drowned in a light so pure it was crystal clear. He couldn’t see a single thing beyond the all-encompassing white. 

“Please wake up for us,” again your voice was the only thing Jake could hear in the void he found himself in. 

“Y/n?” Jake called out into the void around him. He could feel his ribcage breaking like he couldn't breathe. Every breath he took was agony. “Hello?” Yet he could hear your voice. A voice he longed for. A voice he had to get back to. Jake had to get to you. 

“I’m here, you’re alright,” Jake once again heard your angelic siren song. His head began to throb. The feeling was agonising. Like there was no more room for swelling. 

“Where are you?” Jake called out as he stumbled in the light. The smell of burning flesh mixed with jet fuel overcame Jake’s senses. His need to get to you was more powerful than the deep bone ache he could feel in his legs. There was nothing on earth or beyond that would stop Jake from getting to wherever the hell you were calling him from. His entire body ached with a pain so unimaginable it sent him to his knees. Crawling, Jake cried out for you just one more time. 

“Y/n!?” Jake called out once more in a desperate attempt to find you in the void. “Kids?” 

“Here he comes,” Bradley’s voice echoed out as Jake looked up towards where he assumed the sky would be. The glare was too much. Jake placed his forearms over his forehead to soften the brightness. “Come on Hangman, don't leave us out to dry.” 

Some people spend their whole lives trying to make a dream come true. They set a goal and make a plan on how to achieve it. It works for some people. But for others, it’s not so easy. As hard as they work toward the dream, it can feel like the whole world has plotted against them. 

As someone gets further and further away from the dream, people begin to cling to any sign of hope. And the longer it takes and the more it costs…you start to consider whether you should give up. Do you find a new dream? Or do you stick to the one that started you on this journey in the first place? 

For Jake, things weren’t as black and white. 

As Jake closed his eyes and took one painful last breath in, he felt as if he’d fallen from cloud nine. When he opened his eyes, the light was still there….But he wasn’t.

Jake’s eyelids fluttered, the faintest hint of light creeping through the haze of his mind. He tried to move, but his body felt foreign as if it wasn’t entirely his own. The weight of unconsciousness clung to him, reluctant to release its hold. Slowly, he became aware of the sounds around him—

“Jake, It’s me, can you hear me?”

**********************

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream

@maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional

@jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog

@a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination

@the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb @kmc1989 @avengersgirllorianna

[existentialterror]

"Ohhh my god u think we should drive certain bugs to extinction?"

yeah I mean gene drives that just target a species' ability to, say, carry specifically the malaria malaria (or whatever) parasite are also on the table, so I'm not going to say this is literally the only way to eliminate malaria within our lifetimes, but:

A) one species can be vectors for a lot of different diseases, like:

( we didn't start the fire! no we didn't light it but we tried to fight it)

B) How many hundreds of thousands of dead children a year does it take before driving a particular insect to extinction is on the table? like, do you have a number? if not now, when can we revisit the issue?

"should we tell everyone? should we throw a party?

yes!!!!!!!!!

[covid-safer-hotties]

thanks for still talking about covid, and long covid. makes me feel less insane when everyone around me is pretending that nothing's wrong and everything's normal, despite that long covid has ruined my life and they all know it.

so yeah, thanks. it really helps to know i'm not the only reasonable person left in the world

Ignorance + exceptionalism = oblivious people. It's frustrating how many people prefer the comforting lie to the truth, and even more frustrating how many people simply consume information instead of learning from it and integrating that information into their understanding of the world. Covid's the big topic here, but simple airborne disease mitigation could save hundreds of thousands of lives worldwide each year from the likes of flu, RSV, measles, and tuberculosis. In 2020, public masking drove the B/Yamigata strain of seasonal influenza to extinction. Even if only 80% of people masked in public, we would see substantial drops in respiratory illness. It would literally be so easy to have a better world, but too many would rather ignore pressing threats for the facade of normalcy. Keep strong. You're not alone and you're not insane or a hypochondriac. You are responding to a risk while others would simply pretend it doesn't exist.

[sitepathos]

Random thought, but is reader inmortal?

Like, with the Megamycete (being able to regenerare any bodypart to a celular level) does that prevents reader from aging? or does it only work with physical injuries?

Could they like, live forever or would there be any side effects?

If that's the case, how long would reader live.

im just curious haha

Yeah, you pretty much are immortal.

The Megamycete has existed for four-hundred years and had grown to humongous proportions. So long as it had access to nutrients, which Gotham had ample supply of, it could live forever. It absorbed the Lazarus Pit it landed in and gained the Pit’s highly coveted restorative properties, allowing it to heal from any injury it sustains and supercharging its already impressive resilience, allowing it to resist most diseases and toxins.

And since the Megamycete resides within you, those traits pass on to you. You can take a serious hit and keep on ticking, even regenerating loss limbs (including your head) and can heal from any kind of injury in a matter of seconds. You’re also immune to illnesses and diseases, so you’ll never have to worry about getting sick or contacting diseases.

This also applies to your aging process. The Megamycete had stayed in the form you met it in for over a hundred years and was still going strong. Should your cells undergo a transformation, the mold will reverse the change.

So, you’re by every definition of the word “immortal.”

So long as the Megamycete resides within you. But you don’t need to worry about losing it. Who could possibly find a way to separate the two of you when you’re combined at the cellular level?

[embarrassingmf]

taking a sick day

PAIRING: Steve Rogers x reader

SUMMARY: when cap gets sick, you volunteer to be his personal nurse for the day.

WARNINGS: not proofread, might be OOC steve☹️

WORD COUNT: 1k

A/N: this is now my longest fic yay! also, I know steve can’t rlly get sick bc of the serum but I see a lot of fics where reader is sick so I wanted to swap the roles🫠

Steve thought he was immune to all Earthly diseases, disorders, and infections after taking the Super-Soldier serum.

But he was recently proven wrong after getting struck with a bad case of the flu.

He always stayed in bed, not that he was necessarily bedridden, per se, he was just too lazy to walk around his private quarters.

Really, the only time Steve got out of bed was to make himself some food or go to the bathroom. Other than that, he stayed curled up under the covers.

When the other Avengers learned about his recent misfortune, they quickly formed a little meeting to discuss who would keep watch to make sure he recovers fine.

As if his immune system wouldn’t fight it off by the next morning.

At this revelation, you immediately volunteered. Maybe a little too quickly considering the smirk you got from Tony.

In truth, you liked spending time with Steve. He was fun to hang out with considering he’s been around for well over a hundred years.

In your excitement, you almost missed Steve’s room, quickly backtracking a few steps before knocking and waiting for his reply.

You heard a muffled “come in,” from the other side, and it sounded nasally, too.

Opening the door to Steve’s private quarters, you were met with him in the kitchen, a simple white shirt and sweatpants on. He was standing in front of the toaster, leaning against the counter.

You walked over, taking a moment to look at his facial expression. It was mostly blank, but his eyebrows were furrowed a bit from how shitty he probably felt right now.

“Making some toast?” You questioned, awkwardly trying to make some conversation.

Steve nodded wordlessly in response, grabbing the toast and throwing it on the plate after the toaster dinged annoyingly.

He grabbed a butter knife and started spreading some jam onto the darkened bread.

You watched intently before speaking up after clearing your throat to get his attention.

“After you finish that, I can make you some soup?” You offered with a smile, and Steve looked over.

“Sure. That sounds good.” Steve matched your smile.

You nodded as Steve took a bite of the toast, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

—————————————————————————

Soon after Steve finished his toast, he trudged back into the bedroom and left it cracked open for you.

You were making some chicken noodle soup for him, except you didn’t really know how to cook homemade chicken middle soup so you used the stuff in a can.

Steve was staring up at the ceiling when he heard the microwave beep from afar, signaling that his soup was ready.

He craned his head just enough to see you walk in, sitting next to his legs as you placed the soup onto the bedside table.

“Here, let me help you.” You mumbled, gently grabbing his hand and putting your free hand on his upper back to help him situate into a sitting position against the headboard.

After Steve was comfortable enough, you grabbed the soup and carefully placed the warm bowl onto his lap — which thankfully wouldn’t burn him since he had a thick comforter.

Steve took a spoonful of the soup, letting out a small groan of satisfaction as the warm broth hit his tastebuds.

While he was off in his own personal heaven switching from eating the noodles and pieces of chicken to drinking the broth, you placed your hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

You fought the urge to immediately take your hand away from the burning skin.

