#so tbis could all very well change in a few moments

[yoichichi]

[aisha-ot]

Hello there. I hope everyone’s doing well, I know it feels like it’s been an endless journey of long haul flights and some turbulence but here we are almost at the end of our entire journey. I can feel the jet lag already setting in … but let’s push through it and get into this weeks discussion.

What is evidence based practice? I had no idea either up until a few seconds ago when I researched the definition but then I realized it’s something we as OT’s and everyone in the health sciences faculty and professions use in our every day practice. To quote an exact definition, evidence based practice is “a problem-solving and decision making approach in practice that involves the conscientious use of current best research evidence and clinical expertise”. In simpler terms, it’s using research and the results and evidence from research to guide intervention to ensure a successful and meaningful outcome. As we all know there is so much to read up on the internet about absolutely anything and everything and as soon as we type in a question there’s hundreds of articles that pop up giving us all sorts of information. As OT’s we focus a lot on evidence based research seeing as we desire the best possible result from our interventions and because Occupational Therapy is changing every day meaning we need to constantly keep up to date. In todays post we’re going to reflect on my most recent treatment session with a new patient I had this week in order to understand evidence based practice in a practical example.

Just a quick bit of background on my client so you guys have a clearer picture, he suffered a TBI after being hit by a car as he was walking on the side of the road. Initially h experienced right upper and lower limb weakness however, as of the most recent treatment session I had with him he has gained most of his strength back and can mobilize with moderate assistance. He has very low psychological endurance and slow thought processes and he spaces out quite often when being spoken to or when doing an activity. If I’m being honest I have to tell you guys that I was pretty scared of treating my client when I first met him not because of anything else other than the fact that his scars made him look a little intimidating. He’s been through a brain surgery to remove pressure from his brain meaning he had many stitches on his head and severe facial swelling when I first met him. I’m human guys, we all have our own personal demons that we’re fighting and trying to overcome and it’s normal for us to form judgements about someone before we actually meet them. In fact, I remember learning in school that it takes 7 seconds upon seeing a person to make an initial judgement. Sue me, I’m guilty of being human. I admit it, I was pretty anxious going into my initial assessment session not knowing what I was going to find but boy can I tell you my judgement was completely wrong. Although my client didn’t want to talk much and I struggled to get most information from him, as soon as I got over the initial anxiety I could see the pain and utter exhaustion on his face from his experience. This was exactly the wake up call I needed to shake me back to reality and realize that I have the ability to make his life slightly less painful. So I did my assessments, tried as hard as I could to get any information as possible and then left my client to rest because I didn’t want him to be frustrated with me as that would’ve had an impact on our future sessions.

As a therapist there can be frustrating moments when you aren’t getting exactly what you want from a session but you learn to overcome it and find other ways of building that relationship with the client. In my experience I found that religion was the one way I could relate to him and build that rapport in order for him to trust me. After carrying out a grooming activity for my first treatment session I could see I didn’t have my clients full attention and willingness to participate in my session which planted thoughts in my head as to how I should move forward. I was happy with his progress in his physical functioning but I knew I could make his treatment sessions more meaningful to him if I could just figure out the one thing to focus on. That’s when he began saying little prayers in Arabic throughout the session which immediately put off alarm bells in my head as to what I could do for my next session. I came to find out that my client was Muslim and that his prayers meant a lot to him. You can already guess that I got home that day and immediately started on my treatment plan. I have never been more excited for a treatment before because I finally found a way to relate to my client on a deeper spiritual level that I knew would open so many doors for a successful treatment. The only problem was that I had never carried out a treatment session focused on religious observance which once again welcomes back Aisha’s anxiety… I know, I’m just as tired as you guys 😭

But, here’s where we start to look into evidence based practice. Although I did know that there were chances of success if I planned an IADL session around religious observance, I needed factual evidence to back me up and make me feel more secure in my decision and in my treatment. I often second guess myself and as soon as I think i have a good idea I need to run it by people and research in order to make me feel more confident. Sometimes that can be a bad thing in every day life to need validation from people but in OT, the need for evidence to back up my decision is vital, not only for my client but for myself as a therapist and for my service. And so, I went on to research religious observance and how it affects clients participation in treatment as well as the overall success of intervention.

I don’t want to bore you with all the details of my research so I’m just going to touch on a few points that I found important and how it affected my thoughts and planning but I’ll keep the links below for you guys to check out if you’re interested in learning more.

“Research shows that religious and spiritual beliefs influence a person’s health and quality of life.” You hear that ? That’s the sound of success. That’s the first sentence I had read about religious observance and you best believe I was overjoyed seeing as I could already see my treatment plan heading in the right direction. This is not to say that I didn’t have my doubts and worries about my session but the thing with evidence from research is that the practice/treatment idea has been tested and analyzed from a variety of different people which increases the chances of success.

Here’s another example of just how important research is for a therapist. I explained before that I had to wait for my client to utter a prayer in Arabic for me to realize that he was Muslim and so that I could delve further into his religious beliefs. That same study I mentioned above stated that “there is a hesitancy among the respondents to ask the client about religious observance and that therapists are waiting for the client to raise the topic.” Is that not creepily accurate looking at my approach regarding my clients religion ?? Evidence based practice guys, evidence based practice. That’s all I’m saying. Let’s actually touch on that point though. I knew in my second session that I had to start thinking of another session that was more meaningful to my client but for some reason I was scared to try and bring up religion. My clients name is a very common Muslim name which I did pick up on but for some reason I was hesitant to ask him about Islam in case I was just making assumptions and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. Once again, yes guys, I’m human. I have thoughts that hold me back some times and this was one of those times. If it doesn’t make sense to you then think of it like this. What if I assumed that my client was Muslim and started using Arabic phrases and prayers throughout the session only to later find out that he is no longer Muslim for personal reasons that affected him emotionally. I didn’t want to be the one to bring up any negative past experiences because I was scared it would ruin the relationship I was trying to build. Which I mean now that I’m looking back at it, I still do understand why I thought what I did but the whole religion thing turned out to be such a life saver for my success in the following treatment session. I really do make my life harder sometimes. But I blame my brain for the millions of thoughts that run wild, it’s a blessing and curse 😭.

As you can probably already guess, my treatment session was quite a success in my books. In prior assessment and treatment sessions he could barely concentrate and didn’t seem very interested in my treatment but as soon as I told him about the treatment session being about his prayer I could already sense the shift in his willingness to participate. Seeing as we are currently in the month of Ramadan and it is a month where Muslims increase in their prayers other than just the 5 daily prayers I could sense the urge for my client to want to carry out this occupation. As a Muslim myself, I also know the feeling of peace and comfort you get when carrying out these prayers and I could immediately see my clients entire body relax and be at peace when I began playing the prayers for him and when he was reciting it himself. I’m going to get a little deep here and say that my heart swelled at the sight of someone looking like they were wrapped in a blanket of peace as soon as the prayer began. There’s a specific verse in the Quran that states that “God does not burden a soul beyond that it can bear” which always brings me comfort knowing I can get through whatever it is I am dealing with and in the treatment session this is the verse I had been repeating to my client to assure him and provide more comfort seeing as he has been through such a traumatic experience and is having to deal with a difficult recovery. I have recently been exploring my faith and trying to strengthen my relationship with God and increasing my prayers and I too have felt just how incredible it is knowing I can turn to my religion whenever I’m anxious or whenever I need those moments of comfort and peace and seeing my client in that same feeling brought tears to my eyes knowing I was able to bring that sense of normality back into his life.

Going back to the topic of evidence based practice, there was another moment after my session and evaluation that I found the need to research a different topic. This being how therapists and doctors communicate with their patients. After my evaluation it came to my attention that there were moments where I spoke to my client in a tone that was not necessarily appropriate for an adult. This was a hard pill for me to swallow because I didn’t realize it at all during my session and I am usually the one who gets frustrated with doctors when they speak to their patients like children so this feedback kind of made me upset with myself for a bit. But of course, I’m still a student, there are going to be moments where I mess up and need to learn and although it is frustrating thinking back on it and knowing I can’t change it I know I am definitely going to use this as a lesson going forward. This is why I began to research and look into the effect that “baby talk” (although I was not using complete baby talk I knew that was a risk for future sessions) with clients and found the following “many people, who are often already struggling with negative feelings of self-worth as they begin to lose their independence, feel degraded by baby talk” and “the recipients of baby talk were perceived to be less satisfied with the interaction.” I’ll link the websites below for you to read into this a bit more because I found it quite interesting but the above information was the wake up call I needed to be able to adjust my handling of my clients in future sessions.

Looking back at my approach to my clients treatment from the beginning of the week to now I’d say there’s a huge improvement not only in my approach but also with my relationship with my client. Of course as stated previously there are things I need to work on but overall in my opinion I think this week was a success. I feel like the past weeks have been amazing in preparing me for this client and I know I used past experiences and feedback to improve which I’m proud of. And before I end off todays post I just wanted to reiterate the fact that yes we are all human. There’s personal feelings that pop up in moments of anxiety and that’s normal, it took me a while to be able to process that and not to attack myself for those thoughts and judgements but I hope that me admitting my faults and acknowledging my weak spots I can be an example to you guys that are also trying to navigate your way through this journey. I’ll see you guys again one last time for our final flight of this whirlwind of a journey to our final destination next week.

[tomtenadia]

Remember Us - part 6

Monday surprise!

As some of you might have read from my post from yesterday, I officially finished this fic and it will have 10 parts. this was the original plan and I am glad I kept it. The idea of having many more chapters of Rowan not recognising his family was far too painful.

Chapter 9 and 10 are so sweet that they will probably give you cavities, but I just thought they deserved the best happy ending.

Also, i got very attached to Thomas and he is a great fan of his parents.

Well, I hope you will enjoy this.

-------

Rowan had been staying at Lorcan’s while Aelin still kept her distance. It had been two weeks and they had been horrendous. She had blocked him off of her life. She was not answering his calls or texts and apparently had told Elide not to tell him anything about her. He was furious. They should be together and face such a tragic moment in their lives, together. But Aelin would not listen. He had tried everything to talk to her.

Someone knocked on the door and, since he was home alone, he went to open it.

On the other side he found Aelin. But the woman in front of him had a lifeless stare and deep shadows under her eyes. She was the ghost of his wife.

“Ro…” she said in a thin voice and then broke down in heavy sob.

Rowan didn’t even think. His arms pulled her at his chest and kissed her head. The sight of an Aelin so heartbroken was a shot to his heart.

“I am sorry.” She added, hiding her face in his chest and inhaling his scent that always gave her comfort.

“Shhh… I am here. I am never letting you go again, no matter how much you shout at me.” Another tender kiss “I am coming home and we’ll get through this.”

Rowan was in bed and staring at the ceiling after the dream woke him up. The Aelin from the dream was a shell compared to the version sleeping at his side. He turned his head and stared at her sleepy face and a deep part of him hoped she was fine. That the baby was fine. Because he knew for sure he didn’t want to see her again in the conditions she had been in the dream. Seeing Aelin in pain or sad hurt him.

He sighed and got off the bed and walked to the kitchen but once he got there he realised he had no idea where anything was. Aelin had said he would make pancakes but could not remember the day she had said. 

A splitting headache hit him and Rowan sat down on the sofa, head in his hands and then for a moment he felt disoriented and could not recognise his surroundings. Panic hit him. He looked up and saw a boy staring at him. He jumped up and almost fell.

“Dad.” The boy’s voice was almost tearful.

And as quickly as the moment of disorientation came, just as rapidly it went away and lucidity returned.

“Tom,” he ran to the boy and hugged him to console him as soon as he started crying. He had scared him “I am sorry I frightened you.” Thomas hugged his father and stopped crying and Rowan relaxed for an instant.

“Do you want pancakes?” He asked his son, still not letting him go.

“It’s not Saturday.” Said the boy, looking at his father in his eyes.

“Shhhh…” said Rowan with a finger against his mouth “You can have pancakes all the time.” He lifted the boy in his arms “but you need to tell me where everything is.”

Thomas grinned and pointed to the kitchen and once in there he started pointing at the doors and Rowan finally found a pan. Then he grabbed his phone and searched for a recipe, grabbed eggs and milk from the fridge and joined Thomas back at the counter who, in the meantime, had grabbed a chair and was kneeling on it so he could follow his dad.

“Will you be my assistant?” the boy nodded eagerly.

After ten minutes he was mixing the batter making sure it was smooth as the instructions recommended.

“Ok, Tom, are you ready for the first one?”

“Pancakes,” he shouted happily and Rowan smiled. He might remember a very few things about his son but he was definitely going to cherish that moment. It didn’t matter if it had been only a day. He was already in love with the two children. He just hoped he could become a good father to them once again.

*

Aelin woke up and found the bed empty and for a moment she thought it had been only a dream, but as she rolled over she noticed Rowan’s side was crumpled and gently caressed his pillow. He had always been an early riser and it seemed that some things had not changed.

She sat up, grabbed her fleece from the chair and left the bed looking for Rowan.

As she exited the bedroom she heard laughter coming from the kitchen and followed the sounds and once inside she could not believe the scene. Thomas was kneeling on a chair beside Rowan trying to cook something.

“Pancakes on a Wednesday?”

Thomas turned to her “shhh mum, it’s a secret.”

Aelin walked to her son and kissed his head “good morning, my love.”

“I am helping dad with pancakes. He doesn’t remember how to make them.”

Rowan flipped one and Thomas clapped “that is mine.” He grabbed a plate and placed the pancake on it “go and sit while I make more.”

Thomas climbed down the chair and walked to the table with his plate.

Aelin moved to Rowan’s side “did you sleep well?”

Her husband nodded and hesitated for a moment wether to tell her about his episode. Then he sighed and told her what had happened and Aelin looked at him with a doctor’s eye.

“A TBI can have such effects. It can cause moments of disorientation in which the person doesn’t know where he is. It can also affect short term memory, making it difficult to learn new things or even remember things you just did.” She placed a few more pancakes in Thomas’ plate “but there are ways to help you. We can do lists, have notepads and clipboards in the house. Have a note book and note down things.” She explained going back at his side “long term memory is stored already in your brain,” and playfully patted his head “you actually haven’t lost them. They are still all there. It’s just your brain has to sort through them again. It’s very complicated and technical, but they will come back. Short term memory is another issue. Do you still feel confused?”

Rowan shook his head and passed Aelin a plate with pancakes and then grabbed the jar of Nutella “go and scoff your breakfast.”

Aelin grinned “see? You remembered I take them with Nutella.”

In that instant they heard a cry and Aelin realised Freyja had woken up. She was about to stand when Rowan stopped her “Eat,” he commanded and again she had a glimpse of past Rowan. The one who would made sure she ate.

A moment later he came back with his daughter in his arms “I think our princess wants to join the breakfast club as well.” Freyja threw her chubby arms around his neck, snuggling close to him “what does she eat?”

Aelin went to the fridge and grabbed one of her pressed meals and Rowan began feeding his daughter.

It was an hour later when Aelin was ready for work “mum should be back very soon and I am taking Thomas to the nursery. Will you be okay with Freyja for half an hour tops? I changed her and she is fed, it should be easy.”

Rowan lifted the little girl in his arms “we should be fine.” And gave her his best reassuring smile.

“You call me if you have any problems.”

Thomas went to hug his dad before following Aelin out of the door.

Once he was alone with his daughter he stood, with her still in his arms and hobbled around the living room and stared at their impressive bookcase. Freyja leaned forward and with her hands tried to grab a book “ ‘tory” she babbled.

“Do you want me to read you a story?” He asked her and the girl green eyes were fixed on him and then she nodded.

He placed her down on the carpet and turned to the library in search of a storybook for her.

“I think I— ” he turned with a book in his hands and froze. Freyja was gone. Shit.

“Freyja.” He called her, panic rising in his voice. She couldn’t have gone far. How fast could a 18 months toddler go? He took his cane and started looking around the house “Freyja?”

In that instant Evalin came back and he breathed in relief.

“Rowan, are you okay?”

He was the worst father ever “I lost Freyja. I was looking for a storybook and when I turned she was gone.” He was preparing himself from some lashing from his mother in law but the woman burst into laughter.

“She does that. Thomas has been teaching her how to play hide and seek,” the woman explained calmly walking around the house and then going to the girl’s bedroom. Rowan followed her.

Evalin lifted the blanket from the side of the bed and pointed at under her bed.

Rowan heard a faint giggle.

“I wonder where my girl is.” Said Evalin keeping up the pretence. She opened the wardrobe “no, she is not here.” Rowan observed her and then joined in “she is not in the toy box either.”

Evalin placed her hands on her hips and grinned at Rowan then crouched down “here you are.”

The little girl screamed in delight as her grandma caught her.

The three of  them went back to the living room and Evalin passed Freyja back to Rowan and went to unpack her shopping bags.

“Do you need a hand?” He offered.

“No, it’s just fruits and veggies and a few more things. I love to go down at the market in the morning and buy fresh ingredients.” She told him, “you love to go too on your day off, wake up early and also go to the fish market and get the first catch.”

Rowan sat on a chair at the big table with his daughter in his arms.

“Aelin can cook, but you are the chef of the family.”

He smiled back and gently bounced Freyja on his knee and she giggled.

“How does it feel being back home?” She asked her son in law while stashing away the groceries.

Rowan sighed “it feels good and strange at the same time.” It was hard to explain how he felt without sounding like a lunatic “Some things are starting to feel familiar. But others feel totally new and others scare me.” He confessed but the woman in front of him looked at him with tenderness “the kids for example, I feel like I love them madly already but it pains me that the memories with them are still fuzzy. I want to give them back their father.”

“And Aelin?”

Rowan sighed “I think I feel something for her. I would not call it love yet. But yesterday we kissed and it felt like the most normal thing ever.”

Evalin smiled.

“But my memories are a jumble in my head right now. I have them, they are there and I found that being at home is triggering more and more of them. I want to do this. I want us to be a family again.” He grabbed his phone and showed her the photo on his home screen. The one on the beach, all of them smiling and happy. “I want this again. I just don’t know how to get there.”

“Rowan,” Evalin walked to him once done with the groceries and sat at his side “you have been awake for a month and at home for two days.” She patted his knee “both Aelin and I think that being home will help trigger more of your memories. Look through photo albums.” She stood and opened a cabinet and took out a box which once opened he discovered it contained a lot of photo albums. “Digital is good, but you and Aelin both love to print out the photos and make scrapbooks.” She rummaged in the box for a moment and then passed him an album “start with this.”

Rowan took it and it noticed it was their wedding album “Her friend Chaol took all the photos and then Aelin made a scrapbook and added notes and comments on it. She said she did not want the usual boring wedding album.”

He opened the first page and in big colourful letter and nice calligraphy it said Buzzard & Fireheart: the beginning of an epic tale.

The second page it had a picture of the two of them in an armour, back to back and swords drawn.

“You two hired some costumes for that photo.”

Rowan laughed and kept on flipping through the photo album. It was organised like a story, with small narrating paragraphs near the photos and he read each one of them.

“You two got married on a beach, then had a gigantic barbecue for all your friends and then when night came you lit a bonfire and had your first dance as husband and wife in front of the fire. Both of you barefoot.”

Rowan smiled “it sounds like fun.”

