#i drew the ghost piece when my arm still hurt lol

[keeps-ache]

technically, i'm better now! woo!! but my bones say no, ykno?

[xmenimagine]

Imagine: He’s Not You.

Requested by Anon. Includes: Scott Summers x Reader Request: · hear me out, reader is friends with scott summers and he has a big ol crush on them but alex visits and reader thinks he’s cute and scott gets all jealous but fluffy ending with reader and scott getting together 

Note: the point of view kinda changes, but it is still my usual style of writing if that makes sense. The ending isn't that good, but what do you expect, I'm not good at endings

    There was a flutter in his chest, an undeniable flutter, and it was one that he had grown familiar with. Just the sound of your laugh alone had brought a smile to his face, a smile that he couldn't help but have. It was discreet, at first, he fought hard to keep it hidden, as he worried that someone would have noticed it—or perhaps you would have noticed—but, in the end, he couldn't fight the feelings he had towards you, he couldn't hold them down or suppress the way he felt. It almost seemed criminal to do so at this point. He glanced over at you, taking in the grin on your face, how your eyes were squeezed shut, and how your hands were clutching the material of one of his own jumpers, that he thought he had lost, while you leaned forwards and laughed. God, he would never be tired of hearing you laugh like that, or seeing you like that, in his own clothes nonetheless. It drove him insane, in a good way. However, a lump got caught in this throat when he allowed himself to come back down to earth. There was one problem, and that problem was the fact that Alex was the reason why you were laughing.

    Alex had shown up to the mansion, unexpectedly. The weather had been terrible. There had been snowstorms for almost four days, and the snow piled up fast. Roads had closed, cars had been swallowed up in thick heaps of dusty, white, snow, that was slowly melting and freezing until it was nearly impossible to even get to the metal exterior of the vehicles, and businesses had also taken the hit and suffered slightly—unless, of course, people were desperate, or crazy, and braved the weather to stock up on supplies. Scott looked over at his older brother and frowned. Alex was seated in the middle of the cushions on the other sofa, opposite the two of you. His arms had spread across the tops of the back cushions, and his fingertips nearly reached the full length, while he sat slightly slouched, clearly relaxed as he laughed along with you. The ends of Alex's hair still dripped, and the water dropped onto his shoulders and part of the cushions. He had clearly been crazy enough to brave the weather and make his way to the mansion.

    Scott forced out his own chuckle, despite not actually hearing what Alex had said, and he leaned forwards to grab the handle of his cup of hot chocolate. He brought the cup up to his lips and paused. His fake laugh had ceased almost immediately as a blank look set on his face. There was no way that he could lose you to Alex, right? He zoned out momentarily, before blinking himself back into the moment where he took a sip and placed his cup back down on the coaster. His zoned-out, worrisome thoughts made him look back at you—jeez, he felt as if he wasn't even there with the two of you, it was as if he was just some sort of ghost invading on some kind of date. Alex had let out a loud laugh again, no doubt still laughing at the same thing—damn, how much time had passed?—Scott looked over at him again, he felt like he was watching a tennis match, and Alex leaned his head back against the cushions. Once more, Scott glanced at you and a faint red blush spread across your cheeks while his chest began to hurt. He wanted to scream.

-

    As Alex leaned his head back, his loud laugh caused his shoulders to shake. The room had been empty, aside from the three of you, and the only other source of sound came from the crackling wood pieces set in the fireplace as the fire burned, and the heat slowly began to fill the chilled room. A warmth began to spread across your cheeks, only, it wasn't the heat from the fireplace that caused it. It was because Alex had just done the same thing Scott would usually do when he laughed like that. You never really took notice of it before, you just simply accepted it as a 'Scott-like' action, but after seeing Alex do it as well? There was a strange feeling in your stomach and your chest. Alex breathed in deeply as he continued to laugh. Although their laughs were practically exact copies of one another, there was a slight difference. Usually, when Scott laughed, after he had tilted his head back, he would also let out a short snort, setting himself off again in a fit of laughter. It was unapologetically endearing, and you loved remembering every single second of it.

    There had been a power cut. The whole mansion went dark. It was around Halloween, so the timing couldn't have been any better. In fact, Scott decided it was a great time to tell ghost stories. You had expected others to show up with him when he knocked on your bedroom door, however, it was only him who walked in. He had made a beeline towards your bed, and, as he sat down and got comfortable, he had one of your fluffy blankets wrapped around his body, even covering the top of his head, his face was the only part of him that you could see in the mound of fluff. You sat opposite him, grabbing another blanket off of your bed to wrap around yourself, in the same way that Scott had done, and you crossed your legs, grinning as he pushed his hand out of the blanket cocoon he made for himself, with a flashlight gripped in his hand, shaking it lightly—it rattled a little as he did, the old torch was barely holding together, but he duct-taped it to be 'good as new', and he wasn't complaining about it, so you didn't either.

    "—But when they opened the—"

    "Look, I know you're trying to tell me ghost stories, but I can only see your face and, with the way you've cocooned yourself with my blanket, your face just looks like a circle with red sunglasses and I'm trying not to laugh."

    Scott lowered the torch from his face and pouted. "You ruined my story."

    "I'm sorry, Scott, but I couldn't concentrate on it when all I could see was your face as a circle."

    "I'm not a circle!"

    "Your face is."

    "No, it is not!"

    "Go look in my mirror."

    Scott huffed and shuffled off your bed. He pointed the light back on his face and looked towards your mirror before he let out a loud laugh, dropping the torch in the process. He bent forwards slightly, turning towards you. His unnaturally loud laugh rose in volume as he stood back up straighter, and tilted his head back. At that angle, he couldn't help but snort as he breathed in, causing him to laugh even louder. At the sound, you finally allowed yourself to laugh, squeezing your eyes shut as you gripped onto the blanket to keep it wrapped around your body, you leaned forward as your body shook with laughter. You could feel your eyes watering, but, at that moment, you couldn't care less. It was a moment you would share with Scott and Scott alone. Nothing else could really compare.

-

    This wasn't the first time that Alex had taken something away from Scott. It happened quite often. Usually, it was Alex that drew the attention away from Scott when he stepped into the room, girls would swoon over him and leave Scott in an instant. There was a worrying thought in the back of his mind that made him think that this was one of those moments. But you weren't someone Scott could just give up easily. He wasn't going to let his brother win this time. Scott deserved to have the attention on him, for once, and he was determined to catch and hold the attention of you. Scott glared at Alex from across the table after he managed to make you laugh again. Alex simply grinned and shrugged, running his hand through his slightly damp hair before wiping the excess water off on the small towel he had been given when he arrived. Although Alex had been at the mansion for almost two hours, his hair was still damp, and his coat, which was left hanging up on one of the coat racks close to the fireplace to dry off, was still dripping—leaving a small puddle of water underneath it to slowly spread. Alex gently threw the small towel onto the coffee table, and it landed next to his own cup of hot coffee.

    "What made you decide to come up here?" Scott asked, leaning back against the sofa as he stared at his older brother.

    Alex simply shrugged. "Got bored."

    "So, you decided to come here, even when the weather is like this?"

    He grinned. "Even when the weather is like this," Alex repeated in a cool, somewhat teasing, voice, most likely catching on to the fact that Scott was annoyed with him. "You sound like you don't want me to be here, I'm hurt." He placed his hand over his chest, mockingly, as if he was actually wounded.

    "Of course, Scott is happy that you're here!" You spoke up before Scott could, which probably saved him a lot of trouble, as he was sure he'd lose his temper and say something he would inevitably regret later on. "Right?" He heard you ask, and he turned to lol at you.

    There you were, with that soft, effortless smile, looking at him in a way that made him feel like he was the only other person in the world, next to yourself of course. Scott doubted he'd like to live in a world where you didn't exist. "Yeah," he finally answered, although his voice was quiet, almost silent. "Of course." He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. Scott finally managed to tear his gaze from you and to his brother, where he shifted once more, feeling slightly uncomfortable due to the knowing look Alex was giving him. "I'm happy you're here, Alex."

    "Good, 'cause it looks like I'm going to be staying here for a while," Alex informed him, glancing behind the two of you and out the window that overlooked the gardens.

    Scott turned to look at noticed the smooth white blanket of snow that made its way up to the first panel of glass on the panelled windows. Great, Scott thought, knowing that it was only going to get worse, as the snowstorm wasn't easing up, and most likely wouldn't be for another few days. The dark clouds in the sky made it look later in the day than it was. It was getting darker outside, despite it being so white outside, due to the snow. He glanced sideways to you, looking at the side of your face as you had also turned to look outside. Scott's eyes slowly traced the outline of your face, unable to stop the faint smile that pulled at his lips. He was so utterly and completely screwed. Just the thought of you alone practically rendered him useless, but seeing you up close, merely inches away from him, while you were off in your own head, made him fall even more for you. He wasn't great with words, at least ones that conveyed how he felt for you, but his actions spoke louder than words, even the subtle looks of adoration and the soft smiles he had reserved only for you, had proven that what he felt for you was real, more real than anything he had ever felt before, which made him all the more worried that Alex would take you away from him.

-

    The curtains in his room were drawn together, keeping out what little light that the moon gave off from leaking in through the window, even during the slightly cloudy night. The popcorn bowl was left forgotten on his bedside table, while the covers were pulled up, covering the both of you. It had been a movie night, but you had been struggling to stay awake for a while, and ultimately fell asleep with your head on his chest, your arm lazily resting over his stomach. He looked away from the screen and down at you. Scott smiled to himself, the corners of his lips tugged up, and he tried to fight it, but it was only the two of you in his room, surrounded by the soft glow of his TV as the movie continued to play quietly. He gave up, knowing it was pointless trying to stop the smile you caused. He lifted the remote and turned the TV off, placing the remote on the table next to the popcorn bowl. He turned to look back at you, struggling slightly to see you well as the room had become darker. He shifted carefully to lay down in a more comfortable position, with you still tucked at his side. Scott gently placed his arm around you, hesitating before his hand made contact with your side. He had been holding his breath.

    A silent sigh of relief escaped his lips as he looked down at your face, craning his neck slightly, but not uncomfortably, as he watched you sleeping peacefully. His own eyes felt heavy, and he was barely able to keep them open, but he wanted to stay awake just long enough to remember the outline of your features, although deep down he knew he had already memorised every inch of your face by heart. A lazy grin broke out on his when you scrunched your face up as you slept, squeezing your arm around him slightly before you settle comfortably once more. Scott lowered his other hand to rest over yours, feeling the heat from your skin against the palm of his hand. He yawned to himself, letting his head sink into his pillow more before his eyes closed, finally allowing himself to fall asleep. The peaceful, serene look on your face flashed behind his closed eyelids, and he didn't mind one bit.

-

    Alex had dropped his arms from the back of the sofa and let his palms slap his thighs before he sat up straighter. He looked down at his, now empty, coffee cup, before he picked up the small towel that he had been using to dry his hair. You smiled at him, knowing he was probably ready to head off to bed, he had been yawning quite a lot for the past ten minutes, and you were sure you saw him fighting to stay awake in the last two minutes. You grabbed hold of your empty cup, and Scott's nearly empty cup, there wasn't much left, but it was most likely too cold for him to enjoy by now. He never did like drinking cold hot chocolate, and claimed that reheating it was simply a crime as it 'ruins the original taste'. You looked over at Scott, but he was zoned out, stuck in his own head, so much so that he didn't even realise that Alex and yourself had started to move to leave. He jumped, zoning back in, when you placed your hand over his, squeezing his arm to catch his attention.

    "I've been up for a lot longer than I care to admit, so I think I'm going to head to that spare room that Charles had mentioned about when I arrived, and I'm going to sleep for a few days," Alex chuckled at his small joke, grabbing the coffee cup before he stood up. "No amount of coffee will keep me awake right now."

    Scott looked up at his brother, clearing his throat. "Okay, get some rest, we can catch up more tomorrow."

    Alex nodded his head, waving goodbye to the both of you as he turned and left the room. You watched Scott and he slowly sat forwards, and you placed both of your cups back down on the table, turning to face him. "Are you okay?" You asked softly.

    "Yeah. I'm fine." He nodded, standing up before you could rest your hand over his again for comfort.

    However, you stood up, taking hold of his wrist before he could make his escape out of the room. "Something's been bothering you; you can talk to me, you know that."

    Scott looked down at you and sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to get away from this conversation for long. "It's nothing."

    "It's something," you argued, wanting him to tell you what it was that was bothering him, so you could help. Your hands slipped from his wrists and to his hands, squeezing them gently, although you were sure he didn't notice as he was too far into his own thoughts.

    "It's stupid," he mumbled.

    He was trying to make it seem less of a problem than it was, but you knew better than to let him think like that. "If it's got you quiet and looking like it's upsetting you then it's not stupid. What's got you feeling like this?"

    "Alex."

    "Alex?"

    Scott nodded, letting out another sigh, most likely from frustration. "He always comes along and takes things that are important away from me. He's going to do the same with you, and it's going to happen because I know that you think he's cute."

    Looking at him, watching as his mouth morphed into a frown, you frowned as well. "Scott," you spoke quietly, barely over a whisper, before you pulled his hands towards you, ultimately making him step closer. Your hands slowly wrapped around his waist, your chin resting on his chest as you looked up at him. His arms automatically wrapped around you, holding you close to him. "I'm not going anywhere, no one is taking me away. I mean, sure, your brother's cute, but he's not you."

    "He's—What?" Scott raised an eyebrow, his voice still softly spoken.

    "He's not you, Scott. And I want you."

    It took a moment for him to understand what you were saying, but a smile began to stretch his lips up, and his arms squeezed you. "You want me," he repeated, smiling to himself.

[conaionaru]

Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

Knockin' on Valhalla's door

Synopsis: Ivar leaves for England and new problems arise in Kattegat

Warnings:  smut (in the beginning), oral sex, adult themes, fighting, angst, prophecy, believed? character death

Tags:

@xbellaxcarolinax @lol-haha-joke @youbloodymadgenius @thereareendlessopportunities @heavenly1927 @astridbaby @shannygoatgruff @queenbeeta @chynagirl13 @didiintheblog

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

P.S. I think I am getting better at this smut thing. Maybe all the hours of “research” paid off 😂

Aros was asleep, and Vanya was brushing her hair after taking her bath. It was well past her usual bedtime, but Ivar wasn't home yet, and she wanted to talk before he left. If it was the last night she might spend with her him, then it should be special.

That's why she bathed with lavender scented oils from a merchant and brushed her hair till it shone like flames. Her skin felt tingly, and her nightgown felt featherlight. "I thought you would be asleep." Ivar's rough voice said from behind her, startling her from her thoughts.

She turned around in their bed and crawled towards the edge of the bed on all fours.  "Can't sleep in an empty bed. I will have to find a solution when you leave. Otherwise, I will fall over dead when you come back."

Ivar chuckled at her words and pulled himself up on the bed, Vanya sitting down on her heels, watching him getting comfortable on top of the furs.

"Aros managed to crawl a bit today. Only one foot, but he is getting better. Maybe he will crawl to you at the docks when you come back." She told him, settling herself against him right side while he put his arms around her and drew her in closer. The couple laid side by side, Vanya's fingers ghosting over Ivar's collarbone, enjoying the shivers it produced.

Ivar looked at her foxish grin and smirked down at her. Vanya's head turned to the side in curiosity at what he would do next, she opened her mouth to ask him, but Ivar put his finger against her plump lips. "I like the smell; it's new."

"Lavender and Cedarwood. Hoenir actually helped me pick it up. He was very picky, so I happy that you like it."

"I like it very much." He whispered against her lips before kissing her. At first, it started slow, but passion and need consumed them, and things got heated. Vanya threw her right leg over Ivar's lap and climbed on top of him, burrowing her hands in his hair and softly pulling on the dark strands.

Ivar's calloused hands gripped her sides, one palm sliding up her white nightgown over her pale thighs. With breathy gasps, Vanya untied his tunic, tugging on it to take it off. Being the loving husband Ivar was, he took it off without teasing her, going right back to kissing her while her hands explored his chest and abs. Not liking the lack of nakedness from Vanya, Ivar pulled off her clothes as well, admiring the view he grew to love.

Since Aros's birth, her breast had gotten bigger, and she gained some stretch marks on her belly. But she still looked like Freyja to him, now she was even more beautiful, even with her marks and the scar left behind by the arrow in her shoulder. Vanya was breathtaking no matter what, and to him, she would be a goddess before, during, and after her pregnancy as well.

Her pink lips trailed down his jaw and neck, kissing, biting, and sucking softly, torn between leaving marks or not. Ivar had no such inner turmoil as he nipped at her collarbone to make her stop her teasing. Vanya threw her head back and ground her hips against his crotch to throw him off rhythm.

She bit his ear and pushed against his shoulders to make him lie down. When his back hit the furs beneath them, she raked her nails down his torso to his breaches to untie them. Ivar's hand stopped her, causing her to look at him in worry, thinking his legs must be bothering him. Ivar only shook his head and carefully flipped them around so Vanya would be under him. "I want to try something first."

The ginger watched him confused as he trailed kissed down her neck to her chest. After some teasing and a goodbye kiss to the space between her breasts, he moved on to her crotch. Vanya gasped at the strange sensation that he caused her with his tongue, throwing her head back and clenching the furs between her fingers.

Ivar continued his sweet ministrations, caressing her tights with his hands. After a year of marriage, he wanted to try what he saw Hvitserk try on Margrethe. Judging by the sounds and wiggling, he was doing a good job. Maybe the slave was good for something, at least, even if it was just putting ideas in Ivar's head.

So when Vanya moaned out loud and softly shook against his lips, he thanked the gods for letting him accidentally stumble upon his brother and the thrall in the woods. He slithered up the length of her body and kissed her, surprised by how much she was responding after she just came. Vanya pawed against the laces of his pants and pouted at him in her adorable way; with a victorious smirk, Ivar did as asked and took his breeches off.

He positioned himself over her to ensure he wouldn't squish her or hurt and entered her in a single thrust. Both paused to catch their breaths before he carried on, kissed her lips between thrusts. Knowing he liked it, Vanya nipped on his earlobe and tugged on his short hair, wishing he would grow it out a bit for a better grip.

It was astonishing to her, how much their lovemaking changed from the first time of awkwardness and duty. Over time they got more experienced and adventurous, learning what they loved to do and what not. And Ivar's new trick certainly will be repeated next time.

Ivar's movements sped up, and Vanya's breath grew shorter, signaling that they were both near. Locking gazes and lips, they reached their end together. Ivar rested his forehead against Vanya's, breathing in her intoxicating scent. Both were drunk on euphoria, kissing one last time before Ivar pulled out of her and laid down on his usual spot on the right.

With a happy sigh, Vanya pressed her front against his arm, drawing the furs over them to keep them warm. Ivar looked at her with vulnerable eyes, cupping her cheek in his hand and dragging his thumb over her swollen lips. "Could you wear something red tomorrow to see me off? So I can remember you that way for when we are apart."

Vanya smiled at the innocent question and nodded. She leaned against his palm and kissed the tip of his thumbs. "Anything else, Hjertet mitt (My heart)?"

"Just let me lie here, beside you. And touch you." The two turned on their side, Vanya spooning Ivar from behind, holding him close to her heart. She brushed her fingers through his hair and hummed the lullaby she always sang to Aros. And so they fell into a peaceful slumber, enjoying their last night together until he returned.

Vanya is sitting on her bed with Brynja, talking about the cute boy the older redhead was interested in. "He is tall and has eyes as green as the forest. And hair so blond it is like snow. You should have seen him, Vanya; he looked so good standing there in the river!"

Vanya laughed at the squeal the servant let out, looking down at her latest piece of work. The red dress Ivar wanted to see her in today. The door to her opened, and a thrall barged in. "The Queen wishes to speak to you."

With a confused look, Vanya put the dress down and followed the thrall towards the Queen's bedroom. Her mother in law sat on her bed, looking distressed. "Did you know he is leaving?"

"I thought he told you." Vanya tried only to be cut off by Aslaug.

"That is not what I asked you." She lifted her gaze from her lap to look at the girl she saw as her own daughter. "What I am curious about is if he told you he is leaving."

The young Princess sighed and sat down next to Aslaug, taking the woman's thin hand in hers. "He told me the day he was asked. We talked about it, and I encouraged him to go. He wants to prove his worth to Ragnar and everyone else. I am not happy about it, but I agreed he can go."

Aslaug shook her head and clenched Vanya's hand tightly. "Did he tell you what I saw?"

