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ivyuns · 2 years

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wishing upon a star - sunoo

genre: angst | fluff

word count: 1.6k

warnings: reader getting hospitalized, sunoo accidently hitting reader, passing out, neglecting health, arguments, sunoo being a lazy bum in the beginning, sunoo doing his best, reader blaming herself for everything, lmk if i missed anything else!

summary: you came home very tired after working two shifts. you wanted to come home, wanting nothing but you in sunoos arms in bed. but that went out of the window when a very small argument that couldve been handled broke out. what worst is that youre now hospitalized and sunoo wishes he could just go back in time to fix everything.

note: hii omg saur ive been real emo these past weeks so ive kinda wrote my emotions in like 10 different drafts so be on a look out for those. ++ im not sure when ill update fever bc im still not even half way done w part two 😭😭 enjoy ~

masterlist

it was a week after your fight, over something that could’ve been easily forgiven after talking out. something that could’ve been solved.

but no. you had left your house before he had done anything else stupid.

it was all because you were just asking sunoo nicely to clean up the place after you had many shifts to pick up, as well as studying to get in your dream school.

“sun? you here?” you had walked through the front door, dragging your tired feet to the living room, in which sunoo was still gaming with niki before you left— 6 hours ago.

the living room was a mess with finished chip bags and crumbs everywhere. oh you wanted to just breakdown.

“sun? hello?” you waved your hand in front of it to snap him out of his game. “hey baby, how was work?” he asked, still playing games. you ignored him and just cleaned his mess up.

you went to your bathroom to wash up and heading straight to bed, not having the energy for talking to the boy or anything.

sunoo realized you were gone for a bit and ended his game. he was putting his controller away and before he got up, he felt a pang of guilt. the guilt that you had to do everything, once again.

he quickly put everything away, turning off the lights and headed to your room. where he saw you almost dozing off to your fruit sensory videos that seemed to make you stay sane.

you sensed that he was coming on the bed with you, so you turned around and turned off your phone to charge and fell asleep. or tried to. “y/n?” he called out your name, hugging you from behind. you didn’t respond, too tired to do anything.

sunoo sighed. “i’m sorry i-“ “am i not doing enough for you?” you quietly said, tears flowing already.

you had such a bad week and just wanted to cuddle with sunoo. but everyday as you came home, the house was always a mess and sunoo was always in the same spot before you left. you felt like just crying for hours but you held it in. you didn’t want to see anyone, especially sunoo, to see you in your worst state.

“all i wanted to do when i got home was- was to be in your arms. be in our bed. i hated work so much. you never came to text me, or ask me how was i. im tired of coming home to you and the house a mess. ‘m sorry sunoo. im sorry im selfish.”

you cried into your arms and felt sunoo try to lift your arms up to hug you but you wouldn’t budge.

sunoo felt so heartbroken. how could he let his most precious girl feel like this. “im sorr-“ “im gonna go sunoo.”

you pushed sunoo away and went to the closet, wiping your tears at the same time. sunoo felt everything breaking down, he couldn’t let you go. especially so late at night.

he got up and saw you packing your essentials in your suitcase. he panicked and grabbed your wrist, a bit too harsh. “y/n! you cant go!” he shouted at you.

the tears increased as his grip was getting tighter, and the way he yelled at you. “s-sunoo. sunoo let go” you whimper. he didn’t listen, but the second time he heard you shout his name with a horrified face, he let go.

he saw the red mark he left. he saw you red puffy eyes. he saw the way you felt sick to your stomach. you wanted to run away and it was all his fault.

he stood up and tried to speak words out, but no words came out of him. you hurried to pack and left the house, leaving your promise ring and house keys.

after that night, he kept calling you, texting you, begging you to come back. he didn’t know where you were staying at, he didn’t know if you were warm and safe, he didn’t know if you were in someone else’s presence.

the house made him feel so alone. he stopped playing games and he cleaned the house, hoping you’ll just walk through the front door with a smile.

he put up the paintings you wanted to hang up on the walls, he built the dinning table that was just leaning against the dinning room wall. he did everything you asked him to do a while ago.

but everytime he tried to go to the closet, visions of him hurting you kept reminding himself that that was the only reason why you’re not coming back.

he sat alone in there, sobs muffled into the sleeve of his hoodie. “im sorry y/n. just come to my arms please.”

everywhere around the house had pictures of you two, decorated. polaroids scattered everywhere, memories everywhere.

until a phone call disturbed his thoughts. he looked at the contact, saying it’s from you. and immediately answered.

“sunoo!”

it wasn’t you. you friend had went through your phone to call him about you. “y-y/n, she-“ “she what!” sunoo yelled. he was scared what happened to you.

“she’s in the hospital. please come quick.”

—

sunoo drove quickly to the hospital your friend had told him. his hair a mess, eyes bloodshot, he was just a mess. he looked at the emergency exit and saw you friend holding your hand while you were on the bed, blood everywhere.

“y/n!” he called out your name. he ran to your moving bed and held your other hand.

your vision was blurry but you still saw the resemblance of his face. “s-sunoo?” sunoo wanted to punch the air. why did he make so much mistakes to end up you in the hospital. “im here baby” he cupped your cheek. the moment didn’t last long after the nurses had to stop him.

he tried to push them away, and yelled out your name through the door. he needed to be next to you.

the nurses reassured him, letting him know you’ll feel fine. but he wasnt having it, he needed to see if you’ll be okay.

he fell onto the waiting chairs, crying into the palms of his hands, dizzy.

it took a bit too long for sunoo. it was the next day and he didn’t get a wink of sleep. your friend had gotten a thin blanket from the nurses for him, hoping he’ll just have a 5 minute nap. but he didn’t want to lose sight of the surgery room he was next to.

the doctors had told him that you’ve been lacking nutrients. they had heard from your friend that you’ve been coming to their house after picking different shifts at your jobs everyday without eating or drinking. you’ve been sleeping with a few hours of sleep. and on top of that, the fight with sunoo has been on your mind too.

you overthink, wondering if it was dumb to run out of the house because he accidentally harmed you. you knew sunoo wouldn’t purposely hurt you, he was just protecting you.

all the stress of going back and work made you faint at work. they said you bumped your head on the counter at the kitchen, as there was a glass that also fell with you, resulting some shards cutting into you.

sunoo hoped and prayed, you will be okay.

—

you woke up hours later with wires hooked up onto you. whimpering in pain, you felt a bruise on your forehead. you looked around and no signs of sunoo or your best friend, but you could've sworn you saw them both before you fell asleep.

seeing flowers and "get well soon" balloons were blurring your vision as you remembered what happened. the sudden memory when sunoo had accidentally hurt you, when you got a message saying sunoo wasn't fine without you, how you saw sunoo's once beautiful eyes red because of you.

all of this were caused by you. is what you thought.

everything is your fault, you were the one that ran out on him in the first place. you were so in your mind, you didnt hear sunoo come in the room. "y/n!" he shouted.

he immediately exited the room and went to get your doctor, letting them know you have woken.

after the doctor ran tests on you, you were left alone with sunoo. the comforting silence was getting awkward for you. "y/n" "sunoo" you both said. sunoo slightly smiled, holding your hand for you to continue.

"im sorry, this wouldn't had happened if i didn't walk out on you" you said. tears slowly falling. sunoo felt like he just lost his best boyfriend award. you were blaming yourself when you did nothing wrong.

he looked up at you and wiped your tears away. "no im sorry for not asking how your day was in the first place my love." he paused. "im sorry for how lazy i was. i've failed to noticed your emotions after work and school. you're not selfish baby. you had every right to be upset. you are more than enough for me. i love you so much y/n. you're the best thing that happened to me. please."

you saw how sincere he was. his eyes held up the galaxies whenever he saw you, and you saw it right here. he was too in love with you. "thank you" you muttered. "let's go home."

as you walked in the door of your home after weeks, you saw the place was neatly cleaned and your walls weren't bare anymore. your dinning table all set. every room in your house was now completed, all thanks to sunoo and a bit of help of his friends.

"sun, thank you" you hugged him. he leaned in and hugged you tightly. "let's go cuddle, tell me how your days was, my lady."

with that, you guys settled in on your comfy bed, looking out of the window while the stars were out on the dark night.

you fell asleep when it happened, but sunoo held you close. right before he could close his eyes, he saw a shining shooting star. 'i wish to make you happier than ever.'

end.

(2022) © dont repost or copy | @ivyuns

#enhypen #enhypen sunoo #sunoo angst #sunoo fluff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #kpop #kpop angst #kpop fluff

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aleemie · 2 years

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I dont know how coherent i am right now

Nor do i know if this is a cry for help

I think i just needed to type things out and i might regret it later but like i said i dont know how coherent i am right now

C-ptsd fucking sucks

Im stuck in a fucking whirlpool of emotions constantly

Fucking constantly

And my worst triggers have to do with one of the most acclaimed, memed, and beloved video games ever fucking created

So thankyou universe for that slap in the goddamn face

Thanks a lot

Im outside of my body typing out a long post on my tumblr that nobody is going to see because im too scared to reach out to the people i love

Im too scared

I cant take another rejection

I cant fucking take another loss

You get hit over and over again and somehow against all odds you manage to stand back up every single time

You just keep standing up

But why

Why do you keep getting up if you know something is coming

Is the tiny glimmer of happiness that you get out of surviving another few seconds really worth it if you spend hours on the floor writhing in absolute agony again and again

I ask myself when it started and i cant pin it down

Ive been taking hits so long that i cant comprehend anything else

And when somebody steps in and sheilds me from the next blow i dont understand why

Im okay for awhile but them theyre gone and i have to start from square one again

How the fuck did a cartoon skeleton mess me up so much that looking at it makes me want to cry

What happened around him to make this happen to me

Because i look back and i cant remember

You cant remember without that trigger

And it feels like i fully lost because that trigger has become my saving grace

And i keep crawling back because the new harder hitting trauma is unmanageablr

I cant hide

This is how i hide

Sit alone and set off those triggers until you cant process reality anymore

Dont ask anyone for help because theyll all leave you if you continue to burden them with your bullshit

You cant keep waking people up at 6 am to sit and talk with you

Your girlfriend doesnt want to see this side of you because she doesnt know how to gix you

You cant ask someone to pick you up at 10 pm when your environment is crushing you

Fuck if you knew how to fix this right

But youre so mangled and torn up that every last part of you is shattered beyond fixing

C-ptsd sucks

Im going to delete this later

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jadelynlace · 3 years

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Ink Drinker / Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader], Chapter 6

catch up here!

synopsis: Ivar was only meant to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his older brother’s best friend, and co-worker: you.

pairing: Ivar x F!Reader

***content warning [PLEASE READ]: this chapter has the after effect of the trauma call, and too many emotions. surgical mentions and medical terminology are in this chapter as well. anything in italics indicates a flash back.

author’s note: I’m so sorry.

“Floki, why can I be left alone?” Ivar asked.

“Because the last time you were left alone you ended up with fifty thousand milligrams of pain killers in your stomach. Now, come here—do you know this?” Floki replied with his fingers taping the photo copied image.

“I drew that.” Ivar said back.

“Yes, you did. Where do you want it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You hate your body so much why don’t you cover it in something you like?”

It is sixteen hours that Ivar is in surgery. His world is dark, nothing but, with pierces of noises that he can recall. But trying to decipher them only makes the surroundings dull, caked in black and muffled with a buzz of an unruly bee hive. There are pokes of pain, he remembers the green light, and he remembers the pot hole he swerved to miss. He doesn’t remember how fast he was driving and the second he was over the yellow line made no difference for the sudden beast of a truck to find him.

Everything below Ivar’s powdered knee caps are reattached. Grueling hours on the table while he’s sewed back together like a monster. Enough time for Hvitserk to get clothes, to get you clothes, to pack a bag for his brother per your request. Even in the presence of clean laundry you can’t take your blues off yet—they’re holding you proper because you just saw Ivar that morning. You two made love in the low morning light, filled with ecstasy, his seed and then he made you eggs with extra hot sauce and hugged you tightly you were sure you stopped breathing. He told you to be safe, baby, like he did at the dawn of each shift and that he would call you when his last appointment was finished, and on his way back from shopping for supplies for the parlor and that you two would make lunch plans. In his speed, his haste to make sure he didn’t miss you before the two tone song of death would sing in the radios, he instead, became the reason it did.

Your chief shows up when you tell him the nature of the emergency. Pulling additional personnel on for overtime and they take the rig out of service and from your hands. Words don’t spare any differences and although he offers you a hug, when you take it he slips you a piece of paper.

“Remember the job you’re doing. And the change you’re making.” He whispers in your ear and you look at the folded sheet. It’s a photocopy of a poorly drawn fire truck with an even worse sketched stick figure, and you had scribbled it when you were five. Back when you met chief for the first time because now you hold the same badge number your father once did.

“If I give you your Dad’s old badge number, are you going to act like a jack ass like him?”

“I can’t make any promises chief.”

“I have a partner in mind for you, you’ll like him. He’s a good kid. A good medic.”

“This good kid got a name?”

“Yeah, Hvitserk. I’ll introduce the two of you.”

This is the call that shapes you as a medic, as a provider, and changes how you see things. This is the call that sends a new person out into the street, whether Ivar lives or not. This is the call that forever holds terror in your heart because he was laying in the back of your ambulance, and that was the one spot you never wanted him to occupy.

Aslaug walks through the doors and she’s already two tissues deep into a soggy mess. Hugging Hvitserk and hugging you and you wish you were meeting this woman for the first time under any other circumstance. Floki thanks you and you don’t quite know why, even though the words fall heavily and un-calming, he still thanks you. And when the surgeon returns before the four of you, you’re the only one that doesn’t stand. But he calls your name because you know him, he was lab staff that tested you for your certifications and he told you that you’ll make a damn good medic one day.

“Remember what I said on the day of your exam?” He asks and you nod, puzzled and impatient looks on the other faces. “You are a damn good medic—you both are.” He adds, eyes jumping from yours to your partners. “And it shows on this call, of all of them.” Hvitserk’s shoulder nudges you and you only nudge him back, perhaps little too hard in your delirious state. “Essentially what we did, was replant the lower portion of each leg. Now, given the extent of his injuries and how his body handles such, I don’t have a clear cut answer for you on his overall mobility. He may need to have screws implanted, he may need prosthetics. He’s going to be in the ICU for the next 48 hours for constant monitoring. We’ll have him sedated so his body can focus on what’s at stake. He’ll need physical therapy for a long time, and he’ll likely be disabled for the rest of his life, given again, how his body handles this. It’ll be a long road. But, like I said—you two are damn good medics and that is the one reason his legs were able to be saved. I will let you know when he’s moved to the ICU.”

You look back at your partner and his face is as blank as yours; influx of emotions just ready to dive from the void but your minds are still churning, still processing all of what boomed from the doctor’s mouth. Ivar’s chance at returning to a normal life was resting in your hands and you two gave the best damn efforts and they worked. The countless hours of dissection, wondering if you’re cut out for this career, these responsibilities, hours of trauma and blood and vomit all fizzle away because you now know that you are. And it just took Ivar to prove it.

When your eyes open again there’s a sharp pierce in your temple, scrunching eyes together and slowly moving, your head rises from Floki’s shoulder and the lights in the ICU have dimmed in the late hour. Impressions stood between his nostrils, falling like petals over his cheekbones, bleeding through split brows and pink flowers through the depths of his neck. His chest sinking and fainting with time, there was a moment of deafening silence when you are looking at his body; seemingly so small under the contraptions. The depths of earth, and the worst hell was seeing him lay on this cot. He’s only sedated now, even though Ivar looked of death, he was still alive under the harvest of wires. The words of how “we’re doing all that we can” do not bring any more comfort, they just take Ivar like a wave rapidly back out to sea. And now you understand how your patients, and their families feel when you speak the same phrases to them. The clinical assessments do not stop a rigorous schedule, motoring for the possible failure. The room is kept warm, and every so often when you will yourself to peek in, you can see the sheen of sweat that’s over Ivar’s forehead, dancing across his chest under the stickers, the monitors. The capillary refill on his toes show promise, and when the nurse says that to her doctor, you find yourself attempting the same motions on your thumb nail. Pressing the pink away and making room for the white, and then in a quick release, the pink swarms back. The ultra sound machines reminds you of the new equipment in your rig as it assess arterial blood flow every hour.

IV bags drip, slow and agonize and the change of wrappings, dressings and cleaning of both the limbs and Ivar himself collect. You spend hours watching the fluid levels sink, his eyes flutter, his fingers in his hand dance and you grow cold because you just want to hold him. To lock him in a steel tower and to constantly remind him how strong he is, because you know the longest road will not come from learning to walk. It will come from Ivar trying to find that he is worthy to live on.

Blackness had retired across your cheeks, wrapping a veil of makeup that melted into battle scars and you could not move if your body depended on it. Aslaug sits next to you; she takes her time wiping the makeup off from under your eyes, the soiled mascara and she’s humming to you. She had been telling you how when Ivar was young, she would sing to him and it would calm him down. How she sang to him in the hospital after he tried to overdose, tubes pumping his stomach as she blamed herself for such wrong doing. How Hvitserk blamed himself because he gave no one a warning cry. And how she’s singing to Ivar now, even though he can’t hear it, because it comforts the three of you as a whole.

When your eyes follow the nurse into the room, you can hear her say something to Ivar and you watch his head turn in confusion. Grogginess and a fog on his brain as she talks to him like it’s a normal conversation; wishing him a good morning, how the weather looks promising for a beautiful day and you wish you had that level of bed side manner. You never get the promising parts of the journey; you get the patients that are coding and in a rush to the life saving team in the hospital. You love the ones who tell you their entire live’s story in the back of the rig on the way to the emergency room, sharing details and calming your mind with how simple, and yet how different every walk of life is. The nurse says something about you, about Hvitserk and Aslaug and Floki, out and waiting and ready to see him when he’s fit. You wave through the glass and there’s the tease of a smirk on Ivar’s face, even in his slightly sedated state. A dastardly, bastard smirk and his hand lifts off the bed slightly, wiggling his fingers back to you. The tears start up again, pounding a sledge hammer through your skull after all of the unruly pressure and messes of crying as your body tries to go numb.

“Where’s my mom?” You hear Ivar say in a voice that muted slightly as the nurse stands in the door way to exit. “Can I see my mom?” And the nurse nods. Aslaug stands and kisses your hair line as she walks into the vicinity, Ivar watching her and you need to back up, you need to walk away from the room, this hall way and this battle. A faint wheeze goes through your chest and Floki catches it first before Hvitserk has a chance to lift his head and open his eyes.

“Let’s walk, dear,” Floki says and his voice is not authoritative but it still demands you to comply as he loops an arm around your shoulder. “Walking can help to clear the mind.” It’s your first time outside in almost three days, and the sunlight burns you like you had been its victim on a sand covered shoreline for one too many hours. The hospital grounds are manicured, they’re neat and arranged with an abundance of flowers and colors in the open air but everything to you still feels so dull and lifeless, pointless and hopeless and walking only churns your thoughts to double, triple in size like a snow ball rolling down a hill.

You’re finally allowed in to see Ivar and you approach slowly, like touching him will seer you suddenly, stain you with a unremovable pattern and you’ll forever be reminded. His blue eyes are dull and groggy when they open, the nasal cannula wrapping his face and your eyes dance over the scurf collecting on his jaw, and the faint bruising, cuts and scrapes on his skin.

“Hey baby,” His voice rasps and you kneel by the bed, tears already on their journeys to streak your tried skin and Ivar’s needle poked, IV covered arm comes to wipe what he can reach. “You were there, weren’t you?” And you can only nod, eyes still damp and you relish in the touch he gives you only if it’s for a second. “You saved my life, baby,” Ivar finally adds and that makes the whimper start again, the choke of a sob in your throat and he tries to quiet you, slithering a quick noise from his lips and you rest your head against the bed, his hand still on your hair.

“I drove the ambulance over a hundred miles an hour,” You finally say and they’re the first words you can use to process the trauma you two had lived through together.

“That’s my girl,” Ivar smiles, speaking with a voice that sounds like sandpaper.

“I love you Ivar—no matter what happens, I love you so much,”

“I love you too, Y/N,” Ivar says and his voice is weaker now and he needs rest. “Kiss me before you go?” He says with eyes scanning your face, and you can’t deny that now. Pressing your lips softly against his, your hands cupping his cheek and you hope it’s not the last kiss you’ll ever get from him. “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” Ivar tells you. “I’m afraid. But I’m not going anywhere,” You nod as he speaks, a forehead against his for a second and his hand is still trying to reach on you where he can. This is the man that would pull the tubes and the wires from his chest if he could, if that would make him get closer to you. “You’re stuck with me,” And there’s a faint snicker after his words, weak and drowned out from the normal tone but you’ll take it after not hearing his voice for three days.

“I’m stuck with you,” You say back with a small smile. But it still doesn’t bring enough hope.

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wizkiddx · 3 years

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worst case scenario part 3

umm so, never ever intended it to be this long but here we are. again this is v dark so please please read the warning!! also [and obvs] this is very medically inaccurate and just a work of my head aha

[part 1] [part 2]

warning: mentions of death / hospital / mentions of childhood abandonment too- please don't read if this could affect you <3

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His heart was thundering in his chest, so much so it drowned out all other sounds making all the doctors words fade into the background. Conciously, he really was trying to listen to what the doctor was saying; consciously he knew she was trying to prepare him to see Y/n; consciously he knew she knew he wasn’t okay. But really? It didn’t matter, and as they drew closer to his fiancé Tom felt an urgent sense of relief purely know she was there. She was there and she wasn’t dead…yet.

Only two people were allowed to go up, just because the nature of the ward - everything was meticulously controlled, including the comings and goings of visitors. If you’ve never been in an ICU it’s a pretty hard environment to describe. Really, it’s just another hospital ward, with capacity of about 20 beds. Each bed has much more equipment surrounding that the average and a nurse is stationed per patient, monitoring every possible variable that the machienes are measuring, so any trend (either positive or negative) can be identified at the earliest point. Though in everyones head, it seems as though ICU is a common place ending up for some unfortunate sod when something bad happens, it’s actually really rare for someone to be so ill and dependant on medicine to maintain normal body functioning. Only the most severe trauma, infection of the most dangerous microorganism, surgery of such high stakes normally make an appearance on the ward. And ,on average, between 8-20% patients that are admitted to an ICU never make it out.

And those grim figures were unignorable to anyone. As soon as you walk through the doors, the atmosphere is intense and ineffable. It’s not spoken, but is so incredibly morbid it makes anyone shiver.

Dom felt this, squeezing his sons shoulder as he followed Tom and the doctor, just a pace or so behind them. Having offered to go with Tom, whilst Harrison took Nikki to see the baby, Dom was now feeling just as clueless as his son did. Except he was actually listening to what the doctor was trying to warn them about and it scared him. The three, made it to the door and with a swipe of her ID card the doctor admitted the Holland men in. Gratefully, none of the staff took any notice of who was walking in, they were much too busy for that - Dom was incredibly relieved, had someone recognised Tom when he was in this state, god knows what would’ve happened.

The doctors pace was with purpose, perhaps so that the two couldn’t spend too long ogling the other patients in the beds - who all looked almost unhuman with the amount of tubes and wires coming out and into them. But then, she slowed up, halting infront of a bay about 5 or 6 down the ward. Spinning on her heel and with a subtle nod to momentarily release the nurse from her post at Y/n’s bedside, to give them a bit of privacy, she looked at the two men.

“You can touch her, just be gentle with the wires.”

Shellshocked and terrified, Tom was frozen those 2 metres away from the bed barely able to see her face over all the equipment. Yet undoubtedly, it was his finance’s delicate visage lying on the white pillow, with a thick white mouthpiece and tube covering her mouth and stuffed into her nose. Not able to move, both Dom and Dr Goodwell sensitively waited - it was an adjustment to say the least, seeing someone you knew so well look so different. With quiet tears starting to roll down his eyes, Tom eventually started to inch toward the bedside, taking his time to try and absorb everything of this frankly ridiculous situation. He couldn’t get over how, even considering it all, above her nose it just looked like Y/n. Like she was asleep in their bed, eyes closed as if she had once again fallen asleep infront of a random Netflix movie Tom had bugged her enough to watch in bed. And it was, ever so slightly comforting. That was still her, that was still the love of his life lying there. And she was still alive - which given the last few hours, was enough.

Reaching the bedside, Tom naturally reached out and stroked the top of her head delicately, pulling into place a few rogue strands that seemed to have a mind of their own - she had always hated when her hair got frizzy. The picture had Tom’s mind casting back to their first holiday, a serene if quick few days in Fiji- though Y/n didnt know this , that holiday had been one of the most important times in their relationship for Tom. Until then, given the nature of his job, the couple had only ever managed brief periods together. They spent time together as and when they could in between Tom’s busy schedule but it was never as long as they’d like. Somehow though, he’d managed to squeeze a few days away to surprise Y/n with the trip.