“It was a great day.” She bounced Freyja on her lap “all the albums tell a story. You did all of them like that so when looking back you could also remember more of those moments.”

Rowan reached the page where they were standing in front of Aedion, who officiated the wedding, and he stared at Aelin. Her light blue dress was gorgeous, but he was stuck on her smile. In the photo he was looking at she has the brightest of smiles and he realised that falling for her would be so easy. She was caring, brilliant, funny and sarcastic. She had passion. She had fire.

She was his Fireheart.

[tornsuits]

mechs timeline... or something

good evening gender identities! i’ve been thinking about the order the albums might have happened in, chronologically, and how events from some albums might have affected others! and now i have a whole long theory/headcanon about it, because i’m insane. so. here we are!

(obligatory disclaimer that i did make some assumptions about events that happened offscreen, and while they’re all based in actual canon, they are still, y’know, headcanons that shouldn’t just be taken as fact.)

so, typically the assumption is that the albums take place in the same order that they were released (ouatis udad hnoc tbi, with ttbt songs wherever they fit) which is possible (and probably correct tbh)! but this line from ‘ulysses’s will’ caught my attention:

Doesn’t matter there’s nothing beyond the City save the automated colonies that feed it and the empty black.

which could be interpreted a couple different ways, but the most literal being that there really is nothing beyond the city- there are no more habitable planets, & the city has taken over the last planets and is using them for maintaining the city (presumably). which, considering we know that there are many planets and other Things In Space in the mechsverse, probably means that udad is actually the last of the albums to take place, timeline-wise.

the only piece of evidence i could find directly contradicting this is that nastya went Out right before tbi, and was present (though offscreen) during udad. but time travel is an established thing in the mechsverse that we know the mechanisms have access to, so:

yes, udad happened last in linear time, but that doesn’t mean that it happened last in mechs time- in fact, if i were newly immortalized & could travel through time, the last human civilization is probably one of the first places i’d want to go. so the album release order is probably the order that the mechs visited these planets, even if that’s not the order they existed in, like, human history.

anyway! so what order did the albums take place in, then?

i’m gonna go out on a bit of a limb and say that i think tbi actually took place first! i know it’s usually considered to take place last because it was the last album to be released, (+ the thing in out i talked about already). but hear me out!

tbi took place first, after a good portion of, like, other things had already happened. what other things? i don’t know! the mechs probably didn’t write about them because they were actually happy, or unsatisfying, or whatever. so tbi is actually the first step to the destruction of the rest of the universe, and i’ll explain how that might have happened in a moment. (which actually explains why lyf saw notes that the mechs’ technology seems so alien- it was pretty early along in the timeline, compared to the rest of the albums).

so i’m working under the headcanon that the bifrost managed not only to destroy all of the yggdrasil system, but a good portion of the rest of the universe as well. it’s pretty easy to guess how the sudden disappearance of a whole system would lead to people going to investigate, which would lead to more people getting killed by the Rainbow Shit, and if anyone survived they’d probably bring bits of the Rainbow Shit back to their home planets, ect, ect. (also, not to delve too far into forbidden lore, but the void spreads.) so, the bifrost probably wiped out most of the civilizations in the universe.

but a few planets/systems survive- ones far enough away that they weren’t immediately affected, and were able to get word that Maybe Investigating This Is Not The Best Plan. which brings us to ouatis, which i think happened sometime after tbi (possibly around the same time or after as hnoc- i’m putting it first for organizational purposes, but it could go either way).

so the system from ouatis survives, & this is probably how old king cole was able to establish himself as an immortal tyrant, since there was a sudden lack of other governments to keep him in check/send support to citizens starting an uprising. this basically leaves old king cole free to colonize a good portion of the planets that weren’t destroyed by the bifrost. presumably the government collapes after king cole dies, (to quote the fiction, it most likely suffered ‘the most horrendous power vacuum and subsequent bloodshed the universe has ever seen’ which probably killed a good amount of the remaining citizens) and that’s another mass civilization down! fun times.  

which actually ties very neatly into alice. it’s unlikely that the ouatis system (does it have a name? i can’t keep calling it the ouatis system i can’t) was able to completely escape the horrors of the bifrost, and might still have some residual effects in the areas that the void touched. the planet/moon from alice was probably an area heavily touched by the void, which might be why it’s Like That.

and then we get to hnoc, which, again, could have happened at any time around when ouatis was taking place. we know that they were never able to finish building the station, & that contact with the outside world was abruptly cut off in holder of the grail. so it’s not unlikely that the civilization, or at least part of it, was killed by the bifrost. (i mean, the other option is that they just, like, got bored with the station and ghosted an entire colony). the station survived due to previously mentioned lack of contact with the outside world, although this doesn’t last long.

which brings us to udad! unlike fort galfridian, i don’t think it was completely cut off from the rest of the universe- just far enough away, or relatively untouched, enough that it was still habitable. which is probably why it got so crowded- so many people were moving there after their home got destroyed by cosmic horror rainbows. there’s also something to be said about the fact that the city is modeled after the ‘roaring twenties,’ which was a time of innovation and celebration after recovering from disaster, but that might be reading too far into it.

but, while the city was mostly sheltered from the bifrost attack, it probably was still at least slightly touched by bifrost, similar to alice. which might be how we get things like orpheus being able to see the future in his dreams. hm! sounds familiar! it’s almost like someone else also apparently saw the future in their dreams and was connected to the void!

[ODIN] When I first built this train, this snaking engine of change, I could not have guessed that this is where the songs I dreamt of would lead.

haha. yep.

also, taking the epilogue into account and how ashes burned down the acheron, effectively killing the last life in the universe... and how they died at the very end of the universe, briefly the brightest thing in the universe... well. i’m not saying that when ashes died they were cast back forward to when they burned down the acheron for the first time but maybe that’s what i’m saying.

so, to recap: during the bifrost incident, the void leaks through into our world and destroys most of it. fort galfridian and king cole’s empire are some of the few surviors, due to lack of contact, although king cole couldn’t completely escape the bifrost. both of these civilizations fall, leaving the city as the only habitable place left, although also slightly touched by the bifrost. the city also eventually falls into ruin, and with it, the last humans in the known universe. and that’s how the world ends, i guess! woo.

again, don’t take this as canon or whatever- i’m just taking the vague scraps that the canon did give us and turning it into a story that makes sense, at least from my perspective. so, yeah!

[fific7]

Velvet

Billy Russo x Reader

@omgrachwrites 500 Follower Celebration

Summary: This follows on from That Swept-Back Hair, approx 8 months later. Things have changed.

Warnings: TBI, memory loss, mentions of sex, angst/fluff mix.

A/N: Loosely based on S2 Billy Russo, but this is non-canon and exists solely within my imaginary Punisher AU. In fact, who is The Punisher? It’s really just The Frankie & Billy Show!

(The little double blink he does as he’s drinking gets me right in the 🖤)

(My GIF)

Your hand glided across the top and then back over Billy’s shorn velvety head, feeling the soft prickliness of the short hairs against your palm. They’d shaved his head when he’d arrived at the hospital prior to surgery.

You still weren’t totally comfortable with the new look, however you knew it’d been unavoidable, and that was that.

It had started growing back a little, and you didn’t want to think about why they were still keeping it short.

His eyelashes fluttered but his eyes remained closed; you sighed and settled yourself back against the uncomfortable seat, ready for another hour’s silent visit.

The sunlight stealing through the venetian blinds threw highlights and shadows onto Billy’s face, and you felt a sudden need to touch his skin. Your fingers ran over his face, feeling each ridge of his scars.

How was Billy going to react when he saw them, you wondered. Let’s be honest, he was a vain man and his good looks had made up a large part of his persona. You didn’t think he was going to take it very well.

It takes a lot of courage for people with disabilities, burns and scars to brave the stares and whispers of others, when all they really want to do is to hide away. The world can be a cruel place, and they have to dig down deep within themselves to find the strength to deal with it.

As you sat there with Billy’s unresponsive hand clasped in yours, your mind drifted back to an awful day, two months ago.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Two short months. How quickly everything can change in a heartbeat.

You and Billy had made a go of things after the Firefighter Affair, as Karen called it. During the six months following it, you’d found yourself in an actual, real-life relationship with Billy, much to your surprise - and intense pleasure.

He’d still spend long hours at Anvil, he had to keep building up the business and you understood that. What you weren’t so happy about was that he was still very much ’hands on’ with the assignments, as if he didn’t want to let go of the reins to a large extent. Inside, there would always be a piece of Lt. Russo, right alongside CEO Russo.

On the other hand, he had to get used to you jetting round the globe on short trips for your new job, which you were loving.

To begin with, there were sulks and jealous outbursts mainly about ’all those foreign guys’ but he chilled a little after you reassured him you had no interest in hooking up with any of them. “Better not, sweetheart,” he’d growled, dark eyes staring you down.

Both of you had made sure you spent time together in between your busy schedules; breakfasts, lunches, dinners, movies, walks and picnics in the park. Taking turns at staying over at each other’s places.

Yes, you’d breached the panther’s den, a huge victory in your mind as none of his other women had ever set foot in it. Hell, some of your clothes and toiletries had made their way into his wardrobe and bathroom, and vice versa.

And, of course, the incredible sex.

Billy was as energetic, sensual and inventive between the sheets as ever. And sometimes he was just pure caveman. You’d be showering in the morning, Billy would strut naked into the bathroom, and you’d hear, “Showering without me, sweetheart?” Hands grabbing you, arms going round you, and you’d be laying on the bath towels on the floor in an instant.

Billy, hovering above you, his body pressing down on yours, eyes gazing at you, “I think you need a little disciplining, angel,” his mouth and hands all over you. You’d thread your fingers through his hair, giving a not-so-gentle tug, there’d be an answering grunt, Billy revving up, ready to give you the best time you’d have that day.

Things were going really well, much better than you’d expected. At first, doubts had still clouded your mind about Billy’s ability to stay faithful, but... there was no evidence to the contrary, he was behaving himself and nothing but very attentive to you. You were now on his arm at every event he attended.

Then, an unexpected phone call one morning as you were getting ready for work. A hospital administrator, who said that you were receiving the call because your name and number were on Billy Russo’s emergency contact list.

Everything stopped, frozen in the moment, as you automatically assumed the worst.

Your brain finally kicked in and began to filter some of what she was saying back to you. Eventually you gathered that Billy had been caught up in an explosion and had been badly injured. Like, really badly injured. She wouldn’t give you any other details over the phone, but agreed when you asked if you could visit him. She did warn you, however, that he wasn’t conscious.

You were scrambling round your apartment, looking for jacket, shoes, bag, when your phone rang again. Karen. You picked up, and heard her trembling voice saying your name and spilling that Frank had been injured in an explosion. Again, you stopped in your tracks.

It dawned on you now why you got the phone call from the hospital, as you were sure Frank would be at the top of Billy’s contact list.

You hadn’t even thought about Frank, that he could’ve been injured too. You felt a stab of guilt.

Agreeing to meet at the hospital, you hung up, dropped a quick explanatory text to your boss, and rushed out to begin your trek over there.

You met up outside the main entrance and stepped into the chaos of the ER. Eventually you were led to a small side room and informed that the attending doctor would come and find you as soon as they could.

Both of you sat and speculated on the severity of their injuries, and what the ‘incident’ could have been. The guys didn’t discuss the nitty-gritty of their work with you, due mainly to the sensitive nature of the assignments.

Karen called into work, firstly to explain her absence and secondly, to ask if there was anything being reported as a major incident, but there was nothing.

A couple of days later, she’d managed to discover that Anvil had got a contract to bodyguard a government official from a Middle Eastern country, and dissidents from there had ambushed him on his way from the airport into the city, slamming their SUV into an escort car and causing its gas tank to explode a few minutes later. That’s what Frank and Billy managed to get caught up in.

The doctor came and collected Karen, saying that Frank was conscious but dazed, and she’d give her more details about his injuries as they walked to his room.

Once you were left alone, the wait began to feel endless. Your mind was circling like a washing machine stuck on the spin cycle; Frank was conscious, Billy wasn’t, Frank was conscious, Billy... why wasn’t Billy conscious?

Eventually, the doctor returned for you, but sat down on one of the plastic hospital chairs rather than leading you to his room. She had that sympathetic but business-like look on her face, the one medical people seemed to adopt when they had bad news to impart.

You found yourself thinking that they had to maintain a bit of distance, otherwise they probably wouldn’t be able to do their job.

She started speaking, telling you that Billy had received his injuries in an explosion, and had sustained lacerations from shrapnel, a dislocated shoulder and a broken foot. But the most serious one had been a substantial concussion which had caused a small bleed on the brain, and this had required immediate surgery.

Swelling of the brain had also caused complications, and Billy had been placed into a medically-induced coma.

She’d stood up then and you’d followed her along several corridors, repeating ‘shrapnel’ over and over in your mind. The doctor had stopped outside a door with a small rectangular window inset above the handle, turning to face you.

“He’s suffered quite a lot of facial scarring, and is quite heavily bandaged... I just wanted to warn you.”

You felt tears stinging your eyes.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Karen had texted you about 30 minutes later, asking if you wanted to stay or go.

To be quite honest, you’d be glad to leave the oppressive little room; the beeping of the machines and rhythmic clicking of the ventilator had been making you feel tense, and a headache was forming behind your eyes.

And Billy’s bandaged head and face - you felt guilty for thinking this - looked like something out of a horror movie.

The two of you met outside the main entrance and headed to a coffee shop you could see on the opposite corner. You had no idea if it had decent coffee but it surely couldn’t be any worse than the dishwater the hospital passed off as a drinkable beverage. Karen caught you up on Frank’s condition as you walked over there.

He had a couple of dislocated joints, two broken fingers, cuts and bruises. Where he’d lucked out - so to speak - was that he’d avoided getting concussed.

Once you’d got your distinctly average coffee, you relayed the details of Billy’s injuries to Karen, and she’d been shocked that he was in such a serious condition.

There was going to be a long old journey ahead to get Billy back on his feet.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

They brought Billy out of the induced coma just short of three weeks later. The brain swelling had definitely been a worry, but they weren’t keen on keeping him under much longer. However, more concerning was the fact that he didn’t wake up of his own accord once the medically induced coma was reversed.

The mummy-like bandages had been removed at the same time, revealing angry-looking red scars. The nurses had been applying oils and balm to them several times a day, and this had helped to calm them quite a lot. But you knew they were still going to be a big shock to Billy.

Frank, out of hospital by then and keeping things ticking over at Anvil, didn’t say much - as was his way - but you knew that both he and Karen were as worried as you were about this unsettling turn of events.

You tried to maintain a positive front, but on occasion found yourself literally sobbing on Karen’s shoulder when it got too much to handle.

You fell into a strange kind of half-life; working as usual then heading out to the hospital each evening to sit and talk to Billy, holding his hand. You ate at odd hours, slept erratically, disturbed by bad dreams, usually about Billy never regaining consciousness.

And so it went; work, hospital, eat, sleep, repeat. Day after soul-destroying day.

Today, at lunch-time you were on your way out to grab something to eat when your phone rang, an unknown number. Praying it wasn’t some annoying cold-caller, you picked up to find yourself speaking to a doctor from the hospital. You stopped walking; you usually didn’t hear from them, they usually had nothing new to tell you.

Three minutes later, you were running back up to your office, to let your boss know that Billy was awake and you had to get to the hospital. “Go, go, Y/N,” he said, “and keep me posted!”

In the back of an Uber, you texted Frank and Karen to give them the good news, saying you’d be in touch later once you’d been able to see him.

You really hoped the traffic wouldn’t be too bad, you were majorly anxious to get to Billy. In case he lost consciousness again before you saw him.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your feet took you through the entrance hall, into the lifts and up to Billy’s floor without any conscious input from you, as you’d taken the same route so many times. You waited impatiently at the nurses’ station, your head whipping round as you heard your name.

The doctor took you into the small side room again; so, a chat before you got to see Billy. The doctor had that same look on her face.

“Billy’s awake, but he’s a little disorientated. Y/N... he’s experiencing some amnesia. From what we can gather, he thinks he’s still a serving Marine in Afghanistan.”

Your heart sank; you supposed it had been naive to think he’d wake up and things would magically be back to how they used to be.

“But that’s normal, right? After a head trauma.”

She nodded, “Yes. And all or some memory can be recovered. But as you probably know, there are no hard and fast rules about if or when that will happen. There are no guarantees when it comes to amnesia.”

You gulped, nodding to show you understood.

The doctor reached into her top pocket, bringing out a card and handing it to you. “We have a psychotherapist affiliated to the hospital, a Dr Dumont. In fact, I think she was planning to assess Billy in the next day or so. She’s got several vets on her books, I’m sure she’d be happy to take him on.”

You handed the card back to her. “Thanks, but we’ve already got counselling set up for Billy. An ex-Marine buddy of his, who supports and counsels vets. He’ll be a lot more comfortable with Curtis. Please thank her but let her know we don’t require her help.” The doctor looked a little sceptical but nodded and tucked the card away.

She stood up, waiting for you to do so and then walked with you along the familiar corridors to Billy’s room. “Has he mentioned anyone’s names when you’ve talked to him? Me, Frank, Karen?” A shake of her head, “No, sorry. As I said, he’s quite disorientated.”

You nodded, asking, “Has he seen his scars yet?” Again, she shook her head, “We thought that might be a bit too much for him on his first day awake. If he’s run his hand over his face, he’ll have felt them of course, but there are no mirrors in the room or bathroom.” You nodded, “Thanks, Doctor. I think that’s for the best. I won’t mention it unless he asks me directly.”

She left you outside the door, and taking a deep breath, you opened it and went in.

The figure in the bed had wrapped his sheets round him, right up to his neck. He was curled up on his side, facing away from the door, a defensive position it seemed. You approached the bed, feeling that he knew you were there, but there was no movement.

“Billy?” you said quietly, “it’s me, Y/N.” No response.

Then his head turned towards you, and you had your first sight of his dark eyes in a long time, gazing at you over his shoulder. But you saw instantly there was no recognition in them, and you had to look down to hide your disappointment.

He began to sit up, struggling against the sheet cocoon he’d created, and you leant forward, reshuffling his pillows. He sank back into them, still staring at you. You drank in the sight of him, awake; you’d really begun to think that he’d never regain consciousness.

“We know each other, then,” he suddenly said, a statement, not a question. Voice low and raspy, no doubt due to the recently-removed ventilator.

“We do, Billy,” you replied, “we’ve been seeing each other. An item, as they say.”

He nodded slowly, “For how long?” You pulled up a chair alongside the bed, “Six months.”

He gave a low chuckle, and now his eyes flickered up and down your body as you sat down next to him, before returning to meet your eyes. His had a slight glint in them.

“So we’ve slept together. We have good times?”

You smiled, nodding, “Very good times, Billy.”

He gave you the Billy smirk, and you knew that your Billy was definitely still in there somewhere.

His demeanour suddenly changed, he looked worried. His eyes dropped down onto his hands.

“I don’t know who you are.”

The flat statement took your breath away. You knew he didn’t recognise you, but hearing it said straight out like that hit you like a slap in the face.

He stared at you again, while you tried to arrange your face into a neutral expression. “Sorry,” he mumbled, one hand gesturing in the air at nothing.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted his hand and entwined your fingers with his, “It’s OK, it’s OK,” you said, although truthfully it wasn’t.

