#although i have been desperately crying for help for these 14 years

[horusmenhosetix]

Hi, my name is Ella, and I have had a constant headache for 14 years. I am 26 years old. Painkillers do not work.

I need Pineal Cyst Removal Surgery if I am ever to experience a pain free day again.

I cannot afford the surgery but it would drastically improve my quality of life.

I am suicidally depressed because of my chronic pain.

Can people please reblog this so that it can get traction?

[pinkydevil16]

Daemon Targaryen x reader: part 14 18+

Series parts 1-13

"You, you will do anything to have the crown!" Viserys shouted as he tried to stand, Alicent helping him as he stumbled, Daemon on his knees as he looked at his brother.

"I do not want the crown Brother, i want Y/n, i have always wanted her. I do not wish to be king. You are my King as she is my Queen." Viserys glared at Daemon as he thought of his words, Y/n had come to him to tell him of the news and he couldn't help the smile he gave her. Congratulating her but looking at Daemon he wanted to cut his tongue out for even thinking of his beloved daughter, he'd spent years trying desperately to keep them apart and although he knew it would always be in vain he didn't think it would happen so soon. 

"You hurt her and i will have your head on a spike." Daemon held back his smirk, he wanted to tell Viserys of everytime Y/n had threatened him, everytime she'd held a dagger to his throat and made him want to kiss her. 

"I would never." Viserys looked down at his brother before putting out his hand, Daemon taking it as the two embraced, a brotherly hug which conveyed more than their words ever could. Daemon and Viserys had made a promise, an undying pact to love and protect Y/n, neither would break it. 

Daemon kissed Y/n smearing their blood across each other's lips as he pulled her close, Naerys and the twins nearby holding hands as they smiled at their parents union. Daemon stared at Y/n as she smiled up at him, his heart full as he ran his thumb over her lip once more wanting to live in this moment, this would be the moment he would see before death. The look of happiness on her face, the way her eyes lit up and she finally accepted she was his, and that he had always been hers. The two parted, their hands entwined as they celebrated their union, Daemon barely able to let Y/n further than his arm wanting to keep her close to him, to kiss her freely and prove to everyone that he wants her, he has always wanted her, nothing but her. Y/n gave him a wide smile as she hugged her daughter, the twins hugging their father and congratulating him as Rhaenyra and Harwin walked over, their children beside them as they both hugged the newly weds. 

Daemon sat at the table watching Y/n as Lords and Ladies congratulated her as well as giving her their condolences, Y/n trying not to cry as she thought of Laenor but she knew she'd made the right decision as she looked back to see Daemon staring at her as though she was the sun, her daughter pulling on her arm as she wanted to dance, Y/n grinning widely as she flowed through the floor dancing. Viserys smiling as he watched, his brother next to him and daughter a vision in gold and white as she danced through the crowd, Naerys an image of her mother and father as she danced with different men and women, Aegon drinking off to the side with Aemond as they spoke in a hushed tone. Aegon and Naerys knew of the betrothal, a decision Y/n and Alicent had made together, a union which would one day save the Targaryen name. Aegon put down his wine and walked over to Naerys, taking her hand and guiding her to dance with him, both laughing slightly drunk as they enjoyed one another although Naerys held back not wanting to see the world through rose coloured tint as her mother had taught her. 

Y/n smiled as she made her way to Daemon, her hair in a intricate brain atop her head, dress in her hand as she climbed the steps, Daemon standing as he approached her. Taking her waist in his hand and pulling her into him, stealing a kiss before turning her to face the crowd, Y/n standing strong as she watched her daughter dance with her future husband.

"She looks happy." Y/n whispered, looking up at Daemon as he smirked down at her, kissing her deeply as he desired, he wished to never remove himself from her, to keep himself attached to her until he was apart of her. Parting he rest his forehead against hers, Y/n smiling as she looked at him, waiting for anything he could possibly say.

"You look happy." Y/n felt her cheeks flush as she rolled her eyes, pushing away from Daemon and grasping her wine which she took a sip of, looking to see Alicent and Rhaenyra dancing, almost like they did as children. Daemon smiling as he brought her back to him, taking the wine away as he cupped her cheek demanding her attention.

"It is time for us to retire my darling wife." Y/n nodded, moving to kiss her father, Viserys hugging her close and wishing her a happy marriage before Y/n and Daemon departed. 

Y/n let the servants undo the intricate braids in her hair, the long white hair dropping over her shoulders in waves as she looked over her shoulder at Daemon as he smirked at her in the mirror, Y/n smiling to herself as the servants left. Y/n standing as Daemon approached her, his hands moving to grasp her hands as he pulled her into a kiss, his hand coming to cup her face as he deepened the kiss, Y/n holding his arms as he pulled her into him. Y/n moving back and grasping his chin sharply with a glare in her eyes.

"If you deceive me or make this union regrettable i will feed you to your dragon." Daemon smirked, ripped her hand from his face and kissing her deeply, pushing her backwards until she fell to the bed. Daemon hovering over her as he ground his hips into hers, barely able to pull his lips from her as he grasped at her skin wanting to pull her even closer, Y/n letting out a moan as she dug her nails into his shoulders. Her legs gripping onto Daemon's waist as she overpowered him, leaning down as she straddled his waist, Daemon cursing in high Valyrian as Y/n rolled her hips, her dress bunched up to her waist and his hands hot against her naked skin.

"I promise the only thing you shall regret is not letting me marry you years ago." Y/n rolled her eyes, his hands pushing her dress roughly over her head and palming at her breasts, her hands on either side of his head as she leant down and nipped at his neck.

"You are insufferable." Y/n whispered into his ear, licking his throat as she rolled her hips again, one of his hands coming to grasp her flesh as she sat up, a smirk on her face as his mouth opened in a groan at her body rolling against his. Climbing off him Y/n pulled him up, Daemon quick to discard his clothes as he pulled her back kissing her feverently, he'd always wanted it to he slow and passionate but he could barely keep his hands off her to remove his trousers, her hands pushing his down before roughly shoving him back to the bed and straddling him once more. Daemon barely able to open his eyes before Y/n sunk onto him, her thighs shaking at the slow pace she set, his hands trying desperately to push her to quicken but she slapped his hands and tutted.

"Your Queen is going to use you Daemon, my dear husband, you should let your Queen do as she pleases." Daemon moaned, thrusting upwards at her words and nodding pathetically, his hair sticking to his forehead as Y/n leant down, the new angle making her cry out as she bounced rapidly, scratching at his chest and nipping at his collarbone. Swearing under her breath as she used him, his hands bruising on her hips as he held himself back, watching her chest bounce as she rolled her hips quickly, moving his hand to rub small circles on her clit as she whined and collapsed onto his chest. 

"I've you my Queen, let me serve you." Y/n moaned his name, cumming harshly as she flipped her over, pinning her arms above her head as he slammed into her, her moans turning into cries as she squirmed at how deep he thrust into her, barely able to meet them as her head fell back and moans escaped more. 

"So pretty under me, my wife, all mine now." Y/n nodded, barely hearing him through the intense pleasure in her stomach, pushing both her hands into one he grabbed her breasts and ran his hand down before roughly smacking her clit, Y/n crying out his name as he kept hitting it. Alternating between slapping and rubbing her sensitive clit, legs shaking and cunt gripping him so tight he thought he saw stars as he held off his own orgasm, wanting her to cum over his cock one more time, Y/n shaking her head as she came. Her eyes squeezed shut and no sound coming out as Daemon slapped her clit once more, making her jolt and cry out as he spilled into her.

"Mine." Daemon whispered in her ear, thrusting lazily in and out of her as he tried not to collapse, their bodies covered in sweat as he pulled out and moved her to be laid under the blankets, slipping next to her and pushing his half hard cock back into her. Y/n whimpering at the overstimulation as he rocked her gently, until she stopped and calmed, his body stilling and relaxing behind her.

"Need to keep you nice and full darling wife." Y/n didn't protest, too fucked out to care as she nodded and closed her eyes.

Hotd Taglist:

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[belovedharringrove]

the first time billy fell in love, he was 14 and sniffling and desperately blinking back frustrated tears as he sat on a dirty park bench, his best friend of five years kneeling in front of him and gently placing bandaids on his busted knees. "this is dumb. i shouldn't be crying." he had huffed angrily, frowning when his friend lifted his head to look at him and his long, silky brown had moved with the gentle breeze. "it's cool to cry, man. makes you feel real human, doesn't it?" the other male had grinned and billy's breath had caught in his throat, in awe and suddenly realizing that he sort of felt like kissing his best friend on the lips but knowing that boys weren't supposed to kiss other boys. so he simply rolled his eyes like the thought of feeling like real human was something disgusting and stood up, grabbing his skateboard and walking away from argyle with a 'let's go before it's too late' thrown over his shoulder. he pretended he wasn't blushing when argyle jogged a little to catch up with him and slung an arm over his skinny shoulders, pulling him close and turning his face to grin down at him all warm and beautiful.

the last time billy felt something similar to that was at a crowded halloween party in 1984. by this point, the only emotion he knows and recognizes within himself is anger so when he sees him across the house, leaning against the wall next to a brunette with blue eyes, he thinks the feeling of breathlessness is anger trying to escape his chest and suffocate the male that is stupidly wearing glasses indoors at night. billy wants to punch him, he thinks. maybe. so he takes a deep drag of the cigarette hagan had handed him and approaches, pushing drunk and dancing teenagers aside without a single care. hagan says something next to him and the guy, harrington, removes his shades to look back at him. the brunette takes one look at him and the guy and turns to leave. after a little, harrington goes and follows her and billy pretends that the burning feeling in his chest is the anger that he knows so well and not jealousy.

now, as billy stands with his toes digging into the warm californian sand and watches as his boyfriend stands at the shore, the legs of his jeans rolled up to his knees and his shoes held in his hands, billy can admit to himself that that night in 1984 was the last time he fell in love. it was love at first sight, although he hadn't realized it back then. the path he and steve had to take to get where they were now hadn't been easy, but billy would happily admit that, although he had many regrets, he wouldn't change it for the world. "you spend years begging and pleading to take me to a beach in california and when we get here, you just stare at me?" he hears and has to squint to get a better look at his boyfriend, his shades not helping with the setting sun being right behind steve. "you're just so pretty." he smirks and approaches steve, wrapping an arm around his arm around his waist and not caring that the soft waves lapping against his legs are now getting the legs of his own pants wet. "shut up." is muttered halfheartedly and a kiss is pressed into his lips, billy having to hold back the urge to laugh in delight as he kisses his boyfriend back, his free hand tracing the bruises under steve's shirt. as they pull away, billy sweeps steve up into his arms and walks deeper into the water, ignoring his boyfriend's complaints because they're said in between laughter and delighted screams at feeling the warm water hit his body.

billy will admit now that he fell in love for the last time in 1984, seeing no need to hand his heart to anyone besides steve since what they both had was gonna be for eternity.

[3vocatio]

“i have an older sister, her name is candy. but in case it isn't obvious from the way i answered, i'd rather not go into much detail about [her]. if i accidentally told you more than i was supposed to, she'd come for me. and i don't want that.” — lesson 67-14

a/n: i wanted to explore thirteen's pov & how a certain point of her life might've played out before joining the exchange program; this is mostly made up of a hc i have until we learn more about her. enjoy ψ(。。)

you often wonder what it means to be a kind person.

faced with your sobbing, gasping sister pinning you down with a fork in her hands, it's all you can do to helplessly cradle her cheek as a last means for comfort, even though you're aware of the fact that it's you yourself who had brought torment upon her. she flinches away from your touch like she's been burned, and you don't blame her. despite your well intentions, she still shakes as she points the fork at your throat, crying out, "why does it hurt so much? what do i do to stop this pain?"

you have no answer for her cries, and she sobs harder at your silence. even as she's dragged away by other people and you no longer feel the weight of another body pinning you against the ground, your eyes remain fixated on the fork held tightly in her hands. you watch as her fingers turn almost white from the pressure, and─someone helps you up, murmuring to you about what a horrible experience it must've been, and you can only nod mutely.

it's not quite the first time something of this degree has happened to you. it comes with the jobs and expectations of the line of work you do, where you hear people out as they drown in their sorrows in alcohol and offer few words and maybe a hug or two. you're aware that people project messily all over your existence because of how unassuming your existence is, and although you know that there were times you should've rightfully put a stop to it─before something like this happens again─you didn't. as a reaper, an epitome of death, it isn't your place. that's what you were told.

although your "kindness" may be seen as more of a curse to some, you think that it's your duty to be a pillar for souls in need, however misplaced that belief may be. in a way, it's your own form of salvation for yourself in a life where you can only play the role of a bystander, gently offering placid and inconsequential words that don't really mean anything in the end.

(your world is just as colourless as the dull coloring in your hair, and in a moment of desperation to change the kind of person you are, you haphazardly dyed the ends of your locks. it was a messy job, with splashes of purple and magenta, but it makes you feel more alive. just a little more.)

and then you meet them─an excitable exchange student, an irritably quiet angel, and that cocky demon who each takes you by the hand and forcefully drags you headfirst into their world. it's nothing at all what you've experienced before in your monotonous life; from the very get-go, you slide into the dynamic like a fitted puzzle piece. it's like something clicked into place in you.

and─for the first time in years, you begin to see how colour is created. the passionate red from the student mixes with the celestial blue from the angel and the black from the demon's newspaper ink, and you can only smile to yourself when you offer your hyacinth purple. it's a perfect mix, and you think you've found your place. things like duty and whatever; you've already pushed it to the very back of your mind. all that matters is living in the moment now, with the companions you stumbled upon almost by pure chance.

maybe you can't be considered a kind person, but at the very least, you think that you're happy and that it's okay for you to be living for yourself.

looking at their faces, you can only look forward towards the future.

[jdgo51]

God Sees You

Today's inspiration comes from:

When Grief Goes Deep

by Timothy Beals

When I was fifteen, my granddad was hospitalized. When I went to visit him, he was screaming, and my mom wouldn’t let me go into his room. I sat in the hall and listened as he cried out in desperation. I heard every word.

“Jesus, dear Jesus. I want to come home. Jesus, please release me from this body. I want to come home, dear Jesus.”

I listened to those words echo down the hall over and over. I now realize that my granddad had the same desire as Paul “to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far” (Philippians 1:23). Grandpa had been paralyzed and had suffered for years. He was a man of faith who believed God was with him.

I am reminded of Hagar, who fled from Sarai into the desert. My granddad must have felt as if he had been left in the desert. When Hagar was in the desert, the angel of the Lord told her, 

Go back to your mistress and submit to her. — Genesis 16:9

The angel promised Hagar that her descendants would be “too numerous to count” (Genesis 16:10). After Hagar’s encounter with the angel, she said, 

You are the God who sees me. — Genesis 16:13

In our grief, we can more clearly see God because He meets us in the desert to provide guidance and comfort.

When we are grieving, we may feel like we are in the desert. Yet it is when we are there that we can see God clearly. Hagar realized that while she was in the desert. She said, “I have now seen the One who sees me” (Genesis 16:13). 

In our grief, we can more clearly see God because He meets us in the desert to provide guidance and comfort.

God does not abandon us. While our family and friends may abandon us, God stays with us every step of the way. In John 14:18, Jesus promised, 

I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.

Although we may not feel like God is with us, we have to remember that 

faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. — Hebrews 11:1

When we are grieving and our hearts are crying out for comfort, God is there. He understands what we are experiencing. God comforts us (see 2 Corinthians 1:2–4). When we turn to God and pour out our hearts in grief, God reaches out and provides comfort to us — even when our friends and family cannot understand our heartache. 

Prayer provides an avenue for us to open our hearts to God.

God sees you. He’s listening. Even when you can’t find the words, He hears you.

God, I feel so alone. I don’t know how I can cope. Please comfort me and help me know that You see me and love me. Amen.

~by Beth Robinson

Excerpted with permission from When Grief Goes Deep: Where Healing Begins, edited by Timothy J. Beals, copyright Timothy J. Beals.

[iguana-eyanna]

Inside of Your Light

Pairing: Jeff Wittek x Plus Size Model! Reader

Summary: The vlog squad threw you a special surprise for your birthday, including a big present that may change your life.

a/n: songfic What Have I Done by Dermont Kennedy

You woke up around 7 o'clock in the morning when your phone rang. You groggily grab it and see that your boyfriend, Jeff, started to facetime you. "Hello?" you whispered as your eyes tried to pry open.

"Happy Birthday, baby girl." Jeff said brightly, making you blush.

"Aww, thank you, Jeff. But why did you call me so early in the morning?" You joked as you started to sit up on your mattress. "Sorry, I'm at the gym at the hotel and I thought you'd be awake right now." Jeff replied sheepishly. Jeff got offered a brand deal in New York so he wasn't able to celebrate your special day in LA.

"It's ok, I was meaning to get dolled up a bit before Carley and Erin pick me up to get our nails done." You started to yawn as it made Jeff's heart melt a bit. "You're so cute when you wake up." he said, admiring how the sun hits the back of your head.

You smirk back at the screen as you playfully roll your eyes. “And to everyone else in the world, I’m Frankenstein coming back from the dead.” Jeff laughed harder as he smiled at you. “I gotta go and wrap my reps. Just wanted to wish my best girl an amazing day.” You blow him an air kiss as he winked back. “Love you, babes.” You said as you got out of bed. “Love you more,” Jeff said before he hung up the call.

You take a deep breath and thought how lucky you were to be with a guy like Jeff. You and Jeff joined the vlog squad around the same time a few years back. You were a plus-size model for a few companies like Fashion Nova and Pretty Little Thing. Once you started off your YouTube channel, Carley saw your videos and dmed you on Instagram to hang out sometime. You met up at a lunch with the group and she introduced you to everyone, but somehow caught Jeff’s eye.

The whole time, you and Jeff started to hit it off. Then with a lot of flirting and calling each other late at night, you both decided to make it official. Jeff thought you would turn him away due to his past, but you truly accepted him for his journey, even if it wasn’t pretty. Now you were going strong for about three years, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

After you’ve gotten ready, Erin texted you that they were outside. You head out and enter their car as they began filming. “Hey, guys! We just picked up our queen, happy birthday!” You smile brightly as you buckle in the back. “Thank you guys!” you said. Carly turns back to you and gives you your favorite Starbucks drink and a cake pop. “Thought you could use a little sugary treat to start the day.” You make a small pout from the gesture, thanking her again.

On your way to the nail salon, you guys start talking about David’s latest antics as well as a fancy restaurant that just opened that you really wanted to try. The girls make a face at the camera but you didn’t make of it as you arrived at your appointment. Carly switches off the camera as you all started heading out of the car.

Once you were all done, you all started to fan over the amazing job of your nail artists (which you all generously tipped) and decided to go out for lunch. “Are we still clubbing tonight?” Carly asked as she sipped her Seltzer. You nod yes as you finished a bite of your appetizer. “Yep, I’m so excited to wear this cocktail dress Jeff gave me before he left. I just wished he was here to celebrate.” You said, fumbling with the end of a napkin in front of you.

The girls give you a sympathetic look, knowing how much you’ve been missing him the past couple of days. Even after they changed the subject, all you could think of was Jeff. But after a good meal and a little site seeing, you started to feel a bit better. The girls dropped you home so you could relax before clubbing the night away.

Right when it hit evening, you began getting ready as you curled your hair and did your makeup just right. You slipped on the dress Jeff gave you that adored every curve on your figure, silently thanking your boyfriend for his taste in fashion.

You suddenly hear a knock at the door, thinking it's one of the girls. You unlock the door and open it to reveal no other than your very well-dressed boyfriend. "Jeff! You're back!" You screamed as you gave him a crushing hug, later kissing him. "Hey, doll." Jeff whispered as you took his breath away, taking out a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"What are you doing back home?" You asked, still dazed that's actually at your doorstep. "C'mon, did you really think I was going to miss my best girl's big day?" He questioned with a twinkle in his eye. You roll your eyes and hug him again, truly blessed to have such an amazing boyfriend.

"I'm here to pick you up to your destination, shall we?" He offers his hand that you gladly took it. He helps you in his car as you both drove off to the main road with his hand on your upper thigh. You notice that he doesn't take the road to the club. "Babe, I think you missed a turn." you told Jeff who was smirking even more at your cluelessness. "Don't worry dolI, I know where I'm going." he takes a hold of your hand and kisses your knuckle as you blush harder.