It was everything he’d ever hoped it would be and more. In fact it was then Tom was oh so sure he would be spending the rest of his life with her. This thought crossed his mind on the last morning, when he had for once woken up before Y/n - her head mere cms away from his on the pillow. Just like now, her hair had been all over the place and her sparkling green eyes locked shut. Contrastingly though, in Fiji the sight had made him smile softly; now it just made him cry again.

“Would you like a minute alone Mr Holland? We will just wait outside?” Not even turning round to properly respond to the doctor, Tom just nodded violently, not taking his eyes off his fiancé - waiting till he heard his Dad and the doctor leave the bay; then the curtains be completely drawn to a close, before he shakily cleared his throat to whisper.

“Hey darling… you um-you’ve scared me shitless today… and… and I’m supposed to be the dramatic one in the relationship.” Chuckling wetly, Tom clasped his other hand in Y/n’s - still mindful of the IV port coming out of the top of her wrist. Not that he was expecting any sort of response, yet the lack of her squeezing his hand back still had his heart sink. “Look I…I love you so bloody much and I really need you to get better okay? You’ve never listened to me before but I really am begging you to now, I just.” Swallowing thickly, he shut his eyes momentarily and delicately rested his forehead on hers - his touch feather light. Just needing to feel her. “I just really need you and I really love you., okay?”

Unsurprisingly he didn’t get a response. The rhetorical question hung in the air alone, safe the mechanical whir of the ventilator and various chimes of the machines and monitor, till his Dad came in. Grasping and squeezing his shoulder lightly, Dom provided the stimulus for his son to unfold from over the bed, standing upright, as both men just took in the sight of Y/n lying there for a minute or two.

“I need her Dad. I-I-“

“I know Tom.” Speaking so quietly it was barely audible, Dom’s eventual agreement at what Tom was saying was in a way a relief. Haz and his mum had both either been saying or implying that they would be okay no matter what - which came from a good place but was so infuriating. Because god forbid, if this situation got worse Tom knew it wouldn’t be okay. Nothing would ever be okay again. So his Dad’s simple acknowledgment meant a lot, causing Tom to turn round and embrace his slightly shorter father.

Dr Goodwell silently watched the exchange for a short while and once the men eventually pulled away she stepped forward to give some more information. She went through what all the biggest and scary looking tubes and wires were doing for Y/n, before explaining the next steps.

“Now as I said before we are sedating her at the moment, while we wait and see if she gets any complications from the surgery that are better treated while she is asleep. By this afternoon we will have a clearer idea and by that point we may choose to withdraw that sedation. It’s important that you are aware though that she might not wakeup immediately. Sometimes some people that have suffered similarly to your fiancé will be unconscious for a while in what I’d presume you’ve heard of as a ‘coma’. Now it’s not as dramatic as you see on TV shows, it’s just Ms Y/l/n’s brain giving her body a chance to recover. It’s often a longer process, which I know is something you don’t want to hear, but I have to be honest.” The doctor was stern but in a softer and from-a-caring-place. “These patients are suggested to possibly recover quicker if they have a steady support network behind them, which it seems like she does. That means that you need to look after yourself so you can help her sir, especially in what could be a long process. It’s not going to be helpful for Yn if you’re killing yourself trying to be here all the time… It seems like Y/n already has quite a big group of you here for her, so please remember you’ve got all of her care team here and everyone else to help you too….Does that make sense sir?”

“Tom” His Dad, in a gentle but firm warning tone, urged Tom to speak and to listen. Properly listen.

“Yeh… I-yeh It’s just all a lot right now.”

“Of course… and we promise that if anything changes with her condition, you will be phoned straight away. You are welcome to stay as long as you want - the only rules are two at a time, no flowers, sign in and out and then sanitise your hands pretty excessively. If you need anything, Ms Y/l/n’s nurse will be your first port of call.”

“Thanks for everything” Dom nodded in a gracious manner, which the doctor seemed to massively appreciate - apparently, for the job they do not receiving a hell of a lot of thanks.

“I’ll pop back in a little bit.”

And for a couple of hours everything everything felt like a bit of an anticlimax, nothing happened, not a lot changed. Just Tom and Dom sat next to Y/n’s bed in silence; Harrison and Nikki downstairs with the baby, till Dom got a phone call from Nikki asking them to meet at the neonatal unit - which was limited by visitor numbers unlike the ICU. Thinking it’d be simple, the elder man gained Tom’s attention with a call of his name, explaining they should go down to meet up.

“I’m not going down there.”

“Son, I know you’re worried by Y/n isnt going anywhere right now. The doctors said they’d call you if anything happens.”

“It’s not-“ Tom stopped himself, biting his tongue and looking away from his Dad. “I just don’t want to go down there.” Slowly, Dom was more and more realising Tom’s thought process and honestly… it scared him. In the hopes this was just a big misunderstanding he offered a different option - hoping Tom would equally refuse that. Dom suggested going down to the cafe instead, which most unfortunately Tom agreed to. It wasn’t leaving Y/n that was the issue, it was being near the baby.

Tom’s daughter. Unnamed and apparently abondoned by both parents.

Anyhow, Dom resigned to playing into Tom’s choice, perhaps Nikki and Harrison would be able to swing him round, to see sense. It still took Tom getting the nurse to triple check they had his correct number on record , just in case, before Dom could tear him away from the bed. Fortunately the pair found a quiet and secluded corner table, where Tom was still yet to be recognised, while Nikki and Haz found them too.

What followed was Tom answering all his mum and Harrison’s questions about Y/n’s condition, in a blunt and emotionless manner - without Tom returning fire by asking any questions at all about his beautiful little baby girl. Eventually Nikki braved it, someone had to bring it up.

“Well it sounds like littles going to change for a while… maybe you should head home for a bit? You’ve been up half the night and you look shattered love. You don’t have to go back to yours… you could stay in your old room for a bit?” Tom being by himself at the moment sounded like the most incredibly stupid idea ever, Nikki was offering it as a choice - when in reality there was only one option.

“Maybe later this evening I will? Just don’t want to leave her alone yet.”

“It’s already 7 love, you’ve not eaten all day, you got to look after yourself too.” Harrison and Dom sat awkwardly while Nikki tried to delicately encourage Tom into what was the only sensible plan, watching him nurse the small hot choclate in both his palms. Time really had lost all meaning at this point, for him it felt both years since he’d first arrived with Y/n and at the same time barely 10 minutes ago. It felt weird.

“We can take shifts? If-if you want someone with her I mean… I don’t mind staying for a bit longer if it means you head back to your parents.” Harrison really truly didnt mind, in fact he sort of wanted to. He wanted to see Y/n’s face definitely alive, wanted to feel reassured by the monitors. Shockingly, Tom slowly nodded his head, surprising everyone with his lack of argument. None of them could work out whether it was a good thing him not putting up much arguement ; either he was heeding everyones advice of taking care of himself - or he had just given up. Harrison, as much as he didn’t want to, was favouring the latter.

“Okay” Nikki declared optimistically “So maybe you and Harrison go up so you can say good night to Y/n, then we can all go and pick up the baby?” She opened the plan to the floor, allowing for input but got nothing - except maybe Tom’s jaw unconsciously tensing uncomfortable at the latter part of her statement. Dom noticed.

Not one noticed but knew what it meant. His son blamed his granddaughter. His son, right now in that moment, hated the unnamed and totally helpless baby girl.

part 4?

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #tomholland #tom holland angst

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the-bjd-community-confess · 3 years

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More Divaz confos

Mod: Round two of these, previously: link. There’s some interesting customer reviews in this batch (5 and 8) which may be useful to readers.

1.Vic3mage "the secret bjdivaz vip group is just pictures of boxes coming in and going out". Yeah, between the bitching about d0llshe, asking people to post on doa for them, dunking on ex-customers, posting pics of random doll parts that they can't identify which doll they're supposed to go with, whining about how little money they make, whining when ppl e-mail them, whining. Yeah, other than that it's just boxes, and alpacas u can buy off amazon anyway lol.

~Anonymous

2.The butthurt users crying and guilttripping under every Divaz confession who have never been seen before elsewhere on this blog are extremely unsuspicious and unproblematic and definitely unconnected to Divaz and unbiased in every possible way

~Anonymous

3.idk shit abt bjd1vas but v1cemage i can absolutely tell you the shit about ch0o is 100% accurate, fucker's got a long, long history of being an awful little man that stretches well beyond his involvement in the doll community. between the two i'd still trust bjd1vas over ch00 ch00 the fool any day!

~Anonymous

4.The Z3st and Div4s thing is really silly and both entities were being shady but did they really have to take the DZ waiting room down with them? :( He had even made a separate thread about it......

~Anonymous

5. RE: BJD Divaz

I’ve been a customer of BJD Divaz since they first started, when it was only run by Chart3rline. I even contacted other BJD companies trying to persuade them to work with Divaz as their US representative. Most declined because they didnt like D's commission fee, but I was able to persuade a few of them.

I asked them to purchase a doll off DOA because I couldnt afford the asking price, and while they did, I found out later that instead of agreeing to purchase the seller's price, they negotiated the price to be lower. This significantly cheaper price was not passed down to me. I paid the full price +the commission fee based on that full price. I am disappointed I was not told this. This is when I stopped viewing them as a "friend" and instead, as a business. I dont hold this against them, it’s context to what Im going to say later.

I’ve stopped purchasing from D after my recent order from them. This company usually takes 3 or less months to make a doll. I’ve ordered the doll from D and it took 11 months. They let me know it arrived to them in March and that it will be shipped soon, except it only shipped on July, and only after I sent them several "reminder" emails. Before people in the comments try to put the blame on me for not sending a reminder soon, please keep in mind that I acknowledged the email in March and confirmed everything and they keep stressing to not send them emails because they are busy, I’ve emailed once every month since. I’ve since switched to ACBJD and Ive been happy with communication and the dolls ordered. I imagine ACBJD gets the same amount of emails, but they dont berate their customers if they email more than once.

I regret when people wanted a D0llshe, but not deal with him, I always recommended D. I would warn people of ordering directly and instead go through D. They assured buyers they would be handling communication and all the efforts so they wouldnt worry, except they didn’t. A person that I’ve recommended D to, who surpassed 2 years, keeps messaging me for help because D wouldnt reply to their emails. She is respectful, sweet and a timid person, not a Karen. This person, emailed D without a reply so would email a week later, only to be told that their email would be pushed down to the bottom if emailed again. No response, so she goes to FB and IG, who both tell her to email because they arent the person running orders. Finally got a response that they would get their refund, after D0llshe sends D's payment, but minus the PP fees. 3 months later and theres no refund, only a promise of them getting it later. Why is the customer missing out on fees when they have no doll? Customer emails d0llshe and he says he cant offer refund, because they didn’t order through them, which is understandable, but when all options are out for a customer, do you blame them for chargebacks?

If anyone files a chargeback, D will be blacklisting them from every company they rep, as in blacklisting you from buying direct from those companies. I urge everyone who has negative experiences with D to email the companies they rep instead of venting on confession blogs, and writing your experiences on social media. Make it count and send letters to the companies they represent, and please provide proof because they will try to make you out to be a liar.

Speaking of, they made vague posts on cl0ver singing for charging paypal fees, and that they offer guarantees as an official dealer, except when offering refunds, to non delivered products I might add, they are keeping the fees, and offered no help with d0llshe, even before they ended their dealership with them. Someone on DOA was told to not email them unless the wait time surpassed 1.5 years. They are even so petty that they post screenshots with the full name and address (dox) of the customer on purpose and then delete it out a day later as if they just realized their "mistake".

Before you try to make excuses for them about the fires, keep in mind, I am dealing with a business. The lower price negotiation with the DOA sale, I am in no way obligated to give them a pass or treat them as a friend when they made it clear that our relationship is strictly business. Their issues, are not my issues. D0lk got dragged for not shipping in time, others, including artisans, got dragged for being so late with communication and sending back refunds for cancelled orders. Why does D get to be exempt?

The supporters are the worst part of this, because of instead of being honest so D can improve, they support them for being "real". For example, look how micemage words it, to make it seem like this criticism is from one person, when there are people on addicts who didn’t have good experience. Check the bjd dealers tag here, you will see the supporters in the comments going off on any and all criticism of D. Some have sane comments, but the majority are cult like and try to identify the person venting as if it’s one person. Addicts deletes threads with criticism asking people to instead direct it to their feedback group; which lets be honest, no one is going to do because its "not that bad", and most dont want to join a new group, which is mostly dead.

This is my first and last confession on D, I’ve emailed each company they rep and told them my experience as well as contacting the 3 month wait company, with screenshots of my order, how they handled it, and the excuse they used to put blame on the company for being so late (package arrived march to D, 4 months to be shipped is on D, not the company). I’m not using company or order details because I know they are petty enough to try to identify me and publicly shame me like they have to others. This and the threat of suing is why not many people like to go public with their experience. They just keep feedback neutral, move on and never deal with again.

~Anonymous

6. Listen, I can't take you seriously in regards to BJD!vas because you're posting on a confession blog. If you were serious, you would have posted in buyer beware groups, DoA reviews or the board to get things resolved, or you would have made a complaint to the BBB. And your language makes you come off more as someone with an agenda rather than someone who is trying to warn people. If shipping is the issue, stop buying with standard shipping and pay the extra price for express shipping. I saw one of you complain that it sat with them for 20 days; that's probably because you're not the only one and they more than likely have a queue to check and then ship out. Do mistakes happen? Yes, because we're human. I've been in this hobby for a few years now and it seems like most people know you're going to have to wait, sometimes even outside the expected wait time. And shipping something as big as a doll is a timely endeavor. I shouldn't have to say that.

My point is simply to stop complaining on an confession board and either take it to the places previously mentioned. Posting here behind the anonymous mask makes you sound like a petulant child who didn't get their way right away.

~Anonymous

7.My only issue with BJD Divaz is how I never get any updates. Every email, they tell me to join their facebook page for status updates. I dont have a FB and I dont want to create one. I bought my doll through their website, updates should be posted on their website, or they could send me an email. That isnt asking much.

~Anonymous

8. Since there seems to be a lot of either "completely negative everything sucks" or "everything was sunshine and rainbows" confessions about bjd!vaz I thought I'd chime in with a neutral review.

PROS

-They were always polite and professional in their emails, and gave me very detailed answers to my questions.

-I got exactly what I ordered, so no mix ups or missing parts or anything like that.

-I think them being forthcoming about personal issues (only one person on staff, illness, the flooding isue etc.) on social media is good, since it keeps customers updated as to why there might be delays.

-If you live in the US their shipping is very reasonable.

CONS

-Reply times were varied. Sometimes it could take over a week, sometimes a couple hours.

-My order took about 10mo which, when comparing to other people who ordered through the same company around the same time, was about 3x as long as if I bought it direct and 2x as long if I had gone through a different dealer. I get some of the waiting time is out of their control, but it was kind of ridiculous.

-They dont necessarily ship the same day they send you a tracking number. I wish they said something like, "Here's your tracking number, our pickup is Xday so it should start moving after that" just so I could be aware.

All in all no major complaints. I got my doll and all that. Their lone employee is clearly overwhelmed. I hope they hire another person, if only to give the one a break.

Truthfully, I most likely won't buy through them again. I'd rather pay the international shipping and go direct, than deal with the extensive wait time. I'd still recommend them to someone looking for a very long layaway, though. I paid in full, but if I had a 12mo layaway I would've never known they weren't ready to ship my doll until month 10.

~Anonymous

#BJD #ABJD #BJD Confessions #TrueBJDConfessions #BJD Dealers

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nick-thecreator · 3 years

Text

Aftermath Revival: Human AU Part 3

(This is a flashback btw, there will be a lot of flashback chapters since Salvatore is explaining himself. Also, even though this is a full flashback, Sal is telling the story in a way that won't get the shit beaten out of him [Even though he doesn't really need to change it cause it was technically all Mother Miranda] and so it'll be shorter. He ain't sitting there, telling a half a year long story)

WARNING! Death; Blood; Child Death

Part 2 is right HERE

Part 1 is right HERE

The year was 1974, right in the middle of winter, and Salvatore had returned to the village after being sent out by his uncle for some medical/surgical training at a hospital nearby. A car ride after getting off of the train, and he was dog tired, but he had to get to his uncle first. He carried his bags to his house, unlocking the door, and placed his bags inside, before quickly shutting the door, dashing over to the clinic. He opened the door to the clinic, looking around to see if his uncle was around. Nobody was in there at the time, and a note had been left on top of his desk. He picked it up, putting on his reading glasses so he could read his uncle’s handwriting.

It read, ‘Hey Sal, I had to meet up with Miranda for an important meeting, so sorry for not being there. Remember to see your father and family sometime today. Also, go to the church at 7pm today, okay? She wants to talk to you.

Regards, Uncle Florin

Ps. Remember what we’ve discussed before, about your “future position”, it’ll apply today.’

He dropped the paper in shock. He had known this day would come, but never now. Maybe he wasn’t as prepared as he thought he was. He placed his hand on his mouth, feeling some vomit come up his throat. He swallowed it back down, then tried to calm himself down with some deep breaths. He sighed, picking up the piece of paper. He folded it up, placing it into his pocket. He looked around the clinic again, going over to a shelf near the desk. He reached up to the tallest shelf and grabbed a briefcase. Pulling it down, he realized how heavy the contents really were. He placed the briefcase onto the desk, opening it. Inside was one of Miranda’s “bibles”, a med-kit, a bottle of what he assumed was rubbing alcohol, based on the smell, and a pastor uniform. He pulled out the uniform. It still had the blood stain from when he was 17 and had to work as a pastor for 6 months, having to work with animals a lot.

He looked at his watch. 6:35pm. Dammit. The train had gotten to the station incredibly late, and the man who had driven him had stopped for gas and a weirdly long bathroom trip. The church was around a 20 minute walk away. He gulped, looking out the window as he placed the uniform down. The clinic was a ways away from the rest of the village, but he could still hear the activity of the village through the trees and gardens in between them. He stood away from the window, removing his clothes to put on the uniform. He considered washing himself off first, but he just settled with some of the herbs in his uncle’s drawer as cologne. He threw on his uniform, straightening it out so he’d look less like he had been traveling for around 4 hours. He put back on his fur-lined coat to keep warm, putting the rest of his clothes into an empty box, placing the box on his desk’s chair. He closed the briefcase, picking it up before locking up and leaving the clinic.

While walking there, he had to pass through the town. He was stopped a few times by different villagers, asking him how the hospital experience had been, or just what the hospital was like. Many of them had never even left the village before, nevermind going to a full fledged hospital. He kindly answered their questions with his regular doctor-esc demeanor. Sometimes he was stopped for a bit longer than just a couple questions, but he would quickly get back on track. The longest he had stopped was for a group of kids who ran by, with a few recognizing him. They asked where he had been, and what the hospital was like. He tried to keep going, but they had surrounded him before he could. It took their parents, who were slightly behind them, to pull them away so he could keep going. Before he was fully out of the village, he ran into a few more kids from the group, including a small girl with a bride doll. She was only a bit bigger than the doll, but seemed determined to bring it with her. They made eye contact, him waving at her.

“You need help with that?” He asked.

“No thank you mister,” She replied, putting the doll over her shoulder before walking off with the rest of the group, seeming to, on purposely, stay behind the group a little. He just smiled at her before resuming his walk.

After a bit more walking, he finally reached the church. Looking down at his watch, it read ‘7:02’. Dammit. He formed his excuse in his head as knocked on the front door. Before he could land the last knock, the door was opened by Miranda. He smiled at her, before seeing her deadpan expression. Behind her stood one of her maids, a large case in her hands.

“Hello Mother Mi-”

“What took you so long?” She asked, interrupting him.

“The train was late, the driver had to stop, and the villagers-”

“Nevermind. You’re here. That’s what matters. Come in.” She stood to the side as he stepped into the church. He looked around the room, noticing that, besides him, Miranda, and the maid, the room was empty of people.

“Hey, where is everyone-”

“That doesn’t matter. Follow me.” She gestured to him and the maid to follow her, walking over to one of the hallways. He quickly followed, the maid walking beside him. While walking, she turned down another hallway that went downstairs. He had been in the church before, almost all over it, except underneath the church. He had almost gone down there once, but he was dragged out by Miranda and brought back to his dad, who later scolded him. He hesitated at the top of the stairs, the maid stopping beside him.

“Doctor, are you okay?” The maid asked. Miranda heard her, turning around to face him.

“Come on Moreau, don’t waste my time,” She commanded sternly. He jumped a bit at her tone, quickly walking down the stairs and following her. She turned on her heels and continued to walk down the hallway to an operating room. Outside of the room stood Florin. When he saw Salvatore, he smiled at his nephew.

“Hey Sal, how was the hospital?” He asked, leaning on the wall.

“It went well-”

“That doesn’t matter now. Ready?” Miranda asked Florin. He rolled his eyes at her interruption.

“Yeah yeah, you have the case Sal?” Salvatore nodded, holding up the briefcase. “Everything still in it?” Salvatore nodded again. “Alright, we’re ready.”

“Good, the patient is in here. Do you need him?” She gestured to Florin.

“No, I should be good.”

“Alright, come in when you’re ready.” She opened the door, closing it on him before he could step in. His uncle placed a hand on his shoulder before he could open the door again.

“Sal?”

“Yeah?”

“You know what you’re getting into?”

“Well, we’ve gone over it plenty of times, so, I’d assume so.”

“No, are you SURE SURE? No assumptions here, you know that.” Salvatore was surprised by his uncle’s tone. He had never been so upfront before.

“Yeah, what’s with the talk? You’ve been preparing me for my whole life, I can handle it-” Florin pulled Salvatore in for a hug.

“Good luck kid…” Salvatore hugged him back, kind of confused.

“Thanks man.” He heard a sniffle from his uncle. “What’s wrong-”

“You should know. We’ve talked about this. After this-” He pulled away from Salvatore, leaving his hand on his shoulder, a few tears in his eyes. “-I won’t be needed.” It finally clicked in his head. He had been told something similar in the past, but he had never considered the worst.

“What? Wait, why!?” He asked, now confused and upset.

“That doesn’t matter now, you’ll find out later.” Florin smiled. “I love you Sal. Never forget that.” He patted his shoulder, gesturing to the briefcase. “It’s in your hands now. Good luck.” Salvatore was about to cry, wanting to stop everything before it even began. However, he knew how important this day was. The day he would take on a village tradition. So he sucked it up, wiped away the tears he had, and nodded, assuring that he was ready. Florin nodded back, smiling.

“Thanks Uncle Florin.” He smiled before opening the door, stepping in. He looked around the operating room. It was faintly lit, a large table in the middle of the room with the patient placed on it. Small tables were around the larger one, tools laid out neatly on them. He looked up to Miranda, who was standing on the other side of the table. She had changed attire in the time that he was talking to Florin. Beside her was a small table with a jar on top of it. The jar contained some black thing floating in a somewhat dirty liquid. That must have been that “Cadou”, labeled as such.

“Come closer, we have work to start,” She stated. He walked a bit closer, his eyes looking down to the patient. His eyes went wide when he saw the patient. They seemed to be a girl in their early teens, sedated by an IV that was running a bluish tinted fluid into her arm.

“Um… Mother-”

“No questions now. We must start before the effects wear off-”

“Who is this?” He asked. She grabbed a journal, holding it so she could read it.

“This is Bernadette. She is 13 years old, and-”

“I was never told that I’d be working on a child,” He interrupted. She looked up, clearly irritated.

“You were told that you’d have to work with villagers. Ages were never specified.” She looked back down at the book. “We will be placing the Cadou in the-”

“Why are we testing on a CHILD?” He asked, in semi-shock. “This is unethical-”

“IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER HOW OLD SHE IS!” She screeched at him, her face going red. He jumped back in shock, before trying to stand his ground again.

“Still. Why a child? Out of anyone?” She clenched the journal.

“So-” She harshly closed the book. “You don’t want to do this then?”

“Not on a child, no. I was told that we would be using adults only, never kids.”

“And why do you give a shit?”

“You know that people have died in these surgeries before. Why would someone want to risk a child’s life like this? And the child of a leading family for fucks sake! And even if she did live, she could become a lycan! Or worse, if there even is worse…” She sighed, walking around the table, getting up in Salvatore’s face.