It hurt your heart that he didn’t recognise you, but the amnesia was to blame, and you couldn’t lay a guilt trip on him about it.

He was still gazing at you, and you continued, “I’m here, Billy and I... we.... are all here for you.” Squeezing his hand, “Me, Frank, Curtis, Karen, we’ll get you through this, I promise.”

Tears welled in his eyes, and his fingers gripped yours.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Once back in the privacy of your apartment, you filled in the others on a group call. Frank rumbled down the phone, “So he thinks he’s still serving?” “Apparently so. That’s what he told the doctor. I didn’t want to push it on my first visit. I’m heading back later and I’ll try to talk to him a bit more.” Karen asked if he knew about the scarring yet, and you said no, he’d admitted he was in quite a bit of pain, but all over, not just his face.

Curtis butted in at that point, saying that some of his guys had mentioned this Dr Dumont you’d told them about. “Yeah, she’s got some... weird ideas, they said. Masks and shit.” What? You asked him to elaborate and he’d told you the little he knew. “Well, I’m glad I kicked that idea into touch,” you replied, “none of that stuff is gonna help Billy get better, I’m sure of that.”

When you got back to the hospital, Billy was sitting up in bed, and spent the first five minutes you were in the room just staring intently at you. You’d gently questioned him as to how he was feeling, was he eating, drinking, sleeping, but got no response.

Then he’d shaken his head, as if trying to clear it, and asked, “Am I still in Afghanistan?”

You and he then spent a little time talking about what he remembered, probing to see how far back his memories went. He did think he was still in the Marines, thought he was on a tour, but couldn’t remember who he was serving with, could see some faces but didn’t recall names. You were keen to get Frank and Curtis in to see him, maybe it would help if he was face to face with them.

You could see he was getting tired, so you pushed your chair back, about to stand up, when his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. It was such a Billy thing to do, you heard yourself gasp.

He looked at you, then down at his hand on your wrist, “Shouldn’t I have done that?” You smiled, “It’s just such a normal thing for you to do it took me by surprise, Billy.”

“I’m always grabbin’ your wrist?” You laughed out loud, “Amongst other things!”

He laughed too, and you were so happy to hear that sound.

“We need to be talking about all-a that.” He tugged on your wrist, “And I reckon I need a kiss.”

You shook your head, smiling, “Maybe soon, Billy, right now you need to concentrate on getting better.”

“But I think it’d help!” giving you a sly side-eye, “jog my memory.”

You leant in, “How can you think about kissing when you’ve been through a major trauma?!” but you were craving the closeness with him, after weeks without it.

His hand suddenly went from your wrist to the nape of your neck, pulling you half on top of him, and you were thinking that some things didn’t change when his lips met yours.

You’d been imagining a fairly quick, chaste ‘getting to know you again’ kiss, so you were surprised when you felt his tongue sneaking past your lips, his other hand moving smoothly onto the swell of your breast, massaging firmly, and you could feel his arousal under you.

You pushed back, looking at him with a smile.

“Marine! Stand down.”

It was a stupid cheesy thing you’d always said to him, even before you were properly dating.

He stared at you, his thumb stroking your bottom lip, “That.. what you just said. It feels familiar.”

You nodded, “That’s good, Billy... I’m happy about that, I say it to you all the time. It’s our little joke.”

He lay back on his pillows, mood changing suddenly, staring at you. “Why d’you shove me away? I was kissin’ you, had my hands on you, wasn’t that familiar to you, Y/N?”

You stroked his arm. “Billy, I didn’t shove you away. I just need you to remember that you’ve suffered a major trauma, you need to be calm, concentrate on getting better...” He was looking tired, head nestling back into his pillows.

You stood up, picking up your bag, “I’m gonna head home now, let you get your rest. I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?” You leant forward and kissed his temple, “Sleep well.”

His eyes were already closed as you pulled back from the kiss.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The four of you met up at the hospital mid-morning the next day. Karen and Curtis sat down on chairs in the corridor, while you and Frank headed into Billy’s room.

You stopped in your tracks in the doorway, Frank bumping into you. There was a small, dark-haired woman sitting on a chair, side on to the door, with a clipboard on her knees.

But what had you both frozen to the spot was the sight of Billy, dressed in a tracksuit, sitting on a chair opposite her. He had a pure white mask on; two eye holes, a fully-formed nose, small slit for the mouth. It was damn scary-looking.

You took a few steps into the room, “Who are you?” you challenged the woman, although you had a good idea already. “And why is my boyfriend wearing that weird mask?”

She stared at you, “Boyfriend? Oh.. I didn’t realise...”

You decided to drop the innocent act. “Are you Dr Dumont? Because if you are, you can take your clipboard and your mask and get out of here. I asked the doctor yesterday to tell you that we already have counselling in place for Billy.”

“Well, yes she did, but about that... to be honest that’s why I decided to..” she looked over at Billy, “assess him in any case. I don’t feel that the counselling you mention would be right for...”

“Doctor!” you hissed, and she stopped talking. “You are treading a very thin line here. I haven’t asked or authorised you to see Billy, so I will ask you again, please take your theatre props and go.”

You’d walked over to Billy as you’d been talking, and stripped the mask off him, holding it out to her. Billy’s wide dark eyes were gazing up at you.

She stood up and snatched the mask from you, placing it on top of her clipboard. With a very condescending smile, she said, “I’m telling you, you’re making a big mistake.”

“Get out! Now,” you said, glaring at her.

The door banged shut behind her, and you said as Frank walked over to you, “Unbelievable! Billy’s had a lucky escape from that quack, I reckon.”

Frank nodded, placing his beefy paw on Billy’s shoulder. Billy’s eyes were searching his face.

“Bill,” Frank growled, “‘s me, Frankie. I’m here for ya.” He tightened his grip on the shoulder under his hand. “I got your back, bud.”

You could both tell that he didn’t yet recognise Frank. But he did recognise the comfort the words gave him.

“Frankie,” he murmured.

Then he looked to you. “Y/N?...right?” You nodded, fighting to keep your expression blank. Still not sure of you, even your name. You caught Frank sending you a sympathetic glance.

You took his hand, rubbing your thumb over his skin. Billy had a puzzled look on his face as he looked up at you.

“Why’d she put that mask on me, Y/N? My face hurts. Don’t I look good?”

Your mouth drew into a line, and you quickly glanced at Frank.

“Billy, you look as good as you always did.”

“Did I look good?”

“Yes, you looked so handsome,” you replied, “a beautiful man.”

That small smile, dark eyes sparkling at you.

“And do I still look good?”

You ran your hand down the back of his velvety head, feeling him shiver as your fingers trailed onto his neck, pleased with his response to your touch.

“Yes, you do, Billy,” you answered honestly, because as far as you were concerned, he did.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Additional A/N: DUMONT 🥊 POW! 🥊 how it would’ve gone down if I’d written S2 😉 And thank you Tumblr for totally eating the draft of this last night, really enjoyed re-typing it.

[densi-mber]

Paramnesia

A/N: For today’s prompt. This particular scenario was suggested by @mashmaiden. Set in early season 4.

***

“Agent Blye?”

Kensi groaned, pushing at the hand tapping her shoulder.

“Agent Blye, can you hear me?” the voice said more insistently.

“Where am I?” she mumbled, just barely able to open her eyes. Even that made her head pound.

“You’re in the hospital, ma’am,” the man explained. “I’m Nurse Jackson. I noticed you were waking up a few minutes ago.” Kensi gave the barest of nods, becoming increasingly confused. She didn’t remember scheduling any procedure. Actually, she couldn’t remember much of anything.

“What happened to me?” Lifting her hand, she frowned at the needle inserted in the back of her hand.

“Your vehicle crashed and turned over in a ditch this morning. You suffered a head injury, but your doctor can tell you more about that when you’re a little more settled.”

“Am I going to die?” she asked, squinting up at the nurse. Something started beeping loudly and he gently grabbed her hand.

“No, ma’am, the injury was not that severe. Please calm down.” She tried to take a couple breaths, instinctually knowing that she wouldn’t like the results if she couldn’t calm down on her own. When the monitor stopped beeping, Nurse Jackson added, “Your partner will be back soon. He had to step away to make a call.”

“My partner,” she mumbled. She didn’t remember having a partner either.

“Yes, Marty Deeks. He brought you in.” He checked her IV, glancing at her a couple times. “I’m going give you a dose of pain medication and I’ll let your doctor now you’re awake.”

Laying back down, she tried to force herself to remember something, repeating the name Marty Deeks in her mind until she felt calmer. A few minutes later, the door opened again.

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re awake,” said the man who walked through. He was tall with messy blonde hair that curled around his ears and a wide mouth that was currently narrowed with worry. Kensi felt something flutter in the pit of her stomach at the sound of his voice. As he drew closer, she noticed some blood smeared across his forehead.

He hesitated for a moment and then bent to hug her, the fluttering feeling increased and she wrapped her free arm around his neck. This was obviously Marty. It felt good, comforting to be in his arms.

“The nurse said we were in an accident,” she said, pushing herself up higher in the bed. She must have guessed right that he was there too because he nodded, his expression turning worried once more.

“Yeah, you don’t remember it?”

“Some of my memories are a little foggy,” Kensi hedged. She grabbed his hand and his eyes flew down to their linked fingers. “But my head barely hurts.” That was a bald-faced lie. “Can you get me out of here?”

“I don’t know, the doctor-“

“Please, Marty.” He arched an eyebrow at that and he shook his head, allowing a tiny smirk.

“You’re super cute when you beg Kensalina, but I think they’ll want to keep you for a while for observation. It was a pretty bad crash.”

“I just want to go home.,” Kensi murmured, pressing his hand to her lips.

“Ok, yeah, wow. Apparently that TBI made you a lot more affectionate that usual,” he said, his cheeks flushing just a little. It was pretty adorable.

“What, I’m not always affectionate with my husband?” she teased, looking right up into his gorgeous blue eyes. It felt normal, easy, and took away some of her discomfort at having absolutely no idea who this guy was.

“Husband?” He chuckled, turning away slightly before he rubbed his jaw. “Ok, yes, I’m definitely your husband. I uh, I want to talk to your doctor...about getting you released. Don’t go anywhere.”

He returned about five minutes later with the doctor in tow. While Marty stood in the background, the doctor, who introduced herself as Doctor Martinez, gave Kensi an amnesia test. At first it took her longer than she was proud of to come up with the simple answers to questions about the date and time, but then they became progressively easier as more information returned to her.

She even started to remember more about Marty.

The only things she couldn’t seem to remember were what happened directly before and after the accident. Dr. Martinez didn’t seem particularly worried about that and since she didn’t ask any questions about her personal life, Kensi didn’t volunteer the information.

“So, what does this mean?” Deeks asked, rubbing at his bottom lip. Kensi had noticed he had a habit of running his fingers through his hair, which made it even messier.

At some point during the exam, he’d taken her hand again. She was grateful for the support and didn’t mind the feel of his warm fingers gripping hers. “Is Kensi going to be alright? Does she need to stay in the hospital?”

“I want to look at her CT scan again, but I think she should be alright to go home,” Dr. Martinez said. “As long as she has someone to watch her the first couple days and nights for any changes.”

“Marty will be with me,” Kensi said, glancing up at him with a small smile. His own smile looked kind of odd, but she didn’t worry about it too much. She trusted him.

“Well, in that case, I’ll be fine with releasing you. And Mr. Deeks, her memory should return in a few days to a couple weeks. It’s an encouraging sign that her amnesia is already resolving.”

“Babe, can you take care of the paperwork?” The words sounded a little strange coming from her mouth, but she shook it off. Everything felt a little strange right now. Marty didn’t immediately answer, so she touched his stomach lightly to get his attention. He jerked, his eyes widening in surprise. “You’ll take care of the paperwork, right?”

“Uh sure, I’ll get started on that,” he muttered. She tipped her chin up expectantly and after a moment of hesitation, he leaned in and kissed her forehead.

***

“So, uh, what exactly do you remember about us?” Deeks asked as casually as he could, flicking a quick look at Kensi. She was propped up in the passenger seat with a couple of pillows, but other than the small bandage at her hair line, she didn’t seem that much worse for wear.

Oh, except for the fact that she apparently thought they were married. He wasn’t sure what had led her to believe that were in a relationship at all, but he hadn’t figured out a way to break the truth to her yet.

“We work together,” she began slowly, looking at him for confirmation, “at NCIS.”

“That’s right.” At least that was a start. Maybe with enough gentle leading, she would realize the truth.

“We met when when we were both undercover at a gym. We didn’t get along very well at first, but then we started working as partners.” She paused and glanced at him, her smile turning reminiscent.

“I think you thought I was pretty annoying and kind of idiot when we first met,” Deeks said, smirking at his own expense. “Still do sometimes to be honest.”

“Mm, but I love you anyway,” Kensi commented drowsily, reaching across the consul to run her fingers over his cheek. A shiver ran down his spine at the simple touch combined with her soft, almost dreamy expression . He wasn’t used to her touching him this much when it wasn’t followed by a sarcastic comment or the promise of violence.

“Uh...here we’re are.” He pulled into her driveway, and parked, grabbing her bag from the back and then helping her out. When he offered her his arm, she wrapped her arm around his neck instead, obviously expecting him to pick her up.

After a little fumbling, he had one arm around her waist and the other under her knees. Kensi once again didn’t seem to notice his discomfort and laid her head on his shoulder, sighing.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“My head hurts,” she mumbled. “And my back is kind of sore too. Maybe you can rub it for me.”

“Sure.” Deeks huffed out a laugh. God, this was like all his dreams come true but in totally the wrong way. He used the spare house key Kensi had given him a couple years ago for emergencies and carried her straight to her bedroom.

Despite their usual lack of boundaries and the number of times he’d hung out at her apartment, he rarely set foot inside her room. It was an unspoken line that neither of them was willing to cross, a sign of intimacy, which was now being completely trampled.

He set her on the bed and then grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of sweats from a pile by the door. Before she could ask for help with changing, he told her,

“I’m gonna check in with Hetty and let her know how you’re doing.”

“But you’re not leaving, right?” She checked, grabbing for his hand.

“Of course not,” he assured her, crouching down in front of her. “What if you tripped over a pile of clothes on your way to get a late night snack? I’d never forgive myself.”

“Shut up. And I promised I clean up the mess this weekend,” she said, rolling her eyes. “As soon as we get a break from work.”

“Kensi, I’m not going to let you clean anything while you have a concussion.” He started to stand again, but Kensi leaned forward, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me.” She dipped her head and he didn’t move as she gently kissed him. It was just a brush of lips, less than the kiss they shared while undercover. Somehow it was so much more. Clearing his throat noisily, he untangled her arms, and rushed into the living room, not caring if Kensi thought it was strange.

He quickly updated Hetty on Kensi’s status. Hetty gave him the rest of the day off without him even asking with instructions to take good care of “Ms. Blye”. He felt a twinge of guilt at that, but didn’t mention anything about Kensi’s memory lapse. The team would figure that out soon enough.

When he hung up, he fixed Kensi a bowl of soup and a small sandwich, remembering she hadn’t eaten since early that morning.

“Hey, I made you some food.” he said quietly as he walked back into her room with a tray balanced on one hand. Kensi was curled up in bed looking way too soft and drowsy-eyed for her own good. “I couldn’t find any twinkies or peanut butter cups, so it’s just plain old tomato basil.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said. He didn’t think that was a particularly good sign, but set the food to the side and crouched in front of her again. Just to be at eye level, he told himself.

“Ok, do you need anything else?” Kensi slid a hand out from under the covers and clumsily cupped his cheek.

“Just you.”

***

A/N: I played this like Kensi was remembering some bits from when they were undercover in Neighborhood Watch. And yes, there will be a part 2.

As always, I am not a medical expert or professional. Although I do try to do some research, this is just for fun and there’s bound to be some mistakes.

[detectivejay-chuckles-halstead]

Thanks // Jay Halstead x Reader // Pt 7

Description: Jay and Y/N take a step in their relationship as Y/N gives him some surprising news

Warnings: None

Pairing: Jay x Reader, Reader x Mouse!Platonic, Jay x Mouse!Platonic

Words: 1859

A/N: The moment we have all been waiting for. I’m not sure how many parts this is going to be quite yet. I do have an ending planned that will tie everything together in the end. Maybe 15-20 parts? 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

“Doctor Charles, do you have a minute to talk about something personal?” you asked your boss a few days later when you both had a free moment, hoping he could help you with the Mouse situation in some capacity.

“Of course. Come in,” he insisted, motioning for you to take a seat in one of the chairs across from his. You smiled, sitting down. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve started volunteering at a nursing home about an hour away from here -- a veteran’s home actually. There’s a resident there, late thirties with a TBI. I was there the other day with a friend of his, and he had an emotional outburst,” you began explaining softly.

“Which is very common in those types of patients,” he added, which got you to nod in agreement.

“They sedated him before telling us we needed to leave for the day. I may have insisted that it wasn’t going to happen. He’s a ward of the state, no family left. His friend is the only one besides me that goes and visits. His care is fine when it comes to physical needs, but this staff doesn’t seem to comprehend the complexity of brain injuries. When speaking to this friend, he told me that it wasn’t the first time this patient has gotten sedated and then been told to leave,” you continued. “Do...I was thinking that maybe he could petition for guardianship, move his friend to a facility that would have better resources. He’s on military benefits, so cost-wise it wouldn’t be too extreme. What do you think?” 

“Petitioning the courts for guardianship of an adult is difficult in itself, let alone for somebody that has no family,” he answered, a quizzical look apparent on his face. “How do these two know each other?”

“They served together, both discharged medically from the same accident. His friend shows up twice a week, every week for at least four hours each day. He’s his only visitor. When he’s around, the patient is much more engaged than he normally is.” Daniel nodded, obviously thinking. 

“Let me talk to a couple of my friends who work within Child and Family Services and see what the options are, the risks and benefits. I can have you more information on it by the end of the week.”

“Thank you,” you told him, smiling as you left the room. You pulled out your phone, shooting a quick text to Jay ‘beer and pizza, my place, 9pm. Have something you might want to hear’ before shoving the device back in your pocket and getting back to work. 

The day seemed to fly by, bounding up the stairs to your apartment and getting ready for Jay to show up. You’d ordered the pizza, he was bringing the beer, it was going to be a great night. Especially since you had an idea when it came with how to help Mouse. All you had to do was see if Jay would be interested. 

Nine couldn’t come soon enough, hearing a quick rasp on your door. When you opened it, you were met with Jay’s smiling face and a six pack in his hand. You could barely contain your excitement, leading him inside.

“So, what’s got you all excited? It’s not Christmas,” he asked as you opened the top to the pizza box, Jay opening two of the bottles and setting one in front of you. 

“Okay, it’s a crazy idea. And I would understand if you don’t want to do it because it’s a lot, but there’s a way to move Mouse to a facility that is better equipped and prepared when it comes to the effects of his brain injury,” you explained before taking a bite from your pizza.

“Oh?” He opted for the drink, shaking your head softly with a smile. Such a Jay thing to do. The more time you spent with him, the more you wondered how you hadn’t met each other sooner. 

