#you know how i know? it runs in my family. im on medication from my doctor to help reign the addictive tendencies that run in my family

[itsdappleagain]

personal vent time!

i HATE this fucking post!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[thetangibleghost]

I gotta confess it is so much more fun talking to Sal as if he is a separate person like he wants and not a member of the system. He's super creative like. Its just fun.

[andragoras-in-vanity]

god i love james wans movies, theyre so bad but so good

[rafeandonlyrafe]

in sickness and in health

words: 1k

warnings: doctors office, physical appointment, needle warning!, fear of needles/medical stuff, established relationship, husband!rafe, soft!rafe pregnancy cw

“you ready to go?” rafe asks, swinging his car keys around his finger.

“uh, yeah…” you look down to your own hand, keys clenched in your first.

“you wanna drive?” rafe asks, frowning. you never drive your own car when he's available.

“um… i just figured you wouldn't wanna go.” you shrug. “its just a physical.”

“it's still the doctors, and the doctors make you nervous.” 

rafe isn't wrong, you're not a fan of anything medical, but it's just your family doctors office, not the hospital or anything too scary.

“don't you have golf with top?” you scheduled your appointment for the same time he usually meets up with topper at the country club, thinking it would be a good time to pop in real quick.

“i canceled when you put your appointment on the calendar. do you not want me to come?” rafe frowns.

“no, i do! i just figured-” you shrug. “i don't know, you wouldn't want to.”

“what did our vows say baby?” rafe asks.

“huh?” 

“in sickness and in health. im coming.” rafe takes the car keys out of your hand, tossing them back into the bowl on your entrance table. “and im driving, of course.”

--

“thanks for coming with me rafey.” you squeeze his hand, eyes on the clock as the minutes tick by. you arrived early for your appointment, only to be told the doctor was running behind. “even though im not really sick.” you giggle at how seriously he takes his vows.

“i would never expect you to go alone, honey.” rafe simply says. “now, do you want me to go in the room with you or should i wait out here? i don't mind either way.”

“um… actually can you come in with me?” you ask shyly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “i need to get my flu shot and you know how much i hate needles.”

“shit, a shot?” rafe leans forward to pick his water bottle up off the table, thrusting it into your hands. “here, hydrate. don't want you passing out.”

“thanks.” you take a sip of the water. rafe came with you once long before you were married to get blood drawn, and you think you traumatized him by passing out right after the needle left your arm.

“do you want me to get a snack from the vending machine, love?” rafe questions, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“no, but do you think we could go out to lunch after?” you pout out your bottom lip, although there really is no reason to as rafe quickly agrees.

--

“and you're alright with your husband being in here?” the doctor asks.

you nod enthusiastically. “yup! i asked him, since im gonna be getting the flu shot.”

your doctor nods, remembering from last year how much you hated the needle. “alright, i will just have you sit in here mr. cameron for a moment while we get a urine sample.”

you feel extra thankful for accepting the water from rafe in the waiting room as you're easily able to fill up the sample cup before placing it in the cupboard.

“alright, the labs will get to work on it right away.” your doctor nods. “will probably be done by the end of your appointment, if not soon after.” 

“awesome.” you nod, heading back into the exam room, smiling when you realize rafe was patiently waiting for you to return.

the doctor goes through your normal exam, asking you questions and checking your vitals, making notes to add to the system later.

“alright, it all looks good. why don't you hop up on the table and we can do your flu shot?”

“okay.” you swallow heavily, looking to rafe who stands with you, gripping your hand and allowing you to press your face into his chest.

“don't tell me when.” you say, muffled by rafes shirt. “just do it.”

you feel the poke and stiffen out, letting out a small sound that hurts rafes chest to hear, holding you tighter as the doctor withdrawals the needle and covers your arm with a bandage.

“all done! you did great. just lay down.” 

you lay back on the bed, eyes closing as you breath, thankfully not feeling the urge to pass out.

“im going to have a nurse bring you in some crackers and apple juice while i get your results back from the urine test.”

“thank you.” you manage to mumble as your doctor leaves.

you blink your eyes open to look up at rafe. “that sucked, but thanks for being here.” you smile, rafe bending down to press a quick kiss to your lips as the nurse comes in.

“i got ‘em.” rafe holds the two cups, allowing you to pick out a cracker and eat it before realizing how dry your mouth is. you manage to sit up, head still slightly dizzy, to take a sip of juice, the sugary drink instantly making you feel better.

you keep snacking until your doctor returns, a stack of papers in her hands.

“feeling good?” she questions, to which you quickly nod.

“yes, thank you.”

“so, just to quickly go over your results…” she frowns when she looks at the paper. 

“what's wrong?” rafe asks.

“i need to ask you to step out of the room, mr. cameron.” she says.

“no!” you squeal, before quickly composing yourself. “no, i want him here. especially if something is wrong.”

“your results look good except for an elevated hormone called hcg. it's a sign of pregnancy.”

“im… im pregnant?”

“yes. the results indicate more than three weeks pregnant.”

you look up to rafe, watching him process the information as tears well in his eyes. he finally looks down at you as tears fall.

“baby… we are gonna be parents.”

you let out a sob, not even realizing that you were already crying as well as rafe pulls you into a tight hug.

“ill give you guys a moment.” the doctor quickly steps out of the room.

“oh my god.” you press your hands against your stomach. “oh my god!”

“im… im so happy.” rafe laughs, pressing a kiss against your lips.

“oh rafe, you're gonna be the best daddy ever.” you cup his cheek, pulling him back in for a more intense kiss.

sfw taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

[forzalando]

😭😭 ok im going to give u a non logan prompt but no pressure!!! "wear a jacket, it's cold out." with lando🤭

ok this idea got stuck in my head and i couldn't let go of it - i hope you like it I'M NERVOUS!!!! i just couldn't stop thinking about reader + lando fighting and even though he's upset, reminding reader to take care of herself😭😭 thank you so so much for your request, you are the best, lilli💛 lando + "wear a jacket, it's cold out" 1k-ish words, tw: angst/fight (with resolution), mentions of lando crashing during a race (uninjured)

You huffed and sat down on the hotel bed, running your fingers through your hair and squeezing your eyes shut tight.

“I think we need to just let this be right now,” you whispered. “All we’re doing is arguing, neither one of us is in the right head space to keep going. Eventually we’ll both say things we don’t mean.”

“Y/N, you’re just not listening to me! Talk to Zak, talk to Andrea or Will, any of them will tell you that what I did wasn’t a risky move. I saw a gap, I went for it, we made contact, and I crashed. What was I supposed to do? Back off?”

“I don’t know, Lando, I don’t understand what you do when you're in the car! But it’s abundantly clear you weren’t thinking about me or your family while in the car today. Do you even care? When you’re racing? Do you care about what will happen to me if you get hurt?”

“I’m not hurt! I was released from medical after an hour, this is not that big of a deal and you know it. You’re overreacting.”

You scoffed, grabbing your phone and texting the only rational person that was in the vicinity and could help calm you down.

The silence in the room was deafening, only broken by the sound of your phone vibrating with a text alert agreeing to your request.

“I’m going to meet up with Oscar,” you mumbled, grabbing your phone and your purse. “I can’t be around you right now but you need to rest – we’ll just go for a walk or something, I’ll come back within an hour.”

“You’re walking away instead of staying to talk this out? But you’re accusing me of not caring?”

You turned to look at Lando – defeat written all over your face. “I’m not even going to respond to that. Please, just lay down and rest. We can talk when I get back if you’re still awake or we’ll talk in the morning.”

“Fine. Have fun with Oscar.”

Lando’s response was short, clipped, you could tell he wanted to say more but instead flopped down on the bed and turned his head away from you.

You walked briskly towards the door – eager to escape the tension, the handle turning easily in your hand. You spotted Oscar in the hallway waiting for you, but you stopped your movements when you heard a soft “wait” ring out from across the room. “Wear a jacket, please. It’s cold out,” Lando urged. His head was still facing away from you, but you could tell from his body language, even though he was laying down, that he felt guilty. His body folding in on itself, his arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders – the sight of him almost made your heart leap out of your chest.

Now you felt guilty – accusing him of not caring when caring about you is all Lando ever does. You always looked out for one another, always had each other’s best interests at heart. Even something as simple as reminding you to wear a jacket – it reminded you of all the little ways he shows you that he loves you every single day.

Tears welled in your eyes and you looked out at Oscar – he gave a knowing nod and watched you shut the door before walking back to his own room.

“Lan,” you whispered.

Before you could say anything else, he sat up and turned to face you.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I can’t even imagine how anxious you feel watching races or what you feel when there are days like today. I’m sorry. It was insensitive of me. I’m just frustrated and it’s hard to deal with – that feeling that I’m not invincible and I can get hurt on track. Your fear made it that much more real but instead of talking about it, I lashed out and downplayed everything so I wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

“Oh, Lan,” you cried, rushing towards the bed and wrapping your arms around him tightly. “I’m sorry, too. I know you’re safe and I know you wouldn’t do anything reckless on purpose, it’s just terrifying to see. Those few seconds when you can’t answer on the radio because you’re out of breath – it’s agony, but I didn’t stop to think about how you feel.”

