#ive been out for almost ten years now and ive been feeling this way since i started hormones officially in 2017

[zanderism]

realistically when i die i want my body to be donated to science, in hopes that further research is done on transgender bodies so that future generations of trans people have more information to go off of, and hopefully with said studies on my body we can reach an age where trans people are less polarized, more accepted, and things like surgeries and hormones are much more accessible.

i do not want a funeral. i do not want to be buried. i do not want to be cremated. give me to science.

[genderdog]

chat is it normal to feel completely desensitized to feeling constantly sick that when you’re actually sick you feel like it’s not enough to warrant it

[kyeomofhearts]

Back For More | J.WW

+ summary: while adjusting to your new life in college, you couldn't help but attract the attention of wonwoo, someone who you happen to have a history with.

+ pairing: badboy!wonwoo x fem!reader

+ word count: 2.7k

+ content: badboy!wonwoo, college au, mature language, flirting (wonwoo is a menace), jealousy. [pls let me know if i missed anything!]

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

[ᝰ.ᐟ] i hope you guys enjoy this! it's most likely going to be a two-parter so definitely let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! i would greatly appreciate it if you guys reblogged (maybe with comments too ^^) since i thrive on your guys' validation :)

You were tired, very tired.

Granted, this was your own doing. Maybe if you hadn't pushed your responsibilities to the side last night you wouldn't have had to wake up so early to study for an exam, but what's done is done. This whole college thing was not going so well, to say the least. Sure, it's only the beginning of the second semester, but you already feel exhausted by all of your class workloads.

Just ten more minutes of this boring lecture and you could finally go home and crawl into bed. But… that's only if you avoid him today. Which now that you’re thinking about it, you hope he isn’t waiting for you outside, again. That would be the last thing you needed today.

With that being said, things have felt a little weird if you were being honest. Of course, this was your first year of university, so things were bound to feel new and different. But there was something, or rather someone that was making you feel strange.

Around two weeks ago you noticed that Wonwoo, an old classmate of yours, had recently started to become a bit friendly towards you. While that normally wouldn’t be considered weird, you couldn’t help but feel skeptical about his intentions. You knew the kind of people he surrounded himself with, and especially the girls he would go after; which was the exact opposite of you. So what exactly did he want from you?

What also makes this situation more odd is that you’ve basically known Wonwoo for your whole life. Of course, you don’t actually know him, you just happened to go to the same elementary, middle, and high school (which is insane if you think about it). Acquaintance is a perfect word to describe your relationship with him, nothing more nothing less. So yeah… it’s a little weird when the guy you have been around for (almost) your whole life is suddenly trying to befriend you, there definitely had to be something wrong with him.

All you knew about Wonwoo was that he was on the more reserved and quiet side; mainly keeping to himself most of the time. His group of friends was quite the opposite of him, which always made you wonder how he even became friends with them in the first place.

Seeing how the lecture was ending soon, you started to pack your stuff; you were more than ready to dash straight out of the classroom. Having finished all of your assignments for today, you had nothing left to worry about. So once the professor had made her goodbyes, you made a straight beeline to the door, nothing was going to hold you back from your long-awaited nap. Your pace was brisk, attempting to avoid the backed-up main exit, you decided to go to the opposite door. The walk back to your apartment wasn’t too bad either, most of the time you saw it as a way to daydream and listen to music. So while you scrolled through your various playlists, you happened to miss the (very obvious) figure following you.

Wonwoo called out your name a few times until it finally dawned on him that you had your headphones on. He took a few long strides to catch up to you; he was very adamant on getting your attention this morning. With ease, he quickly plucked your headphones off of your head.

“What are we listening to today?” He said while adjusting the headphones on his head. It took you a second to fully process what he was doing. You knew he was doing it to provoke you, but you were determined to not let that happen today. So to his surprise, you simply kept walking. You figured that he would continue with his antics if you gave him the reaction that he wanted so you did the opposite, you ignored him.

What shocked him the most was seeing you pull out an old pair of earbuds and plugging them into your phone. He was dumbfounded to say the least, how were you so prepared and why were you ignoring him?

And again, he quickly caught up with a few simple steps. He took your headphones off of his head and tapped them against your shoulder.

With a tired sigh, you turned around to face him but couldn’t help but admire his face. You really didn't want to lose that ‘expressionless’ look you were going for (to help you ignore him of course), but that small smile of his was enough to crack you down. It's like he knew that it was your one weakness when it came to him. This was the most annoying part of it all. Anytime he smiled or looked at you, a tiny part inside you secretly liked it, making you crave his attention at times.

Objectively speaking, Wonwoo was very handsome. That was something you could never deny, you would even go as far as to say that he was your type but you didn't particularly like the people he called his ‘friends’ so you were stuck in a weird limbo.

“Is there something on my face, birdy?”

You scoffed at the nickname. “I told you not to call me that.”

Wonwoo’s eyes were looking straight into yours, a smirk slowly creeping up to his lips. It didn't help that he was looking really good today either, his messy hair combined with the whole biker fit did wonders for your eyes. He was about to say something before you heard your ringtone go off, evidently cutting him off.

Oh.

It was Hyunwoo. That's odd... you finished your shared project with him rather early, what could he be calling you about? Either way, you answered the random call in front of a rather annoyed Wonwoo.

"Hello?"

"Heyyy yn, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch later today?" You couldn't help but feel your eyes widen at his sudden question. Since when did he want to hang out with you? Last time you checked he had a plethora of girls that he was talking to... maybe he was interested in you? No, you shouldn't get too ahead of yourself...

"Um... let me check if I have anything to do first. Can I call you back?" You knew that you sounded nervous but how else were you supposed to feel when the cute guy from your physics class was literally asking you to eat lunch with him?

As soon as you ended the call, you felt Wonwoo's arm snake its way down to your waist. You couldn’t help but yelp at the sudden intimate contact. Chuckling at your reaction, he leaned down, closer to your ear. “Who was that?”

"No one." You stated simply, it wasn't his business anyway.

"Hm, okay," Wonwoo rested his head on your shoulder, continuing to speak lowly in your ear. "I'll remember that birdy."

Before you could even come up with something to counter him, he decided to speak up once again.

"Well, I do have something rather important to tell you." His voice was so calm and soothing, you could honestly listen to it for hours on end if you had the chance.

"What is it?" You hoped he couldn't sense your rather, embarrassing, curiosity.

"Heard you used to have a little crush on me," his voice was evidently smug, knowing that this would surely get a rise out of you.

Which it did.

Your face burned at the memories of when you used to have a crush on Wonwoo. But, that had to be in fourth grade… so how could he have known about that? Nonetheless, you scoffed at his statement, not wanting to know that you were a little embarrassed by the sudden reminder.

“Key word, had,” you rolled your eyes at him. This did make you curious though, who could have possibly told him that? So you asked him exactly that.

“How do you even know about that?” His smile never faltered even as you lightly pushed his hand away from your waist. If anything, this made him want to touch you even more.

“I have my ways,” he stated simply. Of course, he does. You hated when he would shrug things off, now this was going to bother you for the entire week!

One thing about Wonwoo was that he has always been curious about you, this interest stemming back all the way to your elementary days. This curiosity eventually intensified in junior year of high school when you began to show your blatant distaste towards him. He just had to get to know you.

He looked down at you, his face was unreadable like always. You never knew what was going on in that mind of his.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be hanging out with your actual friends?" Sometimes you couldn't help but blurt out your thoughts to him even if they sounded a bit rude. His face faltered for a split second, probably caught off guard by the random question. Shoot, you really didn’t mean to say that out loud. Although, it looks like Wonwoo didn’t take any offense to your sudden question. If anything, it made him... smile?

“I am hanging out with my friend,” he stopped you to face him, “which is you.” You rolled your eyes at him. That had to be the corniest thing he has ever said to you if you were being honest. You just hated that giddy feeling he would give you any time he said something remotely cheesy.

"Ugh, you're so dumb," you groaned while checking the time on your phone. It was getting close to noon and you hadn't responded to Hyunwoo's question from earlier. Maybe it was best if you didn't go... who knows what he wanted from you. If you were being completely honest, you didn't know if you had it in you to see other people at the moment, aside from Wonwoo of course.

"Have somewhere to be?" Wonwoo asked, a hint of concern peeking through his voice.

"No, thank god, but I do have a scheduled nap to get to so if you don't mind-" you were cut off by the sound of an engine revving, making your body jump at the unexpected noise. You turned to see where the source of the commotion was coming from but then realized it was coming from a group of bikers nearby; most likely Wonwoo's friends.

Or so you thought?

Wonwoo didn't seem too pleased with the group that was getting closer to where the two of you were. On the contrary, Wonwoo looked pissed. His jaw was visibly clenched, the gentle grip he had on your waist tightened, and his eyes lost that playful spark he had earlier. You couldn't help but feel guilty for thinking about how hot Wonwoo looked when he was angry. Of course, you would never want to be on the receiving end of his anger but seeing it on the sidelines was quite... interesting.

Wait. This might actually be serious, so it's best if you leave before anything crazy happens.

"I think I'm going to head out now..." you said quietly as you tried to slip away from Wonwoo's (awfully) strong grasp.

He turned to look at you, his eyes softening once they landed on your figure. Why did they have to come and bother him at this exact moment? He knew that whatever was going to happen was not going to be pretty, but he found himself reluctant to let you go.

Before truly letting you go, he quietly asked, "Are you sure? I can take you home if you want me to." As soft as his voice was, he still managed to sound composed which was comforting considering the situation.

You nodded in response, "I don't live that far from here so it's fine, thank you for the offer though." You managed to flash him a small, awkward smile before turning away from him and heading toward the direction of your apartment. You didn't know what exactly was going on between those guys and Wonwoo but it for sure wasn't friendly. Although it wasn't exactly your issue, you couldn't help but feel worried about Wonwoo, even if he was a pain in the ass sometimes.

Much to your dismay, that scheduled nap never came your way that day.

You blame Wonwoo, how were you supposed to sleep peacefully knowing he was probably getting jumped? Okay, you might be jumping to conclusions but what else were you supposed to think about when he was visibly angry at the mere sight of those guys?

Realistically speaking, it's only been two days since that whole incident happened. Granted, you haven't seen Wonwoo since then but that could mean a lot of things.

[...]

While you were in line to get a smoothie from one of the pop-up shops near the campus, you felt a sudden tap on your shoulder.

"Did my little birdy miss me?" You felt Wonwoo say right next to your ear, his breath fanning across your earlobe. It sent a wave of tingles down your spine, making you shudder in turn. Though you weren't a fan of his spontaneous appearance.

"God, you need to stop doing that! I almost slapped you I swear-" You stopped mid-way once you turned around and saw his face. He had a few cuts on his lips and eyebrows and one big bruise across his cheek. Those guys really did a number on him.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern, "are you okay?"

He tried to wave it off but you could tell he was bothered by your question, "It's fine, really, don't worry about it." Was he insane? How were you not going to worry when he was visibly injured?

"Were these from the guys on Tuesday?" You couldn't help but ask, where else would he get these cuts and bruises if it didn't come from them?

His demeanor immediately switched and he pushed himself away from you.

"It's none of your business so stay out of it."

"Okay." That was the only thing you said before grabbing your smoothie from the worker and quickly walking away from the shop. If he wanted to be like that then so be it. You most definitely were not going to wait for him to 'open up' by all means, he could throw himself a pity party for all you care.

"Wait-" He tried reaching for your arm but you were too quick for him. Your steps were swift, helping you create a reasonable distance between you and Wonwoo. He called out your name a few times before giving up, he didn't want to gather any unwanted attention from the people nearby. Reaching your pace, Wonwoo was finally close enough to grab your wrist and make you look at him.

"Are you seriously ignoring me?" His voice was a bit jagged, no doubt coming from the unexpected cardio you made him do to catch up to you.

Unfortunately for him, you were petty. "You said it wasn't my business, so please do not talk to me because I really do not care." You brushed past him once again this time making sure he could not grab your arms or wrists.

He exhaled in annoyance, "Look I'm sorry-" Wonwoo was mid-apology before being abruptly cut off by the voice of a guy yelling your name out loud.

Speaking of the devil, what immaculate timing.

"Hey yn! Did you still want to get food after class?" Hyunwoo jogged to where you were standing but saw how Wonwoo was still trying to talk to you.

"Sorry, were you busy with him?"

You instantly responded to Hyunwoo, "No, he was just asking for directions, but yeah I'm down for food." Like before, you made your way towards Hyunwoo, making sure to bump into Wonwoo. He couldn't help but stay frozen in place as he watched you walk to class with some random guy, jealousy slowly invading his mind.

Directions? Did she really...?

As much as Wonwoo wanted to be mad at you, he really had no one to blame but himself. The whole situation with his old group of 'friends' was really getting to him so once you popped that question it just seemed to send him over the edge. He just didn't know how far you would go to express your annoyance towards him. Now all he had to do was find a way to properly apologize to you before that Hyunwoo guy got to you first.

The only thing stopping him? He didn't have your number or any of your socials...

Part Two: II

[sinon36]

Ghost x undercover!reader (HC) Part VI

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Warnings: torture, violence, gore, mistakes.

- the sixth time you meet it’s after a lot of frenzied searches

- the missions have been slow a while now; you mostly act as a handler for TF141, alongside Laswell; the boys got used to your calm voice in their earpieces, guiding and directing them through buildings and underground bases; your “hacking” skills come in handy when Laswell gets caught up with something else

- they always come home in time for you to get supper together; it’s a nice way of living; so different from the loneliness you felt before; now you have a small family to call your own; the banter between you and the sergeants feels the air; you throw jokes to one another; Price quietly chuckles at his younger subalterns; Ghost on the other hand stays silent most of the time;

- you always sit next to him, in the mess hall, in briefing rooms, in helis, or cars; it’s something he’s not sure yet how to interpret; yes, the two of you got along just fine; you have the same dark humour that makes the other soldiers in the base shiver when they hear you laugh at your jokes; you can sit in comfortable silence for hours; you don’t pry into each other’s lives, which he’s thankful; you hadn’t even asked him his name, and you already know one another for more than two years; he won’t admit but he doesn’t like the way his heart feels when you laugh at one of Soap’s jokes, or discuss with Gaz one of the new books you’ve bought, or even when Price comes close to you, peaking over your shoulder and talking quietly with you about the files you’ve got in front of you;

- Ghost does not allow the thought, that he might be jealous on his comrades’ interactions with you, take roots inside his mind; he can’t; you’re just doing your job and you just happen to enjoy the 141’s company, in the most platonic way; he knows that your bond is far superior to that of the other’s; you saved his life, saw his face, and he in turned saved yours; that must add up to something;

- yet he feels that something’s wrong with him; Price pointed out that ever since you joined TF141 he seems quieter, and less present; he’s becoming more and more his namesake; he denies that, and argues that he’s just tired, now that he’s getting older; Price calls out his shite; the captain is older than him, and he’s far more active than him;

- but the captain can’t do more than that, a friendly conversation; yours and Ghost’s relationship is extremely professional; he rarely sees the two of you interact in the common room, or anywhere else for that matter, that’s not the battle field or the briefing room; you also work incredibly well; you two and Soap had made quite the trio when it comes to field work; he affectionately calls you the Unholy Trinity of Task Force 141; trails of body are left in your wake and almost all missions go well without the tinniest hitch; the men joke around that surely you are some kind of witch that made a deal with the devil to have success; you laugh and chalk it all up to skill, hard work, and a shite ton of sheer luck;