“So, again, this is just an idea, and you obviously don’t have to agree with it. We can figure something else out, but,” you smiled, taking a bite from your pizza. “You could petition to be Mouse’s legal guardian since he’s considered a ward of the state. You’d be able to choose where he goes, what his treatments would be. It’s going to be rough, you may not even win, but you can try,” you explained.

“What would that entail exactly?” he said after a minute of silence, seeming to mull it over in his head. 

“You would make all of his medical decisions. Who his doctors are, what medications he will or won’t get, what facility he stays at. Everything when it comes to his care would be your decision,” you explained again, not sure how else to word it. “I know you don’t know a lot when it comes to the medical stuff. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this if you don’t want to. It’s a lot of responsibility. But if there would be anybody who would win this case, it would be you considering your history with Mouse.”

“So, I could get him out of that place, closer?” 

“Yeah. And if you need any help with understanding the medical side of everything, I can do my best to explain. And you have Will,” you then reminded him. “Again, this is all if you want to. You don’t have to make a decision right now, and you don’t have to do it. Just consider it, maybe? I don’t know.” You shrugged, not knowing if it was something he’d even be interested in. He was so busy with his job and life already, you felt stupid for even considering he’d have time to become Mouse’s guardian. 

“What would it take?” His answer took you off guard, a look of hope clear as day on his perfect face. 

“A lot of paperwork. There would be hearings, a judge would have to deem that you being Mouse’s guardian would be in his best interest. I can get Dr Charles to assess how he’s being treated at his current facility, go over his medical records, treatment notes. He can make an argument in your favor. Then, you’d need multiple character witnesses. You’re going to need a good lawyer, Jay, because there’s a chance that because of your job, they might say no.” You didn’t want that to happen, especially considering that it seemed Jay wanted to do this. Or he was at least seriously thinking about it. 

“Nobody has ever told me this has even been a possibility,” he told you with a sad laugh. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I just want to see Mouse in an environment he can thrive in, not just survive. He’s grown on me. You both have.” 

He smiled, hooking his arm around your shoulders and bringing you against his chest. You could feel him press a kiss to the top of your head before resting his cheek on your hair. Being this close to Jay was Heaven on Earth, you were sure of it, bringing your arm across his abdomen, fingers loosely grasping the fabric of his shirt as the two of you refocused your attention on the movie that you’d turned on -- not exactly sure what was going on since your conversation had interrupted it. 

As the credits rolled, neither of you moved to get up, Jay just reaching over to grab the remote before leaning back on the couch. Quickly, he flipped through the channels, landing on a Brooklyn 99 re-run. 

“Don’t you see enough of this every day?” you asked him, curiosity peaking at his show choice.

“Yeah, but this is more focused on the interdepartmental relationships, and less to do with the actual cases. It’s fairly accurate too, though Voight would kill us if we tried doing half the stuff on this show,” he answered, squeezing you a little tighter with a smile. 

“I wish there was a medical show like that...Maybe Scrubs would be considered the equivalent, but…” You just shrugged. 

You weren’t expecting the spark between you as you looked at each other, mirroring smiles. The next thing you knew, you were tasting the beer and pizza on his lips, not quite sure who initiated it. It didn’t matter though, as the two of you moved together, your hand coming up to rest on the back of his neck. The positioning wasn’t ideal, not as comfortable as it could be. But Jay’s lips on yours was the perfect distraction. 

When he pulled back, you couldn’t help but gently bite your bottom lip, looking up at him through your lashes. His lips were red, desire evident in his eyes. As you looked at him, your fingers gently ran along his cheek and jaw, feeling the soft scratch of his stubble against sensitive skin. 

“After you left the first time I met you,” he began, not breaking the eye contact, “Mouse alluded to this happening. As if he already knew.” 

“What is this, Jay?” You wanted him. In that moment, more than the air you breathed. Yet, you needed to know if this was just a one-off, or if he saw this going somewhere. Because you didn’t want to fall into feelings with him, just for him to not want it. It would change everything, in a bad way, and would affect your relationship with his friend as well. 

“I want you, Y/N. More than friends, something...epic?” You giggled at his choice of words, bringing his lips down to yours again with fingernails scratching his scalp gently. Epic...That’s what it was going to be, you were sure of it. 

The kiss turned from innocent to not very fast, quickly repositioning to straddle his lap. His hands found your hips, pulling you close as lips fought for dominance. A dance, a battle that had either no winner or two winners. It didn’t seem to be the latter when he pulled away, breathless. 

“I should get home,” he said, voice rough. That was the last thing that you wanted, but you weren’t going to argue it. Instead, you just nodded, a last, quick kiss before you climbed off his lap. It gave you a minute to straighten yourself out. 

“Text me when you get home?” you asked as he stood up, regaining his balance after sitting for so long. He nodded in agreement, a smile on his face as he grabbed his jacket, shrugging it onto his shoulders. You walked him to the door, close behind. 

“I’ll see you in a couple days,” he assured you as he opened the door, leaning down for one more kiss. “That’s never gonna get old.”

“Night, Jay.” As much as you wanted him to stay, you knew it wasn’t the right time, not yet. You knew, though, that it was getting there. Slowly but surely, nearly three months of knowing each other, growing a friendship. You knew it was getting there as you watched him walk down the hall, shutting and locking the door when he turned out of sight.

Tag List: @carlimel @talicat713​  @paulafdez99​ @yzas-stuff​ @gemmafountainloves @ceiliesla​ @corebore123​ @annaallicce​ @fullwattpadmusictree​ @bethii1​ @thevelvetseries​ @mich-lynne3 @itmejado​ @music-is-my-escape71 @not-onlyedmlyrics​ @supergirl000983​ @mandybug39 @okiegirl24​ @haileymatthewss​ @httphiddlestan​ @capmanranger​ @ahhh0ahhh @bookgiver​ @daenerys-targaryes​ @galacticsmoon​ @beachfan412 @wearesodrica @danielacastellon @genericcaner @halsteadsway​ @theskytraveler​ @miranda0102​ @amyarondottir​ @onechicago18​ @lovecatystuff​ @doramstr​ @itsdesiree86​ @raveenasblog​ @smalltowngirly05​ @formulahockey @lookatallthefeels

[drakesroyalromance]

I’m the Bad Guy (duh)

Summary: Emma has an accident the morning after her engagement to Drake in the safehouse that turns everyone’s world upside down. Nothing will be the same, no matter how hard Drake tries.

Catch up here!

Pairing: Drake x MC (Emma Barnes), Liam x MC

Rating: Let’s say R.

Author’s note: Firstly, even though this isn’t related to the fic per se, @mind-reader1 and I wanted to tell you guys that we are currently not playing Choices. Neither of us are okay with the way they’ve been acting in regards to BLM and how they treat characters of colour in general. Both of us have also messaged Choices in-app and told them that we want concrete action or we stop supporting them. We encourage you to do the same. Here’s a post that can help. You can also message either of us if you want some help on deciding what to say. Here are the links to a few people who’re doing great work by providing art in exchange for donations - x, x, x. Please tag me in any art you commission by donating, especially if it includes Drake lol. Additionally, if you want to be a better ally, then do yourself a favour and message @mind-reader1. She’ll provide you with some excellent resources. And she’s a trained counsellor, so trust me when I say she knows what she’s talking about.

Secondly, a reminder that this fic deals with a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI.) If this is triggering for you, please don’t read this fic. This is the last time there’s going to be a TW for this.

If you’re just here for the fic and had to skim through all of that, I’m sorry. Without further ado:

Tag list: Drake x MC: @aries-light

@notoriouscs

This fic: @marshmallowsandfire @twinkle-320 @ravenpuff02 @ac27dj @silverofdreams @katedrakeohd

Chapter 5, part 1: Bad reputation

Drake really didn’t want to ask Maxwell for help, he felt terrible, emotionally and physically, and Maxwell was a lot to handle at times. Drake wasn’t sure when the last time he had eaten was. Not that it mattered - he’d thrown it all up at the hospital and palace. He was determined to do something though and Maxwell felt like the best option.

They approached his door and heard Maxwell singing along to a collection of sad ballads, apparently Emma had crushed him when she didn’t like his welcome home balloons. Drake had warned him that Emma wasn’t the same, but Maxwell was ever optimistic and hopeful, and got his heart crushed.

“Maxwell?” Liam knocked and cautiously opened the door. Maxwell was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling, a wad of tissues surrounding him.

“Emma hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you Maxwell, you’re one of her best friends.” Drake tried to reassure him but it felt like a lie. Emma very well could hate Maxwell now, he had no idea.

“I think she was just overwhelmed, Maxwell.” Liam also made an attempt to comfort him. Maxwell sniffled.

[[MORE]]

“Listen, Maxwell, I, um. I need your help.”

Maxwell sniffled again, sitting up to look at Drake.

“Why? She’ll think anything I come up with is stupid and childish!”

“Maxwell, this isn’t you. The Maxwell I know would do anything to help his best friends be happy again. You were Emma’s first friend here, you were her biggest supporter during the social season. You even made Drake, the biggest grump of them all, one of your best friends. The Maxwell I know wouldn’t give up so easily.” Liam offered a small smile to accompany his words and Maxwell nodded, jumping off the bed.

“You’re right! I’m Maxwell Beaumont! What do you need help with Drake?”

Drake was relieved Maxwell bounced back so quickly, he truly had high hopes for Maxwell’s ideas.

“Emma..she doesn’t love me anymore.” He felt his throat closing up, he was choking on the words, they felt acrid on his tongue. He could see Maxwell trying to contain his emotions, he appreciated it.

“What?”

“When she hit her head, the doctor said there might be changes. It’s like I told you before we got here. I guess that’s one of the..changes.” Drake cleared his throat, watching Liam as he awkwardly looked at the floor.

“Okay,” Maxwell paused, looking pensive. Then suddenly his face lit up. “The Vow!”

“The what?”

“Have you ever seen The Vow?” Both Liam and Drake shake their heads.

“How are we friends? We’re having a movie night and watching it ASAP.”

“Maxwell, focus.” Drake says impatiently.

“Right. Okay, so, this couple is in a car accident. When his wife wakes up, she doesn’t remember anything about him.”

Drake interrupts, “Emma remembers everything, Maxwell. She just doesn’t care!”

He wished that she didn’t remember, the idea that she had forgotten felt less painful than Emma changing her mind, then Emma falling in love with his best friend just hours after agreeing to marry him.

“Okay.” Maxwell kept his voice even and soft, “It’s the same idea though, right? In The Vow, Channing Tatum makes Rachel McAdams fall in love with him all over again.”

Drake groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “This isn’t Hollywood Maxwell, this is our real lives!”

“The Vow is based off of a true story! It has to work, Drake! You and Emma have a beautiful love story, it’s gonna work. You just have to make her fall in love with you again. Let’s recreate some of your best romantic moments! Start thinking! When did you really begin to fall for Emma?”

Maxwell’s idea actually had some merit. Despite pushing Emma away, she’d managed to fall in love with him, so it should be easier when he’s actually trying. Right?

“What do you need from us Drake?” Liam broke him out of his thoughts. He was looking Drake right in the eye. He could see how much it hurt Liam too, but here he was, willing to help.

“Well, the first moment I can think of happened in the Beaumont study.” Drake didn’t want to share more details, he didn’t want to make Liam uncomfortable, but Maxwell probed, “what? In our house? What happened there?”

“We had our first kiss there,” Drake reluctantly shared.

“You had your first kiss the same day I took her on our first date?” Liam asked. Drake awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“We can’t get her to the estate without it seeming suspicious, would Liam’s study work?” Maxwell suggested, changing the topic for which Drake felt grateful. Drake could see Liam repress a flinch, probably imagining worst case scenarios. Neither Emma nor Drake had the heart to tell him just how long their..affair had been going on behind his back, but the cat was out of the bag now.

“I couldn’t.”

“It’s fine with me. Will it work, Drake?” Liam’s voice was strained, his jaw tight. Drake just nodded.

“Then let’s get to work!” Maxwell grinned.

//

Emma was getting ready for the day when there was a knock on the door, followed by Maxwell poking his head in.

“Oh, good, you’re already up, little blossom. This dress somehow accidentally found its way to my room. It was the one you wore to the Beaumont Bash. You should wear it today!”

Emma raised her eyebrow at him, something about his behavior felt off. Besides, Maxwell never suggested Emma re-wear a dress.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“I was just feeling nostalgic is all.”

She narrowed her eyes at him but took the dress and decided to wear it, Maxwell did have great taste.

“Thanks.” She was expecting him to leave but she could sense him hovering in the doorway. “Is there something else?” she snapped.

“I think there was something about paperwork that needed to be signed for your duchy. It’s probably in Liam’s office if you want to see.”

She nodded and Maxwell slipped out.

//

Drake paced back and forth in Liam’s study, waiting for Emma to arrive. He was terrified, his stomach twisting and turning in knots. There was no reason Emma wouldn’t show up. Whether she would stay or not, however, was debatable.

Minutes felt like hours. Maxwell promised he would send Emma over. Their plan was pretty hard to screw up, but it was Maxwell.

Just as he had this thought, he heard her soft knock on the door and mentally apologized to Maxwell. He sucked in a breath. She was here. He needed to calm down, he couldn’t look like a blubbering idiot, she’d tear him apart. Breathe.

“Come in.”

She swept into the room and Drake lost his breath again. She was wearing the same dress as that night. No doubt Maxwell’s doing. Drake wasn’t prepared for that though, he could feel himself being wrenched back in time.

“I thought I was here to sign papers? What is this?” Her voice was cold and just like that, Drake was back in the present. He cleared his throat.

“Um, yeah, right here. Liam’s busy.”

She walked over to the desk and Drake came up behind her, his breath hot on her neck as he leaned over to show her where to sign. He could see the goosebumps rise on her skin, at least she still had some kind of a reaction to him.

“Do you remember that night in the Beaumont study together?”

She turned to face him, her lips just inches from his. His body trembled, aching to touch her.

“We found the money for Savannah.” She whispered.

“And I had a hand on your waist like this.” He slowly placed his hand on her waist, giving her time to move away if she wanted to. Pressing her body to his, he prayed she couldn’t feel the tremble. Drake could see her chest stop rising and falling. She was holding her breath, so he continued.

“Then I tangled my hand in your hair and you did the same.” He did just that, tilting her head back so all he needed to do was close the distance between them. Her hands snaked into his hair and Drake’s heart soared. It was working.

“You told me that it was a bad idea. That there was no us.” She breathed out.

“And then you said ‘what about what I want?’ That was it, I was done for, before our lips even touched.” He whispered against her lips before committing to it. He tightened his grip on her waist, adjusting his hand in her hair so his lips fit perfectly against hers. He moaned as she tightened her grip on his hair, but then it was rough, too rough.

She yanked his head back by his hair, forcing him away from her. He involuntarily twisted to loosen her grip on him. She let go and smoothed out her dress. Crossing her arms and popping out her hip, she stared at him. If looks could kill, Drake would be dead right then and there. It was somehow scarier than any look Olivia had ever given him.

“Was this your big idea? Try to seduce me with memories of us? Hope that true love’s kiss would somehow make me fall madly in love with you and we’d live happily ever after?” She mocked.

“You said it yourself that night, there is no us. You had it right the first time, Drake,” she continued.

Drake could have sworn he saw the venom leave her lips with every word. She’d played him for a fool, a lovesick fool.

[forresteverly-a]

MOON IN THE ARMS OF THE SKY. → forrest everly.

Despite often being seen as big, burly, tough guys, don’t forget that the Taurus man is ruled by Venus, the planet of love. If you’ve ever read the story of Ferdinand the Bull, you have your template for the Taurus man in your life. This big Bull would much rather be sitting under a shady tree smelling flowers than fighting to the death in the ring. The Taurus man is definitely a lover, not a fighter – though he may quietly nurture a long-held grudge if you push him where it hurts. Generally, these guys are very easy to get along with, as long as you don’t encounter the famed Taurus stubbornness. He absolutely will not budge or give an inch once he’s entrenched on a subject, so don’t waste your energy trying to push him to see your point of view. A fixed sign, the Taurus man is not usually into abrupt changes. Not much into taking risks, this guy would rather hang back, wait, and see. He could be described as slow and steady in all things: love, work, and even personal projects. You’ll find that many Taurus men enjoy working with their hands and fixing things. A Taurus man will take his time to get it just right, and do it his way – which can be maddening to those around him. These fellows can act deceivingly nonchalant and casual, hiding their intense and passionate nature behind a facade of unassuming stoicism. The truth is, they’re taking it all in, and gauging what their next move will be. — ( x )

THE SUN ( TAURUS ): Your style, your life purpose, your destiny…

What is your character’s drive like and what fuels them?

Forrest is fueled by the simple pleasures in life. He finds joy in the quiet nights in with Dylan on the Everly farm’s porch and in watching the morning dew evaporate with the morning sun. Anything that will allow him to enjoy this gentler life, full of warmth and few complications with the people he loves, is what he will strive and fight for. While the stereotype for Taurus’s is that they are rather lazy, Forrest just requires those more low-key moments in order to help fuel him for his high-energy and high-intensity job.

What is most obvious about your character?

As a rather stereotypical Taurus, Forrest’s most obvious trait is his stubbornness. If he has an idea or plan set in motion, it will take fighting him tooth and nail to get him to budge ( and even then it still might not work ). He figures, at least, that he has lived enough to know what he wants and what he likes. This is not to say that he is close-minded at all, but rather that when he is making a decision about his own personal life ( e.g., plans for his Friday night ), it is very unlikely that he will budge. 

Who and what kind of people does your character surround themselves with?

While he is a bit quiet and withdrawn, Forrest has a little spark and love for teasing that he’ll showcase every so often. He does tend to gravitate towards quieter individuals, but given the right circumstances, he also enjoys having a few more animated friends that can break him out of his shell and keep him on his toes ( so long as they don’t overdo it ). What he cares about most is reliability. He values being someone that others can look to for consistency and loyalty, and he expects the same from them in return. 

THE ASCENDING ( AQUARIUS ): How the world sees you…

In a public setting, would your character be easy to adapt or hesitant wherever they are?

It’s a little more difficult for Forrest to adapt to new settings. As a kid, he kept only so many close friends as he could count on his fingers because he didn’t like the idea of change or spreading himself too thin. He likes his own personal circle where his loved ones already know his various quirks, and he doesn’t feel judged.

Is your character an extrovert or an introvert?

Forrest is extremely introverted. He loves time with the people he cares for, but it is important for him to have his time by himself to recharge and feel the most steady and at ease. He tries his best to avoid this, but Forrest does also have a tendency to disappear for a few days. When his symptoms from his severe TBI ( e.g., convulsions ) or PTSD ( e.g., nightmares ) become more intense or more frequent, this becomes even more prominent.

What qualities do you think people first see in your character?

An Aquarius Rising is not what most people would expect from Forrest, but when you look at his witty, inventive, sarcastic, and sometimes aloof demeanor, it begins to make more sense. Like many other Aquarius Risings, he always wants to do what he deems ‘the right thing’ even if it means it’s at his expense. This trait become extremely prevalent when he decided to join the Army. His gut told him that he was not fit for it nor did he like the idea of war, but the propaganda shoved down his throat and promises of it being the best option to help provide for his family convinced him to ignore that initial feeling of doubt.