You sat in silence for a few moments, holding onto each other and grounding yourselves. The feeling of him in your arms – he was here, safe, and that’s all that mattered.

“I think that was our first actual fight,” Lando mumbled against your neck. “And look at us, hugging it out after only a few hours.”

“It’s because I’m so mature,” you teased, pressing soft kisses all over his cheek and down his neck.

“Yeah, that’s exactly it.” He laughed, maneuvering you both so that you were laying down but still hugging one another. You breathed deeply, inhaling Lando’s scent and then adjusting your arms to hold him even tighter against you.

“You think Zak would entertain the idea of putting an inflatable hamster ball around your car?”

“And with that, I’m going to take a shower.” He stood and pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, resting his palm against your cheek.

“Hurry back,” you mumbled against his mouth.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he whispered.

The double meaning behind his words calmed your frantically beating heart for the first time since you watched him spin off track. What a man Lando Norris was – he could drive you absolutely insane, no pun intended, but you loved him more than you could ever describe.

if you'd like to request a short drabble/blurb, please see this post!!

[copperbadge]

How did you find the doctor(s) who assessed you for ADHD? Im looking into the process of getting diagnosed because (although ive suspected I might have adhd for years now) I've been struggling a lot more lately and i want to try medication to see if it helps at all. Im trying to search for psychiatrists through my health insurance portal but the the results im getting are all for child/adolescent psychiatry specialists, and I dont think that'll be much help for an adult adhd assessment? Did you have an established therapist to refer you for your assessment or were you able to find a psychiatrist independently?

I actually just kind of had to freeform it, but that does mean I have some tips to share!

I will say, I have never once used a health insurance portal to find someone to treat me for anything. Often their search engine is fucked up and the information is sometimes out of date. I almost always either ask someone who I know has had similar issues if they have a recommendation, ask my treating physician if I have one, or just google until I find someone reputable-looking; any qualified medical center or professional will list what insurance they take anyway, and you can always ask when you make the appointment.

So here's the process for how to do that!

When I was first considering it, I asked a friend who'd had an evaluation that came back not-ADHD, which I liked because it meant we knew it wasn't like, a weird Adderall pill mill or something. I really wanted to have a professional and thorough evaluation because I knew myself and knew I was capable of gaming a questionnaire. The place she had her evaluation was unfortunately having some staffing issues; part of the reason it took me so long is that I played phone tag with them for ages -- I'd call, and regardless of what time of day I called, their scheduler would be "out", so I'd leave a message and never get a call back. Ultimately I said "I really need to talk to a human, because your scheduler has not returned any of my numerous calls" and they said they could transfer me to another office outside of Chicago (in the burbs). That was not going to be accessible to me, so I told them thanks but I'll go somewhere else. Then COVID hit and I was not going to go anywhere near a medical center unless I had to for about two years.

So, when I was making my second serious run at getting evaluated, I did what might be expected of me by longtime readers of this blog: I made a spreadsheet.

I want to caveat this up top with REALLY IMPORTANT CONTEXT: I did not do all of this in a single day. The process from starting research to making an evaluation appointment took about a month, and probably would have taken longer if I wasn't getting somewhat desperate. Do not push yourself to do this as a single act. Research alone is a multi-day process; some days I looked at the open tabs and only entered one tab's worth of information. It took me quite a bit of time to write the form email I sent inquiring about an assessment. It took me time to call the clinic back when they asked me to call to book the appointment. This is a series of steps, not a single leap.

So!

I was looking for a clinic rather than an individual, in part because I'd heard a couple of horror stories about people who went to a psychiatrist and just got argued with for an hour instead of actually getting evaluated. So I googled, and here are some key terms for you, chicago adult adhd assessment. Chicago obviously for the region, but "adult adhd" (putting it in quotes will help) is the important term that will help you filter out a lot of child psych stuff. A lot of what I looked at did included family or child assessment/therapy but were clear that they also evaluated adults.

Then I went through every legit-looking search result and noted down, in my spreadsheet, the name of the clinic/company, the contact phone and email, the URL, the physical location (I needed to be able to get to it fairly easily) and whether they took my insurance. Even if they didn't take my insurance (all but one did) I still put them into the spreadsheet so that if I found them again I could check the sheet and know I didn't need to investigate further. I also tended to bump more legitimate and friendly-looking places to the top of the sheet. And if I were going to do it again I would also look for one specific thing, which is an assessment guide of some kind.

The assessment guide may be something they only give you after you speak with them, so it's not a no-go if they don't have one on their website, but it basically tells you what generally will go on during the assessment, how long it will take, and what you should bring. A full assessment like I had is estimated to take 4-6 hours and they recommended I wear layers so I wouldn't be overly cold/warm in their office, and to bring a snack. That's the kind of information you want, duration of the assessment and what they recommend for you, to ensure that you're working with people who are thorough and care about your comfort.

So, I have this spreadsheet now of places to reach out to, which I know take my insurance and do adult assessment. In the spreadsheet I also had columns for what date I contacted them and whether they'd responded. I started reaching out via email, one per day, with the form email I'd written.

The form email basically said "I'm 42 with no previous diagnosis but I have a family history of autism and dyslexia. I've been told I should get assessed for ADHD, so I'm looking for a clinic that will do the assessment and takes (my insurance). I prefer to be contacted by email but if need be, my phone number is (phone number). Please let me know if you have any open appointments and what information you will need from me to book an evaluation with you." (You can always ask for more information about the actual evaluation process once they respond.)

If I didn't get a response within 24 hours, I moved on to the next, but I only greyed out the text in that line of the spreadsheet; I didn't disqualify/remove the nonresponsive ones because again, I wanted to make sure I kept that information in case they eventually did respond. I did this with about ten clinics, because I figured I must be able to find at least one in ten who could do the eval, and I could go back and research more if necessary.

I think the third or fourth one I reached out to was the first to respond, and I ended up going with them; I had a very positive experience in the assessment itself but it was a real pain in the ass getting the documentation from them -- they took about a month to go through the evaluation data (this is not abnormal but is rather longer than usual according to my psychiatrist) and they gave me an in-person-by-zoom report once it was ready. That said, it took another four months and the threat of reporting them to the state to get them to send me the text of the eval (in part because the evaluator left the clinic unexpectedly with my formal report not yet written). But that's something that's truly impossible to know until you're working with them, and highly unusual, so don't let concerns about that deter you. If you end up in that situation come hit me up and I'll tell you how I dealt with that.

My eval recommended an executive function coach, but if I haven't been able to func it by now I never will, so I thanked them for the recommendation and went looking for a psychiatrist unaffiliated with the clinic to prescribe me meds. There, the key words you're going to be looking for are again "adult adhd" but also "adult disability" and if you want medication that's less likely to be a huge fucking hassle, "medication management". My psychiatrist and I meet every two months to reup my prescription, but he doesn't require me to take a regular drug test or meet him in person in order to get a new scrip, as some people have encountered. We meet in person once or twice a year (I can't remember, it's due to a legal requirement in Illinois) but otherwise it's over zoom.

So yeah -- it's a process, but there are ways to streamline and manage it, and a few tripwires in place to make sure you don't end up screwed by the system. Definitely feel free to ask if you have questions, either here or if you want a more indepth conversation you can email me at copperbadge@gmail.com. GOOD LUCK!

[lunajay33]

Puppy Love

•🩷🐶🏹•

Summary: You’re out on a run and come across an adorable companion to add to the family

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

•Masterlist•

I was out on a run with Maggie rummaging through some houses hoping to find some food, medical supplies, baby toys, anything really when I hear a little whine come from behind the house, looking out the window all I see is over grown grass and weeds but then I heard that heart break whine again so I left the back door brushing through the grass hopping to find that little animal, when I got to the back chainlink fence there it was, a little puppy, brown and black and fluffy all over, as I approached its tail wagged and wanted my heart

I picked it up with ease and no fuse and knew he was meant to come home with me, he cuddled up on my lap on the drive home as Maggie freaked over how cute he is, we got to the prison and the others came to help unload the truck, I got out making my way over to Daryl who’s working on his bike

“Daryl! I have a surprise for you!” I said not being able to keep my excitement in, he turned around and his face lit up something rare now a days with the governor running around

“And who’s this?” He asked as I let him take the little ball of sunshine

“I found him in a backyard, he was whining and I just couldn’t help it, he didn’t growl or anything I think he’s meant to be a part of our family! But I especially wanted to bring him home to you” I could see a little smile on Daryl

“What’d ya name ‘im?” He asked as the puppy licked his face

“I thought you should name him! He’s your surprise!” I sat down in front of them both so the puppy could crawl into my lap

“How ‘bout dog?”

“You want to name him dog?” I asked dumbfounded

“I guess”

“Then dog it is! Isn’t he just the cutest!” I squeal when he jumps up on my chest for more attention

“Ya the cutest” Daryl says looking right at me with a wide smile, leaning over to place a kiss to my cheek

“Maybe we should have a little baby as his companion” I tease knowing how he gets flustered

“Woman yer gonna kill me”

With all the craziness going on lately this moment right here made everything worth fighting for

[another-delta-lover]

YAP [RANT] TO ME ABT HEAVY!!!!!