Yeah, you knew he always ran warm, but he was never this warm. And it freaked you out a little bit.

“Jesus,” You cursed, pulling your hand back after keeping it there for a few moments.

Steve looked up, letting out an oblivious: “Hm?”

“You’re burning up, Steve.” You quickly got up to go grab a washcloth from the connected bathroom.

Steve watched your fleeting figure for a moment before going back to his soup, eventually finishing it and placing it on the bedside table.

You came back after a few seconds and placed the washcloth on Steve’s forehead before laying him back down.

“You done with the soup?” You asked quietly, pointing to the now empty bowl with a few remnants of carrots and celery along with some seasoning.

Steve nodded and you grabbed the bowl, walking back into the kitchen to wash it out.

“Why are you even in here?” Steve inquired once you returned. “You don’t need to be taking care of me like this.”

If Steve was being honest, this moment of vulnerability reminded him of when he was young. When he had a number of medical issues and his mother was working multiple jobs to help him simply live.

He was shaken out of his somber trance when you spoke up.

“Well we had a small meeting of who was going to watch you to make sure you recovered fine.” You explained with a breath.

“And I volunteered to do it.”

Steve let out a low hum of acknowledgement, his head lulling back against the pillow as he weakly readjusted the damp cloth on his forehead.

“You didn’t need to, I’m sure I’ll be fine by tomorrow.” Steve mumbled.

“But I appreciate the gesture,” He added as an afterthought, not wanting to sound rude.

You chuckled, getting up once you noticed the time.

8:06 P.M.

It wasn’t necessarily late, but you wanted Steve to get a lot of rest so you got up anyway.

“I’m gonna sleep on the couch, if you don’t mind,” You paused for a moment to see if Steve would tell you to just go back into your quarters and come back in the morning.

But he didn’t. He didn’t have any sort of reaction so you took that as a good sign and continued speaking.

“So just call me if you need anything.” You flashed Steve another smile before turning and walking out of his bedroom, dimming the lights and leaving the door cracked open.

Just in case.

—————————————————————————

tags! : @ryvkkr (pls let me know if you don’t want to be tagged for marvel fics🙏)

[seat-safety-switch]

I have a filthy confession to make. I still love Volkswagens. No, not the current ones, with their humming-coughdrop efficiency and Teutonic stereos made entirely of hovering touchscreens that you can't get rid of even when you go to sleep at night. No, I mean the real shit: water-cooled cars from the 80s and 90s.

Yeah, I hear you air-cooled folks in the background screaming at me about how spending ten thousand dollars for approximately 36 horsepower is a way more fun way to exist. To you, I have no polite reply. You have gone so far down the rabbit hole (get it?) that there is simply nothing that can be done to rehabilitate you into regular society. For the rest of us, I think we can all acknowledge that the Mk3 GTI is underrated.

Sure, when they were new, and even when they were a little bit old, nobody liked the Mk3. You've got the Mk2, which is fun and zingy, and the Mk4, which is luxurious and fast. The Mk3 is... neither of those things. So everyone threw them in the bin as soon as they could, and went to go buy Audi Allroads instead. Joke's on you, suckers. You accidentally made those shitboxes into rare collectibles and I hope the exploding-heater-core coolant burns to your face and genitals heal quickly.

Thing is, there's just something about these terrible cars. Maybe it's because they're boxy. Possibly it's because I have a compulsive hoarding behaviour that makes me want to rescue unloved vehicles from oblivion. Most likely, though, it's because I still harbour a delusional fantasy that it's possible to buy a car – any car – for under one thousand fucking dollars, and surely these hated shitbaskets must be somewhere near the bottom of Kelley Blue Book value.

For me, the disease is so bad that I'll sometimes drive past farmer's fields in the most racist part of the outskirts of my city. I hope that they have an old Mk3 GTI just sitting there, up on blocks. That there's some kind of combination of honeyed words, fast-cash-flashes, and freshly-deceased owners that will let me escape with a five hundred dollar one. And then, I will finally be able to live my fantasy of owning and operating a car I didn't want twenty years ago.

I'm sure you feel the same way about the Mk3 GTI, too. If you don't, maybe you should go take a look at one. Then tell me which farmer's field it's in and if his widow is willing to accept cash, or if she would strongly prefer Venmo.

[katyakurae]

Hey, after today's doodle, I'm curious and testing an idea...

The punishments Heaven imposes on the damned are many and quite colorful. They depend on the crimes sinners committed in their days on Earth, the ones which leads them towards Hell, but also depend on their emotions. In some cases, even on their luck.

Alastor curses his damn luck.

Among the punishments there is a particularly funny one: a disease. A plague, as some call it, which revolves around two factors. Whether the sinner is in love and whether his love is reciprocated or not. If that tiny tragedy happens (a sinner falls in love, but the demon object of their affection does not reciprocate) then he will start coughing up flowers and blood. A beautiful, terrible and incurable disease, capable of causing death hundreds of times. None, fortunately or not, permanent.

Alastor has caused several sinners to become victims of this disease. There are many who cough up red lilies because of the Radio Demon. The most notorious case was Vox, although his illness stopped when Alastor disappeared for seven years.

One day, a terrible day, at the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor finds himself vomiting white roses. But the orders of Lilith, his queen, holder of his soul, prevent him from leaving the hotel, Charlie and above all...

Lucifer.

As facts:

Hanahaki is not mortal in this AU since sinners are already dead, just really fucked up and painful.

(Or it is, but not for good)

Alastor has caused some cases of hanahaki here and there. Vox is the most notable of all, but he seems to have "healed".

(Not really, but that would be another story entirelly different 👀)

Anyway, he is used to see the effect those wreched flowers cause, but thinks he himself would never succumb to that

Until one day... surprise, he finds himself in love with Lucifer... who still awaits his wife and belive with all his heart Lilith will come back to him.

Angst :)

[blossom-works]

His Sunshine

Agent Leon S. Kennedy has been through hell after hell. Never having a break from the chaos. His heart has hardened over the years since Raccoon, leading him to turn to alcohol for temporary release. Who would have thought that fighting bioterrorism was the reason that Agent Leon S. Kennedy found his peace and comfort?

Warnings: Mentions of child/human trafficking, death of children, alcoholism

*OC is Asian cause let's face it, Leon has a thing for Asians (Ada and Shen Mei)

When He First Met the Sun

"Hunnigan, what the hell are you trying to say?"

Through the heavy-duty phone screen, a woman with brunette hair has to inform her long-time friend and co-worker of the horrors of his upcoming assignment.

"We have intel that whoever is in charge of creating this strain of the virus is using children to spread the disease. Trafficked children..."

"Jesus fucking Christ." Instead of taking another shot of pure liquor, Leon opts to drink straight from the bottle. The burning liquid glides down his throat, numbing the man even more.

"The president has created a specific team for this assignment. He wants you and the BSAA to partner up with an agent from the FBI. She was specifically asked for by Chris Redfield."

"Chris is on this mission too?"

"The president wanted his expertise in this. It'll be a four-man team. You, Chris Redfield, Jill Valintine, and the FBI agent. Chris said that he'll be picking you up at your current location. You are to meet the FBI agent at 1500." Hunnigan hangs up the call, leaving the drunken man to his own endeavors.

Just when the hell is this hell going to end? Since '98, things have only gone downhill. It seems that all Leon ever does is fight these bio-engineered monsters while losing people by the hundreds. This is hell. Leon is living in hell. A never-ending cycle of death and carnage.

By the time Chris gets to the bar, Leon has already finished one entire bottle of tequila. Lord knows how Leon's liver is doing. Stumbling, Leon leaves the bar to stumble in Chris' car. On his way out he forgot to pay his tab, which Chris had to pay for (but not forgetting to make a mental note that Leon owes him).

"You reek of alcohol." Chris grimaces as he rolls down the back windows.

"Yeah, so? You smoke."

"Not as much as your drink."

Chris opens the glove compartment to pull out a file. "Here, you can go over the mission on our way to the FBI headquarters. That is if you're sober enough to even read."

Leon snatches the file from Chris, mumbling how he can read "Thank you very much". He has to shake his head to get his eyesight to work. The contents of the folder are gruesome. Pictures and names of children that have gone missing fill the thick folder. Some of the last few papers are of what is suspected to be people in charge.

"Hunnigan told me that you recommended an FBI agent to the president."

"Yeah, she's the youngest sister of one of my buddies back in the day. She works in the department of human trafficking and child exploitation. She's only worked there for about two years, but she's one of the best in the field."