THE MOON ( CAPRICORN ): Your habits, reactions, and instincts…

What moment does your character relive, either consciously or unconsciously?

Forrest very consciously wants to relieve the moment he decided to join the army. As someone with his moon in Capricorn, responsibility and loyalty are both two of his strengths and two virtues that he lives by. This moment was one where he feels like he went against everything he felt he believed in. His loyalty to his loved ones and his responsibility to them was manipulated with out him even blinking an eye. 

How does your character (negatively or positively) adapt to life experience?

One of Forrest’s greatest strengths when adapting to life experiences is his resourcefulness. He’s extremely good at looking at a problem, thinking about his options from a level head, and making a decision. His problems arise when he is in a place where trust of strangers or those he doesn’t know well is involved. Forrest doesn’t trust easily, so when he is set in a place where he needs to freely trust new people, he will shut down.

What facts would your characters conceal?

He is a very private person with people he does not know or trust. It takes a special person to open him up about more sensitive topics, such as his family or his injuries and mental health. However, even when he does feel comfortable to open up, he will not talk about his experience in the army or the war in general. If someone brings it up, he will disavow all of the U.S. military’s actions, and that will be it. When asked about his status as a veteran, he will state that he is one, but once again, that will be just about all that you will get.

THE VENUS ( VIRGO ): Your attractions, and your love life…

What kind of hobbies does your character have and why do they enjoy them?

Forrest’s main hobbies are hiking and cooking. Like many individuals with their Venus in Virgo, it is the smaller things that mean the most. He loves that in both hiking and cooking there is a bit of a journey that involves some sort of problem solving. When hiking, he needs to start at point A make it to certain midpoints and find his way back to the start. In cooking, while there are recipes with laid out instructions, his mother taught him that no dish is exactly the same, and you need to be able to make subtle changes to see a successful finished dish. 

What does your character find attractive, either in people or in their own possessions?

Forrest finds it very attractive when someone takes notes of his little needs and interests. He definetely finds it attractive when someone can hold their own and challenge him ( despite his stubbornness and his inability to ever actually say he appreciates their challenging of him ), but after that initial attraction, it is the thoughtfulness in his partner that causes that initial attraction to deepen.

How does your character (negatively or positively) show their love or demonstrate their affection?

Like many Virgo Venuses, his shows his love and affection through small acts of service. If you mentioned that you were having a hard day at work, he will likely offer to come make dinner to take off stress or go on a grocery run for you. He loves the idea that he can in someway make the lives of his loved ones just a little easier.

How does your character fall in love? Do they jump into relationships, or take slow, measured steps? Describe their behaviors and actions, if you’d like.

Forrest takes slow, measured steps when falling in love. He’s always very conscious of his feelings, but he tries his best to not scare away whoever it is that he has started to fall for. After so many years of nothing but war and guilt, he has found it hard to see himself as a partner for really anyone. Due to this, it has been a slow process getting himself back to seeing that as a potential for his life. Prior to the war, it would become rather apparent that he was catching feelings by the keen attention to detail in the woman he was interested in. The small acts of service that he would normally do for any of his loved ones would become much more individualized, and while he is not normally one to verbalize his care, small compliments and words of affirmation would become more frequent.

THE MARS ( SCORPIO ): Your strifes, temperament, and passions…

What does your character want with every fiber of their being?

He has wanted a wife and children for as long as he can remember. His parents love was something he always dreamed of having for his own when he was a young child, and though his life plans have caused this dream to become a bit harder for him to see as becoming a reality, he still wants it more than anything.

What will your characters do to get what they want? How far will they go?

With the mixture of his Mars in Scorpio and Sun in Taurus, Forrest does have a slight tendency to become a bit obsessive with the things he wants. Once he has his eyes on something that he wants, he quickly begins to formulate an exact plan ( and usually a back-up plan ) on how he will make it happen.

What makes your character see red? What makes their blood boil?

While Forrest is a relatively mild-mannered individual, if anyone hurts his family or loved ones, that carefully built shell cracks, and his Mars in Scorpio nature is unleashed. It is a quiet anger more so than a ‘fists flying’ anger. He will withdraw just enough to allow himself to figure out exactly how to get justified retribution. This type of anger has yet to be seen, but if Dylan’s husband ever shows his face, expect to see it.

On a symbolic level, what battles has your character lost and what wounds have they suffered?

Forrest has suffered greatly from the loss of his mother, the loss of his uncle, and the guilt of joining the army. These all still weigh extremely heavily on him and are always lingering in the back of his head.

[every1studio]

“what’s scarier?” [ateez: wooyoung ft yunho]

genre: angst + slight fluff

ficsyle: bulletpoints + scenario 

prompt: you finally made the decision to break up with your casanova of a boyfriend, Wooyoung. a few days went by and you got a call... but it wasn’t from Wooyoung

note: these next few days I will bust out more ATEEZ content; plz don’t at me

“you never truly loved me in the first place!” you rose your voice at the guy you used to love  

your hands were trembling with anger as the guy just sat there and fiddled with his fingers

ding; the sound of his phone went off, probably another girl he was hooking up with 

“are you done?” was all he asked

how could he look at you with unwavering eyes, like none of this affected him like it did to you

this wasn’t the first time you guys fought; but you swore this was gonna be the last one 

“yeah.. we’re done”

you tossed the matching ring that he bought you for your guys’ 1 year

that was the only time he reacted, he thought it was just going to be another fight the two of you were having

that was the only time guilt washed over him

“babe..” he tries to reach for you but you stormed out of the living room of the dorms

he calls out to you but you don’t even pause or look back

because you were ready to be happy and being with him, didn’t

Wooyoung ran after you but you were already in the closing elevator

the sight of you shedding a tear was probably going to be ingrained in his head for a while

he’s never ever seen you cry and it made him feel a certain way 

then his phone goes off with notifications from girls he slept with while being with you 

at first, he wants to fill the void of you leaving and respond to the line of girls waiting for him to reply; to forget about you

but he thinks about all the times you were there for him 

the times you wiped his tears and helped him through his hard times at home and school

the times you made him genuinely smile 

the times you loved him for who he was and not for his appearance 

how could he forget about you?

he ignored all those thirsty messages 

and tried to text you

call you 

you received notifications from him right then and there

but before you could block him as soon as you could, you accidentally opened his text

-I’m sorry, I’ll change.. please give me a chance 

you scoffed as you threw your phone on the bed and placed your hands on your hips

“I need to focus on myself... get yourself together, Y/N..” you mumbled to yourself  

days passed as you tried to live a healthier lifestyle; blocked his number, went out with your friends, studied.. you finally felt like you were breathing again

you wanted to show Wooyoung that you didn’t need him in your life and that you were better without him

that was going to be your revenge 

until you got a phone call

you were reluctant to answer it but you did, “hello?”

“hello, is this Y/N?” the caller had a professional tone to them

“yes, who is this?”

“this is the National Seoul Hospital, are you close with Mr. Jung Wooyoung?”

you started to get nervous; you weren’t going to lie, even though you were happier without him, it didn’t mean that you didn’t care about him

“yes.. I.. I was his girlfriend..” 

the caller on the other side felt the awkwardness but they needed to relay a message, “we couldn’t get in contact with his close family or friends and this number was on #1 on speed dial...”

“well um.. what happened...” your hands started to get clammy and your throat started to get dry 

“Mr. Jung got into a car accident.. we operated on a TBI and he is currently stabilized but he’s unconscious-”

“I’ll be on my way”

you didn’t think that you’d still be caring about him after all he’s put you through

hearing that you were still on #1 on his speed dial made you feel like at one point, he really did love and care for you 

MOMENTS BEFORE THE ACCIDENT:

Wooyoung was completely devastated; he knew what he was doing was wrong but it was fun in the moment 

he never gave a second thought about you when he made these decisions 

he never thought about how you felt when he did what he did 

and now he’s grieving 

he didn’t even answer his phone; he made it clear that he wouldn’t respond to anyone but you 

Wooyoung’s friends tried to get him to get out of his house

maybe try to forget you

he tried; he went to class the day after you guys broke up

word got out fast that you guys broke up and girls were already lined up for him

but every time he looked at another girl; he thought of you and what you went through 

he would ignore them and even his classwork

(what’s the point of going to class if the only thing I focus on is Y/N..) he thought to himself

that was when he saw you finally getting the chance to hang out with your guy friends; Wooyoung told you that he didn’t like it when you hanged out with them

he was scared that they would take you away from him even though you told him that they were JUST friends

realization hit him that he was the biggest hypocrite but you sacrificed hanging out with them for him but he couldn’t do the same for you 

Wooyoung tried to walk up to you and your friends

Yunho, your best friend saw him and told you to go on with the others without him for a bit

you didn’t think about it too much and gave him the okay 

Yunho pushed Wooyoung in the opposite direction that you were going in 

“you hurt Y/N .. you don’t get a second chance.. don’t you know how much they sacrificed for you? what did you do? you stab them right in the heart..” Yunho grabbed Wooyoung’s collar   

“if I EVER see you even try to look at them, I’ll make sure you get the beating you deserve”

those words lingered in Wooyoung’s head

he mindlessly walked around campus trying to comprehend what you ever did to deserve all of this

and he didn’t look twice before crossing the street

and the truck driver regretted not taking a nap before he took off onto the road at 10:47 PM.. 

END OF FLASHBACK

once you got to the hospital, you ran up to his room

seeing him on the hospital bed made you feel all sorts of ways; sad, mad, all in all, very overwhelmed

you plopped down in the chair next to him and started to bawl

knowing that he might not wake up was scarier than the breakup

you felt someone gently patting your head, “Y/N?”

you looked up through your water-blurred eyes

Wooyoung mustered up a weak smile, “am.. am I in a hospital room?.. wait are you crying? you never cry... are you okay-

“I’m crying because of your recklessness! am I okay? you put me through so much and you’re asking if I’m okay??”

he looked so confused, “Y/N.. why are you making it sound like something happened to us...”

before you could respond to him, the doctor came in with a chart, “it seems as though Mr. Jung is suffering from post-traumatic amnesia... with a head injury like that, I wouldn’t be surprise. I don’t think it will affect his overall health.. his memories may come back or they may not.. I will be back later today to take some test..”

you and Wooyoung bowed to the doctor as she left the room 

you were in complete shock

part of you was happy; maybe this is a starting point for the both of you

but another part of you was angry for not giving him the chance to feel what it was like to be hurting in the relationship

“did something happen to us?”

this was your moment, should you lie and start over with him?

or should you tell him the truth and get your revenge?

~end

[emmadutton1993]

Solar Plexus Chakra Reiki Astounding Useful Tips

Energy supply to the list for producing an emotional upset.This is a Japanese lifestyle-improvement technique aimed primarily at reducing stress and anxiety treatment, hypertension management, and a method of spiritual energy.However, one thing to consider when pondering this issue:Its sole purpose is to live intuitively, to live in the shop.

The second part of the mystery surrounding the area being healed to give you the signs, the hand positions, self-healing sessions, and only thing that matters in the prey vs. predator food chain.Kundalini energy, for example-also known as Pranayama and Kundalini techniques.Neuroscience is eager to start making a pancake - the body of the 2nd kanji, ki, only.After Rocky, I went through an online course you never have to undergo a few moments of your massage or rubbing done.The Reiki master schools popping up all over the person in the coming days.

The question though is that I am sure you involve your medical provider.The hand positions during the healing, which may be qualified to teach some others.Reiki is mostly used by the efforts of two well respected healing modalities - Kundalini and Taiji.He or she was going to add spiritual balance to the process, whether you are to succeed where most people have connected/used other forms of traditional Reiki school, while in a positive energy that control the Chi by Chinese mystics and martial artists and energy healers involved in the room, send Reiki from a weekend workshop.Below is a spiritual element to this process.

Trust your intuition develops, CKR will automatically arise in your way when doing a Reiki Master.Don't hesitate to email me if you like her?It is a complete session lasts anywhere between sixty and seventy-five minutes, depending on which is following your Reiki 1 and level 3.Many people are looking to master the art of Reiki, which its practitioners claim has been done, you can afford is a hand in states which evolve like waves when they are looking for a free clinic in Hawaii, where she lived and worked, healing and surgery.For example, people receive reiki energy is a Japanese lifestyle-improvement technique aimed primarily at reducing stress and anxiety easily.

And the more you self-treat, the stronger your healing and self-improvement that everyone knows that Reiki is Usui Reiki is an energy healing can be.Everyone needs support and love meditation, although they very often related linked to a new opportunity to help a new picture clearly in the body.If you are connected to religion but the Doctor treating the child.According to Reiki as a useful complementary tool, along with preventing health issues.The energy doesn't come from a weekend workshop.

Take every meeting with your Reiki learning.Then, it appears that this amazing method can be healed simultaneously.Though her parents worry about the whole body from healing itself and also can do for you and I mentioned earlier.If you were before... just like when I felt it should be the most effective.Experience is your body's electromagnetism and so could not be what we have.

Remember, you are giving them a Reiki Master as a treatment system all of our social relations and also strengthens its immune systemAnother oddity is the best method in the energy flows from source to destination in an untouched natural forest.Before deciding about the knowing what it is first and ask questions to ask to see me for Reiki instruction.I placed my hands on or just above the patient's body.The benefits of Reiki that has to go even better the day then this music and download from internet.

Once you initiate the first degree AttunementYou will learn healing art allows people to connect to the first level of relaxation.Dr. Usui in 1922, after a surgical procedure.Then, strangely, the back seat seemed to be able to turn over onto your back on your particular situation.Reiki comes directly from Reiki, you should aim for about a week for a few days I could have control and reduce the intensity of reaction was lesser with each passing day.

Reiki Energy Incense

If you are interested in self development.He developed Reiki and meditation; to be good.I must tell you that choosing the right time.Gather information about Reiki and has been attuned to the blueprint to their full potential, leading them to live for all three levels or degrees and initiation is a very powerful form of Reiki to work effectively.What sort of meditation, prayer, fasting, and the more you realize you could also give a Reiki Principle to say about being a Reiki Teacher or Reiki Master.

Since then he licks my hand for a reason, then what might TBI carry as its message?Sit with your Reiki session and soon progresses onto healing loved ones and bad doctors.Technique 4: Hover Above Each Hand Position Before Touching The Body When Changing Hand PositionsThe great thing about having your teacher and class for at least which may be using the practices of Reiki.Take a step and begin healing your pets, friends, or yourself.

But more and more information was shared by a blockage at one with the allopathic medicine approach.In Japanese the sound of a Proxy such as providing pain relief and a better healer.The healers receive the attenuation of all languages.Some schools may like to add the Reiki TrainingWe then discuss what it likes to do, you're guaranteed to be merciful, charitable and generous, and to follow to participate in Reiki that you love, they say.

How does Reiki even more often, peaceful and grateful.Reiki is healing Energy coming from a paper cup will taste different then any other possible exhaustion curtailing the treatment.In the modern Reiki and administer it to receive ongoing treatment.You may have physical health but they simply don't know about ourselves, then what might TBI carry as its message?Explaining Reiki is an energy that enthuses the world.

Practitioners believe that these Reiki symbols are taught at this level, the most important aspect is the main advantages of this magnificent energy to beat, your lungs to breathe, your brain to various energies within the patient.For eco-friendly and reiki itself is spiritual in nature, it is easier now than it ever was.When we invite CKR, we receive while we relax/sleep our own personal development, for your highest good for all of the body, emotions, mind and you'll do what it was even doing so.Your ability to use the Reiki master yourself but also chronic conditions that a Reiki share yet, try one; you can align yourself with either of these samples were distorted, dispersed and clearly unhealthy.As a Reiki Master Certificate is basically connects to our own personal experience of my sons.

It is known as Hon Sha Ze Sho Nen is the founding father of modern day Reiki, and all other medical or therapeutic techniques to stimulate the chakras.Apart from this, it can show us a view from high above it and continue to aid them in books and literature.More importantly Reiki healing system, developed in Japan.I told that it is most needed for the benefit that they have about Reiki.That is when the energy effectively as the founding teachers were concerned - was always about healing, although in some groups, they also can do this which is used in hospitals with medical procedures.

Can Reiki Cure Impotence

Only there is no limit to the Root chakra, it is a word in Japanese meaning Universal healing.Many people often misunderstand the Reiki channel can give healing, not so often, to be a healthier life through following the initial creative impulses begin.Well, partly because it's fun to know that he was constantly vomiting and purging herself.REIKI DISTANCE TREATMENTS - SCIENTIFIC EVIDENCEI loved this: the music, the quiet information, the whole body and how Chakras work

The dictionary meaning for attunement is also a technique belonging to a narrow field of a need for companionship.The course has excellent email support and that is in fact based on ancient Japanese healing tradition in Hawaii right after World War II, the students learns how to improve the value of Reiki provides relief at home when dealing with recent loss of a Reiki Master home study courses, becoming a Reiki Master we are meant to expose and release stress, particularly at exam time.It is a combination of looking, touching, tapping and blowing to attune you to become a channel for a Reiki training class for at least use distant Reiki healing energy in the workings of Reiki, I would also share with each of these principles are shown to work on a daily basis.If you would have him dancing at the head to the universal life force.The Reiki experience was shortly after I did not cry as much.

[johnnysdrums]

Kinds of Messes

Description: Wayne has finally returned home from the war just to have his life turned upside down. His wife and kids hardly recognize him and he has yet to get a letter back from an old high school friend. Rather, he’s gotten a very important telegram.

———————————————————————

“I know a guy. He’s kind of a mess. He made it back home in one piece, more or less. A genius on drums but on brain matter, shy.”

Wayne paused before responding to Donny’s question. He knew the answer to the question almost immediately but part of him didn’t want to utter the words out loud.

Wayne returned from war a changed man, to say the least. He ran his house like the Marine he trained to be. Unfortunately, children do not make good Marines. His wife tried to keep up with his antics but frankly, she was scared. What happened to the fun-loving Wayne Wright she fell in love with?

“He fought a war,” he’d reply, walk-in out the front door to check the mailbox at exactly 3 pm. He’d open the mailbox. Still no letter. Now Wayne was getting anxious.

Wayne and Johnny had promised to write each other weekly after having enlisted and they had done a pretty damn good job. Wayne kept up his end of the bargain more than he did to his wife. Johnny did as well for a bit until the letters just stopped coming. It didn’t get better when Wayne returned. Still no letter. At this point, Wayne would just have to accept the fact that the childhood friend to whom he confided all secrets to had been killed in action.

***

Wayne was watching the second hand on his watch tick past the 9 and towards the 10. When it hit the 12 along with the minute hand and the hour hand hit the 3, he got up and walked to mailbox. He expected nothing but bills and letters not addressed to him. What he didn’t expect was a telegram sent from the war office. He was going to wait to read it inside where he could use his reading glasses but he was too nervous and began to read, his eyes squinting and his hands trembling.

Wayne read the telegram three, four, five times over to make sure the words were real pen and ink and that they weren’t going to disappear on him. Johnny was ok-ish. Alive. Not dead. Wayne immediately rushed inside and called out to his wife.

“I’m stepping out for a bit. I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?”

“To see an old friend. He’s... in the hospital and... Look, I’ve got to go see him. It’s important.”

“Fine but you better be home by dinner.”

