#this time two years ago I had pneumonia

[hidefdoritos]

every now and then it just hits me so hard that I am in fact a statistic and I kinda don't know what to do about that

[janeyseymour]

Love Thy Neighbor one shot where ellie calls mel mom for the first time in front of all the abbott family, maybe she gets sick at school and calls for her mom and when reader and mel show up she refuses to got with reader and they realize it’s mel she’s talking about

bestie. i got you.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12.

Title Change

WC: ~2.65k

Every year, right around the holidays, Ellie gets sick with whatever is running rampant through the school. And every year, you absolutely dread that time. It could be just the stereotypical, run of the mill fever, but it could also be the flu, a stomach bug, strep throat, pneumonia, pink eye… the worst was right before you moved out of Utah and she ended up with croup and in the hospital overnight. You’re pretty sure you’ll never be able to get the images or sounds from that experience out of your head. Seeing your little girl down for the count is so hard for you, and it doesn’t get any easier as she gets older- she’s still the same little love bug that you remember fussing over when her temperature ran a bit too high for your liking and she would fall asleep at a moment’s notice on your chest.

This year, she gets sick without fail, although you hate to admit that neither you nor your girlfriend had picked up on it when you brought her with you to school today. Her cheeks were a bit rosy this morning as you walked into Abbott, yes- but this December has been particularly cold so far and she had insisted on running around in her t-shirt and shorts this morning despite the fact that the living room was a crisp 65 degrees this morning when you woke up. And then on top of that, you were running a bit late and didn’t get your usual parking spot close to the front of the school.

Your little girl had been adamant that she stay attached to Melissa’s hip while the three of you sat in the staff lounge before everyone else comes in, which is not an uncommon occurrence. It’s warm and peaceful until Janine comes in with cookies for her students, and inevitably one for your daughter. Ellie begs you to let her have it, and you chuckle before relenting. It turns out that was the last think she needs because she’s running circles around the shorter second grade teacher within five minutes. Thankfully though, the time comes where the child high on sugar is no longer you’re problem- she’s now her teachers problem. The two of you walk her down to her first grade classroom before the rest of the kiddos trickle in.

“Be a good girl today, little miss,” you crouch down and open your arms.

Ellie’s arms are around your neck and squeezing you tight. “I always am, Momma.”

“I know, but I’m just reminding you,” you chuckle as you kiss her forehead. It’s a bit warm, but nothing that is too alarming. You release her, and it’s your girlfriend’s turn.

“Love you, kiddo,” Melissa embraces your daughter.

“I love you too,” the seven year old sighs as she rests her head on the second grade teacher’s shoulder for a few seconds. And then she’s bouncing into her classroom and greeting her teacher with the gusto that only a little girl who had a cookie at seven in the morning could have. You and the redhead chuckle as you watch before you loop an arm around your girlfriend and walk down to your little corner of the hallway.

“Did she feel a little warm to you?” Melissa asks you quietly.

You shrug. “A little, but she was also running circles around Janine not five minutes ago.”

“I guess,” she says softly. “I just know you said she always gets sick right before the holidays, and with everything going around…”

“God,” you groan. “I’ve had five kids out at the minimum everyday this week. I’m praying to God Ellie doesn’t get sick for break.”

“Knock on wood,” Melissa sighs as she knocks against her door. “But if she does get sick, we’ll be here for her.”

“Until I get sick with it too because she insists on laying on me,” you quip quietly.

The redhead kisses your temple. “And I’ll be here to take care of you.”

“It’s still insane to me that you haven’t been sick in over ten years.”

“It’s one of the few benefits I get for being in this germ breeding ground for so long,” Melissa chuckles.

Your kiddos come in and start on their morning work, and all is fine and normal until your classroom phone starts to ring. That’s unusual. Nobody ever uses the classroom phones because your crew will just call or text your personal phone, or they’ll just make the trip down to your end of the hallway. Honestly, the only people who really use the classroom phones are… the nurses.

“Hello?” you answer, and you pray to God it’s the nurse calling about the student that you had just sent down to the nurse’s office five minutes ago. But June comes walking back into the classroom right on time to confirm that this phone call isn’t about her.

“Hey.” It’s Ellie’s teacher.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to call and ask if Ellie was feeling okay when you brought her into school today?”

You exhale a heavy breath. “She was running around the apartment this morning singing Frozen and ran circles around Janine in the lounge this morning, so I would say so. Why?”

“Poor thing’s been shivering at her desk for the last twenty minutes while we’ve been doing word work,” your coworker says quietly. “I asked her if she had a sweater with her, but she said she left it with you.”

“Send her down,” you tell the woman.

“Will do,” the first grade teacher nods into the phone. “Thanks.”

Ellie appears in your doorway a few minutes later. Your third graders immediately start cooing over how adorable she is.

“Hey, baby girl,” you smile at her from your place at the front of the room. “Come to get your sweater?”

She nods before coughing a bit. You frown a bit, the lines in your forehead etching their way into your face. You tell your students to work through the next math problem while you attend to your little girl.

As you help her pull on her sweater, you whisper to her, “You feeling okay?” You press your hand against her forehead, and then her cheeks, and then her neck. She does feel warmer than she had earlier this morning.

“Jus’ cold,” Ellie mumbles.

“Okay, baby,” you sigh softly. “Well, you tell your teacher if you aren’t feeling well, and I can always take you home, yeah?”

“I’ll be okay, Momma,” your daughter tells you. “I’m tough like… like Mel.”

You chuckle a bit before kissing her head. “Okay, sweetness. But still, if you aren’t feeling well, that’s okay.”

“M’kay, Momma,” you little girl sighs as she holds her arms out to hug you. “I love you.”

“I love you too, little one,” you whisper as you kiss her still somewhat chubby cheek. “Head on back to class, and I’ll see you at the end of the school day, okay?”

She scampers out of the room, happy to have that extra layer on. Ellie really is going back to her classroom, but as she passes Melissa’s door, she can’t help but stop in the open doorway.

Your girlfriend raises her brows at the sight of your little girl. “Hey, El. What’s going on?”

“I had to get my sweater from Momma, but then I was passing your room and I wanted to say hi,” Ellie smiles bashfully from the door. “Can I come in and give you a hug?”

“One quick one,” the redhead sighs dramatically as she opens her eyes wide. Your daughter knows she isn’t one bit annoyed with the big grin that your girlfriend is wearing. “But then you have to get back to your room.”

“I know,” the first grader says as she runs into the room and into Melissa’s arms. “Quick snuggle, and then back to Miss Smith.”

“Right. Good girl,” Melissa praises your daughter before releasing her from the hug. “I’ll see you at the end of the day, okay?”

Ellie hums her response before stretching on her toes and kissing the second grade teacher’s cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too, El.”

“I know!” your little girl grins as she skips out of the room and heads back for her own classroom.

By the time lunch rolls around, you still haven’t heard anything from your daughter’s first grade teacher or the nurses, so you assume that Ellie really is just toughing it out until you all get home for the night.

“Hey,” you greet your girlfriend sitting her place with a kiss to the temple. “How’s your day going so far?”

“I had a little visitor today,” Melissa chuckles. “Oh?”

“Ellie came in wanting a hug after she got her sweater from you,” your girlfriend smiles. “She’s lucky she’s cute.”

“Did she feel warm to you?” you ask her the same question she asked you this morning.

“I asked you that this morning,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “But yes, why?”

“Smith called asking if El was feeling well while I was teaching math and told me that she was shivering for the entirety of their word work time.”

“Poor thing’s probably getting sick,” the redhead sighs as she brings a forkful up to her mouth.

You hang your head. “Great.”

“At least it isn’t during break that she’s going to be sick,” Melissa tries to comfort you.

You nod. “I guess, but I hate seeing her like-”

“I want Mommy!” you can hear your little girl before you can see her. You raise a brow at that though- she never calls you ‘Mommy’. You’ve always been ‘Momma’, from the time that she was born. The staff room door whips open, and there is a wailing Ellie with snot running down her face as she clings to her first grade teacher’s hand. “I want Mommy!”

“Y/N, I’m so-” Miss Smith tries to get out.

You shake your head, refusing her apology- you know how your daughter can get when she’s not feeling well, and it’s quite clear to you now that Ellie is under the weather. You rush over to her and crouch down in front of her.

Melissa raises her brow, and she contemplates making her way over. But you’re always so good with your daughter, and you she figures that you have this one handled.

The rest of the Abbott crew makes their way in, sidestepping around you to get to their own spots. But of course, Ava stops in her tracks.

“Why’s your kid so snotty?”

“Ava,” you scold.

The principal shrugs and bypasses you to get to the coffee machine.

“I want Mommy!” Ellie continues to wail.

You open your arms for your sick little girl to fall into. “Momma’s right here, baby. I’m right here.”

“I want Mommy!” the child refuses and goes so far as to stomp her foot in frustration. That action is not something you would usually condone, but you let it slide just this one time. God, is she so sick she’s delirious and doesn’t realize that you’re right in front of her?

“Sweetheart, I’m right here,” you whisper and you reach out a hand to brush away a few of the hairs that are in her face. You pull your sleeve over your hand and wipe the snot away from her face. “Momma’s right here.”

“I want Mommy!” Ellie shrieks again as the tears pour down her face.

You run a hand over your face before pulling her into your arms. You lift her onto your hip and hold her as she cries, offering the rest of the staff an apologetic look for the commotion your daughter is causing. 

“Mommy’s here, baby,” you sigh softly. You take your seat back next to your girlfriend as you try to soothe your daughter enough to be able to take her through the halls to gather her things to head home for the day.

Melissa reaches a hand over and starts rubbing circles on Ellie’s back in hopes of helping to calm her down. At her touch, your little girl’s head pops up from its place on your shoulder, and she immediately reaches for the redhead.

Your girlfriend pulls Ellie into her lap and holds her, rocking her gently.

“Mommy,” the little girl whimpers as her cries and wails turn into soft sniffles.

Everyone’s eyes in the room, including your own, go wide. Melissa’s jaw drops, and she looks to you.

“What was that, baby?” you ask softly.

“I telled you and Miss Smith that I wanted Mommy,” Ellie mumbles as your girlfriend’s warm touch and gentle rocking starts to lull her to sleep. She starts to lazily play with the red curls that are within her reach as her eyes flutter shut. She’s snoring softly against Melissa’s shoulder within minutes.

The silence that has washed over the staff lounge at Ellie’s words is finally broken when the redhead asks softly, “Did she- did she call me ‘Mommy’? Am I ‘Mommy’?”

“I think she did,” Barbara smiles from her place.

“Wow,” Melissa whispers as she looks down at the little girl in her lap. “Wow.”

You also whisper your shock and surprise.

Those green eyes that you’ve fallen in love with look into yours seriously. “Are you- how do you feel about that?”

“Honestly?” you ask quietly.

She nods.

You smile softly, a bit sadly. “I wish it didn’t take her being ridiculously sick for her to call you that… but it feels so right.”

The second grade teacher takes one hand off of Ellie’s back to take your own. She squeezes it gently with tears in her eyes. 

“Sorry,” she chuckles as she wipes at her eyes. “I didn’t think I would get so emotional over this.”

You chuckle softly, as does Barbara.

“Well,” the kindergarten teacher looks to the two of you expectantly. “Little Ellie needs her Mommy and her Momma to take her home and look after her.”

You glance to your girlfriend, and she nods without hesitation.

“Even if Ava and Mr. J are our subs?” you double check.

“El needs us,” Melissa tells you firmly. “I don’t care who is with our kids as long as we’re with Ellie.”

“I’ll get everything together if you want to stay here with her?” you ask.

She nods. “You know where my sub plans are?”

“Of course I do,” you laugh softly as you stand. “Just give me like fifteen minutes, and then we can head out.”

When you return back to the staff lounge, Melissa is still holding your little girl close to her heart and humming softly while glaring at everyone else, daring them to make noise and wake the Ellie.

“Hey,” you lug your bags, your girlfriend’s bags, and your little girl’s backpack in as quietly as you can. “We’re good to go.”

She stands from her place, still managing to keep Ellie asleep on her. You’re both able to get her in the car and back into the apartment while she naps, and once the little girl is settled on the couch and still asleep, you take Melissa into the kitchen. You wrap your arms around her neck and look her in the eyes.

“I love you,” you whisper as you press your foreheads together.

“I love you too,” she tells you quietly. “And El.”

“You’re so good with her,” you tell Melissa softly. “So good.”

She hums before kissing you gently.

“How do you feel about being ‘Mommy’?” you ask your girlfriend.

Your girlfriend’s eyes well with tears again. “Like I’m on top of the world… that little girl of yours… wow.”

“That little girl of ours,” you correct her. “Ours.”

As if Ellie knows the two of you are talking about her, she whines out from her place on the couch. “Mommy! Momma!”

Motherhood never stops, and the two of you head into the living room to hold your daughter together. 