"Hold on, you said she's only been employed for a little less than a year? She's a rookie!"

Chris scoffs. "And? As I said, she's currently one of the best agents that specialize in this field. If we're going to accomplish this mission, we're going to need her expertise."

"And how old is this chick?"

Doing some quick math in his head, Chris answers "23".

"She's a kid."

"And she's one of the best the FBI has to offer. That says a lot, Leon." Chris further defends. He must really believe in this chick's skills to defend her like this, Leon concludes. Shutting up, the two men travel to the agency in silence.

FBI Headquarters:

In a small room sits three people. DSO agent Leon S. Kennedy. BSAA operator Chris Redfield. BSAA agent Jill Valentine. Each of them has folders and folders of information that was apparently collected by the FBI agent they will be working with. Impressive for a woman who only has less than a year's worth of experience.

The door clicks open and reveals a woman of Asian descent with a short stature wearing a basic black and white suit, with three-inch stilettos. Her black hair is tied into a high ponytail that stops at the nape of her neck. Her features are soft and the color of her skin tells people that she most likely came from a bloodline of Southeast Asians.

"Apologies for the wait. The president sent someone to deliver some useful information."

Jill asks what that information is.

"That we are given almost all clearance to the highest level. With the president's approval, we can obtain Pentagon-sealed information. Not even the CIA can tell us 'no." You sits down at the last empty seat.

"Woah, it seems he really wants us to catch these guys."

Lean speaks up, "Then we should get started."

You go over the contents of the mission. For a woman who has been working as a federal agent for less than a year, your work ethic is top-tier. Even Leon silently admits that you are well-equipped for your job. And you are sort of a cutie. You talk about how the FBI and CIA are certain that BOWs are stemming from trafficked children. Any questions they have, are answered a couple minutes later during your presentation.

At the end of your presentation, you address the elephant in the room. "So now that I've told you everything that I know. It's time you tell me how to deal with BOWs."

Chris is the first to speak up. "Shoot them in the head. It's the only way to kill them." You nod.

"Are you up for it?"

To you, it sounds like Leon is challenging your competency. He wants to know if you will be a hindrance on this mission. Sure, you are a smart cookie but how will you hold up facing a human-turned-monster? Can you hold yourself in battle? Or will you need to be babysat along the way? In truth, Leon wants to prepare himself when he eventually loses another person in this cycle of hell.

"Agent Kennedy, I understand the reasoning behind your question. In truth, I don't know. Unlike the three of you, I have never encountered a BOW." A sufficient and honest answer. You go on further. "This mission is a give and take. I give you my expertise on human trafficking and child exploitation, you give me the galls to kill those things. You teach me how to kill BOWs, I give you the information you need to outsmart these bastards and get these kids out of hell."

Standing up, you tell your team that you will meet up here again tomorrow, at six sharp. Only this time, it will be at the FBI's helipad. The rumored place of operation is near the Mexican border. The four of you will be stationed in a remote area in Southern Texas for the duration of the mission.

Texas:

"Hey, why do you wake up so early in the morning? Are you getting some extra work in?" Jill asks as the four of you are eating some take-out.

On day two, your teammates kept asking you why they were waiting before barging into the supposed hideout. You understood that for them, barging in with the information you have is a norm for them. But they forget that they are not just dealing with BOWs but human trafficking. If any piece of the collected information is wrong, it could jeopardize the entire mission. You told them, "I'd willingly turn into one of those mutants before compromising the children's chance of freedom."

They stopped bugging you after that. The three of them stepped back to let you take the reigns. They really did forget that there is another part to this mission other than to exterminate BOWs.

"Sort of. I wake up early to do my morning workouts."

It is no surprise that you work out. Everyone in this damn house works out, but to do it so early in the morning and not take a nap during the day is crazy.

"Why so early?"

You shrug your shoulders. "I usually wake up early to go running at the park near my place, but since we're not in D.C., I'm extending my workout to make up for it." The conversation is then directed to how you know Chris.

"My brother was his junior in the Air Force. Redfield once came to our home back in Georgia for...was it Christmas or Thanksgiving of '93?"

"It was Thanksgiving. Your mom invited my family to come over."

"Wait a minute...You were born in '87, so that would make you either six or seven at the time." Jill says.

You and Chris hum before Chris starts teasing you. "She was so infatuated with me at the time that she kept calling me her 'boyfriend'."

Groaning, you throw a pen at Chris who ends up catching it. To further your embarrassment, Jill and Lean start laughing. You can feel the tips of your ears getting hot.

"Dammit Redfield, I was six at the time! Stop bringing up old shtick!" You huff.

"What? It was cute how you would want to sit next to me. You even 'fought' your own mom because she sat in 'your' spot." Chris turns his head and whispers to his other colleagues, "She was so cute I still have photos from that day", making them laugh even more. "Side note: Why do you keep calling me by my last name? We've known each other since we started 'dating."

"Because we're on the job. When we aren't working together I'll start calling you Chris again." You say as you roll your eyes. Getting Chris to stop embarrassing you is equivalent to getting a pig to fly. It is never going to happen. "Plus given the age hierarchy, you're the oldest one here, grandpa."

"A grandpa you once called your boyfriend," Chris smirks. To an outsider, it might seem like Chris and you are flirting, but you are not. One, because it would basically be pedophilia considering you two met at the respective ages of six and twenty. And two, because you and Chris see each other as siblings it would also be a case of incest if the two of you were flirting.

Half-joking you say, "I guess I've always been into older men."

To get the attention off of you, you then ask how Jill and Leon know Chris. Like they did, you sat and listened to their (less embarrassing) stories. By the end of the night, you find yourself getting a bit closer to Leon and Jill. Chris excuses himself to take a call and Jill excuses herself to take a shower. Leaving you and Agent Kennedy on the ground floor.

Leon is the one to break the silent barrier, albeit, not in the greatest way.

"So, you're into older men huh?" You can practically hear his smirk from behind the laptop.

You decide to humor the man and play along. "What's it to you?"

Leon shrugs. "I don't know, maybe after we finish this mission we can go grab dinner sometime?"

"Are you asking me on a date Agent Kennedy?"

"Depends on if you say yes."

"What if I say no?"

"Then it could be two friends having dinner together." Leon shrugs again. You chuckle and shake your head in amusement. You close the laptop and place your intertwined hands on top of it.

"I don't do flings, Kennedy." You tell the man honestly, making sure to make direct eye contact to show Leon how serious you are. Leon holds his hands up in surrender.

"Then we can go out as friends." He compromises. "There's nothing wrong with two friends hanging out over a meal, and it wouldn't count as a fling."

You are not opposed to the idea, but you do want to poke fun at the legendary Leon S. Kennedy. "I'm afraid not. I don't consider us friends, Kennedy. We're co-workers."

"What if I believe that we're friends?"

"Then I guess we're at a standoff." You tease.

Leon takes the challenge. "Then I guess I'll have to convince you otherwise."

You stand up and throw away your takeout container. Grabbing the laptop you head upstairs to where the rooms are. "I guess so," you call out from the stairs.

When He First Felt the Sun's Rays

Your apartment is filled with the scent of different herbs and spices. A harmonious smell that you hate the fact that you have to open your balcony door to let some fresh air in. Your hair is held up by a clip and you are in a white shirt, a thin flannel, and a pair of jean shorts. Classic "girl next door" look. You take a piece of laffa and dip it into the hummus. You have music playing in the background as you finish grilling the chicken kabobs.

You get a notification on your phone that there is someone at your front door and not a second later, they are knocking. Wiping your hands on a kitchen towel and turning down the heat, you answer the door.

"Hey, Leon." Your old colleague greets you back with a bouquet of parchment-wrapped flowers. Thanking him, you let him inside of your apartment and find a place to put the flowers. Walking into the open concept room, you yell out to the DSO agent.

"And don't forget to take off your shoes!"

Leon immediately kicks his shoes off and is hit with a waft of comforting spices. "Smells good in here."

"Thanks, I hope you like Middle Eastern food 'cause that's gonna be dinner. If you're a bit hungry I left out some hummus and laffa out on the island counter."

"Laffa?" Leon asks but still takes a piece of the bread and dips it into the bowl of pureed chickpeas.

"It's a flatbread. Think of Indian naan."

"Did you make it yourself?"

"No, I bought the hummus and bread from a local Middle Eastern restaurant nearby. Everything else though is from scratch."