HE'S SO FUCKING PERFECT.

I get MAD when people simp for medic bc, I understand, tumblr insane sexy man blabla yadda yadda IDGAF

You all CAN'T SEE HOW MUCH OF A PERFECT PERSON HE IS. He's such a good person, he's such a good son and older brother, doin the dishes for his mama, caring about the absolute safety of his sisters, LITERALLY SAVING EM FROM A THING I FORGOT IT'S NAME WHEN HE WAS LIKE, IDK FUCKIN <20< ??? HE'S SUCH A GOOD FAMILY MEMBER. HE WOULD PROTECT U SO WELL AND ALWAYS CARE ABOUT UR SAFETY. AUGH ES UN HOMBRE Q RESUELVE LO JURO. HE ALSO RISKS HIS LIFE TO HAVE MONEY FOR THEM??? AAAAAAAAAAA. He does enjoy his job a lot (WHICH I LOVE IN SOMEONE. HELL YEAH ENJOY UR JOB AND GET WELL PAID), But the main reason of him working is just for his family and the money to help them. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?????

Also HE'S SUCH A GOOD TEAMMATE???? HE WILL PROTECT ALL OF HIS TEAM WITHOUT FEAR AND WIN??? AND ALL HE NEEDS IS SOME CUNTY GAY ASS GERMAN DUDE BEHIND HIM??. He could be such a good grandpa/father figure or even just a really good n close friend to all the mercs, but even so, he acts so cold so quiet and mysterious around em🤭

AND ALSO!!! His masculinity ain't broken by showing love to his teammates??? He can hug em and literally yell to them "I LOVE YOU" from across the map??? Sayin "I LOVE YOU DOKTOR!!" Isn't common between men, even less in that time. If he IS gay, good for him! If he isn't, I'm glad he can express how much he loves someone without the fear of lookin weak is something I admire soso muchhh.

He has a minigun the SIZE OF MY FUCKIN BODY THAT HE CAN CARRY RUNNING WITHOUT ANY KIND OF PROBLEM??? HE COULD CARRY ME AROUND LIKE A STICK AND WOULDN'T EVEN AAHAGAJSHDHAGSH DO YOU REALIZE HE TAKES CARE OF THAT GUN LIKE SHE WAS HIS CHILD??? HE'S A GOOD FUCKING PARENT TOO?? AAAHHHH IM NORMAL

He's a good cook, he cooks really nice meals and doesn't mind to share u some, which I wouldn't do bc I don't share my food. HESO NICE AUGHH. I LOVE IT WHEN MA BOI COOKS😭😭😭 IDK WHY THAT MAKES PEOPLE MORE ATTRACTIVE FOR ME.

Also, HE'S SO FUCKING PRETTY???????? IDGAF HE'S BALD, THAT'S THE BEST PARTY. HIS BLUE EYES ARE SO PRETTY N HIS FACIAL EXPRESSIONS ARE SO SILLYY

LOOK AT HIM!!!! AUGHHH

Also his body is so JAHSLAHDJQHDJALSH he so big so perfect😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔 His arms are the size of my whole body. AND HIS HANDS AAAAAAAAAA. He so FAT I LOVE HIM. I need him to crush me un a hug so badly. U all don't understand how much of a good body that could be in a relationship. U cold? U hug him problems gone. U wanna be cozy at night but the pillow is too small? He's the biggest pillow and he can hug u back that's soNSHSJAVDJSHD. He can carry u in his arms when u tired, u can lay on his chest and everything.... sighhh.... AND ALSO HE CAN FIGHT A BEAR WITH HIS BARE FISTS AND WIN, THEN EAT IT???? DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THAT IS????? LIKE HOLY FUCK THAT'S LIKE THE PEAK OF MANLINESS FOR ME. The question "would u rather be in a forest with a man or with a bear" I'M CHOOSING THIS BEAR HOLY FUCK HE WOULD PROTECT ME FROM THE BEARS.

ALSO HIS VOICE OH GOD HIS VOICE. It's such a loud and strong voice in English 🤭 even tho he isn't the best at it (me neither), HE SPEAKS IN SUCH A WAY IT MAKES ME KICK MY FEET GIGGLE AND CRY. I need him to say nice stuff to me with his cool asf voice. And when IT'S IN RUSSIAN AHHH😩~ I SWEAR He's such an elegant and polite man😭😭😭 he sounds so professional and ajsvqkebalhdmaoevs And IDC what u all say to me, he could sing so perfectly<3 for me his dialogs of him singing are well sung/GEN. I just imagine him singing:

To me.... Ik the song is kinda sad and not very romantic but IDC HE WOULD SOUND SO PERFECTLY.

HE HAS A PHD IN RUSSIAN LITERATURE LIKE....... HE'S SO FUCKING SMART. HE'S ALSO PRETTY FUCKIN RICH??? IT COST 400,000 DOLLARS TO FIRE HIS WEAPON FOR 12 SECONDS???? AND I'M PRETTY SURE THAT IF HE KNOWS THAT HE'S 1. really fucking smart 2. THE ONE WHO PAYS??? Even if he wasn't rich I still love him a lot but I'm poor so that would make it slightly better. AND ALLTHE MONEY TO HIS FAMILY MOSTLY AUGHHH ALSHAKSHAKDHA

Also his COSMETICS. HIS FUCKING COSMETICS ARE SO HOT AAAAAAA. Most of em are normal silly hats but WHEN THEY AREN'T. OHMY GOD THOSE DARK GLOVES GOT MY LEGS SHAKIN. AND HAVE YOU SEEN HIM IN SUITS??? OH GOD AUGHHH. Not into mafia people n stuff BUT.... FOR HIM I MAKE A BIG AHH EXCEPTION. And also, i want to point out the fact that HE WEARS DRESSES. I shouldn't make it a big dear but DO YOU UNDERSTAND IT'S THE 60's-70's???? AND HE'S A BIG RUSSIAN MAN???? He broke the gender dressing codes of the time not only bc he's a man wearing dresses, but a BIG MAN WEARING THEM??? AND A RUSSIAN MAN??? DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THAT MEANS TO ME????💔💔💔💔 Also his hats are cute I like them.

Just to summary:

Medic < HEAVY!!!

Good person I general, son, older brother, teammate, friend, father and possible partner, risking his life for his family.

He doesn't think lovin teammates is weird or GAY. Unless he is, but honestly good for him

STRONG AS HELL. AJGAJAHDJA

GOOD COOK!!!!

PRETTY!!!!!PRETTY REALLY PRETTY!!! HANDSOME

GORGEOUS FREAKING BODY.

FOUGHT WITH A BEAR AND WON

VOICE OF AN ANGEL!!!!

SMART AND RICH??? AND HE DESERVES TO BE RICH.

AMAZING STYLE.

DOESN'T CARE ABOUT GENDER NORMS.

YOU ALL DON'T UNDERSTAND. YOU ALL DON'T UNDERSTAND ME. AAAGHHHHH ILOVEHIM YOU ALL CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU ALL CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU DON'T YOU CAN'T YOU YOU ALL CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU ALL DON'T UNDERSTAND.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗦 - part one charles leclerc  x  fem! driver! reader (angst) series summary . . . after mysteriously waking up in an era that you don't belong in, you learn that you have amnesia and that your memories from the last few years have been misplaced somewhere in a memory dump. you're challenged with living in the future in a foreign body and life, especially with a husband who used to be your enemy. forgetting truly is troublesome.

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests | taglist ) ( next )

chapter one summary . . . knock knock. wake up. welcome to the future where your life has changed too much to the point where it's practically another universe. now get up, you feel small and weak and have to do something about it. oh and he's there too, careful with that.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"What is this-" you fussed, pulling on the wires and tunes connected to your body, ripping them off which was a mistake. You felt a sting come from the inside of your elbow, probably from the IV needle you pulled. 

Looking around the unfamiliar room, you're met with white walls and medical tools and machines. A hospital is what you recognized your setting to be. But why would you be at a hospital? 

"Mom?" Was the first thing you could think of doing. You called for her, stumbling out of your bed starting to feel the panic set it. "Mom?" You tried again, pushing yourself to stand on your sore muscles, pulling the door's room open. 

Your ears are met with the loud beeps and busy noises of the medical center. "Code blue, room 198. Code blue." You watched as several nurses ran to foresee the issue. Taking small steps on your bare feet, you traveled away from where you first found yourself. 

"Y/N!" Turning around your face with the person you were looking for. Running into her arms, you held her tightly. "I just- I woke up in that room and you weren't there and I didn't know what to do so I went out looking for you and-" "Shhhh. Hey, it's fine. It's ok. Im- . . . I'm here now." 

Your mom patted you gently with the occasional back rub. "How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?" She pulled away, cupping your cheeks. You could see that she'd aged- more than the last time you saw her. Her eyes were filled with tears and the gray hairs were setting in. 

"What happened to you?" You asked slowly, feeling your face scrunch. Something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong. "Y/N!" Turning your head to face the source of noise, you're met with an unexpected surprise, one that you don't like. 