The frown on her face was answer enough. So against her son's wishes, she told Vanya of her vision. When she was done, Vanya stormed off, barged into her room to find Ivar on the bed, changing Aros's swaddling clothes. The Ragnarsson had no problem doing the dirty work of raising a child, and Vanya and Aslaug were very proud of that. But the pride didn't matter now.

Ivar looked up at her, but his smile fell when he saw her angry expression. "Why are you angry? Did Sigurd say something to you again?"

"No." Vanya scoffed and lifted the freshly changed babe into her arms, lying into his crib so he wouldn't be in the way. "But your mother did."

"Ah." The look on his face was conflicted, watching her stiff back as she stood by the crib. "I wanted to tell you myself later."

She turned to him, her eyes furious and hands in fists. "That's all you got to say for yourself? That you wanted to tell me? What would that change? I told you that I am only letting you go if you swear you'll return. And now that you know you will die, you still want to go!"

"I told you. I need to prove-"

"Yes, prove to your father you are a real man. But who cares what he thinks? He abandoned his family! He left you for dead, Ivar. What do you have to prove, then that he is a terrible person?"

Ivar shook his head and reached out for her, but Vanya stood her ground. So he sighed and dropped his hand in his lap. "What if you were in my place? What if you could prove to your parents that you were more than a womb? Wouldn't you do everything to do it?"

Vanya laughed, trying to keep her tears at bay. "If it required me to die, I wouldn't do it. All the people that matter, whose opinion matters, they are here. If you have to prove something to someone, then let it be Sigurd or Bjorn. Don't sail to England, Ivar."

"He left me to die. That's why I have to show him I am more than a cripple or a burden. Mother might be wrong."

"What if she isn't?"

"Then, that's a risk I have to take. I don't want to hurt you or Aros, but I have to do this."

Vanya crawled into bed with Ivar, putting the soiled swaddling clothes safely away. She kissed his forehead and lips smiling down at him with tear stains down her cheeks. "Promise me we will meet again. Be it in Kattegat or the afterlife. That we will find a way to be together forever."

"I will visit you in Freyja's hall every day, Min elskede (My beloved)." Vanya smiled at his declaration of love and kissed him before he left to gather his order from the blacksmith. If watching him leave now hurt, how much would it hurt when he left for real?

The grass under her skirt was still damp from the morning dew, and the air was heavy. Hoenir sat a distance away from her, sharpening his axe as Aros slept on his lap wrapped in furs. The sun was already up, and so were the people, including her husband, but Vanya was far too engrossed in her task to worry about anyone seeing her.

Vanya's red locks framed around her, hiding her face as she lit two candles. "All-mother. Goddess Frigg, I beg of you. Please don't take my husband away from me. I will do whatever you wish of me. You have protected me, and I ask you to do the same for Ivar. Goddess of marriage and motherhood, I beg of you." Tears gathered in her eyes as her hands clenched into fists at her side, the nails drawing blood.

"Please, keep Ivar alive." She sobbed pathetically, her head collapsing against the rock the candles were on. Her chest felt heavy, like someone was sitting on it and choking her at the same time. What Aslaug told her this morning tore at her insides, messing with her head, and made her weak once again.

After all the hard work it took her to become braver and stronger, it took one conversation to make her go mad with grief. She allowed Ivar to go, encouraged him to go on a journey with his father. And now, just before he is to leave, the gods spoke to Aslaug. He will drown, the Queen saw it, and he still wants to go.

Ivar knew what the news would do to his mother and wife. But he insisted on going and made peace with death, not caring who he is leaving behind. How selfish of him, but Vanya can be selfish too. So she prayed to Frigg, begging her to save him from the peril that awaited him.

"I pray to you all the other gods. Please protect my husband. I beg for Ran to spare him, for Hlín's protection and Odin's favor. But I pray for your mercy All-mother. "

Vanya propped her chin against the stone and looked at the flickering candles before her. "I know it is too much to ask for from you. But I will accept any help I can get even if you surely hate me now. I pray to you also. I am losing hope and don't know who to turn to. Please..." The tears hit the cold surface of the stone while her voice shook, sobs cutting her off as she tried to compose herself. "Please, God. Protect Ivar."

After all this time of devotion to the Norse gods, Vanya hit her lowest point. Kneeling on the grass in the middle of the day on a hill, praying to every god she knew. Oh, how the Aesir must hate you now, how fast the Princess turned her back on them when they asked for Ivar's life. She just hopes they will forgive her and take pity on her misery.

"We should go; you have to get ready before they depart," Hoenir called from behind her. Vanya sniffled and blew the candles out, sending out a silent prayer before leaving to redress. Let the gods be merciful, her old and new ones.

Watching the crew load their boats as Ragnar stood over them looking on edge was a painful sight. Aros whined in her arms too, reaching for the headpiece she wore on her forehead, curtesy of Aslaug. She did as Ivar asked her to do last night and wore a red dress, looking as perfect as possible to burn her likeness into his mind.

Aslaug's and her's arms were linked together in support, both anxious to see Ivar go. Ragnar's weird look towards something behind them warned them that Ivar is here. But when Vanya turned her head to look at her husband, instead of seeing him crawling on the ground, he was walking.

It looked like a lot of work, but with the aid of crutches, Ivar could stand upright somehow, even if he dragged his feet behind. She smiled proudly at him, overjoyed to see him able to do something he wanted to do his whole life. He truly was brilliant.

They watched Ivar walk onto the docks, struggling to lift his legs over the step, but he managed it in the end. Not like Vanya doubted him for a second. Aros whined once again, this time reaching for Ivar, who noticed the sound and looked towards them, freezing in his track. "You wore it."

"Of course. I promised, didn't I?" She grinned at him, tears threatening to spill from the corners of her eyes, but she stood there bravely. She spilled enough tears today; now, it was time to be brave and make it easier on him. "I prayed for your safe return, Hjertet mitt (My heart)."

Ivar looked at her surprised, after the time he caught her praying to the Christian god a long time ago, he expected her to take longer to adjust to the pagan ways. Considering she was against blood sacrifices, but apparently, he was wrong. "And to which god did you pray? The Æsir and Vanir or the Christian God?"

"Both." Her shameless admission shocked everyone around her, especially those who knew of Ivar's hate for anything christian. "Just to be sure you would be well protected and return. I warned you I would hunt you down to the gates of Valhalla if I have to."

Ivar smiled at her and said his goodbyes to her and Aros. After a few steps, his crutch got stuck between the floorboard, and he fell to the ground. Ubbe run to help him, but Aslaug stopped him, believing Ivar could do it himself. And he did. He ditched his new means of transportation and crawled to the boat where Ragnar awaited him.

"Hurry up. We've got a tide to catch." Watching Ivar leave felt like hell, or what Vanya was taught hell looked like. But she still swelled with another emotion; the pain and pride went hand in hand, till the boats were too small to follow with the naked eye.

That's also when Vanya returned to their hut to bathe Aros and put him to bed. Brynja filled a little tub with lukewarm water and left the Princess to herself. Vanya laid her babe into the water, carefully washing him as she hummed his lullaby to keep him calm.

The necklace of Jörmungandr that Ivar made for her dangled above his head, distracting him. He reached towards it and cooed adorably, making her smile. She remembered the story Ivar told her once.

"In the depths of the ocean, a giant serpent named Jörmungandr is biding his time. The child of the god Loki and Angroboda is so large; he can wrap his body around Midgard and hold the end of his tail in his mouth. His mouth, which is lined with venom-dripping teeth, is large enough to swallow a god or giant whole—Odin, fearful of the serpent banished into the waters of the world."

Aros watched her talk, his eyes wide watching the dangling object above him. If he understood her or just liked the shiny metal, Vanya wasn't sure. "Now he circles the world for eternity; every time he resurfaces, he is angrier. But he can't escape the oceans till his time comes. When the world is ending, Jörmungandr will take a stand against Thor once more. He will escape the sea, drowning everything in his path, and his breath will poison the sky."

She pulled him out of the tub and wrapped him into a cloth to dry him off. Sitting on her and Ivar's bed, she looked down at her son's sleepy eyes. "But Thor will finally triumph over the beast, smashing him with his hammer, only to die afterward. Both winning and losing at the same time in the end. But for now, he is still in the sea, waiting, fuming at his punishment."

Vanya laid down on her side, her son laying on Ivar's half of the bed. She smiled at his peaceful expression and closed her own eyes, unaware of the horrors Ivar faced out on the sea ruled by the serpent she just spoke of.

[dredreadsdrawing]

Oc-tober Day 7: Fear

Hoohoo i suck at shading :'0 The second pic was the firdt concept art I drew of these gals. Then came the pencil sketches and lastly the one on top.