Leon tries to go around the island to offer you his help but his left foot steps on something soft. A loud "arf" scares Leon and forces him to look down. A body of blond hair scurries across the floor towards you, scratching at your legs.

"Oh shit, I didn't mean to step on your dog." Leon apologizes. The medium-sized dog is now in your arms, seeking your comfort.

You wave off Leon's apology. "Don't worry about it. Shiloh always gets so excited to meet new people that she forgets to stay out of the way. It was an honest mistake so no biggie."

Leon manages to walk around without stepping on a dog this time. He reaches his hand out to pet the top of the dog's head as another apology. It accepts his apology and their tail starts wagging again.

"Her name's Shiloh, huh? What breed is she?"

You put Shiloh on the ground so you can put the kabobs on a platter. "An English Cocker Spaniel. I got her while I was still living in Georgia."

Leon is too busy with your dog to listen to you. He is bent down on one knee and Shiloh is climbing onto him. Begging him to keep petting her.

"Leon!"

"Huh? What?"

You roll your eyes and place your hands on your hips. "I asked if you could help me set up the table."

"Oh, yeah, sure." He spits out in embarrassment.

Together, you get the table ready for your fourth date in a row. Since you got back from Texas, Leon has not stopped pestering you to agree to go on a date with him. The first date was the unofficial date and the second was the first date. Making this date at your apartment the third official date with Leon. To your surprise, Leon is a total gentleman. You thought men like him liked to "date" women for a while in the name of fun. So far, Leon has only been able to change half your mind about him.

The unofficial date was a simple walk in the park followed by lunch at a diner. The second (first) date was at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History where you could geek out. Leon found your dorkiness cute. The third (second) date was a nice dinner at a steakhouse. Leon found out that you gave the waitress your card and told her that you would be paying for yourself. When you parted ways, Leon told you that he would get back at you for your little stunt. And the fourth (third) date is dinner at your apartment.

During your dates, including the unofficial one, the two of you have been getting to know each other a lot better. The two of you talked about your childhoods, hobbies, and stupid shit you did as a kid. Leon is a little confused as to why you failed to mention you have a dog.

Leon hums in delight. "The food is good. Didn't think you would be such a good cook."

"All thanks to my mom who would drag me and my sister to the kitchen whenever she would cook." You shiver at the unpleasant memories. "What about you? Do you cook?"

"Not like you," Leon answers honestly. "Just basic meals."

"Mmm...sounds sad." Leon laughs as he agrees with you.

Dinner went by wonderfully and Leon even helped you clean up. You purposefully put some food in a separate Tupperware for later. After the table is clean and the dishes are done, you propose that the two of you play a couple games of Smash Brothers, igniting the competitive side of Leon. Sitting next to each other, you try to kill off the other's character. After some 1v1 games, you paired up to play against bots in 2v2 games. To further challenge Leon's competitive side, you switched to Mario Cart. You end up getting a text from one of your neighbors to quiet down.

The reason why you two are now cuddled on your couch, watching an old Barbie movie. Why is the famous Agent Leon S. Kennedy watching an early 2000s Barbie movie? Because you wanted to. That is all the reason Leon needs to watch the damn cliche, animated movie about a doll. Shiloh has plopped herself on the other side of Leon. Like you, she has nuzzled herself into his side. When the movie finishes, it is close to ten.

"Think it's time to call it a night?"

Reluctantly, Leon nods. For the duration of the movie, Leon has been petting Shiloh's head, lulling her to sleep. By now, your dog is fast asleep in doggy dreamland. Getting off of your date, you head to the kitchen to grab something. Stretching his legs, Leon gets off the couch and heads to the foyer. When he turns around to say "bye", Leon is surprised to find you standing behind him with a cloth-covered item.

"Here, it's some leftovers from tonight's dinner. Just heat the bread in the oven so it won't get soggy."

For some reason, the gesture warms Leon to his core. Never once has he had a woman pack him leftovers. Not even his own mother. The sweet act touches Leon so much that it sort of scares him. Like scares him, scares him, and scares him because he wants more of you this. Your soft face and sweet eyes. Fidgeting your feet because you are embarrassed. The soft smile on your lips is just screaming at Leon to kiss you.

"Thanks...I'll remember that." Grateful, Leon takes the meal from you and the two of you awkwardly stand in your foyer. "So, uhh...I'll be off now."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll walk you out."

The two of you step out of your apartment and hug each other. Unlike your previous hugs, this one is tighter and longer and more intimate. You have to force yourself to release the hug or else you risk never letting go of the man. You whisper a "good night" to Leon and he returns the favor. Deciding that life is too short, you pull Leon back to you. Cupping his cheeks, you bring his face to yours and you kiss the irritatingly attractive man.

There are a few times Leon has been surprised. Both good and bad surprises and Leon is more than happy to count this feat as a good, no, a wonderful surprise. He purses his lips and uses one hand to hold onto the widest part of your hips, bringing the two of you closer. The new closeness gives you a burst of confidence. In the silence of the hallway, you can hear the faint smacks from your lips on Leon's. Your left thumb rubs over the growing stubble on Leon's cheek.

Leon always thought that your lips looked supple and soft. Finally able to feel them the way he wants to, your lips are supple and soft with a dash of chapped. Who knew kissing you could feel so addicting? To calm the animal inside of him, Leon compels himself to pull away. His mind is going haywire when he feels a string of saliva break.

When you open your eyes, you look too good. More attractive than usual. Too attractive to the point where Leon has to chant "Not now. Not now. Not now." in his head. What puts a crack into Leon's self-control ability is when you peck his lips a few more times.

"Goodnight Leon."

Out of it, the only thing Leon can do is nod, making you laugh a bit. That is before you look over his shoulder, which is still hunched over from having to bend down to your height.

"I can see you two."

Your neighbors that have been nosily watching, quickly pop their heads inside their apartment and close the door. You smile and roll your eyes. "Neighbors." You kiss Leon's stubby cheek and shoo him away.

Leon gives you a charming smile and tells you that he will text you later. When he is a couple of steps away from the elevator, Leon hears you call out to your neighbors again.

"I can still see you two!"

When the Sun Knew He Would Clear the Dark Clouds to Let Her Shine

With his wrists tied together, Leon manages to use his legs to kick the infected away from him. JD is too inexperienced to aid Leon, so he needs to hurry or else they will both die in this hellhole. Before Leon can get the upper hand two shots are fired, killing the two infected. JD checks himself to make sure he is not bit or injured anywhere. Leon sits up and looks around to see who is responsible. It could be a friend or foe.

"You know when you said you'll wait for me to finish my case, I didn't think to find you in an underground bunker."

A part of Leon is relieved to see you, knowing that he has at least one person he can trust. The other part of Leon is PO-ed that you willingly threw yourself back into fighting BOWs. The DSO offered you a position for your extraordinary work back in Texas, but you declined. "I'm crazy to be doing what I do, but I'm not that crazy to fight BOWs for a living."

"What the hell are you doing here? How'd you find me?" Leon demands as you cut the restraints on his wrists.

Sarcastically, you ask him if that is how he greets you after you saved his ass from getting infected. "Hunnigan told me about your little stunt so she gave me your last known coordinates. I called your cell earlier which gave her a few seconds to find your general area. I followed the corpses, which is how I ended up here."

Before the conversation can go anywhere else, JD interrupts. "Woah! I knew American women were hot but seeing one of them in person is a whole lot better!"

You look at the punk male in disinterest. Comically, the guy tries his best to look cool but in fact, does the opposite. "So, you single?"

"Umm...I'm flattered but I'm actually getting married in a couple of months."

JD hunches over himself. "Awe man! Why are all the hot chicks always taken!"

"Probably 'cause she's with the hot guy next to you."

Confused, JD looks to his side and is face to face with Leon's brown sweater. Looking up, Leon is staring down at the short man with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Almost like he is challenging JD to say another stupid thing. The Eastern Slavic male nervously scratches the back of his head and whispers an apology to the American male.

Sighing, Leon tells JD that when he does decide to use the gun, to shoot the infected in the head for an instant kill. JD leads you and Leon further down the bunker and into a narrow hallway where a metal door is. Leon and JD try to pry the door open while you watch their backs. The grunts and noises from the door gain the infected's attention.

What creeps you out is that one of the infected's head slits open to reveal flesh-like tentacles. Leon calls out to you, telling you to get yourself on the other side of the door. A little annoyed that JD cannot force himself through the crack, you plant your foot on his back and manage to push him through the door. Leon tumbles inside the room after you and chains the door within a couple of seconds.

