#ever since my dad got sick ive been pretty like??? concerned about how much time i spend with him?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peterrparrkerr · 3 years

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Hanahaki disease - read on ao3

Tagging: @lokitonypeter @just-things-things @thegreenmetblue @someonepostedart @andacheesyoneliner @bluestarker @lilcoffeecup @useless-fanfictions-for-mcu

*-*

Peter's known for a long time that he was in love with Tony. Since he was seven, and Ironman saved his life. Since he came home to Tony Stark on his couch, talking with his aunt.

Since the trip to Germany, and everything else leading up to now. The more time he spent with the older man, the more in love with him he became.

Peter never really thought he'd be the one to get sick. He thought he'd been immune. He's had crushes before, been in unrequited love before, and he never got sick.

But with Tony, it came on so suddenly. One day he was fine, and then the next, blue petals were in his sink after a coughing fit.

He'd been so shocked he'd stumbled back and almost hit his head on the bathroom door.

That was six months ago, and its not gotten better. He's been lucky enough to hide it from everyone.

With May's long hours at the hospital and his school's wacky scheduling, and the Avengers keeping Peter on the outskirts, its easy to hide the blue flowers.

He's read stories about people with the disease getting better on their own, or even learning to live with it for the rest of their lives.

He's also read about it killing people.

But he can't tell Tony how he feels. He just can't. Tony thinks of Peter as a kid. Plus, while the age difference doesn't bother Peter at all, it might bother Tony.

The man was old enough to be his dad anyway. So Peter decided to hide the flower petals. For as long as he could.

"Hey, Pete, you getting the popcorn or what?" Clint calls from the living room. Peter coughs again, hunched over the trashcan beside the kitchen island.

"Yeah!" He shouts, coughing again. He reaches into his mouth, picking the petals off his tongue before straightening. He glances down at the trash, covered in wet, wilty petals and feels his stomach roll.

He quickly grabs a bunch of paper towel, throwing them into the trash to cover them, then pushing it all down as far as it'd go.

After a second, he grabs the two bowls of popcorn and makes his way back into the living room.

"Sorry, I had to melt the butter," he excused, handing one bowl off to Clint -who would be sharing with Nat, Bruce and Steve.

Peter handed the other bowl off to Sam, who was in reach of Tony, Thor, Bucky and Peter.

"What are we watching again?" Peter asked, clearing his throat. It was always worse when Peter was around Tony.

"Halloween," Sam said, smirking over at Peter.

"Its August," Peter exclaims.

"Yeah, and we were going to watch A Walk To Remember but Tony doesn't do chick flicks, and the grandparents haven't seen it yet."

"Hey, Tony hasnt seen it either," Steve yelped, waving a hand at Tony, sitting at the corner of the couch, beside Sam.

Peter tried not to think about how close they'd be if Sam and him just switched places.

"That's because Halloween is a terrible series."

"It not!" Peter can't help interjecting. "Its right up there with Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th."

"How do you even know what those movies are?" Clint asks, laughing on the other couch.

"I watch old movies," Peter shrugged, feeling the familiar sense of self-consciousness creep into his chest, tickling at his lungs.

"Old!" Tony barked. "Kid, the 80s aren't old."

Peter forces himself to laugh and shrug and make a joke about hanging out with people twice his age, and the conversation moves on.

But it just reminds Peter that Tony would never see him as an equal because of his age. There was no way he'd ever accept that Peter loved him. Or would love him back.

The movie plays, and Peter chews handfuls of popcorn to keep from coughing up a lung.

Bucky and Steve are on the edge of their seats, fully invested in the corny horror film when Tony starts coughing.

Everyone glances over in concern, but the man just waves his hand, mouth pressed into his elbow.

"Pop-corn-" he chokes out between coughs.

"You're supposed to chew it," Nat laughs. Peter tries not to outwardly show how worried he is when Tony's face grows red, the coughing so bad he has to get up and make his way to his bedroom down the hallway.

Everyone returns to watching the movie, but Peter can't help but wonder if Tony's okay, especially when he doesn't come back right away.

"Uh, I gotta take a leak," Peter lies, climbing to his feet.

"Thanks for sharing, little man," Sam huffed. Peter doesn't say anything else,just makes his way down the hallway.

Tony's bedroom is all the way at the end. The only people who live in the penthouse with him are Steve and Bucky, and Wanda and Vision -though they're out on a date for the night.

He passes the bathroom door, and his frown deepens when he hears Tony hacking in his bedroom.

He keeps light on his toes, reaching the bedroom door that's not all the way closed, and pushes it open just a little.

"Ton-" the sight before him cuts him off, and he ducks back a little, worried maybe the older man might've seen him.

He feels his chest tighten at the sight. Tony, leaned over with a bedside trash can between his knees, coughing up little pink flowers.

Peter's eyes widen when the man spits a glob of blood into the basket before continuing to cough.

Tears burn at Peter's eyes and he quickly backs up, rushing down the hallway and past the living room.

"Hey, where you going? Where's the fire?"

"I-I gotta go home aunt May- uh, I gotta go she wants me home," Peter shouts, snatching up his keys and phone on the way out.

He's in the elevator, and he can't stop the sobs from tightening his throat.

Tony's sick. Tony's in love with someone who doesn't love him back. Tony's in love with someone and its not Peter.

Be chokes on tears and petals all the way to the main floor, shoves the petals into his pocket and runs from the building.

He knew his love was unrequited. He knew there was no chance, but to see Tony so in love with someone else -it was like digging a knife into his heart and twisting.

He makes it to his bedroom and buries his face into his pillow, muffling his crying so May won't hear when she gets home. Hopefully she'll think hes still at the tower and won't check on him until the morning.

He cries himself to sleep, eyes gritty and heavy.

*-*

"Hey, kid, how's patrolling going?"

Peter jolts at the sudden sound of Tony's voice in his ear, momentarily forgetting he has a connection to the tower now. New upgrades.

"Uh, good," Peter huffed, swinging from building to building. "Stopped a mugging, and helped a couple people with the parking meters."

Tony chuckles over the coms. "You gotta stop showing people the coin on tape trick."

Peter can't help but smile through his mask. He clears his throat when he feels the familiar tickle at the back of his throat.

"Fuck capitalism, Mr. Stark," he says.

"You do know capitolism is kind of my job?"

"Its not," Peter countered. "I mean, it relied heavily on it in the beginning -what with the weapons and war profiteering- but you've come a long way! Sustainable energy and you're even recycling!"

Tony chuckles again, and Peter has a moment to regret his words -Tomy probably thinks he's just a dumb kid- before a coughing fit hits him out of nowhere.

It's so bad, Peter loses his momentum and drops onto a rough of a small cafe. Hes on his hands and knees, crawling from the edge of the roof as he coughs and hacks.

"Pete, you okay? What's wrong?" Comes Tony's worried voice.

Peter feels the petals coating his mouth with nowhere to go and frantically tugs on his mask. He's choking, suffocating.

He rips the mask off and heaves a mess of petals and blood onto the gravel roof.

Its never been this bad. Panic grips his chest when he coughs and wretches more than he can get a breath in. He's suffocating.

Tears burn his eyes as he struck less desperately to take a breath. Just one breath.

His head begins to spin, chest heaving and he drops from his knees to his hips, legs curled off to the side as he holds himself up with shaky arms.

There's so much blood and petals, Peter doesn't know where its all coming from.

He's too busy dying to notice the suit of armor that drops onto the roof, or that Tony's suddenly rushing towards him.

"Jesus, kid!" He breathed.

Peter lets out a sob, blood and petals continuing to fall from his mouth. His stomach hurts from the heaving, his chest from lack of oxygen.

Tony grabs him by the arms, pulling him forward until he's away from the pile of bile, blood and blue wilting flowers, nearly cradling him in his arms.

"Its alright, you're okay, you're gonna be okay," Tony repeated, rocking Peter while he continued to cough and sob.

He shakes his head, even as exhaustion and lack of air flow has his eyelids drooping, body settling further into Tony's hold.

When he wakes up again, he's in a hospital bed. Theres an iv in the back of his hand, and a tube running down his throat from his nose.

He swallows around it and has to fight back panic at the strange feeling.

There's a heart monitor on his index finger, and a few on his chest -which is bare.

Peter moves shaky hands to the blanket and pulls it up just enough to see. Someone had taken his suit off, leaving him in his red boxers.

He blushes at that. Who had taken his suit off? Damn, he hoped it wasn't Clint or Sam.

He drops the blanket just as the door opens. He looks up to see Tony step inside and he wants the bed to swallow him whole.

"Hey, kid," he greeted, shutting the door behind him and making his way towards Peter's bed. "You had us all pretty worried."

Peter drops his eyes to the itchy white hospital sheet, picking at a loose thread and not saying anything. What was there to say?

Tony sighs as he settles down into the chair beside the bed.

"Your aunt May is in the middle of a shift, but she'll be stopping by when she's got a break to check up on you."

"Okay," Peter barely manages to murmur.

"The doctors had to pump your lungs," Tony continued. "But its not a cure, Pete. They'll come back."

Tears burn at his eyes and he quickly brushes them away, sniffling as he does so.

"I know," he said. "Its alright, I'm okay."

"Peter," Tony sighs, grabbing Peter's hand. He looks up then, seeing the concern in the older man's eyes. "You're not okay, you're really sick."

"People live with it all the time," Peter brushed off.

"Who is it?"

"What?" Peter asked, heart monitor matching his fast pulse.

"Who is it? How long have you been like this?"

and it must be because Peter is tired -exhausted and drained and so sick of being sick- because fresh tears bloom and he pulls his hand from Tony's.

"Long time," is all he can say as he presses his palms into his eyes, rubbing at the tears.

"Who," Tony presses.

Fuck it, Peter thinks. He's already dying, he's already humiliated. Why not just confess?

"You," he says, pulling his hands from his face. "I've-I've been in love with you for- for years."

He can't handle the shocked look that filters through Tony's features, so he looks down at the iv in his hand, lower lip trembling.

"And I know you don't think of me that way," he continues. "I know, so its okay, I'm fine, I'll get over it or, or get the surgery or something-"

"Peter," Tony interrupts, moving from the chair to the side of the bed. He grabs both sides of Peter's jaw, forcing him to look up at Tony. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because," he says on a wet breath. "Because you've always thought of me as a kid. You- I'm still just a kid to you, and thats okay, Mr. Stark, I'm-"

Tony's eyebrows furrow as Peter has to stop talking. He's getting to the point where he's babbling, not understandable.

"I don't think of you as a kid," Tony says.

"Yes, you do," Peter huffed, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself down. "You do, and thats okay, I promise, I've live this long with it, I'm okay."

"Has it always been that bad?"

Peter shakes his head.

"What made it worse?"

Peter's showing his hand already, he might as well expose the card up his sleeve too.

"I saw you," he murmured. "During the movie. You're sick too. I didn't mean to, I was just- checking to make sure you were okay but-"

"Peter, sweetheart," Tony interrupted, and Peter looked up at him, realizing suddenly the man's eyes are watering a little.

"I'm sick because of you."

Peter feels like someone punched the air from his lungs, and he blinks up at Tony, eyebrows drawing close as he tries to process what Tony's said.

"What?" He asks feebly. A small smile pulls at the corner of Tony's mouth and he leans forward, kissing Peter softly on the mouth.

It's a simple kiss, but it sucks the air from Peter's lungs.

"We're really bad at communicating, kid," Tony chuckled wetly, their noses brushing. Peter can't help but sniffle a laugh as well, his hands moving to grip the front of Tony's shirt.

"M'not a kid," he mumbles, pressing his forehead against Tony's. The older's hands are still cradling his face, thumbs brushing against his wet cheeks.

"No, you're not," Tony agreed.

#marvel #tony stark #peter parker #ironman #spiderman #starker #ao3 #my writing #sfsummerbingo21

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emmy-writes-sometimes · 4 years

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Emergency

You’re a stunt performer and make a wrong step. When your ex, Sebastian, is your emergency contact still, will you take the opportunity to get back together?

“You sure you got this, Y/n?” Your director asked as they checked the last of the wires for your stunt. You were the unlucky stunt double who had been asked to come in and do a scene where you were literally hanging off the side of a building. You were supposed to kick out a plexiglass window, swing into the building, and do a flip. It seemed easy enough. And it wasn’t like it was even the most dangerous stunt you’d ever done. It was just tight quarters, and it was giving you heart palpitations.

“Got it, chief,” you respond, trying to sound confident even though you were pretty sure you were about to die. It was nothing like a stunt you’d done where you fell out of a helicopter, but this one had a potential of leaving you alive after breaking all of your bones. “If I don’t do it now, I never will.”

“Alright. That’s our girl. We’ll get set up and start rolling.” You anchored your foot on the building’s fake steel frame, refusing to look directly down. There was a stunt mattress below you, so that wasn’t a problem. There was nothing on the other side except cameras to watch you break every bone in your body. But you could do this. You were calm. You could do this, you told yourself. Easy as pie. And you could feel that your wires were tight, especially around your waist.

You listened to the scuffling behind you as the shot was set up, moving your foot slightly to get the angle they asked for. You put your foot on the red tape and waited. And waited. And then they called action. You kicked in the window, hearing and feeling it shatter below your feet, but upon swinging in, you made a critical error. Your feet hit the bottom of the window, sliding off of their marks, and your ribs collided with the metal frame. But your body was so close to sideways that it kept on flying, and the last thing you felt was a cracking in your rib, a similar cracking in the forearm you placed in front of you, and a searing pain in your head.

Well, shit, you thought. I broke every bone in my body. At the ripe age of twenty-three, you were going to die.

Sebastian thanked the barista as he grabbed his third cup of coffee for the day, about to go put a splash of cream in the blacker-than-black coffee. Just as he reached the table, though, his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He didn’t recognize the number, but it was a New York area code. He always answered his phone, and this time was no different. He raised the phone to his ear and listened.

“Hello?” He said.

“Hi, is this Sebastian Stan?” A woman’s voice asked.

“Yeah, this is he, what can I do for you?” He responded.

“You’re the emergency contact for Y/f/n Y/l/n, correct?” Sebastian froze at the sound of your name. It had been only a month since you’d broken up. For a dumb reason, too – because of the media. Not because of either of you, but because the media just couldn’t stop and Sebastian refused to do that to you and to your career. You would both be lying if you said you weren’t completely in love with each other. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t cry about it every so often, or every time you had something to say you had to bite back the urge to call him and tell him. He regretted ever breaking up with you, but he knew the opportunity to apologize was long gone. Or was it?

“Yeah, I guess I probably am,” he started. Then he realized – emergency contact. His heart skipped a beat. “Wait, why, is she okay?”

“She will be,” the woman said. “I’m sorry. I’m a nurse at St. George’s in Manhattan, she was just brought in a few minutes ago. Apparently there was an accident involving a window.”

“Oh, my God. Is she okay?”

“It wasn’t fatal. She just broke a few ribs, fractured her forearm, and got a nasty concussion. We were wondering if you could come in and be with her and fill out some information for us.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can be there in twenty minutes.” So the opportunity for him to apologize hadn’t gone out the window. He probably would have to apologize for jumping in on the situation, but your parents were across the country. The reason he was your emergency contact in the first place was because he was the first person you trusted to take care of you if something happened. And as terrible as the situation was, Sebastian didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. He put the lid back on his coffee, hung up the phone, and walked outside to get the first taxi he saw. You probably would need the coffee more than he did.

“What’s the diagnosis?” You looked at the nurse as she walked into your room with an iPad full of information. She just smiled at you.

“Not great, but not terrible,” she responded. “You fractured your forearm. You broke four ribs, it looks like you cracked a couple more, and you’re lucky you didn’t crack your head open.”

“Great. So, do you guys do, like, a shuttle back to my apartment or something?” The nurse laughed.

“No, we called your emergency contact. He’s on his way now.” You froze. The only emergency contact you could even think of was Sebastian. Your parents were literally across the country and your dad was at work because you’d talked to him earlier. There was no way it could be anyone but the ex you wished more than anything wasn’t your ex.

It had been an amicable split, and that was the worst part. There wasn’t a fight that ended it, or a big secret that came out, or cheating. It was just that the world felt like they owned Sebastian and therefore you, and he didn’t want to put that on you. It was admirable on his part, but you’d be lying if it didn’t break your heart. He was the best relationship you’d ever had, easily. You could have seen yourself with him for good, and you had seen it that way. But the media had just gotten so bad that you could barely be seen together. You wanted to keep trying, because maybe it would die down, but Sebastian had been through it before. He knew. And he knew that the only way to let you have the success you deserved was to let you go. But you had never told him how much you didn’t want that. Maybe now was your chance. Or maybe he just wouldn’t say a word.

“Yeah, he’s kind of an ex,” you explained.

“I can call him and tell him you healed if you want,” she offered. You shook your head.

“It’s not even his fault, that’s the worst part.” The nurse smiled.

“Well, I’ll go ahead and get the release papers for you so you can get out of here quickly. Press the button on the side of the bed if you need something.” You nodded and watched her leave. You turned your head to see your backpack with your phone inside of it, and part of you considered texting Sebastian you were sorry that he had to come down here in the middle of the day because you didn’t know how to properly do your job. But you weren’t even alone long enough to reach for it. The pain in your arm and your ribs had subsided, fading into a feeling of fuzziness, but your head was throbbing so much that you could barely look to your side. You could barely see as Sebastian walked in.

“Y/n,” he said as he walked in the door. He was always gorgeous, but even now he was breathtaking. His eyes were wide and full of concern. He was sporting a hiatus beard and slightly longer hair than usual, and he was wearing that Rutgers hoodie that you used to steal all the time. He looked like the giant teddy bear of a man you were completely and utterly in love with.

“You don’t have to tell me this is stupid, because I know it is,” you responded dryly. Humor. That was a great way to cope with what was currently going on. It was also your only defense mechanism, and Sebastian saw right through it. He smiled that perfect smile.

“They said you fell out of a window?” He asked. “Listen, I know I broke your heart, but I’m not worth suicide.” That brought a sick smile to your face.

“As if I’d kill myself over you,” you rolled your eyes. “This was obviously a ploy to get your attention.” He walked closer to you, his eyes serious.

“Seriously, though. What happened?”

“I was doing a stunt and I was supposed to kick a window, but I didn’t do it right. I literally thought I was going to die.” He chuckled. “I’m not that bad at my job, I promise. And I’m really sorry they made you come down here, I didn’t even think I’d ever need an emergency contact.”

“Yeah, but you’re admitting you need me. It’s fueling my ego so please, keep going.” You could tell he was only half playing when his smile faded. He walked closer to you until you scooted over in the bed, letting him sit on the side. You wanted to grab him and hug him, but you had one working arm and it had an IV running through it. “I’ve been thinking about calling you.”

“I saw a really cute dog the other day and it took everything in me not to call you,” you admitted. You looked down, feeling your face go red. “I miss you, Seb. A lot.”

“I miss you too. A whole lot. And I’ve been thinking every single day about calling to apologize, but every time I thought about it, I thought it was too late, so I would just wait, and…”

“Apologize for what?”

“For fucking breaking your heart. And mine. It was a shitty thing to do, and if I hadn’t then I could’ve been there today.”

“You couldn’t have stopped me falling out of a stunt window.”

“No, but I could’ve been there to pick you back up. I’m sorry, kid. I was so worried about the rest of the world and how they were worried about your job and the age difference that I didn’t worry about you when I should have.” Sebastian’s hand went to your arm with the IV in it, grabbing onto your hand. “And I think it would be completely pathetic to ask to have you back, but here I am doing it.”

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t need to hesitate because there was no doubt in your mind that you should say yes. Sebastian looked up at you, a little confused. “Yes. I want you back too. And I’m sorry it took this to get you here, but…”

“I’m sorry, baby.” He gripped onto your hand tightly and you tried to squeeze it, but you were on too many pain medications to be able to tell if you did or not. “I love you. And I’m not gonna let some stupid Daily Mail article change that because it’s dumb.” You sniffled.

“I love you too.” Sebastian leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your lips. You’d missed him so much. You’d missed how he smelled, how soft his lips were, how he’d always kiss the same spot on your forehead. Just as he gave you a smile, the nurse appeared again with papers in hand.

“Alright, these are the release forms. Basically, if you’re going home on your own, you sign for yourself, if you’re going with someone else just write them down instead.”

“Thank you,” Sebastian said to her. She handed him a pen and the clipboard and left the room again.

“My insurance and stuff are in my wallet,” you told him.

“I think I still remember most of it. And, besides, you’re coming home with me anyway.”

“Seb, you don’t have to…”

“I want to take care of my girlfriend after she fell out of a window.”

“It was a plexiglass window.”

“I know. But it was still a window. You’re still my girlfriend. Or you are now. Just let me baby you for a couple weeks, okay? I missed you.” You smiled.

“Thanks. And only if I can borrow that hoodie back.”

“Just don’t tell the photographers that I think followed me from the coffee shop.” You scoffed.

“I promise I won’t tell the media sharks. And they’ve probably figured it out on their own anyway. I’m sure the studio is going to issue some kind of statement and then people will track it to me and then figure out that I’m going with you.”

“Yeah, probably. I don’t care, though. You’re mine. Fractured body and all.” Sebastian leaned in and kissed your forehead again, a smile coming over his face as he went back to signing papers.

A/N: I hope you like it!

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan imagine

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scottspack · 4 years

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SO YOU JUST FINISHED THE UNTAMED AND YOU WANT TO READ SOME FIC

Congratulations Jen @jlf23tumble on finishing The Untamed (tomorrow)! Now that you’re done with the show (tomorrow), you can finally dive into the wide and wonderful world of untamed fic!!! I’m ecstatic to be personally curating your reading experience! LET’S BEGIN!

I’ve started off with a list of 5 fics I think you should read in this specific order to 1. get some resolution from the end of the show and 2. get you acclimated to untamed fics! Then, I’ve listed a bunch of fics in different categories for your perusal to read at your leisure! This is an unbelievably long post holy shit brace yourself.