- though you keep reminding them that your luck will run out one day, they ignore you, joking that you’ll have to tolerate them until you retire; you’re not as optimistic; you’re the realist of the whole team; you know the risks are ten times bigger than theirs

- most of the times you go in alone, unarmed, no back up, no communication; you only have yourself to rely on; and you know that when the fatigue catches up with you, you’ll slip up, make a mistake, that’ll get you killed or worse

- and then the worst you feared happens; you go MIA during a simple infiltration; the boys find no trace to indicate where you’d been taken to or by whom; Laswell can’t find any sign of you, no matter how hard she tries, or how far she’s stretching her informant network; nothing; denial turns to angry searches, busting down doors and torturing anyone they come across; that turns to desperation, they start looking into the most unrelated events they find, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they get a glimpse of your name, or an alias, or something, no matter how small; and that turns to silence, they stop bringing you up, start avoiding your name or anything that might point out you’re not there; after Laswell mentions you in one of their briefings, that the time to change your status to KIA is due, Ghost smashes the chair you used to sit in

- it’s one of the most violent reactions he’s had outside the battlefield since you’d disappeared, and Price starts to worry that his lieutenant will do something stupid if they don’t find out what happened to you; he threatens Laswell to not touch that file of yours; ‘Not yet, Kate. Not yet.’ He says in a sadder and calmer voice    

- acceptance never came; the thought that maybe you’re not even alive, buried somewhere unmarked, or body burned beyond recognition is a thought they’d long banished; wherever they went they kept their eyes peeled for you; their hope of finding you never wavers

- and then their prayers are answered; they get something; it’s not much; a 3-second clip; it’s blurred, to few pixels to really make out any details; and the camera seems to be moved violently, barely catching the hunched posture of a person tied to a chair; Laswell got it form one of her contacts; it’s from a half destroyed hard drive they recovered from heli the dropped out of the sky

- it’s not much; actually, is far too little to go on with; the video doesn’t show a face, nor reveals any names; the background so dark they can’t make out anything; But they agree it’s you; from the size of your body, to your complexion to the colour of your hair, now longer and falling over your face; it’s been months since they last saw you but they know it’s you   

- ‘Proof of life’ Price concludes; ‘But fur who?’ Soap voices the question they all thought of that; ‘It don’t matter’ Ghost points out, voice gruffer than ever; ‘Where is more important.’ Gaz specifies

- they get to work; they comb the crash site, having received the location from Laswell; at first they don’t find anything; but Ghost’s keen eyes find it; it’s a small piece of silvery metal, wedged in the dirt; it’s only half, but he can make out the letters clearly; cyrillic letter; he grunts; ‘Price…’ he shouts to get everyone’s attention; when they come closer he shows it to them; ‘Russians’ they conclude

- the hunt begins; Nik is there to smuggle the Brits over the Russian borders and to provide them with an extraction vehicle, in his case an old rusty Russian helicopter, that can barely fly under the radar, it flinches and grunts at every gust of wind, but it’s as covert as can be; they don’t bear any insignia visible on their black camo uniforms; their faces tucked under black balaclavas; even their guns are Russian, some AK-47 Nik provided them with no striations on the barrels; they even agreed to keep their mouths shut, letting the captain converse with anyone that they might encounter; no one can no that a team of Brits put their feet on Russian soil

- they carefully went over all the details just like you got them used to when you did infiltrations; they are as prepared as ever; the plan is simple; take out the guards that make their rounds through the facility and take their place; that will give them sufficient time to look for you and find a way out to get you out; “if” they find you; the information came through Laswell and it was already a couple weeks old; chances are you’ve been moved;

- they search everywhere; you’re not there; time for plan B: infiltrate their data base; Price gets his hand on a computer and plugs the USB containing the backdoor virus; it takes some time to install, then to reboot the whole system; Laswell gives the green light that they’re in; they get out of there leaving no trace that they ever were inside

- the next two weeks are gruesome; Ghost spends most of his time destroying the punching bags in the gym; he barely eats and barely sleeps; he starts hearing your voice in the night when he climbs the ladder to the roof, perched up like an owl, having a smoke away from everyone; he hears a soft whisper, or a small chuckle; he’s going crazy, he thinks; crazy with worry for you;

- it’s been years since Simon felt worry for someone; when his family was killed, he vowed to never get close to another soul again; but then you had to save him; you didn’t even know him; risked your life for a stranger that cannot repay you for that act of kindness

- but he can; he can make sure you’re safe on missions; that’s why he’d always stalk your figure through the scope; that’s why he’d have you with him and Soap every time you’d split up; so he can keep his eyes on that pretty face of yours; that’s why he’d threaten the other marines on base with the court martial when he’d hear lewd comments about you being their whore and so much worse; he’d be wringing their necks if Price didn’t keep such a close eyes on his actions  

- he misses you, and your presence, and your sweet perfume, and your voice, and your eyes that would look straight into his when he told you a joke, smirk matching his own; he missed the way you’d drink your tea together in the morning, in silence broken only by soft sighs and the sound of the sofa under your weights; if he got up before you he’d make sure to boil enough water for two mugs and he’d put the tea in the moment he could hear your footsteps heading to the common room; he was so accustomed to you that he could make out your footsteps even in the busiest corridors; lighter than most, almost quiet but quick, lively; he misses that too

- the way you’d make your away towards him and with a nod take the seat next to his, softly brushing his shoulder with yours in an unspoken acknowledgement… I’m here, next to you… your simple touch made his skin boil underneath his clothes and yearn for more; he’d take advantage of situations out in the field; he’d grab you and help you climb over obstacles, he’d give you a head anytime he felt you needed it; and you’d never refuse his help;

- he’ll be dammed if he doesn’t find you; just like you found him when you first met

- two weeks pass by slower when you’re almost always awake, Simon knew that already; but he’s the first to get on the tarmac when Price gives the order for heading out; Laswell managed to pinpoint your location; one of the Russian commanders moved you to an off the record, but not really cause ‘Russians are shit at keeping a low profile.’ Laswell adds, compound where they’d keep foreign prisoners for interrogations; the American woman sends them out to get you out and wipe any witness that has seen your face

- exactly what Simon wanted; the green light to do what he’s best at: mauling his enemies;

- the compound they keep you in is underground, ventilation system outdated, like pretty much any piece of technology they keep; they record the interrogation on an old Sony camera; you doubt it can register your mumbled responses, not that you’d say anything useful; you’d match every question with a curse in a clear American accent; you don’t want to give them anything that might be traced back to your British boys;

- they can’t get anything out of you; not your name, not whom do you work for, or where you’re from, what you were looking for when you infiltrated their operation, etc.; they were met with an unsurmountable resistance; no matter how many times they’d beat you, drown you, burn you, cut you, electrocute you, or humiliate you; they took away most of your clothes, leaving you in your underwear and what little remained from your tank top, enough to cover only your upper torso; you were cold, hungry and in pain; you had been in this condition for months; but you wouldn’t give up

- in the academy they taught you that the longer you lasted the more chances of being found; that thought has crossed your mind more than once; but you don’t allow yourself to hope; that would only weigh you down the more time passes; no, you look for ways to free yourself and learn the personnel’s schedule; and you wait for the best opportunity

- that window of opportunity is near; for a week now you worked on pulling out the nail in the chair that holds the chair’s handle together; you managed to pull out the nail and twist your wrist to try and scratch at the rope; the motion is uncomfortable and painful, the skin of your wrist is cut open by the rope that soaks up your blood; you’ve been at it for hours, trying to cut yourself loose; and you finally manage; surprise overtakes you as the rope unravels and your hand is free; the limb aches with exertion as you shake it to get the flow of circulation to get back to normal

- then you lean forward and grab at the knife left there from the previous session, still wet with your blood; freeing yourself is more strenuous than you would have imagined; as you bend down to free your ankles you almost pass out from the sudden rush of blood to your head; you lost of it, enough to hinder you in your escape; but you push through

- when you stand up you grab the chair for support and move in slow motion afraid you’ll pass out; you have a plan in mind already; get dresses in the coat left on the hanger by the door, and lay in wait for the interrogator to come back for another round; now that your body is filled with adrenaline times moves slower, but it doesn’t take long for the door handle to start to move; you wait for the tall and skinny man to enter; if he were a little leaner you wouldn’t have had a chance; but this failed physician that took to torture won’t even know what hit him; you stab him in the neck with a somewhat quick strike;

- he dies drowning in his own blood; you manage to drag his corpse under the table, leaving the pool of blood untouched; maybe they’ll think that you finally bled out and someone took your corpse to the morgue to be burned; you don’t care as you grab the handgun off his waist; the same one he’d threaten you with when you wouldn’t answer;

- judging by the thick clothes your assailant wears you know outside is cold; so you do what they told you at the academy; you undress the corpse an take his pants an shoes; they’re huge on you but you can’t complain; you shiver at the warmth still trapped in the wool fibres;

- you make your way outside checking for any guards; you found none, as expected; you heard the Russian complain that is too cold and stuffy down here that nobody but him frequents the lower levels; some people don’t know to shut up and you are glad to exploit that; with his gun, knife and car keys in hand you make your way through the dark corridors; you follow the boot prints left on the filthy floors;

- the only guards you encounter are the ones stationed by the door that leads to the stairs; you make quick work of them; one shot for each of their heads; you almost fall down on your ass as the gun kicks back in recoil; you take a moment to lean on the wall taking a few calming breaths

- your ascend is slow, laboured breaths escaping your gaping mouth; you strain your eyes and try to decipher the word on the walls marking the level and the facility; you’re looking for the parking lot; you find it after climbing to the second to last level; Russians really don’t know how to keep a facility secure; as you climb the emergency stairs there is no one to stop you; they underestimated your ability to escape this hell hole; their mistake

- as you reach the parking lot you look for the physician’s car; it’s a rusty red Lada; it’ll do just fine; as you get in the passenger side you start hearing gunshots; it’s faint; maybe you imagined it; but no, it’s there; you don’t wait to find out what’s happening, as you turn the key in the ignition you pull out of the spot and quickly drive towards the exit; whatever firefight broke out in there, pulled away every guard from their stationary position; for a moment you think about TF 141, but you quickly dismiss it

- you make your way out, a little dizzy from the spiral ascension; once out of there you notice that there’s forest around, and some snow; you hit gravel and as you look back you notice the exit; the only indication that there is something men made here; you doubt that tunnel can be spotted from a drone; the trees block the line of sight; that confirms your suspicions

- the gun fire must be coming from another escapee, not as lucky as you; you drive down the dirt road following every twist and turn hoping you won’t see any other cars; you check the glove compartment; now that the adrenaline rush is over your body aches like never before; you search for some pain meds but you only find a wallet with some cash in it; Russian rubbles, enough to keep the car going for a while; maybe you’ll find a gas station; it’s risky but you are I dire need of food and water; that might give you enough strength to push forward

- the 141 moves quickly taking care of the two sentinels at the mouth of the tunnel; two well placed shots and they’re down; Gaz and Soap move the bodies in a bush and hide their car in the tree line; hopefully nobody will come looking for this two in the next crucial minutes; they comb through the facility dropping anyone they encounter; their pistols bear silencers masking the loud sounds; they move deeper and deeper, but soon the alarm is sounded and a full fight ensues; the guards are no match for the 141; they drop like flies; but the fight costs them precious minutes;

- Ghost breaks away from the rest of his teammates; he knows they got it; he needs to hurry to find you; he needs to make sure you are still breathing, and that your pretty eyes still hold fire in them; he gets to lowest level where the holding cells are; he checks behind every grate and every door until a he gets to what seems to be the place they torture the prisoners

- he notices how filthy and cold it is; but what makes his blood freeze is the chair and the large pool of fresh blood; no…, he’s too late; he came to late; a wave of blinding fury surges and like a tsunami Ghost thrashes the room; he stops only when he discovers the body of a tall Russian man behind the desk; his throat slit; pants and boots missing; atta girl he can’t help the smirk taking over his face under the balaclava; you were capable, he knew that, but you still manage to surprise him; he gets out trying to radio in the discovery to the rest of his teammates

- the radio crackles with static, concrete walls too thick for the signal to penetrate; he’s made his decision; he’s going after you even though he knows Price will kick his ass later; you need him; probably not as much as he needs you; he chases the droplets of blood you left on the ground as you walked towards the emergency staircase; at the door, two more casualties; no, you didn’t need him; you had it handled

- in the parking lot he finds a military truck with the key in the ignition; he follows you as quickly as the car gets on the dirt road

- you drive for what feels like hours; your mind is struggling, eyes out of focus and body feeling heavier with every minute; you don’t know why or when the car starts to shake and tilt, you feel yourself flying out of the seat; everything goes black

- Ghost’s eyes scan the road in front of him through the thick snowfall; he almost misses the red car that swerved of the road and now rests on the side in a ditch, snow piles on top almost making it disappear; he gets out of the truck and approaches the car pistol pointed at it; he wipes away the snow that covers the window on the driver’s side; inside he can make out a body that’s laying on its side face obscured by the thick collar of the jacket; he pulls the door open carefully and nudges the body to see if they’re conscious or not; when there’s no movement he peels the collar from their face

- Simon thinks he is no longer able to panic; he survived through his father’s and brother’s abuse; then he joined the military where they taught him to surpass any fears and to control himself; then the Mexican cartel who buried him alive; that experience showed him what terror looks like; only to return home and find all the people that he held dear massacred; Ghost is the result of so many horrifying events; he is the cautionary tale of what prolonged survival in a malignant environment looks like

- the level of fear matches that of when he found the body of Beth hugging Josep’s smaller one; he acts without thinking, grabbing your limp and cold body and pulling you out of the wreckage; your head is bleeding from where you hit it on the window; lips are blue and your skin cold to the touch; he checks for a pulse; he can’t tell if he feels yours or his own; his hands are trembling with rage and powerlessness; he grabs for the radio’ telling Price he’d found you but you need medical assistance immediately; there’s no answer on the other side; just static

- he hoists you up and takes you to the stolen truck placing you in the front seat; he climbs in the driver’s seat letting you down slowly over the seat head resting on his lap; he puts the heat on high trying to make you warm again; he checks for your breathing and he’s thrilled to find that small puffs of air come from your open mouth

- he starts driving, he doesn’t know where; he neds a safe house to treat your wounds and to keep you safe; the snow is falling heavy, making impossible to see where he’s driving; then he sees it; to the side he can make out a building in the tree line

- the abandoned cottage is nothing more than a ruin; but it has four walls and a roof and he’s glad to see a small fireplace, dry wood abandoned next to it; he puts you down on what he can only assume is what remained of a thick rug long forgotten by its previous owners; he works quickly and efficiently, in mere minutes a fire burns casting a warm glow in the barren room

- he moves to work on you; he peels the jacket off only to find that you are nearly naked under the stolen clothes; he gets angrier at the Russians wishing he could bring them back only to subject them to the same kind of torture they did you and some more; he quickly checks for deeper cuts or signs of infection; but he can’t find none; they must’ve given you antibiotics to keep you alive as much as possible;

- he cleans the cuts with the antiseptic wet wipes his med kit contains; then he dresses the wounds with gauze; your thin body looks like a mummy from the amount gauze; he addresses your head next wiping the blood of and bandaging your forehead; he sighs in relief when your lips and skin slowly turn pink from the warmth; you lay in between his legs as he sits on the floor, your head laying on his thigh

- he tries contacting 141 again, but to no avail; looks like he’ll have to hold out here tonight; he’ll stay awake to protect you until you wake up