If you were not creeped out before, you definitely are now. When the three of you reach the surface, you end up witnessing how the citizens of this country are being infected. Like a scene from a sci-fi movie, an alien-looking creature is forced down a person's throat. Truly a parasite. The three of you take a quick break before reaching the cathedral. Uncharacteristically, Leon starts to once again, complain that he was shipped off here without anything to eat.

"Are you really that mad they didn't provide you with any breakfast? I get why you're pissed our vacation got cut short, but over breakfast?"

Leon shrugs his shoulders and looks at you like you are the crazy one. Then again, you are not surprised your fiance is bitching about not eating. The man gets hungry as fast as he gets hot. Seriously, if you are not blasting the AC at home, a puddle of sweat will form around Leon. Reaching into your vest, you pull out a wrapped snack.

Tossing it to him you say, "Here. Protein bar. Should hold you over for the next couple of hours." Leon thanks you a million times over, happy to finally have something in his stomach. You offer another bar to JD and he too thanks you for your generosity. You ask the two of them to fill you in on the missing details since you basically came to the country blinded.

When you and Leon eventually leave the cathedral thanks to JD's help, you end up meeting the woman who had Leon's heart long before you met him. A couple of minutes before meeting her, you told Leon to go ahead and go inside the parking garage. You will stay behind for a bit to make sure neither of you were followed. When you eventually go inside the parking garage, you spot Leon talking to a woman with short, black hair.

"So, shall we continue from that night?" She flirts.

Yes. You know who this woman is. In fact, you knew about her before you met your soon-to-be husband. Claire once told you about Leon when she used to crush on him. She would rant about how the DSO agent was practically wrapped around some other woman's finger. Who is this woman in question? Why, none other than the infamous Ada Wong. The woman that brings the ugly insecurities out of you.

"I don't think so, Ada. I don't know if you've heard but I'm getting married soon. Don't plan on fucking that up."

Ah, so the rumors are true. Who would have thought that the puppy she leashed years ago would slip off of its collar and run off to someone else?

"I heard. She must be something if she was able to steal you away." Ada taunts.

"She is. She's more than I could ever want and even a little more than that. She's the reason my endless cycle of hell has stopped. I'm not losing her." Leon wanted to add "And I was never yours to begin with," but he knew that was a lie. For the longest, Ada tugged at Leon's heart and even his soul. He could never get her out from the back of his mind even if he tried.

When he met you, that annoying gnat slowly started to disappear. You taught Leon how to live again, not just how to survive. When he was actually in D.C. and not somewhere else in the world, Leon looked forward to running with you and Shiloh every morning. Five days a week. To put it simply, Leon's hardened heart started to crack the more time he spent with you. There is no possible way to ever thank you for the light you bring to Leon's dark and lonely life.

Ada, as much as she hates to admit it, knows that Leon is telling the truth. He truly does cherish this woman. His eyes hold that conviction. She guesses that her game of cat and mouse with the former RPD is officially over. They both knew their past together would always be there, but now they would truly be going their separate ways. Her heart tugs a bit at the fact. Not that she would admit it out loud. She bids farewell to Leon before using her grappling gun to escape through the hole in the roof.

When Leon hears another pair of footsteps, he points his gun to his right, ready for another fight. He does not expect the love of his life to tackle him with so much force. Unknowingly, Leon cleared all of the insecurities you had about Ada. In fact, Leon would never know that you knew about his past with Ada or about her in general. Not even when he died as one of America's greatest heroes at the age of eighty-three.

When He Knew He Could Not Live Without His Sunshine

Leon knows how shitty his life has been since '98. Nothing seemed to be going right. In fact, it seemed that everything was going downhill since Raccoon. His apartment was bare as a result of how often Leon had to get up and leave at a moment's notice. Leon would drink his sorrows and pain away. He relied on alcohol, but now, he relies on you. A little too much he thinks but you do not mind. You know the shit he has seen and done. You know the shit he has to do to protect the innocent. You know the burdens Leon has to carry.

You make doing what he has to do a little bit easier every time he comes home. Leon used to wake up in an empty bed but now he wakes up to you sleeping next to him. Sometimes Shiloh will sleep between the two of you or favor one person over the other. On the rare occasions that he does get to sleep in, Leon loves to be woken up by you and Shiloh. You would have finished your morning workouts and have made breakfast. While Shiloh licks Leon's face, you kiss the one spot she missed, his lips. Probably because getting kissed on the lips by a dog is pretty gross, but you take what you can get.

Leon loves the quiet moments with you. The one where it seems like the world is in perfect harmony. No BOWs or maniacs wanting to turn the human race into the living dead. No orders from the president or the people under him. No guns. No explosions. Just you, him, and a cocker spaniel in the comforts of your shared home.

Leon loves it when the two of you cook together. You always seem to get a bit bitchy when things are not done your way in the kitchen (a trait that was passed down from your mother), but Leon deals with it. He tries to follow your instructions to the letter to make you proud. Even more so, he loves the end result. Sitting together at the table with delicious food the two of you made together.

Leon can list hundreds of reasons why he loves you, but it would never be enough. No list will ever be long enough for Leon to write down the different things he loves about you. About the things you bring into his life. His heart pounds whenever he thinks about you. He gets all giddy when he knows he is coming back home to you. He mourns the days when he has to leave because of some stupid assignment. It scares him whenever you put yourself in a battle against BOWs because you always have his back. Even if you hate BOWs as much as the next person.

The first time you shared an "I love you", Leon wanted to take you away to a secret location and live the rest of your lives there. Leon wants to be selfish and keep you all to himself, but then his sun will not be able to shine as brightly. Leon loves you. He desperately loves you. He will do just about any and everything to keep you by his side. Leon Scott Kennedy is hopelessly in love with you. It is the whole reason why he is at your childhood home in Georgia.

Knocking on the front door, he waits for one of your parents to open it. He called your parents a few days ago to tell them that he was coming to visit and asked if they could not tell you about it. Leon has just gotten back from a mission overseas so he looks a little roughed up, but he cannot let this opportunity slip. Your mother answers the door and lets Leon inside.

He is welcomed to a homemade meal, family style. A table set for three people. During the meal, your parents ask Leon what the hurry was. They worry that something has happened to you and Leon is here to bring them the horrible news.

"No. No. She's doing fine." Leon looks down at his watch. "In fact, she's probably on her way back to our place right now." The DSO agent knows your weekly schedule. He memorized it so he would always know the general area where he could find you if a disaster happened.

Leon looks directly at your father. "I came here to ask for your blessing to marry your daughter."

Yes, in the two years of knowing you and the year and a half of dating you, Leon Scott Kennedy wants to be with his sunshine for as long as time permits. His sunshine that gave his life anew. The sunshine that he loves dearly. His sunshine.

---

P.S. I wrote this in two days when I should be focusing on my class work. Whoops...Stay focused kids.

[warderfromtheborder]

Destiny: the year of Very Well Structured Things In Sets of 2

Defiance+Wish: The Sovs Mara and Crow, the Eliksni Misraaks and Eramis, and the Regular Ass Humans Devrim and Petra(PV counts as a regular-ass human she isn't a figure of prophecy or royalty in the reef she's a cop who's been promoted too much out of necessity)

Deep+Witch: The Truncated Heros Sloane and Eris, the Osmium OGs Xivu and Savathun, the Concerned Boss-Parents Zavala and Ikora, and the Wriggly Enablers Ahsa and Drifter (okay you got me) I mean the Nonhuman Guides Ahsa and Immaru

Lightfall: Osiris with no Sagira and Nimbus with no Rohan and Caiatl with no Recognizable Dad and the Witness with no Disciples and Chioma with no Maya and the Vex with no Chill the Living People of Neomuna with no Meatspace to live in. (The dreaming city curse will never end and the people on Neptune will never get to leave the matrix Im sorry but that's the way it is)

The story and themes for this year of Destiny are SO GOOD the writers have done SUCH A GOOD JOB. If making a tighter relationship between the expansion narrative and the seasonal narratives was one of the goals this year they fucking knocked it out of the park, I can't put any of these arcs into its own box because they have been knit together so sturdily. It's all one great narrative, one Very Big narrative, they haven't done it like this before!