He then parks in a parking lot and goes out of the car to open your door. Before you could actually take in your surroundings, Jeff shielded your view. "Hey! Jeff seriously, where are we?" you lightly scolded him. "You gotta trust me now, okay?" you agreed as you grumbled under your breath. With a few more steps, you start to enter a doorway that was decorated with...

streamers?

Jeff takes his hands off and you see all of your friends surrounding you. "Happy Birthday!" they all screamed out loud. You smile from ear to ear as Jeff wrapped his arms around your waist. Utterly shocked, you did your best to express your happiness but you were beyond speechless.

You suddenly realized that the place you were in was the restaurant you've desperately wanted to try and you turn around to Jeff who was beaming at your joy. "All for you, baby girl." his husky voice told you as you hugged him, pecking his face with kisses. Then, all of your friends ushered you both in to dine and dance. You saw how the entire restaurant had accents of rose gold decorations, as well as your friends wearing the same color palette.

Although this surprise was really touching, something was bothering you. Usually, they would throw parties like these for David, so why would they celebrate something big for you?

Later on, you all ate the most mouth-watering food as well as dancing to your favorite songs. Once they take out the birthday cake, you lose sight of Jeff. You ask Carly where he is but she brushed it off, saying that he's probably getting you a drink. As you started to dish out the cake, David stood up and clinked a knife to a glass.

"Hey everyone! If I could get your attention please." David shouted as the whole party calmed down. "There is a special surprise waiting outside on the back patio for our birthday girl, so could our celebrant please wear a blindfold?" Everyone started to cheer except for you. "I swear David if it's a wild animal..." you warned him but it was too late. One of the guys used a long fabric to cover your eyes, guiding you outside.

They take off the blindfold to reveal your boyfriend standing in front of you. You don't understand what's going on until you see a flower arch in the back of him, with a message illuminating "Marry Me." You gasp lightly as you cover your mouth with your eyes starting to water.

Jeff takes your shaking hands into his, ready to start his speech. “I wasn't really in New York for a brand deal, I was picking up your birthday gift.”

He then lowers himself on one knee, taking out a small pastel pink box to reveal a beautiful gold band decorated with transcendent diamonds. Both of you start to cry, but Jeff is literally a mess as he tries to finish his words.

“Before I met you, I thought I’d be better off alone. Now, my soul has been torn and reborn, started breathing for the very first in my life. As I’m standing in front of you, I wanna get it right for once.

Oh, believe me when I say I've been knocked out and beat but this feeling is fleeting. Even this morning, I've been thinking 'bout the way you smile golden…I want to move inside of your light.

I never thought I needed saving, I was right where I should be Good God, I know it's dangerous, but it's you that I need I'm in love this time. So, do you wanna be mine forever?”

You uncover your mouth and shake your head.

"Yes, yes, a thousand times yes." you said. The waterworks literally overcame both of you as he slid the ring around your finger, getting up to kiss your lips. Your friends cheer as they close up to you, firing confetti cannons into the air. You look up to Jeff as you wiped away his happy tears away from his face.

No words were exchanged, but you could tell through his eyes that he was forever grateful for you to be a part of his life. You both kiss again, ending the night with great friends and memories that will forever last in the video Joe has been recording for Jeff's channel (which trended 14 million on YouTube for a whole month).

You were the light in his life and he will bask in it for eternity.

[halcyogenic]

Help A Trans & Disabled Couple Survive

Hi, I'm Hal, and I'm gonna do my best to keep this as succinct as possible, but I'm pretty sure it's gonna be super long so bear with me

The long and short of it is that my fiancée and I don't have enough income. We haven't been able to reach paycheck-to-paycheck levels of security since 2020, when our roommate moved out and we found out she had been pocketing the money for one of our bills for over a year. From then on we had issues with different roommates moving in and out, along with them and "friends" taking advantage of our kindness when we helped them out of dire situations. My fiancée's low paying job with crap benefits just doesn't come close to cutting it, but getting a "better" one is just about impossible these days. Details under the cut:

I've just been approved for Disability/SSDI benefits, but SSI benefits are looking unlikely. Getting Disability benefits means you have surveillance and restrictions on your WAGES, meaning I can't work. SSI qualifications involve your total income, which I qualify for on my own. Unfortunately, the SSA determined that my fiancee and I count as a married couple due to 1. living arrangement 2. length of relationship and 3. the expectation of engagement leading to marriage, so BOTH of our incomes are scrutinized.

We have no savings, a dingy old truck, and have been prioritizing medication and essential groceries over paying bills in full. My mom is in worse shape than us, so I can't receive help from her, my dad is my abuser and "helps" when it benefits him, my Nana passed last June, and my fiancée's family... aren't keen on helping us become financially stable, but help from time to time.

The worst part of all this has been the unending grief of losing family. My Nana, my bestie, passed away in summer 2021, my closest Uncle passed in the fall, my Great Aunt (my late PawPaw's sister) passed away last week, my dad (although he's my abuser, I empathize with his pain) is... winding down and will probably go to an assisted living facility soon, my geriatric kitty Tom was diagnosed with a rare, aggressive, and incurable case of cancer last July, and my mom's long-term boyfriend is... in bad shape, to say the least. Along with the loss from hardly being able to leave home due to the pandemic, the loss of family and friends feels unending.

With my and my fiancée's 10 year anniversary coming up on March 9th, I just want a little relief. I don't want to cry from stress for ONE DAY. I know social media won't set us straight, but we are so desperate that ANY amount helps. Here are the most pressing expenses and their details:

1. Electric bill debt as of January 31st - $860 - at the end of February/beginning of March we are going to sign up for a 6 month installment plan, where we pay that month's bill in addition to a portion of our debt. We have to pay the first amount in full by March 9th according to the company; I will edit with that exact amount asap.

2. Water bill debt as of January 31st - $501 - we're going to do a very similar plan with the water bill as the electric bill.

3. Medication costs - $175 a month - I use Sam's Club's Plus Membership due to not having prescription coverage. This membership is $100 a year, which was due for us in mid-January. Sam's Club DOES NOT take GoodRx coupons. I don't know what the cost of my prescriptions will be without the membership coverage, so I will edit this when I have a better estimate. This cost does not include unexpected prescriptions

Additionally, I'm going to be out of everything within the next week. I'll run out of one on Wednesday, another Thursday, and a third on Monday 2/14. The other 2 I'm getting from my mom as leftover prescriptions she's not taking anymore.

4. Tom's medical expenses - Now this is a whole new can of worms. The most pressing costs RIGHT NOW are 1. $55 for a scratchpay loan payment by the end of February 2. $50-100 estimated for his primary vet appointment tomorrow. This includes the cost of the physical and the two prescriptions he'll need - one for the skin on his tumor and another for pain management. 3. $90 for his unscheduled oncology vet physical to see if he is a good candidate for low-dose/palliative radiation therapy. More info (and pics of the cutie!) at our gofundme here: https://gofund.me/f73245bc

The donations to this campaign will ONLY be used for Tom's care - if it is determined he can't receive radiation therapy for whatever reason, the donations will be used for vet appointments, pain management, mobility assistance like stairs and ramps, his prescription diet food, and his eventual euthanasia. Based on several vets' opinions, he only has a about year left in him. I just want him to live a good life as long as possible.

If you'd like information on our location to see if you can dig up resources, please DM me off anon. Here's how to donate; and if you can't donate (I 100% understand, shit is tight for everyone right now) PLEASE share:

PayPal: paypal.me/becbecbec or DM me for my email address

Cash App: $HalHoney

Venmo: @/Hal-Honeycutt (remove the / )

[ambssssssssss]

“I’m so sorry, Lena,” A harsh cough followed the words and Lena felt her eyes begin to fill with water. She was kneeling in the broken streets of National City at Kara’s sighed, mindless of the destruction around them as the injured woman before her absorbed all of her attention. 

“Hold on, Kara, just a few more minutes.” Lena found Kara’s bloody, shaking hand and grasped it with her own. Kara gave her a watery smile. 

“We could’ve had so much time if I hadn’t been so scared.” There’s a strong current of regret in her tone and Lena feels as if she can’t breathe as she pulls Kara’s hand to her lips and presses a kiss against dirty knuckles. 

“We’ll have time now, darling. All the time in the world.” 

“I thought we promised not to lie to each other anymore.” 

A long, uncomfortable pause followed. Kara’s breath grows more shallow by the second, but her eyes remain the same. The deep blue of her iris shines with that same adoration that Lena had always seen in them, and always felt unworthy of. Kara lifted the hand that Lena wasn’t holding on to desperately, ignoring the way her limbs trembled, to carefully cup Lena’s cheek. 

This is the end. They both know it. 

“No, Kara, please,” Lena can hear the desperation in her voice but ignored it just as resolutely as she ignored the tears falling from her eyes. Tears that Kara barely had the strength to gently brush away. “I can’t lose you again.” 

“You never lost me, Lena, not for a single second.” The conviction in Kara’s voice is broken by the blood that slips past her lips as a cough tears through her throat. She collapses back against the broken asphalt after the fit subsides, landing on uneven ground with a pained groan. “I’ve always been yours, even when I wasn’t.” 

The noise around them barely registers in Lena’s mind. The battle had been over for a few minutes at least, but Lena had paid no attention to the chaos around them. Kara, just as she had done since the day they met, commanded all of Lena’s attention. It isn’t until Kara coughs again that Lena realizes that she hadn’t been unconsciously blocking out anything going around them. 

Kara’s cough echoes of the wreckage of a ruined city around them. If Lena had the strength to pull her gaze away from Kara’s slowly dimming eyes, she would have seen the veritable host of people around them falling to their knees as the consequences of this final battle hit home. They won, yes, but none of them thought that the cost would be so high. 

Lena is dimly aware of another person settling on the other side of Kara, taking her hand and nearly gasping out Kara’s name in a choked cry. Even with the addition of Alex with them, Lena doesn’t tear her eyes away from Kara. 

“I know, darling,” Lena grips Kara’s trembling hand tighter, wrapping both of her own around it and pressing a kiss to Kara’s knuckles again. “I think I always have. I should have said something sooner.” 

“Better late than never,” Kara cracked a smile and just for a second, Lena could believe that she wasn’t watching the love of her life die right before her eyes. “Promise me something?” 

“Anything.” 

“Don’t blame yourself, for any of it.” 

“Kara-”

“Promise me, Lena. None of this is your fault, or mine. It happened, and it sucks.” Kara smiled again as Lena released a rueful chuckle. “But you can’t let this stop you. Promise me that you won’t give up.” 

“I promise Kara,” Lena leans over and seals her promise with a trembling kiss pressed to Kara’s forehead. 

“Good.” Kara’s strength left her completely, her head fell to the ground and if not for Lena’s grip on her hand, the same would have been true of it as well. “Remember, I am always yours. Even when I’m not.” 

Kara turns her head then, to Alex who sits on her left. Words are spoken by both of them but Lena doesn’t hear them. She can’t hear anything over the high pitched sound ringing in her ears and Kara’s last words playing on a loop in her mind. 

They should have had so much more time. They should have had years to be together, truly together. Years without lies and secrets pulling them apart. Years of light and laughter and love, so much love that it would be bursting out of them. The kind of love that couldn’t be contained. They should have had it all but now they only had minutes.

They only have minutes and Kara doesn’t know how Lena feels. A sudden panic seizes Lena as she realizes that minutes are quickly receding into seconds and Kaa still doesn’t know. 

“Kara,” even to her own ears, Lena’s voice sounds so far away. “Kara, I love you.” 

There’s no ignoring the tears now, they fall from Lena’s eyes unbidden. But Kara is smiling at Lena, that special, bright smile that always made Lena feel like she was the one who could fly. 

Kara’s smile remains as her eyes fall closed and her body goes limp. Kara’s smile remains as she exhales, whispering Lena’s name with her last breath. 

Supergirl dies a hero, mourned and celebrated by many. 

Kara Danvers dies to the sound of her sister crying beside her. 

Kara Zor-El dies smiling in the embrace of the woman she loves most.

Lena woke up feeling as if that last image of Kara’s smile had been burned into her retinas. The dream, memory, ends in the same place it always does, the moment before the realization of what she had just witnessed sinks in. Lena wakes with soul crushing despair settling deep in her chest so that her breath in a new day is little more than a broken sob. It takes a few minutes for Lena to gather herself enough to climb out of bed and reach for her phone. The move is calculated. Lena knows that if she had reached for her phone first, she wouldn’t have gotten out of bed. 

Every other day, Lena had been able to push herself through it. She could almost pretend that everything was normal, until she caught herself trying to call Kara and invite her to lunch. Even after two weeks, Lena’s first instinct was still to call Kara. The hope that maybe the dream had been a nightmare rather than a memory and Kara would answer when she called had been all that kept Lena going for the past 14 days. 

The day of Kara’s funeral had pulled that hope to a crashing halt. 

There had been a service for Supergirl the day before. It felt like all of National City had been there, human and alien alike. All the heroes that Kara had worked with over the years were there, a few of them people that Lena had only met briefly before the wave of dark matter destroyed all of their worlds. The Flash had a few words to say. Cat Grant had barely held her tears in. Superman openly cried as he said goodbye to his last blood relative. Lena had watched it all with a blank expression, Alex’s hand in hers. 

Lena had made her way to Midvale on her own and was one of the last to arrive at Kara’s childhood home. Eliza had greeted her with a hug and a far too knowing look. Lena had slept in Kara’s bed and refused to cry until she was sure that no one would hear her. 

Now, Lena pulled on the dark outfit she had selected the night before and made her way downstairs. Alex and Eliza met her at the bottom of the stairs and led her to where Clark and Lois were standing with J’onn. Eliza pulled Lena into another hug while Lois looked as if she was the only one in the room who could understand Lena’s pain. Everyone was treating Lena like she was Kara’s widow and Lena wasn’t sure she would ever recover from that. 

She had Kara had never been together. They hadn’t gone on dates or celebrated anniversaries. They’d never even kissed and yet Lena still felt like a piece of her heart had been broken beyond repair. She wasn’t Kara’s widow but she was Kara’s someday and that was somehow worse. 

How could Lena mourn what she’d never had in the first place? 

Kara’s funeral had been short. She wouldn’t have wanted all of her friends and family to spend hours crying over her. Kara had been a ray of sunshine, a becon of joy. Although tears were shed, everyone wanted to follow Kara’s wishes so it soon turned to a memorial rather than a funeral. As everyone had been distracted by Alex’s story of the first time Kara saved her, Lena didn’t think anyone would notice when she stepped onto the back patio. She nearly jumped in surprise when a masculine voice called her name. 

“Sorry,” Clark said as he stepped up beside her. Lena hummed her acceptance of the apology but didn’t say a word. 

They stood together in silence for a few minutes. If it had been any other time, Lena might have made a joke about a Super and a Luthor but it didn’t feel right with her Super missing. Eventually, Lena can see Clark’s shoulders sag and knows that the silence is about to be broken. 

“She was always so much stronger than me.” Clark speaks in a low, haunted voice. “I’ll never be able to thank her for righting my worst wrong.” 

There’s a heavy set to his shoulders and a distant glint in his eyes that makes Lena feel foolish for forgetting where all this conflict had started. Lex had killed Kara, but it was Clark that turned Lex into a staunch believer in the superiority of man. It was Clark who faced Lex time and time again. CLark who wasn’t strong enough to deal the blow that would have ended all of this conflict. It was Clark’s weakness that had pushed Kara into that position, and Clark’s cowardice that cost Kara her life. 

The urge to hate Clark for his inaction is strong, so strong it makes Lena’s stomach clench and her hands tremble. It would be all too easy to blame Clark for losing Kara, but Lena knows that it wouldn’t be fair to him. There’s plenty of blame to go around but Clark doesn’t truthfully deserve any of it. Lex does. For targeting Kara and dealing the fatal blow, but most of them blame falls on Lena herself. For her own war against Supergirl, for the experiments that gave Lex his powers, for not being strong enough to defeat him on her own. 

Kara would still be with them if not for Lena’s failures. 

“But there is something I can do for her, if you’re willing to help me.” 

It takes a moment for Lena to realize that Clark’s statement had been a request. She looks at him, blinking in askance. 

“Follow me,” Clark, in a move that Lena would never have expected to come from him, gently took Lena’s hand into his own and guided her down the porch steps towards the beach. Agreeing to Clark’s request that she wait there for a moment, Lena tries to settle her nerves. When Clark returns, Lena knows that there is nothing she could have done to prepare herself. 

Clark touches down gently a few feet away from Lena and in the space between them hovers a sleek, grey pod. The black surface on the outside fades to clear and suddenly Lena can see Kara. 

She looks peaceful in death, Lena thinks, like she finally dropped all the weight she had been carrying for so long. 

“On Krypton, when a woman died,” Clark swallows roughly. “It was tradition for the oldest female member of the House to speak Rao’s blessing over them.” 

Clark meets Lena’s gaze evenly. 

“I know that would be Eliza here, or Alura if she had come, but I also know that Kara would have wanted it to be you.” 

“Clark,” Lena hesitated, “Kal, I don’t know.” 

“I know what you mean to her. Meant.” Even though they had been doing so all day, hearing Kara referred to in the past tense hurt deeply and Lena felt the tears welling for what must have been the thousandth time. 

“Okay,” Lena agreed with a shaky nod. Clark handed her a small piece of paper from his pocket and then turned his gaze to the pod containing Kara’s still form.” 

“Whenever you’re ready.” 

Lena was sure that she would never be ready to say goodbye to Kara but there was no sense in waiting. Voice thick with tears and barely above a whisper, Lena began to read. 

“You have been the sun of our lives. Our prayers will be the sun that lights your way on the journey home. We will remember you in every dawn and await the night we join you in the sky. Rao’s will be done.” 

They stood there for a moment with only the sound of the waves crashing against the beach breaking the still air. Then, with a heavy breath like he was steeling himself for the hardest moment of his life, Clark lifted the casket into the air with him. A moment later, Kara returned to the stars that had brought her home. 

Clark returned to the Danver’s household while Lena remained on the beach by herself. There was a fleeting feeling of Lena wishing she had something to hold on to, a memento of Kara’s. The feeling faded only to be replaced with a much stronger wish to simply have Kara there with her. The feeling was strong that for a moment, Lena felt the soft, familiar warmth of Kara’s hand in her own, their fingers resting together easily. As time stretched on, Lena let herself be lost in the phantom feeling of what could have been, until the sound of a car door closing shattered the dream and brought Lena crashing back to reality. 

A reality where Kara was gone. 

Suddenly, the beach felt just as stifling as the house had been. 

Realizing that her moment with the ghost of Kara’s memory was over, Lena turned to make her way back to the house. 

Only Kara’s closest friends remained at the house. Clark, Lois, and Lucy were sitting together on the couch, the two normally argumentative sisters silent in their grief. Barry and Iris were curled together in a chair, Barry staring blankly ahead as Iris watched him in concern. Caitlin and Cisco sat together on the floor in front of Barry and Iris, their shoulders pressed together. Ava sat in the other chair with Sara leaning against her legs, her fingers idly wrapping a strand of Sara’s hair around and around. The other Legends must have gone back to the Waverider. Alex and Eliza sat together on the loveseat and made room between them for Lena. 

It was odd, Lena decided as she took the seat provided for her, to be surrounded by so many heroic figures and not feel even the smallest amount of hope. The Kara shaped whole in the arrangement could not be ignored. No one said a word as Lena sat down and the silence was no less disturbing the longer it went on. 

“It doesn’t seem right,” Cisco broke the silence with a sad voice. “The most powerful person we know.” 

“The bravest and most caring, too,” Barry added just as softly. “She didn’t even ask for help.” 

“You were all busy,” Alex shrugged slightly but Lena could see the tension in her jaw. “You all had your own villains to face and lives to live. She wouldn’t have disrupted that.” 

“She wouldn’t put all of you in danger like that.” Lena’s voice was hoarse from disuse. Not counting her blessing of Kara at the beach, that was the longest sentence Lena had said in two weeks. 

“I did, with the Dominators and Crisis,” Barry’s expression shone with guilt. “She answered every time.” 

“She was like Oliver,” Sara said, leaning further into Ava as she spoke. “More of a hero than any of us will ever be.” 

“All these powers, even time travel, and we still can’t save everyone.” Iris sighed and dropped her head onto Barry’s shoulder. Barry pressed a kiss against his wife’s forehead. 

