#(honestly the only reason they seemed to do the surgery the other time was bc it wasn't too busy and they had a new guy to train)

[unityrain24]

need to schedule a doctors appointment bc my foot got hurt and the earliest possible opening is MARCH? if u waited until then i don't think i'd be able to walk anymore!!

[wendytestabrat]

Why “Kyle only helped/saved Cartman because he’s a good person” is a stupid bullshit argument

Okay first of all Kyle is not a good person and has done a LOT of shitty things, and if I sat here listing all the reasons why you’d be here forever. But also how does helping out a literal nazi narcissistic sociopath like Cartman make you a good person? I honestly get tired of all the Hitler & Cartman comparisons, because I like Cartman a lot, so I hate to be another person adding to it, but literally saying that helping Cartman makes someone a good person is kind of like saying helping Hitler during world war II makes you a good person. It doesn’t. Literally all Kyle is doing when he’s nice to Cartman and helps him out is he just enables Cartman to do his shitty things which we see a lot in the show. Even just recently we saw when Kyle gave up the money from the boats they were making to help with Cartman’s mom’s surgery, Cartman just went and got himself boobs. When you help out anyone with a dark triad personality all they do is suck you in and wear you down over time so that’s why the smartest thing you can do for yourself and others is to stay AWAY from people like that. But also if Kyle really is the good noble saint he claims he is who likes saving the day and helping people, why is he never there for his other friends or helps them out? There are literally so many moments in the show where Stan needs Kyle’s help and Kyle doesn’t want to help Stan. A great example I can think of was in “Whale Whores” when Kyle literally didn’t want to help Stan SAVE WHALES. And just stayed there and played rockband with Cartman & Kenny. Which is really hypocritical for someone who claims to care about morality and all that bullshit. And literally a few seasons before Stan helped Kyle when HE wanted to save a whale, but Kyle doesn’t know how to return the favor. Also in “Kenny Dies” when Stan was sad about Kenny dying Kyle literally just got mad at Stan and yelled at him, but when he saw Cartman sad he comforted him. And it’s like this with Kyle’s friendship with Kenny too, who he also doesn’t give two shits about because Kyle repeatedly lets Kenny die over and over and doesn’t give a shit when he does. If Kyle was such a good person for saving Cartman’s life in some episodes, then why doesn’t he do the same for Kenny when he’s about to die? Bc Kyle has special feelings just for Cartman. End of story. I mean it seems weird to me that someone who is “good” and morally virtuous would risk his own life and sacrifice himself to help a selfish prick like Cartman, but when someone actually more sane needs Kyle’s help he doesn’t give a fuck. I actually can not think of a single moment in the show where Kyle selflessly tries to help someone when the situation didn’t involve Cartman. Of course there was that time when he tried to ‘help’ Heidi, but that was because she was going out with Cartman.

[life-take]

Personal Update Part 2

Part 2: My...butt

Ok so let me just get it out there: I don't know why, but after I moved home, before my surgeries, I developed pressure-sensitive pain in my hips and sacrum (the part of the spine just before the tailbone). This meant I couldn't sit or lay down withouot pain after about 10 minutes, no matter where, even my bed, both on my back and on my side.

It fucking sucks.

I suspect it had to do with the stress of moving back in with my parent, who i had then-unresolved issues with, who had also thrown out my foam bed topper in the move (i honestly don't blame them as it was worn through, but i wished they had ASKED me). And so, because I was indigent from not being able to work with my hands, i normally spent a LOT of time sitting or laying down. Well, fantastic, now I can't even do that without pain.

This all started the month before my first surgery. I had X-rays, MRIs,etc...nothing. I thought, Well maybe the shock of the surgery and the major pain meds will get rid of whatever is going on there.

The big boy pain meds DID make the pain better--while i was taking them. Then it came back and I spent months thinking it was the new foam topper's fault and buying so many new ones. (My mattress wasn't old enough for it to be its fault.) I had so many appointments, scans, physical therapies, alternative therapies, pillows and products and so on for this issue as well. It affects my ability to sit in vehicles, meaning I can't travel beyond a very small sphere. Anywhere I visit for an extended time needs to have a (soft!) place I can lay on my side for hours at a time to take pressure off my butt. I can only wear soft, thin leggings bc the center back seam in other pants is painful.

Do you know how hard it is to do ANYTHING while laying on your side?? Even on a laptop?? And no, I can't just use a sit-to-stand desk, for reasons I'll mention later.

Ok, anyway. Because I was more focused on regaining use of my hands, my PTs and I worked on that first. Only this year have we started to use the same techniques on this pain bc it seems to follow similar etiology (=a scientific explanation for the origin of a disease). It's been real hard, because there are so many times when you have no choice but to sit so it's harder to control exposure than, say, to the act of drawing.

That's all for this one. Next time I'll talk about the non-pain issues that have cropped up that I like to think of as sequelae.

[halsteadlover]

𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

*Gif not mine credits to the owner of this pic*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader.

• Requested by anon: Hii, i really love your jay halstead imagines, could you please do one like reader & jay are married and both from intelligence and will calls them bc the baby of a patient who is a a huge drug dealer and they need someone who keep the baby safe from a gang and jay sees how good the reader is with babies and reader sees how jay is w the baby and both get baby fever.

• Warnings: slight mention of drug dealing, gunshot and child abuse.

• Word count: 3879.

• A/N: There will be a day when I'll be satisfied with my work but this is not the day 💀 to whoever sent me this request I'm really sorry for how this turned out, I hope it's not that bad, I honestly don't know how to deal with kids so I did my best to write this 😭. As usual thank you so much to everyone who spends time to read my works, I love all of you seriously. Stay safe out there 💞.

It was never easy to be in a relationship with your coworker. At the very beginning you didn't even want to be in one, to be with someone, you liked to be alone. But your whole thinking changed when you met Jay Halstead. You and Jay worked together at Intelligence and it didn't take much time for both of you to eventually fall for each other. But, like you said, it wasn't always easy, especially at the beginning when you had to hide from Voight and his ‘no relationships in this house rule’. But five years passed by and you were now Mrs Halstead.

It was a normal day at the district and you were at your desk filling out your latest arrest report. You felt observed and you looked up only to notice the hungry look with which your husband was looking at you from his desk. Even after five years you couldn't help but blush from the way he looked at you.

“Stop it” you mouthed, knowing exactly the meaning of that look. A grin appeared on Jay's lips, which he tried to mask by taking a sip of his coffee.

“You are so hot” he muttered in return, chuckling at your reaction. You both loved how, even after all these years, you continued to tease each other. The desire and lust was so evident between you and Jay, you both knew that if you could you'd have already torn your clothes off.

It was almost lunchtime when Jay's cell phone rang. It was Will, informing his brother that he had to go to Med's due to the arrival of a shooting victim.

“Halstead and Y/LN you go” Voight had ordered as soon as Jay had informed him. You quickly grabbed your jacket and then walked with Jay out of the district.

Jay was driving the car as usual, not that you minded as it was the perfect opportunity to watch him drive. You couldn't deny it, he was so incredibly hot, his gaze focused on the road. His left hand was resting on the steering wheel while the other was squeezing your thigh as he always did when he was driving. Your fingers caressed his hand and you couldn't help but feel happy, it might seem stupid but even those simple gestures made you feel at peace.

“Hi guys here, follow me” Will said as soon as he saw you and Jay approach him.

“How is he now?” you asked while walking behind your brother-in-law.

“He is in surgery right now. A bullet punctured his abdominal aorta and he suffered profuse blood loss, Rhodes is doing everything he can to repair the aorta but there aren't many chances he'll survive” Will explained. You arrived in front of the room and you wide opened your eyes as soon as you saw the amount of blood on the clot, on the floor. It looked like a tornado had crossed the room.

Will took two different plastic bags, one containing the victim's clothes and another his personal affections. “This is why I wanted you to come.”

As soon as Jay grabbed the bag, you immediately understood the reason for Will's words. There were some sachets that appeared to be pure cocaine. At a guess they had to be at least 100 grams.

“Damn” Jay said “These will be worth at least ten thousand dollars.”

Jay handed you the plastic bag and you couldn't help but notice the logo on the coke sachets, a logo you would have recognized anywhere. “Jay look.”

You both exchanged glances, Jay muttering a “Fuck” under his breath.

“Care to explain?” Will asked, not understanding.

“The victim is a member of the Latin Kings, one of Chicago's most dangerous gangs. We've been on their trail for months,” Jay said.

“Where did the paramedics find him Will?” you asked.

“Near Oak Park.”

“It's their dealing territory, it could've been a badly finished delivery” you supposed.

“There's one more thing you should see” Will said, nodding to follow him. You and Jay exchanged another glance, neither of you having any idea what it was. You only understood this when you arrived at the door of the break room. “More than something I'd say someone” spoke Will, pointing to the room.

You gave him a confused look. “There's no one here.”

“What he...” Will said, interrupting himself to look in the break room only to realize that you were right “He was there until a minute ago!”

“Who are you talking about?” Jay asked, looking at his brother like he was crazy.

“There was a kid here, the paramedics found him near the man who got shot,” Will answered looking around trying to find the child “For fucks sake!”

“Calm down,” you said “Let's split and find him, I don't think he managed to sneak out without anyone noticing.”

It was you who found the baby, he was in fact hiding under the bed of an empty room. He was laying on the floor, in fetal position like he was trying to protect himself. You felt your heart tighten at that sight, his body was shivering and it was clear he was scared to death.

“Hi I'm Y/N I work for the Chicago Police” you started talking as you sat on the floor “What's your name buddy?”.

The baby didn't answer. “I know you're scared right now but you're safe, whatever happened can't hurt you anymore”.

Still silence.

“You want to see my badge?” you asked “So you can see yourself I'm one of the good guys, I won't hurt you I promise.”

You took your badge off your belt and slowly handed it to the baby. He looked up at you from under the bed and then looked at the badge, hesitantly grabbing it with his little hand.

“I swear I'm here to protect you, I won't let anything happen to you.” you said with calm and soft voice “You want to get out from there? You can sit here while we talk.”

He looked at you for about three second like he was trying to study you, to know if he was able to trust you. You gave him a small smile before moving slightly away from the bed, still sitting on the ground. “Here... I'll stay right there, I won't do anything unless you tell me to.”

The baby slowly crawled out, sitting up while he still had your badge in his tiny hands. Your stomach tightened as you looked at him better. He must've been no more than six years old, but he was so skinny he looked even less. He had dark circles under his brown eyes, his cheeks slightly sunken. What the hell happened to that child? What kind of human being had allowed a child to fall into these conditions?

“You want anything to drink or to eat?” you asked. He nodded. God, he must've been so hungry.

“You want to come with me to get something?” you noticed how he frowned “I won't let anyone dangerous come near you I promise, you're safe with me.”

“I know you are so scared right now, you don't trust anyone and you have every right to do it but I swear on my life I'll protect you.”

He stared at you for a moment and you swore you literally felt your heart break when you saw a tear slide down his cheek. Slowly, without making sudden movements, you approached him, reaching out to him.

“It's okay I promise, it's okay” you whispered. He started shaking the moment your hand touched his cheek and you were about to withdraw it when he squeezed your hand with his. You smiled and gently wiped his tears with your fingers.

“You are safe now”. He nodded imperceptibly.

To your surprise the baby stretched out his small arms towards you, hugging you as he still held your badge. You tried to hold back your tears at that gesture and you squeezed him in return. You stood up and he plunged his head into the hollow of your neck while he continued to hold you so tightly as if he were afraid you'd let him go.

“I'm not going anywhere, I'm here with you.”

You stood there for a few minutes, gently rocking him in your arms and stroking his hair, just to get him used to the new sensation and let him know that he could really trust you.

“It's okay honey, it's okay, I'm here with you now. You are safe I swear,” you whispered “Tell me when you are ready to go out okay? Only when you are ready”.

He didn't answer but tears kept flowing from his eyes. You let him vent but kept whispering sweet words to him as you noticed they made him a little bit better.

“You want to tell me what's your name buddy?” you asked after noticing he had stopped crying.

“Jackson” he whispered so quietly you almost didn't hear him.

“That's a really beautiful name Jackson.”

In that same moment Jay walked into the room, letting out a sigh of relief to see that the baby was in your arms. Jackson snapped his gaze at Jay, a look of terror on his face as soon as he saw him.

“Hey, hey, it's okay he works with me, he's a cop too” you said immediately “He has a badge like mine. His name is Jay.”

“Oh yeah look buddy” Jay said as he slowly walked towards you and Jackson. He grabbed his badge which was around his neck and showed Jackson. As soon as the baby saw the badge he visibly calmed down. He rested his head on you shoulder again, making Jay slightly smile. “You are safe with us I promise.”

“I have to go back to the district” Jay said, his attention now on you.

You nodded. “Sure, I'll stay with Jackson.”

“Be careful please. Call me if you need something.”

“You too. I love you.” you whispered earning from Jay a beautiful smile. He approached you and gave you a kiss on your lips. “I love you too baby.”

“Bye Jackson, see you soon buddy. Treat her well.” he joked, making Jackson chuckle even if he wasn't looking at Jay.

You waved at Jay before watching him go out the room.

“So what's your favorite food Jackson?”.

“McDonald,” he whispered as if he was afraid to answer you.

“Guess what you're gonna eat then?”.

He snapped his head up, now looking at you, his eyes that twinkled with hope. “Really?”

“Of course!”.

“My dad never took me there, only few times.”

Your heart tighten at these words. “Well I'll certainly take you”.

You and Jackson went to McDonald's and you couldn't help but smile watching Jackson so happy as he enjoyed his food. Poor baby, who knows for how long he hadn't eaten a full meal.

After both of you ate, you took Jackson to the mall. Maybe you got carried away a little too much as he was now full of games and toys you bought him. He didn't mind tho, they seemed to be a nice distraction.

You texted Jay saying you were going home with Jackson and you were now sitting on the floor while you were playing with him. You didn't know why but you felt so protective towards that baby. During your time together, Jackson told you about his life, how his mom died when was just a year old and how his father - the now dead gunshot victim - treated him. He talked with you about how his father used to beat him, take him with him during drug delivers. How was that possible? How could someone treat a child like this? Unfortunately you knew that the Latin Kings' member were known for being heartless bastards, of course they wouldn't care about their own child.

When Jay got home it was about 9 pm. He found one of the sweetest scenes he had ever witnessed, which made him smile widely. He found you sitting on the couch, your back resting on the backrest and your arms wrapped protectively around Jackson. He, on the other hand, had his head resting on your chest, his left arm surrounding your waist. Jackson was sleeping, his chest rising and falling slowly. He looked so peaceful, like nothing could hurt him and Jay knew it was thanks to you. When he looked at you he noticed that you too had your eyes closed. That position seemed particularly uncomfortable but he knew you'd rather sleep like that than move Jackson and risk waking him up.

He didn't even realize he was standing there watching you sleep. God you were so beautiful. The feeling it gave him to see both you and Jackson asleep, the baby curled up next to you, was something Jay had never felt before.

He silently approached you, being careful not to step on the toys thrown on the ground. He chuckled as he saw the amount of games and toys, it was so typical of you to buy so much stuff. These would've been enough of an army of children.

Jay leaned over you, making sure not to wake Jackson up, and gently stroking your hair and giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead. He felt so lucky to have such a beautiful person by his side, he sometimes couldn't even believe you were his wife.

Even though Jay had done the possible not to wake you up, your eyes suddenly widened and you spontaneously put your hand on the holster of your gun.

“Hey, hey... Baby it's me, it's okay” Jay whispered. You calmed down immediately as soon as you saw him, your features visibly relaxed. You ran a hand over your face. “You scared the shit out of me,” you whispered. You looked down at Jackson, a sigh of relief escaped your lips when you saw him still sleeping. You stroked his hair, and in the same exact moment Jay felt his stomach do a flip.

“I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry I wake you up,” he said, sitting right next to you.

You gave him a kiss on his lips, smiling. “It's okay babe, I'm glad you're here.”

“How is he?” he spoke in a low voice, his fingers now caressing your cheek.

“It's not easy...” you sighed “But he's very strong.”

“You are amazing with him, he trusts you.”

Before you were able to answer, Jackson began to stir on the sofa, his body writhing. Jay was about to go to get up to wake him up but you stopped him by raising your hand.

You turned to Jackson, with a worried and pained expression on your face.

“Hey, hey, Jackson wake up... Wake up buddy,” you kept saying, as you gently touched Jackson by the shoulders to wake him up. He screamed, suddenly opening his eyes and looking around, scared to death.

God, it was heartbreaking to see that poor child suffer like this.

“Shh baby, I'm here. Come here.” Jackson didn't have it repeated twice and sat on your lap, resting his head on your shoulder, his arms around your neck. You held him tight, one hand on the baby's head as you stroked his hair.

“It's okay honey, I'm here with you, he won't hurt you anymore,” you kept whispering to him as you cradled him in his arms, the baby still crying.

“Hey, look at me” you said to him and he raised his head, looking at you “You're safe okay? It was just a bad dream, it wasn't real,” you wiped his tear-wet cheeks with your finger.

Jay felt his heart open into an abyss with every minute that passed as he watched you try to calm Jackson down.

You wrapped your arms protectively around Jackson's little body again as you stroked his hair while continuing to whisper sweet words to comfort him. From time to time you gave him a little kiss on the head.

“It's okay, honey,” you kept whispering, until Jackson calmed down. “He won't hurt you anymore”. He was no longer crying but his body was still trembling with sobs. Jackson wasn't used to those gestures at all, he hadn't received his mother's love sadly, the father, well, that was who he was, but he felt good, safe with you.

Jay had never felt so helpless as he was then, but seeing how you handled the situation and how you managed to calm the baby down, God, it was more beautiful than he ever imagined. The light you had in your eyes as you looked at Jackson and held him close to you was a light Jay had never seen and that was the moment he started wondering what it would be like if the baby you were hugging was your son. It wasn't the first time he thought of a family, of course, but that was the first time he could really imagine it, see it in the not too distant future.

Another time passed and Jackson managed to calm. “I want to play with Legos.”

“Sure buddy” you answered before he got up and sat on the floor, starting to play with his toys.

“What's your favourite Lego?” Jay asked as he sat on the floor next to Jackson. He gave him a skeptical look, not answering. He didn't trust Jay. “My favourite is Lego Space, the Saturn V Apollo one. God, it's amazing!”

You chuckled as you looked at Jay trying to make friends with Jackson, he was so cute.

“Mine is Lego Pirates” Jackson answered as he returned to play.

“Uh that's a good one too” Jay said “I bet your favourite is Barracuda Bay, isn't it?”

Jackson's eyes snapped to Jay, looking at him disconcert as if he was wondering how he had known. You repressed a laugh, knowing damn well It was just a lucky guess.

“Yes... We didn't find it in the store that's why Y/N bought me this,” Jackson said “How did you know?”

“Because I can read minds buddy, you want me to tell what you're thinking right now?”

“Let's see.”

Jay put two fingers to each temple slightly squeezed his eyes as if he was really trying to read his mind. “I bet you're hungry and you want something to eat.”

Ironically at that very moment, Jackson's stomach started to grumble, which made his cheeks red with embarassment. You and Jay shared a small laugh before you got up.

“I'll go make dinner then, what do you want to eat?”

“I highly disagree Jackson, you could die of poisoning” Jay said making him laugh. You grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it against Jay, trying to hide your laugh as he gave you a smirk.

“Shut up I wasn't talking to you,” you said pointing a finger at him. Jay raised his hands in surrender as he and Jackson continued to giggle “And you better not saying anything else or you'll sleep on the couch”.

“I won't I promise” Jay said, simulating a zip closing gesture, still smiling.

“So what do you want Jackson?” you asked, your attention now on the baby who was still laughing as he looked at you and Jay.

“Can I have some pasta?” he asked with a puppy face that was impossible for you to resist.

“Of course honey, you can wait here while I cook. I give you permission to beat him if he says something bad,” you said pointing with your head at your husband.

“Hey!”.

“I promise I will” Jackson laughed. You gave him a wink before going to the kitchen.

“Does her cooking really suck?” he asked, looking at Jay.

Jay laughed. “Absolutely not, her cooking is amazing you'll find out soon buddy.”

“Why did you tell her it sucks?”

“I was just kidding, I like to tease her.”

“But why?”.

“Because it's funny.”

Jackson shrugged slightly. “I guess you're right it's funny... Do you like her?”.

Jay laughed. “That I like her is an understatement.”

A confused expression appeared on Jackson's face. “What do you mean?”.

“It means that I like her a lot.”

“Does she like you too?”.

“I hope she does or it means I shouldn't have married her” Jay answered.

“Oh so you're together?”.

“Yes, she's my wife”.

“Why did you marry her?”.

“Because I love her so much, more than anything else in the world”.

“I don't understand.”

“You'll get it once you'll grow up buddy.”

“Does it mean you two kiss?”.

“Yeah sometimes.”

“Ew” Jackson said, a disgusted look on his face that made Jay laugh “I will never kiss anyone in my life.”

“Oh yeah I used to say this too.”

Jay and Jackson continued to talk while they both played with Legos. Jay never imagined he could be so comfortable with a child, considering he barely knew him and he felt he was very good with children.

“Dinner's ready!” you exclaimed from the kitchen as soon as you finished cooking. You received no answer so you decided to go back in the living room but stopped as soon as you saw them laughing their asses off while lying on the ground. You felt your heartbeat increase as you looked at the way Jay was interacting with Jackson, a flock of butterflies in your stomack. Damn and that baby fever wasn't helping either.

Saying goodbye to Jackson was harder than you thought. The rest of your team managed to find his aunt, who lived in New York and agreed to take care of him. You promised Jackson that you'd be there if he needed it and he could always call you or Jay. Even Jay was sad about saying goodbye to Jackson even though he tried not to show it. Damn, that child asked so many question, but he really liked him.

“I want one.” Jay suddenly said while both of you were lying on the bed. You were cuddling when you heard these words. You raised your head to give him a confused look.

“What do you mean?”.

“I want a baby.”

Jay almost laughed at the way you looked at him, as if a second head had popped up. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. I've been thinking about it for a while now and seeing you with Jackson... I don't know, just confirmed it to me. After all, we've been married for almost eight months, we should start to think about have a family.”

“But ... Are you sure? We both have dangerous jobs what if...” Jay raised his hand and stroked your cheek, a smile on his lips as he looked at you.

“Never been so sure in my life. I love you Y/N and I want a family with you, I'm sure you'd be a great mom.”

“I think you'd be a great dad too.”

A huge smile appeared on Jay's lips, a smile that alone he would light up a room. “Does this mean...?”

“Yes, I want one too...”

Jay didn't let you finish the sentence as he pressed his lips to yours, in a deep and passionate kiss, and there was no doubt what his intentions were.

I guess we'll make a baby tonight then.

