#i slept less than 4 hours a night the entire week

[tesalicious2]

Why you don't prank the Guard commanders

Since they are almost constantly tired and at the end of their rope, anything could set them over the edge and no one wants that

not only that but they will usually react very strongly because of their extenuating circumstances and it is often blown out of proportions

HOWEVER, the other battalions don't know that and just want to help their brothers have fun! what's wrong with that

THIRE:

Thire got off a three day mission with General Yoda that ends up with Thire covered in some giant monsters stomach fluids and snot

He had to sit in it for a ten hour ride back and is humilated, with Yoda attempting to comfort him which only makes it worse

On his way back to the HQ, some troopers from the 104th decided to hit a guard with fake slime, a funny little prank

When Thire is at the end of his rope, he goes for violence

Thire waltzes into the mess, calls out whoever pranked him, and proceeded to dress them down, chew them up, and spit them out in front of everyone in the entire mess (made up of a few battalions and some Padawan Commanders)

It boiled down to 'you morons, i will kill you, you tiny roaches are nothing to me and i will throw you in the trash compactor like the disgusting garbage you are' with much more colorful and degrading language thrown in

Many now fear Thire and Wolffe outright refuses to work with the man out of fear

STONE:

Stone had just stopped three prison riots, captured two escapees from said riots, updated the entire security system, and hadn't slept because of the previous items for four days

Some men from Kit Fisto's SCUBA battalion thought it would be funny to hide some of Stone's stuff that was in his office (ie, datapads, pens, etc) and moved his stuff three inches to any side

Stone, who usually just jumped onto the coach in his office with the lights off, missed the middle and went to far up and smacked his nose on the wooden arm of the couch and cracked a tooth

This was not a fun way to cap the last four days

He found the troopers and filled their SCUBA tubes with spiders for them to find when they shipped out. Too bad the spiders crawled onto their faces on the ship and not in the water :(

THORN:

Thorn had been assissting senators for three full days with only 5 hours of sleep while standing throughout meetings

He had been ready to sleep and was heading to his last meeting with General Kenobi and some of his troopers present

Wooley and Longshot decided to lighten the mood by setting their voice coders to a different language and telling him he was going crazy

They also removed the nonslip pads from the couch and it slid out from underneath him

This may not have been bad at all but after three days, every little thing is annoying as shit and exhausting

After that meeting, Thorn decides to take revenge

Thorn is a believer in you get what you give so he does something harmless

relatively harmless

He sneaks onto the 212th barracks on the ship and places a speaker into the vents of the barracks, above Wooley and Longshots bunks (as close as he could get, the sound reverbs so everyone is pretty mad about this prank)

Every so often, in random intervals (no more than 4 hours, no less than 1 hours) a beep would sound, not too loud but loud enough to be annoying after 2 days

At night, it gets louder and more frequent and quieter during the day

Many troopers lose sleep over finding the thing (Thorn literally unscrewed wall panels to hide it), its been 3 weeks and they arrive at their new battle field in a week

Four days before their arrival, as the speaker is about to die, in the middle of the night, the speaker goes to full volume and shouts 'THIS IS COMMANDER THORN. I MAY BE THE CAUSE OF YOUR SLEEPLESSNESS BUT LONGSHOT AND WOOLEY STARTED THIS. I WILL DO IT AGAIN ASSHOLES. THE SPEAKER IS GOING TO DIE SO ENJOY YOUR *TEMPORARY* FREEDOM. HAHHAHAHAHAH-' and then the speaker dies (Thorn hacked the cameras and enjoys playing the screaming arguments and shouts at the speaker during rough days)

Longshot and Wooley never hear the end of it

FOX:

Fox had been going through hell the entire week and he was ready to kill someone, even though his shift wasn't over yet.

Jesse, Fives, and Hardcase had decided to help Fox lighten up by shooting him with silly string throughout the day, switching armor with blank armor to keep hidden

Fox was paranoid and had to be sedated. He eventually tracked down the three and had his revenge not through their own annoyance

At first, he replaced their weapons with modified silly guns that quickly ended, leading them to believe they were free (the whole revenge lasted an hour ish as the three enjoyed playing with the silly string)

Unknown to them, Rex's entire room had been filled with silly string, his blasters, the padding in his matress, the drawers in his dress, the hair wash was liquid silly string, the soap was frozen strong, his pillow, his chair was broken then 'welded' back together with silly string and fell apart when he sat on it, etc.

He kept finding it and it lasted for days, the moment he thought it was over, more string came up. He was paranoid, everything was silly string

When he finally complained to the command chat, Fox told him that Jesse, Hardcase, and Fives caused it and that he overheard them planning it

When Rex punished them, they said they never did anything with silly string but many others saw them spraying each other with the silly string FOX pranked them with so everyone assumed they were messing with the leftovers from Rex's prank. Not only that but they weren't quiet about pranking Fox so everyone thought he was the warm up for Rex.

No matter what they said, Rex didn't believe a word and they were stuck on latrine duty for a whole month

When Rex found out about Fox getting pranked as well, Rex let them get punished by him too

Fox made them clean out all the massiff kennels and play areas, cleaning any stains from the puppies and getting used for bite practice by the adults everyday for their next leave.

Fox came by and watched them everyday, laughing at their misery

HOUND:

Hound loves pranks and jokes and will happily engage and laugh at them

however, the timing has to be right and most don't get that part (only the other ARF troopers know)

Some troopers from the 41st took his bed sheets and pillows and blankets and towels after some of his troopers and Hound ended a four hour chase through the sewers (they didn't know about the chase).

Hound normally would've thought this was hilarious but after spending two hours covered in sewage looking for towels around HQ just to shower, he was pretty mad

After cleaning up and ready for bed, he snuck into the 41st barracks and woke them up with a growling, snarling grizzer leaning over their face and a hand over their mouth.

He whispered, 'don't scream, you touch my shit again, I will end you and everyone you love.'

Rinse and repeat then he sneaks away

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

i assume you'll be coming for blood (that makes two of us)

Chapter 4

Ao3 | 1.6k words | Sweetheart's POV

The trail gets hot. Sweetheart finds something. They steal themself for what comes next.

TW: dead body, blood, dead parent, could be construed as MCD

Hey, Dad. Just checking in. 

Hey kiddo! It’s been a few weeks. Honestly, I was starting to get worried. 

Sorry. Work. I’ve been busy. 

But safe, right?

Yeah.

Because you promised me you would be when you took this job.

I know, Dad. I promise I can handle whatever DUMP throws at me. 

So could your mother.

Dad. 

I’m sorry. I just worry. You got her strength and tenacity, but you also got her bullheadedness. And I’m sorry to say that’s what got her killed. I worry because I know you won’t reach out for help when you need it.

Then what do you call this?

Do you need help? Kiddo, if you’re in trouble, just say the word. I will DESCEND!!

I’m fine, Dad. Just wanted to say I love you.

You locked your phone before his frantic typing could culminate into a panicked reply and pointedly ignored the insistent buzz of your phone in your coat pocket. That had been more of a tell than you’d intended, but the thought of walking into this kind of trouble without telling him made your throat close with grief. You didn’t say ‘I love you’ often, and you didn’t say it without reason. 

Your mom used to say it liberally. She said it when she woke you up for school in the morning, when tucking you into bed, when you made her laugh, when you broke her heart. She had a lot of late nights, and you never slept when she was away. You would pretend to when she snuck into your room in the wee hours of the night or morning. She would bend over you, smelling like sweat and blood and expended magic. You stayed still and silent as she pressed her thin, shaking lips to the crown of your head and whispered it into you;

“I love you, I love you, I love you…” 

Like a promise. Like a prayer. 

Your chest ached with the absence of her. 

By the time you found it again, the shade had become fully corporeal. Dahlia was a great town for it, full of powerful, magical people, and stupid, stupid college kids who would brush off its after effects as a bad hangover. 

It was actually a rather clever method, how you found it. You got access to D.A.M.N.’s clinic records through less than legal means, thanks to a friend of a friend who didn’t ask questions when fifty bucks were involved. You tracked the shade’s effects through a half dozen students, found a few of them who also folded at the offer of another fifty bucks and found out their frequent haunts. You formed a geo profile (something you’d learned in the Academy but had never had occasion to use, much less with a proper paper map and pins) and triangulated an area where the shade was most likely to be. 

Now, you had an area of about three city blocks to patrol, you were dodging non-stop calls from both your father and Jet, and you were flat broke from all of your very illegal bribes. 

You were considering becoming a private eye. If this was how effective you were with no oversight, you’d have finished this case up in a matter of days. 

Although, you weren’t actually sure how many days it had been. You weren’t exactly sleeping regularly. 

When you cornered it, it was in a little park just off of college town. It was barely a park, really, more of a very large median. It was a stretch of poorly maintained grass, a smattering of small, young trees, and exactly three benches. On one of said benches, there was a crumpled form, curled over one of the arm rests of hostile design, obscured by layers and layers of ratty clothing. When you spotted them, you cloaked without even thinking. Your magic fell over you like a blanket and smothered out a handful of the sensory indicators around you. That was the downside of cloaking, afterall. Your senses weren’t entirely stolen, just dampened. But in your line of work, that could be the difference between life and death. 

The closer you got, the more you convinced yourself that the figure was just someone trying to sleep in a dry, semi safe place. The rounded armrests that cut up the bench were designed to deter this, but something digging into you only worked so long when you were bone tired. You didn’t think it would do much to you at the moment. 

You placed one hand on their shoulder and slowly, as though not to startle them, rolled it back to reveal their face and chest. 

He wasn’t sleeping. You knew as soon as you saw his skin, dewy and gray, that he was dead. Two, ratty jackets pulled back to reveal a slim frame and a drawn, boyish face. As you disturbed him, his body let loose the torrent of blood that his crumpled rib cage was holding in. It spilled, still hot, over your shoes. 

He was young. Barely eighteen, if that. Thick glasses, dusty hair, a smattering of freckles across his nose. Everything he had on him was packed into a well-loved, bright green Jansport backpack. He was a kid, just a kid. 

He had been empowered. You didn’t know how you knew, but you did. It was some sort of absence, you thought, some emptiness where he had once been so full. Your threads strummed uneasily towards him, but found no reply. 

He looked so small, curled in on himself on that park bench. 

Your mom had looked small too. She was an exceedingly lively woman, and a fire elemental so powerful that she had struggled to contain her heat even when not impacted by her emotions. Her aura felt visible at times, tangible, like you could wrap your chubby toddler fingers around her power and pull.

It was a closed-casket funeral. The shifter that had killed her very nearly tore her apart. Your father had her buried in a white button up, slacks, something your older brother had snagged from her closet without thinking. You figured that your dad wanted it over with, wanted her in the ground. He had to identify the body. You remembered sitting in the waiting room while he went in to see her. You could hear his wails through the walls. You’d be surprised if anybody in the hospital, anybody in Dahlia, anybody in the world was saved from his screams. 

The doctors did everything medically possible, but there was only so much one could do to make such a mangled corpse look normal, look human. There were thick, medical staples stitching her demure features into another face entirely, lopsided and strange. You had stared at her in the visitation room, tearless, for half an hour before some well-meaning relative or another pulled you away. Your brother and sister had refused to look at her, your father couldn’t stop sobbing long enough to do it, but you couldn’t look away. There was something enticing about it, looking at her and trying to find all of the bits that were missing, to decipher the riddle of her glued-shut eyelids, the hollow, serene pose of her always moving, always working body. There was something powerful about her. Even her corpse held an echo of it. 

You numbly retrieved your phone from your coat pocket and found Jet’s contact. He answered on the first ring and let out a string of protests and admonishments that he must have started long before your call came through, judging by the hoarse quality of his voice. 

“I’ve got a body.” You said, reported. The Investigator overstock you, forcing out the emotion that threatened to topple you and replacing it with the familiar cadence of your crisis training. You felt for his pulse, found nothing. You sent a static shock of magic into him to see if pain or stimulus would rouse him. It did not. 

“What are you talking about?” Jet snapped. “You need-” 

“I’m in the park off Jackson.” You interrupted. “I’ve got a body. Slashed, but not a shifter.” You knew what it looked like when a shifter killed. “I need a unit out here immediately. The shade is corporeal.”

“Investigator,” Jet balked, “you are not cleared for duty. Dr. Collins is calling for a psych eval. Do not tell me you’re still working your case.” 

“Well, I don’t like to lie to superiors.” You sighed. You stood and forced yourself to turn away from the kid- the body, you reminded yourself- taking in your surroundings. It was dark. Shades could hide in the shadows nearly as well as you could. You re-upped cloak, let your magic ripple through your clothes, your phone, muffle the sound of your voice and heartbeat. “Regardless of my clearance, this thing has killed and I intend to finish my work.”

“You’re in over your head.” Jet snapped. “And if you don’t disengage and report back to HQ immediately-”

“Jet, I’m in the heart of college town right now!” you seethed through gritted teeth, “If I leave it, it’s going to cut down a dozen college students before anybody bothers to deal with it. Send backup or don’t. I’m not letting it kill anybody else.” 

You were shaking with rage or panic, which you didn’t know. You turned on your heel, towards the scant tree line, and started walking. The only evidence of you was the bloody footprints you left in the grass. 

You pulled up Milo’s contact in your phone. You typed out your dad’s phone number and sent it without allowing yourself to overthink it. 

That’s my dad’s number. If anybody happens to me, please don’t let him be the one to identify my body. 

You stuffed your phone back into your pocket and turned your mind towards the matter at hand.

[kfedup]

It’s Sunday, yea?

1. Busy day yesterday with an early drive northwest to my friend’s father’s funeral, where the priest called him by another man’s name for most of the service. The plodding pace of sit, stand, kneel of the Catholic service sent me reeling back to my childhood. I remember being grateful when my family changed from a Roman Catholic Church to the one on campus that was less formal and I also remember how even there I rejected much of what I heard. I sat and stood there yesterday (I did not kneel) feeling like an alien interloper but grateful to be able to support my friends. I was one of 3 people wearing a mask and I sat in the back row by the open door. Lort the coughing coming from the full church was unholy. Fingers crossed the mask did the job.

2. Nothing prepares you for middle age and the precipice you teeter on trying not to slide into oblivion.

3. Visited with a good friend and her new mate last night for a few hours. So good to connect and remind each other of how far we have come since we first met 12 years ago. Her bf is a painter and gave me some pointers for how to approach my first acrylic self portrait. I’m excited to try.

4. I slept in and am on the couch in the quiet listening to the light rain and sipping my coffee. Read a chapter of the book Wintering by Katherine May and felt the urge to do a post. Will return to the book for a little longer after this while the house is still quiet.

5. There’s a chicken carcass in the instant pot becoming stock for something tonight. Perhaps the ginger chicken noodle soup I’ve been fantasizing about. Or perhaps a spicy white chili.

6. I need to do a few hours of work today and also grocery shop and do some basement clean out so I can move all the boxes of books out of the back of my car. Yeah, I know… they’ve been there for weeks. I’m struggling with getting certain kinds of things done around here.