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You understand now?" You gave a small hum of acknowledgment with a hesitant nod. "Wait, what year is it?" You asked looking up at your mom and siblings who had come to visit you. "2023." The voice you desperately tried to ignore replied. 

You turned to glare at the brunette boy— man. "Who invited him?" You asked, turning back to your family. Your mom sent a reassuring Glance to the apparent 'outsider'. "So I've forgotten the past . . . Six years? Was it six years." "Eight." Your brother corrected. 

"You're so big. You traitors are taller than me." You huffed and annoyed leaning back in the uncomfortable bed. "I take a nap after qualifying and this happens." You sighed, rubbing your face.

"And you have boobs now apparently. You flat fuck." You scolded your sister, making her smile uncomfortably. "I don't like this. This is the body of a 23 year old." You grumbled feeling angry. 

"And why are you still here?" You looked at Charles Leclerc who was sitting timidly at the other end of the room. "Honey, Charles is . . . How do I say this?" "Don't care, he can leave." You waved ignorantly, hearing a broken chuckle from the man. 

"Wait, what happened to my race? Did I get a podium in the spa?" You asked, turning to your family. "Did something significant happen in the past seven years?" 

"I mean yes-" "yeah" "Oh of course." The three family members replied at the same time, pursing their lips. 

"Am I in F2?" You asked hopefully, holding your hands together. "F1, you drive for Ferrari." You turned back giving Charles a 'wtf' look. "Who invited him? He's not welcome here—" "Ms. Leclerc." A knock on the door interrupted. "—and family. Dinner." 

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You ate in silence with the rest of your family and Leclerc. 

"So we share a bed." You broke the silence looking at the Ferrari driver across from you. "We are married." He clarified. "How— why?" You asked confused, setting your fork down. 

"Why would I marry you? I don't like you. You keep crashing into me. And you're an annoying prick." You huffed and frustrated. "You wouldn't have married me if you didn't love me." 

"And I don't. I want a divorce. Right now." "No." You siblings gaped at you not believing your words. "You love Him! You can't divorce him!" "I'm doing it, right now." You frowned, folding your arms. "Whatever that other me- I wouldn't even consider her as me. I'm fixing those idiots mistakes." 

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Y/N!" "Verstappen has a moustache and a jawline? That's one hell of a glow up." You commented, ignoring the driver as you walked past him, even though the driver only tried to check on you with good intentions. "Why is everyone trying to be nice to me?" 

"Everyone is nice to you. They like you." Your PR manager explained. 

"They like her. And I don't like her." You sighed digging your hands in your pockets. "Why's everyone nice to her? What did she do to gain their favor?" 

"You baked cookies every Saturday and gave them out before qualifying." "She." You corrected it. "When did she learn to bake?" You had so many questions. 

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Y/N do you believe it's a good idea for you to drive the car after such a dangerous accident?" "I've been on the Sim and Apparently my body remembers how to drive. So I'm technically good to go." You shrugged taking a sip of your brand hidden drink. 

You swung your feet mindlessly as people fired questions at you. "How do you feel after your accident?" "This is all new to me. Not to any of you, but to me I feel like I'm in the future. Like I jumped in time. It feels pretty exciting really. If I am as good as I am on the Sim, I wonder what I am capable of on the real track." 

You walked beside your performance coach with your hands behind your back, watching him scroll through his phone as you walked out of the conference room. "Did I do good? With the press." "You're a dynamite gal, Y/N." He chuckled, patting your back gently. 

"Can we play some hockey after this? My brain is working at 500 miles per hour." You jumped up and down as you walked, feeling the excitement create more and more energy. "You don't want to sprint?" "She sprints?!" 

Apparently to help with your haywire ADHD, your team had a curved treadmill at the back of the garage. One you wasted no time on using. jogging in place, you listened to your mechanics and engineers explain things to you. 

You were enjoying this. Only thing that bothered you was your long hair. The way you had to readjust the ponytail and tighten your bun every few minutes bothered you. The other you must have grown it out for a long while because you usually kept it to your shoulders. 

Your hair was now two inches from reaching your ass. Which was one of the things that surprised you because it was very shiny and well taken care of. You must have had a few modeling gigs in your time in formula one, the only explanation why you'd keep this hair so long. 

"Wait, she speaks French?" You listened intently to the video playing. While training your reflexes, you decided to get accustomed to the other woman who lived in your body by listening to interviews, talk shows, and press conferences. 

It weirded you out, hearing your own voice be so . . . different. She was much much more playful, kind and mature, romantic and loving as well when it came to her husband. Something you, a 17 year old ( psychologically ) were not. At all. Especially towards Charles, who for some reason you were still married to. 

You've been told you were risky, brash, maybe a little bit funky and mischievous, very blunt. Type of weird girl who would throw paint balls at a teacher in the middle of class, or who would laugh and humiliate someone publicly. 

Hearing a certain question made you break focus and end up with the three balls you were juggling falling on your head. You turned to your tablet, looking at the other you who only blushed and hid her face embarrassed. 

"You guys are so invested in our relationship." You heard her giggle wiping her face. "We have thought about having children, yes. But we both agreed that we both are still too young to be responsible enough and we want to enjoy our youth to the limit." 

You blinked at her disgustingly, shaking your head as you fast forwarded the video and picked up the tennis balls. "There she is. Seat and teammate thief." You saw Carlos pass by, waving to you with a bright smile on his face. 

You waved back awkwardly, a thin smile pressed on your face. "There you are! I've been looking for you." Turning to the face, you're greeted with Lando. A person you remember finally. 

"What the fuck is that?" You pulled a sour face gesturing to his mustache. "What? You don't like it?" He chuckled, stroking his mustache proudly. "Hell no.” You put your hands on your hips, clicking your tongue. "You're a lot older than I remember. Taller too . . . What the fuck." 

"I forgot how blunt you are." He chuckled, face palming. "You're so judgmental." "I'm honest." You rolled your eyes, sighing. "Wait, were we friends through the seven years I was sleeping?" "You weren't sleeping." "Well it sure hell felt like I did. Were we friends or not?" "Yeah why?" 

You looked right and left pulling Lando out of your garage to take a walk with him. "Am I and Leclerc . . . Together for real? Not just for the media 'n shit?" 

". . . I had to sleep over and Daniel's one year because you two were so loud in the room next to mine." "Ew." You scrunch your face, hitting his chest. "It's true!" "—What are you two talking about?" 

You jumped in surprise at the third voice, turning around to look at the imposter. As you expected, an unfamiliar face. "She doesn't believe she and Charles are actually in love." "Why are you telling my personal shit to strangers?" You seethe through gritted teeth, smacking Lando's head. 

"Stranger?" The boy put his hand over his heart, faking hurt. You only looked at him with an unimpressed face. "Wow, old Y/N is brutal." You blinked, putting your hands in your pockets tilting your head, waiting. 

"Alex Albon, of Williams." He put his hand out, bowing dramatically. "Y/N L/N. Of Ferrari." You shook his hand with a small smile, courtesy slightly. He was cute, you liked the accent as well. "Leclerc. Y/N Leclerc." Lando reminded you, making you cringe. 

"Oh don't remind me." You huffed folding your arms. "What did I miss?" You looked at him for a moment with unsure eyes. "We were best friends." He explained quickly. "She wants a divorce." Lando put his hands on his hips frowning. 

"No." Alex gaped, putting his hands over his mouth, eyes wide. Scorching hot tea. You scoffed rolling your eyes. "What's so good about him?" You shrugged, scrunching your face at the thought of being with your apparent teammate. 

"You. You're so good about him." "I mean . . . The last thing she remembers about him was that fight in Singapore." Lando reasoned with a pout. "But you love him." Alex whined holding his hands together. "You can't not be together." He pleaded. 

"Not anymore." 

Charles listened from afar, feeling his heart clench. He felt pain. Pain. Your words hurt like tons of knives and bullets. He ran his shaky hand over his face. If you divorced him before you got your memories back, it would be over for him. He can’t lose you. 

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You felt your heart race as you sat in your car for the first time this weekend. "My lungs are going to explode." You squealed to your head mechanic. "That's one way to describe excitement." He chuckled, making you test out the functions of a few buttons and the brakes. 

"Is the steering wheel too wide?" You heard him call over the noise making you shake your head. "Is the seat comfortable?" "Yep!" You nodded, smiling. "Alright, you can stay inside if you want. I'll shut off the engine." You already knew your favorite and number one mechanic. 

"How are you feeling?" Looking up, your smile fell upon seeing your teammate . . . And husband. Gosh you were not used to that word. Husband. You've never even thought about getting married, or even having sex for that matter. 

"Leclerc." You huffed a greeting. "You're a Leclerc too." He reminded you crouching down and holding out a cup for you to take. You peered at the liquid, trying to figure out what it was. Whatever it was, it smelled amazing. 

"Is it poisoned?" You questioned taking it and bringing it closer to your nose. "No! Why would he even think that?!" You looked him up and down suspiciously before taking a sip. You must have been married for a long time if he knew something about you you yourself didn't know about yourself. You liked mocha latte. 

"Is that all?" You asked looking up at him. "You did your hair wrong." He held up the claw clip. You narrowed your eyes, staring at him for a second before holding your hand out to take it from him. He chuckled lightly, placing it in your palm. 