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[n0bamak1s]

laughing gas - mai zenin x reader

request: “Mai Zenin x Fem S/o, where the s/o gets their wisdom tooth removed and confesses their love to mai acting all sweet and cute, mai then takes care of her s/o and confesses too, we can see mai being her bratty and confident self but when she is with her s/o she just lets her walls down” - @shockfirefly

summary: in the request! (genre: fluff, friends to lovers, slice of life, humor)

warnings: reader is high on anesthesia if that counts as a warning, swearing, mostly just tooth rotting fluff (literally!!)

word count: 2k

a/n: i really enjoyed writing this request! at this point i’m basically just a mai zenin stan account tbh but the requests for her are just so fun to write. i’m almost on summer break so hopefully i’ll be more active bc i have a few ideas i’m excited to write for!!

it seriously took everything in mai’s willpower to not immediately whip out her phone to film your groggy state the moment she stepped into the room where you had just gotten your surgery done. she stifled a laugh at the bandage wrapped around your head, vaguely reminiscent of the one noritoshi had worn following the exchange event. when your eyes flicker over to meet her gaze, you give what she can only assume is your attempt at a smile, but looks more like a dog caught eating its owner’s dinner, with your face all swollen and slightly flushed.

forget that willpower shit.

she shamelessly calls out your name, to which you respond like an eager little kid. “say cheese!” she gives you an uncharacteristically wide grin to signal you to mirror her actions. you seemed to not learn from your previous mistake and attempted to smile back at her, before immediately cutting yourself off with a muffled groan. she hardly bothered with hiding her giggle this time, but at the very least she had the decency to cover her mouth as she cracked up.

with an annoyed pout on your face, you huffed and turned to the nurse standing beside you, who you were apparently to loopy to notice had joined in with mai on giggling at your grogginess. “she’s so mean to me!” you said, though your tone had no real irritation to it.

“it’s just to send to utahime. she wants to make sure your doing alright.” mai lied straight through her teeth, though you seem satisfied enough with that answer as you started to push yourself up from the seat you’d been in. mai quickly rushed to your side, knowing you weren’t sensible enough at the moment to ask for her help. before you could stand up and inevitably wobble over, she looped an arm around your waist and moved your arm so it was slung over her shoulders.

“alright champ, let’s get going.” she tried to remain as nonchalant as possible with the close proximity, but unfortunately for her, you seemed determined to embarrass her as much as possible.

“well at least buy me dinner first, ya casanova!” you said (much louder than necessary, mind you). honestly, it wouldn’t be surprising to mai if you could be heard from the waiting room.

with an over enthusiastic wave from you and an awkward thanks from mai to the nurse, you guys set off on your way.

to be fair to you, it was surprisingly a relatively tame trip to the door, with you focusing on keeping your steps in tune with mai’s. you were too lost in thought to embarrass yourself until you had made it to the waiting room. you had rather innocently pointed out a small curse, which would have been completely harmless had it not actually been an old woman, and had you not spoken with an inappropriately loud voice. the poor old lady who had fallen subject to your anesthesia induced self gave you an agitated glare as mai waved sheepishly in apology. the moment you guys were out the door, you turned back to glance through the glass.

“we’ll get her later, mai!” you patted her on the back with determination, your voice still muffled in a way that made you sound like you belonged on sesame street. “she can’t fool me, stupid curse!”

had it been anyone else, mai would have simply rolled her eyes and tugged you on, but since it was you, she found herself laughing along, a quiet laugh, like the sound of a wind chime in early spring weather. the sound seemed to catch you off guard, causing you to stop in your antics before turning to face her. she paused when she felt your gaze back on her, looking at her like a kid would look at fireworks for the first time.

she raised an eyebrow at your sudden change in demeanor. “what?”

“your laugh is pretty.” you stated simply, clearly having some pride at being the one to get her to laugh like that.

she turned away for a moment, hoping it would stop you from seeing the flush spreading across her face, knowing you’d never let her live it down. “thanks.” she muttered, praying she sounded at least a little bit cool and composed.

the short walk to the car was filled with you pointing out random cars asking if they were mai’s as you rested your head on her shoulder, before deciding the swelling was too painful for that.

a large grin which quickly turned into a grimace (you really never learned) appeared on your face when mai finally informed you that you’d made it to the right car. she held your hand to support you as you stepped into the seat, and once she’d sat down, reached over to buckle you in. she chose to ignore the over exaggerated wink you sent her way in favor of her own sanity.

as she drove, you babbled on about nonsense like how you were sure noritoshi had made mechamaru to hide the fact that he was secretly a robot, or how after that run you had gotten at the baseball game, you were sure you were destined to quit sorcery to go to the major leagues. to humor you, mai nodded along, before dryly responding that she’d probably be a better fit considering how good she looked in the baseball uniforms.

ignorant of her joking tone, you were quick to agree enthusiastically. “definitely! but i dunno if i’m the best person to ask, because i think you look good in just about anything.” your voice was sincere as you turned fully to look at her with slightly hazy eyes.

before either of you had time to process the admiration you had shown towards her, you glanced back out the window to the familiar sight of your school. you excitedly waved at the sight of todo and noritoshi sparring together. after catching his attention, todo didn’t even bother to stop the roaring laughter that came from your appearance, pointing out to noritoshi the similarities between your current look and his from just a few weeks ago. noritoshi gave todo an annoyed look, before glancing back over to see mai helping you out of the car, once again slinging your arm over her shoulders and supporting you with an arm on your waist.

she tried her best to ignore todo, she really did. though, it wasn’t exactly easy to ignore him when he loudly exclaimed what a ‘lady killer’ mai was. she snapped her gaze to meet his eyes, giving him a cold glare, before continuing to slink you along to your dorm.

when you opened the door to your dorm, the first thing mai noticed was a bulletin board on your wall, decorated with photos of all your friends, which most recently included your classmates. her eyes flicked to a photo of you next to another girl in elementary school with a smile that showed off your gap from missing teeth, and she chuckled softly at the irony of the photo compared to your current situation. her gaze then quickly shifted to a newly added strip of pictures from a photo booth. she smiled fondly at the memory of you, her, miwa, and momo sandwiching yourselves together in the tiny booth to take photos during your shopping trip. they weren’t ‘good’ photos, per say, in fact you guys all looked rather ridiculous trying to pack into frame, but for some reason, mai seemed to soften up at the memory of it, and how happy you looked just to be next to her.

her train of thought was interrupted by you tugging on the hand that didn’t rest on you, making her turn to see you mere inches from her face.

why the hell were you so close???

“yes?” she questioned, hoping to deflect from the fact that she was so obviously gushing over the photos on your wall just moments before.

“will you sleep with me?”

had you not had an arm around her, she probably would have dropped you in that instant. from the way she carried herself to the way she talked to others, most people would assume mai zenin does NOT blush, yet somehow you’d managed to disprove that theory way too many times today.

“WHAT?” it was her turn to be loud for a moment.

“i’m tireddddd” you whined “and you’re so warm.” you had stated it so casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

she groaned, as if it would cover up her sheer embarrassment at how bold you were. wordlessly, she walked you to your bed, keeping her grip on your waist secure. it was amazing how gentle she was as she laid you down on that rock solid bed all the dorms were stuck with. she pulled a blanket over you, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed in hopes you’d doze off peacefully from there. when she didn’t shift from her position, you looked at her with a confused expression.

“wouldn’t it be more comfortable to lay down?” your words were still slightly slurred together. you rested a hand on hers. “you know i don’t mind.” despite your dazed look, she could tell your words were sincere as your thumb rubbed circles atop her hand.

mai turned to face you full on, her eyes gentle rather than their usual harsh look.

curse you for being so hard to resist.

“fine” her voice was quiet “but only because it’s my job to watch over you.” she stretched out her legs so she was laying down on the bed, pulling the blanket towards her so she could get comfortable.

“you’re so good to me mai.” you smiled. not a pained grimace, or an awkward baring of your teeth, but a smile. “people always seem to be so intimidated by you, but i don’t really get it. you’ve always been so nice to me. it’s nice.”

she didn’t understand how even when you were all loopy, you still managed to have such an effect on her. hesitantly, she reached up to grab your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours.

it seemed the boldness from your anesthesia had rubbed off on her.

before she had time to talk, you continued. “i always feel so glad when we get paired up for missions, you make me feel so safe. like, i know when i’m around you that you’ll protect me. i admire you so much for doing all that for me.”

she went slightly stiff at your...confession? declaration? what exactly would you call that? you had said it so nonchalantly, whether it was out of trying to play off your fear of rejection or legitimate confidence, it was hard to tell.

“plus you’re really pretty.” your hand squeezed hers as you looked suddenly very interested in the pattern of your blanket. it was odd, seeing you get so shy all of a sudden, though she supposed it was somewhat of a win for her.

as you stared sheepishly away from her eyes that traced over every inch of your face, you felt her hand come up to your cheek, tilting you to face her. she continued scanning your face with an impossibly soft expression, before meeting your eyes once again.

“you know i wouldn’t do all that if it was anyone else.” her voice was barely above a whisper as her eyes bore into yours. her face was so close to yours that you could feel her breath fanning lightly across your face. “it’s all for you.” you’d never seen her so earnest before.

you smiled softly at her, even despite the ridiculous bandages around your head, and your chipmunk like cheeks, she still stared at you with so much love.

“you like meeee.” your tone was teasing, but it was obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes that you were just as whipped as her.

“dammit. you figured me out.” she said sarcastically, shuffling forward slightly so you were flush against her.

up close, the tiredness in your glassy eyes was obvious. she sighed to herself, and slowly leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your forehead.

“get some sleep.” she smiled at your eyes struggling to fight open your heavy eyelids. “we have a lot to talk about once the anesthesia wears off.”

maybe todo wasn’t so far off with that ‘lady killer’ comment.

[babydarkstar]

cacoethes

part two: bring your sweet loving 

rating: E (18+ ONLY) || pairing: ezra x f!reader || word count: 10.5k

chapter summary: as the night winds down and tensions simmer, we learn more about you, pieces of your past, and your relationship with ezra.

 warnings: ezra’s gigantic mouth that won’t shut up (suggestive language) and two criminals not knowing how to act; caretaking, i guess? reader cleans ezra but it’s nothing erotic; SMUT; handjob and graphic depictions of a glorious dick; dirty talk; dubcon maybe bc painkillers but he’s enthusiastic abt it; praise kink; switches having a great time; ezra’s subby in this but i promise he’s a dom too just not tonight; mentions of death, killing, tattoos, scars; mention of past drug use, bad coping mechanisms; mm i hc that ezra is a tiny tattoo guy so there’s that; fluff bc im sweet; author is a southern peach, forgive her if it gets a little slow and twangy up in here

a/n: un-beta’d bc mistakes are sexy. i’ll go back later and fix whatever i find but for now. enjoy. i’m literally just making shit up about this universe as we go but it’s working out for the best so bear with me. lmk if u want me to add u to be tagged here. tagging: @pedros-mustache @jk7789    

crossposted to ao3 :) || playlist || one || two || three

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Here, Cee,” you said, adjusting the threadbare blanket over your cot and splaying a hand over it while she eyed you from across the tent, still standing amongst the carnage of a violent field surgery, “I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”

The poor girl was scared. Well—not scared, not anymore.

Vengeful, for certain, though it seemed to dwindle with every minute she watched you interact.

Definitely wary of the two of you.

Which was appropriate, given that Ezra had killed her father and left her alone on an uninhabitable moon, only to be scooped up by his partner and deceived into thinking she was safe, and then forced to perform impromptu surgery to hack off an arm. But she appeared more wary to accept help from you than wary of you.

And honestly, if Ezra hadn’t just lost a limb and you didn’t want to hover beside him after not seeing him for a month to make sure he didn’t slip the veil in his sleep or disappear beneath your fingertips—and if you weren’t trying to earn her trust, you’d have made her take the floor.

But things were different now, they might always be. She had saved his life. You owed her your cot to sleep on.

“Wait,” Ezra said, swallowing thickly as he blinked, seeming to just process the words you had spoken, “You think so little of me that I’d let you sleep on the dirt after the day you’ve had? Now, I agree that our guest should find comfort in a cot of her own, but I will not deny you the simple respite of sleep. That would prove me an unworthy companion.”

“Ezra,” you said, giving him a look of incredulity that seeped into your tone, “You can’t be serious.”

He eyed you and clenched his jaw, still stomaching the fact that he had one less limb to worry about, and a bunch more problems to deal with. It was a look that told you he was not arguing with you, you were going to sleep on the cot. He would not be coddled like a child just because he lost an arm.

Which was, in itself, ridiculous. You didn’t plan to coddle him—you weren’t the type, not really. But. He’d lost a fucking arm. But he was also still delirious from the anesthetic, so that didn’t help his desire to prove something to the universe.

“You’re taking the cot, I’m not having this conversation,” you said, wiping his sweaty brow with your sleeve, “Tap into the ruthless outlaw inside of you and take it without regret. You know I hardly sleep anyways, I’ll live without a bed for the night.”

“Then I must insist you share it with me, precious angel,” he sighed, and you could almost see the cogs in his head turning as his distant gaze darkened into something hungry, “I’ve longed to feel your body pressed against mine since I left with Number Two. The divinity of your skin.” He hummed, eyes fluttering shut, “More…more precious than the ore we risk our lives for. Sweeter than fruit. Fresher than a rainstorm.”

“Ez,” you warned, snapping a glare at him.

“Your body…so tender, warm,” he continued, entranced in his own fantasy, not even hearing you when you warned him yet again, “All soft and pliant beneath my touch. It has been far too long since we partook in a pleasure as indulgent as one another—before our partnership with Two, if I can recall. Grant me heaven tonight. I deserve the satisfaction of watching you drip honey for me—”

“Hey! None of that,” you snapped, cocking an eyebrow—and fighting the flutter in your chest and the heat tingling down your core, “There are young ears present, Shakespeare Erotica. Not to mention young eyes.”

You would do no such thing with him as long as this teenager remained in close quarters and under your care. He turned to look at Cee, as if he’d forgotten all about her for a moment. Or maybe it was that he didn’t care. Bastard.

“I’m okay as long as you guys don’t fuck in front of me,” Cee sighed, resigned to have dealt with too much in her past to be worried about flirting—no, verbal-fucking.

“We won’t be doing any of that,” you assured her, giving Ezra another pointed look before slinging his arm around your shoulders and helping him to the cot. He grumbled incoherently, moaning and groaning the few steps it took to ease him down into the squeaky frame.

When you finally got him down—forced him to lay down—he let out another soft whimper of pain, followed by your name. “Don’t go.”

Brushing the hair off his sweaty forehead, you bent down to press a kiss there, “M’right here, Ez. Rest. I’m gonna clean you up, okay?”

It was the least you could do—and that way you could take inventory of every inch of him to ensure he didn’t have any other wounds hiding and festering and threatening his life. Just as this wouldn’t be your first time tending to him while he laid incapacitated, he’d done the same for you plenty of times. There was very little, if anything at all, the two of you hadn’t seen of each other. Vulnerability had another name here: normalcy.

“After—” he rasped up at you, coughing and then righting himself, “After we find our way off this Kevva-damned moon—which we will—I understand if you no longer deem me…worthy of your affections. It’s the only explanation I can find for your denial of my offer to dote on you. I only pray you make good on your long-standing promise to drop me where I stand should I ever disappoint you, dear heart of mine.”

Okay, you didn’t know where all the insecurity and sentiment was coming from, especially hearing it from the mouth of your dear old confident mean-streak Ezra, but he couldn’t possibly be serious. It made you ache to think that he didn’t trust you to stay with him, that he viewed himself as lesser because he lost his arm. Well, he was lesser, but only by mass.

Also, really? The only explanation he could find for you not wanting to sleep with him was that you hated him and didn’t want him because of his injury? He couldn’t think of any more glaringly obvious reasons, those of which had just been pointed out to him?

With a sigh, you brushed your thumb across the silvery scar on his cheek, “Rest now, chatterbox. I’ll be here when you wake up—and every morning after, for as long as I can. Only death could pry you from me, and me from you. You’ve got me, forever….I still see you as you are—a hundred percent you, a hundred percent mine.”

The words felt foreign on your lips, but he was bound to forget them the moment he fell asleep, so you didn’t feel as weird waxing poetic right back at him. The man had rubbed off on you in more ways than one. You normally didn’t speak to one another so frankly—at least, you didn’t, given the nature of what it meant to care out here and how you’d already unofficially established that you two were something more—but tonight you couldn’t fucking help it.

Ezra leaned into your touch, pawing at it with his hand, grabbing onto your fingers and kissing into your palm. A dull smile poked at his mouth and he let it engulf him. “Quite the charmer you are, siren.”

You didn’t respond, only half-smiled and wriggled—reluctantly—from his grasp to grab a few clean cloths and fill a bucket with water. After squirting the sanitizing solution in the water, you simmered the lights down to the lowest setting, to where your eyes had to adjust for a moment before you could make your way across the tent. His gaze bore into you—no, both Ezra and Cee watched every move you made; one in lazy admiration and the other in curiosity.

“Do you need me to put a drape over the post? I’m strippin’ him,” you asked Cee as you slung Ezra’s clean shirt from off the drying line onto your shoulder—you smiled at the floor, thanking yourself from hours ago for deciding not to burn it. You grabbed the bucket and tottered over to him, nodding at him to scoot. He obliged, giving you room to sit by his hip so you could ease his clothes off.

Cee shook her head when you looked to her for a response, opting to sit on your cot facing away from you with her nose in her book, so you shrugged and tugged the fabric off of Ezra in slow, deliberate motions, wincing every time he grunted.

As you took the time to clean off the grime and dirt and sweat of the Green, he told you about running into Cee and her father Damon; how he tried to take his entire harvest from the few cycles he’d spent with Two; about Two’s untimely, irrational outburst that cost them their life. About the Queen’s Lair and the mercs, and the plan to ravage and plunder and take it all for themselves. You thought the Queen’s Lair was a rumor. Not even a rumor—a myth, a legend, something fabricated by desperate fools with hazy minds of dust and their eyes set on fortune. But Ezra told you he’d seen part of it marked on Cee’s map, that her father was contracted to help extract the deposit. Cee even pulled her map out to point to the marked areas, albeit with clinical movements and short words.

So you made a plan to head out at first light, with the trip taking most of the daylight, and they’d be cutting it close but there was no way you’d let Ezra hike so many klicks in his state—not without a few hours’ rest first.

After you’d managed to clean his legs, his hips, his feet and get him into something more comfortable than compression pants, you moved to his torso and traced over each scar marring his skin, each jagged edge where something hadn’t healed right or wasn’t stitched properly. He’d lost some weight under the harsh conditions of the Green—you both had. But he still held onto muscle from the toil that came with survival on such harsh terrain; and he was naturally broad, he always would be, which made him sturdy.

Your fingers ghosted over a few microtattoos he’d gotten; one beneath his ribcage, one on his hipbone, and the one you’d given him yourself on his lower sternum. That one, as you brushed over it with a wet cloth, never failed to make you smile. A sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

A tiny, unfilled heart, a mere outline, barely a centimeter in size. It was messy, simple, done in minutes. But it meant something, meant exactly what you’d never quite been able to voice.

My heart is yours. Take it.

You’d done it one night when the two of you had gone on a two spin bender, which happened more towards the end of your glory days, when the drugs came easy and heavy and the illusion of time slipped by like sand on the wind.

Any time someone hired your services as cleaners, it took a toll. They didn’t do it often because of that, but the payout was worth the work. No matter how many times you swore you would never do it again, you went back. Because it was hard to ignore the way it felt to flood a deserving someone’s mouth with the taste of their own blood, or to slip a knife in between their ribs and let it slide like butter and watch the light die. It was hard to ignore that you liked it, especially when it was so violent—one of the worst sins to commit, and you enjoyed it.

The act of killing had become cathartic for you. It made you feel more alive, reminded you that you had a beating, bloody heart, and a brain, and veins that pumped blood, and muscles that tore apart and rebuilt themselves stronger. Killing came easy when you didn’t know the target. It felt like a game.

Ezra didn’t enjoy it as much as you did—not to say he didn’t enjoy it at all, for he most certainly did. But he didn’t process it the same way you did. He saw killing as a means to survive and a means to get where he needed to go. He enjoyed turning it into a game, making fun out of whatever circumstance presented itself.

But that one—the last one—it had gone wrong. Messy, slow, noisy, choppy. There was only supposed to be one person in the house: typical target, a man who owed the wrong people a whole lot of money and refused to pay up.

One man.

One man was all you’d expected.

One man was all you’d been instructed would be in the condo.

He went down easy enough, quiet enough—Ezra snuffed him and stuffed him and you’d made to transfer his points into the right pockets.

And that was that.

They had tossed the bodybag over the high-rise balcony and into the pits of the bottomless highway next to the building, with a blinker-bomb inside just in case.

That was that.

Except it wasn’t, it was so fucking far from it.

Ezra, being himself, had wanted so bad to sneak in a quickie before heading back—an unholy, immoral ritual you two had initiated, to fuck where you killed—and who were you to protest? Who were you to say no to pretty words and soft eyes glittering with an untamed wild? To say no to the hands that already ripped at gear and pushed beneath underwear just to get a taste—you couldn’t, it was impossible.

Fresh off a high of adrenaline, pulsing with nervous energy—he was always so good, he always got you right where you needed and then that much further.

And Ezra—being himself—could not keep his fucking mouth shut. The stereotype about men holding in their moans, about them never whimpering or whining or groaning or grunting—yeah, that was a load of Bearkie-shit.

Maybe it held true for some men, but.

Not your Ezra. Not even a little bit.

He talked like heaven’s mouthpiece—or maybe the devil, given all the sinful things he’d whisper to you in the crux of any given night. He let loose whatever noise he deemed necessary to make.

They’d only just made it to the dried, bloody stain on the carpet (a bed on which to copulate), knocking over a floating hilolamp and pulling a chuckle from your paramour, when a shout rang through the apartment and shattered your moment into a thousand pieces.

It was only supposed to be one. One man.

Instead, you were met with another man who you’d later learn to be his brother, the target’s mother, and his pregnant wife.

The man held onto some type of curved sports bat, keeping it up threateningly as if warning you of something imposing. Ezra didn’t hesitate to shoot him in the head, not even bothering to get up from where he’d pressed his hips between your legs. But then you’d had to go and check the other rooms, effectively killing any mood the two of you had shared.

Because fuck, where the men had no fight in them, the women wouldn’t go down without a struggle. Or maybe it was that you pitied them, and it distracted you. They’d already peeked their heads out from behind the door of the master bedroom, worried and doe-eyed and determined.

Maybe if they hadn’t seen your faces—if they’d still been asleep while you swept for warm bodies after the first assailant—maybe they’d have gotten out with their lives. But who were you kidding? You killed without thought. You’d likely have put a pillow over their heads before aiming your thrower and firing twice for good measure, had you been sharp and not distracted by a tongue in your mouth.

Instead, Ezra had the audacity to try to bargain with them. Something about having a soft spot for mothers—his own having been a beacon in his life until she left him orphaned as a young boy. He made it a point not to kill women and children. It was one thing in which he remained unwavering. (He’d kill a grown woman if she gave him reason to, like he had on Exon-5, but that was another story for another time, and a different circumstance which called for such measures, namely that of protecting you.) But he should have known better, he should have known not to try something like that. He should’ve known that he’d have to let go of the final shred of morality he held onto.