7. I am ready for this year to be the year that I get to enjoy my own sexuality. It’s been six years since I have felt connected to that part of myself in a meaningful and fulfilling way. And that six years ago was only partially so… truly it’s been nine years since I felt truly turned on and tuned in for an extended period of time. Since I’ve looked in the mirror and seen my sensual self reflected there without having to talk myself into seeing her there.

8. Hey, a bonus… truth be told, I’m afraid that might not exist in me anymore. I’m aware that the fear is attached to the yoke of alcohol around my neck. But I remind myself that what I experienced all those years ago happened sober. Was the only time I’ve felt so richly in the deep water flow of my own being while connecting with another person in my entire life and I did not imbibe of anything but that energy. It’s just that the years that followed involved so much rye whiskey haze and these last two years sober the few times I tried to date… well… not great, Bob.

9. The extra bonus is that I’ve become quite satisfied with my life alone and am noodling around ideas for the next few years that might include solo travel and working truly remote for periods of time. Get to know some other places. Meet some new people. It will be good for me to crack open the habitual.

10. Hey, there’s more! I rebooted therapy last week after a four-year hiatus with a new practitioner. She’s much younger than me, which didn’t come across in her profile and my initial reaction when I met her was hesitation. She asked excellent questions and her areas of expertise include women in transition phases and addiction. I’ll give it a chance and am encouraging myself to remain open to different perspectives.

These are my more than seven Sunday thoughts. I hope your day is restful or productive or both if that’s what you need.

[findingmyselfat35]

It was June 2020, a few months in from the beginning of the pandemic. Yeap, life changed drastically for everyone that year. And I was not exempt.

During what I believed to be a regular conversation with my therapist (I no longer see this therapist, by the way), she asked me about my plans for turning 30 in a mere few weeks. I scoffed. I'm a self-proclaimed loner who would much rather curl up in bed at 2 pm on a Saturday and mindlessly scroll on her TikTok, and when that gets old, sleep.

She implored me to think about my future, telling me to set realistic goals and then be intentional about accomplishing them.

Well, I knew immediately what two of those goals were. I've always felt deep in my heart that I was born to be a mom. It's an innate feeling that swells from the depths of my soul and I get excited when I think about how I'd step into the role with ease. I also had a goal to be a wife. And yes, in my perfect world, becoming a wife first would be the ideal order.

I prayed to God often back then about those desires. I prayed to God and asked him to grant me the strength, discipline and tools to be have the exact life I wanted - a business owner, mom and wife.

It strikes me as ironic that while the entire world was in QUARANTINE, my therapist encouraged me to date intentionally, as much as I could throughout the summer. I needed to decipher what values and characteristics I wanted in a partner.

Eventually I took her advice. I set myself up on Tinder, Hinge, Bumble and BLK. What she didn't know was that I REFUSED to take this seriously. Why? Well, because it's DATING APPS! Do I really need to say more?

And less than 48 hours in, I cursed the fact that I ever even took her advice.

After a few weeks, I went out on my first date. Then another nearly a week later, and then another. All different men. All for drinks, or dinner, or morning coffee. Nothing earth-shattering. And for safety concerns, of course, I texted my girlfriend before and after ever single date.

It was early September that I met one gentleman (he'll remain nameless) and we clicked almost immediately. He was funny, hardworking, involved in lots of non-profit organizations in his city, and showed genuine interest in me. He cared about texting me back right away, you know?

However, after 3 dates over 4 months, I quickly realized my patience was practically non-existent. Well, let me clarify. I was tired of the games. I refused to pretend like I didn't have a goal. I was crystal clear that if at some point there was dating without intention, I'd block and delete faster than you can say "InanyformImgivingyousweetdreams". And so it was over - as fast as you could say "InanyformImgivingyousweetdreams".

As the new year - 2021 to be exact - quickly approached, I swore off dating. I deleted all my accounts, deleted all the apps. I shifted my focus to learning as much as I could about the process of becoming a business owner. I dived deep into research about LLCs, business plans, start-up funding, small business loans, website hosting platforms, and much more.

I rang in 2021 in bed, with a cup of hot cocoa, my fingers frantically dancing across my MacBook keyboard, publishing the last minute touches on my new website. My plan was to begin my lifestyle concierge services business, launching with the easiest division, and monetizing on my writing, editing skills, and digital design skills.

I slept as still as the night, peace in my heart, content with the fact that I very well might spend the next few years in solitude.

I didn't remember that I gave my number to another gentleman (I'll refer to him as WC). Sometime before 2021 rolled in, I did. On January 24th, I received my first text from WC.

I'll spare all the insignificant details of our early conversations. What I will say is that on January 29th, we went on our first date, which was brunch at Tapas in Bloomfield.

And, my, oh my.

[nathank77]

3/19/24

5:41 a.m

So last week I ended up taking a higher dose of xanax multiple days. 2 days in a row. Then the day after a half. And then like 2 days after a half...

I also started mixing Benadryl and hydroxyzine in to the days I took the half because I had taken the 1 mg so many days..

I might have fucked myself. Let me go into depth.

To start I've noticed on Xanax I can usually fall asleep in 2 hours and stay asleep for 5 hours. If I get up to pee I'm fucked... I end up tossing and turning and being unable to fall back to sleep. If I don't pee I can usually pass right back out..

Sometimes I pee and I've been taking hydroxyzine and Benadryl right after I go so I can fall back to sleep and get my 7 hours. It has worked...

I'm worried those other days I took the half and mixed hydroxyzine and Benadryl in when i took the xanaz not hours later bc i had taken a 1 mg so many days that week. I mixed in the hydroxyzine and Benadryl bc of the interaction of sedation...

So out of these two weeks, I have fall asleep on a half mg of xanax twice... without adding Benadryl and hydroxyzine in a couple hours later to knock myself out...they were spread out like the 9th and the 14th or something like that.

Two nights ago I took the pill at 5:41 a.m and I ended up not falling asleep and taking a Benadryl 25MG and hydroxyzine 25MG at 8:22 a.m. I ended up closing my eyes ay 8:41 a.m and falling asleep prob by 9 am. I woke up at 3 p.m. I got about 6 hours of sleep. It wasn't enough but luckily the hallucination wasn't any worse..

Last night 3/18 I took the half at 5:05 a.m. I had one of the worst nights ever. I took benadryl 25MG and hydroxyzine 25MG at 7:42 a.m....

Then I still hadn't slept and I took another 25MG of both hydroxyzine and Benadryl at 8:55 a.m. I closed my eyes at 9:12 a.m and failure. I opened them at 9:48 a.m and I tried again. I either fell asleep for like 30 minutes maximum from 9:48-10:33 cause it is a little fuzzy but I def didn't sleep the entire time.. I must have fallen asleep by 11 a.m I didn't dose anything else past 9:48 8:55 a.m. I figured I'd just accept I couldn't sleep. I slept from 11 a.m to 3:30 p.m. I got only like hours of sleep maybe 4 hours and 45 minutes. Or 30 who knows...I went to the dentist obv.. and yea the hallucination wasn't terribly bad or anything but- I'm exhausted... and I'm aggravated. It's not terrible but it felt worse today than yesterday or a day with full sleep. I mean but I can attribute that to less concentration and focus as well as just irritatiablity...with lack of sleep and not being able to switch from Xanax to something better for sleep such as estrazolam... but yea it wasn't like the voice got creative or intelligent but it seems more intrusive and more stressful to deal with.

The days I slept without hydroxyzine and Benadryl on a half MG were, 3/16 but I did take Benadryl and hydroxyzine at 1:03 p.m when I woke up and peeded. But nonetheless a half MG did knock me out without any other drug. And then 3/9 which I didn't use hydroxyzine or Benadryl at all.

I'm worried I fucked myself but idk. We will find out. I was stressed about my dentist appt. Idk what happened Sunday.. cause I wasn't stressed. I'm hoping since the 16th occurred that will happen for me tomorrow night..

My eye doctor appt is at 3 p.m. There is no way in the world, I'm getting up for that appt with I mean even 6 hours of sleep cause I got to get up 2 or 2:30 the latest...so I'm taking the full MG tonight and I should sleep like a baby. If not I suppose I'll add Benadryl at some point and then hydroxyzine at another point... I don't think it'll come to that.

So tonight I should knock out on 1 mg.. tomorrow I'm hoping the half will be effective without anything else. I mean I have bloodwork on the 20th I'll skip it if I fall asleep late. It's not stressful I can reschedule. Tbh I'll reschedule the eye exam too if I absolutely have to. I'll see what happens. Let's cross our fingers that the half will be effective tomorrow when I'm less stressed cause I've had back to back responsibilities but yea I'll cancel worse case and sleep in.

Moving on I am seeing my doctor on the 28th about my insomnia. I'll be face to face with her and I'm going to tell her my black hairy tongue has not healed and show her as it's a direct side effect of xanax. And then I'm going to ask for estrazolam 2mg or doral 15 mg. She was only going to give me 7.5 mg of temazepam and on the benzodiazepine equivalency chart 20-30 mg is equivalent to 0.5-1.mg of xanax which is why I didn't do it.... although I did this all over the phone so maybe seeing me a month later face to face and seeing my tongue hasn't healed and it's not yeast or viral... Maybe she will hear me out. I need something equivalent to the 1mg xanax I am on.

I'm going to ask her for doral 15mg or estrazolam 2 mg and show her the chart and say the only reason I'm sleeping is fucking xanax and it saved my life but I'd rather my tongue stay this way and sleep then risk full blown insomnia.

I picked estrazolam 2mg bc they come in 1 and 2 and 2 is equal to 1 mg of xanax per this chart... it's a better insomnia benzo cause it's made for insomnia unlike xanax... and if she won't do that cause she wants to do the lowest dose possible then I'll ask for doral another insomnia benzodiazepine that comes on 15 mg tablets... it's equivalent to 1MG of xanax. I'll show her the chart, and I'm hoping face to face Interaction, and facts will help my case. I won't hold my breath. I expect I'll end up going to the psychiatrist... but Prohealth is fucking reliable af. That's the issue. Psychiatrists are not. Maybe I'll just have black hairy tongue for the rest of my life to make sure I sleep. I don't think I'm going to depend on a psychiatrist and end up getting fucked in the end....

Prohealth is truly reliable and once I get another benzodiazepine from someone else they will stop prescribing it. I may not be able to get her to reperscribe it....

So yea I'm stressed about that. Hopefully BHT and face to face will change things when I show her this chart.

At some point I may start smoking weed again, I mean I didn't need to take 400 different drugs to sleep. I slept solidly throughout the night and my fucking tongue needs to heal. I hope the 28th goes well. Weed is a big decision I'm really going to think about it and see how the 28th goes.

Also what makes matter worse is my sleep environment.. I can't sleep in silence bc otherwise I hear the voice. It's maddening. I don't want to listen to being scared bc I want cartoon mental pictures. Happy ones. Not realistic ones...

So I listen to bobs burgers or American dad. Something with a lot of dialogue bc it tunes the voice out. Unfortunately there is all this singing and loud noise. Bare in mind I turn it down as much as I can where I can hear the dialogue clearly but i do need hearing aids.

Bobs has to be at like 18 or 19 volume. American dad for some reason can be at 14 volume. Nonetheless it isn't a good slept environment. Loud noisy singing and clattering versus hearing happy birthday 50000 times. And not to mention trying to think positive thoughts and think over aka align with the voice so that's what I hear. I gave up on that months ago.

Either way I guess I'll figure it out. I just took my 1 mg Xanax. And I fucking hate Kristen fucking dew. I've don't nothing this week with her but later this week I will. I got to get my general health taken care of first.

Weed may need to happen cause I feel like a pilll head popping everything I can just to hit sleep stage one.

Beyond that- my thyroid is clearly close to normal. No doubt. Graves can cause insomnia. I haven't seen a single fucking improvement in that regard unfortunately.

Hopefully it's still higher than it should be and once it normalized it fixes it... idk... I have options but it's getting down I might as well smoke a little weed everyday and go back to sleeping like a baby at the risk of making psychosis worst. I'll still have xanax....

Idk. I don't feel entirely hopeless but I am truly worried about the half MG losing effectiveness. Nonetheless I will sleep everyday and soon it will be 7 hours again. And I'll cancel things if i have to, to get my 7 hours. There is no reason to stress out.

I just wrote a book but it helped. Cause this is one of the reasons I can't sleep in silence. Even if this POS hallucination shut up finally, I don't have a ton of positive thoughts but if it did stop Id start listening to being scared again.

Lastly I hate having to see Mike again. I saw him today and he cut me off so much as I tried to explain my Xanax/sleep schedule thing that it took me about 55 minutes to get it out when I would have been able to say it all in 25 minutes if he just shut up about movies and BS and let me talk... I had so many othet things I needed to talk about hence the book I just wrote.

I got to find another therapist who can read a fucking room stfu and listen and wait until I stop talking. I want your input but fucking let me finish what I'm fucking saying so I can get it fucking out

I'm ending this rant with the equivalence chart cause it's factually I need a higher dose of another benzo. I carefully picked estrazolam and especially doral cause it comes only in 15 mg capsules...... please prohealth fucking help me.

[bibliophilejen]

Tw: major injury and medical procedures

Facebook is a hellscape I tend to avoid, but I do look at the memories of previous posts - (admittedly in part to edit out some of the terrible takes I had). Holy shit, I got hit with a cinder block this time. Everything in this period is so fuzzy and nebulous, but there are moments that hit with immense clarity.

This was thirteen years ago today, when I had a fantastically silly night out with some folks I worked with at the airport. I was 29 and while life wasn't easy, it wasn't bad.

Less than two weeks later, the Duke ICU would be as familiar to me as TSA.

I remember my mother texting me over the course of the afternoon, into the evening, trying to make things sound normal, but they weren't normal at all. My family didn't go to the doctor unless you were dying.

<Dad's leg is hurting so we're going to the urgent care.>

<They want an X-ray.>

<Now they're getting an ultrasound.>

<They want us to go to the ER, but I'm just going to drive instead of taking an ambulance.>

Then she called. When they got to the ER Dad was immediately admitted and taken to surgery. The urgent care had called ahead to warn them he was on the way so they could prep. By this point it was seven and I would be off work by 7:30, so Mom told me to finish my workday, then come.

I tried so hard to drive deliberately but carefully to get there, but on the way out of the airport one of the cops I see every day pulled me over to write a ticket for going 46 in a 35. Guy I saw every day inside the airport, knew his name, knew his kid's names, and he took 20 minutes while my dad was in emergency surgery to write me a ticket. I would have taken one for 70 in a 35 if he would have just done it faster.

I got there eventually, and my mom and I were both tense with red-rimmed eyes, but we're not cryers. We're doers. When things are hard we make plans and accomplish them, but there was nothing to do but wait.

My Aunt Kate is a nurse and flew in the next day to stay until dad got out of the ICU. I believe she was a huge help, especially since the medical interventions were most intense that week, but I honestly don't remember much. She made sure Mom and I slept and ate, because otherwise we would have sat there waiting for news, waiting for Dad to wake up, waiting for anything we could accomplish to feel like we weren't failing at everything.

