#I told her in the ambulance

[sleepdeprivedweeblol]

If you see any random Si lore drop in my tags feel free to ignore it!

[blueteamtexas]

reading caboose's page on the rvb fan wiki is kinda sickening ngl. please learn how to reference people with tbi like. "this is caboose. he is very stupid. there is major brain damage or w/e but liek. his main attributes are his idiocy and how fucking dumb he is. basically a baby if it could talk. cant even use a gun" thats fucked up. i personally know several people with tbis who are still happily married (possibly sexually active, i never asked), full ass adults with lives and cares and worries and struggles. its so unfair that everyone treats wash's cerebral hypoxia with grace and delicacy (bar the whole character arc of carolina handling it with less grace and more fear) but caboose is just an idiot? why does wash get that "is this what donut feels like all the time" but not "is this what caboose feels all the time"? it breaks my heart (and scares me) that when seeing someone struggling with understanding their reality and word comprehension a lot of reactions are just "stupid"

tldr: stop fucking treating diabled people like invalids for fucks sake

(edit: ive been informed that caboose suffers from an abi (aquired brain injury), not a tbi (traumatic brain injury).)

[kayvsworld]

i always forget i have Healthcare System Anxiety until i have to interact with The Healthcare System and immediately just start screaming internally for days

[softquietsteadylove]

For part 4: I've got this idea of mine where Thena blaming Minerva for what happened to Gil and she ordered her that he wants Gil back under her after this mission.

I want you to decide for the rest! I know this is a lot and I am sorry TT, I just wanna say again that your works are beautiful and so are you. Thank you! xoxo

"How'd it go?"

Thena closed the passenger side door with a huff, clipping her seat belt rather aggressively. "It could have gone worse, I suppose."

"So you didn't mouth off and get fired?" Kingo asked as he pulled out of the lot of the agency office building. "I would say I was impressed if you weren't already on suspension for it."

Thena just shrugged. She didn't much care about the suspension, even considering she was a senior agent, and this kind of thing would reflect on her for a very long time to come. It was a well deserved suspension, given how she had screamed in the face of not only Minerva but the Section Chief as well.

All that having been said, Gil had almost died.

The recovery operation was a success. Thena was the best when it came to infiltration, especially after things had already not gone to plan. She and the rest of Special Ops had arrived at the scene and cleaned things up concisely and without mercy.

She had gone further in with Kingo, intent on finding Gil. At the very least they had confirmed that he wasn't one of the reported casualties, but that still left him as potentially injured.

Thena had found him in one of the back corners of the labyrinth of storage lockers. He was barely breathing and there was blood everywhere. If they had been any later, he probably would have...

She had gone in the ambulance with him, Kingo having covered for her absence, with Minerva's help to corroborate Thena's definitely-good-enough reason for leaving the scene.

She owed that much to Minerva, and after she had gotten in her face about the whole thing being her fault. That was unfair of her, and Thena knew it. She knew what being a team leader meant--what it meant to have people's lives in their hands and be solely responsible for it when things went bad.

She was feeling...fragile.

Minerva had taken it like a champ, because of course she had. She didn't reprimand Thena for it, didn't shout back at her, didn't even demand an apology for it later.

The Chief still had her suspended for her behaviour but Thena hadn't cared then and she still didn't, now.

"Did you do what I told you?" Kingo asked as he drove, letting Thena take it easy in the passenger's seat.

Thena crossed her arms, "I displayed...appropriate remorse."

Kingo rolled his eyes, "come on, Boss. I can't do shit with both you and Gil out of commission."

"I know," she mumbled, looking down at her bag on her lap. She really had attempted to appear apologetic for her actions. "I did offer my apologies for it."

"Did you seem sorry?" Kingo looked over at her as he slowed to a stop, "really?"

Thena rolled her eyes and shook her head, "sorry enough."

"So, no," Kingo scoffed and shook his head as well. "If you and Gil get fired, I've gotta get out of this line of work."

Thena smiled, "we're not fired, Kingo. Not yet, anyway."

"Yet," he huffed as he started driving again. He glanced at her, "the transfer?"

"I said that even if I was fired, Gil would be back on Special Ops in exchange."

"Thena-"

"It was the only way I'd go peacefully," she shrugged, repeating it exactly as she had stated it in her probation hearing. "That's all that matters."

Kingo snuck his eyes over to her as she toyed with the bag on her knees. She was fidgeting. "You really think Gil is going to still work here if you don't?"

Thena ignored him. "It's just one more week."

Kingo made a grand show of rolling his eyes at her as he pulled over, "I don't know, Boss. I've already neglected all the paperwork I can. They're going to start asking me to actually do it instead of waiting for you to get back."

Thena gave him a smile as she gripped the handle of the car door, "serves you right."

He leaned down to look at her even as she got out, "just come back soon, please? And tell the big guy I want him back even sooner!"

Thena waved to him as he drove off again. She had to admit, Kingo didn't drive as much like a hellion as she had initially expected he would. And he had very helpfully given her a ride whenever she needed it during her suspension period. She turned, letting herself into the apartment with her key.

"Hey!"

"Hey," she smiled as she walked in, kicking off her shoes by the door and walking into the kitchen. "I'm getting a little too used to not having to wear heels."

"Well, it's not like you need 'em."

Thena rounded the corner, leaning against the wall as she admired the sight of Gilgamesh in the kitchen, on his feet, alive and well. Moderately well, "what's on?"

"Just some easy pasta," he smiled at her from the stove, stirring it with his left hand while his right remained in a sling. She gave him a look and he laughed outright, "relax, nothing strenuous involved."

He had taken a bullet to the leg, as well as endured a shattered clavicle that would have him in a sling for two months. He would still be on desk duty even by the time he was cleared to return to work.

Thena wandered closer, inhaling the delicious smelling sauce. He really was a surprisingly skilled home cook.

He looked over at her, the sizzling of pasta underscoring them. "Get fired?"

"No, but I think Minerva vouched for both of us," Thena sighed. She didn't love the idea of being indebted to her old comrade, but she had to admit that she owed her quite a lot, at this point. "They said that the suspension will be over next week, and after that they'll 'keep an eye on me', so... "

He nudged her with his good elbow gently, "I told you not to speak your mind. Just tell them you're very sorry for what you did and move on."

She raised a brow at him, "is that what you said at your probation hearing?"

"No, I told them that they were old bastards who could go to hell."

Thena laughed, partly from the joke, and partly because it probably wasn't that far from the truth, knowing Gil. For all the shit she got for not minding her manners around their superiors, Gil was a pretty honest guy, even in the worst scenarios.

Gil turned off the stove burner and turned to her, "you were pretty hurt, after that op. I couldn't just let that go."

She looked up at him too, her eyes drifting over the sling holding his arm and then down over the extensive bandaging he had received in the hospital. Even a week after being released, some of them still had to be maintained regularly. "How do you think I felt?"

He smiled, giving her shoulder a squeeze before moving to the cupboard with the bowls, "hey, we got through it--both of us."

Thena moved faster, bumping him out of the way with her hip to reach them before he could, "barely."