So Ezra took down the old woman in a way you still have yet to ask about and don’t care to know; and you’d ended with the pregnant woman choking on her own blood when you twisted your knife into the dip of her throat—and you felt awful about it after watching her crumble beneath you, but she’d hit you upside the head with a thick textbook of outdated skimmer-craft modules and it made you see red among pinpricks of stars.

And that night, after all was said and done they’d spent a fortune on getting high—just to forget, just to be okay.

That night they’d locked themselves in a self-imposed prison of satin sheets and destructive tendencies. Two days buzzing with no food, little water, just him and you and needles and spoons and eyedroppers and blades and pills. Like you couldn’t breathe if he didn’t fill you with all of him, you wouldn’t be able to stand upright if he took his hands off you and stopped letting you flood your veins with a chemical glow. Heavy eyelids, messy sex, raw arms and red eyes.

It felt fucking awful, coping that way, but it felt too fucking good and it made you forget about the lives you’d taken in (somewhat) cold blood.

So after sprawling beside him on the gigantic plush bed with his hand ghosting over your spine, you’d found a part of yourself snagged at the corner of this wild-eyed man’s tar-black soul, and you had thought about what could have happened in an alternate universe.

A moment when he was the target, you were (somehow) the pregnant wife, and you watched him die before succumbing to the dark of your own soul escaping you. And it made you desperate to cling to him as he was in the moment, desperate to know that he was yours and you were his. It was then that you’d asked him if you could mark him. Claim him, to know that he wouldn’t leave you like that, and if he did, he’d have a piece of you everywhere. He’d go down with a piece of you.

Ezra had been delighted, of course, as he was always one for symbolism and deeper meaning even if he didn’t quite understand the rhetoric. And it wasn’t the first time you’d marked each other, just a different time with a different meaning. So he let you dip a sterile needle in ink and plunge it into the tender skin of his chest.

You had one too, a heart on your sternum. Nestled between your breasts, just close enough to your heart to feel like it mattered, like it meant that he felt the same. But you didn’t even let yourself go that far—you two were doped up and delirious and he enjoyed marking you in any way he could, so an opportunity to stick and poke his way further into your skin than he already had was an opportunity he could not pass up. At least, that was how you saw it. Nevertheless, it made you happy to see it there on his chest, and to have one that matched.

Ezra’s soft voice snapped you from the memory.

“What’s crossed your mind to make you so delicate in your touch, so solemn in your stare?”

You realized you had stopped your ministrations and had planted your palm on his chest, staring just over his shoulder and onto the canvas beside him. With a careful hand, you resumed gentle motion over his pecs, up his clavicle, his throat.

“Thinking about Beta-Mobilia,” you whispered, unable to meet his eye, “And after.”

“Mm,” he grunted in recognition, the vibration tickling your fingertips, “Regrettable night. Unavoidable, necessary. But I dwell in shame identical to yours.”

“I don’t deserve to be here after that. I didn’t deserve to live after the Exons, The Grime. Why am I still alive?”

“We’ve discussed this in great length by now, siren. Don’t doubt your existence. It’s beyond sense, beyond comprehension.”

You nodded, still unable to look at him. But then he latched onto your wrist, brushing his calloused thumb over the delicate skin there, and this time you couldn’t keep your gaze away from the soft smile that begged to form on his lips.

“And I appreciate your tender care, wildfire,” he hummed, eyes glittering up at you like two dark pools of amber, “Where would I be without it? Mmm…mhm. Dead, likely. Or bitter. Wicked with taciturn rage. No meaning could come from that.”

“You, bitter and unspeaking? Unthinkable, I’d sooner pronounce you dead,” you drawled, thankful for his kindness to grant distraction, and he granted you an eye-roll. But his expression softened when you sat him upright and maneuvered behind him, wiping down his back in gentle strokes. You folded the cloth over once the side turned brown with grime, and moved up to his neck, scrubbing over his shoulders and giving short strokes down his nape and behind his ears.

“So you planned to go ravage the Queen without me, huh?” you asked quietly, irked that he hadn’t even come to find you before setting out on that venture, “Planned to leave me to rot on the Green, take the money for yourself and steal away with the girl.”

Ezra sighed, and you could see from behind his shoulder how he worked his jaw, formulating what to say.

“Understand that I do nothing without you willingly. Birdie over there’s about as fleeting as a real one. But trust that I planned to come get you—I’d never leave you stranded. I just couldn’t introduce another person into the threadbare alliance I had forged until the time was right.”

“She likes me,” you countered, smiling over at Cee, who now laid with her back facing you as her ribs contracted with the first breaths of sleep. A sign of trust. You didn’t know when exactly you’d earned it, but you’d accept it nonetheless. She had also taken both of your throwers (something you protested and Ezra waved off), so maybe that helped.

“No doubt—there’s plenty to like about you.”

Ever the flatterer, even when delirious with pain.

With a coy smile, you scrubbed over his head and then his face, careful to avoid his snapping mouth that reached out ever so often to nip at your hand—there was that playfulness, the natural effervescence of his presence. When you decided your work was done, you eased him back down on the cot and he allowed it with no protest.

You fluffed his pillow and moved the book you’d stashed beside it. He turned his head and pressed his nose to the pillow, grunting in mild appreciation.

“Smells like you down here,” he remarked with a half-smile, eyes drooping, “You sleep on my cot while I was away?”

“I missed you,” you whispered, nodding, just now aware of how much his presence affected you. To think that you had resolved to try to move on without him—it seemed ridiculous now.

“I missed you,” he returned, “You haven’t the slightest idea how much I wanted you beside me. Number Two was a fond ally but not a companion. Nothing like the banter we exchange, nor the secrets we share.”

“They never talked. I imagine your time away was just as lonely as mine.”

“Absolutely. I regret agreeing to leave with Two. But you know we couldn’t have trusted them to stay at camp while we went off—not absolutely. Not when they’d never spoken a word,” he chuckled and then coughed, a quiet rumble you felt against your leg as it zigzagged through his chest.

Thank Kevva you had a plan to leave now. The spent filter had taken a toll on Ezra—and it wasn’t even his to begin with. He insisted on giving you his when the one your new suit came with was almost completely used up.

Fuck the man for caring about you; he’d gone soft during your time on the Green, and you hated how much you loved it. Hated it because he needed to focus on himself, needed to stop putting you before him. Hated it because every day it made you feel like somehow, he loved you back. That somehow, he thought of you as more than just a constant in his life, more than a body to fuck and a brain to pick.

You’d grown used to each other. But his unpredictability oozed into every aspect of himself, every nook and cranny of his life, and you were too worried about fucking up a good thing over a simple conversation. All it took was one sensitive topic breached and you’d surely find yourself shit out of luck. He was all you had left of the scraps of a fucked up life. Without him, you’d make do but not without a struggle and not without reluctance. Some part of you knew he’d be the same even if he initiated a split.

The thought had you hurrying to tug his shirt on before gathering the cloths and scurrying to place the bucket near the front of the tent.

And you shouldn’t have been so scared to be honest with him—the two of you rarely kept things to yourselves. But to love someone so fully within your heart, to never want to be away from them, to never grow tired of their presence no matter how tedious they may be or frustrating they could get, it scared you.

“A kiss for the wounded?” Ezra asked, brown eyes wide and mouth pouty enough to break you from your racing mind. You softened then, padding back over to him on tiptoe and settling back at his side for a brief moment.

With a gentle smile, you leaned down to grant him a kiss to his lips—the first one you’d shared with him in fuck knows how long. Too long, that was for sure, because when your lips notched with his chapped ones you melted, every worry and every qualm simply washed away in a swirl of pink pleasure.

You couldn’t help yourself—an indulgent, quiet moan pooled in your chest and slipped from your throat before you could stop it, and he hummed right back when his tongue pushed between your lips and you let him devour you. Always the ravager, ever a greedy bastard when it came to his pleasure, he licked up into your mouth and tangled his tongue with yours. It took very little for you to melt right into his chest, pressing your own against him and whimpering when he sneaked his hand up the hem of your shirt to rub circles over the skin of your back. You remained sloppy and almost lazy but intentional as you held either side of his nape and toyed with the strands of his still-damp hair, pouring yourself into this kiss like you’d never kiss him again.

Fuck. Fuck, you wanted him so bad. You missed this man with every vibrating inch of you. You missed his body, you missed his voice calling to you from the very depths of himself, you missed everything about him, and you needed him as close as possible. Closer than close, you needed him.

But fuck. You couldn’t. When you pulled back for air, it didn’t surprise you when he pressed his palm flat on your back to keep you from moving too far.

“Mm, baby—you’re divine. I ache for you,” he all but whimpered into your mouth, breath brutally hot and heavy as he fed you his soul, “Come sit down on me—come take what’s yours. I want to feel you strangle me, show me just how much you—”

“No, Ez,” you cut him off in a biting whisper, lips kiss-swollen, hating how, if there had been literally any other person in the tent beside you, you might’ve taken him up on the offer, “I want to, I promise you that. But she’s a kid and I have limits—one of those limits is fucking in the same room as one.” You glared at him with half a heart, then leaned down to run the tip of your nose along the curve of his ear, smiling when he shivered, “I swear, once we get out of here I’ll make it up to you so many times you’ll forget your own name. You get first choice—however you want me, I’m yours to take.”

“Fuck—alright, I apologize for my eagerness,” he smiled, tilting his head to kiss your forehead.

“But,” you whispered, your heart racing as you glanced over to be sure Cee had fallen asleep before inching up to look back into his eyes. Fuck it, he deserved it. “If you stay quiet, I’ll take care of you right now.”

His eyebrows raised in deft interest at your offer.

“Will you let me take care of you, Sailor?”

Ezra would never admit it, and you’d never tease him about it because it made you feel some kind of way—but he fucking adored when you used his callsign. You were his siren, after all. Only made sense for him to draw to you like a dying man at sea when you called for him. You used it rarely aside from in the field, opting for your preferred chatterbox—because he was more that than anything else—so it came as a treat when you decided to pull it from your bag of tricks.

“I can hardly refuse such a tempting offer.”

“Quiet, though,” you reminded him, tiptoeing your fingers across his chest and tugging the waistband of his pants and his underwear down. Just enough to spring his cock free, which was already hard and leaking for you.

Fuck, he was such a gorgeous sight, and you couldn’t help the urge to cup his balls and nudge them free too, to admire every glorious inch of him.

Spreading your fingers out over his groin through the coarse curls gone wild with mistreatment, you paid extra attention to the white patch of hair ghosting over the base of his cock and spreading out near his abdomen before stopping abruptly on the left and diverging back down into dark brown. You remember when you’d first noticed it and had all but squealed in delight.

Every bit of him was a pleasant surprise, just as you’d found yourself more than eager to let him ruin you for anybody else with the sheer size of him.

Nobody fucked you like they were dying and you were salvation; nobody but him. And shit, did he tear you open. As if he’d carved a space inside of you just for him, each time he’d leave you with a hollow ache that only he could sate.

“Baby,” you purred in a whisper, kissing his hipbone and then leaning up to wrap your hand around the girth of him, rubbing your thumb over the weeping red of the head, “You’re so pretty for me like this.” Forever a glutton for compliments, he whimpered his soft appreciation and you hushed him accordingly. He was so thick, so big that you struggled to touch the tip of your middle finger to your thumb, so long that if you had planned to swallow him down tonight, you would’ve been needing your hand to help. But tonight you could not risk the absolutely filthy noise of you gagging on him; he’d likely cum faster and in less time to worry about waking up a certain tentmate, but you wanted to watch every muscle in his face twitch, wanted to see him take his pleasure unobstructed by your tears. This way was quieter.

So with that thought in mind, you shifted to straddle one of his thighs so you could watch him without tiring your hand in an awkward position. Then you let a string of spit drool down and over him and you gave him a twist and then more, sharp and sudden and fast in your movements as opposed to the slow, appreciative way you’d unsheathed him.

Ezra hissed out a curse, bucking up into your hand, “Shit, darlin’—“

Arching an eyebrow, you halted your work on him immediately. His pulse beat through the throbbing vein jutting out

“What did I tell you?” you snapped. With your free hand you reached up and wrapped your fingers around his neck, feeling the column of his throat contracting as he swallowed. Wide brown eyes looked up at you, a tinge of amusement in their stare.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” you asked in a low rasp, tightening your grip on his neck and giving him a little shake before going slack again, “I don’t wanna hear a single word come outta that pretty-boy mouth. If I do, I’m blue-balling you. Fair?”

Ezra nodded, his gorgeous fat mouth blessedly shut for once.

“Good boy,” you cooed, kissing him before forcing his jaw open and spitting in his mouth. It would’ve been cruel but you meant it so affectionately, and his gentle moan told you he was more than willing to accept it.

You felt his cock twitch beneath your fingers and you simpered, giving a little shimmy of your shoulders in appreciation.

Controlling this stubborn man, resorting him to silence made you feel powerful. It made you feel respected, worshipped; if the man who never shut up and always called the shots would gladly take the backseat and grant you the power to take charge, that meant more than you could wish for.

So you resumed pumping his cock, working him with both hands and then switching to hold onto his throat again before going back to two hands. The act still made quite some noise—filthy and wet and sloppy—but at this point you were less concerned about it than you had been prior. When you decided, despite his tip dripping precum, to spit down onto him again for the fun of it and twist him with a gentle tug, he couldn’t stop the whine that left him even with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. It had you darting to clamp over his mouth, shooting daggers down at him as he stared up with a silent apology in his eyes, one you might have taken as genuine if not for the way the brown of his irises had disappeared into black, blown out with lust and glassy with pleasure.

“If you’re gonna cum, let me know so you can do it in my mouth. I just cleaned you up and I’m not doing it again.”

The last bit came out harsher than you meant but he took it all the same, biting back a grunt in the form of a sharp exhale as he twitched violently in your hand. Yeah, he didn’t really need to let you know when he was about to blow; you knew him too well. At that, you took it upon yourself to remove your hand from his mouth in favor of scooting to lean down and put your mouth over his angry, swollen tip, flinching at the way the frame creaked but ignoring it and opting to swirl your tongue over him instead.

“There it is,” you whispered with an arguably evil smile—quickly, before pulling him back into the heat of your mouth, resuming your work and grunting when he bucked up into your mouth, chasing the high you were drawing out of him.

Ezra came with a muffled, broken sob, his face buried in his arm as he bit down on his bicep, flexing and squeezing his fingers. A thick stream of his cum hit the roof of your mouth and you indulged him, taking him in further so you could swallow everything he gave you. Ropes and ropes and ropes of cum, like he hadn’t let himself get off in so long, like he’d been saving all of it for you. The thought made you whine around him, and you pulled off when he finished, flashing him your dripping tongue with his spend still on it and drawing it back in before any of it could spill.

“Holy fuck, baby,” he sighed, letting out a quiet, breathy laugh as he tugged on the front of your shirt to kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue.

This time when you pulled back and smiled, you granted him a toothy grin, goofy and knowing. It took you a minute not to giggle like a little kid as you carded your fingers through his hair. He grinned right back, still catching his breath. To you, he was gorgeous, inside and out, flaws and all. You wanted to fuck him right then. You wanted to make love to him, to let him fill you entirely and to sob into his mouth, showing him everything you couldn’t tell him.

“Get some sleep,” you settled on instead, slipping off the cot with little grace after replacing the waistband of his pants, “We head out early tomorrow.”

“Hey now, what about you?” Ezra asked, brows drawn together in concern that you wouldn’t find the same enjoyment he did.

“You’ll just owe me.” You winked then, and gave him one last kiss, which he hummed into with a great appreciative rumble.

Then you pressed your forehead into his, “Mine—you’re mine. Never leave me again or I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself. You’re everything.”

Because he was.

“Nothing without you.”

That was his response, always always always. To hear it again pricked tears in your eyes, so much so you squeezed them shut.

And once again, you caught yourself wanting to say it. This time it had ghosted in your throat, almost making it into the curve of your mouth for you to hold its shape and give voice to a thought. But you stopped it before it could get far. Those three words, the same ones that now haunted you since you’d decided to indulge in every reminiscence involving them. Somehow he had come back to you, a feat which could not be commended enough, but now you ached for him—yearned for him even stronger than if he had well and truly died.

As you settled down onto the floor beside him, those three torturous words surfaced into a memory. The one that, among other fears, made you ever so hesitant to admit just how much you loved him.

————————————

“—In that vein, I don’t find myself in particular need of a great, star-shattering love story. If love is all-encompassing, I can do without the obstacle. Romanticizing my life and its quarrels is satisfaction enough.”

You didn’t know why you were still listening. You just knew that if Ezra kept it up, you’d find a way out of this cell just to break into his and strangle him. Anything to get him to shut the hell up. Banging your head methodically against the wall that separated the two of you, you didn’t even try to hold back your groan of displeasure as he rambled on.

“Now, don’t doubt my skill in worship. I have plenty of practice in the art of copulation”—you could hear the shit-eating grin on his face—“To say I haven’t affixed my interests on one soul or another at some point in time would ordain me a liar. I simply prefer to remain lovers in action…and not in name nor feeling. Companionship…yes, it’s something we all yearn for. It can’t be helped. A warm body, a brain to pick. All wonderful facets to enjoy for the sake of one’s own baser desiderata. But—“

“Shut up,” you bit out through gritted teeth, tugging at the roots of your hair when he kept going and you had to repeat yourself, “Shut up, you goddamned chatterbox. I don’t give a fuck about your love life. Why are you even talking about this?”

A brief silence occupied the space, as if he was thoroughly perplexed by your outburst. Then he let out a huffed laugh, amused.

“You inquired about the specifics of my occupation, little thorn.”

Every time he used that nickname for you—the thorn in my side—it made you bristle. Especially when he used it almost affectionately, soothingly, full of calm and charm that had you balling your fists and pricking the skin of your palms with your fingernails. You despised him, and he treated your existence as a joke, or as a little pet he would grab from its cage and admire before tossing it back and neglecting it until he deemed its presence acceptable again. Everything was funny. Everything could be laughed at. Sometimes you didn’t mind when the guards came to beat him bloody; it made him shut up, whether from pain or because he had passed out.

“Prospecting has nothing to do with love,” you snapped, shoulders tense despite the ache in your body. If these fuckers holding you captive didn’t kill you, the stress of surviving next to this fucker surely would.

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed, suddenly serious, “Love for others, at least. Love for the dig, love for the hunt and the adventure—that’s a different narrative altogether. Which is why I deemed it appropriate to explain such measures. The lifestyle I settled for is no small undertaking. It comes with sacrifice.”

His condescension was unintentional but still stabbed and poked at you like keepers at a circus.

————————————

It comes with sacrifice. That it did.

That long-ago night haunted you to this day.

But Ezra had his mind focused on softer dreams as he broke you from your self-destruction once more.

“Nights like these make me keen to hear you sing for me again,” he lilted out through the dark, a reminiscent simper pulling at his mouth and crinkling his eyes as he shifted to look down at you, “The melody of your voice haunts the halls of my midnight reveries. But it is such a sweet possession—as though I willed a ghost to enchant me with her gift. A siren indeed. Lure me into the sea of your deception, try to pull me under like the rest of them. But not me. No…not me—I float like driftwood in the breeze…follow the tides of your affection. Somehow I remain unscathed, and you lap at me in gentle waves.”

“Such powerful words from a man who should be asleep,” you chuckled quietly, pressing your lips to the back of his hand where you held onto it now, fingers laced.

“I am but a vendor of poetry. And you, a weaver of melody. Sing for me, siren,” he murmured, his voice thick with the drowsy pull of lassitude. He hadn’t asked that of you in so long you had almost forgotten what it felt like to hear it. Almost. And you would have agreed to it, but—

“No, the girl, she—“

“I don’t mind,” Cee interrupted, quiet and soft. It surprised you; you thought she had fallen asleep—you didn’t want to wake her with your singing. And then you were—

Shit. You sincerely hoped she had just woken up due to Ezra’s long-winded soliloquy about your singing, and hadn’t heard anything else beyond that. Mm, no. You think she would’ve said something about how fucking gross it was. Or pulled a thrower on you.

“As well you shouldn’t,” Ezra chuckled, turning his head to grin at the girl where she had turned to face him on the opposite cot, “She sings like Kevva strung her throat with gold. Or the very strings of a harp.”

You blushed and ducked your head into your shoulder, embarrassed by his flattery. Looked to him and found his honey-dark eyes drinking you in from above, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he flattened his palm over your chest and rubbed it affectionately. “What would you like to hear?” you asked, running a hand over your hair and shifting on the floor to calm your nerves.

It was just Ez.

…and a girl who harbored a teen angst bigger than ten moons; fuck if you wanted her to judge you.

“Whatever tickles your fancy,” he replied, his grin wider now that you’d agreed, “You know I’m not particular to any one hymn—I find myself enraptured by it all.”

“Okay.” You pondered for a moment before settling on one of your favorites.

Then you sang.

Quietly, nervously at first in an unpracticed rasp, then growing more steady and mellow and soft.

Some swirling folk melody from your childhood in your native tongue, one you’d never forget even if someday you lost your memory. A lullaby for village children; a lilting work song for the women to hum when laundering clothes at the stream, soothing the babies strapped to their backs or their chests or both.

It told the story of a curious young girl who loved the stillness of the ocean, found peace in its silky depths. She liked the silence so much that she would spend hours beneath the water, training to hold her breath and exploring the creatures of the reef and listening to the wavering silence.

Until one humming summer night she swam so deep the water turned black. She was scared she wouldn’t be able find her way back home but she reveled in the quiet—the quiet that not even the nighttime forest could provide, nor the village when the hunters and scavengers left for work. It was then that she saw a light shining from the deep, and decided to chase it.

Down, down, down.

And down. Until the light became so bright it surrounded her, seeped into her until she did not know where she began and it ended. No pain, no fear surrounded her. Just a sense of calm, and peace.

And she became the moon, the biggest one in the sky. The silence up there was incomparable.

The song was meant as a warning to the village children not to wander too far from the town and somehow find themselves in the cove breaching the outer mountain range. A warning to stay away, else you’d become one of the many moons in the sky, never to return to your family and the life you loved.

But you’d always found it more compelling than that, more meaningful, because the story originated from a similar legend of the moon goddess your village worshipped, the deity of the biggest satellite in your skies. The minor difference came in the detail that she chose to become the Great Moon after divine conversation instead of chasing a light down into the deep on a whim. And there was a ceremony held to initiate her transition into a celestial body.

When you’d wrapped up the lullaby you found yourself more at peace than you’d felt in a long time. You didn’t like to think about your planet, nor your village, nor the tragedies that occurred there. But this memory was a happy one, filled with sleepy eyes and chubby fingers grabbing onto mothers’ cloaks, and getting tucked into warm soft blankets by a fireplace.

“Sweet siren,” Ezra whispered in a drowsy slur, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he turned to rest on his back, “Never fail to soothe me even when ’m in utmost anguish.”

And with that, he left you in silence, and you knew he wasn’t far from sleep.

By the time his breath evened out, you felt your eyes drooping.

Fuck, you were exhausted.

This spin had been arguably more eventful than any you’d had in a long while, and it didn’t occur to you that you could be tired when you’d hardly done much until the action rolled in.