- it’s morning when you stir, he watches your face intently from above you; your eyelids groggily open eyes trying to focus; as you lay eyes on brown ones, hidden behind a black balaclava you start to panic; you weakly push at his hands and chest, mumbling and trying to get away from him; he doesn’t relent though; his grip is firm on you and in a commanding voice he orders you to sit still; hearing your name does the trick; you didn’t tell those fuckers your name; and his embrace is not restraining more like protecting; you think hard and try to remember eyes flickering over the balaclava; ‘Ghost…’ you croak when your vocal chords decide to vibrate; ‘Gho…’ you repeat even more brokenly; he shushes you and reassures you that yes, he’s here and no, he won’t go anywhere; not without you; that puts your mind at ease and you close your eyes again

-when you wake up again is noon; he feeds you some water through cracked and dry lips and he gives you a dose of morphine to help with the pain; that sends you back to sleep

- the third time you wake, you are being carried by strong arms; the sound of blades cutting air becomes louder and louder; Ghost walks backwards shielding you from the snow that’s being picked up by the gusts of wind;

- he climbs the heli; Nik greets Ghost, as Soap and Gaz pull him and you inside; the ride is silent, no one says anything; the Russian pilot takes you to a better equipped safehouse

- you wake up to someone entering the room; you’re in a warm comfortable bed, IV connected to your wrist fluid being pumped in your veins; you open your eyes to a dark-haired man bringing in a tray of food; you panic again when you hear him greet you, voice laced with a deep Russian accent; he sees the look on your face and he slowly puts the tray on the table; ‘Don’t vorry, I’m Nick. A friend ov 141. I von’t hurt yu, agent’; he tells you it’s nice to finally put a face to the name, and that you are prettier than Gaz told him; you watch him in silence, regarding him with apprehension; when he stops talking, you look to the door and ask for Ghost

- he chuckles knowingly and then informs you that “your boy” is being ripped a new one by the captain just outside, and he leaves you to tell Price that your awake; you don’t have time to correct him cause he already out the door; Price walks in soon after, you’re glad to see him; ‘Ah, there you are’ he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes; he asks you how you’re feeling; numb thanks to the morphine; he wants to know what happened

- it was a trap; they were waiting for you, Russians; they wanted to know who you were and who did you work for; you told them nothing; he knows; he asks you about your time in the facility; you don’t quite remember much, just the torture and the questions; he tells you that you did good, and that you need to rest now;

- Gaz and Soap stop by to talk to you a bit; you tell them you’ll be fine; and then you ask for Ghost; they rub their necks a little ashamed; you asked them what happened; Ghost got scolded for going AWOL in search for you; Price even threatened him with the court martial; you huff; and swing the blanket off; you sit at the ledge of the bed; you’re glad to find you’ve been clothed in a pair of slacks and a long sleeve shirt; you grab the IV needle and pull hard on it; then you stand grabbing the table for support

- the two sergeants move forward to catch you if you fall; you wave them away and move towards the door; you search the living room for any signs of Ghost; instead, Price and Nik talk about something at the dinner table; when Price sees you up and about, despite him telling you to rest, he mutters a ‘Bloody stubborn they are’ and points toward the kitchen; you thank him; you can hear Nik commenting something about you and Ghost deserving each other; but you keep walking, slowly, one hand on the wall for balance

- Ghost stands by the window, his back turned to you; he ignores your poor attempt at greeting him; without thinking you cross the distance and hug his waist burying your nose in his hoodie; he tenses

- ‘I’m probably high right now,’ you nuzzle your face in his back inhaling his scent: soap, cigarettes and something you can’t quite tell; ‘thank you, for coming after me’; you let go of him turning to go back to rest; he grabs your upper arm and gently turns you; he watches you closely, you can feel his breath on your face, and smell the cigarette on his lips; his balaclava is pushed up his nose; he stares into your eyes as he speaks ‘Tell me to stop’ his eyes shift to your lips

- ‘Please don’t’; he kisses you, deeply and for a long time; you pull away for air ‘Ghost, I…’ ‘No,’ he cuts you off; ‘Simon, my name is Simon’ you smile lost in his pretty brown eyes; ‘Simon Riley’ and he surprises you taking his balaclava off; you stare at him, trying to memorize every scar and blemish; he’s handsome, in a rugged way; blonde hair, pale skin, and brown eye; you kiss him again.                                                

Previous part here.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for pretending to be cis online? im a trans man and have been trans for almost ten years now. i am pre-most transition even though i would like to fully transition, due to money and medical phobia complications. i do not pass irl.

a few years ago i attempted stealth (saying i was a cis man) on a discord server before ultimately admitting to being trans because i was afraid everyone could tell, and was informed that even though they even heard my voice on the server, no one there suspected i was afab, and even when i said i was trans, some people assumed i was coming out as transfem, because i had passed myself as a cis man so well. this gave me euphoria, of course, and made me regret telling anyone since i was apparently passing so well.

i held onto those feelings, and a year or so after that, quietly changed my bios and stuff to remove the trans part. a little while after that, i started actively saying i was cis male in my bios and to new friends.

i should clarify this is not out of safety or fear of transphobia, all my family and irl friends know im trans and are 100% supportive, im lucky enough to live in a very progressive area, and my online existence is small and filled with tons of trans and supportive people. it's only because i feel dysphoric when i know people can perceive me as afab, and since i don't have control over that irl, i just want someone in the world to see me as amab, even if im not and never will be.

i also am not by any means a transmed. i myself am also gnc, and many many of my friends are loud and proud queer weirdos, and i am too with everything but my agab. i love the wacky ways other trans folks present their genders and refuse to sanitize themselves for cisciety. i do not think anyone should ever have to water down who they are for any reason and i don't think being afab makes anyone less of a man, just i personally don't like facing the fact that i am afab and would rather people see me as a cis man whenever i can control it.

this might be where the asshole comes in here, because being gnc, being surrounded by so many trans people and being in many "afab dominated" spaces (such as fanfic writers, tumblr, fandom in general honestly) as well as having a lot of trans headcanons makes me paranoid people are going to clock me and even if they don't say anything they'll know im faking being cis. because of that, and to avoid the dreaded "egg" conversations (people trying to insist or imply that ill soon "find out" that im transfem) ive sometimes been telling people when the subject comes up that i had experimented with my gender before and thought i was transfem or nonbinary in the past, so i sort of fit the idea of cis+ and that might be why i feel more trans than cis even though im definitely cis.

i also tell them im intersex and have trans family (both of these are true, though obviously im intersex in a different way than i say) to get them off my scent.

i know i dont owe anyone my agab, but when all is said and done, i am lying about my gender and history with gender exploration, and i kinda feel like im disrespecting other trans folks by implying it would personally feel better to be cis, like i can't relate to other trans people saying they never want to be cis and the goal of being trans isn't to be cis. but i do. i also worry that having trans hcs (including in sexual contexts) for characters while im presenting myself as cis makes people think im a chaser.

anyway sorry this is long, but aita for lying about my gender?

What are these acronyms?

[atwooozi]

gojo x oc

Chapter 13: Fushiguro Toji

summary: Amid the whirlwind of press interviews, Ai finds herself in an unexpected moment of introspection and connection with Gojo. As they converse, Ai peels back the layers of Gojo's public persona, uncovering his past struggles and the significant influence of a mentor named Toji. Their conversation takes a turn, revealing Gojo’s unspoken burdens and his unwavering commitment to those he cares for. A shared late-night walk cements their bond, offering Ai a rare glimpse into the heart of the man behind the celebrity, and leaving her with a renewed sense of purpose for her article.

genre: modern AU, slice of life, comedy, eventual romance, eventual smut, some angst

A/N:

Wednesdays seem to come by so fast lately. I'm always so surprised when it's time for me to post a new chapter of this story. Recently, I've been taking a break from writing to focus on school work and studying, and while I know it's the responsible thing to do it's not as fun.

Anyway, the song for this week isn't Japanese or within the future funk/city pop space but I feel suits this chapter well. It's Off The Record by IVE. I've kind of been in and out of the kpop space for the past few years and I heard this song randomly on Spotify. I think it fits perfectly within this fic, especially, this chapter.

READ ON AO3

When Ai returned to the hotel where the press junkets were taking place, a few reporters were still waiting for their ten to fifteen minutes with Gojo and Okkotsu. She didn’t envy them at all. Although the journalists were just waiting around, she could only imagine doing it alone and how exhausting it was by the end of it. Countless hours passing by without someone there seemed like hell.

She quietly made her way into the small green room set up in a corner of the large hall. Taking a deep breath, she sat down in a deceptively comfy-looking chair and took out her iPad to pick up where she left off in The Tao of Wing Chun , her most recent piece of research for this profile. Ever since she went down that rabbit hole with Toji, she had somehow found herself here.

It had felt like only minutes with how absorbed she had gotten into the book, but when the door swung open, she realized that she had been sitting there for almost an hour.

“Reading on the job?” Gojo teased as he took a seat across from her. He grimaced as he tried to get comfortable in the chair and quickly relaxed as he crossed one leg over the other, resting his chin against his fist. Gojo looked tired, but somehow he still glowed despite having to go on for hours with the same questions posed in a handful of different ways.

Ai turned off her tablet and tucked it against her side as she sat up a bit straighter. “No, I was doing some research.” She took out her phone and pressed the record button before setting it on the small table between them.

“You read whole books for research?”

Ai shrugged. “I guess I’m an overachiever.” Saying those words felt sour on her tongue. Despite usually priding herself as a perfectionist, she felt like anything but that lately. She had nothing to show for all the work she did.

Gojo smiled at her and nodded his head. “Careful not to burn yourself out, Ai-chan.”

Ai nodded and ran her hands along her pants to try and soothe her nerves. “Noted.”

Gojo leaned back in his chair. “So, what have you learned?” he asked, genuine curiosity evident in his tone.

Ai shrugged. “Well, I’m just learning about Wing Chun…”

“Oh?” Gojo arched an eyebrow. “What’s that about?”

Ai gave him a quizzical look. “Don’t you already know?”

Gojo hummed, urging her to keep going to give himself a break from speaking.

“We don’t have to do this now, Gojo. You’re tired,” Ai said as she moved to get out of her seat.

Gojo quickly grabbed Ai’s wrist, holding it firmly. “I’m fine.”

Ai frowned as she held Gojo’s gaze. His eyes were tired, it was obvious. The usual ethereal eyes that sparkled were now dull.

“Fine,” Ai said as she sat herself back down.

Gojo gave a satisfied smile and sat back in his seat. “Good, back to Wing Chun.”

“You’re pretty bossy.”

Gojo couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m used to getting my way, I guess.”

Ai rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. “Before acting you were an athlete, right?”

“I was.” Gojo grinned, but his expression slowly became complicated. “I injured my knee, though, so that was that.”

Ai nodded as she jotted down some notes. “...So instead of slowing down, you decided on doing stunt work?”

Gojo shrugged. “I mean, it seemed like fun.”

“That’s it?”

Uncertainty flashed in Gojo’s eyes when Ai lightly pressed him. “Well, it wasn’t exactly my idea.” He shifted in his chair, an annoyed expression taking over his face as he tried to piece together his answer. “A friend of mine did some stunt work and I was going through a tough time after my injury so…” Gojo gestured vaguely in the air.

Ai nodded as she listened to Gojo. She almost felt bad as she watched him squirm in his chair, but he had made it so hard that she was reveling in it just a bit. “Not Geto or Shoko, right?”

“No…”

Ai nodded and pulled out her phone, pulling up the picture she found of Toji and Gojo together from years ago. “Is this your friend?”

Gojo clicked his tongue at Ai’s question as he looked at the picture. “Where did you find that?”

“Answer my question.”

Gojo tsked and leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“Why hide him?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Gojo replied as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Why does it matter?”

Ai sighed as she looked at Gojo with a frown. “Because I am writing a story about you.” She leaned forward in her seat. “I can’t do that if you hide everything from me.”

Gojo’s jaw tensed, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It was the first time Gojo didn’t have a quick reply to offer. Even when Gojo was uncomfortable, which was rare, he always had something to say, but now he had nothing to ease the pressure.

“So… Fushiguro said his dad helped you get into stunt work.”

“He did.”

“Why be so secretive about that?” Ai pressed.

Gojo sighed and rested his cheek against his palm. He seemed unsure of what to say. “Is this what your article is about?”

“I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t be an aspect of it, but if it’s Fushiguro-kun that you’re worried about, I’m not going to exploit his past for a story.”

Gojo seemed to relax somewhat and let out a deep breath. It was obvious to see how much he cared for his young co-star just from his body language alone. “I was friends with his dad, Toji.” He admitted. “If anything, he was more of a mentor to me.”

Ai nodded as she listened to Gojo, quickly writing down what she could as he spoke.

“How did you meet?”

“We met at the gym that I trained at,” Gojo explained. “He told me my form sucked, and then we sparred…” He chuckled. “He kicked my ass and then he stole some money from my wallet.”

“Wh–”

Gojo interrupted Ai, continuing on with the story. “He said something like, ‘You’re so bad that you should pay me for beating your ass.’” He broke out into a smile the more he thought about it. “And so I kept bugging him to spar with me, but he would always blow me off.”

“Did he ever spar with you again?” Ai questioned.

Gojo pouted and shook his head. “No, but he started training with me after that...” He looked up at the high ceilings as he tried to remember. “He told me that it would be embarrassing for him to fight someone as weak as me, so I had to work harder if I wanted him to waste his time.”

“He sounds–”

“He was so cool.” Gojo’s eyes sparkled. “I feel like if I hadn’t met him, my life would’ve been completely different.”

“Different how?” Ai felt like she had finally broken down whatever walls were between them. She just needed to push a little bit more.

Gojo shrugged. “Just different.”

“Can you elaborate on that just a little?” Ai asked desperately.

Gojo shook his head. “No.”

Ai’s head dropped in disappointment. She felt like she could cry. Why was he making this so difficult for her? Whenever she took a few steps forward, Gojo would take a step back. Was seeing her struggle like this fun for him?

Probably…

“We can stop here for now,” Ai said as she closed her notebook. She was glad that Gojo talked about Toji, but didn’t want to push him too much.

Gojo gave Ai a skeptical look. “That’s it?”

It was almost as if he was disappointed that Ai didn’t push him for more. She wondered if she did, he would’ve given in to her, but she didn’t want to play with him. She was tired.

Ai nodded and stood up. “Yeah, it’s late and you’re getting grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Gojo pouted as he stood up from his seat.

As Ai made her move to leave the room, she stopped when Gojo called out to her. When she turned back to look at him, he was wearing a wide grin and had his hands in his pockets.

“Wanna go on a walk with me?”

Ai hesitated for a moment. She had to walk to the train station anyway, so if Gojo tagged along with her part of the way, it wouldn’t make any difference to her. Maybe the walk would do them both good.

“Fine.”

“Let’s go then! I can’t stand to be here any longer,” Gojo said as he pushed Ai out the door.

Once they were out of the hotel building, Gojo walked a few steps behind Ai. It made her anxious. She could feel his eyes on her. She felt that if she looked over her shoulder at him, she would meet her untimely demise. Not that Gojo would attack her, but all the swirling anxieties that she had felt for the past week and a half had her on edge.

Ai sighed and tried her best to imagine as if Gojo wasn’t there and she was just walking to the train station like she normally would. It seemed to have worked, but then Gojo opened his mouth.

“Hey, let’s stop here really quick.” Ai looked over her shoulder and Gojo was pointing at a Lawson’s. “I want a snack.”