Dad spent at least the next week in the ICU, having two surgeries a day interspersed with other treatments. If we had lived almost anywhere else in the country he would have died 2/16/11. If they had decided to go from the urgent care to UNC's ER instead of Duke, he would have likely lost his leg and maybe his life.

This became my life, with occasional outings to distract myself. Work, hospital, home, on repeat. Days off were entirely at the hospital so my mom could get some rest. We didn't leave him alone for more than 4 hours the entire time he stayed at Duke.

Here's his birthday. He'd been in the hospital two weeks at this point, was released from the ICU a few days prior, and had had around 20 debridement and reconstructive surgeries in that time, with more to come. He just turned 55.

He would spend the next month or so at Duke, and another three months in a rehab facility learning how to walk again. Mom had to teach the nurses there how to perform the dressing change on his leg, where he still had an open wound several inches deep and the size of both my hands (with another square foot or so covered in skin grafts). The nurses there were used to helping stroke patients and the elderly, not severe burn wound care (the closest correlation most medical professionals will see).

When they sent him home in July? August? he still had an open wound on his leg where Mom did a dressing change every day. And by this point? This was normal. I had moved back home shortly before he did, so I could be there to help out.

I don't know where I was going with this. I saw that first picture and this entire horrible, hard year snapped into my head and wouldn't let go until I spilled it out somewhere.

[coreytravelogue]

April 10, 2023 - Toronto, Ont., Canada

Four days have come and went with out much of a hitch. One thing is for sure I know my stomach is happy we went on this trip, I kept myself very well fed during this trip but after many weeks/months of purely rice, frozen veg and tofu I felt it was time to treat myself. Most of this trip was very much me treating myself, or my stomach.

My plan to get drunk enough to pass out during the flight to Toronto failed, I really need to stop doing it because it really doesn’t work anymore. Beer doesn’t knock me out like it used to, if anything it keeps me up. I barely slept through the 4 hour trip. Maybe one hour but I doubt it.

I arrived in Toronto and within 30 min got lost trying to find the Up train, typical Pearson. I eventually found it and made my way to my hosts place. My room was not ready but they were more than fine with letting me drop my bags off. After pleasantries I made my way out and had breakfast as it was still morning.

My first first non brain targeted breakfast since Calgary was eggs Benny with salmon at a mom and pop breakfast house around the corner. It was very meh and so was the coffee.q

After that I head out and tried to Jayne hat for the next 14 hours, I say try and because I did not get very much done for a 14 hour span. I will blame my lack of really plotting how I was going to do it.

The thing is Toronto is so fucking big of a city, you can turn anywhere and never know where you are going unless you live here. Toronto has so many statues scattered everywhere. What really killed my day was my excursion to Toronto Island. I naively thought it was a park surely it had statues like most big parks did also surely by the end of it I would get the the statue I knew was there at the end of it.

2 hours later I discovered there were no statues there going from one end to another and the statue I did want was barricaded with no way to get to it unless I planned to fly from Billy Bishop airport.

By the time I finished that island walk my legs and back started getting sore as they usually do when I have done the amount of walking I did. It made walking for the rest of that day increasingly hard on top of being very tired.

Didn’t also help that many of the statues I plotted for were not there or too difficult to get to. It is often very hard to gauge as most pictures of statues do not give me up in terms of size perspective to know whether they could be hatted or not.

I did end my day finding a great venue in Toronto that I would go to again called C’est What. I can definitely see myself going there for my night life needs if I lived in Toronto.

After a long day and body completely sore I went to sleep in my room under the stairs. It was barely room and more of a private space with just enough room for a bed. I am not complaining, I knew exactly what I was in for. I didn’t need a room I just needed a bed to sleep in that was private as I wasn’t planning on spending any time there other than sleeping and I was correct I was only there to sleep. Only issue was the place was too warm and it was a little noisy as when you sleep under the stairs you tend to pick up everything. Warmth is bad for my nose more than me, my nose hates heat and immediately gets plugged.

I did wind up getting about 10 hours of needed sleep and was more or less recovered for Saturday.

Saturday was another full day, went to the same breakfast place but this time I had French toast and was still disappointed. If there is one thing I am learning about Toronto is that their food is in smaller portions than I am used to. I decided I wasn’t going back there again. Saturday was a much more productive day for hatting as most of the statues I go were from this day as I spent the entire morning right till evening doing it.

My evening was then spent at a hockey game, Leafs vs Habs for hockey night in Canada. After that I went back to C’est What and had some good Hefeweizens and went to bed shortly after.

Sunday I decided to go to the Sunset Grill for French Toast and it was disappointing and small there but the coffee was better. The basketball game was a afternoon game so I did not have any time between breakfast and the game to Jayne hat so I went to. The game then proceeded to try and get the rest of the hatting done. I got all but one done but left the last one for today as it was going to be very easy.

The basketball game was fun though my view was obstructed but I knew it was, I got the seat at discount because of that obstruction. In an alternate timeline I can see myself being a basketball fan more than a hockey fan but I have a hard enough time following hockey outside of for fantasy hockey. I just do not have enough time in my life for it if I want to do everything I want to do.

I knew I was going to have a long day today. The original plan was to leave mid day but they moved my flight to the night so I could not get much sleep period. I didn’t get much sleep either last night.

Went back to Sunset Grill for an eggs Benny and this time I wasn’t disappointed. John’s Place is the best breakfast place still and Toronto ain’t taking that title any time soon.

Jayne hatted the last statue then went to the distillery district hoping there could be a statue I missed but there wasn’t. Grab my bags from the host’s place, went to the Spag factory for a early lunch which will also be my dinner and now we are caught up. I am really hoping I can sleep through this 4-5 hour flight but I doubt it. It just means tomorrow. Is going to be horrifically brutal for me.

The next few weeks till Victoria in May will be cost saving and plotting the rest of my itinerary for the year be it Australia and Newfoundland if I have it my way but I have to work on it. Edmonton in July as well but I am starting to be on the fence with that.

I am more or less covering 3 positions right now which means lots of stress for me but I am hoping to fill my off days with creativity. I refuse to let 2023 be like years 2020 to 2022 where I barely travelled.

Now that I have used Flair twice I now think I need to be careful with when I book it as they seem to have a rep for moving your flight around without telling you. I have yet to board Lynx yet but at this point they haven’t really been shady with me, if anything bluntly honest. Saying bring your own food, drink and make sure your shit is charged because you won’t get any of the sort. I can appreciate the honesty.

At this time Lynx gets the slight edge but I won’t know till after this flight.

I have no idea when my next entry will be on here. Maybe May, maybe July, maybe August and see if I can recall more trips I have made in my life I did not mention, possibly October as that is when I can maximize the my leave time the most then of course Newfoundland and we will then have 2023. 2024 will be my last year in my 30s, unless I suddenly lose my job or get a shit ton of leave time sent my way 2024 won’t be as exciting and adventure filled as 2014 but I do plan on doing something big for it in Japan especially if I am still in BC which is very possible.

But I am getting ahead of myself, I still need to get out of Toronto. Till the next time, shazbot nanu nanu.

[karenarella22]

Second.

Okey guys and girls, this is the chapter before the grand final, hope you like what you've read so far, this is a long one, it is gona round off the story, but don't worry we have got two more books to go. Ans as I always tell you, this chapter contains graphis content, reat it at your own risk.

***

-What's wrong?- I say without taking my eyes off the glass. A few minutes ago Elizabeth started writing and she doesn't seem to want to stop anytime soon.

The D.A. who was by my side witnessing the entire interview took me by the arm, away from the place to a secluded place since the entire office was hanging around the interrogation room to find out if we had finally caught the murderer.

-Vinicio Conte's lawyer was at my office today asking about the surveillance recordings of his client, and I gave them to him-he confesses.

-What?! Why did you do that?-

-I couldn't deny it, it's my duty, besides it would look too suspicious if I didn't hand them in- I lean against the wall rethinking the whole situation in my mind, I'm done.

-Great, this is the end of my career- I murmur in shock.

-Congratulations detective- an smiling sergeant approaches shaking my hand- you did an excellent job-

-T..thank you sir- I stammer outlining a grimace full of anguish and despair more than a smile. Becket walks out of the room with the list of names in hand and I grab it from him before he can even say a word.

-Detective congratulations- cadet Becket approaches us with a splendid smile, his pubescent face recently freed from acne seems to have a special shine due to the events we have just witnessed-we will have a celebration at Rick's pub in an hour I think that should come, you are the heart of the case-

-Of course, of course I'll be there- I watch him walk away, I look back at the prosecutor who swears under his breath- I'll find a way to fix this situation- I walk to my office and slam the door. I try not to cry feeling a mixture of dark sensations growing inside me.

I see through the window the officers go by, I wish they were in my place, I feel their accusing gazes on me even when they haven't even heard what happened yet.

I lay down on the sofa to rest for a bit, I don't remember the last time I ate like a decent person, much less when I slept in my own bed for more than 4 hours. The knock on the door can be heard and with what seems like a grunt I make the person behind the door know that they have ruined my 5 minutes of quietness, of those few that I have left.

-Aeryne, you will go to the party that Becket prepared? He already make it clear to everyone that he participated as your assistant throughout the investigation- Dylan laughs taking a seat next to me, I giggle covering my eyes so that the artificial light do not bother me.

-Let him gloat while he can, when they find out what I did he won't want to have me 8 kilometers around- I bite my nails.

-Well that's happens now but because of the smell you have- I laugh out loud throwing a cushion that I had brought here to make more comfortable the nights I stay working.

-Shut up idiot, at least I bathe 4 times a week, you don't even bathe that much- I return the joke. We stay in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the momentary peace that this afternoon-night gives us.

-So...Are you going to the party or not?-

-Yes I think I'll go, I prefer to celebrate now and get depressed when I have to get depressed...Where you able to finish Julia's homework?- I get up from the sofa looking for my bag to get out of here once and for all

-Yes I could, now I have another problem even worse-he walks out.

-Trigonometry? - I joke, turning off the office lights.

-Hopefully, it's a boy in his class with whom she's dating- I open my eyes wide in amazement.

-Wow I didn't expect that, although I'm glad she lives a normal life away from all this shit we deal with every day- I wait as he looks for his things and we get on the elevator to go directly to the garage.

-Yes, I'm glad she's normal, it just bothers me that she's so small and has a boyfriend- I laugh.

-Don't worry, she has to grow up at some point- I get in the car- when you find out the name of the monstrosity, let me know and we'll look for him in the family court databases to see what we are dealing with-

-I'll take your word- we laugh at our craziness as we travel to Rick's pub. A police bar that caters to every officer in the city since 1954.Rick's father opened the bar to spend time with his friends and in a few years it became famous for being open 24 hours a day for police officers who wanted a snack to start the night shift or the first breakfast in the morning.

We parked by the gate, from the row of people at the gate waiting to get in, I'd say Becket managed to get the club out for police use only. I close the door and wait for Dylan to approach, for the first time in many years of work we begin to show our true feelings towards each other in public so he approaches and takes my hand.

We salute little Ricky, the son of Rick Senior, apparently the imagination in this family was taken by the first generations. Little not so little Rick is at the door today, he lets us in without paying admission as the cops here are free to do so, seems like a waste of money but with the amount of beer we drink a night I'd say it's a hell of a lot gain.

We walk down the dance floor hand in hand and approach the bar.

-What do you want to drink?-

-A double whiskey on the rocks please- I scan the place, in the sea of ​​mismatched blue uniforms and the smell of beer in my nostrils makes me feel at home. I believe, without lying, that I have had more birthdays here than anywhere else in this town.

I sigh seeing the happy faces, from time to time one of my colleagues comes over to say hello and congratulate us for having closed this case, every time I hear them I think to myself that it is not closed yet, it is far from being closed, I hope it is a damn coincidence because if it isn't I don't know what I'm going to be capable of. I down the glass of whiskey in one go, feeling the liquid burn my throat. I chat for about 2 hours with my colleagues between drinks and laughter, we dance a little, in the end I'm having fun for a while after so much stress.

I leave the place to get some air, lighting a cigarette as I take a seat on the edge of the sidewalk, crossing my legs on the ground and I let out the smoke that accompanies me. My life flashes before my eyes, my childhood, my mother and father who were always there for me, their arguments even though they thought I was listening, the fake smiles when I enter the room, they always thought I didn't realize dad was sleeping on the couch.

Then the tragic incident, because we can't call it an accident, he knew what he was doing, he knowingly left us.

I inhale the smoke letting my lungs fill with chemicals harmful to my health, smoking is not a habit rooted in my identity but it is something that I hold on to in my darkest moments. The sound of the cell phone takes me out of my thoughts; it is an unknown phone that sends me a search link. I press the blue hyperlink that takes me to a page in the Daily Post, dated tomorrow.

Tonight at 5 a.m. Gibson NewShire County Police released the news that the body of one of its most recognized officers, Aeryne Wolf, was found in the woods on the outskirts of the city by a group of hikers who notified the authorities.

According to the first versions, it is said that the police were suffering a great period of stress in the famous case of the serial killer who terrorizes our townspeople at night. What after a night of alcohol she was seen wandering to the forest where apparently after a quick visit to her home she would have hanged herself next to the waterfall where years before her father had suffered the same outcome with little Aeryne being the one to find her body hanging over Wilmand Falls.

I release the air, held in my lungs releasing the smoke, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up again, I quickly pick up my skeleton from the ground, vigilant to anyone around me, a couple having sex near the alley and a group of friends helping each other not to end up on the ground. The front line not even halfway inside of the bar yet and Rick Jr. already ushering rowdy drunks out the door.

Fear runs through my body making my hands shake uncontrollably, I put out the cigarette on the ground as I walk to the main road in search of a taxi, the same thought that I had when I saw the figure though the window comes back to my mind "listen to the hairs behind your neck, always listen to them Aeryne they will alert you to some danger and get you out of there", instead of ignoring them as I have done since this damn investigation began, listen to them and after boarding a taxi I head home.

I pay the taxi driver worried about my face, the poor man more than once tries to start a conversation with me but I am too absorbed in my thoughts to be able to answer him, I see how he walks away down the street until he turns the corner. I draw the service weapon from my waist which I carried despite being off duty and walk along the path that leads directly to the backyard of the house, I walk slowly as stealthily as I can while looking for any sign of someone outside my home. I open the kitchen door in total silence, I check that all the windows in the room are closed, the knives are in place and nothing seems to be missing from the room.

I continue my way to the living room where nothing is as it was when I left the house this morning, the books scattered on the floor, the lamp that was next to the sofa is now totally destroyed, fireplace and the photos of my parents are totally burned in the fire that a crackles in the fireplace revealing shattered pieces of those memories, I run my hand along the wall until I find the power button, the lights illuminate the room allowing to see in one of the central walls another of those phrases that open the doors to Dante's hell.

"...Oh you who enters here abandon all hope!"

The sound of the landline phone takes me out of my confused head, I take the device without stopping guarding the environment knowing that in any case someone can attack me.

-Wolf here- I murmur with a broken voice.

-Aeryne, where are you? I've been calling you on your cell phone-

-No, I don't know where it is, I must have lost it- I support my back against the wall.