TAGS (and lmk if you wanna be added!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

[spicybunni]

YANDERE DOCTOR : Dr. Olsen

*sigh* Another psychotic OC...I love the concept of yandere doctors. So here's my own!

WARNINGS⚠️: Needles, Medical shots, Yandere tendencies, manipulation, mentions of violence, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

🩸His profession and status within the hospital makes it so easy to manipulate others into doing his bidding and also making you stay in the hospital bed. He won’t make you sick but he will lie and say you have to stay 4 months in hospital quarantine until your “symptoms” are gone. Which buys him enough time to charm and seduce you into coming to him as an admirer rather than a patient.

🩸If you are his patient you will quickly realize why he has so much influence in the hospital. Not only for his skillful medical knowledge and practices, but for his looks as well.

🩸Dr. Kincaid Olsen is 6’2 and has a bit of muscle. His hair is light blonde and eyes are light brown. He wears glasses to sharpen his vision when examining files or patients. He also wears them at night continuously since they help him see a bit clearer. (Like you trying to escape from your hospital bed) He has the typical doctor attire of the white coat and stethoscope hanging around his neck. As for clothes he switches between a dress shirt with slacks and the standard scrubs. 

🩸Has a certain soft spot for old people coming in with pain in their bodies. They’re like babies to him so his sadistic nature halts when it comes to children and old people.

🩸When it comes to people who disrespect his staff or patients with harassing visitors, Dr. Olsen has no problem tossing their ass to security or taking matters into his own hands if necessary. Which includes but certainly not limited to: injecting poison, strangulation, threats, and inflicting internal injuries beyond self repair.

🩸He is also a bit sadistic when it comes to you, his dearest patient. If you’re being bad and not listening to his advice or following “Doctors Orders” he will do something minuscule like if you’re calling for him he will send the nurses in his place. Or if you’re having a bad headache he will give you dummy pills saying they are painkillers. He relishes in the needy attention you give him, asking him to stay or just talk to you for a few minutes. After all, you’re by yourself with no visitors or friends within his hospital.

🩸Although he can be mean, he can also be professionally sweet. His visits to your hospital bed would always start with checking your heartbeat, pulse check, and a simple chat about how you're doing mentally.

🩸Loves looking at your medical history through your adulthood.

"They're on the pill? Interesting.."

"Oh dear, back injury? They didn't tell me about that.."

"Aww they had pneumonia two years ago? If only they came here to me then..."

🩸His private life outside of work is that he’s a coffee connoisseur and has a love/hate with reality TV. These may sound lame but he doesn’t really have time for many hobbies or interests since he works so much. His profession allows him to afford either a very nice apartment or house. He owns no animals in case one of his patients is allergic.

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Then & Now (M, cold)

Hiii, hope you like A LOT of hurt followed by 2-3 sentences of comfort lmao. This is Greyson fic - Grey is sick on a day he and Reed are supposed to have a date, and he's sure Reed is going to be angry with him because Trauma(TM). It's told in a flashback sort of format which I really enjoyed because I love writing blurbs of colds at different times in life lol. I hope you guys like it, please let me know what ya think, good, bad, or otherwise :)

CW: Male snz, cold, pneumonia mention, coughing, contagion mention, lots and lots of whump lmao. A little over 4K words under the cut.

Then & Now

Now

“Morning, Chef.”

“Huh-! HhITSZHH-ue!”

Elijah turned towards Greyson, who was doubled over into his hoodie sleeve, and gave him a sympathetic grimace. “Cooks finally pulled you under, hmm?”

“Ugh, like way fuckin’ under,” Greyson muttered, rubbing his eye and sucking in through his nose. “I feel like ass.”

“Sorry, dude,” Elijah said, tossing his counterpart a box of tissues. “Sucks.”

Greyson caught the box and pulled out a few just in time. “HITSZHZH-uhh!” This one, he managed to catch in the handful of tissues. He wiped his nose and shrugged. “Yeah,” he said, tossing the used tissues. “Mbostly because I was supposed to have a date tonight.”

Elijah smirked at his friend, who was pushing past the GM into their shared office. The two of them sat in unison. “Do you guys still call them dates? You’ve been official for, like, six months.”

“It’s our six-month anniversary,” Greyson said, his voice flattened by congestion. “We were going to do EMP.”

“Awww, now I’m depressed,” Elijah said. “Also, why didn’t you tell me earlier you were going to Eleven Madison? I still know people there.”

“So does Reed,” Greyson said, massaging his temple. “That’s why we were goigg. Fuck, mby fuckin’ head is pounding. Do we have any -?”

Elijah placed the ibuprofen in front of the chef before he could ask, along with a bottle of cough syrup and a decongestant. “You know we have it all,” he said, pushing an old cup of water across the desk for Greyson to swallow his arsenal of pills. “And fair enough. Well that fuckin’ sucks, dude, I’m sorry. Hey, at least you can leave early, right? Matt’s closing?”

“Yeah,” Greyson said, unwrapping a cough drop and popping it in his mouth. “I’ll head out once the rush is over. I still have to text Reee – hh...hhNTSHH-ue! HGTSHH-uhh!” Greyson doubled over, sneezed into his arm, and groaned. “I’mb gonna kill the guys when they get in,” he said, mostly to himself.

“Don’t do that,” Elijah said, placing a hand on Greyson’s shoulder on his way out of the office. “Then you’ll have to stay all night.”

Greyson huffed out a laugh and pulled out his phone. He clicked on his conversation with Reed, sighing. He did not want to have this conversation.

Greyson

9:31AM

hey babe. gonna have to cancel tonight, the cooks infected me w their plague :( im rly sorry.

The chef set his phone on the desk, prepared to either be ghosted or gaslit – two of Collin’s favorite pastimes whenever Greyson had had to cancel their plans during their relationship – and was shocked when the phone buzzed with a text almost immediately. He was almost afraid to look at his boyfriend’s response.

Reed

9:32AM

Oh, baby don’t be sorry!! what time are you off? I’ll pick you up and take you home :) we can do a sick day little date night instead!

Greyson stared at the phone, stunned. He couldn’t help it; he read the message again, then out loud said, “What the fuck?”

Then – Ten Years Ago

“Chef?”

The Executive Chef looked up from his paperwork at Greyson and sighed. “What is it, Abbott?”

“I, um – hh! HTSHH-uh! HGXTSH-ue! Snf. Umb, I just wanted to see if it was okay if I… left a little early today?” Greyson asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His chef raised his eyebrows and put his clipboard down. Oh, no, Greyson thought.

“Leave...early? And leave your clean up and prep to whom, exactly? Me?” The Executive Chef huffed out a laugh. “That’s rich, Abbott. Why the fuck would you need to leave early?”

“I…” Greyson started, but his voice gave out on the single syllable. He attempted to clear his throat. “I just… I really feel like shit? I was hoping I could, like… sleep it off, I guess. I mbean, I wouldn’t want to get anyone else sigck.” Greyson felt a cough bubbling to the surface; he tried to quell it, to no avail. The younger man collapsed into a coughing fit that felt like it lasted a lifetime.

The Chef remained unmoved. “My guys,” he said, placing a hand on his chest as Greyson attempted to compose himself, “don’t get sick, Abbott. And if they do, I don’t fucking hear about it. Understand? Because I really don’t give a shit. If you’re here, you’re here. If you decide to leave early,” he shrugged, uncaring, “then you leave for good. And Abbott, if you try to get a job after walking out of my kitchen, I promise you I will make it impossible. I know you’ve only been here a couple months, but here’s what you need to learn: put your head down and do your fucking job, and you can work anywhere in the world after this. Be a whiny piece of shit who tries to walk out on his shift, and you’ll be working at McDonald’s for the rest of you life. Got it?”

Greyson, too shocked to rebut, just bobbed his head up and down.

“Let me hear you say it,” the Chef said. Greyson cleared his throat.

“Yes, Chef,” he said. The Chef nodded.

“Now get the fuck out of my office.”

Now

“Elijah. Look at this text.”

The GM looked up slowly from the iPad where he was going over reservations for the evening. “...Why?” he asked, taking the phone from Greyson’s hand.

“Just look. Tell mbe that’s ndot weird,” Greyson said, crossing his arms over his chest. Elijah looked down, confused, and read the text. He pinched his eyebrows together just a little, and read it again. “See? Isn’t that weird?”

“Greyson…” Elijah said, handing the phone back. “That’s not weird.”

“Seriously?” Greyson asked, reading the text yet again. “It’s bizarre. He’s ndot even a little mad? C’mon. That’s weird.”

“He’s being sweet,” Elijah explained, slowly, as though he were talking to a toddler. “Did you want him to be mad? Because that’s bizarre.”

“Ndo I don’t want him to be mad. I jus – HTSZHH-ue! HRRSHH!” Greyson wrenched to the side to sneeze, which sent him into a fit of hacking coughs. “I just figured he’d want to, like, yell at mbe or something. For canceling,” Greyson finished, his voice strained against another cough. Elijah didn’t respond, not at first, and instead pressed a hand onto the chef’s forehead.

“I think you’re sicker than we thought, because you’re acting fucking delusional,” he said as Greyson slapped his hand away. “Greyson, normal people don’t yell at each other for getting sick, or having to cancel a plan. That’s, like, really twisted.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “It’s ndot twisted, Lij you fuckin’ drama queen,” he said, then held up a finger. “Onesec – hh! Hh...hnn.” Greyson sniffled, a let out a little irritated cough. “Lost it.”

“Go back to the kitchen,” Elijah said, pointing towards the swinging doors. “Sit down. Rest. Let your medicine kick in. I don’t want people seeing this -” he gestured to Greyson, as if to allude to his entire being – “when they walk past the restaurant. Alright? Text your boyfriend something nice. Not something unhinged.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Greyson muttered, turning toward the kitchen, his phone still open to the conversation with Reed. He turned towards Elijah again before pushing through the kitchen doors. “I still say that this is the unhinged thing.”

“Go to therapy, Greyson,” Elijah said, not looking up from the iPad. Greyson rolled his eyes, pushed into the kitchen, and regarded his phone once again.

Greyson

10:07AM

thanks, babe. it’s ok, I can take care of myself. it wont be a long day, ill just grab some nyquil omw home and sleep it off. ill reschedule our rezo too, don’t worry about that. im really sorry again for canceling. if I could taste the food id still go lol.

Figuring that sounded at least relatively normal, Greyson hit send. He sat down at his desk once again and placed his head in his hands. No way he’s not pissed, Greyson thought, and he really believed it. In all his years of dating, he’d never met anyone who would respond that way; they’d at least have a snippy remark about the last-minute nature of the cancellation.

Greyson’s phone pinged once again, and he couldn’t help but grab it right away to assess the damage.

Reed

10:08AM

honey, please don’t apologize, seriously. youre sick, it happens, its no biggie :) I already moved the reservation to next week but if we need to ill move it again. james at emp said to tell you feel better btw.

Greyson blinked, dumbstruck. He started typing without thinking.

Greyson

10:10AM

you REALLY arent mad? seriously?

Reed

10:10AM

im really not mad. who gets mad at someone for being sick…? is someone at work mad at you? am I supposed to be mad..? lol

Greyson

10:11AM

I mean its a last minute cancellation. id understand if u were mad.

Reed

10:11AM

welllll….im not. is that ok? haha

Reed

10:15AM

grey…? you believe me, right?

Reed

10:21AM

greyson..?

Then – Seven Years Ago

He was moving through molasses.

Greyson placed a sluggish hand to his own forehead – you can’t check yourself for a fever, dumbass – and blinked painfully. He’d made it to work, he’d made it through the day, and he’d made it back home, against all odds. Now, he was stuck on his couch, unable to even crawl to the bathroom for a thermometer.

It had all compounded on him, was his guess. The endless fourteen hour days for the better part of two years at his thankless sous chef job. The shitty Chicago-suburbs apartment with no heat, where he froze for the few hours a week he slept. The near-constant drinking. Sure, he was only twenty-five, but what was it they said about this industry? It ages you in dog years. Yeah, that was it.

“Hh-! Hh...ITSZHH-ue! HTSHHH-ue!” Greyson sneezed helplessly into the blanket he’d wrapped around himself, and groaned. This was not what he’d imagined when he moved here from Minnesota. He’d thought it would be glamorous, working as a sous chef at a high-end hotel in a big city. He thought he’d have friends, or a girlfriend, or something. Instead, he was trapped on his couch, benched by a sinus infection and seasonal depression that seemed to last the whole year round. Fuck this, Greyson thought. He couldn’t get off the couch, but he could reach his phone; Greyson pulled up Indeed and changed his search parameters.

Actively searching for work. Location: Any.

Now

“Um… Chef? What’s, uh… what’s going on?”

Greyson paused for a moment, a crate of spoiled food held on his shoulder. He turned towards Matt, keen to answer, but instead held the crate tighter and wrenched to the side. “HRTTSHH-uh!”

“Bless you,” Matt said, an automatic reaction. Greyson nodded, turned towards the dumpster, and dumped the food in before beginning the cycle anew: pick up crate. Turn to sneeze. Dump old food. Matt wasn’t sure if he should help his boss, or go inside for backup.