He knew how this would end. He watched as you struggled with your hair, huffing and cussing at it every few seconds. He laughed to himself before finally coming to your aid. "Hey- excuse me. I did not give you . . . Permission?" You frowned to yourself confused, no longer feeling bothered by the blond locks as his weirdly gentle hands brushed through them and pinned them up in a nice neat and elegant bun. “There you go.”

It felt . . . Secure. "I'm not going to thank you." You said out of spite, turning away and sipping from your drink. Charles sighed, sitting down on the floor, leaning his back to your car. “Amour, give me a chance. Please?” He asked after a moment of silence. “Don’t you like brunettes?” You scoffed rolling your eyes. “I love you.” You rolled your eyes again, pulling your hood over your head as you caught some sleep. “I really do love you.” Charles whispered to himself, hugging his knees catching some sleep too.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Are you going to keep playing that?" Charles turned to you as he searched through the music papers. Your family had insisted that you stayed at your house in Monaco for the Monaco gp weekend, which was fantastic because your husband lived with you. "Do you want me to stop?"

"If you impress me. I'll give you a kiss or whatever wives do." Charles knew this was a trap. old you would never do that. He took a deep breath in and started to play anyways, a song you always asked him to play for you.

You leaned against the door frame, never remembering that he played the piano. You listened, yawning every now and then even though you actually were impressed. Once he lifted his finger off the last note, he hesitantly turned towards you, waiting for an answer even though he knew you liked it.

Your azure eyes met his own forest ones. You laughed at him before pushing yourself off the wall and walking away.

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings. This chapter contains medical trauma in an emergency room, as well as pregnancy loss.

I was going to do my usual thing and post this tomorrow, but i felt too bad making yall wait so you get a one-two punch of pain today (on the bright side, and i promise this, things start to go uphill from here, if you could believe it <3)

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock

Chapter 16

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The darkened operating theater’s focused silence was sharply interrupted with the sound of ringing coming from the phone tucked away in the circulating nurse’s back pocket.  It was very obviously from Law’s phone, but the entire surgical crew kept their heads lowered and honed in on their work.  It was quite difficult to break your stride when someone’s body was cut completely open and their beating heart was framed by a metal cage keeping the layers of fat and muscle from closing.  The nurse was checking oxygen levels of the patient and simply let the phone continue to ring.  No one said a word.

The ringing stopped.

Then it started again.

“Just let it go,” Law mumbled.  He couldn’t be bothered, not when he was quite literally inside someone’s heart.  A mitral valve replacement required just as much care as any other open heart procedure, despite being a relatively easy operation for his skilled hands.

The ringing stopped.  The nurse stepped away from the monitor and made a circle around the team, checking instruments, patient vitals, and needed materials.

Then the ringing started again.  This time, a few glances were tossed around the room by the attending surgeons and nurses, but Law kept his head down, neck-deep in his work.  The nurse pulled the phone out of her back pocket and assessed the screen.  Your photo and name were displayed.

“Doctor, it’s your wife,” she announced.

“End the call and text her that I’ll get back to her when I can.”

Following his instructions precisely, the nurse tapped the red End Call button, opened her doctor’s phone with his passcode from their previous go at this very situation, and navigated to his text messages, pulling up your conversation.  She had to suppress a smile at the photo that was set for your contact- a photo of you and what she assumed to be your dog, both grinning brightly at the camera.  She began to text.

Hi, this is Doctor Trafalgar’s circulating nurse again!  He’s currently in the middle of an operation but he’ll call you back when he’s done!

She was about to put the device back in her pocket when it buzzed with another incoming text message.

Wifey

This is Law’s friend Shachi.  Idk operating room etiquette but his wife was taken to the emergency room from her job, im here with her and another friend.  Can you relay the message somehow?  Thanks.

The unsuspecting nurse felt her heartbeat grow anxious.  She herself didn’t really know how to properly announce that information to her supervising doctor, let alone the entire room of fellow technicians and nurses surrounding a patient with his chest fully exposed and heart cut open.

“Everything good?” the tired voice of the lead doctor called from his position, slightly hunched over the body under the bright lights and protective sheet.  He had stepped back only mere centimeters to let an attending nurse go in with sutures.

“Uhm…” the circulating nurse felt her palms grow sweaty beneath her blue medical gloves.  “It was one of your friends, your wife is in the emergency room, apparently.”

Law felt his blood run cold.  His head shot upward to look at the poor nurse who was now unfortunately involved in this, staring at her with wide, golden eyes below his magnifying hood.  He must have looked profoundly stupid partnered with his surgical mask and bright blue hair net.  “What did he say?”

“That was it, he just said to call him back as soon as he could,” she responded nervously.

“Doctor, the surgery’s almost completed if you–” one of his technicians began before being interrupted by the doctor.

“No, I’ll never leave the operating room until the procedure is finished.  Don’t worry about me, continue your focus on the patient.”  But for the first time in Law’s entire professional life, his focus was everywhere but the patient.  Why were you in the emergency room?  Why were you taken from work?  What in the world had happened?

Were you having another miscarriage?

No matter how hard he tried, he could not bring his focus back to the unconscious patient on the table in front of him.  He felt like a ghost out of his own body, merely observing his rigid frame standing amongst his colleagues, frozen in time and place, glued to the cold tiled floor.  Petrified.  Chills were creeping up and down his vertebrae, spreading out to the very tips of his fingers, making him wish he could run.  Run as fast as he could, run to the next building to where the emergency department was and run through every room to find you.  He needed to find you.

The surgery could not have ended sooner.  As soon as he was given the clear that the patient was in the recovery ward, he was sprinting with all of his might through the halls of the cardiac ward, out through the lobby, and into the bright summer sun that seemed to be mocking him in his frantic state.  His lab coat trailed behind him and passing nurses and patients jumped out of his way as he barreled down the bright sidewalk of the hospital complex, passing small bundles of blooming flowers that almost shook with how fast his feet were carrying him.  He felt like his heart might evacuate from his chest, or that he would surely lose his lunch with the stress of the unknown.

He rounded a corner and entered the emergency wing through a back entrance using his ID, sprinting to the nearest nurse’s desk barely catching his breath.  The young woman behind the counter, caught off guard by his sudden burst into the space, was staring at the man with wide, blue eyes, her fingers frozen mid-typing on her mechanical keyboard.

“T… Trafalgar.  Where,” was all he was able to gasp out as he clung to the counter catching his breath.  He never was much of an athlete.

The young nurse hurriedly picked through the screen of her computer monitor.  “Room 114.”

“Thank you,” he wheezed as he pushed himself off again, this time speed walking through the large corridors of the emergency room, not wanting to cause an issue with the attending doctors.  He passed by empty gurneys and folded wheelchairs, idle medicine carts and nurses chatting with one another, another ordinary day for them.  Room 114 seemed so far away.

Finally, the number appeared on the wall to his right.  The door was wide open, multiple bodies hunched over the bed.  Shachi and Ikkaku bolted upright from their chairs, mouths open about to speak to Law, but he pushed past them and into the crowd of nurses.

Your wrists were strapped to both handles of the bed you occupied, your eyes squeezed shut and an oxygen mask was forcefully strapped to your face, so tight your skin was visibly pinching through the hard elastic straps.  The hose extending from the mask and into an on-board oxygen monitoring machine seemed so foreign on your beautiful face.  A few heart rate electrodes were placed on your chest, picking up a well above average heartbeat.  Your feet were weakly flailing under the covers as multiple nurses had their hands on you, assessing your blood pressure, your oxygen, hands on your abdomen, your legs, your breasts.

Law saw red.

“BACK THE FUCK UP,” he shouted, finally drawing attention to himself from the surrounding nurses.  Hospital etiquette could fuck off for all he cared.  His wife had her wrists bound.  “GET AWAY FROM HER.”

“Doctor, please,” a man from beside your bed rushed forward toward the cardiac surgeon, placing his hands on his shoulders.  “Please don’t yell-”

“Why the hell is she tied to the bed?!” he demanded, every fiber of his being forcing him to maintain at least some level of composure.  Behind him, Ikkaku grabbed Shachi’s wrist and dragged him out of the room, not wanting to put their friend under any more stress.

“She was thrashing in the ambulance, we needed to restrain her,” the male nurse explained, attempting to push Law back from your bed.

Law looked past the nurse’s shoulder and screamed once more.  “I SAID GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER.”

A much larger male nurse stood up from his place around your bed.  When he stepped aside, his legs revealed a bright red biohazard container on the ground, a mere glimpse of the pants you were wearing that morning peeking into Law’s field of view.  

“Doctor, calm down or I’m going to call security,” the bigger man threatened, stepping toward Law and giving his shoulders a firm shove backwards.  He was built less like your average nurse and more like a basketball power forward, and the force of his hands against Law’s shoulders sent the black-haired surgeon stumbling backward.

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” he seethed.  “What kind of nurse ties a patient to the bed when they’re panicking, huh?!  Is that what they’re teaching you ingrates?!  Tying a panicking woman to a bed to keep her still?!”