-You must come to the police station immediately; Elizabeth gave the address and the name of the murderers to Becket, but failed to give him the name of the last victim until she was sure that no one was going to be able to save her.... Aeryne the next victim...-he sounds so far away.

-It's me- the incessant sound of a car engine has been heard for minutes at the door- Conte is at my place, it will be quite obvious when you arrive, investigate how it was possible that he managed to get out, or who was the one who helped him do it, there is someone within the police who is playing dirty, I must go, please be careful- I run the corridor to dad's room where is old desk was. I take a small set of keys from the pot by the window of it and go inside the place again, drawing my gun in search of something suspicious that I have to defend myself against.

I leave my badge next to the service weapon on the large desk that occupies almost the entire width of the room, memories flash through my mind, my father working while I played with him at being the police officer who arrested him for eating all the homemade cookies mom baked.

So many stories, so much life lived in that house that will be gone forever after tonight, I can feel it. All a backpack with enough cash for at least a month to live, documents and a false driver's license that I used to enter clubs in my youth, and the revolver that my father always kept locked in the blue cabinet behind his back. I check that it has the pertinent bullets and I keep it in the belt of my pants, I take a piece of paper and the silver gray pen that they gave me as a gift my first day as a detective and I write what I feel is my farewell.

"Thank you for everything, as you know, tragedy plagued my life from an early age, at times when I was not even aware of what was happening, all the paths I took led me to this place where I do not regret having stayed. Everything has to end, and that it ends where it started gives it the finishing touch almost like a romance novel.

Vinicio Conte is the main author of the massacre that occurred in this town in recent days, a group of misfits who could not face the reality of their actions took me to the breaking point where I find myself today, do not think for a second that I intend to commit suicide, everything you hear that does not come out of my mouth is a lie.

Aeryne Wolf, Official Detective New Shire Police Department."

Tears fall down my cheeks, the frame that I proudly hung on the wall in front of the desk that holds my diploma up seems empty of love and emotion, I am not a diploma or a photo of graduates with my classmates, I am much more and I hope you remember me for that.

I leave the room and walk with firm steps through the house and open the door of the porch where Mr. Vinicio Conte is waiting for me leaning on the door of the truck that was previously in the garage of the old shack in the woods.

-Detective, for a moment I thought that you had been cowardly enough to run away-

-Conte, I think that truck does not belong to you- I firmly hold the handles of the backpack that hangs on my back.

-I think it does, please get in the car, let me tell you a story- I walk slowly along the front of the truck until I reach the passenger seat and I get in without taking my backpack off my back, it's uncomfortable, but easy to carry if I have to escape.

In silence he drives up to Little Peak, after finding my father dead hanging on the branches I never went back to that forest and the family weekend cabin was completely abandoned, or so I thought until I was proven otherwise.

He drives in silence until we reach the cabin, I get out of the truck feeling the weight of years of resentment and pain accumulating in my chest, the desire to cry crowds my eyes but not by chance will I give Vinicio the pleasure of seeing me in that state, after all he is a ruthless killer, a mastermind of evil, although it seems cliché and I will not give him the thought that he is breaking me into a thousand pieces inside, although that is really happening.

We walked through the forest for a while before entering the waterfall, it is smaller than I remembered it, the ground is still just as muddy and the scar from my father's suicide is still marked on that branch that still tells it to grow after having it cut to lower it.

-How is everything? Does it look familiar to you?-

-What are we doing here Vinicio?-

-We are here to tell you a story, everyone thinks of the harm caused to the victims but no one thinks of the harm they caused me, how they damaged my story forever- he pulls out a gun from the waistband of the jeans he is wearing and He points at me- I'm going to ask you to please leave your backpack on the ground, you won't need the weapon that you have hidden in your waist, besides, I just want to chat- a violent smile appears on your face, without further doings I do what he tells me to, I leave the backpack and the gun on the porch of the old vacation cabin my parents had and we go in.

Memories hit my mind in a colossally, all the furniture is in its place only corroded by the pass of time and the elements, he makes me take a seat in my mother's chair that is in front of my father's chair where he is already sitting.

-I'll start with the story, but first let me show you something- he leaves the gun in his lap on the sofa, puts his hand in the back pocket of his pants, I place my hands outstretched on the armrests of the chair waiting for something to happen, As I do this he gingerly pulls out a piece of time-worn paper. It passes me what I recognize as the photo paper folded in half, I open it completely observing the printed image carefully, my mother's smile is what stands out the most in the photograph, she is embracing a man whom I do not recognize, the sparkle in his eyes betrays the happiness of the moment. I check the inscription on the back of the paper hoping to find some clue as to the date it was made. Because of how similar my mother is to what I remember her, it seems to be from when I was around 10 years old.

There is nothing else written there except for a small phrase written by hand with the ink already erased by the passing of the years.

"...the first love..."

-I don't recognize this man, why are you showing me this?-

-That man, detective, is my father and the woman in the photo is my mother- I shake my head trying to process the twisted joke he just told.

-Please, Mr. Conte, this is clearly a set-up, my mother was always faithful to my father, besides that she is your mother, it would incur the fact that you are my brother and that is not a good joke- I get up from my place threatening to which he takes the gun and points it at me.

-Sit down sister, we have a lot to discuss- I raise my hands in surrender but I don't go back to my place.

-No matter what you tell me, Vinicio, I'm not your sister, we're too different to be- he pushes me roughly on the seat and I look at him angrily.

-Our parents met for a date for lovers a long time ago, did our mother never tell you the story? One day when she was working, he arrived at the shop and attended him, the two fell in love in an instant...-

-That's not what happened, how did you find out all this?-

-I already told you, our precious mother has been lying to us all her life, preferring your filthy family over us, my father was destroyed after she abandoned him on the same day of his birthday, the same day she gave him this book- take the leather cover book on the table that I had never seen before - my father came to this country looking for peace after the war and ended up dying of grief because of a heartless woman, who only used him to satisfy carnal desires to which her husband was not up to the task-

-Don't talk about my mother, you have no idea what kind of person she was, you don't know her-anger was boiling inside me.

-Did she ever told you why your father made the coward decision to commit suicide?- The words get stuck in my throat, no coherent answer comes to mind as to how he knows so much about my past and this cabin.

-You see? No smart answers now, no little sister, our mother was a whore who created such resentment in my father that he confessed to your father what happened, that I didn't even have the opportunity to be baptized since they wouldn't accepted bastard children in Catholic churches, he told him everything in great detail, how mom lived, like that supposed son who was born dead in the hospital before you were born, never died and who was given to his biological father while he was abandoned by his mother, years passed of agony for my father...-

-All this situation just because your father was spiteful? All the deaths you caused just because the little problems you dragged from childhood with your mommy didn't leave you alone once you grew up?... oh you are incredible - I exhale laughing at this situation - you are so wrapped up in your hatred you only managed to sink more and more Vinicio - I get up from my place ready to leave- I will not continue listening to this torture just because this madman comes up with it-

-STAY WHERE YOU ARE!- he shouts.

- Or else what? Are you going to kill me or are you going to fill my head with lies like you did with my father so that he would commit suicide? Listen to me, little brother, I'm not my mother or my father, you're not going to manipulate me as you please, so if you don't plan to kill me, let me go right now-I demand.

In the carelessness of his walk from one side to the other I throw myself on his back trying to hold the gun. His hands tense and I manage to knock him off the edge of the kitchen door so the Glock falls to the floor away from us. I climb on his back like a horse wrapping my arms around his neck to lock him and leave him unconscious, before he passes out completely he manages to walk with his back to the door and stamp me against it where the latch hits my kidneys, I fall to the ground sore trying to catch my breath, my legs feel heavy and my whole body throbs with pain. I see him run to the kitchen, I take the glass lamp, a gift from my grandmother for my parents' wedding day, a family heirloom according to her; I managed to land the blow on his head leaving him stunned again.

I reach the kitchen counter, I grab a butcher knife to defend myself as I run to the gun, his hands grab my ankle and I fall to the ground face first without even being able to stop my fall with my hands. My chin hits the tile-colored ceramic floor loudly, leaving me very dizzy. I instinctively kick hitting his hands until I can drag myself across the kitchen floor. I'm holding it in my hand when I feel the blade I'd previously used to defend myself dig into my left thigh causing a bloodcurdling scream of pain.

I hear police car sirens in the distance, I think, I just hope it's not a hallucination. I return again to my current situation when the weapon is wielded in the hand of my dearest brother, I crawl until my back hits the pan cabinets, if I take out the dagger I could bleed to death right now and give Conte the satisfaction of killing me, But I don't want to die either. I giggle stupidly at my thoughts, I'm already rambling.

-Let's go back to the beginning little sister, in the place where it all began, the weekend house that your father bought to spend the weekends with the family that later became the love nest of our mother and my father, the place where everything began, it is the place where everything will end- he positions himself on top of me, his body covering mine completely, with the adrenaline pumping through my body I take the knife out of my leg and immediately plunge it into the entrails of my dear little brother I twist him to deal as much damage as possible, before he can stop the entire weapon in his hands, and walk away.

The footsteps of people around the cabin are present, I drag myself to the sofa where I fall pale, my body going into shock, before passing out I manage to see the sergeant and Dylan enter the cabin, wrapped in their bulletproof vests they scan the area before to get close to me.

-Aeryne, what happened to you?- my partner approaches once again to save me as he has done so many times before. I hold onto his shoulders as I stand up feeling the comforting warmth of his body, the boss' footsteps approaching the living room area with Vinicio Conte in his arms.

-I'll take him to the truck, don't move from here I'll call reinforcements on the way- the Sergeant dictates and that's how it's done. We nod at the same time as I return my body to the couch, a grimace of pain forming on my face as I try to calm my heavy breathing.

-Are you feeling well?- He places a tourniquet on my leg with the scarf I left the police station with to protect me from the cold. I instinctively try to move my leg away because of the pain caused by the knot on the wound, but the hands of Dylan holds them in place.

-How did you find out I was here?- I whisper, wiping the perspiration from my forehead.

-The boss traced your cell phone signal to here- 

Now...that doesn't make any sense.

-That doesn't make sense Dylan, you called me at home and I told you that I had lost my cell phone in the speed of my flight- we stayed recalculating the situation for a few seconds until we understood.

Holly shit.

He had been in front of us the whole time and we didn't saw him, the person inside the police station who helped Conte had always been the sergeant. With the thirst for revenge coursing through my body and the adrenaline pumping at a thousand per hour throughout my body, I get up from the place and run to the back door hoping to see some sign of the two of them. I take the gun that is still on the backpack on the porch and start to trace the footprints of the two along the path to the waterfall.

-Aeryne you can't go after them it's dangerous, it's dark and you're still hurt-

-He's my brother and he killed my parents Dylan, he killed them both out of sorrow and hatred, that's why I need to go. I'll go with your support or not- he stops dead in his tracks internalizing the news I just gave him. I continue along the path to the waterfall in silence, after a few seconds the dark-haired man joins my search, we follow the journalist's blood trails all over the place, the damned man zigzags trying to throw us off the scent but the boss here is Conte, he Said it himself, there is only one place where this can end.

Right where all started.

Instead of following the trail of blood directly, I cut the path to the waterfall, my hands sweat, the cold does not help much, especially for walking, not feeling my leg because of the little blood that runs through it, I hit myself with branches and bushes that they only manage to hurt me even more, I stop for a few seconds to take a breath, the cold of the night permeates my bones but it helps to numb the pain a little.

I hold on to Dylan's forearms to keep from putting all my weight on my bruised leg. For a few seconds I imagine myself in his arms on a bed embraced and covered watching a movie and eating popcorn, what a beautiful image, I smile feeling the warmth of the scene fill my heart with courage and strength to move forward. I hug him tight, we stay in silence for a few seconds sharing the sound of our galloping hearts, once recovered we return to the road, after a few more meters we see the clearing where the river becomes a waterfall.

I raise the hilt of the gun in front of my face, Dylan's left hand holds me close to his body to give me support. We reach the banks of the waterfall where Vinicio is sitting next to a rock and the sergeant as his escort points us.

-Come on detective, who is going to believe that a decorated sergeant like him is going to be a traitor, should better think about your strategies- Conte's voice fills the air.

-It's the truth, traitors must carry the full weight of justice on their shoulders, just like murderers, Mr. Conte- I spit the words out of my mouth with disgust.

-Detective please, let's lower our weapons and talk like civilized people-

-You did it on purpose, you got me into this shady game so as not to get me out, you just threw dirt on me- he growled.

-A woman does not belong to a police station unless it is to be booked as a prostitute-

-Like his mother- Vinicio jokes.

-Shut up once and for all!- shot of fury and rage, a well-aimed shot on his shoulder breaking in a piercing scream, he rolls on the ground, the explosion of the shot stains my face with blood.

-Put that down! Right now- Dylan holds the gun trying to get it out of my hands, I push him away when I see the sergeant raise his service weapon pointing at him, I shoot him in the chest killing him instantly. Dylan's voice feels far away, I fall to the ground letting the gun fall out of my hands. The dark-haired man opens his eyes without being able to explain what he saw, my friend and colleague holds his hair walking from one side of the place to the other.

-I wasn't going to let him hurt you- I murmur trying to get closer to my brother

-Aeryne, what did you do? - He repeats, holding me to get away from the dead man.

I abruptly separate myself from his side to drag myself closer to the side of the multiple murderer in front of my eyes, the tears mix with the taste of blood on my lips, they flood my eyes without leaving a clear view of his body, I turn him face up to observe him, a sly smile escapes from his face, he opens his lips revealing the blood that floods his mouth and whispers his last words.

-We end where we started; the original sin- limbo is represented in my mind, those who are condemned to wander eternally since they did not receive the sacrament of baptism before dying.

I clean his face of mud and garbage, with difficulty I drag his body to the shore, his inert body is the maximum evidence that the hatred and bitterness of the parents end up permeating the soul of the children. Clean once again and with a kiss on the forehead I let his body fall off the shore and be dragged by the current, my sobs merge with the sound of the waterfall, we are matter that evolves, I always believed that it was so, let's hope that its evolution is to be happy. Dylan at my side holds my shoulders as I watch the blood stain the water at the end of it.

We end where we started.

[garaksapprentice]

Today's Knitting is Brought to You By Sleep Deprivation

I had grand plans when I woke up to Get Stuff Done. The world is technically still on holidays, so this is the perfect time to sneak in some good, long writing and weaving sessions. I managed both yesterday. (I was the only human moving in the house for the entire morning. I watered the plants and set up the mister for the chickens, then hit the workroom and didn’t come out for four hours. It was glorious.)

Unfortunately, I slept like absolute crap last night. The weather was obscenely hot yesterday - 37ºC at 5pm - and I sleep on the west side of the house. It was barely down to 28ºC by bedtime, even with a good southerly breeze and a fan pointing directly at me. I kept waking up, tossing, turning, and generally having a terrible time of it. Even some lackadaisical morning gardening and a decent coffee didn’t help.

So I scrapped the “Get Stuff Done” plan, in favour of the far more restful “dick around the house reading and scrolling social media” backup. On the plus side, I finished Sweep of the Blade (Innkeeper Chronicles book 4) by Ilona Andrews before the library took it back. On the minus, I either wait six weeks for my hold on the newest book in the series, or I experience sweet, sweet instant gratification via my Amazon credit.