The floor was actually not half bad, given that you laid on the tarp that absorbed heat but quickly cooled when you moved. The nights here got cold, surprisingly. But Ezra’s hand hanging down and resting across your chest felt so good. The weight of him, the heat of him, it grounded you. You circled patterns into his upturned palm until you became too sleepy for that, settling on threading your fingers with his and feeling his pulse beneath your fingertips.

How dare he think you’d care for him less with only one arm? If anything, it showed his perseverance, his will to move forward and make hard decisions. Only something a man with determination could do.

He felt so warm and sure—steady. He was safe now that he had come back. You felt the inky black of sleep begin to wash over you as organized thought became jumbled feeling.

You didn’t have to worry anymore, not about his whereabouts. Everything was alright. It was as good as it had been in quite a while.

Everything would be alright, you could just…

Just…

“I wish my parents had loved each other like that,” Cee murmured in the quiet dark of the tent, rendering you wide awake with a jolt, as if someone had plunged a shot of adrenaline into your chest.

“They separate?” you managed, knowing it came out strange but not wanting to confirm or deny anything about you and Ezra. The silence that greeted you implied that she had had no intention of you hearing it. But she spoke regardless.

“No,” she scoffed, then went quiet for a moment, “My mom died when I was little. And I can’t remember what they were like together. We were always working so there wasn’t a lot of time for love between them.”  

Oh. An orphan. It softened you a little more for her, made you more sympathetic to the fact that Ezra had killed her last living parent. You were an orphan too. So was he.

“We’re all missing parts of our family in some way or another. People with worldly attachments don’t usually sign up for this level of intensity. Not the strays, anyhow.”

“But you have each other,” she insisted.

“By chance alone. We didn’t start off liking each other. And we’re not…married, or anything.”

The last bit came out strangled—you’d never…said something like that aloud.

You and Ezra, married? It was odd, to say the least. You never thought of yourself as one to desire marriage in any respect—ceremonial, legal, the like. It just didn’t sit well with you. Too many complications, a lot of governing body involvement that you didn’t care for.

And Ezra…he wasn’t too fond of it either. But not because he didn’t want it, that much he’d admitted to you one night after admitting the complications of his feelings on his love life, ones that somewhat contradicted the first time he told you about it all; he couldn’t have it, he’d never let himself believe even a fraction of him deserved it. The life of a floater—and sure, just as Cee’s parents had prospected and been married (you assumed) and had a kid, many others did the same. But then you supposed it ended with kids like Cee, and she was lucky to not lay dead next to her idiot father, or trapped and sold as a body in the Dark-Spawn Trades. Lucky Ezra wasn’t filthy and depraved, lucky you were once young and scared like her and so took it upon yourself to keep her in your sights for now.

“How’d you meet?”

A chuckle bubbled out of you as you sat up and ran your fingers through Ezra’s hair, watching his chest rise and fall in even strokes, thinking back on that night so long ago.

“Stealing supplies from the same drop company. Two feral dogs fighting over who deserved it more. We bickered and threatened so much we lost track of time and made a mess and a ruckus and got caught.” A smile threatened to break your features and you let it, for just a moment. It faded as you recalled your awful encounter, “Captured, tortured for information because they thought we worked for a rival mining company. They wanted the locations of dig-sites we didn’t have, mining techniques we didn’t know. When he brought up the Wastes earlier…that’s what he meant. Surprised we didn’t die, but they really thought we were valuable or something.”

You gave yourself a minute before continuing. In a panic, you rubbed circles over the tattoo on the web of Ezra’s hand between his thumb and forefinger, trying to ground yourself as wicked, blood-specked memories flooded your head.

Deep breath. You’re safe, he’s here. This will be good to get off your chest. You’ve never spelled it out to anyone before. Nobody’s ever asked. Maybe this girl is a gift from the universe, maybe she was sent here to give you space to heal. Deep breath. You’re safe. He’s here.

You eventually pressed the back of his limp hand to your cheek, and found your voice once more. You didn’t need to worry about waking him; once he conked out into REM sleep it took a freight train to wake him up. At least, when he was with you he always slept deeper. He’d told you one night; how it helped to have you there, like you dragged all the bad memories and nightmares away, pulling them so far out of reach he only found thoughtless, worry-free sleep.

“Hearing someone’s screams from the other side of a cell wall makes you more susceptible to care about them. A bonding experience, so to speak. He’d talk to me for hours on the nights they made us sit and anticipate another session. Recited poetry, recalled stories from his time as a prospector as an escape from our reality. I would sing for him, when we knew the guards had left. It was how we got to know each other. It’s—that’s why he calls me his siren. The reason I call him a chatterbox, among other obvious explanation.”

“How’d you get out?” Cee asked, resting her cheek on her hands as she laid on her side, watching you with keen interest.

“Killed them,” you rasped, not wanting to go into the gory details, “Every single one.”

For nights you had laid awake, haunted by memories of blood staining your only pair of clothes, blood splattering into your mouth, chunks of brain matter on Ezra’s gloves as he dragged you through a maze of tents and established buildings, viscera on your recovered suit, the way you’d had to swallow bile back down your esophagus at the sight of all the lives you’d taken. But you had to do it; it’s what you told yourself when the images would replay every time you closed your eyes.

Vengeance, necessity, paired with Ezra’s seemingly insatiable bloodlust—and your own. Your own shameful desire to incite violence, one you bred in the early years of your youth and had stuffed away until needed.

But you hadn’t been able to deny that, when Ezra shot a man who’d pinned you to the ground and then finished him off with a knife spurting blood out his neck, it stirred your blood something wild. Hearing him panting through the transmitter, grunts and curses as he tore through humans and humanoids and alien creatures alike right beside you. Hearing him call out targets, watching your six, taking single-word direction from you when you did the same.

They worked like a well-oiled machine, like you two had never not known the other. And he was sloppy in his technique, grounded more in brute force than strategy—but you made up for that in quick, evasive maneuvers and stealth. Both of you had near-perfect aim and could work around the clunky gear of your suits.

Messy—pools of blood, the sickening crunch of bone and cartilage crushed beneath your hands and your feet and your knife and whatever other weapon you scavenged along the way.

It felt like a ritual. A baptism of carnage that ensured neither one of you could live without the other.

So of course, when it all was over and the last vertebra snapped—

—there had been filthy, unhinged, surely unsanitary, bio-hazardous fucking in a tent surrounded by carnage.

Fucking in way you could only describe as feral.

Unrestrained.

Hot, Kevva’s saints was it brutally hot and so needy—but also so, so tender.

Full of soft emotion. Unspoken, even for Ezra’s standards. Almost loving.

Your aching bodies, exhausted and weak and battered, dragged lazily against one another once both of you had ceased the initial writhing pace of passion and the adrenaline ebbed. It tasted tinny like blood and musky like spit and salty with sweat and tears, and if nothing more, it was real. Whispering about how fuck, they’d made it and god, they were on the same level, we made it, baby—can’t live without you, I need you I need you I need you—

That day was quite possibly your favorite memory as well as one of your darkest. The day that you knew, in the charred, most twisted part of you, that you’d follow this man to the ends of every planet, to the far reaches of the universe—and he’d very well do the same.

Of course, you shared none of that with Cee.

“We took down the main base of the entire company. They were small but well-endowed. Got to transfer points into our accounts and sort through the mining equipment and the food,” you offered instead after a long bout of silence, “And the spoils of their labor. We were rich, could have retired early.”

“Why didn’t you?”

You debated whether to lie or tell her the truth, deciding on the latter. This girl wasn’t a threat, she genuinely wanted to know. “Ezra and I have—had a certain…interest in finding thrill wherever we can.”

Cee quirked an eyebrow, and you elaborated, “It’s not something to romanticize, we certainly weren’t smart about our spending. Gambling, drugs, slingshot scooter racing, smuggled creature ring-fights. The risk makes winning worth it. It was addicting. We earned a lot. Uncountable amounts of money. But we spent it all and then spent more. Pulled stunts that not even the most daring would try. Heists, intel-theft for enemies of certain people. We got caught up in it. Eventually drowned in a swamp of debt and unrequited favors. Got put on watchlists by the head crime syndicate and peace officers alike in the Core Worlds because we got cocky. Sloppy. So many people want our heads on a stake that we’d be better off dying out here. It’d be ironic, given the executions we deserve.”

You shuddered at the thought of Karolclan and their unusual procedures for punishment. They wanted you the most—you owed them the most. Them and Omni-Five. But Karolclan was decidedly worse.

“Why are you still mining? Wouldn’t it be easier to hide somewhere less dangerous?”

“We have debts to pay, bird,” you sighed, fond of the nickname Ezra gave her as it fit her well, “It’s the only honest work we can get without a biotracker recognizing our scans or someone realizing that the burner names and scouting codes we give them are bullshit. We work alone—no drop company, no mining corps. Until we can get our names cleared and our bio-scans off the watchlist, we can’t do shit else.”

If nothing more, Karolclan did allow debt payoff. But only if you could evade their capture, and only if you had the means to satisfy compounded interest. They were brutal, ruthless.

“He said you had a crew…and a ship…before you ended up stranded.”

“We did. A group of people like us. But you can imagine that a group of outlaws don’t always see eye to eye—buncha hotheaded criminals. Fought over aurelac, argued over fair shares, resources, everything.”

That wasn’t the whole story.

It started as a dispute over aurelac, but had quickly turned into a spat against Ezra, why he had so many successful harvests and surely he was stealing or cheating, how it wasn’t fair that you two were attached at the hip and didn’t section off when you split into groups to cover more land. In the heat of argument and the desperation of man, that had morphed into threats against you—Why don’t you fucking share her, Ezra? We all have needs and she’s barely good at the dig-sites. Put her to use somewhere else or we’ll find a use for her, and that devolved into Might take her right from under you if you don’t watch yourself, don’t be surprised if you hear her struggle tonight.

You had gotten used to the crude commentary, the snickers and wolf-whistles when you bent over, and if they had tried to somehow steal you away in the night, they’d have been reminded that you slept fully armed and showed no mercy to anyone who touched you unless they knew just where to start—and only one person did.

But that…that had not gone over well with him. It ended before you even knew what he did, and pretty soon you had a dead crewmate spilling blood over your boots while the familiar sound of throwers charging up rang in your ears, all of them pointed at the man panting beside you. The only one from the group to live and remain on the Green had been Two, and honestly you were never fond of them but weren’t surprised when they helped you and Ezra take the heat off your backs—they always teamed up with you two and they were good at what they did. It was a shame they were gone—despite their silence and threatening demeanor and sometimes uncalculated moves in a plan, they never made a move to harm either of you; they just wanted to harvest and get out like you did. Better them than Ezra, though. You’d have genuinely lost your mind if they had shown up in his stead.

“Did you kill the crew too?”

“Only a few,” you said honestly, “The others left us stranded when they realized we’d kill them next. Number Two was our only ally. Now they’re dead.”

You laid back down and put Ezra’s hand across your chest again, “Get some rest now. We’ve got a long day ahead of us. And if you choose to kill him while we sleep—kill both of us.”

You didn’t know why you’d felt compelled to say that, but revealing such a dark part of yourself to her convinced you that she’d plant a bolt in you or Ezra’s head and run. Ezra was the more likely target, given his history with the girl. It was irrational, for the most part; if she truly wanted him dead she would have let his wound kill him. Or she would have shot him sooner. But you couldn’t be too sure.

And you’d sooner die than wake up to him cold next to you.

[hibiscxs]

GreysAU Klaus has been in my head a little too much. I’m just super curious about who he was and how his story translates in this AU. I think both Josie and Hope were a little too generous with his reasoning behind keeping his CMT a secret.

I like to imagine that he was adamant in continuing to perform surgery bc it directly influenced his power/influence in the medical community, so he risked killing patients in order to hold onto his power.

But by the time Hope starts showing symptoms, he felt intense guilt for passing this on to her, and wanted her to cover it up so she didn’t have to feel the “shame” of not being able to do great things in her field and not being able to hold the same position of power that he did. 

Honestly, it’s all pretty ableist, which is no surprise since Klaus and Hope’s CMT seems to be an analogy for their lycanthropy, which Klaus was clearly never fully comfortable with, and their statuses as surgeons-with-CMT an analogy for them being a hybrid and a tribrid. In this AU, it’s likely that Klaus inherited it from his biological father and that Mikael treated it as a sign of weakness, ingraining in Klaus a deep shame.

Speaking of the inheritance pattern of their CMT, Josie says its passed from “father to daughter”. Because she specifically mentioned gender of the parent and child, it signalled to me that it was linked to a sex chromosome, and since she said father to daughter specifically, the X chromosome in particular. Females like Hope typically have a lower chance of showing symptoms of X-linked conditions since they have a second X chromosome that would typically be healthy. If they do have symptoms, they would be milder than those of their afflicted father or male siblings. 

But, since its likely an analogy for lycanthropy and since none of the other Mikaelson siblings are mentioned to have it, it’s likely that it really was Klaus’s father that passed it to him, not Esther. Meaning, it can’t be X-linked CMT, since father’s can’t pass an X-linked condition to their male offspring. Also meaning that their CMT is autosomal. Autosomal dominant would work just fine, meaning that Ansel had it, passed it on to Klaus, who passed it on to Hope. But, I do like the idea that Hayley also had CMT, the difference being that she didn’t lie about it out of shame like Klaus did. If Hayley did have CMT too, then autosomal dominant still works, but autosomal recessive would too. Only, if it were autosomal recessive, then Esther would have had to have a dormant gene, which doesn’t really work with the lycanthropy analogy.

Anyway, so yeah, I just wanted to figure out how Hayley having CMT too would work with this, and I find that it would have been a touching story for Hayley to show Klaus that he didn’t have to be so deeply ashamed of his condition

[palukoo]

So! @thxngam and @claudiasjeancregg enabled me to talk about that scene in Dead Irish Writers and oh boy did I run with it! 

So... the scene is super interesting for several reasons... let’s dive in...

It’s a scene that’s just women, and, by West Wing standards, several women, and you realize you’ve never really seen all the main women together without the men before that, I think. I mean, you also really haven’t seen how Donna and Abbey interact, which is why this scene is so good

The four of them actually have two scenes with this sort of thing off the top of my head-- this, and then during Zoey’s kidnapping arc with Amy and CJ trying to stop Abbey from going into the press room (though Donna doesn’t talk in that one)

I probably will bring this up again but on top of this not being a dynamic the audience has seen before, I don’t think it’s a dynamic that they’ve had before in this combination... like... 

Any group of two of them I will accept having spent some time together, though I doubt Donna and Abbey are close (partially due to the power dynamics I’ll get into later) and Donna and Amy don’t know each other well

Any group of the three of them? Not so much

Amy, CJ, and Abbey maybe, because they do say or imply that Amy knows both of them and is friends (?) with both of them before we ever see her, but... I don’t see her as being particularly close with the campaign or administration, so... (but I’m SO glad we get it here and during the kidnapping arc)

Amy, CJ, and Donna is a dynamic I adore and that I think this scene kinda opens the door for it in a lot of ways but again, since I don’t think Amy and Donna are close at all at this point and Amy’s not that close the the administration at this point, I don’t see it

CJ, Donna, and Abbey I will absolutely accept actually but not in any sort of like meaningful or non professional context. The way Donna reacts to being invited in in this scene? This is new for her

Amy, Donna, and Abbey? Nope. Love it as a concept, but nope

So the four of them? Yeah, no

Which is relevant in like. The way women get to interact on screen and like. The way women are isolated in male dominated fields

(Amy, working for the WLC, is certainly in a less male dominated subset of the male dominated field of politics, as is Donna since a bunch of the assistants are women, and I get that Abbey has a very specific and gendered position in the show, but she and CJ are both absolutely in male driven fields)

And it’s relevant because Abbey’s shifting her anger into this like, feminist framing where she doesn’t not have a point (I’ll get there) but it’s also not really the whole story at all, which is why I think it was very smart of them to have it be this group to call her on it, because from any of the guys it would’ve been... easily yikes?

The other absolutely crazy thing here is the power dynamics which I know people have talked about before and CJ even calls attention to but you’ve got like

Abbey is sort of CJ’s boss, and her friend, but the nature of their positions in the administration are weird and they’re both honestly undermined a fair amount but a lot of the admin doesn’t take First Lady/Abbey seriously, so! It’s interesting!

Not in a direct sort of way but CJ clearly has more power than Donna, and they’re also friends

Do the math on Abbey and Donna, plus again we don’t really see them interact before this

Amy sort of exists outside of this, because she’s the only one who doesn’t work in the White House, but that also like. Is a dynamic in it of itself. She also definitely has a more visible and overtly powerful position than Donna and is sort dating Donna’s boss, so?

Also Abbey used to babysit for Amy which just makes this. A lot!

So I’m gonna try to sort of break the scene up into parts and do it like that. If I wanted to make this even longer, I would start before this scene because there’s a lot of relevant context/lead up, but I’ll just mention it

Donna’s just found out she’s not a citizen which is a lot

Amy’s kind of pissed at Josh who’s kind of pissed at her

Abbey’s also kind of pissed at Josh probably, especially if she caught any of what he was saying to Amy

Abbey didn’t want a whole thing and is obviously stressed about her license

CJ’s the one who caught that the guy was recusing himself and had to tell Abbey

“Claudia Jean?” “Yes, ma’am?” “Let’s go get drunk.” “Okay” should be a master class in acting

Also relevant is Abbey choosing CJ and Amy to get drunk with for this. They’re career women in politics who are her friends and who should understand this sort of.

So they get to the residence... “Awasiwi Odinak, far from the things of man...”

Abbey instantly cuts to complaining about Jed bc she’s angry at him and in her defense only some of it is misplaced!

But like... she says “what a jackass” and CJ immediately says “I’m gonna open the wine” in a very “can we not do this” way, and Amy just... is there. Hanging out. Trying to open drawers

As a note on that there is no way Amy’s being like. Genuine there. I love how awkward she is but she’s not about to take notes while getting drunk with them. She’s being awkward and funny and avoidant and I love her (like as a random note Amy is... very rarely still)

When she comes to sit with them and sits on the arm of the couch, it’s a really interesting detail that I see as her sitting as far away from them as she can without it seeming so blatant

And Abbey keeps talking, and neither of them really respond 

CJ with the corkscrew is of course iconic and funny and I think it’s part of the reason the scene works and it makes sense because CJ’s uncomfortable in this scene. Her rambling about the corkscrew prevents her, momentarily, from being in this uncomfortable position that she’s put into so much more later where she’s thrown into the issues of Abbey and Jed’s marriage and she really doesn’t want to be because she has a ton of respect and care for both of them

What I mean by “the reason the scene works” is that it needs to keep being drawn back to funny before it can snap. It’s a very specific kind of bubbling tension, and I really like it

Abbey saying “I’m board certified in thoracic surgery” brings you back to the fact that maybe she won’t be for very long, but it’s said as a joke and moved on from quickly, so you can’t dwell on it

I describe Abbey in this scene as “erratically vulnerable” which I don’t know if that’s quite right, but I think there’s maybe a glimpse of her realizing what she’s saying here, and the specific implications in that moment, and then changing subjects immediately

And of course she asks Amy about Josh...

What I find really interesting about this is Amy’s response of “he’s... you know... he’s adjusting.”

Amy doesn’t pull punches with Josh usually, but she does here (she also seems to earlier when she tells him he’s right, but then she gets Abbey to bug him) and I think it’s because we’re seeing her talk about Josh, not to Josh

Abbey says “well let him adjust faster. Jackass.” which is again, funny, but so so indicative of how frustrated she is and how she’s taking it out because literally earlier in the episode she says to Amy and Josh something like “I still haven’t gotten credit for this (I love them and their responses of “we’ll see” and “jury’s still out” to that)

Enter Donna!

Side note on timing, Donna walking in as Abbey insults Josh vs Abbey walking up as Josh insults Abbey

Donna coming in shifts this scene a lot

For one thing, it sets up this interesting play (that feels like me being really contrived and probably is) on audience proxy, that if I get into will only complicate things so I guess... if you’re curious, ask

(Donna plays audience proxy a lot in The West Wing as they explain political concepts and whatnot, and it’s not a thing you see so much in these really character driven scenes because it becomes unnecessary and sort of clunky

But the thing is that in this scene at this point, Amy feels very audience proxy-y... I will concede that in any given scene it’s easy for me to default, in analysis, to Amy and her perspective, but she feels very much like an observer of CJ’s jokes and Abbey’s anger thus far in the scene-- it definitely shifts back to Donna after the fade out)

I also want to shout out Donna’s body language here! The way she steps in cautiously and plays with her hands as she talks is really good at showing her discomfort, and I think it’s neat to draw a parallel here between her and Amy a minute or two before. Like, seriously though, watch her hands in this scene. It’s so good

But Donna walking in this room shifts things!!

Pulls attention to the... D plot? I don’t know, it’s the B plot of the scene, but there’s a lot going on in this episode, which is funny in the context of watching it if not for Donna, and away from Abbey’s heavy plot here, like a pressure valve in that tension I was talking about. Donna looks nervous here, but everyone else seems to relax

It also makes this more of a... White House thing. Like, because Abbey and Donna specifically probably have not been friends much, it further complicates the lines between personal and professional relationships here

But let’s actually talk about the dialogue a little bit, because I think it’s really funny that she’s there looking for Amy for Josh, when Josh knows she left to get drunk with CJ and Abbey, and there’s not a second in that room where Amy is going to leave. It somehow feels shoehorned/plot device-y but also in character at the same time?

The line is “Josh was looking for Amy” to which Abbey says “She’s right here” and Amy just waves weirdly with half her hand since she’s holding her glass. Yes I know I keep fixating a little on Amy’s physicality, but it’s SO good

And then Abbey says “Where have you been all night?”

One of my FAVORITE exchanges this episode is “It’s a little tough to explain, ma’am.” “Tougher to explain than secretly prescribing Betaseron?”

The way Abbey jokes about it!! It’s very specific because it’s not an “I’m moving past it so I can joke about it” it’s that she’s specifically bitter and it comes out... not hostile, but something

That’s sort of what I mean by erratic vulnerability?

Donna explaining the citizenship issue with CJ’s convenient questions is a nice break, like I said, and Amy’s “you seem pretty calm about it” gives Donna the room to freak out about it a little

And Donna freaking out about it a little gives Abbey room to be the “rational” one? Not exactly?

It’s also just a nice contrast in how they show their anxieties and it works really well for them as characters

Donna goes to leave, and Abbey invites her to stay

Which is also interesting? Since like I said, I don’t think they’re friends

But it’s also super in character because there’s something very grandiose about Abbey and it’s there in this scene. Like she... wants an audience? Even as she’s sort of trying to get away from this room where she’s forced to perform? I don’t know

Donna’s genuine excitement here is so cute

She sits even further from them than Amy had, on a chair instead of the couches

Another great exchange? “I probably shouldn’t drink, though” “I wouldn’t worry about it!”