He walked into the convenience store without waiting for Ai’s reply. She debated on ditching him but opted against it. He made her nervous, but that didn’t mean she should be an asshole in return. As Ai walked through the sliding doors, she wandered over to the coolers, looking for a drink.

“You buying something?” Gojo asked as he peered down at the drinks with her.

“...Thinking about it. You?” Ai mumbled as she continued to look over her options.

“I already paid.”

Ai glanced over at him, and he had a bag already in hand. She was unsure if Gojo was inhumanly fast like the character he played or if she was just so lost in thought that it dulled all her other senses. Not wanting to waste any more time, she grabbed a Calpico and went to the self-checkout. It wasn’t necessarily what she had in mind when she went to pick a drink, but the almost too sweet flavor was something she felt she needed.

They walked outside the store together quietly. Although it was late, people were still walking through the streets of the city.

“Aren’t you tired of doing interviews?” Ai asked as she unscrewed the cap of her drink and took a sip.

Gojo chuckled. “This is nothing.” He unwrapped a melon pan and took a bite, chewing it thoughtfully before continuing. “It’s boring, but I try to have fun with it, keeps it interesting.”

Ai nodded, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. Despite his casual demeanor, she could hear the tiredness in his voice. “You make it look really easy.”

Gojo flashed Ai a relaxed grin. “That’s the idea, gotta keep everyone entertained.”

They continued walking in silence, the soft glow of the streetlights illuminating the sidewalk. Ai found herself relaxing a bit, the tension from earlier slowly melting away.

“Can I ask you something personal?” Ai asked after a few moments, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Unfortunately, yes, I am still single,” Gojo joked and gave Ai an exaggerated sad look.

Ai rolled her eyes. “I’m being serious.”

“Sure,” Gojo smiled, his tone inviting.

“...Earlier, you mentioned that your life would have been different if you hadn’t met Toji.” Ai paused as she tried to think of how to phrase her words. “Do you ever wonder what life would be like?”

“Off the record?” Gojo asked.

Ai nodded. “Yeah, off the record.”

Gojo slowed his pace, his expression unreadable as he thought. “...I can’t–I don’t want to think of a world where I didn’t take Megumi and his sister in.” He looked over to Ai, his eyes containing a depth of emotion that she couldn’t comprehend. “I don’t regret how things turned out. If I could go back, I’d do the same thing again each time.”

Ai wasn’t sure how to feel when it came to Gojo’s sincerity. It wasn’t often that he showed this side of himself. She thought carefully about what to say next; she didn’t want him to close himself off again.

“Megumi and his sister mean a lot to you…” Ai said softly.

Gojo nodded, his gaze distant as if he was going back in time. “Everyone thought it was a stupid idea.” He gave Ai a wistful smile. “I hadn’t even finished high school yet when I took them in, but I couldn’t just let them be separated, not after everything that happened.” He explained as he started to walk again. “I think they’ve given my life a greater purpose.”

Ai walked silently with Gojo as she absorbed his words. She felt a newfound respect for Gojo, not just as an actor, but as a person.

“Thank you for sharing with me,” Ai said softly, her voice genuine. “It won’t be in the article, but it helps me understand you better.”

Gojo chuckled. “You’re a good listener, Ai-chan.”

“Thanks, I try,” Ai laughed, feeling the tension in the air lift.

As they continued to walk, Ai couldn’t help but feel that their conversation had given her a deeper insight into Gojo. If he wasn’t walking with her right now, Ai would shout in celebration. It was moments like this that reminded her of why she loved her job–she had finally caught a glimpse of Gojo Satoru. The real Gojo Satoru.

By the time they reached the train station, Ai was beaming with pride. She didn’t care how late it was, she was going to call her mom when she got home. She needed to share her accomplishments with someone.

“Thanks for the walk,” Gojo said as they approached the station entrance. He put his hands in his pockets and gave Ai a more reserved smile than usual.

Ai nodded a small smile on her lips. “Anytime.”

As Ai turned away from Gojo to walk into the station, he called out to her. Ai looked over her shoulder at him.

“Don’t go writing any sappy stories about me, okay?” Gojo said with his usual playfulness. “I have an image to maintain.”

Ai laughed. “No promises. Take care, Gojo.”

“One more thing!” Gojo called out to her.

When Ai looked over her shoulder once more, a small box was tossed in her direction. Instinctively, she reached her hands out to catch it. Once it was firmly in her hands, she looked down at the small rectangular box. It was Chocorooms. She couldn’t help but giggle as she looked down at the box.

“Since I ate them last time.”

Ai glanced up at Gojo and nodded, doing her best to hide the smile taking over her face. “Thanks…”

With a final goodbye, she turned her back to him as she hurried onto the train. A sense of satisfaction washed over her. There was still so much to learn about Gojo, but she felt like she was finally going to be able to write an article about him that did him some justice.

[spoopydooblr]

The Ken and Stella pregnancy blurb was so good could you write one where they find out that she’s pregnant?

ive been thinking about this scenario a lot and i cant really decide how i want this to go . . .

i think a year or so after they get married (stella is like 30ish) they start to really do their research and find the best fertility clinic in the city. its been almost 20 years since kendall and rava struggled to get pregnant, but still, he's not feeling optimistic.

stella gets a clean bill of health from the doctor, but ken isn't so lucky. just as he suspected, he was the problem. again.

was it the drugs? he was clean now, but he used so much...could he have ruined his chances forever?

stella assures him that it'll be okay, but she never went through what he had to 20 years ago.

they decide on a couple of treatments. they're both taking shots every day and pills at night and its exhausting. most of the meds go to kendall, but stella has to take some too, just in case.

they begin with intrauterine insemination, which is pretty simple and painless, but stella gets her period two weeks later. its hard on both of them, but especially kendall because he knows it's him, not her.

next they try ivf, which is a lot more complicated and expensive (not that money is an issue). now they both have to do injections and stella goes in for her egg retrieval.

the egg retrieval goes better than expected and they're left with 10. ken's sample has some relatively viable sperm so they pull the trigger and try to make some embryos.

the waiting is by-far the worst part, because deep down kendall knows there's no way those embryos are going to get made with his shitty sperm. he's right, unfortunately, and they're back to square one with zero embryos and ten now-frozen eggs.

kendall suggests a donor, like they did with iverson. stella's heartbroken, but they start to look into other options.

because they have the best doctors, however, they get into a trial for a new drug that increases sperm count and viability. stella is thrilled and insists kendall try it, but it's another injection and he's not super happy about it. nothing has ever worked for him, why now?

it's nice to have a break from more intense treatments, so they agree and kendall marks his torso up with injection pricks again.

three months later, ken and stella are enjoying some time off from surgery and tiny, microscopic cells that control their lives. kendall's in new york for the week, working on some financials for their production company (i imagine them making something rival to waystar and completely taking over the media scene), and stella is holding it down in los angeles, or at least trying to.

it's flu season and she's been to so many fancy parties in the last few weeks, stella is sick as a dog. she's a little worried, but the nausea, vomiting and headaches are typical for the flu, right?

she also chalks her late period up to stress. but it's been at least a few weeks...

the day before kendall is supposed to come home, stella drives herself to the hospital after she can't stop throwing up.

"when did the symptoms start?" the doctor asks.

"a week ago, i think, but ive been feeling kind of off for a while."

"and there's no chance you're pregnant? when was your last period?"

stella's heart skips a beat.

"um, i'm not sure. we're trying, uh, but it's been unsuccessful. my period is really irregular and i've been stressed so--" she trails off. "we've been trying for a couple of years."

"and are you taking medication?"

"i did, but it's not really..." she thinks for a bit. "it's not a uterus issue, it's my husband."

"and what is he taking?"

she tells the doctor about the new medication kendall is taking. "it's only been three months, so we're still hopeful. or at least i am."

"i've heard some great things about that new drug. it's really changing people's lives." the doctor smiles, turning away from stella and writing something down. "i'm going to order some tests, but i think you're fine."

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

kendall, obviously, sprints to his jet when stella tells him she's sick. she insists she's fine, but wants him to come home as soon as he can, which stresses him out to no avail.

he bursts through the door four hours later, finding stella reading a magazine on the couch.

"stell!" he says, running towards her.

"hey baby." she hugs him, bringing him down to the couch with her. stella presses her lips to his, but kendall is confused.

"aren't you sick?" he pulls away.

her face breaks into a huge smile. "about that..." stella gets up from the couch and walks to the kitchen.

kendall looks at her quizzically, as she comes back with a piece of paper in her hands.

"i have something to show you." she says, holding the paper close to her.

"okay..." kendall smiles at her, utterly confused.

stella carefully sits next to him on the couch. "here."

kendall recognizes the picture immediately. he used to frame them when rava was pregnant with iverson.

"what is this?" he holds up the ultrasound. it's too good to be true, right? tears prick his eyes.

stella is crying already, and takes his hand. "that's inside of me."

he looks down at the black and white photo again. a fuzzy, bean-looking object sits, next to another, smaller object. he's speechless for the first time in his life.

"what is that?" he whispers, pointing to the smaller object on the page.

stella looks at him, and he really can't read her for once.

"this surprise comes with another surprise." she laughs.

kendall's crying, but he takes another look. "is that..."

"yeah."

"two?" he smiles wide.

"i'm pregnant." she finally says, putting her hands on his cheeks. "baby, we're having twins."

they both burst out into crying giggles, hugging. kendall kisses her all over, stopping at her stomach. it's still pretty flat, but he knows her body so well he swears he can see a tiny bump growing.

THIS WAS SO FUN AND LOVELY TO WRITE I LOVE THEM AND I HOPE U DO TOO

[bi-bats]

hello!! i was just wondering, since the damitim fic is ongoing, does this mean know yourself updates are slowed/paused? (not a complaint i’m loving both!!)

Hiya!! Sorry that I never give easy answers 😂

So yes, Know Yourself updates are slower (not paused or on hiatus!! I am working on it still), but it's not because of the DamiTim fic.

I've been writing Know Yourself for over a year now (even though I haven't been posting it that long) and I'm just struggling with getting the words on the page to be what I want them to be. The plot is sorted out and I'm content with what I'm going to make happen, but also when I think about the fic my brain starts to feel the way my eyes do when I stare at a screen too long 😂 so I'm trying to be patient with myself and let myself take my time with it instead of pushing something out that I'm really not happy with, because 1) I think it'll show, 2) I'll just burn myself out, and 3) if I treat it like a chore it'll never get finished.

Also I've realized (post-jaytimweek) that I prefer writing in present tense, it makes everything feel more natural to me and I can control some writing things like timing and flow a little better and I WROTE OVER 100K WORDS IN PAST TENSE FOR THAT FIC AND I'M NOT FUCKING SWITCHING NOW!!!! SO I GUESS I GOTTA FINISH IT IN PAST TENSE!!!!

And also we're at the point in the plot of Know Yourself where I'm really stepping on the gas on the number of things happening per chapter, and the chapters are overwhelmingly long. And I would love to simply be more brief, but everything happening is relevant to the plot, so. Sigh.

Now, the DamiTim fic.

That one is just going up because that fic is happening to me. I can't prevent that fic from occurring. I would love to think about something else, actually! That boy is so unwell! But that's what I'm feeling inspired about and lately I've only been able to write when something worms into my brain and I have to put it on the page immediately no matter where I am or what I'm doing (I have a newish manager who doesn't know how to write a schedule, so I'm currently on day 7 of a ten day stretch of work where I only had one day off, which I had to spend doing all my chores and then hosting D&D. So basically, gone are the days off where I could just sit at my computer and write for a day 😭😭😭).

Also, Ive been having problems with Know Yourself since May, but the DamiTim fic is just fucking pouring out of me fugue state style. My brain hasn't latched onto DamiTim and released Know Yourself in favor of it, it's that the claws of Know Yourself began to unsink from my flesh like, 2 months ago and DamiTim saw its chance. Like, this isn't about to be a cute analogy, but I feel like I'm vomiting out the DamiTim fic because it's a virus. It can't be in my brain anymore okay? I need it out. And it feels like a shame to have like, almost 40k words of it written and just sitting in my drafts when I could be updating it (which I'm sure you appreciate if you're loving that one too 😂), and it has the added benefit of yall knowing I haven't abandoned the fandom/preventing yall from thinking that something horrible has happened to me!

Tldr/to reiterate: yes I'm slowing down on Know Yourself, but it's not because of any of the other chaptered fics I'm working on.

Anyways, sorry this got long and ranty, I think I needed to vent all this out anyways so thank you for giving me a chance to do that!! And also thank you for phrasing your ask the way you did, I really appreciate you specifying that you're not complaining 😂 this is a valid question (that did not upset me but could've if the phrasing was different) and I didn't feel pressured so thank you!!! Ily anon 💕💖💚

[spiteless-xo]

Im so sorry this ramble is so long but here u go🙁

The absolute terror that came over me when i saw the email notification for the new chapter😭😭😭ok before i read im gonna put my final insights here,, ive literally been scrambling around my house procrastinating reading it bc im TERRIFIED and honestly im so sad its ending,, ive been reading since like february??? I think???Idk atp but i cannot express how much ive loved this story i wish it couldve just continued forever🥲🥲

Ok my predictions are that this will not be a one way path ik tiff is evil and likes to fuck w our feelings😞 i think smt twisted like reader picking eren but eren not picking reader could happen BC HE REALISED HIS SELF WORTH MAYBE😭😭but im not intricate enough to actually use that to decide but i honestly am at a loss i have no clue,, its an honest gamble but i do think eren is endgame??? Help i have no clue😭 but i do remember someone analysing the smells? Vanilla is more home and comfort so like a foundation? And citrus was for summer and things but i was thinking how summer is a temporary thing where people live out crazy activities for the sake of it but the whole thing abt it is that its temporary like we always have to go back HOME to our foundation aka vanilla aka eren????