“We would if we could.” Barry said. “I’d go back in a second if we didn’t have to worry about another Flashpoint. An event like this is too big to go back and change.” 

“Flashpoint?” Lena asked curiously. Alex looked at her with the smallest bit of surprise and a hint of question in her eyes. 

“One of the first times I travelled back in time on purpose, to save my mom. I ended up changing everything,” Barry explained. 

With everyone reluctant to leave, it took little prodding to get Barry to continue elaborating. A conversation about the difficulty of preserving the timeline arose between the members of team Flash and the two remaining Legends in the room. Lena listened with half an ear but her mind was stuck on the comment that had started this conversation. 

It didn’t feel right without Kara in the room, not only in the sense that Lena personally felt as though she was missing an essential part of her being, but in the sense that something about all of this was fundamentally wrong. The only thing about Kara’s conflict with Lex was that Lex was gone. It doesn’t make sense for him to have taken Kara out with him, especially not without Kryptonite. Lena remembered the final blow in sharp detail. The beam that had exhausted Kara was golden, not green. 

A comment about the natural order of time caught Lena’s attention and she pondered the implications of it. The natural order of time ensured that everyone was at the correct time and place, whenever that happened to be in the linear timeline of their own lives. Barry and the Legends are able to move through time as long as they don’t disrupt the natural time. There were few rules for time travel, but the most important was that one could not be in the exact same place and time as they had been before. A person cannot physically be in one specific time and place more than once. 

But, there were ways to send other things through time. The Legends used a ship, and Barry had once sent a message back in time to himself, warning of things to come. The beginnings of an idea began to form in Lena’s mind. Physical time travel was limited, but that didn’t mean that other forms had the same limitations. Unfortunately, Lena was kept from following that rabbit any further down the hole by the group finally breaking apart for the night. Lena forced the questions and ideas from her mind until she returned to National City. 

[in-my-feels-probably]

INEFFABLE - Kaz Brekker

Prologue - Before

If you would like to read this on Wattpad, it’s on there as well, my @ is in_my_feels_probably and there’s a few visuals and better descriptions and stuff on there. otherwise, enjoy, let me know what you think, and you can check out my masterlist for updates and more.

INEFFABLE -- Kaz Brekker

ineffable (adj.) 

too great to be expressed in words, utterly indescribable; too sacred to speak of.

Prologue - Before 

Elham Creed had never known what it was like to be part of a family. From a Ravkan orphanage, to the Little Palace, finally landing in Ketterdam, the Barrel, she had never felt the sense of safety and security she had longed for as far back as she could remember. She wouldn’t find it in Ketterdam.

At 13 years old, with nothing but a collapsable sword belted around her waist and the clothes on her back, she had spent the first few days in the Barrel stalking around, stealing scraps of food where she could, trying to get her bearings. The frigid air sweeping over the harbour into the edge of town at night where she slept was enough to make Elham almost miss her room at the Little Palace.

Almost.

She wouldn’t go back, not after her mentor, Baghra’s, warnings. All she could do was push forward and move on. She spent nights alone ducked away into abandoned shacks, using her powers to spark warmth and light, practicing control. Being an inferni had its perks, but Elham was special. She didn’t need a starter, or a piece of flint to create a spark she could turn into a flame. She could create the flame all on her own. She kept this and her powers a secret, however. If the Darkling had taken interest in her abilities, there’s no doubt one of the Barrel bosses would bait her into doing their bidding.

And Elham Creed would do no one's bidding. She would be no one’s puppet.

---

Elham remembered the first time she killed a man. Coincidentally, it was also the first time she met Kaz Brekker. She was now 14, making her way towards the harbour, working on one of the odd jobs she could scam her way into. She headed past the White Rose on the way, one of the most frequented brothels in Ketterdam.

She headed down the alley behind the sorry excuse for an establishment, when she heard a scream. She rounded the corner, to find a man with his hand wrapped tightly around one of the employed girls' wrists, the other hand making its way up her hip, pinning her against the wall.

It’s a shame. Maybe if he had heard her coming, he could have avoided the sword held up to his neck. He could have avoided his death.

Most men in the Barrel, as Elham had come to realize, were not good men. While the “pigeons,” as she had come to know the tourists as, would have tucked tail and ran, this man did not. He only scoffed.

“A sword?” The man had slurred at her, clearly drunk. “You do realize I could have you shot and dead in a second, and get back to this lovely girl you so rudely interrupted me from. Although, you’re a pretty thing. Exotic. Maybe I’ll have you instead,” he had said, reaching for the pistol strapped to his hip.

Big mistake.

With her eyes glossing over, and a rage building inside her, she quickly removed the sword from his throat, and ran it through his back. He sputtered, and fell to his knees, choking on his own blood, or maybe his last words, Elham didn’t take the time to figure out which. She walked around to face his front as he gazed up at her, clutching his stomach with wide eyes. She breathed heavily, eyes wild.

“Good riddance.”

She lifted her foot and sent him sprawling back against the street, blood pooling around him. She glanced back at the girl who was still frozen against the wall, and her eyes softened.

“Thank you,” she whispered, before hurrying back into the White Rose.  Elham only nodded, taking a breath, before turning to head towards the harbour.

That’s when she saw him.

A boy, no older than 14, dressed in black, gloves fitted to his hands. He seemed to be analyzing her, gears turning in his head. Kaz hadn’t mastered his pokerface yet, and Elham was good at reading people. She was unsure why she didn’t feel threatened by his presence, especially since he had just witnessed her kill someone, and she had no idea what his intentions were.

“You just killed a Dime Lion.”

Elham had heard of the gang before, and their leader, Pekka Rollins. She knew she was going to regret interfering with gang business, but her head was beginning to cloud, tears forming in her eyes. But she had saved that girl, she had saved herself, it was a split second decision. Unable to form words, she met the boy's stare.

She only slowly nodded in response.

After pondering for a moment, he had offered to take her to his boss, claiming that she’d be a valuable asset to the team. He’d never admit to her that it really was because he couldn’t bear to see the Barrel swallow up and harden another innocent kid, and maybe it was the way her eyes had glazed over, or how tattered her clothes were, or simply because she didn’t look at him like he was some sort of monster, but he took her in.

It was true, Haskell had been needing a new asset to the team, someone young and quick who could take care of themselves. Bringing a girl back to the Dregs was a risk, and Kaz was in no position to make himself look weak around the gang, but he just couldn’t leave her there in the street. That part of the Rietveld in him hadn’t died yet.

To this day, Elham isn’t sure what made her accept his offer to come with him. After almost a year in Ketterdam, she trusted no one, got close to no one. She had no business getting involved with a gang, she could have walked away, continuing to the harbour for the job assigned to her. There was something about him, though. And going with him was arguably the best decision she has made, she had decided.

---

Elham had been part of the Dregs for a few months, slowly gaining a reputation for herself. Kaz had taken a liking to her, almost admiring how fast she had taken to a life of crime, to the rigidity of the Barrel. He found a secret comfort in her presence, and in the fact that her story was similar to his. She hadn’t revealed much about her past to him, just enough to keep him intrigued.

And he was, despite his brain demanding he think otherwise, intrigued. She was ambitious, and cunning. Most interestingly, however, she was ruthless.

She had killed many men since the day she met Kaz. Barrel men were not good men. Elham made it a point to seek out the men who only caused pain. Men like the first man she had killed, men like Pekka Rollins and his Dime Lions. Men like them didn’t get to cause all the pain and suffering they did, and live.

Kaz had dubbed her, “The Valkyrie,” once, while on a job. The other Dregs took a liking to it, and it stuck. She asked him many times what it meant, why he would call her that, but he only smirked to himself, amused by her new found reputation, much to her annoyance.

He finally explained it to her, the night he broke his leg. They had been paired on the job together, and it had gone disastrously. They were sprinting along a rooftop, when Kaz made a bad landing, completely breaking the bone in his leg.

It was the first time she touched him.

When she first joined the Dregs, she had quickly picked up on the fact that he didn’t want to be touched. She could sense his unease when they had to be close together on jobs in tight spaces, or when one of the drunken Dregs would pat him on the back for a job well done, or during a brawl with a rival gang. She always kept her distance, respecting his space.

But this time, she had no choice. Kaz was crying out in pain, and Elham knew she had to get him back to the Slat to get his leg reset, and out of harm's way. She clicked the button on her belt and grabbed for the hilt of her sword, and with a flick of her wrist, it unfolded into place to its full length. Kaz had pulled himself to a kneeling position, desperately trying to hide his vulnerability, eyes frantically looking for an escape. She offered the hilt of her sword to him.

“Kaz, you have to let me help you. I’m sorry, but you have to let me. Hold onto the hilt, and on three, I’m going to tug under your arm to get you standing. We’ve got to get you back to the Slat before you pass out from the pain or we get ourselves killed out here.” He only gave her a pained look, before nodding, and they slowly made their way back to the Slat, with him putting as much weight on the hilt as he could, Elham trying her best to make sure he couldn’t feel her fingers through his jacket as she dragged him along.

Hours later, while he lay unconscious on the cot in his room, Elham had anxiously waited in the chair in the corner of the room. She hadn’t realized how much she had grown to care for Kaz, for him and her life with the Dregs. She knew she would have killed for him that night if it came to it, no doubt about it in her mind. Kaz only awoke for a few minutes that night, and had mumbled a few words to her.

“Do you know what Valkyrie means? It means ‘chooser of the slain.’ It seems like you choose who lives and dies around the Barrel. Killing men, making sure I don’t die. It’s fitting, isn’t it?” He had joked to her, the faintest of grins tugging at his lips. Elham had sucked in a breath, and offered a small smile at him, standing to leave as he drifted off, knowing he was going to be alright. Broken, as she knew he would think of himself, but alright.

---

It had been a few years in the Dregs, as the Crows slowly formed. First Jesper, then Inej. The Dregs had become a force to be reckoned with in Ketterdam. Despite their ages and newness to the life of a gang, The Sharpshooter, the Wraith, the Valkyrie, and Dirtyhands were well known identities around the Barrel.

They had hardened over the years, Kaz more so than any of them, the Barrel being a quick teacher in offering harsh life lessons.

Elham remembered the first time one of them uttered the words, “no mourners, no funerals.” Inej had been interested in what Elham’s name meant, Elham meaning inspiration, Creed meaning belief or law. A particular favorite member of the Dregs, and a friend of Rotty’s, had been killed on a job. Elham took this particularly hard, he was one of the men that had made her transition into the gang easier.

They sat silently in her room together, when Jesper spoke softly. “You know, I’ve been thinking about your name. Creed. Maybe, ‘no mourners, no funerals’ could be our creed.” Elham had let a tear roll down her cheek at that, and she nodded at Jesper, letting him grab her hand, while Inej, perched on the window ledge, laid her hand on Elhams shoulder. Kaz had lifted his eyes from the floor when Jesper spoke, his eyes landing on the girl. He slowly slid his cane towards her, softly tapping the end at the base of her ankle, before returning to his original position.

It was one of Elham’s favorite memories of them. Of him.

The Crows were chaotic and an odd group, but they were Elham’s family, as close as she would ever get to one. Saint’s forbid she ever told them that, it would go straight to Jesper’s head. But they were enough for her. Her Crows were enough. And they were about to raise a little bit of hell.

---

A/N - hi everyone, omg im so excited about this book, i hope you liked the prologue, im working on the first few chapters and will have them up soon. let me know what you think so far, and thank you for the support!

[fanmoose12]

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi

Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance

Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 12/14

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Сhapter 7

Сhapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

All his accounts went into trash. His books, phone and laptop soon followed.

His weapons – his trusty knife and favorite pistol – laid discarded on a floor. Next he happened upon an old, beaten toy – a monkey with its head almost torn off. It was the only thing that was left from his father, and, just for a moment he hesitated, debating if he really should throw it away.

Zeke looked at it, the edge of his vision swimming, and sighed, letting it join the pile of trash beside him.

In the end, parting with that toy was just as easy as parting with his father.

It was harder to discard another treasure of his – baseball glove, still white and soft even after all these years. If the monkey was a gift from his father, the glove was given to him by a man who had actually raised him.

Mister Xaver… I really fucked this all up, didn’t I?

He cradled the glove to his chest, taking some comfort in the feeling of its familiar texture beneath his fingers. As he held it close to his heart, Zeke knew that he couldn’t get rid of it. He wasn’t a sentimental man but that glove – it was the only thing in this world that he treasured.

Running his fingers all over it, he put it down on a floor and resumed his task.

The pile of trash grew, filling with papers, plans, blueprints. He threw it all away, a sort of satisfaction washing over him as he got rid of everything.

Maybe, it was his start of a new life. Prison was meant to change people, wasn’t it?

A dry, mirthless chuckle made its way past his lips, as he continued shifting through various, now meaningless documents, before a sudden bang that came from the first floor made him pause.

Zeke looked up, straining his hearing. The loud steps sounded on a stairwell. They kept approaching the room he was in, and their heaviness was worrying.

Whoever was looking for him, they were awfully angry.

The door to his office was thrown open, and Zeke turned around, catching the whirlwind of motion from the corner of his eyes. That was all the warning he got before he was roughly yanked up and his back met the hard surface of a concrete wall. His glasses tattered to the floor, the back of his head erupted in sharp pain and Zeke groaned, struggling to focus his eyes on the offender.

He didn’t need his vision to recognize him, though. The low, shiver-inducing voice of detective Ackerman was very hard to forget.

“Where is she?”

Despite the burning fire in his narrow grey eyes, despite his trembling fingers that gripped Zeke’s shirt so tightly that it was starting to tear at the seams, Levi’s voice was calm. And despite the burning fire in his narrow grey eyes, despite his trembling fingers that gripped Zeke’s shirt so tightly that it was starting to tear at the seams Zeke felt like it was simply calm before the storm.

The intensity of Levi’s gaze was making his stomach turn unpleasantly. Zeke tried to get out of the chokehold Levi had him in, but Levi merely grunted and further tightened his grasp.

“Where is she?” he repeated, shaking Zeke’s body like it weighted nothing.

What was the meaning of this, Zeke couldn’t even begin to fathom. Hange already asked him the same thing, what was the point of Levi repeating the question? Did he not trust her? Why did he come, and why he did it alone? Were they not in a hurry? Why were they wasting their time like this?

Zeke wanted to joke, wanted to smirk and rile Levi up a little more, but considering the state Levi was in… Perhaps, further riling it up would not end too well.

“I told your partner already, detective. I don’t know where your Petra is.”

For a second, Levi seemed surprised. His eyes widened and his hold on Zeke lessened. But it lasted for no more than a moment. Then his anger returned, more vicious than it was before.

“Don’t try to fuck with me,” he growled, absolutely wild. “Where is Hange? She came to see you, but didn’t come back. If you have done something to her…”

Zeke didn’t need to hear the end of that sentence. He was close to hyperventilating as it was.

“Hange left,” he said simply, hoping that Levi would believe him. If he wouldn’t… Zeke was afraid to think what Levi would do. He knew just how much Hange meant to him. He didn’t wish to know what Levi would do if any harm came her way again. “I don’t know what happened next, but she left this place unharmed. She was hurrying to meet with you.”

Levi let him go, as abruptly as he had grabbed.

“She didn’t come back…” he spoke feverishly, fingers clawing at his nape. “She promised but she didn’t, and if she isn’t with you…”

Zeke’s mouth fell open, as he stared at Levi. The detective he once perceived as cold and uncaring was now breaking in front of his eyes, his desperation so strong and urgent that he let even Zeke see this side of him.

His fingers twitched, the need to placate his enemy almost impossible to ignore. He thought if he should lay a hand on his shoulder, give him at least some semblance of comfort, but would Levi welcome it? Or would he slap his hand away and mock him for his sudden burst of empathy?

The latter was more probable, so Zeke stayed put, watching the unravelling scene with a sense of weak helplessness.

“Petra is missing too,” Levi continued, pacing around. “And it’s my fault, I was supposed to protect her, I have to get her back, but Hange… I can’t—” he took a shuddering breath, his voice wavering. “I can’t—”

“You can’t lose her for the second time,” Zeke finished, his soft tone surprising them both. “I can’t pretend to know how you feel,” he lost people before – first his mother, then his father, although that had been a result of his own choice and mistake, then Mister Xaver... But it didn't happen like this. There was no uncertainty, no what-ifs possible. Only crushing, overwhelming pain. But to have hope and then watch it get destroyed... Zeke could only imagine the agony it brought along. “Detective, I think I can help you in searching for her.”

Zeke didn’t quite know what had possessed him, what had made him say these words and look at Levi with a rare sincerity in his eyes.

Perhaps, he was tired – of always being the bad guy, of causing others pain and misery, of caring for only himself.

For the first time in his life, he longed to do good. To help and be kind to someone, even if that someone was his rival.

“I’ll help you, detective,” Zeke said, more sure this time. He picked up his glasses, put them on, and smirked, reveling in the dumbfounded look that had taken over Levi’s features. “We’ll get your partner back. I promise you.”

***

Petra naively thought that it couldn’t get any worse. She so foolishly thought that getting kidnapped, dragged and then tied up to a chair in some dark, smelly room was the worst of her nightmares.

But it wasn’t.

She realized the horror of it all only now, when she saw the body of unconscious Hange Zoe pushed down on a chair beside her.

If Hange was there, if she was injured and taken, then what had happened to Levi? What had they done to him if he had allowed them to take Hange away?

Just thinking about it made Petra tremble.

She was alone now, the two men had left, but the silence and the horrible, viscous feeling of not knowing what was going to happen next were slowly suffocating her.

Petra didn’t know how much time had passed, but Hange wasn’t waking up. The blood kept flowing down her face and her breathing kept growing more shallow, and Petra kept trying to stop her tears.

She didn’t want to cry, she wanted to be brave and strong, wanted to meet her end with her head held high, but damn it, she didn’t want to die. Not like this, not when— not when everything just started to come together. She had friends, a good job, someone who loved her… She didn’t want to lose it all now.

But she most probably would have to, and the realization finally broke her. Petra sniffled, a quick sob falling from her lips.

“I’m so sorry…” she whispered, not quite knowing what she was apologizing for or whose forgiveness she wanted to have.

She was sorry, though. For everything she was going to lose, for all things she didn’t get to experience. For…

“Oi, Petra…” the deep, husky voice made her jump. Petra turned her head to the side and nearly squealed, when she met the deep brown of Hange’s iris. “Cheer up, we aren’t done yet.”

“Hange!” Petra cried out, relief spilling even more of her tears. If she could, she’d run into Hange’s arms. Then again, if she could move, they wouldn’t be here at all.

“Are you alright?” Hange squinted, failing to take a good look at Petra without her glasses.

“Good, I’m good. And you?”

“Had been worse,” the grin was probably meant to make Petra feel better. But when Hange curled her lips up, she exposed her bloodied teeth, and the sight forced Petra to let out another sob. “Sorry,” Hange winced. “Can you move?”

Petra stared at her, confused. Didn’t Hange see that she was tied up?

“Your chair, can move it closer to mine?” Hange clarified. “Just an inch would be enough.”

Petra braced herself, curling her hands around the back of the chair. She bent her legs as much as she could, and then stretched them out, slightly lifting the chair and bringing it closer to Hange.

“Just a little more,” Hange asked, and Petra nodded, repeating the action.

“Excellent,” Hange praised, her voice kind. “Can you do another thing for me? Try to untie the knot on my hands. I think you’re close enough to do it.”

Again, Petra nodded, and set out to work. Unwrapping the rope proved to be a much harder task than jumping up on a chair, and on top of it all she couldn’t even see what she was doing, but Hange’s soft cheering encouraged her to continue.

She dug her fingers into the rough material, picking apart every thread with her nails. It took more time than Petra expected, but finally the rope fell onto the ground, and Hange chuckled, raising her now free hand to ruffle Petra’s hair.

“Good job,” she smiled so brightly Petra just had to smile back. “Now let me free you, and we can get out of here.”

“Okay.”

Hange’s fingers touched her bound hands, and Petra laughed, feeling incredibly giddy. Here she was crying because she thought that was the end, but Hange helped her, Hange saved her and now they were going to—

Her happy thoughts were interrupted by a sudden appear of loud footsteps. They sounded close, just behind the door.

Hange froze, murmuring a quiet, but vicious curse.