He chose the former, picking a crate filled to the brim with rotten tomatoes off the ground and hoisting it into the trash. “You gonna tell me what’s up?” he asked as the two of them continued gathering and tossing.

Greyson sighed, pulled a hand down his face, and shook his head. “I thingk Reed and I are over,” he said, voice soft and throaty. Matt’s eyebrows shot up.

“What? Seriously? What did you do?” Matt asked, prompting a stuffy laugh from his boss.

“I just don’t thingk it’s going to work,” Greyson said, shrugging. “I… I don’t want to, like, play gambes. I can’t do that again, ndot after Collin.”

“Chef,” Matt said as he gathered and tossed the last milk crate, “what are you talking about? Reed is, like, the most straight-shooting guy I’ve ever met. How is he playing games?”

Greyson, left without anything to occupy his hands, just shrugged and pulled out his phone. He handed it to Matt without explanation, and the sous quickly read through the text conversation Greyson and Reed had going. Matt furrowed his brow.

“I don’t get it,” he said, handing the phone back. “He wants to take care of you, what’s the problem with that?”

“He doesn’t want to take care of me, he wants to have the upper hand,” Greyson explained, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and sitting on the step just outside the back door. “Want one?”

“Sure,” Matt said, sitting beside his boss. “I mean, you shouldn’t be smoking if you’re -”

“HTSHH! Hh-! ITZSHH-ue!” Greyson turned into his elbow, taking a long moment to gather himself before handing Matt his cigarette.

“-sick,” Matt finished. The older man shrugged, and Matt plucked the lighter out of Greyson’s hand to light both of them up, not daring to push his boss any closer to the edge. For a moment, they smoked in silence, only Greyson’s sniffles and coughs interrupting the quiet.

“Boss,” Matt said, finally, “I think you need to talk to Reed.”

“I did,” Greyson said, stubbing out his cigarette. “You saw.”

“No, I mean actually talk to him,” Matt said. The two of them stood, looking at each other – a face-off without the malice. Matt continued. “Not ignore his texts and clean out the walk-in.”

Greyson scoffed. “Matt, just because you have sombe fairy-tale love story doesn’t mbean everyone else does, too. Okay? If it’s over between me and Reed, it’s fine. I’mb better off alone, anywaa – hh! Hh… Hhhii-!” Greyson stood with his elbow poised at his face, stuck in pre-sneeze agony for what seemed like an eternity. While he was incapacitated, Matt took his phone and typed out a message that his boss couldn’t see. Finally, Greyson lowered his arm and sucked in, fruitlessly, through his nose. “The fugck are you doigg?” he asked, snatching his phone back from his sous.

“If you’re not going to talk to Reed,” Matt shrugged, unapologetic, “I will.”

Greyson looked down at his phone, which buzzed twice in his hand. Reed’s face popped up on the screen. Call from: reed <3

Then – Three Years Ago

“HTSHH! Huh! ETZSHH-ue! HRTTSHH-ue!”

“Bless, bless, bless you. Allergies?” Collin asked, not looking up from his phone. Greyson sniffled in vain, and coughed painfully.

“Ndot exactly,” he croaked from the doorway to Collin’s living room. “Baby, do you thingk you could drive mbe to urdent care, actually?”

Collin looked up and slowly raised an eyebrow. “For what?” he asked, obviously annoyed. Greyson swallowed as best he could and placed a hand on his throat.

“I thingk… I mbight have strep. Or bronchitis, or sombething. I, uh… I’ve had a fever for like. A week.” Greyson had to stop to close his eyes and grab onto the door frame, a sordid attempt to keep from hitting the floor like a rotten sack of potatoes. Collin rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a drama queen. You seemed fine when you came over last night.”

“You were asleep whend I came over,” Greyson said, his eyes still closed. “Did you ndot notice that I haven’t been over in like five days?”

Collin shrugged. “I mean, yeah, but I figured you were busy with work. You’re always busy with work,” he said, the venom in his voice making clear that he wanted to fight.

Greyson, physically incapable of fighting at that moment, just slid slowly to the ground and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right,” he said. “Ndow I’m paying the price. Please, baby. Can you please just take me? I… I really don’t feel well.”

It was pathetic. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself; he was fairly sure he was moments from passing out. Collin turned and made himself comfier on the couch.

“I’ll call you an uber,” he said, pressing some buttons on his phone. “You barely make time for me, and now you’re asking me to be your chauffeur? Please, Greyson.” He showed his ailing boyfriend the phone. “He’ll be out front in five minutes. Better make your way down.”

“Okay,” Greyson said, pulling himself slowly to his feet. “Thangk you.”

Collin didn’t say a word as Greyson let himself out of the apartment. He made it downstairs, and into the uber, and into the waiting room at urgent care. He made it out by himself, too, with a laundry list of prognoses – strep, sinus infection, walking pneumonia – and a handful of prescriptions. When he texted Collin later to fill him in, his boyfriend didn’t text back.

Greyson fell asleep on his shower floor and awoke to freezing water pounding on him, and a courier pounding on his door. When he toweled off and answered it, chicken soup from the local bodega and a note that read feel better -c sat at his feet. Greyson breathed a sigh of relief; at least he had been forgiven.

Now

Reed had dated plenty of men is his thirty-five years of life, and had found that there were two general categories when it came to sick men: there was the Baby, and there was the Don’t Look at Me.

Greyson though, an enigma since the moment they met, seemed to fall into a third category, a category that was, to Reed, yet undiscovered: the You Hate Me.

Reed was good with the first two categories; the Don’t Look at Me, you left medicine outside their room and texted them funny memes. The Baby, you laid in bed with them and spoon-fed them soup. Easy. Understandable. Truthfully, this was one of his favorite things about men: they were easy to crack. He figured Greyson would likely fall into the Baby category, which was fine by him – there was nothing he’d like more than to look after an ailing Greyson, to be honest. This third category he seemed to embody, though, was not something Reed knew what to do with.

“He didn’t answer when I called him,” Reed said into the phone receiver. “I just want to know what’s going on, I mean, did I say something wrong?”

On the other end of the line, Elijah sighed. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. This is just… it’s just Greyson being Greyson.”

Reed wasn’t about to take this lying down. “Hey, are you guys super busy tonight? I mean, I don’t want to be that boyfriend, but, like, can I come get him? We really need to talk, and if what Matt said is true he probably shouldn’t be, like, working anyway, right?”

While Elijah paused, Reed pulled the phone away from his ear and once again re-read the text Matt had sent from Greyson’s phone: hey reed, it’s matt. grey is sick as hell, so DO NOT take any of the crazy weird shit he says seriously, k? his temperature needs to lower by like 5 degrees before you do this, but u guys need to actually talk. he’s being stupid.

“Please,” Reed heard Elijah’s tinny voice on the other end and put the phone back to his ear. “Please, come and collect him. I’m begging.”

Reed stood from the couch and grabbed his keys. “Give me twenty minutes. I’m on my way.”

Then – Two Years Ago

“Heyyy, baby, cand I buy you a dringk?”

The girl leaned back, her face marked by disgust. “No, thanks. Save your money and get yourself some NyQuil,” she said, disappearing into the crowd. Greyson huffed out a sigh and coughed into his hand – a long, crackling sound that made the other bar patrons inch their chairs away.

“She’s right, you know,” the bartender – Skip, Greyson had learned his name was a few weeks back when he had started coming in every night – said, filling Greyson’s shot glass yet again. “You need to go home.”

“And yet you pour mbe another drink,” Greyson said, knocking back the shot. “The duality of mban. NGTXSH! HTSHH! Huh-! HRRSHH-ue!” Greyson covered his mouth lazily with one hand, wiped it on his pants, hand held the glass up to indicate ‘another’.

“Bless you,” Skip said, not pouring the shot. “Greyson, seriously: go home. You sound fucking awful.”

“Are you cutting mbe off?” Greyson asked, his rheumy eyes meeting Skip’s over the bartop. “Because unless you are, I’mb staying.” He coughed again, into his elbow; the cough was quickly becoming a problem. He’d had a cold two weeks ago; the symptoms had been mild, but the cough had hung around. When he caught whatever-the-fuck this was two days ago, the cough had turned from an annoyance to a pressing issue; he should go home. He should go to the doctor, he should take a day off, he should, he should, he should.

But he wouldn’t. He would stay, and he would drink until he was kicked out, then he’d pass out on the train and not make it home to sleep. He’d go to work at seven AM and stay until midnight and do it all again.

“I’m not kicking you out,” Skip sighed. “I’m just saying… you should take care of yourself.”

Greyson blinked slowly. He could feel his lungs, heavy with fluid, gearing up to cough again; his head, pounding in spite or because of the alcohol; his heart crushed into a million, Collin-sized pieces. Take care of yourself. It felt impossible, when you’d never been shown how.

“This is mbe taking care of myself,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll have another.”

Now

Greyson rested his head on a case of lettuce in the corner of the walk-in. He knew he should be continuing his madness of cleaning, but he’d accidentally sat down on his fifth trip into the refrigerator, and now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again.

Fucking Reed, Greyson thought as he allowed the cold salad box to sate the fever he had burning in his brain. Why can’t he just be up front with me? If you’re mad just say it, don’t fucking torture me.

Perhaps deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous; Matt and Elijah were most likely correct. The simplest answer – that Reed truly was just a good guy – was probably the right one. But he just couldn’t get out of his mind all the times he’d reached out, needed help and asked for it, and been shot down. He certainly couldn’t allow himself to believe that the person he was dating was truly good; he knew he’d never deserve that.

“Greyson?”

Speaking of Reed, that sounded a lot like him – was Greyson hearing things? Had he, in his fever-addled state, conjured a hallucination of his boyfriend to have a fight with? Bizarre, Grey, he thought to himself. That’s really fucking bizarre.

“Grey? Elijah said you were in here but I don’t – oh!”

Either this was a really crazy hallucination, or that really was Reed standing over him, in the walk-in. Greyson blinked hard, then blinked again, and suddenly Reed was on the ground next to him.

“Babe...it’s really cold in here. Do you think we can, um, leave?”

Greyson furrowed his eyebrows together. “Leave… and go where?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I have to… work. What are you doigg heeee...HRTSHH-ue! Huh -! HTSHH! NTSHH! IGXTSH!” Greyson attempted to stifle over and over, until Reed gently took his hand and pulled it away from his face.

“That has to hurt,” Reed said, his voice quiet and calm. “You can just… sneeze, you know. Like, regular.”

“Tryigg ndot to get you,” Greyson croaked, his eyes glazing over once again. “Youbettermov – HRRETSZCHH-ue! ITSZZHH-ue! Fuck – NGTSHHZ-ue!” Greyson sneezed into his lap, then coughed until his lungs felt sore. Reed didn’t move; he came closer and rubbed Greyson’s back.

“Bless you, baby,” Reed said, eventually.

“Thangks. Sorry,” Greyson murmured, pushing his hair out of his face and turning to look at Reed. “Why are you here?” he asked, levity out the window.

Reed let out a little laugh. “Umm, why do you think?” he asked. “You’ve been ignoring me since this morning. I got worried, since Matt said you were super sick – no lie detected, by the way, you sound truly awful –”

“Sorry,” Greyson said again, wiping under his nose. “I kndow, it’s gross.”

“Please, Grey,” Reed said, taking both sides of his boyfriend’s face in his hands and looking him in the eye. “Please. Stop apologizing. It’s okay to be sick. I don’t understand why you think I’m angry at you. I’m not.”

Greyson swallowed, painfully, and gave a little nod. “Okay,” he said, finally.

“Okay,” Reed repeated. “Anyway. I called Elijah. He said to come and collect you.”

At this, Greyson couldn’t help but cough out a laugh. “Collect mbe?” he asked. Reed smiled a little.

“Yeah,” he said. “His words, not mine.”

They both laughed, softly at first, then ramping up to near-hysteria. They only stopped when Greyson started coughing again and couldn’t seem to stop.

“Let’s go get you some water,” Reed said, helping his boyfriend to his shaky feet. Greyson allowed himself to be pulled out of the walk-in, and given a bottle of water that was sitting on his prep station. Greyson drank until the fit subsided, then regarded Reed once again.

“So… you really aren’t mbad?” he asked, rubbing his goosebumped arms up and down. Reed shook his head and shrugged off his windbreaker. He draped it over Greyson’s shoulders.

“I’m really not mad,” he insisted. Greyson nodded, seemingly satiated. Reed sighed through his nose and slipped his arms around the chef.

“Life’s done a number on you, huh?” he asked, quietly enough that it could’ve just been to himself. Greyson huffed out a sad little laugh.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, baby,” he murmured, pressing his hot head into Reed’s hair. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

[ciaomarie]

Part 6: What Then?

It's over kids! The longest and final chapter is done. Chris Storer & Co. are probably going to put our beloveds through it in S3, but until then let's enjoy our low-key angst and romance. Post Season 2, Canon-Compliant, swoony, girly, fluffy. A happy-ending obviously.