One nice thing about reading is that I can work on (some) knitted projects at the same time. All the other fibre stuff I do requires my eyeballs to keep things on track. So one of the vests I’m working on finally saw some love for the first time in months.

It’s about five inches longer than it started today, and right about the time I need to stick the live stitches on a thread and try it on for length. I suspect it will still need another inch or three - I want it a touch longer than my current favourite vest, so it hits the top of my jeans/belt properly and keeps my back a bit warmer. I also haven’t given much thought to the edge (though a nice simple 1x1 rib is always  a good option).

Once that’s sorted it’s just armbands and a neck band, weave in a few ends, and enjoy one less WIP on the pile. (Shrinking the size of Area 52 is one of my goals for this year. It’s gotten really quite out of hand, and it’s stressing me.)

I’m slightly concerned about the sizing, too, but at this point I’m not averse to felting it down to size if it’s a touch too large. The weatherproofing would be helpful since it’s destined to be a house vest, and house vests often end up worn in the cold, windy rain in around here.

Speaking of WIPs...

After a ~5 year break, I’m back to using Habitica for day-to-day task management. While the vast majority of my project/task management happens in Obsidian (love that app), I found I needed some distance between “everything that I ever need to do, whether today or five years from now” and “stuff I need to get done within the next week or so".

Both my needs and attitude towards task management have changed a lot over the last few years, so I was hesitant to go back to it, but for right now it meets 95% of my needs. It helps that the elder child is old enough to start learning to manage their own stuff, instead of me. The gamification (especially the pets) is catnip to them. Our little two-person party is doing pretty well for a perpetually-stressed adult with too many responsibilities, and an ADHD homeschooled tween with no sense of time.

And, because I just can’t fkn help myself, I joined a Guild. Just one. I learned my lesson from last time. Overwhelm is the shortest path to a quick death for any system. Of course, I have no sense of restraint, so I joined the New Years Resolutions guild. As the name implies, it features monthly challenges to help you plan, set, and work on yearly goals. I traditionally have a few of those, so *shrug* decided to tag along for the ride. Which leads me to...

#HabiticaResolutions

One of the tasks for this month’s Challenge is to post your goals on social media. Historically, I like to keep things close to the chest, since what I decide to do with my life is between me and me. But, in the spirit of experimentation, I decided to give it a go this year. (There’s a version of the Challenge that doesn’t have the “post to social media” task, so you can opt out of it if you really don’t want to share.)

Thus, my goals for this year:

Finish my current novel/write at least 50,000 words of fiction

Work on improving my writing skills via further education

Publish at least one blog post a month

Spend ~2.5 hours per week working on my weaving skills

Finish at least 12 WIPs (1 per month) from Area 52

Make some clothes for me, not just for the kids (at least 2 items)

Yesterday I wrote a touch over 500 words, and spent not quite 1.5 hours weaving. And now I’m throwing a blog post out there. (Tumblr totally counts, right? It’s easier to use than “real” blogging platforms...) So while I’m bummed that I didn’t have the super productive day I envisioned this morning, I’m still happy with how things are going.

[bloodpen-to-paper]

I posted 153 times in 2022

That's 153 more posts than 2021!

152 posts created (99%)

1 post reblogged (1%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@prince-cakes

I tagged 151 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#mcyt - 11 posts

#toh - 11 posts

#the owl house - 11 posts

#mcu - 10 posts

#double life - 9 posts

#dlsmp - 9 posts

#marvel - 9 posts

#dc - 8 posts

#double life smp - 8 posts

#batman - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 118 characters

#you cant just give me the kind of music that tickles my adhd brain just right and not expect me to ascend into nirvana

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Lumity kiss, Heartstopper renewed, Dan Howell tour, still reeling over OFMD, Lady Thor and Valkyrie in Thor: Love and Thunder, Viktor Hargreeves trans rep, a gaggle of mcyts with huge platforms came out, pride month is less than 2 weeks away

WE DIDN’T START THE FIRE

848 notes - Posted May 21, 2022

#4

Its an early Thursday morning. 6:00am, on the dot. I’m waking up at this hour because I’ve accidentally become slightly nocturnal again, and had fallen asleep at about 7pm the night before. No matter, I think as I chase away the last remnants of sleep. Time to check the news.

Its there, at the top of the Twitter trending tab, that I see it: 

BREAKING: Buckingham Palace says Queen Elizabeth II is under medical supervision because doctors are "concerned for Her Majesty’s health." 

Many of the Royal Family are at her side. The people of the United Kingdom are preparing for the worst. I feel adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Tumblr, I think in a moment of hysteria. I must go to Tumblr. They must be in a state of euphoria over the news.

I head over to Tumblr.

I check the trending page, expecting “Queen Elizabeth” or “down with the monarchy” or something of the sort to be at the #1 spot on the tab.

Surely, at the very least, “crab rave”

Right?

...

I stare blankly at my screen. I am in a state of shock. Too stunned to speak, some may say.

How? I beseech. How is this trending over the Queen of England’s health scare? The one that may very well cause of the end of the British monarchy as we know it?!

But I’ve been on this Hellsite longer than I’ve been able to formulate intelligent thoughts. I know they wouldn’t trend Undertale this high for no reason. And if its a new Deltarune update, well, I certainly can’t complain. I am a fan of the franchise, after all.

So I check the Undertale tag.

“AND WITH THAT, SANS UNDERTALE HAS OFFICIALLY BEEN CROWNED ULTIMATE TUMBLR SEXYMAN”

As the Sisters Moirai would have it, I had peacefully slept through a war. A war of ultimate consequence, that would decide the fate of two illustrious*, two remarkably renown communities, nay, kingdoms, over who could win perhaps the greatest, most dangerous prize. A prize which has spilt endless miles of bloodshed in its pursuit, which has devastated entire lands, decimated people in both mind and body until they were completely and utterly unrecognizable.

The prize, the title, of who was to be... the Ultimate Tumblr Sexyman.

The contenders: Sans the Skeleton of the hit RPG “Undertale” and Reigen Arataka from the popular shonen anime “Mob Psycho 100”

As it was transcribed, the battle had met many close encounters, but in the end, Sans the Skeleton would come to win the crown and claim victory over Reigen by a total of 420 votes (i shit you not it was 420 votes exactly i cannot believe you assholes managed to get it by 420 votes yall are actual meme trash and i am both disgusted and awe inspired by your cursed efforts)

Though I was unable to experience the spectacle myself, I had bore direct witness to the fallout. The internet now had an abundance of Super Smash-like fan content of Sans and Reigen engaged in combat, and there was an apparent brief rise in S̵͖̫̿̌ạ̸̛̎̚n̶͔͈͗͂̄s̷͉̚m̴͌͋͜͝a̴̻͚̺͛͆ē̶̤̔͗d̶̛̖̰͒͊a̷͙̜͙̾͗. Toby Fox himself has gotten involved by using Twitter to publish fanfiction. That was perhaps the hardest for me to accept.

Thus, it was on September 7 of the year 2022 that the battle of Sans vs Reigen had occurred and concluded. From what I had heard, it was a legendary event that would be seared into the minds of every Tumblrina, and forever remembered throughout the tales of human history.

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

I took more psychic damage waking up to all of this than I did the day my father ended up in hospice after having a stroke on a school day so thanks for that and have a good one

* “well known, respected, and admired for past achievements”; yes I knew some of you would struggle with this one

851 notes - Posted September 8, 2022

#3

Me, who hasn’t watched Miraculous a day in my life, seeing Adrienette become canon after 5,420,069 years of the show teasing it:

2,989 notes - Posted December 12, 2022

#2

Come get your badge lovelies~

9,074 notes - Posted September 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

So to recap (July 2022 edition) we got:

- 4th of July shooting in Highland Park + a shooting in Chicago

- anyone with a uterus has less rights than an assault rifle in the U.S.; right-wing Scotus can get hit by a plane

- Edit: Native Americans have been added to the list of people with less right than an assault rifle in the U.S.

- a third of the British Parliament resigning from various government positions cause of how much everyone hates Boris Johnson

- Edit: Boris Johnson has now resigned cause of how much everyone hates Boris Johnson

- Shinzo Abe, former Prime Minister of Japan, got shot while giving a speech

- Edit: *Former Former Prime Minister... he got Lincoln’d

- a far-right French politician accidentally pinned the assassination of Shinzo Abe on popular video game designer Hideo Kojima, which a major Greek news outlet relayed, only furthering the idea that Kojima did it

- the war in Ukraine is still going on

- the state of Canada can be summarized by this image:   https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/862558639735046146/995130724791365652/unkown.png

- Hunter Biden got trending on twitter for the hundredth time and nobody gives a shit seriously who gives a shit conservatives get him trending for literally breathing why is this still happening-

- Edit: ... Users of the well known “incel” website 4chan supposedly hacked the iPhone of U.S. President Joe Biden’s son Hunter Biden and allegedly exposed the both of them as pedophiles, among many other things. Sweet shitting Christ almighty, if this is true, I have been proven incorrect in possibly the most cursed way imaginable, and it is a testament to my willpower and spite that I have not fallen in alcoholism from this news piece alone 

- Baymax is a Leftist

- the U.S. House Select Committee began holding live public hearings for the January 6 insurrection and no one noticed

- Kazuki Takahashi, the creator of the popular anime and playing card game Yu-Gi-Oh!, passed away (R.I.P., may he finally be free to kick Shinzo Abe’s ass without consequence in that great dueling arena in the sky...)

- the Argentinian economic minister has resigned (an announcement that was made not through any official news outlets, but via a Tweet) following an inflation crisis that is crippling the country, but all you’ll find on Twitter is people excited about the new futbol jersey for the next World Cup (no one is surprised by this)

- Elon Musk backed out of his deal to purchase Twitter for $44 billion; it was believed he didn’t know the meaning of the term “pulling out” so this was quite the surprise

- Edit: Twitter is now suing Elon Musk for not buying Twitter

- the President of Sri Lanka (not to be confused with the Prime Minister, because they apparently have both) pulled a Ted Cruz and has fled the country after citizens stormed the presidential palace in a mass riot following the announcing of the country being officially bankrupt (which the Prime Minister, not to be confused with the President, totally didn’t cause via corruption in office). The citizens involved in the protest then stormed the house of the PM, and took a swim in his pool promptly before sacking and burning the place, thus proving the month of July is truly a Hot Girl Summer

Edit: Both the PM and President of Sri Lanka have agreed to resign their positions; that is two world leader resignations and one former world leader assassination in one week; I now have the sudden urge to drink myself into 2040

12,179 notes - Posted July 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[yay-depression]

my dad just sent me an article on the like over-prescription of psychotropic medicine and i’m gonna fucking scream, maybe at him, we’ll see

[llycaons]

i was sitting there like IT'S TUESDAY??

[forever-rogue]

I got a whole 4 hours of sleep today and have to pull a 12 hour shift. So I apologize if it doesn’t make sense, I am new to the Bucky fandom!

I like the idea of his grumpy, refusing to let anyone in, be slowly ground down by reader, but teeters back and forth until reader is in some sort of trouble. Then the flood gates of vulnerability open because he was worried about them. I mean he hasn’t been with anyone since the 40s right? Would he still know how to navigate caring about someone in that way? I don’t know. It was something that has been buzzing around in my head for a week.

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: langauge, vague description of sex (minors dni!)

BUCKY MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

You’d started out as neighbors - nothing more and nothing less. 

Neighbors turned into causal acquaintances, fueled by your constant baking and copious amounts of goodies. Casual acquaintances turned into friends that would spend an occasional evening watching television together. Friends quickly turned into best friends that became utterly inseparable....with the occasional hook-up. You were hesitant to call it friends with benefits because that just sounded so crass. It was more like best friends with the occasional stress relief.

Stress relief. Sure that worked.

None that you wouldn’t have minded more of course. But you weren’t about to make a move on James Buchanan Barnes and ask him out on a date. No, you knew your place and his. He was physically akin to a god, mixed in with a bit of fuck boy, and yet...you loved him. You’d fallen hard and fast for the man that had gone from a mere stranger to a welcome and comfortable part of your life. But you’d never tell him that. 

No, nope, hell no. Bucky surely didn’t reciprocate your feelings and you’d never been the type to make a move first. 

Besides that...Bucky didn’t exactly strike you as a relationship type of guy. You’d seen him here and there with a girl or two, but it wasn’t anything serious. And since the two of you had started hooking up, you’d never noticed anyone else. And you hadn’t been with anyone else either. It was akin to a non-exclusive exclusive not-really-a-relationship relationship. Neither of you pushed it any further - you both accepted dates here and there but they never amounted to anything. Wonder why?

Unbeknownst to you, it wasn’t that Bucky didn’t want a relationship - he did. He did very much with you. But he just...there was something about being a one hundred and six year-old man that just left him confused and worried. He hadn’t exactly had the opportunity to date much and now that he had the time it reminded him of just how different things were. Dating was this weird confused jumble, but you were a clear and obvious bright spot. He had his doubts that you’d ever want anything more from him. He knew what he was - a mostly stable old man with a body that people seemed to enjoy. He made the most of that - it didn’t seem like people were interested in getting to know him much these days. 

But you did - you always did. And, gods, he’d fallen hard for you - the kind of love that makes your stomach churn and heart feel like bursting and steals your breath away no matter how long it’s been. But what the fuck would you want with him? He’s a fossil with a boatload of mental trauma and even more sass and attitude.

You deserved the world and he only had himself to give. Of course, he was enough - way more than enough - but he didn't believe that. 

There had been numerous occasions when you'd tried to be honest, to confess your true feelings, but you'd always managed to fall short. Every time you got close, something came up. And after the last girl you'd seen him with, you vowed to take your secret to the grave. 

You had come close though - so close - especially the last time you'd hooked up.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were under Bucky, both of you naked and panting as you quickly approached your highs. He was buried deep inside you, head dropped to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, nipping and biting at the delicate skin. 

Your legs were wrapped around his waist in order to hold him close. One of your hands was laced together with his while the other was wrapped around his neck. There was something so perfectly harmonious about how you always were together. 

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, James, James, James as he kept going. It was the only time you called him anything but Bucky. As your vision had grown hazy and you felt that familiar warm start to blood your veins, you’d let your true feelings slip. It was so easy, so effortless and in the moment it just...happened.

I love you. 

The declaration hung in the air as you felt your walls clamp around him and he reached his own eyes. That’s when you’d realized what you’d done. This time it was an entirely different sensation radiating throughout your bones - terror. Utter terror.

But if Bucky had heard your three little words he made no mention of them. Relief washed over you as you came to the conclusion that he was just as wrapped up in his own blissful haze that he simply hadn’t heard you. You were safe this time - but you’d have to be extra cautious from here on out.

Oh, but Bucky had heard you. Loudly and clearly. He chose to ignore your words because he was positive that he hadn’t heard you incorrectly. Surely you hadn’t meant to say that - and more importantly, it was a mistake. As much as he loved hearing those words from your pretty lips, he knew it was either an accident or a figment of his imagination. 