“Sorry,” she whispered to Petra, and then bolted up, returning to her previous position on a chair. She moved her hands behind her, making it look like they were still bound.

The door opened a second later, revealing the red-headed scary man.

“I see you’re awake now, Hange,” Floch smiled, swimming up closer. “I must say I quite enjoy seeing you like this.”

Hange said nothing, just grunted, as she watched the man move, approaching closer and closer. Her gaze grew more intense with every step Floch made, and when he was close, when he stood just beside Hange, looming over her, Hange let her lips pull into a smile. She sent Petra a quick, wicked look, and then launched forward, her fist raised up and ready. It connected with the Floch’s nose with a loud sound that made Petra smile too.

“I must say,” Hange said, holding Floch by his shoulders. “I quite enjoy seeing you like this.”

She didn’t give him the time to recover and dealt another blow, this one aimed at his abdomen. Floch bent over, curling onto himself. Hange raised her leg this time and kicked his knee, forcing him to fall over.

Floch hollered in pain and Hange hit him again, just to make sure he wouldn’t try to get up.

“Now where have we left off?” she turned to Petra with a smile that looked just a little too feral.

Hange crouched down next to her once more, returning to her bindings. Petra wasn’t the one, who was fighting just now, but the speed of her breathing increased, and she couldn’t quite tear her eyes away from Floch, who was still curled up on a floor.

She prayed that Hange would get her out soon, but didn’t dare to actually urge her on. She didn’t wish for Hange to lose her focus, so Petra sat and she watched, picking up the smallest movements from Floch.

But, as it turned out, it wasn’t Floch she had to be afraid of. It was the other man, the one who wasn’t even in the same room with them.

Yet.

***

Oluo fixed the bulletproof vest for the tenth time in the last minute. It was squeezing his chest in an uncomfortable, suffocating manner. And the place, where the gun was resting inside a holster on his hip, burned him even through layers of clothes. The gun was still hidden, unused. For how long would it last?

Oluo cursed and looked up ahead, focusing on a wide back of Captain Erwin Smith.

“Sir?” Oluo approached him. “Should we start the mission?”

They had located the house, they had checked every entrance and exit and circled the whole perimeter. But Erwin still didn’t give an order to start.

“Five minutes,” he said, and Oluo couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Five minutes were dragging on for almost half an hour now.

“Sir…” he cautiously began. At any other day, he would never dare to argue with Captain. He wouldn’t even think about starting a conversation with him, but Petra was in danger, and fear and worry for her was making his head spin.

“I know,” Erwin cut him off. Despite his hard, determined face, his voice was quiet. Unsure. It made Oluo lower his eyes in shame. He was worried about Petra, but Captain didn’t feel much better. His two friends were missing too – detective Hange was first to disappear, and now Levi wasn’t answering his calls as well. “I know, we need to get going,” Erwin said. He glanced at his phone, sighing when he saw no missing calls or texts. “Five minutes,” he declared. “Five minutes and we’re going in. I promise.”

***

All of it was her fault.

If Petra was smart like Hange, if she was experienced like Levi, she would know that watching injured Floch was pointless. It was another man, the one she couldn’t yet see, that was an enemy she had to be wary of.

But she wasn’t wary, she was excited, filled with joy and relief.

And Hange was the one who paid for her mistake.

The man returned, but they didn’t saw him at first. Instead, they heard him.

The thundering gunshot shook the whole room, the bullet flying so close to Hange that only her quick reflexes had saved her.

The man raised his gun then, aiming it at her head. “You won’t get so lucky next time,” he spoke. His voice was deep, but not low, betraying just how young he actually was. “Sit down,” he ordered Hange.

Hange hesitated to comply, determination and anger making her face flush. And in that split second that she was able to observe that subtle change in Hange, Petra remembered what Sannes had once told her.

“She was hot-headed and reckless, and in the end, that’s what had gotten her killed.”

She didn’t believe it before, thought it was bitter words from bitter man, but she could see it now – he wasn’t wrong. After all, Hange really did die once.

She braced herself, moving her leg behind her. Preparing to attack, Petra realized suddenly, a helpless whimper escaping her lips. She wanted to stop her, wanted to beg her to follow the man’s order—

The second gunshot did it for her.

Hange grunted, bent over, pressing a hand to a growing blotch of red on her side, but didn’t scream. She swayed but didn’t fall, grabbing the back of a chair for support.

“I won’t repeat myself,” the man said and pointed his gun at the vacant chair.

Hange threw him a long, sizzling look. She straightened out and walked over to the chair, her steps slow, pained, but steady.

“Floch,” the man turned to his accomplice. “Tie her up again. And make sure you do a thorough job this time.”

Floch eagerly nodded, groaning as he pushed himself upwards. He roughly seized Hange’s hands, eliciting another pained grunt out of her, and pulled them behind her back, tying them up with a discarded rope.

“Seems like your luck has died out,” he mocked with a wide smile.

“We’ll see about that,” Hange spit the blood out of her mouth, just barely missing the tip of Floch’s shoe. She raised her head then, meeting Petra’s eyes. Her lips curled in a reassuring smile. “The help is on their way.”

“We won’t be here when they come,” Floch’s friend said. “And you,” he walked further inside the room, stepping into a light of a single lightbulb that now cast a long, flitting shadow. “You won’t be here either.”

The threat made Petra’s blood turn cold, but Hange didn’t seem just as affected. She tilted her head to the side, curiously studying a man in front of her.

“And who are you?” she asked. “I knew Floch was involved, but what’s your deal? What did Zeke do to you?”

“He ruined my life,” he spoke gravelly. “And now I’m going to ruin his.”

“Ruin your life?” in spite of his dark words and solemn mood, Hange scoffed. “You’ve got to be a little more specific, buddy. You’re not the only member of this club.”

The man came closer, pressing his fist to the fresh wound on Hange’s side. She choked and doubled over. The man grimaced and turned his head to look at Floch. “I thought you were exaggerating when you mentioned just how annoying she was,” he said, before returning his attention back to Hange. His green eyes darkened. “Zeke murdered my family. That’s all you need to know.”

Hange gasped, her remaining eye widening. “Murdered your family?” she stuttered, the gears in her head turning rapidly. “It can’t be… I thought it was but a rumor. But if it’s true… does it mean you’re Eren? Zeke’s little brother?”

“Eren Yeager…” Petra murmured, shocked to remember an old case file Oluo had shown to her. “The boy whose family was murdered. But… I thought that killer’s identity remained unknown?”

“You’re smarter than you look,” Eren hummed. “Yes, you’re right, Zeke wasn’t the one who killed them. But he was the one who gave the order to. And I’ll make him pay for that. I’ll make him suffer. Just as I did with the actual murderers.”

“Why not simply kill him then?” Hange questioned. “What’s the point of this whole mess?”

“Zeke didn’t kill me,” Eren’s curled fists trembled, as his eyes filled with righteous fire. “He simply ruined my whole life. I’m going to give him the same curtesy.”

“Zeke is going to end up in prison anyway,” Hange argued, her lips pursed. “Pinning another crime on him is pointless.”

“You were hunting him down for years, Zoe,” Floch spoke up. “You didn’t have much luck in catching him. Besides…”

“Besides, I want him to know it was me,” Eren said. “I want him to know that it was me who got him in prison.”

Hange’s lips curled up, as she lowly chuckled. “No one is going to believe you. Cops aren’t that dumb, you know.”

“Maybe, they aren’t,” Eren agreed easily. “But after they find two murdered detectives, they’ll be out for blood and they won’t really care who to pin this all on.”

“And Zeke will be their only suspect,” Floch smirked. “He has the motive, he has the means… Even the scene of a crime belongs to him. Or do you still not get it, Zoe? Just look around...”

Hange did, her jaw tensing, as the realization slowly kicked in.

“That’s right,” Floch nodded. “You’ve lost an eye here. Now you’re going to lose your life here too.”

His voice, so falsely sweet and friendly, sent shivers down Petra’s spine. She prayed once more, hoping that someone would listen. Hoping that they would be saved.

“Finish them, Floch,” Eren lazily waved his hand. “I’ll be waiting in a car.”

“With pleasure,” Floch purred, taking out his knife. The edge of it glinted caught the light, showing a brief reflection of Petra’s terrified face. That was the last thing she saw, before promptly shutting her eyes in fear.

***

Erwin stared right ahead, as time continued to mercilessly move on.

One minute passed, then two, three… Soon he’d have to give an order to move out, he couldn’t possibly waste any more time, yet still… Still he hesitated. He kept waiting for Hange and Levi to return, thinking that any moment now he would see Levi appear from out of the corner, a furious scowl on his face, as he dragged Hange along, complaining that she had made him make a detour and get her a cup of coffee.

But there was no sign of his friends, and the point on his wrist watch kept moving, and that meant he couldn’t wait any longer.

Just one minute of the five minutes he had promised to Oluo left, when they heard a loud sound, coming from a safe house.

With a shudder, Erwin recognized the sound of a gunshot.

“Sir?” Oluo looked up at him, his face turning even paler. “Should we—”

Oluo didn’t get to finish. Another gunshot sounded.

“We’re starting,” Erwin announced, his jaw set. “Spread the word, Oluo, and get ready.”

Oluo nodded, saluted and rushed to fulfill the order.

Erwin breathed in deeply, taking out his gun. He hoped he wouldn’t need to use it tonight, but if something went wrong, if someone hurt Petra… he’d have no other choice.

“We are ready, sir!” Oluo came back, panting. “Just say the word.”

“Let’s begin then.”

Another deep breath, and Erwin’s fingers tightened around the gun, as he took his first step forward.

Just as expected, the door to the safe house was locked, so he braced himself, angling his shoulder towards the wooden surface. Next to him, Oluo did the same.

“On a count of three,” Erwin warned. “One… Two…”

He never got to three.

“Wait!”

In the exact second that Erwin meant to finish the count, he heard a familiar voice. Not believing he was really there, Erwin turned around. And saw Levi running up to him.

As he had thought, Levi wasn’t alone, someone following right behind him. However, it wasn’t Hange.

It was Zeke Yeager.

***

The headlights turned on, the engine roared, and the car smoothly drove onto the road.

"So what do you think we should do?" Levi asked, keeping his eyes firmly on a road ahead.

What do you think, not what should we do... Interesting.

It was almost cute how much detective Levi tried to be in control now after he had lost it right in front of Zeke. A lesser person would have mocked him for that, Zeke certainly wanted to... But today he felt gracious enough and so decided to gift Levi with an illusion that his authority and dignity was still intact.

“The girl that went missing first - do you know when she was taken?"

"Her name is Petra,” Levi grunted, shooting him a disgruntled look. “And she went missing last night. It's been almost a day since we lost contact with her."

Zeke nodded, his hand moving to cup his chin. "Then we must hurry.”

“We found a place where they’re holding her,” Levi said. “Let’s head there first. Save Petra and then…” he trailed off, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “And then we’ll take care of everything else.”

There it was again, Zeke realized with confusion. That same irritating feeling, the same urge to give Levi some reassurance.

“Maybe, we’ll find Hange there,” he said. “And even if we won’t, she is smart. Strong too. She can take care of herself.”

Levi didn’t answer him, but his shoulders tensed and his jaw clenched.

“There is no need to worry,” he took another attempt, this time meaning to lighten the mood. “She survived even me after all.”

The chuckle died out somewhere in his throat, when he glanced and Levi, and saw him looking back at him with murderous rage.

“Her eye,” he growled. “You will pay for that, Zeke. After this mess is over,” another furious glare, this time it was dark enough to frighten Zeke. He nervously shifted his eyes to the side, focusing on a sight of bright-lit streets passing by. “I’ll make sure you do pay for that.”

“I believe you,” Zeke murmured hoarsely.

“And I believe you,” Levi blurted out suddenly. “Open the glove compartment.”

Zeke did, albeit carefully. The anger disappeared from Levi’s voice. So did hostility. Now he sounded strangely amicable.

Inside the glove compartment was a gun. Zeke stared at it curiously, not quite knowing what to make of it.

“It’s Hange’s,” Levi mumbled like it explained anything.

“And?”

Levi huffed. “And you should take it. I don’t know what’s waiting for us, and I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to protect you.”

Well, that was certainly… a surprising turn of event.

“You trust me that much?”

Zeke honestly wasn’t sure if he would have trusted himself that much. And yet Levi…

“Hange trusts you,” Levi simply said.

Zeke gawked at him. Was it actually that simple to him? Did he have so much trust and faith in Hange that he was ready to put his own beliefs aside?

Something painful bloomed in his chest as Zeke pondered on it. He wondered what it would feel like – to have someone you could trust as easily as yourself, what it would feel like to know that there was someone you could share your everything with. Must be a truly elating feeling.

“We’re almost there,” Levi announced, taking a turn to the left. “Get ready.”

Zeke nodded and took out the gun, getting familiar with its weight.

“It’s Hange’s,” Levi reminded. “So take care of it.”

He honestly hadn’t expected anything else from Levi, so with a low chuckle Zeke replied, “Will protect it with my life, detective.”

Levi’s answer was a short, but unexpectedly soft grunt that made Zeke let out another laugh.

A horrifying in its simplicity thought came right after. Were the two of them bonding?

It should have disgusted him, but it didn’t. It was actually nice in its own, weird way.

However, Levi took another turn, and Zeke’s joyful feelings disappeared. He knew where they were heading now. His old safe house.

So they really were targeting him? But who these they were? And what exactly did they want?

Either way, he’d be able to unravel this mystery in a matter of minutes. For now, Zeke hoped that he’d stuck for the winning team.

Even if he hadn’t, though, it was good that Levi found him before the police had found the bodies of Hange and that Petra. He could only imagine what cops would do to him if they thought that Zeke killed two of their own.

Levi parked the car next to an old abandoned building. He opened the door, putting one foot on a ground. Before he got out, he turned back and fixed his hard eyes Zeke.

“I trust you,” he said. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Zeke could only nod in reply. He wanted to say something else, but by the time he found his words, Levi was already out of the car.

Zeke took his first step towards Levi, when a loud sound – the unmistakable bang of a shotgun – carried around the empty neighborhood.

Levi froze, tensed and then started running. Zeke cursed and followed after him. To his shame, despite his long legs, he could barely keep up.

The entrance to the safe house was already within their eyesight. The building was surrounded by police from all sides. The best of the best, Zeke had no doubt about it.

The second gunshot rang not long after the first one, forcing Levi to run even faster. Zeke rushed after him, sweating and already out of breath.

When they finally got there, the police was ready to attack, their guns drawn and expressions determined.

“Wait!” Levi shouted as they approached.

As on cue, everyone turned their heads to them.

The blonde man on the front stepped forward, his features simultaneously showing relief and confusion.

“Levi,” he shifted his eyes from Levi to Zeke. “Where is—”

“I don’t know.”

“And him?” the man gestured to Zeke. “Can we—”

“Don’t really have a choice. He promised to help for what it’s worth.”

“Alright. Then let’s go. Ready, Levi?”

“Of course, Erwin.”

Oh, that was Erwin Smith? The myth, the legend of the city’s police? Zeke had to admit he was just as impressive in person as the rumors about him promised he would be. He would have loved to observe more of him, to see for himself if he was truly that charismatic.

Although, if he had people like Levi and Hange following him, then there was no doubt that Erwin too was an exceptional person.

Right now, however, Zeke had no time to dwell on it.

“Follow me,” Levi ordered, dragging Zeke behind him. They entered the building together, but when Levi headed to the first turn on the left, Zeke pulled him away.

“No,” he took his gun out and nodded to the long hallway. “You follow me, Levi.”

For a second, Levi hesitated, his eyes flashing. But then studied Zeke’s face, and whatever he had seen there, it had eased his distrust.

“Then lead the way,” he agreed.

The hallways of safe house were dark and quiet, but not for long. As soon as Erwin and his team had entered, the chaos filled every corner.

Zeke rolled his eyes, why did he even expect anything else from that bunch. Still, he would have preferred to approach it with as much stealth as it was possible. Who knew what their enemies would do if they find out that they’re done for.

If it was Floch who was involved in kidnapping, and he must have, since not many people knew about this place, then Zeke knew the room he would choose to stay. The same room where he had lost his calm and detective Hange had lost an eye. He led Levi there, but as they neared their destination, Zeke saw a shadow that ran to the back door.

He caught just a glimpse of the shadow’s face, but that was enough.

He looked just like his father. His baby brother… Was it really him who was out for his blood?

“Go,” he told Levi, already moving in the direction Eren had disappeared. “If there is someone in this house, they’re right behind next door.”

“And you?” Levi didn’t stop him, but he made him pause. However, his eyes showed no distrust this time. Only concern.

“I need to take care of something first,” Zeke said resolutely. “But I’ll be back.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” Levi reminded him, and then let Zeke go.

Zeke watched Levi move forward, and then turned around, heading to the back door.

It was time he had a talk with his brother.

***

Levi didn’t know what he had expected to see behind the door Zeke had pointed him to.

He hoped to see Petra, preferably along with Hange, well and unharmed with their enemies trembling in a corner.

He was afraid to enter and come face to face with Petra, who was bleeding and injured.

He absolutely refused to think about finding Petra and Hange, but realizing that he was already too late.

What he didn’t expect after opening that door was to see Petra trembling and crying. He didn’t expect to see a man standing just a little to her left with a knife raised up in the air. He didn’t expect to see that knife be so close to Hange’s throat.

He didn’t really think before acting, his heart was beating a little too loudly for that.

“Police!” he shouted, raising his gun. “Drop your weapon!”

The man didn’t listen.

Levi’s first shot flew just an inch over the criminal’s head, getting stuck in a wall behind him. The man didn’t even flinch, he turned around just for a moment, long enough to show Levi his bloodthirsty smile.

Levi’s hands trembled, but years of training allowed him to claim a clear shot to the man’s knee all the same.

He yelped and fell down, but Levi wasn’t looking at him anymore. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Erwin and Oluo enter the room. Oluo rushed right to Petra, Erwin met Levi’s eyes and nodded, crouching beside the man Levi just shot.

With everything else taken care of, Levi ran up to Hange. Her face was covered in blood, her shirt too and she was missing her glasses, but when he kneeled down next to her, when their eyes met, she smiled and Levi could finally breathe again.

“You saved me…” her eye was shining so brightly, the edge of it brimming with tears. “I knew you would, Levi.”

The lump in Levi’s throat grew large, too large to swallow, so he simply nodded and went to undo the bindings behind her back, but his fingers kept shaking and the rope refused to give in. He cursed and tried again and again, until Erwin appeared beside him and gently pushed him away.

“Just make sure our Hange is alright,” he whispered with a gentle smile.

He did just as Erwin had told him, but when he looked at Hange again, saw all her injuries and wounds, he was overwhelmed once more. He felt so many things at once – relief, happiness, anger, fear, love. It all swirled around his head, making him dizzy.

What if he wasn’t fast enough? What if he didn’t listen when Zeke told him not to take the first turn or what if he didn’t trust him to go on his own and followed him outside? Just a second more and there would be no Hange. He’d be left alone, without her once again. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to survive it for the second time.

“I’m fine, Levi,” Erwin must have already dealt with the rope, because Hange’s hands were now free and she outstretched them towards him, grasping at his shoulders to pull him closer. “I’m fine.”

She wasn’t, Levi could feel the blood sipping through her shirt and onto his jacket. Hange wasn’t fine, but she was here, with him, still breathing, still warm in his arms. He pressed her to him – desperate, but careful, and took a deep breath, filling himself with her scent. There was almost too much blood and sweat on her, and it was almost enough to mask her true smell, but Levi had still felt it.

He allowed himself another moment to get immersed in it.

“Don’t leave,” he said, not caring that he sounded like he was begging. “Please, don’t leave me again, Hange.”

“I won’t,” there were gentle fingers in hair, then soft lips on his temple. If he wasn’t so out of it, Levi would have been embarrassed. He was the one who was supposed to give Hange comfort right now. She was kidnapped and almost murdered. And yet… the one trembling and panting was him. “And even if I do, I trust you to always get me back home.”

A strong hand on his shoulder forced Levi to look up and pull himself away from Hange.

“We should take her to the hospital,” Erwin said, his face showing the same worry Levi was feeling. “I already called an ambulance. Would you like me to—”

“No,” Levi declined. “I’ll do it myself. C’mon, four-eyes,” he threw her arm around his shoulders and hooked his hand beneath her knees. “Let’s get going.”