After 10 years of grinding himself into dust Carm’s body began to surrender. About a month after The Bear’s opening, he came down with a cold that turned into a low-grade fever, a bitter cough with lime green mucus, night sweats, and mind-numbing exhaustion. After two days Sydney and Fak showed up to his apartment and dragged him to the emergency room. It was pneumonia and dehydration. The young male doctor muttered that his lungs sounded just like his father’s, a 40-year smoker. Yes, pneumonia was the primary reason, but a man Carmy’s age should be in better shape. He was out of commission for a whole week. The regret of letting down The Bear crew so soon after the Friends and Family fiasco motivated him to make a couple changes. First, he allowed himself only one emergency cigarette a day, which he needed less and less. Second, he went outside on Mondays, when the restaurant was closed. If the temperature was over 30℉, he took the train or walked to a park. His favorites were Humboldt and the Garfield Park Conservatory. Today he had come to the latter with his sketchbook and pencils in his backpack. Since the renovation he had continued drawing.

As he went towards to his favorite bench, he noticed a slender woman walking ahead of him. Her height, long swishing braids and jacket were identical to Syd’s. He compulsively began jogging towards her. Before he could call out her name, the woman pounced on a tall lanky man in front of her, wrapping her arms around his waist. Carmen had the sensation of being pushed off a diving board unexpectedly, his stomach pitching forward, unable to breathe much less scream before slamming into the water like a brick. The man turned and picked up Sydney up, planting a kiss on her mouth. He spun her around and…she wasn’t Syd. Thank God.

Carm made his way to the bench and hunched over, his head in his hands. She wasn’t Syd he recanted over and over until the feeling of relief gave way to self-reproach. This time it wasn’t her, but one day it would be. Would he be able to live with that? Uncle Jimmy’s warning not to be an overthinking manichino flashed in his mind. It was time to do something. He took out his sketchpad and began thumbing through it, an idea beginning to take shape. Hopefully, it wouldn’t scare Syd away.

The following Monday Sydney was in her cousin’s salon getting her entire life. Her microbraids were taken out, her hair was washed, deep conditioned, her scalp massaged, and now she was getting box braids put in. They were accented with delicate gold hair cuffs. She drowsed in the chair, with an almost empty to-go container of jollof rice in her lap, as her cousin and another hair stylist quietly discussed the latest season of Love is Blind.

“Sydney babe, would you ever go on Love is Blind?” her cousin, Ashley, asked in a louder tone.

Syd startled and rubbed her eyes.

“Never. That’s insane.”

“I got a message on IG that it’s coming to Chicago. You live and breathe your job so when are you going to meet somebody? Maybe your soulmate is in one of those pods!”

“Why don’t you apply then? You could find “love” and get more exposure for the salon.”

“Same for you and your restaurant ma’am, but I have a man.”

“Since when?”

“Since three months ago. His name is David, he’s a chemical engineer and the son of you know, Ms. Jumoke, she goes to the African church on Mackinaw…St. Paul.”

“Yeah, I remember her. Her sister used to watch me when my dad worked nights.”

“Anyways, back to you. Are you dating anyone, or should I send you the show application?”

“I don’t think love is blind. Have you seen the people they cast? Nobody too unfortunate-looking gets on. It’s so shallow.”

 “Ha! You’re one to talk. You have a very distinct type…white boys with tats and muscles.”

“Ashley, there’s been two of them. Like, that’s not a pattern.”

“No, three! This boss, no “partner”, of yours, had Sydney written over him. The family never sees you anymore.”

“I came to lunch at uncle and auntie’s last month! Besides, opening a new business is like having a kid. You know this.”

“Sure, but when I had dinner at your restaurant and you introduced us, he complimented you for five minutes and then followed you to the kitchen like a whipped puppy.”

Sydney grinned biting her lower lip and covered her eyes. Her cousin stopped braiding and hugged her.

“Aww…my baby cousin is finally going to get some!”

“ASHLEY!” Sydney groaned pushing off her cousin’s arms.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop, but I am happy for you. He is sexy. That neck is thicker than a tree stump.”

Sydney who had just taken a sip of her sweet tea, spat it out all over the mirror.

“That’s on you, Ashley!” she choked out between laughing and coughing.

When she was able to contain herself, she tried to reel her cousin back in. Talking about romantic potential with Carmy gave her too much pleasure. If he was content with the status quo she didn’t want to get her hopes up.

“Nothing really is going on. We’re business partners and we’re pretty good friends and it’s probably best we keep it that way.”

“Yes, and he gave you an equal share in the restaurant out of the friendly kindness of his heart.”

“You know, I think he would do that, because I’ve put in so much work, but it did feel like it was something more, at least his Uncle Cicero or Jimmy seemed to think so.”

“Girl, watch out. His sister and an uncle like you!? Would you take his last name, hyphenate, or keep Adamu?”

“Ugh, I’m not going there with you! Shouldn’t you be done with my hair by now?”

“If you want it done right it’ll be 2 more hours. If you don’t…30 minutes?”

“Fine, take your time but please let me sleep.”

Sydney closed her eyes, admiring her self-control. She hadn’t told Ashley that Carmy asked her to come by The Bear this evening. He was reworking a few old dishes. The invite was made at the end of the night a few days ago while they were turning off the lights. She said yes as they pulled down the last switch and she couldn’t see his expression, but she heard him exhale loudly as if he feared she’d decline. Sometimes they meet up on Mondays to network with vendors or collaborate on menu ideas, so this wasn’t out of the ordinary. However, she intuited he was hiding something again like when he and Nat surprised her with a share in the restaurant. This time she didn’t pester him for details, knowing that it was probably worth waiting for.

When Syd arrived home at 3:00 pm she could’ve folded laundry and watched an episode of Psych, but she decided to pretend this was a date; well, like she was preparing for a date. It was a long time since her last. She had entered the Convent of Failed Dreams after Sheridan. Then The Beef/The Bear became her world. The light blue cuffed jeans and stripped white and mint green button-down shirt she was wearing was more than appropriate for a food brainstorming session. However, Carmy’s mysterious attitude might be concealing more great news. She might as well look good when and if he had some.

She took a luxuriously long shower, shaved, and rubbed in her mandarin-scented body oil. Then she entered slowly sifted through her closet considering a red jumpsuit, or just nicer jeans and a blouse when her eyes fell on her marigold-colored shirt dress. It was knee length, comfortable, but chic and the color made her complexion pop. She paired it with a brown and gold oval buckle belt and brown flats because she might be standing in the kitchen for hours. After a short struggle she decided to keep the top two buttons of her shirt dress open. It was only a collar bone, not cleavage. Then she considered makeup. She hated wearing a lot of it; her skin felt suffocated with foundation. She did her brows, applied mascara, a little mineral powder, a smidge of highlighter on her cheekbones, and finished with the Fenty “Hot Choclit” gloss bomb her cousin had given her as part of a set for Christmas. Her new braids with the gold cuffs made the look even better and Sydney couldn’t help admiring herself more than usual in her floor-length mirror. She felt so delicious that she ordered an Uber rather than sit on the train. She would take it later or maybe Carm would give her a ride home.

Just before she could lock the door Emmanuel came up the stairwell, his face lighting up.

“My baby girl, you are stunning! Where are you headed?”

“Thanks, daddy. I’m just going to the restaurant. Felt like dressing up for once.”

“So, is it a staff meeting?”

“No, just working on some recipes. I gotta go. My Uber’s waiting.”

Emmanuel leaned against the door and nodded with a sly smile.

“Oh okay, I see. Tell Carmen I said hello. Have fun!”

Sydney’s eyes widened and she ran down the stairs waving goodbye. Her voice couldn’t be trusted.

When the car arrived at the restaurant, the sky was overcast, the evening darker than usual for the time of year. She let herself in and observed the layout. The lights were low, and the back center booth was set for dinner, with a single table candlelit. She could see Carmy in the kitchen already sautéing something. She was headed towards him when he looked up, seeing her through the window and rushed to meet her in the front.

“Syd don’t-” he began before he was immobilized by the vision before him.

Sydney was similarly taken with him and marveled at how often they were of the same mind. Carm was wearing a crisp button-down blue shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, the shirt tucked into dark navy pants, and he had gotten a haircut. Somehow it made his eyes stand out more. The sides were moderately tapered, his hair on top remained almost as long as before, and one of his rogue curls was damp against his forehead. He was perspiring, apparently having been cooking for a while.

“Nice haircut”, “You look amazing” they began at the same time and laughed nervously.

Carmy started again, beating his trusty spoon against his palm.

“So, the food is almost done. Just have a seat over there and I’ll be right out.”

Sydney nodded, a little confused and excited for this change of plans. She sat in the booth and noticed the speakers were playing The Teskey Brothers’ “Take My Heart.” She leaned back and closed her eyes letting the lyrics wash over her, her emotions stirring with that sweet ache.

“Take the time to notice what you really need, 

You’ll find it’s a little more simple, than what you thought before,

But I can say for certain that I’ve got more than I ever had before,

By remembering the little things that make my heart warm.

So take my heart and cut it into two,

After all the only thing missing from me was you,

You’re all I want, you’re all I need, you’re the air I breathe,

Cause after all the only thing missing from me was you.”

“Hey, are you good?” Carmy asked  approaching the booth with their plates.

Sydney sat up and cleared her throat.

“Yes, I’m good. I really like that song. Reminds me of-“

 “Otis Redding?”

“Yeah.”

Carm carefully placed the plates on the table.

“Well, speaking of throwbacks, I made-”

“Pork confit with onions and rhubarb!”

 “Yes, and after we’ll have Milk and Honey.

Sydney bit the inside of her mouth trying to absorb what seemed to be happening.  Carm muttered something about getting their drinks and went to the bar for their club sodas. Sydney remained mute, not knowing if she should ask him what this meant now or let it play out. “Don’t get ahead of yourself”, she admonished her heart.

He returned to the booth with their drinks and encouraged her to start, rubbing his chin as she put the first bite in her mouth.

“That’s it Carmy. Maybe even better than the first time,” Syd purred the pork melting on her tongue and some of her anxiety with it.

He blushed and began eating too.

“It is pretty good. Eleven Madison Park taught me a lot.”

The meal was mostly silent except for the occasional ejaculation over some element of the dish. Carmy couldn’t help gazing at Syd, taking in each detail, and rejoicing in the whole. The dip above her collar bone that rose and fell whenever she swallowed, made his head swim. Her lovely face was absolutely regal framed by her new box braids. Syd’s brown skin glowed in the candlelight and a heavenly citrus scent emanated from her. Whenever her eyes caught his obvious staring, he was too filled with gratitude to look away. Sydney’s eyes were soft and filled with kindness for this dear, lovestruck man. He looked helpless. In moments like this she remembered her capacity to build or obliterate him at will.  “Go with the flow” she reminded herself.

After they finished the main, Carmy took their plates and returned, with dessert, Milk and Honey. Syd lit up at the sight and when she tried it a wave of surprise flitted across her face.

"Is that mango? I didn't taste it at first, but then it like...bloomed at the back. Wow!"

"I thought it could use a Sydney twist. You always grab the mango lollipops off Sug's desk."

She resumed eating her dessert. Carm noticed everything about her. She'd played the Teskey Brothers, once or twice while they cleaned after a service, comparing them to Otis.

The Milk and Honey was devoured too soon and just as she wondered what else was on the agenda, Carmy took their bowls and returned with a package tied with twine. He set it in front of her, hands trembling, and sat a little further away than before. Syd perceiving his anxiety didn't raise any questions. She untied the string, removed the wrapping paper, revealing a red leather hand-bound notebook. The cover was engraved with her initials. On the first page was one of Carmy's drawings. It was a curbside view of The Bear. Several lined pages followed, then a drawing of the grapes in bone marrow broth. This alternating of lined pages and his pictures continued throughout the thick notebook. There were more pictures of their recipes, the various designs of her head scarves, and some were of her in different attitudes. In one she was leading expo with the confidence of Napoleon, and another was a portrait, her chin leaning on her hand, with a faraway expression in her large brown eyes. There were several others, so perceptive that Sydney felt naked. Adored. The final picture was surreal. It was a profile of Carmy's head the entirety of which was filled with Sydney wearing a hopeful smile and the scarf and shirt she'd worn her first day at The Beef.

She couldn't stop looking at it, her index finger tracing the lines.

"Sy-d" Carmen croaked his voice thick.

Breaking.

She looked up to find red-brimmed blue eyes searching hers.

"Come here" she breathed and no sooner than she blinked he was at her side.

"Syd" he tried again. Hyperventilating.

"Say more", she gently commanded smoothing his hair back before taking his hand in her lap.

This disarmed him, and he grinned in surprise. That was his line.

"Okay."

Breathe

"I want you Syd. I want to be with you.”

Breathe

“I want to do everything with you or not at all."