He smiled, letting her reach them for herself, instead moving to get them both water glasses. "But we did."

Thena set down the bowls beside the pan of pasta. She had apologised plenty already, and that was after Gil had awoken and told her he didn't have any clue what she was apologising for (and telling her to take it back, too). But seeing him more in the past week than she had in the past month still made her heart clench in her chest.

"Thena?"

She smiled, spooning out plenty for both of them (although that meant that his serving was double the size of hers). "Sit down, Gilgamesh."

He chuckled, obeying the order with a big grin on his face, "yes, ma'am."

She let him see her rolling her eyes at him as she came over with their lunch. She sat down, leaving her suit jacket on the back of her chair. She kept forgetting things at Gil's place, being here to help take care of him so often. She had reminded herself plenty of times already not to get so comfortable here.

"Hey."

Thena looked up, already smiling because Gil was. He twirled some pasta around his fork from his bowl and held up the bite for her. He was cute; she shook her head at him. "I have my own."

Gil shrugged, "you need more. This is why you're so skinny."

Thena's jaw dropped, although it made an opening for Gil to poke at her lip with the pasta fork. She huffed before biting down on it with a glare. "You are still my Agent, Gilgamesh."

"Sorry, sir," he laughed as he pulled the fork back. "Y'know, I thought you were kinda skinny for an Agent when you first recruited me, too."

"Oh, did you," Thena scoffed as she took a bite of her own lunch. "What else did you think?--since you're feeling candid?"

Gil shrugged, his shoulders still moving with his barely contained laughter, "that you weren't nearly as hard to read as everyone said you were."

She rolled her eyes again.

"And that you were kinda pretty, too."

She stopped in the middle of bringing her fork up to her lips. She looked over at him but he was shovelling in another bite, as if he hadn't even heard what he'd said.

"This is isn't bad for only having one hand," he commented as he took a massive bite for himself.

Thena just sighed and took another bite as well. It was moments like this that made her not want her suspension to actually end.

[cannot-copia]

this year so far

[luxurybrownbarbie]

I know I shouldn't be laughing at this whole UK situation, but I'm in the Caribbean right now, so I'm safe. My mom and I heard the news break about the Queen's death(well,I knew because of Twitter) and when I tell this grown ass woman started defending her as a monarch and saying that what she did throughout her life was fine because "she had no real say".........that meme of the girl going "y'all be weak in the knees,stand up" went through my mind and I couldn't stop cackling for a good minute. Generational gaps,methinks.

(There's no real purpose to this ask, I just randomly remembered and started choking with laughter again)

It’s been a real laugh. Like, right now it’s a giggle. When that insecure megalomaniac is coronated and he’s fully aware of the power he holds now… it’s going to get very very nasty. I give it like… three months before BBC News and Good Morning Britain are trying to find the most polite way to say he’s a massive ass.

Honestly, the cognitive dissonance people have to claim she was “the most important figure in Great Britain” (absolutely true) and yet “she had no real power or influence on anything, ever” (lies) is maddening and hilarious. She didn’t even need to carve out a PR strategy for her final years, she just allowed people to bestow the “kindly grandma” image onto her and rode it into the sunset. But a Caribbean woman saying that is real nasty work. Maybe you should take your mother to the doctor, something is clearly not right!

[esyra]

After the hospital bombing, I finally heard back from my grandmother and confirmed that several of my relatives were murdered by Israeli bombing. Seven of them, to be precise. Three are still going, including her. We've been talking constantly ever since.

Asked if it was possible to head south, and was told they did but were also bombed there. So they decided to go back home, in Zeitoun. Their home was bombed and they were pulled out of the rumble, then driven by ambulances to the al-Ahli Arab Hospital. There were people in every corner. Gazans sheltering, sleeping on the floor. Gazans dying on the floor, waiting for beds.

Four were declared dead on arrival, three were in need of surgery and other three were just bandaged. Then, a bomb was dropped in the parking lot that made parts of the ceiling collapse, like Dr. Ghassan Abu Sittah reported in that horrific conference/interview. Those in need of surgery died.

By the way, just in case you didn't know: the Church of Saint Porphyrius, the third oldest in history, bombed by Israel a few days back, was located near the hospital.

When looking for new shelter, they saw schools with signs hanging outside, "We can't take any more families." They met families, sympathetic but already sheltering too many people. They're now staying in an apartment building they found empty. Sleeping in the corner of the living room. If the family comes back, they'll apologize and leave.

Told me she was saving her phone battery for when the bombing stopped, and she had to ask for help to rebuilt the neighborhood. But she doesn't think it's gonna stop anymore. The ones still with her are mute most of the time, like they're saving energy, but she feels lonely and wanted to talk. There's no internet and to connect to WhatsApp, people are buying "a card from the supermarket, there's a password and username." Not sure what she meant. Still, the internet is inconsistent and won't load neither videos or images nor pages, so she doesn't know what's happening on the outside world.

Told her there were a lot of people protesting to stop the genocide, she replied, "The bombings are getting worse by the day." The bombing yesterday was the worst she ever witnessed. The entire neighborhood is infested with the smell of death, of decomposing bodies. Bodies are piling up in the streets and she's not sure if it's because they ran out of places to store them, but most of them are in bags. The smoke of the bombings hide the blue sky—she hasn't seen the clouds for a while.

Asked if I could share their pictures, names and dreams with people and was told, of which I partly agree, "they're not entertainment." If anyone genuinely cared, they would be alive—I'd argue there are people who do care, but I'm not gonna lecture her pain. And they don't deserve to be used to fulfill someone's sick fantasy. Told me to remember what some Israelis do with pictures of dead Palestinians. And I do.

For those of you who are not familiar, many times before settlers got together to celebrate the murder of Palestinians. For one, in 2015, Israeli settlers set a house in Duma, West Bank on fire. An 18-month old baby, Ali Dawbsheh, was burnt alive. Both parents later died of wounds and only a 5-year-old, Ahmad, survived, although severely injured.

Two celebrations of their murder are widely known, one at a wedding and others outside the court in which two were indicted for the terrorist attack. In the wedding, guests stabbed a photo of the toddler, Ali, while others waved guns, knives and Molotov cocktails. Israel's Minister of National Security, Itamar Ben-Gvir, was present.

That's what happens in an apartheid. Palestinians are so abused by authorities that their "innocent civilians" come to accept the brutality as necessary or are desensitized by our suffering. After all, it's been 75 years—get used to it!

So I won't risk the image of my loved ones, in fear they are used in these kinds of depravity. I will say, though, the world lost a young footballer. Lost a female writer and an aspiring ballerina. Lost a kind father, who was also a great cook, and a loving mother that enjoyed sewing and other types of handicraft art. Lost a math teacher and a child that wanted to become one.

People think Israel is testing new weapons on them. There's civilians arriving at the hospital with severe burns, which they thought was from white phosphorus, but apparently the pattern is different from the one caused by white phosphorus. It's widely believed Israel tests weapons in Palestinians.

Jeff Halper, author of War Against the People, a book on Israel's arms and surveillance technology industries, said: "Israel has kept the occupation because it's a laboratory for weapons."