Before he lifted Hange up in the air, he glanced back, searching for Petra. She was on the floor with Oluo clinging onto her. The poor sod seemed to be crying, and Petra curled around him, whispering soothing words.

God, and Levi thought he was pathetic.

Tightening his hold on Hange, he gathered her in his arms and slowly stood up.

“Oh no, have I died and gone to heaven?” Hange cackled, throwing her head back. “The great Levi Ackerman is carrying me in his arms…”

Levi rolled his eyes, hiding a smile. Seemed like Hange wasn’t that injured if she was already back to her insufferable self.

“Shut up or I’ll throw you to the ground.”

“Nah,” Hange claimed confidently, ruffling his hair as though to prove her point. “You won’t do that.”

“Absolutely insufferable,” he murmured, shooting Hange a dark look. It was ruined by a smile that he was fruitlessly trying to fight.

Hange smiled back and that’s how Levi knew – they’d be alright.

[wizkiddx]

...surprise part 2

warnings: tw for miscarriage , mh and eating disorder(though more like just really poor relationship with food) - please don’t read if these are sensitive topics

There will be a part 3!! This is v sad, um but from experience a bit so I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible, if this offends anyone please message me and I will take it down if that’s what you want xx

(this is fictional, and everyone’s experiences are different)

[part 1]

By the time it came to dinner at his parents there was still very much an elephant in the room. Tom had sort of assumed that later in the morning you’d properly explain it, at least bring it up? But you’d skilfully managed to dance your way out of the conversation every time there was the opportunity to talk it out. For example, even though Tom was pretty sure you’d already washed you hair this morning apparently you had to take the worlds longest shower in the world in preparation for his parents roast. It also didn’t go unnoticed that you’d locked the ensuite door while you were in there.

Now this might not seem odd to most but Tom knew this wasn’t right. You were 3 years deep at this point and when Tom was home the two of you really used to make the most of it- barely leaving each others side. This meant brushing your teeth together, showering and bathing together - or at least one perched on the bathroom shower while the other was washing. Just doing the mundane together, that was the intimate thing- it didn’t have to be sexual or encroaching personal space. Clockwork, that’s what it was. It had taken a bit of time at the start for you to open up and be body confident in front of Tom, yet you were both long since past that point - or so you had been. With every ounce of your being, you knew that Tom loved you for you. Frankly though, that was the issue… you weren’t you. Your body had changed , or rather withered away and that was your fault. Yet another thing to add to the list. Being conciously aware of how unattractive you looked, literally a shell of yourself, there was only a wave of sad acceptance to surged through when you did lock the door.

Because in your head you. knew. This was the beginning of the end of your time with Tom and it was all your fault.

/////////////////////////

“I can help with that.” Y/n’s voice got Nikki turning away from the sink where she was attempting to make a dent in the huge pile of washing up Sam had accumulated - the boy could most definitely cook, but clean up? Not one bit.

“No no dear you go sit with them.” She shooed and smiled kindly at the girl she thought of as an adopted child herself. Because honestly? She looked like she could pass out at any point just from standing up. She clearly tried to hide it- wearing a baggy knitted sweater and mom jeans- but even just from her face, you could tell she was gaunt.

“I-no I’ll dry.” Y/n spoke very matter of factly , making Nikki just nod in agreement since this was probably the most conversation anyone had got out of Y/n since she arrived.

Tom had texted them all before hand, with the very unspecific message of ‘please don’t mention anything she’s just been ill and stressed’ and followed up with ‘I really mean it.’ Unsurprisingly, everyone had lots of questions given the ambiguity of the message, however these were all answered as soon as the door had opened to the couple. So dinner went down quieter than normal, everyone noticing how protective Tom was being of Y/n - who never ever normally needed protection, (in fact sometimes the other way round).

So Nikki and Y/n stood side by side, silently washing up. They must’ve stood that way for 10 or so minutes, Nikki hesitant to say something that was wrong, but desperately wanting to break the silence. But Y/n took that job out of your hands.

“How did you find out you were pregnant with Tom?”

“Oh god now your making me think” Nikki laughed, suddenly so relieved at an easy topic “um I think it was a bit of a shock you know? We had spoken about kids but weren’t actively trying for one and then all of a sudden I was sick and took a test.”

“So Dom was happy about it though?”

“Of course he was over the bloody moon. The man was meant to be a dad you know? At least I think he’s pretty good at it.” Y/n giggled lightly at the question and nodded vehemently.

“Yeh he is… I think all your boys are - when I brought my cousins.” Y/n smiled a little at the memory of bringing her two toddler cousins round to Tom’s family home. Safe to say that day the kids were spoilt with attention and food and had all the boys wrapped round there little fingers.

“You might just be right there. Are you and Tom trying?” Nikki probed, testing the waters a little.

“No.” Y/n closed that thought path down very very quickly. “I er… I was just wondering.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to-“

“No no it’s fine.”

Back to the silence of the washing up, the occasional clink of ceramics and culterlry clanging together reverberating through the otherwise empty kitchen.

“So you never had….um any issues with kids. No…er no losses or scares?”

Nikki suddenly had a much better guess at what this whole situation was about.

“One…. I lost a baby girl between the twins and Paddy. It-it hurt a lot and you know I still wonder sometimes. We just never had a little girl and it well, it would have been amazing… but I’m a firm believer of everything happens and if we never had that angel we maybe wouldn’t have Pads…”

“I’m sorry” Y/n muttered, Nikki noticing how her eyes were absolutely fixed on the frying pan she was drying up.

“I don’t mind love, and I think she’s still with us in her own special way you know.” Nikki studied how Y/n silently nodded, thinking it were going to drift back to silence - yet instead she gulped before speaking.

“I don’t think I want kids now. I do- but not right now. Just Tom’s still so busy and we aren’t married but-“ Y/n’s pace of talking suddenly dramatically picked up and Nikki could hear a wobble in her voice “but… no-one does the sort of nuclear family anymore do they? I mean suppose I did want that and-…. I don’t know but it would’ve worked out right?Like-like if I… if we um“

“Y/n love, please I just need to ask because I care about you… Did you loose a pregnancy?” Nikki hit the metaphorical hole in one. Although she was pretty certain before she’d even asked, the way Y/n froze and fear took over her expression said it all.

“I-“ Y/n stammered before forcing a controlled breath out through her nose, still looking down, now on the cutlery drying process. “I- yeh. I couldn’t do it and they-“ Nikki interrupted her, the tears brimming to such an extent the started escaping over Y/n’s eyelashes as Nikki took both the tea towel and forks out her hand.

“Come with me.” Nikki whispered in Y/n’s ear, directing her out the kitchen - leading Y/n’s small frame into Dom’s office, mainly because it was the opposite side of the house to where everyone else was.

She got Y/n sat down on the small striped sofa and joined her after retrieving a box of tissues from the window sill. At this point Y/n was properly crying, no matter how much she tried to swallow back her feelings or wipe away her tears with shaking hands. Nikki read the girl like a book, watching her try to bite back the pain.

“Love, you take a breath and then tell me what you want to.” Y/n was the one that brought up the topic, Y/n was the one that searched Nikki out that evening. Nikki knew she needed to get this off her chest.

“I found out just after Tom left for Atlanta and-and I was… I was pretty late anyway at that point, I think like …like 9 weeks they said? And I was terrified because we weren’t ready and Tom said he wanted kids in the future but not now and then…then they happened. I hated them at the start. They’d ruined my life I’d have to quit work because lets face it Tom just wouldn’t be around and then…. But-but I don’t know… I was waiting till Tom was supposed to get back. Cos then I’d have the scan picture and you sort of can’t say ‘I’m pregnant’ over the phone so. So yeh.” Nikki nodded, squeezing Y/n’s had gently, encouraging her to continue. “But then I had the scan and they had a heartbeat you know? Suddenly I was so in love with the little blob in my stomach and I was like it will all work out, because it just would and-and Tom-“Her voice cracked again, Y/n bit back the sob though and continued “Tom would be the best dad anyone could ever imagine.” Nikki exhaled heavily, pulling Y/n into her chest as she cried a bit more. Giving her a chance to ground herself again. It took a moment or two but then Nikki pressed a little again.

“He doesn’t know about any of this… does he?” Nikki knew this was something more than just telling her almost mother-in-law. This was Y/n telling someone , anyone, else for the first time. Speaking the words the first time. Making it hurt all over again. The answer wasn’t really needed, but Y/n still shook her head against Nikki’s shoulder, confirming her suspicions.

And then Nikki waited, waited for her to speak again.

“And then it was two weeks ago and I-I was 14 weeks. I had a bump and everything! But I was at dinner with my friend and I got this horrid pain in my stomach. And I knew it. I knew I….I had wished my baby away for weeks and weeks and they’d given up. I ran home and bled my baby away into the drain. And…..” She took a shaky breath, attempting to steady herself. “And I I was grieving I think? Well I think I still am. But I couldn’t eat and it was just like I didn’t do enough for them? So-so I was supposed to be getting my life sorted and you know getting over it this week before Tom came back. But then he came home last night and I-I had a migraine so I didn’t notice him until this morning. He-he was never supposed to see me like-like this! So-so I shouted at him, I was really mean. Really really horrid to him which is stupid because I love him so much and….and I killed his baby.” Y/n’s voice was raised as it also got more fragile - completely synchronised with Y/n herself, who looked like she was going to crack and break at any point.

It was important that she went through the whole story. It was important the Nikki just listened as she recounted the traumatic, vulnerable and oh so personal loss she’d gone through. It was important she let it out into the world for the first time.

“Y/n… look… these things just happens sometimes right? It’s no ones fault and… I know that the day you are blessed with a little baby you will be an incredible mother. I’d love to say I could somehow make you feel better but I’m not sure I can… when this sort of thing happened to me I needed Dom. He held me together and then picked up the pieces and - well we slowly put them back together. So you know why I can’t really help, don’t you?” Y/n sniffed, her eyes closed, but eventually after letting Nikki let silence in the air she nodded minutely. Nikki squeezed her palms tightly, as she looked at the girl with such deep empathy and sympathy. She could only imagine how traumatic it must be tp have this happen with your first child - especially without anyone else to lean on.

“Because you’re not Tom?” With an agreeing nod, Nikki stood up , withdrawing her hands from Y/n’s grip; rubbed up and down Y/n’s back before finally offering a plan.

“Look, I’ll go get him and you tell him what you told me okay? He loves you and he’s worried.”

After a little more comvinving and encouragement, Y/n steeled her nerve as Nikki fetched Tom. The two woman had agreed that the couple would just go back to their home, where Y/n, in her own space would tell Tom. Here she didn’t feel as if she could - this was unequal territory, this was Tom’s childhood home. Nikki knew that this fact would really be irrelevant - it only mattered if the couple somehow called it quits… and she knew without doubt that’d never happen.

///////////////////////////

Tom walked in quietly, clearly having been briefed that something was going on, taking notice of the tear tracks Y/n’d tried to wipe away and just how small and vulnerable she looked. Wordlessly, Tom crouched in front of her, his deep brown eyes swimming with warmth as they met hers.

“Mum said you wanted to go home… is that still okay?” She nodded jerkily in agreement, wiping her eyes once again before taking Tom’s hand as he guided her to stand. Nikki gave her a sad smile as her son led the two of them out the room and forward the front door.

It was hard- no doubt- but she had absolute faith in the relationship between the two.

They’d be okay.

Tagging people who were interested : @vanillanestor @thevelvetseries @333dolans

[bubsdolan]

Hiii so this is a suuuper sensitive topic and it’s ok if you don’t feel comfortable writing about it, but my one year anniversary of my r*pe is next week and I was wondering if you could write something w gray? Maybe just friends but they both know there’s feelings there but reader is scared cause, in my case, my first ever date w a guy was w the man who a**aulted me & it’s also been my one s*xual experience and I’m scared of men lmaooo it’s ok if you can’t tho I’ll luv u always and no matter what <3

{baby, having spoken to you privately and having you open up to me the way you did, i hope you know how strong you are. how brave and so incredibly special i know you are. thank you for trusting me and putting all your faith in me to deliver something that you can use to help you cope in a way. i love you and im here whenever you need🍒 sorry it’s so late}

{trigger warning- sexual assault}

you had been keeping yourself to yourself all day, avoiding calls and texts from everyone closest to you as you harboured your deeper most inner feelings that often send your mind spiralling out of control. your demons working a mile a minute as you relive the events that unfortunately occurred a year ago today. a secret you had yet to tell anyone, in fear of not being believed or for how people could potentially perceive you.

it was the year anniversary of the day you got sexually assaulted after your first ever date with a guy you forced yourself to forget the name off. all memories of him were erased besides the feeling of his dirty, unconsensual hands on your body. the face of a devil hovering over you maliciously as you begged and pleaded with him to let you go. you never truly recover from that sort of trauma and over the last few days, the feeling of dread and fear had slowly been creeping its way back into your life where it didn’t belong.

you were meant to be spending the evening with your best friend, grayson. you both made a pact at your naive age of 14, that once a week you would both go out and do something spontaneous. a pact you both refuse to break serval years later, wanting to make the most of what life has to offer. but in your state of mind, there was nothing worse than putting on a brave face, especially for someone who could read you like a book, and lying to yourself and others around you about how you were really feeling.

although grayson dolan was your childhood bestfriend, and at times your only companion, your relationship was more than that. it was deeper and held a different spark than when you were kids. you were the happiest when with grayson, something about being around him made you feel at ease, at peace with yourself and most importantly safe. you har a flirty relationship, always cuddling when watching movies, being quite handsy with each other any chance you could, but you both were to scared to push the boundariesof anything more- you more than grayson.

you were getting ready to wallow away in the comfort of your bed, surrounded by snacks and your favourite netlfix shows as you needed an escape. you needed to escape the prison of your own mind, as well as the world around you. however, you were pulled back into reality at a startling knock at your door. a knock you knew all too well.

coming face to face with gryson, the one face you needed to see but also feared in this moment, you sigh in defect and reluctantly let him inside your apartment. you could instantly see his face relax at the sight of you. after not answering any of his calls and texts for serval hours, he was starting to panic, his mind running away with thoughts of something bad happening to you. he couldn't live without you and the very notion of it made his heart bleed.

“bubba-” you melt at the nickname reserved for grayson and grayson alone. he was so blindly unaware of the affect he had on you, that even something as simple as a term of endearment coming from his lips, was enough to set you into a pool of your own tears. 

grayson is by your side in seconds, slamming the door with his foot as he holds you in his embrace- an embrace you needed now more than ever. he’s shushing your whimpers, running his fingers tips through the ends of your hair as he rocks you back and fourth with his body. he lets you cry, his heart breaking at the sound, wanting nothing more to take away your hurt and pain, although not knowing the real cause behind it. 

you collect yourself, whipping your bloodshot eyes to try and hide any signs you were weak, but grayson knew you better than you knew yourself. he knew something was deeply wrong, but in his mind, he came up with the conclusion that it had something to do with him. his suspicious only growing when you push him away, creating a painful distance between the two of you as you wrap your arms around your body in protection. from what- you didn't know, grayson was and always will be your protection.

a sigh leave yours lips the minute you see grayons face drop, his lips setting into a devastating frown. his eyes welling up with his own tears at the thought of you not wanting him anymore. you were pushing him away without realising it and it broke him. “why are you here, grayson?

“im here for you, bubba. you weren't answering any of my calls or texts, i was worried about you.” grayson steps closer in hope you would drop your facade, in hopes you would run into his arms and live the happily ever after you both crave and deserve.

“im fine. you can go now. please.” your voice cracks slightly and yet again you take a few steps back, holding your hands in front of your body as an attempt to stop graysons movements coming any closer to you.

“what are we y/n? one minute you want me and the next you can’t stand to be near me. now your completely shutting me out. if i did something wrong please- please tell me. i cant handle the silence, the tears, the absence. im right here, you have me- all of me. but you gotta let me in.” 

at his confession, a confession you have longed to hear, you’re breaking. sobs raking over your body for the second time tonight that tells grayson this is bigger than him. 

“im scared, gray, im so fucking scared. im terrified of letting you in because the last guy i did, he- he.” you break down in his arms. not having to go into detail about the trauma you’ve faced because grayson is doing what he does best and protecting you. leading you to sofa, lifting you onto his lap so your legs are straddling his hips. you cry into the crock of the his neck, his arms securely fastening around your waist as he lets you burn out all of all the tears you needed to cry.

“did he hurt you?”

no answer. your eyes shifting uncomfortably from his face to his lap. your fingers fiddling with his shirt as you try your best to avoid his question. one that would open up a can of worms you weren’t sure he was ready for.

“did he lay a finger on you, baby, please i need to know what happened so i can help you. i lo- i care about you and i hate seeing you in pain.” you can hear the hurt and desperation in grayson’s voice, something you wished to never hear or be the cause of again. 

and so you tell him, everything. from the talking stage with your abuser, to the events before and after your assult. you can feel his body tense beneath your own as the words leave your lips. he wanted to kill the arsehole for laying a finger on his girl, for betraying your trust and breaking such a beautiful creature, ripping the life and soul from you. but more importantly- he was angry at himself for not seeing the signs sooner. for not noticing the way you flinch whenever he or another male trys to touch you, or how you cower into a shell of a human whoever someone raises their voice at you. he was beating himself up mentally at how he wasnt there to protect you, to love you and stop any harm coming your way like he promised 14.

grayson sits in silence, staring ahead at the wall, taking in every piece of information you share. his arms tighten around you body, his jaw locked and body tense as his eyes shoot with rage. he’s keeping himself calm for your sake. the feeling of you wrapped safely in his arms is the only thing stopping him for not hunting down that bastarrd and ending his life. you ground him.

grayson heard enough, your words eating him alive, not able to listen to the tragic events an angel was put through. and before you know it, his lips are on yours. a sweet sensual kiss that takes you by surpirse but has you kissing back almost instantly. this was everything you needed, everything you hoped and dreamed of, but once again your mind and self deprecation took over. you pull away, breathlessly. leaning your forehead agasint graysons as he brings one hand to rub soothly across your cheek bone, eyes burning into each other’s as you silently confess what should have been said a long long time ago. 

“consider this my spontaneous adventure of the week but i love you, y/n, more than i could ever love anyone. and i swear to you, hand on heart, i will never let anyone hurt you again. s’got you, baby. it’s me and you forever, till the end of time- fuck i- i need to kiss you again.” grayson interrupts his ramble, leaning forward to peck your lips once, twice, three times as he becomes addicted to the taste of you. so high off the love everyone knew you shared so each other but took the pair of you longer to admit.

“please don't hurt me.” you whisper, the words rolling off your tongue before you fam stop tjem. just needing the reassurance that grayson will live up to all your expeditions, even exceed them. but also that  history won’t be repeating itself.

“baby, cross my heart hope to die, id never lay a finger on you in that way. you’re safe with me, y/n, always have been, always will be.”

[tsarisfanfiction]

Long Way From Home: Chapter 14

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

Forgot to post this last night, whoops, but in my defence I am absolutely drowning under uni work at the moment, so I’m quite surprised I even had the energy to proof read and post tonight...

<<<Chapter 13

The table was already piled high with steaming food when they entered the room, but Scott’s attention was more taken by the man sat at the head. Not-Dad caught his eye and gestured to the seat at his right.  Scott hadn’t planned to sit near the man if he could help it, but it appeared the patriarch had other ideas.

Swallowing down his reluctance, he crossed the floor, greeting Mrs Tracy, who was attempting to set the table even as Tin-Tin tried to persuade her gently to take her own seat, and took the offered chair.

Steely grey eyes swept up and down his outfit, and Not-Dad’s mouth settled into a thin line, but much to Scott’s relief he didn’t comment.  Not directly, at least.

“I see you had a successful trip,” he said.  Scott shrugged.

“Fashion here’s different,” he said, glancing over as the rest of the family took their seats, Other-Virgil slipping in before Other-Kyrano finished bringing the food over to the table.  “As you’ve no doubt noticed.”

“That I have,” Not-Dad agreed.  “At least no-one outside of this organisation will be seeing you, so now you have your own clothes I suppose you can dress as you wish.”  He still sounded somewhat dubious about it, but Scott would take what he could get.

“Those were my thoughts, too, Father,” Other-Scott joined in, from where he was sat a little way down the table between Other-Virgil and Mrs Tracy. “He might as well be comfortable while he’s here.”