Then for the first time he wanted to say the words that had been a weapon for most of his life. They either were forced on him or yanked from him. His mother thought those words meant meekly submitting to her abuse. For Mikey it was cutting him off, so he wasn't exposed to his self-destruction. He never got to say it all. Claire believed it was part of a script. If he would only play his role and ignore who they were underneath, those words would become true enough.

Now, he had a new idea about those words, and they were wrapped up in this beautiful, talented, funny, tender, generous, stubborn, loyal, woman. His friend.

Suddenly they didn't hurt. He continued leaning to rest his forehead on hers.

"I love you."

Sydney blinked slowly as if in a trance, tears dropping to their joined hands.

Carm didn't move, but his face was filled with concern.

'Syd, are you-" he started to ask. Then he was spinning.

Sydney kissed him.

His neurons habitually used to process grief, anxiety, and small doses of happiness, trembled with the unusual amount of joy coursing through him.

Sydney was delirious. Her only thought was, he loves me.

Carmy couldn't close his eyes. The curve of her soft cheek so near his made him want to cry.

Then he did, for Sydney said,

"I love you, too."

[the-moral-of-the-rose]

If anybody wanted to write a crossover between L.M. Montgomery's books, here is a little help with the ages of the characters (@no-where-near-hero maybe it will be a tiny help for your fanfic):

Anne Shirley - born on 5th of March 1865

Gilbert Blythe - born in 1862 or 1863

James Matthew "Jem" Blythe - born in July 1893

Walter Cuthbert Blythe - born in 1894

Anne "Nan" and Diana "Di" Blythe - born in 1896

Shirley Blythe - born in 1888*

Bertha Marilla "Rilla" Blythe - born in 1900*

Gerald "Jerry" Meredith - born 1894

Faith Meredith - born 1895

Una Meredith - born 1896

Thomas Carlyle "Carl" Meredith - born 1897

Jims Anderson - born in August of 1914

Emily Byrd Starr - born on 19th of May 1888

Ilse Burnley - born in 1888 (probably)

Perry Miller - born in 1887

Frederick "Teddy" Kent - 1887 or 1888

Dean Priest - born in 1865

Patricia "Pat" Gardiner - born in 1913

Rachel "Rue" Gardiner - born in 1919

Winnifred "Winnie" Gardiner - born in 1910

Sidney "Sid" Gardiner - born in 1912

Joseph"Joe" Gardiner - born in 1908

Hilary Gordon - born in 1911

Elizabeth "Bets" Wilcox - born in 1913

David Kirk - born around 1893

Jane Stuart - born in May 1918 or 1919

Valancy Stirling* - born 1883**

Barney Snaith - born 1877**

Cecilia "Cissy" - born 1886**

Olive Stirling - born 1884**

Gay Penhallow - born in 1904***

Nan Penhallow - born in 1904***

Roger Dark - born in 1890***

Donna Dark - born between 1894 and 1896***

Virginia Powell - born between 1894 and 1896***

Peter Penhallow - born between 1888 and 1890***

Margaret Penhallow - born 1872***

Brian Dark - born 1916***

Hugh Dark - born in 1887***

Joscelyn Penhallow: born between 1889-1892***

*In both Anne of Ingleside and Rainbow Valley Shirley is two years older than Rilla. But in Rilla of Ingleside, he turns eighteen few months before Rilla... it is pure chaos. Rilla was supposed to be nearly fourteen, according to the RV, in 1914, but she is nearly fifteen in RoI. So I apologize, but I had a lot of trouble here...

**The Blue Castle is the most difficult to place in time. It is set several years before it was published, and in my own opinion: before Tangled Web and Pat of Silver Bush. Why? Because of this reference: "This was before the day of bobs and was regarded as a wild, unheard-of proceeding—unless you had typhoid." (The Blue Castle). Bobs were already "in fashion" at the beginning of Pat of Silver Bush (so, in 1919, when Pat was six years old: it was said that Winnie wanted to have her hair bobbed) and in Tangled Web (which is set in 1922). Yet, the cars, motorboats and movie theaters were a rather common occurence in The Blue Castle's times. But... there might be an explanation. Valancy doesn't live on PEI, which might have been a little "behind" the rest of Canada, as far as modern technology went. It is my own personal opinion, but I think that it might be set just before the war, at the same time as the end Emily's Quest. I know that the clothes seem more "modern" in TBC, but Emily wore "a little sport suit" and dress that was described as followed "there was so little of it". Teddy and Perry both had cars, as sone of Ilse's cousins. I would say that the Blue Castle book might be set around 1912-1913. Still, the timeline is extremely elusive. Please, let me know, dear Blue Castle Book Club's members, what is your opinion? I think I have read some amazing discussion about TBC's timeline a long time ago, but if I remember correctly, everyone was certain that this novel was set post WWI (me included, until this very moment when I tried to place Pat and Tangled Web and remembered the "bob" quote). So I choose 1912 as the beginning of TBC, when Valancy was twenty-nine.

*** the ages of characters in Tangled Web:

"They were first cousins, who were born the same day and married the same day,--Donna to her own second cousin, Barry Dark, and Virginia to Edmond Powell--two weeks before they had left for Valcartier. Edmond Powell had died of pneumonia in the training camp, but Barry Dark had his crowded hour of glorious life somewhere in France." (Tangled Web).

"Virginia Powell, whose husband had been dead eight years and who was young and tolerably beautiful" (Tangled Web).

"Valcartier, Quebec was the primary training base for the First Canadian Contingent in 1914."

- from: https://www.warmuseum.ca/firstworldwar/history/going-to-war/canada-enters-the-war/training-at-valcartier/

So, from this I assumed that Virginia's husband died in 1914 (so Tangled Web is set in 1922-23). Gay is 18 at the beginning, so she would be born in 1904. If Donna and Virginia were 18-20 when they got married, they would be 26-28 (so still "young"). at the beginning. Peter was 14 when Donna was 8, so he'd be 32-34 at the beginning of the book (same age or a bit older than Roger). Hugh was 35 at the beginning. I guess Joscelyn was a bit younger- most of LMM's heroines are at least two years younger than their love interest. I'd say she might have been 20-23 when she got married, so she'd be around 30-33 at the beginning of the book. I would say Brian is about six years old - he doesn't seem to attend school yet, but is big enough to be sent to the harbour. Margaret Penhallow was about fifty at the beginning of the book.

So sorry that this post was rather long, but it was a great fun to write (even if it took me A LOT of time). Thank you for reading. Please, let me know if you agree. Any feedback will be very welcome!

[stephaniebrownslover]

HIII WELCOME MEE

FIRST I WANT TO SAY I REALLY LOVE YOUR WRITING STYLE. YOU'RE ONE OF MY FAVORITE CP WRITERS IN TUMBLR (Seriously, no joking)

Can you please write Kate x Nina's relationship for your main AU?

(Also it's one of my fav ship, I wanted to read my fav ships hcs by my fav writers)

I WAS ALMOST FORGET, HAVE A GOOD DAY/NİGHT :3

HIIIIIII AGAIN LOVELY PERSON!!!!

Bro. Bro stop saying things like this because I'm literally about to cry. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH

I really love and be surprised when people like my writing because of my self-esteem issues lol you have no idea how your kind words make me so happy and and make hate less from my writing style so thank youuuuuuu

I appericate you so much and and you're so sweet and nice and cool and awesome and cool and kind and sweet and and and

Okay I think I'll have an heart attack sorry if İ bothered you but I'm truly so grateful for your kind words<3333

I love NinaKate so much so of course I can do it for you even if I'm dying lol

(Ps: it wasn't seasonal allergies, turns out, it was the beginnig stage of pneumonia and bronchitis lol)

Also you can check this non-canon NinaKate headcanon post I made some time ago too!!

Okay but I can't get over how nice the words you say, really, I'm thinking about it since I saw the ask.

Sorry it's more like how they became friends and Nina and Kate lore but it would be so long that I had to split it into 2 parts. Hope you don't mind.

HAVE A GOOD NIGHT AND DAY TOO!!!!

Holy shit it's angst, I really didn't mean to...

NinaKate Romantic Relationship For My Main AU-Part I

They seeing each other for the first time

Nina has been known among the proxies since the night when Zalgo controlled her at the age of 15 and helped her find Jeff. Slenderman didn't want to take her with him because he didn't see any benefit to himself since Zalgo had reached out to her first, but he hadn't given the order to kill her yet just because he was curious about what would happen.

Nina was unaware that it was a ritual to summon Zalgo when she practiced one of the love spells she found on the Internet at the age of 13. Zalgo, seeing potential in her because of her obsessive love, followed her for 2 years, did not leave her alone. And since he decided it was the perfect time to take her with him, he took control of her body at the age of 15 and had her kill her own family.

Regaining control while plunging a knife into the heart of her younger brother Chris, Nina then felt so bad that she ran to the woods near her home. Zalgo led Nina through the forest, aiming to convince her that all this was Slenderman's and Jeff's fault and get her to the stage of wanting revenge. There she met Jeff, but Zalgo's plan backfired, as she hugged him and cried instead of hating him as he expected.

Kate had never seen the newcoming stray killer that Slenderman wanted to get rid of face to face before, but she had heard about the descriptions of her appearance and that she was a weird person in general. Since she was already someone who had been drifted away from humanity for a while, she had no reason to meet her, and these rumors didn't help either.

Kate, who was only 16 years old, had been a proxy for two years and had no one because of the fact that Masky and Hoodie were too focused on their own worlds and she didn't like them either. Rouge, Cody and Toby were not yet a proxy. So he was alone with Hoodie and Masky, who didn't even want to talk to her because they were afraid of her, and she wasn't looking for any human relationship.

She had experienced a hellish life until she was 14, but since she became a proxy, she has literally not been a human being. Although she had all the necessary human characteristics, she was not treated as a human, she did not think like a human, she did not feel like a human. That's why she was Slenderman's favorite proxy, since the whole purpose of her living was to fulfill his duties. The fact that she unconditionally accomplished everything he said made the others even more distant from her, but there was no problem for Kate. After all, she was no longer a human being.

It's been a month since Nina started staying in the same cabin with Jeff. Actually, she could have gone back to her old life since Zalgo destroyed the traces of that night, but Nina didn't know about it yet. Since no one else was trying to communicate with her, she thought that Jeff was the only important thing in her life, and she was holding on to him with all her strength. Although Jeff felt sorry for her at first, they started arguing because he was getting overwhelmed by her sticky attitude.

One day, when Jeff was drunk and really hurt Nina's feelings, Nina ran away deep into the forest to calm down. After walking for a while, she realized that she had lost. Moreover, this time, since both sides considered Nina worthless, there was no one to guide her through the forest. Nina was completely lost. She crossed to the foot towards a tree and let the tears flow, which she could no longer hold back. She was crying not only for this moment, but for everything. Most of all, because she was a bad person, and the fact she deserved all this.

Kate was returning from a mission. She was incredibly injured, and if people really cared about her, they wouldn't have let her walk on her own. Actually, Hoodie, with whom she had gone on, had offered to help her, but Kate's snarling with hatred indicated that she had responded negatively to his offer, and Hoodie's fear of Kate had caused her not to insist any further. After all, Kate knew that no one really wanted to deal with a non-human proxy who was at the age of 16.

That's why Kate was staggering through the forest alone, trying to ignore the pain and depth of her wounds. She just needed to get to Jack's cabin. Ann had just arrived, and Kate still didn't trust her. She had many reasons not to trust a zombie. Smiley hadn't started working for Slenderman yet either. So Jack was the only one Kate could go to, and despite her bleeding wounds, she was trying to get there as quickly as possible.

Kate, who was trying to walk, heard a crying sound. It... it was a human cry. She didn't know what she had to do. She kept walking, thinking that she didn't need to do anything because she knew she wasn't a human. But there was something in that crying sound which bothered her. This stranger's voice was filled with more pain and anger than she had ever heard before. Although Kate was not ready to face an enemy, she decided to check the source of the sound.

The person crying was none other than Nina, whose name was mentioned only with hatred and contempt.

Their first real meeting

Kate watched Nina for a while without making a sound. She did not know why she was crying, and frankly she had wondered what made her so sad. Because as far as she heard from others, Nina was a person who was cheerful enough to annoy and never got upset. And obviously, Kate was surprised to encounter a sight that was the opposite of the rumors she had heard.

Just when Kate decided she had watched enough crying and was getting ready to leave, Nina, who heard the sounds Kate was making, shouted in that direction. Kate would never normally have made such a fatal mistake, her injuries had made it difficult to control her body and she hated it. She hated being weak.

When Nina screamed again, Kate knew she had to do something. Her first thought was to quietly leave the environment, but she was not in a good enough condition to do so, and Nina was not an enemy. So, Kate thought it would be enough for her to just say hello and introduce herself.

When she appeared, Nina tried to suppress her sobs and stand up, but she fell to the ground since she sprained her leg. While Kate was only frowning at this situation, Nina was thinking about how useless and incompetent she was, which is why her crying became more intense.