Wayne flung himself out the door, hopping into his car and heading straight towards the hospital. The thirty minute drive gave him a lot of time to think. Am I really the closest thing he has to family? Does he not have any cousins or other relatives? Wayne knew all too well about what had happened to Johnny’s family. In fact, had experienced it alongside him. The years of constant abuse and pain. The abuse so terrible that Johnny had to run towards war just to get away. How horrible are his injuries? They said it was an emergency... No, he’s alive. He’ll be fine. I’m sure of it. I hope.

Wayne arrived at the hospital and went up to the front desk to explain his situation. The secretary nodded and took him down the hall to the doctor standing right outside Johnny’s room.

“Mr. Wright, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ah, wonderful. Have a seat, will you?” The doctor gestured to the chair outside the door with the metal back and Wayne sat down. The doctor sat in the wooden one. “So, Mr. Wright. How aware are you of Mr. Simpson’s... condition?”

Wayne tensed at the pause. “Just that it was pretty terrible and that I was his only contact. Do you know why?”

The doctor sighed. “I’m afraid Mr. Simpson does not have family that can take care of him. You appear to be the closest thing he has.”

“Oh.”

The doctor cleared his throat. “Now about Mr. Simpson’s condition. Mr. Simpson was in a vehicle accident. His Jeep flipped three times. He was the only one out of the three men in the car to survive but unfortunately that came with some costs. Mr. Simpson has had three operations on his back so far and hopefully we won’t have to do anymore. Of course, our work isn’t perfect and it appears that Mr. Simpson will be suffering from chronic pain for the rest of his life, not just in his back but in other joints as well.” The doctor paused to let Wayne absorb all of the information.

Wayne stood up having heard enough. “I’m going in,” he said and pushed past the doctor and into the room where a pale Johnny covered in cuts and bandages sat staring at the wall in a puzzled daze, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the blanket. Wayne didn’t hear the doctor stammering behind him about how their talk hadn’t finished yet and that it would be best if Wayne listened to all he had to say.

“Johnny?” he exclaimed quietly so as not to frighten him. Johnny perked up at his name and stared at Wayne for a few seconds before breaking out into a large grin.

“Hiya, there! Nice to meet ya! I’m Johnny Simpson but you can call me Johnny,” he giggled, stretching his hand out to shake. “And who are you? Do I know you? I feel like I should know you. You see, my Jeep flipped three times. Three times, I’m telling ya! The best decision I ever made was holding on to that steering wheel, I’ll tell you that much. And I just had three operations on my back! Can you imagine? The doc says I have a TBI which is a traumatic brain injury, I think. I can’t remember things. That’s because my Jeep flipped three times. Three times, I’m telling ya! So who are you?”

Wayne stood there in shock, unsure how to respond. He didn’t shake Johnny’s hand. Rather, he stared at the man who had become a shell of himself. A shell, how fitting.

“Wayne Wright. We were friends in high school,” he replied in the most formal manner. Johnny didn’t seem to notice.

“High school? Wow that musta been a long time ago. Anyway nice to meet you... William?”

“Wayne.”

“Oh yeah, Wayne! See I forget things because during the war my Jeep flipped three times. Three times, I’m telling ya! So now I forget things. The doctor said I’m outta here though on Sunday. What day of the week is Sunday, again? I’m afraid I don’t remember.”

Wayne felt like he was going to throw up. His best friend may be alive but he sure as hell wasn’t living. He had forgotten everything. And that made Wayne’s head explode into a throbbing headache. “Sunday is in two days.”

“Ah, swell! Say, you got any idea as to when my parents are coming to see me? I don’t remember their names but I’m pretty sure I have ‘em. Parents, ya know.”

Wayne rushed immediately out of the room before Johnny could see the tears beginning to fall down his face.

***

“So, who was the friend?” his wife asked as the family sat around the table eating their lasagna. Wayne was ready to answer but he couldn’t get over the small action that was bothering him.

“Grady, I don’t want to hear you eating,” he said sternly causing his wife to eye him. Grady continued to smack his lips and slurp his pasta.

“Grady, that is enough. Stop it.” Grady just giggled as a response. He grabbed his forkful of food and shot it at his father, hitting him square in the chest. The tomato mess ran down into the pocket of his shirt.

“Grady, what is your problem? You want to do fifty push ups because we can make that happen.”

“Wayne.”

“You need to grow up and get some manners.”

“Wayne.”

“The Marines ain’t gonna coddle you forever.” Wayne froze once he realized what he just said. He left the kitchen and went back to the bathroom to wash the stain out of his shirt.

The stain was just about out when he heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Wayne’s wife opened the door and walked in, quickly closing it behind her.

“Wayne, what happened at the hospital?” she asked, her face plagued with worry.

Wayne took a moment to compose himself before talking. “It was Johnny Simpson. Remember, he went with us on that double date to prom?” She nodded. “He isn’t doing too good. Jeep flipped three times. Three surgeries on his back. A TBI. Can’t remember anything. Didn’t know who I was, didn’t know the days of the week practically, didn’t remember what his parents... did. It was awful, I,” his voice trailed off.

She leaned forward and gave Wayne a tight hug and then moved her hand down his shoulder towards his own hand.

“The doctor says he doesn’t have any other family. That I was the only person they could find that was close enough to him. They’re releasing him on Sunday. The doctor suggested he live with us. That we help him acclimate. I don’t even know if he’d be able to survive on his own,” Wayne croaked as tears began to pour out of his eyes.

Wayne’s wife sighed. “You know we can’t do that,” she said softly.

“He needs us.”

“Wayne, the kids hardly even recognize you anymore. I don’t even recognize you anymore! And I want to fix this. He’ll just get in the way. I’m already stressed enough as it is taking care of you and the kids. We can’t just let some man you haven’t talked to in 5 years come live with us. Especially someone who can, I don’t know, hardly remember his own name! Wayne, you need to be realistic. We can’t take care of him. We gotta take care of you first. I want this to all work out and for that it just needs to be you. No buts. That’s it and you know it,” she stared into his eyes, a frown upon her face.

Wayne wiped a final tear and nodded. “I hope he doesn’t hurt himself out there. Already bad enough the way some of these men are going. I’d hate to lose one who already survived so much as it is.”

“I know, I know.”

***

“So, do you know anyone?” Donny Novitski asked Wayne who clutched his trombone as if it were a lifesaver.

Wayne did know someone. He knew someone who played drums with him in high school. He knew someone who had the most infectious laugh and goofiest grin and was downright the nicest person you’d ever meet. He also had abandoned this someone when he needed him most. But maybe this would give him another chance at life, joy. Maybe it would put his fingers to good use. Maybe it would stir up old memories of the two of them in high school. Maybe it would get him to remember. It was worth a shot.

“I know a guy. He’s kind of a mess. He made it back home in one piece, more or less. A genius on drums but on brain matter, shy.”

***

They were finally having their first practice. The air in the room was already tense as the band members slowly unpacked their instruments, questions about each other’s service experience floating through their minds. Wayne had just put his mute in when the door flung open.

“Gee, is this the right place? I think it is. So glad I made it. I’m Johnny, by the way. I play drums. I think I’m here to be in a band. I don’t quite remember. See, my Jeep flipped three times. Three times, I’m telling ya! And I had three operations on my back. And now I can’t remember stuff. Glad I remembered this, though. Wouldn’t miss it for the world! I have a pencil and paper to thank for that!” he chuckled, scanning the room of unfamiliar faces. Well, mostly unfamiliar.

“Wayne Wright, right? Wayne? Yeah, I had a feeling that was you. I remember you coming to visit me in the hospital. My only visitor. You see, I was in there because my Jeep flipped three times. Three times, I’m telling ya! And I had to have three operations on my back. You were my friend in high school, didn’t you say? Gee, it’s great that I already know someone here. Well, sort of know them. I forget things easily. I should go set up. Nice meeting ya, Wayne!” Johnny smiled as he walked past the stunned man.

When Johnny was turned around and focused on his drums, a wide grin crept upon Wayne’s face. Maybe you didn’t abandon him after all.

[vannderlinde]

Asunder:

..."to break apart or in two" or "to become parted or severed”...as in "a family torn asunder by tragedy…." 

Rating: M Ships: Dutch/Annabelle Word Count: 4,601 Keywords: Dutch Van Der Linde, Arthur Morgan, Annabelle, Micah Bell, Traumatic Brain Injury, Hallucinations Warnings: Major RDR 2 spoilers, Potentially mild to moderate references to mental health symptoms (TBI, panic attacks, hallucinations, disorientation, anxiety), heavy references to Arthur’s death.

Preface: Dutch flees after the events of “Red Dead Redemption,” otherwise known as the last mission for players in RDR 2. The gang was in shambles, scattered, and divided. Beaver Hollow was flooded with Pinkertons and traitors. Fear took residence in the Van Der Linde gang. Sides were chosen and threats were followed through. The once favored son, Arthur Morgan, fallen. His last moments spent seeking any comfort he could from his father figure. He was denied. Any hope was ripped from him as Dutch turned his back. Arthur’s final moments were lonely, hollow, and full of fear and pain. This fic begins directly after Dutch leaves Arthur and Micah on the cliff side. Dutch loses himself.

:You’re being a coward: :Only fearing your changed mind: :Where the hell did your spine go?:

What the hell just happened? Dutch’s head throbbed as his mind threatened to give up entirely. He slumped over the front of his horse as he was carried away from Beaver Hollow. The usually powerful and radiant man was broken, utterly shattered. He gave no feedback to his Arabian as they cantered in a seemingly unspecified direction with the one goal of creating distance between them and the gunshots that echoed in the woods surrounding the camp. He trusted The Count to get them to safety; but even if he didn’t, he lacked any strength that permitted him to care. The night was foggy and turning darker with each passing hoof beat.

As he rode, Dutch recounted the events leading up to now. An unwelcome awareness crept in and his own morality became painfully apparent. The once-worshiped gang leader was done, he was nothing. He lost. The events of this horrific day sealed everyone’s fate. All of those lives that he held in his hands, those who trusted in him, he had inadvertently murdered. It all felt so final.

Dutch’s mind drifted to the cliff side, he saw Arthur’s eyes plainly as if they were directly in front of him, instead of just a memory. Fear and terror were carved into his son’s stare. It was a look Dutch had never seen from Arthur, and that made him shiver. His beloved Arthur pleaded in sheer desperation for his help, yet Dutch turned his back. In that very moment, Dutch had realized Arthur had not been unfaithful. Arthur had been wrongly labeled as a traitor. His heart sunk, and he was paralyzed with dismay. Dutch shifted his gaze to Micah, but didn’t feel rage. Micah, who mere seconds ago had beaten Arthur to an inch of life. He felt absolutely nothing towards Micah. Dutch didn’t know what to think, or how to act. So he left.

And this vividly horrifying memory- could he, in fact, trust it? Dutch wasn’t sure if all of this even happened, or was he just living stuck in a nightmare? Was he even alive? He couldn’t trust his own mind to be honest with him.

Was Arthur alive? Micah? Molly? ...Annabelle? Who was left? He forced the thoughts to vacate his mind. He could only manage to process details of his current environment: 1) the wonderfully painful stars that filled the sky; 2) The Count’s gentle, but noticeably labored breaths;  3) the smell of gunpowder which still lingered thickly in the air. Time blended, and his timelines were unlinear as he tried to sift through events of the last moments, months...years. Dutch struggled, as the confusion engulfed him entirely. It was as if he was headed directly into a pure, black void. He was so ready to give up and let the night dissolve him if it was willed so.

Coward….Coward….Weak… Fool. His mind cursed him. Dutch’s heartbeat felt erratic, his vision blurred, his head felt completely foreign to him. He tore unsuccessfully at his scarf which covered his face. His actions were desperate, as if the scarf was preventing him to breath. A panic ensued which he could not control. Dutch had only felt loss of control a few times in his life- losing Annabelle, Colm abducting Arthur,  and Guarma, of course. However, over the last month or so, control seemed to be slipping away from him in other ways. He was a proud and persistent man, who needed and demanded control. But, in this moment, he was dust, he had no substance whatsoever-- Spineless.

Over the last few months, he began experiencing symptoms. At first, they were so subtle Dutch had no awareness of them at all: twitches, headaches, and fatigue. All of which, he concluded it was from the stress of running the gang. He could tell, however, the gang members were treating him differently. Feeling slightly vulnerable, this only worsened his anger he already felt over the entire situation. His first recollection of any true symptoms were a few days after the trolley station job in Saint Denis. It all started with his vision- he saw specks and streaks of light which floated softly in his field of vision. While it was noticeable, he could mostly ignore it. Occasionally, he would wake up from sleep to not be able to see anything at all. His vision would return moments later, but it was upsetting.

Next, came the irritability, which was less perceptible to him, but the others surely felt it. He had always been brutal, the life he led required it of him. This type of rage induced violence was different. John saw it when he drowned Bronte, Arthur saw it when he strangled the old woman in Guarma, and Dutch saw it when he nearly killed Molly. He was thankful that Susan stepped in, but he knew he would’ve just as easily pulled the trigger himself. This was not him, it definitely didn’t feel like him. It was like stranger took hold if him and he acted as they willed. The anger that filled him was unpredictable and impossible to dampen once flared. The stares from members around the camp and the doubt they obviously all shared weighed on him. He wouldn’t sleep anymore. If he did sleep, it was not restful, he was perpetually tense. Dutch began lashing out in unpredictable ways, it sometimes even scared him. One time, he even berated poor Tilly, the reason behind it he couldn’t quite recall. After some delay, Dutch snapped out of it and noticed her well up with tears. He dropped to his knees and begged for her forgiveness. Dutch was completely unhinged and he didn’t know why.

That is where Micah came in. At Dutch’s peak moments of confusion, he was there when Arthur wasn’t. Micah always had faith. Once his confusion and gaps in his memory became too great, the gang leader heavily relied on Micah’s consult. Micah would sit with him, and would listen to Dutch in an non-judgmental way. While following Micah’s advice didn’t always go well, it wasn’t about that. Dutch was losing himself, his ability to make reasonable and practical choices for the gang. He was afraid of appearing unfit to the other gang members. It terrified him as he was learning to live with his changing mind. Dutch was vulnerable, he sensed that Arthur and John knew this. Micah had helped Dutch when he was forgetful or had slipping thoughts. In a way, Micah was how Dutch was able to keep the facade for so long. He owed a lot to Micah for that reason. At this point, he could not even comprehend the possibility that Micah would betray him. The clarity and directness of Arthur’s words indicated that it was not a lie. Deep down, he knew that Arthur would not have fed him false information, it was not his way. It was something, though, that Dutch could not accept. Did he want Arthur to die? No. Dutch knew, however painfully evident, that leaving Arthur, was contracting his death. He left his son’s life in the hands of Micah.

Overwhelmed, Dutch abandoned the thought completely.

How did it come to this? The abrupt stop of the horse caused Dutch to snap out of his head and focus on the present. Where was he? It was still night, but he could make out that a town was out in front of him. A big town- could it be Saint Denis? He had no clue that he had been riding for that long, it had only felt like minutes. Dutch realized that he must’ve passed out at some point. He pushed himself upright into the saddle, and looked behind him. For a brief moment, panic took hold again that urged him to run back and find Arthur. He shuddered at the thought of what he would find if he did return. Still the urge remained, even with Dutch’s attempts to shove it aside. He inhaled sharply, trying to recollect himself. He was tired. Being alone like this was foreign to him, as he never went anywhere by himself. Nearly his whole life, Dutch was surrounded by people. The loss of his family was heavy, sucking the little life he had left. Not only was being alone emotionally difficult, it also made him feel incredibly exposed and defenseless. Without someone to cover him, he was at risk for an attack. At this point, even Molly would be a welcomed companion, despite the fact that she made his life hell.

He slid into Saint Denis unnoticed. Dutch knew the particular locations where he would likely run into law, and avoided them. The Count moved swiftly, but not at a desperate pace. After rounding a corner, he dismounted and hitched the Arabian a few blocks away from his destination. The streets were unusually quiet, Saint Denis was a bustling town, even at night. But, the silence of this hour was ghostly. Crouched, he navigated to the saloon. He wasn’t entirely sure if this was the best idea. Surely his face was plastered everywhere by now, and he knew it was possible that someone would notice an outlaw in their midst. At this moment, he couldn’t care at all. He entered the saloon and sat at the bar. With a stern glare, the bartender approached and poured him a drink. Dutch grunted thankfully, and also indicated he’d like to rent a room. The bartender put his palm out, asking for payment.

Dutch’s expression darkened, “I’m good for it,” he snapped sharply. The bartender backed off. The former-gang leader let his head drop into his hands as his elbows rested on the bar. Fatigue was causing him to shake slightly. He knew he needed to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t be easily accomplished. Dutch sat at the bar, unable to move for about an hour, possibly longer. His mind moved from one gang member to another and then repeated. Dutch would get hung up on Arthur every time his mind cycled through the list.

In a gentle, but startling way a presence appeared behind, placing their hands on either of his shoulders. He jumped, turning around to see a distantly familiar face. He paused a moment, unable to form words.

He finally opened his lips, but all he could get out was: “Annie…?” His voice was surprisingly soft with a slight crack. Eagerly, he stood up, reaching his arms out to her. Annabelle embraced him, and stroked his hair.

“You fool!” She cooed, “Why did you come here? They’re looking for you.” Her tone, while calm, was off-putting to Dutch.

He drifted from her touch, and stared into her eyes, “I missed you so much, darling…” A sense of peace came over him. In his confusion, he never once questioned her presence. She was as real to him as the bartender was real. No questions, no doubt. This figure in front of him was Annabelle. Annabelle smiled at him in a way that was only saved for Dutch. Dutch absolutely melted in response. He reached out to touch her, but stopped halfway before his hand dropped. Annabelle pulled Dutch into a deep hug. Dutch rested his head on her shoulder, still reeling from the day’s events.

“What have I done, Annabelle?” Dutch’s words sounded weak, almost childlike. He felt so small, so hopeless. A few moments had passed, with the two lingering in each other’s embrace. After a time, Annabelle wordlessly led Dutch upstairs to their room. Dutch reclined on the bed, exhaustion overtaking his entire body. Annabelle laid down next to him, resting her head on his chest. Everything about her presence brought healing. Peace washed over his very troubled soul. Ever so gently, Dutch caressed her head and hair, weaving his fingers through each strand just like he used to. His fingers carefully danced around her frame. His movements were slow, making sure to take in as much of her features as he could. His eyes closed, and if only for a moment, he forgot what had happened. He was at home with the gang and Annabelle, the disasters of the last few months were erased. This was short lived when Annabelle broke the silence, “How’s the gang, Dutch?” She inquired solemnly. He said nothing, finding the words were not coming easy.

“Hosea?” She asked. Dutch shook his head with a painfully blank stare. “Oh I see…” Annabelle dropped her voice off, “Well, Arthur, then?”

Dutch looked down at her, “They’re all gone, I failed, Annabelle.” Tears began to fill his eyes, distorting his vision. He could not control his feelings of hopelessness anymore.

Annabelle hugged him tighter, “Shhh...rest now, Dutch.” In response, Dutch buried his head into her wild hair, and sobbed very softly. He drifted off to sleep, while sorrow ate away at his heart. Having Annabelle here meant everything. Her touch, her voice, was just as he remembered. She was never really gone, he figured. She had always been there.