“Indeed,” Not-Dad said.  “I have informed some trusted friends of your predicament in the hopes of increasing our chances of getting you home, and locating anyone else who may have come through. I am sure their names will be familiar to you; as I recall, you mentioned a ‘Lady P’ earlier?”

Had he?  Scott didn’t remember everything that he’d said to the man, but that seemed likely enough. He nodded.

“I assume that refers to our London agent, Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward,” Not-Dad continued.  “She has been made aware and intends to visit in the near future.”

Scott felt a flash of frustration that things were being organised over his head – or behind his back, maybe – but buried it deep with the reminder that here, he wasn’t Commander.  He wasn’t anything, except someone in need of rescuing, and this man next to him was the man in charge of the organisation trying to get him home.

“Yeah, we have a Lady Penelope,” he confirmed.  “And Parker?”

“A fine butler,” Not-Dad agreed.

Scott nodded awkwardly, a little unsure at the way Not-Dad’s first description for him was ‘butler’.  It wasn’t inaccurate, but to him, Parker was so much more than just Lady Penelope’s butler, and he wasn’t sure if that was a relationship that had carried over.

Lady Penelope and Parker had been invaluable after the Zero-X, after all.

Scott cut that train of thought off out of habit before it could spiral too far.  The last thing he needed to do was start crying about Dad while sat next to his doppelgänger in another universe.

He was saved from any further awkward conversation by Other-Kyrano announcing that the dinner was ready and inviting them to help themselves.

“Thank you, Kyrano,” Not-Dad said, before picking up a platter of carved meat and offering it to Scott.  For his part, Scott was looking at the large, homemade spread and trying not to drool at the prospect of edible food.

“Thanks,” he said, helping himself to a few slices.  That appeared to be the cue for everyone else to tuck in, and Scott found himself part of a full dining table for the first time in a long time.  Other-John was absent, of course, no doubt squirrelled away on Thunderbird Five eating rehydrated food, and it was obvious that this Tracy family, too, had lost their mom, but with the Kyranos and even Other-Brains apparently resurfacing when he hadn’t been looking, not to mention Not-Dad, it felt like the sort of meal Scott hadn’t been able to have in eight years, and had thought he’d never have again.

He took a large bite of the food to stop his rising emotions overflowing. Other-Alan, sitting opposite him, shot him an unimpressed look but thankfully seemed too busy listening to Tin-Tin next to him to comment.

“Magnificent as always, Kyrano,” Not-Dad announced after a few moments, which seemed to be the cue for the rest of the family to interject with their own praise.  Scott was more than happy to join in, which got several pairs of eyes on him, seeming like they were gauging how genuine he was.  Only Tin-Tin had a knowing, and slightly sad, smile on her face.

“Say,” Other-Alan cut in, “how does this compare to what you normally eat? Our Kyrano’s the better cook, isn’t he?”

It was a loaded question, and Scott narrowed his eyes at him.

“Alan, that’s enough of that,” Not-Dad said.  “There’s to be no comparison of which universe is ‘better’, you hear me?”

“Yes, Father,” Other-Alan frowned.  “But I can’t be the only one that wants to know what he really thinks of the food.”

“Alan!” Other-Scott added in, but Scott shrugged.

“It’s the best homemade meal I’ve had in years,” he said honestly, nodding at Other-Kyrano, who seemed flustered at the praise.  “None of us can cook half as well back home.”

“Not even your Kyrano?” Other-Alan pressed, despite the sharp snap of his name from Not-Dad.

“Alan,” Tin-Tin interjected gently, putting a hand on his arm.  He ignored her, too, and light blue eyes pinned Scott where he sat.

Scott took another mouthful of the mouth-wateringly good food and swallowed it before answering.

“Kyrano hasn’t lived with us for years,” he said simply.  “It’s just the four of us – five when John’s down – with Grandma, Brains and Kayo – she’s our Tin-Tin – on the island.”

There was silence, and he took the chance to help himself to more of the food on the central platters.  It really was good, and if he was eating, he could at least pretend he wasn’t the focus of several varyingly sympathetic looks.

“Where did he go, if you don’t mind my asking, sir?”  It was Other-Kyrano who asked, and Scott tried not to react to being called sir.

He shrugged again.  “None of us know,” he admitted between mouthfuls.  “He retired and vanished.  Kayo tries to get in contact with him every now and then, but as far as I know she’s never been successful.”

Scott could feel the elephant in the room, the question on all their tongues even though none of them – not even the otherwise abrasive Other-Alan – wanted to be the one to say it.  He sighed and speared a section of meat with his fork, knowing that the question wouldn’t go away until he addressed it.

“Yes,” he said, “it was just after we lost Dad.”  He shoved the fork into his mouth and chewed aggressively on the meat, staring down at his plate rather than facing anyone at the table. A hand landed on his right shoulder, presumably belonging to Other-Gordon, who was sat immediately next to him, but no-one said anything in response.

After a moment, Not-Dad cleared his throat.  “Brains, how are you doing with the research?” he asked.

“O-oh!”  The scientist jumped, clearly not expecting to be addressed, and Scott sent him a mental apology for being the reason he was suddenly the centre of attention even though he was impatient for updates on that front, too.  “I, uh, have gathered a-all the data I, uh, can detect from, uh, Thunderbird One’s hangar w-where Scott, uh, appeared,” Other-Brains said, putting his cutlery down as he spoke.  “There appears to be a-an, uh, anomaly of some sort in the, uh, atmospheric r-readings but I, uh, haven’t b-been able to, uh, isolate the c-cause yet.”

“But wouldn’t the cause be the collision that brought him through?” Other-Virgil asked.

“T-that would be the, uh, logical assumption,” Other-Brains agreed, “but, I’d, uh, like some m-more data before I, uh, conclude that for, uh, certain.”

Scott was caught with a mouth full of vegetables when bespectacled eyes found him from the other end of the table, where Other-Brains was sitting between Tin-Tin and Other-Kyrano.  “I, uh, would like to run some, uh, samples from you to, uh, isolate the a-anomaly from your, uh, home u-universe,” the scientist continued.

Scott swallowed the food.  “Whatever you need,” he agreed eagerly.  Maybe a little desperately.  “Just say when you want them.”

“I’ll, uh, let you know,” Other-Brains promised.  It wasn’t ideally the answer Scott was looking for – a definitive time would have been nice – but it was something and he nodded in acknowledgement.

That seemed to be the cue for the hubbub of conversation to start up again. Scott stayed out of it, content to eat and listen, and at the head of the table, Not-Dad seemed likewise content to listen to what his sons were saying as they started talking about what seemed to be normal, everyday things.  Scott had the context for none of it and was unsurprisingly completely at a loss as to what any of them were talking about.

Tin-Tin and Mrs Tracy seemed to be holding a conversation about fashion and something that sounded like Pennylon, which Scott assumed was a brand or something, while the brothers engaged in some apparently long-standing banter, although he definitely heard billiards and bet in the hubbub.

Nothing was said about International Rescue, and Scott wondered if that was because he was there, even though he’d sat in on one of their debriefs, or if this family also had a ban on talking business over meals.  It was probably the latter.

“Gordon,” Not-Dad said suddenly, cutting into the conversation.  “What’s this about a bet I hear?”

The son in question grinned, and further down the table, Other-Scott rolled his eyes.

“It’s not a real one, Father,” Other-Gordon said.  “But with Scott here wanting clothes that our Scott wouldn’t normally buy, we had to come up with a reason for his sudden change in taste.”

“So he claimed I bet he couldn’t beat the whole family at billiards,” Other-Scott added.  “A bet that I apparently lost, with those clothes as my forfeit.”

Not-Dad chuckled, startling Scott, who hadn’t heard anything except stern patriarch from the man since he’d first met him.  Suddenly he seemed a lot more like Dad, and a lump formed in his throat.  Scott hurried to put another mouthful of food in his mouth to have a reason for his need to swallow.

“He did, did he?” the older man said.  “How many times have you played him so far today?”

“I stopped counting after twelve,” Other-Scott said.

“I see,” Not-Dad mused.  “And how many times has he won?”  Even Scott could tell he knew what the answer was going to be before it was uttered, but Other-Scott said it anyway.

“Not even once.”

“Maybe we should play chess after dinner instead,” Other-Gordon suggested. His brother laughed.

“But chess wasn’t the bet, was it, Gordon?”

“I think you’ve made your point,” the ginger sulked.

“I’m glad you think so,” Other-Scott said sunnily.  “Maybe that’ll teach you to make outlandish claims.”

“I didn’t see you making any suggestions to the contrary,” Other-Gordon pointed out.  Sat between them, Other-Virgil’s head was swivelling like an umpire at a tennis match. Conversation across the rest of the table had died down, leaving the two of them the only ones talking.

Two brothers sniping at each other was familiar, and Scott buried himself in the delicious food to try and distract himself from the fact that at home, it would be his brothers sniping at each other, and he might even be involved himself.

No-one seemed to notice his retreat from the conversation, or at least had the manners not to comment on it if they did, and he kept quiet for the rest of the main course.

Dessert passed in much the same manner, with Grandma presenting a gigantic chocolate gateau piled high with fresh strawberries and cream.  The entire table fell upon it with gusto, Scott very much included.  The ones he picked up from Paris, while the best of professional baking, just weren’t the same as homemade.

“So,” Not-Dad said, once the plates were all licked clean and Other-Kyrano and Mrs Tracy were bustling around in the kitchen, having cleared the crockery.  Tin-Tin had also got up to help them, but none of the others had moved, so Scott took the cue to stay where he was.  “What do you boys have planned for the evening?”

“I’ll be continuing with drawing Scott’s brothers,” Other-Virgil said.

“Drawing his brothers?” Not-Dad asked, and he nodded.

“They don’t look identical to us,” Other-Gordon chipped in, “so Virgil’s working with Scott to get portraits together for our reference.”

“I see,” Not-Dad said, and Scott found himself being regarded by the man again. “I’d like to see those once they’re completed.”

“Yes, Father,” Other-Virgil agreed.

“He won’t let any of us see them yet,” Other-Gordon complained.

“I told you,” the artist said, yet again.  “Once they’re coloured, and not one moment before.”

A steaming cup of coffee appeared in front of Scott, and he glanced up to see Tin-Tin smiling at him.  Not wanting to interrupt the conversation now going on between Not-Dad and his sons about the portraits Other-Virgil was working on, he nodded at her in thanks.

Similar cups were finding their way in front of everyone at the table, and Scott assumed a post-meal coffee was part of the routine here.  Once everyone was served, Tin-Tin, Other-Kyrano and Mrs Tracy returned to the table with their own drinks and a platter of home-baked cookies.

Tasting the coffee, Scott was pleased to discover Tin-Tin had clearly remembered how he liked it from earlier.  The proffered cookies were just as delicious as the cake had been, and by the time they’d finished drinking and eating, Scott was feeling pleasantly full.

He was going to have to make sure he went for his morning run, especially if this was always how they ate here.

“Are you ready to carry on with the portraits?” Other-Virgil asked him after all the cups on the table had been drained dry and the hubbub of conversation had faded away, and he made his way to his feet.

“Sure,” he answered.  “Lead the way.”

Other-Virgil’s room was full of frosted glass panels, or so it seemed as Scott followed him inside.  Books, on what appeared to be a variety of subjects from art techniques and historic artists to music to what Scott assumed were engineering manuals, lined alcoves in the wall opposite the bed.  They were familiar in topic, if not in the particular titles, to the sorts of things he was used to finding in his Virgil’s room.

“Why don’t you pull up a chair?” Other-Virgil invited, nodding at a wooden chair sitting innocuously in the corner as he perched himself on his bed. The sketchbook from earlier had had the respective pages neatly torn out, and Scott caught a glimpse of John’s sketch taped to a large board.  Various colouring pencils surrounded the artist where he sat, and Scott obediently retrieved the chair in question to put it down next to the bed so he could see what Other-Virgil was doing.

“What do you want to start with?” he asked, looking at the greyscale picture of his brother and trying to imagine it coloured in.  As John was the last brother he’d seen – albeit holographically – before ending up in the wrong universe, it was almost painfully easy to bring him to mind.

“Well, we might as well start with the skin,” Other-Virgil said.  “Darker or paler than you?”

That was a good reference point to start with, Scott figured.  “Paler,” he replied.  “Quite a bit paler.  He’s ginger and lives in space most of the time, so he doesn’t get much sun.”

Other-Virgil hummed thoughtfully, fingers dancing over a selection of pencils but not actually selecting one to start.  “Do you remember our John well enough to know which one’s darker or paler?” he asked.

“I can’t say I was paying much attention to that,” Scott admitted, wracking his brain to remember how pale Other-John had been.  “Mine’s maybe a little paler?”

Other-Virgil nodded and finally selected a pencil.  “Say,” he began as he started lightly colouring.  “When you say he’s in space most of the time – don’t you fellas have a rotation for Thunderbird Five?”

“A rotation?”  Scott tried to imagine telling John he had to share his ‘bird with someone else on a regular basis – someone who wasn’t EOS – and failed miserably.  John would probably lock down Thunderbird Five and refuse entry to anyone if Scott so much as breathed a notion about sharing space monitor duty regularly.  “No, John’s up there most of the year.  He’s happiest there, so it works out.”

“But aren’t there health detriments to staying in space for so long?” Other-Virgil asked, and Scott winced.

“A few,” he admitted, “but we’ve done what we can with our technology to minimise them, and it’s not unusual for John to come down for a few days if we’re quiet.  We can route the calls straight to Tracy Island if necessary, although the signal isn’t as good and we’re more liable to miss things.”  He frowned thoughtfully.  “You guys have a rotation?”

Other-Virgil nodded as he set down the pencil he was using and selected another one.  Scott peered at the canvas; John’s sketch did look remarkably pale, but the pencil Other-Virgil had selected seemed slightly darker so maybe he planned to layer it up. “John and Alan switch every month, or near enough,” he explained.  Scott recalled Other-Alan’s surprising agreement to Other-John’s declaration that he wanted telemetry – it made a lot more sense now.  “But John tends to do slightly longer spells than Alan, and very rarely Scott takes a turn if one of them can’t.”

Scott couldn’t imagine sitting up in Thunderbird Five for an entire month, on space monitor duty.  He’d done short spells of a couple of days, and that was more than enough for him.

“How does this look so far?” Other-Virgil asked after a few more moments, putting his pencil down and turning the board until Scott could look at it properly.  “Too pale?”

Scott peered at it again, but without the vibrant hair or piercing eyes, judging the skin colour was a lot harder than he’d expected it to be.

“Maybe a little?” he offered, a bit uncertainly.

“How about we move on to his hair for now?” Other-Virgil suggested.  “You say he’s ginger?”

Scott nodded.  “Very striking,” he confirmed.  “Brighter than your Gordon’s.”

Other-Virgil selected a pencil and made some firm strokes across the curl above John’s forehead.  “Like this?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Scott confirmed, watching the almost orange pencil continue to follow the sweep of John’s hair.  Other-Virgil nodded in acknowledgement, and settled in to keep colouring the hair.  He didn’t seem to have any difficulty with the colour; Scott didn’t have to make any corrections, only a couple of confirmations when asked, during the entire process.

Then it was time for his eyes, and this particular little brother of his had never had the easiest eyes to describe, not helped by the fact that Scott saw them through a blue-tinted hologram far more frequently than he actually saw them in person.

“Blue turquoise or green turquoise?” Other-Virgil asked after his initial attempt, and Scott hesitated.  They always looked almost blue in the hologram, but then the hologram itself was blue, so…

“Green?” he hedged.  “Maybe?”

Other-Virgil seemed slightly amused at his inability to remember the exact colour, if the uptick to his lips was any indication, but dutifully selected a few pencils in the blue-green area, as best Scott could tell, and started adding in flecks to the irises.

Seeing his brother come to life from the paper as Other-Virgil added more and more detail with the pencils brought that lump back in his throat, which Scott swallowed around in the hopes of pushing it down before Other-Virgil looked up and noticed.

No such luck, apparently, as brown eyes glanced up at him and gained a sympathetically concerned look.

“Are you okay?” Other-Virgil asked, setting the pencil and board down and twisting to look at him properly.

“I’m fine,” Scott insisted, but he could tell Other-Virgil wasn’t convinced in the slightest.

“You know,” he said gently, “we don’t have to do this all now.”

It was very reminiscent of Other-Gordon’s attitude during their shopping trip, and Scott slouched back on the chair.

“You need to know who you’re looking out for,” he pointed out.  “We’ve already established I can’t describe them well enough, so this is the only way we’ve got.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Other-Virgil allowed, “but that doesn’t mean you have to push yourself so hard.”

“They’re my brothers,” Scott snapped back, harsher than he intended. “If they’re somehow here-”

“I understand,” Other-Virgil interjected.  Startled at the interruption, Scott’s mouth clicked shut. “Gordon’s right; you’re just like our Scott, and we know how overprotective over us he gets.”  A hand landed on his shoulder, and those deep brown eyes searched his.  For what, Scott wasn’t sure.  “If your brothers are somehow here, we will find them.  John’s already listening out, and I’m sure your brothers are smart enough to get themselves somewhere where they can be easily found by the right people.  What we’re doing will help, I agree, but if they’re here, it’s not what will find them.”

Scott grit his jaw.

“I have to do something,” he said.  A measure of desperation bled through into his voice.

“Look after yourself,” Other-Virgil told him, not unkindly. “That’s what your brothers will want.” Scott looked up at him, startled, and Other-Virgil held his gaze steadily.  “I’m sure that, if you’re like Scott, I must be like your brother, too,” he continued.  “Look after yourself.  Let us help you.”

His hair was different, but his eyes were just the same.

Other-Gordon had said the same thing.  Scott wondered if he was in for a similar speech from all of them at one point or another.

“I have to do this,” he said, leaning forwards and gesturing at the still-uncoloured sketches of his three youngest brothers.  “I have to.”

Other-Virgil surveyed him for a moment, but must have seen something in his face, because he nodded and pulled his hand back.

“I understand,” he said.  “So, would you say we’re done with your John?”  He picked up the coloured picture and showed it to Scott.

It was definitely John.  The sketch had caught his likeness perfectly, but with the addition of the colours, it was really him.

“Yeah,” he said, around that lump that seemed determined to appear in his throat at any reminder of his brothers.  “That’s him.”

Other-Virgil took a moment to look at the finished drawing, and Scott wondered what he was thinking.  Whatever thoughts were running through his head, though, he didn’t say them and after a moment set the image aside.  It was Virgil’s sketch that he prepped next.

It had to be weird, Scott thought as they started the same process again, for the brown-haired man to know he was colouring in a version of himself from another universe – that hopefully, if Scott really was the only one to have fallen through, he would never meet.  Still, Other-Virgil seemed well enough up to the challenge, even if he raised an eyebrow upon Scott’s confirmation that yes, Virgil’s hair was black and not just a very dark brown.

The eyes, at least, were slightly easier.  Unlike with Other-John and John, where the former he’d only seen through various sized screens and hadn’t been able to get any real gauge on the exact shade of his eyes, Other-Virgil – as well as Other-Gordon and Other-Alan – had the exact same eyes as Scott’s own brothers.

Other-Virgil, entirely understandably in Scott’s opinion, spent several minutes studying the finished drawing once Scott proclaimed it accurate, but just as with John’s portrait, kept his opinions to himself.

It was dark outside Other-Virgil’s bedroom window by the time all of the sketches were coloured.  Instinctively, Scott looked at his wrist for the time, only to be stymied by the analogue dial he’d yet to get anyone to explain to him.

“It’s getting late,” Other-Virgil commented, seemingly only just noticing how dark it was even though he’d turned the lights on about halfway through colouring Alan’s.  “Should we show the fellas now or in the morning?”

“Might as well do it now, if they’re still up,” Scott shrugged.  “What is the time, anyway?”

“Aren’t you wearing Scott’s watch?” Other-Virgil asked, and Scott sighed.

“Yeah, but I can’t read it,” he admitted.  “We haven’t used this system in half a century back home.”

“Do you want me to talk you through it now?” Other-Virgil offered, setting the drawings aside and leaning forwards.  “It shouldn’t be too complicated for you, I shouldn’t think.”

Scott glanced down at the dial, taunting him with numbers and spokes he couldn’t quite decipher.  “That would help,” he admitted, extending his wrist.  “So, what am I looking at here?”