(And Im so mad people couldnt stop shitting on Lightfall they are stoping themselves from seeing how good the WHOLE NARRATIVE IS they are probably gonna say come march/near TFS launch "uhh yeah the seasons were good i guees but maybe they shoulda worked harder on Lightfall I mean who even likes Nimbus" and for their Ignorance and Haterism I am sentencing them to reading part two of The Two Towers while they get attacked by Paper-Tube Ninjas and a broadcast system shouts at them 'YOU CANNOT HAVE THE VICTORIES IN RETURN OF THE KING IF FRODO AND SAM DIDNT KEEP WALKING ALL THE WAY TO MORDOR' for 100 hundred years.) (The link there is I didn't get the Point of that part of Two Towers when I first read it and assumed the whole would have been better without it. Obviously...I was wrong, and so are these clowns who think Lightfall has a bad story)

The name of the game this year is Resolution, Catharsis, Armistice, Acceptance. The structuring is so simple and so elegant and so well executed, the 2s, the 3s, the mirroring and the inverting and the unfathomable gloriousness of the victories personal and community and galaxy wide. There is no way to overstate the bitterness of Amanda's death, the relief of exhalation when Sloane retreats, the VINDICATION of Eris's vengeance.

You remember when Zavala 'discovered' Crow's former identity? How that was the crowning on-screen narrative jewel in destiny up to that point? What I am saying is EVERY ARC THIS YEAR IS AS GOOD OR BETTER THAN THAT BEAT AND DESERVES AS MUCH RECOGNITION FOR THE ARTISTIC ACHIEVEMENT OF SO MANY COMPLEMENTARY COMBOS PACKED INTO ONE EXPANSION STORY.

If Shadowkeep was the first sign of symptoms, if Beyond Light was trying to irradiate the disease, if Witch Queen was a tug of war with scar tissue, then Lightfall is the world after recovery and making peace with what will Never Be The Same, and the home and family that has been changed forever but is still Your Home and Your Family. We don't stop fighting but we also don't stop loving and growing and caring.

One last thing for my fellow Sjur copium addicts out there: Sloane's retreat was mirrored and inverted by Eris's victory, so for the complementary-ness of the story to continue, Amanda's death and Crow's subsequent emotional anguish over losing the person he fought with but who also saw him for who he really is will need to be mirrored and inverted by SOMEONE who Mara fought with but who also saw her for who she really is and I expect you will agree this is SCIENTIFICALLY ACCURATE reasoning that Sjur's comin back home.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Death cap with cooper please

Death Cap — winter sunshine, wool blankets, silent companionship, interlocked fingers

———

Cooper often worried much more than he let on. He knew you were a tough cookie, but human afflictions such as disease could still very much get to you.

In the two hundred years he’d lived as something not exactly human, he had almost forgotten what that sort of suffering was like. The suffering he endured in his new form was as otherworldly as him, but as long as he could treat the worst of the symptoms, he would live on just fine. Perhaps for a few more centuries.

But you, on the other hand... He had to be a lot more careful when it came to you.

Winters in the desert wasteland were unforgiving, and finding a decent shelter often took longer. Neither of you really wanted to linger in any settlements for too long, so you had to bear the consequences of the nomadic lifestyle.

He made sure to have extra supplies during this season, but all the preparation in the world couldn't always prevent disease.

So when you'd gotten a rattling cough one night, he got scared shitless. He scrambled to find a place where no frigid air could reach and was determined to hole up until you got better. His worry was hidden behind long silences and biting remarks that he immediately regretted.

He was more on edge than usual when you'd gotten a fever that lasted all through one night. He kept vigil the entire time, but it wasn't like he needed much sleep, anyway. He even spoon-fed you stew when you were in that half-delirious state, and you desperately wished you had been fully conscious to experience such a rarity.

By the fourth day, your symptoms seemed to have significantly improved. You woke up feeling less congested, the constant headache you'd had finally waning. Still, you were tired and would probably need one more night of good sleep.

You looked up at Cooper without getting up. He hadn't realized you'd woken up, so you took the opportunity to observe him quietly, while he was lost in thought. He had a slight frown on his face, a muscle in his jaw slowly working as he clenched his teeth.

You smiled to yourself, a tender feeling in your chest. It was only in moments like this that you could glimpse underneath his tough, nearly unbreakable exterior. You already knew he was a softie underneath, but he would never admit to it in a million years.

He had an image to uphold, after all.

You felt lucky to have him to take care of you in moments like this. Slowly, you reached your hand out to grasp his. He glanced down and almost reflexively threaded his fingers through yours, letting out a small sigh of relief.

"Hi," you said softly.

He grunted in response. "You doin' good?"

"Yeah, I feel much better. I should be good as new in the next day or so."

He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. "Good, good, we've been in one place for too long."

"I do miss the sunshine, I'll give you that," you said, squeezing his hand appreciatively, drawing his hazel eyes to you. "Thank you for taking care of me. I-I really appreciate it."

He glanced away and grimaced a little, unsure of what to say. "Don't mention it, darlin'. Just glad you're doin' better."

The silence that followed was natural, a space where you could hold all the unspoken things between you. It had become like a secret language only you two spoke, and a comfort besides. No words could really describe what you felt, anyway, but still you both understood regardless.

-----------

[darkveracity]

Does Hinamizawa Syndrome Actually Exist?

Keiichi, Shion, Satoshi, Satoko, and Rena all develop extreme paranoia and resort to violence in various timelines

This is just what happens when a young person under extreme stress feels powerless and desperate and goes without food or sleep or healthy social interactions for a long time. All of them have internal justifications for their actions that make sense to them and feel like there's no other choice. Hinamizawa Syndrome functions as a metaphor for all the broader forces that put them in this situation and bear partial responsibility for their actions but precisely because it's a metaphor it's not actually required to explain anything

Satoshi struggles violently when they stop sedating him

Yeah because you kidnapped him and strapped him to a table in a scary looking medical facility. Anyone would be terrified and fight to get away under those circumstances!

Patients have similar delusions (paranoia, footsteps following you, maggots in your throat)

This should actually be expected regardless of Hinamizawa Syndrome since paranoid delusions are very culturally mediated and Hinamizawa has legends about all of these. It's not any more meaningful than American schizophrenics commonly believing that the CIA is spying on them

Hifumi Takano saw many men from Hinamizawa go insane during the war and tear out their own throats

Did he check at what rate non-Hinamizawan soldiers lost their minds and killed themselves after the stress of committing war crimes? Isn't this just selection bias at work? The unique manner of death is interesting but not conclusive beyond their local culture having an approved method of suicide

Irie vivisected the culprit of the dam murder and saw evidence Takano attributed to the disease. Later Irie drilled a hole in Rika's head and Takano vivisected her mother as supposed 'Queen Carriers' and they again saw what they believed to be evidence of Hinamizawa Syndrome

However they never did any controls to check that what they saw wasn't true of all humans or unique to their few victims. A few vivisections with no controls that no one else can attempt to replicate for ethical reasons performed by a scientist with the kind of strong motivation to find evidence that leads to confirmation bias doesn't constitute proof

Irie developed a drug that controls Hinamizawa Syndrome symptoms and a vaccine for the disease. Takano developed a drug that induces symptoms

Anti-psychotics and anti-anxiety drugs both already exist as does drug-induced psychosis. It's totally plausible that they just invented new drugs in these standard categories. Irie supposedly developed a vaccine but Takano was inoculated and still developed symptoms under extreme stress so it's not clear that it's effective

At one point Irie and Takano make the dubious claim that Rika's health controls the health of the whole village and when she's sick everyone gets sick at higher rates

I'm pretty sure this has to be confirmation bias or reverse causation. The whole queen carrier theory is nonsensical anyway and it's canon that the part about her death driving the whole village insane is wrong. It's true that Rika's family has been passed down through firstborn daughters for eight generations straight but that only takes us back a couple hundred years and Hanyuu lived 1000 years ago. What does Takano think happened in generations where the firstborn child didn't have kids or where the main family died out and it went to a cousin or what have you. Rika could easily disprove the whole thing if she just went digging around in the Furude archives and drew a nice family tree

It's somewhat implausible for so many kids in the same area to be at risk of psychosis

This type of mental health issue is very genetic and Hinamizawa is the kind of isolated village where everyone is distantly related. It's more than possible

[erimeows]

Burnt Out

Working at Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital is brutal, to say the least. As the head of the cardiology department and a member of Gregory House’s diagnostic team, your job is not only hectic but also underappreciated. You spend most of your days cycling between helping your patients, helping your coworker’s patients, pouring over paperwork, being scolded by Cuddy, and being shat on by House, who insists that you stay on his team while constantly dismissing your ideas and implying that you’re an idiot like he does with damn-near everyone else he works with.