I’m like fairly certain that all of these follow the tv show canon BUT also its very typical for authors to combine many aspects of all of the different forms of canons to their liking. Therefore, I feel like I need to give a quick explanation of a couple things from the novel that show up frequently in fics that idk if you know already or not:

In the book, when Wei Wuxian is resurrected, he is brought back in Mo Xuanyu’s actual body and has his face and everything. Mo Xuanyu was pretty young when he died, I wanna say maybe 17 or 18??? and he was also short and pretty and flamboyantly gay. This is where the references to their crazy height difference come from, but again, I think I tried to include mostly fics that skew more heavily to the tv version where WWX keeps his same body and he and LWJ are more evenly matched physically.

Its novel canon that LWJ smells like sandalwood incense and has golden colored eyes. This is mentioned in like almost every single wangxian fic ive ever read, even if the author said they were strictly adhering to show canon lol

At the end of the novel wangxian run away together and elope! Obviously in the show that’s not how it goes down, but I think a couple of the fics I’ve recced might mention it in passing. (Oh also when they elope they make a pact to fuck “everyday,” a concept that might be mentioned as well.

Obviously, we have to kick it off with some fics that both reunite wangxian and give more resolution to the actual show. If you’re like me, it both took you a while to get all the way through the show AND took 100% of your brain power to remember all of the characters and plot lines. If that’s that case: these fics should be helpful in serving as a kind of emotional refresher for the show to wrap up some loose ends and to dive deeper into some of the things the show glosses over for one reason or another!

1. A Lot of Edges Called Perhaps by hansbekhart (Wangxian, E, 21k)

The funny part is - and it is a little funny, even if Wei Wuxian has no one left to share the joke with - they never have. Not anything. He has never kissed any part of Lan Zhan besides his slim hands; never been even partially undressed with him anywhere besides a miserable, xuanwu-infested cave. It’s always been like this between them, this simmering need, this desperate understanding: a knowledge so deep that it lives somewhere in his bones, that if he wanted to have Lan Zhan he could have him, and if Lan Zhan wanted Wei Wuxian he could have that too. But they never have.

I found this fic on someone’s blog when they said that it was the definitive fic to read directly after finishing the series so i saved it, read it directly after finishing the series, and felt COMPLETE. Beautifully written, seamlessly fits with canon, and has a super fulfilling resolution. The perfect way to kick off reading untamed fic!

2. One Rogue Spark In My Direction by hansbekhart (Lan Wangji/Xiao Xingchen/Song Lan, E, 5k)

He’d thought, in Yueyang, that they’d seen something in each other, something familiar. That maybe they’d recognized something in him. But it’s been many years, and many things have happened since, and he’s guessed wrongly at other people’s hearts before. Lan Wangji looks back down at the table, at his steaming, bitter tea. He’ll beg if he has to.

In “A Lot Of Edges Called Perhaps” Wangji mentions that he has had sex before and this is the in-universe story of that time and WHEW BABY!!!! AHHHHHH!!! While this fic is like, almost pure smut, I think there is a ton of value to it in terms of emotional perspective on how fucked up LWJ was after WWX’s death. Also, it’s very hot.

3. Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses by hansbekhart (Laz Sizhui & Lan Wangji, G, 19k)

Later, when he’s older, it’s this that A-Yuan will remember most: the stretch of silence, the two of them both dirty and shaking with fever, as he looked at Brother Rich, and Brother Rich looked back at him.

This is a fic about Lan Wangji raising Sizhui from when he rescues Sizhui from the Burial Mounds until they bring WWX back to the Cloud Recesses after he’s resurrected. It made me cry about 18 times and I consider it fully canon in relation to the show. I think this gives a lot of emotional depth to the Wangji/Sizhui family relationship that is very important in most fics, so this acts as a good base since the show doesn’t really talk about it too much.

4. Your Name, Safe In Their Mouth by astrolesbian (Lan Sizhui & Wei Wuxian, G, 10k)

“You’ve got a fever,” Wei Wuxian says soothingly. “You just keep still as well as you can. We’ll have you fixed up soon.”

Lan Sizhui recognizes his tone—this is the voice that Wei Wuxian uses on hurt people and young children, a very calm and no-nonsense voice that has none of the mischief and cheer of the way he sounds the rest of the time. Lan Sizhui looks up and meets his eyes, and they are dark, stormy gray, muddled and concerned.

“I’m all right,” he croaks.

“Hush,” Wei Wuxian says, in a low croon, like someone quieting a baby. Then he blinks, and looks away, awkward. “I mean—you shouldn’t speak. You’re tired. Rest if you need to.”

or: lan sizhui gets sick on a night hunt. wei wuxian comforts him. they both have a lot of feelings about it.

The Wei Wuxian and Sizhui bonding fic that I so desperately desperately needed to read. Since we got the emotional depth to Wangji/Sizhui in the last fic, here’s some emotional resolution for Sizhui and his other dad!!!!!!!!!! Scratched the very particular itch of “but have they REALLY talked about what it means that they’re reunited after 16 years???”

5. climbing up that coastal shelf by Sour_Idealist (Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng, & Wei Wuxian, T, 15k)

Jin Ling had begun to suspect years ago that there were parts of his family history that had been crossed out; long streaks of black where Wei Wuxian had been. The truth is more like whole books being brought up from their hiding places again.

Or: Jin Ling tries to figure out what family means, now.

OKAY!!!! Last emotional resolution before I send you on your way to explore! This is the emotional resolution for the other half of WWX’s family. Featuring just a FUCK TON of family feels and a lot of TALKING that this fucked up family needs so damn bad. *chefs kiss* muy delicioso! ALSO i think this is a good introduction to a lot of the naming conventions that are used frequently in untamed fic that took me a while to pick up on!

WHEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now that you’ve gotten some post-show catharsis in the form of a few extremely well-written fics, it’s time for a full rec! I’ve divided it up into seven categories: long fics, smutty one-shots, 3zun (lan xichen/nie mingjue/meng yao) fics, fics about the juniors, family fun fics, some miscellaneous fics, and then some yizhan RPF! I wouldn’t have put any of these fics on here if I didn’t think they were worth reading, BUT! I did mark my particular favorites with asterisks to demark the crème de la crème of the bunch. SO! LET’S DIVE IN!

EPIC TALES (LONG AND/OR IMMERSIVE)

My Age Has Never Made Me Wise by idrilka (Wangxian, E, 63k) ***

“We hear that His Excellency might be married by summer’s end,” the merchant’s wife says and Wei Wuxian freezes, his heart in his throat. “The Gusu Lan sect has been buying enough red silk and brocade that the merchants in Caiyi can’t satisfy the demand.”

He feels himself grow brittle inside, like a flick of a finger to his temple might make him shatter. His ears are ringing.

“Who’s the lucky bride?” he asks despite himself. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.

Or: The story of a marriage.

I LOVE THIS FIC. YOU MUST PROMISE ME YOU’LL READ THIS FIC. The absolute best kind of slow burn and I think such an extremely accurate representation of the canon material. I’m always surprised by the authors in this fandom’s ability to write shit that is so concretely grounded in the universe. This could and should be a real companion novel. Amazing. I love it. (Also I know you said you’re not into fics that are long just to be long and I think this fic is the exact opposite of that, it’s long but for good reason and has such an insanely satisfying payoff that it’s completely worth dedicating a few hours to!)

The Year of Drought by idrilka (Wangxian, E, 24k)

Wei Ying could not be contained by the walls of the Cloud Recesses, alive again and overflowing with it, bursting like a dam in spring with the force of two lives unspent. And so he had to go. Lan Wangji understands that—he understood it when Wei Ying told him of his plans, looking at Lan Wangji above the rim of his cup with an apologetic smile, like craving freedom was something to apologize for.

Wei Ying would go, and Lan Wangji would see him off; this has always been the only way it could be.

Or: In the absence of Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji waits.

The previous fic but from Wangji’s perspective. Absolutely required reading if you read the other one. Wangji baby.......i love you.....

further than the grave by idrilka (Wangxian, E, 32k)

There is something about grief that turns Lan Wangji numb. He cannot be certain if it is not some kind of defect inside him that makes him so. But just as he grieved his mother’s passing with dry eyes and a stone in his chest, so he grieves Wei Ying: quietly, frozen inside, without tears. Beyond the Jingshi window it might be spring, but Lan Wangji’s body and mind are still held within the winter’s grasp.

As the anniversary of his leaving seclusion approaches, Lan Wangji ponders the nature of grief and healing.

One last fic from the same verse as the previous two, this talks about Wangji post-WWX’s death and then them dealing with the past post-marriage. Its just as good and immersive and amazing as the previous two parts, but this is the only untamed fic that actually made me gasp out loud and if you read this and can guess what it was we will be best friends forever. (There are two other fics in this verse that are also good but these three in particular are god-tier in my eyes.)

Vagabond by xantissa (Wangxian, E, 66k)

Wei Wuxian comes back to Cloud Recesses after a year of wandering the world, hoping to start a relationship with Lan Zhan. He doesn’t expect to come into the middle of a case of sleeping sickness mysteriously killing people, nor does he expect what follows, putting everything he holds dear on the line once again.

OOOWEE CASE FIC! CASE FIC! This is truly the twisty turny intense and INTERESTING type of fic from this fandom that blows my mind. This could fully be a stand alone novel its that good and there’s that much to it. Another one that isn’t long just to be long, it has so much PLOT!!!!! REAL GOOD SHIT!

Seldom All They Seem by Fahye (Wangxian, E, 25k)

or, one hundred and thirty-three principles of the Gusu Lan, pertaining to the state of marriage

***

He bows to Wei Wuxian, sword in hand, sleeves falling properly. Wei Wuxian bows in return, and the sect leaders begin the opening courtesies, and for all of ten minutes Lan Wangji is under the impression that he is betrothed to a boy who is perfectly normal and acceptable apart from an unfortunate tendency to fidget with his clothes.

That impression does not last.

A canon-divergent fic exploring “what if Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were betrothed from when they were young like Yanli and Jin Zixuan?” It’s extremely good and very compelling and also made me cry multiple times. (The confrontation in the rain doesn’t get any easier even if they’re betrothed!)

Half Cloak & Half Dagger by Fahye (Lan Xichen/Meng Yao, E, 13k)

Jin Guangyao lifts his head and smiles. "I'm considering a problem."

"Can I be of any assistance with it?"

He drops a kiss on Lan Xichen's chest. With the nail of one finger he lightly traces the characters for irony on Lan Xichen's side. "Not this one, er-ge."

A follow-up fic set in the “Seldom All They Seem” universe but focused on xiyao. Has hands down the best written characterization of meng yao in any fic ive read so far. I continuously come back to this fic just to read the absolutely genius way this author writes the Head Bitch In Control of the cultivation world.

The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (Wangxian, T, 20k)

Wei Wuxian’s hand jolts, spilling a drop of wine onto the tabletop. “Love?” he croaks, then clears his throat and tries again. “Lan Zh— uh, Hanguang-jun, in love?”

“Have you not heard the story?” the other young woman asks, looking pitying. “You must, it is a truly heartrending tale of star-crossed romance and mutual pining — go to any storyhouse in town, everyone has been requesting a reading of this book.”

“There’s a book?” Wei Wuxian says blankly.

In which the junior disciples (namely, Lan Jingyi, Ouyang Zizhen, and a reluctant Lan Sizhui) turn to RPF in an attempt to rehabilitate Wei Wuxian's reputation so that he and Hanguang-jun can get together and get married and live happily ever after. It's... surprisingly effective.

I kept avoiding this fic, even though it was really high up on the list of most popular fics in the fandom, bc the premise sounded pretty goofy BUT I finally bit the bullet one day and AHHHHHHHH!!!!! Very very very cute and fun, made me smile like an idiot throughout the entire thing. Heartwarming and very well written!!!

never let me go by yiqie (Wangxian, E, 69k)

Wei Wuxian has certainly hoped so ardently in his two lifetimes, for so many different things, in so many different ways, that he could have summoned the demon to his front door with his bare hands. His eyes wander to Lan Zhan, settle on the back of his head, the blue-black curtain of his hair. Oh, how he has hoped.

Another extremely good and super immersive case fic. If you ever just want to sink really deep into an untamed fic, this is a great one for it.

hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (Wangxian, E, 24k)

“Hanguang-jun,” Wei Wuxian repeats. His heart clenches. He wants—but he’d really meant to have this nightmare stuff down before they met again, so he wouldn’t find himself relying on Lan Wangji’s nearness. He’s not supposed to go back yet. But he’s so tired, and his will crumbles. “Yeah,” he says. “All right. Take me back to Gusu with you.”

You want hurt/comfort? I gotcha hurt/comfort RIGHT HERE!

shadows in the sun rise by Yuu_chi (Wangxian, E, 25k) ***

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, voice slow and a pitch too quiet. A second later Wei Wuxian understands why. “I cannot hear.”

Or; Lan Wangji is cursed into internal isolation. Their ability to understand one another remains as unwavering as ever.

OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD. I have been thinking about this fic nonstop since I read it. It is…..fucking incredible. One of the best qualities of wangxian is that they’re so in tune with each other and able to work so cohesively with little communication and this fic is like “what if we take that and DIAL IT UP TO ELEVEN” and i was like AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

I hope that you will come and meet me by feyburner (Wangxian, M, 28k) ***

The second time Lan Zhan said Wei Ying, come back, Wei Wuxian did.

okay so this is literally getting added to the fic rec one day before i send it to you because i just finished it and WHEW BABY!!!!! YES it is just another wangxian post-canon reunion get-together fic, BUT 1. i cant get enough of that specific brand of fic and 2. ITS SO GOOD. ITS. SO. GOOD. achingly tender and incredibly soft but also funny and sweet and very in-character! i love it!

THE BONE ZONE (WANGXIAN SMUT)

Sweet Night by corteae (Wangxian, E, 10k)

It was like coming back to life again, like being restitched into existence, cell by cell, nerve by nerve. From the surface of his skin to the marrow of his bones, everything new and purposeful. Like being pulled back from oblivion into an embrace of pure light. A feeling of absolute asylum.

That’s what it felt like, to realize Lan Wangji was in love with him.

An in-show au of “what if they just admitted they’re in love and fucked during episode 43?” Soft and romantic and hot!

the crucial point by dissembler (Wangxian, E, 7k) ***

Months after parting on the mountain, Lan Wangji makes up his mind, plots his course on a map, and has faith.

I LOVE THIS FIC! Very realistic and sweet wangxian reunion fic from wangji’s perspective. Has so many good little details and is very true to their characters. Good shit. Great.

Stainless by Fahye (Wangxian, E, 6k)

"I'm starting to feel," says Lan Xichen, "that this was a counterproductive suggestion."

Wei Wuxian looks down onto the pristine, tranquil cold springs of the Cloud Recesses. Sitting in the water, their bare shoulders rising like dumplings carefully spaced in a steaming-basket, are a large number of Lan disciples.

"They seem to be doing better," he says, encouragingly. "If they--oh, no, I see what you mean."

At the near bank, someone has pressed someone else against the rocks and is kissing them frantically.

What is getting into a new pairing if not an excuse to read sex pollen in new and exciting ways!

To Recklessly Confess by la_dissonance (Wangxian, E, 8k)

Lan Wangji has a fantasy. Wei Wuxian gets several clues.

The “what if they just fucked in episode 43” au but from a different angle.

all the depths of me, real by northofallmusic (Wangxian, E, 15k)

Wei Wuxian is dealing with a curse a little worse than he'd like to let on, and Lan Zhan is a little less than willing to let it slide.

Another “what if they just fucked in the show” fic, this time set when WWX has the curse on his leg and Wangji has to carry him back to the inn.

Every Day, Learning More by phnelt (Wangxian, E, 6k)

The pink was high on Wei Wuxian’s cheeks. “I mean I haven’t been able to… that I can’t. Not without you.”

Lan Wangji stared. “In this body, the whole time you’ve had it -- you’ve never…”

Wei Wuxian kicked his heels into Lan Wangji’s back. “I just said that!”

I knew at least one of these was more book verse than show! WWX hasn’t been able to jerk off in his new body, LWJ helps him out :-)

the meaning of the ritual by newamsterdam (Wangxian, E, 8k)

“Lan Zhan… wants to bed me?”

The hand on his chest is shaking, slightly. “Mn.”

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian breaths out.

There’s something— something powerful, about that. Lan Wangji wants to bed him. Lan Wangji wants to sleep with him. Lan Wangji wants to touch him, and kiss him. The immovable, implacable Second Master of Lan, with a face and principles both carved from jade, wants him.

“Is this a fantasy of yours?” Wei Wuxian asks. “Forcing all the demonic energy out of me with your—”

Lan Wangji claps a hand over his mouth. “Silence, now.”

When the entire cultivation world turns against the Yiling Patriarch, Wei Wuxian makes a risky gamble— he'll agree to participate in an ancient ritual for cleansing the spirit, so that his character can no longer be called into question. The catch? He has no idea who his partner for the ritual will be.

This is also book-verse! As the tag says “Let Lan Wangji Fuck the Yiling Patriarch”!!!!!!!!!!!

Hurricane by gdgdbaby (Wangxian, E, 6k) ***

"Haven't you heard?" Nie Huaisang replied, clicking his tongue, though he was clearly pleased that he could be the one to break the news. He leaned in to announce with a dramatic flourish: "Lan Wangji just took emergency family leave this past weekend."

WANGXIAN AS SPIRK STAR TREK PON FAR AU!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEWOO WEEWOO WEEWOO!!!!!!!! This was actually recced to ME by CHI and I have not stopped thinking about this fic for a full month. It’s like author gdgdbaby sat down one day and was like “Tumblr user Liv Scottspack deserves everything she wants in this life.” and then wrote this fic. Thank you author gdgdbaby, I love you.

WORLD’S WORST THROUPLE (3ZUN)

The body is a blade by rheawrites (3zun, E, 2k) ***

In which Lan Xichen is taken by surprise, Nie Mingjue takes what he can get, and Meng Yao gets what he wants.

This was the first 3zun fic I ever read and whew baby, got it in one! It’s actually a slight AU but it gets their characterization so right and is a very fun read. One of those fics I go back to frequently because it does so much with so few words.

shang tiantang by fuckwarlock (3zun, E, 4k)

They wanted so much, and with the way A-Yao gasps at the saber-calloused hand unfastening his belts, he does, too. The night air twirls with the scents of osmanthus and cinnamon and melon. Lan Xichen smiles, leans in, and ghosts his lips over the crook of A-Yao’s neck. What kind of brother would he be if he didn’t give A-Yao what he wanted? “I think it’s your turn to ascend, A-Yao.”

The Venerated Triad celebrates the Mid-Autumn Festival the best way they know how.

Truly the only way the venerated triad works is if meng yao gets Destroyed :-)

Favour and Fate by soulgusttheguardian (3zun, E, 8k)

There have been times in Meng Yao’s life when he couldn’t help but wonder how he came to be in his current situation. Found himself reflecting on the choices leading up to whatever misfortune had befallen him that day, and pondering why fate hated him so.

Granted, there had also been times when he couldn't help but wonder just what he had done to earn the favour necessary to be rewarded with certain things...

The current situation he found himself to be in, however, was definitely the latter.

More of the same! Truly I personally can never get enough of the 3zun dynamic in smut fics its just too goddamn motherfucking GOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!

the stars do not take sides by everyearning (3zun, E, 4k)

Mingjue isn’t sure he’s ever seen Xichen do anything other than treat the boy like a porcelain doll and it’s laughable to him, to think of Meng Yao as something breakable, instead of the sharp, deadly object he is.

Okay one last “Destroy Meng Yao” 3zun fic! Enjoy!

never as alive as we are right now by ThirtySixSaveFiles (3zun, E, 12k)

Three perspectives on three sworn brothers, at three different times in their relationship.

(Or, three times 3zun got it on and some of the feelings they had along the way.)

Wait actually I want to end the 3zun fics on this one because it has true Emotional Resolution at the end and I think they deserve a little healing.

BABY BOYS. BABIES. (THE JUNIORS)

A Civil Combpaign by Ariaste (Jin Ling/Lan Sizhui, T, 20k) ***

“And,” said one of the pompous ministers, “there’s the matter of a marriage to consider as well!”

Jin Ling, who at the beginning of that sentence had expected to slam into the very last wall of his patience and lose his temper entirely, paused. “A what?”

Thing was… it wasn’t such a bad idea.

A MUST-FUCKING-READ!!! Jin Ling gets it in his head that as sect leader he should get married and sets his sights on Lan Sizhui. I cannot stress enough how FUCKING CUTE this fic is!!! Sizhui being the best boy! Jin Ling having more uncles than he knows what to do with! Jiang Cheng being the worst at relationship advice! It’s so fucking good it love it so much.

Anyway, Here’s Wuji by kakikaeru (Lan Jingyi/Lan Sizhui, T, 18k)

The melody gets a little clearer when he breaks out of the trees, and Jingyi changes course with certainty, barreling down the back hill and through the Cloud Recesses, dodging scandalized disciples left and right. He throws open the doors to the Receiving Hall without announcement and bows nearly double, eyes on the floor instead of on the shocked faces of the Mei delegation and the impenetrable gaze of the Chief Cultivator.

"Forgive this disciple," Jingyi shouts, because he's going to get punished for rule breaking regardless. "From the back hill, Hanguang-jun, there is a song in the wind!"

Lan Jingyi comes of age.

A Jingyi-central fic about Jingyi growing up and falling in love and being a hero and being the second best boy of my heart right after Sizhui. Not only is this fic sweet and romantic but it’s another one that explores a lot of interesting things within canon and all of the supporting characters are written very well and are just as interesting as second best boy Jingyi.