I've already got a Quickie summary of this story in my writing blog explaining who these characters are and what's going on, link HERE. So for this piece, I'll write the scene I drew lol. In it, only Kylee and the Wrath kid are left, but before they get a showdown, God gives them one last mercy. A night without worries. Anything they want, they will grant. Btw, I have decided on official names for these gals. Kylee the fangirl and Paloma the patient ghost.

~~~~

This was it.

Tomorrow, everything was bound to come to an end.

It felt unreal to Kylee. How far she's come, her numerous near death experiences, how nice their room was. God really knew how to treat em when they weren't being careless.

Still, God's assurance of a last peaceful night was a load off their shoulders. A blessing, you might even say.

Chevre left the scene immediately, deciding to spend their last day as a ghost doing their own kooky things. They felt robbed for not dying sooner to do it.

That left Kylee and Paloma, the original duo, to spend the night alone. Just like the good ol days.

They tried the hot tub, snacked on expensive sweets, watched Kylee's favorite episodes of her favorite shows, and had a great time.

Just like normal girls their age would spend a sleepover.

When it got super late, the magic of the tranquility was wearing off. Reality settled back in. Tomorrow was the end. No more fighting, no more floating. The ghosts would be reborn and someone new would be God.

A child. Both contestants left were underage.

And they had to fight eachother to the death. Kylee and Paloma agreed that if she won, she would pick older candidates next time. No kid should go through what she's gone.

Circling back to the competition, they talked about their opponent and his many helpers. They'd seen how ruthless he was. Opportunistic and never one to hesitate. He was a tough rival for sure.

Kylee got quiet for a bit, and Paloma squeezed her shoulder.

"Come on, cookie. Let's sleep early."

They snuggled onto the bed. Two had been accommodated for them, but they were used to sleeping in the same one. It was their piece of comfort.

After settling down, Kylee worded her next question carefully. She had already asked it before, when she first saw Paloma as a ghost, but it didn't hurt to have the answer retold.

What was it like to die?

Paloma stiffened. Her eyes softened. Her voice cracked a bitter smile.

"It hurts. Especially when you start struggling back. But once it's done, all you get is wave after wave of relief. Like when you ace a test you didn't study for." She laughed. It ended breathily.

Kylee didn't like her expression. She had seen it come up a lot in the past few days. And she knew exactly what it meant. She brought Paloma closer and held her face. Looking into her eyes, she asked as quietly as she could.

"... have you regretted it?"

Paloma shivered. Her eyes burst. She whimpered, and Kylee immediately brought her to her chest, letting her cry. Not a single tear stained her shirt.

"I was... So sure I did the right thing..."

"You did..."

Kylee remembered those first days. How surprisingly proud she seemed to have taken her own life. To be done with life and humanity. But as time wore on, her sentiments changed.

"I couldn't help it... I wondered... What would have happened if..."

She paused as sge choked on her words. Kylee gave her a pat. "It's ok..."

"No, it's not!" Paloma got up, her face a darker shade. "We could have been a team. We could have stuck together for as long as we could. Or- I could have been in your shoes right now. I could have been the one that made it to the end. Instead of putting all this pressure.... For you to do the right things."

Paloma was calming down, she rubbed her eyes. Kylee helped brush a tear from her cheek.

"I'm sorry I died so fast."

The words stung. Kylee wasn't taking this.

"Don't say that! If one of us is the bad one... It's... Me."

Kylee rubbed her arm. Paloma shook her head. "Not this again, Kylee-"

"I was a jerk. I admit it. I knew what was going on with you but I never stepped in. Really, Palo," Kylee started hyperventilating. Paloma rushed to embrace her. Their roles had effectively switched.

"If I had reached out to you sooner... If I was more involved... Someone better..." Kylee took Paloma's hand. Together, they squeezed them.

"If I was someone like you..."

"Stop it..."

So many what ifs lingered in their minds. So many paths they could have taken. Together.

But here they were, stuck. One as a ghost and the other possibly becoming a deity. About to fight for the right to be.

"Atleast... I got to show you my favorite stores. .." Paloma laughed at the memory of Kylee dragging her around unwillingly.

"We didn't even buy anything. You just had us people watch the entire day."

"But you had a good time anyways, didn't you?" The smiles are back. Paloma tilts her head and rests it on Kylee's shoulder.

"I did..."

While her death was premature, she had to count the small blessing that was her ability to stick to Kylee as a ghost. She got to see more than the bubble she knew. She got to make friends. And...

Kylee couldn't help the kiss she gave Paloma's forehead. Paloma's face burst and she laughed.

She got to feel so loved.

"Okay, Ms. God, settle back down. Tomorrow is... A big day."

Kylee snickered as she laid back down, Paloma following. After another small silence, Kylee's big mouth continued asking.

"If I win... What kind of life do you want?"

They hadn't touched the topic of Paloma's reincarnation.

The reality of her living without Kylee was too much.

Still, now that it was a serious possibility... This was a talk they needed to have. Paloma moved away a bit.

"Well, you're so creative Kylee, I'm sure you'll give me the best life..."

"But... I want to know what YOU want!"

Paloma was stunned for a bit, touched. Kylee really cared for her opinion. The selfish onlooker she first met was long gone.

"I'm being honest..." Paloma looked away. "I want whatever you give me. I trust you."

Kylee's stomach sank. She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, now more than ever.

Paloma looked back at Kylee's serious expression, and she laughed some more. This was too serious for their last night together. "Stop worrying about it, cookie." She laid back down ans snuggled to her side. "Worry about surviving tomorrow. Only you can guarantee me that happy ending."

Kylee's gut sank further. It was the truth, but the pressure was on. She watched Paloma close her eyes and over time, drift away, her sleep as sound as when she was alive.

But Kylee couldn't follow, couldn't even stand to blink. Her anxiety was at an all time high. She had to win. She had to make it up to Paloma. She would be a good god, and rule like her girlfriend would.

Kylee's eyes watered again, mourning prematurely the departure to come. She looked to the ceiling. She would make Paloma happy. She knew her favorite foods, her favorite books, her favorite everything. She would give her the world on a platter, make her have the most fulfilling life. From wealth, to friends, to health and romance. Romance.

Yes.

Kylee was a multishipper. Kylee knew people could mesh well with more than one person. She could find Paloma another lover, a better one!

She would be fine.

Her stomach's knots stayed in place, no matter how long she repeated that phrase.

Yeah, Paloma would be fine.

But Kylee wouldn't.

Kylee had gotten what she wanted.

She would be alone now. Free from societal conventions. Free to do what she wanted. Free to people watch, free to bend wills, free to mess around and turn her ideas into reality.

She will find her own happiness. Somehow. The sentiment felt hollow in her chest.

Panic set in again.

What was she doing? What had she done?

She turned and looked at Paloma's face once more.

If she didn't win... There would be no more world. No more Kylee. No more Paloma.

These were her only options. Stay alone forever, or lose everything.

For the first time since the start of the game, she felt afraid of the outcome.

[devil-in-those-eyes]

Professional Part 4-Roger Taylor

ITS SMUT TIME MY FRIENDS!!!!

Just go enjoy yourselves lol

           This kiss was four years of waiting. Four years of stealing glances, secret smiles, longing to be alone in the same room. Four years of growing feelings that neither of you could forget, no matter how hard you tried. Roger nudged a thick thigh between your legs and the press of his hips against yours almost hurt but then he gathers your small wrists in one big hand of his and his free hand travels to your waist, his thumb brushing against the cup of your bra. You pant into his mouth, your tongue brushing against his, and he groans, the sound thick as it bounced off of the four walls.

           The jump of the elevator hitting the floor destination pulled you both back to reality and Roger backed away from you just before the doors slid open. He grabbed your hand in his and cleared his throat, his jaw clenched together and eyes staring ahead, pulling you out of the lift and towards your shared hotel room. You could still feeling the tingle on your lips and brought your fingertips up to your mouth, as if to check and make sure his lips weren’t still pressed to yours.

           You followed behind Roger quickly, his hand pulling you with him and not looking back to make sure you were keeping up with him. What the fuck were you doing? Your head screamed at you, but neither of you cared what was wrong or right as he pulled you back into his arms, giving you another searing kiss and slamming the door shut over your head. The voice in your head melted away the second your fingers reached up and tangled in his blonde hair, feeling the vibrations of his groan against your tongue.

           Within minutes you both had peeled each other’s clothes off, getting each other naked and pressing back into one another. The feeling of his naked chest brushing against your sensitive nipples sent your head into a tizzy and as he ran his fingers down your back while walking both of you to the bed you could feel him slowing his hot and frenzied kisses down and that’s the exact opposite of what you want.

           He touched your cheek with one hand while grabbed your wrist that was trying to sneak inside his boxers, pulling his lips back and breathing sharply. “I want to slow down,” he said as the backs of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

           You smirked and got on the bed, laying in the middle of it and slowly taking off your black knickers, keeping your eyes on his and watching him stare at you. You widened your legs and brushed a fingertip over your clit, showing him just how wet you were. His nostrils flared and his eyes darkened, his lower stomach tightening. You stared at the growing bulge inside his boxers, “Are you sure?”

           “I’ve waited four years for this moment, I’m going to soak up every second.” Roger promised, his voice deep and thick with arousal. You both stared at each other’s hands as his drifted down his stomach and pushing his boxers down his legs, his hand wrapping around his hard member. His eyes were on your hand as your fingers began rubbing slow circles over your clit, both of you were teasing each other.

           You wanted to see how long he would last taking it slow, how long until he cracked. As his hand fisted himself, moving up and down slowly, you could see the little bead of pre-cum and when your fingers circled your entrance, he groaned at the sight. You smirked, your voice breathless from the small pulses of pleasure, “This would feel so much better if it were you touching me.”

           Roger hummed and smirked while kneeling on the bed and resting between your legs, goosebumps rising on your skin as his hand ghosted up your legs. Your chest flared with heat while you watched Roger sink to the bed, slotting his arms around your thighs and holding your hips down to the bed. You watched his lips kiss your clit, a barely there kiss, but when his tongue licked a thin strip up your center it was like stars just filled the room.

           “Fuck,” Roger groaned after he sucked on your clit and made you moan loudly. You watched him while he watched himself slip a finger inside of you, your heat clenching around his digit. “I’ve been dreaming about this for so long.”

           If you hadn’t been breathing heavily with an already flushed chest, the pink in your cheeks would have told him that you had also been dreaming about this moment. You no longer had to lie to him, or play hard to get because he already had you. He grinned at you while lowering his lips to your clit again, “Rog, oh my god.”

           Roger was relentless, not stopping even after the pleasure began getting too much for you and you squeezed the bed sheets in your hands, trying to crawl away from him. He held you down, licking and sucking you through your first orgasm, taking in your moans and cries in his name. The aftershocks of the first orgasm were still rocking through you as Roger kissed up your body, grinning into your skin as you lazily pushed your fingers through his hair.

           As he settled between your thighs, his dick heavy between the both of you, you brought his lips down to yours. You pulled away after a couple seconds of lazy kisses and brushed your finger tips down his neck and following the lines of his collarbone, staring up into his half lidded eyes, “you’re not the only one who’s waited years, Rog.”

           There was so much emotion in his eyes, so much adoration for you as it mixed with lust, but either way he wordlessly folded his fingers between yours and held your hands beside your head, his eyes staring into yours as he positioned himself and began driving his hips forward, easily sliding in from your arousal.

           Your mouth slanted open as he slowly filled you up, bottoming out and resting for a moment by placing his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck me,” he groaned deeply, making your sex clench around him, eliciting another groan from him.

           “Rog, please,” you whimpered, needing some sort of friction.

           “Been waiting years for this, love, give me a second.” His voice sounded strained against your skin.

           You raised your legs, allowing him to slip in further, “We have all night, babe.”

           Roger pulled back and smiled down at you, lowering his lips to yours. “You’re right,” he grumbled and drew his hips back before slipping inside again, his tongue slipping inside your mouth and brushing against yours.

           The climb to the edge was slow, but none the less beautiful with him. He stayed true to his word and never lost control, his thrusts stayed slow but hard, both of you moaning and loosing your breath. When his hands squeezed yours, you felt a rush of wetness between your legs because you were completely at his mercy, unable to touch his skin or grab his hair and you were both loving every second.

           “Cum on my cock, baby,” he moaned into your mouth.

           The coil inside your stomach burst apart and you squeezed his hands while you cummed around him, moaning his name and ultimately pulling him off of the edge with you. He moaned loudly as his hips stuttered through his orgasm. For a while you laid there with Roger on top of you, slowly his hands relaxed around yours and as your breathing slowly returned to normal you slipped your hands to his ribs.

           Goosebumps and shivers raced through his body as your hands grazed over his skin. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, basking in the after orgasmic glow, feeling Roger pull back. He slowly moved off of you and laid beside you. You could feel his eyes on you and as you opened your eyes he reached up and moved a piece of hair away from your face. You smiled softly, “Why are you staring?”

           “You are…” he paused as his eyes roamed you from head to naked toe before settling back on your eyes with a smile on his face, “the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

           Your cheeks blushed, like a nervous teenage girl with her first boyfriend, and you turned towards him, pushing your body into his and resting your head on his stretched out arm. “Who knew you were this sweet?” you asked in a whisper with a smirk.

           “I always had a sweet spot for you,” Roger answered, draping his other arm over your naked middle and placing his forehead against yours. He breathed deeply through his nose, “I could lay like this forever.”

           You pressed your lips to his bottom one before closing your eyes and agreeing softly, “Me too.”

I know, it wasn't long but It’s okay because more to come!

TAGLIST: @brianandthemays @asquiresofftime @reedusteinrambles @a19103

[sunshineandfangs]

Viaggio/Cuore Malato Sequel Teaser pt.3

Luiza did indeed yell at me lol. And I am easily swayed into writing more stuff when people are so enthusiastic. Also I felt kinda bad for my cliffhangers.

Viaggio | Cuore Malato | Sequel pt1 | pt2

Warning: minor violence, FEELINGS, some fluff at last

---

Caroline watched with wary eyes as Ni-Klau-Niklau-he paced back and forth in front of her, a wild and frenzied air about him. After he bit her so brutally (again) she wasn’t expecting to survive, no more resurrections left. Game over. The aching part of her, the part left bleeding from his betrayal twice over, felt almost relieved.

And yet she wasn’t dead. He had stared at her as if he was seeing a ghost, literally shoved his blood down her throat to cure his venom, but had laid her with utter gentleness on a bed. Mood flipping again, he had torn out the carotid of a human he had snatched, spraying blood across her face and the room.

She had surprised herself with her control, somehow knowing she could resist if she really wanted to, but that same stupid, aching piece of her wanted answers. So she had lapped up the blood dripping down her lips, drank deeply from the poor convulsing man on the floor, needing the strength.

And now she watched him pace. His erratic behavior actually gave her a measure of confidence, though she cursed herself when her instinct was still to reach for his hand.

He froze as she touched him, burning a hole in the wall he was still facing, seeming afraid to look at her.

Her lips parted, her tongue clumsy as she stumbled over how to address him. “Nik,” she uttered at last, her heart foolishly settling on hope, “please, help me understand what’s happening.” She spoke as she did centuries ago, pointedly using the old Tuscan dialect.

---

Her hand was so warm in his, newly transitioned or not. And for all that he craved answers, he was running like a coward when it came to finally getting them.

He whipped around, wide-eyed as she spoke to him in a dialect he hadn’t heard in centuries. Her voice sounding as sweet as it ever did. And his mind raced as he registered her flawless accent, recalled that a few moments ago she had yelled at him in flawless English.

His fear and pride was a solid pit inside him, one he swallowed to speak to her, voice hoarse. 

“896 years, 4 months, and 18 days ago I killed The Five,” he carefully moved closer to her and reached to touch her cheek, feeling relieved when she let him and didn’t flinch away. “Realized I killed you as well under the Hunter’s Curse. For 52 years, 4 months, and 9 days you came to me, haunting me with well-deserved vitriol.” His fingers trembled slightly as he traced the line of her jaw, the shape exactly as he remembered, the same lines he had drawn over and over. “I thought you would return to me at first, my blood in your system, but you never did. ...How are you here, Caroline?”

---

One didn’t remember the death dates of insignificant people. Nor did men like Nik or Klaus express such genuine vulnerability as a ploy. She slowly lifted her hand to press against his, skin to skin to skin.

“I was born here, in this time,” she added, clutching his fingers as he made to pull away, eyes pleading. “October 10th, 1992 in Mystic Falls General. The things I told you, they were true, just re-framed to fit a time I suddenly found myself in. You can find all my records here if you search for them, I didn’t lie to you if I could help.” She squeezed his hand, absorbing the stunned expression on his face, waiting for it to turn to anger or disbelief. “And nothing I did was a plan or scheme or plot. It wasn’t my intention to fall through time, fall in love with you. And it was absolutely not my intention to leave you, Nik.” She offered a wobbly smile. “Trust me, if it were my choice I would have stayed to yell at you for biting me like that.”

---

Her claims were insanity and yet he wanted them to be true with a desperate fervor. And oh, how she sounded like his Caroline. Not just her voice but her words. That daring audacity and blunt honesty. The easy way she could speak of love. 

Everything about her pulled at his recollection. Her scent: citrus and vanilla, with hints of honey. The way her golden curls framed her face. The blue glint of her eyes. His fingers twitched. The way her skin felt against his.

“How can this be?” He rasped, needing her to prove it.

---

Caroline’s newly dead heart found the ability to pound away like a hummingbird, rapid and powerful. She could feel each beat thudding in her chest, an incredible awe filling her that they might both be telling the truth.

Her hope made her brave.

She interlaced their fingers, sliding their joined hands from her jaw to her temple.

“I don’t know how, but I am the Caroline you remember. I swear. Let me show you?”

She lowered her mental barriers, waiting to feel his presence. Trusting that this version, 896 years older but still carrying her memory, would not hurt her.

---

Klaus sucked in an unnecessary breath, feeling the gentle pressure of her mind. The warmth, the love, the affection. The way it seemed to wrap around him as he carefully prodded at the access she was granting to him.

He fell forward into the memory she offered up, eyelids fluttering as he too recalled the moment.

---

Caroline fiddled with her hair as she bit her lip, feeling a bit incredulous about what she was about to ask, to offer. Well aware how much it went against everything she had been taught.

“What is it like to feed?” She blurted out before she could lose her nerve, fidgeting more when Nik stared at her in surprise.

“Like the most potent rush you can imagine. Why? Are you offering?” He meant it as a tease, and was visibly taken aback when she said yes.

She blushed under his wide-eyed gaze and looked away, finding it easier to speak to the nice tapestry in the corner.

“It-it just seems like it could be very intimate. And well, I trust you not to hurt me and I just thought that maybe I could try giving you some of my blood. You know, just to see what it’s like. I mean you don’t have to of course! Oh, god what if I taste bad or so-”

Her rambling was halted as a finger pressed against her lips, the rest of his hand gently cupping her chin and encouraging her to look at him. She reluctantly turned her head, feeling flustered as she met his gaze.

Relief and warmth washed through her as she took in his soft expression, his hand seeming to caress her cheek of its own accord.

“I am honored, Caroline,” he said quietly, but no less powerfully, “by your trust in me. And if you wish me to, then I would happily accept your offer.”

She smiled, feeling her heart rate spike in anticipation. “Okay, then. Um how should we do this?”

His hand fell from her cheek to wrap around her waist, both his arms embracing her as he stepped backward. She followed willingly, listening to the almost purr his voice had fallen into.

“This will be more comfortable for you if we sit.” As he spoke, Nik settled back into one of his plusher chairs, motioning for her to turn. She did, letting him guide her to sit in his lap, resting her back to his chest. One arm banded across her stomach to keep her from falling, while the other gently combed back the hair from the right side of her throat.

She tilted her head to make it easier, relaxing in his arms. The hand on her stomach twitched as his voice rumbled against her back. “Oh, Caroline, the things you do to me...”

His lips were soft, nearly tickling the sensitive skin of her neck as he pressed kisses up and down the line of it. The pace slow and sensual before eventually they settled on one spot, nipping and sucking with still blunt teeth.

Caroline panted slightly, unable to help the stirring of arousal as she leaned into him. At some point her eyes had fluttered shut, and she didn’t bother to open them again, focusing instead on the feel of him surrounding her, his scent, the way her neck tingled from his touch.

The point of his fangs descended tracing a short line before halting, sliding with almost no resistance through her skin. It didn’t really hurt, feeling more like a firm pressure. 

And then he was pulling back slightly, unplugging the small punctures as he drew her blood. Her breath hitched, unable to describe the sensation, but god did she like it. The two moaned in tandem, Nik delighting in the taste of her, the spice of her arousal the high of her trust, she reveling in the feel of him, the intimacy.

He drank slow, luxurious mouthfuls, tongue swiping out to catch the drops he missed. An eternity and an instant passed before he pulled away, his own blood sealing the wound until it looked like a faint bruise.

“Thank you, Caroline,” he murmured against her, lips brushing where he had just bitten her.

---

Their eyes opened simultaneously, Klaus’ chest giving an odd twinge at the old trust shimmering in her eyes.

“That’s how I want to remember you drinking from me, Nik. Please, don’t smother such a lovely memory again.”

“Caroline,” was all he could manage, her name laden with a million different emotions, none of which he could express.

It really was her. And he was self aware enough to know he didn’t deserve her, that in a day or so he would investigate every bit of her story, needing to know the how’s and the why’s.

But for now he just wanted her. So he took her. Cradled her in his arms as he blurred to his bedroom, curling around her on his sheets as he buried his nose in her hair.

---

List of current and upcoming sequels here.

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke modern AU: Love

Chapter 7 of Damned Spot is up on AO3! Find the previous chapters here on Tumblr. 

In which Fenris and Rynne deal with the aftermath of their impromptu night together. Beware le texting and le angst... 😞

*******************

8:52am - hey so 8:52am - you just went to get coffee right? 8:52am - bc you should know i dont like it lol 8:52am - chai for me plz~

10:11am - seriously though are you coming back?

1:08pm - honestly what the fuck 1:08pm - i didn't take YOU for a fuckboy 1:09pm - i mean i’m an idiot but i didn’t think i was that stupid

1:35pm - i take that back 1:35pm - i just realized you might have gotten hit by a car or sth 1:36pm - which i RELLY hope didn’t happen 1:36pm - really*** 1:36pm - just let me know if you need blood bc i’m a universal donor lol

2:46pm - Fenris. please. just talk to me

Rynne tossed her phone on the coffee table and dragged her hands through her hair, then nervously patted it back into place. She picked up the half-eaten piece of toast she’d made this morning and took a bite, then listlessly rose from the couch and carried the cold toast back to the kitchen to throw it out.

She just couldn’t understand it. Fenris was so wonderful last night, sexy and slow and attentive, holding her close until she fell asleep. And the words he’d said, those gorgeous tender words that he’d poured in her ear…

Rynne couldn’t reconcile that man with the one who had left her alone at some unspecified hour of the morning and who was now ghosting her so brutally.