He forced his way past the larger nurse, much to the man’s discontent, and pushed through the other employees surrounding your bed.  His first action was to loosen the straps of the oxygen mask on your face, giving your skin room to breathe.  His deft hands ripped the velcro blood pressure cuff off of your bicep, tossing it back to a nurse who had stepped away, shocked by his actions.  The oxygen monitor on your finger was next, followed by the restraint on your left hand, which fell limp next to your body.  Your wedding ring was missing.

“Where’s the ring?” Law asked, forcing the blood oxygen monitor into the hands of the same nurse who took the cuff from him.

“What ring?” the basketball nurse asked, visibly angry with the doctor’s intrusion.

“The wedding ring on her left hand.  Where the hell is it?”

A very small, meek voice piped up from across your bed.  “It was removed in the ambulance because the paramedic was afraid she’d hurt herself with it.”

“Hurt herself, or hurt you?” snarled Law referring to the confused gaggle of nurses that had come into contact with his wife, already fed up with whatever excuses they were giving him.  If he was more rational, he could argue that they were simply doing their jobs, but even from his standpoint, what they were doing to you was clearly too much.  “I want every single one of you out of this room, and I want an attending doctor here immediately.  I need one of you to find that damn ring and bring it back to me.  Don’t make me ask twice.”

A few nurses took the opportunity to scramble from the room, visibly frazzled by the surgeon’s fit of rage.  The two male nurses from prior, however, stood their ground.

“You’re not in our department, doc, I’m afraid we can’t take orders from you.”  The larger nurse crossed his arms over his chest in defiance as Law stood between your body and the man.

“Then take my directions as the family member of a patient.  Get.  The hell.  Out.”  If Law were to see himself, he’d have absolutely no idea where this authoritative side of him came from.  He was never one for verbal or physical confrontation, more used to shutting down and bottling in his feelings than displaying them outright, and never would he ever think to get in the face of an extended colleague, but now was not the time for rational thought.

The first nurse to put his hands on Law placed a hand on the shoulder of his fellow nurse, pulling him toward the door.  The larger man finally relented and followed his coworker out into the hallway and around the corner out of sight.  Silence had finally settled over the room and Law rushed to the other side of your bed to unstrap your right wrist from the metal barrier.  Your heart rate on the monitor was slowly starting to even out, but was still maintaining a fairly erratic pace.  His new position allowed him to get a glimpse into the red biohazard container that was improperly placed next to your bed.  Your pants, the ones you had purchased when out with your friends a few weeks prior and that you were excited to finally wear to work, were completely soaked with bright red blood.  The rest of your clothing was in the bucket, specks of blood on your socks, and the lower portion of your flowy summer shirt.  He shoved the bucket out of the way with the ball of his shoe, forcing down the nausea that crawled up his throat.

He placed his hand on your forehead, leaning over you, his face contorted in an agony that mirrored your own.  

Your eyes slowly opened, your body completely spent and exhausted.  He barely wanted to know what kind of ambulance ride you had endured that had rendered your usually-energetic and upbeat form into a shell of your former self.  Your irises were filled with sorrow, and your eyes immediately began welling with tears at the sight of your husband standing above you.  You gasped into the oxygen mask, almost choking on the breath of cold, spicy air that flowed through the hose and forced its way into your body.  Law was quick to pull the mask off, breaking every form of protocol he was familiar with.  He knew his outburst and actions easily risked his integrity as a high profile surgeon, but as he took in the sight of you, completely burnt out, humiliated, scratched up from the binding on your wrists and straps from the mask on your face, he couldn’t find the time to care about his integrity anymore.

Finally free from the confines of the mask, you sucked in a shaky breath, heavy, salty tears flowing down your cheeks like a waterfall.  You weakly reached a hand up to his, and he took it in both of his warm, calloused ones, clenching you tightly, funneling all of his love into you.

“Law…” you tried to speak, but your voice came out more like a croak.  He felt his heart shatter, splintering into toxic pieces of fiberglass that ripped at his flesh, that stung the soul and pierced the very heart he gave to you.  Your lips were violently quivering as your body shook with suppressed sobs, not having any more energy to scream.  All you were able to do was mouth the words, ‘I’m sorry.”

Law’s resolve shattered.  Whatever was left of his pride, his dignity, his status as your strong, unmoving, supportive husband, was fractured.  He crumpled above you, his legs shaking as his head fell to your trembling chest, his hands that held your own remaining close to his own lungs as the tears he had wanted to cry for the past two years of trying for a baby finally escaped from his eyes.  He sniffled, snot rapidly pooling in his sinuses as a result of his tears, but he continued to hold your trembling hand in his as he bit his lip so hard it stung, the scorching hot tears leaving his eyes feeling like trails of magma down his skin.  The smell of hospital sheets did not belong on you.  

The world seemed to implode in on your weak form in the hospital bed, your husband’s defeated body hunched over your own.

A crackled, broken sob exited his lungs.

[fandomfuntimem]

Mom said its my turn with the writing.

Specimen 03

The last thing they could remember was running. Alex and Clyde had been found by the police and they did the usual thing and ran. But, at some point, Alex had felt a sharp pain in their shoulder. Before they know it they were waking up here. Hands restrained by full cover hand cuffs, and an extra set of cuffs wrapped around their ankles.

The Lankmann foundation had caught them. Alex couldn't help but wounder where Clyde was. Did it escape? Did it try to save them? Frankly they didn't care if it did try or not, they'll be happy just knowing it got away. It was probably going to kill them once they saved Winfrey anyway... speaking of Winfrey. The humming and singing it would usually do floated through the halls, so atleast Alex knows they're in the Asylum. If it wasn't already evident by the medical garments they wore.

Shuffling on the floor they soon realised the chain around their legs connected to the back wall, the furthest they could get was the middle of the room. It was a single person cell. Rubber floor, roof, and walls. A single mattress, and the front wall was made of glass. Greate.

As they searched the room they heard the heavy and familier sound of a door opening. Turning around they were met with a bandaged face caretaker standing right outside the glass. "Specimen 03," it said, "You are expected to follow me. Any resistance will be met with force."

Alex glared at it as it entered the room slowly approaching them, "how about you suck my d-" before even finishing the sentence they were met with a fist to the face, "shiit" they slurred recovering from the impact. They were swiftly hoisted up by the arm as another caretaker entered and gripped their other arm. Then the two began to drag them across the floor.

The shackles were too tight to really do anything, struggling will only cause more problems, so Alex just let it happen. Looking around they noticed the multitude of body scans pinned to a cork board, all of them with writing and circled spots on them. All invasive scans of Alex's body. Gross. As they were dragged out of the doors a large signe above the door read "Specimen 03, The Immune." Oh. Thats what they want with them. Alex felt a pit form in their stomech. All the scans pointed to their abdomen and head... Alex Began to struggle.

-----------

More Specimen 03 stuff :D

Imma be honest. This was gonna be longer, but i got to the last part and just whent "You know what? Thats good"

Can you tell im a big fan of Danny Phantom vivisection fics?

[mychapel-004]

i am about to ramble like a crazy person abt the fnaf movie so scroll if u don’t like spoilers

was not expecting all the love on my last post so i will keep posting thoughts abt the movie

another thing that rlly interested me in the movie was the focus on images, how humans process things through what we see rather than context, and how this sets up the fnaf movie trilogy to focus on fnaf 4 in the next movies.

the most obvious example is abby, we’re explicitly told that children communicate and understand things through pictures, which mike sorta shrugs off until he starts seeing the bigger picture. this then applies to the animatronics when he learns that they are also children and incredibly influenced by the drawings in their environment. the restaurant in the movie is very much a living thing of its own, the way it thrums to life when abby enters, and the animatronics know the truth of the drawing the second it is pinned up, and the animatronics are an extension of that.

a less obvious example is mike. even though he shrugs off abby’s teacher, and the point she makes about him being at the centre of all her pictures, he is much the same. it isn’t just children who are influenced by images. he has been returning to the same image every night for we don’t even know how long, the same picture of the nebraskan trees, the same perfect family picture he describes to vanessa, the same image of his brother looking at him out of the car window. everything he does is a result of this image. he is wholly consumed by it, believes he can somehow change the picture and see the truth beneath it if he just tries hard enough.

the ghost children, specifically golden freddy, change the image for him in an attempt to placate him into giving them abby, but no matter if he dreams of a happy family, it wont change the truth of what happened. just like how pasting a picture of five children happily holding hands with a golden bunny won’t change the truth underneath. images are fallible, they don’t tell the truth and we cannot trust our brains.

firstly i think this is a really fun direction to take in context to how the movie humanises the animatronics. fnaf 1 is a game made entirely of scary, still images of the animatronics, save for the jumpscares and foxy’s run. the lore is sparse and entirely given through exposition (if i hear one more person complain abt vanny only being there for exposition and not phone guy’s two minute loredump at the start of every night in the game i will lose it), and we know nothing other than that our death is imminent.

but the truth is that these animatronics are kids. they’re scared and lost and confused and cannot understand what has happened. underneath bonnie in the west hallway camera and freddy staring at you from the showtime room are terrified kids doing what they feel they have to. the movie was incredibly dedicated to showing that these kids still want to build pillow forts and sing to music and tickle their friends and be a family and i think it was a great choice.

i think all this focus on images is definitely a perfect lead into fnaf 4 (im not 100% on my book lore but i believe there are three books that cover fnaf 1, fnaf 4 and then sister location??) especially with the recent lore update that all of fnaf 4 is hallucinations. we don’t need a lore explanation of how the nightmares could be real because�� they aren’t. following the game timeline, fnaf 4 would have already happened by now but we could easily see a return to it through mike, especially if the schmidt-emily or schmidt-afton theories are true and mike could have been the child in fnaf 4 but surpressed his memories. firstly we have a protagonist who is already on sleeping medication and has dreams that can be easily manipulated. this is a perfect setup for the nightmare animatronics to start making themselves known.

i also think that fnaf 1 was intentionally visually tame. the themes of the movie are actually very dark, they don’t shy away from the truth of the bodies being hidden in the suits, the animatronics Very Brutally kill the burglars, max is literally bitten in half and her body is hidden away, but the on-screen gore keeps it pg. this 100% allows them to experiment further with the levels of gore, tension and violence if they do fnaf 4, because quite frankly some of the nightmares are horrifying.

