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marveldc-imagines-hub · 4 years

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Subtitles: Episode 4, We Interrupt This Program

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: [Y/N] is still recovering from one of the worst migraines they’ve ever had and they have the scars to prove it… Wait. Those scars weren’t there before and they certainly weren’t from passing out on the sidewalk a few days prior!

Word count: 9,361

Warnings: Mentions of (not super graphic) death and mental illness. Also Reader being just a little horny on main, but what’s new; almost 9.5k words and they’re simping for most of them. Lots of dorky fluff and also talking about insecurities.

Tag list: @madamevirgo @ravennight41 @multifandomgirl16 @cyanide-mustard @badasspolygenderfriend

~~~

In the black void of otherwise dreamless sleep, voices were conversing.

“[Y/N] [L/N]…” one started.

[Y/N] [L/N]. Age twenty-five. Born to Killian and Alice [L/N] in [city, state] but Dad wasn’t in the picture. No siblings, no living relatives. They wanted to go to school for botany but Mom was diagnosed with early-onset dementia while they were still in high school, so they changed their career path to neurology in hopes of finding a way to help her. She still lives in their hometown.

“Oh, wait,” another voice chimed in, almost indistinguishable from the first, “I know this one. Oh, God.”

[Y/N] was an Honors student, at the top of all their classes. A degree in neurology with phytotoxicology on the side. They took an internship in Europe one year and somehow found themselves in Sokovia. HYDRA was still laying low at the time, caught wind of them.

“Wait,” a third voice, this one easier to differentiate from the other two. “They’re HYDRA?”

The second voice responded, “Former.”

[Y/N] had no idea what they were getting into. HYDRA, always good at hiding in the shadows; they brought [Y/N] in under the guise of an assistant job studying new forms of neural regeneration. A job that paid well enough to live comfortably and even send a little extra home, while developing something that just might solve all their mother’s problems? It was a dream come true.

Fortunately for HYDRA but unfortunately for [Y/N], they were very good at their job too. They helped HYDRA develop all kinds of nasty stuff. Nanobots that changed brain chemistry, near foolproof brainwashing tech— They even helped develop special toxins, one of the world’s deadliest poisons. All the while, thinking they were doing something good.

“How is that possible?” the original voice asked. “How could they have been so oblivious?”

“One-track mind?” the second voice offered, “Plus misinformation on HYDRA’s part and ‘routine health checks’ with something a little extra mixed in.”

“They were tested on?”

“A victim of almost everything they’d helped create, except the fatal stuff and anything that would disrupt business as usual. IVs and shots full of toxins, nanobots being released into their room while they slept.”

The third asked, “What changed?”

“Wanda.”

[Y/N] stumbled upon Wanda and her brother by pure accident. They’d been late that day and in their hurry, ran through a wrong door to where HYDRA was keeping Sokovian volunteers for testing. The twins were the youngest in their group, [Y/N] was only a couple of years older and the youngest in their division. It was a match made in heaven, really.

“Try hell,” the first voice suggested with a scoff.

The other voices offered their murmured agreements.

“So they knew each other,” the third voice said, “Before.”

That’s when [Y/N] started pulling at threads and HYDRA’s costume began to unravel; their one-track mind had switched gears. There was something too weird about the whole thing, these Sokovian civilians had stories that didn’t line up with [Y/N]’s own.

“And they believed them?”

They believed Wanda. She and her brother were just two more Sokovian citizens suffering at the hands of war and wanting to help their people. They had no reason to lie. They had more reason to be honest to [Y/N] than HYDRA ever did, actually. It was just a bonus that for Wanda and [Y/N], being around each other was like being a moth drawn to a flame.

[Y/N] may have been naive but they were far from stupid. When they figured out what was going on, they wriggled their way deeper into HYDRA’s ranks under their own disguise of loyalty. They became a full-fledged HYDRA agent, tasked with assisting in neural and poisonous weaponry. They weren’t able to protect Pietro and Wanda from testing, obviously—not that Wanda would have let them; she and her brother still believed they were being tested on for the greater good—but they did their best to stay nearby and keep the Maximoffs’ sanity intact for as long as they could. They even managed to save a couple of the other test victims by injecting them with temporary poisons that lowered their heart rate to the point of appearing dead. When the bodies were dropped off, the poison wore off not long after and some of the victims were able to escape. No side effects to be seen.

“I have a question,” Original voice said abruptly. “Why do we know this much information on one person? Like, this is some in-depth, intimate stuff. Why do we know that [Y/N] and Wanda had the hots for each other since day one?”

Second voice answered, “We’ve done extensive research on [Y/N]. The result of an investigation on the person who caused the apprehension of an entire faction of HYDRA after successfully poisoning them.”

The tests that were done on [Y/N] were not without their outcomes. They gained the ability to transform almost any matter into almost any other form.

“Huh,” Third voice hummed, “That reminds me of a series of disappearances a few years back. One house was replaced by rose bushes and another—get this—burned down because the roof had been turned to lava. Whoever it was, they either stopped on their own or died. What were they called?”

“The Alchemist,” Second stated simply, much to Third’s dismay. “And those were incognito HYDRA agents.”

After Pietro died and Wanda disappeared—not really disappeared, just left with the Avengers—[Y/N] had a choice to make. They were far too deep into HYDRA’s work now, the awful things that they had done were beginning to weigh on them, as Wanda and her brother had been just as grounding for [Y/N] as [Y/N] had been for her. After she was gone, they had a hard time dealing with the horrible business going on around them. So they did what they knew how to do; they mixed up a combination of poison and nanobots.

[Y/N] had fully committed to perishing with the rest of their coworkers but apparently, the poison hadn’t been quite strong enough. They’d made a miscalculation in a time of poor mental state and woke up the next day to hear that not all of the HYDRA agents had died either. At least the survivors had been taken in for the time being but that just wasn’t enough for them; they’d had a right to be concerned too because HYDRA had a habit of getting themselves out of sticky situations. This case was no different.

[Y/N] most likely felt responsible for having a hand in HYDRA’s dirty work, for not doing more, and they must have felt even more responsible when they learned that HYDRA was a much bigger problem than they could have ever imagined.

First blurted, “Well, what happened next?”

Second answered, “They went after agents until they got caught, the only way they knew how.”

The second miscalculation that they’d ever made got them caught. The agent put a gun to [Y/N]’s head and pulled the trigger.

“So are they dead too?” First asked. The voice seemed to quiver.

The third voice hemmed and hawed a bit before saying, “They must have, with the way all this weirdness had been going. Oh my god, poor Wanda, not one dead partner but two—”

Second spoke over the other two voices’ rambling, forcing them to calm down and listen. “They didn’t die, though, they—”

The voices started cutting out like the dream was a TV program being interfered by a poor connection and static.

“—Found by—Barely alive—Hospital—Braindead—Westview—Find a doct—”

Suddenly gunshots sounded, one followed by several more, and the darkness cracked and shattered, revealing blinding light behind it. A silhouette walked silently through the wall of light; it was Geraldine—no, Monica—poised with a gun in the outfit she helped deliver Maximoff twins in. As she walked forward, crossing from a plane of burning white to one of void black, the image of her warped and distorted until it changed. Monica, looking much more modern, in a uniform that included a bulletproof vest and a lanyard with S.W.O.R.D. printed at the top, moving carefully towards a broken and bleeding body on the ground with another in a heap behind her. The image distorted and changed again, and the first body was sitting on their knees and looking up defiant defeat. The person they were looking at was no longer Monica but a bulky figure in a dark outfit with straps in the form of an H across their chest, the body that had been laying in a battered pile behind Monica just a moment earlier. The H-adorned assailant held a still-raised gun to the kneeling person’s forehead.

[Y/N] could only spit at their feet before another gunshot sounded and the image disappeared to black.

You woke up sweating and choking on your breath. Your brain, throbbing with a pain that shot through it like a bullet, didn’t register fast enough that you were standing instead of laying down so when you flailed, you threw yourself off balance and fell forward. Catching a quick glimpse of your surroundings on your way down told you that you were somewhere outside and that it was the dead of night. You tried last minute to brace yourself for a concrete-laden impact.

You were instead greeted with soft fabric and arms wrapping tightly around you.

“Goodness, [Y/N], are you quite alright?”

You squinted at the striped sleepwear for a moment before looking up where Vision’s worried gaze and whirling irises were waiting for you; it took your eyes a moment to fully focus as the pain in your head faded but left a faint ringing behind. Then you looked around at your surroundings; not only were you outside but you were standing in Vision and Wanda’s driveway. Your gaze settled on a particular section of the house’s exterior where you vividly remembered a vaguely human shape exploding out of its walls.

You were standing in the exact same place you had been when it happened.

“[Y/N]?” Vision said again, drawing your attention back to him.

“Oh, cosmo, I’m sorry,” you said but your throat was too dry and you had to stop and clear your throat halfway through. Being in Vision’s arms, you were keenly aware of the fact that you were both in your bedwear and that yours had been sweated through. You slumped against him, partially to hide your embarrassed face but also because you felt like you hadn’t slept at all.

“Vis?”

“Yes, my favorite teacup?”

You snorted softly at that. “You don’t even drink tea.”

“Oh, I know,” Vision lilted back. Then he nuzzled his face into your hair. “I do like the patterns and the daintiness of them though.”

That time you laughed a bit. Feeling his warm breath against your scalp and his strong arms holding you safely in place against him, you almost instantly melted into the embrace. You wrapped your own arms around him and pressed your face into his chest. “What are we doing outside?”

“Ah, yes, about that. You appeared to be sleepwalking again.”

You groaned. “Again? This is a nightmare.”

One of Vision’s hands moved to run itself through your hair and down your neck. “That accident you had the other day certainly did a number on you.”

The accident. In other words, that time where you walked off in the middle of a conversation with Vision, Agnes, and Herb to mumble at a wall and then faceplant onto the sidewalk. Not only was your nose still recovering but your mind and dignity as well.

“The only time I’ve slept well since is when I fell asleep on your couch,” you whined. Then you lowered your voice and grumbled into Vision’s chest.

Vision chuckled. “What was that?”

You looked up at him and scowled. “The four of you are over here in your stupid, big, warm, cozy house. Meanwhile, I’m across the way, alone and uncomfortable, with only Bernard to keep me company. Bernard’s terrible company.”

“Truly,” Vision agreed, grinning slightly. He loved your strange, cute, not at all challenging struggles.

The both of you turned to give the lawn ornament in question a pointed look. Bernard seemed to glower back.

“Well,” Vision said as he pulled away from you a bit, “why don’t you come inside then? Wanda’s up with the babies anyway. You might as well join us, especially if it means you’ll be able to sleep better.” Not taking no for an answer, the synthezoid was already tugging you towards the lit-up porch.

You were too tired to argue and, quite frankly, you didn’t want to, so you allowed yourself to be pulled along as you admired the soft cotton of Vision’s matching pajama set.

“Oh, my.”

“What?” You looked at Vision’s face again only to catch him staring at a spot above your eyes. The porch light glinted off the gem embedded in his own. “What, do I have something on my face?”

“No,” Vision responded slowly, “but you must have done something to it. You have quite the scar.”

Your eyebrows raised. You moved away from him to look at your reflection in one of the windows and surely enough, you had a raised scar on your forehead, near your hairline. You gingerly pressed your fingers against it; it certainly wasn’t new.

A seemingly random thought popped into your head. Is that… a scar from a bullet?

“What on earth did you do to yourself?” Vision asked. Him walking up to stand directly behind you and press his hands to your neck, under the collar of your shirt no less, was more than a little distracting. “You’ve got one back here too.”

You reached back to where Vision was touching and when he removed his fingers, you could feel a similar scar at the base of your neck.

You thought again, Bullet… exit wound…?

Something about the dream you were having earlier called out to you but you couldn’t remember anything about it. When you tried to think about it further, the excruciating pain came back in waves and you had to steady yourself on the windowsill to prevent yourself from collapsing.

“Huh,” you said instead, “I have no idea.”

“They don’t hurt?” Vision questioned. “They’re not just… odd raised bruises perhaps? Welts maybe?”

“No, I don’t think so. They don’t hurt at all, though.” To make a point, you pressed down hard on the raised scar on your forehead, watched the skin turn a few shades lighter before releasing the pressure and dropping your hand again. Under the thick, stiff tissue, you barely felt the pressure at all.

Vision thoughtfully hummed, placing his hands back on the curves of your neck; you prayed to whatever deities existed that you didn’t make any sounds you’d regret.

“Well,” your partner said, “I suppose that’s better than nothing.”

A pause. Your eyes stayed trained on the window’s reflection, specifically where you could see Vision’s fingers gently cupping your neck.

Then he abruptly leaned down and pressed a kiss on the scar tissue, missing a pulse point by a hair. “We should head inside then.”

You had to take a solid minute to recover from the shockwave of tingles that briefly made your veins turn into lightning. Then you shuffled after Vision into the ever so inviting house.

Stepping out of chilly darkness and into a home of cozy furniture and warm light that turned the entire place a golden brown felt like walking into another world. An extra added layer of comfort to the usually perfect home was the slight disarray of baby equipment almost everywhere that wasn’t the floor itself, most of which you had gone out and bought during the babies’ day of birth and all of which Vision and Wanda appreciated; somehow, you had prepared for the babies’ accelerated growing on a panicked whim better than the Maximoffs. Tiny baby blankets and stuffed animals were strewn about and each visible part of the house—the living room, the dining area, and the kitchen, although the kitchen was partially blocked off by a drying rack of baby clothes and swaddles of various patterns and sizes—had a designated Baby Tray. These trays, perched on whatever flat surface had been previously free of decor or clutter, held bottles, nonperishable treats, diaper-changing equipment, teething toys, a mini first aid kit for each, and other useful trinkets; the new parents had apparently completely forgotten that almost all their house’s rooms were openly attached to each other and that, if one singular Baby Tray was designated to the dining area, it would take the same amount of about five steps to get to it from either the living area or the kitchen. It was almost comedic, the number of baby care items that were laying anywhere but the floor or in proper storage because, according to Vision, god forbid something gets a speck of dust on it and have to be washed or, according to Wanda, one of the babies be without their favorite toys easily accessible at every given moment. The only thing allowed to touch the ground, aside from feet, was a playpen that now replaced the usual coffee table in the living room area and a play mat in the babies’ room with its attached toys for the twins to play with. A final touch to the hominess was the soft light that you could see streaming out of the baby room’s open door, and the gentle voice of Wanda, singing a Sokovian lullaby, fluttering out of it.

It felt like coming home.

Vision stepped away from your side to clean up somewhat, picking up a few toys and folding baby blankets and onesies to move them aside in case you wanted to make yourself comfortable on the couch. Standing inside now, you could much better make out Vision’s dark blue terry robe over a pair of bright yellow pajama pants that no doubt had a shirt to match hidden beneath dark blue fabric. The yellow of his pants matched the yellow gem that was embedded in his forehead, glittering with an unused power that you had yet to experience and that felt warm whenever you went to place a kiss on it. Poking out from the hems of his robe and pants were perfectly human hands and feet, despite their deep red color that matched the rest of his body; you found the continued presence of fingernails when not in his human disguise—absolutely unnecessary to his design, he’d pointed out when you initially asked about them—weirdly cute and continuously felt the urge to grab nail polish and paint them to match either the color of the gem or the same silver as the plating that started at his scalp and trailed down beneath the collar of his shirt. You briefly wondered how far that plating traveled across his body before mentally kicking yourself.

The greatest thing about this still-fresh reveal of Vision’s inhuman identity—aside from the fact that he was no longer hiding something important from you, obviously—was that you now knew that he wasn’t just difficult to make blush but rather he quite literally couldn’t blush. You wondered what else he could and couldn’t do, only to mentally kick yourself again.

I can’t tell if I’ve gotten worse or better since I’ve started dating them, you thought.

Oh, your brain responded on its own accord, so much worse.

Shhh!

Vision was still puttering why while you stared and inwardly argued with yourself. At this point, he’d cleaned up most of the chaos and moved the stuffed animals and now-folded blankies to sit neatly on the dining area table.

“Vis,” you said.

Before you could continue, the man perked up and looked in your direction. “Yes, duck?”

You blinked. “You make my heart go rainbow-colored. Anyway—” You broke off into a laugh when Vision went flustered, his hands flapping about while he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “Did I win this round?”

Sometimes Vision got into the habit of ending all of his sentences around you and Wanda with a pet name. When you had first noticed this feat, you’d decided to start doing the same, just to see what would happen. He noticed and began purposely doing it back, where he had previously done it unintentionally, and now doing the occasional back-and-forth conversation that ended in pet names more than punctuation was somewhat of a competition between you two.

Vision scoffed at you, picked up a plushie, and tossed it at you. “Not fair!”

Being in the house that was beginning to feel more like home than your own, around your partners and their sweet baby boys, seemed to shield and reenergize you from the exhaustion you felt after first waking up that night. You caught the stuffed animal, a plushie of a wizard, grinned and tossed it back at him.

“Oh,” Vision chirped, catching the plush wizard again, “I see how it is.” He puffed out his chest and gave you a warning, albeit amused, glare, then picked up a couple more plushes. In a lower, sort of growling voice that made your heart leap out of your chest and into your stomach, he continued, “If it’s a war you want, it’s a war you shall get.”

You yelped as he started in your direction and dived across the front of the couch to get some stuffed animal ammo of your own. He nailed you in the foot with a cream-colored bunny and you returned the favor with a plushie of a witch in a red dress after taking cover behind the playpen. Now each of you was standing where the other had previously been, with you poking your head over the playpen’s sheer wall and Vision slowly pacing around the back of the couch for his second lap. You pulled the playpen with you with one hand as you moved away from him and the two of you began circling each other.

Oh, if Wanda could see her partners now.

“Oh, Wanda—” you started to stand, only to get smacked in the face with a blue teddy bear; luckily, it was of the very soft variety. You stared at Vision in disbelief.

Vision stared back, eyes bulging, unsure of whether he should apologize or prepare for an attack. He was too torn to do either, though, and had to scramble back to avoid an onslaught of stuffed bullets flying his way.

Still aware that it was very late at night, your war-cry was softened, “Revenge!”

Then your attack quickly diminished, partially because you were running out of ammo and Vision wasn’t throwing anything back and partially because Vision was now floating off the ground and heading towards you, arms full of said ammo.

Wow, didn’t know it did that, you thought randomly, eyes fixed Vision floating in general, before specifically fixating on the devilish grin he wore while doing so. He looked like a very handsome, well, vision.

A handsome Vision, if you will, your brain offered. You almost snorted before remembering you had not yet moved to avoid Vision’s floating plushie attack. You stumbled backward and scrambled out of the living room just as Vision started throwing.

“No no no no no nonononono—” You were choking between laughter and squawking as you got up and began running down the hallway to save yourself. “Not fair, not fair not fair, not fair—!”

You ran past the baby room and caught Wanda mid-turnaround, saying, “What on earth is going on out there?” You reeled back to pause in the doorway, caught a glimpse of the babies in their one large crib, smiled, went to pant out an answer—

Only to feel arms wrap around you and drag you back down the hallway. You started to shriek, then forced it into a startled laugh as to not disturb the babies, and flailed around in Vision’s arms as he lifted you off the ground. It was brief, though, because then your struggling caught Vision off balance and the two you tumbled to the ground. There, you both harmlessly pummeled each other until you both were out of breath and snickering, and you somehow ended up with his top half under you but his legs pinning down your own.

“You can fly?” you bubbled. You grabbed his face and squished his cheeks in your hands. “What the hell?”

He laughed and nodded, and one of his hands caught your own. He glanced up at you as he kissed your palm and replied, “Yes, just a little.”

“Just a little—”

“And his wife can move things with her mind, like the crib she just finished rocking to put the boys back to sleep, and if she has to do it again because of her partners’ roughhousing…”

You and Vision quickly disentangled yourselves from each other and looked up at Wanda, whose face said serious but whose eyes twinkled with amusement and who looked no less terrifying in a pale pink, puff-sleeved nightgown.

You got up and straightened your clothes, with Vision following closely behind. “I will very happily take over the next shift because I started it and I’m very sorry.”

“What? Nonsense, [Y/N], I threw the first stuffed animal.”

“I threw it back,” you pointed out.

“Neither of you better have thrown and hit something,” Wanda warned.

You glanced at Vision for confirmation; you didn’t exactly see much when you were chucking plushies aplenty and then running from your flying boyfriend.

Vision nodded. “Nothing at all, although I did make the evaluation that we do have a plethora of plushies and baby blankets.”

“I thought I was the one who pointed that out when you first gave me the shopping list, but okay,” you huffed under your breath, then grinned with Vision lightly bumped you with his hip. “So, the babies having a bad night?”

“Actually, they were apparently worried about you,” Wanda said.

That made your head do a confused tilt. “Me?”

“Ah, yes,” Vision nodded, “We fell asleep with them in the living room and Billy started crying. We woke up to figure out what was wrong and Wanda saw you standing outside.”

Wanda added, “Tommy started crying shortly after I walked to the door with him like he wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Aww,” you cooed, peering over Wanda’s shoulder to see the babies. She stepped to the side so you could walk in and shuffle over to the crib, and she and Vision stood nearby as you crouched down to brush a hand over their little sleeping heads. You continued, much softer this time, “Were the boys trying to make sure I was safe? Are they my little protectors? My little superheroes?”

Tommy gurgled happily in his sleep. Billy remained quiet but his head leaned into your hand.

You looked up at their parents with big, awestruck eyes to see them leaning comfortably into each other, watching you with the same level of affection you felt for them and their babies.

“Heroes indeed,” Vision said. He walked over as you stood up again and lightly rocked the crib; Wanda strolled over to join the group. He continued to the twins in baby-talk, “But no hero-ing until after college, my little honeydews. For now, leave the protecting to your parents.”

“Especially this one,” Wanda chirped, making her way over to your side and slipping her arm around your back. “They’re a handful.”

You faked a gasp, “I’m a treasure.”

“You’re a putz,” Wanda said simply, with a smirk and a light pinch to your hip.

You gasped harder and stared at her with utter betrayal.

“A goof,” Vision chimed in. He slipped his own arm around you, the final piece of your three-person puzzle.

You gasped harder still— and almost choked on air. Then you looked to the babies. “Bullies! Bullies, both of them! Billy, Tommy, you must protect me!”

Very enthusiastically, neither baby did anything.

“I’ve been betrayed yet again,” you cried, not too loudly, though. You slumped against Vision and Wanda’s waiting arms. “Betrayed by my own brood!”

“Your brood?” Wanda questioned, quirking a brow. Vision was giggling softly at your other side.

“Yes,” you whispered, looking at her with wide, distraught eyes, “My brood. My pack. My murder.”

“Your what?” Vision said.

“It’s a group of crows,” you explained under your breath, before slumping down farther and continuing your distraught monologue. “I’m all alone! Oh, the horror—”

“Well,” Wanda said, “We’re supporting you very well a family that has completely abandoned you.”

You flopped your head back in her direction. You were so far to the ground now that you were practically on your knees, only your arms and shoulders being held by Wanda and Vision. You traced fingers lamely across each of their arms. “So strong, those who once held me…”

The married couple exchanged an amused but mysterious look.

“Wanda, darling,” Vision said, “They seem to have gone delusional.”

Wanda nodded sagely in response. “Clearly lost their mind.”

You squinted, glancing between them. What were they up to?

“To the ward with you,” Wanda suddenly announced.

Then you caught a red glow by your feet, but not fast enough before you were swept up into the air on a cloud of red mist. You burst into startled laughter but quickly slapped a hand over your mouth so you didn’t wake up the children. Once you relaxed—enough to stop laughing anyway, not enough to not be freaking out about being magically escorted out of the nursery—you waved your hands through the red; it felt like waving your hands through the open air. The only thing actually felt was the pressure on the back of your body that was holding you afloat and carrying you out of the room, but when you tried to balance on it and move to a different position, all you did was squirm and twist awkwardly in the air before flopping back down. You craned your neck, mostly to make sure Tommy and Billy hadn’t woken up from your outburst, but you only caught Wanda, hands glowing red, following you out of the room and Vision trailing after wishing his babies a goodnight.

You looked back at the ceiling for a moment. After you heard the nursery door shut, you asked at a normal volume, “I’m not gonna fall, right?”

“Not unless I let you,” Wanda reassured you. You couldn’t see her but the teasing tone of her voice made you imagine her with a smirk. A smirk, narrowed eyes, her pretty nightgown floating around her, magical powers that she could definitely use to crush you if she wanted to and you’d probably thank her if she did.

Wow, okay, I either need to confess my sins or go to sleep.

“Why?” Wanda asked suddenly.

“Why what?” you choked back, heat rushing to your face. Surely, she couldn’t read your thoughts…

“Why ask if you would fall?”

Oh.

“Oh.” You started flopping around in the cloud of magic, testing the proverbial waters; you were being taken to the living area now. You heard both Wanda and her husband laughing from beneath and behind you when you settled again.