She flicked the kettle on and toyed idly with her earrings as she waited for it to boil. Then, unable to resist the horrible temptation, she went back to the living room and picked up her phone.

She tapped into her messages and stared at the increasingly desperate string of unanswered texts she’d sent to him, then closed the app and slumped onto the couch. She really wished someone else was home right now. Rynne had never been particularly good at sitting alone with her feelings, and the feelings she was having now… Maker’s balls, they were fucking painful. It felt like a cold, heavy rock had been shoved right behind her sternum, and she could really use a friendly distraction.

Maybe he really did just get held up, she thought. Ran into someone he knew in Lowtown, or… or got arrested for being too sexy, or… Shit, she was really grasping at straws here to find an excuse for him. Any complicated excuse would do, because any excuse was better than the simple and likely truth.

It was a one-night stand. He doesn’t really want you.

She tugged at her ear until it started to hurt. Then she heard the click of the kettle turning off. She rose to her feet and went to pour herself some tea, but before she could do more than pick out a teabag, the intercom chimed.

Rynne dropped the teabag and ran to the intercom, then slammed her finger on the button. “Hello?”

There was a brief moment of silence, then his voice grumbled through the speaker. “Hawke? It’s… it’s me.”

“Come on up,” she replied, and she hit the buzzer. “Thank fuck,” she exclaimed out loud to the empty condo, then she ran to the bathroom to make sure she didn’t look as much of a wreck as she felt.

A minute later, the doorbell rang, and Rynne pulled open the door.

Fenris was frowning.

Her stomach instantly plummeted. Fuck, she thought. She laughed nervously as she let him in. “You’re just in time!” she said. “I was making tea. I’m glad you’re not dead, by the way. I was about to call the emergency room at Andraste General and see if the most handsome man in Thedas happened to have been admitted-”

“Hawke,” he said quietly.

She froze for a moment at the gravity of his tone, then breezed into the kitchen. “Do you want tea?” she asked. “Or maybe coffee instead? You take it black with a little sugar, right?”

“That’s - yes, that’s right. But no thank you. Hawke-”

She looked up at him with an empty mug in her hands. “You sure? It’s no trouble. I can make approximately five things in the kitchen and coffee is one of-”

He placed one tattooed palm on the kitchen counter. “Hawke, I… I cannot do this. It should never have happened in the first place. Forgive me.”

She stared at him dumbly, unable to breathe around the foolish hopes that were clogging her lungs and her throat.

Finally she drew a painful breath peeled her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “You came back here just to tell me that? That this is over?”

He tucked his hand back into his pocket and took a small step back. “Yes. I’m sorry-”

“Bullshit,” she exclaimed. “I don’t believe you.” She put the mug down and made her way around the kitchen counter to approach him.

He backed away from her with his hands in his pockets, and Rynne tried hard to ignore the fresh lance of hurt that speared her in the chest. She took another deep breath and folded her arms. “Come on, Fenris, what’s really going on here?”

“Nothing is going on,” he said. “I was drunk. We both were. It was a mistake, and it cannot happen again.”

A painful lump appeared in her throat, but she swallowed it down. His words were classic brush-off fuckboy fodder, and if Piper were here, she would have cheerfully told him to fuck off and take his tiny prick with him.

But Pipes wasn’t here. And somehow, for some reason, Rynne didn’t believe that Fenris was just using her for sex. She might be an overly optimistic idiot, but the things he’d said last night were still ringing in her ears.

I didn’t think I needed anyone or wanted anyone. Until now. Fenris didn’t speak idle words, and he wasn’t the kind of man who would say such things lightly. Rynne would never forget it, and she was absolutely certain he hadn’t forgotten it either.

“Alcohol is no excuse,” she said, as matter-of-factly as she could. “By the time you had me naked, you weren’t drunk anymore. And I wasn’t either.” She peered at him. “You can talk to me without blowing me off, you know. Listening and fucking aren’t mutually exclusive.”

His expression crumpled with discomfort as she spoke. He scratched the back of his neck and darted a glance at the door, and Rynne held her breath as she waited for him to respond. Maybe she’d come on too strong. Was this going to drive him away for good?

Finally he blew out a breath and rubbed a hand over his snowy hair. “Are we alone?” he asked.

She relaxed slightly. That was a good sign. “Yes, it’s just us,” she said. “What’s going on?”

He gripped his hair for a moment longer, then lifted his gaze to her face. “I have not been entirely honest with you,” he said. “I… I have not left the world of Tevinter crime behind.”

A jolt of horror made her widen her eyes. “Y-you mean… you’re still working as a-?”

“No,” Fenris said hastily. “No, it is not that. I…” He sighed and seated himself gingerly on the arm of the couch. “I didn’t come to Kirkwall to start a new life. I came here to bide my time.”

She took a tentative step closer to him. “What does that mean?”

“I was... well-known, shall we say, in the more disreputable circles in Tevinter,” he said slowly. “My departure was not as tidy as I made it sound. Danarius has not stopped hunting me. And I will not be hounded by him any longer.”

His expression was cold and fierce. Rynne took a deep breath. Her chest was jangling with anxiety at what he was implying, but she needed him to spell it out.

She rubbed her chilly arms. “What exactly does that mean?” she whispered.

Fenris continued to gaze steadily at her. “It means that I will kill him,” he said baldly. “When the time is right, I will lure Danarius out of Tevinter, and I will kill him, and any men he brings along with him.”

Rynne gaped at him, speechless and dumb with shock at the starkness of his words. Perhaps she shouldn’t be so shocked; he had told her he’d worked as an enforcer, after all. But somehow, Rynne hadn’t really seen it.

This wasn’t to say she didn’t believe him. She absolutely believed he was capable of incapacitating someone who deserved it. She would never forget the sight of him holding his knife to the throat of that guy who’s attacked her behind the Hanged Man. But somehow, in her naive little mind, she’d managed to separate that cold, brutal fighter from the smart, smirking, sympathetic man who worked with her at the pub.

Multifaceted indeed, she thought numbly. He was intelligent, well-spoken, polite… and a self-proclaimed killer who was planning to kill more people still.

She realized her silence had stretched on too long when Fenris nodded sharply and rose from the couch. “You understand the problem,” he said. “This… liaison can go no further. There is no future for you in all of this.”

He took a purposeful step toward the door. Before she could stop to think, Rynne darted in front of him. “Why don’t you just not kill Danarius?” she blurted.

He stared at her as though she’d said something absurd. “What?”

“Don’t kill him,” Rynne said urgently. “Just go on with your life. You know what they say: the best revenge is a life well lived.”

Fenris scowled. “Spoken like a person who has never been truly wronged,” he said acidly. “I will not wait passively to be found. There always comes a time when you must stop running - when you turn and face the tiger.”

“And there are times when you have to reconsider your plans so you don’t go to jail!” Rynne exclaimed. “What in the Void are you thinking will happen after you kill Danarius?”

Fenris shrugged and glanced at the door. “It doesn’t matter. I will be gone by then.”

Rynne raised her eyebrows. “So after you… after you carry out this plan of yours, you’re just going to leave. That’s it?”

Fenris finally seemed to lose his patience: he glared at her so fiercely that she took an instinctive step away from him. “Yes,” he snapped. “When this is done, I will leave this place and I will be satisfied that I’ve removed at least a scrap of miserable darkness from this world.”

Rynne’s heart was beating an anxious rhythm in her throat. She’d never seen him look so angry. She reached tremulously for his hand. “Fenris-”

He jerked his hand away from her touch. “You don’t understand,” he hissed. “You don’t know what they’ve done to me. The duplicity and the tattoos, the - the lyrium and the fucking lies-”

Rynne took a step forward and boldly grabbed his hand. He tried to pull away, but she squeezed his hand firmly in both of hers. “Fenris,” she said breathlessly, “I want to understand. Just - help me understa-”

“They set me up, all right?” he shouted. “I attempted to leave when they tried to bring Varania into the business. Danarius said one last job, and I would be free. But they set me up. Beat me to within an inch of my life, killed my mother and my sister, and told me it was a rival gang who did the job. I couldn’t remember what had happened, so I believed them.”

His fingers were cold and clenched, and Rynne’s chest felt just as clenched, tight with an aching and horrified sympathy. “And the tattoos?” she whispered.

He bowed his head and ran his free hand through his hair. “When I healed from my wounds, they… encouraged me to get the tattoos. Show my fealty to Danarius. And I agreed. I thought I had nothing left to live for, with my family dead and gone. And…” He swallowed hard, then lifted his face once more, and Rynne’s throat swelled at the distress in his face.

“I asked for lyrium,” he rasped. “While the tattoos were healing. I requested it. I… I demanded it.”

“Oh, Fenris,” Rynne breathed. She squeezed his forearm, then reached up and cradled his neck. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask for any of this-”

He reached up and pulled her hands away. “Are you not listening?” he demanded. “I asked for lyrium. I begged them to rub that filthy salve on my skin while the tattoos were healing. Then the salve became the shots, and…” He rubbed his face tiredly. “I was addicted to it for years, Hawke. That was a curse of my own making.”

Rynne frowned. He’d become an addict via lyrium salve? That didn’t seem right. Rynne wasn’t a doctor by any means, but she knew quite a bit about how lyrium was absorbed, and lyrium salve was the least potent form. It could even be used on children in small doses.

But this didn’t seem the time to point it out. And Fenris wasn’t finished talking. “You are right about one thing,” he said. “This is not entirely my fault. It’s Danarius’s fault: Danarius and his entire snivelling, power-hungry clan of criminals. And I won’t find a moment’s peace until he is dead.”

Rynne forced herself to breathe calmly. All this talk of death, of Fenris killing someone, and the thought of him getting caught and locked away for something that could so easily be avoided… It was almost enough to make her panic.

She forced another careful inhale. “How long has it been since you were in Tevinter?” she asked.

His scowl lessened somewhat. “Two years and nine months, give or take. Why do you ask?”

“And you’ve been running from Danarius ever since?” she asked.

He narrowed his eyes. “Yes. Why else do you think I only just arrived in Kirkwall?”

Rynne took a deep breath. This next question was crucial. “Did you ever… did you kill any of his people in that time?”

“No,” he said tersely. “I avoided them. I have been trying to keep a low profile, as you well know.”

His response was accusatory, but Rynne didn’t mind; she released a little sigh of relief. “So let’s go to the police,” she said. “The Kirkwall police are very fair. Aveline Vallen, the police captain, she’s a friend - not that that would make her go easy on anyone or anything, she’s so scrupulous it’s nearly annoying, but - and Cullen! Cullen would absolutely be willing to help. We can just-”

“No,” Fenris said loudly. “No police, and no lawyers. I will - this is not your problem.” He edged around her and moved toward the door. “I have already told you far more than you should know. I will deal with this on my own.”

Rynne planted herself firmly in front of the door. “Fenris, you can’t do this,” she said desperately. “It’s too dangerous, and if you get caught-”

He took an angry step closer to her. “And what would you have me do?” he snarled. “Hawke, I have never had the option to simply walk away. They chased me every step of the way. I’ve settled nowhere for longer than five months. Am I supposed to forgive, no matter how many times they hunt me down? Am I supposed to forget all the things they’ve done to me?”

“That’s not what I’m suggesting,” Rynne retorted. She tried hard to keep the tremor from her voice. “I’m just saying you don’t have to kill him! There has to be another way to make them get what they-”

“Stop trying to change my mind!” he shouted suddenly. “You don’t know what it is to live under the weight of such ghosts!”

Rynne snapped her mouth shut and raised her eyebrows. After what she’d told him, what he knew about her life, he was going to tell her she knew nothing about living with ghosts?

Fenris glared at her for a moment, but his expression seemed to melt as he stared at her face. He scraped his hands through his hair. “I do not mean that,” he said quietly. “I… that was thoughtless of me. It was not my intention to minimize-”

“There has to be something else we can do,” Rynne interrupted. Her throat was aching from his verbal onslaught, but that wasn’t important now. Stopping him from committing murder was more important than her hurt feelings. “You talk like you don’t have a choice, but you do. You don’t have to be the guy who - who kills people to solve problems,” she insisted. She reached out and gently squeezed his bicep. “You’re more than just the most handsome enforcer the Tevinter mob ever had,” she said, with a tiny hopeful smile. “You aren’t that person anymore. I know that can’t be what you want.”

He gazed at her in silence, and the softness in his eyes made her heart beat with hope.

Then his words dashed it all away. “You’re wrong,” he said softly. “There is nothing I want more than to see Danarius dead.”

His gently spoken words were like a punch to her gut. Rynne stared at him with rising misery, at his savage and beautiful face with those brilliant green eyes of his, and the way they seemed to shine more brightly than usual.

He dropped his gaze and peeled her fingers from his arm, then carefully pushed her away from the door.

“Don’t go,” she blurted. She impatiently wiped a stupid, desperate tear from her cheek. “Please don’t go.”

He opened the door, then turned back to face her once more. “If you decide to go to the police-”

“I’m not going to the fucking police behind your back,” Rynne interrupted. She reached for him again. “Fenris, please…”

He pulled away and put his hands in his pockets. “If you do, I would not blame you. You did not ask to get involved in this. I would ask only that you tell me when you do. Give me a head start, at the very least.”

She shook her head and wiped her face. She could feel her face getting puffy and swollen already. “I’m not going to the police,” she repeated fiercely. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? When you come to your fucking senses, I’m going to be right here.”

Fenris stared at her for a moment longer. Then he pulled up his hood and left.

Rynne stepped into the doorway and watched as he strode toward the elevator with his shoulders hunched and his hands hidden in his pockets. He stepped into the elevator without looking back.

Once he was gone, Rynne went back inside. She closed the door quietly behind her, then went to the kitchen and turned the kettle on. She stood frozen in the kitchen while the kettle boiled, and when the switch flicked off, she picked up her abandoned teabag and her abandoned mug and poured the water over the tea.

She leaned woodenly against the counter and waited dumbly for the tea to steep. Then she heard the click of the front door lock.

“Hey bitches! Anybody home?” Piper’s chipper voice drifted into the condo, followed a moment later by Piper herself. Her tattooed face was wreathed in a smile, but it disappeared instantly when she stepped into the kitchen.

Piper dropped her phone and her purse on the kitchen counter and grabbed Rynne’s arm. “What’s wrong?” she demanded.

Rynne looked at her. “Do you want to watch The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo with me?”

Piper’s face fell even more. “Oh fuck. What did he do?” She glared toward the living room as though Fenris might be hiding there. “Where is he? I’ll shank him. I’ll cut him a new asshole if you want.”

Rynne laughed. The sentiment would have made her laugh no matter what, but the irony of it - the idea of anyone trying to cut Fenris, knowing now what Rynne knew of his past…

She snorted with amusement, and a hot tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away and burst out another hysterical snicker, and all of a sudden she was crying, crying like a fucking baby, and all she could hope was that her face wouldn’t be all ugly and swollen by the time they had to go to work tonight.

Piper’s wiry little arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, and Rynne sobbed grossly into Piper’s wild mass of hair. Within minutes, Piper had her ensconced on the couch with a cup of tea in her hands and a warm throw blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was playing while Piper cheerfully suggested fast-forwarding to the bit where Lisbeth got her revenge on the vile corrupt caseworker.

Rynne leaned her head on Piper’s shoulder as Piper offered her a bag of popcorn and chattered happily about doing a David Fincher movie marathon tomorrow. I love you, Rynne thought fondly to her friend.

If only love was always so easy.

[writingbarnes]

The Cursed Heir [ Bucky Barnes x Reader ] • 4 of 5

Summary : “This is just a dream.” [Y/N] muttered to herself, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Is it?” 

Fairy Tale/Prince Bucky AU

THE CURSED HEIR FIC  |  AO3

Character : Bucky Barnes X OC ( Reader )   |  Genre : Fluff, light angst |  Words : 3.2K-ish

Author’s Note : This is where the angst comes in yay. I love that i get to write about bucky with his beautiful hair. BUT BOI I can’t find a gif that doesn’t have a metal arm in it so pls ignore that high-tech background in the gif Oh well. My head is spinning rn & i don’t think it’s normal 🙃 I should probably sleep lol anyway, I hope you like it. Tell me what you think! As always, thank you victoria for helping me with this fic <3

Bucky loved to watch her draw. Steve was always quiet when he drew, the world seemed to melt away the moment he picked up his pencils. Sometimes he would look up and shake his head to lose the crick in his neck but he would be back in his own world in no time, filling the pages with drawings so beautiful it made his heart hurt. But she was different. She was a chaotic mess, fiddling with different pencils, hands dirtied by the charcoal as she smudged out something on the paper. Her animated eyes darted between every object around her every so often, lips curling into a satisfied smile when she finished a drawing. And she talked to him a lot. She would clutch the end of the book with her left hand and draw with her right, eyes focused on the paper, and still she would look up every once in a while and pause just to animate her stories with hand gestures.

“It would be exactly 100 years since the witch put the curse next week.” Bucky offhandedly mentioned as he sipped on his wine. His left arm ached again. It had worsened the past week, he noticed, and so had the nightmares. He pushed back the irrational fear to back of his mind and focused his attention on [Y/N] who was seated on the other side of the blanket.

Unlike Steve, who let Bucky go through his drawing book, [Y/N] never let him take a little peek. The only drawing he had seen was the flowers she drew him as an apology weeks ago (it was framed and found a permanent spot on the table next to his bed).

“What are you drawing?” Bucky asked, frowning when she leaned the book away from his sight.

“Flowers. The lake.” She quipped.

“You can’t be drawing the lake the whole time.” He didn’t care that he sounded like a whiny toddler asking for an extra serving of his favorite jelly. He scooted closer, ignoring the fluttery feeling in his stomach, and nudged her shoulder with his finger.

“Are you a child?” [Y/N] sighed. “I told you it’s a secret.”

“But I want to see it.” Bucky was sporting the puppy-eyed look Steve always flashed whenever she tried to say no to whatever scheme he was planning. “I’ll give you the last piece of bread?” He asked, still trying to get his hands on the stupid sketchbook. So she did the first thing that come to her mind. She threw it a few feet away from them, away from Bucky who pouted in disappointment.

“Can’t I see just one drawing?”

“I’ll let you see the ones in my old notebook.” [Y/N] finally said, patting his thigh before standing up to grab the sketchbook she had thrown to the grass in panic.

Maybe she stood up too quickly, or maybe she was just that bad with her balance and coordination, because the next thing she knew, she was falling face first into the ground and would have smack her face against the boulder and ruined the makeup and hair that she definitely didn’t do to impress Bucky if he didn’t pull her back. Both of them ended up toppling on the blanket, the wine sloshed to the blanket.

When she opened her eyes again, she was laying on top of him and he was staring at her with an unreadable expression. His eyes were soft and fond as always but there was something else, something she couldn’t quite decipher and he had his hand gently brushing away the hair that went to her face. She thought she could kiss him right now, when he had his lips quirked into a small tender smile that had secretly wormed its way into her heart.

“You’re the worst.” Bucky huffed a fond laugh, his other hand still planted on her back. She grinned at him and Bucky’s laughter died on his throat. The sunlight served as a perfect backlight for her, making her look more incandescent than she already was. If he just leaned in a little bit closer, he thought as he gazed down to her lips. He could just kiss her and maybe tell her about his feelings. Right when he was about to lean in, his eyes caught the spilled wine, the red reminding him of the blood that stained the royal chapel and the color of her dress.

“Look at what you have done, love.” Her honeyed voice felt like sharp knives against his heart. His head was hurting. She placed her hand on his cheek and went on her tiptoes to kiss the corner of his lips. “This was all you.” Her red lips stretched into a wicked smile.

“No.” Bucky shook his head, his breathing ragged. He smelled blood and death. He blinked a few times, praying for his sight to be wrong. “No.”

“BUCKY. THIS ISN’T YOU!” Steve shouted.

“Why don’t you end them too?” She purred, her sharp nails made crescent marks on his neck. “Maybe I will let you live for another week, love. Then, I will take over this kingdom. All thanks to your love and dedication-“

“Bucky?”

“NO!” Bucky wrenched himself away from her, profusely blinking away the tears. He retched at the memories. It took him a few deep breaths and a soft voice calling his name to take him back.

“Bucky?” He looked to his side and his heart dropped at the sight. He must’ve pushed her too hard. There was trail of blood seeping through the sleeve of her dress from when she hit the boulder behind her. She looked shaken, hands trembling as she tried to approach him.

“No.” Bucky shook his head. “Don’t.” He stopped her before she could touch his left arm. It felt like it was burning. He swallowed back the tears and stammered, “I’m sorry,” before he staggered to his feet and ran off.

.

Clint Barton found [Y/N] that night crying by the lake. He would’ve thought it was a ghost if he had drank an extra glass of the liquor King T’challa sent them yesterday. He cleared his throat to let her know of his presence and slowly approached her. Whatever questions he had in his mind vaporized when he saw dried blood on her arms.

“What happened?” He asked her. He knew what had happened. Bucky was running down the hall, knocking everything in his way and locked himself inside his room. Steve told them it was another flashback and he accidentally pushed her. She was probably terrified of him, Steve relayed Bucky’s words with a frustrated look. But the look [Y/N] gave him made him think twice about why she was crying.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“Do you want to talk?” Clint sat next to her, pushing away the glasses and empty basket. She had her knees tucked into her chest, face buried in her arms and Clint wondered if she would ever talk to him.

“My heart hurts.” She mumbled. She raised her head and turned to him with a broken smile. “He left.”

“He did. He was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Himself.” Clint answered a beat later. He turned to her. “There were things that happened to him, that were done to him that day. It was…It didn���t just go away, even after decades or a hundred years. I can’t tell you what, because this is not my story to tell. But I know he cares about you more than you think. And he’s scared.”

“I’m tired.” [Y/N] quietly said. “I’m going to go back to the castle.”

Clint nodded quietly as he watched her picked up her book and pencils. He waited for her to compose herself, offering a piece of handkerchief to wipe her face.

“Thank you.” She smiled. It was hollow and insincere. But Clint didn’t say anything. He just let her lead the way back to the castle and bid her a soft good night when they reached her room.

It was funny how things could go from great to not-so-great, awfully disastrous in a matter of seconds. She replayed the moment she ruined it over and over again as she closed the door and she climbed into her bed. She shouldn’t have called his name, or tried to touch his arm, she chastised herself. Tears welled up in her eyes again.

“Thank you for staying here.” She mumbled to the cat who had joined her in her bed. Butterscotch stared at her for a long moment before she walked over towards her and nudged her wet cheek with her head.

[Y/N] scratched Butterscotch’s head, her cries quieted down to an occasional sniffling while the cat lay down on her lap, letting her pet her until she fell asleep.

.

[Y/N] was not a stranger of nightmares. She had her fair share of nightmares when her parents passed away and even during the first few days in the castle, fear overriding her brain. It was usually just her, trying to run from a shadowed figure and she would wake up hours later with her heart racing like she just ran a marathon, the details of the dream soon washed away by the cool water.

It was different this time. She found herself kneeling on the marbled floor of her room and she could sense a presence behind her.

“Hello there.”

She felt the burning pain even before it stepped into her view and touched the sharp end of her staff to her heart. It burned through her skin and straight into her heart. She fleetingly noticed it had glowed bright blue and wondered if this was how she was going to die. All cries for help stuck in her throat, her eyes filled with unshed tears as she looked up at her.

Oh, she was beautiful. That was the first thing that came to her mind when she saw her face. No wonder Bucky fell in love with her. She’d fall in love with her if she didn’t see her in this state. Her long wavy hair flowed down to her waist. She had blood red lipstick on her lips, her eyebrows arched as though she could read her mind.