Thing is ive been eren for endgame since DAYY ONEE i only almost switched up once during the arc with erens confession (idky😞) but other than that ive stayed loyal LMAO idk if im just being delusional tho convincing myself I think she'll end up with eren but

ALSO my other point right

I wanna take this back to tiff bc she IS the author😋 from what ive seen in her tumblr,, a lot of the reader owns resemblance to tiff?? She's mentioned a lot how the readers job is based off her irl experience in an office and some of the readers habits shes claimed to have herself i remember she was saying how people bashing the reader made her think like 'wait thats kind of me tho’ i remember it too vaguely to quote but ANYWAY off the basis that the reader is in some aspects (not all) a projection in some ways?? Its gonna influence,, we ALL know tiff is a strong jean girl😭 we love that and so u'd think jean would be picked BUT in between chapters i saw a few tumblr posts abt her growing liking for eren? I wont deny that she is DEFINITELY still a jean girl but i think for some form of variation in her work bc i think as far as i know she only has one other eren story on her ao3 and so i think her growing crush ok eren may be enough to win her over for just this fic even if jean remains her favourite?? I have like ten million other theories but i need to read the chapter now i will be back😋😋 (im so scared im shitting my pants)

-

Im back!! its been like 6 days since i read it but i just didnt have time to write out my reaction after bc i was so fucking immersed i lost track of time and was late to meet up w my friends💀💀💀anyway it was such rollercoaster omd😭 the letters from jean we’re honestly so cute and i think the year time skip made everything all the more realistic in her choice bc she frl needed that break😭 OMD AND THE WAY I WAS PANICKING when that girl came out the elevator istg i thought it was mikasa,, with all generic eren fanfics if theres ever a third party to make the reader jealous theres some unspoken rule to never use mikasa for some reason and i was dying thinking it was gonna be her😭😭 commonly people use historia so when even a mention of eren having a new gf came up my mind shot to historia i swear i was worrying just as much as the reader💀 anyway back to jeans letters i was honestly like getting a bit swayed that i wouldnt even be upset if reader ended up w jean and especially considering how offstandish eren was when reader went to see him at first he was like not following up on anything like he was rushing to see his stupid gf (it was armin🎉🎉🥳) AND THE READER WAS SO CUTE FOR THAT GUNDAM (tysm tiff its such a silly headcanon that eren collects those and builds them i can see it HELP) and i think it was so cute seeing the reader and sasha as bsfs more bc i think there was long periods of time that that relationship w sasha wasnt as strongly shown so its so nice AND OMGOGMOGM LEVI????? U made the dynamic w them so well how he has that small bit of warmth telling her she can work there whenever she needs its the cutest thing ever i love it more than ever and the way levi talks abt petra UGH u made everything so endearing, and istg the reader has never been real until this chapter bc she is so right saying that a bunch of paper doesnt change him bc I KNEW AS SOON AS HE SAID HE NEVER LEFT TITAN AND BECAME BASICALLY HIS DAD that he was not gonna be endgame,, i always had the theory that titan and the kirstein status is a metaphor for the status jean has from the reader bc shes loved him for so long thinking hes someone that hes really not,, jean was painfully aware how he could make any mistake at work and have no punishment similarly to how even if he hurts the reader she will always forgive him so if he couldnt avoid reaping the benefits of his kirstein status then it means he’d continue to take advantage of the reader but thing is this status dissolved when she took that year away from him which is why I appreciate how realistic it all is logic wise,, Eren evidently changed and omg i wanna know abt the pictures on his wall bc when reader was first there there was mention how there were no family pictures or any sign of him really living there but when she came back there were pictures,, i was trying to figure out the meaning but i cant get my finger on it😭 my guess is that he found more purpose in life?? Idk bc that seems so vague and farfetched i was wondering what ur intentions were with that🙆‍♀️ and i had a theory AGES AGO that piecks ‘bad bf’ before jean or smt was zeke?? Bc knowing how zeke was in that gc and stuff like that it sounded like smt was gonna link together? I just think the added details abt piecks past was left unfinished so i was also wondering abt that😋 anyway ugh the ending was also so cute usually i hate when characters dance in fanfics but it was so cute and fitting for the moment like THEM AT THE POINT omg i loved it i love u thank you SO MUCH tiff for an amazing story i hope u have a good day bb❤️❤️❤️

omg thank you for a such a lovely message 🥰💗🥰💗 i’ll hide my response under a cut here because it’s long

reading since february!! omg that’s like the beginning! i think i dropped the first chapter on valentine’s day

“tiff is evil and likes to fuck with our feelings” 💀💀💀 yes.

ugh the smells!!!!! that was my biggest slip up frfr 🙈 i said way too much when i responded to that ask because i was so excited someone asked!! and you guys were all right of course. eren was home and jean was just temporary (like the summer season)

lmao ok literally. i was still a hardcore jean girlie when i started writing tbaw and even after i decided it was gonna end w eren. so throughout writing tbaw….. i literally fell in love w eren jaeger 🙈 and i almost fell out of love w jean!!! tbaw!jean is so awful he almost ruined jean completely for me

hehehe yes yes you’re 100% right w jean. he’s so used to taking advantage and never getting punished (w reader and titan) that he doesn’t really see a point in changing because tbh his life is pretty good?? but then when reader spent time away from him, her blind infatuation w him wore off and then when he tried to pull that same shit again, she’s like nah bro.

ok this is probably not clear at all, but the deal w eren’s apartment is that in the beginning it’s very sanitized and show-homey because he feels distant and detached from his friends/family after the death of his mom and becoming close w zeke. he’s like internally ashamed of the way he’s acting because he knows he’s in the wrong so he’s almost punishing himself by distancing himself from everyone.

and then after a year when he’s changed and the pictures are on the wall, its because hes worked his way out of that hole of self loathing and is happy with the person he is now. so he’s able to feel more comfortable, even in the privacy of his own home, and having his mom “watch over him” in a sense, and cherishing his previous relationship w jean and his ongoing friendship w armin, etc etc.

yes!! pieck’s bad bf was zeke! i was originally going to have her have a bigger role in tbaw to show like how eren’s past behaviour can affect people, since she was a victim of that treatment when she dated zeke. but i scrapped it because it would’ve extended the story so much and also i didn’t really like writing pieck lol

so there are like lil bits and pieces about the pieck/zeke relationship and how the way he treated her makes her seek validation in men, but it’s super underdeveloped in tbaw.

thank you again for such a lovely comment!! i’m glad you enjoyed it 🥰💗

[destinygoldenstar]

Total Drama Danganronpa Island Chapter 4 Deadly Life Spoilers:

Tw: I talk about suicide and cancel culture in the story

I myself have never experienced having suicidal thoughts. The only time I can recall where I came close was getting braces. Yeah. So you can imagine the research I had to do, especially since in this very fic, I’ve been pretty dismissive of mental illnesses and disorders. That I apologize for and hope I can do better.

This was something I felt more than anything, I CANNOT dismiss this, nor can I sugarcoat it. I have to be as respectful to it as possible, and actively discourage the idea. Never know if there’s a crippled person out there that sees your work and takes it to heart. (That’s a nightmare for me. To have something I made be responsible for someone’s death)

I have a romantic partner with chronic illnesses for almost ten years now, and still no cure. Multiple times, they’ve shared to me their suicidal thoughts, thoughts that made me scared of losing them. They’re still alive, and they say over and over again it’s because of me.

I’m someone who has a hard time talking coherently. That’s why my social media presence is mostly text. So Bridgette’s speech here, I personally see it as me talking to the people struggling to find something to live for and never give up even where there’s literally no hope left. There’s always something, even when you don’t see it at the moment. Someone to love, someone who loves you, a book you like, a show you like, nice walks, whatever. There’s something. You can’t experience those good things if you’re dead.

There’s also some cancel culture commentary here. Everyone’s a part of it whether we consciously know it or not. It’s really sad.

I cant count how many times Ive said something whether in real life or online and I become self-conscious whenever someone has a certain response. One wrong word and a whole group of people can hate you. That’s all it takes.

In the realm of fame, either you’re a role model or you’re a disgrace. Nothing in between.

Total Drama isn’t any different from this subject matter with Gwen in particular. Something I feel a lot if people overlook.

There are some cases where it’s lies and the person is innocent, you may find a few examples of such, and that's just heartbreaking.

But what happens when you ACTUALLY screw up? Make a mistake? Make a fool out of yourself? Like humans do? (I.e, Gwen) Cancel Culture tells you you’re therefore an awful person with no redeeming qualities, and that one mistake suddenly becomes your whole life. It’s heartbreaking especially when the cancelled person WANTS to own up and be better, but the people just don’t have it.

Then there's the other side of cancel culture, which many famous people, such as Chris, use to defend TRULY terrible people and say the world is in the wrong.

Either way, Gwen was treated like dirt and sent to suffer for an old mistake, for so long until she lost hope altogether and bailed on fighting. The others could've helped her, but only Duncan took the time to consider helping, and he tried to commit suicide... so what other influence was there for Gwen in a world where she really needed a friend?

Does this mean the other campers are entirely to blame? No. But there is a lesson for them to learn here about empathy and redemption as a concept. Them hating her is understandable if you the audience want to see it as understandable reasons to hate Gwen, but did they go about it the right way? No.

Gwen Ellis is nothing short of a tragedy and a cautionary tale of a minor being a victim of cancel culture.

And the surviving campers want to make sure that her fate never happens to anybody else ever again.

And in case you’re wondering why Bridgette is the one who gave the eulogy, when Duncan and Courtney were right there, 1) Neither were very mentally stable at the time 2) Bridgette is one of the hosts with who WAS Geoff (And is now Leshawna. Platonically.), so she has the experience to give speeches like this in front of people. That and she has the calm agency to be mature about the situation, especially how she, more than anyone, feels like she HAS to own up to her mistake of being a part of the fuel that lead to the death of this girl.

And she didn't have to do that, and no one would blame her. Gwen killed Geoff, forced to or not, and Bridgette was understandably upset and could still hold that grudge even after Gwen's death, and no one would blame her. But the fact that she took ownership after realizing what's happened says a lot about her as a person.

[qumiiiquinnquin]

its almost going to be 10 years since i was sa’ed. and im still trying to find a justification for it and trying to figure out who really was to blame.

did i ask for it? i remember being a bit daring because i thought he was bluffing. but it happened. and i remember a lot of it vividly. some of it feels like the blurriness of a dream.

im still trying to understand. but im only understanding nothing. he insulted every other girl in that cul-de-sac. he insulted my sibling and called them ugly. he made dirty jokes a lot. but he called me beautiful. and on the day , he made a bet with me. if i performed the act he requested , he would give me candy or money. i dont remember which it was. during the incident , he still called me beautiful , and called me baby.

sa is a criminal act. you can go to jail for it. but he was 12 or 13. i do not know if a kid so young who did it to a 10 year old girl would have gotten in trouble. i had no proof myself to present to anyone. and i laughed off a friend at the time who told me i need to talk to someone.

ive said his name , but it may have come off as like a name of endearment. especially regarding my comments of how i cant exactly let him go , even though i have an indescribable hatred of him. his name was angel. i hate that i still remember that , even after all these years.

the incident has only left me thinking for the past year or so to just give my body up for others pleasures. i think that's all im worth. ive been gr00med as well , by adults online. and i will not be surprised when i get four letter r worded one day. im expecting it.

i cant let myself fall in love because im afraid to encounter someone like him again. i want to be loved , not used.

it feels so paralyzing. each time i think about it my freeze response is triggered. each time i want to say something about it , it feels like i lose my ability to speak or type. the flashbacks have been terrifying. i cant escape it. the memories lead to shaking and feeling very hot and embarrassed , and his touch comes back. there's no possible way to distract myself anymore from the memories and flashbacks. i got up to get cantaloupe not long after thoughts came on tonight to just eat and forget about the incident , but it does not taste like much now. and its not blocking out the taste of the french kiss you forced upon me 8 years ago , as well as biting my tongue. even though he did not...have i word with me nor did he four letter r word me , if i did not escape i know it would have happened. and i beat myself up relentlessly lately for escaping. i tell myself i should have stayed and made him happy. after all , i agreed. though i did not really know what he meant. and i thought it was a joke. until he had taken my hand and led me to the small foresty area of the cul-de-sac , and your friend tagged along. he watched as everything happened. i remember very vividly that you and him were making jokes and laughing at my under clothes , and you stopped and started being sweet with me and calling me affectionate names when you saw i almost burst into tears.

and you got off somewhat free. i havent told too many people at all. the first time i said it aloud to my psychiatrist , my voice shook so bad that you would think i was about to start sobbing. even though i laughed it off like usual. and even though what you did was a crime , there'd be no way for me to report you now. all that happened to my knowledge was that one kid’s mom thought you had done it to her daughter , not me

since it will be the tenth anniversary in two years , i may make a cake with something like “congrats! you survived ten years :)” written on it in frosting. i dont recall the exact day or even month that it happened. or time of year either. so i think ill just celebrate myself in late november of 2026.

i wish i could go back to the 5-year period of my life where i had completely forgotten about what you had done to me, Angel.

[notebooknonbinary]

Chapter One of All the Time in the World is finally posted!

(this is the fic i've been talking and talking about writing for like two months. Finally posting the first chapter... orz )

Summary: Mike and Will navigate life after the Upside Down. The first year, trying to figure out their new normal. Hospital visits, Sophomore year, dating, therapy. Through it all, they have each other.

Edit 12/4: Chapter 1 Under the Cut for my non-Ao3 folks

The drive to the hospital is conducted in shell-shocked silence. Will and El are both passed out from power-overuse, heads on both of Mike’s shoulders. In the front, Hopper is driving just above the speeding limit, one hand on the wheel, the other tangled with Joyce’s. Mike’s keeping his own in a tight clasp on Will’s limp hand, jiggling his good leg, and trying to breathe through his anxiety.

It’s hard to accept that everything is really over. Mike’s spent the last four years of his life practically stuck in fight-or-flight. The idea that they’ll never have to fight Demogorgans or Vecna, or any real monster ever again, almost makes him nervous. And it’s worse , that the general public doesn’t even remember anything apoplectic happening past the “Earthquake” and its “aftershocks”—he’s worried that the dissonance will make it hard to know what’s even real anymore.

The anxiety is winning.

The doctors try to put him and Will in separate hospital rooms, and Mike has a full-blown panic attack. It’s far from the first panic attack he’s had in the past four years, but it’s the first one where he can’t just slip away and suffer in silence. Instead, he’s fully unable to help himself from melting down. He can practically hear his dad at the back of his mind, berating him for crying; but Mike couldn’t give less of a shit about his dad right now. The patriarchal garbage that he spouts isn’t important, especially compared to Will’s safety.

He’s so terrified that everything is, in fact, not over—that if they’re separated, Vecna will rise from the ashes a third time to kidnap Will again. And Mike can’t take that. Never again.

It’s an irrational fear, he knows it is.

But rationality has never seemed to matter in his brain when it comes to Will.

So, in the end, they are roomed together, where Mike is free to look over every twenty ten five seconds to make sure that the other half of his soul is still there.

It sounds cheesy even thinking of it like that, but it’s true.

The path that led Will to Mike in the Upside Down, the way they’ve both known that the other is alive since then—the safety that they both feel by simply being near each other. Their hearts are intertwined. Maybe they always have been. It should be scary, that thought. It should make him want to create some distance. Instead, it just feels comforting. Safe. Especially since he knows it’s a bond he and Will chose.

“Staring at him won’t make him wake up faster,” a voice teases softly.

If it were anyone else, Mike would guiltily jerk his eyes away from Will. But El’s been aware of Mike’s crush on him for months. He just smiles, slowly looking over at her. She is leaning against an IV poll, and he’s got a sneaking suspicion she’s not supposed to be out of bed yet. He’s not a snitch, though. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. My head hurts.”

“Yeah, I bet.” He’s not the least bit surprised. She’s probably refusing extra pain medicine. He knows she’s not the biggest fan of hospitals, not that he can blame her—he’s honestly a little surprised she hasn’t had Joyce check her out early.

“Are you in a lot of pain?”

Mike shrugs. “I can’t feel it. They’ve got me on the good drugs.”

His neck is still bruised from the two separate times Vecna choked him, mottled purples and reds on top of greens and yellows, and a throat that clicks painfully whenever he swallows. On top of that, a Demadog shredded and snapped his shin like a twig. The doctors had to bolt his bone back together. If he’d ever wanted to go into sports (not fucking likely) that dream is pretty much done now.

Still, he’s far better off compared to Will and El. On top of all their other injuries, they’d both lost so much blood that Mike had been legitimately terrified that they would bleed out or get brain damage. El, her body being far more used to it, woke up first a few hours ago—woozy but brain intact. Will’s still unconscious, but the doctors think he’ll wake up soon. Mike just wishes soon meant now.

“He’ll be okay,” El says. She stumbles over to sit on the chair by Mike’s bed. “We all will be okay.”

If it came from anyone other than El, Mike wouldn’t believe them. But he knows she’s not the type for platitudes. “I know.”

They sit in silence for a moment. It’s the good, companionable kind of silence. He’d worried, after they broke up last April, that he’d lose her as a friend. He’s glad it’s only improved their friendship.