There’s also something a little awkward and desperate about Amy’s “Canadian, huh?” like she’s trying to fill the silence and keep it from driving straight back to Abbey’s anger and identity crisis, and I just like how they play off each other here

CJ "opens" the bottle, Abbey says they'll decant it, Amy says "Now it's a party" and does the most iconic slide from the arm of the couch onto the cushions with Abbey

And then it cuts back in, and they're all boozier, especially, evidently, CJ!

But there’s something to be said, if we’re tracing body language, for Donna now being on the couch and Amy leaning into Abbey so much

With the later context that they’ve known each other since Amy was a kid, I accept it, but it’s absolutely crazy in the context of Abbey as the First Lady and Amy joining them because “you think I don’t wanna write a book some day?”

I mean, I love it either way, but it makes more sense with the retroactive context

I love love love CJ laughing and rambling about the cork and the wine and then you get another really important shift. Because Abbey seems annoyed in general but more amused than anything by CJ’s tangents before the fade out, and she’s at this point way less endeared.

Which totally makes sense, of course, ‘cause if you’re stressed and frustrated, anything is going to annoy you, including and honestly especially your friend being rambly about something completely irrelevant

I also love Donna looking around at Abbey and Amy while CJ is talking trying to make like conspiratorially amused eye contact, it’s a really subtle, human detail

Anyways, Abbey interrupts CJ to make her stop (This is another body language thing where I love how leaned back she is, how she rubs at her forehead as CJ keeps going on)

And it’s here I’m gonna start being REALLY pedantic probably

“Mrs. Bartlet, I wanted to ask you a question but I’m not sure how” “What?” 

First of all, this feels so... soft? This is actually why I’ll accept the babysitter thing

Amy playing with Abbey’s dress is so! good! Look, Amy’s so fidgety and I adore it!!

Also, I love this because Amy clearly doesn’t really want to ask, but she’s also not good at keeping quiet when something is bothering her

“Well, if the most they can give you is a year's suspension, is it...?” “That big a deal?”

Amy stops herself! Because she doesn’t want to say it! Or doesn’t know how to 

Amy never actually criticizes her in this scene, which is neat, because Amy’s practically introduced to us through criticizing Abbey. One of her first lines in the show is “[Abbey] isn’t doing enough for women” and she has lines like “I’ll keep poking him with a stick. That’s how I show my love” but in Privateers, Josh also tells her “it’s okay to tell her you disagree with her” while Amy’s refusing to go against her. It’s not inconsistent-- I just think Amy has a think about criticizing Abbey to her face, kind of, and here, while Abbey’s this upset, of course she’s hesitant at best

“Yes.” “Yes. I'm a doctor. It's not like changing your major. You of all people should...”

Abbey really says this to Amy “who has had seven jobs in three years” Gardner, Amy “and I’d [stake my job and career on a political issue] again” Gardner... “you of all people should...” Amy’s a career driven feminist lobbyist, but she’s not someone who can tie her identity to a job which is the real issue Abbey’s having, she just wants to frame it like this

I love the way Amy looks down during this, too

(“You of all people should...” makes a lot more sense, actually, after Amy loses her job because of her and Josh’s political fights over marriage incentives in welfare reauthorization)

((Also, how many times did Donna change her major? It’s not relevant, really, it just makes this an even funnier room for Abbey to say this in))

“I mean, women talk about their husbands overshadowing their careers. Mine got eaten”

She’s valid for being angry about this, but also she’s conflating things. She’s not losing her license just because of Jed

Like, it’s fair for her to hate how much of herself and her career and her life she’s had to give up because her husband is the president. I think it’s important, even with Donna’s also valid criticism here in a minute, that Abbey’s not being irrationally upset. It’s a choice she played a part in making, but it was never going to be a good choice for her, and it isn’t really fair to her, and it isn’t really any one person’s fault

And yes, I DO love how Abbey talks with her hands here. It’s that kind of grandiose thing about her

“Your husband got eaten” “My career” “Yeah, well, I’m on dangling modifier patrol” “What is your problem?”

I’m going to lose it a little bit here, because it’s really funny at face value

Like, this is one of my favorite tww comedic moments. The timing is so good. But trying to analyze this scene? Watching this scene multiple times? This is them being snippy with each other. CJ is upset here, with Abbey

(One of the things I really like about Sorkin-style rapid fire dialogue is that there’s a rewatchability where you pick up on different things each time)

CJ’s really subtle about it, which is... CJ is very subtle about her emotions a lot and there’s something similar you can look at throughout the show as a whole and also this episode in particular with the different ways that she, Abbey, and Jed learn to put on facades and deal with being very, very public people. Abbey in particular in this episode has a lot of rapid demeanor shifts, but you get the same thing from CJ going to brief in some of the heavier episodes, or, like, Jed at Leo’s funeral

I mean, really, the “What is your problem” feels way more jarring than anything CJ has said because outwardly she’s just been joking, but there’s... a tension or something? A flatness to her voice? A lack of amusement? It’s a really stark contrast to how she’s been overly amused about the cork or whatever. It’s good, and I like that Abbey picks up on it and doesn’t let it keep going unspoken

I do wanna take a second here because CJ doesn’t fully answer, I don’t think, so I wanna answer for her

A part of it is just her loyalty to Jed, too, and specifically to the president I think, and the awkwardness of being thrown into Abbey being so disparaging about that 

I also think that, as a character who takes on a lot of personal responsibility and, to an extent, guilt (less than some of the others, or at least less overtly), and internalizes a lot, it sort of bothers her that Abbey’s refusing to take responsibility here, like, at all, and that Abbey is externalizing all of her anger

The other thing is that we do unpack all of the team feeling betrayed and upset and angry with Jed and even sort of Leo during the whole MS plot, but we don’t really deal with any of them being angry with Abbey

And none of them would be, particularly, because she’s not their boss, their career, their friend, but she is CJ’s friend

She tells CJ “I wanted to be there when you were told” but she didn’t say “I wanted to tell you” (which. I could write a lot more about this but this is already too long)

And I think CJ hasn’t had any opportunity to address or unpack that

Oh, and here we see CJ refilling her own AND Donna’s glasses, meaning Donna is drinking. I would love to see the full transition between the scenes tbh

“Are you First Lady right now?” I love CJ’s sigh leading up to that, the way she doesn’t want to get into it

“What are you talking about?” “Sometimes you like to talk, and I think that’s great, but sometimes you're Abbey and sometimes you’re my boss, and I respect both very much, but--”

HOW is CJ this eloquent moments after the corkscrew monologue? 

No, but this is really it, and speaking of taking things under the surface and calling them out (wow, I did it, the whole analysis, right there...), CJ is just shining a massive light on the weird power dynamics here, and that everyone in this room other than Abbey has a really, really valid reason to feel uneasy in this conversation because of those power dynamic

“I’m Abbey.” “Yes, I agree with her”

Cutting it off right here because I love how quick they are with this. Like, it’s Sorkin, so duh, but Abbey’s hand up cutting CJ off and as soon as she’s spoken, CJ jumping in to say what she wants to

This is interesting because Amy hasn’t exactly made a point for CJ to agree with, also. Like, it’s supposed to be “is it really a big deal?” but Amy did not say that. I just think it’s neat

Also, because I’m obsessed with CJ and Amy’s implied friendship, I love this moment

“Look, they take this job away from me, I got nothing. I don't have a cat. I could get one, but I don't have one. Frankly, I'm not wild about cats. I don't hate them. I'm just not... I could learn to like them, I guess, if I...”

CJ losing the thread here again gives the scene it’s rhythm... it’s ebb and flow of tension and humor... it’s funny, to watch this, but you also kind of want to get back to the point, too

“CJ?” (with the pointed arm motion, too) “You've got a husband, children, a home and a life. And we're talking about one year of your not having a medical license.”

I think CJ is mostly being like “It’s not all you are” and sort of “stop complaining” but it’s also a step away from a point that Amy also ends up approaching, which is... First Lady is a weird position, and they do something specific with it in the west wing

Essentially, neither Abbey nor Helen wants it and it sort of becomes about sacrifice and loyalty and public and political and private life balance, but the First Lady is a public figure, with responsibilities and powers and careers, and it’s fair to on a professional level be upset with Abbey for being so dismissive about those

It’s also fair for Abbey to resent being thrust into this role she doesn’t want

“Jed got censured, and that came with no tangible penalty, and it was a banner headline, and he's having a slow nervous breakdown.”

The way I interpret this is both that she’s bitter at having to bear the tangible penalty of the two of them, and she’s trying to justify being upset at it, at the perceived injustice

ALSO, Abbey’s voice here makes me want to cry, because she sounds like she’s about to cry, and I realize half of this analysis is me saying “Yeah they were right to call Abbey out” but like. You do feel for Abbey here. You understand why she made the choices she did and why she’s upset at having made them, at being put in a position to make them

CJ looking away and almost rolling her eyes here is also really good, she’s so frustrated at Abbey just willfully missing the point 

“That’s different” “Why?” “‘Cause it is, and you know it.”

The thing that makes it different is actually, I think, basically the point Donna’s about to make. Like CJ’s close to making that same point, because the thing that makes it different is that what Abbey did is directly related to her doing her job poorly, essentially, and what Jed did isn’t, so of course she’s gonna get a more tangible penalty

“Okay, I’m First Lady again” “Okay.”

Abbey saying that is obviously a shield but also feels so vulnerable, like an admission that she can’t take it

CJ’s tone here is so good, too. Like she is backing off but the way she says it like “Okay well if you don’t wanna hear it that’s fine I guess”

Again, god, watch their hands

“You are First Lady, Abbey.” “Yes.” “And it’s not like it’s been a detour from healthcare” “No” “What, you’ve expanded Medicare to...” etc etc

Cutting in after that and keeping talking about it is... pretty bold honestly

The thing here is that Amy’s both arguing CJ’s point, basically, of like, you still have things, a career, and reassuring Abbey and being like it’s not giving you or your priorities or your identity up

It’s very smart, and it reminds me that Amy is, in very specific circumstances, really good at this sort of communication

I also love that she can list all this off. Like, of course she can, but I love it

When CJ says “There’s plenty of stuff left” I really wonder if she’s supposed to mean to list or to do but I like the sort of ambiguity there

Here’s another bit where the tension subsides, and the thing is, this is a weird sort of fake out ‘cause it almost feels like that’s going to be it, but no one has said the thing, the tension hasn’t fully erupted yet

“That’s not the point” “What’s the point?”

The point is that Abbey never wanted this, it’s not her, and god, I want to hug her

“I’m a doctor” could be a really poignant beat because that’s also the thing Abbey hasn’t explicitly said yet, or at least not emphasized, that this is about feeling like her identity is being taken away

But do they let us sit with this line? No. If they gave us a beat here, Donna’s line would feel weird on several levels

“Oh, Mrs. Bartlet, for crying out loud, you were also a doctor when your husband said, ‘Give me the drugs, and don't tell anybody,’ and you said, ‘Okay.’”

Donna has not spoken, I should point out, since before the fade to black. It makes the line really slap you in the face. Everything about this line, from timing (immediately after line before, long pause after it) to who is saying it is designed for impact, surprise

She’s also saying it very nonchalantly, half laughing. There’s a lot about her delivery that is exasperated, genuinely frustrated criticism, but it’s also just... almost playful teasing for a second in there

More on why it’s Donna saying it, though

I think you just don’t expect Donna to be... it’s not quite rude. Antagonistic at all? Beyond like lightly teasing the others? Certainly not to Abbey especially with the lead in of her being surprised and honored by being invited to drink with them

Amy criticizing Abbey doesn’t have the same impact. She’s not a main character, you’re probably gonna take Abbey’s side, really, and Amy criticizing her, like I said, isn’t new

You can’t take the personal elements out of CJ saying it. You can’t. They don’t give us a ton of context on CJ and Abbey’s friendship, but it’s very clearly deep, and CJ has also already explicitly backed off as far as this conversation

Remember what I said about audience proxy? Donna’s kinda their go to every-man, and this also is a window into how the public would feel about it. For the like, hundredth time, Donna and Abbey are not close, and she’s as close as you can get in this show, maybe, to an objective messenger for this while it’s still from a trusted, likeable main character. You have to balance feeling for Abbey with Donna’s valid point here

Also, Donna’s really good at reading people and casually calling them out/breaking things down.

(Aka being a stand in for explaining things (if it’s political, explain it to Donna, if it’s someone’s emotional shit they’re too repressed to say but you want the audience to get anyway, explain it through Donna. This isn’t criticism, I exploit the second often in my fic)

See also: her and CJ in No Exit, her and Amy about Josh in Commencement

(Donna doesn’t actually look at Abbey like at all as she’s saying this. She’s mostly vaguely looking down or looking at Amy. I don’t know what to do with that, exactly)

Abbey’s stare here!! It’s... shellshocked. Because I don’t know that she really has processed like, no, this was your mistake too, you did have agency in this, etc, bc she’s been using the anger as a defense all episode

Amy’s face is comical here, which I think is mostly not expecting that from Donna (which is the point) or from anyone to Abbey. Based on their relationship, there’s probably some base defensiveness on Abbey’s behalf, but I also think, and this is more headcanon, that like this is a position Amy’s been in before

“I used to get you in some jams” “Yes you did” plus her whole vibe, I have to assume Amy’s stepped out of line with Abbey before

CJ doesn’t look surprised, because hey! She knows both Donna and Abbey well, so she can maybe see it coming more, and like I said, I think she was really about to make the same point before Abbey stopped her, kind of. She looks like she’s waiting for it to catch up with Donna

And catch up it does! She looks over, panicked, to CJ, like she’s just remembered the whole layout of power dynamics CJ articulated

“Oh my god. You switched back to First Lady” “That’s alright”

I love that the first thing Donna says isn’t an apology, isn’t saying she was wrong, she shouldn’t have said that, she’s out of line, it’s just panic

And the fact that Abbey quickly just reassures her after! It’s so good

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Bartlet” “It’s okay”

The camera staying on Abbey here is really smart, the way she shakes her head and you can watch her distracted reassurance, her processing 

Even without the “O Canada” etc stunt, I would insist, from Abbey’s reaction here, that she really isn’t upset with Donna, she’s just upset, but she does know, really, that she needed to hear that, that she’ll be grateful for it

CJ and Amy both make faces that are kind of like... quietly agreeing with Donna. Like a “Well, yeah, and now it’s been said, and that’s... a relief?” It’s good for the release of tension they finally give us

“He took the censure standing up, Abbey. I was very proud to have voted for him that day.” “Me, too.”

This is not the place for me to unpack my feelings on Amy and Jed

Her calling her Abbey here is interesting, personal, considering she’s been calling her “Mrs. Bartlet” all night and they’ve explicitly gone over the “you switched back to first lady” but I think it really works for the line

With this, it’s different, too, because it did come with no tangible penalty for Jed, but it’s still... something about integrity, maybe.

And Abbey saying “Me, too” is so gently hopeful, in a way, and it’s the first positive thing she’s said about Jed this whole time, really, and it gives you a nice feeling, like it’s going to be okay. Abbey and Jed, and Abbey just as a person

Donna looks so sort of regretful here you just want to reassure her that Abbey really, really isn’t upset with her, that she appreciates it, but it’s okay because you get the Canadian flags at the end

“Let’s get back to the party” is sort of one of the switches I’m talking about with Abbey, and you need it to move the episode along, and it wraps it all up

anyways this is an 11 page document and i’m sorry

[breadclubrising]

Why do you believe another gl reunion would make Ibushi fulfilled? Bc last time he seemed pretty annoyed by the end of it, saying he was just being tossed aside as "Kenny's replacement" and "I have nothing else to do in this tournament" and ofc the "I've always been alone". Why would it be different now?

wellllllllllll because the GL story has a surprising amount of nuance for a wrestling storyline, and has kind of deliberately mixed kayfabe with real life in such a way that you can’t talk about them separately a lot of the time.

i DEFINITELY didn’t say he ‘needs’ it to be ‘fulfilled’, because that is a thing that would give me hives to say. i have many times said he doesn’t need Kenny and that’s been the point, is that they both totally can be great without each other, but they keep choosing each other and even if they’re successful in their careers, they are unhappy when they’re apart. if you find that disagreeable, please email kota (i know for a fact he does not check his email because of course he doesn’t). What I said was: it is how their careers will play out because they literally say that will happen and they have gone to LENGTHS in real life to make it happen.

i saw someone on twitter who bothered to take a screenshot of some galaxy brain on reddit finally figuring out that ibushi and omega see each other as endgame, and captioned it something like ‘golden lovers is the worst story in wrestling please stop.’ which is totally an opinion you are welcome to have but also, the part about them being each other’s endgame is a thing they both have said and kenny in particular will never let anyone forget. i do not understand why people give it the ‘lol shut up fangirl shippers’ treatment when it’s a thing that has been telegraphed since the beginning of time, unless you are calling ibushi and omega fangirl shippers, which you actually probably should bc no one ships GL more. anyway, i actually completely get why people who don’t like the storyline, or don’t like kenny, or whatever, have a different reading of the actual events that took place. but it means that you asking me this question isn’t going to get you a satisfying answer, and that makes me feel like you’re just asking me this to make me feel bad for liking a thing incorrectly. 

but you did ask, which is totally on you, so: Ibushi said (explicitly, in interviews, and on twitter) that he was frustrated with himself for not Reaching His Potential. He never expressed frustration with Kenny, or even with NJPW’s booking. He wasn’t even officially signed until a couple months after Kenny left. 

It was like this: he was an outsider in the company. He was always paired with the guy who is like, certified by the belt to be The Best Wrestler In The World. That guy had a problem like the bus in Speed, except instead of having to maintain a speed of 60mph to avoid exploding, the bus has to constantly say its boyfriend is the coolest. So Kenny, the best wrestler in the world according to kayfabe, is like ‘actually my mans here is the best wrestler in the world’ and kota’s like ‘thanks i love you too but i’m pretty sure you’re the one with the belt and the pwi cover and 437 meltzer stars you fucking labradoodle.’ (I’d bet money Kota does not know what a labradoodle is.) Kenny’s stanning was sweet and well-intentioned but to Kota it only highlighted the achievement gulf between them. And it did not help that his mentor Tanahashi was like ‘allow me to highlight the achievement gulf between you and your genetically inferior labradoodle boyfriend, whomst i don’t like for Reasons.’

And that made Ibushi be like ‘i’m 36 (at the time) years old and I have every muscle and yet, no accolades. the fact that i have not yet managed to be the unequivocal best and that i foolishly had a body and feelings is shameful and weak.’

That’s how he is: he beats himself up about stuff like goddamn taking time off to heal from neck surgery and a mental breakdown, and the unforgivable sin of not being quite sure what direction he wanted to take his career. It felt really bad! It deffos did! But his frustration was not directed where you think it was! But that’s the part I said you’re not going to agree with me on, so!

There was so much going ON in this story and it was really GOOD! Like all the stuff with Tanahashi was incredible and heart-wrenching and you just wanted to both smack and hug all three of them and it was a really good story! 

Sometimes I just need to remind myself of that bc people who dislike the Golden Lovers are very reductive about why they assume people like the thing they do not like. But yes, it actually is a good story, now that I type a tiny part of it out like that; not my fault some people seem to have missed the epic heroes’ journeys forest for the gay love story trees. Not that there’s anything wrong with gay love story trees; also very much part of the forest.

Anyway Anon, part of the reason earlier on I speculated that you just came to my inbox to try to make me feel sad for liking things in a way you did not was that... honestly. HOW did ANYONE watch Ibushi say “I was always alone, before” after he won the 2019 G1 and go “king said ‘new career who dis’ and deleted kenneth’s number from his phone! 👏always 👏alone 👏before 👏!!!’ 

Like yeah those are the words he said but, you know, words can mean a lot of things! and personally, I think it’s relevant that those words were enveloped by a heartbreakingly pained smile that says ‘GREAT question Tokyo Sports, i WILL cry RIGHT here at this FUCKING folding table if you do not IMMEDIATELY pretend along with me that my existence began earlier this evening when I entered this arena. thanks in advance!’ Like!

Yep, look at that smug fuck pretending not to know who his shitty ex is! Prolly thinking of some good labradoodle jokes.

(On the real i know that not everyone is good at ascertaining emotion from facial expressions. I get that, and I’m not gonna dog on anyone for it, because I myself am often not great at it. And honestly? If he meant this in the “I don’t know her” sense, I would probably have loved it, bc I am a Kota Ibushi fan first, a human second, an antifa supersoldier third, and then a Golden Lovers Scholar like somewhere in the low 20s. But... I can’t even pretend that reading works for me. I hate looking at these gifs. That’s how much this reads to me as Having A Bad Time, like this man’s face is among my favorite things to view on this horrible planet and my heart feels like it’s being poked with a broken toothpick every time these gifs loop.)

And finally, because of the thing I said in the first paragraph that I wrote when I was like “i’m just gonna write a quick answer to this ask” like some kind of fucking fool who has never seen my own blog: it would not “be different now”, it has always been this story, and both Kenny and Kota say that when they are able to. It mixes kayfabe with real life, and in real life it’s really clear that it’s endgame for both of them, and I’m very sorry to GL haters but please direct your displeasure with the narrative to the two nerds who are determined to continue it across decades and oceans.

[thetrashywritingwitch]

hi, I hope you’re having a good day/night!

I was hoping you could possibly give me some advice, or even just kind of some understanding? i’m not sure i’m just super stressed.

I am starting back to school on tuesday, and i’m so stressed. I have been genuinely stressed since the day after I finished my summer classes. i’ve spent the last 18 days in a constant state of panic over it.

the reasons are : 1) this is my first semester physically on campus again since mar 2020. I literally found out I would no longer be on campus the night after I had wisdom teeth surgery leading into spring break. 2) I have severe school anxiety, and i’m stressed about presentations and doing well in courses. I have panic attacks often over assignments out of fear of failure. that’s like my biggest fear ever.

the biggest stress, ironically, is that it’s my last semester. I thankfully only have 4 classes, one of which is an elective, and two of the four are fully online. my elective can be done at my own pace and is only like 4 exams that are super easy (I took a similar one this summer and it was so easy).

even tho I know that this semester isn’t THAT bad, i’ll be able to manage things better since i’m only on campus physically two days for two classes that are back to back, but I can’t stop the anxiety that it’s my last semester !!! I can’t fail !!!

idk I hope this doesn’t just sound whiney but anytime I think about it being my last semester I feel like i’m going to throw up im so anxious I can’t. i’m going to be one of the first people in my family to graduate (only my half aunt has as far as I know, but she’s not close to my close family) and i’m scared of failure bc i’ll disappoint my family.

there’s so much expectation that i’ll be finishing bc this is a Big Thing since my family’s support will have a clear pay off??? my older brother will be graduating after me due to certain circumstances, so it currently feels like all the attention of success is on me specifically since i’m the one this close to graduation.

anyways you don’t have to respond to this i kinda just needed to vent bc im scared and it doesn’t feel like almost anyone I know irl would really Get It?

thank you if you decide to respond I truly appreciate how kind you are to anons on your acc

Im sorry you're feeling so stressed about stuff rn. Honestly, have you looked into therapy or getting meds to help with anxiety? It seems to be hindering you daily and interfering with your life to the point where something needs to change. I just recently started anxiety meds a few months ago and even tho it's a very low dose I can tell I'm not as stressed about the tiniest things as I used to be

So if you have the option I would suggest trying to talk to a therapist or psychiatrist who might can help you figure out ways to manage this anxiety better because you're putting a lot of pressure on yourself

There's nothing wrong with being afraid of failure. I am and a lot of other ppl are too. But when that fear starts to overwhelm is, then it becomes an issue. I suggest making a planner or calendar of what you need to do day by day. One small step at a time vs the big picture. Decide what's manageable for you realistically and set small goals for yourself

I think a professional might have more personalized advice that might help but yeah. Maybe your school has stress and anxiety managment resources you can look into? Counselors? I feel like most schools have some kind of thing like that

Best or luck to you anon

[astro-break]

Thoughts on the third ep of Hypmic Rhythm Anima (as always, spoilers beware but not only for the anime itself but for future things covered in the Drama CD and the Manga. If you’re an anime only, those are marked with a *)

Right off the bat. Super disappointed that it isn’t a MTC episode. I wanted an MTC episode. :((((

Still got my MTC crumbs this week tho and I think I can hold out until next week which hopefully will give me the MTC episode I so desperately want (Yes, i have a division bias and i’m not afraid to show it)

Jakurai entertaining kids are just so cute. I think its very very precious.