They've ran out of drinkable water and the "aid" Biden sent was only for the South of Gaza and no fuel, for hospitals, was allowed in. Many shelves in the supermarket are empty. She said many are convinced that if they don't die from the bombing, they'll die from starvation or dehydration, or whatever disease will develop from the dirty water they're drinking.

Told me all people do now is pray, cry and die. Told me she hopes West Bank is spared. Told her Israel bombed a mosque in West Bank and dozens of Palestinians in West Bank are being murdered by settlers, so she bided me goodbye.

[luveline]

Something for hotch? Maybe where reader gets hurt/a concussion on a case and goes to the hospital but refuses to tell him she went until someone else mentions it?? <3 you dont have to do it if you have something similar but i love your writing!

ty for requesting!! <3 —Hotch will look after you, even when you don’t tell him you need him. fem, 1.7k

cw reader has a concussion

Hotch rubs his face when he knows nobody’s watching. Hand over his eyes, thumb and forefinger working against a brewing migraine. It eases a little of the tension there, but he can’t do it like you can. There’s something in your hands that makes him want to call them lovely hands, such a quaint word. You rub the space between his brows with your thumb until his aching is gone or replaced. Fondness with its own heartbeat wakes whenever you’re near. 

You’re not near. His head hurts. He wants a cup of coffee and a shower and to call Jack. The cases are never over when they’re over, is the thing, and he can’t keep track of everything. He has to answer questions and patch holes now, before the work follows him home to take up space on his desk. 

He talks to police officers, chiefs, victims families and firemen and Penelope, too, anybody who needs to ask him a question. He tells Emily to go back to the hotel because she’s exhausted, and warns Spencer that staying too long will give him another headache. He’s surprised half an hour later when Morgan grabs him by the arm. Hotch assumed he went with Spencer. 

“Hotch, what are you still doing here?” 

Hotch gives him a strange look. It’s not as though Morgan hasn’t seen Hotch clean up a mess before. “Sorry?” 

“I thought you’d be with Y/N.” 

He tries very hard to look casual. The team are often better at pretending they haven’t noticed you and Hotch slowly moving together. “She went home.” 

“No she didn’t, they took her in an ambulance. She’s at the hospital, nobody told you that?” 

Hotch knows Morgan can finish up for him. He doesn’t even say where he’s going or what there is left to do, Morgan is more than capable of handling the unit, and he’s a phone call away. Hotch rushes for an agent with a car and tells them where he needs to go as he punches your speed dial into his phone. Number three, after Penelope and Jess. 

You don’t answer, it makes him feel sick. He calls again and JJ picks up. Blessed, amazing JJ. 

“Hi Hotch.” 

“Is she there? Can I speak to her?” 

“She went in for an MRI a half hour ago.”

“JJ, what happened? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” 

“She said she told you.” A dry laugh from down the phone. “You’d think I’d learn not to trust her. I love her, but she’s a liar.” 

Hotch could say the same thing. “JJ, what happened? What’s wrong with her?” 

“I think she’s embarrassed. When everybody was coming back out, someone stepped on the back of her leg and she slipped down the stairs.” 

“Who stepped on her?” Hotch asks. 

JJ laughs. Hotch wonders if they’re too far into working together to scold her for unprofessionalism, but then he remembers the Unit would fall apart without her and holds his tongue. He’d fall apart without you, maybe, and he could stand to be a little more defensive. 

He’s out of the car and into the hospital in record time. He follows the signs to the Emergency Room, gives your name at the desk, and doesn’t have to flash his badge to get told what room they’ve put you in. He would’ve, and he would’ve threatened legal action. He’s no saint. He’ll abuse the system (in innocuous ways only, of course) if it means he gets to see you. 

You’re in a bed but sitting on the side of it rather than laying down. JJ sits in the chair beside you, two contrasting expressions on your faces. You’re smiling. JJ bites her lip. 

She turns to Hotch with relief. “Hey, look,” she says gently. 

“You took a long time to get here. Was it the moon?” 

Hotch understands quite quickly. “Sorry. Nobody told me you got hurt. What happened to the moon, honey?” 

You give him a vacant look. Turning back to JJ, your hands vying for her arm, you hold her to your stomach gently and squeeze your eyes closed. “The light.” 

Hotch turns to the wall, looking for the light switch. It’s hidden behind other concerning tech, so he’s careful about what he presses. You sigh and draw his attention, wiggling back on the bed to almost fall off the other side. 

“Maybe she thought she told me,” he suggests, not scolding JJ, but unhappy nonetheless. You clearly aren’t in a state to make decisions for yourself. 

JJ rubs your arm. “She got worse after we got here. That’s why they sent for her MRI so quickly. She’s on and off with it, incoherent and normal again.”   

Hotch knows she’s concerned for you, but he can read her restless leg; she hasn’t talked to Will or heard about Henry in hours. “Go back to the hotel, JJ. I have her.” 

JJ gives you a hug, to your confusion, and bypasses him fast. He can hear her phone ringing before the doors shut from her departure. 

He admires her loyalty, he just wishes she’d called him two hours ago. 

You rub your eyes, the loose sleeves of your hospital gown shifting against the loose knot behind your neck, and he genuinely despises the idea that you’d been here, hurt, without him. “Can I tie your gown again?” he asks. 

You nod into your rubbing. 

“I turned the lights off. It shouldn’t be so bright in here anymore.” He rounds the bed to your back, where a great deal of skin is showing. He smiles though he shouldn’t. You poor girl. “You’re a little… stark.” 

“I’m trying to think of some fruit and milk,” you tell him. 

“Do you need help?” 

“Not for the fruit.” 

“But for the milk,” he surmises, bringing the ties of your gown as close as he can without strangling you and tying them in a neat bow. 

“I don’t think that’s what I meant to say.” 

He puts his hand on your shoulder, his thumb to bare skin. “That’s okay, honey, you’re having a little trouble now, but it’ll go away soon. If there were something wrong, the doctor would be here.” 

“You could be a doctor.” 

“I couldn’t. I don’t know anything about medicine.” 

“A very nice doctor. Big hands.” You breathe out loudly, more animated than he’s ever heard you. “Whoo, I’m cold. I think they made me naked.” 

“How about I tuck you in, would you like that?” he asks, leaning over you in hopes of you turning your head. 

You stare up at him. “You want to?” 

“I’d love to. I want you to be comfortable.” 

“My boyfriend might not like it.” 

Hotch tries not to sulk at another horrible symptom. You aren’t only incoherent, but amnesiac. And you’ve forgotten who he is, in a way. At least you’ve remembered you have a boyfriend. He hopes it’s him. 

“No? Why wouldn’t he like it, honey? I’m just trying to take care of you.” 

You visibly fluster. “You’re calling me honey like he does, and he won’t like it ‘cos he takes care of me. He loves to go to places but he doesn’t know where he’s going.” 

That second half is gibberish, he’s sure. Hotch puts his hands carefully under your armpits and manoeuvres you back toward the top of the elevated hospital bed.

You put your hand to your tummy as you lean back, and hiss as your head touches the pillows. “Ow.” 