Vision asked through chuckling, “What could you possibly be doing?”

You suddenly flung yourself to one of the magic surrounding you, thinking maybe you would fall through, but the magic held. You huffed and laid back again but not before you caught a glimpse of the couch that you now hovered over. You grasped at the magic again, watching it wisp through your fingers but feeling nothing at all. “This is so cool.”

Wanda’s voice was softer when she spoke this time. “You think?”

You couldn’t hold back the disbelieving laughter that bubbled up. Suddenly breathless out of sheer excitement of learning more about the people you cared for most, you sighed, “Wanda, baby, you must know that you’re amazing.”

Then you squawked as the magic suddenly disappeared around you, but instead of falling straight to the couch below, Vision flew up to catch you. He held you bridal style as he gently dropped back to his feet next to the couch, grinning—he very rarely just smiled, it was always a big, happy grin when it was directed at you or Wanda or the babies—and giving you a peck on the forehead when you stared up at him, doe-eyed.

“Got my own Superman, too,” you said, “Damn.”

Vision plopped you down on the couch. “Who?”

“Comic book character,” you responded with a wave of your hand, “Doesn’t matter. You’re far better looking than him anyway.”

You shifted a bit to get more comfortable and watched as glowing red magic started swirling all around you. The magic was misty, red around the edges and glowing orange-white in the center, picking up the scattered toys from your and Vision’s scuffle and tossing them into the playpen, pulling said playpen out of the way and sliding the original coffee table back from its place against the wall, picking up any other stray blankets or baby items and placing them neatly out of the way; it also straightened out Vision’s robe and ruffled your hair. Part of the magic moved out of your line of vision, so you twisted to follow it and saw it taking the baby clothes off the drying rack to fold and put on the counter next to it, then continued watching as it folded the rack itself and moved it out of the way.

Wanda was now in your sight again too; she was standing still, palms up with magic flowing outward from the red clouds around them, and looking around to see if there was anything else she needed to put away. She was also blushing, from you calling her baby or saying she’s amazing, you couldn’t tell. After staring for probably way too long, probably looking at her with the same starry-eyed, dopey look that a teenager had at their first concert or after a first kiss, her gaze flitted to yours and made a nose-scrunching face at you before finishing her magical cleanup and making her way over to the couch as well.

You slumped back in the pile of throw pillows behind you, covered your face with your hands, and flutter-kicked your feet few times. “This is so cool!”

You felt a nudge at your feet and you raised your legs so he could sit, then did the same with your head when you felt Wanda’s hand brush across your forehead. When they were both seated, you laid your legs and head on their respective laps and the three of you settled into the comfortable position that had been adopted long after your relationship had started.

That is until you quickly sat up again. “Is that how you unpacked your house so quickly?”

Wanda smiled and nodded. She rested a cheek in the palm of her hand, endeared by your wonderment towards her powers.

“Is that you unpacked my house?”

Another nod.

“And the magic show was real— Wait.” You scowled. “But all the pulleys and stuff.”

“That was, ah, my bad,” Vision offered with a raised hand.

“Covering for him actually using his powers,” Wanda explained.

“I knew the mirrors didn’t make sense with you putting your hat through your body!” you exclaimed. “So flight, super strong, and… not sure what to call that last one. What was with you that day, by the way? You acted drunk, but you can’t get drunk!”

“I swallowed some gum,” Vision muttered, glancing away and rubbing the side of his neck. His other hand waved towards his torso as he continued, “It got all… stuck. Gummed up my gears, if you will.”

Wanda rolled her eyes at the pun. You snickered at it.

“I had to magic it out of him,” she added.

Your gaze flitted back and forth between your two superhuman partners multiple times as you took in the information. Because you were sitting between the two, this involved the turning of your head various times, which made your head swim a bit. You almost wished that they were both sitting to one side of you.

Instead of suggesting this, you settled your gaze to stare aimlessly ahead and said simply, “I’m dating two of the weirdest, coolest, most stellar people in the world. How the hell did I manage that?”

“Charisma,” Vision offered, even though you and him both knew at this point how you’d weirdly creeped on him at the office the first day the two of you met.

“Sheer force of will,” Wanda suggested, but you guaranteed she was remembering how, for the few dates you went on with them, you’d had to be reminded that you were actually on dates and that they weren’t just casual friendly hangouts.

You looked between them once more and then you wished you had suggested they sit to one side of you. Despite their steady, comfortable voices, Wanda was in the process of hiding her flustered face behind the curtain of her hair and Vision was chewing on his lip and couldn’t seem to keep his hands and feet from tapping away.

“Okay,” you said after a moment, patting your thighs to do something with your hands. “I’m grasping that you guys don’t agree with me here. Wanda, go sit by him so I don’t get whiplash from trying to look at you both.”

You and Wanda quickly switched places. You sat cross-legged on the couch to face them and Wanda and Vision shifted around to sit in a way that allowed them to face you without one blocking the other. After a moment, you waved your hands at them; the cheery air has since faded into something more somber. “What is it? Tell me why you get all quiet like that when I tell you, with evidence, why you’re the actual grooviest people I’ve ever met.”

There were a few more moments of silence before Vision went to speak first, which surprised Wanda. She looked at him, eyebrows raised high on her forehead, and lightly grasped his wrist.

“Vis?” she murmured.

He sighed softly and placed his other hand over hers. “Oh, it’s really nothing dear, I promise. It’s just… Well, you’ve heard how the people of the cul-de-sac talk about us sometimes.”

“Mean girls,” you grumbled under your breath with a nod, “the lot of them sometimes.”

Wanda seemed to suddenly sag with sadness and both you and Vision reached over quickly to hold her.

“Oh, darling,” Vision said, “It’s not your fault—”

“That’s not true,” Wanda whispered.

“It is true,” Vision said, and this time he said it with a fierceness that was familiar to you, whenever Wanda was being treated poorly by people like the Queen of the Cul-de-Sac, Dotty, or when Wanda decided to get down on herself. He grasped her shoulders tightly, squeezed them until she looked up at him. “Wanda, darling, love, I didn’t exist before I meant you. I mean, I did, of course, I did, but I was just this strange, non-human, non-machine thing that was just… kind of… there. It was you that gave me an existence, Wanda. You made me human.”

Both you and Wanda stared at him, surprised. Wanda stared because she obviously didn’t fully agree with his opinion of her. You stared because of course, you were dating two of the weirdest, coolest, most stellar, and most romantic people ever.

Get yourself a man like that, you thought. Then after a moment, Wait, that is in fact also my man.

“And you—” Vision said, turning his head in your direction.

“Oh, I’m next?” you stammered. “I thought it was Wanda’s turn.”

Vision still held Wanda but also reached over to tightly grasp your hand and bring it to his mouth. “I just wished we could have confessed to you sooner. I just hate, hate, hated lying to you and now you’re involved with all this too—”

The synthezoid with the English accent looked up at you with eyes begging forgiveness as if he’d committed one of the worst sins imaginable. You let out a hoarse laugh and ran your thumb across the side of his hand.

“I’m sorry,” you said, still chuckling as you wriggled closer to your couple, “but as much as you might like to think you’ve subjected me to something I didn’t sign up for, I’d like to point out that I’ve been about a month ahead of you. I was here before you.” You felt a nagging urge to look at Wanda and repeat the last sentence, and there was something extra special about saying it that second time like there was a double and then a triple meaning behind it, but the way you both furrowed your brows afterward made it clear that neither of you really knew what those meanings were.

Not yet, anyway.

You cleared your throat and removed your hand from Vision’s grasp to place it on the back of the couch. “I moved into this town with no husband or wife, no family, nothing but a pile of letters and a new deed to a new house that happened to be the smallest in the neighborhood. My first week here I told one man in front of the entire night watch that I thought the joke he made about his wife was distasteful, and then the week after I tripped and spilled wine all over his wife. Agnes brought because she thought I’d be a form of entertainment and we somehow ended up becoming friends over a flask that she hid in a pocket sewed into the inside of her skirt.” You offered a look to Wanda again while you mentioned that Agnes never thought your “for the children” jokes were all that funny, though. “I’ve dealt with the comments and the rumors and the ‘what’s wrong with them, they don’t have no kids!’ People are weird and they’re mean and they’re fun and they suck. You want human, dude? You got it. If I was still bothered by comments that are nothing but a bummer, I think I’d be trying a little bit more than wearing clothes that I enjoy over the clothes that are expected of me, telling Dotty she needs to stop being awful before she gets frown lines, or, you know, pining over two people—a married couple nonetheless—until I somehow seduced them with my staring at them from around corners and just generally horrible, awful attempts at eye contact.”

The married couple in question chortled at that.

You used your hand on the back of the couch to hoist yourself up on your knees so you towered over Vision just slightly.

“Here’s the thing, sunshine,” you continued, “I’m not in your boat on this one, you dorks, you’re in mine. I was here first and I don’t give a fuck.”

Wanda gave a sudden laugh. “What language.”

“Has he not told you about the time I said ‘Fuck you’ to a plastic bird in my garden?” you asked. “Multiple times? His name is Bernard and he’s plotting to kill me, I swear.”

Wanda’s troubled expression was split by a wobbly smile.

You threw up your arms in the dramatic fashion that you knew the two people in front of you loved and hollered—then quickly quieted back down to not disturb Billy and Tommy in the other room—“All this for my rambling putz ass to say, who cares about what’s outside this house! You two, and your kids, and I are the only people that matter here. Here being the house, Westview, whatever! Everyone else? Nonexistent.

“Also, just to clarify,” you paused to wave your arms around, gesturing at the entire house, “Love it here. Love this shit.”

You suddenly caught Vision’s slacked jaw in your hand and gave him a peck on the cheek. “This face? Love it.” You moved to peck a spot of silver on his skull. “Love this too.” You pecked the gem on his forehead and swore it glowed brighter in response. “Love this.” You pecked one of his ear plates. “Love these goofy things.” You pecked the tip of his nose. “Love this and the fact that you have it even though you don’t technically even need to breathe. Oh, speaking of which!”

You lifted one of his hands with one of your own and tapped on his red fingernails with your other. You caught a glimpse of his face now that yours wasn’t directly in front of it and noticed him trying to hold back a giddy smile—and failing—while he watched you from underneath red lashes; your whole body would have tried to twist itself in knots under that look if you weren’t too busy swearing to kiss those eyelids and lashes too, at another time. Instead, you pecked each fingertip of the hand you were holding. “Love these ‘useless to my design’ things too. You know what, just speaking of hands—” You dropped Vision’s hand, which made itself to your waist as you went to grab Wanda’s; you were vaguely aware that you were practically leaning into their laps at that point but that could be dealt with when you weren’t trying to make a point.

When you went to touch her, she let you hold her wrist but quickly squeezed her hand into firsts before you could hold it like you had with Vision’s. She was looking away.

You pressed a kiss to her whitening knuckles. “Wanda.”

She looked at you, her perfect face distorted by a deep sadness that almost shattered your heart on the spot. She tightened her first further. The deep emotion appeared to make her slip back into her natural Sokovian accent when she spoke again. “You don’t know the pain it’s caused.”

“I’ve done my fair share,” you affirmed even though you weren’t quite sure why. Then you kissed her knuckles again. “And maybe I don’t, but I know what good it’s caused, that you have.”

Her face twisted into an ugly grimace. She asked hoarsely, “Like what?”

“The first time I saw your face, I wanted to go to space, grab the moon, shrink it down—so it looked like one of those cool little lava rocks, you know? But prettier—and get it put on a ring,” you offered, then kissed the back of her hand and whispered, “and that’s after I found out you were married to a very attractive man too…”

Vision snorted. Wanda cracked the smallest of smiles.

You whispered lower, “And I may or may not have even been interested in marriage before that…”

That time Wanda rolled her eyes; you smiled and grabbed her other clenched hand to share the attention with. You continued, “You’re also so nice, like so nice. You are so kind and care about what people think so much, it’s almost buggy—and bordering on self-destructive but that’s not what we’re talking about— And I sort of get it now, you know, but wow, making your magic show worse for the sake of people’s sanity? Wouldn’t even be on my radar.”

Another little smile.

“I’d be like, ‘Who wants to see me turn this entire table into a rosebush! Dotty’s rosebush specifically; Dotty, I stole your rosebush.’ I actually did steal a rose from her bush that day.”

Wanda blinked and you noticed the lines of her expression weren’t as deeply etched into her face anymore.

“That was Dotty’s?”

You grinned and nodded, then kissed both of her hands. “Also, I love your hair and the way it perfectly frames your perfect face, and I love your little nose scrunches, and I love your eyelashes and the way you look at me from under them sometimes, and I’d kiss all those things but I’m not going to because I gotta get these stubborn, always-working, never-wanna-take-a-break, always-somehow-perfect-nails-having hands to relax before they hurt themselves even though it’s very clearly hard enough to make who woman who owns them do the same. Oh, I did I mention that smile—hoo, Wanda, that foxy smile…”

Wanda was blushing now and bringing up her smile made it happen again, just slightly. You took advantage of the moment anyway and flung yourself back onto the couch with a hand over your heart. “Be still, my pounding heart!”

Vision, who was watching by your and Wanda’s sides, laughed a bit. Wanda herself rolled her eyes again; the smile didn’t disappear afterward.

You sat up again and pointed at Vision, now that he’d brought attention to himself again. “And I don’t know whether you heard any of the stuff this guy said! You made him exist? You made him human? What? You two also do this thing where you just look at each other and have a whole conversation, I don’t know if you guys know you do that or not. You do, though, and I don’t know if either or both of you are psychic but if you are and still love me? With my unhinged brain? Migraines and all? I wouldn’t understand, even if you explained it to me.”

Vision offered, “Neither of us is psychic but anyway, please continue.”

“Have anything to add?”

“You’re doing wonderfully.”

“Thank you.” You looked back and Wanda, noting that her face had almost completely softened now, as she was too busy being flustered to be sad at this point. You quickly scooped her hands before they could curl into fists again placed kissed on each of the crescent moon-shaped marks now dug into their palms. “Your magic rocked your babies to sleep. Your magic cleaned up all their and put it all in one nice, neat place. You floated me around the house with your magic and even protected me from falling when I was wriggling around up there; bet that was fun for both of you to watch. Vision said earlier that that was your job, to protect me, and while I don’t fully agree because I consider it the other way around, is that not what you did?”

“I thought it was cute,” Wanda replied softly to the second to last sentence you said. She watched as you gave her hands a few more pecks.

“So, you agree then,” you said, “that your magic protected me and also made me cuter?”

She laughed and the sound made your heart soared, performing an aerial performance in your chest. She tried to wriggle her hands free from you but then you scowled and tucked them protectively under your chin.

“Gotta say it. Gotta say your magic made me cute.”

“I’m not saying that.”

You shrugged and got comfy, laying your head in her lap with her hands still hidden. “Have to. Otherwise, no hands for you. Oh, did I not mention how good you are to your kids yet? You’re so good—”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Wanda forfeited through a wet laugh. Hearing said laugh, your head shot up in concern, but the woman was smiling as she snagged your hands back; what she chose to do with them next was grab your face and place a kiss directly on your mouth.

It was quick and soft and sweet and absolutely none of that prevented the fireworks that went off in your skull and your chest and your stomach and your veins that made tingles shoot all the way down to your toes. She pulled away as quickly as she had moved in and you blinked; your brain was still short-circuiting, like a robot—like a Vision with his gears all gummed up, and your dazed brain thought that was a very funny connection, so it repeated the joke verbally.

Luckily, Vision was close enough to the level of dork that you were and he laughed at it with you.

It took a deep breath and a head shake to de-gum your brain—if only Wanda could magic that—but after the excitement wore off, you felt sleepiness start creeping in and decided to make your final push. You curled a hand around both of your partners’ necks and brought their faces closer to nuzzle your noses together; they responded by each of them wrapping an arm around your waist and returning the affectionate action.

“So, in conclusion,” you stated, which caused Vision to laugh lightly and Wanda to grin just slightly, “I love both of these perfect faces.” You kissed each of their noses. “And these funky, magical brains.” You kissed Wanda at the base of her hairline, then Vision just below his forehead gem. “And these equally funky, magical hands.” You grabbed the hands not looped around your waist and kissed the back of them. “And both of those babies, and this house, and y—”

You sucked in a sudden breath to stop yourself so hard that you almost choked and you reeled back to the other side of the couch only to drag Vision and Wanda with you. The three of you tumbled into a flustered heap on the couch and over their shoulders, you could see early morning light filtering through the windows. This barely registered, though, as you were too busy focusing on the fact that you almost L-worded them on a silly, tired whim.

Despite the awkwardness of the moment and the unspoken words, no one made a move to remove themselves from the warm, cozy entanglement. One of both Wanda and Vision’s arms was pinned under your back, keeping them solid in place against you while simultaneously and successfully enveloping you in between them; your own arms, which had instinctively wrapped protectively around their shoulders in the tumble, kept them in a similar state. Wanda’s hair fanned found and covered the three of you like a blanket, and you were keenly aware of her breath softly wafting over the exposed skin of your neck from where her head now rested on your shoulder. Vision’s rested slightly lower, on your chest, and you felt a quickened pulse where his gem pressed into your neck, but you couldn’t be sure whether it was yours or his.

You stared past their shoulders and watched as sunlight shone through the curtains and dappled the ceiling. You tried to figure out whether you were stupider for stopping yourself from finishing that sentence or for not saying it at all.

Then you felt a kiss being pressed to your clothed shoulder.

“You’ve said so many things that you’ve loved tonight [Y/N],” Wanda murmured, her hot breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. “What’s two more?”

“I—” you started, then bit your tongue again. There was something about saying that phrase that made you worried; you felt like if you said it now, the happy little world you lived in would begin to crumble, like it would all end far too soon. You sighed softly and said instead, “I don’t know how I would live without you.”

There were a few moments of silence where you watched more sunlight filter in and wished you could take it back because what a way to talk a big game and then not follow through—

Then Vision’s head appeared above you and he pressed a dizziness-inducing kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, he nuzzled your nose with his own as he murmured, “I love you too.”

In almost the same moment, Wanda was mumbling the same phrase against your jawline.

Sleepy and hazy-brained you couldn’t do much else but stare at Vision like a lovesick puppy that struggled to say that L-word, then snuggle back down with both him and Wanda when they relaxed against you again. That seemed to be the last of what needed to be said, though, because everything was cozy and warm and golden brown in your home again and, one by one, the three of you fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.

In the black void of otherwise dreamless sleep, you heard the vaguely familiar First Voice finish chewing something and then go, “Aww…”

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

In My Dreams IV

Characters: Xiao, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,167

Warnings: Brief depiction of violence, nightmares

Premise: The past is many things. Something to admire, something to learn from, something to hold dear. And yet how unreliable it can be, especially in the hands of ghosts.

In which the reader dreams of the past.

Author’s Note: Translation notes and historical references will come after the fic. This one was a little sketchy/ooc, prolly because I’m tired.

Xiao

If there was one thing that you appreciated most about your relationship with Xiao it was the fact that he never attempted to cage your independence.

Though the adeptus had a penchant for clinginess – something he’d never actually admit to – the circumstances of both his and your past had set a standard for a level of separation that you greatly appreciated. You were never pressured to tell Xiao about things you weren’t comfortable sharing and in return you never pressed your partner in regards to topics or events that made him somewhat uncomfortable.

And yet there was something very isolating about such a freedom.

It was an ordinary enough commission, laughably so in fact, the kind that you could knock back in ten minutes flat if you put a little effort into it. Treasure Hoarders were once more encroaching on Liyue, this time gathering at the vicinity of Dunyu Ruins, something that would surely be a hazard to the archaeologists who gathered to study the lost jade monument. The act of chasing out the Treasure Hoarders was indeed easy enough, and it was only until you started rifling through their loot that you found yourself uneasy.

The lid was an innocuous enough item. Though the box that it once covered was nowhere to be found it must’ve been a work of art, as the smooth tortoiseshell lid was clearly the result of patience and love. Painted a deep blue it depicted a snowy scene, with a castle or cathedral at the front and center. The building itself was of a unique design; a tall turret stuck out at the top while small onion domes sat a little lower, each painted a more outlandish color than the last. The architecture was completely unlike what one might see in either Liyue or Mondstadt, and really there should’ve been nothing to it except the odd design of the building. Yet the moment you set your eyes upon the building you felt something harden in the pit of your stomach.

You never thought about what you couldn’t remember; after all, what was the point of it? Why mourn something you weren’t even sure was good or bad? Yet in that moment you felt that you would give very little to not remember just a little bit. At least enough to know why the image of a cathedral in the snow made you wish deeply for something you couldn’t remember, and frightened you just as much.

“Something’s wrong with you face.”

“Xiao!” You sputtered, surprised by the sudden bluntness of your partner. “My face is just fine, a little dirt won’t kill me.”

“That’s not it.” Xiao scowled. “Your face is harder than usual. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened! Sometimes I just don’t smile, okay?” You instinctively moved the corners of your mouth upwards, trying to ignore the sudden jump in your heart rate. “I’m fine.”

Xiao looked supremely unimpressed at your efforts, sighing and flying up to the balcony of the Inn. You sighed, letting your expression once more droop. It was easy sometimes to forget how in tune Xiao was. You wouldn’t expect it from an adeptus who had spent thousands of years mostly secluded from humans, but your partner was impressively good at reading your mood. Usually you didn’t mind the ability of his, even welcoming the fact that he so bluntly brought up the question of your feelings. But today you wished despite yourself that he was a little less aware. After all, how could you explain to your partner what you didn’t even understand yourself?

The rest of the night was oddly tense. Though Xiao said nothing you could tell from the way he stared intently at your face that he hadn’t given up his suspicions. For your part you tried to ignore his gaze, talking about trivial matters such as the question of replacing the Guild roof and the fact that you had managed to gather a few Qingxin during your commissions. All the while you felt the roiling of your heart; and all the while you kept rubbing your fingers along the smooth finish of the lid in your pocket as if in doing so you might suddenly be struck with what you currently missed and currently, desperately, needed.

The next day you walked up to Katherine utterly exhausted. Though you’d made a concerted effort to sleep, knowing that if not you’d just arouse more worry in Xiao, most of the night had been spent tossing and turning, your eyelids feeling paper thin as you attempted to drag yourself down into the depths of sleep. Of course now that the sun was shining you felt like even a stone bench would be a soft enough mattress. Blinking heavily you smiled awkwardly at Katheryne.

“Any commissions today?”

“Two ordinary sweeps and one request.” Katheryne tilted her head slightly. “Are you sure you don’t need rest?”

“I’m perfectly fine Katheryne, thank you for worrying. You said there was a request?”

“Yes. It seems that the citizen who noticed the Treasure Hoarders for us claims to have been robbed by them. He says to meet you at Dunyu Ruins so you can hand over the item.”

“And what item is that?”

“He said it was some sort of box lid. He didn’t give many details I’m sorry. If you’re uncomfortable though of course we could send someone with you.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks for worrying.”

“Of course! Good luck!”

“Thanks.”

You turned around, trying to stem the ice that flooded your veins. Who was this man to whom the cathedral belonged? How did he come across such an odd item, was he from one of the other nations of Teyvat you hadn’t visited? Most of all you wondered if he held some connection to your past. The idea thrilled you in some way, though dread also lingered. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to meet this mysterious person. Commissions were commissions however; you wouldn’t betray the Guild. No matter how much you wanted to; you couldn’t.

The Dunyu Ruins were still, no monsters seemed to linger at the gates and no other adventurers peeked out from behind old walls. The air was utterly still, something which worried you greatly. Walking at an increased rate you sought out your mysterious commissioner. The more you thought about it the more you wished the whole thing to be over as soon as possible. Turning the corner you stopped in your tracks, gazing in awe at the person a few meters in front of you.

The first thing you thought was how oddly he was dressed. The second thing was that he was much younger than you had expected. The third thing was that you felt an odd sense of familiarity from him.

“Ah yes, the adventurer who accepted my commission. Have you brought what I asked of you?”

Though a response was certainly in order you found the words stuck in your mouth. Staring at him you felt the ground shift between your feet slightly. He was familiar, this young man in front of you, and yet he was also a perfect stranger. He seemed more like an apparition than anything, a spirit who had yet to cross to the far side. You stepped closer, reaching out your arm slightly. If you went to touch his shoulder, would your fingers go right through him?

“You really must think it’s odd that I’ve returned.” The man chuckled. “I assure you I’m completely real. You weren’t the only one to survive sister, though I know that information might be too little too late?”

“Sister?” You snapped out of your trance. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Surely you aren’t pretending not to recognize me? I think that’s beneath even you. Come now, was I such a brat as that?” Reaching out the young man went to grab your hand. Instinctively you pulled away, feeling discomfort shoot through you.

“I don’t know what you mean? And you certainly aren’t my brother! I’ve never had a brother!”

“Then who was the kid you lived with your whole life before the incident?”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know about any incident or any brother. You asked me here to return something so I’m returning it.” Reaching for the lid you thrust the little work of art in front of you. “Here. Take it.”