Ok, JiuJiu by kakikaeru (Jin Ling/Ouyang Zizhen, T, 16k)

Uncle's jaw works in the way that suggests he's about to say something irredeemable. Jin Ling, in a move of diplomacy he hopes the Chief Cultivator appreciates, distracts him with spicy food and his favourite subject: the incompetence of his own officials.

"I hear the lakes in the south east are having drainage problems?" he asks nonchalantly, sticking three big slices of braised pork belly into his Uncle's bowl.

Jin Ling just wants to get through the Discussion Conference with his Sect, his dignity, and his heart intact.

A follow up fic to “Anyways, Here’s Wuji.” I LOVE the Jin Ling/Ouyang Zizhen dynamic of Jin Ling having been raised by Jiang “I keep all my emotions right here and then one day I’ll die” Cheng AND being hopelessly charmed and smitten with Ouyang “President of the I Love Love Romance Novel Book Club” Zizhen! I LOVE IT! EXTREMELY CUTE!

Lan Sizhui's Guide to Courtship by Kimblydot (Lan Sizhui/Lan Jingyi, T, 23k)

In which Jingyi is a little oblivious, Sizhui is patient (and should have said something in the beginning), and everyone else is resigned to watching them dance around each other for far longer than necessary.

(Or: five things Sizhui tries to do in his courtship, and the one time Jingyi realizes there was one happening in the first place.)

I’ll stop describing fics about the juniors as being “cute” when they stop being SO FUCKING CUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!

His Merit All My Fear by violettressed (Lan Sizhui/Lan Jingyi, G, 16k)

It’s too late for any of Hanguang-Jun’s rabbits to be awake -- one of the sundown chores for young disciples is to herd them back into their hutch -- but the rabbit field is as good a spot as any for quality sulking, so Lan Jingyi makes his way there.

Someone has beat him to it.

Lan Jingyi stares at Hanguang-Jun. Hanguang-Jun stares passively back.

When Lan Sizhui is swept away with the Ghost General, off on a new adventure, Lan Jingyi is the one who returns to Cloud Recesses alone.

Not only another extremely cute Sizhui/Jingyi fic BUT one that includes a Wangji/Jingyi friendship??? Incroyable! *chefs kiss*

spirit running wild by idrilka (Lan Sizhui/Lan Jingyi, E, 17k)

He doesn’t know, exactly, when the friendship he shared with Sizhui over the years has changed into something that’s made Jingyi finally understand why Hanguang-Jun always wears that expression whenever he looks at Senior Wei. There hasn’t been one single moment that he can point to and say, yes, this is where it started, because the thing about falling in love with your best friend is that it happens gradually, until it’s impossible to tell which step has been the deciding one.

Jingyi goes to Baling with a crush.

Written by the same genius that wrote the first three fics I made you read so you know it’s good. Its truly the childhood best friends to lovers of it all! Sizhui is adorable and Jingyi is a mess! *muah!*

FAMILY FUN TIME (NO ROMANCE, JUST FEELS)

Grow by cafecliche (Lan Sizhui & Wei Wuxian, T, 14k)

“Okay,” Jingyi says, as Sizhui puzzles this out aloud. “Okay! So the demon has been turning its victims into children.”

“I think so,” Sizhui says.

“To make them easier prey,” Jingyi says.

“Yes,” Sizhui says.

“So—” Jingyi’s voice cracks here, “this kid is Senior Wei.”

Wei Wuxian, still tangled in his own massive robes, blinks politely at them.

(Or: Wei Wuxian is cursed on a night-hunt, and the junior quartet rapidly finds themselves in over their heads.)

What I expected to be a goofy, silly fic turned out to be extremely emotional and made me FULLY CRY! It’s a very moving fic about Sizhui coming to understand himself and Wei Wuxian a lot better AND features all of the juniors arguing over who’s turn it is to hold 6 year old Wei Wuxian. A true win/win of a fic.

To The Act of Making Noise by words-writ-in-starlight (Lan Sizhui & Lan Wangji, G, 19k)

His father in white plays the song late into the night, and when A-Yuan wakes up confused and afraid, the guqin lulls him back to sleep.

Lan Sizhui hears his father play the same song every night for his whole life, and never, ever get an answer.

Another very moving and heartwarming fic about Lan Wangji raising Sizhui and Sizhui figuring out Wangji’s past and then eventually reconnecting with Wei Wuxian. It’s cute and soft and Sizhui is my best boy!

History (Proud To Call Your Own) by words-writ-in-starlight (Wen Ning, G, 5k)

“A-Yuan? Um—Lan-gongzi,” Wen Ning corrects, trying to set a good example. The children are young, seven and eight, exactly a dozen of them lined up in two crisp lines of tiny blue and white robes. Wen Ning can feel them staring at him, even though most of them have already mastered that Lan trick of neutrality. The smallest, a little girl with liquid dark eyes, is clinging to her nearest shijie’s sleeve and half-hiding. “Can I—what can I do for you?”

Wen Ning gets himself recruited for services, while he and Sizhui are visiting Cloud Recesses. Wei Wuxian gets a fan club.

Set in the same universe as “To The Act of Making Noise,” a very cute fic about Wen Ning finding his place in the post-canon world and being proud of Sizhui and being the world’s best substitute teacher. As the official Wen Ning Fan Club President, I had to include this.

the stone-filled sea by yukla (Lan Sizhui & Wei Wuxian, T, 9k) ***

He forgets how quickly Wei-qianbei changes faces, sometimes. Like pulling a theater mask over a bruise—color over color, a diversion with the swipe of his hand.

Lan Sizhui navigates a world that hates his father, one endless wave at a time.

Oh man oh man. I will never get enough of the fics where Sizhui (and the rest of the juniors) get ANGRY on Wei Wuxian’s behalf!! That’s their dad and their teacher and their friend and they will DEFEND HIM!!! YEAH BAYBEEEEEEEEEE!!!

PICK & MIX (MISCELLANEOUS)

This Side of Paradise by greenfionn (Wei Wuxian/Wen Qing, E, 3k)

Wei Wuxian does some very quick math in his head that goes something like this: He is pretty sure he’s in love with Lan Zhan - Lan Zhan is not here and likely never will be here - Wen Qing is here, not to mention very hot and let us not forget, actually interested in sex with him - there’s a solid chance he goes genuinely crazy or dies, or both, in the next few months and really, who wants to die a virgin?

Listen.......the fic premise is “Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing, noted bisexuals, figure life sucks enough at the Burial Mounds, they might as well have any fun they can before they die” and........I Am Looking Directly At It. It features Wen Qing bossing Wei Wuxian around and Wei Wuxian’s canon he-wants-to-be-pregnant kink. It’s........I liked it.

palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss by iodhadh (Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen, M, 15k) ***

The realization strikes Song Lan like a bolt of lightning: Xiao Xingchen laughs, and he wants with a sudden, stunning desperation to kiss the mirth from his beautiful mouth. How, precisely, he is meant to manage that—that, he has no idea at all.

Or: introspective meditations on touch, trust, and the problem of desire.

I Am Baby and for some reason cannot handle how sad the entire Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen storyline ended up so I rarely read songchen fics, and when I do they’re always soft pre-canon fics like this one. Luckily there are some very beautiful and moving pre-canon songchen fics!!! I love you fandom!!

purpose and ritual by iodhadh (Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen, E, 8k)

Song Zichen has beautiful hands. He's a powerful swordsman, strong and skilled, unfairly impressive and unreasonably handsome. He is devoted and self-disciplined and he takes direction like a dream. And he doesn't touch people—no one at all, if he can help it, except for Xiao Xingchen.

The poets might call him a saint, but Xiao Xingchen is so very, very human.

More of the same :-)

born to sweet delight by la_dissonance (Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen, E, 10k)

Xiao Xingchen lightly jumps into the center of the pool, the water a shock that cools his sticky, heated skin, and does nothing for the heat building inside him. When he surfaces, pushing the hair out of his face, he finds Song Lan's gaze and meets it. Between them, everything goes both ways. What Song Lan will offer, Xiao Xingchen will freely give too.

Or, Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan meet, pledge their lives to each other, and then fall in love.

This is about the angstiest I will go for songchen and its still absolutely Baby Soft lmfao!!!!!!

Pin it down by rheawrites (Jiang Yanli/Jin Zixuan, Jin Zixuan/Nie Mingjue, E, 2k)

“Yanli, I did not lie on our wedding night. You are the only woman I have gone to bed with. But… there was a man.”

“Oh?” Yanli blinks up at him. She does not appear horrified, or betrayed, which is surely a good sign.

Jin Zixuan swallows. “It was Sect Leader Nie,” he says quickly, as though that will make it easier.

“…Oh,” says Yanli, and her eyes are dark.

Jin Zixuan tells his wife a war story. Or, two thousand words of Jin Zixuan getting railed.

Have you ever looked at Jin Zixuan and been like “I bet that mf likes getting PEGGED!!!!!!!!” Well here’s the fic for you.

*YIBO VOICE* DIDI LOVES YOU! (YIZHAN RPF)

never really over by gdgdbaby (Yizhan, E, 10k)

The thing is: it would be good to see Xiao Zhan again — if Yibo could just trust himself to be normal.

Author gdgdbaby is the yizhan master, so here are five of my personal favorites of their fics, starting with this post-filming reunion fic that was the first yizhan fic I ever read and HIT real good after having just finished the show myself.

pedagogy by gdgdbaby (Yizhan, E, 17k) ***

Yibo opens his mouth and says, "I want to learn," barreling past the rapid rise of Xiao Zhan's eyebrows. "To last longer. Will you teach me?"

Quick-fire Yibo comes too easily and Xiao Zhan helps train him to last longer :-)

you’re the reason that i just can’t concentrate by gdgdbaby (Yizhan, E, 10k)

Xiao Zhan hears about it from Yu Bin, which probably should've been the first warning sign.

Yibo was only 20 when they filmed the untamed, which lends itself perfectly to fics like this.

a truth so loud you can’t ignore by gdgdbaby (Yizhan, E, 5k)

It's their last day of filming in Hengdian when the secret comes out.

If yibo has to be a fictional virgin than SO DOES XIAO ZHAN!

if you would only let you by gdgdbaby (Yizhan, E, 32k) ***

"Well?" Yibo demands. Past the severe frown tugging at the corners of his mouth, a flicker of the old him slips through, the persistent boy who shoved his way into Xiao Zhan's space without a second thought and made a home for himself there. "Are you coming or not?"

Xiao Zhan's heart twists. He forcibly settles it back in his chest. He's only told Yibo no once in his entire life, and it was already the hardest thing he's ever had to do. "Okay," Xiao Zhan murmurs, quiet but decisive, and thumbs his phone off. "Let's go."

Like I said, all gdgdbaby fics are incredibly good, super well written, and very hot, but this one does stand out from the bunch for being a Full Epic Romance! This is one of Chi’s favorite fics so that should speak to it’s quality!

baby, who’s counting by nobirdstofly (Yizhan, E, 12k)

Xiao Zhan gasps, trying to rein in another peal of giggles. “What do I owe you anyway?”

Yibo shrugs one shoulder, and his smirk deepens. “Haven’t decided.”

Xiao Zhan’s still staring at him, laughter gone in his dry throat, when he hears someone yell for a reset. Yibo’s eyes are so, so dark, and he hasn’t stopped watching Xiao Zhan this whole time. Xiao Zhan swallows, nods, and pushes every dirty thought out of his head.

(Or: Yibo bets Xiao Zhan he'll break first during a take, Xiao Zhan loses, and it's all downhill from there.)

Ah sex bets, who doesn’t love sex bets!

Mystery Dance by mrsronweasley (Yizhan, E, 16k)

"That? That's your confession?" Yibo's toppled onto Xiao Zhan's side and is clutching his shoulder, trying not to fall over. "That's pathetic!"

"Oh, what, you can do better?" Zhuocheng is pretty flushed and there's a challenge in his voice that Yibo just can't walk away from.

"Hell yeah, I can. Hit me, Yu Bin." Yu Bin cheers and refills Yibo's shot glass. "All right!" Yibo downs the shot, gags only slightly, and says, "Everyone! I'm a fucking virgin!"

WHAT’S better than a Yibo virgin fic? A SECOND YIBO VIRGIN FIC!

This author also writes extremely good yizhan threesomes so here’s three of them!

Some Nights by mrsronweasley (Yizhan/Xuan Lu (Jiang Yanli), E, 2k)

Xuan Lu opened her legs to him and Xiao Zhan wasted no time diving in. He pressed his mouth against her pussy, licking her out steadily as her thighs trembled around him. She was nestled between Yibo's legs and if Xiao Zhan looked up, not only could he see the planes of her body, her small breasts going up and down with her breathing, ribs expanding, her tipped back head and open mouth, but Yibo, gaze boring into Xiao Zhan's as he ate Xuan Lu out.

The entire cast is hot and there is no reason they shouldn’t ALL fuck! Not one reason!!!!!!

gege loves you by mrsronweasley (Yizhan/Wang Zhuocheng (Jiang Cheng)), E, 7k)

"We are very sorry," Xiao Zhan murmured as he unbuttoned Zhuocheng's jeans while Yibo kissed his ear, "for how we've been acting."

"Is this how you apologize to everyone," Zhuocheng panted, hands already going for his zipper to help Xiao Zhan along, "or am I special?"

WHEW LORD!!!!!!!!! WHEW!!!!!!!

Talking in the Dark by mrsronweasley (Yizhan (Side Xiao Zhan/M/F), E, 14k)

Xiao Zhan has a light-hearted romp of a threeway with some friends, then makes the mistake of telling Yibo. It goes down.

A non-yizhan threesome BUT features jealous!yibo which is a ton of fun.

Finally, a couple AUs!

With Joy and Purpose by feenwitch (Yizhan, E, 30k) ***

Yibo has been alone for approximately five Earth years when Xiao Zhan crash lands on his planet.

YIZHAN ANDROID AU!!!!!!!! This is a very star trek-esque universe which is fun, but the fic itself is also CRAZY interesting and moving and beautiful!!!!!!!!! It’s A LOT! This was a rec from Nina, so thank you Nina!

Bound With a Same-Heart Knot by mrsronweasley (Yizhan, E, 59k)

London, 1892. Xiao Zhan, a promising young attache at the Chinese embassy is tasked with showing the new ambassador's son Wang Yibo around London. The inevitable happens.

Victorian AU! I actually think you already read this, but included for posterity.

AND SCENE! This is the result of two months of daily fic reading, having 50 tabs of fic open at any given time, reading truly anything and everything, and Loving The Untamed. I’m SO EXCITED you’re diving into fic for this show and I can’t wait to talk to you about all of them and to have someone to scream with! WOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

#the untamed #fic #the untamed fic rec #holy gosh diddly darn moly #this is long as hell and has approximately 950k words of fic in it #my magnum opus!!!!#what's even more wild is that this literally doesnt even scratch the surface #i am constantly reading more #from the time i started putting this rec together until now #i added two new fics that i read and thought were amazing #there is no dearth of good shit to read in this fandom #ANYWAYS congrats on finishing (tomorrow)!#i cant wait to talk fic!#i hope you enjoy this list!#sorry it is genuinely absurdly long!

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katblu42 · 3 years

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The End?

This is something I wrote for a creative writing competition. The challenge was to write something (within a week) starting at the end and working back to the beginning. For some reason the prompt/challenge sparked this little piece, which is pretty much non-fiction. I guess it came at a time when the subject matter was on my mind. I wanted to post it now because a related anniversary is coming up.

There are warnings!!! Please heed the tags. Death, Sickness, Hospitals, Cancer. (If more warnings/tags are needed please let me know so I can make appropriate edits!)

Below the cut for length and warnings.

This was not how their story was supposed to end. There were still so many chapters they had hoped to write together, so many journeys toward possible futures that they had imagined spending side by side. She never anticipated being a childless widow before she had even turned forty-two. She’d never considered being faced with a hopeless situation, or the unenviable decision to allow them to stop treatment and let him slip away. Treatments that could prolong his life a little, but not fix him. Their plans had never included his hand desperately clinging to hers as she tearfully told him it was okay for him to let go and leave her behind.

He had wanted to fight. It broke her heart that there was nothing the combined efforts of all the medical staff could do to support his fight. It was a losing battle. His body was giving up on him, organs shutting down even though his mind was not ready to give up. The three weeks he lasted in the ICU had left him battle-scarred and exhausted, but he had still not wanted to give in, or let her down.

His Forty-second birthday was less than a week before the end. It was spent with family, visiting two by two according to ICU visitor limits. He was barely able to communicate by then, his lips scabbed and bloody, and a ventilator tube in his throat inserted by tracheostomy. The medical team had not wanted the tube to remain in his mouth any longer, but he was too weak to breathe on his own.

He had been off the ventilator for a while, during one of the hopeful moments. They’d been able to remove the breathing tube, and they had been able to reduce the blood pressure medication for a while. His temperature had stabilised and she’d focused on the improvements, encouraging him to think positive. Facing the alternative had been unthinkable.

She had put such hope in the drug she’d had to sign permission for them to administer – one that had to be shipped urgently from interstate, that had approval for use in the US, but not here. They had told her it was possible too much time had passed for the reversal drug to be fully effective. It had been more than five days since the chemo treatment which now needed reversing had ended.

Hope was all she’d had at that point. Seeing him finally settled in Intensive Care with all the monitors and their beeps and alarms, the ventilator with its click and hiss, the hum of the heat pump regulating his temperature, the blood transfusion and IV lines all keeping her unconscious husband alive, she had to cling to every scrap of hope she could. His immune system was so compromised she had to wear the gown and gloves and mask just to sit in the corner of the room and let the silent tears fall.

The ICU waiting room was deserted during the wee hours. She and her Mum stayed until dawn before buzzing the door intercom to enquire about seeing him. His Dad had left after the surgeon had spoken to them all some hours before, explaining that in his current state surgery was not a viable option for the infection in his gut. The previous wait in Emergency had been shorter, and the waiting room slightly more comfortable, but the constant worry and the lack of information had been excruciating.

Two ambulances had attended their tiny unit in answer to her call, such was the seriousness of his condition. Despite having four uniformed people fussing over her husband, she had not been given much information about what was happening. She’d been instructed to get all his medication together to bring with her to the hospital, then left to change out of her pyjamas while they loaded him into an ambulance. All this happened in a blur of action and confusion. Less than 20 minutes before they all headed to the hospital she had been performing chest compressions on him on the tiled floor of their cramped bathroom.

The Emergency Services operator on the other end of the phone had talked her through the CPR procedure. She’d learned it years before in first aid training, but having to actually perform the chest compressions on someone she loved was still horrifyingly daunting. He hadn’t stopped breathing, but the ES operator had assured her CPR was necessary because his gasping breaths had been so far apart.

She had never had to call an ambulance for anyone before, but it didn’t take a genius to see she needed help. His level of responsiveness had decreased so rapidly after she’d found him slumped forward sitting on the toilet, unable to sit up unaided. The yellow tinge to his skin had startled her. He had cried out to her in such a way that instinct had brought her rushing from the loungeroom without taking a moment to process anything more than the feeling that something was very wrong.

He had just wanted to sleep, so she tried to give him space to do that, sitting quietly in the loungeroom while he stayed in the darkened bedroom. He had refused to let her bring him something to eat, which had concerned her. She’d offered to call the hospital for advice, knowing he was uncomfortable and wanting to make sure he was okay, but he had refused to let her, insisting that there was no need to make a fuss. She’d arrived home from work around five, and suspected he had been in bed all day, “just feeling a bit yuck.” Later she would feel so much guilt for not trusting her instinct to get help for him then.

For the first couple of days after his chemo treatment ended he had seemed okay, feeling upbeat, acting normal. He had been in high spirits despite the prospect of months of treatment still ahead. There had been a little grumbling about feeling a little bit off, but that was to be expected, right?

His first (and only) round of chemo had been a five day affair. Three medications, two of which had been administered within a day at the clinic and the third he had carried around in a little pack while it slowly released over the five days. The plan had been laid out by the oncology team, with lots of consultations and discussions during the preceding weeks. He was to have two or three rounds of the chemo drugs, then radiation treatment would begin. Combination therapy to treat the cancers in his mouth and throat.

There had been months of discomfort, reducing his ability to eat properly, or enjoy food. He had lost a considerable amount of weight before she had been able to convince him to finally go and see a doctor and find out what was wrong. He’d always been the type to avoid going to a doctor unless he was literally at death’s door. She knew that part of what had held him back for so long was the fear that it could be something serious.

He didn’t want to ruin their holiday, but he promised he would see someone about the sore throat when they got back from the Gold Coast. It was only a week spent away, but they had visited all their favourite haunts. This was one of their regular holiday spots during their ten year marriage. They always felt like big kids, visiting the theme parks and the beaches, playing mini golf, messing about in the resort pool.

The two of them had been lucky to share many little trips away over the years. They’d had many more days of laughter and smiles than they’d had of tears and troubles. There had been precious gifts exchanged between them – but not many in a physical form she could lay her hands on. Each of them had broadened the other’s horizons, sparking interest in new experiences, sharing the activities and pass-times they loved.

Their wedding day had been filled with fun and friends and family. She had seen then how many people his bright and generous personality drew to him. So many people had wanted to share in their joy, and had told her she would never find a more loyal and loving mate. All the elegance and finery, the colour and music, the celebration of their union had been a wonderful way to begin their journey hand in hand to the future.

His proposal on the beach, early in the morning in a place he had been holidaying with his family every year since he was tiny, had taken her by surprise. He had asked her to come with him for a walk. They had travelled quite a long way up the beach, just watching the waves crash on the shore, listening to the shrieks of the gulls and making small talk. Then he had dropped to one knee and asked the question. She needed a moment to take in what was happening. His heart just about stopped, thinking she was hesitating. She had said yes, and put him out of his nervous agony.