So, yeah. Life is great.

Currently, you’re sitting in the diagnostics conference room at the corner of the table. Chase, Cameron, Foreman, and Wilson are also sitting with you. Meanwhile, House is standing at the whiteboard, bouncing his tennis ball with one hand and using the other to write down your most recent patient’s symptoms.

“Eleven year old caucasian female, admitted two days ago after falling unconscious during her first ever track meet. Her family’s medical history is totally clean from what we can tell and she’s had no problems prior to this, though they seem to be way behind on taking her and themselves to the doctor for regular visits. However, since being admitted, she’s only displayed more symptoms and seems to be getting worse,” House explains, seemingly unenthused. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already figured it out. He likes to do that- to pretend that he has no idea what the patient’s affliction is and then rag on everyone else for not being able to figure it out. “So far, we’re dealing with high blood pressure, a one hundred one degree fever that refuses to break, hives, bloodshot eyes, and swelling across her entire body.”

“Rheumatoid arthritis?” Cameron suggests, eager to be the first one to get at the new case. “I know she’s young, but she could’ve developed it early and had it go undiagnosed.”

“Before we start discussing the possibility of chronic diseases, shouldn’t we test for strep and scarlet fever?” Chase questions. “If her parents are so bad about getting her medical care, it could have just been a minor illness that’s developed into this.”

“What about you two? (y/n), Foreman?” House pipes up, calling the two of you out since you’ve been totally silent since he started. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t do the same to Wilson, who hasn’t said anything either. “Nothing to say?”

Foreman shrugs.

“This isn’t my ballpark. I’ll let you figure it out, House. I’m sure you’re just playing with us anyway. Compared to the last few cases, this seems like child’s play.”

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, House turns to you.

“And you?”

“Kawasaki disease? She has some of the symptoms,” You half-heartedly answer.

“Just because you’re a cardiologist doesn’t mean that every patient that comes through these doors has a heart disease, you know,” House scoffs with a roll of his icy blue eyes. “And she only has some of the symptoms for that. She doesn’t fit into the main demographic for it either. That’s the worst answer I’ve gotten out of you for a case all month. Are you even trying anymore?”

When House first hired you, you were excited- always trying your best and working after your already long hours to solve cases. As the years have gone by, though, you’ve lost your enthusiasm and frequently find yourself dreading the mornings where you and House’s paths have to collide. You know he’s only so cruel because he has problems of his own and because he has a motive (just like he has a motive for every other crazy thing he likes to do), but the fact that he picks on you so often when all you’re doing is trying your best gets under your skin.

A couple years ago, you might’ve tried to argue back with him. Now, all you can do is avert your eyes and stare at the table as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. You’re praying for a hole to just appear underneath you and suck you into the vacuum of space- or at least for everyone to continue chatting until the embarrassing situation is long forgotten- but instead, Cameron pipes up to defend you. 

“Dr. House, was that really unnecessary? They’re trying their best and you’re being needlessly cruel.”

“What, are you jealous that I’m paying more attention to them than I am to you?” House snarks back at her. You hold your head in your hands and sigh. “Because next time, I can include you, too. Now do any of you have any better ideas than the crap you’ve just given me or am I going to be handling this case by myself?”

With that, the meeting continues. House ends up deciding that he’s going to order labs to see if the patient has strep or scarlet fever before doing anything else, leaving you to finish out your work day. 

You rush out of the office the moment he dismisses you all. Cameron tries to catch up to you to ask if you’re okay, but much to your relief, Chase stops her and tells her that you probably just need your space. You rush to your office, shut the door, sit down in your chair, and- for the first time in a long time- bawl your eyes out. 

House being a dick to you is typical, but on top of everything else that you have to deal with at your job, it pushes you over the edge. With the ungrateful patients, admin, and coworkers, the long hours, the physically and mentally draining work, and all of the drama that happens in the hospital, it’s almost impossible to keep going. The only thing- or, person- that makes it somewhat worth the turmoil is your partner, James Wilson, who you’ve been dating for some months now.

He’s a great comfort to you, and he’s always kind, unlike a lot of the people you find yourself surrounded by at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Your relationship is surprisingly healthy despite the amount of problems between the two of you. You don’t want to miss out on more time with him than you already do, though, so you find it hard to quit or even ask to be moved off of the diagnostics team. 

Conflicted and tired, you bury your head in your arms and cry even harder, glad that the walls are soundproof until you hear the sound of your doorknob turning.

And that’s when you realize that you forgot to lock the door.

You pop your head up, tears still covering your cheeks and welling up in your eyes. You probably look like shit and your partner has just walked in to see said display.

There, right in front of you, in the entryway of your office, stands James Wilson, looking at you like a deer caught in the headlights. The worst part is that you’re sure you’re looking at him the same way. The happy expression he walked in with has fallen completely.

“Did I come at a bad time?” He tentatively asks.

“No, sorry,” You answer and rush to wipe your tears away. You try to make yourself look presentable, probably to no avail considering the look of disbelief that James shoots your way. “What do you need?”

“Are you sure? I can leave if you want-” James starts and steps back towards the door.

“Don’t,” You interject, shaking your head. “Please. I know we’re at work right now, but…”

James sighs, then shuts and locks the door behind you. He quickly approaches your desk and sits on the edge of it, facing you.

“House really got to you today, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, I guess he did,” You shrug. “I don’t even know what to do about it anymore, James… I’m considering just quitting and going somewhere else. I feel so burnt out. It’s not even just House, it’s everything else, too. He’s the least of it.”

James nods.

“...I understand.”

“Do you really?”

“Well, maybe not in the exact same way. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice that House is a little less harsh on me than he is on the rest of you, but him and I have been friends for a long time. He knows what I’m capable of. The only reason he pushes your buttons so much is because he’s testing to see what your limits are. In a weird sort of way, he’s trying to get to know you,” James explains, though both of you know that isn’t much of a comfort to you. “I’m sure things have been difficult for you lately. You do a lot, and it goes unappreciated, but I promise you that you’re doing a good job and that there are people who appreciate what you do.”

At that, you smile. You don’t feel completely better, but the weight on your shoulders does feel a little lighter.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“I love you,” James says.

“I love you too.”

Hours pass. You work on paperwork while James responds to patient emails for you. The two of you knock out most of what’s been piling up on your end, much to your relief. You try not to think about the fact that James has probably neglected a lot of his day’s duties to help you out with this. 

“Should we head out?” You ask, looking at the clock.

“Probably… It is getting pretty late.”

Just then, the doorknob turns, only to go back since James had locked it just moments before. A second later, you hear obnoxiously loud knocking. Wilson goes to open it. Standing there is House, who’s holding a stack of papers.

“All the other tests came back negative. You were right,” House admits, looking straight at you. “It’s Kawasaki disease. Good job.”

Then, as fast as he came by your office, House leaves, just as elusive as ever- and all you and James can do is laugh.

[jaidens]

Hey, I Knew l'd Run Into You Somewhere It's Been A While, Didn't Mean To Stare

pairing [s] : spencer reid x reader

warning [s] : | hugging | im crying | im in love with him | childhood friends to lovers (aka my fav trope and I overuse itt) |

a/n [s] : requests are open.

Your field in Los Angeles, California was needed in Quantico, Virginia. It wasn't extremely typical, but whenever different parts of the FBI calls, you go. The plane ride was relaxing as you covered all sides of the case with your team and stayed on call with the Technical Analyst, Penelope Garcia. You were reading through Pride & Prejudice for the fourth time, as your team counted. Your team member Angela sits down, crossing one of her legs over the other.

“You seem occupied. Something happened?” Angela asks quietly, raising her eyebrow and clasping her fingers together. You look at her and nod, picking at the skin around your fingernails. “Yeah, this case just gets to me. No matter how long I've been in the field, it'll always scratch me the wrong way.” The case made everyone feel weird. The case included children and a series of kidnapping only taking Mother's and their young sons.

“Are you sure it's just that? I've known you for ten years. I know how you get when a case hurts and when something else is happening.” Angela calls you out and, painfully, she is one-hundred percent correct. “Yeah, you caught me. Just, I used to know someone who used to be my absolute best friend, and he moved to Quantico the last time I checked.” Angela opens her mouth to show her understanding and surprise about the situation.

“Well, let's remember, we have to keep our heads on the case. It's important that we find the leads instead of pulling other ropes to lead other situations.” Angela taps your hand and walks away, you smile at her softly before you go back to Jane Austen’s writing. Eventually, you fall asleep with your book laid against your chest.