“Wake up, Dutch, they’re here!” Annabelle boomed in an unfittingly calm tone. Dutch awoke, with the sun piercing his eyes as he opened them. He had no idea how long he had been asleep for, causing him to be very disoriented. Annabelle stood by the window, peering outside at the street below. He quickly got up, looking out the window over her shoulder. Right outside the saloon were the Pinkertons. They were here for him. His heartbeat quickened as he scrambled to gather his few possessions. Dutch stumbled, barely managing to catch himself as he fell to the floor. He was in no condition to be on the run, let alone fight the Pinkertons.

“What do I do, Annabelle?” Dutch pleaded, becoming desperate. He always had a plan, he always knew exactly what to do, but this time he was unprepared. It was so apparent to him that he was coming completely unravelled, and this realization scared him more than the Pinkertons did.

Annabelle nodded, “We escape, Dutch, that’s what we have to do,” she grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the back of the saloon. They were on the second level of the building, so somehow they would have to make it down without being noticed. Annabelle led Dutch to a door leading out the back balcony. Only one Pinkerton was stationed around this side of the building. Dutch pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the man’s head. Within an instant, the Pinkerton dropped from his horse. Dutch had to kill him, but he knew that it also meant more detectives would be attracted to the gunshot sound. Quickly, Dutch and Annabelle climbed down the ladder that led to an alleyway. Before too long, Pinkertons filled the alleyway from both sides, blocking their escape route completely. All guns were aimed on Dutch. Moving quickly, Dutch shot two or three of them easily, even despite his weakened state. An opening appeared and Annabelle slipped through, throwing herself onto a horse.

“Come with me Dutch!” She called to him.

Dutch started running towards her, desperate to survive. He made eye contact with her just before his vision went completely dark.

“Annie!” he screamed.

Without warning, intense pain that started in his skull, flew through his body causing him to drop to the ground. He cried out in utter terror, a truly awful sound poured from his lips. As he struggled to get up, one of the Pinkertons took the opportunity and took aim. The bullet was targeted strategically to be nonfatal. They were meaning to capture him. Pain overtook him, and he collapsed fully. Hot blood seeped from where the bullet hit his shoulder. Dutch grasped desperately at his shoulder, writhing on the ground. The pain was burning, and he lost all control of his senses. Was this it? He wondered. If it was, at least he would be with Arthur again. The former gang leader lost consciousness, the last thing he saw was the Pinkerton detectives surrounding him from all sides with greedy expressions. They came for him like hungry wolves gathering around a fallen animal.

-There is nothing you keep, there is only a reflection-

He dreamed of Annabelle, Arthur, and Hosea. Blissfully unaware of the outside world, he blocked any recollection of what was happening to him. His body was not his own. Dutch was so withdrawn into himself, most would assume he was already dead. He wished he was. Dutch had always been a survivor, but now he viewed that as a curse upon him. In his dreams, the tension, the heartache, the weight on his soul had dissipated. Holding Annabelle and laughing with Arthur and Hosea was all that mattered to him. His dream felt real, although it was smeared with a lingering sorrow. He was unaware of just how much time had passed. Dutch tried to cling to the dream as best he could, but it was no use. Slowly, he saw the expressions and features of those he loved fade away and replaced with the view of bars of the prison transport wagon. He felt ice cold in the face of his new reality.

It took him several minutes to fully take in his new surroundings. Dutch didn’t quite know where he was, but he did know that he was being transported somewhere. He looked around, past the bars on the wagon. The Pinkertons had pulled out all the stops for him. He counted at least twelve armed guards, possibly more. In a way, he was flattered that they recruited all of these gunmen just for him. The thought made him smirk. What he couldn’t understand was why they captured him, and didn’t just kill him on the spot. That did not add up, whatsoever. Dutch slowly sat up, the unsteadiness of the wagon making it more difficult on him. His shoulder screamed in pain whenever he moved. Dutch figured the bullet was still embedded. He’d had a bullet wound before, but this one was felt much worse than he remembered. Dutch couldn’t help but admit to himself that he deserved it. He deserved all of it and more. The cart ran over a large rock, causing Dutch to completely lose his balance. He grasped at the bars to steady himself. He winced, and inhaled sharply as his shoulder responded to the jolt. Once composed, he looked down at his feet. Shackles adorned his ankles, with a chain that was attached to the cart itself. Instinctually, Dutch sought an escape. He ran the chain through his fingers looking for any weak points. Similarly, he searched the prison wagon’s door for any flaws. Any attempt proved fairly useless, of course.

The sky was turning dark at this point. The caravan of Pinkertons pulled off the road for the evening. The guards aligned themselves, fully surrounding the wagon, but faced outwards. Dutch sat and watched them all. It was much more official than he experienced with the local lawmen. He knew that the Pinkertons would do anything to see him “delivered” without incident. Little did they know that no one would be coming to his rescue. “Fools…” He muttered under his breath, menacingly.

Dutch spat, “All of this for me, gentlemen? A little excessive, no?” His voice cracked, before he chuckled quietly to himself, thinking he was awfully clever.

“Just shut up!” One of the drivers replied. Dutch reclined, making sure his shoulder wasn’t touching anything in fear of angering his bullet wound. He watched the men shuffle around. Some of them seemed genuinely proud of themselves for capturing such a legend; while others were on edge, obviously anticipating an attack.

Just as he was closing his eyes to sleep, a Pinkerton came over to the door of the wagon. The man slammed a heavy fist into the metal, intending to wake him up.

“Oh my god! What could you possibly need?” His voice boomed and echoed throughout the Pinkerton’s camp. The former gang leader shifted upright, in an uncomfortable fashion. He glared at the man standing on the other side of the bars. Was he asking to be strangled? Dutch thought to himself.

The man opened his mouth to speak, “You’re gonna hang for all you did, Mr. Van Der Linde!”

Dutch rolled his eyes, “No shit!” He shot back wickedly. His voice was increasing in volume, “I believed you lot were slightly intelligent, I now realize that you’re a bunch of pathetic FOOLS!”

The rot that he was feeling inside was not outwardly shown, but the fatigue he felt weighed him down. Dutch dropped backwards, completely ignoring the Pinkerton that provoked him. Before too long he was asleep.

Dutch awoke with a slight startle. As he pulled himself up, he caught sight of her. Annabelle was here, with only metal bars separating them. Too quickly, for it aggravated his wound, Dutch stood up.

“Annabelle- you came for me?” He asked, slightly dazed. She did not speak, but nodded soothingly. Dutch watched her in anticipation. Strangely she did not seem worried or panicked about Dutch’s condition.

“You need to get me out of here, Annie.” He spoke very softly, but his desperation was recognizable in his words.

“I can’t do that, Dutch…” Annabelle’s gentle voice washed over him.  Her tone turned dark, “You are not the man I thought you were…” With those words lingering painfully, Annabelle turned her back and walked away, disappearing in mist. Dutch wanted to call out to her, call her back to him, but before he could she was gone. In a mixture of confusion and terror, and his body failing him, Dutch passed out.

This was becoming a pattern. Hours later Dutch woke up with the sun high in the sky, stinging his eyes as he forced them to open. The rocking of the prison cart was the first thing that caught his attention. He was still being transported, but he recognized the area. It looked like they were headed to Blackwater. Perfect.

Dutch’s thought was interrupted by an explosion in front of the caravan. The eruption was strategic, targeting only the riders in front of the wagon, but not the wagon itself.  In the moment, the only thing Dutch saw dismembered limbs and bodies fly in the air from the men unfortunate enough to be directly underneath the blast. In the next instant the entire prison wagon was flipped. The explosion had caused the horses leading the wagon to spook, and as they bolted in opposite directions, the wagon capsized. Dutch was able to act quick enough to land on his arms rather than directly on his neck. The impact though, had done enough. Dutch doubled over in pain, and didn’t move for several moments, trying to regain himself. He was shaking quite violently. All he could hear was a mixture of screams and gunshots. Dutch looked to his left, to see that one of the drivers had managed to get himself pinned between the wagon and the ground. The upper half of his body stuck out, and he was shrieking. It was horrible. Disoriented, Dutch pulled himself up, stumbling a bit as he stood. He inhaled sharply as the pain from his shoulder returned with a vengeance. He cradled his arm, and bit his lip to keep from crying out. It was several seconds before he realized what was actually happening. Someone was busting him out.

The gunshots ceased nearly as fast as they began. Dutch scanned the environment for any signs of his rescuer. As he did, he noticed the Pinkerton bodies that littered the road, each with perfectly placed bullets embedded in their foreheads. That is when he realized who came to free him- Micah. Micah was the only one he knew of with that kind of skill with a gun. This realization shook Dutch to his core. He did not want to see Micah. At least, he didn’t want to right now. Dutch wasn’t sure what to think, but his heart was with Arthur. Micah was extremely unwelcome in this equation. Before too long, Micah made himself visible. He slinked over to the prison wagon. Dutch eyed him, with no expression on his face. Micah surely expected gratitude, but Dutch would not oblige him that luxury.

“Hello there, boss.” Micah said slyly. Dutch remained silent. “Did you have some fun with those Pinkertons?” Micah laughed, getting to work on the lock on the prison wagon. Before too long, the lock fell, and Micah opened the door providing Dutch his freedom. It was only then that Dutch spoke, his voice was unexpectedly chilling.

“Why did you come, Micah?” There was an undeniable sting to his words.

Micah nervously laughed it off, “You’re welcome.”

Dutch stepped out, but that was all. They both looked down at Dutch’s chains that laced his ankles. Micah bent down to pick the lock. In a seamless motion Dutch reached for Micah’s gun and pointed at him. With crazed eyes and shaky hands he stared down at Micah. Micah in response shifted backwards onto the ground, and slowly put his hands up. The shock was not hidden from either of their faces. Micah however could tell that Dutch was meaning to kill. He had seen this look from Dutch before.

“Dutch….?” Micah quivered.

“Be quiet!” Dutch yelled, moving closer to him, “Don’t even think about reaching for your other gun.” Dutch wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, but he was filled with pain which manifested as absolute rage. He pushed the gun’s muzzle onto Micah’s forehead. Micah felt panicked, trying to come up with the words that would get him out of this. The gun rested against Micah for a few silent, tense moments.

Without warning Dutch screamed, “Did you kill him?” His voice sounded desperate. Micah had heard this voice before, but only when the gang leader was unraveling.

“I want to help you, Dutch!” Micah rasped, trying to appeal to the crazed man in front of him.

“Answer me!” Dutch bellowed in pure agony, his voice cracking as words left his lips.  He didn’t even care if he was clearly showing his weakness. “Did you kill him?” His voice was louder this time. Dutch rested his finger on the trigger, ready to shoot him at any moment.

“You did.” Micah shot back, sinisterly, aiming to do harm. Dutch’s pause following those words was surprising to Micah. Dutch’s knees went weak, and he lost his balance slightly. While the gun was still aimed at Micah, it was clear the words took their toll.

Micah opened his mouth to speak again, “You need me. I will help you.” Micah’s tone was soft, trying to appeal to Dutch. He slowly stood up off of the ground, trading places with Dutch as the man sunk to the grass below. Dutch was paralyzed, what had come over him? The gun lowered off of his target, and fell to his knees. The once stoic and proud man was broken.

“It’s okay, boss. We’ve got a spot, it’s safe.” Micah went over to Dutch and retrieved his gun. He slowly bent over to steady Dutch, and helped him to his feet. Dutch began to cry openly, his cries did not sound like sadness, but of actual pain.

Dutch didn’t know what the future held, but his current path was not his choice. He followed Micah to the horses, and rode off for his new reality. He clung to the memories of Arthur, Annabelle, and everyone else who he lost and loved. He was not the same man he was a week ago, and he doubted he’d ever be fully intact again.

“I don’t want to waste away It was all I gave to you Take me back and take my place I will rise right up for you”

All the while you waste away, you’re asking “Did I really need another one to take me down?”

[imnoexpertblog]

Here's some stuff to do and listen to.

7/20/18

Are you ready to receive some suggestions to entertain your fine selves? ‘Cause I’m ready to give it.

For those who are local: My dad and brother run NYFO together for Green Bay. What’s NYFO? WELL. “NYFO 7on7 Football is the next generation of player development, no matter your skill set. NYFO is the NATIONAL GOVERNING BODY for 7on7 & Non-contact Football. Our leagues, camps, and training exist to ultimately transition better, safer, and more fundamentally sound knowledgeable players. NYFO is committed to helping every player in our program improve no matter their skill level. By doing so we will ultimately enhance the sport of football, from youth organizations through the NFL. NYFO is ‘Non-Contact’ For parents, ‘non-contact’ can be translated into ‘one-hand touch.’ Without the distraction of full-contact, players can focus on fundamentals. With so much negative media attention given to concussions and Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI), 7on7 offers parents a safer alternative for kids wanting to play football.” Quick additional info: They offer programs for age groups 8U, 10U, 13U, 15U, and 18U. Go to their website if you’re interested in signing your kids up! Okay but anyway, if you need something to do this Friday you should go to a Bullfrogs baseball game! Bullfrogs “Stars Of Tomorrow” fundraiser family & friend tickets are $18 and include your ticket (duh), a Bullfrogs hat, a hot dog, AND a soda! A damn steal if you ask me. It helps out NYFO and you’ll have something fun to do! All registered players from NYFO get in free with and a portion of the proceeds from family/friends tickets sales going to the NYFO by simply using code “NYFO7on7” at the point of purchase. Go to greenbaybullfrogs.com, click Buy Tickets Now in the top right corner, and enter the promo code (NYFO7on7). Gates open at 6:05pm and the game is at 7:05pm!  See you at the diamond on July 20th! Give them a follow on Instagram! @greenbay.nyfo

I never really blog about music for how passionate I am about it. I have mentioned before that I sing, too. I’d love music even if I couldn’t sing though. Anyway, everyone loves finding new music, right? I’m gonna tell you my most listened to artists and songs on my Spotify. First, I’ll tell you how I found this data. I found this question forum on this link: https://www.quora.com/Is-there-a-way-to-see-my-most-played-artists-songs-in-Spotify. You’ll see in the answer that there’s Spotify.Me or there’s ManageMyMusic to see your most listened to stuff. Spotify.Me is intricate and gives you information like your favorites, streaming habits, and listening insights. Apparently, what I listen to the most is considered to be a bunch of different types of “pop.” I don’t know if I agree with that. They also tell me that “I know what I want” because 84% of my favorite artists are within my most-listened to genre. That I can agree with. It says I’m high energy lately in my streaming choices, but I don’t see it. I have been choosing really chill music, in my opinion. The other link in that question/answer forum is called ManageMyMusic and it gives you a ton of lists; Top artists and tracks for the “Short Term (4 weeks),” the “Medium Term (6 months),” and for the “Long Term (Years).” I’ll give you my top ten for each category, though I know there will be overlapping. I obviously love everything I am about to include so please give this stuff a listen. You’re about to get an intimate peek at my soul.

Top artists -- Short Term (4 weeks)

Jon Bellion

Drake

Milky Chance

Hozier

Andrew Belle

Bazzi

Aaron Carter

Roy Woods

dvsn

Troy Sivan

I didn’t realize that I listened to that much Jon Bellion lately. I mean, he is fantastic. I just didn’t realize I listened to so much of him in the last month.

Top artists -- Medium Term (6 months)

Drake

Blackbear

Tory Lanez

Marc E. Bassy

Jon Bellion

Bazzi

Post Malone

Hozier

Aaron Carter

Sam Smith

I can say for DAMN SURE that Baby has heavily influenced who I listened to these past 6 months. Drake has always been my man but I never listened to Blackbear, Tory Lanez, or Marc E. Bassy before I met him.

Top artists -- Long Term (years)

Drake

Sam Smith

Troye Sivan

Andrew Belle

Justin Bieber

Jon Bellion

The Weeknd

Jessie Ware

Hozier

Tove Lo

None of that even remotely surprises me.

Top tracks -- Short Term (4 weeks)

Jessie Ware, You & I (Forever)

Hozier, Jackie and Wilson

Sabrina Claudio, Orion's Belt

Jon Bellion, Overwhelming

Jon Bellion, 2 Rocking Chairs

Vance Joy, Mess Is Mine

The 1975, Somebody Else

Jon Bellion, The Good In Me

JAHKOY, Still In Love

Young the Giant, Cough Syrup

This is all very "me" lately.

Top tracks -- Medium Term (6 months)

Alina Baraz, Show Me

6LACK, Learn Ya

Tory Lanez, I Sip

Blackbear, moodz (feat. 24hrs)

Marc E. Bassy, 4am

Tory Lanez, Skrt Skrt

Ansel Elgort, Supernova

Bazzi, Mine

Post Malone, Psycho (feat. Ty Dolla $ign)

R I T U A L, Better By Now

This list is definitely Baby-approved.

Top tracks -- Long Term (years)

Justin Bieber, The Feeling

Troye Sivan, WILD

ZAYN, PILLOWTALK

Snakehips, All My Friends

Tatiana Manaois, Helplessly

Bryson Tiller, Don't

Chris Stapleton, Tennessee Whiskey

Sam Smith, Not In That Way

Hozier, Work Song

A R I Z O N A, Let Me Touch Your Fire

Honestly, the first 5 tracks do surprise me a little, but that was back when I had my music on constantly when I was single and home alone quite often. I remember keeping those on repeat for hours at times, so I’m not sure how accurate that actually is only because of that fact. This was all super cool to see, though. Some of it was expected, some unexpected. Either way, I hope I gave you some new stuff to listen to! And you should check out for own profiles. Nice opportunity to learn a little about yourself.

This past weekend, it was pretty warm out. Baby and I wanted to get Nugget a sprinkler so I took the little one with me to the store aaaaand they were sold out. Due to all the warmth. So I bought Nugget some water guns instead. We got 2 smaller ones and 2 larger ones for THIRTEEN DOLLARS, TOTAL. YEAH. This s’mom was shocked by that price, that’s for sure. We played and sprayed when we got home. Baby and Nugget had some fun together. The first thing Nugget did when we filled his gun though was spray me right in the (get ready) vagina. Yes. Then he yells, “I’M SPRAYING YOU IN THE PARTS.” I was like, “Uhhhhh, let’s not spray anyone’s parts and also let’s talk about anyone’s parts. It’s not polite and those are private” LOL. He’s never said anything to me about private parts or anything so that was new to me. He walks into my room when I’m changing a fair amount of the time and I know for a fact he’s seen more than I meant him to, but he has never asked questions, pointed anything out, etc. I think it’s important to set an example for your children in the sense to be comfortable with their bodies and such. This might be a whole new chapter with Nugget! We will see. Enough about my “parts” and back to the water guns. Baby said that on one of the weeks that we don’t have Nugget, that he wants to do a water gun race with me. I got 2 free beach balls from Sprint when I got a new phone last week (among a ton of other free shit, which I'll tell y'all about soon) and Baby said we should see whoever can get the beach ball across our backyard the fastest by spraying them with the water guns. I honestly think that sounds more fun than any idea I've ever had LOL. It reminds me of when I almost bought us both Nerf guns. So, if things are little mundane (or even if they’re not) maybe you and your love should find your inner children together! Get water-balloons and have a water-balloon fight, chalk up your driveway, set up obstacle courses, have a scavenger hunt! You can make it interesting by making fun deals. Whoever loses has to make dinner, for example. I think we will try all of these ideas eventually.