“So you really don’t know who I am?” The young man reached out to take the lid. “How is that possible? Have they gone so far as to erase me from your memories? Have I been taken out of your family?”

“They?”

“The gods.” The young man’s eyes seemed incredibly harsh all of a sudden. “Their presumptiveness holds no bounds.”

“Don’t speak of the archons that way.”

“Answer me this,” the young man ignored your protest, “where are you from.”

“Why should I tell you that?”

“Humor me.”

“I…” You stood there for a moment, wondering whether or not you should tell this strange figure the truth. Morbid curiosity floated in your mind, and you took a sharp breath. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“So I really have been erased from your mind.”

“Nothing’s been erased! I just don’t remember, should that surprise you so much?”

“Yes, it does. I see my plans will have to be changed.” The young man took a deep breath. “Very well then, we shall see what we shall see. I have an offer for you.”

“And what is that?” You felt suspicion wash over you.

“Join the Abyss.”

“Over my dead body!” Instinctively stepping away you drew your polearm. So that’s what this was about.

“I figured you might say that. However, let me tell you this. Our family was torn apart by the cruel whims of faraway gods. Teyvat suffered the same fate, still suffers it. You may not remember what happened to us, but I know it is buried in you somewhere. If you wish to avenge our family, then you’ll join us.”

“I have no petty thoughts of revenge against the gods.”

“That may very well change.” The young man smirked. “I’ll be back in a week. I expect your answers then.”

He was gone before you could say anything, carried away by a blanket of purple stars. You stared at the empty ruins, confused and empty, feeling far worse than you had felt when you arrived here.

“You look worse.”

“Thanks Xiao.” You let out a sigh, unsure how to respond.

You’d spent the rest of the walk back to the Wangshu Inn in agony, thoughts darting back and forth as you tried to reason with yourself about the veracity of the young man’s claims. There was no proof he was who he said he was after all, no proof that he wasn’t simply insane, or trying to convince you to join him by lying. Yet there was something about him, his demeanor, his anger, something that spoke to a truth about him. Not that the idea made you any happier. After all truth or not, he was still an Abyss member, or at least an advocate. You could never side with him, even if he was your long lost family. And yet what if he was your family? What then? Would it truly be a betrayal then to simply send him packing?

Xiao’s hand enveloped your own, the soft warmth drawing you out of your confused thoughts. Looking up you found him leaning into you, the tips of his hair lightly brushing your cheeks. His eyes bored into you ask he scanned your face. You stood perfectly still. You knew what Xiao was doing, knew that he was trying to figure out the depths of your discomfort. It was valiant of him, even if you hoped that he turned up empty handed. How could you tell Xiao, an adeptus who served directly under Rex Lapis, about the man who blasphemed the gods.

“You should sleep.” Xiao finally pulled away.

“It’s still early evening.”

“You didn’t sleep well last night, I could tell. You should sleep now; maybe you’ll feel better.”

“Maybe.” You replied, knowing that even if you slept better than you had ever before nothing would change when you woke up.

Still your eyelids were heavy and your feet aching. Sleep beckoned you with open arms, and you were quick to fall into its depths. Pressing a soft kiss on Xiao’s cheek you made your way up the stairs. Collapsing onto your bed you let out a sigh of relief. Sleep was coming on fast, and you quickly found the outside world swirling away. The last thing you were aware of was a dent in your mattress, and a set of familiar eyes staring down at you, filled with affection and worry.

It was dreadfully hot. That was the first thing you were aware of. The second was how loud everything was. There was a terrible sound swirling around you, inhuman shrieks seemed to rise up from the ground beneath you, accompanied with a banging that cracked through the air, echoing oddly in a night that was all too quiet. The third thing was that you had no idea where you were. Looking around you found yourself reeling at the scene that met your eyes. The house in front of you must’ve been nice at some point, but now had fallen into ruin and disrepair. Smoke was drifting up from a door that led into the ground, and bottles lay in pieces on the ground. A wall seemed to separate the house from the outside world, so tall that you had no idea what lay beyond it. Trembling slightly you felt yourself move towards the source of the noise, feet moving despite the rising dread that you felt. Making your way down a set of stairs a few lines came to you all of a sudden.

A ceiling of amber, a pavement of pearl

The smoke was thicker now, filling your lungs, leaving you short of breath. Little bits of orange blurred your vision, wielded by strange men in strange uniforms. They seemed distorted in the smoke, made into ghosts that might haunt a child’s nightmares.

Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still

You didn’t move your head towards the back of the room, somehow you couldn’t. Your very soul fought against it. Instead you closed your eyes, overwhelmed with how hot it was.

“You’ve come so far and you can’t even look?”

The voice was mocking, familiar, full of scorn. Opening your eyes you stared at the men in front of you, the men with fire at the tips of their hands. Why did he want you to look? You knew what you’d see. Somehow you knew.

We climb’d on the graves, on the stone worn with rains

You couldn’t make it out among the smoke. All you knew was that it was red.

You screwed your eyes shut, even as sudden clarity danced before you. Someone was calling your name.

There was a hand on your shoulder.

And alone dwell forever

The smoke cleared, and with it the dream.

The scream ripped through your throat before you could even process it. You knew that you should stop, knew that you were no longer dreaming, knew that the hand on your shoulder belonged to your terrified partner. Still you screamed. You screamed and screamed and screamed.

“Hey. Hey!” Xiao’s voice was frantic. Shifting your gaze towards him you felt yourself begin to tremble.

“It, it was true. It was true, I saw him. I saw him. I saw me. It was true. I, I, they’re dead. They’re dead.”

“It was a dream. No one’s dead.”

“But Xiao, they’re dead. He was right, they’re gone and dead and somehow I forget them.”

The loneliness slammed into you, mixing with the horror that sent your stomach churning. You dug you nails into your palm, desperately trying to stop shaking. Everything seemed distorted, the light emerging through the window just as menacing as the dark.

“Take my hand.”

Xiao pulled one of your hands on his lap, gently opening it and running his fingers over the marks that now rested in your palms. Unfurling your hand you it was flat against his he covered it with his own. Letting his palm rest gently against yours he looked up at you.

“No one is dead. You were having a nightmare.”

“I was remembering, Xiao. I finally remembered something. And now I wish I never had.” You unfurled your other hand, wiping furiously at the tears that pooled in your eyes. “I’m so alone Xiao, I’m so alone.”

“You aren’t alone.”

“My family, my family is gone. The only one left is an Abyss member. I, I’m so utterly alone.”

You felt Xiao drop your hand slightly. The sudden lost connection made your founder for a moment, but soon the feeling was lost as Xiao wrapped his arms around you. Pressing kisses to your forehead his grip was tight and strong, encasing you utterly in soft comfort. Letting yourself collapse slightly you leaned into his embrace.

“You’ll never be alone. I’ll always be here.”

If promises were conveyed in actions then you had no reason to doubt Xiao’s. Though the air around you was sticky with heat you found yourself pressing into your partner’s chest eyes more, soaking up every bit of connection that you could get. Xiao said nothing more, simply keeping you in his embrace, lips brushing against your cheeks as he kissed away your tears.

You knew that he wouldn’t ask about your brother that night, perhaps not even the morning afterwards, or even tomorrow evening. After all your partner wasn’t one for words, and your relationship wasn’t built upon the expectation of painful transparency. If you weren’t ready to talk he wouldn’t push you.

Eventually your tears slowed, though the pain in your chest still burned like a brand. Bringing your hands to your chest you gazed up at the adeptus who was still wrapped around you.

“Can we stay this way a little longer?”

Xiao’s eyes gleamed catlike in the moonlight. Leaning down he brushed his lips against yours, sighing slightly as you met him with exhausted ardor. Pulling back you rested your head on your partner’s chest. The dulled beat seemed almost musical, a reminder that Xiao was alive, a reminder that he was right next to you.

You had assumed in some way that it meant he didn’t care, or didn’t want to know. Though you would’ve never thought that before, the feeling of loneliness that had threatened to swallow you up had made that perfectly clear. Yet Xiao did care, cared enough not to prod and poke at wounds that were surely bleeding even now. Cared enough to kiss your worries away, cared enough to let you embrace him as long as you needed. Cared enough to show that you weren’t truly alone.

In a week you’d give the young man who had once been your brother an answer. In a week you’d face the fact of your loneliness, of a family that you’d once been a part of. In a week you would let yourself be truly lonely. But until then you would listen to the familiar beat of Xiao’s heart as you remembered that you weren’t truly alone. That you never would be.

-------

The box lid itself was based off nothing in particular. The building painted on it is a reference to Saint Basil’s Cathedral.

The poem I used was “The Forsaken Merman” by Matthew Arnold

The scene in the reader’s dream is a reference to the execution of the last Imperial family of Russia. It took place in the basement of the Ipatiev House in Ekaterinburg on July 17th/18th 1918.

#genshin impact fanfiction #xiao #xiao x reader #genshin impact #genshin xiao #requested #scenarios #my writing #sorry mistagged as gn out of habit first jme

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joontier · 4 years

Text

Subliminal in Scrubs | V1; report iv

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, romance

warnings: swearing

word count: 2.5k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist] @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) | navi. | m.list

Your phone blares at exactly 6:45AM, and a memetastic image of Chohee lights up your phone screen as you’re brushing your teeth. When you swipe to answer the call, you don’t even manage to get a word in when Chohee chatters you out of your sleep-deprived soul.

“Just as practiced, I’m punctual, and you’re late.”

Garbling out a reply about how it’s still five minutes prior to your agreed time, you tap your toothbrush loudly against the sink, likewise spitting out the foam from your mouth. “Fine, just hurry because I’m starving!”

Being the gold-hearted person that she is (although that fact is not known to the public), your best friend had offered you a ride to the building where you’re scheduled to take the Korean Medical Licensure Examination today.

The moment you settle yourself on the passenger seat, she greets you with a cheery “Good morning!” - one that was too cheery this early in the morning, and all the more way too cheery for a certain Kim Chohee. The two of you share a look and you lean in for a hug. “Hey, we’ll do just fine, okay? We’ve been studying our asses for this.”

You don’t let go at once, looking up at her with a kissy face. She pushes your head backwards with a disgusted expression, keeping your face at an arm’s length. With an unattractive snort, you lean back in your seat, laughing your ass off at your poor attempt to lighten the mood.

“Seriously, _______, I know you’ve been lusting after me for years even when you’re well aware of my ‘strictly beef’ diet,” Chohee states, dusting your imaginary germs off her shoulder. Turning on her Benz’s engine, she checks her reflection on the rear-view mirror before driving off.

With both your hands occupied with the sandwiches you’d ordered from Subway, you use your pinky to connect your phone to play some Mozart via bluetooth. You try not to talk much about the test, knowing it will only cause unnecessary anxiety on both your ends.

As Chohee leans towards you, you tilt her sandwich in her direction, letting her take a bite from her sub. “Hey, what’s an abscess again?”

“Isn’t that more commonly known as boils? Built up pus within or below the surface of the skin?”

Kim Chohee chokes on her BLT.

“Pus?” she repeats, swallowing her bite with great strain. “Seriously? While I’m eating a sandwich? Couldn’t you be more subtle perhaps?”

Equally just as surprised as she was, you narrow your eyes at her. “We’ve been studying medicine for the last six years! It shouldn’t be a surprise by now...and besides, we’ve heard and see a lot worse too...Would you rather have me say purulent exudate then? And waste my precious saliva on a six-syllable word rather than the common term for a liquid form of inflamm-”

“Okay!” Chohee throws an arm up in defeat. “Sheesh _______! Don’t I deserve at least some gratitude for driving you to our exams?”

“Plus we’ve already seen a cadaver too, which was supposedly one of the peaks of our med-student lives! What’s all this hype about some viscous mass on the surface of the skin?”

Your best friend peeks at you from her peripheral vision, absolutely mortified. You love it.

“Can you please remind me how we became friends in the first place?” Chohee shakes her head and increases the volume of the player as the droplets of rain start pouring down the windshield. “Anyways – I was meaning to ask the histological meaning of it.”

“Oh, right,” you nod, recalling your notes, “well, it’s a localized collection of neutrophils and necrotic debris. Basically, it’s a suppurative inflammation which is associated with pyogenic bacteria and characterized by edema fluid admixed with neutrophils and necrotic cells. Staphylococcus aureus usually produces abscesses because it’s coagulase positive and coagulase helps the production of fibrinous material that localizes the infection.”

As soon as you finish, silence takes over the car, and suddenly, a sniffle comes from Chohee’s side. With a matching frown, you best friend looks at you with shiny eyes. “Oh _______, what would I do without you?”

With still half an hour to spare, you decide on relieving your bladder first before all the toilets get occupied later a couple of minutes before the actual exam. You take your time with it, even managing to put some effort in fixing your hair in clipping your fringe back so as not to eliminate all distractions possible during the exam.

While looking through the large panel windows on your way back from the comfort rooms, you spot a familiar face – the last person you’d want to see on such an important day. Perhaps your prayers weren’t loud enough to actually reach heaven.

There Jeon Jungkook was at the end of the hall, walking like a newly-canonized saint in all his glory. Most (if not all) of the female onlookers stare at him as he passes by, with Jungkook seemingly unbothered by their unwavering attention. You aren’t one for exaggeration, but these women look like they’re willing to worship the ground he walked on.

Your nerdy, anti-Jeon Jungkook ass quickly hides beside a nearby locker, not wanting to be ‘graced’ by his presence, just as some girl coined a few moments ago as she headed to the toilets with her friends, collectively gushing over the boy.

The popular kid turns to his right and you swore you’d never prayed harder and faster than any other time in your life. Your room assignment was just the one by the corner...and if he could just make a few more steps and head straight to the next classroom a-and...nope. It’s official. The universe loved shitting on you.

Jungkook enters room 132, the very same numbers indicating your room assignment for the licensure exam. You ball up your fists in your spot by the lockers, releasing all your pent-up frustration in the simplest and least violent way possible: a long, tedious exhale.

Gathering up all your self-control, you re-enter the classroom with an inward grimace, desperate to not have Jungkook’s eyes meet yours. He’s looking for a seat, and with all the back rows already occupied, he’s stuck with picking one from the first two rows.

He’s already stood near the seat you’ve picked and you bore holes into the back of his head with your fake telepathy, silently ordering him to pick a chair on the other side of the aisle instead.

Just as you had not wished for, Jungkook plops his huge ass backpack on the chair next to yours. You tread back to your seat as discreetly as possible, avoiding his gaze at all times as he rummages through his military backpack. What the fuck is in that thing in the first place? You won't be surprised if he manages to pull out a whole microwave inside – and yet funnily enough, he can’t seem to own a single damn pencil.

As you were minding your own businesses (hopefully it stays that way for the rest of eternity), you catch the other students discussing surgical cases last minute.

“Hey, which artery is the one for transection for an epidural hematoma?”

“Was this the kid that got hit by a fastball in the head?”

“What happened?”

“Poor boy got hit in the temporal area during a baseball tournament. Remained conscious during the rest of the day but during the same evening he gets a severe headache with vomiting and confusion. When they got to Severance he got scheduled for immediate surgery for epidural hematoma.”

“That sounds awful…”

“I’m not sure which artery it was again though…”

If that were the case...then it’d be the transection of a branch of the middle meningeal artery...but then you wouldn’t want to answer that out of the blue and get mistaken for being too snoopy…

Instead, you reach for the bottle of water by the legs of your chair, likewise hearing the same answer coming out of Jungkook’s mouth in a whisper. Huh. You raise a brow. Well, there was a major chance he knew the case since he came from Yonsei too, just as you had speculated from some of your roommates who seemed like they came from the same school after mentioning Severance Hospital.

The group continue discussing their answers when this girl, who had an obnoxiously unnatural high-pitched voice, approaches Jungkook.

“Jungkook-oppa?”

Oppa? OPPA?!

You wanted to throw up. This girl looked at least two-three years older than him. At the least. Guess Jeon was really more of a fuckboy than Chohee would ever admit. “We were just discussing something and we’re really unsure of our answers, maybe a smart oppa like you would know?”

With as much discretion as you could muster, you adjust in your seat, leaning a little bit towards their conversation as you eavesdrop like the nosy person that you are.

“The surgery was a transection of the meningeal artery,” says Jeon nonchalantly like it’s the most basic thing in the world, still scrolling through his phone. Silence ensues after that. That’s it?! He’s not even going to bother explaining-

Jungkook exhales as he puts his phone down. “Epidural hemorrhages result from a rupture of one of the meningeal arteries, as these arteries supply the dura and run between the dura and the skull. Plus you said temporal area right?” he asks, facing one of the guys.

“The artery involved is usually the middle meningeal artery - a branch of the maxillary artery, as the skull fracture is usually in the temporal area. Since the bleeding is of arterial origin, symptoms are rapid in onset even though he seemed normal for a few hours. If they didn’t bring him to the hospital that same evening, he could’ve had tentorial herniation and would have eventually died.”

As much as you hate to admit it - you’re beyond impressed. Chohee always stays true to her word, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was still a jerk for clearly cutting the line at the subway.

The girls coo over him, praising him over how cool he looked by explaining his answer. Jungkook settles back on his seat like he hadn’t just perfectly given an on-point pathological explanation for a neuro case.

The group continues their review, until they’ve come to another question they’re unsure of. “Jungkook-ssi, would you know where the rupture of a berry aneurysm of the Circle of Willis would likely produce hemorrhage?”

With only ten minutes left, you’d usually be preparing yourself mentally but this group and Jungkook’s intervention has you all ears once more. Nothing wrong with some last minute review, right?

“It’s the subdural space.”

Wow. Okay, quick and close but wrong. Impressive wit though.

You open your mouth to say something but you hesitate as it dawns on you that you really aren’t part of this group and you’re not the one being asked. Jungkook not missing a beat gets a collective ‘ooh’ from the group, who’s clearly impressed at how quickly he’s answered the question.

Meanwhile, your conscience is making you contemplate on your earlier hesitation with the voice of the angel on your right shoulder telling you it isn’t right to let the wrong answer pass just like that, especially on a day like this. The devil on your left, however, tells you otherwise. You go with the former.

Amongst their murmurs of mutual praise for Jungkook (you bet this man is rejoicing inside with all the attention he’s getting, despite looking nonchalant), you take a deep breath and say the correct answer, voice coming out louder than expected.

“Excuse me?” another ‘spectator’ says, jutting her chin towards you.

“I said,” you look up at her, “it’s actually the subarachnoid space.”

“Are you sure?” she retorts.

Seriously? Just because you’re not some fuckboy jock who smolders at all boobed humans means you can’t be sure with your answer?

“Hey! I know you!” Someone exclaims from the side, causing everyone to turn their heads toward him, “You’re the foreigner valedictorian at SNU!” Similar to their earlier praises directed towards Jungkook, the same dudes marvel at your most recent accomplishment. You give a shy smile in return, quietly thanking the stranger for the sudden confidence boost.

“Jungkook-oppa is also the valedictorian at Yonsei.”

Well, that didn’t last for long...somebody has always got to rain on your parade. You won’t allow this girl though, not today.

You purse your lips, collecting your thoughts first before explaining it to them. “Subarachnoid hemorrhages, although they are much less common than hypertensive intracerebral hemorrhages, but the former are...more often than not...resultant of a rupture of a berry aneurysm.” You pause momentarily when someone drags his seat closer to yours, “Go on please.”

“Right, um...berry aneurysms are most commonly found at the Circle of Willis, usually by the junction of the communicating artery and the cerebral artery. Chances of rupture increase with age and cause marked bleeding into the subarachnoid space and produces severe headaches.” The same dude earlier blinks at you, urging you to explain further, “uh...additional symptoms may include vomiting, pain, stiffness of the neck, and papilledema. Death may follow rapidly as well.”

A few from the people gathered around your seat clap their hands, along with compliments and offers along the lines of marriage and organ swaps.

Someone mentions seeing the proctor approach the room and the group immediately disperses, everyone rushing back to their seats as quickly as possible. A middle-aged man enters, tells everyone to bring out their pencils and place their stuff by the platform, then momentarily leaves for the restroom.

Jungkook fishes through his bag, turning each pocket inside and out over and over again. There’s no way this kid actually-- “Shit, where did that pencil go?” he murmurs, going through his bag once more. Looking away, you bite your lip to stop yourself from snickering. Jeon Jungkook is definitely on a different level.

As expected, your entertaining seatmate calls you and asks for a pencil. With a deceivingly enthusiastic nod, you retrieve a pencil from your case just beside your chair. Your life after meeting Jungkook at the subway had finally led to this moment. He clears his throat and you figure it’s signaling the coming of another obnoxious comment.

“Oh, I’m sorry, this wasn’t meant for you,” you look at him with the most apologetic look you can muster. Then you look at him, down then up, just as he had done back in the library, you smile widely before winking at him, making him hand your extra pencil over to the guy sat next to him, “Thanks, babe.”

Jungkook scowls hard and you rejoice inside your head, making sure that your face doesn’t register the slightest bit of jest. His scowl however, does not last for long. “Hmm, you’re the girl from the library, right? Smart and feisty...maybe you are my type after all,” he murmurs, tongue poking his cheek. You scoff loudly, scrunching your face in disgust. “No thank you.”

“Oppa,” the girl’s shrill voice calls him one more time and you face forward to freely roll your eyes. If you aren’t mistaken, there’s even a hint of mild annoyance on Jungkook’s features. “Don’t mind her, oppa. You can have my extra pencil instead.” She tsks. “Some people just don’t know when to quit.”

At least she got something right this morning: you don’t know when to quit.

#jungkook x reader #bangtanhq #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #bts au #bts fic #jungkook au #jungkook imagine #doctors au #bts series #jeon jungkook

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drawlfoy · 4 years

Text

Wonders of Ohio - P.7

masterlist (catch up with the series here!)

request guidelines (yes i am taking them!)

pairing: draco x reader

request: no! this is my original idea

summary: american high school senior is in for a surprise when her family takes on a foreign exchange student with a mysterious past.

warnings: teen drinking, mentions of an armed robbery, language, a brief hospital visit, and descriptions of illness

a/n: hey. so. this is definitely where stuff starts to go down. thanks so much for waiting...i have so many more things planned for this series and i’m thrilled to see it come together the way that it is right now. thank you very much for reading and thank you for your patience!

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @icintliviinyiniilsiji @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural

word count: 6k

song recs:

murders - miracle musical

pink in the night - mitski

always, forever - cults

ice dance - ashton gleckman

enjoy!

Y/N should’ve felt cold when she awoke on the wet pavement. Despite a figure looming over her and blocking out most of the rain, the back of her neck and body was drenched in the cool water from the puddle to her right. It was easily in the mid 40s at this point in the evening, something that would ordinarily make her toes curl and her figure tremble, but it felt...different.

She felt like her insides had been scorched, like she’d downed an entire pitcher of boiling hot water. Every movement she made hurt--right down to wiggling her fingertips and her eyes. Her body was exhausted. If she hadn’t known any better, she would’ve thought that she’d just finished running a marathon in hell.

“Can you hear me?” A posh British voice cut through her musings as the figure above her came into focus.

Draco.

“Yeah. Was there a fire?” Her words left her throat painfully, scratching their way up her vocal chords.

“Er...what do you remember?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. The memories of the night slowly began trickling back--she’d done Draco’s tie, told him to watch his drink, argued with Chad about how funny he was, and walked to...Oh, yeah. The antique store. The box. The stars inside of her.

She flinched. “I fainted. I’m sorry. That was really stupid of me.”

“What?” Draco shifted back, the light from the front of the antique store catching his face. There were lines in his forehead that she’d never seen before. “Why?”

“I didn’t eat enough today,” said Y/N. Speaking was starting to feel less and less like lighting her trachea on fire. “I was really nervous and I lost my appetite. I’m an easy fainter.”

He cleared his throat. “Er, okay. Yeah. That was it. Anyways, we have to get home. You need to, uh, eat.”

“Okay.”

Y/N allowed herself to be hauled up onto her feet, swaying slightly once her full weight was on her feet. Her sense of gravity felt like it had been loosened. With every step, she felt pulled to the ground from a different part of her core.

“Steady. Don’t fall.” By some miracle, once Draco’s hands were gently guiding her shoulders, she was able to make her way to the backseat of Heather’s car before she collapsed.

“Where are we going?” asked Y/N. Despite no longer feeling like she was near death, her head was still cloudy.

“Home,” was all Draco said as he slid in on the other side of the car.

She didn’t bother putting on her seatbelt--she still felt like she was about to keel over--and rested her head on the car window. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Draco open the passenger car door for a moment, pause, shut it, and instead tug open the door across from her and slide in.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“My insides feel like they’re on fire.” Y/N winced as she tried to shift and get the weight off of her neck. “I think I’m sick.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” said Heather from the front, her eyes catching Y/N’s from the mirror. “You were just laying down in the middle of a rainstorm. Go home and take some Zi-cam or something, jesus.”