Their first “proper” date was a walk to the local McDonalds for burgers and sundaes. Neither of them had much money, so neither had wanted to go anywhere fancy. She had been happy with the little things – like the way he always walked beside her on the footpath placing himself between her and the busy road. He was not rich, nor did he have impressive style or a brainiac’s intelligence, but he was open and funny and kind and she wanted to spend time with him.

She hadn’t ever been to the trivia night at the local bowling club, so she wasn’t sure what to expect, or how it all worked. The lady who hosted the quiz gave her an answer sheet and steered her towards a table, telling her the young man with the twinkle in his blue eyes, and the dimpled smile would look after her. That was the moment their story had begun.

#creative writing #tw death #tw hospital #tw cancer #tw sickness #two years without him come Sunday

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chicgeekgirl89 · 4 years

Text

With a Little Help: Chap. 1

Fandom: 911

Characters: Eddie Diaz, Christopher Diaz, Bobby Nash, Hen Wilson, Evan Buckley

A/N: A follow up for “Eddie Begins.” Because I’m in love with this man and he wasn’t whumped enough.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It’s amazing how many thoughts go through your mind when you’re dying. Because despite his best efforts, he is definitely dying. There’s nothing but water all around him, some of which has now gone into his lungs, causing them to burn like fire. He’s cold, surrounded by eerie darkness, and he knows he’s drifting.

The day he met Shannon. Their wedding. His buddies in Afghanistan. Buck. Bobby. His family. Christopher.

The one thing in his life he never knew he needed.

Christopher.

The one good thing.

Christopher!

His eyes shoot open and his limbs flail as panic overtakes the dreaminess. His son. If he dies here, if he gives up, Christopher will be an orphan. And he can’t let that happen. Not this time. Not after everything they’ve been through.

His muscles are like lead but he’s no stranger to fatigue so he pushes past it, forward, any direction he can and the next thing he knows, by some impossible miracle, his head breaks the surface.

Gasping, choking he sucks down lungfuls of cold, wet air. He half floats on his back, half splashes and flails toward the shoreline. It’s not graceful or pretty, but he’s not out of the woods until he gets out of this water and everything has gone pretty much numb making it hard to do anything but hurl his body forward with awkward lurches.

He drags himself up on the bank, still gasping like he’s run a marathon and all he wants to do is lie down and sleep for a year, but he can see and hear the commotion where the mouth of the well is and he has to let his squad know he’s all right so he pulls himself up onto his feet and stumbles his way toward the ruckus.

That’s when his legs finally, truly give out and he nearly face plants into the mud, but gentle, familiar hands are there to catch him and keep him upright. Buck’s face swims before him and Eddie tries for a smile, not quite sure he manages it. None of them look happy to see him, in fact they look completely horrified. “You never seen a guy covered in a little dirt before?” he tries to joke, but the words don’t quite make it past his lips. Instead what comes out is a string of jumbled nonsense that’s neither Spanish nor English and definitely doesn’t make any sense.

Oh. Not good.

Bobby and Buck have him on either side and they half carry, half drag him after Chimney and Hen toward the ambulance. He tries to help but his body no longer seems to be following orders.

“Nice and easy,” Bobby says as they lay him flat on a backboard.

Then Chim and Hen are right in his face. “Let’s get this off of him,” Hen orders even as she’s already cutting through his shirt. “Buck get some blankets. Where’s that warm saline? He’s freezing!”

He really doesn’t want them to cut his clothes off since he’s now full on shivering, but before he knows it he’s been stripped down to his skivvies. Bless his abuela for always telling him to wear clean underwear.

He still doesn’t feel like he can quite get a full breath, which he tries to explain to Hen but she shushes him, listening to his chest as Chim stabs him with an IV. He’s so goddamn tired and he just wants to close his eyes but Hen snaps at him. “Edmundo Diaz don’t you dare go to sleep on me now!” she says forcefully, rubbing none too kindly against his sternum.

The shivering gets worse, even with the warm IV that’s starting to flood his veins. He feels his left calf cramp painfully and lets out half a groan. Feeling is starting to come back and with it a truckload of pain. It’s like he can feel every, single muscle in his body is screaming at him. “Hang in there Eddie, we got you,” Chim says.

Chimney who hardly ever does anything but smile, is looking at him with so much concern that Eddie wonders if he should maybe be more worried about his fate. “Christopher,” he rasps out. He’s got a will but it hasn’t been updated since Shannon…and now he panics. Who’s going to look after his kid if he dies? Why didn’t he think about this sooner? He’s a god damn firefighter, he should have a will that provides for his kid—

“Christopher’s fine Eddie.” Bobby comes back into view his hand sliding comfortingly into Eddie’s and he grabs it like a lifeline. “He’s home safe and now you are too. Just take it easy all right?”

If Bobby says it, it must be true. Things are starting to get a little hazy. He’s not quite sure what happened anymore. If he could just get some sleep—

Thank god for Hen and her ability to know everything because he’s barely started retching when she yells, “Get him on his side!” Hands pull him and he gags on

water, bile, anything that was in his stomach is now on the ground.

Wouldn’t that be a headline? ‘Local Firefighter Dies Choking on His Own Puke After Rescuing Child.’ Not the way he wants to be remembered. It almost makes him laugh but he can barely breathe let alone find the energy for humor right now.

“What’s he saying?” Chim asks.

“I think he’s praying,” Hen answers and it’s only then that Eddie realizes that indeed, prayers are slipping past his lips. Prayers he’d long thought forgotten, dredged up from the depths of his childhood Catholic school education, tumbling out as the realization of his mortality hits him like a truck.

Finally they wrap him in a blanket and lift him from the ground. “We’re taking you to the hospital Eddie,” Hen says, placing a hand on his arm. “You’re going to be just fine.”

The blankets and warm fluids help his mind to come back around and he stays conscious on the way to the hospital. But by the time they get there the coughing has set in. His body is beyond unhappy and doing its level best to not only expel the well water he inhaled, but apparently his lungs as well.

His painful breaths fog up the oxygen mask and he pulls it to the side so he can speak. “The kid okay?” he rasps to Chim who’s adjusting one of his IV’s.

“Good to go,” Chimney says, smile back on his face. Okay that’s a good sign, maybe Eddie’s not going to die.

The hospital takes forever. He’s not hypothermic but it’s borderline. His chest x-rays come back okay but not great. They insist on more tests and the sun is rising before they decide he’s stable enough to go home with lots of warnings about coming back immediately if any complications come up. He makes promises he has no intention of keeping and then escapes out into the morning.

Bobby is waiting for him. “Thought you might need a ride,” he says.

“Yeah, thanks,” Eddie says, gratitude flooding through him. He’s bone weary and all he wants is to do is go home, hug his kid, and pass out for about twelve hours or so.

“You feeling okay?” Bobby asks as he drives.

“I’ve been worse,” Eddie says cryptically, fighting sleep.

“I know you’re exhausted,” Bobby says. “So I won’t push. But if you need to talk, just know my door is always open.”

“Thanks Bobby,” Eddie says gratefully.

How he got so lucky to have this man for a captain he’ll never know. But he is beyond thankful to work with someone who cares so much. Who knows when to push and when to let up.

They pull up to the house and Eddie spots the babysitter’s car in the driveway. He’s supposed to relieve her and take Christopher to school but he can barely keep his eyes open. “Why don’t I take Christopher to school?” Bobby asks shrewdly.

The man has raised kids. He gets it.

“Nah,” Eddie says, taking a breath and trying to muster up the energy to unbuckle and get out of the car. “Shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

“Eddie, let me get this one,” Bobby says. “It’s no trouble.”

“Cap I—“

“Don’t ‘Cap’ me right now,” Bobby says kindly but firmly. “We’re family. You’ve had a rough night. This is the least I can do to help out.”

He gives in, both because Bobby’s right and because he’s truly not sure he’s capable of driving safely right now.

They go inside and greet Christopher who is, as always, ecstatic to see his dad and thrilled to be going to school with Bobby. “But why aren’t you taking me Dad?” he asks as he pulls on his backpack.

“I uh…” Eddie searches for words.

“Because I asked to take you,” Bobby covers smoothly. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to hang out with the 118’s only honorary firefighter. We have a lot to catch up on.”

Christopher accepts this answer and immediately starts telling Bobby about a science project they’re doing that involves Skittles as they head for the door.

Eddie doesn’t even make it to his bed. He collapses on the couch and within seconds he’s dead to the world. The next thing he knows Christopher’s afternoon carpool is honking outside.

He rallies for Friday. Truly he thinks he makes a remarkable effort to appear like a normal, happy dad in front of his kids’ classmates and teachers, all while feeling like he’s been hit by a bus. Every muscle aches and his chest still burns. Coughing fits are a special version of hell that cause every breath to be knifelike. Thank god Christopher has a playdate after school that involves dinner because by the time six o’clock rolls around he feels like death.

He makes another remarkable effort for bedtime, tucking his kid into his Batman sheets and kissing him goodnight before falling face first into the couch.

Christopher wakes him up in the morning. Well, wakes is a strong word because full consciousness seems like a real struggle right now. His head aches, his joints throb, and he cannot stop coughing. “Daddy?” Christopher asks in his sweet, singsong voice, patting Eddie gently on the cheek.

“Hey bud,” Eddie croaks.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m just feeling a little…a little sick today,” Eddie says, following it up with a hacking coughing fit.

“Can we go get donuts?”

Right, it’s Saturday. They usually hit up their favorite donut spot. “I think we have to skip today,” Eddie says. “Sorry bud.”

“It’s okay. I’ll get some cereal.”

God he couldn’t love this kid more. He never complains, never pitches a fit, even when things don’t go his way.

Eddie tries to get up and go help to make sure they don’t end up with cereal all over the floor, but his head pounds even more violently against his skull forcing him to lay back down with a stifled groan. God he feels like shit.

He’s in and out of sleep, more in than out. When he’s awake he wishes he was asleep because breathing is so hard and his body hurts so much. Christopher might be talking to him and a part of him knows he should get up and take care of his kid, but every time he thinks about it his eyes drift closed.

The next time he wakes up it’s because someone is trying to break his ribcage. “Bobby?” he croaks.

#911 #Eddie Diaz #Eddie Diaz Whump #Eddie Begins #Post ep #Fanfic #Christopher Diaz #Bobby Nash

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humanemotionssuck · 4 years

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Hello 2021

January 2, 2021

I should’ve put these thoughts into words on the first day of the year but then again, I felt so lazy given this bed weather we are currently having. By far, I think I experienced the coldest temperature here in my hometown (21 degrees baby) and I’m sure not liking it as I prefer warm days.

I actually do not know how to start. I feel it’s necessary to check on how I am doing lately. Write the things I experienced last year and reflect on the lessons it taught me.

I could probably kick things off by remembering how 2020 started for me. I have a bad memory but I’ll try my best to recall them.

January

Broke up with J (yes this is probably one of the major and heartbreaking events happened to me). To sum it up, I realized that the relationship does not have growth anymore, and I am slowly drifting to follow my own path, which is to focus on the plans I want. I haven’t thought deeply the lessons I learned in my past relationship yet but one thing is for sure, I changed and I want to explore more of what I can do or what I’m missing out in life. Which brings me to attend seminars on how to work/study abroad. I attended a couple (e.g Fortrust Makati) and I also realized how costly it will be and I’m probably not yet ready esp. on the financial aspect.

February – March

Highlight on these months was I got back to dating apps again. I know it was a complete dick move. I haven’t moved on yet and here I am in the pool again. I met 2 guys from this app, Coffee Meets Bagel (which btw I uninstalled few months after). The first guy was the introvert but funny type and also VERY sexual. I got along with it, tried to do the deed but failed cause the guy hasn’t moved on from the ex yet. (Sucks right). And so I met this second guy and he is decent but we really had completely different personality. I believe this guy is also rich (he came from a Chinese family and I went to his house and saw the maid and his stuff). Can you also believe he already introduced me to his mom (no dad cause broken family), uncle and grandma. Pressured si ate gurl syempre cause it was really too early to do that step since we’re just dating but March was the most difficult month because…

START OF LOCKDOWN. PH was in state of panic after the government announced a nationwide lockdown due to increased COVID-19 transmission. I immediately went on a bus to the province fearing to get stuck in Manila.

April

Nah this was just a typical month. Summer vibes all over but since we cannot go to the beach we just setup an inflatable pool in the house to get soaked. I finally posted a pic wearing a swimsuit again. My stagnant IG feed came to life lmao

May

Oh boy. This month sucks so much. I got typhoid fever. Which I thought was COVID already cause my fever just won’t stop. My mom didn’t want me to get admitted in the hospital in the fear of being infected so I was hooked in the IV here in the house. I felt I was dying. I was in huge pain both physically and mentally. Which forced me to end any communication means with the second guy. He was not there when I was sick. I didn’t feel his concern even if we’re miles apart and I felt I was begging for his attention. It just won’t work. He blocked me in his socials (which is a first for me, usually I am the one who blocks lol) but given the current state I have now, I learned to accept it and chose to move forward.

June

Explored options on work/study program abroad. We got a new car (Xpander) which my father was able to purchase after borrowing money from us. That money could’ve been used for my Japan trip on December (plot twist it was cancelled due to fucking corona) but it’s okay I guess I’ll save another again.

I also got my student permit (yes I learned how to drive months after hehe)

July

THIS WAS MY BIGGEST DOWNFALL FOR THIS YEAR. There were some modifications in the quarantine and so my employer required and FORCED us to report on site in Makati despite of high number of positive cases. All I can say is SCREW THEM and I hope karma will do its thing on their business. The management.. the bosses.. they are all inconsiderate fucks for not allowing me to work at home instead. The situation forced me to resign but they chose to terminate me instead. The unemployment took its toll on my mental health, it caused me great depression and anxiety which forced me to look for distractions.. anything that will ease my mind.

Oh and btw, I bought my first laptop from hard earned money. Oh boy, it was satisfying to give myself the things my parents couldn’t afford that time I was still in school. It’s a gaming laptop and the one I’m using to type now. I absolutely love it and I used it to find online jobs later on..

I read Looking for Alaska by John Green again after watching the TV series on Hulu. Geez, this has to be my favorite book so far. The seeking of great perhaps.. which was very timely on my mood while having nothing else to do.

Lastly, TAYLOR SWIFT RELEASED A NEW ALBUM CALLED FOLKLORE. In the middle pandemic? Awesome right and this album kept me sane during this crazy and miserable month. Oh and on December, she released folklore’s sister album.. Evermore. Miss Swift saved me again with her music. This will definitely be one of the albums I will play when I’m old and gray knitting sweaters and wearing cardigan.

August

I started and finished my driving lesson in manual. JFC, I realized driving gives me a huge anxiety. One thing is for sure, I will prefer to drive automatic. Not driving that shit again.

I was still hooked with Looking for Alaska. Also purchased Subtle Art of not Giving a F*ck on the time I bought LFA.

On the other hand, I was also actively looking for new jobs this time.

September

ON SEPT. 30 I GOT HIRED! I was super happy to start on a new job. It gave me hope once again to continue on this journey called life. After almost 3 months, we are def back to business!

I also got the chance to get this Thyroid issue checked. Unfortunately, there was no major stuff going on with my thyroid. Basically, I’m perfectly healthy. What sucks is that the doctor invalidated my previous condition and said I only have ~anxiety which is the cause of my symptoms (excessive sweating and palpitations). I will seek professional help on this anxiety stuff anytime in the future.

Lastly, I played Grand Chase again and met someone in the game. Well technically we haven’t met yet but since then, I got used to talking with this guy and he is part of my daily routine now. I won’t spoil much details but as soon as this is all over, I can’t wait to meet this person :)

*cue Grand Chase soundtrack*

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VoK0bAjsHoo

October

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MEEE! It was a typical birthday. I don’t have much realizations. If I had one, I need to think thoroughly again lol.

Busy with training on the new job and this has been the most challenging training I ever had since I started working.

NOVEMBER

WORK WORK WORK. Super stressed and my anxiety was on the roof. I thought of giving up already but then again it was too early to quit. I haven’t seen my full potential on this job yet and so I chose to keep on fighting.

I also finally got braces. Let’s get these smiles fixed.

December

WORK WORK WORK AGAIN. My work caused me a huge anxiety cause I was given high priority cases -.-But overall, I can say the holidays went great. I finally got to spend time with the family outside. Don’t worry cause we still practiced precautions and I guess it wouldn’t hurt to go out once in a while to have some fresh air. We went to the beach and pretty much that’s the highlight of this month.

Things are getting serious with this guy I’m talking about.. Seriously, he makes me happy every single day.

I also won in Christmas raffle. Oppo phone. (I have the odds in my favor when it comes to raffles lol)

Feels weird to celebrate this holiday too thinking a lot of hardships were experienced in the last few months of quarantine. I was thinking about all the lives lost by covid and hoping they are in the peaceful place now..

JANUARY (NOW)

After everything that happened, oddly the start of the year gives me a sense of hope. Sure I am still carrying the trauma 2020 gave me but I am slowly leaving all of them behind. I want a fresh start and I want to let go of the things that gave me pain. I don’t have solid resolutions just like in my teenage years. Guess I’m too old for that. Not saying it’s okay to not have plans for the future and just go with the flow but I promise to not be too hard on myself and to not pressure myself on the goals I haven’t achieved yet. It’s really a struggle to plan things ahead given the situation but as always, I will do my best. I will stop comparing my progress to somebody else’s cause everyone has their own timeline.

I will listen to my heart and my mind to determine the things I really want. I promise to reevaluate the decisions I am making each day. I will not be afraid of making mistakes because that’s how I learn.

I am embracing my anxiety of uncertainty. It’s okay to feel afraid because I am always trying on how to overcome my fear. I strive each day because I am more than just a ball of anxiety. The palpitations.. the sweating.. they don’t define me. I have the power to control them and they won’t stop me from being the better version of myself.

#quaranthings #just quarantine thoughts #2020 #bye2020 #new year

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blookmallow · 4 years

Text

skyrim misadventures, ft Weird Magic Stuff, a determined spite mission, and some spooky encounters

-----

still absolutely love this guy

[me, the leader of the brotherhood, who just assassinated the fucking emperor a few weeks ago] oh we’re not, huh

sighs i really want to do the thieves guild storyline but i dont want to work with the slimeball scam elixir guy to run a decent dude out of business for no reason... i like brand-shei hes my friend :(

i might not go through with it on this file, i definitely will with my khajiit though if nothing else

i know having a khajiit thief character is way obvious lmao but

nice

NICE

i forget which quest this was but I FOUND A SKELETON DRAGON????? IVE NEVER SEEN THIS BEFORE

holy SHIT thats so many skeletons

i got SO many skulls in here

i also found this spooky hand, but couldnt figure out anything to do with it yet, unless its just here for Ominous Mage Experiments Gone Wrong purposes

anyway all this was on a quest to find the augur, which nobody wanted to talk about and kept going “ohh yeah.... he Used To Be a student.... until..... The Accident” and i was losing my MIND trying to imagine what kind of horrific thing this guy got turned into but then i finally found him and

:/ hes just a big glowy ball

which, i mean, is cool and all, but i was hoping for like, a dude who turned himself inside out or became some eldritch horror or something

through all these winterhold quests i started finally getting half decent at magic (not like, Good, but acceptably ok) and decided to finally go back for that one disastrous cidnha mine quest ive been avoiding

you get thrown in the markarth prison mines with nothing and gotta find a way to escape, which can be accomplished without too much trouble if you band together with your fellow inmates, however, they are fucking forsworn and will start murdering everyone near them once they escape with you

i dont know if that keeps you stuck with a bounty in markarth or not, but i REALLY didnt want to release the forsworn leader out into the world, or be friends with those fuckers, or ruin my reputation, or risk civilian casualties even though theres not really that many people i care particularly about in markarth now that muiri is safe is solitude, so. i had previously just reloaded a save and ignored the quest for ages

because like. i dont think you Can get out on your own and if you try to turn on them and fight once you make your escape its REALLY hard to survive bc they outnumber you and you dont have any armor or anything other than like, shitty prison shivs

however: the guards cannot take away your magic or your shouts, so

this time i was fucking ready, i have the ability to summon a FRIEND now to fight with me (i dont know what would’ve happened if i had a companion with me during this mess but like. i can Make one), i learned how to make a magic sword so id at least have some kind of halfway decent weapon, and ive got healing magic

cool dragon powers also help (this was from. later on bc i have my stuff in this shot but)

this was still hard as shit, lucien got defeated pretty early on, and with no magicka potions its really hard to keep healing while fighting but i eventually fucking DID IT, i killed every single forsworn prisoner including madanach, and escaped myself (which granted me a pardon and some kind of special ring i dont care about from the silverbloods)

i mentioned this misadventure to my dad later and he legitimately didnt know it was even possible to do this lmao i was VERY determined not to help the forsworn ever in any way

those guys ruin my day every five minutes when im out anywhere near their camps even if i try to avoid them like the plague i hate them!!

i kept the shivs though and later discovered

you can enchant them

LOOK at this cavern!!!!!!!

also i ran into a fucking headless horseman ??????

i didnt even know he was there until i heard lucien unsheathing his weapon when he saw it behind me and i looked to see what he was concerned about

i followed him for ages like halfway across the map but eventually i had so many bandits and wolves and also a dragon chasing after me i lost sight of him after a while :’| WILD though

not that im ever going to sell it but i cant help noticing the blade of woe is worth 666 gold,

cicero’s always mentioning he wants skyforge steel so i bought him a skyforge dagger and enchanted it for him (i think i put silent moons enchantment on it, i forget), finally remembered to give it to him but didnt take back the other dagger i gave him before to see if he’d pick which one he wants to use and here he is using his new one.... baby likes his present im so glad,

granted its probably just like, an automatic npc thing to just use whatever weapon has the best stats but i like to think he likes it

he still says the line all the time he doesn’t have like. special dialogue if you Do give him skyforge steel or anything but still

anyway i also had this mission going for boethiah where i was supposed to. bring her a sacrifice, essentially. which, yeah, ok, obvious bad idea, but im already an assassin, whats the difference at this point right

my first thought was to go hire a random mercenary at windhelm, since many of the most unpleasant people in skyrim seem to live there, and i figured the chances were pretty good hes racist and insufferable like the others

but we ended up killing a dragon together and god damn it hes actually a nice guy, i like him :’) so we’re friends now after all

however, boethiah still needed a sacrifice, and. there’s this drunk guy in markarth you can hire after you defeat him in a brawl, and. he doesn’t seem to have a lot going on in his life other than shit tons of mead, so. i figured he’d do :’ )

holy FUCK

i dont regret carrying out this quest bc like... A) it was really cool and B) -

i eventually got this fuckin SICK armor out of it that ups my stealth while actually being pretty legit defense, and it poisons any enemies that come near me but somehow doesnt poison friendly npcs which is WILD and incredibly convenient for when im getting mobbed but dont want to accidentally murder whatever companion i have with me at the time

i do feel bad about sacrificing cosnach though like. he was little more than a random drunk guy but that doesn’t mean he deserved it, y’know :’ ) i couldn’t find anyone i hated that would also follow me though

also i later discovered on the wiki you can actually marry that guy, and im just like. why, out of all the options you have in skyrim, would you go for “random drunk dude who gets in bar fights”

i dunno maybe he grows on you if you fight with him for a while but i didnt want to get attached again :’)

i found wisps??? i think?????? i couldnt figure out any way to interact with them but they glow and bounce around and i LOVE them

woah!!!!!!

i. dont remember what was in there but apparently the wisps really wanted me to find it

(i do remember getting stuck in this room and couldn’t figure out how to get the door to open though so i just kinda backtracked and left the way i came in, dunno if i missed anything important or if it was just an alternate way out that i couldnt figure out)

#lucy plays skyrim

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anotherwhumpblog · 5 years

Text

I don't remeber if i ever wrote an introduction, so here goes.