* Also. What kind of doctor is Jakurai anyways? So far we know that he’s a councilor/therapist (helps Doppo w/ his anxiety), a pediatrician (he helped a kid), a family doctor (I think i might be wrong on this one), a surgeon (In the FP vs MTC manga he’s shown preforming surgery), a hitman/assassin (:/ yeah evil line records seems intent on retconning this one), a battle field medic (he’s state to be one during WWIII) and now he’s getting called into the orthopedic (things concerning the musculoskeletal system) and gastroenterology (working w. the digestive system) department, two things that have nothing in common with each other. And I’m sure I’m missing some. There is no way in hell this man can do all that he’s 35 for fucks sake. You’d be old and grey before you could learn and complete the credentials needed to work half of these jobs

Nice to now that theres some hints of jakurai’s past. I have a feeling that we’ll be seeing more of the detective later in the story, esp for Matenrou

Doppo being overworked as usual *sigh*. When will the man ever rest? Never... Though im a bit skeptical as to why one of his co-workers calls him doppo. this is a work environment, usually he’d be called “Kanonzaka” for the least amount of informality. seems sus to me. Though his depiction of his insecurities is nice

I love how his first reaction is to call Hifumi and as him if he’s killed anyone. Peak bromance guys. 

Honestly Doppo’s method of trying to calm down is nice but not at all effective. He has the right mindset of calming down and letting his body breath, but the way he goes about it is... eh. 

Tom and Iris’ argument is hilarious and I really want to see more of them and Rex! Can’t wait to see what happens with these three new characters

Iasdgfjsd;flkasjdflkasdjfkasdlvn ajsdk, MTCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

MY BPOYS OH MY GOD RIOU NEVER CHANGE

fsajghasdf i love them asdhfoiksldjfasdfj riou’s food looks so so so so so good omgggggg

Samatoki respecting the fuck outta Jakurai is amazing and I never get tired of their father-child kind of relationship (yes jakurai is a dad to TDD fight me.)

The Riou and Samatoki interactionnnnnnnnnnnn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ah my heart!! they know each other so well and play off each others strengths. its so cute and I love how Samatoki knows his teammates well enough to know when to play each of his pieces. He isn’t just some brute who speaks through his fists, but he does use his head too. I think this is one of the reasons why he’s also high up on the Yakuza ladder since he’s not only brawny but also brainy

EAT RIOUS FOOD SAMATOKI

ah yes, Jyuto kneeing a bitch. just what I needed to see on a stressful friday thank you for feeding me

I love MTC, im very happy with the MTC crumbs. Since MTR showed up in BB’s ep last week, i really really hope that next week’s ep will be MTC

There it is. Jakurai’s “Jitsuni Kyoumibukai” line

lolololololol the sound effects for MTR is hilarious. Though please give Doppo a break, man deserves it

Jaku’s hair man. its beautiful

Again, please give Doppo a break, he deserves with the 4 joints that they attacked

They say 3 times, but they attacked 4 places?? Did they not report one of them?

Ahhhhh the DoHifu interaction on the temple grounds is both hilarious and cute. Though I can’t help but feel bad for Doppo

* Huh, Jaku did you get that from your hitman days loll

Oh man host mode. Though I like how Doppo recognizes when Host Mode is  a legitimate shield that Hifumi needs and is willing to give him that shield when he needs it. God I love their dynamic]

wow... yet another female stalker for Hifumi... very original. This is pretty similar to the stalker girl from the manga and CD

Lol callback to when Doppo was in the toilet and trying to calm down. 

pffft the girl is so weird. I can’t stand her or Uwabami. 

The plot is so convoluted holy shit. Is this a drama now? (I’ve never watched any c-dramas or k-dramas so I’m the furthest thing from a voice of authority but this seems like a drama show plot lmao.)

This is just a drama at this point lol. Misunderstandings, plot twists and cheesy shit all over the place. Its a badly written and hilarious drama thats for sure

Someone please write a fic where instead of the hypmic universe, the boys are all in a tv drama show plot and their hijinks bc it would fit perfectly. please

Ah, Doppochin snapped~ He’s very interesting once he gets fired up and thats when I really really like MTR. Don’t get me wrong, I love them normally but its when they get down to it that really makes me squeal in delight

Oh! So i think each character gets their own personalized intro w/ their speakers, not just the leaders. Thats honestly so so so cool. The 3D didn’t get in the way of the sequence and was really flashy and smooth. I love how they show the transformation and reveal of the mic and speaker. Honestly the Anime has so many good takes on thigs that aren’t touched on often in the franchise.

The rap was honestly fire this time around. I love it and have replayed it almost 20 times. According to the ending credits its called Welcome U which is so cute for such a funny and badass song. The strong base beat and imagery were so strong and included a lot of homages to things that really matches both Shinjuku, Matenrou and the lyric’s themes and they’re really small but important details! The humor was on point without sacrificing any of the amazingly cool elements and the three distinct styles of rap were integrated in such a catchy melody!

EG) the verse All Year Round features a quick shot of the four seasons and the things most prominently associated with each season. Spring has cherry blossoms and flower viewing, Summer has festivals, Fall and Winter have food that corresponds to events that happen in those seasons.

Doppo’s line of “The flea counters w/ a bite” is so so so cute bc he’s got a little w at the end and thats jp chatspeak for a laugh and skjdfhsdjfkslad adorable

Hifumi picking up right after and asking if Doppo is okay is just. Goals. And his gratutious english works really well and is super smooth! Very very good

Also the small homage to The Champions with Hifumi’s “Jump around” line and the format where Hifumi takes separate lines than Jaku and Doppo. Its a brilliant way to sneak these references in and they’ve kept that theme going from last episode

Foreshadowing with “We’re the true leader, Matenro!” Nice touch there lol.

Lol of course its attempted murder. Still gotta keep this PG 13 even though theres swearing abound

The ending w/ mimimi..... leaves me kind of torn since i don’t like how it ended but they did provide some nice advice. i guess

lsdf;jsalkdfjsldf Hifumi please you’ve known Doppo for over 25 years, you should know better than anyone what his charm points are. and shouldn’t you be the one who understands Doppo’s appeal? smh

SCREEEEEEE THAT TITLE OF THE NEXT EP. if its an MTC ep i will scream even more bc asudhfsdkjflasd A friend in need is a friend indeed this is just pushing my Poly!MTC agenda isn’t it

Final thoughts:

Please please please let next week be MTC please please please

DoHifu are goals, both romantically and platonically

The rap was fire and I’m going to keep listening to it on repeat. First ep was a bit of a disappointment in terms of CGI and raps but these latest two eps are really picking up the slack! I really hope they continue this for the next two!

JAKURAI WHAT KIND OF DOCTOR ARE YOU PLEASE TELL ME

[teamdoubleoh]

Q’s nephew

(Vaguely) based on this post by @needacuppa and @midrashic ‘s dialogue prompt. (technically) featuring @caffeinatedflummadiddlebutmerlin ‘s non-binary Merlin bc I like to see myself represented.

wordcount: 2312

Beware: Q is Holmes and has a fourth sibling, like in all my other fics bc I love consistency and Merlin.

TL:TR James thinks Q is married, Q thinks sleep is overrated and Mordred is very not-amused that James thinks Q is straight.

Q woke up in at 03:08 am because there was someone in his flat.

Someone other than himself, Mordred, Turing and Hawking. Q silently prayed that whoever it was could be killed quietly, so the cats wouldn’t wake.

He kept his eyes closed and listened. He could tell the someone wasn't moving, even though the door to the living room was shut. He turned his head to the bedside table, where his phone and glasses were sitting. He reached out, carefully avoiding to make any noise, put on his glasses, unlocked the phone and and logged into his security feed.

Apparently the intruder had had the decency to enter the flat trough the front door, which was a feat in itself.

Q selected the camera the monitored the door and went through the timeline. The feed was monotonous until two minutes ago, when a figure had walked up to the camera and opened the door with a key. Before entering the figure looked around, exposing their face to Q’s camera.

It was Bond. Who else would manage to steal acquire a key to his flat and show up in the middle of the night.

Q sighed and slipped out from under his comforter. He then reached under the bedside table where one of his personal guns was located and slipped it into the waistband of his pyjamas. He knew the double ohs well enough to know that taking a gun would be the best course of action.

Now armed, he opened the bedroom door. "Bond. What are you doing in my living room."

Bond was sitting on the couch, illuminated by the light of a half-moon that shone through the window. "Q! how nice to see you, what a coincidence."

"You've gotten yourself injured and the best thing you can think of is to break into my flat. Hospitals exist, you know that right?"

"Oh Q, I missed you. How did you know I was injured?"

"Posture." Q sighed.

"Ok, thats fair. You don't happen to have a bandaid or twenty lying around, do you?"  

Q sighed deeply and went to retrieve the MI6 issued medi-kit from under the bathroom sink. "Over here Bond. I don't want any stains on my couch."  

Bond stood and even in the relative darkness of the room Q could tell that it was a painful endeavour. Not a grazing shot then. Q searched the medi-kit for needle and thread. Bond sat down on the tiled floor, already pulling up his shirt over his left hip, where the bullet had dug into the flesh but had luckily been stopped by the hip bone.

Apparently the shot had been long distance, which would make the surgery relatively easy. Bond groaned when Q poured disinfectant over the wound.

"Honestly, Q. There is an intruder in your flat and you’re not even armed. What do they even teach you in basic training anymore."

Instead of answering Q pressed down a cotton swab on the bullethole and pulled out his P99 from his waistband.

"...Touché"

"Now if you'd be so kind and refrain from talking. You’re not making this any easier for either of us and I swear to god, if your noise wakes the cats or Mordred I'll-"

"Too late for that." Came a sleepy voice from the living room.

Bond was already half on his feet, trying to shield Q with his body, before Q could stop him.

"Hi. I'm Mordred." The boy, he could’t be older than 17, waved sluggish.

Bond looked hesitant but slowly sat back down again.

Q pinched the bridge of his nose with his unbloodied hand.

Bond smirked. "Didn't know you were the 'married with kids' kind of person."

"You do realise I can kill you, 007."

Bond looked stunned at the mention of his designation. he looked from Q to the kid and back to the quartermaster. "Uh, Q..."

"What."Q snapped.  

If the Quartermaster wanted to throw around his top secret designation so be it. Q knew what he was doing.

"...Nevermind."

"I don't think he wants me here. "the kid murmured turning away, obviously still half asleep. "I'll go back to bed."

Q sighed. "Now that’s is some good thinking. Bond, hold still." he picked the pair of tweezers. "This might hurt a tad."

Somehow James ended up in Q’s bed. With a very disgruntled Quartermaster in it. 007, being himself, couldn't resist commenting. "If you wanted to get me into bed, you should have just asked, Q. I mean I don't usually go for married people when off mission, but I'll make an exception for you."

"Shut up or I'll put you on the couch."

"Pray tell, if I’m annoying you so bad, why am I not already there? Should I inform the other agents that you're secretly concerned about our well being or do just like me?"

"That couch was my mothers, and she is ready to maim anyone who leaves stains on it."

"...Stains, huh? Got it. Thats the no-fun zone."

"You should know that I am also ready to maim anyone who keeps me from sleeping."

"Good night, Q"

Bond woke at 6:38 am precisely.

Someone was working in the kitchen, and since the bed was empty, save himself, it was probably Q. Or his son, apparently. Come to think of it, if Q was married and had a son, where was his wife?

The smell of toast and freshly brewed earl grey wavered into the bedroom and James decided that those were questions for another time.

The kitchen was, to Bonds surprise, well stocked and maintained.

He wouldn't have pegged Q for the cooking type but he hadn't pegged Q for the married-with-kids type either so that was that.

Q was just pouring a mug of tea when James limped in. The boy - Mordred, what a peculiar name - was sitting on a stool, nursing his own tea.

In the light of day his dark brown hair seemed to be a similar shade as Q's, while his pale blue eyes were a little unnerving, but that could be a side effect of him being a teenager. Everyone knew teenagers were dangerous creatures as they didn't need sleep and had fatal levels of cynicism, sarcasm and caffeine running through their veins.

Q handed James a mug of steaming tea, which tore him out of his staring.

"You should sit down." Q advised, pointing towards a kitchen table with three mismatched chairs. "And you should go to medical. I'm head of Q branch not a doctor." He hesitated for a second. "Well I am a doctor, just not of medicine. My point is: get that checked out, or I'll kill you."

"Aw don’t worry, I will, or it might kill me first."

"As if you wouldn't just come back from the dead to just to annoy me, hm 007?" Q smiled sweetly, something dangerous lacing his tone.

"I have before, I could do it again. Given a good enough reason." Bond eyed Q provocatively up and down.

Q just sighed and turned to take the slices of toast out of the toaster, placing them on a plate. "I assume you will join me on my way to work, seeing as your flat is on the way and you need to stop there for new clothes?"

Bond looked down at himself. He was wearing his boxer briefs and a tee shirt that definitely wasn't his. Since there was as science pun on it, he was pretty sure it was Q's.

“Yeah.... that might be a good idea.” James mused and went to find his slacks.

***

“So, what kind of a name is ‘Mordred’ anyway?” Bond asked the boy some months later.

He had broken in again and again and at some point Q had given in and made him his own key, which only made Bond come by more often.

Now he was sitting on the no-stains-allowed couch, enjoying a cup of perfectly brewed Rooibos tea he had gifted Q a few weeks prior. Mordred, currently located in the kitchen, was busy making dinner for himself and Q, who was still at Q-branch handling 009′s Washington mission.

Mordred, who rarely ever talked, much less with Bond, kept dicing onions and garlic. After half a minute of silence, just when James thought he might never get an answer, the boy opened his mouth. “It’s from the Arthurian legends. According to the popular legends Mordred was Arthur’s son.”

“You say ‘popular’ like you know better...”

“Well-” Mordred smiled ever so slightly. “-I know Arthur is my uncle.”

James grinned. “Is your mother a historian by any chance?”

Mordred shook his head and turned his attention back to the stove. “My mother is a PA. But her name is Morgause and her half sister is called Morgana - you know, like, from the Legends? -, so she thought it would be funny.”

James smiled and emptied his cup. Now that was something he could tease Q about.

Q chose that exact moment to stumble in through the door. He looked like he was dead on his feet. His tie was askew and his hair ruffled. He closed the door behind him, hung his parka on the mantle piece and placed his messenger bag on a nearby drawer, but his movements were that of someone who was kept awake only be caffeine and spite.

By the time he reached the living room his eyes where almost completely shut. He dropped down on the couch where James was still sitting, but Bond just steadied him as Q slumped against him.

“James?”

“Hello dear Quartermaster. You do know that sleep is essential for your personal health, right?”

Q only groaned and closed his eyes.

***

Four hours later Q woke to the smell of pasta and the clinking of cutlery being placed on a table. He sat up and opened his eyes, but everything was blurry. He groaned. Someone entered the living room.

“James?”

“No this is Patrick.” James answered deadpan. “Honestly Q, I thought you were supposed to be smart!”

“Firstly, You took my glasses. You should be glad I can distinguish you from Mordred right now. Secondly, why are you quoting Sponge bob at me?” Q asked in a tone that made it very clear that he was ready to murder someone or just fall asleep again at any moment.

“...Oh, yeah. I forgot about the glasses. You look adorable with out them, I have to say. Here you go--” James care fully placed Q’s glasses on his nose.

Q blinked twice and waited for his eyes to focus again. Right in front of him was James, smiling widely. Q shrunk back and tried to stand up in an effort to hide the slight blush on his cheeks.

“So. Why were you quoting sponge bob again?”

James took a step forward and held Q on his upper arms so he wouldn’t keel over. “I don’t know what Sponge bob is but that’s what Mordred sat to me when  I ran into him in the city the other day.”

Q rubbed his forehead. “Ah yes, he does that. And here I was, thinking you knew what memes were.”

“Whats a meme?”

***

Mordred cooking, James decided, was divine.

“You should become a Chef.” James mused, after finishing his third plate of Aglio olio and fourth glass of wine.

“How about I finish school first.” Mordred aswered snarkily.

Q snorted. “Aren’t you planning on becoming a pharmacist or bodyguard?”

James shook his head in confusion. “How are those two even related.”

Mordred looked at him weirdly.” They're not.”

“Then why would you? ...nevermind.”

Q rolled his eyes. “Mordred is interning with my uncle Gaius whose a Apothecary. if He’s good enough when Gaius retires he could have a change at taking, over like I did.”

“last I checked you were running Q-branch...”

“-and before me uncle Boothroyd was Q.”

James turned to Q. “Boothroyd was your uncle? That explains... so much.”

Mordred sighed. “could you leave the flirting till I'm back in my room.”

Q sat up straight. “He wasn’t flirting.”

“I was.”

“Since when?”

“Since before I broke into your flat. But sadly you’re faithful and straight and all that crap.”

Mordred let his head fall into his hands. “Here we go...” he muttered under his breath.

“And who would I be faithful to, exactly?”

“Your wife?”

“My--?” Q sputtered.

“Mordred’s mother?”

“Wait, you thought I was

straight

?”

Mordred raised his hand. “You do know I’m not actually Q’s son, right?”

James turned to Mordred. “Wait, what?”

Q looked almost gleeful as he explained. “Mordred is my sibling’s... .” Q turned to Mordred. “What do they call you?”

“Mostly ‘a baby’”

“No, no there was something else...”

“Lovechild? Morgause-spawn? Heir to the throne?”

“They really call you that?”

“I don’t have a second name, so they had to improvise when they were angry.”

Q shrugged. “Well, point stands. Mordred isn’t my son. He lives with me because he’s kind of my siblings adopted son? But he can’t live with them and their husband and apparently I can’t take care of my self or something--” the last part was muttered. “--So he lives with me.”

Mordred was staring at James wide eyed. “Wait. You thought I was Q’s son? Honestly? Q? Your Gaydar is BLOODY SHITE. YURUSENAI!”

James flinched and faced Q, who was rolling his eyes at Mordred. “Translation please?”

Q smirked at him. “He says your ability to build context about inter person relations and read peoples attractions is rather bad and that he won’t forgive you for thinking he was blood related to me.” Q paused. “I would be rather offended by that last statement if it wasn’t for the blatant sarcasm.”

James smiled dreamily. “This is why I love you.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Mordred took a sip of his water. “He said he loved you.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #352

my head’s a mess and a half, i can’t think of lyrics to put here so yeah here’s the survey