Y/N tried to chuckle in response, but it came out as a sorry squeak instead. No one made a move to further comment on the evening’s events as Heather pulled onto the freeway and began to gain speed. The sudden lurches and changes of speed in the car set Y/N’s stomach into a churning frenzy, her head growing light again.

“Draco.”

Her voice was so soft it was hardly audible--the syllables jumbled together on her lips in a quiet mess--but he immediately snapped to attention.

“What is it?”

She took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“For the love of god, at least try and hold it until we get off the freeway.”

“Shut up, Heather,” said Draco. Y/N couldn’t help but feel the slightest twinge of satisfaction as he rolled his eyes and turned his attention back on her. “Is it the motion? Are you sick from that?”

“I don’t know,” she managed.

He sighed. “Helpful.”

“Dick.”

Draco frowned at her, but she could see the slightest twinkle of amusement in his eye. “Can you move into the middle seat for me? Do you need help?”

Once Y/N had scooted over from her side, he leaned away from her and pointed up to the sunroof above them. “Go ahead and count all the lights that you can see in the sky. I promise it’ll make you feel better. Just keep your head pointed up.”

She tilted her head back. The night sky was largely gloomy, but the flickering lights of the planes that dove in and out of clouds provided some glowing dots. As she counted, Heather hit the fog strips and nearly threw her back into her original seat. She felt a warm hand wrap around her wrist and gently grip, the long fingers completely encircling it.

Y/N blinked. The nausea was gone. “What are you, a sorcerer or something?” she joked, not expecting to see Draco so frozen at the comment. “Kidding. I just feel better already. Thank you.”

He nodded and turned away to look out the window. His soft grip on her hand was long gone, and Y/N took Heather’s slightly uncoordinated driving as a cue to slide back into her seat and buckle up.

“If you really need to puke,” said Heather, “I have a Target bag back somewhere under the passenger seat. Please avoid the seats. They’re authentic vegan leather.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing.”

“Just don’t throw up, okay?”

Y/N was in Art History when it happened. The chills began, so intense and teeth-chattering that her teacher took one look at her and sent her immediately to the nurse. Sylvia offered to walk her, but she was only allowed to under the condition that she avoid all physical contact with her and sanitized each surface that Y/N touched. It was a wonder she made it to the first floor office--each step felt heavier than the last, and from the beginning she felt moments from simply passing out.

A temperature check revealed that she had a mild fever--100.3 F, to be exact--and a call home resulted in her mother’s full voicemail box and the remembrance that her parents were out for the week.

“Can someone else drive you?” Nurse Hazelwood asked as she stepped away to douse her hands in hand sanitizer. “I don’t think you should get yourself home in this state.”

After some deliberation, it was decided that Sylvia would take her home and call someone for a ride back. It was a bit overkill--but she didn’t know what else to do.

“And can you make sure Draco has a ride home today?” Y/N asked as they pulled into the driveway of the Y/L/N home.

“Stop stressing so much, dude.” Sylvia took the keys out of the ignition to give her an expectant look. “You’re sick. Go inside and make some soup or something. I’m sure your boyfriend will figure it out.”

“Now I really am gonna be sick,” said Y/N as she rolled her eyes.

The rest of her afternoon was a blur. Y/N tried to force down some chicken soup, but it took all her might to keep it from coming right back up. It was safe to say her appetite was gone.

After a failed attempt at walking up the stairs to crawl into bed, she collapsed onto the couch. The last thing she remembered was the sound of footsteps outside the front door.

Y/N hadn’t been to the hospital since she had to get stitches in middle school. Then, all she did was lie back in the chair and try to shut her eyes as the needle wove in and out of her torn thigh (bad bike accident, in case anyone was curious). But now was different.

Her eyes hurt to open, like someone had thrown soap in them and the very line where her two lids met were lined with knives. Everything inside of her was on fire--a manic, all-consuming fire that made it impossible for her to keep anything down.

The nurses and doctors were no help--not like Y/N actually had her eyes long enough to see any of them--but their voices were enough to let her know what was going on.

“Fever of 104--”

“Can’t keep anything down--”

“Severely dehydrated--”

“Tested negative for everything we tried--”

“Never seen anything like this before--”

“No viruses were detected--”

“Not mono--”

As she wove in and out of consciousness, one fact stuck in her mind: I think I might die here. Something is very wrong.

When she did dream, images of the box she picked up plagued her mind. The symbol, etched lightly into the black top, glowed menacingly in her hands. Open it, open it something around her urged, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t.

It was during one of these dreams that her world suddenly shifted back to her hospital room. She was suspended above her body, looking down at the tangle of IVs and various other wires that imprisoned her...but she wasn’t alone.

The dim lighting and darkness outside confirmed her suspicion that it was indeed late at night. A figure, tall and slim, was sitting to her left. It was whispering something unintelligible as it gently took her hand and squeezed.

If Y/N could scream, she would’ve. The sudden pull back to her body was so strong that she was yanked across the room so she just barely hovered over her corporeal form. She could feel a grip, steady and firm, wrapped around her hand as a rush of cool ran through her. Each breath, each pulse, each heartbeat pulled her back to herself. It felt like a bucket of water had been poured over--into--her, extinguishing the flames that were eating away the inside of her.

The figure’s whispering finally came to an end as she settled back into her physical body. Before she drifted off to a peaceful slumber, a familiar voice rose above the quiet whispers.

“I’m sorry.”

“Y/N!”

Her eyes shot open to see her mother, heavy eye bags and all, standing over her bed. “Hi Mo-”

“You scared me half to death!” Mrs. Y/L/N interrupted, placing her hand on her forehead. “No fever. Thank god. You know, when you were a baby, you were horribly ill with…”

Y/N sat and pretended she was listening as she relinquished in the fact that she was awake, she was here. The fire inside of her was long gone, replaced with the familiar...whatever was there before. Nothing? Maybe. Nothing was good, or at least better than the painful fire. It struck her with a sudden urgency that she had no idea what day it was, much less time. What about her homework? What about her UChicago application? Her counselor was supposed to submit her letter of rec a week ago...or a week ago from whenever she was brought to the hospital.

“Honey, are you even listening?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said.

“That’s what I thought. The food here is horrendous--of course you’re excited to go home.” Mrs. Y/L/N took her glasses off to wipe at the lens in a gesture that seemed more habitual and less effective. “You poor thing. Your father is still in New York--John simply couldn’t have him leave--but he’ll be back as soon as he can. Let’s get you out of here.”

The next few hours were a strange blur of paperwork, changes of clothes, and a bag of medication. The nurses and doctors were bewildered at her miraculous recovery and expressed this at every chance they had on her way out, reminding her to immediately seek attention if she feels anything similar again.

“What day is it?” Y/N finally asked once they were on the way home.

“Wow, you really were out of it.” Mrs. Y/L/N flicked her blinker on as she merged onto the freeway. “Sunday. You were there almost a whole week.”

“Huh? What about school? Do my teachers know? How did Draco get to school? Is he ok?”

“Of course your teachers know, hun. They’re all being very forgiving with their late work policies. As long as you’re putting effort into learning the material you missed, they have no problem letting you skip out on the homework. As for Draco...I think he’s fine. Sylvia’s family took him under their wing for the week. He’s still alive.”

And such a statement was proven when Y/N walked through the front door. Draco shot up from his seat at the living room couch the moment they locked eyes, his hands wringing back and forth.

“You’re okay.”

“You’re okay too,” she responded airily. “When I wasn’t dying I was worrying myself about how you’d do without me. I see my fears of you walking into moving traffic didn’t come true, thank God.”

His lips, tight, offered her the slightest upturn.

“Y/N, dearie, no need to harass the boy,” her mother said. “Up to your room. I’ll bring you some soup in a moment. You need to rest, young lady.”

She sent one last teasing grin at Draco before she was ushered up the steps, her mother fussing over her the entire way.

“So,” Sylvia said, crossing her legs over the other and giving Y/N a wicked look, “Consider this your last formal invitation to my Halloween party. It’s this Friday. It’s not even the night before the ED deadline. You should go.”

“I don’t know, Vy,” said Y/N. Her art history notes lay untouched in front of her as the teacher droned on about something related to how mannerism as an art style came to fame during the...Reformation? She didn’t know. “I’m kind of tired. I feel bad about leaving Draco alone, too.”

“Dude.”

“What?”

Sylvia rolled her eyes. “Will you just do us all a favor and admit that you like him? It’s getting exhausting. Just ask him to come with you.”

“You’re absolutely off your rocker if you think I’m gonna do that,” Y/N said.

“I’m just saying, you’ve done weirder things. Like almost dying from...literally nothing.”

“Hey, hey, don’t be rude. I’ll think about it but no guarantees. I don’t really think Draco is the partying type, though.”

“I’d be careful about making such a wild assumption. You never know what goes on in those posh private British schools for rich kids or wherever he went.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Her friend laughed. “No. Just an optimist.”

Y/N swung the sleeve of her cardigan at her, whacking her pretty good on the bicep. If Sylvia was bothered by it, she didn’t show it. “Fine. I’ll ask him as a friend.”

“Pansy.”

Y/N was never the type to enjoy background noise as she worked, but there was something nostalgic about hearing the identical voices of her local news anchors in the room over as she sat at the kitchen table and worked on a last minute Physics review set.

“Hey loser,” she called out as she saw a head of blond hair pass by her to get to the kettle. “Care to join me?”

Draco turned, his mouth open and ready to issue a retort before he appeared to change his mind. He’d been oddly distant lately, avoiding her in the common spaces they often saw each other and choosing to get breakfast and his evening tea at times that he knew she wouldn’t be down in the kitchen for. Perhaps that was the reason why she was sitting at the kitchen table at present, but of course she’d never admit that. Not even to herself.

“Can’t. I’m a bit busy with work.”

“Draco,” she chided. “What work is it? I can help you, you know.”

He paused for a few seconds, taking in the scatter of papers on the table and the nearly complete review sheet. “The Physics review is taking me a bit of time,” he said, his tone forced and resigned.

“Go grab it!” She grinned as his scowl deepened. “If you’re nice I’ll let you copy.”

She lost track of time as they went over his work, his pencil marks filling the page with symbols that were unfamiliar to her.

“Your handwriting is really nice,” she noted. “Like, so nice that I feel like you could really make it as a study youtuber or a study blogger or whatever. You have that potential if you want to tap into it, dude.”

“I have no idea what that is,” he said neatly as he punched an equation into her calculator.

“Fair.”

She sat still for a few more moments, watching as her study partner’s chest rose and fell with each breath he took. Sylvia’s Halloween party was just a few days away, and she needed to ask him at some point. Every time she mustered up the courage to open her mouth and hitch her breath, the words would die on her tongue.

The silence weighed heavy in the air as the words of the news anchors floated over…”multiple reports of an armed robbery….suburbs surrounding Cincinnati...cautioned to lock doors...potential link to the missing persons case…”

“Draco,” she said finally. He jolted up from his work to gaze at her. His eyes were probably the prettiest things she’d ever seen--all pale and metallic and silvery. “Uh, I’m going to this Halloween party this Friday. You should come with me, it sounds like it’ll be fun. I think that Heather will be there.”

Y/N mentally groaned at her admission to Heather’s attendance but didn’t know what else to say. She wanted him to come--even if it was so he could spend the whole time being woo-ed over by her.

“Er,” he began, twirling his pencil around his fingers. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Homework, you know.”

“Just finish it before--That’s what I’m doing.”

“I think I’m go--”

The slam of the front door made both of them jump, scattering Y/N’s long forgotten work and threatening to knock Draco’s mug over.

“Hi kids,” Mrs. Y/L/N greeted as she entered the kitchen, an armful of grocery bags in tow. “Studying?”

“Yeah,” Y/N answered. “By the way, Mom, Sylvia invited me over to her house on Friday for a sort of Halloween get together. Can I go?”

Her mother was silent for a few moments as she methodically unpacked the paper bags on the counter.

“I don’t see why not. Is Draco coming too?”

“No,” he replied before Y/N even had the chance to open her mouth.

“I don’t think you should be home alone at night, my dear,” said her mother. “Have you seen the news? There’s someone on the loose. I’d feel much better if you were with Y/N--Robert and I are going to an auction that night. We won’t be around.”

“I’ll be fi--”

“If Y/N is going, you’re going,” Mrs. Y/L/N said as she finished unloading and brushed her hands off on her thighs. Her no nonsense demeanor rarely showed itself, but when it did, she was difficult to argue with.

Y/N shrunk down in her seat as Draco sent her a sour look.

Sorry she mouthed. If he noticed, he didn’t show it.

“Remind me again why we’re walking?”

Draco’s snotty tone carried through the crisp fall air as they neared the street that Sylvia lived on.

“Because,” said Y/N, “Quite frankly, I don’t think I can get through being in an enclosed space with Heather for an entire night without being at least a little buzzed. And I’m not gonna have you drive us home.”

“Hmph.” His dress shoes, odd pointed tips and all, kicked at the fall leaves below them. His costume was literally nothing different than what he wore when he arrived--a crisp white dress shirt, an oddly cut blazer, and a weird looking green and silver pin attached to his lapel.

“If anyone asks,” she had told him from the hallway as they were getting ready to go that afternoon, “Just say you’re a corporate rat or something.”

He’d snorted at her choice of clothing--a completely dark brown set up with a picture of a shoe taped to her chest.

“I’m the shoe that that Iraqi reporter threw at Bush,” she had explained.

He just stared.

“If you aren’t having fun, please just let me know,” Y/N said as they turned one of the last corners. “We can tell her our fish died or something. Sylvia would totally understand.”

“We don’t have a fish.”

“I know, genius,” she teased, giving him a little punch. Instead of balking, he just crinkled his nose. “But she doesn’t.”

“I think she does.”

“You’re missing the point. You’ll tell me if you want to go back home, promise?”

“I want to go home.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

He grinned as they waited for Sylvia to open the door.

The next few hours were a bit of a blur. Y/N didn’t drink much at first--maybe the equivalent of 2 or 3 shots, spaced out in between a couple of sips of water--but the energy in Sylvia’s home definitely had her more buzzed than usual. There was something about her home that always felt twice as spooky, a type of underlying energy that pulsed at the seams.

To her surprise, Draco actually took a cup of whatever Sylvia offered him and downed it. She laughed when she saw him finally lower the cup as he furrowed his brow at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

His features looked softer in the dim lighting of Sylvia’s living room--all the tension that he carried in his shoulders and face seemed to be gone. When he smiled at her, it was all she could do to keep herself from disintegrating into the couch.

As the night wore on, Y/N felt herself getting progressively more tipsy, and, in her haze, she could see that Draco was going down a similar path. He was touchier than she would have expected--hanging onto her elbow or sleeve whenever Sylvia or Y/N said anything funny, not moving his leg when her thigh was pressed against his, stretching his arm out behind her and resting it on the back of the couch--and she found herself wishing she was sober enough for it to feel real. Maybe she was so drunk that she was imagining it all. Maybe she was actually asleep next to her toilet at home after throwing it all up and was just dreaming.

“Fuck!” Someone exclaimed, prompting her to look up. Abby, a girl she kind of knew from her grade, had spilled the entirety of her drink on the coffee table.

“Y/N,” Sylvia whined, “I’m too tired to get the paper towels. Will you and Draco go?”

Despite the half-hearted protests from Draco, she managed to haul him up by his arm as she pushed back the pleasure that Sylvia saw them as a sort of team, a sort of unit.

“I think she keeps the extra paper towels in her pantry,” she told him as they made their way over to the quiet part of the house. The light hanging over the kitchen island was on, but the rest of the room was bathed in darkness.

“Right he--”

Y/N froze as she saw it--or, as she would come to discover, them.

Heather and Chad stared back at them, looking much more disheveled than one is permitted simply sitting on the kitchen counter. It was hard to make it out clearly, but Heather’s cheeks looked flushed. Chad’s matched.

“In a fucking kitchen? Chad, I thought you were better than this,” Y/N said, turning and grabbing the paper towels from the cabinet behind them. “Get a room, you weirdos.”

Chad laughed, a short lived and awkward sound.

Once they were back out in the living room, Y/N tossed the paper towels to Sylvia. “I think we’re gonna head back. We have to walk, you know.”

Sylvia dramatically threw herself back onto the couch. “I suppose. Thanks for coming guys, it was nice to see you outside of class again.”

“Likewise!” Y/N called over her shoulder as she walked out of the door with Draco by her side.

The walk home was silent for the first few moments. Despite the fact that it was late October, the night was pleasantly crisp and not too cold. The only sources of illumination were the scattered street lights, casting a soft orange hue on the two.

As they turn the corner onto the main street, Y/N’s shoe caught on a crack in the pavement in a movement that would’ve sent her sprawling face-first into the cold concrete if it hadn’t been for Draco’s hand grabbing her own and yanking her back up.

“Thanks,” she said. His hands were warmer than usual despite the coolness of the air.

He just sent her a small smile as he untangled their fingers and placed his hand back into his pants pockets.

“Weird to see Chad and Heather, right?” Y/N nudged him with her shoulder. To her surprise, he nudged back.

“I guess. I thought it was obvious, though.”

“What?! No way.”

“Are you blind? Heather’s been all over Chad,” he said.

“Are you? I thought she was obsessed with you!”

“No, definitely not.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, turning to look at him. The dim glow of the streetlights made his hair look almost like a halo. “She wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“Dunno.” Draco shrugged. It was then that Y/N remembered how much he’d had that night.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re probably not in the right mindset to be analyzing other people right now,” said Y/N.

His lips twitched upwards. “No, no, it’s ok. I’m fine. I just couldn’t be bothered over the whole ordeal. Entirely uninspiring, I think.”

“You’re such a nerd, even when you’re drunk,” teased Y/N. “It’s honestly a wonder that you spent the first month near failing physics.”

“Sod off.” He nudged her again, hard enough to make her sway. “You’re the one who’s still an insufferable smartass. I figured drinking would make you more tolerable.”

“Don’t be a dick,” she muttered as she shoved him back. “You know you love me.”

He froze in the middle of his retaliatory shove, his hand rested on her forearm.

“Sarcasm, king,” said Y/N. “I don’t mean it. I wouldn’t blame you if I were right, though. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m quite the commodity.”

“Oh, yes, most certainly.” His tone was dripping in faux genuity as he gave her a gentle push.

As he was doing this, Y/N grabbed the offending arm and took him down with her, landing in the soft garden bush in poor Ms. McCoyle’s front yard.

“Gotcha!” she cheered as he frowned from his spot on top of her. It took all her might to ignore the fact that his face was inches away. “It’s just my smart physics brain at work.”

“Your neighbor is gonna kill us.”

“She can try.”

Draco sat up, grabbing her hand and hauling her to her feet. She took the opportunity to hang onto the sleeve of his coat as a sneaking suspicion overtook her that things wouldn’t be like this again without the clever excuse of intoxication.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

Y/N let go of his sleeve to look up at his face in confusion. She followed his eyes, suddenly hardened with an emotion she couldn’t quite place, to their house at the end of the street.

“You shut the door behind us, right?” Draco asked.

“And locked it.”

Their front door, hanging wide open and swinging in the breeze, told a different story.

Sobering up was easy once the police sirens showed up and searched their house. Y/N could tell the responding sheriff knew they’d been drinking, but since they weren’t driving and were speaking clearly, he didn’t mention anything.

“We’ve searched the house,” he told them as they sat together outside on the curb. “It looks like it fits the profile of the other armed burglaries in the area, but nothing was taken this time. The bedroom that looks out into the garden is completely trashed--it seems like the suspect was looking through your things for something. The bedroom across the hall was displaced a bit, but nothing compared to the first.” He took another look at his notes, adjusting the thick rimmed glasses that were perched on his nose. “You kids are lucky. Whoever this is means business. There’s unfortunately not much we can do except set up a patrol to watch over the street for now. Please give us a call if you see anything or hear anything.”

They nodded. Y/N had placed a call to their parents while they waited a safe distance from the home for the police to arrive. She’d been shaking as she pressed their number into her phone, and Draco, to his credit, rested his hand on her thigh.

“We’ll be fine,” he’d said before retracting it. “Don’t worry.”

Draco seemed considerably calm for someone experiencing a home break in in a foreign country as they made their way into the house. The first responders had left the lights on, and the wash of LED bulbs did nothing to hide the disturbance of her bedroom. Everything of hers was thrown into the middle of the room from her drawers, closet, and dresser. Her laptop, open and plugged in, was left completely untouched.

“Draco,” she said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends, what is it?”

Y/N noted that he was getting considerably paler as they stood in her doorway. “I don’t think I can sleep here. Knowing what happened. Especially when it’s still a disaster.”

“Understandable.”

His features looked hardened again, like he’d gone through a filter of seriousness. She decided that this was probably her last chance to ask for any act of intimacy before the effects of alcohol dissipated in his system. “And I don’t want to sleep alone.”

“Er...Oh.” He stared at her. “What?”

“I know that this is really awkward, but can I, like, sleep on your floor or something? Just for tonight.” When she swallowed her throat felt painfully dry. “I don’t snore or anything. It’ll be like I’m not even there.”

Draco sucked in a long breath, casting his eyes up to the ceiling. Y/N wished she knew what he was thinking about. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Thank you thank you thank you,” she sang, darting into her room to grab a blanket and a pillow as he watched wordlessly by the doorframe.

The walk to his room was dead silent except for their sounds of shock when they saw the broken glass in the middle of the floor.

“I think that was from the picture frame,” Y/N said as she carefully walked into the middle of the room. Sure enough, a framed photo of her and their late dog that had been left on the wall was face down on the carpet.

“Is this when you ask me to sleep in my bed, too?” quipped Draco as he sidestepped the wreckage and sat on the opposite side of the queen mattress.

“Um...we can make a pillow barrier so we don’t touch.”

He rolled his eyes and tossed his blazer over his chair as he took off his shoes and buttonup, leaving nothing but his undershirt and dress pants. “I’m going to get changed. If you’re asleep before I get back, this is me saying goodnight.”

With that, he grabbed something from his dresser and walked into his bathroom, Y/N ripped off the picture of the shoe and placed her phone on the bedside table. Before she knew it, she was completely passed out.

It was barely dawn when she next woke up. Her head was heavy--no doubt the beginnings of a hangover--but she’d never felt more electrified.

A small huff prompted her to look to her left where Draco was just a few movements away from her. He was very clearly still sleeping, each breath leaving his lips with a whisper. His hand, draped over the covers, was millimeters away from touching her. The pink of the sunrise made his hair, now ruffled and sticking up in the side, glitter in the light. She resisted the urge to reach out and brush it away from his face.

Y/N lay there, admiring the boy sleeping next to her, until the urgency of her situation struck her. She was absolutely parched, and if she wanted to mitigate the damage she’d already done, it was in her best interest to drink a glass of water and take 4 Ibuprofen.

With a sigh, she quietly slid out from under Draco’s covers and made her way to her room, careful to avoid the glass scattered all about. She knew she had a packet of Ibuprofen somewhere in one of her dresser drawers.

The pile in her room was bigger than she remembered. She began by just throwing her clothes that had been on the ground onto her bed, sorting through everything in rough categories. When this proved unhelpful, she turned to the mini pile by her door which, to her surprise, had a few sweatshirts that definitely weren’t hers.

Draco she thought absentmindedly as she combed through the pile. Aha. A small green pouch, just like the one she kept her over the counter medications in.

Her hands struggled to undo the tie--Did she normally knot it like that?--as she admired the lining. She never noticed that the edges had silver thread stitched in.

Once she finally opened it up, she grabbed her water bottle and prepared to be faced with a variety of pill bottles as she tipped it over; however, what came out was very different.

A collection of letters. Namely, Draco’s. She knew it was wrong, but he was sleeping, and every letter looked official, stamped with a seal and etched with some sort of crest. They couldn’t have been that personal.

After a bit of bargaining, she decided to open one. If it was personal, she made the deal with herself to put it away and never speak of it again.

The parchment was heavy and clearly expensive. Her hands were shaking as she unfolded the first one, feeling guilty the whole way.

Foreign words flooded her vision. It wasn’t like the letter was written in a foreign language--but there were so many terms she didn’t understand.

Death eater...Voldemort...Crimes against the ministry...Conspiracy against Dumbledore...Hogwarts-sanctioned punishment...

She read on until a word popped out that made sense--Magic. And there it was again--Magic. Wizard. Magic.

Swallowing hard, she shoved the letter back into the envelope and opened one more. This one was much more coherent.

“Dear Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy:

It has been made apparent to us that, while serving the punishment of your accused crimes, you have unlawfully used magic (namely, a Glamour spell) in front of a muggle. Consider this to be your first strong warning. One more slip up and the Ministry will be forced to reconsider your dropped sentence of Azkaban.