Other-Virgil shuffled closer and caught his forearm to steady it.  “Well, each point on the edge of the face are the hours, with twelve at the top, followed by one on the immediate right,” he said, pointing at the points in question.  Scott nodded.  “The shorter hand is the hour hand, and it points at the hour.  If it’s pointing between numbers, like it is right now” – it was between the nine and the ten markers – “the hour is the one it’s passed. That makes it nine, here.”  Scott nodded again.

“The other hands,” he started, assuming all of the long thin spokes coming from the centre had the same term.  “Minutes and seconds?”

“That’s correct,” Other-Virgil confirmed.  “The wider, slower, hand is the minutes.  Each hour point is five minutes apart for the minute hand, starting from the top of the dial.”

Scott did a quick count.  The minute hand was lurking down by the seven hour point, so that meant, “it’s nine thirty-five?”

“That’s right,” Other-Virgil told him.  “But we normally say twenty-five to ten.  Once it’s past the half hour, we say ‘to’ the hour, rather than ‘past’ the hour.”

That was unnecessarily complicated, in Scott’s opinion.  “I’ll try to remember that,” he said out loud, watching the third, slender, hand move around.  That was presumably the second hand.  “Seconds are counted the same way as minutes?”

“They are, yes,” he was told, Other-Virgil looking quite pleased.  “I didn’t think you’d have any trouble with it. Say, what do you fellas use?”  He let go of Scott’s wrist.

“Numbers,” Scott shrugged, letting his hand fall back into his lap. “Computers update the time every second or minute, depending on the clock, so we just have to read out the numbers.”

“Computers do that?” Other-Virgil asked.  Scott found himself surprisingly relieved that the other man seemed to at least know what a computer was.  “That sounds very complicated for something as simple as keeping time.”

Scott shrugged.  “It’s simple enough for us to use,” he said.

“Well, I suppose it’s what you’re used to,” Other-Virgil commented.  “The other fellas should still be up, so we can show them the portraits of your brothers now.”  Scott watched him gather up the four drawings and made his own way to his feet, putting the chair back in the corner where it had been earlier.

Chapter 15>>>

[utterlyinevitable]

After seeing ur explanation for that anon i really want to see a fic or a hc of ethan as a dad and becca as mom can u please do it??

omg okay ahhh my babys having babies. this is gonna be long and idk if it’ll make sense bc imma jot down everything i know about domestic e&b.  

[just finished and... this is long and broken down into 6 categories........... enjoy!]

Ethan & Becca as Parents

The Pregnancy 

They didn’t plan on having children, it just kind of happened. Becca and Ethan took a day for the news to settle before they jumped into excited, expecting parents mode.

The most exciting part was renovating the condo to make the most perfect nursery and shopping for decorations and mentally planning all the traditions and things they’d love to give to their little family. 

All of the happiness couldn’t mask the struggles of pregnancy. 

Becca hated being pregnant. She was sick and nauseous constantly, and her back and feet always ached. 

Throughout the whole thing Ethan doted on her; holding her hair back and learning how to tie it up in the way she likes, rubbing her back, running out to get whatever she was craving. 

He even made copious amounts of notes about her eating patterns. Enough to keep two of everything in the condo. 

If she was having a restless night, he would too; even if she was restless for non-human-growing reasons. 

They were in this together.

And even when she was huddled over a garbage pail, dribble running down her chin, she never looked more beautiful to him. 

There was just something about all this that made him feel all weird and fuzzy inside. 

When her symptoms barely settled throughout the second trimester she overhauled her entire birthing plan. There was no way she was making it to 42 weeks. She was absolutely miserable. So she made a c-section appointment for 40 weeks. 

She had an entire argument with Ethan one evening (she really was only yelling while he nodded his head). Her main points were:  “It’s my body and the baby will be fine. I was born 6 weeks early and I turned out fantastic!” and  “Once the baby’s out of me I’m still going to have to pee. Omg what if she rips me open!? How am I supposed to use the bathroom without worrying about my stitches?”  

All he kept reiterating was:  “I love you. I trust you and your instincts.” 

Becca felt better as he held her face in his large hands, his calming azure eyes boring into hers and letting her know everything will be alight. 

But deep down she spent the next few weeks since making the appointment wondering if she should have given vaginal birth a try. She didn’t want Ethan to resent her for chickening out of her body’s natural function. 

The Birth 

Becca made it to her c-section appointment. Happily rubbing her large belly and glowing:  “I can’t wait to not be pregnant anymore! Never do this to me again.” 

All Ethan did was chuckle. 

He was happy she was getting color back and that her symptoms finally settled enough for her to spend the last few weeks enjoying their daughters kicks. But oh my god was Ethan Ramsey terrified of being a father. 

He wouldn’t tell Becca though. She was emotional and worried enough as is. Any and all his concerns were saved for the short conversations he had with his father.  “Don’t overthink it, son. The moment you lay eyes on your daughter you’ll know what to do. It’s instinct. Biology. That was your best subject in school, wasn’t it?” Alan would joke.  

The surgery went off without a hitch. 

All of Becca’s hatred for the phenomenon of pregnancy vanished the second the nurse placed their daughter on her chest. 

Rebecca was in awe. She made that! This little person came out of her! This little pink person that looks like a plucked chicken with a tiny tuft of brown hair was here and she was beautiful. The perfect combination of her and Ethan. 

The embodiment of their love.   

Dakota Dolores Ramsey was completely unplanned. Unplanned but not unwanted.  

The first time Ethan Ramsey held his daughter time froze. The universe needed a minute to process the broad grin and full heart thumping rapidly from this stoic and reserved man. 

The earth was about to spin the wrong way but then Dakota opened her eyes.

Everything was the way divinity had planned it.  

At Home

Although Ethan and Becca lived a 10 minutes drive from Edenbrook, nearly a straight run, Becca forced him to drive as slow as possible. 

Dakota was asleep and she needed to keep it that way. 

Due to her stitches, Becca was forced to take things easy. No matter how many times she argued with Ethan that she was capable of menial tasks around the house. 

Ethan would not let her lift a finger. 

If Dakota needed a change he’d happily do it. if Becca was hungry he’d make her favorite. 

“You had her to yourself for nine months. Let me take the next few days.” Becca went to retort, all she wanted was to hold her baby for the rest of eternity. She’d never tire of looking at her scrunched up potato face and watching as her features changed every moment of every day. “I promise to share.” “You better,” she kissed him as he tucked her into bed for a much needed nap.

The only thing he was forced to share with his partner was feeding duty - Becca was adamant on breast feeding. A bottle would not touch their daughters lips for months to come. 

That in itself brought its own challenges. 

Most nights Ethan laid in bed with Becca curled up at his side in one arm and Dakota resting on his bare chest. 

Parenting was weird, but an exhilarating change. 

Ethan couldn’t diagnose what he could have possibly have done right in his life to be this wholly happy. 

The Second

Once Ethan and Becca had one child they were both itching for a second.

“You know what say: ‘if you have one you have to have two’.” “Is that so?”  “You don’t want Dakota to have a sibling?”  “I was an only child and look how I turned out.”  “Emotionally stunted and certified loner?” she teased. 

Truth be told, Ethan wanted another. He’s been thinking of giving his pride and joy a few siblings for weeks now. He just didn’t know how to tell Becca. 

Becca complained frequently about how happy she was to not be pregnant, and often about how her scar healed funnily. 

All of the signs pointed to her not wanting another. And Ethan was okay with that. He never expected to have one child. He’d cherish every moment of what’s been placed right in his fingertips. 

He’ll let his soon-to-be wife choose their path. She’s dictated everything else thus far. Ethan was elated she chose him to be along for the ride. 

After Dakota’s first birthday, when they made the decision to have another, they tried desperately to conceive.

“I really don’t want to have to deal with diapers for five years,” was Becca’s main reason for keeping the kids close in age.  “We can try surrogacy.” Ethan offered, knowing how much she hated pregnancy. He didn’t want to push her into anything.    “No. I have to do it. I’ll do it for our kids. But you owe me big time.”  

And 14 months later Caroline Marie Ramsey made her grand appearance. 

And Becca got her first push present. 

The Last 

It’s fitting that four years later Ethan and Becca were blessed with another surprise. 

Her pregnancy with James Jonah was the smoothest of them all. 

Of course that meant something had to go wrong. 

At 34 weeks Becca went into premature vaginal labor. 

Within six hours their baby boy arrived. 5lbs 2oz and looking like an alien. 

Ethan almost lost them both after the fact. 

Becca lost too much blood with the placenta and JJ was so tiny.  

But the Lao’s were fighters and they pulled through. Ethan cried at her bedside once the harrowing 24 hours were up. 

Becca stayed at the hospital for a week, Ethan and Alan bringing the girls to visit every single day. 

JJ had to stay a few days longer and Becca refused to leave until she could bring her son home. 

She went through her first experience with postpartum depression. Becca didn’t think anything could be worse than the mental toll her abortion had on her years earlier. But she was wrong.

She was so wrong. 

All their friends chipped in to help take care of the kids while Ethan devoted his time to helping his wife. The couple went to therapy, sometimes together, other times Ethan sat in the waiting room as Becca worked through her emotions. 

Months later, the parents were sitting at home. Ethan held their son and their daughters were curled on their laps: He muttered into his wife’s hair, “I’d like to have one more.”  “Not with me you’re not,” she scoffed. “We’re outnumbered as is.” 

JJ began to cry and the girls stirred. Dakota mumbling, “Tell the baby to shut up, I’m sleeping here.” 

They couldn’t help but laugh and pull apart to put their whole world to bed.  

Old and graying and spending more time at home with his kids, Ethan wanted just one more baby. Four was a strong, even number. He could have a whole daycare full of them - each one the best variations of him and Becca. 

Becca had spent a large portion of her 30s childrearing and she’s done. Done with diapers and formula, especially. She loves her children more than anything but they’re exhausting. She can’t wait for them to be in school full time and she can have some more alone time with her husband. It’s been so long since it’s been just them too.  

“Don’t hate me...”  “I could never hate you,” Ethan said as he brushed a few strands of hair from his wife’s face.  She swallowed and confidently said, “I want you to get a vasectomy.” 

He agreed without further consideration. She made a very compelling argument.  

Parenting 

Ethan is the doting helicopter dad and Becca is doctor drill sergeant. The kids get away with nothing under their mother’s watch. 

Ethan is very soft and adores his children. The grumpy attending could have a whole gaggle of them. He spoils his daughters rotten, picking up the newest doll and toy they’re obsessed with, and making them promise not to tell mommy. 

The women in Ethan’s life get away with everything and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When the girls were born, Ethan stepped back at work letting the better Dr. Ramsey have her career defining moments.

He took half days to pick the girls up from preschool and would bring them to the park or museums. He’d even try to teach them to cook their favorite recipes on cold, rainy days. He’d tire them out so that he and mom could tuck them in after dinner.

Ethan’s afraid of his son. He’s afraid the tot is going to turn out exactly like him - he’s the spitting image, except that his hair curls like his mother’s. 

Instead of putting JJ in fulltime daycare, Ethan chose part time preschool. The girls were in primary school now and he’s taken a bigger step back from the hospital after the baby was born. 

He devotes all his free time to teaching his son about all he knows and learning all he doesn’t.  

Becca complains about the state of her vagina and stomach all the time. Never in front of the children but often enough Ethan knows the look on her face right before she says the same two lines.  

Her favorite activity is building forts and taking the kids to the beach. 

The holidays have never felt more alive with the full house. Ethan even became a Christmas and Valentines Day lover. 

Becca loved watching him change over the years. Every new first they celebrated with each child, every one of their kids passions, Ethan would adopt them all and make it his mission to be a connoisseur of every facet.

Dakota sat her parents down one day with a serious topic of conversation: “Mommy, Daddy. I’m going to be a fashion designer.” “Will you?”  “Yes. And I need to dress myself.” “As long as it’s weather appropriate, consider it done.”  “And we need to get supplies.” 

The conversation went on for 15 minutes with Ethan and Becca asking questions and Dakota making demands. Once they’ve settled on an agreement on how to make their daughter’s dream happen, Ethan retired to his office. He taught himself the basics of sewing.     

Even with all the struggles of raising three children in a suburb of Boston while balancing very demanding medical careers, Ethan and Becca wouldn’t have it any other way. The life they carved out of all their complications was worth it.  

All of this was inevitable. 

And they wouldn’t take a moment for granted.    

________________________________________

Um... this became bigger than intended... If you made it this far, thank you ♥

Masterlist

Perma:

@rookiemarsswiftie @lucy-268 @binny1985 @thegreentwin @queencarb @danijimenezv @starrystarrytrouble e @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @adrex04 @maurine07 @mercury84choices @schnitzelbutterfingers @theeccentricbibliophile @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @kaavyaethanramsey @mvalentine @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine @lifeaskim @otherworldlypresents @therookie @aylaramseycarrera @angela8754 @fireycookie @stateofgracious

Ethan:

@udishaman @honeyandsunfl0wers @hutchereverlark23 @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @blossomanarchy @claredal424 @caseyvalentineramsey @rookieoh @openheartthot @senseofduties @lilyvalentine @tsrookie @kalogh @aworldoffandoms @takemyopenheart t @casey-v @ramseyandrys @peaceinmidstofchaos

[aibrepus]

Hello. This is probably my last post on this blog, I don't intend to post any more after that. My reach for some reason has been getting ridiculously small these days and I have over 300 followers who don't interact with me, in any way.

This is more of an outburst than anything else. I am constantly taking impulsive desperate attitudes that are supposed to make people look at me and this is just one more of them, although it almost never works. I doubt anyone will read this.

My name is C. I am 16 years old. I'm brazilian, so I apologize for gramatical mistakes. I wrote this text when I was 15 or 14, but I updated it. I've tried to publicize it before. I'm trying again.

First, I have a dysfunctional family. It was something that happened when my stepfather arrived many years ago, I was 6 or 7 at the time. My mom is divorced and I don't know my biological dad. She raised me and my older brother on her own and was always looking for steady partners because of - which I didn't understand before but now I see - financial issues. She was a teacher, now retired, so our condition of life was very simple. My stepfather is also retired and has always been paid very well, compared to her. So they started dating and I was too young to see any problems with that or even to understand what that meant. He brought more money to our family and the financial stability that my mother was looking for. We left a tiny and falling apart house to live in a much bigger and more beautiful one. He looked ok at first. But after a while it seemed that my stepfather didn't really like the way our family worked or the way my mother treated me and my brother and decided that he wanted things his way. I also remember very well the first times he raised his voice to me or my brother and one of the things I most regret in life is to have let him go around dictating rules over us from the beginning, because letting it all happen just ruined my family. My stepfather started to become unbearable for both of us. Nothing was ever good for him. He was always pointing out defects in everything we did. He was always screaming. He was always talking to my mother about how she had raised us wrong. Everything had to be his way, how he wanted it, when he wanted it. It became a problem for us in a very short time. My mother also ended up moving to something a little more like him, since the way she acted "was not good". I remember thinking to myself about these things since I was 8 years old. My brother and I hated him. Soon my mother and stepfather became my two greatest enemies and this is still the case today.

Basically, to save your time, I spent all these last years of my life hating my stepfather so hard that everything he does disgusts me. When I'm on his side, it feels like I'm on the side of a complete stranger. Everything I do inside this house is meticulously thought out and planned to please everyone and especially him. The simplest tasks become nervous anxiety at the thought that I may be doing something wrong. Anything is a reason to complain and raise his voice. And now, as I said, it is not just him, because my mother is not very different and recently it has been even worse. In the beginning of my adolescence, when my family became really unbearable, I started to isolate myself in my room all day and now I just go out to eat and use the bathroom. And I do it precisely to avoid meeting anyone. I don't even eat with them anymore.

My mother is a submissive woman who knows very well that our family is horrible but we still depend on his money. That's why they never fought and got along as far as possible because she never opposes him, always agrees on everything. My relationship with her is terrible. I remember that before my stepfather our life was simpler but we were happy in some way and now because of the decision that my mother made our family is totally over. Nobody here spends a day without complaining about the other. My brother is always getting more credit than I am for things he doesn't even do. I have always been a good daughter. I were always a quiet child, my grades were always great. My brother is a grown man with 20 years on his back who can't find a job, is still in high school because he repeated two years and does nothing at home but always receives the best things while I always stay with the rest and have to run after absolutely everything. I see people talking about their brothers with that "we fight, but we love each other" story and all I can feel is envy because I never had this relationship with him. We hate each other as much as we hate my stepfather.

Last year, when I had just returned from school, the two fought. My mom was still working, so she wasn't at home. I was inside my room with the door closed, as usual. Recently my mother had talked to my stepfather about us to try to ease the situation. I heard him entering the room where my brother was. He complained about collecting clothes on the clothesline. He muttered "and then you two complain about me" and then went to the kitchen. My brother followed and retaliated for the first time. My stepfather must have come over to hold him or something and they started fighting. Really fighting. Punching each other. I heard the sound of someone fiddling with the sink drainer and then my stepfather told my brother to lower something. I was terrified. I started to cry and to shake. I took out my cell phone and my headphones and put the music on at maximum so I wouldn't have to listen. I sent a message to my mom saying what was going on. Of course, one hour they stopped. I was crying all afternoon. I've never been so scared.

Most of my problems are related to my family.

2016 was the worst year of my life because of them. The fights were very constant since the beginning of the year. At that time I was entering 6th grade and my grades plummeted. I couldn't concentrate on classes, I didn't have the willpower to do the activities, or the school works that I never used to do, or anything, whether it was related to school or not. Before that the situation was already terrible but I believe that that year it started to really get worse. I had no friends. I had just changed schools and was completely alone. My self-esteem was horrible. There was only one girl who talked to me but she was always exchanging me for other people and leaving me aside. I was always an introvert, very quiet, and I couldn't make friends at all. This girl was doing me really bad - once, we were talking to our history teacher and she told me that I was despicable for being very pessimistic and for, according to her, "not living". When I heard that I didn't think too much about it but then I started to think and I have never felt so bad in my life. I spent weeks thinking about it. I started to accept as true the fact that I was unable to make friends because I was a despicable person and that is why no one liked me. It was the most painful thing I have ever heard.

Still in 2016, we made a travel to the south because my stepfather is from there. We went to visit his family and it was not the first time, actually. It happened in December. I was really excited but the travel only resulted in more fights. The only thing I asked my mother for was a book I saw in a store that was about depression and I ended up earning nothing, just like my brother. I was really upset. My stepfather kept on teasing me. We were all asleep in his parents' living room and one night, when everyone else was asleep, I laid on the mattress crying low all night.

I was constantly thinking about suicide. It scares me to think about the possibility that, if I had an easy and fast way at the time, this could have happened. I was thinking of talking to someone at the life appreciation center but I didn't. I did a lot of research on the technique they used and realized that perhaps their rhetorical questions would not help me prevent my own suicide if I got in touch. In the end, I never told any of this to anyone. There are only two people who know the whole situation but apart from them, no one else knows what I went through that year and what I go through now. Not even my own family knew that I was thinking of killing myself because of them.

I was alone. I couldn't count on my family. I couldn't count on friends because I didn't have any. I couldn't count on anyone because I just didn't trust anyone for that. Totally alone, thinking about suicide. I was 11 years old.

In 2019 I started to self harm. I was in 9th grade and at the beginning of the school year I found a small razor inside the used art book when I first opened it. It was the opportunity I was in need of. I started to cut my legs instead of my arms so my family wouldn't see. My mom saw it, anyway. I said I did that because of them. Yes, my mother was desperate, she cried, she told me that she had related to my stepfather for the money and that my father was abusive to her and so on. She said that if she had known that my brother and I would be so unhappy, she would not have done that. And I started attending a psychologist.

What good did it do?

Me, who at first was moved by the things that my mother told me, blaming myself for being a terrible daughter and for giving her such disgust, in the end I saw her returning to the same disparaging habits as before. I still go to a psychologist today, but a different one from the first.