Not knowing what to do, Kate slowly went up to her and held out her hand to her. On her first attempt, she had pulled her hand out regretfully before she even reached the halfway point, but when she saw how upset Nina was, she tried to overcome her hesitation. Kate was sure that she had been disturbed by the sound of her crying, and that she had been so kind as to make her cease her voice. However, in reality, it was just a proof that her humanity had not completely died.

Although Nina wanted to hold her hand, she suddenly saw how badly Kate was injured, and Nina immediatly pulled the hand she was holding out to hold Kate's and took support from the tree. She then stated that she did this because she did not want to hurt her any more, but was grateful for the offer of help.

Then nervously asked if Kate, who she knew was not the enemy, could take her back to Jeff's cabin after someone checked Kate. Nina didn't know where she was supposed to go, but she was sure that the person in front of her knew. She had seen the proxy mark on her wrist from her torn clothing.

Kate only responded with a shrug and started walking slowly. Nina also went after her, hoping that this was a signal for her to follow the proxy. Along the way, although Kate occasionally looked at Nina, Nina didn't mind it. Nina had noticed that she was an observant person, and she even thought it was cute.

After a walk, they arrived at Jack's cabin, where Nina randomly asked Kate questions to distract her own mind from sad topics, and Kate sometimes gave audible answers, while most of them were in body language.

Kate knocked on the door and asked Jack if he could take a look at her wounds. When Jack called her in, Nina was standing in front of the door because she didn't recognize him. But later, when she saw Kate making a movement signaling for her to come inside, she entered the cabin and closed the door.

After first Kate's wounds were taken care of, and then her own leg, Jack insisted they should stay here. He said it was too late even for a proxy and the killer to be roaming the forest, and explained that he had enough places. He also mentioned that Kate wouldn't need to come all that distance for her check-up the next morning.

Nina, who heard the word , only burst into sobs. Killer. That's how people must have see her now. As someone who takes lifes of innocent people for no reason. She knew that her idol was a murderer, but she had convinced herself that his victims were for a purpose. That's why she hated herself while glorifying Jeff in her eyes.

While Jack was trying to calm her down, Kate also bizarrely asked why she was crying. Nina was angry at being asked so clearly, so she yelled and told what had happened to her. She said how she had a wonderful family, but now they're nine floors underground because of her own stupidity. And what a terrible big sister she was.

While Jack was patting her on the back just to calm her down, Kate said it wasn't her fault. She even tried to explain that she was aware of what Zalgo had done, and that Nina was considered lucky to have survived with this much, as Kate was someone who had seen even worse.

Nina, on the other hand, was only more annoyed and asked how she was considered lucky. Her life was completely ruined, she had nowhere or no one to go to. Then Kate told her that the cops weren't after her, that she didn't have to live this life like herself. She sat down next to Nina and controlled herself, even though she wanted to put her hand on Nina's back.

Nina was surprised now. She asked Kate about her own story. Nina wanted her to tell her why Kate was here, why she was a proxy. And Kate just paused.

She said she didn't remember.

She mentioned that she had no memories of before the age of 14. Hearing this, Nina felt an incredible sense of pity for the young proxy standing in front of her. Nina may have had bad memories, but at least she had good ones too. She thought what a terrible thing it was to not know who she was. Not being aware of the existence of anyone who loves her. Not having a real life.

And quite instinctively she took hold of Kate's bony hands, which were like ice.

Kate didn't know what to do. She reflexively withdrew her hand, but she also knew that Nina had not done it for any malicious purpose, and her apology was a proof of this. Then Kate said it was okay for her to hold her hand and placed it back on her own lap. Nina grasped her hands tightly once again.

She told Kate that not having a past did not pose any problems. And Nina even got a little overexcited and said that if she wanted, they could build a future together as friends.

Kate, on the other hand, was literally shocked. While Kate was content with just nodding, Nina excitedly let go of Kate's hands and clapped her owns in the air. This was how their friendship, which was quite meaningful for both, began.

The beginning of their friendship

That night they stayed in the beds that Jack had made for them. Nina was acting incredibly protective of Kate's injuries, and Kate felt that day for the first time in years that she was worthy of being cared for as a person. Of course, this feeling was not long-lasting, but it was enough to create an involuntary smile on her lips. And that was enough for Kate for now.

Nina was constantly jumping from topic to topic while talking, occasionally not neglecting to ask Kate questions about her own thoughts. Nina realized that she was someone who didn't like to talk too much, and she didn't see extra talking as a problem because she knew that Kate was really listening her. 

Kate, on the other hand, was starting to feel more and more comfortable answering Nina's questions. Maybe this could have been due to her slowly creeping sleep, which came under the influence of medications. After saying goodnight, she finished talking. However, realizing that Nina may have thought that Kate was bored with herself, she offered that Nina could come to the proxy cabin for a few hours tomorrow if she wanted.

Nina instantly accepted this with the joy of having found a new friend. Although she was physically hurt while sleeping that night, she was emotionally relieved. A voice inside her was saying that they would both be good for each other.

Kate kept her promise. After the necessary check-up the next day, they set off for the proxy cabin. Nina was upset that Jeff hadn't called her even though she'd been away all night, but she didn't care about it as much as she usually did. Because she was no longer alone, she had a friend.

It was good for them that there was no one in the cabin. Both Kate didn't want to deal with others, and Nina wasn't ready to meet someone else yet. For a while they just hung out doing nothing and just chatted.

Kate then timidly asked Nina if she liked to play video games. Nina mentioned that she sucked at games and explained that's why she only watched other people play. Kate, on the other hand, in an even more shy manner, said that Nina could watch herself if she wanted to.

They played games for hours that day. They did not stop playing until nightfall came. And then Kate offered to take Nina to Jeff's cabin before it got too dark. Nina was actually staying alone in the same cabin with Jeff and Ben. Because they were considered one of the first inhabitants of the forest, and apart from the proxy cabin, other cabins had enough place for maximum 4-5 people.

Kate was very angry when she saw that Jeff was rude to Nina while dropping her off at the cabin, but when she saw that Nina was generally happy, she didn't say anything to avoid upsetting her. Then, when she was going to say goodbye to Nina and leave, Nina stopped her and gave her her number. Nina didn't have anywhere to write, so she asked if it would be a problem if she wrote in Kate's hand, and when Kate said yes, she wrote down her number. Then Nina asked for her own number and registered it.

After saying goodbye, Nina was waving enthusiastically to Kate from inside the cabin. Kate, too, shyly waved to her gently. When Kate turned around, she couldn't help but smiling.

When Kate came to the place where she was staying, she had a strange feeling inside. She wasn't sure what it was, but she liked it. Then, while she picked up her phone to check if there was any important message from Masky and Hoodie, she saw Nina's new message.

"Hiiiii, thx so much for helping me!!!!! Hop i can see ya soon sweetie :3333"

That day, Kate had found a real friend for herself. Maybe it could have been her first friend in her life. And she was glad of it.

Nina had found herself a true friend. Someone who really cared about her and doesn't use her for her own interests. There was a pleasant feeling in her.

Holly hell how long this shit is-

Also Nina's message might be out of character, English is not my main language and I'm not used to writing like that.

Sorry for shitty writing but I'm sick as hell

[handfuloftime]

(A while ago @apurpledust mentioned wanting to know more about Duroc's children, so here's what information I have)

Duroc and his wife, Maria de las Nieves Martínez de Hervas, had two children, both of whom died tragically young. (Hervas left instructions that her gravestone should be engraved with "To the unhappiest of mothers".)

Their first child, Napoléon Louis Sidoine Joseph Duroc, was born on 24 February 1811 in Paris. Named for the emperor and his two grandfathers (Claude Sidoine de Michel du Roc and José Martínez de Hervas), he lived for just over fourteen months. The infant’s health was never good; Duroc wrote to Bertrand in March 1812 that “[Hervas] is doing well but her son has been and always is ill”. (As Duroc’s biographer Danielle Meyrueix notes, when writing of his wife and child he habitually referred to “her son” rather than “our son”. Perhaps not the most engaged of fathers.) Napoléon died on 6 May 1812 at Maidières in Lorraine. The architect Pierre Fontaine, noting in his journal that Hervas had asked him to design a tomb for her lost son, wrote that the child had been “a few days older than the King of Rome and destined to enjoy at that prince’s side all the favor with which the Emperor honored his father.”

Their daughter Hortense Eugénie Nieves Duroc was born on 14 May 1812, eight days after the young Napoléon’s death. (In a letter, Duroc implied that the news of the boy’s death had been kept from Hervas, who was in Paris, to avoid imperiling her health.) Named for her godmother, Hortense de Beauharnais, she was baptized in January 1813 alongside the duke of Bassano's daughter. After Duroc’s death in May 1813, Napoleon transferred the duchy of Friuli to her, writing to Hervas that Hortense would be “assured of my constant protection”. He also remembered her in his will, leaving her a large sum of money and recommending, in one last attempt at matchmaking, that she marry Bessières’s son, the duke of Istria. Hortense’s aunt wrote in 1823 that “Hortense is perfectly sweet, she’s a rare child for her spirit and intelligence, who her poor father would have been happy to see so fine in all respects”. She died of pneumonia on 24 September 1829 after three days of illness, aged seventeen.

A 1933 biography of Charles-Nicolas Fabvier (Hervas’s second husband) identifies this painting by Jeanne-Elisabeth Chaudet as a young Hortense Duroc. It was sold at an auction a few years ago with the title “Young Embroideress”, so either the sitter’s identity has been lost since then or it may never have been Hortense at all.

Duroc’s long liaison with the dancer Emilie Bigottini may also have resulted in at least one child. Felix Bouvier, writing a biographical sketch of Bigottini in 1909, claimed that “children were born of this irregular union, a daughter and a son named Odilon”. However, Odilon (full name Pierre Dominique Jean Marie Odilon Michel du Roc), born in 1801, was the son of Duroc’s cousin Géraud Pierre Michel du Roc, the marquis de Brion. On Duroc’s death, Napoleon made Odilon a page in the imperial household. (This may have given rise to Bouvier’s claim, as it seems to have confused people at the time. Caulaincourt had been tasked with sorting out Duroc’s affairs, including a substantial amount of money for Bigottini, and Duroc’s sister Jeanne implied that he had gotten the wrong impression from one of Duroc’s requests: “On the subject of the allowance for little Odilon, M. the duke of Vicenza was misled…he took a step which pained me very much”.) As for the daughter, all I’ve been able to find so far is a remark from Laure Junot that “It was known that the count Armand de Fuentès had had a daughter with Mademoiselle Bigottini, and that Duroc was in the same position”.

[yaskie]

Fighting for Cancer

All Stickers and emoji sales will be used for Uncle Dindo’s medical debts and balances for his wake and burial, Auntie Sam’s and my ongoing Hormonal and chemo treatment. We also set a targeted amount through our goal for donations. We thank you all, thank you so much for everything. We deeply appreciate all donations and purchases that will be made. To all who have helped me in the past. I am eternally grateful. Please help me share this post, reblog. It will help me a lot. ❤️‍🩹❤️🩷🧡💛 Hello Dear friends, I hope you are all doing well. It’s been a long time since I have made an update about my health and everything that is happening to my life. Life has been so busy.  As you read the title for this campaign. Yes, Fighting for cancer, as some of you know I fought with the same battle several years ago, to my friends who helped me financially and all. My never ending gratitude to all of you. 

I became okay and I chose to deal with financial struggles myself, because I know that I am already giving too much burden to my friends over the course of more than a year. I went back to do regular jobs despite lower grade pays in order to survive, and pay the remaining debt for my medication. Where I live, we are paid daily, not hourly and daily wages are between $12-$15/day. And work 8-12 hours a day. Unfortunately, life does not always end like a fairytale. I am doing this campaign again. Not just for myself but for the other two people that are important to my life. I guess this battle runs into the family. I lost so many family members battling this. I lost my Dad to Stage 4 lung cancer last 2015. And last night(March 25,2024) I lost my Uncle Dindo in the same battle, after several months of intensive treatment. It left us drowning with hospital bills, and debts and it cost us nearly $130,000 and is still running. Uncle Dindo left her wife and two daughters, one who is deaf and mute.  Not only that, my Aunt Sam, is also dealing with her Stage 3 Breast Cancer, and it costs us almost $2,000 - $3,000 a week. Her right breast has already been removed. But she is also under close observation. And she was forced to have her unpaid leave at her job, as she needed rest. This also adds up with the financial struggles that we are dealing with too. We have bad healthcare here in PH. And if you are not rich you will die easily.  As for me. After I survived my battle in the Lungs. Tumors have popped up in other parts of my body, most of them are benign(but closely monitored for changes), if there will be malignant tumors again that will also pop out too. If you will see my previous posts, last year there had been a concern about my breast and a surgery was needed, but I decided not to proceed and I went through herbal medication, as it is the most affordable way. They helped me, but some backfired. And I am so afraid to lose a body part. Unfortunately, I got bad pneumonia on-off, and the pain in my right breast is unbearable, after several tests. I am diagnosed with Stage 1. Doctors have already warned me in the past about this. And I also asked for a second opinion, because last year it was just only a close call. I will currently take hormone medication, and another chemo. I do not want another surgery at the moment, if it can be avoided. I have high hopes that I will survive this. I can still do jobs to pay for home and other bills. And be with you all. 