TLDR this movie sets up a million directions and theories that the next one could go in, and theres nothing the fnaf fandom loves more than vague lore and theory crafting

vanny post next bc i have Thoughts

[theamityelf]

what do you think of aus where makoto goes through the Kamukura Project instead of hajime? i've seen a few around, but im curious about your take on the concept

Ooh, that's a good question!

For my own headcanons, I imagine, in his early days of consciousness as Izuru Kamukura (or Izuru Kamukura Iteration 2, if the Hajime version still exists in this timeline), he isn't aware of himself as a person pretty much at all. Even when the scientists talk to him, he isn't really aware that he's a person who is alive. He's really focused on them and understanding what they're saying and doing and why, but the fact that he doesn't process himself as a participant or agent in anything that happens to him means he's more witnessing the scene from a perspective of "I understand. This is a laboratory, and they're experimenting on a test subject. I wonder if their work will ever be done. They don't look happy. How do I know that? Because they hold tension in their faces. Because of the diameter of their pupils. They looked happier when they walked in than they are now. Why is that?"

(In contrast, I believe Hajime Izuru's analysis of the situation always included himself. I imagine, around this point in the Project, he saw things more like, "When *this stimulus* happens, it results in them doing *this thing* that hurts me. I have a vested interest in preventing this outcome." Makoto still experiences pain, but since he doesn't consider himself a person with agency, he just takes it as a thing that sometimes happens.)

It isn't until he's placed in a room with a two-way mirror that he sees things differently. (Similar to a thing I said about Izuru in Panel, but a little different.) He's looking at his reflection while the scientists run tests on him, and he's thinking, There are five people in this room. I only see four, until I look in the mirror. Right. The fifth one...That's the test subject. The one they're always talking to. He's bleeding. He shouldn't be; it looks like they made a mistake. Probably related to the visible signs of sleep deprivation in Dr. Sano. They shouldn't be handling the injury that way. That's not the way a normal medical practitioner treats a patient. Ow. They're very accomplished physicians; they know better than to treat someone this way and allow them to feel unnecessary pain. Ow.

And then he watches a drop of blood run down the middle of the test subject's face at the same time that he feels it happening, and it fully registers: That's right. I'm the test subject. The surreal feeling of realizing he's Someone dazes him for a second. If he's Someone, it's possible he can move. He can...talk?

"Dr. Sano?" he says, startling everyone in the room. "You usually use the polydioxanone sutures for lacerations like this. What made you choose the non-absorbable polypropylene this time? If it's related to your conversation with Dr. Fujita at your last shift, I don't find it likely that he actually felt that strongly about your work. He murmurs to himself about his family a lot; I think his frustrations about his son's grades fed into a mild complaint he had toward you."

The scientists all look at each other, because this test subject has been anomalously unresponsive, and suddenly he throws out not only a full sentence but an extremely comprehensive take on everything that's happening and everything that has happened.

They call in a bunch of other doctors to just assail him with questions, but while it's exciting that he's become responsive, they soon determine that it's easier to get a direct answer to a direct question out of him when there's fewer people to draw his attention. He doesn't treat them hierarchically, like he should. If the head doctor, in an otherwise silent room packed with lesser doctors, asks Makoto something, he might choose to ask one of the lesser doctors where his usual pocket protector is, or observe aloud that someone smells like watermelon.

Like the first Izuru Kamukura, this one is unemotional and largely unmotivated. Unlike the first Izuru Kamukura, this one doesn't resign himself to the tedium of life or live in pursuit of an end to that tedium. He just kind of lives vicariously through those who care. His thought about any given thing is, This is completely uninteresting to me, but it must matter, because someone cares about it.

(Possible scenario: "Makoto, kill that guy!"

"Okay." (starts strangling) (stops strangling) "Never mind. I think he doesn't want me to kill him."

"I know, but do it anyway."

"Why? He doesn't want me to.")

I can't stress enough how much he can't be motivated by pain or harm to himself. Unless someone else expresses that they don't want him to be hurt, it doesn't occur to him to make avoiding that a priority.

[kens-ramblings]

okay so for background i work in first responder land, not as a first responder but my job deals with them on a regular basis. so basically here is my opinion on what kinda of first responder each of the batfam would be with little to no explanation :D

Alfred- maybe retired EMS? i know he does medical stuff with the bats so it just makes sense to me

Bruce- he’s a cop. idk what else to say he’s just such a cop and you can take that however you’d like🤨😐

Dick- 911 operator. i think he canonically was one at some point(please correct me if im wrong tho i am very slowly getting through comics) and its also one of the ones that just makes sense to me. like he wants to help but he does not want to do it on the same way B does and has always been good with people. so i feel like he’d probably enjoy it

Jason- maybe this is controversial but i’d say firefighter. like yes he died due to smoke inhalation but i also feel like he’d want to work through that trauma(bc bats can’t just go to therapy like normal people nooooo) by helping others to yk,,, not die in fires?? also it’s just another one of the ones idk how else to explain it the vibes are just there yk

Tim- I think he’d work in emergency management somewhere. like yes they are not exactly first responders and his character is a front lines guy, but we’ve also seen that he is a PLANNER. emergency management’s whole job is planning for what to do when things go to shit. plus they still go on scene as needed so he wouldn’t have to deal with JUST being a guy in a chair

Babs- i originally wasn’t gonna do her because i don’t really know her character all that well. but,,,, as i was writing tim’s i was like “oh this is also probably babs a bit ecspecially after her accident. like she was probably some sort of first responder,,, maybe cop to follow in her dads footsteps?? but also maybe not? like i said not exactly one of the characters know best,,,, but anyways after no longer being able to help on the front lines she joins gothams emergency management agency because they also help coordinate when big things happen so it makes sense to me

steph- another one i’m not super sure i know her characterization all that well outside of fandom, but im giving it my best go. i feel like she went into EMS. she spent some time with leslie and in a lot of normal capes aus i’ve read it seems like she’s always a med student so it makes sense to me

Cass- i’m actually kinda stumped on her. like realistically she could do any of the jobs she wanted because yk she’s highly skilled in damn near everything. like idk i just can’t picture her as anything other than kick ass vigilante. but if i had to choose,,,, maybe 911 operator, she could help with other languages and dispatchers really run this shit from the shadows. so final answer dispatcher i guess? but i feel like it is kinda a waste of her fighting talents but yk it is what it is

duke- he is another one i’m not 1000% on characterization, i don’t think he’s been in any of the comics i’ve read other than wayne family adventures. but anyways, my gut instinct was cop, but like in the way that he’s trying to change the system from the inside out. but then actually the whole gang thing came to mind and duke is def an ACAB kinda guy. like couldn’t stand to wear the uniform probs, so im actually gonna go with fire fighter. i also can’t really explain this one it’s just what my heart says.

Dami- he’s another one i think is a cop, but he is because he wants to be like Bruce. he starts out doing basically whatever B says but he eventually finds his own way. honestly i feel like after a stint he quits and joins like an EMS service for animals(i actually do not know if that’s a thing, but it is now) bc i think he would genuinely enjoy that and still feel like he’s helping yk?

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

My dearest Cal, I come bearing emojis and writing vibes again and going back to my roots of slightly obsessing behind my screen on the buddieshannon fic:

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

(in all seriousness i am including this little meme because i need you to know this is fully how im in my head representing the emojis to you every single time. i am merely a humble knight offering my sword to you here and eagerly awaiting the fic snippets in return)

AHHH thank you! This is adorable and fuels me, thank you!

I'm going to go ahead and say 1k bc I am not counting that ahaha.

---

It’s a low blow. Especially when he’s changed so much. Been the sole provider for Chris when she was gone. 

Eddie should probably tell her off right now, but instead he just giver her an icy glare. Which is worse. Somehow, it’s worse. 

“Let’s just go,” he says. Frigid. 

She might not have been the source of his bad mood now. But she’s confident she just bumped herself high up on the list. 