“Sorry,” he murmurs. 

“Don’t tell Aaron I got hurt.” 

“Why not?” 

“I fell down the stairs. He’s never fallen down the stairs.” 

“I have, actually. Twice. And it doesn’t matter how you get hurt, I want to know you’re alright, so I need you to tell me.” 

He pulls the sheets up to your legs and over your lap. Tucks them tightly behind your back, hands lingering on your hips. He watches you look at him, your cloudy gaze tracking over his eyes, his nose, and his lips. “Aaron?” you ask eventually, lifting your chin. 

“Yes?” 

You breathe out an unmissable sigh of relief. “You didn’t come with me.” 

“I didn’t know you were hurt.” He squeezes your hip softly. “You didn’t tell me. But it’s not your fault, is it? You got hurt.” His voice falls into silk. “Is that warm enough?” 

“I’m glad you’re here. I need you to get my shoes.” 

“No shoes. Can I have a hug?” 

“Why?” 

“Just to hug you,” he says softly. “It might make you feel better.” 

You raise your hands clumsily like your fingers are full of sand, forcing him to see his arms under them and behind your back. Your cheeks align, his rough with stubble, yours warm with the heat of a flush, perhaps from the injury. Your hands flop down onto his back as he rubs two separate, loving paths on the gown and your skin. 

Thank god she’s okay, he thinks. 

“Am I stuck like this?” you ask. 

“Are you worried?” He taps your back. “I doubt it. We might have to stay here for a while, but it’s okay. Feeling better is the priority.” 

“I’d like to go back.” 

“Home?” 

“For breakfast.” 

“Are you hungry? I can find you something to eat.” 

“What?” you ask. 

You sound so genuinely confused that Hotch laughs into your shoulder, before giving the fabric a soft kiss. “It doesn’t matter. I’m gonna bring that chair over and sit with you, okay? We’ll wait for the doctor together.” 

He sits with you for hours, talks to doctors and nurses alike as they come to check your vitals and explain your scans. Your confusion doesn’t lessen until the night time, and even then you act oddly, bringing his hand to your mouth to kiss strange parts of his fingers. The skin shy of his nail. The underside of a knuckle, the curve under the meat of his thumb. 

[thehmn]

A lot of Danes I’ve talked to express guilt at “taking advantage” of our universal healthcare and I sometimes wonder if it’s based on the knowledge that it’s not a universal right everywhere? Because these people are never “taking advantage” of it. They feel sick so they go see a doctor who then tell them there’s nothing wrong and they can relax. Stress less.

I have to see the doctor every month due to other illness which I don’t feel the least bit bad about but I fell victim to this feeling too once. At one point I started feeling pain in my chest, arm and neck and got really worried I was experiencing a hart attack or blood clot. At the same time I worried I was overreacting but my housemate convinced me to call Lægevagten, which isn’t the alarm center but more like a group of on-call doctors you can call if you have questions or worries. I told her about my symptoms and suddenly she said “Are you calling from this address?” having clearly looked it up on some sort of location gps system from my phone. I confirmed and she just said “Okay, I’m sending an ambulance” and within minutes two paramedics were at my door. They decided to take me to the nearest hospital where I spent the night going through all sorts of tests, from blood work, having radiation pumped into my lungs for a CT scan and several other X-ray images.

Nothing. They found nothing.

I felt so SO bad but before I even said anything they assured me “This is good. We’d rather people come here and nothing is wrong than people not come here when something is wrong and they end up dying. Now you don’t have to stress about this”

A few days later I realized the pain came from a sliiightly dislocated rib that randomly popped back into place while I was riding my bike.

I felt so silly but my friends reminded me that I didn’t make a huge fuss about it at the time. I just told the doctor my symptoms and she set the whole thing in motion. Like the doctors said, this is what universal healthcare is for. People need to feel like they can call for help even at the slightest sign of illness so it can be caught early. This is how you keep a population healthy.

But yeah, it’s such a silly feeling. We pay taxes to have universal healthcare so there’s no reason to feel guilty about using it. We just can’t help ourselves I suppose. (Let’s not even get into the fact my doctor diagnosed me with early diabetes “just to be on the safe side” that seemed to vanish almost immediately but it still means I get free yearly vaccinations and I have very mixed feelings about it)

[dudeitiskarev]

I Want to Hold Your Hand | Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau female reader

Summary: Hotch sends you home and you almost die, which only makes him realize how much he truly loves you.

Word count: 2.4k.

Tags/warnings: hurt/little comfort; season 1 Hotch my beloved <3; canon typical violence; Haley and Jack don’t exist in this universe oopsies; angst with happy ending; Hotch is a baby; probably very inaccurate medical talk bc all I know is from Grey’s; not beta read + English isn’t my first language so good luck with that.

Author’s note: remember when I said I was probably done writing for a Hotch? Turns out all I had to do was stop taking my antidepressant 🙄 anyway, don’t get your hopes high. I just needed to take a break from my never-ending Spence fic so I wrote this. Which is basically a rewrite of what happened with Elle. I just wanted to make Hotch suffer a little so I hope you like it!

MASTERLIST

A few hours ago, Aaron kissed the top of your head and sent you back to the hotel with a police officer.

Now, he was in a hospital waiting room with his heart in his throat, hoping the doctor would show up with good news.

You’d been attacked in your hotel room, and it was his fault.

“They’re gonna set up a bed for you in her room.” Jason walked in with a cup of coffee for Aaron. His fourth one already.

“She’s… not out of surgery yet,” Aaron shut his eyes. “We don’t know if —”

“The hospital chief, I know him.” Gideon sort of smiled. “I asked him if he could go check on her. All I know is that they’re closing her up now.”

The words began to sound far and faded as if Aaron was underwater. His vision blurred and his legs would’ve given up if he wasn’t sitting down already.

It was his soul returning to his body.

He didn’t want to get his hopes high, though. If they were closing you up it meant you were alive, but nothing else. There could be a hundred things wrong with you while being alive.

All he could do was nod and put his hands together over his lips like a prayer.

You were alive.

“The doctor should be here with the updates any minute now.” Jason sat next to Aaron and gave him a gentle tap on his back.

Gideon knew. Even when Hotch hadn’t told anyone about his feelings—not even you—he spent most of his day with profilers so of course the best one in his team knew about it.

“I’m heading back to the hotel soon,” Gideon continued. “See what the hell happened. Why… How did they let the unsub enter her room. Garcia should be landing soon. We need to check every security camera.” He smacked his tongue in disappointment and shook his head.

Aaron rose from his seat and tried his best to at least let his shoulders relax but every bit of him had turned into concrete.

“Where are Reid and Morgan?” He asked, pacing back and forth and stretching his neck from one side to the other. Even in moments like this, he needed to know where the rest of his people were. Especially in moments like this.

“Back at the local PD,” Gideon answered.

“JJ?”

“She’s talking to the hotel manager, making sure none of the employees makes any declaration to the press before we catch the guy.”

Aaron nodded, and soon, the doctor walked into the room with the updates.

“Surgery was a success,” he began. “We managed to repair all the damage and save her lung. Now, she flatlined once in the ambulance and then again during surgery so her brain has been through a lot.”