“Trying to steal what’s mine?” Her voice was shrill and high-pitched enough to hurt her ears. Her long nails were like talons when it grabbed her chin harshly, forcing her to look at her. “I have been giving him warnings. But he keeps ignoring it. Boys, right?” She giggled, “I suppose I have to kill you first. Maybe he’ll realize he could never stop obeying my command.”

“Fuck off.” [Y/N] said between gasps.

“Oh, I like you a lot!” The woman laughed again, pressing her staff a little deeper into her chest. “The heart of his true love. I could be sated for another century if I could just get your heart. Maybe his too, because I will make sure he knows who he belongs to.”

“He’s not that stupid.” [Y/N] grumbled blocking the fall with her arms when the woman pushed her away.

She only looked at her with a look that sent shivers down her spine. Her eyes gleamed wickedly under the moonlight. “We’ll see.” She said, snapping her fingers. [Y/N] heard a loud screaming noise a moment later, hands clenched to a tight fist once she recognized the owner of said voice.

“This is just a dream.” [Y/N] muttered to herself, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Is it?”

The next time she opened her eyes, she was back in her bed, sweating and panting for breath, with tendrils of hair stuck on her face. There was a lingering pain in her chest and she thought she saw a bruise if she looked down her nightgown. Water. She needed a cool glass of water, she decided, trying to climb out of the bed without falling on her ass. Her hand froze right before she could grab the water jug on the table, ears perking up at the familiar screaming sound.

She thought she was still dreaming, head still spinning even as she dragged her fatigued self out of the room, hands pressed against the wall for support. His room was at the end of the hall, with Steve’s behind the door next to hers. She tried to call his name, voice only reaching a raspy whisper when she opened her mouth. The next scream made her quicken her step towards Bucky’s room.

 .

The door was slightly open and whatever questions she had planned to ask died in her throat the moment she saw him. He was lying on the chair, chest glowing bright red as the woman put her talons on it. She turned to [Y/N] for a moment, smile so wide and wicked it made her stumble on her feet.

“No.” [Y/N] tried to stop her, tears blurring her vision. Her shaky hands went to the staff the woman was holding and the woman raised her eyebrows in amusement.

“You can barely walk and you want to fight me?” She asked.

“I want to kill you.” [Y/N] gritted her teeth, pushing the woman away from Bucky, who took a loud gasp of breath once the woman fell back. He looked at her with unfocused eyes, trying to register what had just happened. There was a second pause as the woman raised her staff before he realized her intention. Another scream was ripped out of his throat when she thrusted the sharp end of the staff at [Y/N]’s chest. Bucky watched [Y/N] crumpled to her knees in horror.

“So weak,” she spat, leaning down to [Y/N]’s level. “I wonder what will happen if I push this a little deeper and destroy your true love’s heart, Bucky?” The women grinned.

“GET AWAY FROM THEM!” Steve’s voice from the door startled them, enough that Bucky saw a glint of fear in the woman’s eyes. Clint, bless him and his aim, threw his blade at the woman, grinning triumphantly when it hit her stomach. It didn’t seem to hurt her much, but it did make her let go of [Y/N], letting her slump to the floor.

“If you think this is over, you are sorely mistaken.” The woman gasped, the eerie smile still on her face. “I can wait until she dies to get what I want. Maybe I should take your hearts too.” She cackled before disappearing into a smoke.

Bucky crawled to where [Y/N] lay and gently pulled her into his chest, the words ‘sorry’ escaped his lips over and over again while his friends took careful steps towards him.

“I don’t feel so good.” [Y/N] gasped softly, her clutch on Bucky’s shirt slowly loosened. He shook his head, brushing the tears away from her face with his thumb.

“It’s going to be okay.” He told her. He couldn’t stop the sob that escaped his lips when her body went limp in his hold.

“I’ll send letters to the King and the witch.” Sam said before he ran out of the room to get his falcon.

“We should get her to bed. She doesn’t seem to bleed. It’s a good thing, right?” Steve asked, turning to Natasha and Clint who looked just as confused as he was.

“It’s better than a stab wound to the chest.” Natasha finally said, crouching down in front of Bucky. “We need to get her cleaned up, Bucky. And you too.” Clint nodded and walked out of the room to call the servants on Natasha’s quiet order. No one spoke as they tried to get Bucky to move.

“It’s my fault.” Bucky mumbled as Natasha pulled him up, eyes fixed on [Y/N] even as Steve carried her out of the room.

“No, it’s not.” Natasha’s soft voice was so unlike her and on any other day, it would help ease the guilt in his heart. Not today, probably not ever. He didn’t think anything could lessen the pain in his chest but he kept his lips shut as he followed Natasha out of the room.

.

They needed to repaint the walls of his old room Natasha took him to. If he stared at it long enough, he could see traces of his childhood drawing underneath the white paint that has slightly yellowed and chipped. There was a spot right under the small window where there used to be a small antique upright piano and he would pretend he was a natural-born artist like Steve (he wasn’t. Not even close). His mother never really scolded him, not even when he used the brightest colored crayons and fill the stark white walls with the most abstract drawings (he thought it was because Steve’s drawing next to his were really pretty). When he was older, he let them paint over the drawing, hoping it would help him be more mature. He ended up letting Steve paint one wall of his room with flowers and night sky during his teenage years. The beautiful mural stayed there until he was in his mid-twenties. By then, the princess had come and put him under her spell and the painting was soon seen more as a nuisance. He recalled Steve’s promise of a better painting once he’s married, though he supposed the promise was long forgotten after what happened.

Steve was still talking when Bucky slowly came back from the flashback. He had walked into his room an hour ago with an old book given by the witches who had helped them decades ago and started on explaining what might be happening to [Y/N]. Bucky had tuned everything out after Steve mentioned there was no conclusive spell or medicine to wake her up. Except for the curse, which Bucky doubt they could break after tonight’s event.

“She seemed stronger.” Natasha stated, wrapping a piece of scarf around Bucky’s neck. He didn’t notice his body was shaking until Natasha and Steve gave him a worried look. “She still can’t kill any of us on the castle ground.”

“It’s a good thing.” Clint added, he had come back with Steve, two maids in tow with a tray of warm food and drinks. “That means she couldn’t do anything to us and her. We probably have to wait for Monica to come and help us. Peggy should be back this week. Maybe she could help us too.”

Bucky finally looked at them at the mention of [Y/N]’s sister, his eyes red and bright with unshed tears. “She knows?”

“Sam sent his falcon to give her the news.” Clint nodded. “Don’t we have those old books on healing at the library? There should be something that could help [Y/N].”

“We should probably go there and see if we can find anything useful. Do you want to go see her first, Bucky?” Steve fixed his attention on him again, his blue eyes clouded with worry and sympathy.

“She doesn’t need me there.” Bucky said and shook his head. He ignored the look in Steve’s face and gritted his teeth. You wouldn’t understand. The words hung right on the tips of his lips but he knew Steve didn’t deserve whatever lashing out he wanted to do. Bucky opted to stayed quiet and grabbed his coat from the chair before he quickly left the room.

Tagging some people : @pleasecallmecaptain @mangosoldier @wakandasoldier @tabi-toast @writing-soldiers @4theluvofall @meavie @montysmayhem @scarlettsoldier @marvelrevival @sebbys-girl@waitingfortherightpartner @sebstan-theman​ @elfwriter1088@wordsturnintostories@chromealchemist@showbuckysomelove @meavie @sawdustandsugar @amiteran

[abundantchewtoys]

Homestuck^2 re: Chapter 1 “Clown Logistics” (p57-95)

So, I would like to see the persecuting crew, but I wonder what the Clown Logistics'd apply to in that context.

It might also apply to getting rid of Gamzee's dead body - if Vriska ML fears Jane might come after her and (Vriska).

Though I would like it to apply to something more innocent, like John talking to Harry Anderson and harlequins somehow making their way into the subject matter.

---

Page 57

Oooooh, so THAT is what Vriska ML looks like! The text hadn't described her that much in detail, so this is a pleasant surprise!

She's a goth, hahah. It's ironic - in a way, dressing this way isn't rebellious at all, if that's what she was aiming for, since both her moms are themselves quite gothic too. Didn't expect the short hair, but it stands to reason a child raised by Kanaya and Rose wouldn't have long hair where her mothers don't!

Cool outfit all around.

So, it's also a nice juxtaposition to (Vriska) from the Game Over timeline. She went more the punk route under influence of Meenah.

And post-retcon (Vriska) is still looking quite burned and bloodied from her escapades on the battlefield in the Furthest Ring. Though it's notable that her chest isn't pierced, I thought a piece of broken spacetime hit her there

Hahah, she's claiming John's phone. Stickyfingers Serket.

So this means that when Jake says he didn't know where John went to... He was here just now, talking to Rose! So this takes place before John went to talk to Roxy and Harry Anderson. Oh boy, so we might be in for seeing that heartwrenching father-son conversation after all.

Say, the way Vriska ML holds her arms, with her sleeves like that... It kind of reminds me of Kanaya. I wonder if there are other mannerisms we'll see her having taken over from her mothers.

---

Page 58

Oooooh, hah. That's actually so true to her nature. (Vriska) staying obsure, not as relevant as the real deal? Nope.

This actually feels like something where the suggestion box could have opened up again.

Then again, we might just be shown a list of fake options on the next page.

Though I wonder if this is where people chose Vriska ML, the term used in the recap page. Vriskers is a fan favorite for the original flavour.

Hmm, Rosemary? It's just accurate but left-field enough it might work. :P And it's 8 letters, come to think of it!

---

Page 59

... Where did that eyepatch come from?! Was she really that hurt in the fight? Hah, she drew an 8/infinity symbol on it.

Ooooooh. Vrissy, huh? Okay, it's kind of a cute nickname. Sounds kind of like Vriska+sissy, though. Although, she IS kind of a sister to Vriska.

She seems to enjoy it though! But, uh, to me, it's still a bit confusing to read, since the first four letters of their name is still the same, and their text colour is all the same. :P We need Vrissy to change to red text colour, stat! :P

Anyway, they want to dispose of the body - not turn their back on it - and Vrissy wants to call some people.; So that's bound to be Tavros and Harry Anderson, right?

Though it's a bit strange she'd call her kismesis and matesprit at the same time, especially as said people are currently under close scrutiny by Jane, you'd think.

What's Vriska's reaction going to be to Vrissy calling a Tavros, though? :P

---

Page 60

Huh, that's less of an antagonistic interaction between them. Maybe "kismesis" is a loose term.

"Roll with it", pffffff.

So, Tavros is very much going to highjack one of Jane's smaller ships, right? Maybe this is what Jake referred to, his son and his kismesis being out.

Hah, namedrop! Now to see Vriska's response. Jawdrop?

Blaperile thinks Tavros might come in a car. That could work too, stuffing Gamzee's body in the trunk. And going on a roadtrip.

---

Page 61

XD, yeah, actually, a cringe reaction fits too. Then again, it was only a few hours ago she saw Tavros' ghost, so it wouldn't be THAT big a blast from the past... Wait, was she expecting GCATavrosprite or something??

Hah, so Vrissy thinks Tavros will get a kick out of seeing Gamzee dead. I don't think he'll be estatic, but he'll certainly won't mind. I'm dying to see how he looks though, Jade and John's biological brother!

---

Page 62

... That looks like a flying Smart from this angle.

Lol. Yeah, seems like a Vris thing, oggling Tavros car and being miffed it isn't hers.

---

Page 63

oooooooh. Yup, this looks what a Jane/Jake child with a bit of Gamzee peppering would end up looking like! Cool sidebangs.

The purple text and suit does beg explanation though, since Gamzee's such a shitty rolemodel. Maybe he doesn't really have a say in his clothing. :/

He does remind me of one of the kids on the Sburb fan album this way, though.

I love him.

---

Page 64

... Pfffff, and there's him keeping up the Tavros name in the unwilling clumsiness. Heheehh.

Vrissy did do a good job explaining the situation.

And it seems like this boy might have inherited some of John and Jake's panache at dramatic entrances!

---

Page 65

D: Poor, poor dude.

Ding dong, the clown is dead.

---

Page 66

(Still not seeing the kismesitude, though I LOVE Vrissy's attempt at being supportive.)

Vriska's also being rather uncharacteristically hospitable. Also, isn't she weirded out by the idea of attracting OTHER people, after having known the same 20-odd faces for so long?

---

Page 68

He's on the brink of adventure. He's heard the note desolation plays.

Tavros' life is on the brink of changing, is what I'm saying.

I wonder, is he bare underneath the sweater? Oh righ, he had that shirt with the bowtie.

---

Page 69

Hey, suspenders! ... They're just as orange as Vrissy's phone! Huh, I thought it might have been a compression issue, that Vrissy's phone was Crockertech (since it's presumably the foremost prelavent tech), but now I wonder.

... Wait, does Dirk have tech company? Orange and such. But suspenders don't strike me as his thing. :P

---

Page 71

Wait what?

... Is THIS Harry Anderson??????????

I thought the kid had glasses too, and black hair like John!

Dang, okay, those are some STRONG Lalonde genes. Coooooool.

John's son is a coolkid. My mind is blown.

---

Page 72

LOLLLLLLL.

So his personality is a delightful cross between Roxy and John's. He's only working off the assumption Vrissy's pranking him. Thinking he's the pranking MASTER.

Well, that coolkid facade is gonna be cracked real soon. Though I take his word for it he'll still know where to stash the thing. Even though he's all slick, I think the kid has inherited Roxy's IQ.

---

Page 75

Hahah, Harry Anderson didn't play truant for his last hour of school.

And Vriska's references to Alternia are going to keep weirding the other teens out.

This clown business does INDEED bring a lot of logistics with it.

Heehee, yeah, Vriska notes as well that Vrissy's rather chummy with her kismesis. I wonder if she, Tavros and Harry Anderson are in a state of flux in their quadrants. When she's chummy with one, she antagonizes the other.

Oooh, time for the first real point of disagreement between the two Vris'!

Blaperile has a good point - Tavros is going to end up with the rebels somehow. Well, I suppose him being seen with Vrissy is going to be enough to start a rumour, but he might indeed end up in the rebel camp proper, in the Troll Kingdom.

---

Page 76

Awww. Okay, so it's just a very low-energy kismesitude. His dorkiness vs her bossiness. And it just works, a better adjusted version of Nitram and Vriska's relation. It's even tamer than John and Terezi's bickering, is what I'm saying. At least for now.

---

Page 77

Pfff, so he actually went 'Right-o' and still followed Vriska out the door. Cool move for a kismesis, for sure.

N'aww, she hates-likes him.

Why did no-one captchalogue the corpse, though?

---

Page 79

So, are they gonna get caught? I'm not that worried about the honk. I mean, at this point, Gamzee reviving? I'm not really seeing it. But his body, even at rest, is full of the honkiest squeaks, that I believe.

If they let him drop now, which might happen since the aquabloods aren't stopping... It'll cause a ruckus.

---

Page 81

Pfffff. Vriska's efficiency level is at such a low level. It's hilarious.

Tavros has a good intuition, it seems, he felt she would be counting to 8.

---

Page 83

Ahhh, this is such a wacky hijinx adventure, I never expected...

Wait.

Hold the fuck up.

We're now in the Weekend at Bernie’s zone. Holy shit.

---

Page 85

Pffff, they actually managed to set the sprinklers off with so much as smoke? My god.

Yeah, they have to run for cover now, leaving the dead clown behind.

---

Page 86

Welp. WELP. They're caught. Hilarious BLUH panel though.

Okay, now, I can see how this story will get blown up, and Jane assumes the rebels kidnapped Tavros. ... Wait.

Chances are high that all the teens are just going to end up somewhere else entirely, not even at the rebel camp at all. Ah, yes, a misunderstanding pile-up causing the war to escalate is just something I can see happening here. Bonus points for it being a bunch of dumb teens covering up a dumb clown murder.

---

Page 87

Ooooooh. Five-letter names! Well, it fits Harry Anderson. And emoji's! :O We're in a new decennium now, that's for sure.

Yeah this is going viral.

I wonder if these people's names are, like, coming from Patreon backers. Or old Kickstarter backers from higher tiers.

(Yeah yeah, it's probably the writers themselves having named these folks, I'm making a federal issue from it.)

---

Page 88

Cool perspective

---

Page 89

Pfffff, Vriska's having the time of her life. She's just having fun, since she doesn't really concern herself with consequences.

Vrissy has a better handle of the impact of what just happened.

---

Page 90

... Yup, that's about the jumping to conclusions I was expecting.

Yeesh, Jane is actually as dense as Jake in a lot of critical ways. She's very good at convincing herself of the truth of something. Like here, how she still loved Gamzee, and how Tavros loved him too.

It seems like the conflict on Earth C pivots around Jane's policies. But I don't see how she can be made aware of all her shortsightedness and prejudice, at this point.

---

Page 91

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF. Okay I wasn't expecting this to happen.

But it's an actual freaking callback to the beginnings of the story, and Act 6 Act 1, hahah.

---

Page 92

... Harry is sitting on the bleachers.

Hah, he thinks this is the prank the other teens were pulling on him, just setting off the fire alarm. Thinks he has it all figured out.

---

Page 94

Best reaction image. Ever. Hahahahah.

He was like:

8) |8) :o

---

Page 95

Hah! And even a carapacian expression! (Alternatively, Pickle Inspector.) He's inherited that one from his mother's side, no doubt.

---

Shenanigans. Best shenanigans.

So, where does this take place in regard with John's make-up conversation with Roxy, anyway? My gut says before, but my brain is thinking: how would that even work. Harry'd have to be a karma Houdini. Which would actually be fitting, since magic / sleight of hand runs on both sides of his family.

I'm in love with all of these walking teenage disasters already.

[the-cookie-unicorn]

57 steps: The Douglas Vandergraph story from longest clinically documented death case in America to classic man, husband, and father

Those of you who know me, know my mission is to help others. I am not looking to accomplish this goal as a third party to the cause, but as an active participant. I have sat by and watched the world make decisions for me. I can tell you that if I would have allowed others to define me, my abilities, and my future I would not be sitting here typing this. Yet I type this with one finger. I feel like 30 words per minute as a hen picker is not bad. My left arm is not useful to me, but is a constant reminder not to give up. In a daze with my right arm hanging from some type of contraption a stranger says to me “This is going to hurt” and the next thing I remember is two young people skating by with the Olympic torch and the smell. It was not a smell I will ever forget. All of this was the result of a car accident. I was 16, a Junior in High school, and hungry. My best friend and I left school that day to run home and grab a bite to eat. We pulled out of the school parking lot and headed North down a two lane highway. We made it far enough down the road to run head first into a construction truck. The driver had been on a bender and was high on Cocaine. We found out later he was using the Cocaine as a stimulant to counteract the effects of a weekend of drinking. I have no recollection of the accident other than what I have been told. It took two sets of the jaws of life and an auto Mechanic to get me out of the tangled mess of engine parts so I could be air lifted to the hospital. My best buddy, he walked away with a few scrapes and a memory he will never shake. Seeing me took a tole on him and changed him forever. For some reason he moved on and away from me. I think about him quite often but he later became just a face in the crowd.

www.Bargainbrute.com

My right wrist was so broken in the accident that the doctor who pieced in back together said, “This kid will never use this hand again.” He was wrong. I still bare the scar from that surgery on my right palm and if I would have lost use of this hand I would be screwed right now because its the only hand I have use of right now or ever. They put a elbow cast on to immobilize the arm and the wrist when done and I was awake the next morning talking to family from my hospital bed. It was not right however. Later in the morning I panicked and told my mother to get a doctor, “Something was wrong.” I lost consciousness and was rushed down for testing. The testing showed massive brain damage to the right side of my brain. What the doctors did not know until now was that during the car accident I had tore the inner lining of my right carotid artery and a golf ball sized blood clot had formed there. Pieces of the clot had broke loose and went to the right side of my brain which cut off blood flow and caused a massive right hemisphere debilitating stroke. It eventually killed me! I rapidly declined until my brain was no longer controlling simple things like breathing. So as far as I remember I left school and anything after that is missing up until…….

www.Bargainbrute.com

I was in a room. It was brightly lit. I do not remember if I was floating or standing but I can go there in my mind. In front of me was a door way. I could not see through the doorway and there was no door blocking my view. I was at peace, and I felt as if I had been there for a very long time. Why was I here, in this room? My father was killed in a construction accident when I was 9. He was crushed by a bulldozer while working a construction job. When he came through the door way in front of me he smiled as he approached. He reached out for me and it felt like he lifted me up. He told me that it was not my time to be there and that it was very important that I follow the plan. He told me that he looks in on me from time to time and that he loved me. We talked ever so briefly for what seemed like a very long time. He let me go and I remember falling back. I was falling, falling, falling, and then I rested. The way I explain it to people is if you have ever had a really long day and then lay down and your body says ahhhhh. It was like that but then it was hell.

www.Bargainbrute.com

There were people rushing around me as I layed there. Loud voices, needle sticks, I was aqwake and I remember this moment. The pain, the fear, What in the hell was going on! I will never forget that moment EVER! So the stroke had killed me. My lifeless body was laying still in the ICU. I was still hooked up to the EEG which monitors brainwave activity, and the EKG which monitors the heart. Both had flat lined for 30 minutes and a nurse who was there for my death was leaning over my body to remove some equipment etc when she got the shock of her life! I started hitting her with my the cast on my right arm. I used to go visit the hospital staff and she never forgot me. Activity returned to the monitors and the staff returned to my bedside. I do not know what they were doing. Whatever you do when a dead guy returns to life I guess (laugh). So they stabilized me, and all I wanted to know was where was my dad. I am adopted, and it was my adoptive father that I saw. It was so hard on me when he was killed. We were close. He took me everywhere with him. I never showed it. I do not think I ever cried over it until now. Oh I am sure that many cries I have had over my life were a direct result of needing to deal with that event but I never admitted it to myself.

www.Bargainbrute.com

So when they could I was taken for more tests. It is odd but the test results garnered from the testing they did after my near death experience showed a difference. Instead of showing heavy trauma to the right hemisphere of my brain, these testing results appeared much different. Same tests that they had done before, just repeated again after my death and return showed what one specialist said, “The only trauma I see is that it looks like someone surgically damaged the part of the brain that controls motor function to the left side of the body.” So from complete and definitive damage to just enough to paralyze the left side of my body completely. No explanation was ever given to me and here I am. The best doctors in the country from some of the best institutions have looked this before and after testing over and nothing. No explanation. So my story was on the news for a brief time. When people die and come back to life at the age of 16 it makes the news. I was sent to a local rehab facility. Right arm in a cast, left side of my body completely paralyzed. Future and attitude not looking so bright. Until….

www.Bargainbrute.com

A nurse took me down to the area where the MRI was. I was in a wheelchair and she left me. No sooner had she left and my butt starts to slide forward. As I slide down the belt around my waist starts to slide up. People, doctors, nurses, all are walking by me and I am asking them for help. I guess I was invisible because they just kept walking by and damn it I was hunched down. It was all I could do to use my right leg to try to hold myself from sliding further. My left side completely useless and my right arm in an elbow cast. I am struggling and I felt like I was being loud enough in asking for help but they just kept walking by. Why would no one help me. The strap had come up under my arms and it hurt. It hurt and I needed help. They all just kept walking by and I needed help.; Why were they just walking by me? Could they not see I needed help? The nurse returned and with the help of another they got me back up in the chair the right way. I will never forget being left there to suffer and that was the last time anyone wiped tears off my face I told myself.  That night I had a dream…..

www.Bargainbrute.com