“You think you have a choice in this?” She asked firmly, using her powers to wrap a mold vine around his neck. “Because you don’t.” He lifted him up a bit, lifting herself up to stand above him. The vine choked him slightly, but not enough to cut off enough air to make him pass out. “YOU work for ME, and will do as I say.” She got closer to his face. “Your cooperation can save you a lot of hardship, but a lack of such will because only more heartache on your end, and trust me, you’ll be alive to experience EVERY. FUCKING. SECOND of it.” She basically spat those words at him as he stared up at her in fear. “So, have you changed your mind?” He quickly nodded, in fear for his life. “Good.” She dropped him back on the floor, him almost falling over from the force of the fall. She lowered herself down slowly, going back to the other side of the table. “If an outburst like that happens again, I won’t be as forgiving. So, for now, just this once, let’s put this under the rug.” He nodded again. “Anyway-” She picked up the journal again. “We will be placing the Cadou in the chest cavity, near the heart. She has already been undressed and cleaned for surgery. Ready to begin.” She looked back up at him, glaring at him.

“Um- Yes… yes,” He replied, looking down at Bernadette.

“Alright then, there are some gloves, a mask, and a sterile uniform over there.” She pointed over to a chair in the corner, a surgeon’s uniform, neatly folded on the seat. He went over to it, picking up the uniform. He looked back over to her as she pointed to a side room. He just went in, putting on the uniform, and stepped out, placing his pastor uniform and the briefcase on the corner seat. He walked back over to the operating table, putting on the gloves and mask that were placed on one of the smaller tables. His neck started to feel like it was burning, but he didn’t want to make her even more mad, so he didn’t complain. He moved the light over the patient so he could see what he was doing better. She was naked for the most part, besides a towel covering up her lower half. He was used to working on women, so the sight of breasts didn’t bother him. She had dotted lines across her chest, marking where to cut. Miranda placed a diagram of what to do on a stand next to her so it faced Salvatore. She then tested to see if she would awaken from pain. She did this by using one of her mold vines to smack her across the face. She then used a pointed vine to stab her in the shoulder. Bernadette didn’t even flinch, being in such a deep sleep. Miranda looked back up at Salvatore. “Well, Doctor, begin.” Salvatore gulped, picking up a scalpel, trying to get into the motions as he held the scalpel shakily. The scalpel slowly stopped shaking, being absolutely still before moving close to her chest. Miranda watched over his shoulder, some vines reaching around the table, ready to hand him tools when he needed them.

The surgery lasted around 5 hours, mainly because it went from the insertion of the Cadou, to trying to save her from it. It was eating at her body, so they rushed to remove it before it could do any major damage. However, it had already taken a toll before they could fully remove it, as it had clung to her heart and started to eat at it. Salvatore had to remove her heart to even attempt to remove the Cadou, so Miranda tried to replace it with some mold. Unfortunately, the mold replica didn’t work, so Bernadette eventually died of blood loss. Once they knew she was beyond saving and brain-dead, they stood over her body, Miranda being disappointed in the turnout. Salvatore, however, was incredibly distraught. He could feel tears forming in his eyes as he looked back up at Miranda. She looked up at him as well.

“Don’t blame yourself, the Cadou has different reactions to different people. You did well this time. Just keep it to yourself next time,” She told him, walking away from the table to the sink, removing her gloves and washing her hands. He just stood there in silence, looking down at his own hands. He could even believe what he had just done. Once she was down washing her hands, he went over to the same sink, removing her blood-stained gloves before washing the blood off of his hands and face, since some had spurted during surgery. When washing his face, he could feel a few tears escape from his eyes. He couldn’t tell if it was from what had happened, or from the soap that had accidentally fallen into her eyes. He didn’t feel that water would be enough to get her blood off of his face. Once done, he turned to the chair in the corner, picking up the pastor uniform and the briefcase. He went into the side room as Miranda started to disinfect the tools before disposing of the body.

He locked the door of the side room before starting to take off the uniform, putting on the pastor uniform. While doing so, he brushed his neck with the fabric, making his neck sting. He looked in the mirror, seeing that some cuts we left on his neck after Miranda’s vine had been around his neck. He opened the briefcase, taking out the med-kit and the rubbing alcohol. He started to apply the rubbing alcohol to his cuts, flinching a bit at the sting. He was able to wrap his neck with a bandage, realizing that the briefcase was less for any patient, and more so for himself. He sighed after doing so, putting the stuff back into the briefcase. He stepped out of the side room, the blood-stained surgeon’s uniform draped over his arm.

“Um, Mother Miranda?” She turned to him, almost done cleaning the large table, Bernadette nowhere to be seen.

“Yes?”

“Where should I put this?” He gestured to the clothes on his arm.

“You can just put them on that table there.” She pointed to one of the smaller tables next to the larger one, the tools having been put away. He placed them on the smaller table, then headed to the door. “Oh, Doctor?”

“Yes Mother?” He asked, just wanting to leave the church at this point.

“Will you inform the Beneviento family at some point this week of her death. Just say that she was killed by a bear, and that her body couldn’t have been retrieved.” His eyes went wide a bit. He had heard his uncle use the same excuse when it came to other deaths in the village. It was both nice and unnerving to find out what the true reason was. It did make sense, considering how deep in the woods the village was and the abundance of ways to get lost and die out here. He just nodded as he opened the door, quickly stepping out of the room. He quickly walked down the hallways, stepping out of the church before sliding down the closed door, starting to cry. He loathed the idea of having to tell a family that their child had died, nevermind having to lie about the cause. He hadn’t seen his uncle either, knowing the worst, but not being able to fully face it after what had happened. He put his face in his hands, feeling tears stream down his face...

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gagmebucky · 3 years

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FUCK q im so sad and angry FHSK YOU DONT HAVE TO READ THIS SUPER LONG ANNOYING RANT YOU JUST MAKE ME FEEL SAfe

OKAY SO I WORK AT A HOSPITAL and I’m going into my sophomore year of college and I wanted to get some experience in a summer job and I just do registration and I had over 20 hours of training but it was so half assed I barely learned anything!! Which is ridiculous bc there’s so many things to learn about insurances and I know literally nothing!! Whenever I have a question for the supervisors they basically tell me to figure it out myself and I’ve been doing that but last night I worked from 11PM-7AM (i just got home UGH) and it was my first shift ever at the front desk and I WAS NEVER TRAINED FOR THE FRONT DESK SO I WAS SHITTING MYSELF but it went surprisingly well?? Like there wasn’t anything too difficult to handle and i was so excited to go home BUT THEN AT 6:55 LITERALLY FIVE FUCKING MINUTES BEFORE I HAD TO CLOCK OUT THIS NURSE (HIS NAME IS FUCKING JOHN) STARTS SCREAMING AT ME

And at this point I’m so sleep deprived and confused I’m kind of just staring at him and he keeps repeating the same thing til I process it and I said sorry like 5-6 times?? BUT HE KEPT YELLING AT ME??????

JOHN was mad bc there was a patient in the waiting room who was waiting for 13 minutes and I didn’t tell him that someone was there which I agree is my fault BUT!!!!!!! John was there when I checked him in!! And in the very minimal training I had we were told to not bother the nurses unless a patient is having chest pain or difficulty breathing bc we don’t want to rush the nurses and they’ll get to it on their own time,, and John was sitting there when I checked the patient in but after I put the hospital bracelet on and everything, John left to get breakfast??? 8 of the 13 minutes the patient spent waiting was because JOHN LEFT TO GET A BAGEL - So I thought that he know there was a patient waiting but just wasn’t prioritizing him, then when he came back he was setting up his computers and equipment and I didn’t want to tell him to hurry up

But then he stomps over to me and takes his mask off and gets in my face?? Which is gross?? And he starts lecturing me about how my job is to tell him when patients are there like!!! YOUR JOB IS TO EXAMINE THE PATIENTS?? AND NOT LEAVE TO GET A BAGEL WHEN PATIENTS ARE WAITING??

And the worst part is!! I have only been working for two weeks and this is the fourth time I’ve been screamed at by a nurse and it’s ridiculous?? They doctors and nurses arent my boss and I get I have to respect them but it’s so gross they constantly yell at me and my coworkers omg. I wanted to be a nurse but now thinking about it makes me feel gross M I HATE PEOPLE OMG i spent the whole car ride crying and i want to quit but i want this job and im conflicted!! Im extremely sensitive and someone slightly raising their voice at me sends me over the edge!!!!!

OH MY GODDDDD THIS SOUNDS SO STRESSFUL IM :( FOR YOU AND 😡🔪 @ FUCKING JOHN LITERALLY WHAT A BITCH ASS PRICK YOURE IN A FIELD PREDICATED ON THE CARE OF OTHERS AND THAT DICKWAD CANT EVEN SHOW U BASIC HUMAN DECENCY??? SEND HIM TO JAIL.. EXECUTION 😡🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

and i fucking FEEL u on the being sensitive part 😭😭 esp when u treat ppl w decency and respect only to have others unnecessarily get nasty with you as if that’ll even be remotely effective!!!!! it does the exact opposite and makes u want to just stop altogether or purposely fuck things up to spite them (me 😭🕴)

but!! if it makes you feel better, something ive noticed is that it does improve over time and although initially it might bother you, you’ll get good at brushing it off and being secure in your own duties and stuff

im so sorry you had to deal w that fucking ASSHOLE i hope he trips and falls and you won’t ever have to work w him again

#my sensitivity tho is mostly … temper now #like i just get v violent and whatnot but i am calming it DOWN bc no one should get the satisfaction out of taking you out of character #but… if you can you should interrupt him next time and tell him to stop yelling and being disrespectful #and if he DOESNT and tells someone else you can just be like ‘he was acting erratic and malicious’ and #it doesn’t matter w/e he was mad about because he’s still supposed to conduct himself in a professional manner #that’s if you can/the circumstances are right/if you feel you can/etc #q answers #I’ll POSION him for you tho babes #I’ll push him down the stairs #I’ll walk behind him and keep stepping on the back of his shoes #and when he’s like WOULD YOU STOP?!?!? 😡🤬🤬#I will pants him and steal his wallet #and we will go to a restaurant of your choosing 🥰

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ussjellyfish · 3 years

Text

Felix’s birth story

So I never wrote this out after he was born, or last year, and this year, my little gentleman is 2, and it seems like the time to tell it.

So, Felix’s birth story under the cut. (unmedicated vaginal delivery, really almost boring).

Felix’s due date was January 14th, and he was born on January 14th. I went for a walk the night before, and it was cold, really cold (-25C ish), and really beautiful and icy.

After midnight I had contractions, and I don’t think I could have said what a contraction was before I had them, but when I had them, it was obvious. (so that was nice!)

And they didn’t hurt at first, they were kind of consuming and tight and I couldn’t sleep through them. I did try to sleep. I lay there in the dark and listened to Drastic Measures (Star Trek Discovery) on audiobook because I had that on my phone and it didn’t take any effort.

My cats came and slept on me and it was actually kind of nice (but weird, intimidating because at some point it was going to hurt and be more intense and I wasn’t quite ready and when do you actually go to the hospital (I didn’t want to go early and be bored).

My water broke at around 430am, and it was weirdly just like they tell you. A pop kind of and gush, like I’d suddenly peed my pants without feeling like peeing.

I got up, I took off my pajamas, I put towels on my bed and then I couldn’t sleep anymore. I hadn’t bothered to time anything, I hadn’t looked at my phone, and I remember leaning on his crib, dancing around a little because they were pretty tight and wondering if I should use the contraction timer (which I hadn’t even looked at but I did have on my phone).

So I did that for about half an hour and I remember staring at the times thinking “these are too close together, I should wait until they are further apart and then go” They’d said around 5 minutes apart, you could head in.

Mine were three minutes or less apart then, and they lasted almost a minute. They hurt, a little, like my whole belly was tightening up and almost bouncing down? Very weird. Truly a unique experience.

So I woke up my mom after 5 and told her to walk the dog. She was staying with me with her rather annoying dog and my mom’s rather annoying so I wasn’t thrilled. We already had the car seat in the car and I had a bag (which included my star trek robe, always a good choice).

Mom was kind of skeptical, I guess because I wasn’t in that much pain. It did hurt, now, like the worst menstrual cramps I’d ever had and kind of bigger (I suppose my uterus was a lot bigger). It was cold and my mom was complaining about my car (I needed the brakes fixed) and we listened to classical music on the radio because she was grumpy.

It was after 6 when we got to the hospital, and we walked in and I remember in the parking lot was the first contraction I couldn’t walk through. I just stood there because it really hurt and if I was still, it was fine. And then you fill out paperwork and they offered me a wheelchair, which I didn’t want. Then they send me into a room to get checked and I took my clothes off and I was so wet, fluid was leaking and it just keep leaking and I was sweaty and they put a monitor on me and made me sit on the bed

Which sucked. Holding still sucked, sitting sucked and then they did an internal exam which was really uncomfortable and one of the women from my labor class had been sent home because she wasn’t in labor enough, and I was worried, because going home sounded so annoying.

I was at 8 centimeters, so I did not have to go home and the stupid monitor said Felix was fine. (stupid monitor). So we walked to the delivery room, which had purple lights, and I wanted to take a bath SO much and they wouldn’t let me because of the monitor. (my monitor hatred is strong).

My doula came, and she was awesome awesome. I hadn’t met her before and I didn’t get the one I thought I’d have because I was apparently so close they sent the faster one who lived closer. We changed positions a lot and wandered around and I remember basically peeing on the floor because I didn’t have to pee that much and they also weren’t that keen on mme going to the toilet. I don’t know why. They just put towels on the floor and it was fine.

My doctor was a 2nd year resident, and we were his second continuity of care delivery (where he’d been my prenatal too). He’s very sweet and enthusiastic. The teaching doc we got is this very calm Asian woman with small hands and really pretty hair. She came in around 8 because then I could push.

They made me lie down, which was annoying. They were worried about Felix being too big because I had gestational diabetes (mild and a huge point of contention because they just made everything hell).

I had to hold my legs and pushing is just the strangest movement because it’s muscles you usually don’t use. The light was bright over the bed and I did swear a few times, or yell, because it hurt and it was more just...frustrating and exhausting because it hurt and then it would still hurt and I did the right things but he would get closer and then go back.

I remember them wanting me to push with every contraction and there was one where I just took a break. Screw you guys.

I never really felt the bearing down they talk about. I thought I’d hit somewhere when I wanted to push and I didn’t. My hand hurt because the stupid IV was doing something. I had to hold on to my legs and that was annoying.

They decided they needed to do an episiotomy, and I’m still kind of bitter about this because we didn’t try changing positions (my doula did ask I was just not in the position to argue or advocate).

That part is really strange. I didn’t have any fight. I was tired, sure, but I was really agreeable. I’m told this is hormones too.

The umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck and kind of short, so I’d push him down and it would pull him back up. So they numbed me up (getting the needles in for that hurt) and my teaching doc did the cutting and then I pushed once and he just fell out.

He was just there, and damn, not being pregnant anymore feels really great. Kind of empty, but you’re so bendy-flexible- not under any tension anymore. It’s great.

And the placenta was nothing. It just kind of squelched out. It did look cool.

He had chubby arms and a chubby face and he was totally fine. I held him for a bit, he was not interested in eating, so they weighed him and gave him a hat and a heel poke and they stiched up the episiotomy.

That hurt, and my student doc was doing the stitches and he went outside the anesthetic for a few stitches and damn. I remember saying fuck a few times. I also got to get up to pee and I had one nurse called Katie who had been there and two more had come in at the end and they didn’t want to let me up, but I stood up just fine.

My nurse Katie said I hadn’t had an epidural and I think that was rather rare because they were surprised I could just walk.

And I was tired, like I’d been running or swimming or climbing, something really full body exhausting, but it didn’t hurt really.

We moved to the other room and Felix and I watched CNN and eventually we worked out how to get the boob in his mouth (more of it than I thought had to go in there).

and it was really boring. My mom stayed and my dad came and...it was still boring. Felix was very cute and cuddly and he wanted boob and snuggles and I remember changing his diapers and holding him (those funny sticky black new baby diapers) and he just wanted to be held all the time, and we atched pointless television because they won’t just let you go home.

I got ibuprofen and paracetemol and pancakes. I had pancakes right after he was born because I was so hungry.

And chocolate pudding and they were terrible pancakes but, I was hungry.

They made me pee in a weird upside down hat thing that went on the toilet a few times and then they left me alone.

It was very alone. I remember holding him in the bath in his blanket because I wanted a bath but I didn’t want him to get lonely and cry so I couldn’t grab him.

I was so sleep deprived and they don’t want you hold him in bed and fall asleep so he went down and back and down and back and I did eventually just give up and hold him and sleep.

He was also a perfect size. We went home the next day, which was too long in the hospital, especially after I got released at 1pm and he didn’t get out until 7pm because he was a little yellow. (he bounced back fine, but was a little yellow at first)

Then we went home, and watched Discovery and the Witcher and Korean zombie dramas and I ate so much chocolate peanut butter pretzels. My Doula came to visit, and we talked and I remember thinking kind of in a shellshocked way that I was really annoyed they made me push on my back and I couldn’t do anything about it.

It’s actually not a good position! It goes against the spine and I had my feet in stirrups and I had a nasty bruise on my hand from my IV (that I also didn’t need, they just ran saline the whole time) and my pinkie finger was all tingly (that took weeks to get back to normal).

And all the “you just had a baby” advice is totally crap if you’re single. Let someone else...do the dishes cook for you do...

No, you do ALL the things and baby, and change diapers in the middle of the night and feed them (constantly, it’s so constant).

And take the kiddo to get his blood checked when it’s -35C outside. (poor little guy, he was fine, didn’t even need the light jacket). And get weighed (he was getting plenty of milk and chubbed up fast).

But newborns have no personality. (in my opinion They don’t even really ‘like’ you. You feed them and you make them comfortable and they sleep, and sleep, and snuggle.

Star Trek got me through a lot those first couple months until he was big enough to know I was there (like actually know me)

#birth story #funny how I've wanted to write this for 2 years and did finally #hospital birth #personal

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thewildomega · 4 years

Text

Doughnut of lies Ch. 6

It had taken them a week to get back to Toto Land and during that time y/n had yet to wake up. Marco had told them that even with him healing her her body was exhausted. She had gotten an infection from her wounds but they had caught it early. He rarely left her bedside, only checking on his own ship that had been sailing beside Whitebeard's back to his home or to take a shower. His back ached where he had been sleeping in the chair but he wouldn't leave her, he couldn't. Everyone had been in shock when he they had docked, the famous Moby Dick a sight to see. Quickly ordering the doctors to take her to the hospital wing of the palace he had went to follow when he heard his mother yelling his name.

"KATAKURI WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?! WHY IS HE HERE?! WHY..."

Quickly stepping forward to the young man's defense he looked to the woman and crossed his arms over his chest. "Linlin, you and I have much to discuss." he said. Having a stare down for a moment he felt his lip lift into a snarl and knew he had won.

"FINE! KATAKURI YOU AND I WILL SPEAK LATER!"

"Yes mama." he nodded before following the servants carrying his love on the stretcher.

"I am coming with you Charlotte, I will need to tell your doctors of her condition." Marco said, jogging up beside the tall male and seeing him simply nod.

......................

An hour later after they had gotten y/n into a private room and got her hooked back up to an IV line he had taken his seat back by her bedside. Her face looked better than it had days prior, her eye no longer swollen shut and the deep cut on her lip and cheek healing well. The bruises were turning to a light purple and fading into green in some places. She still looked incredibly fragile to him though, when he stroked her hand or cheek he was always extra careful, not wanting to cause her anymore pain. He had been in the middle of attempting a small nap while holding her small hand when he heard a knocking on the door. "Come in." Watching it open he saw Brulee there and relaxed some, not even realizing he had tensed up.

"Hey. I brought you some doughnuts." She told him, holding up the basket as she closed the door to give them privacy.

Looking to the basket he sighed, "Thank you, but I am not hungry."

WHAT?! He didn't want doughnuts?! She was shocked at first, or at least until her eyes fell to her friend and then she knew why. She looked horrible. The only part of her that didn't look like it was covered in bandages was her face and head, then from her shoulders down was covered in a sheet. "What happened to her?" she asked, sitting the basket on the table in case he changed his mind.

Taking a deep breath he watched as his sister went about stroking y/n's hair. "From what I can gather her ship was attacked by some Pirates known as the Reaper Pirates. They killed all of her crew, destroyed her ship and took her. I do not know yet what there plans were, wither they planned to sell her or what. When I found her she..." Swallowing hard he closed his eyes for a moment, the image of her hanging in that room, covered in blood filling his mind. "...they had her chained up, they had been beating her, torturing her for days. She was barely alive, if it wasn't for Whitebeard's doctor, Marco, I doubt she would be alive now."

Moving to sit by him she furrowed her brows, "And what exactly does Whitebeard have to do with all of this?"

"He is her father."

Brulee's eyes went wide at that, never expecting those words to come out of his mouth.

Sitting there in silence for a moment he looked to his best friend and then down, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Closing her eyes and dropping her head Brulee felt guilt in her chest at how disappointed her brother sounded. "She begged me not to, she is my friend..."

"I am your brother."

"I know. I know I just... I wanted to, I tried convening her to tell you, even if it was just you but she wouldn't, she was afraid."

"Of me?" he asked, his brows knitting together at the thought.

"No. No brother she could never fear you, she never has. I think she feared change, she was so scared that if she told you, told anyone the truth that everyone would treat her differently." when he said nothing she bit her lip in thought before deciding to tell him the truth. "She loves you, you know that right. She has for a long time."

Meeting his sister's eyes he saw she was serious and looked to the omega for a moment before looking back to Brulee. "Then why would she lie to me? If she has loved me all this time then why wouldn't she tell me the truth, tell me what she was?"

"Well for one she thought you wouldn't' feel the same and if she did say anything it would ruin your friendship. Another reason is because she doesn't think she is worthy of your love." She told him and then let out a sigh when she saw him confused. "Before she left I found her in her room, packing. She was crying, that bitch I am guessing made you tell her that you would never want her and for y/n it was like her worst fear coming to life. I tried telling her that it wasn't true because you both obviously share the same feelings for one another..." She told him and saw him blush a little. "But she... she was so sure that Nebula was the perfect woman for you. That she would make you the perfect wife. Y/n, as tough and stubborn as she is on the outside, on the inside is a different story. She doesn't think she is pretty enough, smart enough, tall enough, the list goes on and on... She left because as much as she loves you she just wanted you to be happy. She thinks you deserve the best and in her mind that will never be her."

Thinking about what his sister just said he frowned. "How can she fell like she isn't enough for me when I am the one who is a monster..."

"You both are impossible!" she snapped. Looking to him she softened her eyes. "Y/n loves you, all of you. She knows what is under your scarf and she doesn't care. In fact she has told me on more than one occasion after too many drinks that she thinks your teeth are hot."

His breath caught in his throat at that and he felt his face and neck heat up. Swallowing hard he heard his little sister giggle at how flustered he was. Seeing her stand he looked up to her.

"There is something else, something else that has been holding her back from telling you the truth but I can't tell you what it is..." She told him. Seeing him give her a small glare she furrowed her brows and placed her hand on his shoulder. "I can't big brother, it's not my place. I have told you as much as I can but the both of you need to talk once she wakes up." Brulee told him with a firm look.

Sighing he nodded.

"I love you, if you need anything let me know." she said and heard him repeat her first words before she made her leave.

Sitting alone with her he scooted to the edge of his chair and leaned over her some, gently stroking her face and hair. "I need you to wake up y/n. I need you to wake up so I can prove to you how perfect you truly are."

..............................

Pain, that was the first thing you felt, pain, all over. It took you a few minutes to open your eyes, they seemed to be sealed shut. When you finally did get them open you were met with the sight of a dark room. Well a ceiling at least. Turning your head you looked over the room and quickly realized where you were. How the hell had you gotten here? Closing your eyes again you thought back on the last thing you remembered and winced, that guy was beating the hell out of you. But wait... you remembered a voice, a deep soothing voice calling your name. Katakuri. Had he really saved you? But why? He hated you. Looking around the rest of the room you saw two empty chairs and the stand that was holding up your IV bag. You were alone. Well of course you were alone, it was night time, everyone else would be sleeping. Slowly and painstakingly sitting up you looked down to see you were in a simple gown, bandages wrapped around most parts of your body. Turning to the side so your legs hung over the large bed you let out a sigh and then regretted it when your ribs throbbed. At least you could breath normally without any pain.