What’s the last vegetable you ate, and when did you eat it? Uh I think it was a pepper in this Healthy Choice dinner bowl I had yesterday. What was your last Facebook notification for? A friend liking this photo I shared of some beautiful, small rock and pebble sculptures of people. What bands have you seen live? Just Alice Cooper. Tell me an interesting fact about your mother: She only has one kidney due to the other being taken out because of kidney cancer when I was a kid. Coincidentally, her father was actually born with only one as well. What do you think is the most important thing to happen to you before the age of 13? Nothing really comes to mind. What were you super against as a young child but aren’t anymore? SUPER against? I dunno, man. What are your plans later today? I don't know. Yesterday my mother informed me that Jason's mother died, and since then I've been in shock. I was in awful condition yesterday because I absolutely adore(d) her like she was MY family, and once upon a time I thought she would be officially, and I still feel very, very dead. I doubt I'll get anything done today. Are you doing anything exciting this weekend? Definitely not exciting... Mom and possibly I are probably bringing Jason's family food for the family get-together they're having (we're not staying for... obvious reasons), but she's unsure because it might be a bit too awkward. I'll stay in the car because I don't want to disrespect Jason's space, but I REALLY want to go through with this. His mom was so important to me, and I don't want to just... do nothing as if she meant just that. I want the family to know I never stopped caring just because there was a breakup. Plus I wanna give Jason his favorite chocolate bar to try to bring him a bit of happiness. I can't imagine what he's feeling, and my instinct of "I need to protect him" absolutely never went away. Who do you talk to the most? My mom. What are some things you do regularly that make you feel old? Go to bed before 9PM, sometimes even before 8. And my knees pop like a motherfucker. Who is your best guy friend(s)? Girt and Sam. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? Neither; instead, I just wish it was clearer. I have extremely dry skin, especially on my arms, so I have little bumps and marks there, as well as little freckles over my body. Having like, porcelain skin would be amaaaazing. If you had a tiny scar on your face, would you get it removed or just keep it? Keep it. Look more badass, haha. Have you had an x-ray in the past year? I think so, on my legs. It may have been over a year ago, idr. Do you think your first love still loves you? I don't want to know. I really don't. What is something that is “going right” in your life? *blinks* When did you feel ready to start dating? Seriously, probably late middle school. When was the last time your pet bit you? If you don’t have a pet, have you ever been bitten by someone else’s? My snake Venus has never bitten me. Meanwhile, my cat Roman lightly (and sometimes not so lightly...) bites me pretty much every day when I play with him, lol. Where were you the last time you made out? My bed. When was the last time you cried tears of joy? I probably haven't done that since I met Sara irl. How do you type your sad smileys? One of these three: :( or :c or :< Do you have “decorative hand-towels” that cannot be used in your house? No. What was the last soda you drank? Mountain Lightning, a Mtn. Dew ripoff bc we're cheap, lol. What was the last thing someone made fun of you for? I don't know. Have you ever had any type of surgery? Yeah, a cyst removal as well as tubes in my ears. Should kids be allowed to get tattoos/piercings without parental consent? Uh no????? Who was the last person to hit on you? That I'm actually aware of, Sara. I'm quite sure nobody has since. What was the last thing you decided not to do, that you were supposed to? I was too weak to even clean the litterbox last night. I just wanted to go to bed. I need to do it today. What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to tell someone? Hm. Maybe that I didn't love Joel? It was just really awkward and I felt awful about the whole situation. What do you put on hot dogs? Ketchup and mustard. Ever fallen in the shower? I've fallen OUT of the shower. I was extremely dizzy and was trying to get out, and I just passed out onto my chin. Broke some molars and got a concussion. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever called someone you care about? Probably a bitch or something. Do you think that things will get better? I sure hope so. Have you ever legitimately saved a person’s life? I guess I kinda have. My WoW friend Lisa and I were talking, and she wasn't feeling well at all when she suddenly disappeared. Coincidentally, her husband got home RIGHT when I messaged her again, wanting to check up on her, and he heard the alert so checked it out. Lisa was knocked out on the couch having some medical emergency with a name I can't remember, and he just thought she was sleeping. Because of seeing the chat, he took her to the hospital when she probably would've died otherwise. She insists I saved her. What’s your favourite book genre? Fantasy. Have you ever walked out of a movie at the theatre? No. Do dogs like you? They definitely seem to. Animals in general honestly do. Would you say that you project an air of authority? Definitely not. Have you ever jumped off a high dive into a pool? No. I've always wanted to, but I was too scared at any opportunity. Do you use one towel when you shower or two? (one for hair, one for body) I just use one. I dry my hair first, then my body. Have you ever been to one of the great lakes? No, but I did see one of them from a plane when I was flying to Sara's. Who do you know that had a baby recently? My high school friend had her daughter Persephone literally a couple days ago. Cute little thing. Do you like Usher’s songs? Oh wow, what a blast from the past. I don't even recall the names of any, but I remember I enjoyed some as a kid. When was the last time you went to a waterpark? Wow, it has been YEARS. Like, not since I was a teen. Have you ever ridden a train? No. What do you eat your French fries with? Ketchup, sometimes. Do you have family problems? Not really. What’s the last food you ate that was stale? Bread, I think. How do you like your grilled cheese? Just a normal 'ole grilled cheese. What is the most challenging meal you have ever cooked? I don’t cook. What was your favorite thing to do as a little kid? Play video games. Have you ever been close to drowning? Yikes, no. Have you ever had a panic attack? Countless. Do you like doing housework? No, who does? Would you ever get implants? Nah. Do you own a robe? No. Do you have a little sister? What’s her name? Yeah, Nicole. Do you like crust on pizza or do you cut it off? I don't trust people who don't eat pizza crust. What was the last song you listened to? "The Ghost of You" by My Chemical Romance. It's making me cry, but I really need to. Have any of your family members been to jail? No. None that I know of, anyway. Is there anyone that you feel you still need some closure with? An old friend, yes. Can you remember when you first learned how to read? No. What event in your life has transformed your personality the most? My mental illnesses as a whole. Have you ever had any teeth pulled? No. Do you still want to be what you wanted to be in elementary school? No, but only because it's not realistic. I don't want to travel. What’re some TV shows that you would like to get into? I don't care about TV 'til MM resumes, and then absolutely whenever The Edge of Sleep is released. Mark is a key actor in it. How would you feel if you were drafted for the military? I couldn’t be. What is your favorite Queen song? Ha, I'm aware this is probably everyone's answer, but "Bohemian Rhapsody" is the bop of all bops. Do you know how to use any foreign currency? No. Been kissed by someone who you knew was “bad” for you? BEEN kissed, yeah. By Juan. Ever taken an at-home pregnancy test? No. When was the last time you were at a loss of what to do? Now. What did you do on your favorite date with a guy/girl? It was a group date where we went to this big arcade one night. What’s a movie you have seen in the theater more than once? None. What is the reason you’re still alive? That's a big answer that I'm not in the mood to ramble about. Have you ever had sex in someone else’s bed/bedroom? Yeah, oops. Do you ever brush your hair before you go to bed? No. Have you ever had a dream about sleeping with a celebrity? (You don’t have to give details.) HAHA this was the only lucid dream I've ever had lmfao. Has anyone ever told you that they needed you? Do you think they meant it? I don't remember. How did you feel when you woke up today? What was the first thing you thought about? Like shit. "Virginia's still dead" just bitchslapped me. Do you still tell your parents that you love them? Well yeah. Have you ever said “I love you” to someone you weren’t going out with? Yes, because I really did. Have you ever been threatened before? Yes. Would you date someone with a physical disability? Yeah. Think of the last person you had sex with. Do you think they’ve slept with anyone else since they last slept with you? Probably. The last time you dyed your hair, what color did you dye it? Red. Think of the last time you went out to eat. Who paid? My mom. Do you save at least 15 percent of your income? What income? Do you ever go on Reddit? If so, what are some of your favorite subreddits? No. Were you ever a flower girl or ring bearer in anyone’s wedding when you were little? No. Are your parents in good health? Not especially. They're both probably unhealthier than the average person. Dad smokes way too much to be healthy, and Mom has a plethora of issues. Have you ever been a caregiver to a sick/disabled relative? No; it sounds awful, but I'm very doubtful I could be because I canNOT clean another human being. Is there any type of medicine you can’t take? For what reason? No. Do you have a favorite pair of pajamas? What do they look like? They're black Pokemon pants with Pikachu jumping by the logo. Do you have any interesting pillow cases? No. If something on your body hurts, which part is it most likely to be? My knees. Are you more afraid of spiders or bees? Both, but situationally. Have you ever worn fake nails? If so, what did the last pair you wore look like? Only once for prom. They were maroon, like my dress. Wait... or maybe I didn't wear them? Fuck, idr. Is Russian or Native American history more interesting to you? Native American history is way more fascinating to me.

[amelialincoln]

Really been loving your fics, we needed more Amelink writers! Thought I'd ask for one if that's alright? So I'd love to see Link proposing to Amelia in a really rushed and imperfect way after he spent the week talking to people like Meredith, Jo, Owen, Webber, etc about hiw they got engaged. He tries to plan something perfect but messes it up somehow and Amelia obviously just laughs and says yes, idk I just wanna see stressed Link, hope this is enough to go off :)

We Find Love

“How did Derek propose?” Link found himself blurting out. Meredith peered over at him. He could see the confusion in her face, despite the surgical mask covering most of it.

“Are you thinking of proposing?” She asked turning back to her sutures.

“Maybe...yes. I think so,” he waved his instrument filled hands awkwardly, obviously flustered.

“Derek proposed in an elevator,” she put simply.

“Why an elevator?” Link asked.

Meredith shrugged. “It was just kind of a special place for us,” he tell she was smiling from her eyes. “It seems so silly now but honestly I was so in love with him that he could’ve done anything. It was perfect.”

“I know me and Amelia haven’t been together for that long, just with the baby on its way...not that that’s a reason. I just—”

“You don’t need to justify yourself,” Meredith interrupted. “When you know, you know.”

“Exactly,” Hayes’ chimed in. Link looked up to the peds surgeon, who he wasn’t aware was following the conversation.

Link placed his lab coat and scrubs in his locker before turning to leave the attending’s lounge.

“Hey,” Owen greeted him as he entered the room.

“Hi,” Link responded.

“You waiting for Amelia?” He asked as he went to open his own locker. Link nodded. “I just saw her get pulled into a surgery. Might be awhile.”

“Oh,” Link responded, as if on cue his phone buzzed with a message from her. “Great.”

Owen chuckled. “The life of two surgeons in a relationship.”

“Hey, how did you propose?” He asked. Owen raised his eyebrows, not expecting the question.

“Uh, which time?” He answered awkwardly. Link shrugged, hoping he hadn’t hit a sensitive spot. “Well my first proposal I just proposed to Cristina on the couch in our living room. It just seemed right and she wasn’t really into the romantic stuff,” he chuckled as if recalling an old memory. “Uh, with Amelia, well she actually proposed to me.” Link shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not aware of this story. “We’d both had past relationships and didn’t really want anything big. With Teddy, it was an on call room. I guess I’m not really the romantic type.” He shrugged. Link recalled Amelia’s story about their honeymoon troubles and believed it. “Are you thinking of proposing?”

“I guess so.” Link grinned.

“Well you’ll be the forth guy to propose to her.” Link tried to hide his surprise. “Weren’t aware of that one? She’s a handle that’s for sure and definitely a runner. That’s why she came to Seattle in the first place.” Owen clapped a hand on Link’s shoulder. “Good luck.”

“What’s up, you look stressed.” Jo slid into the cafeteria seat beside him. “What you got there?” Her eyes widened as she caught sight of it. “Atticus Lincoln, is that a ring box?”

“Jo, shut up,” he shushed her frantically.

“Wow, Shepherd did a number on you. It’s like we’re back in high school,” Jo teased, shoving a spoonful of jello into her mouth. “Yeah, I know it’s nasty. I forgot my lunch,” she explained, replying to his confused look. “So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” he answered defensively, not exactly sure why he was being defensive. “I’ve been trying to get advice.”

“Well it’s not like this is you or Amelia’s first marriage. She probably isn’t expecting anything.”

“I know,” he sighed. “What did Alex do?”

Jo grinned. “He’d set up this whole little romantic dinner and I was going to break up with him.”

“What?” Link exclaimed.

“Yeah, I was all about ultimatums back then. Me or Meredith, all that shit. Anyways, it was sweet and small and perfect.”

“So you didn’t break up with him?”

“No, I figured that once I was his wife he’d have to choose me over Meredith.” She shrugged. “Turns out I like her more than I was expecting to. If you want to talk to the big romantic people you could talk to Jackson. Maybe not the best way but he called of April’s whole wedding to confess his love to her. Arizona proposed to Callie and then they got in a car accident. Less romantic, more catastrophic.

“Who are—”

“And then Teddy proposed to her first husband because he was her patient and didn’t have good health insurance.”

“What?”

“Crazy times happened at this hospital before you came around,” Jo patted his arm. “Look, I know you want to do something nice but she’ll love anything you end up doing.” And with that she headed out of the cafeteria, jello cup in hand.

The next night Link raced to Meredith’s, knowing that Amelia’s shift ended only an hour after his. Maggie had told him to set up at Meredith’s and that he could tell Amelia that they were having a girls night to throw her off. Link was pretty sure Amelia didn’t need ‘throwing off’ but he agreed knowing that Maggie most likely wanted to see Amelia’s reaction.

“What do you mean you aren’t already married, aren’t you having a baby?” Zola asked as Link was frantically setting the table for two. “Mom says that you get married first and then the baby comes after.”

“Well in most cases.” Link answered, glancing over at her. “Hey, Zola stop picking at those flowers.” Referring to the bouquet he’d bought on their way home.

“Sorry,” Zola shrugged. “You’re just making her dinner? What else?”

“I don’t know,” Link mumbled guiltily. “What do you think I should do?”

“I dunno,” Zola answered. “That’s your job.”

“Right,” Link sighed as he tossed the salad and placed the bowl on the table. Suddenly, he heard the front door open. “Do I kneel now?” He asked Zola.

“How am I supposed to know, do I look married to you?” Zola replied. Link decided to kneel, his heart thumping in his chest. His shaky hands reached into his pocket.

“False alarm,” Zola giggled as Meredith entered the room.

“Oh wow,” Meredith laughed. “I’m so flattered.” She mocked fanning her face.

“Shut up,” Link grumbled. “I’ve been trying to get this right all week and I can’t figure out anything to do justice to how much she means to me. I wanted to plan out this big romantic gesture but that just seems dumb and I don’t want to wait any longer. I would marry her right now if I could. I’ve been carrying around this stupid ring all week trying to find a time to give it to her that seemed right but I’m so worried that I’ll screw it up that I back out every time. Like how do I ask her to marry me and sum up all the million things I love about her into such a short amount of time?” He ran a pathetically shaky hand through his hair.

“That’ll do,” Amelia’s soft voice enters the room, her hands circling the swollen bump that recently formed on her abdomen.

“I was about to tell you,” Meredith grinned.

“Are you kidding me?” Link balled his hands in frustration. Meredith grabbed Zola by the hand, the little girl’s eyes wide as if she were watching a special on tv, and dragged her out of the room to give the couple some space. “Amelia, I wanted—”

“Link, this is perfect.” Her eyes scanned the room, softy lit by a couple of candles on the table. A bottle of sparkling water was sitting in a small bath of ice and she smiled as she saw that he’d made all her favourite pregnancy cravings. A sharp aroma drifted through the room and Link seemed to noticed it too.

“I burnt the chicken,” he nodded in disappointment, not even bothering to run to the kitchen in an attempt to salvage it. “This is a nightmare.”

“This is not a nightmare.” Amelia shook her head, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You are absolutely perfect in every way, Atticus Lincoln.” He tried to conceal the blush that was overwhelming his cheeks, feeling like an idiot. “Now do you have a question to ask me or...” she bit her lip with a smile.

“Oh. Yeah!” He knelt down on one knee and glanced up into her deep blue eyes before removing the lid to the little velvet box in her hand. “Amelia Shepherd, from the moment I met you I haven’t spent a day without the thought of you entering my mind. You amaze and inspire me to be a better person and a better surgeon.” He paused as he saw tears begin to build at the edges of her eyes. “You make me so excited to be a father. I mean very scared...but also very excited and I would love to spend the rest of my life raising this child, and maybe other children,” he tried to hide his excitement, “with you. I wan’t to wake up beside you every morning and fall sleep with you in my arms every night. Amelia, will you marry me?”

“Of course,” she answered without hesitation. “And I would reply with the same answer if you’d asked me on our car ride to work or in the middle of surgery.”

“Would that have been better?”

“No, you loser,” she rolled her eyes as he slipped the ring on her finger. “Now come here and give your fiancée some kisses.”

“Do you say that to all of us?” He teased as he fulfilled her request.

sorry this is super shitty but I feel the need to write any prompt im given haha (that makes it sound like i dont like writing prompts but i do!!!) plz keep sending them bc they keep me motivated<3 and thx sm for all the support on my recent fics.

[bellamyblake]

A prompt for you, should you desire to fill it. Mute Clarke, with Bellamy soothing her/helping her. Maybe she lost her ability to speak bc of josie (or another reason). Fic can be with or without telepathy (Bellamy being able to read her mind). Writer's choice. I just love how you write canon divergent hurt/comfort! Thanks for what you've written so far, too!

Okay this got way too long and also really...badly written but...welp, I hope you enjoy it. I went with the scenario where she loses her ability to speak and he’s trying to comfort her. (no telepathy or anything)

No one know how or why it happens.

And honestly, Bellamy’s not even thinking about the fact that anything could be possibly wrong with her when she takes in her first breath and throws herself in his arms.

Her heart’s beating loud and clear against his chest, his arms are wrapped around her so tight, he knows that technically, he’s probably making her breathing harder for her, but she’s there, she’s alive, safe.

She gasps for breath in his ear and he holds her like this for more than five or ten minutes even if the pose they’re both in is extremely uncomfortable.

To someone else it might look weird but he didn’t care who was watching, if Octavia and Gabriel were still even in the room anymore.

All he cared about was her.

Clarke.

His Clarke, alive, back.

He got her.

When finally she pulls away a little, he’s so stunned and desperate to look at her face, to cup it, feel her warm cheeks, look at her beautiful blue eyes that bore the tiredness of hundreds of years that he doesn’t realize that she’s opening her mouth and trying to talk except…

No sound comes out.

And then everything changes in a matter of seconds.

He sees the realization dawn on her-she’s trying to talk, moving her lips, but again, there’s nothing.

Her hand shoots to her neck and she presses hard on it almost violently, as if trying to squeeze whatever sound she can come up with and probably causing herself pain but no matter what, nothing comes out.

The next thing he acknowledges, before he can even realize what was happening himself was the panic flashing in her eyes and her hands gripping his.

Her lips move, mouthing a frantic, scared.

“Bellamy!”

“Clarke!” he speaks up and grips her arms back in return before he looks around and upon not finding Gabriel there, he looks back at her only to realize she’s been moving her lips trying to speak to him but he wasn’t looking.

“I’ll get Gabriel!” he promises and rushes out of the tent only to return back with him a second later.

“What’s wrong with her? She can’t talk!” Bellamy spills frantically while Clarke’s eyes who are full of fear and panic stare between him and Gabriel who tries to remain calm.

He puts his hands on her neck, checks the muscles there, then asks her to try and say something but when she fails, she breaks and the tears spill down her face.

Bellamy reaches to grab her hand and she holds onto him for dear life, pulling him close on the cot.

He doesn’t hesitate to sit next to her and wrap his arm around her back as if to shield her from any harm but all she keeps doing is frantically, fearfully throwing her head back and forth between Gabriel and him and trying to say something, anything.

And upon finding that she can’t, no matter how much she pushes herself, she gets even more scared, starts trembling, waving her arms, struggling.

She goes into full panic mode when Gabriel tries to make her lay down so he can connect her to the machines again and put the fancy weird headband on her and she starts fighting him and Bellamy.

And when Clarke fought, she fought with everything in her.

She kicked and she flailed her hands and she even managed to punch Gabriel in the face which caused him to jump away from the cot.

That in turn gave Bellamy the opportunity to grab her by the shoulders and try to steady her.

“Clarke! Clarke, look at me! Clarke, stop it dammit, please!” he begged and she tried to listen to him but still kept struggling against him, her lips moving, her head tossing, sweat covering her face once again.

“Clarke!” he raises his voice but she won’t listen, still tossing herself left and right trying to free herself from this. He lets go of her wrists and instead cups her face.

“Look at me! Look at me!” he begs and something in him must sound very desperate, very broken because she stills and stops trying to get away, her eyes falling on him, her mouth still half opened, gasping, struggling to pull air in and to move, to talk, to say something.

Anything.

His thumbs rub over her cheeks and he whispers quiet shushes and holds her face in his big palms.

“It’s okay, it’s fine, I’m here. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” he repeats it over and over and over again like a mantra until her body goes a little slack in the cot at least for a moment.

“Focus on me, okay? Let’s breathe, in and out, come on.” he brushes a bit more forcefully until she starts complying and when she’s finally beginning to somewhat calm down, he sits by her on the cot but never lets go.

“That’s good, you’re doing great.” he says and when he looks around for Gabriel he nods at him upon finding him pressing a cold cloth to his mouth and wiping at the blood, so he tosses it away and approaches her.

“Now you have to let him check you, okay? I know you’re scared but I’ll be right here. You can hold my hand-” he looks at Gabriel for permission “Right?”

“Absolutely.” Gabriel promises and when he comes closer, Clarke moves away from him as if on instinct, which in turn makes Bellamy’s heart leap in his chest.

”I won’t hurt you.” he promises but it does little to soothe Clarke and in a way Bellamy understands that.

If he had just come back to his body after fighting with Josephine and then woke up to the great love of her enemy’s life promising to help her, he’d be freaked out too.

“Hey-” Bellamy directs her attention back to him with a soft smile “I know you’re scared but he helped us bring you back, you know that. He won’t do anything to hurt you and if he does-” Bellamy glances at him, for a moment throwing the man an angry vengeful look with eyebrows furrowed which apparently scares Gabriel because he raises his hands and says seriously.

“After what I just witnessed, I wouldn’t even think about it.” he means the CPR but Clarke doesn’t know how desperately he fought for her so he feels his cheeks hot and knows that he’s probably red all over but doesn’t look away from Clarke, because this wasn’t about him or his feelings.

“I’ll check your brain and then your neck and voice strings again and we’ll try to figure this out okay?” Gabriel explains but Clarke still doesn’t give him a confirmation, looking at Bellamy with confusion instead.

He takes her hand and holds it close.

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do.” he suggests “If at any point you feel pain or want to stop this I want you to squeeze my hand real hard, alright?” she nods at that, just barely but enough to show him that.

“That will be a hard “No”, okay?” she nods at that “Good. And if you just want to say “Yes”, rub your thumb over my hand like this” he gestures with his own hoping it’d soothe her, knowing that such movements usually calmed the body at least a bit even in such a dire situation.

She agrees with a fast nod again and lets Gabriel come closer and do his exam. He connects her head to the wires she had before and turns the monitors on again, this time it’s not just her heart beat and blood pressure that they see, but also a picture of her brain.

He doesn’t understand all of what Gabriel does to her, there’s not much he says really, mostly monitors things, eyes pierced on the screens, hand scribbling down data on a clipboard that Bellamy has no idea where he even got from.

Clarke’s scared but she isn’t squeezing his hand now.

Still he keeps both of his covering hers, pulls a chair to the cot and every time Gabriel murmurs something to himself, pushes it closer to her.

Then he tests her movement which means Bellamy has to drop her hand but he refuses to.

“You can use just one of her arms.” Gabriel sighs and Bellamy huffs.

“See? She’s gripping me pretty hard, I think that she can use this one.” he carefully raises the hand he was holding and Clarke spares him a light smile, then turns her head to Gabriel who’s checking her other arm from shoulder to fingers and nods at him that she’s okay.

He moves to her legs then, her toes, back up listening to her heart and lungs and finally puts his hands on her neck again and making her open her mouth to check inside her throat.

When he’s all done he sits on his tree legged chair near all the still beeping machines measuring her heartbeat which Bellamy strangely has gotten used to simply because it meant that she was there with him, that she was alive, and runs his hand through his short hair.

“From what I can tell it seems that you have some sort of brain damage, probably due to the extraction of Josephine’s mind chip and the surgical mesh that was inside you that kept you actually alive. I can’t tell how it all happened…neuroscience is a complicated thing but it seems that your speech nerves were also severely damaged in the process.”

“Can you reverse it? Help her talk again?” Bellamy is the one to voice all of Clarke’s questions.

It’s like with the one look she threw at him, he just knew what she wanted to ask.

The silence is answer enough. Gabriel opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything right away and Clarke’s face falls.

“I…I’m sorry, I don’t think there’s anything to be done. Even if we had the conditions to perform a brain surgery, judging by the tests-” he motions at the screen still showing her brain “I just don’t think it’s going to change anything.���

“You think or you know?” Bellamy pushes again standing up now “There’s a big difference.”

“As I said-” he sighs tiredly “The damage is really severe. You can’t fix the brain, it’s not a bone you can heal and you can’t tell the nerves to just magically restore their functions.” he reaches to touch Clarke but when she shivers and pulls closer to Bellamy again he drops his hand.

“I’m sorry, Clarke.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and the tears stream down her pale cheeks.

“I’ll give you two a moment.” Gabriel says quietly making his way out and Bellamy doesn’t wait for him to leave before he’s sitting on the cot again, pushing her head to his chest and rocking her back and front like a little kid needing to fall asleep.

She can’t make a sound, not even a grunt or a gasp or sob.

Nothing at all.

And his heart clenches at the thought of her not even being able to properly express her grief.

She may not make a sound but she’s breaking apart.

Her arms wrap tightly around his back and her tears wet his black shirt.

He talks to her and honestly, he doesn’t remember what he says and he’s not sure she’s listening but she must be, because she grips him tighter.

So tight, he feels her nails dig into his back and he wants to cry too, wants to break down too, but realizes he really doesn’t have the right to, not when she was going through the fact that she won’t be able to talk again, probably ever.

Finally, what feels like hours later and she still hasn’t stopped crying, he maneuvers them onto the cot and pulls her over his chest.

She cries and cries and cries and then finally when Gabriel comes in again to check on them Bellamy looks at her and with a silent plea, without having to say anything, he gives her a shot that will put her to sleep.

She’s scared when she sees the needle but Bellamy holds her hand and looks at her.

“Shh, it’s going to be fine. I’m not leaving you, okay?” she nods and Gabriel carefully cleans the inside of her hand before pinching her skin.