It wasn’t the time to profile anyone, but the way the doctor couldn’t keep eye contact for longer than two seconds told Aaron he was aiming at something more serious.

“Just tell us.” Aaron rubbed his thumb with his fingers.

“She’s not breathing on her own yet and according to her EEG, her last exam, her brain is swollen. It may take her a while to wake up.” The doctor gulped. “If she wakes up.”

Aaron’s entire world crumbled once again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and walked to a corner to pull himself together.

This was his fault. You might never wake up and it was his fault.

“When can we see her?” Gideon asked for him.

“You can see her now but… you need to be prepared. A machine is breathing for her. There’s a tube down her throat and it might be a lot to look at.”

Just picturing you like that turned his stomach upside down.

God, if you don’t ever wake up—

“She’s gonna wake up.” Penelope’s voice entered the room and so did the light she carried everywhere.

She was one of Aaron’s comfort people. If Penelope was there, there was hope.

“Garcia,” Jason said in a don’t tone.

“She’s strong.” Penelope walked up to Hotch anyway. “And people wake up from comas. Miracles happen and—” Her eyes filled with tears once she touched Hotch’s arm to get his attention. “She needs us, she needs you. And we need her.”

Garcia also knew, apparently. And if she knew without being a profiler, everyone else knew.

“I found this.” She handed Hotch a Polaroid picture of you. You were leaning on Garcia’s desk, your arms folded over your chest and with your sweet, sweet smile. There was the hope. “I took it a while ago and kept it on my desk along with the others but…”

Aaron took it with a shaky hand. You were mesmerizing.

“García,” Gideon insisted.

A nurse interrupted to let them know they could see you now.

“You go,” Gideon said to Hotch, taking a step back. “Just call me if anything changes. Garcia, you’re coming with me.”

“Yes, sir.” Penelope gave Hotch one last hopeful smile before following Jason out.

Aaron looked at your photo again and took deep breaths to gather himself as walked to the endless hall that took him to you.

“We’ll set up your bed in a few.” The nurse smiled at him, gesturing for him to go in. “She looks good. It might not look like it because of all the machines but she’s doing good. She’s a strong woman.”

Aaron said a quiet thanks before the nurse left.

It was just you and him.

The steady beeping of the machine brought him a sense of comfort—it meant you were alive—yet his feet were hesitant to take him next to you. He stood at the door for a moment, watching you from afar.

As the doctor had said, it was a lot to look at. It reminded him of the last time he saw someone close to him like this: his father. The difference was that back then, he couldn’t wait for his dad to die.

Today, he’d found himself praying multiple times to a god he wasn’t even sure existed most times.

He dared to move and when he reached your side, he almost crumbled. You had a few bruises on your left cheek, your knuckles were split—you even had a broken finger, and you looked beautiful as ever. He wished he could see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, catch you smiling at him.

Guilt brewed at the pit of his stomach again. He should’ve gone with you. He should’ve been with you.

He lifted one hand to stroke your head and tears welled up as soon as his skin touched yours. His chin quivered and he sniffled quietly as tears threatened to spill. He used the heel of his hands to dry them away. He couldn’t cry, even if you were in a coma and couldn’t see him like this—broken. You believed people’s energy had effects on others, and you needed him to be strong. He needed to be more like you.

His bed was set soon after, right next to you. His eyes were heavy, and his muscles were sore. Even then, he couldn’t bring himself to lie down. He was scared to close his eyes. What if you died while he was asleep? He stayed sitting down, holding your hand and never losing sight of you.

“It’s raining,” he said out loud, talking to you. “Every time it rains I think of you.”

He smiled at the memories. You’d shown up at his office for your interview drenching, and he was smitten from the very first moment he laid eyes on you.

“Agent Hotchner,” your perky voice caught him off guard. No one inside the BAU building was perky—besides Garcia.

You stood by the door, both hands behind your back waiting for his signal to come in.

“Please.” He gestured with his hand to the seat across from him.

He took half a second to study you quickly. Raindrops were gathered over the shoulders of your blazer and your mascara was a bit smudged under your eyes.

“Forgot your coat, agent?” He commented, peeling his eyes off you and reading through your resume.

“Didn’t think I’d be raining by the time I arrived, sir. I don’t keep an umbrella in my car either. I apologize for my… appearance.”

It wasn’t your appearance that got you on his team, it was your outstanding resume. It made him wonder why you chose to apply to the Behavioral Analysis Unit instead of staying at ViCAP. Your performance there was impeccable.

“I wasn’t feeling comfortable there anymore,” was your answer. “And I want to seek other paths, sir. And I know I’m a good fit for your team.”

You started the very next day, and he partnered up with you to keep an eye on you during your first cases. You were a quick thinker, were fast on your feet, and stayed calm under critical situations.

Not once he felt at a disadvantage in the field for working with the new kid, which only showed him how good you naturally were. He was drawn to you and it wasn’t just because of your professionalism.

It was your fast food order. It was the first joke you ever made that only made him laugh. It was your perfume, the way you spoke with your hands, and how you raised your brows when making a point.

Everything about you made him take a deep breath. You made him dizzy. Lightheaded. Drunk.

Exactly how he felt right now while holding your hand, except that now, the room was spinning at the mere thought of losing you.

“I love you,” he murmured, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your bruised knuckles with shaky lips. “I love you.”

He’d never said it before. He didn’t know he did until now.

“God, I love you so much. From the moment I saw you, you lit up my life. You made it better, made me better.” He kept talking to you, hoping that his voice would heal everything inside you. “I can’t lose you. I won’t make it.”

Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.

The rain stopped, the hours passed, and the sun never came out.

It’d been two weeks and he’d already made the habit of reading you at night.

“Studies have shown that playing music they really like and talking to the person in a coma increases their chances of waking up,” Spencer had said the day the entire team came to visit you.

Most nights he read case files. Others, he liked to read poetry.

You still hadn’t woken up, but the music, the poetry, and the flowers didn’t stop.

“I hope you don’t mind if I read something by Neruda,” Aaron said as he sat on the chair next to you. “Maybe not Neruda.”

It was one of those nights where hope had watered down with his tears.

He put the book down next to you and held your hand. He hadn’t stopped holding your hand; he hadn’t stopped kissing it either. He sighed deeply and stood up to draw the blinds, turning his back to you.

A loud smack against the floor startled him, making him turn around. The book he’d left next to you had fallen. He didn’t think he’d left it at the edge of the bed, but he picked it up without much curious and went to put it where it was.

Your hand twitched when he grazed your knuckles casually.

Then it twitched again—harsher—and a soft whimper came from your chest. That sound definitely came out of your body.

Aaron was quick to check on you, towering over you and watching you closely. Your eyelids started to move and the next thing he knew, he was making eye contact with you.

Those beautiful twinkling eyes took his breath away.

“We need a doctor in here!” He was quick to react, pressing the call button.

Nurses stormed inside and moved him out of the way to assist you.

“She’s awake. She’s fighting the tube,” was all he heard before a thousand tingles rushed through him.

You were awake.