The only other time I remember seeing my dad was the night of the wheelchair incident.  I had a dream where I so upset.  My life was over.  I had been an aspiring athlete, baseball, football, weight lifting, girls, now a partially paralyzed, brain damaged ghost of the teenager I was before.  My dad told me that if I wanted to walk again I needed to ask god and pray.  I remember waking up the next morning and doing just that.  I would have tried anything at that point in time but the wheelchair event changed me.  It changed me forever.  I made a hard decision on that day that if I was going to get my life back it was me who would need to make that happen.  I believe that folks have helped me and I love them for it, but the next morning I drew a mental line in the sand and my goal was to eventually step over that SOB unassisted!  Things from that moment changed.  The local news ran a follow up story on me and Julius Irving(Dr. J) saw the story while waiting for a flight at our local airport.  He cancelled his flight and took a cab up to the hospital I was in to see me.  He was very inspirational and I will never forget his kindness.  After his visit I will never forget the visit I got from the vocational rehab specialist.  After her testing she thought the best job I might be suited for was clerk at a 7/11.  Now I think that is a fine vocation, but obviously she was wrong.  LOL!

www.Bargainbrute.com

So I continue doing therapy for weeks.  You want to talk about work.  Before taking a construction job my father was a farmer.  So I grew up on a farm as a little guy and farm work back then instilled a work ethic in you at any age.  Its a work ethic I have today.  A gift from a time of fond memories.  The 80’s hit and we lost the farm.  Farm Aide was just a TV concert to us.  I continued my therapy and eventually graduated to a much smaller wrist cast.   The fingers on my right hand were moving and I was feeding myself.  The right hand was working and the tests to document why since according to the “best” doctors it should not were happening regularly.  It was during this time I received a gift from a industrial arts teacher at my high school.  He had constructed a walker shaped like a horseshoe.  It had 4 legs, each with a multi directional  roller wheel on the bottom.  The therapist would stand me up and the legs of the horseshoe shape would go under my arms.  There were two peg handle sticking up on the front to hang on to.  They would get my paralyzed hand on one peg and I would do the best I could with my cast hand.  My left hip came around first.  I would take a step with my right leg while in the horseshoe and then pull or drag the left leg forward.  Practice helps and with daily self pressure to push myself I got to where I could swing the left leg through.  My left foot would drag, but so what, “ I was doing it.”  I had sat around for months being paraded around in front of groups of doctors who asked questions I could not answer, nor did I want to any more, all the time they would compliment me on my wheelchair.  Saying, “Looks Great!”  To this day I never understand why able bodied people treat handicap people differently.  "We do not want your sympathy or your opinions of our limitations.  We just want an opportunity.“

www.Bargainbrute.com

So these really smart doctors said I would never walk again.  That the wheelchair was my future, because they just saw the outside.  They were unaware of the determined rage and fire that almost limited my ability to sleep.  So every day I practiced.  Here is something funny.  I had gotten to the point where I could walk around the hospital floor I was staying on.  I am a talker, always have been, always will be.  As a typical 16 year old guy I would talk to the nurses, and they me.  It felt like we were flirting.  I mean I really thought these girls liked me, so I would follow them around as much as I could.  It was not until later in life that I realized they were not flirting with me.  These were good people who were just getting me to walk around and exercise.  I walk today and I will never forget those people.  Those girls will always hold a special place in my heart.  I wonder if they ever think of me?  I wonder if then they ever could have imagined 26 years later whom I would become.  The doctors continued to give opinions on what they felt I was capable of achieving.  I continued to progress, but their opinions of where that progress would stop did not.  I had a electric wheelchair donated and ready to go.  So the day came and the horseshoe lost its purpose.  My left arm and hand still hung there but with the promise of outpatient  therapy I finally took the unassisted step over that mental line I had drawn in the sand and I was discharged.

www.Bargainbrute.com

Not sure who ended up getting that wheelchair, but it was not me.  I had a brace for my foot to keep in from dropping and having to be drug through as I walked.  I swung that left leg through so my walk was super unnatural but I did not care.  It could have taken me a year to limp from the front door of the hospital to the car waiting at the curb, but Damn it, I was doing it.  I was doing it after the best in the country told me I could not.  After my family told me to take it easy, and that it was ok to have limitations.  After everyone in my life I had trusted up until that day had listened to those professional opinions and sympathized with their science I took 57 steps they said would never happen.  57 steps.  Every time someone looks at me funny as I limp past them I remember those 57 steps and limp right on by them.  Every time someone treats me unfairly, or tells me it cannot be done I re walk  those 57 steps in my heart and mind and I succeed!  Every time I enter a room and everyone looks at me because I limp I smile and limp right on by.  I think the hardest thing for me was returning to school and having to walk from class to class.  I would not take a pass or leave early or arrive late.  When the bell rang I ventured out into the halls with everyone else.  It was a lesson every time I had to endure the looks, stares, and comments.  99% of the kids I went to school with were understanding and great.  .5% went above and beyond to help me, but there was that .5% that did there best to make sure I felt unworthy.  So as I would walk by those folks I would count each step 1 to 57.  By the time I reached the 57th step I was past them and they were in my rear view.  You can walk right on by other peoples looks, stares, and opinions.  They are just advertising the hurt someone in their life has caused them.  Be compassionate, but be strong and limp on by!  Not everyone can be wealthy or famous, but we can all be great.  Greatness is determined by personal action.

www.Bargainbrute.com

So my story goes on.  I ended up having to have that artery replaced, and another in my chest that had an anurism in it.   That surgery was supposed to kill me, and I spent the night before it saying my final farewells to those I loved in my life.  And still here I am following the plan.  I have a beautiful wife I have been married to for 12 years.  We have a 9 year old daughter who is a freshman in high school, a 6 year old daughter whom Business Week magazine just called the “youngest senior executive in the United States.”  A billion dollar business empire, and enough sense to know that with love and support directed in the appropriate way anything is possible.

Sincerely,

Douglas Vandergraph

Source: https://bargainbrutedotcom.tumblr.com/post/174410659144

[ultragrocerydeliverytip]

Those of you who know me, know my mission is to help others. I am not looking to accomplish this goal as a third party to the cause, but as an active participant. I have sat by and watched the world make decisions for me. I can tell you that if I would have allowed others to define me, my abilities, and my future I would not be sitting here typing this. Yet I type this with one finger. I feel like 30 words per minute as a hen picker is not bad. My left arm is not useful to me, but is a constant reminder not to give up. In a daze with my right arm hanging from some type of contraption a stranger says to me “This is going to hurt” and the next thing I remember is two young people skating by with the Olympic torch and the smell. It was not a smell I will ever forget. All of this was the result of a car accident. I was 16, a Junior in High school, and hungry. My best friend and I left school that day to run home and grab a bite to eat. We pulled out of the school parking lot and headed North down a two lane highway. We made it far enough down the road to run head first into a construction truck. The driver had been on a bender and was high on Cocaine. We found out later he was using the Cocaine as a stimulant to counteract the effects of a weekend of drinking. I have no recollection of the accident other than what I have been told. It took two sets of the jaws of life and an auto Mechanic to get me out of the tangled mess of engine parts so I could be air lifted to the hospital. My best buddy, he walked away with a few scrapes and a memory he will never shake. Seeing me took a tole on him and changed him forever. For some reason he moved on and away from me. I think about him quite often but he later became just a face in the crowd.

www.Bargainbrute.com

My right wrist was so broken in the accident that the doctor who pieced in back together said, “This kid will never use this hand again.” He was wrong. I still bare the scar from that surgery on my right palm and if I would have lost use of this hand I would be screwed right now because its the only hand I have use of right now or ever. They put a elbow cast on to immobilize the arm and the wrist when done and I was awake the next morning talking to family from my hospital bed. It was not right however. Later in the morning I panicked and told my mother to get a doctor, “Something was wrong.” I lost consciousness and was rushed down for testing. The testing showed massive brain damage to the right side of my brain. What the doctors did not know until now was that during the car accident I had tore the inner lining of my right carotid artery and a golf ball sized blood clot had formed there. Pieces of the clot had broke loose and went to the right side of my brain which cut off blood flow and caused a massive right hemisphere debilitating stroke. It eventually killed me! I rapidly declined until my brain was no longer controlling simple things like breathing. So as far as I remember I left school and anything after that is missing up until…….

www.Bargainbrute.com

I was in a room. It was brightly lit. I do not remember if I was floating or standing but I can go there in my mind. In front of me was a door way. I could not see through the doorway and there was no door blocking my view. I was at peace, and I felt as if I had been there for a very long time. Why was I here, in this room? My father was killed in a construction accident when I was 9. He was crushed by a bulldozer while working a construction job. When he came through the door way in front of me he smiled as he approached. He reached out for me and it felt like he lifted me up. He told me that it was not my time to be there and that it was very important that I follow the plan. He told me that he looks in on me from time to time and that he loved me. We talked ever so briefly for what seemed like a very long time. He let me go and I remember falling back. I was falling, falling, falling, and then I rested. The way I explain it to people is if you have ever had a really long day and then lay down and your body says ahhhhh. It was like that but then it was hell.

www.Bargainbrute.com

There were people rushing around me as I layed there. Loud voices, needle sticks, I was aqwake and I remember this moment. The pain, the fear, What in the hell was going on! I will never forget that moment EVER! So the stroke had killed me. My lifeless body was laying still in the ICU. I was still hooked up to the EEG which monitors brainwave activity, and the EKG which monitors the heart. Both had flat lined for 30 minutes and a nurse who was there for my death was leaning over my body to remove some equipment etc when she got the shock of her life! I started hitting her with my the cast on my right arm. I used to go visit the hospital staff and she never forgot me. Activity returned to the monitors and the staff returned to my bedside. I do not know what they were doing. Whatever you do when a dead guy returns to life I guess (laugh). So they stabilized me, and all I wanted to know was where was my dad. I am adopted, and it was my adoptive father that I saw. It was so hard on me when he was killed. We were close. He took me everywhere with him. I never showed it. I do not think I ever cried over it until now. Oh I am sure that many cries I have had over my life were a direct result of needing to deal with that event but I never admitted it to myself.

www.Bargainbrute.com

So when they could I was taken for more tests. It is odd but the test results garnered from the testing they did after my near death experience showed a difference. Instead of showing heavy trauma to the right hemisphere of my brain, these testing results appeared much different. Same tests that they had done before, just repeated again after my death and return showed what one specialist said, “The only trauma I see is that it looks like someone surgically damaged the part of the brain that controls motor function to the left side of the body.” So from complete and definitive damage to just enough to paralyze the left side of my body completely. No explanation was ever given to me and here I am. The best doctors in the country from some of the best institutions have looked this before and after testing over and nothing. No explanation. So my story was on the news for a brief time. When people die and come back to life at the age of 16 it makes the news. I was sent to a local rehab facility. Right arm in a cast, left side of my body completely paralyzed. Future and attitude not looking so bright. Until….

www.Bargainbrute.com

A nurse took me down to the area where the MRI was. I was in a wheelchair and she left me. No sooner had she left and my butt starts to slide forward. As I slide down the belt around my waist starts to slide up. People, doctors, nurses, all are walking by me and I am asking them for help. I guess I was invisible because they just kept walking by and damn it I was hunched down. It was all I could do to use my right leg to try to hold myself from sliding further. My left side completely useless and my right arm in an elbow cast. I am struggling and I felt like I was being loud enough in asking for help but they just kept walking by. Why would no one help me. The strap had come up under my arms and it hurt. It hurt and I needed help. They all just kept walking by and I needed help.; Why were they just walking by me? Could they not see I needed help? The nurse returned and with the help of another they got me back up in the chair the right way. I will never forget being left there to suffer and that was the last time anyone wiped tears off my face I told myself.  That night I had a dream…..

www.Bargainbrute.com

The only other time I remember seeing my dad was the night of the wheelchair incident.  I had a dream where I so upset.  My life was over.  I had been an aspiring athlete, baseball, football, weight lifting, girls, now a partially paralyzed, brain damaged ghost of the teenager I was before.  My dad told me that if I wanted to walk again I needed to ask god and pray.  I remember waking up the next morning and doing just that.  I would have tried anything at that point in time but the wheelchair event changed me.  It changed me forever.  I made a hard decision on that day that if I was going to get my life back it was me who would need to make that happen.  I believe that folks have helped me and I love them for it, but the next morning I drew a mental line in the sand and my goal was to eventually step over that SOB unassisted!  Things from that moment changed.  The local news ran a follow up story on me and Julius Irving(Dr. J) saw the story while waiting for a flight at our local airport.  He cancelled his flight and took a cab up to the hospital I was in to see me.  He was very inspirational and I will never forget his kindness.  After his visit I will never forget the visit I got from the vocational rehab specialist.  After her testing she thought the best job I might be suited for was clerk at a 7/11.  Now I think that is a fine vocation, but obviously she was wrong.  LOL!

www.Bargainbrute.com

So I continue doing therapy for weeks.  You want to talk about work.  Before taking a construction job my father was a farmer.  So I grew up on a farm as a little guy and farm work back then instilled a work ethic in you at any age.  Its a work ethic I have today.  A gift from a time of fond memories.  The 80’s hit and we lost the farm.  Farm Aide was just a TV concert to us.  I continued my therapy and eventually graduated to a much smaller wrist cast.   The fingers on my right hand were moving and I was feeding myself.  The right hand was working and the tests to document why since according to the “best” doctors it should not were happening regularly.  It was during this time I received a gift from a industrial arts teacher at my high school.  He had constructed a walker shaped like a horseshoe.  It had 4 legs, each with a multi directional  roller wheel on the bottom.  The therapist would stand me up and the legs of the horseshoe shape would go under my arms.  There were two peg handle sticking up on the front to hang on to.  They would get my paralyzed hand on one peg and I would do the best I could with my cast hand.  My left hip came around first.  I would take a step with my right leg while in the horseshoe and then pull or drag the left leg forward.  Practice helps and with daily self pressure to push myself I got to where I could swing the left leg through.  My left foot would drag, but so what, “ I was doing it.”  I had sat around for months being paraded around in front of groups of doctors who asked questions I could not answer, nor did I want to any more, all the time they would compliment me on my wheelchair.  Saying, “Looks Great!”  To this day I never understand why able bodied people treat handicap people differently.  "We do not want your sympathy or your opinions of our limitations.  We just want an opportunity.“

www.Bargainbrute.com

So these really smart doctors said I would never walk again.  That the wheelchair was my future, because they just saw the outside.  They were unaware of the determined rage and fire that almost limited my ability to sleep.  So every day I practiced.  Here is something funny.  I had gotten to the point where I could walk around the hospital floor I was staying on.  I am a talker, always have been, always will be.  As a typical 16 year old guy I would talk to the nurses, and they me.  It felt like we were flirting.  I mean I really thought these girls liked me, so I would follow them around as much as I could.  It was not until later in life that I realized they were not flirting with me.  These were good people who were just getting me to walk around and exercise.  I walk today and I will never forget those people.  Those girls will always hold a special place in my heart.  I wonder if they ever think of me?  I wonder if then they ever could have imagined 26 years later whom I would become.  The doctors continued to give opinions on what they felt I was capable of achieving.  I continued to progress, but their opinions of where that progress would stop did not.  I had a electric wheelchair donated and ready to go.  So the day came and the horseshoe lost its purpose.  My left arm and hand still hung there but with the promise of outpatient  therapy I finally took the unassisted step over that mental line I had drawn in the sand and I was discharged.

www.Bargainbrute.com

Not sure who ended up getting that wheelchair, but it was not me.  I had a brace for my foot to keep in from dropping and having to be drug through as I walked.  I swung that left leg through so my walk was super unnatural but I did not care.  It could have taken me a year to limp from the front door of the hospital to the car waiting at the curb, but Damn it, I was doing it.  I was doing it after the best in the country told me I could not.  After my family told me to take it easy, and that it was ok to have limitations.  After everyone in my life I had trusted up until that day had listened to those professional opinions and sympathized with their science I took 57 steps they said would never happen.  57 steps.  Every time someone looks at me funny as I limp past them I remember those 57 steps and limp right on by them.  Every time someone treats me unfairly, or tells me it cannot be done I re walk  those 57 steps in my heart and mind and I succeed!  Every time I enter a room and everyone looks at me because I limp I smile and limp right on by.  I think the hardest thing for me was returning to school and having to walk from class to class.  I would not take a pass or leave early or arrive late.  When the bell rang I ventured out into the halls with everyone else.  It was a lesson every time I had to endure the looks, stares, and comments.  99% of the kids I went to school with were understanding and great.  .5% went above and beyond to help me, but there was that .5% that did there best to make sure I felt unworthy.  So as I would walk by those folks I would count each step 1 to 57.  By the time I reached the 57th step I was past them and they were in my rear view.  You can walk right on by other peoples looks, stares, and opinions.  They are just advertising the hurt someone in their life has caused them.  Be compassionate, but be strong and limp on by!  Not everyone can be wealthy or famous, but we can all be great.  Greatness is determined by personal action.

www.Bargainbrute.com

So my story goes on.  I ended up having to have that artery replaced, and another in my chest that had an anurism in it.   That surgery was supposed to kill me, and I spent the night before it saying my final farewells to those I loved in my life.  And still here I am following the plan.  I have a beautiful wife I have been married to for 12 years.  We have a 9 year old daughter who is a freshman in high school, a 6 year old daughter whom Business Week magazine just called the "youngest senior executive in the United States.”  A billion dollar business empire, and enough sense to know that with love and support directed in the appropriate way anything is possible.

Sincerely,

Douglas Vandergraph

[theglittermassacre]

57 steps: The Douglas Vandergraph story from longest clinically documented death case in America to classic man, husband, and father

Those of you who know me, know my mission is to help others. I am not looking to accomplish this goal as a third party to the cause, but as an active participant. I have sat by and watched the world make decisions for me. I can tell you that if I would have allowed others to define me, my abilities, and my future I would not be sitting here typing this. Yet I type this with one finger. I feel like 30 words per minute as a hen picker is not bad. My left arm is not useful to me, but is a constant reminder not to give up. In a daze with my right arm hanging from some type of contraption a stranger says to me “This is going to hurt” and the next thing I remember is two young people skating by with the Olympic torch and the smell. It was not a smell I will ever forget. All of this was the result of a car accident. I was 16, a Junior in High school, and hungry. My best friend and I left school that day to run home and grab a bite to eat. We pulled out of the school parking lot and headed North down a two lane highway. We made it far enough down the road to run head first into a construction truck. The driver had been on a bender and was high on Cocaine. We found out later he was using the Cocaine as a stimulant to counteract the effects of a weekend of drinking. I have no recollection of the accident other than what I have been told. It took two sets of the jaws of life and an auto Mechanic to get me out of the tangled mess of engine parts so I could be air lifted to the hospital. My best buddy, he walked away with a few scrapes and a memory he will never shake. Seeing me took a tole on him and changed him forever. For some reason he moved on and away from me. I think about him quite often but he later became just a face in the crowd.

www.Bargainbrute.com

My right wrist was so broken in the accident that the doctor who pieced in back together said, “This kid will never use this hand again.” He was wrong. I still bare the scar from that surgery on my right palm and if I would have lost use of this hand I would be screwed right now because its the only hand I have use of right now or ever. They put a elbow cast on to immobilize the arm and the wrist when done and I was awake the next morning talking to family from my hospital bed. It was not right however. Later in the morning I panicked and told my mother to get a doctor, “Something was wrong.” I lost consciousness and was rushed down for testing. The testing showed massive brain damage to the right side of my brain. What the doctors did not know until now was that during the car accident I had tore the inner lining of my right carotid artery and a golf ball sized blood clot had formed there. Pieces of the clot had broke loose and went to the right side of my brain which cut off blood flow and caused a massive right hemisphere debilitating stroke. It eventually killed me! I rapidly declined until my brain was no longer controlling simple things like breathing. So as far as I remember I left school and anything after that is missing up until…….

www.Bargainbrute.com

I was in a room. It was brightly lit. I do not remember if I was floating or standing but I can go there in my mind. In front of me was a door way. I could not see through the doorway and there was no door blocking my view. I was at peace, and I felt as if I had been there for a very long time. Why was I here, in this room? My father was killed in a construction accident when I was 9. He was crushed by a bulldozer while working a construction job. When he came through the door way in front of me he smiled as he approached. He reached out for me and it felt like he lifted me up. He told me that it was not my time to be there and that it was very important that I follow the plan. He told me that he looks in on me from time to time and that he loved me. We talked ever so briefly for what seemed like a very long time. He let me go and I remember falling back. I was falling, falling, falling, and then I rested. The way I explain it to people is if you have ever had a really long day and then lay down and your body says ahhhhh. It was like that but then it was hell.

www.Bargainbrute.com

There were people rushing around me as I layed there. Loud voices, needle sticks, I was aqwake and I remember this moment. The pain, the fear, What in the hell was going on! I will never forget that moment EVER! So the stroke had killed me. My lifeless body was laying still in the ICU. I was still hooked up to the EEG which monitors brainwave activity, and the EKG which monitors the heart. Both had flat lined for 30 minutes and a nurse who was there for my death was leaning over my body to remove some equipment etc when she got the shock of her life! I started hitting her with my the cast on my right arm. I used to go visit the hospital staff and she never forgot me. Activity returned to the monitors and the staff returned to my bedside. I do not know what they were doing. Whatever you do when a dead guy returns to life I guess (laugh). So they stabilized me, and all I wanted to know was where was my dad. I am adopted, and it was my adoptive father that I saw. It was so hard on me when he was killed. We were close. He took me everywhere with him. I never showed it. I do not think I ever cried over it until now. Oh I am sure that many cries I have had over my life were a direct result of needing to deal with that event but I never admitted it to myself.

www.Bargainbrute.com