You were confused on why you were here? Maybe Brulee had asked him to save you? Bringing your hand up to rub your face you froze, you necklace?! Where was your necklace? Oh no, that guy had ripped it off you but that means... you wouldn't be able to hide yourself. That means everyone would know, if they already didn't. No! Fuck! You were so screwed. Everyone would know you had lied, Big Mom would know you had lied. Oh God you were as good as dead. Maybe that's why you had been brought back, so she could kill you herself. Swallowing hard you thought of all their faces, all your friends. They would hate you, they wouldn't want anything to do with you. And then there was Katakuri... what would he say? All of a sudden your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. Snapping your eyes to the window you made a quick decision. If you were going to die it wasn't going to be here. You wouldn't spend your last moments in some hospital room.

Practically ripping out the IV in your arm you eased off the bed, holding yourself up when it felt like your legs would fall out from under you. Once you got your balance you walked to the window and looked out to see you were facing the west side of the island. If you could make it to the fishing docks you may be able to swipe one of the smaller boats. Opening the window you looked down, you were on the first floor but there was still a good jump to the ground. Moving to sit on the ledge you saw a bush bellow, "Please don't be a rose bush." you mumbled, your voice cracking from little use and all the screaming. Jumping down you landed hard on the bush and rolled to the ground bellow with a muffled whimper, biting your lip when you wanted to cry out in pain and opening the cut there a little. Laying there for a few moments you looked up at the sky and the stars. Closing your eyes you got to your feet and looked around, making sure on one was there. Seeing the streets empty you made your way to the fishing docks.

.........................

He was only supposed to be gone an hour at most. A quick check in on things, a bite to eat, a shower and then back at her bedside. He had been in the middle of his shower when he heard a banging on the door and then it opening. He was about to kill whoever had decided to barge in on him until he heard Oven's voice. While he didn't much like him being in here as well, he was his triplet brother, he had seen him naked before. "What is...

"Y/n... she's gone." Oven spoke quickly, getting directly to the point.

"What do you mean she is gone?!" he asked, quickly getting out and grabbing the towel to dry off a little.

" I mean she is missing from her room, the nurse went in there to check on her and she said the bed was empty, her IV ripped out and the window was open." Oven explained while his brother quickly pulled on his pants, vest and scarf. "Do you think someone took her?"

"If someone did they will receive no mercy from me." he growled. "Go tell Brulee to check all the mirrors."

"Already done, Whitebeard has been informed as well..."

"Why was I the last to know?" he asked, giving his brother a hard look.

"Daifuku went and told him while I went looking for you. Thought if someone had taken her then it would be smart to get Whitebeard's men to keep an eye on the docks."

Humming he nodded, "Good point."

"Don't worry brother, we will find her."

............................

Being awoken to the news that his daughter was missing from her hospital bed was not ideal. Telling his men to keep an eye on the docks, he went to help look for her. As much as he hated it he didn't actually know her so instead he chose to think of what it was her mother would do if she was in this situation. From what Katakuri had told him about her she seemed much like Selena had been, kind, smart, funny and caring. Seeing a small trail going along the beach he lifted his chin as something told him to go that way. Walking down the trail he let the moon crescent moon light the path. When a group of small fishing boats came into view he spotted a small figure moving this and that onto one of the smaller boats. The light shinned off her blond hair and he felt a pressure in his chest as he took a deep breath and moved towards her. The closer he got he realized she was taking things off the boat, things she might not need like nets and such. He could tell she was still very weak, her body still not recovered form her injuries as her legs shook and she had trouble lifting some of the more heavier things. As she stumbled in the sand and a soft whimper met his ears he knit his brows, now close enough to notice the red seeping through several spots of her bandages. "They told me you were stubborn girl but they forgot to mention you were stupid as well."

Snapping your eyes to the owner of the deep voice you were shocked to see him standing there, of all people, your father. Recalling everything that had happened when you had finally found him, remembering all the things he had said to you you felt your heart clench and quickly looked back down, gathering up the nets that you had dropped when you fell to finish dragging them higher onto shore. "Sorry to be such a disappointment." you whispered just loud enough for him to hear. It didn't matter anyway you were pretty sure he was nothing but a hallucination, your head had started spinning a little while ago. You wouldn't be surprised if your mother soon showed up as well. You would prefer her, at least she had wanted you.

Frowning at her words he watched her drop the nets before she walked back to the small boat. When she had looked to him he had seen the haze in her eyes, the exhaustion. Seeing her lift a crate of water jugs into the boat, her chest heaving as she panted for air he moved over to her. "Do you have some kind of death wish? You know this little thing isn't going to last out there in those waters don't you?"

Swallowing hard you opened your eyes and moved over to grab the small crate of fruit and such you had gathered out of the other boats. "I'd rather die out there than get my soul ripped out by Big Mom." you said.

"I'd like to see her try and lay a hand on you." he scoffed. He and his former crew mate had already had a long chat and he had made it perfectly clear that if any harm ever came to his daughter he would bring down the whole damn island.

"Well I'm still leaving, no reason to stay." you told the figment of your imagination, bending over to try and lift the crate you let out a pained gasp as your chest was struck with a sharp pain.

Seeing her fall to her knees in the sand and her hand shoot to her chest he was by her in an instant. Kneeling beside her tiny frame he placed a large hand on her back, the other holding her her steady as she was overcome with coughs. Moving his hand to her head he placed a single finger on her forehead and sighed. "Ahh, foolish damn runt, you're burnin' up." he huffed.

Gritting your teeth to hide your agony you tried pushing him off and reaching for the crate again, "I'll be fine..."

"The hell ya will." Scooping her up into his hand he held her to him as he stood and started walking towards the island hospital. Feeling her trying to weakly wiggle out of his hold he held her to his chest, feeling her small fists hit at him and demand he let her go. "I see you got just as much fight in ya as your mother." he chuckled. "Maybe even a little more from me." he grinned softly.

Giving up you laid against his warm, hard chest, hearing his massive heart beating "Why the sudden change, thought there was no way some pathetic runt like me could be your child?" you asked, your eyes watering up at the memory of his hurtful words. "I don't want your treasure..or..or the fame that comes with being the child of Whitebeard I...I just wanted to meet you...I just wanted to meet my dad." you cried.

Feeling the blade of guilt stab his heart he sighed and looked down to her. "I'm sorry y/n. I truly am darling. I know I will never be able to take back the words I said to you, the hurt I caused you but if you will allow me I would like to be the father you deserve... I know I wasn't there when you needed me, when your mother needed me but had I known y/n.... I would have never let you, my daughter live like that, be alone."

Sniffling you nuzzled into his chest. Shutting your eyes you listened to his heart and felt it calm you a little, wondering if what they said about a parents heartbeat soothing their child to be true. "Did you love her?" you asked, your voice cracking.

Swallowing the knot in his throat he grinned softly, "I still do."

..............................

Running down the hall towards her room he threw the door open and looked inside to see Whitebeard sitting in the chair by her bed talking to y/n. There was a soft smile on his face as he turned to look to him. Looking to the female sitting in the bed he saw her tired eyes lift to his, the two of them only staring at each other.

Seeing the two looking at each other he hummed and stood. Stepping to her he leaned down to kiss her head, "I will be back tomorrow darling. Don't you go escaping again you hear me? You need to rest so you can heal." he told her.

Nodding you grinned "Yes si..." hearing him clear his throat and look to you with a raised brow you smiled a little. "Yes papa." you said and saw him give you a large smile before walking towards the door.

Stopping to look at the young alpha he narrowed his eyes a bit and raised his chin. "You have started to grow on me boy." glancing back towards his omega daughter for a moment before meeting the boy's crimson eyes he rose a brow, "Don't give me a reason to change my mind." he warned and saw the male remain as calm as ever. Huffing he grinned and smacked the boy's back on the way out, "Goodnight runt." he said.

"Goodnight." you said as he walked out the door. Being left alone with Katakuri you looked down at your lap, tugging at a loose strand on the blanket.

Shutting and locking the door then pulling the curtain close on the window he moved over to her. Seeing her looking down at her lap he grabbed the chair and moved it over as close as he could to the bed. Sitting down in it he stared at her for a time, her eyes never lifting to his. Pulling down his scarf he sighed, "You lied to me."

"You hit me." you countered.

Huffing he looked to her, "Is this how you want to do this?" When she didn't answer he clicked his tongue, "Fine. Yes I hit you, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, it...it wasn't me...well it was but she was making me... Nebula. She was using her devil fruit powers, stealing affection... stealing my affection for you." he said and saw her glance up to him before her eyes shot back down, "I hit you, I said horrible, cruel things to you, things I didn't mean and then I pushed you away and I am sorry. Believe me I made sure she paid dearly for the hurt she caused you." Noticing her biting her lip he grabbed her hands to keep them from fighting with the blanket. "Now it is your turn. You. Lied. To. me." he said with a slight growl to his voice.

Licking your lips you tasted blood from your busted lip, "I didn't lie I just hid the truth..." you said but snapped your mouth shut when you heard him growl deeply.

"For Twenty years Y/n. You kept the truth from me this whole time. And you know what makes it worse is that Brulee knows. You told my little sister who I know is a good friend of yours but we are supposed to be best friends. You know something about me that only a handful of people know, hell you are the only person I let sit with me when I eat but yet you kept this from me. Do you know how that makes me feel? Why? I want to know why." he spoke in a deep voice.

You knew he wasn't giving you an option not that you would keep it from him anymore anyway. He deserved the truth. "I was afraid that you would treat me differently, that it would ruin our friendship. You were the only person I had, I... I couldn't loose you too." you said, having to stop to force the lump in your throat down.

Furrowing his brows he moved closer to her, if it were possible. "You will never loose me y/n. Never." Curling his large finger under her chin he lifted her eyes to his and felt his heart hammer in his chest. "Y/n I love you. I always have." he told her and saw her eyes go wide before they filled with tears and she started shaking her head.

"No..no you can't..."

"I do. Don't you feel the same?" he asked, his heart aching at the thought that she might reject him.

"Yes. Yes of course I do. I love you so much Kata but... but you can't love me..." you cried, your heart clenching in your chest.

Standing and moving to sit on the bed with her he placed one hand on her arm while the other tired lifting her face to get her to look at him. "Yes I can, I love you y/n. You are so beautiful and smart and funny and kind and caring and you look at me like I'm normal, like I'm not some kind of monster. You make me so happy y/n and that's why I will only ever marry you."

Sobbing you looked to him and in that moment you wished you had died back on that ship because that would be far less painful than this. You knew as soon as he learned the truth about you, he would change his mind and then that would kill you.

"Say you will, say you will marry me, be my wife..." he said, looking into her teary blue eyes.

Closing your eyes you felt your heart shatter. "I..c..can't.." you choked out.

He felt as his heat sunk to his stomach. Grabbing her upper body he held her in front of him and looked down at her. "Why? Tell me why?! Give me a reason!" he roared.

Sobbing you looked down, the pain in your heart unbearable. "Be...because I'mmm b..broken..." you cried, tears flowing form your eyes like rivers.

Confused he breathed heavily and looked down at her for a few seconds, noticing how distraught she was. He had never seen her like this. "What... what do you mean?" he asked.

Forcing your blurry eyes up to him you sniffled and felt your lip quiver, "I.. I can't have children... I have nothing to offer you." you managed to say before you dropped your head again and shook with sobs.

He just sat there, the weight of her words crashing down on him. He could make out her apologizing to him through her crying. She sounded so crushed, so heartbroken. She couldn't have children? She thought she had nothing to offer him because of it? Broken, she had called herself broken. "How do you know this?" he asked, his voice low. Listening to her cracking voice explain to him that the medic that had stitched her up when she had gotten sliced open when they were children told her that she would probably never be able to bare pups because the knife had hit her womb he swallowed thickly. He remembered that day well, it had been the day after Brulee had been hurt because of him. He had went out to be alone, leaving his other siblings in charge of watching over Brulee and the other girls but Y/n had tried to go steal them something to eat. One of the merchants had pulled a knife and swiped at her, cutting her just above her pelvis. The wound was deep and had needed stitches. When he had gotten back to see not just Brulee laying on a makeshift cot wrapped in bandages but the girl he loved as well he had lost it...again. He had quickly found that merchant and covered the ground with his blood. But the man, the 'medic' that had stitched her up was nothing more than some small village person that proclaimed himself to be a doctor.

Shaking his head he lifted her eyes to his once again. Noticing now how dull they looked, like her very soul had been cried out. "Y/n look at me. Do you honestly think that your ability to bare my pups would change my decision? That it would make me not want to marry you? Sweetheart if we have children then we will love them and care for them but if we don't then I will love you just as much. Nothing will ever damper my love for you."

"I love you too Kit Kat."

Smiling he glanced down to her lips and grinned. "I am going to do something that I have been wanting to do for a very long time." he told her before pushing his lips to hers. He held himself back, as much as he hated to, she was still very injured and he didn't want to cause her any discomfort. Even if it was light he couldn't help the low purr that left his throat at feeling her lips on his. Threading his fingers through her hair he held her to him until he pulled away. Running the tip of his nose along hers and over her cheek he sighed, "Is that a yes then?" he asked in a low voice. "Will you be my wife?"

Smiling you kept your eyes closed but nodded, laying your forehead on his, "Yes." you replied, pushing your lips back to his.

#charlotte katakuri #one piece katakuri #Katakuri x reader #Katakuir fanfiction #Alpha Katakuri x omega reader #one piece #One Piece Fanfiction

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j0elmill3r · 4 years

Text

Choose Life; Part Two

Bucky Barnes x Daughter!Reader

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

[Part one]

Warnings; A shit ton of angst, swearing, shooting, angst, injuries, yelling, angst, no happy ending, replacement, abandonment, did I say angst? Bucky being a bit of a dick and a shitty dad, abuse? Child neglect?

A/N; There’s like a full blown reference to ‘Trainspotting’ in this, 10 points to anyone who finds it.

Word count; 2.7k

You had barely survived. If they had found you minutes later, you would be dead. The serum in your blood had kept you going for a few more hours than it would any other person, lucky you. For the first week, you were confined to your bed with all of the IV drips and other injections you were given. Bucky had visited you, trying to make conversation, which you had no intent whatsoever on joining in on. He said it himself, he wished they had left you in HYDRA, so that meant that he never wanted you. Your plan was that as soon as you could, you would get out of the compound and disappear from the grid all over again. But your plan was ruined when Bucky said they had installed brand new cameras so they could always keep an eye on you if no one was there when they were gone on missions. That pissed you off, you didn't need or want this. You didn't want or need any of this.

"Alright, we need to have this talk now. Otherwise, we'll spend the rest of our lives hating each other, and I don't want that," Bucky said. You were sitting in the common room, reading, surprisingly.

"We don't need to have any talk. You said everything you wanted when you told me how you really felt," You stood up from your spot on the couch and walked away, but Bucky grabbed your wrist gently. "If you wanna keep that hand, let me go," You warned him.

"Y/N, please, just sit the fuck down," Bucky begged. You shook your head and sat down. "Thank you,"

"So, what part do you want to talk about first? The part about you sending me back or the wishing you never found me part?" You asked him. Bucky sighed as he sat down on the couch in front of you.

"Neither of those. If we're gonna fix this relationship, we have to start all the way back at what you went through," He said. You scoffed and laughed.

"There is no 'relationship' between us to fix. You had your chance at that years ago," You told him. "And anyway, I know why you're doing this,"

"Because I care about you?" You sensed the weariness in his voice and you nodded.

"For someone with a skill set as big as yours, I wouldn't be surprised if lying wasn't in there. You're not doing this because you care, you're doing this because you're guilty," Bucky knew that you were right. He was guilty, so fucking guilty. He was guilty of choosing to be an Avenger over being there for his daughter, who had to figure out a new and scary life all by herself. He was guilty of not sitting down and addressing whatever issues you had, and not helping you with them. He was guilty, and he knew it. "And guess what, there's nothing you can say or do to change what happened,"

"But we move forward," Bucky said.

"Move fucking forward!?" You yelled. You shook in anger and tried to ignore the sting of tears in your eyes. "I can't move forward! I don't know whatever hallucinogenic drugs you're on, but you sure as hell better get off of them! How can we move forward after everything? Everything that has gone wrong with me has gone wrong because of you," You pointed at him angrily. "I asked you to talk about things with me, I tried to ask for help, but you didn't fucking care!"

"I did care!" He defended himself. You scoffed and laughed.

"You cared? If you cared, you would've asked me what was going on! You would have done what any dad would've done and talked through it, you would have gotten me help! I used to look at Peter Parker and Tony and I would be so, so fucking jealous!" You cried. You didn't even care that he could see that you were crying now.

"Why? Why were you jealous of them?" Bucky asked you carelessly. When you saw how Peter and Tony interacted, it made your heart hurt. You were in no way maliciously jealous, no, not like that. It was what you wanted from your dad, your dad that didn't give a damn about you. Peter and Tony spent more time with each other in a month than your dad ever did with you in 6 months. "I tried my hardest, Y/N. But effort goes both ways, kid!"

"I wanted a dad like that!" You yelled. "I wanted a dad that told me he was proud of me. I wanted a dad that talked to me other than the times he would tell me how much of a fuck up I was," You said.

"I never called you a fuck up, Y/N. It's called discipline," He said. You huffed out tiredly, you felt so defeated.

"You might be father, but you'll never be my dad," You said sadly. "You never were my dad anyway, you took a look at me and knew I was a lost cause. You clearly wasted your time, just choose a HYDRA base and then drop me off there," You finished.

"Y/N, please. We have to have some form of hope we can fix us," Bucky had noticed your change in attitude, your anger had disappeared and you were tired, tired of fighting.

"Hope? I ran out of hope when I was tied to that chair, and I prayed to God that you would come and save me, but you didn't. And I can't believe that it took me nearly dying for you to think to step up and finally be a dad," You stood up and left the room, leaving Bucky feeling like someone had ripped his heart out of his chest and stomped all over it. He had lost you, and it was his fault.

Your second month at the Avengers compound had flown in, you were happy to be there and away from HYDRA. But, as with anyone who came from a HYDRA background, a past with HYDRA didn't come without the nightmares. They were the worst, most times you couldn't escape them, the fear would paralyze you and leave you screaming for help in your head where no one could hear you. On the off chance, you would wake up, you went to your dad, Bucky. But at some point, it felt like he didn't care anymore. The first month, he tried to get to know you, but you weren't for opening up to anyone yet, you didn't know if you could trust these people yet. By the time your second month came around and you felt ready to open up to him, he had apparently moved on from you and didn't care for you. So you were left to adjust, all by yourself. The other members of the Avengers were convinced that Bucky was helping you, so they gave you the bare minimum. You were sat in the kitchen area of the compound, a glass of water in front of you. You heard screaming from down the hall and you turned around curiously. Within the blink of an eye, Steve and your dad came into view and both walked right past you, and went around a routine as if you weren't there.

"Dad?" You said quietly. Bucky looked up at you and flinched back, obviously startled by you being there. "Are you okay?" He ignored you and went to sit on the couch. Your heart felt like it was being pulled on. Steve looked up at you and frowned, he noticed how shaken up you looked.

"You alright kid?" He asked you. You thought about telling him, but he didn't get up at 2 in the morning to hear about your problems, so you shook your head. "You should get back to sleep, it's late,"

"I'm not tired," You grumbled. Steve sighed and put his hand on your back.

"I know, Y/N. But you're supposed to stay in your room unless it's necessary, we don't need you wandering into the pool or something and drowning," You nodded and stood up, going to your room and leaving Steve and Bucky on their own. But they weren't on their own. You on the other hand, were.

You were gone. The team came back from a mission one day and found that the cameras had been disabled and you weren't anywhere to be seen. It was as if you vanished off the face of the earth, no one had a clue where you were. Bucky couldn't help the paralyzing fear that took a grip on him, as much as you wanted to deny it, he was still your dad and he had the paternal instinct that he wouldn't be seeing you for a while, and long, long while. That was 5 years ago. Bucky's hope, much like yours, had gone. He had long accepted the fact that you were probably dead, but it didn't mean he was okay with it, far from it. The team learned of what had gone down with both of you and were less than happy with Bucky, especially Natasha and Wanda, who had been the ones to try and fix you and Bucky. Bucky understood why you left, it was him that drove you away, he had no one else to blame other than himself. No one ever saw you or found any trace of you.

"You're sure about this?" Matt asked you. Matt was your boyfriend, you met him when you were taken into the police station, only this time you had to make a run for it because your dad wasn't listed anymore. He was in the station for Grand Theft Auto, and then arson. The two of you connected and then you helped each other get out of the station. You had been with him for years, and they were the best years of your life.

"Yeah. The only person in the base should be Banner, but he's usually asleep at this point." You told him as you looked at the compound from afar. "Everyone else is gone," You confirmed. Matt nodded and then took your hand.

"Are you sure that this isn't about getting back at your dad?" He asked you. Matt knew everything, he was the only person who did. He also trusted you enough that he was willing to join the new branch of HYDRA, TAG, because you knew it would keep you both safe and covered, since every police station in New York had both of your faces and a price over your heads. You sighed and shook your head.

"I'm sure, Matty. Now, if we're ready, I'd rather we got this over with," You smiled softly and let go of his hand. For some reason, F.R.I.D.A.Y didn't rat you out when you got into the compound through the window of the room that used to be yours. You had guessed it had something to do with Bucky holding on to some sliver of hope that you would come home, but this wasn't you're home anymore, hell, it never was. You noticed that your room looked different, the walls were now a pale pink, rather than the light grey they used to be, all of your posters had been taken down and replaced with certificates and medals, making an uneasy feeling sit down in your stomach.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Matt asked you. You shook your head and focused. Your job was plain and simple, take out and Avenger to send a warning, and it was always going to be easier to do it if there was only one to take out. The bullet you had was made to kill Banner, TAG had been working on it since you and Matt approached them.

"Nothing. Come on, we should go and do this,"

"And this is my daughter, Poppy," You knew that voice, and for another thing, you knew that you didn't have a sister. They weren't all supposed to be here, not right now. But you thought you had gotten over this, but you were wrong, dead wrong. You knew you were easily replaceable, but you didn't think that your dad would replace you so quickly. "She's 15, I adopted her two years ago," You and Matt had snuck out of her room and stood behind the doorway of the common room.

"Wow, you're over Y/N quickly," Natasha piqued. Poppy frowned and sighed, making you smile. Maybe you didn't have to physically hurt the Avengers, you had to emotionally traumatize one. Bucky ignored her comment and put his arm around Poppy, making your heart tug.

"Anyway. She's enrolled in high school, and I'm so proud of her! She aced her AP Physics test with flying colours," You shook your head in anger. Matt tapped your shoulder and shook his head, telling you to stay calm, which he knew you wouldn't. Natasha smiled at Poppy as she left the room, she hadn't done anything wrong, she was just a clueless little kid who had no idea how much of a bad person her adoptive father really was.

"Dad, who's Y/N? People keep saying her name and I don't know who she is," Poppy complained. You bit your lip and smirked as you moved to stand in the doorway.

"You never told me I had a little sister," Bucky's face paled as he saw you standing, a firm look on your face and your arms crossed over your chest. "I'm Y/N. Your dad's real, kid," You told her. Poppy gulped as Bucky moved in front of her. "Y/N? How-what-where the hell did you go?!" He asked. You smiled and laughed.

"I left, joined another terrorist organization since you wanted it so badly," You told him. Bucky was sure he was about to faint.

"TAG? You joined fucking TAG?!" He yelled. You nodded. "How could you?" He asked you incredulously. You scoffed and raised your eyebrows. "How could I? No, how could you?! First, you replace me and second, you don't even tell her about her big sister? Wow, I mean, it still makes you a shitty dad, but she has you good, better than I ever did," You said.

"I changed, alright. After you-"

"After I what? Nearly died? So what was I? An experiment? Because the last time I checked, I was supposed to be your daughter, not an excuse to change," You had moved forward to stand in front of him.

"I tried," He said. You chuckled as you pulled your gun out of its holster and pulled it up to his forehead, not even making him flinch. Matty had moved from the doorway and was standing a few feet behind you. Poppy was sobbing as she watched the confrontation go down.

"Well clearly, you didn't try hard enough," You said lowly.

"If you're gonna hold a gun, Y/N, at least shoot someone," You smiled at his words and then pouted, nodding.

"Okay, I will," You assured him. You smiled as you moved the barrel of the gun from his head and behind him, you pulled the trigger and shot a bullet into Poppy's heart. Bucky slid to his knees as she fell to the floor in a heap, she was dead before she hit the floor. You smiled manically, and Bucky knew that any trace of the young girl you used to be was completely gone, and replaced by the woman who stood in front of him. A woman who had been completely ruined as a child, a woman who was traumatized. "I would say I'm sorry, but I'm really not," You said. You walked over to Matt, who put his lips on yours and put his arms around your waist. Bucky saw that you had dropped the gun you shot Poppy with, in his blind rage, he grabbed it and went to shoot you. You smiled and walked over to him, you looked down. "You gonna shoot me, daddy?" You asked him.