She’s out barely seconds later but Bellamy waits another half an hour before he carefully picks her up and takes her to a more comfortable and big cot that Gabriel had prepared for her.

His sister comes in and out, talks to him, but he barely listens, mostly focusing on holding her hand and looking at her chest, making sure that she was still breathing.

Now that she was untangled from all of the machines, he felt even more anxious as if at any point she could just stop existing-her heart would stop and her lungs wouldn’t pull oxygen to keep her alive and he’ll have to do CPR again to bring her back.

How could he be sure she’ll be okay?

Especially after she woke up unable to speak.

What if something else happened? What if she lost her sight or hearing? What if the effects of what she went through showed later, in hours, days, weeks? What if she got worse and-

No, he couldn’t think like that.

She’d be fine. He was here to protect her and make sure she’s okay.

She couldn’t die.

Not again.

So his eyes remain pinned on her and he doesn’t fall asleep.

He forgets about everything and everyone around him.

He knows his sister comes and tells him Madi and the rest of the squad are coming to Gabriel’s camp after successfully escaping Sanctum, that Raven figured out how to kick Sheidheda out of the kid’s head and remove the flame. That Murphy and Emori were fine and so were the rest of them.

He knows they come later that day because he can hear their voices outside but he never joins them, leaving his sister to explain everything to Madi and the others.

At some point no matter how good he has always been at staying awake since he was a child and they were living in a constant stress of having Octavia found out, he falls asleep.

Then wakes up what seems half an hour later from a nightmare, thinking she stopped breathing again and his hand reaches to check her pulse, not trusting his eyes showing her chest move up and down.

She moves around the cot, has her own nightmares, wakes up but falls very fast again.

Gabriel finds him checking in on her pulse for the hundredth time that night and rests his hand on his shoulder.

“She’ll be okay.” he promises.

“You don’t know that.”

“Her vitals are good, so is her blood pressure and her breathing.” Bellamy raises an eyebrow in confusion “I’ve been sneaking in here while you were passed out to make sure everything’s fine.”

“Thank you.” Bellamy nods gratefully “For everything you’ve done for us…for her.”

“You were the one to bring her back, not me.” Gabriel reminds him and Bellamy is surprised when he pulls a chair and sits by his side, looking at Clarke “Now comes the hard part, though.” Bellamy nods at that. “She’ll need you by her side.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s good, but also make sure you take care of yourself too.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, your sister told me you’ll say that.” Bellamy’s head snaps at those words. Since when were those two discussing him and Clarke?

“But I mean it…for you to be able to help her, you have to help yourself first. Rest, eat.” he nods at the cot on the other side of the tent “Sleep.”

“That’s too far from her.” Bellamy says anxiously

“We can move it” Gabriel suggests but Bellamy shakes his head stubbornly.

“I’m used to not sleeping for long periods of time.”

Gabriel sighs, giving up the fight for now and standing up again.

“I’ve arranged more tents for the rest of your people and my children will show them around-all the things they should stay away from and how they can help our camp but they’re okay for now so you don’t need to worry about it.”

“And Madi?”

“She’s okay, I checked her out. Just pretty exhausted so she should sleep and eat to get her strength back but I believe she’ll be alright.” Bellamy nods gratefully and Gabriel moves his chair away to give him his space to stretch his legs again if he decided to “I’ll be in the tent to your right if you need me, okay?”

With that he leaves and Bellamy’s finally alone in the tent, no sounds inside, only the occasional cackle of woods in a fire outside, someone’s quiet talks but they go down in an hour or two.

Octavia brings him and Clarke food but he doesn’t touch his and he refuses to wake her up for that right now, knowing she’ll be too exhausted to eat, opting to save that battle for tomorrow.

At some point at night he notices she’s shivering, so he takes off his cardigan and throws it over her.

She cuddles on herself like a small child and fists the cardigan with her hand, tucking it between her cheek and chest, breathing it in which makes him smile.

Sometimes he forgot how young she still was, how she was supposed to have her whole life ahead of her, how fucked up everything has always been for her even before she came to earth and he wishes, he so desperately wishes he could kick all the pain away from her, grab it, shake it, make it leave her alone so she could have nothing but peace.

Sanctum was supposed to be a new beginning but instead it led to her body being snatched and then after she managed to fight her way back to him again, she was left unable to speak.

He honestly didn’t know how she would deal with that and as strong as she was he feared this would be the final straw to breaking her.

But in that moment, with her hand still in his, he promised himself that if she falls, he’ll be there to catch her this time.

                                                          ***

The next few days go on like a fog to him.

She wakes up, mostly cries, then falls back asleep.

He knows that she needs that time to fall apart, to let her tears out, to grief so she could somehow stand back on her feet, even if wobbly.

What scares him is the part after that one which comes very fast.

Her tears dry, her face falls down and goes blank and she lays curled up in bed, refusing to move at all.

He knows that very well, having experienced it on the Ark after Praimfaya himself.

But it was different.

Though his heart was broken, he still could talk even if he didn’t want to.

On the fifth day he decides he has to take some measures, so in the morning he comes back in the tent with a small package in his hands.

“Come on, princess, time to get up.” he says circling to the other side of the cot and taking her wrist, tugging her into a sitting position.

She makes a face, purses her lips, shakes her head like all the days before, but this time he won’t take her bullshit.

He had to do something or he’d lose her and not in the physical sense, at least not at first.

Jasper flashes through his mind and that makes him pull a bit more forcefully.

Finally, when he has her sitting, legs hanging off the cot, he settles down opposite of her and dumps his package.

“So, since you can’t communicate in any other way right now, I figured you’ll still want to kick my ass somehow so I got you this-” he pulls out a yellow notebook and a pen. “It’s not ideal, but it’ll have to do until you get the hang of this-” the next thing he pulls out is a very old kind of washed out and really ruffled …study guide?

She squints her eyes trying to make sense of the title-all the colorful pictures of figures of kids and plush toys were mostly erased from overuse but the title remained.

“A simple guide to American Sign Language”

Her head shots to him, eyebrows raised in confusion and surprise.

“I know, I’m awesome right.”

She slaps his chest and he chuckles but when she sees her smile at his stupidity, his heart feels a little big lighter.

He gives her a moment eyes moving from the study guide to the pencil and the yellow notebook he got her and when she picks it up and starts scribbling something down, he dares feel hope for the first time in days.

“Where did you get that?” it said when she moves it so he could see.

He gives her a boyish shrug and rubs the back of his neck shyly.

“Gabriel found it actually. Said when he left Sanctum he managed to snatch a bunch of medical books he knew he’d need. This ended up somewhere between the pile he was frantically trying to steal.”

Clarke nods and takes it, going through the pages her hands shaking a bit as she does.

He knew what was going through her mind-giving her this was also yet another confirmation that this was it for her-from now on she had to have a whole different life.

A life where she couldn’t talk or express herself the way she used to, a life where, like Gabriel told him, people will look at her and even if she gestured, even if she wrote her thoughts down, they wouldn’t see her.

She’d become a ghost.

Yeah, well not to him.

Never to him.

“It’ll be hard, I know but I actually practiced some myself in the past few days and I think we can work on it together.” he explains, reaching to squeeze her wrist.

She lets her head hang low but he knows her eyes are on their hands.

“When I was a kid I had this boy in my class who…” he stops for a second “he couldn’t talk either so I studied some back then too and I am remembering a few things.”

She picks up the pen again and contemplates what she’s going to write for a moment too long.

A moment in which his heart is in his neck and his own fingers shake a bit.

When she turns the notebook to him he laughs.

NERD! Is what is says and he chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah, like you weren’t a straight A student, princess.” he pokes her ribs just for the fun of it and she smiles, feeling ticklish and falling forward to his chest.

He catches her shoulder and moves closer giving her a serious look now.

“I know this is…hard to put it mildly but I want you to know that no matter what happens, I’ll be here for you okay?”

She lets out something of a sigh which is just air tickling his neck before picking the pen again and scribbling something down.

“That’s what worries me.” he reads out loud “Why?” she writes down something again before showing it to him.

“I don’t want you to have to do this.” he reads and furrows his eyebrows “Bullshit, princess. I don’t care what you have to say or how you push me. I let this-” he swallows hard “I let this happen to you.” she scrunches her nose at that “I should’ve protected you the moment we figured out they had any interest in you because of the nightblood and I didn’t.”

“It’s not your fault.” she writes down and he shakes his head.

“Yes it is.”

She reaches to squeeze his hands, both of them and hard using his way of saying that no, he’s wrong, he’s goddamn wrong.

He sighs and squeezes her hands back but she takes a moment to let him go, as if needing to reiterate the words she can’t utter.

She cups her cheek and she leans into him a bit.

“It’ll be fine, princess.” he promises and when a lonely tear rolls down her cheek, he brushes it away and pulls her to his chest again.

She doesn’t get lost in her grief like before.

Instead she pulls away after a moment and writes something down again.

“Time to get to work.” he reads out loud, squinting his eyes a little, because of his own terrible eyesight which in turn makes her laugh a bit when she realizes why he’s making such a funny face.

“I think you need glasses, grandpa.” she writes down.

“Hey!” he pretends to be angry, crossing his arms over his chest. “My eyes are perfectly fine.”

She smiles fondly at him before she writes yet another note.

The letters are so tiny, he has to literally bury his nose in the notebook to read that it said.

“You were saying?”

“Hey, that’s not fair, princess!” he pretends to be grumpy but she’s smiling again and he doesn’t want to ever see it leave her face-it may be sad, but it was there and he’d hold on to it for as long as he could.

“You’re blind and I’m mute, I think we make the perfect team.” she writes in bigger letters now and when he reads it his heart leaps yet again and his cheeks feel hot.

When she sees his face, she realizes what she wrote and gets a little shy about it too, ducking her head away and blushing herself.

“We always did work well together, princess.” he says, once again taking her hand in his and squeezing it. “We can do it now too.”

And they do.

It’s hard at first.

Really hard.

She can’t get the hang of ASL as fast as she wants to and she’s pushing herself, giving herself headaches and tiring herself.

He hates it so he hides the study guide for a few days which frustrates her even more, but he doesn’t budge, not even when she tries to toss an apple in his direction and kick him out because she thinks she’s doing him a favor.

One of the worst and most desperate moments is when she breaks down but not because of sadness, but out of fear, anger and frustration.

She’s up on her feet and she’s mouthing words at him.

He’s gotten quite good at reading her lips but she was too fast and too angry right now for him to catch on what she wanted to say.

When she pushed his chest with both her hands he got the meaning.

“I told you, I’m not leaving.” he says, calm as a rock, steady on his feet.

She pushes again at him, mouthing “JUST GO!” but he shakes his head and stumbles when she pushes at him again.

She tries to kick him outside the tent, desperately tries to talk, yell, except no sound comes out which makes her even more frustrated.

He stumbles back, almost falls on his ass, but refuses to leave.

Finally, she bawls her hands into fists and starts hitting his chest.

“No! No! NO!” she’s mouthing and he lets her hurt him as much as she wants to because no physical pain could ever compare to her pain right now “NO!”

He grabs her shoulders finally and though she tries to fight him still, he just pushes her to his chest and holds her tight.

She struggles against him, still tries to hit his chest, then wraps her arms around him and cries.

They fall to the floor, she’s just that exhausted and completely spent and he holds her, wraps her in his arms like a baby, one arm under his knees and the other on her back.

She rests her head on his chest and doesn’t fall asleep but just stays there and he uses her breaths fanning his neck to ground himself.

“I have an idea.” he says after what seems like hours later.

She moves her head to him, eyes full of pain and sadness. He smiles, for a moment just barely holds himself not to lean down and kiss her forehead, then picks her up and carries her to the cot where he puts her in a sitting position.

He crosses his legs opposite of her and takes her hand.

“So ASL will take some time but while you master it, we can use other ways to talk, okay?” he takes her hand “We covered yes and no.” he squeezes her hand briefly, then rubs his thumb over her palm.

“Hungry” he taps the place just over the beauty mark near her lips and she blushes and he feels his own cheeks warm up but ignores it in favor of this being way more important than whatever feelings he had for her “Tired.” he taps her forehead. “Sleepy.” he cups her cheek and she leans into him a bit. “Got it?”

She rubs her thumb over his hand and he smiles.

But he’s surprised when she pushes her notebook away and uses her hands, making an L shape with her thumb and index finger, then joins them together forming a W.

He raises an eyebrow but then she points at his chest and keeps her eyes on him.

He doesn’t want to say he can’t figure it out right away so he lets his brain work it a moment before it dawns on him.

“What about you?” he asks and she nods with a smile, happy that he understood her. “I’m not sure what you mean here, princess?” she makes an annoyed face at him and crosses her arms over her chest.

“I told you, I’m fine.” he promises, once again rubbing his thumb over her wrist. She shakes him off, though, cupping his cheeks again and rubbing her finger over his dark circles, jutting her chin at him.

“That’s nothing.” he promises “I’ll sleep when you’re better.”

She opens her mouth and he’s pretty sure that if she could, she’d scowl at him which makes him laugh.

She points at herself with her index finger, then cups her own cheek and squeezes his hand hard.

“I won’t sleep-” he speaks out her words and she nods before she continues, jabbing her finger in his chest and cupping his cheek “until you sleep?” she gives him a victorious nod and he chuckles.

“Nice try, princess.” he stands up “But I gotta go check on the others and then I’ll come back with food, alright? Does that work?” she makes another face and he has to admit she’s quite adorable like this but he doesn’t let himself laugh, knowing she’ll just get more pissed off at it.

She hasn’t left the tent in almost a week and there were no signs she would.

In her defense, she was still pretty weak and when he insisted they walked around the small place, she was wobbly on her feet and needed to lean on him which he definitely didn’t mind because it made him worry less.

She only saw Madi once and he left them for a few hours alone.

When he was back Madi was gone and Clarke explained by writing down that they agreed she’ll need some time to get things together before it all went back to normal.

Still, the kid came by usually early in the morning, for a few hours and he used that time to check on the others and take a shower but he lingered outside the tent, sitting on an old log and going through the ASL book or taking a short nap sitting while they had their time to catch up, after which he rushed back inside.

This time is no different except Madi had her turn this morning and she’s training with Gaia now while the others are spread around the camp fire, talking with the Children.

He notices his sister is sitting way too close to Gabriel but he can’t even begin to think what this could mean, so instead he fills a plate for Clarke and goes right back in before someone notices him and starts asking him questions about her.

Or worse, in his sister’s case-about himself and his own well-being.

He finds her asleep, curled up on the cot and it makes him smile at how soft and at peace she looks so he takes off his cardigan and as usually throws it over her before residing to his uncomfortable chair near the cot.

His back has been way too cranky after spending days like that, though, so he decides to quietly settle on the ground next to her cot, letting his body relax against the hard ground.

It’s still uncomfortable but it’s better and he can’t really give a damn about himself, not when she was going through hell and not like he ever really did care about his own well-being.

He starts falling, drifting off and he’s about to go into deep slumber when he feels someone’s fingers tapping his shoulder.

He jumps in a sitting position right away, speaking out loud.

“I’m here! I’m right here!” he only realizes how stupid he sounds when he looks around and sees her looking at him with a half-worried half-annoyed expression on her face. “What’s wrong?” he asks reaching for her hand “Are you okay?”

She furrows her eyebrows even more, pointing at him and then the ground.

“Why are you sleeping there?” she means and he gives her a shrug as he stands up and sits back on the chair which she clearly doesn’t approve of either because her hand is still on his wrist tugging him to her.

“It’s okay, Clarke.”

She tugs his hand harder.

“Come here” she means when she gestures at the cot and he shakes his head.

“It’s too narrow and you won’t be comfortable if I lay next to you.” he tries but she stubbornly pulls him to her.

“I’m okay.” he promises but she sits, and pushes his body between her legs, her hand expertly moving to his back and pressing on the bundle of nerves near his spine that were giving him the most trouble.

“Hey!” he says through teeth “That’s not nice, princess.”

She raises an eyebrow and points at the bed again.

He finally resigns and lets her pull him to the cot.

Once he’s down, she throws his cardigan over him but because his shoulders are quite big and his arms very muscular, it falls almost immediately right off.

He chuckles at the face she makes but lets her throw it over him  again and move closer to him.

When he feels her nose brushing his chest he sucks in his breath but now that they’re so tightly wrapped in their cocoon, he feels a little better.

“You’re really stubborn, you know that right, princess?” he asks her and she throws him a look but still buries her head in his chest, making him tense at first but not before she takes his hand and puts it on her back, giving him permission to touch her.

He smiles, pulls her closer and covers her head with his, but not before kissing her cheek which makes his entire face go red but he doesn’t care, can’t care because right now being with her in this moment, holding her in his arms and feeling her breath fanning his neck, he knows that despite it all, everything will be alright.

[painfog]

Hey so I saw you mention top surgery and was curious. I was supposed to be having top surgery this summer but that’s postponed. I was curious how that went with chronic pain? I’m scared about the surgical binder with my fibro and back pain. Any advice or info would be greatly appreciated!! (You can answer privately if you prefer)

ive actually been meaning to write up a big post on this pretty much since i had top surgery but still haven't got around to it yet so I'm happy to talk about it lol. ill go over stuff now n still aim to do a more in depth post later when im on my laptop (but writing this now bc i tend to forget everything haha). ill stick to the more fibro / chronic illness specific stuff & stuff i wasnt expecting rather than rehashing everything. apologies im on mobile so i cant put this under a cut

firstly, im sorry ur surgery got postponed! i know that must be gutting, so i hope it gets rescheduled asap & the time until then passes easily for u ❤️

I had double incision with free nipple grafts on the 4th of september 2019 with Mr Miles Berry at the london wellbeck hospital. i think he did an amazing job and can't recommend him enough for his work! i think the last pics i took of my chest were for tdov, and ill rb them after i post this for reference. i didnt have drains at any point of the surgery

for ppl with fibro, i was told that the pain after surgery either tends to trigger a flareup, or be really easily manageable, and it's hard to predict which it will be beforehand. its best to prepare for a flareup and be pleasently surprised if u dont get one. for me, i had a flareup that sucked but wasnt too bad as far as flareups go

you'll probably get given painkillers. take them regularly. it's easier to treat pain preemptively. if u don't get given them (no idea how it works outside of the uk) id say def get codine and paracetamol. u can't take ibuprofen for a while

i woke up from aneasthetic freezing cold + in a lot of pain. apparently most ppl dont need the full dose of morphine, but i did. after that it was a bit better. i was just So Goddamn Hungry literally it's all i was talking about

that night in hospital was probably one of the most uncomfortable in my life. you have to sleep sitting up for like blood reasons, so my back pain was quite bad bc of it. moving around a bit and adjusting pillows helped. if u have anything that normally helps ur back pain bring it with u to the hospital, & dont be afraid to ask the nurses for help with it (even if they can just adjust ur pillows for u). i couldnt rly sleep much but distraction helps. bring ur phone + headphones. i did a few ask memes when i couldnt sleep

the first week from surgery was rly tough, the first few days especially. this was bc i still had to sleep elevated for a few days and i couldnt get comfortable. i was too exhausted to do anything but couldn't sleep and it rly started to get me down. then i got some sleeping tablets (just nytol) and that helped so much. i literally cannot recommend it enough bc the not sleeping properly made everything hard (and like esp because with fibro the whole pain/fatigue/depression cycle is so real). once i started sleeping better recovery became a lot easier, and the tablets made the awkward sleeping positions more manageable. if i had to give only one bit of advice this would be it

on that note, ik everyone says this but do get a V pillow. it helps u adjust to sleeping on ur back and if u sleep on ur side normally it means u can like lean slightly sideways on it which makes it sm easier. also this isn't even top related but they make good back pillows when ur watching stuff in bed even now

get urself some video games (if ur into them) and easy entertainment shows lined up for when u wanna have them. recovering from major surgery makes ur fatigue even more pronounced so ur not going to be able to do all that much, but having light entertainment ready to go stops u getting as bored. its also a good excuse to finally play/watch the things you've been meaning to for a while

go outside when u can. if u have a garden just walk around it. it helps with a lot of stuff, and idk about u but i always forget how much it does. even just helping u sleep better if u get trapped in a fibro fatigued-but-can't-sleep cycle. and it goes so far helping u feel human in the first week

the first week is rly hard for a lot of ppl - its frustrating to have all that pain and exhaustion and not being able to wash or change the binder, and with the swelling and bandages under the binder it doesn't really feel like there's much change, which all sort of adds together. i keep going on about this week bc it helps to mentally prepare for it - there's no need to dread it, you just need to remind urself how worth it itll all be and that the rest of recovery is a lot better than the first part, and in time it won't have seemed that bad. big picture stuff

when u get the chest reveal, everything's better. i didnt stop smiling. and when u put the post op binder on afterwards, without all the bandaging, u like feel for the first time how much flatter u are??? and its amazing. even with the swelling. and then u get to shower and u feel human again and its great. (ik some ppl have their post ops/chest reveals much earlier than a week, but 5 days to a week is pretty standard in the uk. mine was 6 days i think)

more post op binder stuff: i got given 2. the first one i woke up in after the surgery and wasn't allowed to take off until my post op, and the second one i got given at my post op to change into after i showered. After that i alternated every few days. whatever u get given, if u get less than 2 i recommend getting another one so u can alternate them (if u want help sourcing them hmu. ive also still got mine i need to give away)

the post op binders were actually a lot easier to wear full time than normal binders. they were like more stretchy, and stretchy the full way round (bc they dont have the compression bit at the front). i used to sleep in my normal binder every time i slept with my ex, and that hurt like a motherfuck sometimes. the post op binder was much kinder to my ribs

i had to wear the post op binder full time, taking it off like once a day to shower n let my chest breathe (and massage my scars once i started that). some surgeons arent that strict abt wearing it that long, but it really helps swelling, & bc i didnt have drains it was rly important to stop fluid buildup. ik quite a few guys in my trans groups who stopped wearing their binder fairly early and then got quite a lot of swelling so i didn't want to risk it & i wore it for the full 6 weeks. at some point (icr when but maybe at 6 weeks? bc my post op was at 8 weeks bc he was on holiday) i didnt wear it during the day and only wore it at night

all in all the binder didnt bother me that much. it was more comfortable than my regular binders and i just kinda got on with it. it was annoying tho and i was glad when i could stop wearing it. for me the most annoying part was that it was a full length binder (i always wore half length before) and the riding up at the hips was rly irritating. i actually quite liked sleeping with it tho it was a pretty nice pressure stim ahah

some post op binders r more comfortable than others. if u have to buy ur own, i rly suggest going with a proper surgical one (they arent too hard to find second hand for free or cheap, again im happy to help here) bc they're kinder to chronic pain. i know that having a comfortable post op binder made it all a lot easier for me. there are also lots of alternatives w lots of price ranges tho, so that's not ur only option

ok i think thats everything right now! sorry its so long, but let me know if u have any questions!!

finally: before i got top ppl told me that its honestly life changing, and i didnt realise how true that would be. literally every single aspect of my life is at least partially better because of it, and most of them drastically so. I'm really excited for you to get that for yourself, and im wishing u all the best for it 💕