I decided not just to do this campaign alone, but I also made a Ko-Fi Shop to sell digital stickers. With a collaboration and help from a friend, we currently made 11 printable stickers that you can print on the comfort of your home or print shops with a size of 2x2 inches. You can also use the emoji stickers through your streaming channel, please message me through my Twitter, so I can follow your stream. And for those who printed the physical stickers, it would make us happy if you can tag a photo of them through my twitter. You can put them through notebooks, tumblrs….etc.

Here is the link for our Ko-Fi Store.

Please follow me on twitter or here on Ko-Fi for updates. As we are still working on more Sticker designs. We Can-CerVIVE.

I appreciate all the help that we could get. And thank you so much for understanding. Please take good care of yourselves. Never take your health for granted. Health is wealth. And prevention is better than cure.

Love, Jasky(Your Eternal Sprout)

P.S. To my friends in-game don’t worry you will still see me <3 I love you all! Stay happy and smiling.  These are the digital stickers that we are currently selling.

To all my friends, I badly need your help. Please. Thank you. Sorry for tagging you. Reblog and if you can tag your friends too. Thank you for understanding.

@measurelessdreamer @c1a1r3r3df1e1d @samblerambles @nearlybitches @sunhatllama @leonshinkai @shotce @crazyworldhuh @sparkie96 @silvertonguelover @fossil-finder @vietnoodle @irishspringyum @kevinbuiyin @angelspin @thecloudstan @neji-vuldarak @takuyasaeki1001 @valhethella @artofshiroginko @yuko27 @junie-junette @chris-is-not-evil @wuekka @nelyth-v @ya2do @rebrandedbard @tielmamon @signalboostr @mcqraw @risingoflights @travelling-hydaelyn @thedemonofcat @leonisdumbasallhell @litoperezito @priscilla-a-moreno @waywards-thing @chreonweek @heliosani @residentevilx4 @lemonadeswift @prozdvoices @doomednarrative @neil-gaiman @aussiepineapple1st @matchalilly @highball66 @purpledusty @diviedrawn @residenceevil

[angryschnauzer]

Update 3th April 2024

How are we into the 4th month of the year already? This year is slipping away so quickly. Anyway, my husband finished Radiotherapy mid Feb, had a few weeks off treatment, and is now on 6 cycles of strong chemotherapy. He has 5 days on tablet dose, then 23 days off, so its a 4 week cycle. We had an update meeting with his Neurologist. The tumour hasn't started to grow back, but we've got to add a 'yet' to that. The type of brain tumour (Glioblastoma) is an incredibly agressive form of brain cancer, spreading tendrils out into the crevices of the brain that there is never any way of scooping the whole thing out and getting every last bit with surgery. Thus the Radiotherapy and chemotherapy to try and blast - i cant think of a better word - as much remaining cancer as it can. He'll have regular MRI's to monitor any regrowth etc, and as he's mid 40's if he's strong enough he can have surgery again.

So now we're at the start of April and to be honest the last three months have been horrible. At the start of the year i caught a cough that developed into Bronchitis, and then by mid March i was so ill it was Pneumonia. When Hubby was on his 'rest' weeks post radiotherapy he was unable to rest as he had to help me care for our son. Sidenote; our Son's type 1 diabetes has been somewhat out of control during this time too. Two weeks ago i was admitted to the emergency dept at Hospital with chest pains. Hardly surprising with the amount of stress i'm under, but it turned out to be caused by bruising my internal chest muscles from coughing so much due to the pneumonia. Doctors told me i must rest. Well, the universe decided it didn't like that option and the day after Hubby went down with a cold/flu like virus, and because of his cancer treatment all but destroying his immune system, it's knocked him sideways. We're now 10 days later and its still in full force. I had to take him to the cancer hospital yesterday to have blood tests to ensure it hadn't turned bacterial (it hasn't) but we've been having awful nights sleep for the both of us which means neither of us are recovering at a rate we need.

So that's were we're at. Its just a massive cycle of illness followed by illness and it feels like we can't get out of it.

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

for writing prompt:

tim + alfred, illness. either one.

He found Alfred in the solarium, snoozing in a pool of sunlight. It was still cold outdoors, and some of the chill would manage to slip in even between the lead-lined glass panes, so the warmth of the sun would feel pleasant instead of overbearing, even at midday.

It was strange, even after all this time, to find Alfred still. The old butler was never one for frenetic energy or action—in fact, he was most known for his solidity, his air of intense permanence and fixedness—but for as long as Tim had know him, Alfred had been a doer. Even with the majority of the Manor boarded up, there was always a task at hand, from household chores to meal planning to weapons maintenance. The unceasing ebb and flow of young people had only added to Alfred's clockwork patterns that kept him ticking onward, from dawn to deep into the night.

That mechanical path had slowed some in recent years, as the family aged and multiplied, as the Manor emptied, as the years gathered upon Alfred's skin in wrinkles and liver spots. They had been after him to rest, to set aside or hire out the bulk of his responsibilities. Tim only wished it hadn't taken the combined force of old age and illness to make it so.

"Do you plan to hover like a specter the entire time or to exercise some manners?" The inquiry was pitched to carry, though the voice that slung it out was raspy and faint. Alfred still sat in his chair, blanket tucked around his legs, eyes closed.

Tim ducked his head, sheepish. Of course Alfred would catch him out.

"I thought you were asleep," he said by way of excuse as he crossed the tiled floor, before ducking his head to kiss the weathered cheek, careful not to jar the nasal cannula.

"Resting my eyes," Alfred admitted with a touch of dryness to his voice. He patted Tim's cheek before letting him pull away. "How are you, my boy?"

"Alright. Better than you," Tim said as he pulled up a chair and sat nearly knee to knee. It was meant as a joke. It didn't feel like a joke.

"Just" a cold, they had been told at first, but the cold had settled into a case of pneumonia that had lingered long past its welcome. The oxygen tank next to the chair was a compromise, allowing Alfred freedom from the pulseox that was otherwise clipped to him and its accompanying beeping. A concession in a long line of concessions, from the reduced tasks to the cane Tim knew he would find propped in the corner, to the wheelchair Alfred now sat in.

Tim had been out of town when the pneumonia had arrived. He had been right across town two months ago, the last time Alfred fell. It didn't seem to matter how near he was, or how far, if he was anywhere other than right here.

Alfred didn't like to be fussed over, so Tim tried to keep his worries tucked away and off his face. He must have failed in some way, or Alfred was Alfred and knew everything, because he tutted and patted the back of Tim's hand where it rested atop the folded blanket.

"Stop looking at me like I'm on my deathbed, child."

He wasn't. It was pneumonia, not the plague. But. He could be. Alfred was ageless, Alfred was eternal... but Alfred was old. And Tim... They all had... lost people. Before. It had been a blessed long time since such a loss, but Tim knew. He knew it wouldn't be forever.

"If you've come to be gloomy on this sunny day, I'll ask you to leave," Alfred warned, some of the old starch creeping back into his voice.

He wouldn't. Alfred loved it when any of them visited, even (especially) the wide array of kids with their shrieks and boundless energy. This might be Bruce's house, but Alfred reigned supreme, and he would never turn any of them away.

"Sorry," Tim said, ducking his head again. He pushed a small smile to his lips and offered a version of the truth as recompense. "Just kicking myself for not coming by more often. I always mean to, and then..."

Life. Work. Family. Friends. Hobbies. Cases. It all got in the way. And he knew those were all good things. He just... needed to be better.

"I am always happy to see you when you come," Alfred said with another pat of the hand. "All of you. Whenever you have time to spare. But I know there is much to occupy."

And he was wasting time, here, now, feeling sorry for himself. Tim cleared his throat and loosened his smile into something more genuine. "Speaking of. Remember the feud I was telling you about? Between 4B and the guy across the hall? What was the last thing I told you?"

The saga of hostilities between two of Tim's neighbors had been long, protracted, and a source of dishy delight for Tim and Alfred alike.

Blue eyes faded with age and creeping cataracts peered out at him from behind bifocal lenses, for the moment as keen as ever. "As I recall, there was the incident with the tied grocery bag of potato peels and cat feces."

Tim leaned forward. "That's old news. I have an update."

Alfred closed his eyes, chin tipped up so he could steeple his fingers together with an air of perfect concentration. "Leave out no detail, sir. I am listening."

[borzoibabe]

hey, who remembers this shitshow from two years ago?: https://www.tumblr.com/borzoibabe/665024812393119744/here-is-her-vet-bill-of-this-i-have-paid-1889

tl;dr 2 years ago my dog and i had to flee for our lives from domestic abuse, and we're now learning the physical damage my dog sustained is much worse than we'd previously thought. she's back in the ER again to treat her aspiration pneumonia - going on her second overnight now - and once she's home, we're going to start exploring longer term options to prevent any more flare ups.

thankfully i was much more financially prepared this time around than i was back then, but so far i'm down $9100 and that number is likely going to keep rising. i am asking for anything, anything at all, to help us keep our heads afloat, especially as we start exploring surgical options after she recovers. donations are appreciated more than i can ever express. even more than that, just sharing our story means the world to me. please, please help us out. she's only 3. she doesn't deserve to live this way.

i have a gofundme, or if you'd prefer to donate more directly, i have paypal (paypal.me/rileyskennedy), venmo (@rileym_) or cashapp ($rileyy9). if you read this far, thank you so much. please spread the word. thank you. 💖💖💖💖💖💖

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Regina Is Gone

Summary: Regina has lung cancer. Emma is there when she takes her final breath.

She doesn’t talk much anymore but she does like having her hand held. She had always liked that. She had liked it before she’d gotten sick and she likes it now. 

Emma thinks that Regina knows that she doesn’t have much time left. That she had known anyways. She doesn’t seem to know much these days; she dwells in a morphine fog, a limbo state where locations and dates blur. 

Emma can’t say that it had happened fast, they’ve known for some time now. Back in January. It was a cruel thing to have to spend new year’s eve in the ER, doubly so to receive the diagnosis just as midnight came around. Life truly is unkind to Regina and she can’t blame the woman for having become so bitter. 

And maybe Emma is becoming bitter for it, herself. 

She had just started smiling again. 

Back in December two years ago she had declared that this new year would be better for her, that she would live again. Truly live. 

She didn’t know that she was dying. 

That she had been dying for perhaps a year or two. 

Slowly. 

Since the day that they’d met, she’d been dying. Maybe a bit longer.

Probably a lot longer.

The doctors couldn’t say for certain.

Emma thinks that she had inadvertently bought herself more time in suspending Storybrook in time. 

She spent the first year after her curse broke, miserable and resentful. Perhaps she had wanted to die. Emma thinks that the woman might have wished death upon herself; an escape from her suffering. 

It was the one wish that had been granted. But only after she stopped yearning for death.

It was two years after the curse; Regina was energetic then. She had acquired plenty of new hobbies; gardening, baking, candle making, and sculpting wax. She had dabbled with making soap as well. Sometimes Emma would walk into her office and catch her shaping a wax horse instead of getting through her pile of paperwork. And she would take the chance to tell Regina to get back to work, a sly throwback to an older era; she can still hear her voice clear and smooth, “our tax dollars hard at work, I see.” 

She has a sense of humor now. She had quirked a brow and looked up from her wax horse and, with a haughty sniff and a slight laugh, had muttered, “perhaps you don’t want your gift then.” 

Regina hasn’t made any wax sculptures in a while. 

Not since chemo began and the brain fog and persistent pain started to set in. Forgetfulness and absentmindedness. Emma could see the frustration on Regina’s face when she misplaced a tax form that she had been working on. Or when she’d confused the date of a mayoral meeting for one of their date nights. 

She resigned from her position later that year. 

The town didn’t know why; they had tried to tell her that they appreciated her work, that they know that she had changed and didn’t want her to step down. She had told them simply that she wanted a chance to explore passions beyond leadership. That she had never really wanted to be a queen or a mayor at all. And Emma supposes that it hadn’t been a lie, rather one motivation out of many. 

Regina has always been private and Emma had respected that. Her own mother and father hadn’t known for months, not until she had broken down in front of them. Cried to Mary and David about how hard it is to listen to Regina cry at night. To listen to wheeze and cough. To see her wake up with bags under her eyes after another night of chest pain. 

All of that pain and exhaustion that had invited depression right back in. But Regina still smiled now and then. She still laughed a lot too. At least in the beginning. 

It had started out as pneumonia. A stubborn pneumonia that kept coming back. She had mentioned that she had dealt with that on and off before casting her curse, but hadn’t thought much of it. 

The doctors had assumed that she was simply vulnerable to pneumonia—tossing in the possibility of her being immunocompromised in some way. 