So when they could I was taken for more tests. It is odd but the test results garnered from the testing they did after my near death experience showed a difference. Instead of showing heavy trauma to the right hemisphere of my brain, these testing results appeared much different. Same tests that they had done before, just repeated again after my death and return showed what one specialist said, “The only trauma I see is that it looks like someone surgically damaged the part of the brain that controls motor function to the left side of the body.” So from complete and definitive damage to just enough to paralyze the left side of my body completely. No explanation was ever given to me and here I am. The best doctors in the country from some of the best institutions have looked this before and after testing over and nothing. No explanation. So my story was on the news for a brief time. When people die and come back to life at the age of 16 it makes the news. I was sent to a local rehab facility. Right arm in a cast, left side of my body completely paralyzed. Future and attitude not looking so bright. Until….

www.Bargainbrute.com

A nurse took me down to the area where the MRI was. I was in a wheelchair and she left me. No sooner had she left and my butt starts to slide forward. As I slide down the belt around my waist starts to slide up. People, doctors, nurses, all are walking by me and I am asking them for help. I guess I was invisible because they just kept walking by and damn it I was hunched down. It was all I could do to use my right leg to try to hold myself from sliding further. My left side completely useless and my right arm in an elbow cast. I am struggling and I felt like I was being loud enough in asking for help but they just kept walking by. Why would no one help me. The strap had come up under my arms and it hurt. It hurt and I needed help. They all just kept walking by and I needed help.; Why were they just walking by me? Could they not see I needed help? The nurse returned and with the help of another they got me back up in the chair the right way. I will never forget being left there to suffer and that was the last time anyone wiped tears off my face I told myself.  That night I had a dream…..

www.Bargainbrute.com

The only other time I remember seeing my dad was the night of the wheelchair incident.  I had a dream where I so upset.  My life was over.  I had been an aspiring athlete, baseball, football, weight lifting, girls, now a partially paralyzed, brain damaged ghost of the teenager I was before.  My dad told me that if I wanted to walk again I needed to ask god and pray.  I remember waking up the next morning and doing just that.  I would have tried anything at that point in time but the wheelchair event changed me.  It changed me forever.  I made a hard decision on that day that if I was going to get my life back it was me who would need to make that happen.  I believe that folks have helped me and I love them for it, but the next morning I drew a mental line in the sand and my goal was to eventually step over that SOB unassisted!  Things from that moment changed.  The local news ran a follow up story on me and Julius Irving(Dr. J) saw the story while waiting for a flight at our local airport.  He cancelled his flight and took a cab up to the hospital I was in to see me.  He was very inspirational and I will never forget his kindness.  After his visit I will never forget the visit I got from the vocational rehab specialist.  After her testing she thought the best job I might be suited for was clerk at a 7/11.  Now I think that is a fine vocation, but obviously she was wrong.  LOL!

www.Bargainbrute.com

So I continue doing therapy for weeks.  You want to talk about work.  Before taking a construction job my father was a farmer.  So I grew up on a farm as a little guy and farm work back then instilled a work ethic in you at any age.  Its a work ethic I have today.  A gift from a time of fond memories.  The 80’s hit and we lost the farm.  Farm Aide was just a TV concert to us.  I continued my therapy and eventually graduated to a much smaller wrist cast.   The fingers on my right hand were moving and I was feeding myself.  The right hand was working and the tests to document why since according to the “best” doctors it should not were happening regularly.  It was during this time I received a gift from a industrial arts teacher at my high school.  He had constructed a walker shaped like a horseshoe.  It had 4 legs, each with a multi directional  roller wheel on the bottom.  The therapist would stand me up and the legs of the horseshoe shape would go under my arms.  There were two peg handle sticking up on the front to hang on to.  They would get my paralyzed hand on one peg and I would do the best I could with my cast hand.  My left hip came around first.  I would take a step with my right leg while in the horseshoe and then pull or drag the left leg forward.  Practice helps and with daily self pressure to push myself I got to where I could swing the left leg through.  My left foot would drag, but so what, “ I was doing it.”  I had sat around for months being paraded around in front of groups of doctors who asked questions I could not answer, nor did I want to any more, all the time they would compliment me on my wheelchair.  Saying, “Looks Great!”  To this day I never understand why able bodied people treat handicap people differently.  "We do not want your sympathy or your opinions of our limitations.  We just want an opportunity.“

www.Bargainbrute.com

So these really smart doctors said I would never walk again.  That the wheelchair was my future, because they just saw the outside.  They were unaware of the determined rage and fire that almost limited my ability to sleep.  So every day I practiced.  Here is something funny.  I had gotten to the point where I could walk around the hospital floor I was staying on.  I am a talker, always have been, always will be.  As a typical 16 year old guy I would talk to the nurses, and they me.  It felt like we were flirting.  I mean I really thought these girls liked me, so I would follow them around as much as I could.  It was not until later in life that I realized they were not flirting with me.  These were good people who were just getting me to walk around and exercise.  I walk today and I will never forget those people.  Those girls will always hold a special place in my heart.  I wonder if they ever think of me?  I wonder if then they ever could have imagined 26 years later whom I would become.  The doctors continued to give opinions on what they felt I was capable of achieving.  I continued to progress, but their opinions of where that progress would stop did not.  I had a electric wheelchair donated and ready to go.  So the day came and the horseshoe lost its purpose.  My left arm and hand still hung there but with the promise of outpatient  therapy I finally took the unassisted step over that mental line I had drawn in the sand and I was discharged.

www.Bargainbrute.com

Not sure who ended up getting that wheelchair, but it was not me.  I had a brace for my foot to keep in from dropping and having to be drug through as I walked.  I swung that left leg through so my walk was super unnatural but I did not care.  It could have taken me a year to limp from the front door of the hospital to the car waiting at the curb, but Damn it, I was doing it.  I was doing it after the best in the country told me I could not.  After my family told me to take it easy, and that it was ok to have limitations.  After everyone in my life I had trusted up until that day had listened to those professional opinions and sympathized with their science I took 57 steps they said would never happen.  57 steps.  Every time someone looks at me funny as I limp past them I remember those 57 steps and limp right on by them.  Every time someone treats me unfairly, or tells me it cannot be done I re walk  those 57 steps in my heart and mind and I succeed!  Every time I enter a room and everyone looks at me because I limp I smile and limp right on by.  I think the hardest thing for me was returning to school and having to walk from class to class.  I would not take a pass or leave early or arrive late.  When the bell rang I ventured out into the halls with everyone else.  It was a lesson every time I had to endure the looks, stares, and comments.  99% of the kids I went to school with were understanding and great.  .5% went above and beyond to help me, but there was that .5% that did there best to make sure I felt unworthy.  So as I would walk by those folks I would count each step 1 to 57.  By the time I reached the 57th step I was past them and they were in my rear view.  You can walk right on by other peoples looks, stares, and opinions.  They are just advertising the hurt someone in their life has caused them.  Be compassionate, but be strong and limp on by!  Not everyone can be wealthy or famous, but we can all be great.  Greatness is determined by personal action.

www.Bargainbrute.com

So my story goes on.  I ended up having to have that artery replaced, and another in my chest that had an anurism in it.   That surgery was supposed to kill me, and I spent the night before it saying my final farewells to those I loved in my life.  And still here I am following the plan.  I have a beautiful wife I have been married to for 12 years.  We have a 9 year old daughter who is a freshman in high school, a 6 year old daughter whom Business Week magazine just called the "youngest senior executive in the United States.”  A billion dollar business empire, and enough sense to know that with love and support directed in the appropriate way anything is possible.

Sincerely,

Douglas Vandergraph

Source: https://bargainbrutedotcom.tumblr.com/post/174410659144

[thyroids101]

57 steps: The Douglas Vandergraph story from longest clinically documented death case in America to classic man, husband, and father

Those of you who know me, know my mission is to help others. I am not looking to accomplish this goal as a third party to the cause, but as an active participant. I have sat by and watched the world make decisions for me. I can tell you that if I would have allowed others to define me, my abilities, and my future I would not be sitting here typing this. Yet I type this with one finger. I feel like 30 words per minute as a hen picker is not bad. My left arm is not useful to me, but is a constant reminder not to give up. In a daze with my right arm hanging from some type of contraption a stranger says to me “This is going to hurt” and the next thing I remember is two young people skating by with the Olympic torch and the smell. It was not a smell I will ever forget. All of this was the result of a car accident. I was 16, a Junior in High school, and hungry. My best friend and I left school that day to run home and grab a bite to eat. We pulled out of the school parking lot and headed North down a two lane highway. We made it far enough down the road to run head first into a construction truck. The driver had been on a bender and was high on Cocaine. We found out later he was using the Cocaine as a stimulant to counteract the effects of a weekend of drinking. I have no recollection of the accident other than what I have been told. It took two sets of the jaws of life and an auto Mechanic to get me out of the tangled mess of engine parts so I could be air lifted to the hospital. My best buddy, he walked away with a few scrapes and a memory he will never shake. Seeing me took a tole on him and changed him forever. For some reason he moved on and away from me. I think about him quite often but he later became just a face in the crowd.

www.Bargainbrute.com

My right wrist was so broken in the accident that the doctor who pieced in back together said, “This kid will never use this hand again.” He was wrong. I still bare the scar from that surgery on my right palm and if I would have lost use of this hand I would be screwed right now because its the only hand I have use of right now or ever. They put a elbow cast on to immobilize the arm and the wrist when done and I was awake the next morning talking to family from my hospital bed. It was not right however. Later in the morning I panicked and told my mother to get a doctor, “Something was wrong.” I lost consciousness and was rushed down for testing. The testing showed massive brain damage to the right side of my brain. What the doctors did not know until now was that during the car accident I had tore the inner lining of my right carotid artery and a golf ball sized blood clot had formed there. Pieces of the clot had broke loose and went to the right side of my brain which cut off blood flow and caused a massive right hemisphere debilitating stroke. It eventually killed me! I rapidly declined until my brain was no longer controlling simple things like breathing. So as far as I remember I left school and anything after that is missing up until…….

www.Bargainbrute.com

I was in a room. It was brightly lit. I do not remember if I was floating or standing but I can go there in my mind. In front of me was a door way. I could not see through the doorway and there was no door blocking my view. I was at peace, and I felt as if I had been there for a very long time. Why was I here, in this room? My father was killed in a construction accident when I was 9. He was crushed by a bulldozer while working a construction job. When he came through the door way in front of me he smiled as he approached. He reached out for me and it felt like he lifted me up. He told me that it was not my time to be there and that it was very important that I follow the plan. He told me that he looks in on me from time to time and that he loved me. We talked ever so briefly for what seemed like a very long time. He let me go and I remember falling back. I was falling, falling, falling, and then I rested. The way I explain it to people is if you have ever had a really long day and then lay down and your body says ahhhhh. It was like that but then it was hell.

www.Bargainbrute.com

There were people rushing around me as I layed there. Loud voices, needle sticks, I was aqwake and I remember this moment. The pain, the fear, What in the hell was going on! I will never forget that moment EVER! So the stroke had killed me. My lifeless body was laying still in the ICU. I was still hooked up to the EEG which monitors brainwave activity, and the EKG which monitors the heart. Both had flat lined for 30 minutes and a nurse who was there for my death was leaning over my body to remove some equipment etc when she got the shock of her life! I started hitting her with my the cast on my right arm. I used to go visit the hospital staff and she never forgot me. Activity returned to the monitors and the staff returned to my bedside. I do not know what they were doing. Whatever you do when a dead guy returns to life I guess (laugh). So they stabilized me, and all I wanted to know was where was my dad. I am adopted, and it was my adoptive father that I saw. It was so hard on me when he was killed. We were close. He took me everywhere with him. I never showed it. I do not think I ever cried over it until now. Oh I am sure that many cries I have had over my life were a direct result of needing to deal with that event but I never admitted it to myself.

www.Bargainbrute.com

So when they could I was taken for more tests. It is odd but the test results garnered from the testing they did after my near death experience showed a difference. Instead of showing heavy trauma to the right hemisphere of my brain, these testing results appeared much different. Same tests that they had done before, just repeated again after my death and return showed what one specialist said, “The only trauma I see is that it looks like someone surgically damaged the part of the brain that controls motor function to the left side of the body.” So from complete and definitive damage to just enough to paralyze the left side of my body completely. No explanation was ever given to me and here I am. The best doctors in the country from some of the best institutions have looked this before and after testing over and nothing. No explanation. So my story was on the news for a brief time. When people die and come back to life at the age of 16 it makes the news. I was sent to a local rehab facility. Right arm in a cast, left side of my body completely paralyzed. Future and attitude not looking so bright. Until….

www.Bargainbrute.com

A nurse took me down to the area where the MRI was. I was in a wheelchair and she left me. No sooner had she left and my butt starts to slide forward. As I slide down the belt around my waist starts to slide up. People, doctors, nurses, all are walking by me and I am asking them for help. I guess I was invisible because they just kept walking by and damn it I was hunched down. It was all I could do to use my right leg to try to hold myself from sliding further. My left side completely useless and my right arm in an elbow cast. I am struggling and I felt like I was being loud enough in asking for help but they just kept walking by. Why would no one help me. The strap had come up under my arms and it hurt. It hurt and I needed help. They all just kept walking by and I needed help.; Why were they just walking by me? Could they not see I needed help? The nurse returned and with the help of another they got me back up in the chair the right way. I will never forget being left there to suffer and that was the last time anyone wiped tears off my face I told myself.  That night I had a dream…..

www.Bargainbrute.com

The only other time I remember seeing my dad was the night of the wheelchair incident.  I had a dream where I so upset.  My life was over.  I had been an aspiring athlete, baseball, football, weight lifting, girls, now a partially paralyzed, brain damaged ghost of the teenager I was before.  My dad told me that if I wanted to walk again I needed to ask god and pray.  I remember waking up the next morning and doing just that.  I would have tried anything at that point in time but the wheelchair event changed me.  It changed me forever.  I made a hard decision on that day that if I was going to get my life back it was me who would need to make that happen.  I believe that folks have helped me and I love them for it, but the next morning I drew a mental line in the sand and my goal was to eventually step over that SOB unassisted!  Things from that moment changed.  The local news ran a follow up story on me and Julius Irving(Dr. J) saw the story while waiting for a flight at our local airport.  He cancelled his flight and took a cab up to the hospital I was in to see me.  He was very inspirational and I will never forget his kindness.  After his visit I will never forget the visit I got from the vocational rehab specialist.  After her testing she thought the best job I might be suited for was clerk at a 7/11.  Now I think that is a fine vocation, but obviously she was wrong.  LOL!

www.Bargainbrute.com

So I continue doing therapy for weeks.  You want to talk about work.  Before taking a construction job my father was a farmer.  So I grew up on a farm as a little guy and farm work back then instilled a work ethic in you at any age.  Its a work ethic I have today.  A gift from a time of fond memories.  The 80’s hit and we lost the farm.  Farm Aide was just a TV concert to us.  I continued my therapy and eventually graduated to a much smaller wrist cast.   The fingers on my right hand were moving and I was feeding myself.  The right hand was working and the tests to document why since according to the “best” doctors it should not were happening regularly.  It was during this time I received a gift from a industrial arts teacher at my high school.  He had constructed a walker shaped like a horseshoe.  It had 4 legs, each with a multi directional  roller wheel on the bottom.  The therapist would stand me up and the legs of the horseshoe shape would go under my arms.  There were two peg handle sticking up on the front to hang on to.  They would get my paralyzed hand on one peg and I would do the best I could with my cast hand.  My left hip came around first.  I would take a step with my right leg while in the horseshoe and then pull or drag the left leg forward.  Practice helps and with daily self pressure to push myself I got to where I could swing the left leg through.  My left foot would drag, but so what, “ I was doing it.”  I had sat around for months being paraded around in front of groups of doctors who asked questions I could not answer, nor did I want to any more, all the time they would compliment me on my wheelchair.  Saying, “Looks Great!”  To this day I never understand why able bodied people treat handicap people differently.  "We do not want your sympathy or your opinions of our limitations.  We just want an opportunity.“

www.Bargainbrute.com

So these really smart doctors said I would never walk again.  That the wheelchair was my future, because they just saw the outside.  They were unaware of the determined rage and fire that almost limited my ability to sleep.  So every day I practiced.  Here is something funny.  I had gotten to the point where I could walk around the hospital floor I was staying on.  I am a talker, always have been, always will be.  As a typical 16 year old guy I would talk to the nurses, and they me.  It felt like we were flirting.  I mean I really thought these girls liked me, so I would follow them around as much as I could.  It was not until later in life that I realized they were not flirting with me.  These were good people who were just getting me to walk around and exercise.  I walk today and I will never forget those people.  Those girls will always hold a special place in my heart.  I wonder if they ever think of me?  I wonder if then they ever could have imagined 26 years later whom I would become.  The doctors continued to give opinions on what they felt I was capable of achieving.  I continued to progress, but their opinions of where that progress would stop did not.  I had a electric wheelchair donated and ready to go.  So the day came and the horseshoe lost its purpose.  My left arm and hand still hung there but with the promise of outpatient  therapy I finally took the unassisted step over that mental line I had drawn in the sand and I was discharged.

www.Bargainbrute.com

Not sure who ended up getting that wheelchair, but it was not me.  I had a brace for my foot to keep in from dropping and having to be drug through as I walked.  I swung that left leg through so my walk was super unnatural but I did not care.  It could have taken me a year to limp from the front door of the hospital to the car waiting at the curb, but Damn it, I was doing it.  I was doing it after the best in the country told me I could not.  After my family told me to take it easy, and that it was ok to have limitations.  After everyone in my life I had trusted up until that day had listened to those professional opinions and sympathized with their science I took 57 steps they said would never happen.  57 steps.  Every time someone looks at me funny as I limp past them I remember those 57 steps and limp right on by them.  Every time someone treats me unfairly, or tells me it cannot be done I re walk  those 57 steps in my heart and mind and I succeed!  Every time I enter a room and everyone looks at me because I limp I smile and limp right on by.  I think the hardest thing for me was returning to school and having to walk from class to class.  I would not take a pass or leave early or arrive late.  When the bell rang I ventured out into the halls with everyone else.  It was a lesson every time I had to endure the looks, stares, and comments.  99% of the kids I went to school with were understanding and great.  .5% went above and beyond to help me, but there was that .5% that did there best to make sure I felt unworthy.  So as I would walk by those folks I would count each step 1 to 57.  By the time I reached the 57th step I was past them and they were in my rear view.  You can walk right on by other peoples looks, stares, and opinions.  They are just advertising the hurt someone in their life has caused them.  Be compassionate, but be strong and limp on by!  Not everyone can be wealthy or famous, but we can all be great.  Greatness is determined by personal action.

www.Bargainbrute.com

So my story goes on.  I ended up having to have that artery replaced, and another in my chest that had an anurism in it.   That surgery was supposed to kill me, and I spent the night before it saying my final farewells to those I loved in my life.  And still here I am following the plan.  I have a beautiful wife I have been married to for 12 years.  We have a 9 year old daughter who is a freshman in high school, a 6 year old daughter whom Business Week magazine just called the “youngest senior executive in the United States.”  A billion dollar business empire, and enough sense to know that with love and support directed in the appropriate way anything is possible.

Sincerely,

Douglas Vandergraph

Source: https://bargainbrutedotcom.tumblr.com/post/174410659144

[helenstamey]

57 steps: The Douglas Vandergraph story from longest clinically documented death case in America to classic man, husband, and father

Those of you who know me, know my mission is to help others. I am not looking to accomplish this goal as a third party to the cause, but as an active participant. I have sat by and watched the world make decisions for me. I can tell you that if I would have allowed others to define me, my abilities, and my future I would not be sitting here typing this. Yet I type this with one finger. I feel like 30 words per minute as a hen picker is not bad. My left arm is not useful to me, but is a constant reminder not to give up. In a daze with my right arm hanging from some type of contraption a stranger says to me “This is going to hurt” and the next thing I remember is two young people skating by with the Olympic torch and the smell. It was not a smell I will ever forget. All of this was the result of a car accident. I was 16, a Junior in High school, and hungry. My best friend and I left school that day to run home and grab a bite to eat. We pulled out of the school parking lot and headed North down a two lane highway. We made it far enough down the road to run head first into a construction truck. The driver had been on a bender and was high on Cocaine. We found out later he was using the Cocaine as a stimulant to counteract the effects of a weekend of drinking. I have no recollection of the accident other than what I have been told. It took two sets of the jaws of life and an auto Mechanic to get me out of the tangled mess of engine parts so I could be air lifted to the hospital. My best buddy, he walked away with a few scrapes and a memory he will never shake. Seeing me took a tole on him and changed him forever. For some reason he moved on and away from me. I think about him quite often but he later became just a face in the crowd.

www.Bargainbrute.com

My right wrist was so broken in the accident that the doctor who pieced in back together said, “This kid will never use this hand again.” He was wrong. I still bare the scar from that surgery on my right palm and if I would have lost use of this hand I would be screwed right now because its the only hand I have use of right now or ever. They put a elbow cast on to immobilize the arm and the wrist when done and I was awake the next morning talking to family from my hospital bed. It was not right however. Later in the morning I panicked and told my mother to get a doctor, “Something was wrong.” I lost consciousness and was rushed down for testing. The testing showed massive brain damage to the right side of my brain. What the doctors did not know until now was that during the car accident I had tore the inner lining of my right carotid artery and a golf ball sized blood clot had formed there. Pieces of the clot had broke loose and went to the right side of my brain which cut off blood flow and caused a massive right hemisphere debilitating stroke. It eventually killed me! I rapidly declined until my brain was no longer controlling simple things like breathing. So as far as I remember I left school and anything after that is missing up until…….