Your doctor arrived soon after to examine you and Aaron stood there as they took the tube out.

You coughed and writhed with discomfort.

“Can you tell me your name?” Your doctor moved a small flashlight in front of your eyes.

You blinked a few times and searched around the room. Your eyes landed on Aaron. “Hotch?”

Your soft voice traveled to him and enveloped his heart, mending every bit that was broken.

“Hi,” he merely said.

You shook your head and said your name instead. Your doctor asked some more questions like your birthday, where you worked at and what was the last thing you remembered, and the entire time your eyes were trained on Aaron.

“It’s vague.” You took a sharp breath. “I think I was attacked but I don’t know how. I can assume by this unglued scar, though.” You put your palm on your chest.

“We’re still going to do some tests,” Your doctor said. “But you’re great. Pupils are responsive, your lungs sound healthy and there are no signs of brain damage. No memory loss. No speech loss either.”

“How soon can she go home?” Aaron asked, taking another step closer. He finally stood by your side, and you reached for his hand.

This was you. Sweet and caring even at your worst.

“I’d like to keep her under observation for a couple of days, then she can go. But just so you know, you can’t fly for at least two weeks after open-chest surgery.”

The doctor gave you some other indications before leaving, then it was just the two of you as it’d been for the past two weeks. Though now he got to see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, and catch you smiling at him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, tilting your head to the side like a puppy.

“I sent you away and—“ he raised his brows.

“Don’t.” You squeezed his hand. “Don’t do that. Don’t… blame yourself.”

“I should’ve come with you. I should’ve— god, you almost died. You almost died,” he repeated in a whisper, shutting his eyes with pain.

The guilt was still there.

“But I didn’t.”

“I was so scared,” he admitted, daring to look back at you.

“I… don’t remember much. Just bits and pieces but I do remember that I wasn’t scared. I think. I… channeled you at that moment.” You laughed. “I remember thinking, Hotch wouldn’t be scared, he would put up a fight, so I did. I fought the guy, which got me almost killed but I wasn’t scared.” You lifted your hand and cradled his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “You have a beard.”

He chuckled. “Barely.”

“It looks good. I like it.”

He didn’t like it much, but he was grateful it was there so you wouldn’t see how hard he was blushing. He poured you some water and handed it you to distract himself from it.

“Where are we?” You then asked, taking a sip from the straw.

“Seattle.” Aaron raised his brows while licking his lips.

Last time you two were in Seattle, you’d kissed for the first time.

“Oh,” you mirrored his smirk. “So that’s gonna be like a three-day road trip back to Quantico?”

“It’s either that or two more weeks in Seattle until you can fly there,” he responded.

“Both sound amazing, don’t you think?” you scanned his face up and down and heat rushed to his cheeks again. “Thank you for staying with me, Aaron.”

I love you, he thought.

“How could I not?” he said instead.

Never said there would be a love confession now did I 🤭 But don’t worry, hotch confesses his love during the road trip <33333 also the title is a The Beatles song bc he played The Beatles a lot while reader was in a coma. And bc he held her hand a lot.

I hope you liked it!!!!

[timoswerner]

im gonna scream its all going off

[donghoonie-3]

Wtf just happened 🧍I'm the only one who just witnessed that here wtf 🧍

[atimeofyourlife]

Time after time

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: uncle wayne adopts steve | rated: t | wc: 942 | cw: reference to abuse, reference of canon fake suicide | tags: steve harrington has bad parents, steve harrington needs a hug

The first time they met, Wayne knew the boy couldn't be much older than fourteen. Definitely younger than Eddie, who was fast approaching sixteen. It was early, a little before 6 am, during summer vacation, no less. Wayne had finished his shift and called into Benny's to get a coffee and breakfast, on the mornings he did this, he was almost always the first customer of the day. Occasionally beaten in by a cop, or a firefighter, or anyone else that had been stuck with a night shift. But he had never seen a kid in so early. Sat alone in the corner booth nursing a cup of coffee with an almost empty plate in front of him.

"Mornin' Wayne. The usual?" Benny asked.

"You know it. But, uh. What's with the kid?" Wayne replied, nodding toward the boy in the corner.

"Dick and Linda's kid. They're back in town, and he needs a safe place. So he comes here."

"Why don't you report it?" "You think I haven't tried? His parents paid off just about everyone from the mayor down. Kid's not lucky enough to have any other family around to look out for him."

The kid came over with his empty cup and plate.

"I've told you a thousand times that you don't need to do that kid." Benny said.

The kid just shrugged.

"What's your name, kid?" Wayne asked.

"Steve, sir. Steve Harrington." He replied.

"I'm Wayne. And I wish my boy was as polite as you."

The second time they met, it was in more unfortunate circumstances. Benny's funeral. There'd been weird shit going on in town, starting with the Byers' kid going missing. Wayne didn't believe any of the official stories. But especially not the story of Benny's supposed suicide. He knew Benny so well, and something like that wasn't the sort of thing to cross his mind.  He took his place in the community too seriously for that.

But the kid had changed. A few years older, and a lot more haunted. The look in his eyes giving away that he'd seen more than his fair share in his young life. And he was jumpy, almost always looking over his shoulder.  He kept to himself, away from everyone else there. Wayne didn't see much of him until after. Steve was standing at the edge of the parking lot, his hands shaking as he tried to get his lighter to work.

"Here, kid." Wayne held his own lighter out.

"Thank you, sir." Steve replied, after taking a long puff on his cigarette.

"No need for thanks, kid. You doing okay?"

"I. I think I'm gonna miss him. He's helped me out a lot." Steve admitted.

"That was Benny for you. Always ready to help anyone out. But do you have anyone else you can reach out to if you need it?"

Steve hesitated a moment. "Yeah, sir. I do."

The third time, it was less of a meeting than Steve yelling directions at everyone. Tabitha, a woman who lived on the other side of the trailer park, collapsed in the middle of Big Buy. The kid snapped into action without second thought, checking Tabitha for a pulse, for her breathing. He yelled at an employee to call for an ambulance as he started chest compressions. At another to clear space. At some other customers to block the end of the aisle so no one else could stand around and watch. Wayne approached as Steve gave rescue breaths, before going back to the chest compressions. When he noticed Wayne, he looked like he was about to yell at him, but Wayne spoke first.

"It's okay, kid. She's my neighbor. And I know CPR too, so when you need a break I can take over."

They swapped places a few times before the paramedics showed up and took over.

"You did good, son. You acted quicker than any adults did. You may have just saved her life." "Anyone would have done it, sir. I was just the closest who knew what to do."

The fourth time, it was at the hospital. Steve in the hospital bed next to Eddie's, identical wounds, but Steve's were infected. Wayne got to talking to Steve while Eddie slept.

"I tried to protect him the best as I could, sir. I patched him up, and made sure he got to the hospital in time. I know I should have done more-"

"You did more than enough. You kept him alive, now you need to focus on making sure that you're healthy. And you can drop the sir shit. It's Wayne."

After that, Wayne lost count of the meetings. From sharing the hospital room with Eddie, to being friends, to being more. He would do as much for Steve as he would for Eddie, and wanted to ensure that both always had somewhere safe to return to.