You both pretended that nothing had happened. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Bucky rolled his eyes lightly as he watched his phone light up with a call from Sam. He was half tempted to ignore it but decided to answer anyway; he was bored and the call might lead to something to do. You’d normally be hanging out with him on a Friday night, but his calls and texts had gone unanswered.

“Hey man,” Bucky picked up the call and walked into the kitchen to grab a beer, “what’s up?”

“You need to get to the hospital,” Sam was speaking so quickly that it all came out in a single slew of words as Bucky’s brows knitted together.

“I know I don’t have a lot going on this Friday night, but I think I’m okay,” he snorted as he opened the bottle and took a swig.

“No, no, no,” Sam interrupted by almost whispering your name, “there’s been an accident. She was hurt and taken to the ER. I was on the phone with her when it happened - just come. Now.”

Bucky didn’t even wait for Sam to finish before he dropped the beer and ran out the door. His whole body felt like it was growing numb and the only thing on his mind was you. You couldn't be hurt...you just couldn’t. Bucky couldn’t imagine any sort of reality in which you weren’t there. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as he ran into the hospital, seeking out the emergency room, he was asking about you. He looked probably just as crazy as he felt as he was nervously directed to your room. He almost jogged down the hall and into your small space. Sam stood at the end of your bed, looking down at you with a concerned expression.

“What the hell happened?” Bucky could barely bring himself to look at you as you laid on the small bed, looking so helpless and fragile. You were sleeping, sedated from lots of heavy drugs, but hooked up to several beeping machines. Your arm was in a cast already, bruises and contusions and cuts littered every bit of your skin that he could see. His heart plummeted into his stomach. 

“She was crossing the street and got hit by a car that didn’t slow down enough in time,” Sam’s heavy was heavy as he rubbed at his tired, “I heard it all happen, Buck. It was terrible - but she’s strong. She’s going to be okay. No internal damage, luckily, but she’s going to be in a lot of pain for a while. The arm’s broken.”

“Jesus,” Bucky sighed as Sam nodded.

“I called her parents and they’ll be here soon. She’s just sleeping but hopefully will wake up soon.”

“Okay,” Bucky took a hesitant step closer.

“She asked for you,” Sam hadn’t been sure if he should have confessed that little part or not, “when they were bringing her in. Kept repeating your name. You should just tell her, you know. She’s obvious she feels the same. Don’t be idiots.”

“Thanks,” Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically as the two men shared a quick laugh before Sam hugged him, “I’ll stay here if you want to go. You’ve done a lot already. Thank you for calling me.”

“I got you man,” Sam gave him a half smile, “call me if you need anything at all...or if anything happens.”

“Goodbye.”

As soon as his friend left, Bucky came over to you, his fingers grazing the side of the small, horrid looking bed. He was going to help you however you needed it for however long it would take till you were better and out of pain. If he had the choice, he wouldn’t ever leave your side again.

This whole time he’d been so dumb, so silly. He should have just told you how he left - a long time ago and gotten over himself. A heavy sigh escaped him as you pulled up the uncomfortable plastic chair and took a seat next to you.

He gently, ever so delicately reached for the hand that was in the cast and held it in his. It almost made him laugh with how much smaller your hand was than his. They fit perfectly together.

He watched the steady rise and fall of your chest as you slept, wondering when you’d wake up. He hoped soon - so he could finally tell you all of those unspoken words. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“James?” a croaky, dry voice met his ears as his tired eyes snapped open. He blinked a few times to adjust his vision before focusing on you. You were looking back at him with a tired, sleepy little smile on your features. You looked beautiful, so damn beautiful, despite the blues and purples painting your skin, “what are you doing here?”

He must have fallen asleep at some point during the night. He was still holding your hand. He beamed back at you, “hi pretty girl. Sam called me and told me what happened. I came right over.”

“I’m anything but pretty right now,” you laughed lightly but quickly grimaced at the pain, “how long have you been here?”

“Since yesterday evening,” he confessed quickly, “I didn’t want to leave - wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh Bucky,” there was that saccharine little smile on your face. The same one he loved so much, “you didn’t have to. I...I really fucked up movie night, huh?”

“I’m in love with you.”

He finally got those damn words out before he could change his mind or think too much about it. Your face immediately lit up with a grin as you searched his cerulean eyes. 

“Do you mean it?” you asked softly as he nodded, feeling a blush creep into his cheeks.

“Of course.”

“I love you too, Bucky,” you replied, giving his hand a tight squeeze, “I’m in love with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he whispered as he leaned closer to you, “because I’m not going anywhere, pretty girl. Not now, not ever.”

“I don’t want you to, Bucky,” you promised, “I want you with me always.”

“That sounds perfect to me.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 4 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Hi besties we’re back besties :)))

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

 contains: brief mentions of a gun and domestic abuse, the beginning of ~feelings~ between hotch and reader

wc: 3.1k

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the smell, which Reid would tell you was interesting, because smell is the sense that we lose the most in sleep. Hence, smoke alarms. Shaking the thought away with a fond smile, you padded into the kitchen slowly, finding Aaron with his jacket and tie long discarded, his shirt unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“It smells so good!” You announced. 

“It’s olive oil and garlic.” Hotch chuckled as he turned away from the stove to face you. “And you’re supposed to be sleeping.” 

You craned your neck to look at the stovetop clock behind him. “I slept for three hours, Hotch. And I’m sure you’re going to enforce my full eight hours later tonight.” 

“Well, this isn’t ready yet.” He said. 

“Really? You aren’t just feeding me oil and garlic?” You quipped. 

“Don’t be a smartass,” he smirked at you. 

“I want to help,” you told him earnestly, looking up at him from where you’d perched yourself in one of the barstools at his counter. “What can I do?” 

“Here, chop this onion,” he said, sliding everything you’d need across the counter so you could stay seated. 

He moved around the kitchen gracefully, combining ingredients and stirring a sauce and boiling water for pasta with the ease of a practiced chef. He refused to tell you what he was making, and you leaned forward in your chair, trying to see if the spices by the stove would give you any clues. They didn’t, but before you knew it, Aaron was plating pasta with chicken and mushrooms and broccoli in a sauce that smelled heavenly.

 “Will you tell me now?” You whined as you both sat down at the table to eat. 

“It’s nothing special, really.” he laughed at your antics. “It’s pasta in a lemon-dill cream sauce.” 

“You’ve been holding out on us,” you accused as you took your first bite. “Aaron, this is delicious.” 

He smiled back at you, trying to ignore how much he loved hearing his first name come rolling from your lips. “Well, you helped.” 

“Please. I chopped vegetables and used the can opener. I certainly did not, and could not, whip up a lemon-dill cream sauce on a moment’s notice.” 

You continued to banter over dinner, laughing and smiling in a way it felt like you hadn’t in weeks. Aaron, ever-efficient as he was, had handled most of the cleanup as he was cooking, so all that was left was packing up the leftovers and putting your dishes in the dishwasher. When you closed the fridge, Aaron spoke up again. 

“So, Jess is supposed to drop off Jack tomorrow.” Aaron mentions, with a certain forced casualness. 

“Oh, I can be out of your hair.” You said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.  “I’m sure I can stay with Emily--”

“Woah, woah, slow down.” Aaron stopped you. “I’m not kicking you out. I was just going to say, I can ask Jess to keep him for a little while longer.” 

“Hotch, no way. He’s your son. I’m not kicking him out of his own house or keeping him away from his father.”

“Of course you aren’t. I can go visit him at Jess’s place and when you’re comfortable with him, he can come here.” 

“I’m plenty comfortable with Jack.” You assured him.  “I just meant, won’t it be weird for him, if I’m here? And I don’t want to intrude on your time with him.” 

“You’re not an intruder. Jack loves you. And I--” he started to say something, but caught himself. You decided not to think too hard about it. “I would be happy to have you here, with him.” 

You still felt uneasy-- you knew his time with Jack was precious. You took a deep breath, preparing to strike a compromise. “How about this-- I go stay with Emily-- listen--” you stopped him before he could cut you off. “I go stay with Emily tomorrow night. It’s Saturday. I need some girl time, and Jack needs some dad time. You and Jack can spend the day together, and then I can come back on Sunday and you can talk to him about me being here before I’m actually in his kitchen eating his cinnamon toast crunch. I know he loves me, and I love him too, but I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

You could tell that he wasn’t entirely sold on the idea of you being out of his sight for a whole day, but he wasn’t Josh-- he wasn’t going to try to use his emotions to control your behavior. He didn’t say anything, but you could see the discomfort on his face. You know that sooner or later, you’d have to have a conversation about where you’re actually going to live-- but you decide not to push him any further tonight. 

“I’ll be with Emily the whole time. After today, I’m pretty sure she’d shoot him on sight if given the opportunity. You don’t need to worry.” You told him, reaching over to squeeze his hand. Your touch grounded him, brought him back to reality.

He took a deep breath, resigning himself to give you what you wanted, just as he always would. “And you’re going to take your meds, and take it easy, and not--”

“Yes, dad.” You scoffed. “See, this is why I need you and Jack to take some time. You should get all of this out with him.” you laughed at him, and he grinned back at you. 

“You’re just as stubborn. That’s not my fault.” 

“Some people call that being strong-willed, Aaron.” you teased back, sticking your tongue out at him for good measure. 

Aaron panics slightly when he doesn’t find you in the guest room the next morning, but his anxiety evaporates when he sees you perched on the couch in the living room, your hair thrown up into a bun, sitting criss-cross with your feet tucked underneath you and your laptop on your lap. You’ve brewed a pot of coffee, and Aaron takes a minute to look at you fondly before that nagging voice at the back of his head reminds him that you’re his subordinate, that you were hurting, and that even if you weren’t, you could never love a bitter, old, broken man like him. 

“Working on something?” He asked, interrupting his own spiral. 

Your eyes shot up instantly, not having noticed his entrance. “Nothing important. The coffee’s still hot, I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Of course I don’t mind.” He reminds you, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly. “You’re not an intruder here. Especially not when you make a strong pot of coffee.” 

“Doing anything fun with Jack today?” You asked, shutting your laptop as he sat down at the other end of the couch. 

“It’s supposed to be nice, I think we’ll go to the park. He’s just about ready to take the training wheels off of his bike.” He smiled fondly. 

“Aw, my little man! I’m so excited for him.” You cooed, only brightening Aaron’s smile.

“What about you?” 

“I’m not sure. Emily said I should be ready for brunch and that she, JJ, and Garcia would handle the rest. She mentioned that someone gave her explicit instructions for me to take it easy, so I imagine we’ll probably be skydiving and binge drinking.”

“You think you’re real funny, don’t you?” Aaron asked dryly. 

“Yeah, actually, I do.” You smiled over at him, and the corners of his mouth quirked up before he could force them into their usual stoic line. 

There’s a knock at the door, and you shoot up. “That’s Em.” 

Aaron places a hand on your forearm as you trot past. “Hey.” His gentle voice stops you in your tracks. “Be safe, please? Be vigilant, and call me if anything happens?” He looks up at you, and you can see the lines of concern etched around his dark brown eyes.  

“Nothing’s going to happen, Aaron.” You placed your hand on top of his. “Enjoy your day with Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

There’s a moment that passes between you, and you almost think you’re going to lean and give him a peck on the cheek to say goodbye, but Emily knocks again and you’re both distracted. You roll your eyes at yourself as soon as your back is to Aaron. Clearly these painkillers were taking their toll on you.

When you and Emily arrived at the restaurant, JJ and Garcia were already at an outdoor table waiting for you. The four of you chatted and laughed over pancakes and coffee and fruit before walking around the downtown area shopping. Then JJ started leading you down a less-familiar street. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, picking up your pace a little to walk next to JJ, who was at the front of your four-person group on the sidewalk. 

“That is for us to know, and you to find out.” She winked at you with a smile before taking off ahead. You let her, falling into step with Penelope. 

“You know, too?” 

“Of course I do, kitten. But I’m not spoiling the surprise! Just be patient.” 

You know better than to even try with Emily. You just rolled your eyes, chuckling a little at your friends’ antics. Eventually, JJ is leading you up the steps of a brownstone, set back a little way from downtown. 

“What are we doing?” You asked breathlessly. 

“We’re just taking a peek.” JJ said, opening the door and leading you up to a second-floor unit. 

“This feels illegal.” You remark as Emily produces a pair of keys. 

“I know the owner,” she tells you, swinging the door open and letting you walk inside first.

Natural sunlight pours into the empty apartment. You look to the left and see a granite kitchen island, and crisp white cabinets situated between stainless steel appliances. The space that you assume to be the living area is open, and the room is of course void of furniture, but it’s not hard to imagine a loveseat in the center of the room, a chaise along the far wall, a coffee table in the middle, an open bottle of wine and all of your friends filling the empty space. 

“What are we doing here?” You ask with a little chuckle. 

“Well, we know that Josh’s name is on the lease at your current place.” Penelope starts. “And you just have a lot going on right now, and we wanted to help, so we were looking at some places for you. If you don’t like this one that’s fine, I have a whole catalogue of others sorted by distance from work and walkability and--” 

“You guys didn’t have to do that. Thank you.” You smiled. 

“We wanted to.” JJ tells you. 

“Well, what do you think? Go, look at the bedroom.” Emily prods, and you smile, swinging open the door across the room, revealing a large open bedroom and an en-suite bathroom with a truly gorgeous tile shower. 

“The place looks great, Em, it really does. I’m just going to have to think about it. There’s been a lot going on.” You understate. 

“Of course.” She responds. 

“Not to mention the fact that Hotch barely wanted to release me into your care for the night, so I’m not sure he’ll take well to me moving further than his guest room.” You laughed. 

“He’s got it, bad.” JJ comments offhandedly, and your jaw hits the floor. 

“Jennifer!” You chastise her.

“What? You can’t possibly play dumb here.” She asks. 

“I literally couldn’t have less of a clue what you’re talking about. Hotch has only ever been platonic and professional with me.” You denied.

“Well, of course, but he’s different with you.” Emily defends JJ. 

“Different how?”

“He’s--- he’s just different, sweet cheeks. He lets his walls down, and only by 10% or so, but for Hotch, that’s major.” Garcia supplies.

“He’s protective of you in the field.” JJ notes. 

“He’s protective of all of us in the field. We just get partnered up a lot.” You defend him, although you don’t know why. You’d want nothing more than to let them convince you that you meant something to Hotch the same way he meant something to you, but you couldn’t let yourself believe that. It would only mean more heartbreak later. 

“And who makes that decision?” Garcia reminds you.

“And it’s not just the field. He doesn’t even like it when the local cops look at you the wrong way or give you a hard time.”  Emily adds.

“You all need to get away from work more. You’re profiling when there’s nothing there.” You argue weakly. 

“You’ll see,” JJ smiles, rolling her eyes at you. “We’ll let you off the hook for now. But you might want to put a little thought into why your first worry about getting a new place is what Hotch would think.” 