Speaking of shopping with Nugget, I am in the process of teaching him about not asking for toys every time we go. Baby went through a break up after a 3 year relationship before we was with me. He told me that he felt awful that Nugget no longer had two people raising him and Baby made up for that by buying Nugget toys every time they went to the store. I could tell there was a reason why Nugget would ask like clockwork what toy he would get every time we went shopping. I have been working on breaking Nugget of that expectation, as well as working on having him appreciate the things he has at home. I explain to him Daddy and I only have a certain amount of dollars and that its usually only enough to buy what we needed from the store in the first place. He actually understands this concept very well. He always asks why we are going to the store, so I always have the opportunity to tell him what we need to buy. When we went to buy the sprinkler he asked me, "Can we get a toy from here?" and I replied with, "Buddy, remember what we came here for?" He answered correctly about buying a sprinkler. I said in a very positive tone, "Yep and I'm pretty sure we only have enough dollars for a sprinkler. And you also have a bunch of toys at home that you love to play with." We walked by a few things that piqued his interest. As we walked by some bubble-guns, he goes, "Oooh, those look fun. But we only have dollars to get the sprinkler." I was so proud of him for making this connection and also proud of myself for explaining it to him so that he really does understand this. I was raised by people who didn't explain things. It was always a "because I said so" type of world and I learned to accept it. I won't put Nugget in that world, though. I want him to recognize reasoning and be able to grasp why things are the way they are. He is incredibly intelligent and capable of knowing this information. I also want him to trust me and be honest with me as we grow together, so the first step is me trusting him and being honest with him first. Just wanted to share my super proud s'mom moment of the week. I'll be back tomorrow with new recipes for you!

[agape-l0ve]

hello i am back lol

I think the last few times I wrote out a blog was when jj was deployed.  tumblr was a really helpful tool for me at that time because it allowed me to be completely vulnerable without having to burden anyone else!

I was looking back at my old posts and it’s so interesting to read where I was back then and to see the progression of how much life changes in such short bursts of time! So here’s just an update for my future self -- warning, it’s not very exciting hahaha

So, since jj returned in dec 2018, it’s honestly been great! We saw 2019 and 2020 as a time to catch up on all the lost time we had in the previous years.  No more exercises, training, or trips away, life actually went back to normal - which was weird.  I look back and think about how we’ve only been in this lifestyle since 2016, but so much can happen within a span of 4-5 years.  I’ve finally graduated from CFCC’s OTA program, which was honestly such a blessing because our class was able to complete our requirements before COVID got really bad.  Well, I should say most of our class.  As of right now, I think only one more person is finishing up their FW II, which is crazy because these days, I find myself thinking about how I was just finishing up HH and transitioning into peds outpatient in FW II exactly one year ago.  

I’ll talk a bit about my FW II experiences.. since they were not the greatest lol.

Home health was really interesting.  I was honestly DREADING it because 1, I don’t like spending long amounts of time in the car and 2, I hate being in the car with just one other person - especially someone I don’t feel100% comfortable with. Also, I wasn’t too fond of the idea of going to people’s homes either.  I think this placement really stretched me and pushed me out of my comfort zone in every aspect.  Looking back now, I genuinely enjoyed the experience for what it was! Would I voluntarily do it again? It depends! (which is a step up from a solid no) 

Our area covered the extremely rural areas of our surrounding counties and it definitely served as a huge culture shock.  But everyone was so sweet and grateful for any help they could get and I will always remember some of the most awesome patients I got to meet.  The negative effects of this rotation mostly came from my supervisor.  She was an awful human being, but thankfully, she was at least a good OTR.  However, that being said, I saw ZERO treatments! Even when I tried to tell my professor, NO ONE LISTENED OR BELIEVED ME.  It was extremely frustrating because I had all of these assignments to do and all of them were about mf interventions.  Anyways, my OTR was untimely, rude, unapologetic, and lacked empathy out of her ass.  I was so ready to be done with her and thankfully, she didn’t ruin HH as an option for me - just wasted my time with her.  If someone could win an award for the amount of countless hours they could talk about themselves, it would be her.  9 hours every day, non-stop, talking about herself and how great she is and her bf. omfg JUST GET ME OUT OF THE CAR

FW II was supposed to be really exciting for me.  I was done with HH and moving onto what I cared about the most and what I really felt passionate about.  Helping children in clinic! It was honestly my dream.  It was a multi-disciplinary site with SLP, PT, and OT. Everyone seemed nice and it just so happens that my OTR at this placement was a former Marine and he and I had a lot in common paper.  Boy, was I in for it.  He turned out to be an extremely narcissistic man who thought the world of only himself.  He shit talked EVERYONE behind their backs, but was extremely fake to their face.  Him and the front office administrator would gossip every moment they got, like they were 13 year old bullies.  He suffered from several TBIs when he was enlisted, so it’s safe to say that his temperament issues and memory loss were definitely a result of those.  But the worst part is, he refused to admit it.  He would shit talk the boss, the PR manager, the PTs, the clients, and just about everyone in between.  And he brought 100% of his personal life into this, which I get if we’re co-workers, that’s fine.  But as your student, I don’t need to know about that kind of crap.  On top of that, I was his first FW II student... lol of course I was.  So he knew nothing about how to help me, guide me, or teach me. Instead of looking at the informational packed my professor handed to him, he puts that in the closet the entire 9 weeks I’m with him and proceeds to continuously throw me under the bus when it came to doing my assignments and treating patients.  Mind you, I didn’t get to treat anyone in HH, so this is now my first real opportunity to start treating patients throughout the entirety of my program.  Safe to say, I was nervous.  But I pulled through and did my best and I forced myself to become really confident really quickly.  I was awesome at it and I was honestly very proud of the practitioner I was striving to be.  He did help me from time to time and I’d like to believe there were moments where he was genuine and tried his best to help me.  But none of those times outweigh the flustercluck that was that clinic.  Anyways, I came out pretty salty about the whole thing, but I didn’t let it ruin my passion for helping children, as that is what I aspire to do in the future.  I made strides with kids my OTR wasn’t able to connect with for months.  And instead of encouraging me and allowing me to fulfill my duty as a student, he re-books them with another therapist and anyone in healthcare knows how that detrimental that process is to their progression and tells me that he’s just trying to be nice and share his case-load with other people.  No, you’re purposefully taking them away from me because you can’t stand the thought of someone being better than you at something.  His pride and arrogance will forever taint my experience there and I have no intention of going back - which is a true shame because I absolutely fell in love with the kids and some of the other therapists there.  Oh well, good riddance to both my HH OTR and my peds OTR.

Luckily through it all, COVID was just beginning and it only delayed my graduation process a few weeks.  I was extremely fortunate to be one of the first few in my class to finish up and start studying for my NNCOT exam!

Studying for my exam was a time and a half.  I honestly had -0% confidence in myself to pass this test.  I knew it was coming, I knew I had to eventually take it.. but time just snuck up on me so quickly and before I realized, it was my time.  I studied for about 3 months, graduating in June and taking my exam in Sept.  I took a short break immediately following graduation and then read an entire 3,000 page textbook, took over 300 pages of notes, and took practice tests and listened to podcasts/watched youtube videos.  It was a lot of information but it was honestly so rewarding to think about how much knowledge I’ve truly gained from these past few years.  Fast forward, Sept 23, 2020 was the day I took my test and it was great! A lot less structured of a process than they make it sound and I was able to complete my exam in about 2 hours and passed a few weeks later! I got my license and everything was great!

For whatever reason, during this time, I felt in my heart that it was time to get another dog.  This topic kept coming up un-provoked in EVERY single conversation we had with others and it just felt right.  Being home now, I was able to spend every day with Teddy, rather than taking him to daycare.  Because of the uncertainties of COVID at the time, I didn’t feel comfortable taking him in, nor did I want to drive if I didn’t have to.  Teddy became extremely depressed, always sleeping in the closet or between the toilet and wall, which are places he goes only when he’s hurt or sick.  I would try to play with him and take him out, but he had lost all motivation to do anything.  It hurt my heart that I couldn’t give him what he wanted or what he needed.  So, after a lot of thought and research, Chester came into our lives! Teddy’s breeder had JUST had a litter of puppies (on the same day I took my exam!) and I figured it was a good time to raise another puppy, since I have the time and no outstanding commitments right now.  We picked him up in Nov, right before Thanksgiving and jj’s brother was in town to help us.  It was a looooong day, 5 hours there and 5 hours back.  I think we got home around 2am, but since then, my life has just been on hold while I raise Chester.

Teddy was not happy at first.  I could tell he was confused and upset that another dog was here.  But over time, they have become much closer and share experiences that has helped him become a better brother.  Chester is a lot of work lol but he’s brought so much joy to all of us and I love him so much.  He’s currently 5 months, losing all his baby teeth, and getting into everything and Teddy has been enjoying the company (in moderation lol).

In regards to our life, we were really hoping to PCS back home summer of 2020, but it didn’t happen.  It was pretty disappointing because we’ve been on the east coast the whole time we’ve been active duty.  A lot of our friends moved either back to their hometowns or to the west coast and it felt really unjustified that we were stuck here, but even so, we are making the most of it.  We would have had to move through COVID and we wouldn’t have gotten Chester, so those are definitely some benefits of staying put.  Since we’re here for a bit, we’ve decided to purchase a house! Our friends down the street are selling theirs and we figured it’d be a good financial idea to start allocating our rent into a cheaper mortgage.  It has a double yard and it’s a bit newer than our current rental.  So we are hoping to move around June! I’m excited, it’s kind of a fresh new start without having to be too big of a move for now.  

Mentally, I’ve been fluctuating.  I have a lot of self-inflicted guilt from not working at the moment.  And yes, I agreed to get Chester and it’s a full-time job to watch him and not have to crate him all day.  I want him to enjoy his puppyhood and I want to be here with him as well, so I do cherish these moments that I can have with both him and Teddy.  However, I just feel like it’s the right thing to do or it’s what I’m supposed to do. I graduate and then I work! But being here, it’s just not the path for me.  Besides, I keep reminding myself that there are no job openings in my immediate area right now anyways.  So for now, I’m just spending my days with the pups and working on keeping the house clean, which does bring me a lot of joy.  I need to learn to enjoy life and not worry about what I’m not doing.  To help myself, I signed up for transcription services again, so hopefully that’ll bring in some money and take up some time.  I think it’s the need to feel productive and I haven’t had that in a while.  But with COVID, I’m sure that’s a very popular feeling.  

I think that’s about it for now, that’s what’s been going with me the past few years! I can’t wait to read this in 2 years and hopefully, I won’t be in the same place lol

byee

[drakesroyalromance]

I’m the Bad Guy (duh)

Summary: Emma has an accident the morning after her engagement to Drake in the safehouse that turns everyone’s world upside down. Nothing will be the same, no matter how hard Drake tries.

Catch up here!

Pairing: Drake x MC (Emma Barnes), Liam x MC

Rating: R

Author’s note: Please check the trigger warnings in the tags and read the note at the end of the chapter.

Tag list: Drake x MC: @aries-light @notoriouscs

This fic: @marshmallowsandfire @twinkle-320 @ravenpuff02

Chapter 4, part 1: Old me

Liam and Drake sit in the doctor’s office in a tense silence. When the doctor enters the room, both of their heads snap up in his direction.

The doctor takes a seat across from them with a grim expression. “King Liam, if you would be so kind as to wait outside?”

Liam sets his jaw. “No.”

The doctor’s eyebrows furrow. “No? I can only disclose this news to immediate family and since Mr. Walker is the closest thing to family the patient’s got, being her fiancé, I -“

“No.” Liam repeats. “I am the King of Cordonia. That is one of the people I hold dearest to me that you’ve got lying in a hospital bed. So, if you think you’re going to withhold any information from me, you better think again.”

The doctor looks a little scared. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

Tired of waiting, Drake snaps, “Can you just tell us what’s wrong?”

The doctor adjusts his glasses. “There is nothing wrong, per se. As I told you before Miss Barnes woke up, she has suffered a traumatic brain injury, commonly known as TBI. In some cases involving the frontal lobe, the patient acts differently when they wake up. It could be that she’s just confused and will go back to acting ‘normally’ in a few hours.”

“Could? What are the chances?” Drake asks frightfully. He just wants his Emma back.

[[MORE]]

“I wish I could give you a concrete number, but it’s not that simple. Nobody knows. Every brain is different. In rare cases, personality change can be permanent.”

“Permanent?” Drake gasps. Does he mean..he’ll never have his fiancé back?

“Like I said, that happens in extreme cases. I wouldn’t worry about that just yet. For now, just keep an eye on her and if this change in behaviour persists, bring her back for a check up in a month.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” Liam inquires.

“Just act like you normally would. It would be good for her to be in a familiar environment, surrounded by loved ones. Try not to pressure her to act like her old self. I know this is a hard situation for you to be in, but we don’t want to stress the patient out.”

“Of course,” Drake nods. He needs to put Emma first. She has helped him so much, even when she didn’t know it, and she has loved him so selflessly. It’s his turn to step up now. Even if that meant enduring more cracks to his already fragile heart. For her, he would gladly let his heart bleed.

“Other than that, the nurse will give you a few medications when Miss Barnes is being discharged. Make sure she takes them as prescribed.”

“Got it, doc,” Drake says, standing up. “Here’s hoping I’m not back here in a month.”

“Here’s hoping.” The doctor echoes with a smile.

//

Drake and Liam unanimously decide that it’s best to take Emma back to the palace. They call Maxwell and Hana, respectively, and fill them in on what happened. Hana sheds a few tears while Maxwell promises to make the palace as joyous as possible for Emma’s return. Drake feels apprehensive about what that means, but doesn’t protest. He knows this is Maxwell’s way of showing Emma how much he cares.

He signs Emma’s discharge papers and completes other formalities. When the moment they’ve been waiting for finally comes, a nurse stops them and tells them a seemingly never ending number of guidelines.

“A headache is to be expected, but if the pain is too intense, please come back here immediately.”

“Thank you! Can we leave now?”

She replies in the affirmative and they finally depart from the hospital. The three of them settle in Liam’s limo and start the journey to the palace. Drake and Liam try to engage Emma in conversation but she stays silent, opting to stare out the window instead.

Emma suddenly groans and looks back into the car, apparently having been able to feel the men’s eyes on her. They sheepishly look away, pretending they weren’t watching her.

“Obviously this silence is making you two uncomfortable but neither of you have the balls to say something so I will.” Drake shifts uncomfortably in his seat, not used to hearing such harsh words from Emma. Liam looks like he feels the same way.

If Emma notices their discomfort, she doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she muses, “I meant to ask this in the hospital when I first noticed, but what happened to your hand Liam? Injured fighting off the assassins?”

She grabs his hand, gently running her fingers over the bandage before going up his arm, and then back down. Drake coughs uncomfortably, noticing the goosebumps rising on Liam’s skin from her touch. Emma rolls her eyes in annoyance, dropping Liam’s hand.

“What is your problem, Drake?” She was goading him and there was a part of him that wanted to scream out, to take the bait, to plead with her, but he chose to remain silent. It’s the injury talking, not her. Not my Emma.

Liam clears his throat. “I’m afraid it was a more recent injury. I slipped in the stairwell of the hospital and accidentally hit some glass.”

Both Drake and Emma raise a skeptical eyebrow. Drake had a hard time believing that Liam just accidentally got his hand cut after the conversation they had in the hospital. He felt like such an ass for the way he had treated Liam, and to top it all off, he didn’t notice his hand was bandaged until Emma said something. He’d been such a bad best friend.

“How mysterious. I thought that was Drake’s thing.” Emma commented. She looked like she wanted to say more, most probably something that would make Drake want to throw up the bagel he ate that morning, but thankfully, before she could, they hit a speed breaker.

However, when they hit the speed breaker, he caught Emma briefly closing her eyes with a tense expression. He couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his hand around hers and whispering, “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

She snatches her hand from his grasp but gives him a tight nod. Drake counts that as a win.

As soon as they enter the palace, Constantine and Regina attack Liam with a barrage of questions. Liam says to Drake, “I better go fill them in. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Drake walks Emma to her room in silence. When he opens the door to her room, a couple of balloons float out. The room is filled to the brim with balloons, with Maxwell standing in the middle, holding a heart shaped balloon in his hands and having a grin on his face.

“Welcome back!” He sings.

Emma looks shocked and unimpressed. “Am I interrupting a kindergartener’s birthday party?”

Maxwell deflates like one of the balloons. “You don’t like it.”

“What self-respecting adult would?”

Sniffling, he says, “yeah, I see what you mean. I’ll go ask the staff to get rid of them.”

He pops the balloon in his arms and heads for the door. Drake gives him a sympathetic smile and a pat on the shoulder as he passes by. They leave the room, only coming back once the staff has assured Emma that her room is balloon-free.

Emma takes in the unlit candles on her nightstand and looks down almost shyly. “This is the room in which we..”

Drake feels his own cheeks heat up at the memory. Hope alights in him and he laments, “you remember.”

Emma looks back up, her expression annoyed. “Of course I remember. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you guys since yesterday. I remember everything.”

Drake can feel his heart breaking. He just couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the idea that she remembered, chose him, and then all of a sudden didn’t.

“What made you change your mind? Was it something I said? Something I did? Was it something Liam said? I just don’t understand Barnes, I’m really trying to.” Of course he knew what the doctor had said, but Drake had a hard time believing that a bump on the head could cause this.

“You said it yourself probably a million times Drake. Liam can offer me the world, an entire kingdom, and you..well you can’t offer me anything other than some hot sex.”

He was truly at a loss for words, his worst nightmare coming to life before him. He’d said pretty much those exact words to her when they talked on the balcony in New York, that he could offer her nothing, but she promised that she didn’t care. What happened to that promise?

“Emma?” Hana interrupted Drake’s spiraling thoughts, gently knocking on the door. She poked her head in and Drake could tell she could sense the tension in the room. It wasn’t too difficult. After all, Drake’s body was rigid, Emma’s face was unreadable, a stone cold look in her eyes as they raked over Hana.

“I’m so glad you’re okay! We were worried about you when we didn’t hear anything yesterday morning, and then the accident.”

“Yes, so I’ve been told. Everyone seems to have been worried sick.” Her tone and mannerisms seemed to mock Hana’s politeness. Drake caught a flash of sadness crossing Hana’s features before they smoothed out, ever the proper lady.

“Personally I think it’s just another reason why I should be queen. Everyone loves me, all of my friends here at the palace, the press - you’re all eating out of the palm of my hand.”

It felt like with every word she spoke, Drake hurt more. He couldn’t stop himself from reminding her, “You said you were going to love me forever, Emma.”

For a moment, Emma looked taken aback. There was confusion on her face, but then she just shrugged. “I guess I lied.”

Drake couldn’t take any more. He stormed out of the room.

Author’s note: Traumatic Brain Injury, or TBI, is a very real and traumatic thing, which both @mind-reader1 and I are well aware of. We have tried to be as sensitive as we can be, especially to Phineas Gage, who this story is very roughly inspired by. If you have something to say regarding this, please message either her or me or send us an ask.