My name is Pie but you can also call me Lara or Jer. I use any pronouns.

Ive been interested in whump since i was a small child, I think 4 or 5. I was one of those "gifted" kids who could read at a college level before starting school. My favorite books were always the ones where someone got hurt or sick.

I like whump because i find it relatable, and it helps me to cope with some things i went through.

Most people, i think, dont find whump relatable. A friend of mine said that most people didnt have a childhood anywhere near mine ^^" so here's a brief description of some of the things about me:

Im only 5 feet tall. Which is odd since my family is above average height and my brother is 6 foot and 15 years old. Most of the time when people point it out, i just laugh it off or say i dont know why im so small. But to be honest, its from malnourishment. My family was very very poor (we still are rather poor but not as bad as it was). I lived with my little brother and my mom, and my dad was very abusive and didnt live at home. I'm extremely lactose intolerant, and mom would make macaroni and cheese a lot because my brother really liked it. But I couldnt eat it, so i was forced to go hungry a lot. My mom also has become more and more abusive as I've gotten older, and stopped making meals for me altogether in my early teens, so i had to either cook for myself or live on chips. Which i did. Combine that with no milk, and you get me.

I have hundreds of scars. Most of them are knife wounds. Most of them have pretty cool stories, too, like the one where i was stabbed with a sword (i used to fence), and the one where i was shot with a paintball at point blank range (as in the barrel was right next to my skin).

I have chronic pain. Theres something wrong with my bones that causes them to ache and makes my joints occasionally give out. Ive also got the beginning stages of arthritis from sewing 10 hours a day when i was a teen.

I cant swim. I know how, but i get exhausted very easily and my arms and legs start hurting and then I start to sink. Its terrifying and embarrassing, so I just dont go in deep water. I still swim in the local river though haha.

I get sick easily because I'm allergic to pretty much anything that gives off pollen or spores. I get frequent bloody noses and respitory infections. My childhood house was also rotten with mold and mildew. I remember that if i pushed on the wall in my bedroom, I could actually move it a couple inches in, and the drywall would slide along the nails. We also had rats and ants.

I have difficulty remembering things, and my brain has actually blocked memories from me. Im in therapy because of this. It affects my short term memory too, and sometimes i get lost in the mall and stuff because I forget where im at and who im with.

I sleep on the floor, because I toss and turn from nightmares and got tired of falling off the bed. I do this in hotel rooms too, much to the concern of my friends. Yes i have a mattress, yes I'm comfy, yes i prefer it this way.

When i was 11 my mouth grew a second pair of upper inscisors for absolutely no reason and i had to have a set removed because they stuck out like a vampire and were causing problems with the rest of my teeth. The remaining set were also too pointy and i was constantly biting my lip by accident so the dentist filed them down. They had to sedate me for that and as a result i hate the dentist. I also had to have braces afterwards.

Those are the teeth they removed ^^"

I stutter really bad and have a lisp. I can keep it under control unless im really anxious. When im in a new setting, i cant talk at all. I have specific friends who I've given permission to talk for me, and im trying to learn asl.

I was sexually assaulted as a teenager, but that's the one thing i don't feel comfortable talking about.

So yea thats me!! If you have any questions go ahead and ask me them! I have a lot of stories about my life and telling them helps me heal. You'll see a lot of stuff on this blog that's similar to what i went through, but not all of it is that, I just really like whump in general. I don't really have any ""turn offs"" except for extreme medical inaccuracies like gallons of blood loss and stuff. i also sometimes reblog my art here too ^^"

Sorry this is so long

#whump #introduction #whump intro #whump blog #irl whump #whump introduction #about me

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m-rphy · 6 years

Text

We can text if you can’t talk

Summary: When Matteo sees David dance with and kiss Leonie at Sara's party, his world begins to crumble, and it's like he's plunged into darkness. This is the aftermath. TW: This fic deals with slight themes of transphobia and self-harm/depression.

Notes: I apologize in advance if I handled any trans issues in an insensitive matter in this fic. Please let me know if that's the case and I'd be happy to change those parts.

Matteo had stopped caring about which day it was. He woke up when it was already light out and went back to sleep long after the sun had set. His curtains were drawn closed pretty much 24/7 anyway, so it wasn't like it mattered if it was day or night.

First, he had been able to excuse his behavior to Hans and Linn and his boys with just wanting to relax a few days after his first couple of exams. Then he had lied that he got sick and needed to rest. But at this point, he had run out of excuses. He basically only left his bed to take a piss or get something to eat (which all tasted the same anyway so it was frozen pizza after frozen pizza) and he knew he worried Hans and Jonas especially, but he couldn't help it. It just... got overwhelming. Matteo wished nothing more than to be able to... take out his brain and replace it with a new, normally-functioning one, or to just disappear, or to never being born at all.

He had put on some comedy on Netflix in hopes of it cheering him up, but he couldn't even begin to concentrate on the movie so instead, he was playing games on his phone at the same time. Just as the leading lady in the movie fell into a pool, his phone buzzed with a message.

Jonas, 20:17 Hey bro what are you doing?

Matteo inhaled deeply. He had been ignoring Jonas for two days already and he knew it was unfair but the thought alone of trying to string together words for an answer drained what little energy he had left. He plopped his head down on his arm again, dropping his phone back onto his mattress.

Man, this movie was shit.

Matteo blinked awake. Deep pink light fell through his windows, half-swallowed and muted by his curtains, but still tinting his room a warm hue. His laptop still stood on the edge of his bed, the led light that indicated it was in standby mode blinking. Matteo closed it and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

His mind wandered to all the times this has happened before. Most days, it was just an underlying feeling of sadness mixed with apathy, something people around him tended to call a “laid-back” or “I don't give a fuck” attitude. But some days and weeks, it got bad. Like, bad bad. Sleeping-for-15-hours bad. Not-showering-in-four-days bad. Banging-his-head-against-a-wall-to-numb-the-inside-pain-with-outside-pain bad.

His phone buzzed again, but he didn't even bother to look at it. His stomach rumbled. Matteo inhaled deeply, debating how much longer he could put off making some food since he had been hungry already before his nap. His stomach grumbled again, contracting painfully.

Matteo sighed and rolled over to get up, not bothering to change the sweater he had been living in for the past three days, or to put on proper pants. The WG had seen him in his boxers plenty of times already so whatever.

He padded over into the kitchen, painfully aware of the disheveled state of his hair and how easy it would be for any of the others to tell something wasn't alright. He didn't care. He simply took a pizza from the freezer, put it on the oven rack without backing parchment and closed the oven door, setting the temperature to 200°C.

“Hey my little butterfly,” Hans greeted him as he entered to kitchen and went over to the fridge.

“He,” Matteo replied, and God, now he even failed at forming full words? And sure enough, Hans turned around to look at him, the fridge door hanging open behind him. Matteo avoided his eyes and looked down at his feet.

“Pizza again?” Hans asked, obviously trying to make conversation, but Matteo didn't see the point in replying. Obviously pizza again. He just did a half-shrug-head-shake instead. Hans didn't say anything else for a few seconds, and then, “How about we cook something together tomorrow evening? A nice potato gratin with loads of cheese. Hm? What about that?”

Matteo looked up at Hans for a moment and said “Whatever” with another shrug before he looked at his feet again. Hans made a small noise of discontent.

“You need a pick-me-up,” he concluded before he shut the fridge and left the kitchen again, leaving Matteo to stare at the spot where he just stood.

A soft knock on his door caused Matteo to look up.

“Matteo,” an even softer voice came muffled through the door and Matteo's heart skipped a beat. He felt paralyzed. “Can I come in?”

Matteo just stared at the door, a thousand emotions swelling up inside him and constricting his throat, making it impossible to reply anything. Not to mention the fact that he wasn't even sure if he wanted him to come in or not.

A soft thud against the door made Matteo think that he leaned against it on the other side and some of the tension left Matteo's body, only to come back tenfold when his phone buzzed with a message from him.

David, 21:09 Can I please come inside?

Matteo blinked and felt a tear fall from his eyes. Fuck. Why were emotions a thing? He stared at the message through the tears blurring his vision and his fingers hovered over the screen.

Matteo, 21:10 Ok

There was some rustling on the other side of the door and after a moment of silence, the door creaked open. Matteo held his breath.

David entered his room hesitantly, half-hiding behind the door, and looked over at Matteo who realized that David would totally be able to tell he had been crying, even from where he stood. Quickly, he wiped his cheeks dry with the sleeve of his sweater.

“Hi,” David said quietly, not moving, waiting, giving Matteo room. For some reason, this made everything worse.

“Hi,” Matteo finally replied and David took this as a sign that he could close the door. Afterwards, he came over to the bed, but stopped at the end of it, biting his lip. This close, Matteo – who couldn't help but study David's face – saw that he didn't seem to be doing so well either. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair looked a lot messier than usual.

The silence filled the room when neither of them knew what to say next. Matteo was glad he didn't need to talk because the lump in his throat was still there and he was afraid that his voice would break if he had to say more than one word. As the silence went on he watched as David pulled his phone out of his pocket and started typing, before his own phone buzzed. David looked over at him expectantly. Matteo unlocked his phone.

David, 21:12 We can text if you can't talk

And, a second later...

David, 21:12 It's what I do when everything gets too much

Matteo stared at the messages as a feeling, so very different from everything he had experienced in the past days, started to spread through him. The closest he had ever come to feeling like this was when he spent time alone with Jonas, but it was different still. His phone buzzed again.

David, 21:13 I will just stay here a bit okay? And when you're ready you can tell me whats wrong

With this, he sat down at the end of the bed and took of his jacket, revealing a soft black hoodie, his headphones still looped around his neck, like always. Matteo knew David was looking over at him, but he just continued to stare at his phone, at the message David had just sent.

The clattering of pots and pans carried over from the kitchen, and somehow it felt like an invasion of privacy, even though Matteo was perfectly aware that all of his flat mates were decent enough not to listen in on others' conversations. Well, except maybe Hans.

Matteo tried to breathe through the lump in his throat as he started typing a reply to David. He didn't know where to start, a thousand thoughts flooding his brain. After a moment of hesitation, he started with the one he was surest about.

Matteo, 21:15 I like you. I cant explain it but i do and i think ive never felt the same for anyone else and its terrifying. Because life is horrible and shit like at saras party happens and it rips ur fucking heart out nd theres nothing u can do abut it

The tears were back and he hated hated hated it. He hated himself so much in moments like this. Matteo screwed his eyes shut and dropped his head against the wall he was leaning on with a bit more force than he had planned and suddenly he found himself in David's arms who pulled him away from the wall and held him tight.

“Stop,” he whispered in Matteo's ear, no heat behind it, so very different to how his Dad had reacted when Matteo had first shown signs of self-destructive behavior as a child. And when David's fingers brushed gingerly across the back of his head to soothe the pain, instead of grabbing his wrists in an iron grip like his Dad telling him to snap out of it, Matteo realized was true concern looked like. Since his Dad had left, he had begun to realize that his father's actions had always come from a place of annoyance, but it hadn't been until just now that he knew what difference a reaction could make.

And with this realization, Matteo slumped against David and hugged him back, held him so close that he thought he'd crush him, but David just let it happen. And like this they sat until the clatter and chatter from the kitchen fell silent, the others back in their rooms, and his room dark save for the lamp on his bedside table. The tears had stopped, though his nose was still runny, and finally he felt ready to pull back.

He met David's eyes, the other boy's eyebrows knitted together sadly.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured, dropping his gaze for a moment. “About Sara's party. I don't know what came over me. It's just...” He inhaled deeply. “You remember that joke you made about Hans's friend, the trans girl from that one party who you said “Still totally looks like a dude”?”

Matteo blinked at him in confusion before he nodded.

“Well, it's just that...” David hesitated again, taking another shaky breath. “I'm trans, Matteo.”

Matteo felt his face fall. Fuck.

“David, I –” he started but David cut him off.

“My parents decided to move since I was bullied at my last school because of it, so I never told anyone here because I didn't wanna go through the same stuff again. And then you came along and I fell head over heels and then... well... then you said that.” He looked down at his lap where he picked on his thumb's cuticle with his fingernail. “And it made me doubt everything that happened between us. And then Leonie was at the party, and I know she has a crush on me, so I just said to myself, why the fuck not? I just wanted to feel good for one night.”

Matteo stared at him, his thoughts a mess.

“David, I'm sorry,” he finally said, because what he had just heard put everything else into perspective. “I never meant to hurt you, I'm sorry.”

“Well, shit happens,” David said with a sad chuckle and looked at Matteo again. “After you said that, my thoughts just spiraled and I... well... I ended up convincing myself that you'd never want to be together with me because I'm trans.”

“No!” The word broke out of Matteo with such force that he was a bit surprised himself. “It's... well I'd be lying if I said it's not a bit weird right now, but... it doesn't change anything for me, David. I like you because you're you. Because you get me.” And when he saw the look on David's face, he added, “I meant it's weird because I'm a stupid bastard and I don't know shit, and I don't want to hurt you ever again with something I say.”

“Don't call yourself that,” David said in a small voice.

“It's true though. I hurt you, so that makes me a bastard.”

“You were just joking around,” David tried to trivialize it. “You didn't know any better.”

But Matteo was having none of it. “That's not an excuse. It was still shitty.”

He thought David would continue to protest, but he said something else instead. “Do you know why I'm here?” Matteo shook his head no. “Because Sara texted me. Apparently she had the suspicion you're gay and have a crush on me after you dumped her, and then Hanna texted her earlier about how you've been down the whole holidays and she remembered what happened at the party and put two and two together.”

Matteo couldn't help but be amazed. He knew he had hurt her deeply, but that she still found it in her heart to care about him like that... he hadn't expected it. At the mention of the party, Matteo couldn't keep himself any longer from asking a question that had been on his mind since David had arrived.

“So you're not interested in Leonie?”

The question hung in the air for a moment before David laughed, and Matteo's heart tugged warmly at the sight of it.

“Matteo. I'm gay. I'm in love with you.”

Whoop, there it was. David's mouth fell open when he noticed what he had said and Matteo was aware that he looked just as thunderstruck.

“You what?” he asked, not able to stop the smile from spreading across his face. It took David a second longer before a similar smile lifted the corners of his mouth as well.

“I'm in love with you.”

“God, stop being cheesy!” Matteo laughed and shoved David so that he almost fell backwards. For a moment, they jostled around until both of them needed to catch their breath and Matteo noticed that their fingers were entwined. Suddenly, the air in his room felt heavier again.

“So, you still like me?” David asked, the uncertainty still audible in his voice.

“Yes,” Matteo answered without missing a beat. “I still like you, dumbass.”

And God, the smile that lit up David's face just then, it could've blinded the whole world.

#druck #matteo x david #my art

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thebrotherswholoved · 6 years

Text

unconditionally

summary: A short lil’ drabble in which Sam and Dean have a teenaged kid who reveals a secret to them.

words: 1.7k

read on ao3 (please)

⇣ ⇣ ⇣

Sam and Dean’s daughter comes home from school one day with a black eye, bruises, and a limp, making it difficult to sneak past her overbearing dads unnoticed. Her arm is probably broken given the deformity in her wrist, but that’s not what really hurts—no, it’s now how those kids beat her up, it’s why. Her secret is killing her, now literally as well as figuratively.

When the fifteen year old tries to get through the door after walking from her bus stop, she doesn’t expect her fathers to be home. Her dad works as a forensic analyst down at the police department and her papa is a medical assistant, so they rarely get home before five o’clock even if they work the same hours. So when she stumbles into the foyer like a fawn learning to walk, wincing with every movement because god, those kids fucked her up, she’s surprised to hear a concerned gasp and footsteps running toward her weakened body.

“Jenna, what the hell happened?!” Dean asks as he takes his daughter into his arms, trying to be as gentle as possible with her while he carries her to the couch. A Maury Povich rerun is still playing onscreen from seconds earlier when he and Sam were snuggling together on their break, but he drowns out the results of Donna whatever-her-name-was’s paternity test to take care of his little girl.

Sam hustles in from the powder room with a hospital-worthy first aid kit in hand and joins his husband and daughter on the sofa to get a better look at her wounds. She’s got bruises running up and down her arms, a laceration on her forehead, a sprained ankle, a black eye, and a fractured wrist (that would have to be determined by a doctor, but he’s basically one, right?)—a whole mess of blood and hurt.

“Oh, baby…” he pushes her hair back and hisses at the dried blood staining her skin, “what happened? Who did this to you?”

Jenna, scared to death, attempts to stand up and ‘walk it off’ only to be ushered back to a sitting position between the two men.

“Uh…” she winces at her split lip, making it incredibly difficult to talk coherently, “these kids, four or five of ‘em I think, ganged up on me. I’m fine, though; you don’t have’ta baby me.”

Dean shakes his head and tries to remain calm, even though every fiber of his being is telling him to track those bastards down and make sure they’ll never come after his little girl again. “Jen, you got hurt pretty bad. If Sammy can’t fix you up, we’re takin’ you to the hospital.”

The teen shakes her head in an adamant plea, tears coming to her emerald eyes. “No! Please, no. That’ll just make it worse.”

“Hey, we’ll only go if we have to.” Sam assures the brunette in his arms, knowing full well that she hates hospitals. In the fourth grade she had to go in for an emergency appendectomy, and she passed out when the nurse put her IV in. “Can you lift up your shirt a little, bug? I’m not gonna look, I’ve just gotta check your stomach.”

Her face goes pale at this, but she reluctantly nods her head and pulls her flannel shirt up to expose her abdomen. To his relief, Sam finds no hardness or tenderness when he presses around her midsection, instead becoming perplexed at another finding. When he pulls her shirt back down, his finger brushes against something that feels like an ACE bandage.

Biting his lip, he looks down at her as she places an ice pack over her left eye. “Did you try bandaging yourself already, Jen? ‘Cause I thought I felt a wrap around your ribs.”

Jenna looks like she’s going to be sick with anxiety. Ignoring all the pain in her body, she begins hyperventilating when she tries to speak, and Sam holds her tight to calm her down. Dean works her through her breathing—4, 5, 7—and they wait until she had enough control over herself to finish her thought.

“N-no, I—that’s for s-something else.” She’s crying now, borderline hysterical: a sight that makes her fathers want to start weeping as well. They look at her and silently ask her to elaborate, but she bites her bloody lip and shakes her head. “I don’t…I can’t tell you. I just can’t. You’ll be pissed and hate me forever.”

Her papa takes her hand in his and looks her in the eye. “Bug, you can tell your dad and I anything. We’ll never judge you, ever.”

“We promise,” Dean chimes in. “I mean, your papa and I were literally in a sanitarium for, like, a week. Right, babe?”

“Yeah.” Sam nods with a chuckle. “So, whatever you need to tell us, we can guarantee that we’ve heard and dealt with worse.”

These words seem to help Jenna compose herself and conjure up the courage needed to reveal this part of her identity she’s kept secret for so long. It’s been so rough lying to her dads since she discovered that she is who she is two years ago and she’s exhausted. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll be alright with it.

“Okay,” she whispers, lowering the ice from her bruised eye. “You know how there are some kids who…I dunno, they don’t feel comfortable in their bodies, I guess?”

The younger brother thinks for a moment then nods like a lightbulb went off in his head. “Yeah! Those teens with gender identity disorder and stuff. I worked with a girl who had that, got her on estrogen.”

Dean smiles at his husband’s comment and ponders the correlation before turning back to Jenna, thoroughly confused. “What about them?”

The fifteen year old is fumbling with the hem of her shirt now. She’s barely been able to come out to her best friend, and now her parents? That’s a huge leap. But, she’s hidden for long enough—she won’t let this kill her. Not like how it’s killed so many others. “I…I’m one of those k-kids. I’m sorry, Dad…Papa…”

Sam sits in silence for a few seconds before he hears crying from beside him, the figure in his arms shaking violently. He locks eyes with his husband, who nods with a small, understanding smile, and clears his throat.

“Hey, don’t cry,” he cooes, running his fingers through the long hair rubbing against his arm—that will probably have to go. “This doesn’t change a damn thing, bug. Your dad and I love you more than anything else in this world, and something this isn’t going to change that. You don’t have to be our Jenna for us to love you.”