"Y/N," You kicked him in the chest and smiled as he fell back with a grunt. You put your foot on his chest, keeping him pinned to the floor.

"You know the saying, 'Choose Life'. Well you know what, fuck life. Why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life, the reasons? There are no reasons, who needs reasons when you've got a dad that hates you and the ability to cause so much trauma, not even the best psychiatrist could save you?" You said. Bucky looked up at you, fear in his eyes, you took pride in that fear. "Well, have a good day, Bucky"

You walked out of the compound.

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tylerwritez · 3 years

Text

Tuesday, june 22 2021

I've noticed I'm getting "the shiverys" or "the twitchy" a lot today. Like every time I FEEL something I take a moment to violently tic.... every time I think about certain things I tic.... good things, bad things, things from an hour ago and things from years ago. Tic, tic, tic.

Also, I have... some stuff to explain. Its really no big deal, but you know me: I'll freak out about it anyway. Basically I dissed my friend (rightfully so) around the time that we had just met cos they did something that threw me off.

He saw it in my phone... NOW. it's not RELEVANT anymore and I've since redacted that criticism...and now I gotta explain it to him anwyays. Oh well. I'm good at this stuff. I can get myself outta any situation. I dont even know why I'm talking like this tho... it's not a "Situation" it's just smthn I gotta explain rq.

Oh, today's song recommendation is Spirit Crusher by Death. I'm a huge Death fan...

Also! I gotta study... for my replacement exam. How stressful. Its about photosynthesis, but like, it's not simple. We went DEEP inside those fucking leaves.

One sec, lemme hook up my IV tube

Not an ACTUAL IV tube... just my headphones. But since I'm so #emo, it might as well be a fucking IV tube with the way that I cant live without it.

Its 3:08 and I'm walking home now. I was upset last night but me and Star have made up now lol... it was thAt easy. I'm so defective, making shit hard when it doesnt need to be.

It's so hot out damn. Idk. I had school today, so I had Bio class... I ACTUALLY PAID ATTENTION for once. I had lunch with Star and her friend group, and I honestly kinda feel like they're MY friends now too, even just a little bit.

Actually, I used to rant about feeling lonely like all the time but now I have so many friends it's crazy they all keep inviting me places and it's like people WANT ME AROUND... idk. It makes me happy.

Today I gotta ask if tommroow after school I can go to Bee's house to watch Supernatural (famous homoerotic ghost show)

I should also add songs to Erin's spotify playlist for our picnic saturday which I still need permission to go to.

I gotta ask for Wednesday after school to watch Insidious with Jay which is apparently really good

Also hes the friend that I gotta explain stuff to... the DrAmA... the ThEaTrE....

Update my dad said yes to hanging out with Bee but first I'm gonna miss school to fix my broken brackets on my braces

Also turns out the house I THOUGHT we were moving into has substantial damage from shifting so... we aRENT moving there.

In case you didn't know, shifting is when like the house that's been built literally SHIFTS like it moves around.

Anwyays Jay just texted me... I'm gonna change into shorts since it's hot, set up my study area,.... and respond to him.

The time is 3:22 p.m.

Wish me. Luck.

Luck is plentiful! As it so often is in my risky, risky life.

I play my cards right. It's a learnt skill.

But also there wasnt much to explain since it passed already and was tiny anywyas.

XD so I've made up with the whole goddamn world by now.

Its 6:31, we saw 1 house. Only one. Its kinda hot out but I'm gonna bike now since we just had supper. I finally finished my homework... I just have to finish one mixed media piece as my final project for art!

Friday is my replacement. On photosynthesis and cell resp. We know this. But what I didn't mention, or I dont THINK I did, is that if I finish my art project before then I have the second block FREE!!! Me, Star, and her friend

A are planning to leave for second block and maybe get mint chocolate chip ice cream!

Also I might eat her out XD

Anyways idk. I hope I can bike tonight to call Jay.

I keep accidentally using people's real names here then having to correct it... I dont know how much i care about MY identity being discovered... but to have my friends doxxed would suck.

Man I feel bad abt saying fuck star last night cos we made up....

Wait we r looking at another house? Idk I'm in the car still waiting to go home

Oh wait no now we r goin home

Its 6:39... I hope I still have time.

I went biking, called Jay. Went home. Idk, friendly conversation... we talked more tonight and I also talked to my other friend A. Jay is... I LOVE HIM?? SO MUCH??? I feel so happy. Talking to him thinking about him seeing his STUPID FUCKING FACE JESUS. his eyes alone... I could stare at his face all day probably. I want to kiss him... hOLD HIS HAND... omg... huG HIM!!! Eofjwpxjwie he's so sweet like I can't even... and I'm proabably not good enough for him like. Wtf. Hes easily a 10. And I dont rate things outta 10. How tf do I end up with HIM? Doing stuff, as friends. Like wHAT. I guess I got lucky XD. He says he loves my personality and I'm hot XD ofc I dont see it myself. But like. JESUS CHRIST he could proabably easily pull whOever. XD me?

Whatever though. As long as we r together and stuff. I LOVE HIM A LOT. he said he loved me. Every time he says that it makes me so overly happy.

Maybe I'm just sappy and stuff.... whatever. I think it would be nice to be hugged by him.

Yeah I'm cheesy.

I'm sorta tired now so maybe I'm not writing the best.

I just keep thinkinf about love. Love is a muscle of evil suggestion. But how evil can it really be? I am just a human being and that is all. Everything else is applied. I am just a human being with soemthing in my heart that pulls me all over the place. Love is this strange thing because I'm fucked up and to be able to love without that fucked up part of me, without the damage... is this complicated, hard thing to do and I can NEVER tell if I'm doing it right but I know I'm DOING IT. I know I FEEL LOVE. And soemtimes it's such an intense thing like when you go to surf on a wave at the beach with ur belly but u hit it wrong and it's so big and overwhelming it washes over you and PULLS you down to the bottom and smushes your face into the sand and YOU CANT BREATHE jesus Christ it's like that.

Or maybe I just want to experience love as it should be felt.

Obviously all of my problems surrounding this Damage could be easily fixed if I went to therapy but. there are reasons I can't.

I LOVE a lot. Too much for my own good. Enough to hurt me, get me into trouble, etc etc but also... enough to liberate me. I LOVE. I love Jay. So much. LIKE. MY BRAIN ORBITS AROUND HIM CONSTANTLY THINKING OF HIM AND PRAISING HIM AND MWUAH HE IS SO LOVELY I BOW BEFORE HIM...

I think as much as I love, a lot of the times I tend to focus even more on BEING loved.

If I am told I am loved, and shOwN I am loved... it is one of the most powerful things. Especially since I was literally emotionally neglected in childhood... yeah. I feel like I'm always trying to fill that hole.

Not EVERY feeling I have is for that reaosn but sometimes, if you tell me you love me, show me you love me, hug me,... I'll like start crying,,, that's the childhood emotional neglect kicking in. If you call me #smol and #cute and say I look young and fragile which happens more often than you'd think XD, I know I'm not supposed to like that shit, so I act like I dont....but I do. Which is PROBABLY ALSO THE CEN 🤪 like whatever lol

Anwyays I'm fucked up

You see how quickly things become complicated in my mind?

Convoluted? Is that the word?

Whatever. I OVERCOMPLICATE THINGS COS I OVERTHINK THEM BECAUSE I'm LITERALLY MENTALLY ILL IN SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS. I'm not joking. I obviously have unresolved undiagnosed "issues"

I do Suspect things, though.

I can make a list

Maybe I shouldn't.

Maybe I will.

I shouldnt.

Whatever.

I used to hate when people brought up my self harm. I would actually panic. I still self harm but now? Now I'm fine with anyone talking about it as long as it's not an adult who can get me into trouble/force me into therapy over it. Because really? I kinda like having it mentioned. It's kinda validating and it's like hey... people can see that I'm sick.

I dont do it so people talk to me about it though. Dont get me wrong. If I did, I'd go vertically on the arms, not for suicide but so it healed and people would ask XD.

My scars are actually VERY hidden... cos I never intended for ANYONE to see. But for those who DO see them,,,, it's nice soemtimes to have people express concern.

I dont wanna be PITIED or anything, but idk I just think to myself "wow, they're CONCERNED... about ME... they arent angry or mean... they didnt yell at me or threaten me... they respect my autonomy and privacy...

And they CARE ABOUT ME..." and it makes me cry.

That's also the CEN.

I dont know. I just like when people express genuine concern. Even if they see and then just ask if I'm okay. That's all it takes cos then I go wow.

Its validating and irs lovely because finally people care... FINALLY PEOPLE CARE. FINALLY I GET SOME EMPATHY OR SYMPATHY AND NO ANGER.

Even just having them brought up tells me its noticeable enough

My brain does this thing where it thinks nothing bad that's ever happened to me was Bad Enough for me to be upset about.

And I dont know... its nice sometimes to be told shit like "omg that looks so bad" or to see that people who do see my cuts are somewhat shocked or revolted... it's nice because I go... "hey, it was bad enough for them..."

Or to have people comment on them with concern. Just ANYTHINT WHERE PEOPLE NOTICE IT AND ARENT ASSHOLES ABOUT IT IS VALIDATING.

Because I'm not used to that...

Because CEN

I'm. The worst perosn on the fucking planet.

I should kill myself.

I suddenly actually feel so self hating I do want to kill myself... oh god.

I ruin everything. Everything. Everything. Everything. What have I done. Like. Why. Oh god.

I'm just remembering when Star said my kindness seemed like an act. And how I've been called out for seeming fake like 2 other times.

DO I SEEM FAKE???? I DONT EVER PUT ON ACTS OF KINDESS.... CONCIOUSLY? but the very idea that I could be perceived that way...

Should I like not try to be nice or some shit?

Jesus christ she hurts my feelings even now when it was a long time ago.

But I cant blame her. I can't blame anyone for how i feel except my parents because they left me with fucking. Heart nerve damage or some shit.

I'm tired and now I'm sad too. Goodnight guys.

#JudeJournals

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donnerpartyofone · 4 years

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idk if you've talked about it, probably have. but if you don't mind to again, ketamine injections for depression? did it work? was it expensive? how long did it work for? ty.

dang, i never got a notification for this message. sorry! ketamine absolutely worked for the management of my depression, it was very expensive, and i think i would have needed more for it to become a longer term solution. i may still go back in the future if my lifestyle changes, but for right now, i can’t justify the cost--which is an insane thing to say when what i’m paying for is freedom from hurting myself, but, ya know, CAPITALISM.

the whole story is, i’ve been severely depressed my whole entire life; i don’t have any memories that don’t involve feeling morbidly upset, and i can remember things pretty sharply from the time i was slightly younger than 2.* i took ketamine recreationally some years ago when i was around 30 (i wasn’t adventurous about substances until i reached about that age), and i was totally astounded by how it affected my depression both during, and for weeks after the experience. it seemed to distance me from the oppressively immediacy of my bad feelings, giving me space to actually THINK about what was really bothering me, what kind of control i could have over how i assign importance and authority to things that don’t serve me, and what i might like my life to be like in the future. so, when i found out that there were ketamine clinics in new york, i kind of freaked out. actually, i found out about it from a guy who i met on an ayahuasca retreat upstate (which is its own hilariously mortifying story that i’ve been trying to write down for years and it keeps turning into a big unwieldy novel), who had been through the entire gamut of treatments for major depressive disorder. he liked his ketamine experience, but admitted that it was prohibitively expensive to keep up.

this is the place i went, and i recommend it to anyone who can afford it:

nyketamine.com

they say that they accept patients selectively, if you have treatment-resistant depression. i don’t know how strict they are about that, because by the time i came to them, i was looking pretty treatment-resistant. i’d been in and out of a few shrinks’ offices, and i’m basically incapable of taking any of the usual antidepressants because of how they affect other conditions i have. the process was, i filled out a request form on their website, and in a day or two, a clinician called to interview me over the phone about the character of my depression, and to gather some other anecdotal information about my history and health. the person i spoke to was very kind, attentive, and reassuring. the following day, someone called to set my first appointment. the whole reason i was able to do this is because of some inheritance that i received at the time; it’s $450 a session, and they suggest (or insist? i’m not sure) that you begin with a minimum of 6 sessions, each of them 2 days apart. after that, you just kind of monitor yourself to see when you think you need pickup sessions; the effect is cumulative and long term. i have no idea if they have any type of sliding scale accommodation, it could be worth asking.

when i went in for my first session, i had a brief interview with the head doctor, a navy veteran and anesthesiologist who had been working with ketamine in various capacities for 50 years. he explained a lot of things that i had no idea about, that were great to learn. periods of prolonged stress, especially while your brain is still developing, can result in a deficit of the neural pathways that you need to experience a full range of emotion; essentially, being chronically depressed and anxious can kind of give you brain damage. if you have that type of problem, it doesn’t matter what you do to try to boost your serotonin or dopamine or whatever; it’s like if you’re trying to get somewhere in your car and you can’t, not because you’re out of gas, but because the bridge is out. for some reason, ketamine switches back on the function that builds those pathways, so with regular therapeutic applications, you can actually heal the structural problem around your mood centers that’s reducing your emotional range to anxiety and depression. if you’re over 60 or so and your brain is less plastic, your chances of success aren’t as good as when you’re younger, but there’s always a chance; also, for some reason, ketamine plays especially well with estrogen, so women have a bit of a leg up. anyway, the doctor was great, and i really liked everyone there; it felt like they all knew they were doing something meaningful.

the sessions themselves are pleasant. they put you in a private room in a big cushy medical chair with a blanket and a pillow, and you let them know if you want the lights on or off. they give you an IV drip that lasts roughly an hour, and they communicate with you to figure out the dosage. you basically just tell them what feels comfortable, if the dosage they start you on is too low to notice. you won’t get something that puts you in a K hole, but you should enter a gentle dissociative state where you feel a little numb and floaty, and you might have a lot of interesting abstract thoughts. the worst part of it is just how bad you have to pee by the time the drip is done, when you’re still feeling a little anesthetized; sometimes i wound up looking at the bag with my flashlight to check if i had finished, and then i’d just press the call button to get them to come unplug me before i pissed my pants.

you’re not supposed to necessarily notice a difference right away, but you should detect a change in mood after a few weeks. i did. the way my disorder works is, most days i just have a low level background radiation of sadness and exhaustion, even on a “good day” when things are working out or i’m distracted by things i enjoy. when i wake up in the morning and realize i’m conscious and the time for sleep is over, my first feeling is disappointment, 100% of the time. then, i’d say roughly once a month or once every couple of months, i have a complete nervous collapse where i’m in so much pain i can’t really do anything but like drool and cry and let my eyes go out of focus, for anywhere from 1-7 days. there will usually be an apparent trigger; i’m a fairly dysfunctional person, and i frequently lose things, break things, and fuck things up even though i like STUDIED to do them, took it slow, asked for help, gave myself extra time, etc. but the thing is, i think the “trigger” is arbitrary, this is just a cyclic psychic event that builds up and waits to happen. but after my first battery of ketamine treatments, i had a particular day when i could tell that normally, i would quickly wind up curled up at the bottom of my bathtub scream-crying until i couldn’t move--and this time, i managed to just push through. not only did i not break down, but i actually got a number of difficult chores done, that i had put off because they seemed too intimidating, or like i wouldn’t be able to mentally handle my inevitable failure. i noticed more and more of that, while i was in proximity to the treatments, an ability to just buckle down and keep going. so it’s not like i felt HAPPIER or something, but i felt much more capable of coping, which was like a miracle honestly.

it’s been about 3.5 months since i last went in, and i think i could use a booster appointment, but as i said i just can’t fit it in with my financial reality right now. so, that sucks. but, i definitely feel that it was worth doing, and i would recommend it to anyone who can shoulder the cost. hopefully in the future, ketamine will become a much more common psychiatric treatment, and it will become available to more and more patients.

*A friend of mine just told me he read somewhere that you don’t actually recall memories from like 20 years ago, you just remember the last time you recalled them--so like, i THINK i remember my parents struggling to give me drops for pink eye in our first apartment when i was about 1.5 years old, but in reality, i just remember the last time i remembered it, or the earliest time i’m able to remember remembering it. pretty interesting! and kind of disturbing, like the idea that star trek-type teleporters don’t actually transport a person, they just DESTROY the original person and rebuild a new one on the other end, a thought that REALLY BOTHERS ME.

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sprnklersplashes · 4 years

Text

heart of stone (6/?)

AO3

Janis ditches the tights and jean shorts by Wednesday. There’s a slight look of ‘I told you so’ on her mother’s face, but she spares Janis the lecture out of politeness. Janis never thought she’d miss them, but here she is.

Sitting cross-legged on her bed, she scribbles another flower on the page, a twin for the one next to it. Not an exact twin, it’s thinner and its petals are more spiked and sharp than the one she drew before it. It’s less inviting, more dangerous. Angry, even. Like if she picked it up she’d cut her finger on it. She hadn’t intended for it to happen; in fact, she’d set out to doodle some pretty little flowers in an attempt to brighten up her sketchbook. But the pencil, as it often does, did what it wanted. She turns it on the side, trying to find a way to like it. It’s not bad work, not her best but certainly not her worst. Maybe she could like it if she had drawn it earlier, but she had really been hoping to get something nice into her book today.

With a sigh, she sets the book on her lap and swings her body around so that her feet dangle over the edge of her bed. Her next round of chemo isn’t due for a few hours, a long stretch of time to attempt to fill with activity. While she’s only been in the hospital for two full days, she’s decided that the worst part is the waiting around for the next thing to happen. Granted, much of that can be put on her as she’s spent more time in her room than she has anywhere else, distracting herself with TV and art and her parents and texting her friends every chance she can get. It all comes together and forms some kind of routine for her, one that’s built with as much familiarity and comfort as possible woven through it. The only downside to it is that the room’s been getting progressively smaller since two days ago and it wasn’t long before it started choking her.

She left the door slightly open and peers into the hallway, the brightness of the walls striking against the cool tones of her room. She can hear the faint sounds of half-conversations that overlap with each other; nurses gossiping with each other while fiddling with IVs, the inhabitants of the longue talking and laughing about who knows what, doctors prescribing new rounds of medicine. The ward is much more alive than she had Janis ever thought it could be, a constant hum in the background of the day to day life keeps the place awake.

She taps her nails on the cover of her book, her swinging legs gaining momentum as she debates following the pull in her chest, compelling her to maybe leave her room for more than five minutes at a time and follow the sounds of conversation. Maybe talk to people who aren’t her medical team or her parents. Make some friends, because as everyone knows, cancer wards are prime social hotspots. She may not be here forever, but she’ll be here long enough to justify getting comfortable.

What’s the worst that can happen, logic had asked her that first night.

Literally so freaking much, she responded. Friends aren’t exactly her strong suit. Regina was a mistake, Damian was luck, and Cady was a gift. She could indulge her inner loser and tell herself it’s because she’s special and tailor made to a few specific people, but the thought of that makes her roll her eyes. So she faces up to the truth and all it entails; that she’s merely been unlucky in the friendship department, something that can be boiled down to one terrible experience and everything that came after it and lingers long after the smoke has cleared.

You’re being ridiculous she tells herself. If there’s a Regina George clone here, she’ll be thoroughly impressed. So she pulls her boots on and pushes herself off the bed, quickly explaining to her mom that she’s going to hang out in the longue for a bit.

“You need me to come with you?”

“I’m fine,” she says, a small smile on her face as she pulls on a cardigan. She nods at the intense competitive cooking show her mom has on the TV. “Tell me who wins. And don’t leave out any details.”

“Well we both know it’s not going to be Leticia judging by the look of that beef,” she says seriously. Janis clicks her tongue before turning and heading down, her steps smaller than normal and her sketchbook held against her chest like a shield. Her stomach twists uneasily, not from the chemo or anything like that, just from good old-fashioned anxiety. In an odd way, it’s a relief to feel ill in that way.

When she pushes herself past the open doors, all eyes turn to her and only look away to talk with other people. It’s far more populated than the last time she was here, people sitting in groups of two and three, most in pyjamas and some with hats. But all of them in groups, belonging with each other. Is this how Cady felt all those months ago, when she and Damian spotted her heading to the bathroom? Maybe her girlfriend had the right idea that day. A bathroom stall is a way better alternative to a room full of strangers.

Unfortunately, she knows better by now, and so she settles in an armchair as gracefully as she can, her legs tucked beneath her, and tries to shake off the discomfort she feels by opening her book and giving her hands something to do.

“You’re new,” a girl sitting on the floor states. She’s one of the few that actually has hair, dark brown and curly, and it makes Janis feel a little more at ease. Is that bad, she has to ask.

“Third day,” she explains, offering her a small wave. “I’m Janis.”

“Melissa,” she says. She leans back on her arms and exposes a little bandage inside her elbow. Janis pulls her own arm a little closer. Melissa doesn’t seem to notice, instead gesturing to her with her chin.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, this?” she asks, her cheeks growing warm. “Oh, just some drawings I do.”

“Cool,” she says. “So you do art?”

“Sometimes it’s like the art does me," she says dryly, earning a chuckle. “But you know how it is.”

“My best friend says that all the time,” Melissa sighs. “She says she wants to go to art college but I’ve watched her cry over trying to hand in assignments.”

“You sound like my mom,” Janis replies. “Literally every time I bring up doing art in college she tells me how stressful it is.” She shrugs lightly. “She’s not wrong, but it’s the only thing I want to do.”

“Is your mom here?”

“Yeah, she’s back in my room,” she explains. “I left her watching some cooking show on TV.”

“Wow, and you’ve only just here. I’ve been here for a month and I only just got my mom to let me out of her sight,” she sighs, a resigned smile on her face and her eyebrow raised in a silent ‘you know how it is’. “Want to play some Scrabble? We’ve started keeping a scoreboard so we can add you in. We have a whole tournament going.”

“Sounds fun,” Janis says, pushing herself off the chair. “Although I should give you warning, I’m dyslexic, so I kind of suck at it.”

Janis follows her across the longue, slipping her hand into her pocket when she thinks she sees the other girl reach out to her. There’s a pang of guilt in Janis’ chest even though Melissa doesn’t seem to care, and she does her best to work through it. She exchanges names and smiles with other kids, all introduced by Melissa. It’s an odd feeling; she’s not used to being the one who’s introduced. She’s either known people so long she doesn’t need to or she’s the one making the introduction, but today her mouth feels dry and her tongue tied so much that all she can do is say ‘hi’ and try to keep up with the rest of the little group. But despite this, and despite the fact that she does supremely suck at Scrabble, they aren’t half bad. They welcome her in with no problem at all, asking her about school and life and art as they set up tiles and she knows the right questions to ask them. She laughs at their jokes and nods along to the conversation, even adding in her own take now and again as it builds into a steady flow.

It’s not entirely perfect; she can’t help but feel slightly on the outside when they bring up a nurse or a patient she doesn’t know and she’s much more quiet than she’s used to being, unsure which, if any, topics are off-limits, where the lines are. But she’s enjoying herself enough to drown out her earlier worries even if it can’t make them fade entirely, and her mood only picks up when she hears someone behind her say (squeal) her name, followed a flash of pink and rainbow appearing in her vision. How times change when a pink sweater can make her smile instead of grimace.

“Maddie!” The younger girl leans into her side, eyes bright and sparkling, and Janis puts an arm around her shoulders. “Hey kid, where have you been?”

“Where have you been more like,” she replies. “I haven’t seen you since Monday.”

“Been busy,” she says. No one presses, likely because they all understand. They’ve all been where she is before. “And now I’m busy losing at Scrabble. Badly.” Maddie chuckles and when her arms wrap around Janis and chin rests on her shoulder, she can’t say no to it. There’s nothing uncomfortable about such a gesture and it almost feels as natural as hugging Damian or when Karen rests her head on her shoulder, despite her only knowing the girl for two days.

“Oh hey, did they tell you about the photography thing yet?” she asks.

“That what now?”

“Oh it’s this thing the cancer centre started,” Melissa explains. “Basically they want us to take pictures of stuff that matters to us. Us doing hobbies, us with our friends, the whole shebang. It’s meant to be about our cancer not defining us or whatever.” She gives a casual shrug. “It’s fun anyway. You should do it. Especially since you have your art thing.”

“Sounds like fun,” she says before poking Maddie in the ribs. “Now come on, kid. Help me make a word out of these.”