Sincerely and warmly,

The Ministry of Magic -- Justice Sector”

What. What the fuck. What the fuck.

Her racing mind was put to a screeching halt at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her.

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x oc #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy

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uwuowotf2waslife · 4 years

Note

The mercs with an s/o who is on the autism spectrum? If you want to

as a person with diagnosed autism( ASD that later changed to SCD but concidering my countrys lack of proper diagnosis and non-existant support when i was growing up, im not sure,it might was a result of chronic abuse or i was a really weird kid) its my duty to answer this ask,

always know that you are perfect with all your imperfections

just because maybe your brain is wired different it doest make you less of a person

you are poetry

Scout

-my boy has adhd ( probably undiagnosed until he was examined by Medic) so you two might have a little problem at the begining.

-he might be the closest to a jack russel in human form, but he cares about you and is willing to sit down and do his research so he can understand you and your struggles. He isn’t a hypocrite, he is a hyperenergetic bundle of daddy issues and is sure he will annoy you from time to time, he annoys pretty much everyone except his mom on rare occasion, he is a hanfull and he knows that years now. But he also has come to understand that everyone has struggles and little things that make them more special than others.

-if you have problems with communication , he’ll be your mouth .Problems with sensory overstimulation? he will escort you to the safest place and hug you tighter than he thought hes capable of. People mistreating or bullying/insult you? the bat is in his hands and his ready to hit home runs on their balls. You might not be the perfect couple, you will struggle like every couple and have fights and arguments, but he is ready to phase every difficulty that comes on your way. He loves you and he is here for the ride even if its bumpy.

Soldier

-( I and i think a big part of the community claim he is actually autistic) Probably the most tricky of the mercs, since at one side he might completely relate/understand you and the relationship go smoother than soft butter on bread, or he might have problems communicating the relationship problems with you.

-as all relationships you two must sit down and communicate your problems. Believe me he isn’t mentally retarded ( a horrible misconsumption ive seen being thrown around), yes he is stubborn and can’t read social cues to save his life, but he is a loyal beefcake with a golden heart hardened by a lifitime of war. He knows he isn’t the perfect man, he has nightmares and panic attacks on the regualr after so much trauma in his life. But he also knows that if he S/O needs him, it doesnt matter if its a small or big thing, he is ready to go through hell and back to make them happier or more comfortable

-you can’t stand loud noises? copy that privet, he will stop yelling/ screaming around you. Certain things make you uncomfortable/ anxious? hes at your side and he is ready to snap necks...you have his heart and his adoration, he ain’t a coward or a pansy, you’ll win over any challenge that comes your way like the absolute unit you are and he is there to assist

Pyro

-fresh from the start they can recognise you have autism, i lowkey think they might be ( actually in young adults asd and mild schizophrenia can be mixed and confused by not good qualified doctors, its been years since i read that study so correct me if im wrong) or have really good gut insticts. Either way, they know you are struggling and trie in subtle ways to help you

-did an important call without stuttering? hug and smooch on the crown of your head, completed all your work/homework? they will cover you in stickers and cuddle you in their pillowfort, stood up for yourself? my girl theyll make a huge cupcake tray and youll two will eat while watching sappy disney films

- you won’t struggle as much, i see them as more easy going than other members of the team. But they also have big issues that may create problems in the relationship that you both need to work on. They are more than a handfull and they aren’t unaware of it, they spended years locked inside their own head doing god-knows how vile and harming things to their mentality and body, they can’t believe they are alive and they wake up every day next to the most beautifull human being they have come across their lif, ( Y/n). You will bond slow but strong , you are their sunshine and theyll make sure their sunshine shines no matter what they have to do

Engie

( lowkey i think is canon he has some form of high-functioning autism, just hide its behind the southern warm and soft hospitality)

- when you confess, he hugs you ( a big thing coming from him since i dont consider him a touchy fella) and returns the confession that he is too. He knows each person experiences different so he won’t press you for explanations or description of what you have is excactly. He just assures whatever happens, he is there to help you with

- doesn’t really change how he views you, but he takes the initiative for things like talking to strangers, calling to order or things that you struggle with, but he doesnt baby you. You are an adult person and will be treated as that, even if sometimes he feels he needs to “help” or “protect” you

-one of the most easy going of the mercs, but his work is his priority so there will be long arguments about it. He understands your frustation, but he is a workaholic years now before you came in his life and can’t bring himself to change that. His work is his routine, the only comfort he knows and the only place that accepted him for who he is. But, he will be more elastic and have more breaks/ days off even if it means the project will be finished an hour or two later, unless it has an urgent deadline. He knows he can be very cold and emotionless, he is an engineer, not a spy for that reason. Furthermore he has his own times when he is stubborns or has an anger explosion because something broke/didnt meet his expectations or got way too invested into something that turned to be worthless/ uselless so he isn’t the one to judge if you are in a sour mood or you have your own “ explosion”. After all said and done, late at night when you are both alonein his workshop he will just cradle you in his arms and make a silence promise to always be there for you through thin and thick ( as we say to go through 40 waves and 40 more ) because you are something that no machine or creation can emulate or recreate, you are ( Y/N) and you are the love of his life.

Demo

-arguably one of the three more knowledgable of the mercs in the topic of mental health department. Being raised in an orphanage i doubt he didnt had at least a dozen other kids who had from high to moderate to severe autism ( during the 20th century it wasnt uncommon for people with autism to be thought less human or that the family of said people couldn’t provide for them in severe cases so theyd be dropped on orphanages and psychiatric hospitals)., so he has some first hand experiene with what autism is. It isn’t something for him in all honesty, after so much trauma and hardship in his life he is at peace that peopleare different and their brains are rarely wired the same

-he also know he isn’t ideal, he acts really stupid when he is drunk and his alcohol consumption alone is a very big problem for any relationship he ever had in his life and i doubt he is the image of psychological perfection, but he also knows that if you are willing to keep him around you have seen him wasted out of his mind, he is more than willing to put up with anyof your quirks or difficulties.

-you want to stim? go ahead he’ll leave the room/the house so you can stim to your hearts content, you want to stay? sure thing lass, hell sit in a corner and drink a bit while you have your thing. Work/ school/ home life is stress full and you are in the verge of a breakdown? he has already wrapped you like a burrito and he is holding you while you cry/vent, you dont want to be touched at that moment? hell take you to an open field and you can blow things up to get all those feelings out of you. He isn’t ideal, he is at peace with that, but now that you appeared in his life, you became the apple of his eye. He’ll cherish you and protect you both as body but as a mind and a soul for whatever shit life throws at you, he was never one to back down a challenge.

Heavy

-due to the language barrier and his nature as a quiet man it’ll take him some time. If you bring it up he’ll simply nod and run to Medic or Spy for translation. He isn’t shy to do a doctors worth of research so he knows what he has to deal with, he knows his english is broken and would prefer to have a migraine over the amount of books hes read than make you feel uncomfortable. Probably will ask advice from Medic ( the most qualified on the team) untill hes satisfied he knows enough.

-probably the sanest of the mercs, but he isn’t perfection. He had to endure famine and death from very early in his life, always be the stone his family anchored on and most people on his life, so he has his own big problems. At one side he is used to so many things, he is somewhat indiferent. You aren’t harming anyone nor its life threatening, so it doesnt really change what he feels about you. All people have flaws, noones perfect and if they do think they are perfect, they are very, very wrong. I won’t lie to you, some times hell get confuse with your behavior or will get tired of being the “ anchor” of the relationship, but he will never admit it. He survived the Gulags and years in Siberia, this is nothing but a walk in the park for him. He isn’t a fuckboy, he doesn’t want you just for some fuck and then hell forget you exist, he is much more sentimental than he appears to be. He beginned this with you because he sees you more than a body, he sees you as someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with even if itll be a challenge, he was never a quiter and he wont be now.

- don’t expect much communication help from him, unless its in russian. But whenever you feel the tiniest bit of self-doubt or anxiety his arms are open to embrace and warm you with his love. He might was raised among anarchy and war, but he is a gentle giant with a heart bigger than Russia herself. He knows you two will struggle especially on the communication domain but he is willing to do what it takes to make your life easier/ less challenging. He came here to stay, only if you allow him

Medic

-Arguably the most medically qualified of the mercs, but considering the era of his studies hes at least rusty on modern terminology and general understanding of what autism is. Nontheless his a doctor ( with or without a medical license) and i doubt he ever followed the rules of ethical and unethical medicine. He is a healer primeraly and he can’t claim to be the most mentaly stable of the team.

-he might be many things, he knows hes at least crazy by normal standards and has made extremely questionable choices in his life,but he cares for the people he is close to, lovers and collagues alike. He won’t try to ‘change’or ‘medicate’ you; unless you specifically ask him for, like yes he has defied any sort of ethical medicine and has played god many times in his life, but he knows that if he changes you, you won’t be ‘you’. You will be you still, but nothing more than a lobotomized version of yourself and he fears that. Let’s be real, he probably choosed you because you are a smart individual ( that includes both street and book smarts alike) so if he “killed” your smart he would essentially kill you and this doesnt sit well with him.

-feeling down? no worries, the doctor is here ( afterhe finis hes re-connecting snipers new kidneys). Stressed? Archimedes will be your own personal cheerleader and the rest of the flock won’t let you all stressed and alone while Medic is working. In the simplest of works,he wants you to know that he might be a madman on the field and the medbay, but he is also your lover and that means he cares about you. He doesnt care if act a lil strange or you have some special things about you, guess what? he doesnt cares. H e never cared and he will never cared, all the greatest minds had something special about them and you are no exception. He chosed to have a relationship with you and you accepted the love request of a surgery-happy maniac , im sure he is beyond equiped to handle you in all aspects. He might not be the most touchy but he will make his point across that you are someone who means wayy to much for him to change

Sniper

- ( i highly think he is autistic, just the way hes potrayed in most fanfics he acts lowkey autistic, mostly in the communication and sociable part) growing up in the middle of nowhere probably he has never even heard ‘autism’ as a word , so his very lost. (another headcanon of mine is that he is also iliterate) You need to explain to him what autism is and how it affects your life. He has a non-pleasant expression on his face, because he realises most things that you say what that “autism”is and the thing it has are things he actually has and felt throughout his life. He looks like hes having a religious expierience and when you are done he only nods and hugs you almost mechanically.

-he will need some time, not because ofyou, but because of him. You might think he is breaking up with, butin reality he just needs some time alone to sit down and think about all the things you said. Its one of the biggest revalations he has experienced on his life and it has hit him like a wall of bricks.

- after a few days he will return to the base and will ask you to meet with him on the most secluded of his snipers nest. While you prepare for the upcoming breakup, he actually showers and wears somet hing nice for the first time in a while. He goes out of his way to make the sniper nest a bit more “ comfortable” even bribe spy into giving him one of his fancy wines. Once you go up the nest and you two meet, he is the most clingy he has ever been and almost drinks the whole bottle out of pure anxiety. Once his tipsy enough he actually confesses that from the things you said, he found out hes also autistic. Que him basically clinging you like a broken koala baby while half-sobbing to expell all the tension he has inside him. Please pet his hair and rub his back,he will melt and quit his rugged manly man persona for that moment. He needs you there, he needs your soft touch to ground him while his whole life comes crushing down and a weight he never imagined is being lifted from his shoulders.After that, its quaranteed you two won’t be seperated ever again, he needs you to ease all this pain he has gathered from his troubled life and he will provide you the world and the stars.

Spy

- he knows what autism is( as a spy he should know about human psychology/mental disorders just to know how to impersonate any person with or without issues) and he is a very observant man. He has above average attention span and knows how to read body language so he has figured you are autistic a long time ago. He is just waiting for you to open up about it or confess it, but he also knows the social stigma around autism so he keeps his mouth shut because he really doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or ‘naked’ in front of him

- i heavily headcanon him to be at least depressed/having an ugly anxiety disorder or even a dissosiative disorder considering a big part of his life is carefully crafted theater , so he can’t say he is any more better than you.Furthermore he never really cared about what society thinks about mental ilnesses, whos here to judge who sane and not? he has seen so much shady things behind closed doors of “ pure” people he has lost all respect for what society thinks its normal and what is weird or not acceptable. Yes he follows the rules of “good” society but thats more of a habit than a need. Plus have you seen what the good ol’ society behind close doors? yap youll need a good bible study and some church to wash away the sins.

-eventually when you confess to him,he doesn’t really act. He knows its a heavyemotinal moment for you but he can’t open up for his own problems, at least now. But he will embrace you for now and say all the sweet words you need to hear...untill the same time he gets drunker than he can and confesses to you in french all his psychological troubles while he cries on your chest. He won’t let go unless he wants to vomit and he will cling to you for dear life while he experiences one of the ugliest meltdowns he has experienced in the last decade. Probably will wake up with a monster of a hangover, but once he feels you wrapped around him and feel your heartbeat on the bones of his back something will meltin him. He will gather whatever strenght he has, turn around, give you one of the most genuine smiles he has ever given in his entire life and peck your lips bore he starts whining and requiesting you to either kill him or fetch medic. Perhaps one day hell say all the things he wants to say in you mother tongoue but for now, just know he will cherish you and love you like the most exquisite poetry that has graced his life

#tf2 #tf2 imagines #tf2 facts #tf2 self insert #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 sniper #tf2 engie #tf2 demo #so #all #long post #autism #relationships dynamic #mentall health

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lettingmydreamsspeak · 4 years

Text

The Heart Knows Best: Part IV

Summary: Little do Chris and Y/n know that those closest to them are working their magic to try and bring them together.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Female Reader

Warnings: None

Word count: approx. 2700

Author’s Note: If this is your first time reading this series, catch up with Part I, Part II and Part III here. It is my hope to figure out a taglist (yes, I’m still pretty new to this!) for those that mentioned that they are interested if I start one. If you too are interested, please send a message!

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

Haley was shocked that she received a response from Scott. She left the message unread, seeing that he really only needed to send five words in response. She knew that this is an urgent matter to discuss. A part of her wondered if you would be upset that she could potentially be chatting with Scott about you and Chris. Haley really tried to keep to herself when it came to your love life, but this time she felt that she might need to intervene. She hated seeing you, her best friend, in this state.

She looked at her phone one more time before buzzing up to your place. Taking a deep breath, Haley started to type a response. Not wanting to get into too much detail in this message, she convinced herself to keep it short and sweet.

Hey Scott, I sure wasn’t expecting to hear back from you. Want to chat tomorrow tonight?

Message sent.

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

The sun was barely on the horizon line as Chris laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. He was unable to sleep any longer. He turned his head to find a sleeping Dodger, snuggled next to him. These were his favourite moments first thing in the morning. Chris turned to grab his phone to take yet another photo of his best friend. The movement caused Dodger to wake, showing Chris great dislike for the disruption.

“I’m sorry bud! Just know that Dad does this because he loves you very much. You will be thankful for all the photos when you are older.”

Chris laughed at his own joke as he snapped a few more photos of the disgruntled dog lying by his side.

“I know you are grumpy now Dodge, but I have a feeling today is going to be okay.”

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

With a coffee in hand, you strolled into the office, feeling a little groggy from the late night wine drinking with Haley. Even though your body felt exhausted, today seemed like a better day. The weight on your shoulders was lifted after spending a few hours with your best friend, talking things out.

As you walked through the office, you noticed the looks you were getting from coworkers. They were greeting you with a smile, some even with a subtle nod. You felt confused by the attention you were receiving this morning. As you arrived to your desk there was a note with your name on it and bottle of sparkling white wine. Not sure who this was from, you eagerly opened the envelope.

Your talents are boundless. Who knew a viral video would finally get you the recognition you have deserved for so long. Congrats, Evelyn.

“Well, all those friendly looks and acknowledgments make sense now. Thanks a lot Chris…”

“It’s more than a thank you!” You nearly went into flight mode as your boss interjected on the conversation your were having with yourself. “Our sales numbers for that book alone sky rocketed overnight. Evelyn has asked that I have a thank you note sent to Scott and Chris for filming and posting the video. Y/n, you wait! Because of your part in it, I predict that in the next week, you are going to be the most in demand illustrator for this company. I hope you are ready for it.”

“Oh hey, Louise! Thanks. I’m not really too sure how to handle this though.”

“You don’t have to handle anything, just be prepared to be more creative than you have ever been.”

“Huh…..I guess I never imagined it would all happen this way.”

In the back of your mind you could hear his voice. Was the universe trying to tell you something? It seemed as if it was trying to bring the two of you back together.

“Again Y/n, give yourself some credit. You deserve this. Celebrate this success and maybe take a bit of time to bask in the glory of it!”

“I’ll try my best, Louise. Thanks again.”

As Louise walked away, you shook your head as you grabbed the phone to send a message and a photo to Haley, wanting to share the surprise. Instead, you had a sudden urge to check out Instagram to see if Chris posted something. You weren’t one to follow celebrities, so you would have to go out of your way to see what Chris was up to. You were curious though. Your heart started to beat a little faster as your slowly typed out his name in the search bar. There might have been butterflies in the pit of your stomach too. As his name appeared in the results, you questioned why you were even doing this, but you felt that you needed to. You clicked his name and quickly closed your eyes, afraid of what might be on the other end. Taking a deep breath and slowly opening your right eye, to see a blurry image of what seemed to be a human and an animal. You closed your eye again, just to open them both up at the same time. The image was clear now. There was Chris, lying in bed with Dodger, both with sullen looks on their faces. The caption under the photo read “You and me both, Dodge.” Staring at this image for what felt like an hour, but was really only seconds, you drifted off into a daydream of what it would be like to wake up beside these two.

“What has gotten into you Y/n?” You shook your head again, to get our of the daydream state. Confused by your own reaction to this photo, you texted Haley with a simple question to hopefully place blame for your odd behaviour on something else.

Hales, what was in that wine last night?

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

“No I did not add anything to your wine last night! You think I would do something like that to you, without first asking for your permission and secondly, not join in on the adventure?”

“Leave it up to you Hales to turn things around and make it funny.”

“So did you add on to the note sent to Chris saying that you love him?”

“Seriously Hales?” Y/n knew that Haley was trying hard to keep the conversation light hearted.

“You can’t tell me you don’t have feelings for him. The universe really seems to be cheering you on with this. Why don’t you just go along with it?”

“But…”

“There is no but. Just go along with it, okay?”

“Yah, okay.”

“Can you sound a little more enthusiastic?” Just as Haley asked you this, her phone started to vibrate with the incoming call. “Y/n, I gotta go, be more enthusiastic!….BYE!”

“Hales?..........Haley?”

You stood there, puzzled by Haley’s abrupt ending to the call. Staring at your phone screen, not quite sure what to make of what happened, you shrugged it off and texted her.

You didn’t seem in distress when you cut off our call, so I hope you are okay. Just let me know you are alive.

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

“Hello, Haley speaking!”

“Hey! It’s Scott. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Sure didn’t. I was actually just on a call with Y/n, trying to convince her to follow the universe’s guidance that is leading her back to your brother.”

“Excellent! So we are going to get along, aren’t we?”

“I have a feeling we will. Again, thanks for getting back to me. I truly wasn’t expecting to hear from you. I felt a little lost on how to help my best friend.”

“Everything happens for a reason. We are going to make this work. We just need to plan this out carefully. I have an idea, and I want to see if you are up for it.”

“I’m all ears.”

“What if Chris and I wrote a children’s book?”

“And Y/n was the illustrator for it?”

“Exactly! So do you know how we can go about this?”

“I know exactly how to…you got a pen and paper handy to write some notes?

“I sure do.”

”Step one….”

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

Haley and Scott agreed that the plan needed to be set in motion pretty quick. After sleeping on the ideas that were created during their two hour long conversation, Scott was ready to tackle the first hurdle: convince Chris to write a book. Now was the moment as he stood outside Chris’ office door. He texted Haley first.

Wish me luck.

He wasn’t waiting any longer. He quietly knocked on the door and walked in before Chris could even respond.

“So, I’ve been thinking about some things and wondered how you would feel about maybe working on a fun project, you know…the two of us”

Looking up from his computer, settling his chin upon his hands clutched together, Chris is bracing for some elaborate idea. He doesn’t have a response, except to stare at Scott as he sat down.

“Okay, you haven’t disapproved yet, so I will continue telling you about it. After receiving that note from Evelyn, thanking us for reading the children’s book, I thought to myself that maybe we can write our own children’s book. Between the two of us, we could probably come up with some kind of story. Maybe we include a dog and two little boys going on a fun adventure. I don’t know. It’s just an idea that I can’t get out of my brain. Then we could donate the proceeds of the sales to charity.”

You could tell that Chris was pondering the idea as Scott sat across the desk from him, patiently waiting for some kind of response. Chris didn’t hate the idea. He also didn’t fully support it yet. His mind was filling with questions about how they would go about creating this so called book.

“So, I don’t hate the idea. I actually really like it. And you know we would have to dedicate the book to the kids. But I have so many questions. How do we even begin writing this? What is our timeline for completion? Who is even going to accept an idea like this?”

Scott stared back at him, happy that Chris somewhat approved of this idea. He wanted so bad to tell him that Y/n could be the illustrator, but he also wanted to tread lightly through this territory, as he sensed Chris might actually be up for creating something together.

“Whoa….slow down bro. I don’t even have the answers yet, but if this is something you might have the slightest interest in being a part of, how about I try and get a hold of Evelyn? I know you are busy today, so I will see if I can chat with her. I have a feeling their publishing firm would fully support us with this idea. It doesn’t hurt to ask. Can I at least do that?”

“Yes, you can.”

“I don’t think you will regret this!” Scott hurried from the room to grab the phone of his pocket. Feeling like he couldn’t text quick enough, he finally got the words onto the screen.

Haley, he liked the idea.

Sent.

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

A couple of days had passed, and it felt like things were getting back to normal for you, especially at work. You still had your deadlines to meet, and clients to make happy. In general, you felt more inspired than usual. The work you were creating felt like some of the best you had done in a long time. In the midst of sending off proofs to your client, an email come through from Evelyn. For the most part you are an optimistic person, but then there were moments like this one. Anxiety was making an appearance. Without even reading the email yet, you expected the worst. Evelyn never emailed you, so what could it be. Maybe you were were looped into a conversation that you weren’t supposed to be included in. Once your client’s email was sent off, with hesitation you opened Evelyn’s message. It was titled: Important Meeting – Please Respond Immediately.

“I’m getting fired…I know it.”

You opened the email without much confidence in what you were about to read.

Y/n and Louise,

Sorry I can’t be there to give you this news and discuss it with you in person, but I will address everything you need to know in this email. Please read carefully.

Thanks to this weeks increased interest in the works we have been publishing, we have been approached to work on a children’s book with a high profile client. Though I cannot disclose who this client is right now, they have requested a meeting with our head publishing team at our NYC headquarters. As I am already in Manhattan for other meeting over the next week, I have scheduled a meeting with them. This meeting will be on Monday morning. The client has also requested that Y/n is involved in this project, as the illustrator.

Y/n, we have booked you on a red eye flight, having you arrive into the city on Sunday morning, giving you a chance to prepare for the meeting. A car will be at the airport to pick you up and take you to the hotel. It will also be there at the hotel to take you to the meeting at HQ. I have also reached out to your clients that have deadlines next week. We have pushed their deadlines to the following week, as we will have you based out of the NYC office for a bit. All the materials that you need to do any illustrating while you are here will be set up in an office for you.

I know this is late notice, but I hope that this opportunity is one what you are willing and able to tackle with our team. All your flight information is attached to this email. Please let me know as soon as possible that you will be in attendance for this meeting on Monday morning.

Thanks, Evelyn

You sat there silent and in shock. Louise was right when she told you that things were going to change. This was an opportunity that you couldn’t pass up. This was a dream that was just days away from coming true. Without hesitation you responded to Evelyn’s email.

Evelyn,

Thank you for your email this morning and organizing this amazing opportunity. I will see you on Monday morning.

Regards, Y/n

You really just wanted to scream in excitement. Instead you stood up from your desk, took a quick look around. The coast was clear to do a little happy dance.

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

Chris was happy that it was the weekend. There were plans in place for the family to spend time together. Though work never really was done for him, he was finally taking time for himself. Being able to spend time with his family for a couple of days is just what he needs. As he finished up reading through yet another script that came through from his agent, he closed his computer and exited his office, with no intention of returning to it until after the weekend.

“Thank god it is the weekend!” Chris was elated at the fact that it was time to relax.

“I couldn’t agree more, but before the weekend starts, can we have a quick chat about the book idea?” Scott had startled Chris as he turned the corner into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and start cooking supper.

“Did you actually get somewhere with it?”

“Sure did! I know I should have checked with you first, but I hope you are free to take a trip into Manhattan on Sunday night, and meet with Evelyn and her team on Monday morning.”

Stopping dead in his tracks, Chris was surprised for a moment.

“Wow…I’m impressed Scott. Lucky for you, I am free for the meeting. I guess we are doing this then, huh?”

“Well, we aren’t tied into the project just yet, but they are going to give us some clarity on what it would take to make this book.”