“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t agree with your papa when he chose your name,” Dean leans in to mutter, earning him a bitch face from Sam and a small chuckle from the ball of emotion beside him. “Do you want us to call you somethin’ different? I can’t promise that I’ll get it immediately, but I’ll try my best.”

The teen looks up at him with reddened eyes and smiles a bit. “Jack. I like the name Jack…is that okay?”

“Sure thing, Jack,” Dean kisses his son’s head and feels his tears wet his Led Zeppelin lounge shirt. He’s not alarmed, though; he knows that these tears are happy ones. “Alright, now that you’ve got that off your chest…get it?”

His husband snorts a bit and Jack laughs from beside him, now confident in his choice to tell the two idiots he’s proud to call his dads.

The older man coughs and carries on talking. “Now that that’s aired out, how ‘bout we watch Maury Povich while Papa patches you up, yeah?”

No longer hesitant, the boy nods and doesn’t really feel his physical pain over his emotional exuberance. Sam moves to grab some antiseptic but stops himself, first turning back to Jack and nodding at his chest.

“Will you take that off? It’s bad for your lungs and ribs,” he asks in a gentle voice.

The teen frowns to himself but still nods his head, reaching to his side to undo the clips fastening the bandage wrap around his chest. Once it ceases impairing his ability to breathe, Jack exhales and stretches his back, still grimacing at the feeling of his breasts against his shirt. His papa notices and pats his leg.

“I’ll order you a real binder online tonight, I promise,” he murmurs while Dean is fully indulging in his talk show obsession.

Jack beams and mouths a ‘thank you,’ which is answered with a ‘no problem, son.’ At that moment, Jack can’t remember why he was ever hesitant about telling his dads at all. They’ve always said that they’d be there for him through thick and thin, bad and good, no matter what—and they’ve come through time and time again.

”Hey, you wanna know a secret?” Dean asks his son in a whisper. Jack nods with a skepticism head tilt—damnit, Uncle Cas—and the father smiles. “When your Papa and I found out we were expecting you, I made a promise. I swore I’d always love you no matter what happened, and that I would do everything in my power to protect you and make sure you’d never be afraid to tell us anything.”

Sam sheds a tear at his lover’s words, taking his hand and looking at their son, who they’re meeting for the first time; god, he already looks so much happier and full of life than their daughter. “He did. I was there, he thought I was asleep. I made the same promise, Jack. We’re always in your corner,- nd we’ll never stop loving you.”

Jack sobs and embraces his dads. He’s never been happier than at this moment, getting his injuries nursed by his overprotective Papa and having his Dad nudge him to point at the TV and laugh at something dumb. Little does he know, his Dad is gonna come after those kids that beat him up with a BB gun and chase them off, all while screaming: “this is for my son, Jack!”

Everything is going to be alright, and he knows it. Family don’t end in blood, and he’s proud to be Jack Winchester.

#wincest #sam x dean #sam/dean #samdean #otp: and they were soulmates #i know i know #i need to stop #but trans fics make me so happy #theyd be such good lgbt parents #like lets be honest #fanfic #my fanfiction #wincest fanfic #drabble

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alia-turin · 7 years

Text

Title: Broken Bonds [Chapter IV] Previous chapters: Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III AO3

Characters:

OC, Libertus Ostium, Cor Leonis, Luche Lazarus (mentioned), Titus Drautos | Glauca (mentioned), Nyx Ulric (mentioned), Gladiolus Amicitia, Crowe Altius (mentioned), Iris Amicitia, Prompto, Ignis

Warning:

SFW. probably minor Comrades spoilers

Notes

Too much angst in the previous 4 chapters so now is time for something slightly more relaxing. I needed to write that because the angst was getting too much even for me. Next couple of chapters would be a bit more cheerful. Special mention of @birdsandivory for allowing me to use her AMZING tinder edits for inspiration. Please go check them here and laugh your asses off: http://birdsandivory.tumblr.com/kingsglaive

Tagging: @birdsandivory @yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy @jojopitcher @fromunseeliecourt @xanxusthot @lazarustrashpit (I promise Luche wasn’t always a dick) @littlestfangirl

This dream, as many of her dreams, was just an old memory.

She woke up from the sound of somebody entering her apartment. Ada got up, knife in hand and wrapped straight to the intruder.

“Easy now. It’s just me.” Luche was holding his hand in the air and she let go.

“Why…how did you get in.”

“I broke in.” he showed her his tools. “You didn’t s how up yesterday or today and you didn’t answer your phone or respond to any of my text messages.”

Her eyes fell on the phone lying lonely on the coffee table, the light for missed call blinking angrily.

“I didn’t hear it.” She didn’t even remember leaving her phone there. “I told the captain I will be away.”

“He is gone for some business. You should have told me as well.” He was getting to his bossy self but raised an eyebrow teasingly. “What’s with the dress?”

She had to look at herself to realize she was still wearing the black dress from yesterday.

“I was at a funeral.” She answered.

“Somebody I know?” his sounded concerned.

“My dad.”

“I’m sorry to hear that” he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You should have told me, I would have come with you, you shouldn’t be alone.”

She stared at him not sure what to say. It didn’t even cross her mind to ask anyone to come with her. She had told Drautos she needed leave and the reason, he told her to take a week off and that was it. Truth was that her father has been sick for such a long time that it was expected and she didn’t feel like there is a need to ask someone to come with her.

“Come on change in something more comfortable. I will make you breakfast.” He pushed her gently toward her bedroom.

“You don’t have to…” she started but he interrupted her.

“Yes, I do. Come on, I promise I won’t poison you.”

As she was changing her clothes she could hear him going through her pans, pots, plates and swearing as he dropped something on the ground.

“Do you need help?” she shouted from the bedroom.

“I will not be defeated by a pan, don’t worry.”

When she walked back in the kitchen he was frying eggs and bacon. Smelling the food made her realize how hungry she was.

“Thank you.” Ada said, but that was when the dream went out of hand. In her memories what he did then was turn around and ask her if she wanted him to stay for the day. Her dream had chosen different course of actions. Instead as Luche turned he was holding his gun and shot her in the chest.

Ada woke up sweating and shaking. These dreams never stopped. Ever since she left Insomnia she was having these dreams, memories turning into nightmares. Sometimes they weren’t memories, but close enough, small details were different, but essentially it was her previous life ending with everyone dying.

There was no chance she would be able to sleep more so she just got out of the bed. She went through her backpack in attempt to unpack and make this place a bit more ‘hers’ but there was nothing in that backpack that could help. The only item that was somehow related to her old life was her phone and it had died on her months ago. She made a mental note to find someone to fix it.

Since there was nothing better to do, Ada walked out. The town was sleeping excluding few guards on the wall and around the entrances. The demons roaming outside the barricades could be heard but by now she was so used to their sound that it didn’t bother her. Walking down the streets, she found her way to the hotel where she saw the Marshal. He was alone, just standing there like a statue. Ada wondered if interrupting him would be a good idea, but apparently, they both had issues sleeping so why not kill time till breakfast.

“Cannot sleep?” The Marshal offered her the bottle he was holding and Ada was going to question his senses for drinking alone in the middle of the night but as she touched the liquid with her lips she realized it was water.

“Nightmares. I used to have them now and then while I was in Insomnia but since the city fell it has been every night.”

“You want to share?” he sounded somehow different. Not like the Marshal but friendlier.

“Not much to share. I dream mostly memories. Things that happened and it all ends messed up. Hanging out with friends, having fun and then suddenly they all die or I die.” Her brain had managed to ruin every single good memory she had and turn them all into parade of broken or burned bodies.

“Oh those.” He agreed as if he was an expert on nightmares. “It ruins everything, doesn’t it? Every single memory you have, good or bad ends up being just a graveyard.”

Ada didn’t answer at first. She didn’t know what to say exactly. He was right of course, everything and everyone she ever loved had turned into zombie trying to kill her.

“You need to let go.” Cor continued since she didn’t answer. “If you don’t let go, it just kills you.” Another pause then he continued again. “If you couldn’t help the people you love, you can help them.” He made a gesture with his hand toward the dark buildings in Lestallum.

Ada opened her mouth to argue with him, but what Libertus told her last night also hit her at the same time. It wasn’t hear fault, and regardless how much guilt she felt about everything, rationally there was nothing she could have done.

“How do you let go?” she asked after they both stood in silence.

“You cannot let go because you had a purpose. Protect the king, win the war, protect your home, protect your friends, make sure they all come home alive. Now the king is dead, the kingdom is gone and there is nothing left. You are wrong. The kingdom is here and needs people with skills, people who can stop them.” He pointed with his head toward the demons roaring outside. “Trust me, I am an expert on the topic of letting go and not letting go.” He gave her a friendly smile and for some reason Ada felt like a massive weight had fallen off her chest. What he was saying wasn’t solving any of her problems of course. Her brain wasn’t going to completely forget everything just because Cor the Immortal said so, although he did manage to hit a spot.

“Thank you, Marshal.” Ada smiled back at him and for first time in months it was an honest smile. Not a sad one or forced one, she was truly feeling better.

“Now you need to do something for me. I promised someone I will train with them before breakfast, but something came up and I will be leaving Lestallum probably until tomorrow or the day after. If you go to the power station, just next to the bridge he should be there around sunrise. His name is Gladio, hard to miss him, bug guy, scars across his face…”

“I met him yesterday.” Ada interrupted the description.

She spent the time before sunrise going around town and chatting with some of the hunters. Ada wondered if she shouldn’t talk with Libertus but common sense won and she decided he won’t like her more for waking him up so early. Instead she just walked up to the power station and waited for Gladio to appear. The man was exactly on time which honestly surprised her. The people around town have complained about the prince’s retainers and she expected him to be fashionably late. He was just on time, probably a bit early.

“You are way too good looking to be Cor.” He was carrying a massive sword with himself, the weapon was probably larger and heavier than Ada.

“He is busy. Told me to keep you company.” Ada pulled one of her knives and tossed it in her hand.

“If I win, you are having breakfast with me.” Gladio chuckled and walked toward the bridge that was between the city and the power station.

Ada laughed, she was sure she would lose, but on the other hand breakfast sounded amazing.

They started slow. Gladio made one attack which Ada hoped is not his best because it honestly was too easy to see. She wrapped once aiming for his throat but he threw her flying away towards the wall.

“If that’s what the glaive is made of, I’m honestly disappointed.” Gladio taunted her, but she ignored him. Taunting each other was what the Glaives did in their free time, that wasn’t going to ruin her concentration.

They fought for probably fifteen minutes, neither of them getting an upper hand. Gladio wasn’t very fast but he was hellishly strong and was good at avoiding her magic attacks. She was trying to find an opening, but it was hard when her opponent was twice her size and every attack was counter attacked with strength she could barely stop. Eventually Ada decided to play dirty. She stopped attacking him and was focusing only on building a spell and avoiding his attacks. Once she was done with the spell she unleashed it on him. The weather around Gladio suddenly changed, snow and wind wrapped around him blocking his visibility.

She could hear him cursing and wrapped towards the storm. She hated this spell because it affected everyone, friend or foe, herself included. For her surprise he still had pretty good instinct where to find her, but this time she was faster. She tripped him making him lose his balance, wrapped again, on top of him as he was falling, her thighs squeezing hard his neck.

As the storm cleared Gladio just stared at her, his head between her legs.

“I’m not sure if I’m aroused right now or scared.” He tapped on the ground. “I will give you that one.”

“Whoaaa that was so good!” they had managed to collect small audience which made Ada feel a bit uncomfortable. She let go of Gladio and gave him a hand to stand up.

“It’s not every day that Gladio falls on his ass.” A bubbly blond boy with camera in his hand came towards them. “Can’t wait to show you the pictures.”

“Prompto, shut up or you are next.” Gladio roared at the younger man.

“Gladi, you are such a bad loser. She won fair and square.” Iris had joined them as well, she seemed in very good spirits for someone who just saw their brother falling flat on his ass.

“Crownsguard zero, Kingsglaive one.” Ada looked confused at Libertus as he said that. She was sure he was too upset with her, but nothing like that was visible on his face. “Even the Marshal was impressed.” He continued.

“I thought he left town?” Ada asked.

“He did but he watched for a bit.” Libertus answered and gave her friendly punch on her shoulder.

“Come on big guy, Iggy made breakfast.” Prompro didn’t seemed concerned with the larger man’s threats. “You guys should join us.”

Ada followed Libertus and the rest in silence. Iris was walking next to her telling her how much she loved to see her fighting and she wanted to learn to fight like that which earned her a disapproving look from Gladio but Ada just winked at the girl.

They didn’t go back to the canteen, but one of the calmer places in town. She hasn’t been there, but for her surprise she saw there were some tables and chairs left. Probably there used to be a restaurant around here or something.

“You are finally here.” A very well-dressed man was standing next to one of the tables, with few baskets which Ada hoped were filled with food.

“Iggy you should have been there to see Gladio getting his as kicked.” Prompto seemed way to happy by the fact his friend lost the fight.

“Even if I was there I can’t exactly see it, Prom.” Just now Ada noticed his eyes. He was wearing glasses but that wasn’t unusual so it didn’t raise her suspicion, but under the glasses she could see heavily scared tissue. “Help me with the food.”

The blond man seemed a bit ashamed of what he said and without protesting helped setting the table. Iris proceeded to introduce the two guys Ada didn’t know. Ignis and Prompto turned out to be two of the prince’s retainers. They had just arrived in Lestallum and were helping with the rebuilding efforts.

“You should open a restaurant.” Ada said as soon as she tried the food. “Honestly that is the best thing I have eaten in my life.”

“I second that.” Prompto added. “There is so much free space around Lestallum now, people will love to try your food!”

“And will be good for moral.” Libertus added.

“It would be hard to find the ingredients.” Ignis objected but nobody else was buying it.

“Make it exclusive! Ignis’ special for the day.” Gladio suggested. “Only the best meats and spices brought to you by the hunters and cooked by chef Ignis. That should be your tag line.”

“It’s too long for a tag line.” Ignis corrected him.

Gladio proceeded to offer even more ridiculous tag lines which the other man just denied.

“Libertus.” Ada turned towards her fellow glaive. “Do you know where I can fix my phone?” she pulled the device from her pocket and showed it to the man.

“I can fix it!” Promto said and pulled the phone from her hand. Ada just stared at the blond as he started dissembling the phone and looking at various parts inside. Couple of minutes later he put it back together and turned it on.

“How did you…” Ada had tried everything she could in order to get it up and running, but she never could. The phone vibrated as all the missed calls and text messages started arriving.

“Hey who are these guys?” Prompto smiled showing her the home screen of her phone. It was an old picture of Ada with Luche, Nyx and Crowe. She opened her mouth to say something but couldn’t.

“Hey didn’t I take this one, when Crowe almost killed me?” Libertus managed to come to her rescue and Ada was once again surprised how much he had changed. He had grown up, he was dealing with things.

“Yeah it was after you and Nyx made that dating site profile for her.” They both laughed.

“Wish I knew she had dating site profile.” Gladio was looking at the picture since everyone was occupied with that now. Libertus gave him a slightly angry look and Ada had to hold her laughter. Crowe would have smacked both of them.

“It was a game we used to play.” Libertus explained. “We would steal each other’s phone and make absolutely ridiculous dating profiles. Crowe almost killed me when we did one for her. In my defense I just had lunch and I couldn’t wrap very fast.”

Ada laughed almost with tears, remembering Libertus and Nyx screaming and wrapping and Crowe shouting after them. Those were good memories. Bitter sweet right now, but she preferred to remember her friends laughing rather than dying.

“Nyx,” Ada pointed at him on the picture since technically only she and Libertus knew who Nyx was, “He stole the captain’s phone and created a profile. It had few hits, but then that guy” she pointed at Luche “Changed it to something of the sort the captain can do anything in under 2 minutes. The messages he started receiving were…terrible.”

“Nyx ended up cleaning shoes for a month and I was made to clean the locker rooms. Somehow Crowe didn’t get a punishment and Luche managed to get your ass out if it.” Libertus explained while laughing very hard. “Somehow Nyx and myself were the only people punished.”

“No that is not true. The captain created a profile for Tredd and honestly I think Tredd would have gladly cleaned shoes.” She wished she had screenshot of what the captain wrote because Tredd had been grumpy for a week after that. It was so hard to believe the Captain was General Glauca given how he treated them.

It was strange feeling, one that she had forgotten completely. Yes, Crowe, Nyx and Luche were gone, one of them probably deserving, but she didn’t feel sad for first time in months. There was nostalgia and she missed them all more than anything, but maybe she had started to move on. She had to find the Marshal to thank him one for the advice and two for setting her up to train with Gladio since none of that would have happened if it wasn’t for Cor the Immortal.

#final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #ffxv #ff15 #cor leonis #luche lazarus #crowe altius #libertus ostium #nyx ulrich #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #prompto argentum #iris amicitia #gladio #prompto #ignis #iris #libertus #my writing

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hamimagines · 7 years

Text

Mr. Brown Eyes (Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader)

This ended up being way longer than it was supposed to and I had to split it into two maybe three parts oops I’m sorry

Masterlist

Request Queue

Free Requests

Warnings: head trauma, anger, teen pregnancy, and the 90s

Request- “SO SINCE YOU DO BASICALLY ANYTHING can u write one with teenage lin and numbers 14 and 55?? thanks, i love your imagines”

14- “You did WHAT?”

55- “That’s it. End of discussion.”

A/N -(The first time I got this I misread the prompt with something about pregnancy but then I couldn’t get the idea out of my head so here you go

This is only my like fourth time writing Lin I need to write him more)

Song- I Like It -- We The Kings Spotify/Youtube

Words- 3,408

The way you’d met Lin had been perfectly imperfect.

You were laying out on the sidewalk outside your school’s front door. It felt nice to just soak up the sun’s rays for a few minutes. Freshman year was stressful, and you needed a moment away from people. No one was bullying you, yet, but it was hard to talk to new people without constantly feeling like you were making a damn fool of yourself.

You just wanted to think for a bit, but then a sharp pain shot through your brain, rendering you incapable of thinking of anything. You ears started to ring, and you sat up groggily.

“Oh...oh my god!” You heard a voice. “Holy shit, I mean-fuck. Are-are you okay? Oh my god, I killed you.”

You squinted your eyes open. Suddenly, the sun wasn’t comforting and warm anymore. It was too bright and made you nauseous. A blurry face appeared in front of you. You saw one hand-like shape reaching toward you.

Your vision started to clear, and you saw a pair of concerned brown eyes staring at you. You blinked, and the face attached to them came in focus. “I’m so fucking sorry.” The stranger's hands were fluttering around your head lightly. He was a lanky guy with a head full of bushy dark brown hair.

“What happened?” you asked. Your voice didn’t sound like your own.

“I didn’t see you laying in front of the door, so when I opened it, it hit your head pretty hard.” The man pulled his hand away and winced. “Shit. I think you’re bleeding. Can you stand?”

The nausea in your stomach said no, but you were tougher than that. “Yeah, I think so.” Mr. Soft Brown Eyes nodded and grabbed one of your hands. He braced his other arm against your back and pulled you up. The second you were up, you keeled over and vomited. To your surprise, Mr. Brown Eyes didn’t back away disgusted. He held onto you and made sure you didn’t fall over. Your knees gave out so your hero tightened his grip on you.

“Okay. Okay, you’re alright.” You grabbed onto his bicep trying to balance yourself. “Here. It’s clean I promise.” He handed you a tissue that he pulled from his pocket. You quickly wiped your mouth with it. Part of you was embarrassed that you had just thrown up in front of a cute boy, but you were so queasy you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Mr. Brown Eyes looked down at his watch. “My friend has a car and an off period right now. We’ll take you to the hospital.” He pulled a phone with a long antenna out and started dialing. You couldn’t say anything, so you leaned into him for support and closed your eyes.

You heard the man say something about meeting him by the car and then he hung up. “Hey,” he said gently, “Try to keep your eyes open.” You slowly pulled your eyes open. It felt like there were weights hanging off your eyelashes, and the sun was so bright. Mr. Brown Eyes pulled another tissue out of his pocket, and you wondered how many this guy kept around. He must have seen your confusion because he gave you a lopsided smile and said,” It always good to be prepared.”

You nodded, but then motion made you feel dizzy so you quickly leaned against him again.

“Is it alright if I carry you?” your stranger asked.

“Yeah,” you replied simply.

“Okay.” He pressed the tissue against your head. “Hold that there if you can,” he commanded. You placed your palm over his hand which stalled for a moment before slipping out from underneath you. He bent slightly, picking you up princess-style. You felt sick at the motion, but once you were safe in his arms, your stomach settled a bit.

“I’m gonna ask you questions like they do in the movies, alright?” He started to walk forward.

You laughed ever-so-slightly. “Okay.”

“What’s your full name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you replied.

“Cool. I’m Lin,” he added. “What year is it?”

“1995.”

“Where are we right now?”

“Manhattan.”

“Who’s the president?”

“Bill Clinton,” you said in a fake Southern accent.

Lin laughed and nodded, “Congrats, you passed. Alright, I’m gonna set you down now. You can lean against the car if you need. Steve should be here soon.” Lin set you gently on your feet. He checked your wound before meeting your eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Nauseous, dizzy, like I want to take a fucking nap.” Laughter bubbled out of Lin, and you found yourself smiling too. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. Swear all you want; I don’t fucking care.”

Another teenage boy came jogging up to you and Lin. “Hi,” he said, slightly out of breath. He was about as tall as Lin but not quite as thin. His hair and skin were both much lighter than Lin’s. “I’m assuming this is for you.” He handed you an ice pack. You smiled gratefully and pressed it against your head.

“Okay let’s go, Steve,” Lin said nervously. You were absolutely certain that he was more nervous about your state than you were. Steve ran around to the driver side and unlocked his car. Once he could, Lin opened the backseat door and helped you sit in the middle. He climbed in next to you.