And maybe it’s Maddie’s presence or just time passing, but Janis suddenly finds herself a lot less anxious. She even gets to the point where she trades playful insults with another kid, a boy around her age, and form a team up of sorts against him with one of the other girls. They can’t replace her real friends and she wouldn’t try to, the bonds she’s formed with Damian and Cady are too important and were put through too much to be replicated, but she suspects that they could quickly become new friends.

What’s more, treatments and diagnosis come in and out of the conversation with unexpected ease, and when Janis talks about her own, it’s the same. She hadn’t realised how much of this she’d held back, even in her texts and calls with Damian and talks with her mom. And while she feels bad for it, it also feels so, so good to talk to people like this. People who aren’t her parents or her doctors. People who are, well… like her.

And as it turns out, her next round is scheduled the same time as Melissa’s, and so they head down the hallway together. While Melissa continues to make conversation, Janis’ responses dwindle the closer she gets to her room. It doesn’t take long for the good feeling from the longue to fade, and the image of the needle in her vein becomes sharper in her mind.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Janis asks suddenly.

“Sure.”

“Does it…” She swallows past the lump in her throat. She finds a loose thread on her cardigan and toys with it until the question comes out. “Does it ever get easier? All this?”

“Well…” Melissa stops in their tracks and Janis almost trips as she does the same, immediately regretting asking. The other girl bites her lip, searching for the right answer. It feels like hours before she says “I don’t really know. I can’t speak for you. We’re all different here.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I mean… I guess you get used to it. So it starts getting less scary, I guess.”

Janis only nods and then Melissa reaches out and taps her arm.

“It doesn’t stop sucking,” she sighs. “You just get used to it sucking.”

“And then we all bond over it sucking?” she asks, smirking.

“You get it,” she replies with a laugh. “See you later, Janis.”

“Bye.”

After Melissa leaves, she lingers in the hallway for a minute, pressing her finger into the spot where her IV goes. The problem is exactly what Melissa said-you get used to it. And she really, really doesn’t want to get used to it. Getting used it to means that she’ll be here for a while, that something else replaces her old life. Especially now, after the year she had last year, she wants to get used to good stuff, not stuff that ‘sucks’. The idea of this, medicines and hospitals and doctors, becoming normal to her sends a shiver down her back.

But she learned a while ago how to live in reality, even when it’s not what she wants. And it’s with that attitude she walks into her room, where she finds not only her IV set up, but a text from Cady detailing something funny from her math class and how much she misses her.

Even if she gets used to everything else, she knows she’ll never, ever get used to missing Cady.

*****

Friday morning, she wakes later than she normally does. It’s a slow process at the start, sleep pulling her in and begging her to stay, the hospital-issue sheets softer than soft around her and forming a cosy cocoon that she’s so tempted to remain in.

That is, until she remembers what day it is, and then she’s jolted awake.

Friday. Or as she’s called it, Damian-and-Cady day.

It was an unspoken agreement that the two of them were visiting her in here. Just like her father, they were insistent on coming over every moment they could, with Damian jokingly suggesting he could hide under her bed and they could have a sleep over (which they had considered in seriousness and attempted to plan). But thanks to a little thing called school, and another thing called distance, today was the first day she could see them, which is why now she’s wide awake, bright eyed, bushy tailed, everything. Because she’s finally seeing them again and filling the hole in her soul being away from them had carved.

“Morning, kid,” her mom says cheerily, entering the room with a cup of coffee in one hand. “They’re still serving breakfast downstairs, or if you want it brought up to you-”

“Sounds great, Mom,” she replies, only half paying attention. She turns on her phone, her leg bouncing anxiously as she waits for it to load. Has it always been this slow at turning on? She swears it hasn’t been. It takes an eternity for her lockscreen to come up, the time written across it in thin white numbers.

“Ten thirty?” she reads out loud before her head snaps up. “Mom, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Why would I?” she asks. “You need all the rest you can get, and you’ve still got time before you’re due a round.”

“I know,” she sighs, rubbing her eyes. “But Cady and I text good morning to each other and it was my turn this morning. I don’t want her to think I forgot.”

“Well, I’m sure Cady understands. You know, with all that’s going on, maybe she’s not expecting good mornings right now.”

“Course she is,” she replies quickly. In what universe would Cady not wait for a good morning from her? “It’s our thing. Didn’t you and Dad have a thing?” She types out the message and sends it quickly, although Cady probably won’t see it for at least another two hours.

“Oh, you think we did good morning e-mails back in those days?” she says, laughing a little. She sits on the bed next to her on the bed. “So are you getting some breakfast? Someone can bring it up if you don’t feel up to going down, I’ll just tell them what you want-”

“It’s fine, Mom.” She reaches under the bed and pulls on a sweater before slipping into her boots and raking a brush through her hair. “I might as well go down. Someone might take the last yogurt while I’m down there.”

Truthfully, she doesn’t really feel like eating. Not anything bad, she’s just not hungry, but it’ll put her mom’s mind at ease. Just as she thought, the tension fades from her mom’s shoulders, and when she pats her shoulder, there’s more relief in her smile than just breakfast warrants.

She eats in her room, with the TV on, like she does when she’s sick at home. She could eat in the dining room, but despite the new friends she’s made she prefers eating in private, especially away from the buzzing nurses. As she flips around the channels, her phone buzzes on the plastic table, the screen lighting up to show her a new text that makes her smile and roll her eyes at once.

‘Good morning, babe. Can’t wait to see you today. Also, ik I can’t really change it now, but what do we think of the outfit?’

Beneath the message is a picture of Cady in her bedroom mirror, clad in a black vest and blue flannel shirt with white skinny jeans, her hair held back in a high, loose ponytail, soft curls framing her round face, her eyes looking up at the mirror as she gives an open, toothy grin. And Janis can’t help it, she squeals. God damn it, her girlfriend is cute.

‘Love it, love it, love it. You’re the queen of cuteness. And apparently, texting during class. Stop doing that. If I get a text from you between now and lunch I will not cuddle you later.’

‘I’m not texting during class, it’s study hall.’ Wow, what on Earth has happened to the ever-studious, rule following Cady Heron? Not even Plastic Cady texted during study hall. ‘Besides, you have to cuddle with me. It’s legally required and I’m deprived of Janis cuddles.’

‘Only if you be good and don’t text during school hours.’ She fires back, chuckling under her breath. ‘And you remain that freaking adorable.’

“Well someone’s in a good mood.” She looks up and sees Doctor Wiley standing in the doorway, and her smile dips a little, the perfect bubble she was sitting in with Cady ruined. Not enough to ruin her mood, nothing could do that, but it shakes it.

“It’s her girlfriend,” her mom explains.

“How do you know that?”

“Your smile,” she says. “It’s your ‘Cady smile’.”

“I don’t…” Her voice trails off and her mom simply shrugs. Well look at that. She’s that girlfriend now.

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” Wiley says, striding towards her. Under the table, Janis crosses her fingers that this is a normal good morning visit. She’ll take bad news on any day that’s not Damian-and-Cady day. “So, Janis, a lot of us on your team have been talking and we’ve decided to ask if you might want to get a port inserted.”

“A what?” she asks.

“Think of it like a little reservoir put underneath your skin,” he explains. “Just to make receiving the chemo easier on you. A lot of patients have one put in.”

“Oh, wow.” Way to bring the mood down, Doc, she thinks. Sometimes she envies the younger patients who have their parents making all the hard decisions. Still, one word sticks out in all that. “It makes it easier?”

“Quite a bit easier,” he agrees. “For one thing, it’s a lot more comfortable than an IV.” There’s a plus. “And a lower risk of your medicine leaking out-”

“Sounds cool,” she interrupts quickly before he can bring up an image she doesn’t want. “Um, can I think about it? I mean, is it urgent?”

“No, of course not,” Wiley replies with a stiff smile. “I’ll let you and your mom discuss it.”

He leaves them after an uncomfortable silence, nodding to her and her mom and reminding her that he’s around if she has any questions.

“So what do you think?” her mom asks.

“I don’t think.” She picks her phone back up and jumps off the bed. “Where did you put my clothes?”

“I put everything in your bag, it’s under the bed,” she replies. Janis pulls out her bag, sorting through the mass of denim, cotton, plaid and leather, all while her mom hovers behind her with anxious eyes that drill into her back. "Janis, you should consider this.”

“And I will,” she sighs. She pulls out a shirt she’s always liked and throws it on the bed. “Just not right now.” She shakes her head, trying to clear some of the smoke in her brain. Still sitting on the ground, she looks up at her mom and sighs. “Mom, I just want to not think about cancer stuff right now. I just want to see my friends and think about that.” She toys with the shirt in her hands and bunches it into a tight ball, her arms tense and shaking and her grip tight. “Is that okay?”

Her voice sounds impossibly broken on that question. And while it wasn’t intentional, it works on her mom, who nods and comes over to pat her hair.

“Okay, sweetie,” she says, and that’s the temporary end of it.

The day passes even slower than it normally does in hospital-time. Hours stretch on and on with no end in sight and she can’t distract herself no matter what she tries to do. She can’t focus long enough to read or settle on one TV show and even games in the longue can only get her so far. She tries checking her social media when on her IV, but she’s hardly there a minute before her anxiety peaks again after seeing pictures of her friends. Besides, it’s mostly dry now, everyone else is in class.

Finally, finally, it comes to the afternoon and it’s close enough that she can justify beginning to get ready. She stretches, grateful for the little power nap she took earlier, and fishes her make-up out of her bag. It’s not everything, but it’ll have to work, as will the tiny mirror in her bathroom.

“What’s going on in here?” The voice makes Janis jump six feet, even though it’s the honey-toned voice of one of the older nurses. “Little makeover.”

“Just wanted to look nice today,” she explains as she unscrews the foundation. She’s a little bit surprised to see that she’s not out of practice since she’s been bare-faced for well over a week now. Bigger priorities and all that.

“Her girlfriend’s coming over today,” her mom says in a low voice.

“It’s not just that,” she says, even though it might be. “Damian will also be here.”

“Oh you kids and your relationships,” the nurse chuckles as she takes the empty bags out. In the mirror, Janis sees her point sternly in her direction as though she were her mother. “Just remember Janis, if she really cares about you, she won’t care how much muck you have on your face.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says as she applies a coat of eyeshadow, deep indigo and sparkling under the low lights. She adds a generous amount of purple lipstick next, a shade that’s always been a favourite of hers, and four coats of mascara. Some say that’s overkill, she disagrees. Bigger, bolder, better after all.

She takes a second before looking at herself properly, and when she does it makes her happier than it has any right to be. She looks like herself again. Not a girl with cancer. A girl who is perfectly healthy and happy, the dark circles around her eyes and the pale tint to her face deliberate. Not only that, she feels stronger, even though she hadn’t been aware of any weakness before. She can breathe easier now. She’s herself again. A little winded but it was worth it.

When she’s done, Cady and Damian should get out of school in about ten minutes. They worked it all out; they’ll get the first bus from school up to the hospital, which should take about twenty-five minutes. She offered to pay their bus tickets and her mom had offered to pick them up, but neither one of them would hear any of it. Damian in particular would die before accepting money from anyone.

So she has just over half an hour. Maybe closer to forty minutes when factoring in waiting for the bus and various stops…

She probably should have left the make-up to later just to give herself something to do.

No, it’s fine. The last thing she wants is them walking in on her doing her make-up. Besides, there’s plenty to do for half an hour. She’s waited this long after all. She checks her outfit again, first in the bathroom mirror, by bouncing repeatedly, and then by using the camera on her phone. This morning she was sure about this outfit. Now she’s not sure about this skirt. Maybe if her mom had woken her up earlier she’d have had more time to plan it. The shirt is fine, it’s something Cady loves, so she won’t trade it, but the skirt… it’s not working. She grabs more stuff from her bag and lays it out on the bed, debating each one carefully. There’s a pair of studded shorts that she doesn’t think looks right with the shirt, a pair of jeans that would be far too uncomfortable, and a dark grey skirt that she’s not worn that much and is a little short-

“Holy crap,” she sighs. She shakes her head at herself. She hasn’t obsessed this much over her looks since middle school. “You’re insane, Sarkisian. You’re fine.”

They’ve both seen her look worse, surely.

She forces herself to sit on the bed and just watch some freaking YouTube like a normal person. She gets a text from Damian telling her they’re on their way, and she takes a deep breath and sends a response. She then has one eye on the phone and one eye on the window, all the while counting the minutes until they should be here.

Twenty five minutes. One video later, it’s twenty one. Another video, eighteen. Another video, plus a sip of the coffee her mom got her, fourteen. Another video, plus re-checking her make-up, ten. Another video, six. Another video, three.

And now they should be here. They probably are; they’re probably walking through the lobby. Maybe the elevator’s a little slow, maybe they got lost. This is a big place and they don’t even know where they ward is. Do they? Did she tell them? She grabs her phone and checks their groupchat, scrolling through the week-

“Janis?” Her name is accompanied by a soft knock on the door, and when she looks up, Cady is standing in the doorway, looking even more beautiful than she did that morning with a breathless smile and dimples in her cheeks. And everything else she was feeling melts away.

Janis doesn’t care about dignity, she runs over and throws her arms around her. As Cady hugs her back just as fiercely, Janis fights the urge to pick her up off the floor.

“I missed you,” Cady whispers into her shoulder.

“I missed you more,” she replies, certain that she’s correct.

“Well I’ll just go then,” Damian jokes. “If you two need a moment alone.”

“Don’t even think about it,” she tells him seriously, jumping into his embrace. He runs his hand through her hair and even rocks her and everything about his embrace feels right.

“Got you these,” he says when they eventually pull apart. He presents her with a bunch of white flowers wrapped in silver paper. The scent is just like the gesture; so sweet it makes her well up.

“Oh you losers,” she says. “I love them.”

“Hi kids,” her mom greets from her chair in the corner. To be honest, Janis had actually forgotten her mom was there. So her mom has watched her run across the room and tackle-hug Cady. Nice. “How was school?”

“It’s fine,” Cady replies. “You know… senior year….”

“Oh I’m sure it is,” she says fondly. “I’ll give you kids some alone time.” She gives Janis’ shoulder a squeeze before heading out, and then Janis can hold Cady’s hand as tightly as she wants and pulls the two of them to the bed, utterly giddy at having them at her side again.

Even if it won’t last a voice in her head whispers.

“So come on, what have I missed?” she asks. “Other than you two, I mean. Tell me everything. Spill all the tea. I crave gossip!”

“It’s been a week, Jan,” Cady tells her, grinning and swinging her legs as her feet don’t touch the floor. “But, you do know that you’re talking to the newest captain of the North Shore Mathletes.”

“Come on then.” Janis digs her elbow in her girlfriend’s ribs. “Tell me everything.”

That’s all the incentive Cady needs.

She babbles on about her plans for the new year as Captain, how she’s already getting new recruits and she’s even allowed to invite freshmen and create Junior Mathletes, how she’s sure that membership is going to be double what it was last year (at which point Damian reminds her that there were only three people on the team last year), and about how they’re already starting to put together teams for a few contests, more than last year, and of course, how she’s ready to defend their state champion title. With each word, Janis’ heart grows warmer, the sense of security she’s craved all week settling and wrapping around her like her favourite blanket, and their hands lie intertwined on the bed a though they’d never been apart.

“So that’s my life…” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. She shakes her head and covers Janis’ hand with hers. “But what about you, what’s it like in here?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she scoffs. “I’m always fine.” Cady’s smile dips, not enough, but Janis notice and let out a sigh. “I mean it’s not the ideal situation. But I’m… coping?”

“I do not like that inflection,” Damian adds, leaning back on the bed and raising an eyebrow.

“You wouldn’t,” she says. “Like, it’s not too bad. You know… the food is actually pretty good, we have some cool stuff in the longue, they know how to keep us occupied. The doctors are all great. Including one hot med student I’m considering setting Damian up with.”

“Consider my attention grabbed,” he says. “How hot are we talking here?”

“Like… Okay I’m not into dudes, so I’m not that great at guessing, but he’s a solid 7.5,” she explains. “Would be a 9 but he stabbed me several times while trying to find a vein.”

“He did what?” Cady squeals, making the two of them jump. Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. “He stabbed you?”

“Woah, yeah.” She grasps Cady’s shoulder and silently bites her tongue. She rubs it in circles, bringing her back down. “And it hurt for a few seconds and I was slightly annoyed by it. And then we laughed about it.” She strokes Cady’s cheek carefully. “Nothing bad, Caddy.”

“Okay.” Cady lets out a breath and shakes out her hands. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, love.” She plays a kiss on her cheekbone, the tension fleeing Cady’s body as she does so. She tangles her fingers in her hair. She even missed her hair. “It’s cute that you worry so much.”

“I always worry about you.” At that moment, Damian turns his attention to the window, and Cady rests her head on Janis’ shoulder and Janis wraps her arms around her. This, the fearful looks and causing anxiety to her, this is what Janis wanted to avoid in the first place.

Damn Cady Heron and her unflinching loyalty.

“You’re feeling okay though?” she asks quietly. “Right?”

“Okay’s a bit of a relative term these days,” she says. “I’m feeling a bit bleh. But it’s fine.” Cady murmurs something she guesses is an agreement and nestles closer to her. Janis rubs her hand up and down her arm. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” She presses her cheek into her head and closes her eyes, only for a moment.

“Anyway, enough of that stuff,” she says, bouncing and turning to Damian, beckoning him back over. “There’s got to be more that I’ve missed. Come on, spill.”

“Well…” Damian begins, spinning around to face them with a grin stretched across his face. He’s been waiting to tell her this, she can tell. “They’ve announced that the musical this year will be… drum roll.”

She can Cady drum their hands on their legs, the sound bouncing off the walls and making the room tremble with anticipation as it gets higher and faster until-.

“Cabaret!”

“No way!” she gasps. Damian nods excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet and clapping his hands together. “Stars have aligned, mon amie. Stars have aligned.”

“Which means,” he goes on, throwing himself down on the bed with such gusto that it bounces. “I am going to be the greatest Emcee that North Shore High would ever wish to have.”

“Damn right!” The two high five, their glee double that of the slightly out of the loop Cady. “Emcee has been one of Damian’s dream roles ever since middle school.”

“Ever since I came out of the damn womb!” he exclaims. “I cannot tell you how much I screamed when the drama club announced it.”

“I can,” Cady adds. “It was loud and long and he got several death glares from everyone else.”

“That’s the only appropriate way to react,” Janis chuckles. “We watched the movie way back when and that’s when he decided he was going to play the Emcee or die trying.”

“It’s also when Janis became gay for Liza Minelli.”

“I’m gay for myself,” she corrects. “Liza was just the object of young Janis’ affections.” She rests her chin on Cady’s shoulder and smiles at him. “I’m helping you prep for this. I don’t care if I have to break out of here with an IV in my arm, I’m helping you.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he replies. “Also the drama club is devastated you can’t do the set this year.”

“Who the heck says I can’t?” she says indignantly. “Those morons they have won’t last five minutes without my guidance. And I will not have your shining moment ruined by a subpar set.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “We all know who really runs that drama club.”

“Oh really, madame,” Damian scoffs, turning so his leg is folded beneath him. Janis keeps smiling, despite the feeling that its being tugged down and the weight settling in her stomach. Of all the times he had to do Cabaret, why did it have to be now?

“Everyone really missed you at school,” Cady tells her.

“Bet it’s not everyone,” she says, half joking. “Not one person in particular.”

“Hey!” Cady slaps her arm. “Be nice.”

“I promised to play nice to her face,” Janis reminds her. “Not behind her back.” Cady huffs out a laugh, her face slightly scrunched up. “But how’s the most important thing; LGBT+ society?”

“Well, we’re having our first welcome back meeting on Wednesday,” Damian says. “And Gretchen is taking over your stall at the fair. Sonja’s going to help her out though,” he adds. “And Sonja’s taking over your spot on the committee too.”

“Good choice,” she says. Lovely as Gretchen is most of the time, Janis isn’t sure she could handle the pressure of running her stall. And Sonja’s the perfect choice to take over her committee spot, smart as a whip, decisive and funny as hell.

So why does the idea make Janis so uneasy?

“Yeah, why don’t we turn this TV on?” she says, grabbing the remote. “It apparently has Netflix, although I’m not entirely sure how to operate it. There’s a load of DVDs in the longue as well.”

“A DVD. Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while,” Damian says.

“I don’t think they have Cabaret though,” she sighs. “Which would be perfect for us right now.” She’s telling half-truths, because there’s a substantial collection of old movies, including musicals, but she doesn’t really want to brave the longue now, or to take them in there. The longue is probably her favourite place in the hospital, but it’s bound to be full right now. And for now, she wants to keep her cancer world and the real world separate.

So with some fussing, they manage to find Netflix and learn how to work it. Cady is insistent that Janis pick the movie, since it’s her room and she doesn’t know half of them and has already watched the other half. At the start of the summer, Janis had made Cady a list of every movie she needed to watch, and by the end of August they’d almost made it to the halfway mark. The best part wasn’t the movies themselves; it was the movie nights. Huddled under a comforter and surrounded by pillows, Cady’s body pressed against hers and the lights down low, buttery popcorn and sugar-covered candies keeping them going until one (usually Cady) fell asleep.

Now they make do with the thin hospital bed and the near-plastic sheets. At least they can adjust the height of it, and Janis positions Cady against her and Damian sits in the comfiest chair to watch The Parent Trap. It’s none of their favourites, but it’s familiar and good enough and while it wasn’t on the list, Cady hasn’t seen it yet. Besides, Damian can make any more fun.

And really, Janis can’t take any more of the back and forth debate.

The more the movie goes on, the more normal Janis feels. She runs her fingers up and down Cady’s bare arms, her girlfriend’s jacket discarded across a chair like she would in her house. The conversation is light and easy and full of giggles even at the stupidest, silliest thing, Damian quoting along with the movie and Cady hopelessly lost, especially at around halfway through when Janis decides to tell her that Annie and Hallie were played by the same person.

“No way!” she declares. “I’m not believing you until I see proof.”

“Google it,” she says. “Damian?”

“Way ahead of you.” He pulls up the page and shows her the cast list, with one little Lohan billed as the two twins. Cady’s mouth falls on the floor, her shoulders shaking in a silent, disbelieving laugh.

“Jesus Christ!” she says. “How did they do that all the way back then?”

“Movie magic,” Janis replies, wiggling her fingers for effect. “It’s okay, Caddy, we all felt betrayed when we first found out.”

“Didn’t she go off her rocker a bit?” she asks, pointing to the screen. “I know that much. Regina told me.”

“A little,” Janis agrees. “But I kind of feel bad for her, you know?”

“I guess.”

“Oh. Oh!” The camera pans up, revealing the striking and scary figure of Meredith Blake, and Janis squeezes Cady’s arms. “I hated this bitch.”

“I hated her more,” Damian adds, his tone not 100% light. “When I first watched this I had this soon-to-be stepmom, because my dad was back in the dating game, and she was…” He gags and points down his throat.

“Real mature, Damian,” Janis jokes. “I mean she absolutely was, but still. Mature.”

“Okay, missy,” he laughs. “Nah but I used to try to get inspiration from how to deal with her from this movie.”

“Shh!” she hisses sharply, covering Cady’s ears. “Spoilers!”

“I can still hear you,” Cady tells her. “And I could sort of guess. All the movies about step parents do that kind of thing, don’t they? Bratty kid gets wreaks havoc on the step parent?”

“Are you saying thirteen year old me was a brat?” Damian asks.

“Seventeen year old you is also a brat,” Janis teases. Damian gasps and grabs the cushion from the chair, aiming it at her head. Part of her is completely sure he wouldn’t, not in a hospital, part of her is completely sure he would because of course he would.

She doesn’t find out either way, because their gathering is interrupted by her medical team, and the weight in her stomach comes back with a vengeance.

“Not getting in the way are we?” Nurse Lucy asks.

“Not at all,” she says. Before she stops herself, she’s already pushing Cady off her. Heat rises in her cheeks. “That time again?”

“Unfortunately so,” she replies as Cady slides off the bed. “Is it okay if Jackson does it this time?”

“Yeah, sure.” As she rolls up her sleeve, her friends catch on to what’s happening, and Damian rushes to Cady’s side.

“I promise I’ll find the vein this time,” Jackson jokes.

“Oh this is the one you said-” Cady is cut off by Janis making a small ‘cut it out’ gesture with her hand. She then raises an eyebrow at Damian, whose small smirk tells her everything she needs to know.

She takes a look at her IV and her bare arm before turning back to them. She still hates this; shockingly, she hasn’t gotten used to it in under a week. Her stomach still drops a hundred feet when she looks at the needle and her chest tightens even if she’s only thinking about it.

“You guys don’t need to watch this,” she tells them. “It doesn’t hurt. But if you need to look away, it’s fine.”