"Steve, if you ever want to get out of that big empty house of yours, you're more than welcome to join us here. We'd love to have you move in with us." Wayne said to Steve one day while they were cooking together. Eddie always conveniently disappeared when anything cooking related came up.

"Sir, Wayne. I couldn't put you out like that." Steve replied.

"Nonsense. You're as much my kid as Eddie is, it don't matter who your momma or daddy is. We want you here, you spend enough time here as it is, we might as well make it official."

"I, Wayne. I'd like that." Steve was quite choked up, so Wayne pulled him into a hug. All was going to be okay, with him and his two boys.

[drak3n]

PARAMEDIC!SUGURU

CONTENT WARNINGS: fluff, smut, strangers to lovers trope, reader passes out, ambulances, sutures, blood, soft!suguru

sena’s note: i’m so down bad for jjk men i don’t have any words… i’m tweaking rn just thinking about suguru in paramedic gear—

MINI-SERIES MASTERLIST

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who was just about to call it a night with his coworker and drive back to the fire station to be relieved by the night shift, but held back a groan when a call came in

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who was told that a lady in her twenties had passed out and hit her head while at work, and who forgot all about after hours as his colleague drove towards the workplace at full speed with blasting sirens

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who rushed inside the building of the given address — a restaurant — with his colleague, paramedic backpack draped over his shoulder to be fetched by the shift supervisor who had made the call

“i don’t know how it happened... she was prepping in the back along with another worker and i suddenly heard clattering. when i checked, she was passed out and bleeding all over the floor.”

suguru’s amber eyes narrowed at the way the man explained the situation, and he left it to his colleague to register the workplace’s and your data while he entered the back to see you seated on a chair, weakly holding a cloth against your profusely bleeding forehead.

“ma’am, i’m here to help. may i check?” his voice was mellow and smooth, and you lowered your shaking arm to let his gloved hand check beneath the cloth. you were barely able to sit, yet, you looked at your coworker with exhausted eyes. “i’m okay... why did you call the ambulance…? he’s probably mad now.”

“you’ll need stitches for that wound,” he informed you, which made you sigh shakily as you gazed up at the tall man. all you saw was a blurred, tall silhouette wearing a vibrant, red uniform that stung your eyes, and a bun of dark, long hair. “my colleague will be here with a stretcher. could you look at me for a quick second?”

long, gloved fingers gently lifted your chin to check your pupillary response with an ophthalmoscope, discovering that your pupils were unusually dilated. high chance of a concussion. when you heard a stretcher rolling inside the room, you let out a confused hum.

“i—i can walk,” you slurred, accompanied by the supervisor also annoyingly confirming that there was no need for the stretcher. suguru quirked a brow at your supervisor, beckoning his colleague closer with the stretcher.

“there absolutely is a need for that,” he countered, “now kindly back away, sir.” his tone was warning, and the older man hesitantly stepped away while the two paramedics lifted you off the chair carefully to lay you down on the stretcher, securing you as you gazed up with blank, confused eyes.

geto stayed in the back with you during the drive to the hospital, and he made sure to check your vitals and ask you questions to make out the severity of your concussion and to see how well you responded.

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who found it endearing that you insisted for him to hold your hand throughout the ride because you had never been in an ambulance and it was scary and cold

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU whose eyes didn’t leave your form until you were brought into a treatment room, barely able to let go of your hand

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who only noticed at the fire station after clearing out the ambulance that there was a silver necklace with your initial in a corner, a necklace he was sure he had seen on you before you were transferred into the ambulance

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who despite having just gotten off an excruciating 12-hour shift and wanting to have nothing more to do with hospitals for the day, found himself heading back towards the hospital you’d been delivered to

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who saw you sitting in the hallway, waiting for your CT scans with a bandage around your treated head, and who approached you in civilian attire

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who returned the necklace to you and helped you put it on, waiting for your results with you while you were still quizzed as to why he was with you, still clearly confused

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who drove you home because you had no one to pick you up, and who accompanied you all the way to your door; who didn’t leave without taking your number to check on you

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who really did check in with you very frequently until you were feeling better again, and who was positively surprised to see you at the same hospital again a week later to get your stitches removed

“does this scar make me look goofy? be honest.”

suguru took your hand to stop you from touching the scarred and still sensitive tissue, giving you a soft smile. “no, it just puts a little badass in your adorable self,” he chuckled. your eyes went wide as you looked away bashfully.

“are you off work now?” suguru tilted his head down to look at you, you wouldn’t meet his eyes. cute. “i am. just need to head back to the station and get changed. why?”

“i’m really hungry. you wanna grab food?”

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who never failed to kiss the scar on your forehead, grazing his fingertips against the imperfectly perfect feature on your face, and who got heart eyes whenever you shyly showed him how much you love him

➩ PARAMEDIC!SUGURU who always subconsciously shielded your head from possible danger; who covered your head with his hand while opening cupboards close to you, or who always covered the edge of a table with his palm when you bent over to pick something up; and who despite being so caring, couldn’t help but poke a little fun at you

“you okay like this, angel?” a shuddered whimper left your lips as you got settled on top of your tall, handsome boyfriend who was laid on his back. plush thighs straddling his sides, you relished in the feeling of him inside of you.

he didn’t move an inch. all he did was stare into your eyes and cradle your face in his warm hands. all you wanted was to show suguru that you were a big girl, that you could take it, that you were—

“i—it’s—,” you moaned into his hand, your own clammy palms shooting forward to clutch at his toned stomach, “y—you’re so mean, sugu! you promised not to move!” his long strands of jet black hair bounced when he chuckled heartily. he couldn’t help it.

“i can’t help it when i’m inside the prettiest girl in the world,” he mumbled against your lips, capturing your lips in a greedy kiss that swallowed your moans. “want me to take over? all you have to do is ask.”

your begging eyes were enough for him to flip you over.

tagged: @melancholia-k @tansyfleurwhisper

[intoxicated-chan]

Come Back to Me, It’s Almost Easy

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Memories from his past come back to haunt him. Reminding him of how much he’s failed.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Almost Easy” by Avenged Sevenfold. I’m in the mood for some heavy angst. Requests are open!!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 870

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, heavy angst, major character death, sleep deprivation, death, blood, light violence…

“You have a choice between saving one person or saving every world.”

Miguel knew it all too well. He’s gone through it just like every other Spider-Man, so it’s nothing new. He should’ve expected it coming which is why he never really reacted or mourned his losses.

He knows what’s coming, which means he shouldn’t have felt this awful about himself. It was almost easy for him to move on from everyone else, but the loss of the most important people broke him.

He can easily tell other Spider-Mans that it’s part of the job, so get up and continue doing what you’re doing. But when he’s asked to do it, he can’t help but cry out loud, the feeling of going crazy by asking him to forget everything. He can’t do that.

But the way he held you in his arms, the way your fingers weakly grazed his face… He won’t forget the way he begged you to stay with him, and how shameful he felt when he realized that no matter how different he chose to do things, it was always going to be the same.