“Seat belts?” Steve asked from the front seat.

“Oh my god, will you just drive?” Lin said impatiently.

Steve paused for a moment before clearing his throat. “Seat belts?” he said again. Lin groaned dramatically and rolled his eyes, but you were giggling quietly. Lin helped you buckle in and then did the same to himself. “Thank you, sir.” Steve smiled at you two through the rear view mirror and started his car.

“Here let me.” Lin grabbed the ice pack from you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and bent his elbow so he could press the cool bag against your head. You laid your head on his chest and closed your eyes. “Just make sure you don’t fall asleep,” he whispered.

“Mhm,” you answered half-heartedly. Lin chuckled, and you felt it vibrate through his chest. Maybe it was the head trauma, or the blood loss even, but you felt very calm in Lin’s arms.

Steve and Lin’s hilarious banter kept you distracted in the waiting room of the Urgent Care section, and before you knew it, your name was being called by the attendant. Lin stood up with you. “Can I go with her?” he asked her.

“Are you family or a guardian?” Lin shook his head no. “Then I’m sorry, dear, but you can’t.”

“I don’t mind,” you interjected quickly.

The nurse gave you a sad look. “Sorry, dear. If you’re not eighteen, it’s not your call to make.”

You looked down. “Oh, okay.”

“I’ll be waiting out here when you’re done,” Lin said with a comforting smile.

“Okay.” You grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze before turning away. The nurse, whose name you learned was Jackie, put her hand around your shoulder and guided you into a room where she started to take your temperature and blood pressure.

“Have you called your parents yet?”

“No...” you said sheepishly. That probably should have been the first thing you did.

Jackie slid a paper and pen to you while the arm cuff loosened. “How about you write their number down while I enter all this into the database, and then you can tell me how this happened.” You grabbed the pen and scribbled the number down.

You explained what had happened and Nurse Jackie chuckled. “Aw, what a sweet boy,” she commented.

“Yeah,” you agreed, smiling slightly.

“Well Y/N, looking at your cut, you’ll probably need stitches. We should also check for a concussion after that, but for now, we can move you into a room to make a little more comfortable.”

“I’d like that.”

Jackie had you follow her through a few hallways to an empty hospital room. “I can give you some nausea pills now, or if we wait for your parents, I can give it to you through an IV.”

Your stomach lurched at the thought of ingesting anything. “I think I’ll just wait for my parents.”

Jackie nodded and told you that a doctor would come in soon so look at your cut. You were alone in the room for almost ten minutes, bored out of your cracked skull, before there was a knock on the door. Lin stepped into the room.

Your face brightened at the sight of him. “Hi!”

“Hey, they said I could come back here now. Steve’s back at school. How are you?” He walked to one side of the bed you were relaxing on.

“Fine. I need stitches, and I probably have a concussion, according to the nurse. Once my parents get here, I’ll have some nausea medication.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said seriously.

“Don’t worry about it! It’s not your fault I decided to lay down in front of a door like an idiot.” You grabbed his forearm to reassure him. Lin met your eyes a smiled.

There was knock on the door, and you quickly pulled your hand away. “Guess who’s here, Y/N?” Jackie walked into the room, followed closely by your parents. Your mom came to your side and put a hand on your shoulder gently.

“I’m so sorry,” Lin started right away, “This is totally my fault.”

“No. You shut up.” You pointed at him before turning toward your parents. “It’s not his fault. This is Lin. He’s the one who got me to the hospital so quickly.”

“Thank you for that.” Your dad stuck his hand out and shook Lin’s

Jackie explained the situation to your parents while your dad filled out some insurance paperwork. Lin stood next to you the whole time, listening intently to the nurse. You watched him without his knowledge. His oversized T-shirt made him look thin, but he’d carried you across half the campus so you knew he must have some muscle under there. Those brown eyes were so soft and kind, and when they flickered to you he smiled.

The six stitches weren’t terribly painful, and the medication settled your stomach, but you did have a very serious concussion. That meant two weeks of brain rest, maybe more if your condition wasn’t improving. Lin felt terrible because that meant you’d miss homecoming, your first homecoming. You kept insisting that it wasn’t his fault, but he still felt guilty.

Brain rest was awful. No TV or computer, no reading, no writing, no homework. Your entertainment options were watching paint dry or watching grass grow, except you weren’t even allowed to go outside if the sun was too bright.

Your days were incredibly boring, except for when Lin came over after school. Sometimes Steve would show up too, but most of the time it was just you and Lin. He would tell you stories about what you missed at school, and when he ran out of fresh drama, he would make stories up just to keep you entertained.

You got to know Lin extremely well during that time, well enough to develop a crush. You’d never admit that to him at the time, though. It was nice to know that you’d have at least one friend when you went back to school, even if you knew he’d only ever be a friend.

You were pondering these thoughts late one Saturday night. It was the day of homecoming, and you needed anything to distract you from the thought of Lin dancing with other girls. He hadn’t mentioned anyone else in your past two weeks of friendship, but you were convinced you’d go back to school to find out that every freshman girl had danced on him and he’d found a girlfriend.

You groaned angrily and shoved your pillow against your face. Having a crush was bad enough on its own, but having a crush a not being allowed to distract yourself with anything? Outright torture. You were kicking yourself for letting Lin and his soft brown eyes work their way into your heart.

There was a knock on the door, but you didn’t move to answer it. You were too busy wallowing in self-pity.

“Y/N!” your mother called to your from the front door. “Someone’s here for you!” You rolled your eyes and got out of bed. As you approached the door, a familiar gangly figure came into focus.

“Lin? What are you doing here?” It was dark outside so the light from your house seemed to make his skin glow.

Lin swung an arm out behind him silently. You brow creased, and you stepped outside. Gathered on your front lawn was a small group of students from your school. There were about ten or twelve, some you didn’t even recognize. All of them were wearing suits or dresses.

“I felt so bad that you had to miss homecoming because of me,” You rolled your eyes, but Lin just barreled forward with his speech,”So I decided to bring you your own homecoming. No bright flashing lights, no loud music, just Steve’s mixtape and some calm dancing. A concussion friendly homecoming in your front yard.”

Steve stepped forward and smiled at you, clapping Lin on the back. “Lin here could barely keep his mouth shut because he was so excited, but I told him it had to be a surprise.”

You looked at Lin again. He had a goofy grin on his face, and you noticed his suit was just slightly too big for him. It was adorable.

“I’m not really dressed for this.” You gestured to your flannel pants and faded summer camp T-shirt. “I’ll just go change quick.”

“Wait!” Lin said quickly. He grabbed your wrist and turned you back around to face him. “Sorry!” He loosened his grip quickly. “I just...” Lin looked down sheepishly as he spoke,”I’ve waited almost two weeks for this. Please, don’t make me wait any longer.”

You bit your lip and nodded. Lin clapped excitedly and, to your surprise, ran away from you. He disappeared around the corner of your house. Within seconds, you were flooded with soft yellow light, tame enough that it didn’t give you a headache. Lin came back into your view with a huge grin. All the other students were gazing up at the house and few trees that were covered in fairy lights.

“When did you do all this? I’ve been home this whole week!”

“Your mom helped me make sure you were distracted.”

She was still standing in the doorway. You turned to her with a look of shock. “Don’t stay out too late,” was all she said before she winked and closed the door. Steve walked over to a stool in your driveway and popped a cassette into the boom box that sat on top of it.

Lin was at your side again. He took both of your hands in his and pulled you slightly closer. “Do you like it?”

You gasped, “Do I like it? Lin, this is amazing! It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I love it.”

Lin bit his lip and stared at you with his big brown eyes, making it hard for your lungs to do their job. “I’m glad. Shall we dance?”

“Definitely.” Lin held his arm out and you hooked yours through it so he could escort you the few steps to where everyone had formed a dance circle.

“Now remember,” Steve said in a “fatherly” voice, “No strenuous activities. I made sure to put plenty of slow dance songs on here. You’ll be in good hands,” he said with a wink. Part of you didn’t want to think about the implications of what he said, but then Lin blushed and your heart exploded into schoolgirl crush mush. It was disgusting how much Lin affected you, you thought.

You danced for a bit, with Lin and Steve checking on your state every few minutes, making sure you didn’t have a headache and whatnot. You met a lot of kids from school who’d heard of you even though you’d never met them. Apparently, the story of Lin and your concussion had spread pretty quickly.

Eventually, one of Steve’s slow songs flooded your ears. You panicked and searched around. Steve had already locked around his girlfriend Abby. Everyone was already dancing with someone. Your heart sunk, but then you felt hands around your waist.

Lin turned you around to face him. Despite yourself, your jaw dropped slightly.

“Surprised to see me?” he joked.

“I thought for sure you would have a date or someone else to dance with.”

Lin chuckled quietly and pulled you closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck and started to sway with him. “Why would I bring a date to a dance I made for you?”

You shrugged and look at Lin’s feet. “I don’t know.”

“Besides, no one can pull off the PJ look like you.”

You laughed and hit him in the chest playfully. “Shut up.”

Lin pressed his forehead against yours smiling. “I’m really glad I met you, Y/N,” he whispered.

“I’m glad I met you too,” you whispered back. Your heart was beating so hard that you were sure he could feel it considering how close your bodies were. Lin took his right hand off your waist and cupped your cheek. It sent shivers down your spine. Twinkling lights were reflecting in his brown eyes which were flickering between both of yours.

“Would you be mad if I kissed you right now?”

Your breath caught in your throat at the sudden question. As your brain raced to catch up to your mouth, you rambled out a response. “Probably not.” You felt your entire body heat up and weight pressing into your chest.

Lin cracked a charming smile. “Is that a no?”

You shrugged and tilted your head upward so your lips were just a hair away from touching. No longer waiting for an answer, Lin kissed you gently, like he was still nervous about your reaction. You pushed back, taking his bottom lip between yours.

Lin pulled away and looked at you. You held your fingers up to your lips and giggled. “Mad?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Nope,” you managed to say before he pulled you in again.

Despite how nervous and awkward he was normally, Lin was surprisingly confident when it came to kissing. At least it seemed that way when he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer. Lin’s kiss left you breathless, and when he pulled away again, you kept your eyes closed for a moment to savor the phantom feeling of his lips on yours.

“Y/N,” You looked into the deep brown eyes you’d grown so fond of over the last two weeks. “Will you be my girlfriend?” Lin asked.

Your initial reaction was to laugh out of sheer excitement and nerves. Lin’s face fell, but you quickly corrected yourself, “Yes! Yes, I will be your girlfriend! Of course!”

Lin grinned bigger than you’d ever seen and pulled you into a tight hug. All the student you had come from school started clapping.

You never thought you’d get your first boyfriend wearing pajamas in your front yard after he’d given you stitches and a concussion, but there were a lot of things that you’d never thought would happen with Lin.

Things like sitting in an empty bathtub almost two years later clutching a positive pregnancy test while Lin sat on your bathroom floor with his head in his hands.

Highschool, right?

#hamilton #hamilton imagine #imagines blog #lin manuel miranda #lin manuel miranda fanfiction #lin manuel miranda imagine #lin manuel miranda x reader #lin manuel imagine #lin x reader #hamilcast x reader #hamilcast imagine #hamilcast fanfiction

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why-mr-spook · 7 years

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This was posted on AO3 yesterday, but here it is too! A Spirk nightmare, comfort fic.

Air. There is no air.

But there is Spock and Bones, and eventually peace.

Jim woke slowly, disoriented for a moment. It felt as if he was stationary, and the world was the thing coming into view, settling itself around him. His bedroom was a tip, and his feet were cold; his window was hanging open and the old house had never retained any heat anyway. He sat up, feet dangling over the side of his bed but not quite touching the floor. Not yet. He used to not mind being short. When his mom got back from the stars, she always cradled him to her and told him that he’d always be her little baby. If he could stay small for her, she might just hold him forever- stop him from growing up.

Growing up was terrible. He’d realised that a long time ago. Sam had grown up, taller and smarter and stronger. Sam had grown up and he’d left. Left Jim to the empty cans and bitter rages and the cold, cold house. Jim finally slid off his mattress, shivering down to the core of him. It was winter now, without a doubt; another month had come and gone without a word from his mom, and the old wooden floorboards beneath his feet were so cold they hurt. He’d be on Tarsus IV soon, and it would be warmer there. The sky would be brighter, the blankets would be thicker, the food would be better. He’d be free of Frank, if nothing else.

He padded towards the open window, hanging out over the rooftop and letting the cool winds bring tears to his eyes. It was okay. It was all okay. The cold was good- the pain was good. It reminded him he was alive, and that’s what his mom had always said. Bad was good, because bad meant there was good to come. He doubted her sincerity, because his dad dying had been bad and he’d been waiting all his life for the good to follow up. At one point, he would have said that his mom’s brief stints at home had been the good. Maybe he was as selfish as Frank said, but it wasn’t good enough, not anymore. Not for him. Half of him wanted to just follow Sam’s example- right then- bound out of the window and flee into the night. Only he didn’t have that much longer to wait before he was gone, so he’d withstand the bad a little longer. Tarsus would be the good.

Jim leaned out of the window, into the cold, and he inhaled deeply. There - those brisk, unrelenting winds - they brought hope.

Jim sat bolt upright, his head spinning as he tried to take in his quarters and how very far it was from the dusty old farmhouse of his youth. His quarters were warm- warmer than average, in fact, thanks to his Vulcan boyfriend. They’d eventually found a happy compromise- Jim had to sleep mostly nude, which he mostly did anyway, but he could generally enjoy the whole night through without overheating. Well, nightmares aside he could. Reality dawned on him quickly, nausea and dizziness dissipating with the well-practiced circular rubs to his back. He’d woken Spock, it seemed. Of course he did. He always woke Spock- Spock was the lightest sleeper on the Enterprise, lighter even than Jim.

“Ashayam.” A hand rested against his shoulder, asking him to lean back into the touch and let Spock take his weight. Jim resisted. A part of him was still searching for that brilliant, cold wind in the middle of the night. It was about the only part of the dream he could remember. Dream, or memory? He couldn’t remember. There were so many nights between Sam leaving and his departure for Tarsus that he’d spent at that window, daring himself to leave. To run. Hell, on the bad nights, even to just jump and end it all.

“No wind. There’s no air.” He mused, slumping as all the tension in his muscles drained out. “Sorry. What’s the time?”

“It is half past three, Jim.” Spock sounded concerned and tired, and Jim felt terrible for waking him. “You should attempt to return to sleep.” He didn’t bother pointing out that Spock hadn’t included himself in that little suggestion, because it only made him feel worse.

“Yeah.” It had been past midnight before he’d fallen asleep anyway, too wrapped up in Spock and the distractions he presented away from what the rest of the day would bring. “Yeah, I’ll try.” Though he didn’t fancy the chances he’d actually drift off again. If he closed his eyes, he was back in the farmhouse, and maybe Frank was just downstairs drinking and shouting at the TV. Maybe, maybe Jim would hear those awful floorboards – that splintered him any chance they got, so he’d not gone barefoot in that house for a long time – they’d creak, and Frank would be coming upstairs to drag him out of bed, just to have someone to shout at. To be called lazy for sleeping.

Jim lay back down, staring up at the ceiling, until Spock settled beside him, reaching for his hand in the space between them.

“Spock?” Jim rolled onto his side, his gaze tracing his boyfriend’s silhouette in the dark. He couldn’t really make out too much without any light whatsoever, but he could see Spock’s eyes were open still. “Was there ever a time in your life that you felt…” He tried to search for the right word, but the closest had to be, “free?”

“There is a great deal of philosophy and semantics around your statement, Jim-”

“No, I know. I just mean… exhilarated and independent. Like the next choice you make is entirely your own, and you’re yourself and nothing more.” Like the feeling of October winds in your face, and your feet on a crumbling old window ledge, and in that very second being able to just jump. Only, Jim couldn’t tell him that. Not Spock.

Spock was silent for a long moment. “I do not know, Jim.”

Jim turned back to lay flat, averting his gaze back to the ceiling and ignoring the pit of disappointment in his chest. “Okay. Never mind.” He wasn’t sure what he’d wanted Spock to say, anyway. The Enterprise with Jim was probably the furthest thing from free in his whole life. “G’night, Spock.”

“Good night, Jim.”

Jim didn’t fall back to sleep. After a while of trying, he’d let his hand slip from Spock’s, turned onto his side with his back to his boyfriend. He should have just admitted he couldn’t sleep and spent the morning productively, with Spock. But he couldn’t face morning yet, and he didn’t want Spock to worry about him, so he turned over and just pretended. His mind wouldn’t shut down, however hard he tried, but the time was long and slow and it felt like more than three hours before the artificial sunrise commenced and he turned back over, agonised at not having moved for so long. Who was he kidding, Spock probably knew he’d not slept.

“Jim, regarding today. If it would be preferable to you, I can assume your responsibilities. Doctor McCoy has expressed his desire for you to complete your quarterly physical. This may exhaust you enough to sleep the remainder of the day away.”

Jim didn’t doubt that ‘may’ actually translated to a precise percentage that Spock had calculated to Jim’s all too human need for regular sleep, but he’d taken to vague language for some reason recently. Spock meant well, always did. If only it was that simple. If he did go to Bones, there was no guaranteeing that he would sleep peacefully. No, it was safer in the Captain’s chair; quiet and surrounded by people who wouldn’t let him screw up. Not that Bones was a bad influence, but he had a habit of letting Jim get away with things that Uhura would probably slap him for. Hell, Bones was a unique combination of a total hard ass and just the weakest when it came to Jim.

“Thanks, Spock, but no.” He sounded as far from himself as possible to, robotic and gravelly and his throat sort of ached from the night before, but he didn’t regret it for a second. “I’ll be fine. Just… just don’t let me be alone. Okay? I need you with me today.”

“Of course, Jim.”

Jim didn’t think it was all that simple either- Spock would probably have to rearrange lab work and a meeting and, hell all sorts, but he would and he wouldn’t complain. No, that was Jim’s job. To complain and take and never give anything back. He wasn’t entirely sure, great sex aside, why Spock was with him. But then a hand curled around his neck, pulling his head closer to his boyfriend, and Spock pressed a kiss against his head the way Jim did for him if he was ever in sickbay. Jim appreciated it, leaned into the touch, let his hand reach into Spock’s top- not permitting himself to feel an ounce of guilt for it. He wasn’t sick, but the sentiment was more comforting than he’d anticipated it could be.

“I love you, Spock.” He whispered, curling his fingers deeper into the fabric and revelling in the way Spock’s arms enveloped him, wrapping around him easily and holding them close together. Hugs from Spock were… indescribable. Rare unless they were, well, horizontal in bed, and always appreciated. Bones said the only reason he tolerated Jim and Spock’s relationship was that it meant Jim didn’t find his way to his bed anymore, now that he had a Vulcan to cuddle instead. But Jim had barely done that since their Academy days, and he wasn’t exactly touch starved anyway. Despite his childhood, there’d always been someone. He’d never gone too long without companionship, in some sense.

“Taluhk nash-veh k'dular, Jim.” Spock’s fingers drifted past his collar, touching at the skin of his neck so subtly Jim might have forgotten he was a touch telepath. Not that he minded. Spock didn’t have to ask at this point, or it’d make for a pretty difficult relationship. “I am concerned for you, Jim. Your mental turbulence has not been such for 5.34 months.”

“I know. Well, no I didn’t, but I knew it had been a while.” He was actually quite impressed with himself. Although, perhaps that was giving himself too much credit.

“I understand my attempts to dissuade you from active duty will go unheeded, so I must ask that you trust me, Jim. If you begin to feel overwhelmed, at any point, alert me and I will offer my assistance.”

“Yes.” He agreed, before he’d really considered what it meant. “But only if you trust me too. You don’t need to make up excuses to talk to me or check up on me. Just… be there, and I’ll say if I need you.” There was that selfishness again. He didn’t want to know the trouble he was putting Spock to.

“Your health is paramount to my satisfaction, Jim. To delegate some of my duties to remain at your side is not trouble, and nor is your existence.” Another kiss against his hair. “You may use the bathroom first. I will prepare your coffee.”

Spock had learned not to both forcing food on him, not on days like this. Jim wasn’t sure if he’d worked it out from more than one failed attempt, or if Bones had just outright told him not to, but he appreciated it nonetheless. That, and the obvious attempt at consolation. Spock was, really, too sweet to him.

His knees protested when he dropped to them, already too battered and bruised and tight with old cuts and scars. But that didn’t matter- pain was irrelevant – because there was water, right in front of him. He scooped some into his canteen first, before he could allow himself to get distracted, because there were sick kids who needed this more than even he did, and if something went wrong and they couldn’t get back, their deaths would be on him. Only when he was sure all his possessions were strapped securely to him, did he fling himself forward into the flow. God, it was icy cold and he’d probably regret this soon, sopping wet on his trek back to their hiding spot.

But the pounding of his heart, and the rapidly numbing effect on his aching body once the initial shock was over, that was unbeatable. He grinned, despite it all. Despite everything. It had been a relatively good day in terms of food, and now water too. He sank down to his chin, the force of the water daring him to just let go of the rocks around him, let the flow take him away, submerge him, let the water consume him. That’s all it would take- to just uncurl his fingers from around one of the rocks he’d collapsed onto. To let the water wash all the air from his lungs. He wondered if that’s what it would feel like to die in space. To choke and scream, for every cell in his body to cry out for air but to not get any. It sounded horrific, objectively. It had to be quicker than starving though, right? And less painful than watching another kid just give up in the night and fall into their final sleep.

Jim wondered if he’d ever properly sleep again. Even if they made it off Tarsus, could he ever close his eyes and not expect pain to greet him? He ducked his head under the water, his hair whipping around his head. But those kids… the four that remained, waiting for him, obeying his commands, curling against him at night when they were too scared to sleep too. He couldn’t let them down. However much he wanted to just let go and submerge himself, he couldn’t. He broke surface again, gasping in air that tasted stale. But air nonetheless.