◀️

In the car, she tries to apologize. Even though, really, the feeling part of her brain is much more set in her irritation than the thinking part.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she admits. “It wasn’t fair.”

“No,” Eddie agrees. “It wasn’t.”

Um, well… He’s not supposed to just agree. He’s supposed to also apologize for being cold and moody. 

“It’s just…” Shannon says, hit with a wave of emotion. “Your literal only job at these things is to be excited and positive and tell me it’s going to be okay and that she’ll fit through my birth canal!” 

Eddie makes a pained little noise in his throat. 

“I’m sorry,” he says through gritted teeth. “I am excited. I’m sure the birth will go just fine. I’m just not in a great headspace today, Shannon.”

She should probably let it rest at that. 

Does she? No. 

“It freaks me out when you get like this!” She complains.

“Get like what?” Eddie demands. “I can’t have one bad day without freaking you out? I haven’t done anything, Shannon.”

Does he even know how he’s acting? Like, can he see it? Or is she being entirely overly sensitive? This is completely how he used to be when he’d come home from overseas and he’d shut her out and they’d fight… And… And she just can’t fucking live like that again. But maybe he doesn’t even realize? Maybe she’s overreacting? She needs to test it. 

“Why are you having a bad day?” She asks. 

“What?” Eddie replies. 

“You said you’re just having one bad day! Why are you having a bad day?” 

Eddie groans. If he wasn’t driving, he’d probably make some annoyed little gesture. Pinching his nose or running a hand through his hair. Pointing at something. He likes to point. Like a keyed up hunting dog.

“There was arbitration today,” Eddie admits. 

“Arbitration…” Shannon repeats. “For Buck?”

Eddie nods mutely.

“Oh,” Shannon whispers. So it’s not about her. Or the baby. Or anything but… Well, no. It’s still about family. Still about someone Eddie loves. Loves more than he will say.

Shannon hadn’t known about arbitration. Maddie’s being weird. Buck is avoiding her. Eddie is the personification of a storm cloud. Why would she have known?

“How’d it go?” She asks. 

“Does it seem like it went well?” Eddie fires back.

Shannon glares at him. Bastard. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “It fucking sucked, okay?”

“What happened?” She asks. 

He huffs. “He’s… I… I mean, they made me answer questions. Buck… He… He took it too far, Shannon. He crossed a line. Brought up personal shit of Bobby’s… He… I’m furious with him.”

“Okay,” Shannon says. 

They pull into her apartment parking lot. Eddie parks the truck and kills the ignition. Neither of them moves. 

“To me,” Shannon says cautiously. “It sounded like he had sort of a point? I mean, I don’t know any medical stuff, but… I heard about the rebar?”

Eddie scoffs. “It’s not the same thing, Shan. He could bleed out. He could get knocked into something and bleed internally. He could die, easily.”

Shannon’s stomach twists. “Okay. Okay, you’re saying, in your experience, having seen terrible things happen to human bodies, he shouldn’t be working?”

Another heavy sigh. “I don’t know, Shannon. He’s fine, but let’s say… Let’s say the same thing as before happened. He gets pinned by a fire engine. On these meds? He’s dead.”

Shannon nods. “Right.”

“And either way, he’s… He’s being an idiot! They won’t let him back to the station where he sued the captain.” 

That’s… That’s probably true. Even Shannon can see that. But Buck can’t. He thinks he’s getting his job back. 

“Okay,” Shannon says. “Alright. Ignore for a second that he’s probably wrong about all of this-”

“How?” Eddie demands. 

“Just walk with me,” she insists. 

Eddie clenches his jaw. 

“Why are you mad at him, Eddie?” Shannon asks. 

“Are you kidding?” Eddie asks.

“No,” Shannon says. “I’m not kidding.”

“Were you not listening to everything I just said?”

“I was,” Shannon nods. “And, okay. He’s being stupid and he’s wrong. Got it. Why are you mad at him?”

Eddie’s eyes get a little wet.

“Shannon…”

“Let’s talk it through, right?” Shannon says. “He’s suing your captain and your employer, not you. He’s your friend, even if you don’t work together. Why is this so personally upsetting, Eddie?” 

He’s silent for a while. Longer than Shannon would expect. Like he’s really processing her question. Has he not bothered to ask himself this question? Or was everything that has happened with Buck’s lawsuit just been another thing he tried to swallow without chewing? 

“I don’t understand why he’s doing this to us,” Eddie whispers finally. 

“Who? The 118?” Shannon asks. 

Eddie shakes his head. “Me and him.”

Oh.

“What do you mean?” She asks. 

She thinks she knows, but she also thinks he should just… Say it. Try saying it. It helped her once. She’d never said out loud why she wouldn’t come home to him and Chris. And when she did, she could face it. 

“Buck…” He starts, then he trails off. He wipes his eyes. “This is so dumb.”

“It’s not dumb, Eddie,” she argues. “You obviously need to talk about it.”

He inhales deeply. Long-suffering. 

“It’s like he’s choosing this idea of the job - one that he could have had if he just waited and now won’t get - over us,” Eddie says. “Over… Our friendship.” 

“Honestly? I don’t think he’s thinking about you,” Shannon says. “Not to be a dick… Just… I’m not sure he factored your reaction into his choice.”

[drdemonprince]

how did you know that seeking institutional help was the right step to take?

For four years I was always in high levels of care. When I transitioned out of that, I was a "revolving door patient" to ip units living with a carer the rest of the time. I sometimes self-harmed or did other actions intentionally to get hospitalized during that time. I'm going to focus on mostly that because I don't want to get into the weeds of how different psych treatment programs are categorized and run.

I would say that my goal of being hospitalized usually was to change something in my outpatient life - let my therapist know I wasn't willing to do something, get my companions to let me go for walks alone, whatever. I'd get hospitalized or call the cops on myself or send scary texts to my therapist and then try to end my life, eventually being stopped. I didn't want to die, but if I could prove to them I was willing to, they'd listen.

Another person mentioned a desire for closeness+physical touch, and that was a huge part of it for me. i even got restrained sometimes just because I wanted any touch, which is something commonly heard from incarcerated people. I had certain nurses and other staff who I saw as my family, calling my therapist "dad" and interacting in a needy, childlike way with floor staff.

I also liked how much it pared down my life. I was in college at the time, and found the social habits of the other students confusing and overwhelming, so I'd get hospitalized to miss class.

what helped you trust the professionals or the institution enough for it to be beneficial to you?

i wouldn't say I trust any of the institutions, but some staff earned my trust. I was a scary mean noncompliant patient so the few who actually bothered to get to know me were usually moments away from some kind of burnout where they realized all this shit sucks.

One of the things they did that earned my trust was to share about their own mental health or addiction history. This is encouraged in sud places, but usually VERY discouraged in psych units, moreso the higher level of care it is.

Another big thing was to allow me to break rules or break them themselves. My ex-therapist used to meet with me for extra time, give me my DVD player when I wasn't allowed, etc. and it felt like he saw me as equal. Turns out he sucks. but. during the time he was treating me he definitely helped me a lot with my thinking patterns, so the trust still ended up benefiting me, even if the relationship didn't always. He also talked A LOT about his family and life outside of work, and showed me pictures, and I even met his dog once.

for me this is an example of why therapists are kind of. not great? because he earned my trust enough to help me, I was at his defense. I felt like not getting better was something I was "doing to him", and his displays of sadness (once something I'd considered a positive aspect of his self disclosure) became a way to manipulate me into the hospital when I didn't want to go, without having to resort to force or law. i agreed with the assertion of psychology that he knew me better than I know myself, and gave every part of my personality, personhood, to the medical model.

so yes it helped as in now when I'm suicidal or about to bpd-style destroy my every relationship I think "play the tape forward what happens next" and don't. which is lame bc it means most of the people who treated me get to leave patting themselves on the back about how well im doing now.

which kinds of institutions have been *less* traumatic than the others?

A few times I got to live in supportive group home style places, and those are kind of nice! It was cool to be in a place surrounded by other mentally ill people. Much less lonely. In general, places that let you outside independently, let you access food independently (e.g. no staff in the kitchen), and let you keep some secrets from staff are the best. My quality of life was 100% better when all the program heads knew we were vaping in our rooms but just let it happen unless someone started setting off alarms. Ditto with like, being able to stay up late on Devices.

Having that independence, a place for my sense of self other than being a patient, was sooo sooo helpful.

is it sometimes worth simply not being able to act on the ideation, even if it means putting up with lots of institutional bullshit?

I didn't find the hospital particularly good at getting me to not act, instead they just prevented the worst consequences. All three hundred stitches I got for self-harm were while I was institutionalized. But like, my nerve damage is less than it could've been. I am not sure how to evaluate if that's better than having just died, because I have no idea how much the institution itself caused self-harm and suicidality.

all things being equal, would it always be better to be able to stay at a friend's house instead?

yes

if you could get 24-7 company from a loved one, would that be better?

yes. however. i think it would be good if people had some information about how to talk to suicidal people. like... i forget the training. but its similar to what they teach helpline volunteers. thats its ok to say suicide. to ask if they have a plan. to ask if theyd be willing to get rid of the means. etc.

SORRY IF THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE TO READ

this is a wealth of information, thank you!