The rest of the day found you back at Emily’s place, lounging around in comfy clothes and binging shitty rom-coms. You ordered a couple of pizzas for dinner, and passed around twizzlers and coca cola like you were at a middle school sleepover. It was nice. Great, even. Josh wasn’t the biggest fan of your coworkers, and you had grown more distant from them over your time with Josh. The conversation was breezy and light, the evening full of laughter. It wasn’t until later, when everyone was cleaning up and preparing to head out, that your tone became a little more serious. 

“Thank you guys, seriously.”

“You know you don’t have to thank us for eating takeout and watching movies in our sweats.” JJ tells you with a smile as she tosses some candy wrappers.

“And you know that’s not what I’m thanking you for. I know I wasn’t the best friend when Josh and I were together.” 

“Clearly that wasn’t your fault.” Emily reminds you. 

“Maybe not, but I still appreciate everything you all did for me today. I missed you.”

“We missed you too, bug.” Garcia said, wrapping you up in a hug. “Just don’t tell boss man that we stayed past your bedtime.”

You let out a laugh. “He’s so ridiculous.” 

“Ridiculously in loveeee,” JJ sings out teasingly. 

“Watch it, or I’ll tell him you kept me out late drinking!” You joked with her as you and Emily walked JJ and Garcia out the door. You and Emily bid your goodnights to each other as you slipped into her spare room, stretching out across the bed lazily. You feel your phone start to vibrate, but you can’t for the love of god remember which zippered pocket of your go-bag you’d left it in. When it stops vibrating, you let out a frustrated groan. Finally, you find it, in the pocket of the jeans you’d worn to brunch this morning. You have a missed call from Aaron, which you return immediately, flipping back over to lie against the mattress. He picks up on the first ring. 

“Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I?” 

You check the time briefly, rolling your eyes a little. It’s not even midnight. “No, I was awake.” You tell him. 

“Did the girls just leave?” He asks casually, but you know Garcia probably wasn’t joking about Hotch enforcing a bedtime. 

“A while ago. I was in the shower when you called.” 

“You’re an awful liar, you know.” He chuckles at you. 

“I thought we agreed that you were going to let all this parental energy out on Jack.” You responded, hoping he could hear the smirk in your voice. 

“I just don’t want you to push it.” Hotch confesses with a sigh. 

“Hotch, I’m okay. Really. You got me out of there and got me patched up. I’m good now.” you tell him, sitting up against the pillows. 

“I also let you go home with him that night after I saw him hit you.” He reminds you, and although you can’t actually see him, your mental picture of him, head hung and thumb running anxiously against his fingers, is startlingly real.

“I made that choice, Hotch. You gave me an out and I chose not to take it.” You reminded him. “That’s on me.” 

“No, it’s not. This wasn’t your fault.” He’s quick to correct you 

“Not yours, either.” You add.

“He pulled a gun on you that night.” He says, more to himself than to you. 

“Yeah, he did.” You said quietly.

“If I had let you go home with him, and he had--” He starts to spiral, but you pull him out of it. 

“Aaron. I’m right here on the phone with you. You came and got me out of there. I’m okay.” 

“I don’t know what I would have done. I can’t-- I can’t imagine a world without you in it.” He confesses, sounding breathless even though you were sure he was just sitting on the sofa at home. 

“You don’t need to. I’m right here.” You tell him. “Is that why you called?”

“It’s good to hear your voice.” He answers, in his own roundabout way. “Did you have a good day?” 

“Yeah, I did. What about you and Jack?” 

“Yeah, we did. We didn’t quite get the training wheels off yet, but we’re getting there. He’s so excited to see you tomorrow.” 

“He is?” You asked. 

“He is. Are you surprised? He’s not exactly shy about how much he likes you.” 

“No, I guess not,” you laugh, remembering a time he had nearly knocked you over in Aaron’s doorway with the force of his hug. “What did you tell him?’

“I just told him that you’d been feeling a little sick, and that you were going to be staying here until you were feeling better.”

“And he was okay?” 

“His exact words were ‘is she too sick to build legos with me,’ so yeah, I think he’s okay.” He laughed, and you tried to push down the sense of warmth that the sound of his laughter spread throughout your chest. It didn’t work. He interrupted your internal dilemma without realizing it. “I should let you get to sleep.” 

“Try to catch a few hours yourself, Hotchner.” You tell him. 

“I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.” 

“Hotch?” You say before he can hang up the phone. 

“Yeah?” He asks. 

“I can’t imagine a world without you in it, either.” You tell him in a whisper that’s almost self-conscious.

“You don’t need to. I’m right here.”

tagging:  @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee @hotforhotchner11  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner

[fruitcoops]

could we see coops first big fight when they’re married? (essentially pure angst)

Yes, we can! Don’t worry, I got your follow-up ask about a happy ending as well--there are no sad endings on this blog, just some bittersweet ones, and this is very soft and fluffy. Hope you enjoy!

Combined with prompts for...

1. Another of Coops’ serious talks

2. Remus overworking himself to keep up

3. From @colored-rain: Sirius sleeping at Dumo’s for a night

4. Slow dancing in the kitchen

TW for couples fighting, suppression, and marriage issues

“Do you think we got married too fast?” a quiet voice asked in the darkness.

Remus paused for several heartbeats before opening his eyes and turning over; Sirius was staring at the ceiling, wide awake. “What?”

“Do you think we got married too fast?” Sirius repeated without looking at him.

“Do you?” Remus countered. Something panicky was starting to buzz in the back of his brain and he tried to keep his breaths steady. Sirius wasn’t breaking up with him. They had only been married for a few months. Things were really, really good—as far as he knew, they were both happier than they had ever been.

Sirius sighed through his nose. “I don’t know.”

“What?” Remus sat up against the headboard, wide awake. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I—” Sirius shifted to sit up as well and crossed his legs. “I don’t know! People usually date for a lot longer than a year and a half before getting married, right?”

“We’ve known each other for seven years, Sirius.”

“Yes, and I love you, and you’re wonderful, but everything happened so fast.”

Remus wasn’t sure if his heart was trying to crawl out of his chest or dissolve into a puddle of pain. “Are you—Sirius, are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” Sirius said immediately. “I just said I love you, what the hell?”

“People can love each other and still break up!”

Sirius grabbed his hands, holding tight even when Remus tried to pull back and let his panic overtake him. Grey eyes locked on his, as solemn as he had ever seen them. “I’m not breaking up with you, Remus.” The clock on the nightstand beeped midnight and Sirius pressed his lips together. “We have early practice.”

“We need to talk.”

“We need to sleep.”

“Promise we’ll talk tomorrow, then.” We need to talk right now, actually.

Sirius squeezed his hands and kissed his cheek. His cheek. “I promise.”

Remus didn’t sleep much that night. His cheek burned with the memory of Sirius’ lips.

---------------------------

Their morning routine was stilted and quiet. Practice was awkward, and though neither of them let the previous night’s events influence their performance, he knew the tension was palpable. “Y’all good?” Leo asked under his breath as Remus filled his waterbottle up.

“We’re fine,” he answered, exhausted.

“Loops—”

“Stay in your lane, Knut.” He regretted the words as soon as they escaped his mouth—the kicked-puppy look on Leo’s face was more than enough to make guilt spike up—but he kept on moving down the hall and tried to wash the bitter taste from his mouth.

The ride home was worlds worse than he could have expected. Sirius turned the radio off the moment it started to play and kept his eyes firmly on the windshield the entire time, tapping his thumb against the wheel in the tic that always appeared when he was nervous. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t help us fix whatever’s going on.” Remus wasn’t angry, per say, but he was really fucking frustrated with Sirius’ sudden inability to communicate. “Talk to me. What happened?”

Sirius chewed the edge of his lip. “I was just thinking.”

There was a long stretch of silence between them. “Wow, thank you for that incredibly helpful information,” Remus said sarcastically when it became clear he wasn’t going to continue.

“You don’t have to be mean about it,” Sirius muttered.

“I’m not trying to be mean—”

“Well, you kind of were—”

“Then maybe you should talk about your problems for once!” Remus snapped before he could shove it back down. Sirius’ jaw clenched. “If we’re going to work through this, then you have to tell me what the hell happened to make you so worried and upset. Do you regret getting married to me?”

The response was immediate. “No.”

“Thank you.” He leaned his head back against the seat rest and closed his eyes. “Thank you, that was what I needed to hear.”

“Do you think we moved too fast?”

Remus scrubbed a hand over his face. “I used to. I don’t, anymore. There’s no rulebook for any of this. How long have you been thinking about that?”

Sirius started tapping the wheel again. “A couple weeks.”

He may as well have opened the passenger door and booted Remus from the car. A breath punched out of his lungs. “A couple weeks?” he whispered. The world was spinning, the floor was open, hell itself was coming to swallow him up. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I figured it was normal marriage stuff. That it would pass.”

“Oh my god.”

“I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”

“And I do?” Remus said incredulously. “News flash: this is the first time I’ve ever been married, too!”

“Please don’t be angry.”

“Being married means you share things, Sirius, not keep them bottled up for two weeks! Especially when they concern the other person!”

Something stormy came over his face. “Oh, really? So when were you planning on talking to me about the fact that you haven’t slept in six days?”

“I literally sleep next to you!”

“You toss and turn all night, and then you get up and run drills for an hour before coming back to bed. Every time I ask how you slept, you lie to my face, Remus. That’s not okay.”

Remus was speechless. He had done everything he could think of to be quiet and careful so Sirius wouldn’t know. “I…”

Sirius glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Be an adult. Be an adult. You’re married. Be an adult. “I’m still worried about catching up to the team.”

“I figured. We’ve talked about this before, Re, it’s not safe for you to do that to yourself—”

“You don’t get it!” Sirius pulled into their driveway and turned the car off. “You have no idea how it feels to constantly be catching up to people! I’m fine, it’s not like I’m doing any damage!”

“I’m sorry, did you forget who you’re talking to?”

Remus clenched his teeth and got out of the car, grabbing his duffel from the backseat before slamming the door. He felt a little guilty—the rising memories of hushed confessions of hours of exercise to his father’s whistle meant Sirius understood better than anyone. Then the front door closed behind them both and the indignance on Sirius’ face sent his temper flaring up again. “You never bother to talk to me about anything that’s going on with you, so why should I even try?”

“What happened to ‘marriage is a partnership’?” Sirius followed him into the kitchen. “Have we moved on to the hypocrite stage yet or are we still clearing the air where nothing ever gets solved?”

Remus reeled back like he’d been slapped. “Fucking excuse me?”

“Every time we fight, you start all sarcastic and defensive, and then you get preachy like you’re reading something out of a fucking self-help book!” Sirius ran a hand through his hair. “Christ, Remus, it feels like I’m talking to a therapist instead of my partner!”

“Husband!” The ring on his finger had always been a comfort instead of a lead weight. “You can’t even say it?”

“I don’t regret marrying you!

“Then why are you so upset about us being married young?!”

“Because it’ll fall apart!” Sirius shouted back. “We’re going to be insufferably happy for a while, and then somewhere along the line we’re going to hate each other, and then it’ll be cold looks when we pass and different beds and all our friends will have to pick sides because we can’t stand to be in the same room together!”

“If you’re so sure about that, then why are you trying to fucking hard to keep us together?” Remus’ heart pounded like he’d run a marathon. Hearing his own fears thrown in his face was the most terrifying thing he had ever experienced.

“Because I love you.” Sirius’ voice broke. They were on opposite sides of the kitchen island, but Remus could see the pain on his face. “I love you, and I don’t want some—some impulsive decision to ruin that forever.”

“I love you, too.” Tears clogged the back of Remus’ throat. So stop pushing me away.

“Then I’ll be at Dumo’s.”

Remus nodded silently as Sirius walked past him toward the stairs; the moment he was out of sight, he headed into the downstairs bathroom and sat down with his back to the closed door, burying his face in his forearms. There was a rustle outside, and the front door closed with a click.

It wasn’t until his face itched with drying tears that he remembered Hattie. Guilt and panic stabbed through him and he scrambled back out, sprinting to her bed and then to the backyard. “Hattie?” he called, frantic with worry. “Hattie, c’mere!”

He closed his eyes and thought back to the events of the day. They had left her in the house for practice, and he vaguely remembered hearing her in the other room while they were fighting, and when Sirius left—

“Oh, you bastard,” he said aloud. The rustling of Sirius grabbing his duffel and whatever else he packed had been accompanied by the pattering of Hattie’s paws. “You took our fucking dog.”

Part of him was grateful that at least somebody had remembered their baby. The other part was absolutely furious. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a few deep breaths as the tone played. “Hello?”

“Can you pick me up?”

“Re, are you okay?”

“Not really. Can you pick me up?”

Concern dripped from Lily’s voice. “Where are you?”

“At home.”

“…where’s Sirius?”

“At Dumo’s.”

“I’m on my way.”

-----------------------------------

Harry Potter had been alive for less than two years, and he had been cried on by about half the Lions. Finn had started referring to him as ‘therapy baby’, and Remus was inclined to agree—it was hard to feel anything extreme when he was holding the pudgy little angel to his chest.

“So you fought?” Lily asked gently from the armchair across from him. Remus nodded. The whole story had spilled out in a gross mess of sobbing and baby snuggles until he laid down on his back, holding Harry to his chest as he dozed.

“I feel like an idiot,” he said miserably.

“Don’t.”

“It was awful.”

“I bet.”

Remus sniffled and kissed the top of Harry’s head. “Thank you for getting me. I didn’t want to be there alone.”

“I’m glad you called.” She took a sip of tea and gave him a look that he never liked. “Re, can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

“I was kind of waiting for this to happen.” At his stricken expression, she folded her hands around the sides of her mug. “I don’t think you got married too early, because neither of you do big things like that on impulse and you love each other so much. However, I do think that you have a habit of trying to protect each other from the shit you carry with you. James did the same thing to me, and it sucked.”

“It does suck,” Remus agreed. “I hate the thought that he can’t trust me.”

Lily held her finger up and shook her head. “Nope. It’s not an issue of trust, is it? Why didn’t you tell Sirius that you were having trouble sleeping?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry h—oh.” Harry wiggled around for a moment and Remus adjusted himself so he was leaning on the armrest. “I think I get it now.”

“You guys need to talk about that at some point or it’s going to keep coming up.”

“Is that what you and James did?”

“No, we let it fester for, like, a year and then broke up for two weeks.”

Remus made a sympathetic face. “I forgot about that part. I should call him, huh?”

Lily shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

“I want to apologize,” he said carefully. The sore spot in his heart and chest still twinged. “But I’m still really upset. And hurt. And a little angry? Mostly worried. There’s so much happening, I just want to hold your baby.”

“Go for it, he’s having a blast. Lover?”

There was a shuffling sound from the other room before James appeared in the doorway. “Yes?”

Remus snorted. “Simp.”

“Yes, and? What’s up, darling?”

“Can I have some more tea?” She batted her eyelashes at him with a dimpled smile and he sighed, then took her mug with him into the kitchen.

“You only love me for my kettle!” he called over his shoulder with a grin.

“Maybe!”

Remus turned his head to look at Lily while he ran a hand over Harry’s back. “Lils?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I preachy when I’m upset?”

She frowned. “What?”

“Preachy. Like—like I’m reading out of a self-help book.”