“Alright then, let’s do it. Can I say that I am actually kind of excited about this now?”

“I certainly was hoping that you were going to say it. I have a feeling this is going to be better than we expect.”

Little did Chris know that this meeting might change his life…

...To be continued in Part V

#Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans reader #agirlcandream #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader

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anzu2snow · 4 years

Text

It’s been a long time since I simply wrote something on here, instead of shared a link to my blog. Since it’s a little difficult right now to blog through blogger for me, I might just write stuff here.

I don’t think I wrote about my cancer directly on here before. I was diagnosed with metastatic or stage 4 breast cancer back in April. I had no other cancer diagnosis beforehand. People tell me I’m too young for it. I’m 36. (Was 35 when diagnosed, but had my birthday in November.) Younger than even when the mammograms are supposed to start up. I’ll always have this. There’s no beating stage 4 breast cancer. It’s spread to my bones (all over my skeleton) and skin.

Found out about the bone mets (lesions) first before they found the cancer. I had fallen in the shower back in March and broke my right shoulder. A month later, as I was recovering, ankle/leg swelling wouldn’t go down so I went to Urgent Care to get checked out. They found the bone mets in the imaging. They weren’t exactly sure that’s what they were at the time, and ordered a mammogram, ultrasound, and biopsies of both breasts. They found out that it’s in both breasts, too. My type is hormone positive (all of them), and her2-.

I was put into my insurance’s palliative care program in April. It’s helped me a lot. I have a cane, hospital bed, walker, a home aide that comes by to give me a shower twice a week (the broken shoulder still isn’t flexible enough to shower with), a nurse that calls once a week and sometimes meets face-to-face at home, a social worker who calls once a week, a doctor that deals with meds for the symptoms part of it, and more. I was supposed to start physical therapy through them, but haven’t yet. There’s a lot more to the program than I thought at first.

I had a radical hysterectomy back in July. That took care of the hormone powerhouses which were feeding the cancer. Had more problems with swelling afterwards. It’s been bad off and on since then. Pretty good right now, at least.

I’m on Ibrance for chemo. Luckily, it’s just an oral pill and not through an IV. Also, taking anastrazole for the hormone part. Started taking zometa recently. That is actually through an IV once every 3 months. It’s a bone-strengthening med for people like me where it’s in the bones. I was told it could give me flu-like symptoms after that 1st dose. Sure enough, it did. Had a fever, came close to throwing up, etc. the next day for 2 days after. They said that only happens the 1st time. I hope so. I’m not taking it anymore if I end up that sick every time. So, we’ll see. I take a lot of meds now for things like pain, nausea, cramps, swelling, and more. I have what looks like a little pharmacy in the dining room with all that stuff. I hate taking it all, but if I don’t, I can’t function at all.

I’ve been having a weird symptom lately. I feel like I’m going to faint/slip away sometimes. I told my new oncologist about this and she immediately said it sounded like brain mets. She quickly ordered a brain MRI to see. I just had that done yesterday. The last one I had was back in April, and my brain looked fine. I didn’t remember that there was a contrast for this one. It was louder than I remembered, too. Despite having ear plugs and mufflers on either side of my head. Ended up with a mild headache because of the constant loud thuds. They kept asking if I was ok. I love tight enclosed spaces, so I was fine. I had to have help with the gown and robe, which was kind of embarrassing. They said I should get the results by Monday. Much sooner than I expected.

On Monday, I’m getting both a full bone scan and CT scan. My last bone scan in September indicated progression. I hope it doesn’t this time. I hope it hasn’t travelled to other organs with the CT scan. However, knowing how aggressive this cancer has been, it wouldn’t surprise me if it has spread to another organ somewhere. It’s going to be a long day.

#life #blog #metastatic breast cancer #cancer #breast cancer #stage 4 breast cancer #scans #brainscan #mri

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thewrongjackpot · 5 years

Text

Pidgeot used Whirlwind

Last few days have completely spun me around. I had my third round of chemo this past Thursday, and that in itself went fine. Afterwards, much else started to take a different turn. First of all, there were issues with my re-feeding because I went essentially from eating barley 400 calories a day (if that) to working up over three days to about 2200 calories in a full day. My labs showed some issues with my electrolytes and a couple other things. I had to drop my feeding to almost a fourth of that, and had to go back in for labs on Sunday.

Sunday is where things get… interesting. I went in for labs, which should have been a 20 minute visit, and we could head back home. I brought up with the nurse that the area surrounding my PICC line looked a little red and there seemed to be some kind of white gook around the catheter. They thought it looked questionable too. So I had to have blood cultures and cultures of the entry site taken. Thinking it could be some kind of infection, I had to go down to the ER for it to be evaluated. What came of it was that more blood had to be drawn, and my PICC line had to get pulled. YUP. I had this thing for barely three weeks. I have absolutely no idea how this even happened, but my line was pulled. UGH. I was and still extremely frustrated that I have to get another one placed because I still can’t be sedated because it’s still not safe (more fun expansion on that to come). Getting the PICC placed sucked. SUCKED HARD. Next, we had to wait to see if I could just go home with some antibiotics or if I had to be admitted. And just my luck, on SUPERBOWL SUNDAY, may I add, I had to be admitted when we already had Superbowl plans because we’re still normal Americans.

So I mainly had to be admitted because they needed to administer antibiotics by IV, which they had to throw one into my arm because bye bye PICC line. They also needed to watch for fevers for me because I ran one in the ER, and I ran one that night. Initially I was supposed to be admitted only until Tuesday so long as I no longer had a fever for more than 24 hours (which I didn’t), and my cultures came back clear for 48 hours (which they did).

BUT NO, apparently with me, it’s never been that simple lately. Life has been loving throwing some curveballs. I saw my main doctor on Monday, and we talked (well mainly she talked, I wrote and grunted). We discussed how it seemed like this newer piece in the front of my mouth has been growing pretty rapidly, and it seems the golf ball has been shifting. Despite little pieces of the tumor flaking off here and there, it seems that to some degree, my tumor is still getting bigger, despite what was hoped for. Also, on Monday, I started feeling like I was having more trouble breathing because I was having thicker mucus that seemed to be stuck behind the golf ball. I couldn’t really swallow it or spit it out entirely, so it was causing me some breathing problems.

So the rest of Monday went like this. I met with an ENT surgeon so she could get a better grasp on my story. She then brought a scope and another surgeon. The purpose of this was to see if in the case of an emergency, they could get a breathing tube in me. The answer is yes, they could. Next, I went and got more MRIs. I tried to tough it as long as I could on my back, but it got to the point where I could not breath. So we got creative, and I was on my side, and they could finish off the rest of the imaging. My doctor came back after they got the MRI results, and yes indeed some areas, especially in my mouth, have still grown significantly, and the golf ball was moving more to the right and back. So I was meeting with the radiologist the following day because they needed to attack this more aggressively, and they feel very confident that this tumor will respond very well to radiation. Lastly, to top it off I was made aware that also in the event of an emergency, ICU has been made aware of my situation, and may talk to me...just in case. OH! And my intended two day stay because of the new changes has now turned into ONE WEEK. I’ll get into this shortly.

Tuesday, day 3 of this nonsense. So now since the plans have drastically changed, the biggest reason I’m being kept so long is because with me about to start radiation, in the beginning, the tumor will sometimes get bigger before it starts to shrink. This is not ideal for someone who’s golf ball is definitely playing around with the joys and luxuries of breathing. They had also started me on a steroid on Monday to help combat some of that swelling, which on Tuesday, some current swelling went down. The radiologist was in the building earlier in the morning and stopped by (he’s not at this hospital, but in the same system and in a different building down the road). He told us I would be starting radiation today. We got transported there at 11:30, and we didn’t come back til almost 6pm. We talked to the doctor, and he showed up the MRIs with comparisons to the imaging in January, and in that time my mouth portion grew significantly. The portion creeping near my brain grew some, but not much. Not bad, but not great either. For now they’re just using regular (photon beam) radiation as they’re currently focused on my mouth with a short term plan, then in the following weeks they’ll come up with a more complex plan, and possibly switch me over to the proton beam radiation. Radiation is currently set to take place for 7 weeks, Monday - Friday concurrently with chemo. Next, they did a simulation first and made this mask to go over and keep my head in the same place for the treatment. They found a way for me to get propped up just enough that I could still breathe during the whole thing. We had about 4 hours of down time until the actual radiation treatment again. The nurse was super nice because mom winked at her, and she let us stay in the room. I even napped some. Total life saver instead of having to stay in the waiting room that long. The actual treatment is very quick, maybe 20, possibly 30 minutes long. I didn’t feel a thing, but afterwards, you could see the redness on my skin. We got back to the hospital afterwards. Last major thing to happen was the whole main ICU team came up here to talk more about emergency procedures and get introduced to one another.

Finally, this leaves me here, sitting in my bed, on my laptop, past 2am on what is now Wednesday. I’m going to get a new PICC line placed today before I get a fun five days in a row of chemo beginning Thursday.

Anyways, I thought the other week was crazy, but this week is way more nuts. However, I'm just going with the flow of whatever and enduring what needs to be to get fixed. I trust in the process and the doctors. And this point, I feel like I've endured a good amount, that these extra morning pokes for blood don't even phase me since I dont have a line to just grab blood easily. I've been through worse at this point.

Hope all of your first week of February has been going better.

P.S. I’m bald now, well, buzzed, but even the little hairs are slowly falling out.

#cancer #sarcoma #rhabdomyosarcoma #radiation #treatment #central lines #picc line #bald #superbowl

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marvelsviking · 6 years

Text

Monster? (2)

Black OC x Tony Stark(past relationship)

Summary: Tony finds out the truth and Steve has a bad feeling.

Warning: Mentions of abortion, angst, cursing.

A/N: At long last! I thought I’d complete this before I turn in a paper. Enjoy and feedback is always welcomed! I’m also tagging people who showed interest in part one.

"You fucking monster." Tony's fists were clenched at his sides as she spit his venom at Cleo through clenched teeth.

"Tony. Not now, okay? She's in pain and needs to see Bruce." Bucky clutched Cleo tighter to him and stepped to the side to move past Tony but was blocked.

"This is how you get back at me? You fake a pregnancy AND an abortion. I'll admit the way I ended things between us were cruel but this is a whole new level." Tony scoffed and looked at Cleo with disgust. It made her want to disappear.

"Shut up, Stark. You have no idea what you're talking about, okay?" Bucky pushed past Tony and began walking to the elevator. Tony didn't let up and followed.

"Cleo, come on. I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you wanna hear? You don't have to go around lying to the team you were pregnant just to make me out to be the bad guy!"

The elevator finally opened and Tony continued to follow.

"Get out, Stark," Bucky growled with his teeth clenched. If it wasn't for Cleo being in his arms, Bucky would've pushed Tony out and sent him back to Pepper with a black eye.

"No, Cleo and I are settling this now. Why won't you talk to me, huh? You had so much to say when we broke up. Now that I've called you out on your bullshit, you wanna be mute?" Tony scoffed throwing his head back. "Unbelievable. I never took you for this type of person, Clo."

"You have no right, Tony." Cleo's voice came out hoarse due to the pain. "You have no fucking right."

Cleo's head started to throb and her cramps grew stronger. If she wasn't in so much pain, Tony's pants would be on fire by now. Bucky felt her body heat up in his arms and called out to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

"Fri! Please notify Bruce and tell him to meet me half way!"

"Certainly, Sergeant Barnes."

When they finally reached the floor for Bruce's lab, Bucky sprinted down the hall and Tony couldn't keep up.

"Tony!" Steve caught up to them and tried to rectify the situation for now.

"Stop it, okay? She's clearly in pain and she wasn't lying. Buck and I saw the pregnancy test for ourselves and even took her to the clinic for the abortion today. She needs to rest and you are not helping. You two do need to talk about it, but not like this." Steve placed a hand on Tony's shoulder to try and calm him down.

"If she was pregnant, how come I never heard about it? We were together I should've been the first person to know!" Tony shrugged off Steve's hand roughly and began to stomp his way down to Bruce's lab with Steve in tow.

"She was going to the day you broke up with her. Had the ultrasound picture ready and everything." Steve reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded picture, handing it to Tony.

Tony unfolded the picture to see the ultrasound Steve had just mentioned.

He was ready to dismiss it all, that the ultrasound didn't show anything but then he saw that small image of an undeveloped fetus.

All the anger he was feeling was washed from his body and replaced with regret.

"How far was she?" His voice cracked as tears threatened to spill out.

"Eight weeks. She went so long without knowing it and then the day everything happened, she fainted and Nat forced her to go to Bruce. She was so excited to tell you, Tony."

"She could've told me afterward. We could've worked something out. Pepper, she would've-"

"Understood? Would she really, Tony?"

"No." Tony let out a dry laugh and shook his head.

"We used to talk about having kids. I told her how scared I was to be like my father but she assured me that I was nothing like him and that she would help me be the best father if the time ever came. The fucking time came and I wasn't there for her. I'm worse than my father." Tears ran down his face and fell on the ultrasound.

Before Steve had given him the picture, Tony was furious at Cleo about the baby he thought was fake. Now, he felt nothing but remorse and regret. He never imagined that their breakup would result in this. He would have never let Pepper slither back into his life if he did.

Steve comforted Tony as much as he could and watched as Tony quickly wiped away the tears. He flicked his wrist to show off the ultrasound and turned to Steve.

"You didn't have to break her heart like that, Tony."

"At the time, yes, I did. Pepper, she- nevermind. It's too late now."

"Tony, Is there something you need to tell me?" Steve questioned. If Pepper had a bigger hand in this, he needed to know now and figure out how to handle it later.

"Can I keep this? It's the only connection I really have to the baby and now that they're gone, I at least want to remind myself that this was real." Tony deflected. Steve could already tell that he wasn't going to get any answers now so he decided to let it go and try again another time.

"Sure, Tony. You stay here, I'm going to go check on Cleo and see if she's good enough to talk, okay?"

Tony nodded and watched as Steve jogged down the hall. When the captain was out of sight, he looked back down at the ultrasound.

"What have you done, Stark?"

When Steve entered the room, he sighed in relief that Cleo was wide awake sitting on the exam table with an IV drip attached to her and Bucky at her side. Bucky smiles at Steve when he sees his lover but Cleo was too invested in her cellphone game. Steve cleared his throat for her attention and laughed when her head shot up. her eyes wide to look at him.

"Good to see that you're doing better. Everything okay?" Steve leaned against the doorframe to examine her from a distance.

Cleo nodded her head and lifted up her IV arm a little.

"Just a bit too stressed out. Brucie is putting me on bedrest for two days after this drip finishes up." Her eyes rolled. Cleo hated being off duty for anything. Granted, she would have happily done so if she had continued with her pregnancy but only when she reached the end of her second trimester. Cleo loved to stay busy and hated feeling useless and dependent.

"I think that's for the best darling" Bucky chuckled. Steve forced a small smile as the conversation he had with Tony ran through his head. What would have really happened had Cleo told Tony about the baby? Would the baby still be here? Would Cleo still be here at the tower if she did keep the baby? Steve wasn't too sure about that at the moment. What he was sure of is that Pepper had something to do with Tony and Cleo breaking up and something tells him that she's going to hurt Cleo more than she already has if she finds out about her and Tony's would be baby.

So what is Pepper hiding? What hand does she have in this game?

Steve made it his mission to find out, for Cleo's sake.

Steve can't stand to see Cleo cry like that again.

#tony stark #tony stark angst #black reader #black oc #black marvel oc #marvel #caplansangstchallenge #woc fic #woc fanfic #woc marvel #woc reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes

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aurically · 6 years

Photo

Well, pre-Love Day was a bust. Fuck. Remember how NYE I said I wasn’t feeling well? Well, I had thought maybe, possibly, potentially I was pregnant. My period was a few weeks late, but I’ve been too nervous to take a test. We want to be parents, someday, but with everything going on, it just wouldn’t the right time. Well, today–er, yesterday, I got ready for dinner with Dane. I was so excited. I had some nausea and stomach pain, that I chalked up to butterflies… but, with my period being so late and having some weird symptoms like nausea, fatigue, bloating, some weight gain, I was going to tell Dane my suspicions over dinner and see if maybe he wanted to go get a test with me and let’s be together when I take it… well, NONE of that happened. Instead… the whole evening went to shit, REAL quick.

Dane picked me up, we took some cute selfies and the like and headed to the restaurant. We didn’t even get the chance to put the car in park in the lot when all of the sudden I got this incredibly sharp pain in my lower abdomen. I mean, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It quickly dissipated, but Dane and I made the decision to nix going to dinner and just go back to the house and watch a movie.

We got to the house without incident. Changed into some comfy lounging clothes and piled onto the couch. Not even an hour later, another sharp pain. I couldn’t move.

“Baby, this isn’t okay. We’re going to the hospital.” Dane insisted. I didn’t fight it, mostly because I couldn’t. I was hysterically in pain. So, he swiftly grabs his coat and carries me out to the car. He speeds to the city hospital and carries me inside.

The nice front desk nurse looked so concerned. “How… may I help you? Oh, my goodness, is she okay?”

“No! She’s been having terribly sharp pains in her stomach and I don’t know? It might be her appendix?! Help us.”

“Do not worry, sir. Let’s get her straight to a room.”

So, the nurse grabbed a wheelchair and Dane put me in it and they wheeled me off straight to the nearest bed.

Dane and I waited an hour and a half for a doctor to come in.

I was in so much pain. But, he was there trying to help me push through it. A nurse finally came in and gave me an IV of a metric fuckload of morphine. Seriously, cannot tell you how instantaneously I felt better… and how up in the sky I felt, too… o.O Finally Nurse Hammond and Dr. Kuja came in. (I am not shitting you, they put me on some powerful stuff. I kept calling Dr. Kuja, “Dr. Kujo”…. I’m so embarrassed.)

“Hello, I’m Dr. Kuja and this is Nurse Hammond. What seems to be the problem, Ms. Hays?” Dr. Kuja said looking down at my chart.

I giggled some.“Hi, Dr. Kujo!… uh, I MEAN KUJA! Kuja… with an ‘A’!”

“Dr. Kuja, the admitting attending, Dr. O’Neil, ordered me to give Ms. Hays a morphine drip; 5mg every 2 hours. Her admitting heart rate and blood pressure were through the roof suggesting high levels of pain reactions. She was also running a mild fever,” Nurse Hammond interjected after my faux pas.

Dr. Kuja gave a hearty laugh. “Thank you, Nurse.” He turns to me, “Ms. Hays, it’s quite all right. You’re not the first patient on morphine to call me Kujo. In fact, most of the nurses around here call me Kujo as a joke. I find it quite humorous.” Nurse Hammond snickered.

I went into the details of what I had been experiencing the past few weeks. And my suspicions of being pregnant. Dane gave me a very perplexed look, but didn’t say anything.

“Ah, I see. Yes. Okay, well, let’s get some blood drawn and Nurse Hammond here will take a urine sample and do an ultrasound immediately. After I go over your results, I’ll be back to discuss them with you.” Nurse Hammond nodded and went to the corner of the room to get the ultrasound machine set up by the bed.

“Ms. Hays, this is going to be quite cold. But, it’ll warm up quickly.” Nurse Hammond said to me as she squirted a bunch of gel on my stomach. Dane sat on the very edge of his seat, holding my hand the whole time. I saw worry in his eyes, but also a glimmer of, excitement? I think he was starting to think I was pregnant, too.

“Oh…” Nurse Hammond said slightly under her breath.

“What’s wrong, Nurse?”

“Andrea, please. And honey, I’m just a nurse. I can’t diagnose to you what I’m seeing…” “Diagnose?!”, Dane cut her off. “Medical speak, Mr. Winters. Let me get these results sent to Dr. Kujo,” she winked, “and he’ll be in with you shortly. Do feel free to call on one of us if you need anything.” She quickly pushed the ultrasound machine back to the corner and darted out of the room.

Dane and I sat there for another 3 hours waiting for results and for the doctor to come back in. During that time, we discussed a few things. “Why didn’t you tell me you thought you were pregnant?” “Honey, with everything going on… it just… I couldn’t bring myself to pile on to the mountain of shit that is going on in our lives.” “Ray, listen to me… a baby would **not ** be ‘piling on’ to any ‘mountain of shit’, got it. And if you are pregnant, we’re going to figure it out. I promise.” He kissed me on the forehead and sat at the end of the bed until I dozed off.

“Baby, baby.. Wake up. The doctor is back.”

I wake up and at the end of my bed stood Dr. Kuja and Nurse Hammond.

“Well, Ms. Hays. We have your results back. I’m afraid to say, you are not pregnant.”

“Then what’s wrong with her, Dr. Kuja?” Dane asked disappointedly.

“It appears she has quite a few ovarian cysts, focusing on her right ovary. What’s causing her pain is this:” he pulls out an ultrasound that looked like an image of some far off planet. “See these black spots?” We both nod. “Those are the cysts. See this much larger black spot?” Again, we nodded. “That’s the sucker that’s causing your pain. It’s a hemorrhagic cyst.”

“What in the world is a hemorrhagic cyst?!” I asked in sheer panic.

“It sounds worse than it is, Ms. Hays. A hemorrhagic ovarian cyst is a cyst sac that fills with blood instead of the usual fluids most benign cysts fill with. This one has burst, which is what has caused your extreme pain. And it is a very painful affair, I’m afraid. And due to the fact that you have several cysts, and you now have a history of a hemorrhagic cyst, your chances of forming more in the future are high. I am going to prescribe you some antibiotics to deter any possible infections from forming due to the burst, and some pain killers for the next week. You will likely have some irregular vaginal bleeding until the cyst fully drains itself, and you will continue to be in pain. I’m also referring you to immediately see your gynecologist as soon as possible because I am suspecting these other cysts are PCOS.”

“What’s PCOS?”

“Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. In short, a woman’s hormones go all wonky and cause the ovaries to form multiple cysts. Usually, it’s completely harmless, just takes some medicine to regulate hormones and such. But, it can be incredibly painful if left untreated. Now, I’m not for certain you have PCOS because I didn’t run all the tests, those are for a personal doctor to run as they take days to have the results return, but I wouldn’t be shocked. Do go ahead and make an appointment with your OBGYN soon, Ms. Hays. I hope you start to feeling better. Nurse Hammond will be back shortly with your discharge papers, prescriptions and two doses of the painkillers to tide you over until the pharmacies open in the morning.”

“Thank you so much, Dr. Kuja.”

And that’s that. At least it’s nothing life threatening. It’s now 4am. I’m exhausted and I need to get some rest. Dane has decided to stay the night with me so I don’t have to walk up and down the stairs by myself. I’m going to try like hell to still do Eli’s little Love Day surprise for Addison later on today… ugh… later on today. I need to go to sleep.

Kisses, Ray

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just-a-kj-blog · 7 years

Text

I Can’t Stay Any Longer - Part 2

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Hello! I decided to repost my stories on my new blog. If you have any questions, feel free to send me an ask or a pm. This was written about a year ago, so be nice heheheh

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Relationships: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky are living together after the events of Ultron and, in the midst of a nightmare, Bucky does something he truly regrets.This follows the aftermath of Reader’s injury. (Y/N - your name)

Warnings: angst, blood, injured reader, swearing, medical procedures, hospital scenario

Word Count: 3659

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue

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I Can’t Stay Any Longer - Part 2 by just-a-kj-blog, previously nenyakj

———————————

Previously:

My breath begins to rattle in my chest. When I cough and bright red drops spatter the sheets, I snap out of my reverie and wipe my mouth, avoiding the wounds, staring at the shiny red on my fingertips. I cough again, pain shooting through my ribs, and more blood splatters the bed and the floor.

“Oh shit,” I whisper. This is not good… I’m bleeding internally… into my lungs.

———————————

I scramble for my phone on the nightstand, gasping in pain as sharp points stab inside my chest.

Shit, my ribs are broken!!

I frantically push the emergency call button on the phone screen, selecting the contact closest to my thumb. A sleepy voice answers.

“Mmm-ello? What the hell, Y/n, if this a booty call it better be for the whole booty.”

“Tony!” I weep, relieved, my hands shaking. I cough again and vomit a small pool of blood onto my bedroom floor.

“Y/n??” He wakes right up at that. “What’s going on, what’s happening? Where’s Frosty?”

“He’s gone,” I choke, blood bubbling out of my mouth, my tears that were held back so long finally dripping down my cheeks. Black spots bloom before my eyes, my breathing becoming shallow. My chest is so tight, I can’t breathe. “Tony, I'm…. I’m bleeding, please…”

My phone clatters onto the floor as I slump sideways against the bed, falling backwards onto my back with a painful thump. Tony’s small, frantic voice is the last thing I hear before slipping into unconsciousness.

——–

“She’s not breathing..”

“I need to intubate..”

“There’s too much blood…..”

“Come on, kid, breathe…”

“Tony, get back…”

“Natasha, she’s turning blue….”

………

“Steve, where the hell is Bucky…”

“…I don’t know….”