“You’ve been awake for almost 48 hours, Miguel.” Peter B. told him, Mayday in his arms as he watched Miguel struggle to stay awake, “Maybe you should take a break?”

“M’fine.” Miguel nearly pulled at his hair, huffing heavily as he stared into the screen, “Everything is fine.”

“I asked if you were fine, not everyone else.”

“And I said that I am fine.” Miguel growled at Peter B. “And besides, don’t you have better things to do than bother me?”

“I’m just worried about you, Miguel.” Peter B. stepped closer but remained a good distance just in case, “Everyone else is worried, even Miles. We’re here for you.”

“And I said…” Miguel slammed his hands on his desk, “Leave me be!” Snapping at Peter B. without even looking at him, “I don’t need you breathing on my back.”

“Okay, okay.” Peter B. mumbled, hurrying off before Mayday could begin to cry.

But Miguel didn’t react, he remained hunched over at his desk. Watching as multiple screens popped up and then closed by Lyla. His eyes had started to burn, and he began to slump over his desk and maybe, fall asleep.

But the second he felt fingers running through his hair, it caused him to abruptly stand up. He scanned every inch of the room… But he was all alone.

“Miguel?” He flinched, “Are you sure you’re okay?” He then huffed after a minute, learning that it was Lyla who just spoke to him.

“Just perfect.” He heavily sighed, “Everything is perfect. Not like I’ve lost an entire family in an instant. So yeah, I think I’m doing good.”

He hears Lyla sigh, “Get some sleep.” She said but sounded like a demand, “I won’t say it again.”

He thought about the scenario over again, what mistakes he made and how easily the warning signs showed from the start. If he had never let his guard down, his family would still be alive.

Miguel sighed once more. He had to apologize to Peter B. and fast, it wasn’t his fault, he was just worried about him.

“Now do you believe me?” You softly spoke as you watched Miguel cradle his daughter in his arms, “See? You aren’t hurting her.”

“I guess I should believe you more often.” Miguel softly spoke as she began to sleep in his arms, “Thank you, (Y/n).”

“For what?”

“For giving me a chance.”

“Anything for you, Miguel. You deserve the world.”

He shouldn’t have. He never should have believed that it was all true. Pushing away his mindset and letting him fall into the beautiful feeling of love. If he didn’t, then you’d be continuing your life that didn’t involve him.

“Stay with me, (Y/n)!” Miguel cried, his tears streaming down his face, “The ambulance is almost here! Just hold on a bit longer!” But the ambulance isn’t in his sight. So, carefully, he began to stand, still holding onto you.

“Don’t.” You cough, “I need you to promise me, Miguel.” He feels your hand come up to his face, weakly trying to wipe away the tears, “Take care of her Miguel…”

He drops to his knees, “Don’t say that!” You laid on the ground, his hands coming up to cup your face.

“She’ll need her father.”

“I can’t do this without you!”

“Let her know that her mother will always love her…” You cough, then cough again, and then again until he sees blood spilling from your mouth, “No matter what happens.”

“Stop! Please!” He begs you.

“And know that forever, I’ll always love you…” Your voice gets weaker by the second, your vision begins to fade, “No matter how far you go. I’ll be here.”

He remembered the sounds of the sirens. How hard it took him to force himself to put his mask on as he watched the medical technicians try to help you.

And so, Miguel stopped wishing for a lot of things. But there was always one wish… If he could go back in time to fix things, could he be able to have the family he wished for?

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[tgcg]

this is my element (+ album)

asking me to pick my fave album is like asking an orphan matron to pick her favorite baby boy

thats some weird and cruel circumstances to put upon me i feel like it changes every damn week like a rota

i mean what if my beats misbehave and i gotta put 'em in time out i cant play permanent on that theyre too cute

but yknow what i can show you one thing thats been on my mind lately

===

so when i was a kid we had this skateboard vid by "element skateboards" on DVD

they were this skateboard kit slash apparel company that was all about progressivism and shit and they did these much lauded comp tapes of dudes riding around on their boards and doing the dopest of macho tricks on the shit

flipping it turnways

putting the rock in the house like a big man

we had some of their merch actually

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so anyways the one we had back then was This Is My Element

released 2007

mostly clips from cali i think and i mean the camerawork is fucking insane on some of those shots

this is gonna sound lame as fuck but i prob spent so many cumulative hours just peelin through the footage and ogling the shit outta it

that framing was tight

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so you may be asking yourself or me

dave you genuine dicksucker i asked about your fav album not your favorite sordid ass display of smooth dudes hardcore riding and grinding them boards in public dude you have a problem

ok well that wasnt a question first of all so jot that down

but anyways to THAT i say

listen to the music

the whole thing has an original soundtrack of ambient beats

got some abstract hip hop jams, got some more indie stuff, lots of acoustic sampling

HELLA underground

and basically every track minus one is done by sampler beast david p. madson AKA "odd nosdam"

dude is my hero seriously

he is the master of the beat machine i shit you not hes always been kinda my idol on this stuff

aside from bro obviously

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obviously.

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anyways he had an E-mu SP-1200 which is a really oldschool sampler invented by dave rossum in the late 80s

revolutionary to the hip hop scene

nosdam had this mega distinct sound to his music that i always wanted to replicate on my own beats

still do

i dont know for sure if he used it on T.I.M.E. but he uses some of the same samples from "vol. 9" which was exclusively SP-1200 so im gonna get a lil j’accuzi on that

it couldve been a boss dr sampler SP-202 though idk

he had one of those

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so aside from beating the shit out of the pause/resume button to flip my whole cranium at the cinematography or whatever i would also kinda play it on loop to listen to the soundtrack and space out at 2am

the lonely broner seemed to free his mind at night

ok shit broner is good but i didnt mean it like that

that was goofy lets just keep movin

it was the only way i had to listen to it back then but i mean the video is 50 mins long so its basically just an odd nosdam album with accompanying ambient skater sounds and random expletives and whatever

random car sequence

yknow what i dont think people respect enough?

the dude who catches all the "mad stunts yo" on camera

i swear to god at least half the time hes ALSO on a board and that shit is bananas to me

bros gotta be on some whole other level of zen to skate good AND catch all them glamor shots of his fellow skater

thats like an express ticket to the ER imo

the ambulance is already on the scene watching you like an eager crow watches a half dead dog

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ok gonna go ahead and lay it out flat

not great on a board myself

kinda dogshit at it actually

so maybe im not exactly an arbitrator of skateboard heinousness

but i always kinda liked watching THEM do it i mean who doesnt?

whats an even crazier layer to stack on the "dave" cake is

and dirk told me this because unfortunately it kinda happened post-2009

he would do all these collabs with one of my childhood favorite underground rappers david cohn aka serengeti

surrounded by daves left and right dude even before all the time travel horseshit

thats like

serendipitous as fuck i think!

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if sburb was just a revolving door of artists called dave that i could bump fists with

instead of other mes in various states of aliveness tending toward extremely dead

i wouldve probably given it something higher than 2 stars on my TGN review

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so yeah you ask me my favorite album its T.I.M.E. by odd nosdam i guess

bump that shit on a walk your mind will go places unknown to man