“I’m fine,” Cady tells her. When Janis looks down though, she sees how tightly she’s holding Damian’s hand.

“Okay,” she says.

This time around it only takes Jackson three tries to find her vein before securing it with the bandage. Good for him. He’s learning.

“You know the drill by now?” Lucy asks.

“Two hours, stay hydrated.” She gives her a two-fingered salute.

“Two hours?” Cady echoes, and Janis has to chuckle at it. “This takes two hours?”

“That’s what she said the first time she found out,” Lucy says, gesturing to Janis. “I can see why you two like each other so much.”

“No but… two hours,” she says again as they leave. “What do you do for two hours?”

“I just… sit here I guess,” she answers, looking up at the medicine. “You know, there’s TV. I have books. I draw. Sometimes it knocks me out and I get a little surprise nap, so that’s fun.”

“Is that… should we go?” Cady asks. “If you’re going to-”

“Oh no.” She shakes her head firmly. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Completely.” She’s such a liar it’s a wonder her tongue hasn’t turned black and crumbled. “Come on. Let’s finish the movie at least.”

Cady lays beside her rather than on her, and Damian stays on the other side of the bed, away from her IV. She catches him once or twice, watching the drip instead of the movie. His gaze is unreadable, and since she’s always been able to know his thoughts without him speaking, it unsettles her.

It’s not long before that familiar tiredness descends on her, clouding her mind and pulling her downwards. And she fights it; she keeps her eyes open despite how they itch and shifts her body when she finds herself too comfortable lest she start drifting off. It’s a challenge, not just because of the medicine’s effect on her, but because of Cady’s warmth next to her, promising security and comfort and being there when she wakes up.

And she must have given into it at one point, because she opens her eyes after a blink and the movie is over; Nick and Elizabeth are together again, Annie and Hallie stay with each other forever, happy endings all around.

“What time is it?” Janis asks.

“Nearly five,” Damian explains. Visiting hours don’t end for another two hours. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” she asks. “I’m fantastic.”

“You sure?” Cady’s hand is on hers, slowly linking their fingers together. Janis squeezes her hand, clarity coming into her mind by her own will.

“Of course I’m sure.”

They don’t have to be home for another hour. Home for dinner, that’s the rule. That doesn’t really change. Damian tells her that his mom is thinking about her every day and was beside herself when she heard the news.

“She’s started following more baking blogs,” he tells her. “So prep yourself for a lot of baked goods on your doorstep.”

“I can’t object to that,” she says. “Especially since Val always bakes with love.”

At some point during the hour, Janis pulls Cady into her lap again, or Cady crawls into it, or both. Her head is under her chin and her back against her chest, slotting into place perfectly. Like if she holds her this close, she won’t have to leave.

Wishful thinking, she knows, because when it gets close to six, Cady picks up her jacket and her backpack and there’s nothing but empty air against Janis’ body.

She wishes she could lead them to the door, but her IV catches on everything, so they say their goodbyes where they are.

“Don’t miss me too much,” she warns them teasingly.

“I hardly ever think about you,” Damian replies, his voice thick.

“And you,” she tells him. “Better run lines with me. When’s auditions?”

“Next Thursday,” he tells her. “So I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Perfect,” she says. “I have treatments at 11, at 2… You know what? I’ll text you them.”

“Okay. And you were right by the way. That med student is a snack.” They laugh, and then there’s a moment of silence before he folds her in his arms, her face burying itself in the crook of his neck and his hand cupping the back of her head. “Take of yourself, okay?” His voice is so soft, so desperate, that it sounds like a plea.

“I will,” she says. “I always do.” Knowledgeable as always, he gives her and Cady space to say goodbye themselves. She rubs her hand on her shorts, nervousness gripping her body in a way she hasn’t felt in a while and she thoroughly dislikes.

“I’ll text you the second I get home,” Cady says. “And can I call you tomorrow?”

“Of course you can,” she says. “As long as you get some homework done tonight, kid.”

“I will,” she says. “I didn’t get the top grade in Norbury’s class for nothing.” Cady takes in a deep breath, her hand fidgeting around her backpack strap and her hair half-hiding her face. Janis reaches out and pushes it back and if she notices her shaking hand, she doesn’t say anything.

“Caddy-”

Janis actually wasn’t sure what she was going to say there, but it doesn’t matter, because Cady steps up and kisses her. It’s not perfect; it feels clumsy and awkward and they bump against each other, but it’s everything Janis needs. So much so that when they pull away, she doesn’t even attempt to hide the blush on her cheeks.

“Okay,” she whispers, grinning. “I’ll see you soon.” She steals another peck.

“See you later, Janis,” she whispers. They don’t stop holding hands for as long as they can and Janis is still looking at her until she’s out of view, walking back down the hall with Damian, maybe getting lost again. Down the hall, to the right, into the elevator and out the double doors. Bus stop down the street, next stop home. They ride together until Damian gets off and Cady stays on. All the while she stays here, IV in arm and her phone buzzing, talking to them until she falls asleep.

#mean girls broadway #mean girls the musical #cadnis #cady x janis #janis sarkisian #cady heron #damian hubbard #fic: heart of stone

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sparklyandchic · 4 years

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🦋 MINI MIND MAKEOVER 🦋

okay i started the idea for this mini little mind makeover when i broke up with my boyfriend in like january. instead of being sad or angry, i wanted to be grateful for this time and take it as an opportunity to make life better for myself. then quarantine happened, so some of these are related to things i’ve learned since that started. either way, these aren’t all concrete things to do for your mind; some of them are just ways of thinking or pep talks. but if you can find one little piece of information or thought that makes you a little bit happier for a moment, that’s all i can hope for!

5-htp: okay first off- please ALWAYS consult your psychiatrist or medical professional before taking a supplement! taking 5-htp with, for example, serotonin-increasing medications can lead to a fatal illness called serotonin syndrome. personally, i started taking it because i had been on 10 mg prozac for a few months. it definitely dulled a lot of my anxiety and had a lot of positive aspects to it, but it dulled them almost too much to the point where i felt apathetic and detached from myself and the situations i was in. i was in a very unhealthy relationship and felt like i needed my mental clarity and “overthinking” processes back in order to identify what i was feeling and how to deal with it. i felt a lot more “sensitive” after coming off it, which was actually really welcome for me at first, but then it sort of dropped off into withdrawals. i was having constant panic attacks and crying very often. after a while, i was debating going back on prozac, but remembered i had taken 5-htp before. 5-htp is an amino acid that is a direct precursor to serotonin being produced in the brain. when u eat turkey, tryptophan is converted into 5-htp which leads to your brain producing serotonin, thus why you feel calm and happy afterwards. after taking 5-htp for just a few days, ranging between 200-300 mg per day (again, do your research, ask your doctor, and start small) i stopped crying constantly and really felt this sense of calmness and wellbeing but without the detachment and apathy i felt with prozac. i could still think clearly but didn’t feel overly sensitive to every emotion which arose. personally, it is really a lifesaver and really does make a noticeable difference.

cognitive behavioral therapy: ive tried therapy a million times. well okay, like 5 or 6 different therapists. at its worst, therapists told me i needed to use my sexual power as a woman in order to get what i wanted from men, told me i’m bad at socializing and should do group therapy, said my mom shouldn’t have encouraged me to “be myself” when i was younger because it made me less likeable than if i had conformed to normal societal standards of dressing. i had gone to “therapists” who claimed to be trained in CBT, but when i told them about my experiences with dissociation, the only feedback i got was to “take more baths.” while going through a few unpleasant experiences in my personal life, i decided i should try CBT once more, but like the real kind. i found an ivy-league educated licensed psychologist (NOT a “licensed clinical social worker” who doesn’t even have a psychology degree!!) who SPECIALIZED specifically in cognitive behavioral therapy. just after the first session, i was so elated with my experience. as opposed to just telling me that i needed to be more normal or more kind or a better person, she tried to identify WHAT was making me feel that way about myself in the first place. she pointed out the positive things i do and reassured me i was kind, good, and deserving of good things. she pointed out many aspects of my situation that would have taken me days or weeks to come to on my own. i’ve realized my hubris isn’t that i’m not socially acceptable or not perfect enough, but its just that i tend to THINK that i am these things despite having no evidence of it. so, over time with therapy, my positive self image about who i am as a person has grown and strengthened and i dont just randomly feel like a bad human being anymore lol. moral of the story, if you wanna do therapy but it keeps sucking, dont give up. go to a legit psychologist, find someone who specializes in the type of therapy you’re seeking, and also be vocal during your sessions. stand up to your psychologist when they continually push a narrative onto you, and explain why you don’t agree with it. sometimes it’s their job to try different narratives to see what fits, and if you just passively let them say what they want to, you’ll never find the truth of your experience! it’s a communal effort! therapy isn’t usually a magic cure-all where one session fixes everything that goes awry in your brain. but if you find someone who knows what they’re doing they can in fact really help your thought processes become less twisted up and more clear and healthy.

meditation and mindfulness: a few weeks ago i felt anxious and overly driven to get things done to the point where i spiraled into a space of guilt or a panic attack over not getting enough things done. meditation can be so so helpful here. it’s better to spend an hour sitting and doing nothing, but doing it peacefully and then calmly moving on to doing something else, than to spend 5 hours stressing yourself over every single thing you need to get done and how much time you’re wasting. the things that need to get done will get done. another thing that i’ve realized and say to myself a lot is: “focus not on doing all things perfectly, but on doing the small things well.” by this i mean, stop thinking about the 20 things you need to get done and how it all needs to be perfect, but instead take your time with the task that presents itself as most beneficial right now and focus on enjoying it and giving your whole self to the process. for example, stop thinking about how you need to clean your room, your closet, donate clothes, take a shower, take out the trash, read, workout, etc. think to yourself; “which task would bring me the most joy right now?” if the answer is taking a shower, then take that damn shower. bring your speaker into the bathroom, scrub every inch of your scalp with shampoo, scrub your feet and behind your ears and your neck with body wash, brush the conditioner through your hair fully. you may end your shower with 19 other things to do, but god damn if you can’t enjoy a single one of them and be present for it, what’s the fucking point! go light a candle and bask in its glow, go make your bed and huddle up in your neatly arranged covers, go take a long bath or a thorough shower, and be proud of and content with that today.

relationships, with others and yourself: okay, if you missed the memo, my ex-boyfriend sucked. like genuinely was a bad person. he was a drug dealer, so that’s red flag number 1 (which i ignored of course), he hadn’t graduated high school (he was 18, i was 20, he was supposed to graduate the last semester but refused to do the work and ignored me and his mother when encouraged to do it, which is uhh definitely red flag number 2 which i also ignored), he habitually did not show up for dates on time or lied about what he was going to do or what he did (literally everything he did was a red flag and i rlly ignored all of it). the worst part was how he responded when i worked up the courage to speak to him about it. if we had agreed upon a time for our date but he showed up literally 8 hours late, he would blame it on me because i “could have called” him, or that i was “demanding too much of” him, or that i “should have said something earlier so now [i was] just dragging it out because it already happened.” basically, whatever narrative he pushed at me, i eventually gave into. i’ve dealt with gaslighting in a relationship before and a part of me knew what was happening to me, but a part of me also kept having hope for him, kept empathizing with him, kept wanting to believe in him. after a bit too much time, i finally realized you have to trust yourself, empathize with yourself, and believing in yourself over anyone else. at first i felt bad for him not being able to graduate because i had my own struggles with high school and getting work done. i thought he may have issues but he deserves someone to be there for him because i wanted someone to be there for me. despite the pain and stress he was causing me, i sat around crying over him because i cared about him and tend to over-empathize with people close to me, whether they deserve it or not. my therapist told me something that at first i did not understand, but over time came to grasp in its entirety: “some people do not deserve your love or kindness.” after our first session, my homework was to “consider when you are being kind and when you are being taken advantage of.” this made me realize that what feels like your instinctual nature to be nice to others, can in fact be a self-sabotaging unfair action, depending on the other person’s response. i might be dishing out a lot right now, but bear with me. think of it this way: you regard an action as a “kind action”. you might think “kind actions” include: forgiving someone for large mistakes, putting someone’s needs over yours, sparing them some change when they ask for it, listening to the problems they are dealing with every day. BUT when their actions include not forgiving you for minor mistakes, not giving a sh*t about your needs or considering them, not caring how much money they take from you and how much money you need to have around, or habitually glossing over your problems because it doesn’t benefit them to care, THEN those actions you performed are NOT “KIND ACTIONS” anymore. the act of continuing to give them leeway is now the act of being taken advantage of. the act of giving them money is now the act of being taken advantage of. the act of buying into their story at the expense of your sanity, is now the act of being taken advantage. basically, all i’m saying is START PUTTING YOURSELF FIRST AND TRUSTING YOURSELF WHEN YOU FEEL SOMEONE DOESN’T HAVE YOUR BEST INTERESTS IN MIND.

ending thoughts: i know quarantine is difficult right now. the desire to grow contrasted with the inability to move. maybe try and follow that old 2008~ quote; “bloom where you are planted”. you might not be able to reach the goals you thought you would during this time. you might not be able to run a marathon or make a bunch of new friends or wake up at 6 AM to workout or redo your bedroom or get a rhinoplasty or join a gym or get an internship. working towards productivity might be unrealistic right now. but you can work everyday towards becoming the woman you want to be, mentally. you can work on learning to be content, learning to make the best with what you have, learning to appreciate the little things, learning to slow down. these are all qualities that i for one want to have just as much as i want to be attractive or successful. if you can’t enjoy success, what’s the fucking point! life is on pause right now, take this moment as a gift and consider your internal world and what parts of your mind need a makeover. there are horrible things happening in the world right now, do what you can to help, but if you’re safe and healthy then be grateful for the things you can learn from this difficult time. take it slow, but keep moving forward!

#happyandchic #happy and chic

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vanchlo · 4 years

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The Assistant / Chapter Thirty, “Close Calls”

All chapters can be found here!

Inspiration tag for the story!

I recently completed a character survey from Becky’s POV that you should check out!

Warning! This story contains mentions of: cancer, vomiting, chemotherapy process, and brief mentions of blood.

Sneaky peeeeeeeek!

I want to tell him, but I don’t know how to. I don’t know how to put into words that I’m breaking more and more every day. The paradox of being happy and sad that I’m here with my dad for his next round of chemotherapy. And I sure as hell don’t know how to put into words to Harry that his one in a million hugs could fix everything, if only for a little bit.

But I can’t, and I don’t try to put the feelings into words. I sit there and cry inside of my car until I can’t anymore. And until I find enough strength to sit up and leave, knowing that I won’t call him back.

Snowflakes flutter in front of my eyes, painting the world white. Cars zoom past on the streets down below, the size of my fingernail. Yeah, it sure looks like the first of February out there, the thought sounds inside of me. The festivities of Christmas are long over as a new year has begun. Thinking of what comes next leads to a disorganized mess behind my eyes. I try to rid my thoughts of it with a hard blink, but instead it brings something else forth.

February 1st.

It’s Harry’s birthday today.

He’s 29. Shit.

Flipping my phone over in my lap, my thumbs get working fast. But once that empty conversation is in front of my eyes, I stall. Before I chicken out, words appear on the screen quickly.

I read them over and wonder how they sound. Or, more like, how they would sound to him. Do they sound too personal? Do they not sound personal enough? Or am I worrying too much and it’ll just blend into all of the other birthday texts he’s sure to receive?

“I think if you stare at that thing any harder your eyes are gonna pop out of your skull, Ree.”

I raise my head to find the voice who said that. My dad. He smiles tiredly at me a few steps away. I laugh, realizing he’s right.

“What’s got your attention so peaked anyways?” he asks. His eyes framed with exhaustion stay for only a second. They return to the Arsenal football match playing on the telly.

“Um, just trying to write a text to somebody. But I don’t know if it’s good enough.”

“Don’t think about it so much, sweetie. I mean it, you’re probably thinking too hard about it,” he comments, scratching at the blue wool hat covering his head.

Sometimes I still expect to see the IV tubing dangling from his skinny arm. Like all of the other times at the beginning. Patches of faded red cover the insides of his arms from them now. You wouldn’t notice their small marks, but I know they’re there. The seconds of relief from their absence is whisked away when he tugs at his shirt. The moving of the material reveals the tubing leading to the port in his chest. The one I forget has been there for months when his shirt covers it.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I tell him, and go ahead and hit Send.

Hi. I’ve been thinking of you. I hope you’re doing alright. Just remembered it was your birthday. Wow 29, huh? Damn you really are getting old, you geezer. You better hurry and claim your senior discount now. No, but really I hope you’re having a good day, Harry. Enjoy your day. Have some drinks and do something for yourself, something you enjoy. I hope 29 is a fantastic year for you. Hopefully you’re not as run down yet as Chandler is.

I tap Send again, watching the clip from F.R.I.E.N.D.S go with the text marked by a heart. A smile pulls up my cheeks, thinking of the scene.

The three guys are sitting on the sofa in Central Perk and Chandler talks about not being 21 anymore. He’s 29 now and just wants to relax and go to bed at his bedtime, according to him.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” my dad comments, bringing my eyes back to him. A small smile pinches his sallow cheeks. I nod, thinking of those words, but in a different way. If only that could be said about everything.

Setting my phone down, I try to watch the match with him. I’m glad it’s taking his mind off of the poison coursing through his veins. But I’m distracted by the anxious excitement of waiting to hear a ding from my phone.

Point after point is scored and it doesn’t come. And I try not to be disappointed, but I think I’m getting rather good at being disappointed lately.

The last words of a Katy Perry song trickle from the speakers as I put the car in park. A soft glow pours out the living room window, waiting for me.

6:13 pm, the digital clock reads.

I let my head fall back to the head rest. The events of today and their emotions flood my thoughts. As well as the things I still need to do tonight. Bring in the groceries. Put them away. Make dinner, even though he’ll eat 5 bites that he’ll throw up. Sweep and mop the kitchen. Disinfect surfaces. Find time to vacuum when he isn’t sleeping. Change his bedsheets. Do la-

Brrrrrrrrrrring!

The incessant words forming inside of my head cease. Looking over to the passenger seat, my phone buzzes face down. I pick up and answer it without looking.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Becks,” a refreshing voice answers. It almost removes the heavy words inside of me, but not quite.

“Hi, Harry. How was your birthday?” I answer, peering down at my lap.

“It was pretty fantastic, thank you. ‘m sorry I didn’ get t’ yer text yestaday. Tha’s why ‘m callin’, an’ ‘cause I got yer gift. I love it, it was so nice o’ you! I don’ have this Fleetwood record yet, so thank ya very much. ‘s in incredible condition, too! Hope ya didn’ have t’ pay too much. I know how pricey original records can be,” his syrupy voice utters with extra sugar today. It fills me with comfort, but he also picked the worst time to call. Although, maybe it would help to get out of my head for a few minutes. If I can.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it. I uh, wasn’t sure if you had it or not,” I reply slowly, unsure of what to say. I find it hard trying to pick out words from my head as so many others are whirring around. Playing with the zipper on my coat, I wait for his reply.

“I can’ wait t’ listen t’ it. There’s not a scratch on it, ‘s unbelievable. I got sum drinks with sum mates last night afta work, so tha’s why I forgot t’ text back. Had lots o’ fun tho’, an’ ate sum good food,” he narrates for me in an animated voice.

I nod at his words, wishing that would suffice. But I have to talk, even though yesterday I would’ve jumped at the chance to hear his voice. Well, I still would today. Just minus the jumping part.

“Good,” is all I say, amidst the lump building in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to breathe. But it doesn’t help, it never does. “I’m glad you had a good time,” I somehow manage. Cursing myself, I know he heard my voice crack at the end. Because so did I.

“Becks-.”

“I’m glad you had a good birthday with friends. It did sound fun. Um I’m sorry, but can I call you back? I was just going to run into a shop quick,” I cut him off, the lie knitting together fast.

“Ya sure, an’ thanks. ‘ll talk t’ ya later, Becks. Drive safe,” he replies, something amiss in his voice. But I can’t listen any further than that, or else the guilt will make the tears come sooner.

“Thanks, Harry. I will, and happy birthday,” I finish, not giving him a chance to reply before I hang up.

Because the tears already arrived at my last word. And he sounded so happy, and I couldn’t ruin it. Over the course of the few texts we’ve sent back and forth in the last month, it was the happiest he’s sounded. And I didn’t want to share my dark cloud, and reveal that I’m in the lowest of my lows. Another side of me selfishly wanted him to notice, almost begged him to. And that part is disappointed that he didn’t, but the other part knows that I can’t expect that. Or at least it tries to.

It’s going to take everything inside of me. To lift my head from the steering wheel and walk back into that house. And to do yesterday and the day before, all over again. Dole out the meds and write them down. Clean up the vomit. Cook the meals. Clean and clean. Endure watching the pain and suffering I can’t do a damned thing about. And on top of it all, try to deal with my own pain and suffering. Not to forget, the schoolwork.

I want to tell him, but I don’t know how to. I don’t know how to put into words that I’m breaking more and more every day. Or the paradox of being happy and sad that I’m here with my dad for his next round of chemotherapy. And I sure as hell don’t know how to put into words to Harry that his one in a million hugs could fix everything, if only for a little bit.

“Hey, Becky. Could you do me a favor, love?”

The pictures of puppies I was looking at suddenly feels illegal. Closing my laptop, I look up and find Sophie standing in front of me. I still think for a split second that she’s the mom from The Princess Diaries when I look at her, even after a year of working here.

“Y-yeah yeah. What do you need, Sophie?” I ask, trying to sit up straight, for once.

“Could you run this down to the post room for me, please? I need it sent out today, and I have a video conference in a minute. I’d wait on it, but I know they pickup the post in about 20. I won’t make it since my video conference is an hour long,” she says, her lips lined in scarlet grimacing. She tugs at the end of her corkscrew brown curls, a nervous habit of hers. “I hate to be one of those bosses that makes you do stupid stuff, but-.”

“Don’t mention it, Soph. A little walk would be nice, anyways,” I insist, taking the large white envelope from her. She thanks me with a smile and a handful of ‘thank yous’ before leaving.

Standing up, I feel my joints wake back up with a few cracks. I smooth down my maroon blouse over my black dress pants. A shiver tickles my spine, and I decide to slide on my zip up black Columbia. The last thing I do before leaving is to grab my steel water bottle to fill up.

“Be right back,” I let the girls know at the front desk. They nod with a smile before resuming their hushed conversation.

My pointed flats hardly make a noise on the tiled floor. It’s hard to look for a noise with the wind whipping around the snow outside. Just looking out the windows lining the hallway makes me feel cold, colder than it should be in March. And regret choosing these shoes this morning. I reach a corner and take a left, thinking back to when I first started and always got lost. I pass a handful of people on my way, familiar and not, and we exchange smiles or nods. I pass the doors for Human Resources, and wave at a friend. A gruff bailiff passes without either, but he was a little too scary looking to make eye contact with anyways.

I reach another corner, knowing the post room is only two turns away now. I take a right, but a few steps in, I hear voices. And laughing. My feet stop at the sound, and I turn around. The large doors to Courtroom 5 are down the hallway behind me. A clump of people stand across them talking, leaning against the wall under a clock. One of the laughs stands out to me from the others, like a musician can recognize a note. I can only see the backs of heads of those facing away from me. They shield the others from my view. My head goes from side to side with dismissal as I turn back around. But I don’t get very far, because I hear something they say.

A name.

It’s like it takes control of my limbs, and again I’m spinning around. I make it just in time to watch a figure break away from the group. Smiling and shaking hands, a laugh tickling their lips. And walk over to the drinking fountain. It’s Rose, one of the lawyers from Harry’s firm. Hmm, I think silently before walking away for real this time.

I soon find another water fountain and I decide to fill up. Luckily almost all of the ones I come across here have the nifty water bottle attachment. It was always a pain any place I’d go trying to fill it up directly from the spout. With the thick envelope under my arm, I screw the cap back on. Slipping my finger through the little handle at the top, I take off. But once again, I don’t get very far. Because this time I almost run into somebody.

“Sorry,” I automatically say before even taking a look at the person. But I don’t need to look when their voice tells me what I’m looking for.

“‘s alr- Wait, ‘s that you, Becks? Well hi, love,” Harry coos, his words catching.

“What, I don’t get an ‘it’s alright’ just because I’m not a stranger?” I joke, looking into his brilliant green eyes.

The skin around his eyes crinkles as amusement paints his face. Nodding, his growing curls dance a little on his head. “Yeah, I guess ‘s alright ya almost plowed me ova,” he jokes, his straight white teeth showing behind his happy lips.

Scratching at the back of his neck, his navy blazer pulls to the side. I see more of the cream button down underneath decorated with small navy polka dots.