“That’s a hand print on her chest…”

———-

Bright lights glare red through my eyelids, slowly bringing me back to consciousness. Burning pain flares through my chest as I try to take a breath. My brain tries to shift through the fuzziness, my eyebrows furrowing, confusion scattering my thoughts. A tiny moan escapes my mouth and I hear faint shuffling next to me.

“Hey, there’s my girl,” I hear Steve whisper. A warm hand caresses my forehead, pushing my hair back.

Steve? What… where the hell am I? Why am I naked?! Oh, there’s a blanket, thank god.

I pry my eyes open, wincing at the glare of the fluorescent lights. The steady beep beep beep of the heart monitor, the drips of the IV embedded in the crease of my left arm. Steve’s gentle breathing as he leans closer to me. It all overwhelms my senses at once.

Ok, I’m at the hospital. Time to do a quick check. I wiggle my toes and flex my legs. Check. I wriggle my hips and twist my waist. Check. I tense my abs and stomach– yowch. I lift both arms. Ouch! Right arm hurts. I glance down at the bright blue bandages wrapped above my elbow. Images of flying back into the headboard sputter inside my fuzzy head. A flare of pain flashes at my lips. Reaching up, I startle when I feel the butterfly bandages.

I inhale deeply as it all comes back like a too-focused nightmare scattered across my mind’s eye and I sit up fast. Steve lunges for me as I cry out and clutch at my chest. My hand is met with thick bandages instead of thin blankets. Steve places a warm hand on my stomach and the other on my lower back for support.

My heart sinks as I prepare myself … and look down. The blankets have fallen to the bed, revealing wrappings encompassing my torso from the swell of my breasts to a few inches above my navel, Steve’s thumb gently rubbing soft circles against the cloth. Black and purple bruises in the shape long fingers stand out against the paleness of the off-white bandages, peeking out from underneath them.

“Y/n,” Steve whispers. “Y/n, try and relax. You’re safe now.”

I look up at him, my face blank with shock. I can’t believe Bucky did this to me. He would never, ever lay a hand on me. Now there’s glaring proof of what he would never do, for all the world to see.

Tears begin pouring down my cheeks as I reach for Steve, my face scrunching as sobs tear from my throat.

“It’s alright, honey. I’ve got you,” Steve reassures as he slides his arms to wrap them around me. Tucking my head under his chin, he gently smooths a hand across my back as I wail against his chest, careful of my injuries.

The door flies open as a very dishevelled Tony Stark stumbles in, his worried brown eyes focusing on me. My sobbing calms as I turn my head to him, sniffling.

“They said she woke up, I was just going to get coffee. I swear, I was here the whole time,” he promises me. “Shit, I forgot the coffee,” he rambles, looking very tired and out of sorts, hurrying to the side of the bed not occupied by Steve, placing his hand over Steve’s on my shoulder.

I can feel Steve look up at him, his chin moving against the top of my head as he speaks.

“How do they know she’s awake? She just woke up. Five seconds ago,” Steve whispers, amused.

“I was walking past the nurses’ station and overheard them. Must have noticed it on the monitor. I’m surprised I beat them here, to be honest–” Tony’s interrupted by what I assume is the doctor, judging by his confident smile and white lab coat, entering the open door followed by two nurses in bright blue scrubs.

“Miss Y/L/N, it’s good to see you awake,” he says as he approaches the foot of the bed. He’s very tall, probably as tall as Steve, with light tan skin and warm amber-colored eyes. His wavy dark chestnut hair is cut in a medium length atop his head, and shorn below the ears. I would guess his age to be in his late 30s. The lavender of his Oxford button up matches well with the matte black of his tie.

“My name is Dr. Gregory Sanders, I’m the head of the Pulmonary and Critical Care Department here at Mt. Sinai. These are my colleagues, Jennifer and Xiomara,” he waves a hand at each woman standing behind him, who nod and softly smile in my direction.

“Mr. Stark was adamant at giving you the most advanced care and treatment for your injuries, as well as discretion, therefore I am here to check up on you to explain things and check on your healing progress, also to answer any questions or concerns you may have. If you’ll pardon me, Captain,” Dr. Sanders smiles at Steve, motioning to his side of the bed.

“Of course, Doctor, excuse me,” Steve answers as he gives me a kiss on top of my head and steps away from the bed.

I wipe my tears discreetly with my fingers, blushing when the doctor hands me a tissue.

“Thank you,” I murmur, wiping my face, Tony taking it and tossing it in the trash.

The doctor smiles down at me. “No trouble at all.” He scoots the wheeled stool chair from under the small work table bolted to the wall and sits, unbuttoning his lab coat and glides over to me.

“Alright, Y/n, may I call you Y/n?” At my nod of consent, he smiles and continues. “First and foremost, I want you to know that you are safe here. Guards have been placed at your door 24/7-” I shoot Tony a side glare and he frowns at me “-and the staff have been notified to report any suspicious behavior to Mr. Stark or Captain Rogers.”

My heart skips a beat as I take this in. The only person who I would be in danger of is Bucky. And there’s no way in hell he would come back and hurt me again. He didn’t even mean to in the first place. But, knowing how that might sound to a stranger who doesn’t understand the situation, I remain quiet and nod in understanding.

“Alright, good. Now, I’m going to explain the extent of your injuries. Do you think you’re up for that?” the doctor kindly asks.

I take in a deep breath, regretting it immediately and cough at the tight squeeze around my chest. Thankfully no blood splatters anywhere this time, as I cover my mouth and wince, my other hand going to my sore ribs.

“Take it easy, Y/n. It is important to breathe deep to prevent pneumonia but slow and steady. Too fast will aggravate your injuries.” He places a hand gently on my elbow, then lowers it back to his lap.

I nod again, feeling Tony sit on the side of the bed and placing his hand between my shoulder blades. Steve watches from next to the head of the hospital bed, his hand on the mattress.

“Alright, dear. You arrived here roughly 18 hours ago, unconscious and in respiratory distress. You presented with a hemothorax, or bleeding in the lungs and the sacs surrounding them, making it difficult to breathe, almost like you were drowning. After clearing your lungs and stopping the bleeding in surgery, we discovered five of your ribs broken,” he places his hands on the center of his rib cage. “They were pushed inward, puncturing both lungs and very nearly piercing your heart.”

I see Steve’s hand clench tight into a fist out of the corner of my eye and feel Tony’s hand twitch on my shoulder.

“This was the result of a serious impact on your chest cavity, Y/n.” He peers down at the finger bruises peeking out from the top of the wraps. “I’ve never seen anyone actually shatter ribs with their bare hands.” Dr. Sanders looks back up at me, concern clearly visible in his eyes.

I duck my head, avoiding his gaze, feeling Tony’s hand tremble slightly against my back. I have no idea what Tony and Steve have told the staff here, or even if they’ve notified the police. Do they even know what happened? Do they know that Bucky’s gone? I don’t even remember anything after calling Tony, who got to me first? I have so many questions but I don’t want to ask any in front of the doctor. I have no idea what to say.

The doctor sighs and pats my knee. “Ok, we won’t get into that at the moment. What concerns me right now is your recovery.”

I sigh, wincing at the zing of pain, and bring my gaze back up, giving him my full attention once more.

“You were taken to the OR immediately upon arrival. A procedure called pleurodesis was performed. It’s where the surgeon inserts a tube into your lungs and vacuums out the fluid. Both of your lungs were punctured, so both were drained. You have incisions here and here,” he points to the lower corner of each side of my rib cage. “And also here and here,” He points both hands to the middle of my chest, a finger touching the middle swell of each breast. “These were made to reset your ribs and sew up the puncture wounds.

“And it’s important to limit movement while they heal,” the doctor continued. “A buildup of fluid is possible in the future, which, in case this happens, another procedure will need to be performed. Your ribs, unfortunately, there’s not much to be done. We reset them, as I said, and wrapped them up. We can only wait for them to heal now. You’ll want to take it easy and not twist or raise your arms above your head for at least two weeks. There’s no cast we can place around your torso, it would be quite painful and suffocating,” he winces.

“I’ve left instructions with Mr. Stark on the healing process and aftercare at home and do’s and don’ts, as well as prescriptions for pain and antibiotics. Follow those instructions for the antibiotics to the letter and finish the whole bottle,” he orders, pointing at me with an eyebrow raised.

I nod again, the corner of my mouth lifting up in a tiny smile.

“We will be administering antibiotics and pain medication here through your IV at different intervals, so there is no need to worry about that now. The wounds on your face,” he gestures to my mouth, “are superficial and should heal completely within a few weeks. Dab on antibacterial lotion after every shower and before bed and allow them to breathe every once and awhile without the band-aids. Now, because of the extent of your injuries, you will need to stay here for a least 72 hours. We want to keep you under observation, be sure there’s no infection and your lungs are returning to their full capacity. I want to keep you monitored until you are able to breathe in deeply without wanting to scream.” The doctor pats my knee and looks at Tony and Steve, then back to me.

“Do you have any questions or concerns?” he asks.

My brain fuzzes out, mind going blank. Nope, nothing in here.

“I think we’re fine for now, Doctor. Thank you for your time and the explanations,” Steve replies, running a hand through my hair.

“Of course. If you have any concerns, I’ve given my personal number to Mr. Stark, at his insistence. I’ll be happy to help.” Dr. Sanders nods to Steve and Tony, then clears his throat. “Alright, gentlemen, I am going to need to ask you to leave the room so I can examine our patient.” He smiles at me and reaches for the box of gloves behind him on the work table, pulling out two purple ones.

A flash of panic zings through my body as I finally speak.

“C-can they stay?” I ask, my voice raspy from disuse.

The good doctor looks up surprised and must see the panic on my face. “Of course, if that’s what you’re comfortable with, yes they may stay.” He motions for the nurses, who close the door and step forward.

Panic courses through me again and I press myself back into the raised bed as they approach me.

Tony, who froze when I asked if they could stay, finally got his head back in place and takes his hand in mine, moving back as the blonde nurse moves to my side and starts removing the clip holding the wraps together.

Steve places his large hand on the back of my neck, assuring me of his presence, not bothered at all that I asked them to stay.

I have to sit up so the nurse, Jennifer, I read from her name badge, can unwind the wrapping gently. For a fleeting second in my fear, I wish Bucky was here to comfort me. But then I remember. And breathe out a sob.

“You’re doing fine, Y/n,” the doctor gently reassures, patting my thigh as he scoots closer to the bed. Lowering the side railing, he helps remove the last of the wrapping and leans in close. “Alright, Y/n, can you lay on your back for me?”

I sniff and nod in response, laying back. The black curly-haired nurse with lovely caramel colored skin, Xiomara, I remember, steps behind Steve and lowers the bed to a few degrees above flat, Steve removing his hand from my neck.

Tony and Steve take in deep, sharp breaths simultaneously.

My face squinches as tears leak down the sides of my face, dripping into the shells of my ears. I don’t want to look. It must be bad if it takes them by surprise. I clench my eyes shut and exhale. Squeezing my hands into fists, one squeezing Tony’s hand pretty hard, I look down at myself. My stomach flips.

A deep purple-black bruise in the form of Bucky’s large hand sits right in between my breasts. A sob escapes my throat as I lay my head back down, trying to get a grip on myself.

It’s ok, it’s over with, now you just have to deal with taking care of yourself.

I take a breath and look down again. Two small white square gauze bandages held down by medical tape grace the middle swells of both breasts, right where the doctor said the incisions were made. More tears escape as I lean up a bit to look further down my chest. My eyes widen.

Blooms of dark blue and purple decorate the entire area of my ribs, just below the the bra line. I start to breath shallow in panic. What the hell??? Bucky didn’t touch me there!!

“Y/n, it’s alright, doll, deep breaths,” I hear Steve say, his voice quaking.

“Listen to the good Captain, there, sweetheart. This discoloration is from the hemothorax. The bleeding into lungs, remember? This is just bruising remaining from the blood, it will heal very quickly, I promise,” the doctor reassures.

“Ok, now rest your head, I’m going to examine you and make it as painless as I can, alright?”

I hold back another sob and reach for Steve’s hand, laying my head back down. He quickly envelops it in his large one. I glance up at him and see him watching the doctor’s hands intently, his jaw clenching. Glancing over at Tony, his usually tan face is ashen, his free hand crossing his chest and tucked under his armpit. His eyes are hard and focused as he watches the doctor.

My gaze drifts back to the ceiling, trying not to think about my naked chest on display. I trust Tony and Steve with my life. They found me, I assume, naked in my bedroom, covered in blood, so it’s not like it’s the first time they’ve seen me bare-chested. Still, it’s very unnerving.

I can feel the doctor’s cool hands as he palpates the bruise from Bucky’s hand. I hear him tell the nurses there is no change, no clots. He moves to each upper incision. I shiver and blush when his sleeve brushes against my nipple, feeling them pebble in response. I close my eyes, squeezing out more tears. Steve gently squeezes my hand. I hate feeling this vulnerable. I’m almost wishing it would just be over so I can curl up and cry in peace.

He checks under the bandages and claims them to be healing well, no sign of infection. His hands move to my ribs and he gently presses, feeling for the breaks. I squeak in pain when a sharp sting explodes under his fingertips. Tony jerks forward, but holds himself back at the last second, his hand shaking in mine.

“My apologies, Y/n, Mr. Stark. I know this is uncomfortable. We’re almost finished,” Dr. Sanders reassures, looking very apologetic.

His fingers find the last two incisions at the bottom of my rib cage. They are clean and healing well, no infections.

“Alright, my dear, can you sit up for me? We’re going to wrap you in fresh bandaging.”

I nod again, Steve and Tony leaning forward to grasp me by each shoulder and help lift me up.

Jennifer and Xiomara are quick to wrap me back up and Dr. Sanders makes quick notes into the room’s computer. The ladies ask me if I would like some ice chips and I nod eagerly, my throat sore and dry. They leave to fetch me the chips and more blankets and pillows.

Dr. Sanders finishes his report as Steve sits next to me on the bed. Sniffling, I lay back down, his hand resting on my thigh. Steve gently lifts the blankets up to shoulders, his face a picture of forced calm. Tony is still very shaken up and sits on the floor, his mop of messy brown hair the only thing visible from my point of view. He still has a death grip on my hand and I squeeze it gently.

“Ok, Y/n, last thing for now.” The doctor turns to us, holding up a peculiar device. “This is called a Voldyne Incentive Spirometer. You breathe into this tube as hard as you can to lift this little marble to the 2000 mark and hold it there for 15 seconds. It will help promote healing and prevent pneumonia. You need to use it every hour while you’re awake.”

He hands me the device and I nod. Steve takes it and places it on the rolling food table pushed against the wall in the corner.

“Alright then, my colleagues should be back soon with what you need. Please call me if there are any issues or questions. If there’s an emergency, push the nurse button on the side of your bed, there.” The doctor points to the inside of the railing as he pulls it back into place. There are several buttons, including ones to shift the bed into different positions, for the tv, and a bright red one with a nurse’s hat. I’m guessing that’s the one to call the nurse station.

“Be sure to rest plenty. You’re on a bland soft food diet for today, dinner will not be very exciting, I’m sorry to say. But you can have as many popsicles and ice chips as you want. Alright, Y/n, I’ll see you tomorrow. Captain, Mr. Stark.” He nods a farewell to them and leaves, wisely refraining from commenting on Tony’s position on the floor, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Reeling from that huge load of information, I plop my head back into the bed, blowing out a breath. Closing my eyes, I can feel both of Tony and Steve’s stares on me. My body tenses as I wait for the inevitable.

“What happened?” they both ask me at the same time.

I cringe and open my eyes. This is not going to be pleasant.

To be continued…

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

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue

Tagging: @melissa-anne-rose @simplyme8308 @lucian-tate @lovekrystina @bolontiku @your-dark-magic-man-mysterio @thestrangedoctorisin @theweatherwitch @magellan-88 @torilovelytop @mymourningtea @mcuimxgine @magicalhufflehuggles @ramxna-marxtta @spinsterlocity @blackroseyaz @secondsandstars @the-squid-one @justreadingfics @justareader @suz-123

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shirlleycoyle · 4 years

Text

Neo-Nazi Memoir Describes Terror Group’s Acid-Soaked Ram Sacrifice

January was a spectacularly bad month for The Base.

A nationwide FBI crackdown dismantled the neo-Nazi terror group, resulting in multiple arrests of its members for things as sinister as assassination plots and plans to shoot up a protest and as peculiar as animal sacrifice and the production of DMT. Then its leader was exposed by the Guardian as a 46-year-old New Jersey native and former private school kid named Rinaldo Nazzarro, who lives in Russia and is a possible Kremlin asset.

The shocking flurry of events catapulted The Base into the pages of the New York Times. Here was a white supremacist terror group that looked more like ISIS than the Klan, operating all over America.

After the arrests, Nazzarro went dark and the organization seemed to all but disappear. While many of its members await trial on charges that could see them serving lengthy prison sentences, or deal with having been outed by the BBC, others have covertly slipped back into society without a trace.

VICE News has obtained a strange, illuminating memoir seeking to explain the appeal of the organization, written in the aftermath of the FBI raids by someone who claims to be a former member. It details some of the very crimes that led to mass arrests. It also describes a bizarre ritual involving slaughtering a ram, drinking its blood, and then dropping acid after a day of paramilitary training.

The text offers a glimpse into the mind of the sort of domestic terrorist authorities are currently trying to thwart amidst a burgeoning antigovernment movement seeking to incite a Second Civil War—exactly what The Base wanted to occur in America.

Do you have information about extremist groups? We’d love to hear from you. You can contact Ben Makuch and Mack Lamoureux securely on Wire at @benmakuch and @mlamoureux, or by email at [email protected] or [email protected].

After being tracked down on Telegram, the author refused to provide more details about his membership in The Base.

“I don't think it's a very tactical decision on my part to provide further evidence that I am a former member of a group that has been declared a neo Nazi terrorist organization,” he told VICE News in an encrypted exchange. “My memoir has all of the details that I am comfortable releasing.”

The nearly 3,000-word memoir, which references internal details that would only be known to members who operated inside The Base and had access to its internal communications network, appeared in an encrypted chat thread used by neo-Nazis earlier this year and was tipped to VICE News, which vetted the tale.

“In the course of history men have always found themselves dissatisfied with their current political situation,” the author writes. He blames the rise of liberalism for social decay, which leads to he and his compatriots thinking, as he has it, “The only way to truly change society was to rape society.” He then describes how some neo-Nazis believe the collapse of society is nigh and that the only way forward is to either hasten the fall, prepare for it, or both, which leads to them meeting up in person to “materialize out of the internet and into the world.” (This is what Nazzarro intended when he first established The Base: The aim was to corral internet neo-Nazis and make them into a real-world insurgency.)

The writer of the memoir says that his generation of neo-Nazis is collectively driven by vicious prejudice and the difficulties of being a “young man during an age of ever progressive liberal ideologies," and added that he felt alienated by modern society.

“In 2019 I found myself in The Base, which at the time I found to be a delightful organization full of like minded individuals preparing for what we considered the inevitable… The impending collapse of our social order and the nation as we know it.”

Following closely on James Mason’s Siege—an insurgency manual considered scripture to many militant neo-Nazis—The Base metastasized its worldview: A race war was coming and they needed to be ready to strike. Their preparations, in his telling, involved creating cells across the country, with armed, paramilitary training camps getting members, some of whom were former servicemen, ready for the violent struggle that would ensue after the fall of the U.S. government. At that point, the group could enact its bloodlust: Out of the smoldering rubble of America, it could take over a swath of land and make a white ethnostate.

However fantastical those ambitions were, the preparations and training were enough for this particular member to feel satisfied with the direction of The Base. To other members, however, it didn’t go far enough. They didn’t want to sit around for society to crumble; they wanted to hasten that fall with terrorism. “But there were always those who wanted more. Those who felt like preparation wasn't enough,” he writes. “And so as the group became more and more radical I was farther and farther detached.”

While the writer begins setting the stage for his exit from The Base, he attends one more infamous “meet-up”—or paramilitary training weekend—at a farm in rural Georgia with other members in late October 2019. This same meet-up was, according to authorities, attended by fugitive Canadian soldier Patrik Mathews, who was arrested in January and now faces years in jail for terrorism-related charges, as well as an undercover FBI agent.

“I attended a meet up in Rome, Georgia on Halloween night,” he writes. “We spent the weekend camping and doing shooting drills and also participated in a pagan ritual orchestrated by my close friend.”

He refers to the close friend by an alias of William Bilborough IV, a man now sitting in a Maryland jail on charges connected to planning a mass shooting at a Virginia gun rally with two other members of The Base, which includes Mathews. (This alias has yet to be released to the public or disclosed in court documents.) According to the writer, Bilbrough and he were part of a three-man team that stole a ram from a local farm, which the group eventually slaughtered in a moment they used for a propaganda photo of The Base, showing a collection of masked and armed members holding the head of a dismembered ram.

“We were all three dressed in the trademark Flecktarn camouflage and wearing balaclavas and or skull masks to conceal our face,” he writes, referring to masks that are known to be worn by adherents of Siege. “We pulled up outside a house on a side street and the truck drove away as we hopped out of the bed. We ran into the yard of the house where there was a sheep pen in the back 30 meters or so from the house.”

At that point, as the writer describes it, he was appointed as the lookout, while Bilborough and the other member ran into the pen and stole the ram, something that puts them in close contact with the owner of the farm.

“At some point a dog had taken notice of them and began to bark. A very small dog but its bark was persistent. The owner took notice and walked outside wielding a flashlight trying to pierce the darkness that began where his porchlight's ray ended. What happened next was the longest few minutes of my entire life,” writes the member. “We're directly in the open. But what felt like an eternity passed and he went inside leaving us to our task at hand.”

The three members of The Base, with the ram in hand, returned to the campsite, victorious and ready to perform their pseudo-pagan sacrifice.

“Closer to midnight we approached the hallowed ground on which the ceremony would be held. We killed and skinned the sheep in what I did and still do consider to be a respectful manner,” he writes, “[then] drank a sip of his blood from a cup around the dim glow of our torches as a ritual bringing us closer together as brothers. Some of us also took LSD to celebrate the holiday and the event, which had taken place.”

Image from a Base propaganda video

(Robert Bonsib, the attorney representing Bilbrough in Maryland, told VICE News, “This is not a matter for which comment outside the courtroom is appropriate at this time.”)

Satanism and pagan rituals were discussed in The Base's internal chat rooms, and Satanism more generally has become wildly popular among militant neo-Nazis. Recently, a U.S. solider was charged with plotting to ambush his own unit, and tied to Order of the Nine Angles, a Satantic neo-Nazi group with links to the notorious Atomwaffen Division.

The theft and murder of the ram would eventually lead to charges being filed against alleged members of the terror group in Georgia, who are currently behind bars for an assassination plot agains two antifascist activists. During all of this bizarre “Norse-pagan ritual,” as it would later be described by a Georgia district attorney, the FBI had an agent logging all of the events.

“One of the attendees," the memoirist writes, "was an undercover FBI agent. "As I stated earlier people had been becoming more and more extreme and distanced from reality and society all together.

"I also still hold no animosity towards the undercover FBI agent who infiltrated my cell of The Base… I don't look upon my enemies with disdain. But with mutual respect… I find it rather courageous he spent his time infiltrating an armed neo-Nazi terrorist cell in the small foothills of the Appalachian mountains in western Georgia.”

At this point in the memoir it’s clear the writer is distancing himself from the crimes many of his former colleagues would be charged with, and describes the various plots ultimately leading to the demise of The Base.

“As I stated earlier people had been becoming more and more extreme and distanced from reality and society all together,” he writes, detailing the two alleged criminal schemes that took the group down. “In the southeast members were planning a murder plot agaisnt a local antifa couple. And in the northeast members were planning to incite a mass shooting at a second amendment rally.”

Following that Halloween weekend, in his telling, the member discovered something that completely changed his perception of the group and ultimately led to his exit.

“In late 2019 it was revealed to me the leader of The Base who at the time we only knew as Norman Spear or Roman Wolf was living in St. Petersburg, Russia. Through my own risk analysis assessment I decided he was likely to be working for foreign intelligence.”

And with that, he abandoned the group entirely, leaving behind people he describes as “best friends” who would eventually be arrested by the FBI—among them William Bilbrough IV.

Amarnath Amarasingam, an expert on ISIS and assistant professor at Queen’s University in Ontario, Canada, reviewed the memoir and said it bears the trademark feelings typical of former members of jihadist terrorist organizations.

“The individual fits into the border category of ‘formers’ who I’ve often called ‘disengaged but not disillusioned,’" Amarsingam said. "These are individuals that have, for a variety of non-movement related reasons, left the group that they were part of, but remain wholeheartedly committed to the broader cause.”

According to Amarasingam, the feeling of betrayal the member writes about as he discovers his leader could be playing the entire group as a pawn in a broader geopolitical struggle by a hostile nation like Russia is something he’s seen many times.