First, the psychologist never helped me and does not help me at all. They are the two who know what happens, although I no longer have contact with the first one. I basically go into the clinic so she can tell me everything I want to hear and everything I already know. The treatment is having no effect on my point of view and I suggested to her that perhaps medications would improve my mood, my lack of desire for everything, my lack of hunger and my insomnia. My mom was really upset because she didn't want me to take medication, but my psychologist is insisting and the consultation with the psychiatrist will probably happen sometime. But secondly, right after I started going to psychologists, my mother did absolutely nothing to change my reality at home and started to fight and yell at me in the same way that she did before. I was really stupid to have fallen into that little theater of hers. The problem is in them, and it is useless to send me to a psychologist in the hope of making me better if when I return home the same problems are repeated and everyone goes back to fighting, complaining and throwing everything at me. My stepfather never even bothered to change his conduct because of that but I expected a lot more from my mom. Pathetic to believe that something was going to change. She is spending money aimlessly on consultations and I wonder if that is what she pays so dearly for. To upset me and then send me to a psychologist for not being able to take care of her own children hoping that this will change something.

Anyway, I don't tell her that consultations don't work because I don't want to waste my time with another exhausting discussion. I always heard from people that I should talk to my family if something was wrong. I've tried to talk to them a million times and I'm where I am. There is no conversation here. All of this about my consultations is very frustrating because I always hear people talking about therapy as if it were something miraculous that will definitely help, which just doesn't happen to me. Going to psychologists does not help me.

In conclusion, I still don't stop at the urge to self-harm. My leg is full of scars and there is no one to see them. My psychologist doesn't know. I suppose she doesn't even know that I'm there because of that. In fact, there are many things that my psychologist doesn't know because I don't tell her.

Again, in 2019, thanks to a girl in my classroom, I also started drinking. I asked her to go to one of these teenage meetings and she told me that they went to the market every Wednesday to drink and smoke. Another opportunity that I needed. I thought it was time to stop being the good daughter. I tried to be it for a long time for my family. They didn't deserve to have a trophy daughter to go around showing off to friends like they did to me. I went out with them that day and drank. Very simple, actually. I found out that I am very weak. I got drunk, of course. I threw up a lot when I got home. Nobody noticed anything. And I've been in this for a long time now. I also started drinking at the beginning of the school year. When I'm drunk, I don't have to be thinking about school, or my family, or friends, or anything else. My bad reality is much lighter.

I didn't want to have to resort to drinking and smoking to be able to forget what I live inside my house. I really didn't want to. I didn't want to be that teenager. I didn't want to have to do that. I didn't want this to be the only way to make me happy for at least a few hours. I didn't want any of that.

I'm not in it because I think it's cool or because I want to be a cool teenager who drinks and smokes. It started out as a form of revenge, but then I discovered that it could actually be a valve.

I know I'm throwing my life in the trash. I know I shouldn't be doing any of this. But I need my ways to get out of this house. I can't stay in a toxic place all the time that makes me sad all the time. I avoid going back here when I'm out. I just don't want to be here anymore. I linger on the street when I come back from school so I don't have to arrive so soon. I used to go out every week. And I hope I'll be out again when the pandemic is over.

The saddest thing about the self-destructive way of life is when no one notices it. In so long that I do this, my family has never noticed. I kept coming home drunk and the most my mother ever did was to suspect when I said I was going out on my birthday. I disguise it very well, so that must be the reason.

Since I started entering adolescence, I have never made friends again - although I remember that feeling of loneliness from a very young age. There were some people I talked to at school, but I never trusted anyone. A friend to me would be much more than someone you just talk to or hang out with on a daily basis, I think. I can't talk to people. I cannot introduce myself to them. I can't socialize with them. Nowhere. Not on the internet, not at school, not even on the street when i'm drinking.

I did a lot of research and I'm almost sure that I have a severe social phobia and I'm going to talk about it with my psychologist.

I tried to make up for it by posting the texts I write on reading platforms to see if I could get any fame from it. I always wrote. My texts are mostly oneshots that I write according to what I am feeling, so my thoughts and my personal life are very much exposed in them. My constant readings have improved my vocabulary and grammar. I really care about my texts. And I also draw. I have been drawing since I was little and also regularly, so I draw very well. Everyone knows that I draw well but nobody knows about my texts. Writing and drawing is all I know how to do. My texts and drawings are all I have. My family took a lot of things from me. My family is still taking everything from me, but I put my heart into every word and illustration because it is the only thing I have left. But it doesn't matter. I've posted more than 30 short stories out there that hardly receive views, just like the illustrations I post. I wanted to work with one of these things and pursue a career mainly with drawing but I am a failure in both. Nobody reads my stories and nobody sees my drawings.

Sometimes I take the texts from my own diary. Sometimes, they carry so much truth and so much need that I collapse on myself in the end. My own tales move me. I put all of myself in them and in the drawings. I produce them with all my soul. But whatever. I don't think it's enough for people.

That is the question.

I feel like a ghost. It's almost as if I don't exist anywhere.

I am totally alone. I don't feel loved by anyone. At home I have a dysfunctional family and the only person here who seems to care about me is my mother, disregarding that she is also responsible for having ruined my life. At school, I am completely alone in the classroom, or at lunch, or any other part of the day, and I simply don't speak to anyone. On the street, I still have to settle for the least amount of people who also ignore me and hardly talk to me or take my desires and opinions into consideration. In social networks, where I should get support from people like me or at least disclose the only things I know how to do, I end up receiving the same cold indifference and I end up being alone anyway.

It seems that nobody cares about me. It seems that if I died, it wouldn't make any difference. It feels like I'm in the wrong place.

Everyone always says things like "you are not alone" or "there are people who love you" and etc., but I literally have no one. I can't socialize anywhere. Everyone ignores me. Everyone makes me feel like I don't exist. I am a failure at everything.

I dont know what I'm doing here. Reaching adulthood and leaving this place is the only hope I have of being able to be happy.

I wanted to have a normal life. A normal family. Friends. People who care about me. People who love me. I would give literally anything to have the childhood that I didn't have because of people who were supposed to love and support me and actually made me hate my own life. Anything to be a normal teenager who doesn't need to resort to self-mutilation or drugs to escape problems. Anything to at least have some friends.

I don't know what to do.

I've tried everything to make people like me. I've tried for a long time to be someone I'm not for that. I am constantly taking desperate and impulsive actions just to see if I can get anything, such as this post, but it is always in vain. They say that if you don't give up, you get things. I've been here trying for so long. I put so much of myself in drawings and texts. What do I get from that? What do I get out of trying? I've been doing these things for so long. All these years trying. All these years of holding on. I'm tired of trying. I'm tired of holding on.

All I want most in life is just for someone to look at me. Someone to look at me and see all these things. Someone to show that they care. Anything. I just wanted someone to care.

I’m practically screaming for help and it just seems like nobody cares.

On this quarantine, I have been without talking to practically anyone other than my family and my psychologist for months. Nobody came after me. Nobody sent me a message. Nobody even gave me a "happy birthday". I disappeared, deleted my few contacts, stopped using my inactive Whatsapp. Nobody asked me why. Nobody even noticed. Nobody cares enough. Nobody ever cares enough.

I wake up every day with the first thought that my life is terrible and that I will still have to deal with this family and this loneliness for a long time before I can get out of it. I have no motivation for anything else. Writing and drawing no longer seem like flashy activities. They are no longer helping. I can't stop crying all the time. My mother and stepfather made me an extremely sensitive person. I go around showing people that I have a strong personality, or that I am a cold and impassive person when in fact I am completely falling apart and nothing hurts more than knowing that no one cares. Just listening to someone screaming in an argument, even if it's not me, is enough to make me nervous.

I've been in this for a long time and I can't take it anymore. I wanted to have a happy childhood and adolescence and I just can't have it. I'm too young to be having these problems. I was too young in 2016 to be having suicidal thoughts. I was too young to start drinking because of these problems. I was too young to start self-harm, too, because of these problems. I'm too young to be suffering like that.

And I know that I no longer have the opportunity to be happy for now, while I'm here.

This must be another cry for help that I am exposing in vain. I've already sent emails to certain people, I've done posts like this before, I've posted explicit oneshots about my conditions, I've done threads on twitter. I've done everything I could, I've played all my cards. I am literally alone, not much else that can help me. All these things were calls for help, but there is no one to notice them.

I'm tired of being ignored.

I'm tired of not being seen by people.

I'm tired of being here like an idiot posting all these things and giving all these clues and being ignored by everyone. I'm tired of doing it all in vain. I'm tired of keep trying.

I bet this is just another waste of time.

[joa-quin-phoe-nix-fan]

The Interview -Joaquin Phoenix FF

!TW! Emotional abuse, death mentioned, grief

The Interview

It was a very bad idea to drink the night before this interview. You knew it then and you also knew it as soon as you woke up that morning, so hungover you could barely distinguish your feet from your hands. “This is bad...” you mumble to yourself as you walk over to what you could only assume was your medicine cabinet, desperately trying to take some ibuprofen before the inevitable headache and nausea kicked in strong.

After a lot of fumbling and trying to shake pills out of a dental floss container for way too long you finally find the ibuprofen and take 2 with a swig of tap water. Then you walk over to your bedside table hoping that your last nights drunken self had remembered to put your phone there. ..you had remembered! Feeling a slight feeling of pride as your phone finally came into focus you turned it on. Although you had remembered to put your phone in the right place for once, you had sadly forgotten to plug it in. It wasn’t dead but you only had 15% left. “Ugh, I can relate...” you sighed as you plugged it in and looked at the time 9:45. Alright so- wait, 9:45?!? You only have 45 minutes to get to a place 30 minutes away by taxi, but that’s only if you somehow managed to immediately get a taxi as soon as you left your building. Which is practically impossible during tourist season. This means you only just have 15 minutes to get completely ready and, more importantly, get sober.

You do a strange mix of stumbling and running to your kitchen grabbing at anything to fill your stomach. You by some miracle manage to successfully make a (maybe slightly too full) bowl of milk and a cup of coffee. You chug the coffee, burning your tongue in the process and you cool it down by chugging your cereal. You look at your phone, 4 minutes have passed. You jump up off your chair and run blindly back to your bedroom stopping only to glance at your face in the mirror of your bathroom and cringe at the streaks of last nights makeup still on your face. Running into the bedroom you desperately look around for the outfit that you had prepared for today, you had kept it in the same spot for a week making sure that it wasn’t in the wash and unavailable to wear today. You look in the spot, now covered in underwear, a scarf and 3 unknown lipsticks probably exchanged in the womens restroom at the bar last night. Underneath it all...the deep green suit you had planned for today! Thank god!

You throw it on and run back to the bathroom, knocking over an array of furniture on the way, grabbing around for your makeup remover and a cotton pad. You desperately wipe at your eyes, not really caring if every bit is wiped off just wanting the giant streaks of sleep-covered makeup gone. You get most of it off, leaving only slight traces of eyeliner and mascara right in your lash-line and practically jump on your makeup bag, trying to check the time at the same time. Sadly your phone had run out of battery at some point while you were attacking your face. “Ah, fuck it!” you mutter as you just chuck it at your bag, thinking that you’ll just have to go without a phone today and that you’ll charge it later. With shaky hands you draw on your eyeliner as precisely as possible, at the end feeling proud that you only fucked it up twice and that they weren’t even that noticeable. You then run to the door, grabbing your bag, vaguely grabbing inside it to make sure you felt your money, your keys, your slightly crumpled resume and your dead phone and run out the door, hoping that there was a taxi just waiting out there. As expected, there wasn’t one. You have no choice but to wait. The minutes pass like hours until finally, just when you were about to give up and start running towards the nearest bus stop (which is 10 minutes away and is twice the journey time) a yellow taxi peeled around the corner at the highest speeds. You wave to it desperately and luckily it screeches to a stop. You climb in and almost yell the address at the driver, you didn’t want to be rude, you were just so desperate.

As soon as your body settled down in the back seat, you started to feel rather dizzy and like you were going to pass out. You try to breathe deep to calm yourself down but it just kinda makes you suddenly nauseous so you resolve to just looking out the window to distract yourself.

As you watch the people and cars zooming past you try to remember what your uncle told you when he said that he got you this interview. “The man who’s going to be interviewing you is named Joaquin Phoenix, you will address him as Mr. Phoenix. You need to tell him about your college, your high school, the two other jobs you’ve had, how long you’ve had them, the fact that you haven’t been fired or reprimanded in the 2 years that you have had those jobs. Don’t get too sappy or tell him about your possible eviction due to your now ex dropping financial support, that will probably just make him think that you’re making it all up because it all seems to sad and ridiculous to be true. He’ll think you’re just trying to work off of his sympathy and will probably not take it well.” You sigh, although you hated how strictly he said it, you knew it was true, and you need this job.

After you broke up with them, you lost everything. They had helped you with taxes, they helped move and put together all your furniture, they were there for you when your father passed away, in fact, they had been with you for the better part of four years. Losing that broke you, physically, mentally and financially. You weren’t mooching or anything, you had your two jobs to pay for most of the bills, and they had their job. They just always helped when you were a couple hundred short, one time even a whole thousand short. This happened practically every month, being a barista and waitress didn’t pay as much as you expected, but they never minded. They always payed the amount, but then they would guilt-trip you. Forcing you to do things that you didn’t want to do because of their false sense of you “owing them” due to how much time and money they had spent on you. Sometimes you weren’t in the mood to “mess around”, sometimes you were too socially anxious to go to a party, sometimes you were just busy with your two jobs to spend every second of your day with them, but they didn’t care. You owed them these things and if you said no, they would threaten to not help you pay next month, or guilt you by bringing up your dad’s death. Both hurt just as bad and they knew this. They wanted to make you get in trouble at work, by making you not go, so you’d lose your job and have to depend on them more but they never succeeded. Although they had manipulated you in so many other ways, they never affected your work ethic. You knew that you needed to be there every day and no matter how much they guilt-tripped you and sent you text after text, voicemail after voicemail, threat after threat, you stayed at work. Once you got home you would fight and fight and scream and cry, they would yell at you, then as soon as you yelled, made their voice calm and condescending, making you seem like you were crazy.

Sometimes, you would even believe it yourself, but 2 weeks, 14 hours and 25 minutes ago, you didn’t bend, you kicked them out and called your mother, uncle and oncle (the uncle on your mothers side was gay and married a french man that you called oncle because that’s uncle in French) and they stayed over that night, with you crying and sobbing, and with them supplying you with chocolate, vodka and no phone. Your mom kept your phone from you like she had done when you were a child, and you’re glad she did, you surely would’ve called them and gotten back together and gotten back to being manipulated.

Since then, your mother, uncle and oncle had been visiting you one by one, checking up on you, making sure you were doing alright. The first night that they hadn’t done this was last night, the night that you went out, got shitfaced, came home, got more shitfaced and destroyed the house. It was the worst night for them to not check up on you, but you didn’t blame them. It was getting old to them, or maybe they were busy, maybe they just thought you were already over it. You weren’t obviously.

You were so deep in thought that you barely heard the taxi driver say “we’re here.” He was patient but he definitely wanted to get paid sometime today so to grab your attention he raised his voice a tad “We’re here ma’am!” You snapped out of it and looked out the window, you were here. You blushed, embarrassed and hastily thanked the taxi driver, paid for the ride and ran out towards the tall silver building in to the left of the car. The quick jump from sitting to running, though, made you reel and you almost fell onto the pavement when you suddenly stopped in mid-air. It took a moment to realize that someone had grabbed you and held you up before you made your face a pavement-pancake. You looked up, it was a man with silver hair, he had a medium sized beard, quite close to his face, not clean-shaven but not a lumberjack beard. Somewhere between there. He wore a shirt, tie and zip-up sweater. Kinda strange but nice-looking. His eyes were a lovely bright green in the morning light but they were so light you at first thought that they were silver. He held you close, with genuine concern written all over his face. “Are you okay, Miss?” His voice was sweet and gravely, and you felt the vibration of his vocal cords run from his chest, through you like a warm shower, slow and comforting.

You had kinda zoned out for a second, and suddenly realized what had happened, what situation you were in and how embarrassing it was. Your face became hot and stung, like as if you had instantly gotten a sunburn. You tried to stand up but your legs did not seem to want to cooperate. Instead of planting on the ground, steady and firm, to support your body weight, your legs decided to just kinda flop about like fish out of water, desperately trying to find the ground. They finally did and you wobbled up, standing, facing him embarrassed out of your mind.

He was patient and held you tight in case you fell again, “It’s okay, I’m here.” Why did he have to say that? Tears welled up in your eyes and the urge to hug this stranger became overwhelming. “Are you okay? What happened?” He asked as the tears fell down your face, worried that he had said something wrong. You started sobbing now, “I’m-I’m fi-i-i-ine..” you said between sobs, “I...[sniff]...I just had a bad morning...[sob] and-and now...I’ve got a job interview here right now and...and...I need this job but...I-I can’t do it!” At this point you were both sitting in the ground in front of each other, him still holding you and listening. “Keep going, I’m here for you” He pressed on, trying to get you to talk more. For an hour you both sat there with this stranger, you telling him everything and him listening carefully. Not really giving any opinion of his own yet, just asking questions to make you tell him more, tell him about how you felt, what you did next, what you remembered in the moments. Slowly at first, you started to feel better. The more you talked, the less you cried, the less you cried, the more you noticed about this man and how handsome he was, he had a small line on his lip, it was hard to see at first through his moustache but you noticed. Maybe it was a scar? You also noticed his teeth as he asked questions, not straight but not completely crooked. Yellow, he was either a coffee drinker, a smoker or both. His fingers were tobacco-stained, he was a smoker. His eyes were perfectly lined with long lashes, giving another layer of beauty to this man’s face. The more you noticed, the more you wanted to know about him. Life went so slow and sweet with him.

You finished everything that you had to say, finally calm and content. He quietly turned his head and furrowed his brow, processing everything you said. He stayed this way for about 5 minutes. You didn’t mind though, it just meant you could simply watch him and forget everything else in life. After a while he spoke, slowly and carefully, choosing each word as if it was the most important decision of his life. “Wow...that is definitely a whole lot to go through in one lifetime. I understand what it’s like to lose someone, I lost both my father and my brother. My brother died of an overdose right in front of me and I lost my father to cancer in 2015. I have no idea what you will need to heal...but for me, I chose to create. I overworked myself at times, hurt the people I love, I came close to giving up at times, but I kept going. Lots of people tell you to never look back but...I find that looking back sometimes can help you heal. You need to look back to know where you came from. The important thing is to not do that forever, otherwise you’ll never move forwards. You seem to have been overworking yourself, both with your work and your relationship. The man, that you were going to have an interview with...he’s me.”

Your stomach dropped. You had completely forgotten about the interview. The words of your uncle repeated in your head. “Don’t get too sappy...that will probably just make him think that you’re making it all up...he’ll think you’re just trying to work off of his sympathy and will probably not take it well.” You instantly drop your gaze and lower your head, ashamed and unbelievably worried. “I’m so sorry Mr. Phoenix, I made it so you weren’t working. I told you everything about my life. I promise you it’s all true and I swear I didn’t try to play off of your sympathy...I had no idea you were...” You glanced up, meeting his gaze. He looked profoundly confused and not at all angry. You blushed beet red and looked down again in apology. You sat there for a couple minutes, tears forming again, blurring your vision. Then something slowly reached for your face. As the tears fell off your eyelashes and landed on your leg, you saw that it was his hand, he slowly placed his pointer finger under your chin and gently pushed your head upwards. You complied and lifted your head, completely ashamed and met his gaze again. What took you completely aback was, that he was smiling at you. “Miss Y/N...I never thought that. I actually was supposed to have time-off during the time of our interview but your uncle is very good at convincing people.” You both laughed at this, for it was indeed true “So I wasn’t kept from work. Finally, I’d be more surprised if your life story wasn’t true, I would say that you’re an amazing actress if that was the case. I know that everything you’ve said has been true, I could even tell that quite a bit was wrong as soon as I saw you left the taxi. It all made sense as soon as you said it.” You smiled at him. You had only just met him that day but you already felt so comfortable around him. Was this love at first sight?

“Well, now that we are properly acquainted, do you want my number so we can make another interview time or maybe even...to go get a coffee?” You blushed again, getting your phone out of your bag, forgetting that it had run out of battery. You cursed at yourself, you should’ve just let it charge. “I’m sorry, but my phone is out of battery...do you have a charger?” “No, I don’t on me...do you want to come over and charge it?” You nodded, unable to speak because you were so flustered and walked with him to his car, excited to see where this day would go.

PS Hey! This is my first FF! I hope whoever reads this likes it and if you want to request a fic or if you want to give tips on writing FFs I'll happily write any FF or take any advice.