“How’s Max?” Mike ventures, knowing if El’s making escapes to visit other patients, Max would be her first priority.

El frowns, but there’s a hopeful spark in her eyes—one that’s been gone since they learned about Max last year. “The doctors say that she’s had increased brain activity. She might wake up soon.”

More promises of soon . Mike doesn’t fully trust soon. It’s like a parent telling their kids maybe —if something falls through, and that maybe turns into a never, it’s not their fault, they never actually said yes, Michael.

But Mike keeps this thought to himself.

He gets a steady stream of visitors after El leaves (read: is politely escorted back to her room). The first ones being Mom and Holly. It’s such a relief to see them that Mike almost cries again. Nancy, he knows, is elsewhere in the hospital, dealing with a broken hand and a concussion. He has no idea where his dad is (probably home), and, frankly, he doesn’t care.

“Mikey, you’re okay!” Holly almost lunges onto his bed—something she’s done hundreds of times at home. At home, however, he doesn’t have a bunch of wires and IVs attached to him. Thankfully, Mom manages to scoop her up in time to stop her.

“Hey, kid!” Mike holds out his arms for her to pass Holly to him, which she does after a moment’s hesitation. Holly immediately cuddles up to him, sticking her head under his chin. He presses a kiss to her hair.

“Mommy said you got hurt.”

“Yeah, I hurt my leg pretty bad, Munchkin.”

“In the Earthquake?”

Mike meets Mom’s eyes over Holly’s head. They and Nancy have already agreed that she’s too young right now to know about the Upside Down. Mom shrugs helplessly.

“The Earthquake scared a mean dog,” he compromises. “And it bit me. But, I’ll be okay soon. And, in the meantime, you and Will can decorate my cast so it looks awesome, yeah?”

Holly’s quiet for a long moment. Finally she says, “Yeah, okay. And I can draw whatever I want on it?”

Mike grins. “Sure, just make sure you leave room for everyone else, kay?”

“Okay. I hope your leg gets better soon. Daddy isn’t good at telling me stories like you.” Holly leans up to press a kiss to Mike’s forehead, and he feels a rush of affection. He hugs her tighter.

“Thanks Hol’s, that’ll speed along the healing process. I already feel a bit better.”

Holly’s the only family member Mike’s never resented. That probably says something mean about him, but the fact remains—Holly’s his favorite. And he’s missed getting to hang out with her. So he’s perfectly happy to listen to her talk about the playdate she’s having tomorrow, and how she’s been helping Mom volunteer at the crisis center by handing out juice boxes.

Unfortunately, he’s still in pain and on drugs, so he gets worn out very quickly. Mike falls asleep cuddling with his baby sister. He has no dreams, thankfully, only the soft warmth of knowing he’s safe. When he wakes up, she and Mom are gone.

Steve’s passed out in the chair by his bed, head tilted back and snoring like a chainsaw. Mike grins. Swapped one parent out for another, he thinks wryly. Even after all these years, he and Steve’s relationship is still a little contemptuous. They’ve never really grown out of the reluctant acquaintances stage they had when Steve and Nancy were together. It’s actually the relationship that Mike and Max pretend to have: ‘You and I will never see eye-to-eye, but we have several mutual important people, so I can’t entirely dislike you.’

Still, it’s nice to see that Steve cares enough to visit. Even if, judging by how dark it is outside, he’s likely picked this time because Mike is supposed to be asleep. He’ll allow this plausible deniability for now, Mike decides. And he turns over and goes back to sleep.

-

He sees Joyce and Jonathan at least once a day—usually more. He knows it’s more to check on Will, but they always spend some time talking with him too. He appreciates it.

At this moment, however, Joyce is with El. She’s getting checked out soon. Earlier than the doctors wanted her to, but later than Mike thought she would.

Jonathan is sitting by Will's bed, smoothing his hair back. It reminds Mike of first seeing Will after Hopper and Joyce rescued him from the Upside Down—still unconscious, and Jonathan refusing to leave his baby brother’s side.

“You were the blueprint,” Mike blurts without meaning to.

Jonathan jolts. “Huh?”

Mike flushes. “When. When we were little, I always saw how good you took care of Will. So. When Holly was born, I asked myself what kind of big brother I wanted to be, and…” He shrugs. “I wanted Holly to feel as safe around me as Will feels around you.”

Jonathan doesn’t speak for a long time, only studies Mike in a way that makes him feel like he’s under a microscope. Finally he smiles, soft and fond. “Thank you, Mike. That means a lot.” He looks back down at Will. “He needed safety and stability, I couldn’t do anything less. He's my little brother. I love him.”

“It’s easy to love him,” Mike murmurs, mouth moving without his permission. He resists the urge to hide under his covers, as Jonathan immediately jerks his head back up in surprise.

The microscope look is back. Mouth firm, he says, “He deserves love. Unless that love hurts him again.”

Shit. Jonathan is far too observant. “I think anyone who loves Will would kick their own ass before hurting him again.”

Jonathan smiles and nods, getting to his feet, like the matter is settled—even though Mike only half-understands what conversation they just had. “I’m gonna go check on El and my mom. Feel better Mike.”

When he’s gone, Mike turns to look at Will’s still sleeping face. “Please wake up soon—having all these weird chats on my own is driving me nuts.”

But Will remains unconscious, even as Mike receives more visits.

El and Lucas switch off giving him updates about Max—they don’t want her to be alone when she wakes, so once El’s released, one of them stays in the room with her at all times. Mike doesn’t think this is particularly healthy of them, but he can’t say he’d be any better if it were Will in a year long coma.

Thinking about how he’d been when Will was possessed, it’s safe to say he’d probably be worse.

“She’s been twitching a lot lately,” Lucas reports brightly. He’s downing his third cup of coffee, and his hands are jittery from the caffeine and, likely, lack of sleep. There are bags under his eyes. “Especially when we talk to her.”

While Mike’s glad to hear that, he’s seriously getting worried about Lucas. “She’s gonna kick your ass when she wakes up and learns how run down you are. You need to take better care of yourself, Lucas.” When they’d still been fighting Vecna, Lucas had been able to put some of this nervous energy into that fight. Now that Max’s (and Will’s) condition is the only big thing to worry about, the stress is getting to him.

Lucas doesn’t take offense to Mike’s worry—he’s entirely too self aware, so he clearly knows and doesn’t care. He shrugs. “I look forward to it.”

Mike can only hope that Max convinces Lucas to practice a little bit of self-care once she wakes up.

Some time after Lucas leaves, Mike’s visited by Nancy. She’s checked herself out by now, a cast on her wrist and a To-Do list as long as she is tall. She brings him news, and, joy of all joys, a burger . He’s so sick of hospital food.

“Have I mentioned lately how awesome you are?” he asks rhetorically, immediately digging into the food. Grease, Mike’s in heaven. He doesn’t even give a fuck that it hurts slightly to swallow it.

Nancy smirks. “You could stand to mention it more.”

After he’s inhaled half the burger, Mike speaks again. “So, what’s up?”

“I can’t just visit my favorite little brother?”

“I’m your only brother, Nance.”

Nancy lowers her voice, “Owens is going to get us all sorted, alibi-wise.”

Ah. It hasn’t occurred to Mike to worry about that. It’s kind of callous, but, as far as Mike’s aware, the Army people that were after El (and, later, Will) either came around to their side or died in the fight against Vecna. But, assumedly, the Army people talked to other Army people outside of Hawkins.

(There’s also the fact that some of the town still blames the Hellfire Club for Vecna’s murders.)

“So what’s the plan?” Mike wonders, around a mouthful of burger.

She sighs, sitting at the chair by his bed. “I don’t really know all the details yet—he’s going to keep Joyce and Hopper updated. But, officially, there’s been evidence found linking Jason to the murders.”

Found, in this case, obviously meaning planted.

The hamburger turns to ash in Mike’s mouth.

As much as he hates Jason, and all he did—and is secretly a little glad he’s dead—the idea of planted evidence leaves a sour taste in Mike’s mouth. It reminds him too much of recently refreshed memories; of ‘evidence’ planted at the quarry.

But this is a best case scenario in this situation, so Mike’s going to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he shifts the subject. “How’s Eddie doing?”

“Better. He says he’s glad to have a heartbeat again. He and Wayne will stay at Steve’s house until the charges get dropped. Technically they’re under house arrest, but their place is still a sinkhole.”

“Which is why they’re at Steve’s?” Mike’s been under the impression that Steve and Eddie don’t exactly get along, but maybe he’s read them wrong.

“Most of the Party is at Steve’s, Mike. His house is big enough. Argyle is staying there until he decides what he’s going to do. Lucas and Erica’s house is still trashed, there’s still a hole in Dustin’s living room. So their parents are there, and they'll be there once they’re out of here. And until Joyce and Hopper settle on a new house (of the few that aren’t in shambles), the Byers and Hopper are staying there too.”

“Wait, what?” Mike blurts, sitting forward. “I thought the Byers were gonna stay with us!”

Nancy gives him a fondly frustrated look. “That’d require telling Dad why , Mike. All the other parents are in the know except him. It’s safer if they’re at Steve’s.”

“I know, but…” Without meaning to, Mike’s eyes flicker to Will’s still form on the other bed.

Nancy’s smile turns soft and a little bit knowing. “Dad’s less likely to notice you’re gone on daily sleepovers than if there are extra people in the house.”

Mike knows she’s speaking from experience—the summer before the Byers had moved to California (the summer of Starcourt), Nancy had spent more time at the Byers’ house than home. Their dad hadn’t noticed. “I guess that’s true,” Mike acquiesces.

“And the both of you are still in the hospital for now anyway—Joyce might have found a house by time you’re both out. Then we’ll be able to see our Byers’ boys whenever we want.” Nancy’s grin is a little too mischievous for Mike’s liking.

He throws the burger wrapper at her, but she catches it. She gets to her feet, still smiling.

“Get better soon, baby brother.” She presses a kiss to his forehead—just as Holly had a few days ago. Then she leaves.

The next couple days pass in what is quickly becoming a routine of doctors, and visits from those of his friends that are awake and mobile. And, still, Will remains asleep. Mike’s been at the hospital for a week and a half. He’s getting anxious that something has gone wrong. But the doctors continue to tell him that Will will wake up soon.

Soon is such a stupid word.

Today's visitor, to distract him from his worry, is Dustin.

Dustin has gotten discharged before Mike—which Mike feels is a little unfair, considering they basically have the same injury. Even if Mike’s is, admittedly, worse. They’re both in casts. The hospital had to rebreak Dustin’s ankle to set it correctly. Dustin’s already used to walking around on a crutch, though, so he’s been teasing Mike about still being bedridden. It eventually turns into them riffing off of each other about their fucked up legs.

“We’re twins, practically,” Dustin laughs. Mike grins.

“Between the two of us, we’ve got a pair of functioning legs.”

“We’d kill it at three legged races.”

It’s not really all that funny, but it makes Mike wheeze out a painful cackle. Dustin looks far too pleased with himself. There’s a low grumble from the other bed that makes them both freeze.

-

“…’S loud,” Will whines, attempting to turn over. The movement jostles at the wires and IV connected to him. He blinks, then winces. His head hurts so bad —as bad as any of the migraines he got after his possession. “Fuck,” he hisses.

“Want me to go get the nurse?” a familiar voice asks.

“Yeah, thanks Dustin.” A beloved voice. Mike.

If he had any energy, Will would cry. He’s so, so happy that Mike is okay. Eyes still closed, he tries to smile in the direction Mike’s voice came from.

A wave of love and relief drifts his way—wrapping around his mind and somehow easing his headache a little bit.

He’s too tired to send anything back, but manages to whisper, “You too,” so that Mike knows he felt it.

Dustin comes back with the nurse, who brings, blessedly, more pain medicine. As soon as the headache begins leaching away, Will passes back out until the next morning.

Mike’s already awake when Will sits up the next morning. He still feels a bit like death warmed over, but the relieved grin Mike sends him helps a little bit.

They can’t talk about all the things they need to talk about—not out in the open like this, with all the medical staff and their family around. And there’s an unspoken agreement between them, that their relationship needs to be something talked about out loud.

It’s enough, for now, to send warm feelings back and forth. Now that they’re not in an emergency situation, they can play around with the lighter parts of their connection. They figure out how to play mental games of tic-tac-toe and hangman, and think about maybe planning a campaign together—before quickly deciding that the idea is a little too raw to deal with right now. Out loud, they talk about (and to) their friends, show off their get-well presents to each other, and act like they have for the last eleven years. Just because they’ve confessed their feelings for each other, doesn’t mean they’re not still best friends.

-

Mike is, inevitably, released well before Will—even with his leg casted up to his thigh for the foreseeable future. He knows that’s partly because of lingering worry over Will’s head, but mostly it’s because the In the Know Scientists and Doctors are intrigued by Will’s naturally developed powers. (Shocker, turns out you don’t actually need to torture kids in a lab! In other news, water is wet.) Still, Mike feels mostly safe leaving Will with them, because Joyce and Hopper (and often El) are in the room whenever they interact. That’s the deal Owens agreed on. (It also helps that Mike will know in an instant if Will ever feels unsafe. They’ve both silently agreed to keep this part of Will’s powers a secret from the doctors.)

That doesn’t mean Mike doesn’t come visit at least once a day.

Even though getting to and from the hospital in a clunky cast and on crutches (occasionally in a wheelchair if he gets too tired) is annoying and exhausting, it’s worth it to see his friends every day—to see Will every day.

But, again, he can't be with Will the whole time. Thankfully he’s not the only one visiting the hospital daily. He ends up spending a lot of time with Lucas, El and (often) Erica in Max’s hospital room.

Even though Lucas has been one of his best friends since second grade, he doesn’t really know Erica all that well. When they were younger, before Erica got involved in the Upside Down business, she was just Lucas’s Little Sister (similarly to how he’s sure many of the others see Holly).

But he was able to talk to her at least a little bit during that one ill-fated Hellfire game—she’s funny and has no issue snapping back at anyone idiot enough to make assumptions based on her age. And she’s damn good at DnD.

He’s gotten to know her better now, what with her being in Max’s hospital room with El and Lucas half the time (that’s enough to know that she’s a good sister too). At this point, he knows that the Party considers her one of them—himself among them. He knows, from the half focused commentary he’s kept up with Will at the back of his head, that Will agrees. Dustin already gave his enthusiastic blessing (is actually pissed to be missing it, but he's gone for the next few days, helping his mom move back into their house).

(He thinks Max will too—once she’s awake. She’s continued to show signs of waking the last few days, so everyone is hopeful that she’ll come out of her coma soon.)

The only person who likely doesn’t know Erica is a part of the Party now is Erica herself.

The four original Party Members had one induction ceremony together—they’d come up with some basic rules and a few secret code words (the codes are long lost to the passage of time), then gotten pizza and played DnD. El never got an official ceremony, though they’d explained some of the rules to her, and then by the time she was around all the time, Mike had felt himself too grown up (cue eye roll) to do something as ‘childish’ as an initiation ceremony. Max—Mike spares a look at her still form—was the only one of them outside of the originals, to have gotten a full ceremony (after they’d closed the Gate, but before Mike had begun dating El).

Now, though, the idea of officially welcoming Erica into the Party feels like a forgone conclusion—one that should have happened two summers ago, even.

“Lucky seven,” he says. Lucas and El both hide their smiles—they know his speech is coming, and he knows they think it’s corny. He doesn’t care.

Erica doesn’t look up from her book. “What?”