With a heavy sigh, she stood up and walked to the couch, leaning over the armrest to kiss his forehead. “No, Re, you’re not preachy. You like being right, but you’re not preachy.”

“Sirius thinks we’ll end up like his parents.”

“I’m not surprised about that, either.” She brushed his messy hair off his forehead and braided a small strand along the front, then gave it a little tug. “Guest bedroom’s yours for as long as you need it, okay?”

“That might be a while.”

She shook her head and patted his shoulder. “It won’t.”

“Could be.”

“Remus.”

“Sorry. Sleep well, Lils.” He sat up slightly and covered Harry’s ears. “And you, eavesdropper!”

“Love you!” James laughed from the other room. Lily picked the sleepy baby up and ushered Remus into the guest room with a final ‘goodnight’.

-----------------------------------

“Am I an idiot?” Sirius asked.

The bed creaked as Dumo readjusted his legs. “No, mon fils, you’re not an idiot. You are a young man going through his first marriage spat.”

“I hate it. I hate it. I said horrible things to him.”

“It sounds like you’re both to blame.”

“No, I brought it up first.” Dumo huffed, and he let out a slow exhale into the pillow. “Okay, maybe—maybe we were both in the wrong.”

“Fights are rarely one-sided. You have a visitor.”

Something cold prodded Sirius’ ear and he groaned, then curled on his side to let Hattie onto the covers next to him. “Bonjour, sweet girl. Thank you for the cuddles.”

She licked his nose and he smiled, petting the velvety top of her head. “Are you staying here tonight?”

“I was thinking about it. Re’s got the house to himself for a bit, then, and he knows I’m here.”

“I’m glad you’re taking the time to calm down a bit,” Dumo said as he stood with a final ruffle of Sirius’ hair. “That’s a wise decision. Bonne nuit.”

Sirius mumbled a response and made more room for Hattie, then settled in for a restless night. He never wanted to sleep alone again.

----------------------------------

By some miracle, practice was more bearable the second day. Remus still ached somewhere deep inside, but it wasn’t like he had anything else left to suppress. Seeing Sirius was a relief; it surprised him at first, considering the explosive nature of the previous evening, before sliding into something that soothed him. If he could still find peace in Sirius after all that, they would be okay.

He knocked lightly on the side of Sirius’ stall after he returned from the shower. “Knock, knock. Ca—”

“Who’s there?”

Remus’ heart stuttered as Sirius looked up at him from the bench with an apologetic tilt to his mouth. Something clicked into place. “Can I get a ride?”

“ ‘course you can.” Sirius stood up just as Remus stepped forward, and they met in the middle for a tight hug. He tucked his face into the dip of Sirius’ collarbone and breathed in his shower-fresh smell, as well as the trace of laundry detergent from his shirt.

“Love you,” he murmured.

“Let’s go, mon loup.” Sirius pressed a kiss to his hair and they headed out toward the parking lot together; Remus caught Leo’s eye and saw him smile.

“How’s Dumo doing?” Remus asked as they turned out of the parking lot. Start slow, start easy. “Did you drop Hattie off at home before you came to practice?”

“Yeah, I did. He’s good, and Celeste sent me back with some brownies.”

Remus tentatively reached over and rested his hand on the side of Sirius’ thigh—his chest visibly caught before he relaxed into it and reached down to put his own overtop. “Harry’s doing well. Lily says he’s almost started running.”

“Did you go see them?”

“Stayed at their place last night.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It felt weird being there by myself.”

“Re—”

“I’m so sorry.” The words spilled out in a rush, despite his best efforts to keep it in until they reached home. “I’m sorry for everything I said to you, and especially for how I said it. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about how I was feeling, too. It should never have gotten to that point.”

“Apology accepted.” Sirius sounded a little choked up. “I don’t think we got married too soon, if that means anything.”

“Of course it means something,” Remus half-laughed as he wiped the dampness from the corners of his eyes. “It means everything.”

“I thought it might be too late.”

“Can you pull over for a second?” Sirius obliged, and as soon as he turned the car off, Remus turned to face him. He linked their hands, making sure Sirius was looking into his eyes. “It is never too late to talk to me, okay? I’m sorry if I ever made you think that it was.”

Sirius unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over for a brief kiss that sent bubbling warmth throughout Remus’ entire body. “I’m so, so sorry for yelling at you. And for keeping everything in, even though we both promised to stop doing that. All that shit I said, it—it wasn’t true, Re, and I wasn’t thinking.”

Remus rested their foreheads together and wound his fingers in the short curls fanning Sirius’ face. “Honey, we’re not your parents.”

Sirius swallowed hard. “I know.”

“So you don’t have to be afraid that we’re going to hate each other out of the blue, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“If—” His mouth went a little dry and he faltered. “If you want to take a break, or take things slower, I totally respect—”

“Nope, no, no, no,” Sirius interrupted, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him in for another fervent kiss. “I love you. I’m happy with you. I let my head get away from me, and I’m sorry.”

“All’s forgiven, love.” They sat in silence for a minute longer as Sirius traced his jawline. “Let’s go home.”

-------------------------------------

Sirius woke up in bed alone, which would have scared him if he didn’t know exactly where his husband was. He smiled to himself and got out of bed, grabbing a hoodie off their dresser before heading downstairs.

The kitchen light was on and music played quietly from Remus’ phone over the sound of running water. “You’re up late,” he said casually from the doorway.

Remus almost dropped a pot. “Jesus Christ!”

“Just me.” Sirius wrapped his arms around his waist as he set the pot on the drying rack. “Stressed?”

“A little. I forgot to do these earlier and didn’t want to leave them overnight again.” Sirius hummed his agreement and rocked back and forth, then took Remus’ hand and spun him in a slow circle. “Oh, are we slow dancing to the Billboard Top 100 now?”

“Very romantic, I know,” Sirius laughed.

Remus shook his head with a wide grin as they swayed, much too slow for the actual song but absolutely perfect. He was beautiful in the low light of their kitchen, puffy eyes from and all. “You are ridiculous.”

I’m the luckiest person alive. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Sirius leaned down for a series of quick kisses, pulling him in until their chests pressed together. Remus let go of his hand and draped both arms over his shoulders, tangling his hands in his hair. “I know we can’t exactly control it,” Sirius said against his lips. “But let’s never fight like that again.”

“Deal.”

[descendantofthesparrow]

Before Rewrite - Hades

*Spoilers for D3 rewrite~!!!! takes place from when Hades gets to the isle to the scene where Mal takes the ember from Hades!*

=

Hades cursed the rulers of Auradon every hour of every day for putting him on this wretched isle of filth and trash. He was a god! The god of the undead, the underworld! He was a crucial player in the mortal's circle of life; without him, there would be no place for souls to go, Thanatos would harvest them but with no one to claim them; they would wander around the lands forever.

He could already sense the disturbed souls, miserably watching their families walk by, or through them. All alone with no one to turn to and nowhere to go.

He had only been here for two weeks and he was already sick of it; he may have never liked it but his job was important and he needed to get back to work

-

Two weeks and four days…that's all it took for the gods to replace him. He didn’t know who it was but they seemed to know what they were doing, claiming souls so fast Hades could hardly sense when one had left the mortal world to live in the underworld.

Hades perked up at the sound of crying

Oh, Hadie.

He turned on his heel and speed over to the makeshift crib of his son, rubbing the top of his fuzzy blue hair and picking him up; gently rocking him as Hadie continued to cry, Hades didn’t know from what but he would try to find out.

-

Like the little god he was, Hadie unexpectedly thrived on the barren isle of the lost; with what little food he got and with little sun, Hadie grew quickly and strong. At four years old he was already growing into his namesake; though Hades couldn’t ever resist being a dad over his little gap tooth in the middle of his teeth.

Hades just wished Persephone could see Hadie grow, and Hades wished he could see his little flower, Melinoe, grow into the headstrong warrior she was meant to be.

-

Whaaaaaaaat the fuck did he do….what in the actual fuck did he DO?!

He had stupidly gotten black out drunk at Gaston’s bar and somehow ended up with Maleficent! Of all people on the isle?! No-not out of all people, just with someone in general!?

He had prided himself in being the most loyal husband of his brothers, Zeus who had slept with a woman every time Hera blinked, and Poseidon; who wasn’t any better.

Hades had always been loyal and true to his wife…well there were those two times BUT compared to his brothers; he was loyal.

AND NOW HE HAD TO GO AND FUCK UP THAT STREAK; over 1000 years, 1000 years! And some bad whiskey had to ruin it.

He left that bed without a word, rushing home to his 4-year-old son who luckily hadn’t woken up yet from his sleep; and Hades swore if nothing came from that mistake, Hadie would never know about it.

-

Welp…that was something that came from the mistake. 11 months after the incident with Maleficent-

-There, right in front of his gates to his underground lair; was a little baby girl, halfheartedly swaddled in a green blanket and set at his gate, a little note taped to the front.

‘your problem now -M’

Hades leaned out of the gates, looking around for any goblins or any sign of the mistress of evil herself. But there was nothing. Hades sighed and crouched down, gently picking up the baby girl and holding him to his chest, her cries quieting as her cheek pressed against the fabric of his shirt.

She opened her eyes, vivid green with sparks of gold and yellow. She laughed, reaching up to his hair with a gummy smile. Hades sighed again and turned on his heel, closing the gate with his foot.

At least he got another chance at raising his daughter, and he would do his best to do as he would’ve with Melinoe.

-

Hadie had asked a billion questions when Hades placed the new baby in Hades old crib, leaning over and peering down at his little sister. Hades had explained it the best way he knew how to a child; but Hadie miraculously understood, didn’t blame him. All he did was reach down towards his sister and grin as the baby took his finger.

“I like her! Are we keeping her?” Hadie had asked, his gap tooth making his little grin seem even bigger.

“she's not a dog Hadie, but yes that’s the plan. I don’t think her mother’s coming back.” Hades rubbed Hadie’s fluffy blue hair and then reached out to rub his daughter's bluish-purple hair gently, her two-month-old hair curling around his fingers.

“What's her name?” Hadie continued to babble off questions, his yellow eyes staring directly into his sister's emerald eyes.

Hades thought for a moment, pursing his lips as he looked at the note and turned it over. Nothing other than Maleficent's writing and initial. Either the fae hadn’t given the baby a name or didn’t care enough to tell him.

“Morana“ the pagan Slavic goddess of winter and death; he had met or once or twice, not enough to know her but the name matched the baby girl before him well enough. (in this world, gods of all religions/beliefs exist in the same universe, they usually keep to themselves and rarely interact.)

Hadie repeated the name, pulling his finger around with Morana still holding onto him. “I like it!”

-

Three months later, Maleficent returned and took Morana from him; not even letting him give her a damn thing to remember him by. “I need an heir, that evil queens been bragging about her little rat and I won't let her get the upper hand with it” Hadie watched from behind Hades legs as the fae walked away with his little sister, her blue-purple hair stark against the black of Maleficent's sleeves.

Morana cried the entire time, reaching out for her father with tears streaming from her sparking yellow-green eyes, her face red with the flurry of confusing emotions she was feeling.

Hades took a step forward, going to take his daughter back but was stopped by Maleficent's goons, all glaring at him.

He was outmatched.

He stepped back, glaring at Maleficent's back as she took back their daughter she had abandoned so heartlessly three months ago.

-

Mal. That was her name now. He had heard many talk about the newly revealed daughter of evil; the daughter of Maleficent. Mal.

Hades clicked his jaw at the thought of her name, Maleficent had been shellfish and named her own daughter right after her; Hades would bet his stash of chocolate that Mal’s full name was just Maleficent.

At least Hades had been original.

-

Throughout the next couple of years, as Mora-Mal. Grew up, Hades kept out an eye on her; just out of sight from her and just barely stepping in if any of the older people of the isle, who had…less than ideal moral compasses, got any ideas about his daughter.

A few times he tried to go up to her, but each time she saw him she either ran away in fear, or stared him down with no spark of familiar want or recognition.

So he kept away, respecting her non-verbal wishes and leaving Mal to herself.

It didn’t stop him from trying to keep her safe. He left her food on the nights Maleficent or her goons forgot, never charged her when she came into his restaurant, was never harsh with her. Some of the other villains got curious at his gentleness with Mal but quickly shut up with a spark of red in his eyes. He might’ve lost his magic but he was still a god.

-

Hades watched from the shadows as Mal and her three ‘friends’ climbed into the limo, the son of Hook and son of Gaston climbing in alongside them. Mal looked up at Maleficent, who did an odd gesture and Mal nodded, sliding in and closing the limo door behind her.

He followed the limo all the way to the bridge, watching his daughter leave the isle for the first time and go to Auradon. If she didn’t end up burning it down; he hoped she would have a good life away from her mother.

-

Over three years later, his son was chosen to go the Auradon by his sister, and Hades watched melancholy as Hadie packed his things; fiddling with the dull ember between his fingers. Hadie hefted his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his duffle bag, nodding at his dad; who stood and walked over to his son “stay safe” Hades muttered, pulling Hadie in for a side hug, his hand resting on the back of Hadie’s head. “say hi to your mother and sister for me?” Hadie nodded against him, using his free arm to squeeze Hades back, and turned on his heel, walking out of the mines.

-

Only an hour later Hades stood at the bridge plaza, ember in hand; pointing it at his daughter, who cried out in pain against the embers draining powers. He pulled back as much as he could, he needed to get out; he just couldn't do it anymore, the isle was hell and he needed to leave.

Mal screamed in pain again and Hades faltered, remembering her cries for him when Maleficent took her oh so long ago. But the girl besides Hook took his falter and rushed at him, slamming him back behind the barrier and walking back through it a moment later.

Hades growled to himself, he had failed his attempted escape and hurt his kid. He stood and walked away from the plaza, planning to stay in his lair for the rest of the week in shame.

-

It was just the next day when he saw his kids again, Hadie and Celia standing in front of him; giving the excuse of a forgotten bass and some delivered goods. But Mal wasn’t as quiet as she should've been, he grabbed her hand just as she grabbed the ember and pulled it from her grip, staring her down behind his sunglasses.

She meekly asked for the ember multiple times, and on the third time, he raised his brow, holding up the ember in the air as he looked down at his daughter “You’re only half Hades, the ember won't do everything for you that it does for me” Mal huffed and gestured to Hadie.

“Hadie’s gonna be the one to use it anyway, I just wanted-to…” Mal looked up at him wide-eyed and shocked, and Hades had a startling realization that Mal might have not known about him at all.

After a few minutes of Mal screeching about her mother’s lies and her not being able to understand how ‘she’ happened, she demanded the ember once more “if you wanna make up for being a lousy dad” ouch that stung, he didn’t mean to be one; he just was forced into that position “gimme the ember”

Hades gave Mal the ember and watched her walk out, sighing sadly as he realized he could’ve been there for Mal a long time ago if not for his stupid assumption. He warned her about the ember getting wet and she just pushed past him, Hadie sharing one last glance with him before following after her.

Hades sighed, collapsing back in his minecart turned chair and leaning his head back. So much for respecting her wishes as a child, she hadn’t even known he existed as her dad.

-end-

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