You wake up at the sound of your ears popping and the plane landing against the Virginia airport grounds. You stand up and gather your things, picking up the bag you were gifted for your twelfth birthday, a leather satchel with clasps. It was from Spencer after you mentioned how you thought his satchel was cute.

Spencer is sitting across from you on the playground, reading through the science book you were given today by Mrs. Handerburry for seventh-grade science. Spencer was in eighth-grade but was only a month older than you. “This is what you have to read for Genetics. Did you know that humans are more than 99% identical in our genetic makeup? The one percent is still being researched, but it's said that it holds cures for diseases.”

You smile at Spencer, the lanky, finally hitting puberty with his hair behind his ears and thick glasses on his nose as he excitedly explains genetics to you. He's been your best friend since forever, with his awkwardness and long bones. People picked on you surely for being friends with him, or even relating yourself to him, but you didn't care. “Oh wow. Maybe someone in this world has the cure for everything, like something magical.”

Spencer laughs at you but continues explaining the theory of Genetics and giving you fun facts during it. However, as much as you try and understand him, you're staring at him and he makes your belly feel like there's butterflies. Like how it feels before the first day of school and staring at the double doors to walk in. He stops for a second, taking a moment to breathe, and you lean in and kiss his lips before pulling away.

Spencer is a blushing flustered mess as you scramble out some words to explain why you did that. “I don't even know why I—” Spencer kisses you again, a little longer than last time but he quickly pulls away. “It’s okay.” Spencer tells you and that's all you need before you lay your head on his shoulder and let him read out the boring science book, in which, you were definitely not listening to.

You're pulled out of the memory whenever one of the security guards is taking your stuff and letting you walk into the Quantico headquarters. It's much nicer than yours, with things actually furnaced off. Angela takes your arm and shows you the way around to the meeting room. You take a breath in and walk into the room, recognizing the Technical Analyst and SSA Aaron Hotchner from an old case you ran by with him.

He's introducing your team to his team and you're staring at the screen at the pictures from the incidents. “— And finally, this is Agent L/N, an expert in the children's abduction cases.” Penelope shakes your hand and gives you a huge smile and you smile back at her before she goes to the screen to explain more of the case. You stand behind the table and listen intently to Miss. Garcia. “Are the children getting abducted before or after the Mother's? Maybe our unsub wants to torture the mothers before. Losing children can be extremely heartbreaking for the mothers, giving the unsub to tell her to ‘come to save her child’.

“It wouldn't explain the covering of the bodies with baby blankets. It shows remorse.” Angela says to everyone, ending with nods and other people agreeing. “Well, we'll figure it out. Wheels up in 30.” Agent Hotchner says and walks out of the room. You're talking with Angela gently about a different topic, while you sip on a coffee. “I think we should go ahead and get ready. We have 25 minutes until we have to leave.. do you have your stuff? Your suitcase and bag?” You nod at her and follow her out of the room.

The plane is getting ready, and it is much larger than any jet the FBI had provided for you. You step onto the steps, walking up and Angela follows behind. You stare back at the seats and see an empty one and you walk towards and sit down, setting your stuff to the side of you and pulling out Pride & Prejudice and immediately stuck your nose in it.

You see a mop of brown hair above your book, staring at you. You pull the book down, and you recognize his face immediately. “Spencer..?” His name falls from your lips like a prayer and you smile widely. He sits down as he grips onto his leather satchel, the same one that matches yours. You can see the patch still sewed into one of the straps that you did in tenth grade.

“Y/N, you know I'm leaving tomorrow.” Spencer sighs as he lays in bed next to you. You're in tenth grade and you've grown up since that day in seventh, the day you kissed him. Your face is different and your eyes have grown up as well as Spencer stares into them. “Give me your bag.” You command quietly as you wipe the tears from your eyes, and you pull out your sewing kit from your drawer. You had bought a patch off the Internet, it was a picture of you and Spencer on it.

You pull out the needle and thread and begin weaving it through the fabric and sewing it on. “Oh.. it's our picture.” The ‘our’ makes you smile and you look up at him. “Yeah, I think it'll remind you of me when you get big one day. When you're up on the board with Einstein and Tesla.” Spencer laughs and sits his head on your shoulder. He's watching you sew and telling you to be careful to not poke yourself.

Spencer eventually falls asleep and is gently snoring against you, his head stuck between your head and your shoulder. “Spence— hey Spence, c'mon wake up.” You giggle when he wakes up with a small shout and a sleepy smile. “I’m awake, I'm awake.” You hand him his bag, the patch sewed on and a smile on your face. Spencer is in love— and the person he's in love with is leaving until he's done with his PHD and his Doctorate, so years.

He takes his bag with a big smile on his face, but the tears welling in his eyes tell you a different story. “We’ll find each other. We always do, Smart boy.”

“I knew I'd find you. I tried to call, but nothing was working.” Spencer tells you shaking his head. You smile at him and scoot over to be right next to him. “I got a new phone, which also means a new number. Welcome to the new age.” You laughed with Spencer as you stared into his eyes again. Those butterflies you felt in seventh-grade suddenly came out of their cocoon and were flying around once more.

“I missed you, a lot. You're working in the child abduction unit now? That's pretty cool.” Spencer stares into your eyes, and the nostalgia sits inside of them. “I missed you too, and the unit had been missing someone I had a degree in and studied, so I took it.” Spencer lets out that smile that can make anyone smile, where his top teeth are showing proudly.

“You grew up, huh? You definitely still got that boyish look I love.” You teased and his cheeks turned a shade of crimson. “And your crazy hair.” You add and he laughs. You can't help but hug him in your arms, and that spark you felt so many years ago lights once more. “God, I missed you.” Is all you can let out as he practically lies against you with his head in your shoulder.

Spencer is in a blue, 80s styled suit and you have your prom dress styled in the 80s fashion as well. He was allowed to go to prom, even if he was 15 years old in Senior Year. “Bet we look like fools.” You say during the slow dance, only swaying gently to the Frank Sinatra that fills the gymnasium. He's smiling at you with his eyes staring into yours. “Definitely, totally. Look at your hair, you look like Farrah Fawcett.” Spencer teases back at you and you lay your head against his chest. Spencer had grown to 6'1, towering over most other people.

You're laying against his chest as you listen to Spencer's heartbeat. “I always loved Frank Sinatra. My mom bought me a walkman when I was five and I listened to Watertown until the tape broke.” You laugh gently at the thought, and you're singing along to the jazz until it ends. The DJ starts yelling about ‘getting the party started!’.

“Do you wanna sneak out with me?” Spencer asked with a mischievous smirk on his face and you nodded at him and he pulled you through the crowd. “Always!”

You see the stares from you and Spencer’s team as you laugh with him. He tells his dumb science and math jokes and you laugh at him as you tell him old stories from your younger years. A tall, built man walks up to you and Spencer and flashes a smile at you. “Hey Pretty Boy, find yourself a girlfriend?” He sits down and shakes Spencer's shoulders and shakes out his moppy hair.

“Y/N, this is Agent Derek Morgan. Derek this is Y/N, my best friend since childhood.” Spencer introduces and you shake Derek's hand and flash your own smile. “How long have you known Spencer?” Morgans asks, sitting down in the seat next to yours and Spencer's. “Twenty years now? We met whenever we were ten years old.” Derek opens his mouth in surprise, and slaps his hand on Spencer's shoulders again.

“We’ll talk later L/N.” Derek tells you, pointing his finger at you before walking away. Spencer circles next to his ear and points at Derek, showing that he thinks he's crazy for acting like it. You laugh once more and hold his hand in yours. “I can't believe you're so, up on the board with Einstein now and Tesla.” Spencer nods. “Its the 180 iQ and my three PhDs probably.”

Now, you're the one surprised. “Three?” He nods and you sit up. “That’s amazing, Spencer. I knew you'd get far, ever since middle school when you read through my science book; four times.” He smiles and you laugh at his weird look in his eyes. “I’m tired and I'm gonna sleep until we get there.” You tell him and lean back on the plush, beige seats.

Spencer's hand goes to your calf, running his fingers up and down or pretending to run down your bent leg. It's peaceful and calm, and it's everything he's missed. Derek wiggles his eyebrows at him and Spencer sticks out his tongue childishly. He would ask you about what he was thinking eventually in the hotel room, and he was praying for the answer he wanted. For you to take him back, like you did in his younger years.