“Having you in our Party, even unofficially, played a big part in why we’re all still here. With you, we make seven.”

Erica looks up finally, confusion making her annoyed. “What’s your point, loser?”

“It’s past time we made your place in the Party official.” Mike sits up straighter, attempting to look at least a little bit dignified. In the back of his head he can feel Will’s warm amusement. “Erica Sinclair, the Party has decided that you are more than worthy, if you are willing, to become one of the core members. With this, you will be let in on Party secrets that the Extended Party is not privy to—if you swear to keep them secret. If you ever need help, no matter how mundane, we will be at your side—as you will be at the aid of your fellow Party Members. What say you?”

Erica stares at him for a long moment. The silence stretches like taffy. Mike’s struggling to keep his back straight.

Please don’t laugh, he silently begs her.

She tilts her head, thinking.

…

“Okay. I so swear, or whatever.”

Mike lets out a relieved sigh in time with Lucas’s.

“That was some next level nerd shit, Wheeler.” Erica is pretending to look annoyed, but out of the corner of his eye, Mike can see she looks a little pleased.

-

With him being in her room so often, Mike’s there when Max wakes up. He’s probably one of the last people Max would want to wake up to—but Mike’s only just managed to convince Lucas and El to take a break and go get lunch with Max’s mom. They’ve been sitting in here practically every day since the battle ended.

Naturally, as soon as they’re downstairs, that’s when Max twitches into consciousness.

“El…? Lucas?” Her voice is tiny and crackly from disuse, and probably leftover pain from the tube the doctors only recently removed from her throat.

Mike immediately presses the call nurse button. A few times. “Sorry, MadMax, it’s just me. They literally just stepped out—I can go get them.”

“No,” she whispers. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“…El’s gonna kick my ass when she finds out I didn’t go get them—but okay.”

They sit together in silence for a moment. Mike has the sudden, wild (reckless) urge to take Max’s hand. Just so she knows he’s here. He bites his lip, and is just about to try, when she speaks finally.

“How long’s it been?” she whispers. A weak, no longer broken, but likely pained, hand reaches up to touch the bandages over her eyes.

From talks with El, Mike knows Max had been there in the final fight—mentally at least—so he thinks Max is asking from then. “We defeated No-nose a little less than a month ago.”

Max chokes on a snort. “Don’t make me laugh, dickhead.”

Mike grimaces, thinking about how much it had hurt to laugh (or cough) right after he’d gotten choked, he figures her throat can’t feel much better. (He’s seen those feeding tubes that go down the throat, they’re scary .) “Sorry.”

“Mike, shut up with the sorries already.” She pauses. “Everyone okay?”

“Yeah, we’re all alive—partly thanks to you.”

He can’t see her roll her eyes, but he recognizes the tone when she replies. “ Seriously. Don’t get corny on me just ‘cause I’m an invalid right now, Wheeler.”

Any further playful bickering is halted as three doctors and four nurses swarm the room. Mike stays mostly out of their way, only speaking up when Max begins to cough.

“Can she have water or something?”

A nurse—one he recognizes as a regular in Max’s room—answers him. “She can have ice chips. Her throat isn’t strong enough to swallow regular water right now.”

“ She is right here,” Max grumbles, once she‘s stopped coughing. Her voice is even more hoarse than earlier.

“Yeah, but I bet talking hurts like a bit—” Mike eyes the adults still moving around and cuts himself off. “—pretty badly. My throat is still bruised from…the accident…and it took like two weeks before it stopped hurting like acid to swallow anything.”

Max grimaces, silently conceding the point.

The nurse comes back with the cup of ice, handing it off to Mike. Before she goes back to nurse stuff, Mike has an important thought and flags her down again. “Can you have someone go get El and Lucas, and her Mom?” he asks quietly. “They’re in the cafeteria.”

The nurse nods and leaves again.

Max grabs his attention again.

“You’re better now though, yeah?” She’s back to talking in a whisper.

Mike nods, then remembers she can’t see him right now, and says, “Yeah, for the most part. My leg’ll be in a cast for a while though.”

Max grimaces. “Me too, probably, from what I can feel.”

“You, me, and Dustin can form a gang,” he jokes. “We can go around beating people up with our bulky casts.”

Max snorts. Then she coughs again, just a brief wheeze. “Hey, ice boy, what am I paying you for?”

He carefully feeds her the ice chips. In between he catches her up on what little news there is to be had. The only thing that really shocks her is that Will has only been up a week longer than her.

“What was wrong with him?”

Mike makes sure the doctor’s are far enough away before he replies. “He went a little heavy with his new powers near the end. El did too, but she’s more used to it.”

“She’s okay?”

“Yeah, her and Lucas have been practically keeping guard here. At least one of them is here pretty much all the time.” He bites his lip. “It doesn’t have to be right away, but Lucas is more likely to listen to you, so if you can convince him to take more breaks, it’d probably do him some good. He’s kinda been running himself ragged.”

Max sighs. “Dammit Stalker. Yeah I’ll try and bring it up at some point. El too.” She motions for more ice. “But, anyway, Will okay now?”

“Yeah, docs are keeping him a bit longer, but he’s up and his head isn’t hurting as much.”

“That’s—”

They’re interrupted by the door opening abruptly. “Max!”

“Max, you’re awake!”

Mike quickly gets out of the way of El and Lucas. They’re both in tears, but smiling broadly, and they sit on either side of her to take her hands. Max’s mom stands near the doorway, hands over her mouth and tears streaming down her face—but not saying anything, and not getting any closer.

“I missed you,” El whispers, pressing her face to Max’s hand. “We missed you so much.”

“I missed you too. Both of you. All of you.” Max grins weakly. She turns her face towards Lucas. “You’re taking me on that movie date, I hope you know.”

Lucas’s laugh comes out as a sob. “I’ve been planning it,” he chokes out. He presses a kiss to the tips of her fingers—and it’s a sign of how emotional they’re feeling that Max doesn’t say anything about Lucas being cheesy.

Mike feels a little choked up himself. He also feels a little bit like he’s intruding. He’s never been especially great around people crying. Maybe he can go hang out with Will for a little while. He’s about to attempt a gracious exit, when Max’s main doctor interrupts the reunion. “If your friends would like to step out, Max, I can give you and your mother the details of your injuries and treatment.

“They can stay. They’re family,” Max interjects firmly.

Lucas and El he understands, but Mike kind of wants to point at himself and say, me too? Really? But Max can still probably beat him up from the hospital bed, so he keeps his mouth shut. There’s a warm fluttering in his chest that he tells himself is heartburn (it’s fondness).

“Alright then.”

Even though Max can’t see the grim look on the doctor’s face, Mike thinks she can sense the tension in the air. She’s always been far too astute (often much to his consternation).

“Give it to me straight, doc,” Max says, all forced cheer.

Mike kind of doesn’t want to be here. Even though Max literally wants him to stay, this feels like an invasion. Max is part of the Party—there’s little Mike or any of the others wouldn’t do for her. But this feels like something only the closest to her should be a part of—Lucas and El.

A lot of what the doctor proceeds to go over is old news. Max adopts a politely shocked expression when the doctor tells her the details around her falling into the coma—though Mike knows that El summarized to her when they were in the Upside Down. Mike’s stomach clenches, however, when the doctor begins to go over the extent of her injuries. Arms and legs broken in multiple places, collarbone snapped, spine slightly twisted out of alignment, and eyes injured. It’s a gruesome list. Mike’s glad when the man moves on to Max’s treatment and recovery. By now, her collarbone has healed, and the few open wounds have closed and healed with minimal scarring. But it’s her eyes that Max wants to know about.

“I’m blind, aren’t I?”

The doctor sighs. “Yes, I’m sorry. You may regain some light perception, but it’s unlikely you will ever return to full vision.”

Max nods, clearly unsurprised. “Before I—” She pauses. “—fell unconscious, I couldn’t see.” She takes a breath, grits her teeth. “What about my arms and legs?”

“On that, we have some better news!” The doctor is clearly glad to move on from the dour mood. “As you’ve most likely already noticed, while you will likely retain some aches, your arms are progressing nicely towards healing—and even full use; with physical therapy, of course,” he adds chastisingly, as Max slowly rolls her shoulders and immediately grimaces.

She huffs. “And my legs?”

“You have a chance at regaining partial mobility of your legs—though you’ll likely be in a wheelchair for daily use.”

Eventually the conversation with the doctor ends, and he goes outside with Max’s mom to speak some more. They’re silent for a moment after the two adults disappear.

Mike has suspected a lot of this, but it still hurts to hear. He thinks about Max and her love for skateboarding and bites back the urge to cry. Then he thinks about her as-of-yet unbeaten scores at the Arcade and feels even worse.

“I mean, it means I don’t have’ta see your ugly mug, Mike,” Max jokes weakly, trying to break the bad mood.

Mike laughs weakly, the sound wet with tears. “Lucky for you.”

“And this does not get you out of that movie date, Lucas.”

Lucas sobs. “I wouldn't dream of canceling.”

El is quieter with her tears, trying to keep up a brave face. “After you are out of the hospital, we can have a sleepover?” She asks.

“Hell yeah!”

The room lightens up slightly as they fall back into more casual topics. Mike scrubs away his tears when Lucas and El aren’t looking. In his mind, he curses the very existence of Henry Creel down to the deepest pits of a hell he isn't sure he even believes in. With a deep breath to clear his mind, Mike dives back into the conversation.

When Max’s mom returns, she’s alone and looks like she’s cried some more. Still, she puts on a (clearly fake) smile. “Thank you all for being such good friends to my Max. I’m sure she would appreciate it if you came back tomorrow—or maybe this weekend.”

“Why’s it sound like you’re doing that thing where you’re trying to politely convince people to leave?” Max groans.

Her mom immediately flusters, called out but not wanting to seem rude. “Well, it’s getting late, and I’m sure your friends are tired.”

Max turns her head in the direction Mike’s been standing. “Mike, what time is it?”

Put on the spot, Mike stammers for a second, before looking at his watch. “Uh, it’s, like, three PM?”

“I’d bet that visiting hours don’t end ‘til, like, five,” Max says. “They can stay as long as they want to.”

Mike thinks that Max’s mom probably has the power to kick them out nonetheless, but the woman doesn’t do that. Likely because she’s distracted by what Max says next.

“Anyway, has dad been to visit?”

Her mom’s breath hitches. “What?”

“When you told dad about the accident, did he fly down to visit?”

“Max…” She mumbles, but doesn’t say anything else. Her face is visibly guilty. Mike’s stomach twists.

“Wait, did you never actually end up telling Dad?” Max snarls suddenly. “You didn’t think he’d wanna know that his only child could have died?!”

“But you didn’t die , Max,” her mom defends desperately. “What would be the point of worrying your father if—?”

“You know damn well I could have,” Max snaps. “I’ve been in here for a year mom, and I know the doctors probably weren’t jazzed about my chances for survival. He never would have been able to say goodbye.”

Her mom mumbles something about a “clean break” that makes Max’s face go white in anger.

“No, he loves me! Just ‘cause you hate him, doesn’t give you the right to cut him out of my life—especially when you chose to bring two monsters into our life in his stead!”

“I did what I thought was best for us,” the woman chokes out. Even though Max can’t see her, her mom reaches her hands up imploringly. “I wanted us to be happy.”

“ No , you did what you thought was best for you ,” Max snarls. “Fuck being happy, you wanted us to be normal .”

Her mother’s face falls. “I tried my best,” she whispers.

Bullshit, Mike kind of wants to say. This is not his fight, however. He watches Max’s grip tighten on Lucas’s hand.

“Please leave,” she says through gritted teeth.

Ms Mayfield blinks away tears. “Max…”

“You can come back tomorrow, but if I see—” She cuts herself off to laugh bitterly. “—if I have to hear you for a second more, I’m going to say a lot of shit I won’t be able to take back.”

There’s a long, extremely tense silence. Mike chews on his lip and exchanges a look with Lucas. Lucas shrugs helplessly and keeps his mouth shut.

“…Alright,” her mom says. “I’ll come by tomorrow. I love you.”

With some hesitation she steps towards the door, then bows her head and leaves. The door shuts with a quiet click behind her.

Max waits until it has completely shut to reply, quiet. “I love you too.”

The room is silent for a long tense moment. Mike anxiously shifts his feet and, again, debates leaving. Finally, Max is the one to break the quiet again.

“So, did Mike end up having to hear all that, or did he escape the confrontation?”

“I’m here, jerk,” he prods, too gentle to come across as mean. “What do you mean, escape?”

“You can’t handle any drama that you can’t help with—makes you twitchy.”

Mike opens his mouth to argue, shuts it, opens it again, and finally says, indignant, “Rude, and untrue !” He turns to El and Lucas for support, but they both avoid his eyes, smiling in amusement. “Attacked on all sides.”

This, at least, at last , breaks the somber mood. The other three proceed to gang up in teasing Mike. Mike pretends to be offended, but, really, he’s glad to see Max laughing. To see El and Lucas smiling.

Eventually, after Max has fallen back asleep, both hands occupied by Lucas and El, Mike steps towards the door. “I’m…I’m gonna go see Will,” he whispers. “Tell him that Max is—” He pauses. “—well, not awake , but um. Out of her coma.”

Lucas gives him a soft grin. “Thank you for being here, Mike.”

Mike gives him a wobbly smile. “‘Course.”

[altruistic-meme]

3,7 and 29 for the fic writers ask! :]]

hi sappho darling!!

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

the only one that i know of that i would for sure never touch is the uhhhh "sex pollen" thing?? ive literally never even seen it but it's supposedly one of the "well-known" tropes or aus or whatever and i just. don't get it. i don't understand the concept of it. i don't understand the point or interest. absolutely a no from me.

i also would probably never write a cheating fic. but i only say probably bc thought i would never read one and then i did and it FUCKED me UP (positive) and i still think about it bc holy shit

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Wilhelm took a deep breath, closed his eyes, leaned against a desk. He thought of how terrible an idea this was, how he had once again been being so selfish, how he hadn’t considered that his own freedom may cost the freedom he had tried so hard to guarantee Simon. And then he looked at Simon. And he fell in love. He fell in love with his curly hair, with his brown eyes, with the scar on his cheek, with the way he kept looking at Wilhelm and how it felt like he was seeing him, with the way his lips parted as he let out a steadying breath, with the small smile that he was giving him.  And it didn’t hurt. Falling in love with Simon didn’t hurt the way that falling in love with the sky, and with the way his coffee tasted, and with the people on the street had for the last seven years. Falling in love with Simon now felt exactly as it had the first time: freeing. This love was the most freeing thing that Wilhelm had ever felt, and he remembered why he had refused to ever let it go. Because he deserved to love freely, but the only love that had ever felt free had been the half of his love that he had given to the curly-haired boy, now a man, named Simon that he had once fallen in love with seven years ago, and was now falling in love with again. So maybe it was selfish, and maybe it was cruel, and it would definitely hurt, but Wilhelm could only be free if he said it, so he started talking. 

okay so if it wouldn't be ridiculous of me i would simply give the entirety of LVOE. because that whole story i tried to write more as prose and i love it so much. even this section is pretty... long for a snippet but i couldn't cut any of it off bc it's just so. AAAAAA.

i chose this specific area because it i think it's a very beautiful way to tie up the fic and i am so so proud of it!! of how it turned out and the ways it connects with other aspects of the story while still standing on its own: the war within Wilhelm about love vs. hurt and are they the same thing or are they consequences of each other, how painful falling in love has been since he and simon broke up but how he has kept doing it with everything anyway because Wilhelm is simply so full of love that it bleeds into everything he does, how his first taste of freedom felt like his last. as well as pulling back lines that repeated throughout the fic, "And every day, Wilhelm fell in love all over again. With the sky, with the way his coffee tasted, with the people on the street. And then one day, with a curly-haired boy named Simon." and changing them as he feels love truly without pain for the first time in seven years. and!!! also!!! including the ways Wilhelm grew in those seven years as well, how he hesitates and almost doesn't say what he came to say because he understands how selfish it was of him to come. but it also includes Simon's own growth, very subtley, because he is more sure of himself than he used to be. even though Wilhelm's thoughts tell that he's afraid of hurting Simon, Simon is SMILING SOFTLY at him because Simon has also grown up and he has long-since forgiven Wilhelm because he has learned to see his side of it, too.