“Hey, I could say the same thing about you,” I argue, trying to calm the happiness budding on my lips. But my control doesn’t last very long.

Harry replies with a breathy laugh, dropping his hand. “Oh hush, you. Now, what’re ya doin’ here, love? I hope yer not here fer a hearing,” he asks, swinging the leather messenger bag to his side. Probably heavy from his files and laptop, from the look of its bulging seams.

“I uh, work here,” I tell him slowly, my words escaping me. My fingers wrap around and lift the sleek card resting on my chest.

His moss green eyes fall to the lanyard hanging around my neck holding the access card bearing my face and name. I receive my answer when his expressive eyebrows shoot to the sky in surprise. “Here? Really, doin’ wha’?” he questions.

“Um, I do some clerk stuff back in admin,” I reply, watching his expression relax into a content smile.

“Tha’s great, Becks. That’ll look really good on yer resume when ya graduate. Good fer you, ‘m proud o’ you, darlin’,” he comments, patting my arm. I hardly know what to say with everything jumping around in my head all of a sudden. The arm pat. The beaming pride coating his features. The part where he said he’s proud of me, for the second time now. Okay, chill out, Becky. You can’t lose it, not yet. “An’ ya like it here? Are ya learnin’ more ‘bout law?”

“Yeah, I really like it. I work with a small group of people, and we get along really well. I mean there’s always that one coworker you don’t like, but what can you do?” I try to laugh, but I’m afraid it sounds fake. It’s okay though, because his laugh covers the doubt I hear in mine. And the nerves. “And I am learning, too. My boss is really great and I think she uses me being in law school to her advantage. It’s a match made in heaven, I guess.”

“Good, ‘m glad t’ hear that. ‘m happy t’ hear well, that yer happy,” Harry tells me with a smile framing his words. But when I look at it a second too long, I see the sadness in it. Suddenly, I regret my words, and how they sounded like he wasn’t a good boss. Or that I didn’t like it at his firm. But he doesn’t let me get too far into my thoughts, luckily. “How’s yer dad doin’? I haven’t heard from ya lately, but I undastand yer prolly real busy.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” I apologize, looking away with warming cheeks. But his automatic ‘’s okay’ and squeeze to my arm makes me look back at him. “Things have been pretty crazy with classes and being there for my dad. He started chemo again the beginning of last month, since they didn’t get all of the tumor, like they hoped they would. But I guess most people still do it to ensure it’s gone, or something like that. I can’t remember.”

“Stop, ‘s okay,” he says firmly, his eyebrows raising a tick. “How’s he handlin’ tha chemo? ‘ve heard that stuff’s pretty shitty.”

“Yeah, it is. It makes him really sick. It’s hard because sometimes he has to wait to do an infusion of it, because some levels of his are too low. Or they want him to be at a certain weight, even though the chemo makes him lose weight,” I explain, the words coming out effortlessly. “It’s hard to see him like this, and to still be a student and an employee during all of it. But my professors and boss have been really understanding and lenient.”

I bite back the tears, hoping they won’t fall without my permission. But one breaks loose from the gate as I stare at the floor. My flats are separated from his brown leather chelsea boots. Then after a blink they no longer are. I don’t make the decision to look up, but it’s made for me when I feel his thumb wiping the tear away. Peering into his gleaming green eyes always seems to make time stop. A warm smile places dimples in his cheeks, and does something to me. Like it always does.

“‘s okay. I can’t imagine how hard ‘s been fer ya, Becks. Why didn’ ya ring me? I woulda listened,” Harry asks me, his hand regretfully belonging to himself again. But there isn’t annoyance or anger in his voice. There’s emotions from the other side of the spectrum heard there. Like regret and sadness, and others I can’t fathom right this second.

“I wanted to, but I didn’t know what to say, or how to say it. Plus, I hate to be a Debbie Downer,” I confess, admiring the length of his dark eyelashes when they tickle his skin.

“Yer notta Debbie Downa, Becks, whateva tha bloody hell that ‘s,” he insists. A hint of his giggle meets my ears when I look at him weird due to that revelation. “Ya can call me anytime, ‘kay? Whether ‘s happy or sad, ‘d wanna hear ‘bout it.”

I nod at his words, savoring the sound of his voice. And what it said. His minty breath strokes my cheek as he’s close enough to touch. The words get lost in my throat as his familiar smell wafts over me, catching me off guard. “Thank you,” I mumble thoughtfully, seeing his head move in answer.

“What’re ya takin’ this semesta fer yer LLB tha’s so tough? I mean, I know all tha courses can be, but ‘m curious. Ya must be onto tha heavier courses by now, ‘s that right?”

“Well, I’m still catching up to where I should be as a kind of sophomore. Because they changed the degree around since I’ve been gone, so that’s kinda why I took Crim later than usual. But right now I’m taking Banking Law, Family Law, and Environmental Law,” I answer, watching my words register with him. He nods at certain parts, his brow knitted together as he pays attention to me, like there’s nobody else in the entire room.

“Ugh, those don’ sound any fun. I rememba takin’ those, or what were tha equivalent t’ ‘em when I was in uni. They’re tha ratha borin’ ones, an’ Family’s sad, too,” he comments, a look of disgust playing with his features. It’s amusing, but I get away with not letting it show on my face. Reaching to scratch his chin, I notice the stubble there. And the pops of color on his fingernails. Both fitting, I must say.

“Yeah they’re super boring. I’m surprised you even remember them, seeing as you’re 29 and everything,” I joke, earning a well deserved eye roll from him. But he can’t get rid of the grin showing on his raspberry lips. “Hey, I like your nails. It looks like you did a pretty good job, better than I could even,” I laugh and it grows harder when he holds them out for me to see. A wine red and turquoise blue decorate his fingers. But what gets me is that he puckers his lips, modeling like Zoolander.

“Thanks,” Harry titters, looking down at them. “Me little niece picked out tha colors an’ helped me paint ‘em tha otha night. But I think they’re growin’ on me. Already chippin’ tho they are, whatta shame.”

You let your niece paint your nails?

Wait, you’re an uncle?

Okay, the thought of you with tiny children is not helping things.

“You sound like a fun uncle.”

“Ya, I hope so. Harper says I am anyways, which ‘s quite tha compliment. Also, stop callin’ me old. 29 isn’t old,” Harry whines, sticking his bottom lip out at me.

“Oh stop it, you baby,” I giggle, and soon his joins mine. For a couple of seconds, we’re just looking at each other laughing and things couldn’t be better. But I’ve learned that good things can never last, and soon enough we’re interrupted by a voice.

“Harry, are you coming?” Rose says from across the hallway, a ‘hello’ to me following. The sweet sound coming from his lips soon fades as he looks over to her and nods. Pushing his sleeve back to look at his watch, he clucks his tongue.

“‘m afraid I can’ talk any longa, Becks. ‘m sorry. Rose an’ I are workin’ togetha onna case. It starts in half an hour, an’ we gotta go ova sum things befo’ it all starts,” he explains regretfully. I nod, acknowledging his words. And try as I might, I can’t get rid of the disappointment growing heavy in my gut.

“Yeah o-of course, don’t let me keep you. Good luck, Harry, knock ‘em dead,” I wish him with a small, but sad, smile.

A hint of one inches up his cheeks before he says, “Yer not keepin’ me, I dunno why ya always say that. I enjoy talkin’ t’ ya. ‘s nice t’ catch up again,” Harry tells me. As if in slow motion, I watch him take another step closer to me with outstretched arms. I follow suit and soon find myself in one of his hugs. “Ya ring me if ya need anythin’, ya hear me? Even just t’ talk. Maybe we could get coffee or tacos sumtime.”

The moment in his arms doesn’t last long enough, although I’m sure any amount of time wouldn’t be enough for me. Soon, I’m leaving the safety of his arms and again, I’m alone. “Of course. Thanks, Harry.”

“Welcome. Tell yer dad an’ Robbie ‘m thinkin’ of ‘em,” Harry rasps, and I just nod. “An’ take care, Becks. Good luck in yer courses, I know ya’ll do well.”

Happiness seeps through the sudden sadness with his kindness, and I muster a smile. And another thank you.

“Have a good day, love,” is the last thing he says, before he turns to walk towards Rose who waits for him.

“You too,” I mumble, watching him walk away.

Bittersweetness lines my thoughts, wondering if the sadness is worth getting to see him. And that hug. God, that fucking hug. They do fix everything that’s wrong, if only for a couple of seconds. It makes me wonder how much happier I’d be if I could have one of those every day, as a respite from the chaos of life. But that would only be in the case of if I was his-.

Yeah, I’m not going there again, I tell myself. And with that, I finally continue my journey to the post room, unsure of how I’ll be able to top that.

For the rest of day.

Week.

Maybe even, month.

The butter melts on my tongue and next the pillowy bread does too. I close my eyes and smile at the taste. Like home. Opening them again, my eyes flit over the half dozen crock pots and several other plates. Frowning, I can’t stop thinking about the meatballs, the macaroni and cheese, the sugar cookie fruit pizza, and the homemade bread.

But with a longing sigh, I walk away and leave the break room. Excited coworkers of mine pass me on the way to the food. My desk eyes me from across the room, but I ignore it. Soon, I find myself in the hallway. Twenty minutes left of my break after scarfing down the monthly potluck meal. It only gets better each month, and makes me wish it was weekly. The last bite of airy bread passes my lips. I wipe my hands on the napkin and toss it in a bin. The new storm delivers snow outside of the hallway-long windows. Although they’re frosted from the chill, I can still just make out the falling flakes.

My thoughts of snow are whisked away by the shuffling of feet. And hurried voices. It takes me a moment to figure out where I’ve gone off too. Soon, I realize I’m back by Courtroom 5. And that the people are bustling inside the doors to sit in the gallery. And watch. The sleeve of my zip up glides over my watch, revealing the time to be one o’clock. Quickly, thoughts come together like puzzle pieces in my head.

My break is over at 1:30.

It’s Friday, so it’s not like I really have anything important to do when I get back.

Sophie has been bothering me for ages to go and learn from the teachers I have just down the hall.

So she won’t mind.

And the only teacher that I can think I want to learn from is in there right now.

About to argue a case that appears to be available to the public.

I don’t remember telling my feet to move, but suddenly I’m behind an older man. And the scene in front of me changes drastically. It fills me with nervous excitement at the sight of the judicial panel, the jury box, and the witness stand. But I don’t have time to gawk, because the chatter around me is quieting down. I quickly find a seat towards the back of the seating in the gallery.

Silence follows the clanging of the doors shutting. Within a few seconds, everybody rises when the judge enters. But the rest of the room - the jury made up of all kinds of faces, the bailiff, court reporter etc. - melt away when I see that head of curly hair. I’d know it was him if we were in a crowd of people, but any doubt I had from afar is washed away when he speaks.

Harry and Rose take turns delivering their opening statement. They’re defending their client, the plaintiff, who from the sounds of it, was harassed by the defendant. It kills me to watch the opening statements unfold, even if all I can see is the back of the girl’s head. The hush over the courtroom is chilling, and goosebumps grow on my arms at the sound of Harry’s tone. His professional voice that I’ve yet to really hear before. Because although I worked for him, I was only his assistant. I never got to tag along to trials, or hear much about them. Yes, I did some of the dirty work for them, but I only saw the outside. I heard about how good or bad it was going, and then was dealt with the good news or bad news of the verdict. No more than that.

It’s awe inspiring to witness him arguing the case firsthand. The way he uses his hands to speak, or the times when his voice does all the speaking he needs to. His eloquent choice of words drills the emotion home, and is accented by the expression on his face. It’s often neutral, but at times, I watch him struggle to hide the effects of the words playing on his face. I find myself having a hard time doing the same when he returns to sit next to the plaintiff, patting her on the back during difficult moments. Unbeknownst to me, the defending lawyer may have been practicing for two years or twenty. But their skill wanes next to Harry’s, even though he’s been practicing for less than ten years. I can’t stand to watch the discrepancies and weaknesses in his arguments. Luckily, my break is over and I don’t care to waste my time watching Mr. Bow Tie over here.

I quietly leave a few minutes into his opening statement, hoping one day I can evoke as much emotion as Harry with my words. And hide from my face all of the ones that I’m feeling inside. Walking back to my department, a smile curls the edges of my lips. But then it falls, because I realize the mistake I made.

I just fell a little bit harder. Again.

“I’m gonna bring the dishes down,” I mumble, watching him nod at me.

The wooden steps creak with my weight as I juggle the tray of barely touched food. A bowl of chicken noodle soup. A piece of toast. And apple slices with peanut butter.

Options, options, options.

The plastic tray hits the counter with a hard slap, and an accentuated huff. I bend down and grab tupperware from the drawers. As I pour the soup into a container, the slam of a door upstairs makes me jump. My thoughts fly to the soup spilled all over the counter, but they stop when I hear another noise. Besides the tv in the living room, it’s the only other one I hear. It pulls my feet out of the kitchen and through the living room until I’m at the stairs. I take the steps two at a time until I’m at the top. The terrible sound carries down the hallway, leading me to the bathroom door.

I nervously rap my knuckles against the door.

“I’m fine,” my dad says from the other side, coughing.

“Dad, they said if it gets bad-.”

“It’s not bad yet,” he interrupts. There’s a pause when he blows his nose. “Please, Ree, I just want to be home. I hate having to go there.”

“I know, dad,” I reply, sighing when I hear him start to vomit again.

Walking away, I give him privacy. And my ears a break from one of my newest least favorite sounds. My fingers drift to my back pocket, sure of their actions before I am. Exhaling, I take a seat on one of the stairs.

It rings and it rings.

“Come on, pick up,” I mutter, bouncing my leg.

Kneading my temple, I listen to it continue to ring. And ring. Finally, it stops. But I’m not greeted by the sound I want to hear. Instead I hear their voicemail, making me groan. I listen to the old recording I’ve heard time and time again, but this time I just want it to go away. So I can hear the instructions, and that final beep.

“Hey, it’s me. J-just call me back when you get this, please,” I say quickly, the words running from my lips. Alongside the tears.

Dropping my phone onto my lap face down, my head falls in my hands. Noises surround me. Those of everyday life bustling around me. The sound of the laundry machine whirring downstairs. The hum of the tv. And the ones I try to ignore coming from the door behind me. The sound of the crying. And the vomiting.

I can’t keep my hands still. They go to rake through my hair. To cover my face. To play with my fingers. To make fists. I even try to sit on them, and it doesn’t help. And I can’t stop bouncing my legs, as my nerves jitter from the thoughts.

The worries.

The uncertainty.

It feels like an hour before I hear my twinkling ringtone. But when I see the time on my phone, it’s only been eleven minutes. I barely take the time to look at who’s calling before I answer it.

Clearing my throat, I say a shaky ‘hello.’

“Hey, I got yer message. ‘m sorry I didn’ answer, I was inna late meetin’, but I can talk now. ‘s everythin’ okay, Becks? Ya don’ sound so good, love,” he inquires. His caramely voice is the first comfort I’ve felt all day. My respite from this mayhem.

“No, I’’ll um, let you go. I don’t want to interrupt your meeting. I can call later,” I insist, guilt weaving its way into my words.

“No, yer okay, Becks. I stepped out. It wasn’t anythin’ important, anyways. I can have Myles tell me later. Now, wha’s goin’ on?” he tells me, but it doesn’t revoke all of the guilt consuming me. I grimace at the pain from my chapped lips when they smash together, salty tears flowing over their cracks. “Becks, talk t’ me, please. Yer not a botha, not ever. Please tell me wha’s wrong.”

“Harry,” I begin, not capable of any other words. Because that one has been constant in my head for the last twenty minutes. Ever since it started. It’s the one I’ve been holding in, and not been able to say, until now.

“‘m here, Becks,” he says. Never did I think three words could be so comforting. And at the same time, hurt so much. Because they’re true, and then they’re not. I want them to be true so badly I feel it in my veins.

“M-my dad . . . he won’t stop throwing up and I don’t know what to do. He had chemo yesterday, b-but it went fine. And then we had dinner tonight, and he hardly had three bites, before he got sick. It’s been like that all day,” I confess, leaning against the staircase railing. Letting it hold me there, because nobody else can. Because I can’t do it for myself anymore. “This happens sometimes with the chemo, b-but . . . . . it was getting better recently. I think I should bring him in like they said, but that means staying the night in the hospital. Again. I’m just so tired, Harry, I want all of this to be over already. I want him to be okay, and I want to feel what it’s like to be okay again.” I can’t get out another word, because the tears consume them. And the anxiety. And the exhaustion. My head falls to my knees and the hand cupping my mouth slides away.

“I think ya should bring ‘im in, Becks. ‘Specially if they said so. Don’ want ‘im t’ get dehydrated, that certainly won’ help things,” Harry murmurs, his voice quiet and controlled. “I know ya don’ wanna be there ‘gain, ‘specially twice in tha last two days. But he needs their help . . ‘s there anybody who can come an’ be with you? Maybe that aunt o’ yers who was at tha hospital that night? Robbie, or Skye? But I s’pose they’re 3 hours away in London . . . ,” Harry sighs, his words trailing off into the air. For some reason I nod, glad to hear that my reasoning for not wanting to ask them to come is valid.

“Yeah, it’s just me here. That’s how it’s been. Robbie and I switch off . . . But my dad doesn’t want me to bring him in, he hates going there. Being poked by them and everything. But he hasn’t been able to keep anything down all day,” I cry, the tears soaking the knees of my ripped jeans.

“Ya hafta bring ‘im in, Becks. What if ‘s sumthin’ else, like tha stomach flu or sumthin’ worse? He needs t’ be able t’ eat an’ drink in order t’ get betta,” he urges, and finally I decide to listen.

Nodding at his words and the truth they hold, my lips part, “I know, you’re right. I-I’ll bring him in. T-thanks, Harry, for answering your phone.”

Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I sit up slowly. “Course, Becks. ‘m sorry I was a li’l busy when ya first rang . . . Um drive safe, ‘kay? Maybe bring yer laptop t’ do schoolwork or even jus’ t’ watch Netflix. Sumthin’ t’ distract yerself - a book, or headphones fer music.” His suggestions meet my ears, but they go through one and out the other. They’re not the kind of distraction I want, I think selfishly, but the kind I want, I can’t have. Because it’s you.

“Yeah, I’ll bring something. Thanks, Harry. Have a good night,” I say in almost a whisper, exhaustion stealing my words.

“Yer welcome, Becks. Lemme know what happens, ‘kay?”

I mutter an ‘mmmmhmm’ before hanging up, and trudging up the stairs. Listening for the sound again is hard, because I don’t know what I want to hear. Part of me doesn’t want to hear the vomiting, but the other part oddly does. Because if it stopped then he’ll try to convince me that we don’t have to go in. But I hope it hasn’t, because there’s something at the back of my head telling me we have to. Making me think we need to, because something’s wrong. And I know that if he’s stopped, he’ll tell me that there’s no reason to go in.

My gray striped socks stop on the hardwood floor in front of the door. I knock before I can convince myself to wait. “Dad?”

No answer.

“Dad, I’m bringing you to the hospital. Something’s not right, I just know it. You need to be looked at, and they can help,” I plead from the other side of the slab of wood. A sigh meets my ears and the shuffling of a body.

“Okay,” he relents. I push the door open and am met with his tear-stained face.

Trying to ignore the smell I’m by now used to, I wet a washcloth at the sink. Returning to his side, I bend down and wipe his face with it. And then his mouth. Tossing it in the laundry bin, I wash my hands. Watching him as I do so, his frail figure is slumped against the closed toilet. Embarrassment blanketing him like a sheet.

“It’ll be okay,” I try to tell him. But as I watch his barely there nod, I’m not sure if I believe it either. “Let’s get you downstairs to the car,” I say, drying my hands.

It takes us awhile, to stand up together. To get down the stairs, one step at a time. To slip on his coat. To grab my things. And to drive to the hospital as he threw up into a bucket beside me. But we got there, and the worst part still awaits us.

It pains me to leave his side, but I can’t handle watching them stick him with needles. Or the blood. Not after everything that’s happened in the last 7 months. Combing my hair out of my eyes, I begin my walk down the hallway. Yet another one.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” I respond to the voice I could pick out of a crowd. I try to prepare my words, but I’m not sure what to say. I’m so tired. “I’m at the hospital with dad. Everything is okay. But he hasn’t been able to keep anything down all day, he’s been throwing up off and on. And after dinner, it got worse. They’re taking some blood now to run it for labs. I’ll let you know what I hear.”

“Shitttt,” Robbie replies, holding out the last syllable. Just like our dad. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Ree. I’m surprised he let you take him in, but thanks for doing that. Yeah, I guess all you can do is wait until they have the tests back. Hopefully you two can go home soon,” he says quietly in a tone the polar opposite of the one he answered with.

I echo his words with a ‘me too’ before there’s nothing else to be said. And I let him go. I call Skye too to tell her, and because I can’t go back yet. I just need some time. She talks my ear off, but I’m grateful for it. She tells me about work, her newest boyfriend, the weather, and a show we’re watching together.

After I finally get away from her jabber mouth, almost half an hour has passed. I find my way back to his room in the Emergency wing. As I walk in, he shoots a tired smile at me. One I can barely make out amongst the dark room.

“Early bedtime?” I ask, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He nods, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“Yeah. They did all their tests, and said it would take a little while, so fluids, anti-nausea meds, and naptime it is.”

“Good,” I respond, wrapping my fingers around his. Squeezing them, his dusty lips offer a laugh. Or the closest thing to one. He tries to squeeze back, but I barely feel it. It’s nothing compared to when he’d nearly break my fingers giving my hand a squeeze. Somehow his hands look older than the rest of him as I look. His skin wrinkles among his bulging veins, liver spots, and freckles.

“You should too, baby girl,” he replies, surprising me. My eyes return to his face where he’s opened his eyes to look at me. “You look exhausted too. Get some sleep, I know it’s been a lot taking care of me for this long.”

“Dad,” I begin, an argument forming in my voice. But I don’t get any further than that.

“You know it’s true, and you’ve been doing a fantastic job. Don’t let yourself think any different,” he insists, the area above his eyes raising. But it doesn’t have the same effect with his dark eyebrows absent from his expression. A whimper escapes my lips as tears obscure my vision. Lifting our joined hands, he brushes the back of his hand over my cheek. “Come here, my baby.”

It confuses me when his clean scent doesn’t surround me. But it’s there in a hint when I bury my face into his neck. His right arm pulls me against him, and I cry into him. It’s one of the only times I can remember doing this since this all started. I want to stay strong in front of him, but sometimes it’s too hard. I feel a warmth on my forehead, and my lips break into a smile at his trademark forehead kiss. “Get some sleep, sweetie. They’ll wake us with the results if they need to,” he tells me. I nod into him, feeling him scooch over for me to lay more comfortably beside him.

My words are taken away with a whooshing sound just as a ding meets my ears. A bubble appears at the top of my phone screen. With widening eyes, I hold down the bottom button for volume on the side of my phone. Peeking across the room, I exhale watching his chest lift and fall with every breath, his snoring greeting the air. My attention returns to the dings coming from my phone. I read the first one.

Me - a few minutes ago

Tests came back positive for some type of bacterial infection in his digestive tract. Starting antibiotics now. Keeping him overnight and until further notice for observation because infections can be scary with weak immune systems like his.

Harry

thx for the update. glad 2 hear it isnt anything 2 serious. its a good thing u brought him in when u did becks. thinking of u and him.

Thanks so much, Harry. I’m glad I did too. Looks like I’m sleeping on the couch again, yay!

Harry

get some zzzz’s love. might be a long nite. dont forget 2 eat.

Goodnight

My eyes don’t want to believe the clock when the growling of my stomach wakes me. Shuffling into the hallway rubbing my eyes, I swear under my breath.

“No fucking way it’s only 11 o’clock. Why can’t it be 8 am or something?” I groan, trudging down the quiet halls of the oncology wing. But I’m glad for the quiet compared to the craziness of the E.R. earlier.

Dropping my hand, I’m welcomed once again by the stinging fluorescent lights. And the packaged foods waiting for me behind the glass. Pulling my wallet from my back pocket, I scan the many choices. Hmmm, salted nut roll for once, hostess cakes, sour patch kids, hard pretzels, jelly beans, or Cheez-Its? I wonder to myself, blinking the sleep from my eyes.

Another ding meets my ears. But when I lift my phone to my face, there isn’t a new text popping up on my screen. There are some, but they’re from an hour ago or longer. Weird, I think, staring at the screen and reading the words.

There’s a cough as somebody clears their throat. “We��ve gotta stop meetin’ like dis,” they almost laugh, making me turn my head without a choice.

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