“Spock!” He gasped suddenly, sitting up straight. Not in the water, not holding on to rocks and avoiding touching the moss that made him itch for days, but in his chair. The Captain’s chair, no less. He knew that, of course. He was on the Enterprise, and Spock was in front of him, his eyes searching Jim’s rapidly.

“Air- there’s no air.”

There was, and he inhaled it sharply… not Tarsus air, no, but the recycled air was still not fresh enough, not earth. Not cold, unforgiving winds beating at his lungs. The rushing water past his ears was gone as though it had never been there at all. The bridge was unaffected by his waking nightmare, working and talking quietly under the thrum of engines and the ship being so very alive. Only Chekov and Sulu were glancing over their shoulders at him, though trying hard not to be obvious about it. Jim stopped looking, focusing on his Science Officer and the concern in his dark eyes.

“Sorry. Sorry, I’m fine. What time is it?”

“It is 11.55, Captain.” Spock replied dutifully, but he looked the furthest thing from reassured. Jim felt the same, and he swore he could still taste the waters of Tarsus in the back of his throat.

“That’s late enough for lunch, right?” He stood up, shaky for only a moment before he forced himself to get a grip. He’d walked for miles on Tarsus- ran and limped and made himself keep on going through all sorts of injuries and weathers and terrains. He could make it to their quarters. “C’mon Spock. Sulu? You can take the conn for a while right?”

“Yes sir.” Sulu turned briefly, offering him a lazy salute.

Jim tried to smile in return, but he couldn’t quite manage it. There was nothing to worry about, anyway, they were only on course for Starbase nine, and Jim trusted Sulu with the ship more than anyone but Spock and Scotty. At least he could fly the damn thing out of danger, should any occur. Not that any would. He was just a worrier. No, he wasn’t. He was fine, just fine. He hurried into the turbolift, Spock at his heel, and let himself take a deep breath as the doors slid closed.

“Captain, this is the second time today you have complain of an absence of air. I strongly believe you should amend our course for medbay and explain your symptoms to Doctor McCoy.”

“No, I’m fine. Honestly, Spock. I just… I just let my thoughts wander a bit, and that’s not something Bones can fix.” Nor could he just walk into Bones’ office and declare his mouth tasted like the icy waters of a planet he’d not seen since he was a kid, and the taste was sickening. He wanted to wash it away, drink so much bourbon that it was all he could taste for weeks. “Please, can we just… I just need a break.”

He knew the moment that Spock’s resolve broke, and he gave in to Jim’s plea. “Very well.” He acquiesced quietly. “If this occurs again, I will escort you to medbay myself.”

Jim didn’t doubt it. He nodded mutely, stepping out onto the corridor and making his way back to their quarters. It wouldn’t happen again. He wouldn’t let it. He was going to keep his mind so busy it wouldn’t have chance to wander, and then he couldn’t have another weird flashback and he wouldn’t think about the air in his lungs.

Their quarters were just as they’d been earlier that morning. Spock had tidied while he’d been getting ready for the day, so there was nothing to stop them sitting right down at the table and getting some lunch for them both. Only, Jim still wasn’t hungry. Not for food. He wanted to wash that awful taste away- and he knew exactly how.

Spock’s back hit the wall before he had time to utilise that infamous Vulcan strength, and Jim’s mouth was on his neck before he’d uttered his first complaint.

“Jim- it is lunchtime-”

“Exactly! A whole twelve hours since we last fucked.” His hand found its way south, his lips returning to Spock’s pulse point and nibbling, licking, that delectable Vulcan scent. “Twelve hours too long, don’t you think?”

“Jim. I believe you are emotionally compromised and thus to allow you to-“ Spock’s words by no means matched his body's reaction, and despite his Vulcan strength his hands did little more than just rest on Jim’s shoulders, as if telling him he could push back at any moment. “To continue this would be-“

“Much appreciated, thanks sweetheart.” To get that taste out of his mouth; to replace any memory of Tarsus with the sight and sounds of Spock. The way his fingers gripped Jim’s skin, the way he tasted better than anyone Jim had ever fucked before, how he fought back groans and failed desperately under Jim’s ministrations. Maybe it was selfish of Jim, but he knew Spock would do this for him, and he refused to let himself think too hard about it or he’d lose all motivation and stop.

“Great. Don’t think. Just lie back and think of Starfleet.”

The thing about dying was, it sucked. Not just for being alone, separated from the love of his life by glass he couldn’t break if he tried- if he wanted. It was the way breathing got harder, and his cells were on fire and his head went light and his vision blurred, and his lungs begged him to do something and save himself. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t suck in that necessary oxygen. His laboured breaths didn’t seem to be doing anything to alleviate the burning in his veins, and his hand against the glass was so weak it took everything he had to just hold it in place. He couldn’t let it fall – he deserved that much, at least. If his hand slipped down, if he wasn’t strong enough to hold it in place, he truly would be alone as he died. He was scared, too scared to face that. He needed to know Spock was just there, behind the glass, and in another life their hands would be entwined as Jim slipped into his last sleep.

Jim woke, and before he could even breathe in, he threw up. There was nothing he could do to fight the urge- no time to lean over the bed or stagger to the bathroom. He simply sat up and lost the contents of his stomach in a violent, seemingly unending wave of nausea. At some point, Spock appeared at his side, resting a hand against his back and rubbing in small circles until Jim managed to stop, tears streaming down his face as he tried to catch his breath. His stomach and throat were both agonising, and his mouth tasted vile, even despite the water Spock helped him sip slowly.

“A-again. Happened again.” He fumbled around the words, burying his head into his hands as Spock collected the disgusting blankets from his lap and deposited them into the washing. He returned with a replicated tub that Jim honestly didn’t think he’d need now, but accepted anyway. Then a damp towel nudged between his hands, pushing them aside, trailing softly across his mouth and neck.

“Jim, allow me to call for Doctor McCoy.”

Jim nodded morosely, hiding his face again. He couldn’t stop thinking about the things he’d seen. No air. The rushing wind at his childhood bedroom window. The stale, unsatisfying air of Tarsus. The burning failure of his lungs in Engineering. He was going insane, without a doubt this time.

“McCoy here. This better be good.”

“Please report to the Captain’s quarters, Doctor, with a med-kit.”

“Spock? What’s happened?”

“I do not believe the Captain is in immediate danger, Doctor. He has taken ill.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Spock. On my way.” Bones replied bitterly, and Jim hated himself for causing a fuss. For waking up his friend. Jim was just a little shit who couldn’t cope with his own nightmares. Pretty extraordinary nightmares though they were, it was still positively shameful. He was a grown man. It was cruel that, even now, when they weren’t crammed together in the same room at the Academy, he was still dragged a reluctant Bones from his sleep.

“Jim, you must breathe.” Spock’s hand lay at his back, still, warm and guiding despite being stationary. Jim followed the sensation, the warmth against what otherwise felt unnaturally cold to him. There was an odd, hollow sensation within him. Like all those nightmares – Iowa and Tarsus and death – had drained the very life out of him. It was only Spock’s quiet companionship, his solemn instructions, his skin pressed against Jim’s- no doubt skirting his thoughts or pushing forward calm, or both. Whatever he was attempting, he didn't have enough time for it to work before Bones was there, sweeping into the room as if he owned it.

There was a moment, a brief second, when their eyes met. Bones kneeled before Jim, scanning and barking out responses to Spock’s articulate summary of Jim’s issues thus far, and he looked up and caught Jim’s blank gaze. Bones looked scared for him, and that terrified Jim more than anything else. He squeezed Spock’s wrist a little tighter.

“You need to come into medbay for a scan, Jim. Something is trying to trigger your survival instincts, and I don’t know how or why. This isn’t a panic attack, it’s just an attack. C’mon, Kid, keep breathing –”

Jim couldn’t. His lungs were starving and his cells were burning, but every motion he made to breathe was helpless. His throat had constricted, and Bones was jabbing him with hypos that should have been opening his airways and allowing him to breathe.

“- needs to breathe -.” Bones said, and Jim stopped panicking and started feeling the hazy welcoming sensation of passing out approaching him. “- emergency, I know Spock! Pass me -!” Bones sounded worried, angry, desperate and Jim had a distant urge to take his hand. He wanted Bones to know that he didn’t mind. That he’d welcome the peace, this time. It was completely different. Before, he’d been alone and scared, unable to touch. This time, he was joined by his boyfriend and his best friend, and they held him tightly, and nothing else could touch him through that warmth. He couldn’t feel the ice grip of the end, as he slipped into darkness.

Medbay was better than hospital, Jim secretly thought- even if he’d never dared share that with Bones, lest his ego start to rival Jim’s own. Maybe it was just tribute to how traumatic he’d found his time at hospitals over the years, but there was something about Bones’ sickbay that was less panic-inducing and more calming. It could be put down to just his best friend’s presence, and the familiar gentility of Nurse Chapel and, occasionally, Doctor M’Benga speaking quietly down the ward. There were other factors too, that most people probably wouldn’t pay much attention to. For one, hospitals were often harsh and bright. But sickbay was dim when it could afford to be, restful and mostly quiet. It didn’t smell harsh and clinical either – more like the rest of the ship did, which was a comfort in itself. Jim was most appeased by the company he kept in sickbay. Unlike his previous stints in hospitals, lonely and miserable, he was never alone in sickbay. If not Bones sat beside his bed, gruffly insulting him until he drifted off to sleep like they were back at the academy, it was Spock- of course. Spock, who could occasionally be convinced to at least sit on the bed beside Jim and stroke his hair until he slept. When duty called Spock away, Jim was joined by someone else. His yeoman, occasionally, to play checkers. Other crew members and friends – Nyota, Hikaru, Scotty.

Jim woke slowly, he thought, and then blinked himself into consciousness. He could breathe, he first noticed. There were no wires or oxygen masks or anything horrific like that. It occurred to his, secondly, that he hadn’t dreamed either. There had been no awful nightmare snapping him awake, constricting his throat with panic and bile.

“Welcome back sunshine.” Bones said gruffly, and Jim blinked up at him in confusion. Bones ignored his gaze, focusing instead on the tricorder he was running over him. It was Spock who stepped up to the bed, taking Jim’s hand.

“Ashayam, you look much improved.”

“I feel it.” Jim agreed and, to his surprise, speaking didn’t hurt. He felt rejuvenated inside and out, and put it down to the expertise of his Doctor. “What the hell happened?”

The Doctor and Spock shared an uneasy look, the sort of look that made Jim’s muscles clench in preparation to stand and fight. Bones and Spock didn’t get along and they didn’t work together well – not unless Jim was in real danger. He had been, technically, as far as he could recall – but they should have gone back to normal by now. He was fine, clearly.

“What’s the last thing you remember, Jimmy?” Bones asked, finally meeting Jim’s gaze as he continued to scan him.

“I was – I’d had that nightmare, and Spock called for you, and I couldn’t breathe- I blacked out.”

“Before that, Jim. Recall the events of the last few days, if you can.”

Jim frowned, chewed his lip but nodded steadily. “Okay.” Purely because he was confused, and because he’d never seen Bones and Spock look quite so united in a hopeless sort of worry. “Before that, I’d had another flashback on the bridge. We left the bridge and I- we-” He smirked. “Well, you know. I needed a distraction.” And the faint blush tinging Spock’s high cheekbones now were a delightful reminder of how he’d looked from Jim’s position on the floor. “And I’d had a dream the night before, too, about my childhood bedroom. Why?”

“Before then, Kid?”

Jim stared in confusion, unsure what exactly Bones wanted from him. Spock squeezed his hand, lightly, as if urging him to really think. So Jim did just that, furrowing his brow as he tried to move through the fog of memory to recall fact.

“We’d been planet side on Mylasa, for the geologists.” Finally, an emotion other than concern graced his companion’s faces. Their recognition was no, unfortunately, positive. “Spock was heading the mission- I went down to take a look. We went for a stroll, then went back to the ship.” The haziness around his memories was, frankly, disturbing. He glared defensively. “Are you going to bother explaining what’s going on, yet, or do I have to carry on playing recall?”

“Mylasa was not, as previously believed, uninhabited.” Spock explained quietly. “The lifeforms we encountered on the planet were of superior intelligence to our own, and saw us as an underdeveloped species thriving only from our desire to survive. You were considered a prime example of survival instinct. Your dreams over the last few days have merely been the telepathic influence of the new species, testing your memories of survival.”

“You should have heard these suckers, Kid. They sent a message through to the ship after they’d let you go, said they just wanted to know at what point you’d be happy to stop breathing.” Bones looked livid, and Jim wasn’t quite sure if it was because of the aliens or him. He’d been okay, he remember idly, with dying beside Spock and Bones. It wasn’t his choice, of course. He’d take living with them any day. But if he had to die again, which had seemed the most likely conclusion to whatever he’d gone through the previous night, he wanted to be with the people he loved.

“No, that doesn’t make any sense. They showed me times in my life when I wanted to breathe.” He argued. “My bedroom window- I used to stand at it, even when it was freezing and I could feel the cold in my lungs. And on Tarsus- I came up for air, I didn’t drown myself.” He sounded insane, and his protests were met with the horrified looks of his friends, but he continued. “In the decontamination chamber I wanted to breathe- my cells were burning and I wanted to get to the other side of the glass. And last night- I wanted to breathe- right up until I had both of you with me, when I could stop being scared. Then I didn’t need to anymore.” He gasped in a breath, grateful for the expansion of his own lungs. “It wasn’t survival instinct they were looking for, it was pack instinct.”

“The needs of the many.” Spock murmured, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of Jim’s hand. The movement was repetitive, reassuring, but mostly encouraging. Yes, Spock understood. He and Spock were always on the same wavelength.

“They wanted to see my desire for self-preservation compared to my desire to protect the rest of you.” Jim elaborated. “I didn’t run away from home because I thought Tarsus was going to be better- that was self-preservation, because Sam had already left me. I didn’t drown because I knew I had to get back to the other kids- so that’s both of them. I died in the chamber to save the crew, and that was purely protective.”

“Well I hope they found whatever they were looking for dammit.”

“It’s… it’s over now, right?” Jim asked, and it wasn’t fear in his tone. Trepidation, maybe described it better. But Bones and Spock were there.

“It is over, Ashayam.” Spock confirmed, with the slightest of smiles. Behind him, Bones tampered with his screens. Jim returned the smile and exhaled.

#spirk #ff #mywriting #fic #ao3 link #just because i've linked everything else to my old usename i think #so why not redo this one

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colorado-roots · 7 years

Text

The Future is Bright, Class of 2017

Bouncing back from a life-threatening detour, one month after finishing college

I remember stacking all my hard classes into the Winter Quarter of my junior year of college, right after I got back from studying abroad. I did not take a light load, because I was adamant on finishing my undergraduate career the following winter. That was the beauty of the quarter system, you could finish early, and get a head start on life.

By the time my final undergraduate quarter came around, I was pursuing a full-time job search. I was putting hours into the process, and was determined to have one lined up soon after I finished my classes. I went into the search with confidence, and things were going smoothly, but slowly. I faced job rejections like most do, and was waiting to hear back from others.

I am usually a very low-stress, go with the flow type of person, but I had put pressure on myself to get ahead from the beginning. I began to notice subtle occurrences in my life that felt unusual, and I did not understand why they were happening. I became discouraged with how drawn out the process felt and decided I needed to do something.

The end of April crept up, and in typical me fashion, I invited myself onto my friends’ planned out trip to Jazz Fest in New Orleans as a graduation celebration. As we were getting on the plane, we joked that we all forgot our health insurance cards, and how ironic it would be if one of us ended up in the hospital. We spent our days at the festival and our nights out on Bourbon; young and alive.

Sunday rolled around, and the festival was postponed due to flooding. I was not feeling well and fell asleep for a few hours. When I woke up, they had just reopened the fairgrounds. I popped up from my makeshift bed on the floor, and stated that I wanted to go see Tom Petty.

That’s when everything became blurry. My heart was racing. I was extremely nauseous. I walked towards the bathroom, past my friends. The next thing I remember, I was lying in the bathtub, my feet hanging over the edge and the shower curtain under me. One of my friends was holding my hand. A strange man was standing above me, asking if I knew where I was, and if I knew my name. I was mad because obviously I knew those answers, but I couldn’t communicate them. I thought I was having a nightmare, but I couldn’t wake up.

I have a very blurred memory of being in the back of the ambulance. My friend gave me my phone and I was constantly refreshing my emails, like I was waiting for something important.

I was shifting in and out of consciousness when we arrived at the hospital. I vaguely remember a doctor coming into the room. All my friends were there with me, and he very seriously asked if he could speak in front of them. I said yes, still oblivious to my surroundings. He explained to me that I had experienced a grand mal seizure that lasted about five minutes and that I had stopped breathing for a period of time. He went on to say that my CT scan showed a spot that looked like a brain tumor or a blood clot, and that I needed a MRI immediately.

I was thrusted back into reality, and glanced over at my friends, who were sitting in a line along the wall. They were staring back at me, their mouths open wide. My parents were on the other end of the conversation back in Denver. I don’t even want to know what their expressions were.

I slowly got up from my seat on the bed, and a sharp pain shot down my spine. I have always been an active and health conscious person. I was in good shape, training for a half marathon, but I had fractured my back from the fall. I was forced into a wheelchair, and was carted off into a world spinning too fast for me to comprehend. My life seemed to be rapidly slipping out of my control.

I remember waking up after the MRI and the doctor telling me I had a malformation that resembled a rasberry of tangled blood vessels. It was very likely still bleeding, and going to cause another threatening seizure. I was probably born with it, and time is what set it off. He told me I should not catch my flight back to Denver the next day because he wanted to get me into brain surgery. I said I would absolutely not be having brain surgery until I got home.

I was checked into the ICU, where my neighbors were recovering from strokes and aneurysms. Yet, here I was, a twenty-two year old, recent college grad, being pumped with anticonvulsants and brain surgery in my future.

I became super insistent that I wasn’t going to stay. Reluctantly, my doctors agreed to let me go home. My mom walked in the door a few hours later, and back to Denver we flew.

Now the perks of this happening to me, is that my dad is a physician. He forced his way onto the schedule of one of Colorado’s highly esteemed neurosurgeons. I had my consultation with him, and we scheduled the thing.

The few days leading up to it were a blur. I felt brain dead from my medication and could only joke about the situation. I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t sad, but hell yeah, I was mad. I don’t think I ever went through the teen angst stage, but I definitely had it that week. I could not understand what I did to deserve this; to put my life on hold and only hope for the best. I remember wondering if I would walk across the stage of my college graduation with a shaved head, however, my surgeon assured me that he would save my hair. I saw and heard from so many of my friends and family, and they were frightened for me. All I could do was reassure them that everything would be okay.

I woke up the the morning of my surgery ready to go. It was game day. I knew that this might be the second worst day of my life, thus far, but it wasn’t going to stop me from trying to make it somewhat normal. I joked with the nurses and doctors. I said that if by some miracle the mass had disappeared, then I wasn’t going to have the surgery. I got another MRI to map out the area and the surgeon said, “Well Corin, it’s still there.”

The anesthesiologist came in and said he was going to put something into my IVs that would make me feel relaxed, and that I should say bye to my parents for now. As they wheeled me out of the room, my parents got emotional. I held back the tears and said, “Can you have dinner ready when I get back?”

They rolled me back to the operating room, where I am certain they were jamming to ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’ by AC/DC, but I could have been mistaken, I was pretty drugged up. They handed me a mask to put over my mouth, and I was out.

I woke up eight hours later in the ICU. My mom was shoveling Jell-O down my throat as the nurses pumped morphine into my body. I felt so sick and so confused. My veins and head were on fire. I remembered why I was there, and reached for my head.

My dad told me that my procedure lasted four hours, and that it was successful. They had to make a bigger incision than they had anticipated because my brain was still bleeding. I was most concerned with the fact that the halo they put on my head during the surgery accidentally pierced the middle of my forehead, and that I’d have a scar front and center as a daily reminder of what I went through.

It has been three weeks since my procedure, and I am doing really well. Recovering from brain surgery is not the easiest process, but I am dealing with it. Being young and healthy has made my experience smoother than most people’s. I have beat all the odds.

I’ve struggled with guilt. Guilt that I got off easy, and that others with this problem were not as fortunate. Nonetheless, I have counted my blessings. I still have a few steps to go, but it shouldn’t hold me back much longer. The truth is, recovery is easy if you are fighting for the life you envisioned for yourself.

People have asked me why I am handling this with so much positivity. I respond every time saying perspective is everything. It could have ended a lot worse, or happened in a different way. I could have been driving. I could have been a mother, or had a steady job. I could have been old. It could have bled more. It could have been cancer. But here I am, living somewhere in the middle of fate. I still have the rest of my life ahead of me, and I will never let this take anymore of my time. I lost a few months, but then again, I gained a lifetime.

The pain has given me wisdom. It has prepared me for whatever lies ahead. It wasn’t the road I had planned on taking, but it made me a helluva lot stronger.

It taught me to take every failure, every rejection, every opportunity and be persistent. Hard times are sometimes inevitable. I am so lucky mine just left a six inch scar on the side of my head.

Your hard times are probably different. It could still be affecting you or you could have already grown from it. There is no scale for comparison. Your feelings are yours to feel, no matter the circumstance. Do not discount them. But be resilient. You have a lot of road left to travel, and many places to stop along the way. Take the hard times presented to you and learn from them. There will be moments you feel discouraged, but persist on. All good things in life take time.

I stumbled upon this quote a week after my surgery. It read, “Sometimes we get caught up chasing the biggest and the best. The newest and the next. Slow down, look up. Notice the miracle in this moment. This might just be the one you didn’t realize you were fighting for.”

#health #brain #college #gratitude #inspiration

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