“I’ve encountered this on the ISIS side as well as the far-right side. As the memoir makes clear, this does not necessarily mean they abandon the broader cause, but they may come to believe that the group that was pushing the cause is inauthentic and wasting everyone’s time. They remain committed to the purity of the broader cause because they come to understand, in hindsight, that the group was not a great champion of the cause to begin with.”

Neo-Nazi Memoir Describes Terror Group’s Acid-Soaked Ram Sacrifice syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

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remainingso · 7 years

Text

i’ve come to burn your kingdom down

Warnings: Uhm. Incest for ts (it’s not graphic but a lot is implied) Pairing: Luke/Leia :’D (Also Leia/Han) Summary: Right so I had the Luke=Arthur and Kylo Ren=Mordred thought and went a step further into “so what if Luke was Ben’s father?” and this terrible thing is the result.

They hadn’t known.

This is what Luke will tell himself, late nights on Ahch-To, when the sun has long set and the dark sea is infinite and he is alone, save for his own thoughts. They were just stupid kids. They didn’t know anything, not then.

It wasn’t their fault.

The day Ben was born, Luke almost hadn’t made it. He was off planet somewhere—he doesn’t even remember what planet it was anymore—sweeping the galaxy for force sensitive children to rebuild. Han’s flickering image had flashed in the visi-phone, dishevelled and panicked, and only then did Luke notice the strange aching throb ever-present in the periphery of his force senses.

“I just—I don’t know if I can do this, Luke,” Han muttered.

Is he coming? Leia shouted from somewhere out of view. Tell him if he doesn’t get his ass in his ship right this instant I swear I will cut his—

“I’m coming!” Luke practically yelped. “Tell her I’ll be there…I’ll be there soon as I can.”

“You better hurry,” Han grumbled. “She’s gonna take my head off.”

Luka had laughed, light, ecstatic. The baby was coming. Leia was going to be a mother. He was—

By the time he made it to the medbay, it was a flurry of beeping droids and people shouting orders at each other. Luke hung back around the door, watching in vague horror as masked nurses crowded around the bed.

The birthing apparatus had hidden all the mess, dirty bits of labour, whisking away the slick blood and viscera underneath its soft white edges, but Luke had felt it all through the force. The second he saw her, death grip on Han’s hand and hair askew and all, the dull aching pain he’d been feeling sharpened, all at once, like a lightsaber stabbed into his vertebrae. Luke’s knees had gone weak and he clutched at the doorframe.

No one noticed him, because before he could have both feet in room, Leia let out a throat shattering scream.

The room was a mess, shouts of he’s coming! and get ready! tossed back and forth, but everyone was drowned out by the ragged sound of Leia’s breathing as if it were right next to his ear. She bared her teeth and hissed out in pain, and when their eyes met across the room, she reached out to him with the force and pulled and—

In the ensuing silence, all Luke could hear was the sound of her baby boy, wailing.

The force likes to consume. This is the first thing Luke learns, when he dances too close to its depths and he can sense something reaching up, too, pulling at him.

Later, digging through the wreckage of the Republic, he finds records of a prophecy, wonders if the force likes to snack on chosen ones just because it can. The dark flickers at the edges of his vision, sometimes, paints the world black when he’s fought someone to a standstill. Says, go on, kill him, you know you want to, it would be so easy, and Luke wonders if being strong in the force meant that it spoke all the louder in your ear.

Anakin was all-force, only half a man in his best days. Luke has the reprieve, at least, of a mortal mother—and a sister to split the burden with.

Much, much later, digging through the wreckage of his own Academy, Luke wonders what happens when those two halves come into a whole, when everything that was in Anakin is allowed to come back together into a roughly person shaped form again.

What then?

How easy would it be, to fall? (How easy would it be for him to fall?)

Leia wanted him to name the baby.

Blinking, Luke looked up. “Me? Why?”

Leia shrugged. Her face was still haggard. They’d been moved to another room so there was less of the glaring white glow around now. Han had been sent off to acquire some food (“I don’t care where! Just find something before I starve to death.”)

She cradled the baby boy in her arms, more delicate than Luke had ever seen her handle anything.

“Han never met my parents,” she muttered, stroking at her baby’s face. “Just doesn’t feel right to name him after Bail.”

“I hope you didn’t ask me just because you’ve both met my father,” Luke said.

Leia snorted.

The truth of our father had never hung between them so potently as it had then.

Luke cleared his throat, and looked away. “That doesn’t mean I should name him.”

“I can’t think of anything,” Leia said quietly, her brows furrowed. “I don’t want to name him anything the Empire’s ever touched.” She squinted into a corner in the room, her hand stilling, and Luke suddenly wondered then about the wide gulf of life she’d lived before she knew the both of them, the years of growing up in Palpatine’s shadow. She’d only ever told them stories before, nothing concrete.

He sat down at the edge of the bed. Leia immediately shoved the baby in his arms, adjusting his grip so he was supporting his tiny head just under his hand.

She didn’t pull back, so the three of them were sitting tangled on the bed, Leia’s hand just at the small of Luke’s back, the both of them practically hugging the baby at the same time between them.

“Ben,” Luke said. “How about Ben?” It’d felt right, then. Old Ben had brought them all together, after all (brought him to her, and then to Han, and). He brushed a thumb over the baby’s forehead.

Leia smiled weakly. “I like that,” she whispered. “Ben.” She put a hand over his, the both of them unable to pull their hands away from baby Ben, if only just to feel his warmth, his light, the force of him too strong and pulling them both into his orbit.

Ben’s pulse hammered erratically under his paper thin skin. He shifted in his sleep, eyes blinking blearily, and Luke didn’t seem able to wipe the ear splitting grin off his face. Ben.

“Hey Leia?”

Luke looked up to see Han at the door, standing with a cup of… well something in his hand. He smiled sheepishly, swinging into the room. “I couldn’t find anything but this… well they said it was pudding, but I’m not sure if that’s the right word for it.”

He set the pudding on the table by Leia’s bed, and Luke jumped up to make room on the other side of the bed.

“Thanks Luke,” Han said gratefully when Luke passed baby Ben over to his arms.

Han looked like he was about to cry. He leaned down, letting out a shaky breath as he stared at his son. “Hey,” he whispered softly. “Did you like hanging with your Uncle Luke? I hope you didn’t miss your daddy too much, kiddo.”

“Ben,” Leia said. “His name is Ben.”

And, well, it’d been a mistake, even then.

It’d been—

Han was gone, and they weren’t sure if he was ever coming back, no matter how much Luke insisted. Han was nothing but a frozen hunk of carbonite, then, locked up in Jabba’s filthy palace like a trophy, and Luke had never forgotten, but he thinks later that maybe Leia had wanted to.

He still remembers the feeling of her lips on his, that time in the Falcon.

Somewhere inside, he knew he was to prove a point, but he still remembers her lips, and how soft they’d been, and how something inside him had sparked as if to say there you are.

(Too late, he realizes it’d been the force, recognizing itself, wanting to twist into a monstrous mobius strip of more more more.)

So it’d been—

It’d been kisses in the dark, groping in the bunkers of Yavin IV, the sweet sheen of sweat on Leia’s brow. It’d been his hands scratching at her back, wanting to press her as close to him as possible, for the light inside them to engulf them both.

Han was gone, and Leia wanted to forget, and Luke was lonely, hungry, desperate.

He went to her.

All these years later, and he regrets this the most.

He went to her.

She hadn’t said no, had welcomed him with open arms and—

But he went to her.

Mere weeks after Endor, Leia was throwing up.

The baby is unusually developed for this stage in the pregnancy, the doctors had told her. Are you sure you have the right date of conception?

Leia had glared. A month before Endor Han was a wall decoration. When the hell else would it have been?

She looked at Luke, then, snuck a terrified glance to him under Han’s ever present gaze that Luke hasn’t forgotten since.

Luke had pressed his lips together, shook his head, and they never spoke of it.

But, even then, they both knew.

People often said that Ben had his mother’s eyes, dark and unyielding. Tall, just like his dad. Cheekbones like his mom.

Luke sees something else.

Wreathed in the flames he set, Ben doesn’t look a thing like Han Solo. His lips are twisted in a scowl, teeth bared in raw rage. That part is all Leia. The tension in his shoulders, the way he stalked forward after the rest of the fleeing students, that part is all Luke.

Each wild swing of the lightsaber is all-force.

Luke stumbles back, the remaining skin on his hand burning away in the roaring inferno. It burns even against the rain.

Hissing steam rises up from the rocks around Ben. He is finally still, shoulders rising and falling in ragged breaths that Luke can hear as if right from his ear. He swings the spitting lightsaber again in a long, looping arc that slices through the rockface, as if only to show that he can.

The red reflects in his eyes.

Luke feels it—the raw tension of the force, the strain, the pull—except this time it’s not tugging at him. He feels the light, too, the gentle light, shining down on them like moonlight from far away. Ben stands half in shadow, half in that tender glow.

Ben does not have Leia’s eyes. Leia’s eyes aren’t as dark, had never been half-tinged with madness. Ben has eyes that Luke has only ever seen in old, flickering holograms, Anakin’s eyes, Skywalker eyes.

It is a terrible thing, when disparates parts that were meant to stay apart came crashing together.

Oh Leia, Luke thinks, we’ve made a monster.

#incest for ts #luke/leia #star wars fanfic #yeah I don't #I don't know

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lizardswithoutlegs · 7 years

Text

HOOOOOWOWOAH BOY

ART ASKS

when i walk into a building i get to eat everybodys pencils and they cant say no

do it

( also thanks for asking ! )

itd bother me a lot less if everybody came to my apartment and took one of these beautiful eggs

YEAH UNFORTUNATELY IM STILL..... WORKING THROUGH THE SAME WAITLIST but im comparatively REAL CLOSE to being done with it and i should be opening up sometime later in...... the Year

Boy Have I

theres This messy thing from a while back and then also

THIS, from even FURTHER back, when i didnt realize how fucking RED all the outlines on my things were because of the monitor i was using, two for the price of one

why not both

i do Not but it you ever see me walking on the street please throw handfuls of teeth at me theyre the only things my wretched body can digest and im always hungry

OH MAN ok so, an art telephone game is based on, of course, the game telephone, where one person says a phrase and then whispers it to the next person, and so on and on until the person at the very end says whatever they heard and if its done right the final sentence is wildly different than what you started with

an ART telephone game is the same kind of concept, except one person draws out a scene or character, and then other artists draw THEIR interpretation of whats going on, and so forth until the last person can end up with something COMPLETELY different than what the first scene was

youd think thered be less room for error with drawings, but as each person ONLY sees what the person ahead of them has made, they can get PRETTY OUT THERE - im gonna be a part of pythosarts game, and theyve done a couple of em before - for example one round started with THESE as the first two drawings

and then fourteen interpretations later, ended up with these as the final two

its good its real good

I Cant Control Where Bigfoot Goes, I Can Only Take Note Of Where Hes Been

YEAH, sort of ! on the main, iguanamouth, i have a bunch of different tags for art depending on what they are but not really a catchall one, BUT i do have an art only blog where everything gets tossed over !

HONESTLY THE ADVICE i got is basically what all art advice is gonna boil down to eventually - you gotta just. do it. you gotta DO it

absolutely nobody you know who draws things well started out at the level theyre currently at, and putting down the things youre visualizing onto paper is a combination of getting the the technical aspects down as much as getting the idea in your head

and that goes with figuring out anatomy and how bodies are put together ! ive got to use references for a Million things,. especially the dragon hoards - theres absolutely nothing wrong with using references for your drawings ! and being able to create accurate representations of things without looking is something that comes more with drawing something over and over and memorizing the body shape more than just, feeling like you should KNOW how to do something

so dont beat yourself up for needing references. if youre trying to shy away from them a little bit but still cant make something look nice without em, try using several different reference photos to put together an entirely different pose ?

theres ALSO the SHRIMP METHOD, which is great for practicing and getting good at one particular thing - this probably isnt SUPER HELPFUL but good luck !

god i tried. exactly ONCE maybe fourish years ago but it wasnt art, i was trying to stream the lion king movie and i had no idea what i was doing, i didnt realize i needed to wear headphones so the sound wouldnt snowball into a feedback loop of my own voice that never ended but i kept laughing and it kept distorting worse and worse, like the audio version of saving and resaving something as a jpeg

it was just me and my friend ronni in the stream and ONE other person who never left and never said anything and i kept addressing them out loud like WHO ARE YOU and that only compounded the noise problem and eventually i gave up

anyway i havent tried since

i uhhhhh dont think i COULD, really - fear especially is something thats kind of subjective and one persons Big Terror could be neutral or even cute to another person

like for me i used to have a lot of childhood fears about the ocean, and how deep and dark and vast it was, to the point where i couldnt play a lot of water levels in video games, even ( but i had almost drowned several times when i was Very young which probably had, a little somethin to do with that )

maybe sometime ill try to explore things IM afraid of, but its hard to encompass a psychological response in an image !! could be a fun experiment, though ! !

a few PLANT ANIMAL AZKZ, HUH, DONT HAVE A WORKING Z KEY

SHIT DUDE THESE ARE... SO GOOD thats the official name EVEN IF i didnt use. a daffodil as the flower base. it doesnt matter

yes

i got A BUNCH of flower and plant themed suggestions and theyre all REALLY GOOD ( way more than these ) but straight up im taking a break from em for a while - if anybody is else is reading this though you should definitely tackle one of em

WASABI ASKS

Do Not Feed Animals The Paste

i keep going back to read this ask because you could replace wasabi with my name and its the exact same. its the same. i feel like i have to hide somewhere

this was real and this is the award they gave us

there were other awards but the judges refused to give them out. they burned them in front of the other dogs. we won

it depends on the age ! wasabis pretty much an adult, so her sheds are pretty infrequent ( usually once every 7-8 months ) BUT when she was still growing back like 6 years ago, she would do a full-body shed every other month !

wasabi accepts tokens of appreciation in the form of : fruit, green beans. No Exceptions

i would never seperate wasabi from her hands

absolutely..... not. not even a little bit h h hh a this isnt a disney animal companion, i dont even know what “kind of like a dog” means with , a lizard who cant make any vocalizations or get up on their hind legs or NOTHIN sometimes if i hold a piece of fruit on my hand and she reaches for it she gets confused on whats what and tries to bite my fingers instead

ONCE WHEN SHE was attacking her reflection in a mirror i put my hand in front of her face to break eye contact and she SUNK HER TEETH RIGHT IN THERE but immediately let go like “oh whoops”

lissten . . . wasabi is so sharp, just absolutely everywhere, and these are the sharpest. the grabbers

heres a lil battle damage from earlier today actually

this is pretty tame BUT the long long lines are from claws, and the thinner, closer together ones are from holding her and her scales scraping against the skin. so not even just the Body is completely safe ! this is not an animal youre gonna wanna get your face real close to if theyre in a walkin mood

she doesnt even MEAN to scratch the shit outta me, its just kind of a byproduct of being a big tree lizard. her tail is absolutely the worst thing to get hit by though. the WORST. lucky me she doesnt attack anything that isnt a dog or a vacuum cleaner or her own reflection

ahhh i got her when i was 16 ! and i dont know her exact age but she was somewhere between 3-6 months when i get her - SHES probably closer to 9 years, but ive had her for about 8

LENGTH THOUGH...... the last time i measured her she was just barely under four and a half feet, but that was a few months ago and its possible shes. Just Slightly larger. shes currently sleeping as i type this so i guess we will never know

duel me

too late for coats..... its all tail action now

ROCK ASKS AND ALSO ASKS ABOUT PUTTING ROCKS IN YOUR MOUTH

oh MAN i feel you . . . . . . . . . . i dont think i could actually Bear To Eat any for real but some of em. just. they. i gotta. just. bite on em a LITTLE just a little bit, a tiny bit, a nibble

when i was real young i used to tap things against my teeth to tell what kind of substance they were made of based on the feeling/hardness/density WHATEVER and i still sometimes do it when im checking stuff out and. it uhhhhh sure is interesting finding out not a lot of people did that

a handful of these delicious raw agates, just for you

please stop spying on me

i DO NOT but you may eat this piece of bornite

meet me at the airport and ill cover your bus fair

theres a lotta different ways to figure out what kind of rocks you got but when you have absolutely no clue on where to start your best bet is to search for the biggest distinctive features of it, and try to narrow it down based on the results

like for something like these pieces of chalcedony, you could try “waxy green translucent mineral”, and from the search results find a few candidates that might be what you have on hand, and then look into each one to see if you can get a definite answer

ive got a handful of rock and mineral guide books that i always pick through whenever i snag something im not sure of, and if youre REAL into it those are always something you could start keeping an eye out for

now this is a REAL superficial way to telling what something is and wont be useful for a good chunk of minerals ( as a lot of samples can look really close to something else ) and THIS is a much more in depth way of telling something apart, but its also a lot more time consuming ! so good luck. and good eating.

Just Try And Fucking Stop Me

ANIMAL ASKS THAT ARENT............ ABOUT MY LIZARD

im married to this one actually

fuck. ok. heres. a secret. a In the ask Post secret. wasabi goes through a period that lasts a month every single year where she carries eggs in her gut, and spends that month not eating and digging around in everything, trying to find the right spot to lay these eggs. and. when it happens i never know what to do with them, and i dont want to just THROW THEM AWAY so i. eat them. i eat the eggs. i fuckin eat the eggs dude

Theyre All Goddesses

unless you plan on having your lizard roam around outside whenever they want, the outside environment doesnt really matter much for most reptiles as long as you set their habitat up right ! BUT i do know that australia has bans on certain reptiles ( iguanas are one of them ) and so youre gonna have to look up whats actually available in that area

bearded dragons are native and those are always a good option, but so are a lot of geckos - its really gonna depend on what youre into ( but i dont really recommend anoles if thats an option, because theyre fast as Hell and dont like being handled )

what the fuck is a bee

oh geez im sorry ! i remember going through this with spiders a lot when i was younger to the point where looking at photos of em used to be a fuckin, TRIAL

you could try a really gradual exposure deal, where you start off with getting comfortable with just images, and slowly working your way to dealing with one in a controlled setting ( like a petstore, maybe ? not HANDLING em or anything, but just being near one in a way where its absolutely impossible for them to touch you )

the shitty thing about this kind of phobia is that even if you KNOW its irrational theres sometimes not a lot you can do about it, but if you can stand looking at photos of them you could try learning up about them, and finding out the types of species youre likely to encounter around your house, and seeing how many ( if any ) are ones you should avoid ?

i know some people that have major problems with snakes are because theyre unsure if the ones they find are poisonous or not, and it might go a long way to confirm that the reptiles you meet wont be able to harm you even if they TRIED ( which is gonna be the case with a lotta house geckos, they cant do SHIT youre a GIANT )

very VERY few lizards have venomous bites, and the worst most of em can do is give you a bloody finger if theyre large enough, and even then its usually not much worse than a cat scratch !

still though, if youre really serious about trying to get past this, dont force yourself too quick into what you think you SHOULD be, and take tiny steps outta your comfort level when you can

this probably isnt uhhh SUPER helpful hh hhah but good luck ! shit im going through this post and its like ALL reptile photos. im sorry

i feel about them, with my hands

MMM it shouldnt HURT them unless theres something Really wrong, considering its a natural procession of growth, BUT its definitely itchy as hell, to the point where reptiles trying to remove it will drag their bodies over stones or walls tryin to get it off

sometimes wasabi drags her whole hind foot over her head like a dog to get it off and it is. a Sight

ahhh honestly there arent a lotta reptiles thatre gonna do much more than TOLERATE the touch and not really, enjoy it, like a dog or cat or bird

but speaking from experience with wasabi, youll probably want to avoid most the head and stick with the top of the back near the sides - wasabi doesnt enjoy having her tail messed with much either, but shes ok with her dewlap and feet being touched

the most important thing to keep an eye out for when youre touching one is their body language, because THATS gonna be a dead giveaway for whether you need to back off or not

closing their eyes is a sign of stress, not enjoyment ! same with tilting the head back, but if thats ALL theyre doing then youre probably not gonna face any retaliation

B U T if theyve got an extended dewlap with a raised body or tail off the ground, not a good idea to interact with em ! thats a defensive posture, and you risk getting hit with a tail or even bitten if your hand gets too close

youve got more to risk with males, who are way more territorial and generally larger, but if they seem pretty chill when you approach and dont stand up and stare at you, youre probably in the clear

COCK of the ROCK

I HAVE im so jealous of anybody whos got to see one in person - actually handling one is a level beyond that which i could even comprehend

OTHER THINGS.....

no but i was bit by a pigeon once

this is the only joke i know

i fuckin WISH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ayy im into it - honestly i havent been following the band so much as just kinda, picking up whatever anybody else mentions and so my knowledge on Gorillaz Lore is pretty uhhhh h hh h scattered but im definitely interested in seeing where this goes

i remember watching the first and second season and it being pretty good - some of the episodes and jokes are hit and miss but you absolutely got me with the creature and alien design

havent seen any of the third season yet though !

i mean the fruit ones could be pretty up there

how bout. an abstract concept. who cares about physical forms wheres the dragon of melancholy

why come theres nothing to eat in my apartment but bread. im good otherwise but its all just bread

i havent watched either of em in YEARS and YEARS but i distinctly remember. these lil dancing mushrooms

oh wait FUCK

FUCK !!!!!!!!!

no... NO.... she is not allowed to eat ANYTHING from the plan shelf, try as she MIGHT

im a little mad that this sill isnt bigger because the only other one that gets sun is in my room and wasabi WIll... absolutely eat those. no doubt. a convenient and expensive salad, for my awful gremlin

god im looking at these and its all jade plants isnt it

little golden books taste the best but they can make you sick if you have too many at once. my favorite genre for snacking is sci fi fantasy but anything over 300 pages tends to get a little tough if you dont break it up with smaller chunks. non fictions always a gamble because the taste is wildly different each time but you can usually tell how ripe it is by the cover color

ayy im already a big fan of some of their stuff, ive got a couple songs from them in my music tag - im especially into i miss you and their shut up and bring it here remix

TOP FIVE THINGS

this is barely related but once i filled up a bathtub with water and then dumped about ten bags worth of mint tea into it and then just. soaked around in the tea. listen it was really nice. id try the cheese

i dont have any ships but i was on one of those model pirate boats once for a school trip. our boat was named naruto and the other one was named sasuke and the captains shouted “make them kiss” and ran them into each other. everybody on board drowned

youre trying to trick me into googling yoshi without shoes and its not going to work

me reading this message from the safety of my apartment :

nice try, but wrong again ! : )

THIS IS GOOD info, thank you

oh SHIT the other side of paradise, take a slice, life itself, and season 2 episode 3 are all my Big Faves

the way you phrased this makes me think you already have a strong opinion on it

hey uh. coming from a person who was absolutely CONVINCED that theyd be dead in the future when they were 12, a not insignificant part of that was me feeling that there was something irreversibly wrong with me for not behaving or acting in certain ways based on what was going downstairs

and obviously im still HERE but it means i can understand how devastatingly terrible it can feel when youre that young and it seems like the way you behave and feel are flawed, or dirty, and anything that can lessen that feeling and make you comfortable in your own body is huge, can save your life

not that im saying its always a LIFE OR DEATH decision !

i guess if youre viewing it as adults forcing a child into making decisions that you dont think theyre capable of understanding its easy to be hesitant about getting behind it, but nobody is forcing a child to be trans. nobody has tricked them into feeling this way. you cant just walk in and get started on treatment on an immediate whim - some programs require 2 YEARS of concrete evidence before theyll even consider it

i feel like you should try speaking to the parents of trans children before you really put down a concrete opinion on whether this is a good or bad thing, and seeing the difference ( if any ) its made in their lives

people whove detransitioned, or found they had ultimately a different identity than the one they were exploring could also be an avenue to look intto ! i have several acquaintances who, after a period of years, found they werent trans but wouldnt take back the time where they were figuring out if they were, and i know this doesnt invalidate the friends i have who ARE

ultimately this is what it boils down to for me : Its Sure Gotta Beat Being Dead

i WILL give you that ive definitely seen a lot of overreactions to seemingly innocuous topics on this website

but youve also got to keep in mind that everybody who is saying these things MEANS them, and to them theres a completely reasonable explanation to why they feel that way

im not saying you should blindly accept any criticism you get, but to instead try to get a grasp on WHY theyre responding the way they are instead of immediately dismissing it

its because i cant drive and they wont let me sit in the front on account of the smell

NICE THINGS

AHHHH I GOT.. a bunch of other really sweet messages to the point where id feel weird about putting em ALL UP BUT... IF YOU SENT ME SOMETHING i can promise i absolutely saw it and it made my day better and just, holy shit, thank you for taking time out of your life to say anything to me at all

because you didnt have to, even a little bit

youre all beautiful and im kissing you on the mouths all at once. no take backs

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