WELL THAT WAS. MORE OF AN ANALYSIS BUT SIDHFKSDH yeah im proud of all of that though. im so proud of myself for being able to put all of that subtlety into it, all of these small details that still showcase big emotions. i'll stop rambling about this now sdkgfsdk

29. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

this is going to be INCREDIBLY out of left field ksghsdhg bUT there is a yuri!!! on ice fic, "Behind these Locked Doors" that i read forever ago. i don't think i ever.... actually finished reading the fic, i think i fell out of the fandom enough to stop keeping up before it completed. but from the last thing i remember of it, i would maybe consider writing a oneshot sequel to it that follows Victor and Yuuri after they escape, and has maybe a moment where one of them has a breakdown remembering what they experienced and the other works them through it. idk. like i said i haven't read it in years so details are so fuzzy. but. yeah!!! as i was trying to think what i would do, this story popped into my head so :]

[ writer ask game ]

[blacklodgemusictx]

Feeling Yourself Disintegrate

I don’t have what I would consider a fear of needles.  I’m covered in tattoos.  I am perfectly willing to sit serenely in one place and be stabbed hundreds of times in a row – it’s an asset.  I deal with the repetitive psychological pain of doing my job every day the same way (civil service, amiright?)

IV placement is another matter altogether.  I seem to attract phlebotomists who forget how veins work.  Something about me says, “Dig under my skin, poke, jab, hurt me.”  After each failed venous expedition, I’m left shaking.  It’s almost like being cold: shivering, gasping, teeth clenching.

I take Ketamine infusions due to Major Depressive Disorder (Google it: there's evidence it makes old, dim synapses light up and start "talking" to each other again).  12/30/22 was my second Ketamine “booster” (after an initial series of six as close together as possible for maximum benefit, I am now taking infusions longer and longer apart trying to maintain the drug’s therapeutic benefit without being as dependent on frequency.)

This infusion was another bad stick.  Please, I beg the kind woman who runs the clinic when the Vein Abuser is out of the room, please don’t let her poke me again.  Please?  Kind Lady has never missed the target.  Her deft hand sinks the needle in place every time.  No, she assured me.  She will do it next time.

I am wrapped in a blanket, shoes off, feet reclined, giant noise cancelling headphone, padded sleep mask I bought off Amazon.  Usually, I bring lip balm as I have a weird habit of smacking my lips pretty vigorously when down my K-hole.  Today, my only focus is a small baggy of nausea candies and alcohol prep swabs – I saw a video on Facebook suggesting the quick inhalation of alcohol during a spell of nausea will sometimes help alleviate the symptoms.  As of treatment seven, the Ketamine suddenly started making me violently sick.

I hate being nauseous.  I won’t even resort to being coy: if you want my secrets, you don’t even have to torture me.  Just spin me around in an office chair for half an hour ‘til I’m sea sick.  No more, coppa, I’ll talk, I’ll talk!

The only reason I was willing to submit to getting sick again is the fact that I truly believe the Ketamine is working.  I’ve been a slave to my depression since I was ten years old.  Even though the Ketamine’s benefit so far has just been a kind of Flowers for Algernon effect (improvement that quickly wears off), the brief, clear windows of hopeful feeling have been indescribably beautiful.

(The only reason I am going in to this kind of detail instead of just saying, “Ketamine, it’s a thing I do.  And then this other stuff happened” is because I know there are people out there stumbling in the darkness that is depression who want to know what it’s like.)

I never did drugs.  People laughed at Bill Clinton when he said he smoked pot, but “did not inhale.”  I feel you, Bubba, I could never really get the hang of it either.  I was high maybe twice in high school.  I’ve done Delta 8 since people swear by CDB and all it’s offshoots for pain relief (I have crippling back pain from degenerative disk disease and spinal arthritis).  So I have a vague idea what getting “high” is, but tripping?  No clue.  I might drink once or twice a year.  For the most part, my mind is one of the few things I truly possess (if just barely), I’ve never liked the idea of using substances that could potentially make me a stranger to my own inner self.  I hate Delta 8, HATE it.  It affects my ability to form short term memories.  I refer to it as “roofie-ing” myself.

Acid, magic mushrooms?  I had no frame of reference.

And if you don’t either, here’s exactly what it’s like:  living in album covers for an hour. 

I actual fed the prompt “Describing the cover of ‘Unknown Pleasures’ to someone who has never seen it before” in to my WONDER AI generator and got some pretty close representations of what I saw.

I was instructed before my first transfusion to just get on Spotify and look for “curated ketamine playlist” to listen to during my trip.  I found the equivalent of “oooohhmmmm” bells and hippy, navel contemplation stuff.  Nothing I read mentioned anything about the vital nature of having good music with you on your journey.

My first trip was a bad needle situation (they learned to give me Clonidine beforehand to get me to calm down enough to submit my arm without hyperventilating.  The first experience being a painful one conditioned me to fear all future experiences there unfortunately.  Like I said, Kind Lady has been just right with the needle, but the other lady who works there… no… not so much).  I didn’t switch to my Ohhhmmm playlist.  I left it on my Salim Nourallah playlist.  Initially, I was just trying to calm myself, but once the IV was started, the trip happened so fast I was already falling before I realized. 

This has made all the difference.

I related this to Kind Lady later and she said there was no way to tell.  She knows a very quiet, unassuming gent (I swear she said he was a doctor or some sort of medical professional) that takes gangster rap on his trips.

My cousin is a Physician’s Assistant.  She said she had seen people come out of Ketamine situations in emergency rooms (used to set bones and such) where people who were unprepared would flip out (have a bad trip.) 

I, personally, have only had pleasant experiences (except for the recent bouts of nausea).  You are responsible for setting the tone for your own experience.  As someone whose depression has been a lifelong companion, my mind isn’t a bright or cheerful place per se, but I know myself.  It’s been a relatively intuitive process.  I don’t watch scary movies beforehand.  I try to just be calm and collected.  Stay peaceful.  The limbic system doesn’t know the difference between watching/listening to emotionally fraught material or experiencing it so I try not to take chances.

Being accompanied in to my first trip by a familiar voice was so deeply comforting.  Salim Nourallah is my favorite singer, but he also happens to be a dear friend and fantastic human being to boot. 

Ketamine (again this is all purely subjective.  Everyone’s experiences will be different) creates any level of dissociative experiences for the user.  I don’t know if it’s just because I don’t have experience with “substances,” I but I disassociate… hard.

Complete dissolution of self.  Out of body.  Soaring.  Flying.  Falling.  Colors. 

Because music is so much part of my psychological make up, it’s sounds, colors and textures interpreted in musical context: album covers.

I have cried a lot.  The feeling returns gradually to my fingers and toes, my eyes stop jittering in their sockets and reach up to feel my sleep mask is wet.  The feeling/theme to all my trips has just been overwhelming gratitude.  I feel so much love for those people I have in my life who continue to stand by me no matter how the darkness sometimes affects my mind.

Ketamine for me is half medical treatment, half vision quest.  As I the chemicals wear off and I can feel myself again, I try to listen to anything I was told.  Call it messages from the subconscious, whatever you want.  I’ve come out wanting to reach out to certain people.  I sent a message to someone else I knew of who has severe depression (a voice actor on a podcast I’ve listened to for years).  He let me send him a care package of little, cheerful things.  Another trip, I came out and message someone I used to think of as a friend who hadn’t spoken to me in 12+ years.  I cast the missive out in to the digital sea not expecting anything back… but he responded.

I curated a special playlist of songs I wanted to “disintegrate to” and have emerged and tweaked it each trip.  No song has tilted the trip to the negative, but I have taken one band off (who shall remain nameless) as – under the influence – the singer acquired super human powers of grating annoyance. 

I am allowing myself Flaming Lips songs even though I have been estranged from my fandom in their regard for over a decade now.  But you have to admit:  for tripping, they are kind of perfect.

I return to Salim though.  His voice is consistently silvery blue.  “Miette” became so achingly beautiful I could barely stand it.  There are not words to describe how meaningful it is it have the voice of a friend accompanying me in the darkness.

My playlist:

[enchantedpendant]

things that have happened during the course of the 1 year-ish time i took off this site

1. my mental health reached the worst point it has ever been in my entire life

2. quickly and secretly took myself to a psychiatrist (props to myself ngl but also a huge thank you to a close friend of mine who recommended this particular doctor) and wow im so blessed to have her as my first ever encounter with a psychiatrist or even any kind of mental health professional… it may not be too much of a stretch to say that i owe her my life

3. during the critical time of just beginning to recover… caught some romantic feelings for one of my closest friend since high school (been friends since 2014) and got into a situationship which lasted barely a month… i managed to realize that the way things were going were NOT helping my mental health recovery and i told him that we should just be friends. no shade towards him tbh, he’s nothing but stellar as a friend and ngl he may have significantly helped me find the will to live again… but it really just wasnt working out well romantically with all the circumstances surrounding it. my brain being in the right place didnt necessarily mean my heart is tho lol it took several months for me to just… stop thinking about him and “oh how things couldve gone differently if only this and if only that” every now and then im fond of him, still am, and would probably always be

4. got off sertraline… and not quite bcs my doctor had advised me to but because i had just started to skip enough doses for my body to get used to being without it and start feeling the side effects whenever i try taking them again and i’d rather not😂 i’d like to fully put the blame on night shifts and school and all that but really some of it is just… my bad lol but anyways shoutout to sertraline for saving my life when i needed it!

5. juggled my mental health recovery with about 2 months of studying nearly 24 hours a day 7 days a week (i mean, as much studying as i could get done lol ive never been the studious type) in preparation for my exit exam… shoutout to the ten people in my study group for tolerating me through it all

6. passing my exit exam!! and graduating med school!!! finally being an MD which still feels unreal. anyways it is SO nice to finally close this chapter and go on to the next (also my skin started clearing up real quick after the exam results came out and knowing that i passed lol its almost like the cause of my skin problems was just med school all along😭)

[miguelmeiai]

Life is Strange 2 - Alternate Storyline - Episode II ("Discoveries") - Part IV

After Sean knocks at the door, the Reynolds take about one minute to open the door. Daniel is shivering in cold, coughing, and sneezing. As Sean is about to knock again, Claire and Stephen open the door. Stephen looks at them with a suspicious face. ─ What are you doing here? ─ he asks. ─ Stephen, please… ─ Claire reprehends him. ─ Hello! Oh, Esteban and Sean… She looks at Daniel. ─ Are you… Daniel? ─ Yeah, nice to meet you, grandma. ─ You look like an angel, Daniel. Oh, you must be tired from all that traveling. Let me prepare something for you. They get inside and Claire takes them to the kitchen. Stephen is bothered by Esteban's presence. Esteban feels they are bothered by his presence. ─ So, what brought you here? ─ Claire asks while serving them some tea. ─ We decided to pay you a visit ─ Esteban comments. ─ I know I didn't call earlier, but it was because I lost your number. Sean and Daniel whisper to each other. ─ I think they don't like dad ─ Sean comments. ─ I've noticed that too. ─ You're smart, Daniel. Do you have the power of reading minds now? ─ No, I don't, but wish I had… ─ Esteban, Stephen, may I talk to you for a second? ─ Claire asks. ─ Yeah, sure! ─ Esteban agrees. He looks at Sean and Daniel. ─ Please don't fight, don't touch anything, and don't… ─ We know, dad. We aren't babies anymore! I'm almost ten! ─ Woah, it seems Daniel is getting older ─ Esteban laughs. Esteban and the Reynolds go to another room. Daniel activates his power to try to bring some cookies for them. But Sean stops him. ─ What the hell are you doing?! ─ I'm hungry, Sean, I just thought I… ─ No! Remember the rules? Besides, don't you think they would notice we "stole" the cookies? ─ Yeah, they would… ─ Okay. Sorry, Sean!

─ By the way, where's Mushroom? ─ She stayed outside, since grandma didn't let me bring her inside. I will go outside to see if she's okay. ─ Fine, Daniel, but don't take too long! Daniel goes outside to play a little with Mushroom. Sean looks at some portraits on the wall. He finds one depicting Esteban and Karen's marriage. ─ Dad looked quite cool in that suit. That's such a pity he married that asshole woman who betrayed him and his family. I hate hear. Out of rage, he punches the table. Things get heated between Esteban and the Reynolds in the livingroom. ─ Karen left because she probably regretted marrying with you ─ Stephan says. ─ Why? Because I am a foreigner? You never approved my marriage with her! ─ You two, calm down, please. The boys might hear you ─ Claire asks. ─ She wasn't unhappy because of me, she was unhappy because you too always pressured her to be who you wanted her to be, you never gave her… ─ Enough, Esteban, you… Claire gets interrupted by Daniel entering the house coughing a lot. She runs to see what happened. ─ Oh, my… He stops coughing. ─ I feel better now, I guess. ─ Why did you go outside, hijo? ─ I… I wanted to play with Mushie. ─ I know, but it's really cold outside. — I will prepare some hot tea for you and give you medicine — Claire says. — And then you are going to sleep. — But who will take care of Mushie?! — I will, Daniel — Sean says as he enters the room. — Thanks — he coughs again. Claire takes him to the kitchen. Stephen stares at him, with a mad face, and then goes upstairs. Sean whispers to his dad. — I don't understand. How can they hate you? — They never liked me, I guess, it's always been like that, and I think it'll never change. At least they liked Daniel, and I am happy about that. — Karen… I mean, mom… she never liked you either. — I think she did, hijo. At least in the first years of marriage… Or maybe my life was all a lie. A tear falls from Esteban's eyes. Sean hugs him. — Daniel and I love you. Te amo! — Why are you hugging me? You used to complain whenever I asked you for a hug. — I guess I started seeing things differently after almost losing you that day in Seattle.

***

Esteban and Stephen are asleep. Claire is doing some chores and Daniel is standing right in front of Karen's room. Claire catches him and gets upset. — What are you doing here, Daniel? Weren't you supposed to be sleeping? — I know, but I kinda got curious. Sean told me this was mommy's room. I don't know anything about her, I… — There's nothing to see here. And you have to go to bed, so that you can recover better. Daniel sighs and returns to the room Claire cleaned and prepared for Sean and him. Since he is tired after the trip, he falls asleep as soon as he lies down. Past midnight, Claire is praying in the living room and Sean stands in front of her. She finishes her pray. ─ What do you need, Sean? ─ I know you don't like my dad. ─ I'm sorry if you had that impression. It's just… he is very different from us. And he doesn't do anything to change that. ─ And do you? Claire sighs. ─ It's never late to change things ─ Sean comments. ─ Besides, it's almost Christmas. Wouldn't the Lord get happier if he sees us happy and getting along well? ─ You're right, Sean. I am proud of how mature you've become since the last time I saw you.