www.Bargainbrute.com

I was in a room. It was brightly lit. I do not remember if I was floating or standing but I can go there in my mind. In front of me was a door way. I could not see through the doorway and there was no door blocking my view. I was at peace, and I felt as if I had been there for a very long time. Why was I here, in this room? My father was killed in a construction accident when I was 9. He was crushed by a bulldozer while working a construction job. When he came through the door way in front of me he smiled as he approached. He reached out for me and it felt like he lifted me up. He told me that it was not my time to be there and that it was very important that I follow the plan. He told me that he looks in on me from time to time and that he loved me. We talked ever so briefly for what seemed like a very long time. He let me go and I remember falling back. I was falling, falling, falling, and then I rested. The way I explain it to people is if you have ever had a really long day and then lay down and your body says ahhhhh. It was like that but then it was hell.

www.Bargainbrute.com

There were people rushing around me as I layed there. Loud voices, needle sticks, I was aqwake and I remember this moment. The pain, the fear, What in the hell was going on! I will never forget that moment EVER! So the stroke had killed me. My lifeless body was laying still in the ICU. I was still hooked up to the EEG which monitors brainwave activity, and the EKG which monitors the heart. Both had flat lined for 30 minutes and a nurse who was there for my death was leaning over my body to remove some equipment etc when she got the shock of her life! I started hitting her with my the cast on my right arm. I used to go visit the hospital staff and she never forgot me. Activity returned to the monitors and the staff returned to my bedside. I do not know what they were doing. Whatever you do when a dead guy returns to life I guess (laugh). So they stabilized me, and all I wanted to know was where was my dad. I am adopted, and it was my adoptive father that I saw. It was so hard on me when he was killed. We were close. He took me everywhere with him. I never showed it. I do not think I ever cried over it until now. Oh I am sure that many cries I have had over my life were a direct result of needing to deal with that event but I never admitted it to myself.

www.Bargainbrute.com

So when they could I was taken for more tests. It is odd but the test results garnered from the testing they did after my near death experience showed a difference. Instead of showing heavy trauma to the right hemisphere of my brain, these testing results appeared much different. Same tests that they had done before, just repeated again after my death and return showed what one specialist said, “The only trauma I see is that it looks like someone surgically damaged the part of the brain that controls motor function to the left side of the body.” So from complete and definitive damage to just enough to paralyze the left side of my body completely. No explanation was ever given to me and here I am. The best doctors in the country from some of the best institutions have looked this before and after testing over and nothing. No explanation. So my story was on the news for a brief time. When people die and come back to life at the age of 16 it makes the news. I was sent to a local rehab facility. Right arm in a cast, left side of my body completely paralyzed. Future and attitude not looking so bright. Until….

www.Bargainbrute.com

A nurse took me down to the area where the MRI was. I was in a wheelchair and she left me. No sooner had she left and my butt starts to slide forward. As I slide down the belt around my waist starts to slide up. People, doctors, nurses, all are walking by me and I am asking them for help. I guess I was invisible because they just kept walking by and damn it I was hunched down. It was all I could do to use my right leg to try to hold myself from sliding further. My left side completely useless and my right arm in an elbow cast. I am struggling and I felt like I was being loud enough in asking for help but they just kept walking by. Why would no one help me. The strap had come up under my arms and it hurt. It hurt and I needed help. They all just kept walking by and I needed help.; Why were they just walking by me? Could they not see I needed help? The nurse returned and with the help of another they got me back up in the chair the right way. I will never forget being left there to suffer and that was the last time anyone wiped tears off my face I told myself.  That night I had a dream…..

www.Bargainbrute.com

The only other time I remember seeing my dad was the night of the wheelchair incident.  I had a dream where I so upset.  My life was over.  I had been an aspiring athlete, baseball, football, weight lifting, girls, now a partially paralyzed, brain damaged ghost of the teenager I was before.  My dad told me that if I wanted to walk again I needed to ask god and pray.  I remember waking up the next morning and doing just that.  I would have tried anything at that point in time but the wheelchair event changed me.  It changed me forever.  I made a hard decision on that day that if I was going to get my life back it was me who would need to make that happen.  I believe that folks have helped me and I love them for it, but the next morning I drew a mental line in the sand and my goal was to eventually step over that SOB unassisted!  Things from that moment changed.  The local news ran a follow up story on me and Julius Irving(Dr. J) saw the story while waiting for a flight at our local airport.  He cancelled his flight and took a cab up to the hospital I was in to see me.  He was very inspirational and I will never forget his kindness.  After his visit I will never forget the visit I got from the vocational rehab specialist.  After her testing she thought the best job I might be suited for was clerk at a 7/11.  Now I think that is a fine vocation, but obviously she was wrong.  LOL!

www.Bargainbrute.com

So I continue doing therapy for weeks.  You want to talk about work.  Before taking a construction job my father was a farmer.  So I grew up on a farm as a little guy and farm work back then instilled a work ethic in you at any age.  Its a work ethic I have today.  A gift from a time of fond memories.  The 80’s hit and we lost the farm.  Farm Aide was just a TV concert to us.  I continued my therapy and eventually graduated to a much smaller wrist cast.   The fingers on my right hand were moving and I was feeding myself.  The right hand was working and the tests to document why since according to the “best” doctors it should not were happening regularly.  It was during this time I received a gift from a industrial arts teacher at my high school.  He had constructed a walker shaped like a horseshoe.  It had 4 legs, each with a multi directional  roller wheel on the bottom.  The therapist would stand me up and the legs of the horseshoe shape would go under my arms.  There were two peg handle sticking up on the front to hang on to.  They would get my paralyzed hand on one peg and I would do the best I could with my cast hand.  My left hip came around first.  I would take a step with my right leg while in the horseshoe and then pull or drag the left leg forward.  Practice helps and with daily self pressure to push myself I got to where I could swing the left leg through.  My left foot would drag, but so what, “ I was doing it.”  I had sat around for months being paraded around in front of groups of doctors who asked questions I could not answer, nor did I want to any more, all the time they would compliment me on my wheelchair.  Saying, “Looks Great!”  To this day I never understand why able bodied people treat handicap people differently.  "We do not want your sympathy or your opinions of our limitations.  We just want an opportunity.“

www.Bargainbrute.com

So these really smart doctors said I would never walk again.  That the wheelchair was my future, because they just saw the outside.  They were unaware of the determined rage and fire that almost limited my ability to sleep.  So every day I practiced.  Here is something funny.  I had gotten to the point where I could walk around the hospital floor I was staying on.  I am a talker, always have been, always will be.  As a typical 16 year old guy I would talk to the nurses, and they me.  It felt like we were flirting.  I mean I really thought these girls liked me, so I would follow them around as much as I could.  It was not until later in life that I realized they were not flirting with me.  These were good people who were just getting me to walk around and exercise.  I walk today and I will never forget those people.  Those girls will always hold a special place in my heart.  I wonder if they ever think of me?  I wonder if then they ever could have imagined 26 years later whom I would become.  The doctors continued to give opinions on what they felt I was capable of achieving.  I continued to progress, but their opinions of where that progress would stop did not.  I had a electric wheelchair donated and ready to go.  So the day came and the horseshoe lost its purpose.  My left arm and hand still hung there but with the promise of outpatient  therapy I finally took the unassisted step over that mental line I had drawn in the sand and I was discharged.

www.Bargainbrute.com

Not sure who ended up getting that wheelchair, but it was not me.  I had a brace for my foot to keep in from dropping and having to be drug through as I walked.  I swung that left leg through so my walk was super unnatural but I did not care.  It could have taken me a year to limp from the front door of the hospital to the car waiting at the curb, but Damn it, I was doing it.  I was doing it after the best in the country told me I could not.  After my family told me to take it easy, and that it was ok to have limitations.  After everyone in my life I had trusted up until that day had listened to those professional opinions and sympathized with their science I took 57 steps they said would never happen.  57 steps.  Every time someone looks at me funny as I limp past them I remember those 57 steps and limp right on by them.  Every time someone treats me unfairly, or tells me it cannot be done I re walk  those 57 steps in my heart and mind and I succeed!  Every time I enter a room and everyone looks at me because I limp I smile and limp right on by.  I think the hardest thing for me was returning to school and having to walk from class to class.  I would not take a pass or leave early or arrive late.  When the bell rang I ventured out into the halls with everyone else.  It was a lesson every time I had to endure the looks, stares, and comments.  99% of the kids I went to school with were understanding and great.  .5% went above and beyond to help me, but there was that .5% that did there best to make sure I felt unworthy.  So as I would walk by those folks I would count each step 1 to 57.  By the time I reached the 57th step I was past them and they were in my rear view.  You can walk right on by other peoples looks, stares, and opinions.  They are just advertising the hurt someone in their life has caused them.  Be compassionate, but be strong and limp on by!  Not everyone can be wealthy or famous, but we can all be great.  Greatness is determined by personal action.

www.Bargainbrute.com

So my story goes on.  I ended up having to have that artery replaced, and another in my chest that had an anurism in it.   That surgery was supposed to kill me, and I spent the night before it saying my final farewells to those I loved in my life.  And still here I am following the plan.  I have a beautiful wife I have been married to for 12 years.  We have a 9 year old daughter who is a freshman in high school, a 6 year old daughter whom Business Week magazine just called the "youngest senior executive in the United States.”  A billion dollar business empire, and enough sense to know that with love and support directed in the appropriate way anything is possible.

Sincerely,

Douglas Vandergraph

[fxcked-upxx]

57 steps: The Douglas Vandergraph story from longest clinically documented death case in America to classic man, husband, and father

Those of you who know me, know my mission is to help others. I am not looking to accomplish this goal as a third party to the cause, but as an active participant. I have sat by and watched the world make decisions for me. I can tell you that if I would have allowed others to define me, my abilities, and my future I would not be sitting here typing this. Yet I type this with one finger. I feel like 30 words per minute as a hen picker is not bad. My left arm is not useful to me, but is a constant reminder not to give up. In a daze with my right arm hanging from some type of contraption a stranger says to me “This is going to hurt” and the next thing I remember is two young people skating by with the Olympic torch and the smell. It was not a smell I will ever forget. All of this was the result of a car accident. I was 16, a Junior in High school, and hungry. My best friend and I left school that day to run home and grab a bite to eat. We pulled out of the school parking lot and headed North down a two lane highway. We made it far enough down the road to run head first into a construction truck. The driver had been on a bender and was high on Cocaine. We found out later he was using the Cocaine as a stimulant to counteract the effects of a weekend of drinking. I have no recollection of the accident other than what I have been told. It took two sets of the jaws of life and an auto Mechanic to get me out of the tangled mess of engine parts so I could be air lifted to the hospital. My best buddy, he walked away with a few scrapes and a memory he will never shake. Seeing me took a tole on him and changed him forever. For some reason he moved on and away from me. I think about him quite often but he later became just a face in the crowd.

www.Bargainbrute.com

My right wrist was so broken in the accident that the doctor who pieced in back together said, “This kid will never use this hand again.” He was wrong. I still bare the scar from that surgery on my right palm and if I would have lost use of this hand I would be screwed right now because its the only hand I have use of right now or ever. They put a elbow cast on to immobilize the arm and the wrist when done and I was awake the next morning talking to family from my hospital bed. It was not right however. Later in the morning I panicked and told my mother to get a doctor, “Something was wrong.” I lost consciousness and was rushed down for testing. The testing showed massive brain damage to the right side of my brain. What the doctors did not know until now was that during the car accident I had tore the inner lining of my right carotid artery and a golf ball sized blood clot had formed there. Pieces of the clot had broke loose and went to the right side of my brain which cut off blood flow and caused a massive right hemisphere debilitating stroke. It eventually killed me! I rapidly declined until my brain was no longer controlling simple things like breathing. So as far as I remember I left school and anything after that is missing up until…….

www.Bargainbrute.com

I was in a room. It was brightly lit. I do not remember if I was floating or standing but I can go there in my mind. In front of me was a door way. I could not see through the doorway and there was no door blocking my view. I was at peace, and I felt as if I had been there for a very long time. Why was I here, in this room? My father was killed in a construction accident when I was 9. He was crushed by a bulldozer while working a construction job. When he came through the door way in front of me he smiled as he approached. He reached out for me and it felt like he lifted me up. He told me that it was not my time to be there and that it was very important that I follow the plan. He told me that he looks in on me from time to time and that he loved me. We talked ever so briefly for what seemed like a very long time. He let me go and I remember falling back. I was falling, falling, falling, and then I rested. The way I explain it to people is if you have ever had a really long day and then lay down and your body says ahhhhh. It was like that but then it was hell.

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There were people rushing around me as I layed there. Loud voices, needle sticks, I was aqwake and I remember this moment. The pain, the fear, What in the hell was going on! I will never forget that moment EVER! So the stroke had killed me. My lifeless body was laying still in the ICU. I was still hooked up to the EEG which monitors brainwave activity, and the EKG which monitors the heart. Both had flat lined for 30 minutes and a nurse who was there for my death was leaning over my body to remove some equipment etc when she got the shock of her life! I started hitting her with my the cast on my right arm. I used to go visit the hospital staff and she never forgot me. Activity returned to the monitors and the staff returned to my bedside. I do not know what they were doing. Whatever you do when a dead guy returns to life I guess (laugh). So they stabilized me, and all I wanted to know was where was my dad. I am adopted, and it was my adoptive father that I saw. It was so hard on me when he was killed. We were close. He took me everywhere with him. I never showed it. I do not think I ever cried over it until now. Oh I am sure that many cries I have had over my life were a direct result of needing to deal with that event but I never admitted it to myself.

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So when they could I was taken for more tests. It is odd but the test results garnered from the testing they did after my near death experience showed a difference. Instead of showing heavy trauma to the right hemisphere of my brain, these testing results appeared much different. Same tests that they had done before, just repeated again after my death and return showed what one specialist said, “The only trauma I see is that it looks like someone surgically damaged the part of the brain that controls motor function to the left side of the body.” So from complete and definitive damage to just enough to paralyze the left side of my body completely. No explanation was ever given to me and here I am. The best doctors in the country from some of the best institutions have looked this before and after testing over and nothing. No explanation. So my story was on the news for a brief time. When people die and come back to life at the age of 16 it makes the news. I was sent to a local rehab facility. Right arm in a cast, left side of my body completely paralyzed. Future and attitude not looking so bright. Until….

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A nurse took me down to the area where the MRI was. I was in a wheelchair and she left me. No sooner had she left and my butt starts to slide forward. As I slide down the belt around my waist starts to slide up. People, doctors, nurses, all are walking by me and I am asking them for help. I guess I was invisible because they just kept walking by and damn it I was hunched down. It was all I could do to use my right leg to try to hold myself from sliding further. My left side completely useless and my right arm in an elbow cast. I am struggling and I felt like I was being loud enough in asking for help but they just kept walking by. Why would no one help me. The strap had come up under my arms and it hurt. It hurt and I needed help. They all just kept walking by and I needed help.; Why were they just walking by me? Could they not see I needed help? The nurse returned and with the help of another they got me back up in the chair the right way. I will never forget being left there to suffer and that was the last time anyone wiped tears off my face I told myself.  That night I had a dream…..

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The only other time I remember seeing my dad was the night of the wheelchair incident.  I had a dream where I so upset.  My life was over.  I had been an aspiring athlete, baseball, football, weight lifting, girls, now a partially paralyzed, brain damaged ghost of the teenager I was before.  My dad told me that if I wanted to walk again I needed to ask god and pray.  I remember waking up the next morning and doing just that.  I would have tried anything at that point in time but the wheelchair event changed me.  It changed me forever.  I made a hard decision on that day that if I was going to get my life back it was me who would need to make that happen.  I believe that folks have helped me and I love them for it, but the next morning I drew a mental line in the sand and my goal was to eventually step over that SOB unassisted!  Things from that moment changed.  The local news ran a follow up story on me and Julius Irving(Dr. J) saw the story while waiting for a flight at our local airport.  He cancelled his flight and took a cab up to the hospital I was in to see me.  He was very inspirational and I will never forget his kindness.  After his visit I will never forget the visit I got from the vocational rehab specialist.  After her testing she thought the best job I might be suited for was clerk at a 7/11.  Now I think that is a fine vocation, but obviously she was wrong.  LOL!

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So I continue doing therapy for weeks.  You want to talk about work.  Before taking a construction job my father was a farmer.  So I grew up on a farm as a little guy and farm work back then instilled a work ethic in you at any age.  Its a work ethic I have today.  A gift from a time of fond memories.  The 80’s hit and we lost the farm.  Farm Aide was just a TV concert to us.  I continued my therapy and eventually graduated to a much smaller wrist cast.   The fingers on my right hand were moving and I was feeding myself.  The right hand was working and the tests to document why since according to the “best” doctors it should not were happening regularly.  It was during this time I received a gift from a industrial arts teacher at my high school.  He had constructed a walker shaped like a horseshoe.  It had 4 legs, each with a multi directional  roller wheel on the bottom.  The therapist would stand me up and the legs of the horseshoe shape would go under my arms.  There were two peg handle sticking up on the front to hang on to.  They would get my paralyzed hand on one peg and I would do the best I could with my cast hand.  My left hip came around first.  I would take a step with my right leg while in the horseshoe and then pull or drag the left leg forward.  Practice helps and with daily self pressure to push myself I got to where I could swing the left leg through.  My left foot would drag, but so what, “ I was doing it.”  I had sat around for months being paraded around in front of groups of doctors who asked questions I could not answer, nor did I want to any more, all the time they would compliment me on my wheelchair.  Saying, “Looks Great!”  To this day I never understand why able bodied people treat handicap people differently.  "We do not want your sympathy or your opinions of our limitations.  We just want an opportunity.“

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So these really smart doctors said I would never walk again.  That the wheelchair was my future, because they just saw the outside.  They were unaware of the determined rage and fire that almost limited my ability to sleep.  So every day I practiced.  Here is something funny.  I had gotten to the point where I could walk around the hospital floor I was staying on.  I am a talker, always have been, always will be.  As a typical 16 year old guy I would talk to the nurses, and they me.  It felt like we were flirting.  I mean I really thought these girls liked me, so I would follow them around as much as I could.  It was not until later in life that I realized they were not flirting with me.  These were good people who were just getting me to walk around and exercise.  I walk today and I will never forget those people.  Those girls will always hold a special place in my heart.  I wonder if they ever think of me?  I wonder if then they ever could have imagined 26 years later whom I would become.  The doctors continued to give opinions on what they felt I was capable of achieving.  I continued to progress, but their opinions of where that progress would stop did not.  I had a electric wheelchair donated and ready to go.  So the day came and the horseshoe lost its purpose.  My left arm and hand still hung there but with the promise of outpatient  therapy I finally took the unassisted step over that mental line I had drawn in the sand and I was discharged.

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Not sure who ended up getting that wheelchair, but it was not me.  I had a brace for my foot to keep in from dropping and having to be drug through as I walked.  I swung that left leg through so my walk was super unnatural but I did not care.  It could have taken me a year to limp from the front door of the hospital to the car waiting at the curb, but Damn it, I was doing it.  I was doing it after the best in the country told me I could not.  After my family told me to take it easy, and that it was ok to have limitations.  After everyone in my life I had trusted up until that day had listened to those professional opinions and sympathized with their science I took 57 steps they said would never happen.  57 steps.  Every time someone looks at me funny as I limp past them I remember those 57 steps and limp right on by them.  Every time someone treats me unfairly, or tells me it cannot be done I re walk  those 57 steps in my heart and mind and I succeed!  Every time I enter a room and everyone looks at me because I limp I smile and limp right on by.  I think the hardest thing for me was returning to school and having to walk from class to class.  I would not take a pass or leave early or arrive late.  When the bell rang I ventured out into the halls with everyone else.  It was a lesson every time I had to endure the looks, stares, and comments.  99% of the kids I went to school with were understanding and great.  .5% went above and beyond to help me, but there was that .5% that did there best to make sure I felt unworthy.  So as I would walk by those folks I would count each step 1 to 57.  By the time I reached the 57th step I was past them and they were in my rear view.  You can walk right on by other peoples looks, stares, and opinions.  They are just advertising the hurt someone in their life has caused them.  Be compassionate, but be strong and limp on by!  Not everyone can be wealthy or famous, but we can all be great.  Greatness is determined by personal action.

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So my story goes on.  I ended up having to have that artery replaced, and another in my chest that had an anurism in it.   That surgery was supposed to kill me, and I spent the night before it saying my final farewells to those I loved in my life.  And still here I am following the plan.  I have a beautiful wife I have been married to for 12 years.  We have a 9 year old daughter who is a freshman in high school, a 6 year old daughter whom Business Week magazine just called the "youngest senior executive in the United States.”  A billion dollar business empire, and enough sense to know that with love and support directed in the appropriate way anything is possible.

Sincerely,

Douglas Vandergraph