Her voice had grown hoarse too. Rather consistently, but they had attributed that to flu season and so she never went to the doctor. And her breathing—she swore that it was just a sinus infection or allergies. 

And then her arms and face would swell…

She was diagnosed a month later. 

It was too late by then. 

But she’d still chosen to fight because, “I finally have a life worth fighting for, Emma.” She cried that night. “What am I going to tell, Henry?” 

Emma couldn’t find the words either. 

For a while Regina stopped leaving the mansion. She also stopped looking in the mirror. She always had put a lot of care into her hair and skin. “You’re a beautiful woman.” Emma could say it over and over again but Regina would always disagree. She misses her hair and she said that the wigs looked fake. She no longer had the strength to use magic to grow it back. To use any magic at all. Eventually Emma had managed to coax her outside. She’d found a weak point; Regina’s love for the autumn months. And this year’s foliage had been particularly lovely. The woman had buried herself in hats and kept well away from the well traveled paths. 

One night, she had admitted that she had always felt at least somewhat displeased with her appearance which Emma had found hard to believe; Regina had always presented herself with such poise and confidence. Regina insisted that it was a facade, that she was a fraud. 

Emma knows that it isn’t true. 

That same night, Regina had joked that at least she is losing weight. 

Emma had forced a laugh but it hadn’t been so funny with Regina cuddling close enough for her to feel the woman’s ribs on her back. As of then, she had been having trouble eating. Food, no matter the texture, amount, or type was making her nauseous. And so ER visits had started becoming regular. IVs, supplementary drinks and shakes,  and pills had begun to take the place of real food. 

Her skin was always pale and her eyes started to grow as hollow as her body.

And Emma started to get angry—absolutely furious at the universe, fate, whatever, for attacking her wife so aggressively and mercilessly. 

Emma had to care for her then. On some days—most of them—just getting out of bed had become taxing for Regina. Their forest walks had become briefer and briefer until she confined herself to the backyard, and then just the porch, and then to short ventures from her bedroom to the living room. 

She said that she felt lazy and useless. That she hated being a burden. 

Emma would rub her back and tell her that it wasn’t true. 

It wasn’t Regina’s fault that she was sick and dammit she was doing the best that she could. 

People had a lot of questions. Mostly wondering why that hadn’t seen Regina about lately. Granny had thought it strange that she hasn’t gotten any requests for Regina’s usual. 

She knew that they knew that something was amiss. That Regina wasn’t well.

Once, on an out of place good day, Regina had found the energy to visit her apple tree and ask how Belle is enjoying her new position as mayor. Belle had been the first person aside from family to learn that Regina has lung cancer. 

The two of them had talked for a good while. 

Longer than Regina usually talked. Throughout she would hold a hand to her aching chest and request water for her scratchy throat. 

Belle recommended a book that she would never get to finish. 

When they got home, Regina opened the window to let the summer breeze in. She said that she liked the smell of summer. That Maine has amazing summers. That she wanted to go to the beach. 

Emma knew then that it was almost over. 

She can’t imagine that Regina would let herself be seen in such a sickly condition unless she knew that she wouldn’t have to deal with pitying, patronizing looks afterward.

She had asked to go to the fourth of July barbecue too. Because, apparently, Grumpy is rather good at grilling and she could go for a bomb pop cocktail. Emma told her that she could use a firecracker shot or two for herself.

It had been a calm before the storm.

Before a grand fall.

The next day Regina started coughing up blood. 

She was admitted to the hospital on the second of July.

And here she is now, laying in the hospital bed, a ghost of a woman who barely utters more than five sentences a day.

None of those sentences are coherent. 

She talked more yesterday. 

Mostly to ask for the eighth time—third that day—where she was. And each time she was surprised to hear that she was in the hospital. She asked Emma if they could go to Venezuela to see a Mayan temple. She also asked if they could go to Austria to see Stonehenge.

Emma couldn’t keep the tears out of her eyes. In some way she had come to realize that Regina was already gone.  

Even the day before that, the words she said made more sense. 

Like yesterday, she hasn’t spoken at all. Has hardly woken up. Emma doesn’t like when she wakes up anyways. Because she always does so in a panic. Emma has gotten to know that crease in her brow very well, it is a telltale sign and the only indication of some type of distress; either pain or anxiety. Either which way, she fixes droopy eyes with dilated pupils upon her. And there is fear and pain in those eyes. Fear and pain that replaces something else. A something–some kind of sparkle—that was, at one point, Regina. Emma is now inclined to believe that you can see a person’s soul in their eyes.

While taking away the pain, the drugs have too taken the soul out of Regina’s eyes. 

Yes, Emma believes that Regina, though she still breathes, is gone already. The parts of her that matter anyways. 

Henry squeezes both Emma’s hand and Regina’s. “Can she feel it?” Henry asks. “Can she hear us.”

Emma knows that Regina hadn’t wanted Henry to see her like this. And she can see it on Henry’s face that he has mixed feelings about being here. 

“I don’t think that she feels anything, and that’s probably a good thing. It would hurt a lot if she could.” 

Henry’s hand leaves Regina’s for a moment and he leans into Emma. Emma squeezes him tightly. He closes his eyes, his expression twists into that particular wince that he makes when he is trying not to cry. He always ends up in tears.

“I think that she can hear us though.” 

“I love you mom.” He says. 

Just yesterday Regina would have whispered it back. It was one of the few coherent sentences that she clung to. Along with very vague requests for assistance. Emma isn’t even sure if Regina actually knows what she is saying or if she is just parroting phrases that she hears.

Today her lips part but the words never make it. Her throat is so dry and her lips are chapped and cracking. 

And Emma is tired. 

Tired of watching the woman die. 

It might be horrible but she wishes that Regina would just do it already. Just get it over with. She can’t fathom what the woman might be waiting for—pretty much everyone in Storybrooke has already dropped in to say goodbye or to tell her that bygones are bygones.

Emma doesn’t know how much more of this she can take. Henry has already reached his limit but he insists that he wants to be there for his mom. 

And so Emma cups Regina’s cheek and leans in close. “It’s okay, Gina. You can go by Daniel now,” she says. Regina’s eyes open for the first time that day. “I bet that he misses you.” As much as Emma and Henry are about to miss her. Emma kisses her forehead. “I love you.” But Regina’s attention has lapsed again. 

Her stomach lurches and her heart tickles. There is a shameful part of her that is jealous, maybe even angry, that Regina had perked up at the mention of Daniel but not at Emma’s own final declaration of love. 

That anger dissipates when she doesn’t respond to Henry’s hug either. She knows that Regina must be so terribly tired. 

And so she says again, “go on Gina, it’s alright.” Although she doesn’t believe it at all she adds, “Henry and I will be alright, we’ll take care of each other.” 

“I love you, mom.” Henry says. 

“I love you, Regina.”

Regina’s eyes open, they go very very wide. Her mouth opens and for a second Emma thinks that she will return that, “I love you.” Instead she lets out another one of her gurgling breaths. This one is the worst. 

It is also the last. 

Regina is gone. 

She has been gone for days.

[sawtastic-sideblog]

Specs x Reader Gender Neutral Reader TW: violence, blood, mentions of death and school shooters, there may be more I have forgotten to mention so just a general proceed with caution.

"I'm looking for Sebastian Parker. Sebastian are you with us?" The psychic, Elise, calls to the room. You roll your eyes, not so subtly, and catch the eye of the bearded camera man, Tucker. He shakes his head and looks back at his screen as he continues to walk around the group of six gathered in a circle in your dining room.

Your older brother, Sebastian, died two years ago and your mom, Alice, hasn't been the same since. None of you have, but your mom seemed to be taking it the hardest. Sebastian was thirteen years older than you and from a previous relationship your mom had. Your dad, Patrick, always said Sebastian was his son. They were close. The year Sebastian turned eighteen, he went to your dad and asked him to be adopted. Your dad agreed, enthusiastically and cried hugging Sebastian and just repeating 'my son' over and over again. The night Sebastian died, your dad stood in his hospital room, stroking his head, repeating those words over and over again.

Your little sister, Olivia, sat across from you. She and Sebastian also had a good relationship. With a twenty one year gap between the two, Livvy and Sebastian were the closest. You alway envied their relationship. Sebastian was smart and loved to help Livvy with her homework. He was an English teacher at the local high school. Livvy would visit him in his class and would help him with presentations and fun stuff he'd do with his classes. You would help with costumes and behind the scenes stuff. Livvy and Sebastian belonged on stage together. Since his death, Livvy hasn't been as involved with the school's theater program, but still auditions and does the plays. "For Sebby," she says.

You and Sebastian were close, but only after he moved out. When you were born, he was a stubborn teenager who didn't want the attention of his mother and the only stable father figure he'd ever known taken away from him. He didn't want his weekends taken by some brat he'd have to watch, which was seldom if at all. After he moved out, you got sick with pneumonia and almost died in the hospital. He realized how much he cared for you and drove eighteen hours back from college to be with you. He transferred closer to be with the family and would let you stay at his apartment when your mom had bad days. Her pregnancy with Olivia was not an easy one. You and Sebastian grew close and went to all thr new movies, sport games, and community events together and with his friends. You were even the flower girl at Sebastian's best friend's wedding when you were twelve.

Your mom has Sebastian at fifteen and was a single mom until she met your dad. She struggled to get by and from a young age, Sebastian realized that they didn't have much and he would do odd jobs for people of the community. When your dad came to town, wanting a fresh start away from toxic parents and a crazy ex, Sebastian askedif he needed ay help with boxes "for a price." Your dad agreed and later met your mom. Your dad would always ask Sebastian to "help" with leaky faucets, painting walls, and working on cars. His job was to sit and make sure your dad was doing everything safely. Eventually your parents started dating and got married two years later. Your dad helped put her through nursing school and she has loved every second of her job. After being a single mom and her child, relying on each other, and practically growing up together, your mom and Sebastian were best friends. Losing him broke her. She stayed in bed for months. One day she was back to her normal self, making pancakes for everyone.

"What's this, honey? It's after ten at night?" Your dad asked, putting his keys in thr bowl by the door as you and Livvy put your coats on h hooks.

"Is it? Oh, well, I've been so busy. I guess I lost track of time," she replied with a smile on her face.

"What have you been doing?"

"I cleaned the whole house. Where have you been?"

"Work, school, dinner, and Livvy's play. Why are you cleaning the whole house? We did that this past weekend."

"Sebastian's coming home."

With that statement, all three hearts broke.

"Hey mom, it's late, let's get you to bed," you say and try to lead your mom to her room. After a little resistance you an your father manager to get your mom into bed. After that your mom kept insisting Sebastian would be coming home and recently she's started trying to contact him. Weird things started happening andit scared Olivia to the point she was always over at your apartment.

Last week, your dad woke up with scratches down his back. You immediately started looking for help and tracked down Elise. You arranged to meet at your parent's house tonight and Elise decided a seance would be the best course of action. You, being a skeptic, scoffed at her.

"There's no such things as ghosts."

"Ghosts, spirits, demons, they all exist, (Y/N), and we're the ones who are going to help you rid yourselves of them."

"No offense, Elise, but this is crazy."

"Sometimes crazy works."

So, now, you're in the dining room of your childhood home, having a seance to contact your dead brother. Still convinced that this is crazy, you look around the circle. You can't read your dad's face, but your mom has a look of hope, Livvy looks scared, Elise has a look of intense concentration, and her assistant, Spec, is writing at lightning speed as Elie speaks.

"Sebatian Parker. Follow the sound of my voice."

You scoff and try to coverit with a cough, but Tucker and Specs both give you looks. You put your gaze forward and close your eyes just as something grabs your chair and pulls it backwards. You let out a startled scream. You're lifted off the ground and feel your throat burn as if someone is choking you, but there is nobody there. You cough, gag, and sputter as Livvy watches in frozen horror, your mom stands with her hands over her mouth.

"Patrick, do something," she calls as she grips Livvy's arm tight. He leaps into action and tries to pull you off the wall. He's thrown across the room into Tucker and they both go down. Specs leaps from his seat and starts to rush toward you, but is thrown back into the China cabinet. The glass shatters and rains down around Spec's limp body. You try to scream, but nothing comes out.

Tucker sits up slowly. Once he's checked back into what's happening, he grabs his camera and springs to his feet, pointing the camera around the room.

"I command you to leave this family alone!"

You fall to the floor and take in a big gulp of air. Elise and her entire chair are tipped backwards and an invisible force starts to choke her. You mother and sister scream in terror and run to the corner and huddle together. Your dad sits up and watches, beary eyes and confused. You realize the danger Elise is in, so you run to the kitchen for salt and then the living room for an iron fire poking stick.

Hoping for the best, you swing the stick above Elise and she takes in a breath. You make a big circle out of the salt.

"Everyone in the ring! Don't mess it up!" You shout. Everyone does as they're told, except for Specs, who is still out.

"Steven! Steven, please, wake up!" Elise pleads. Specs' limp, bloody, body is dragged across the floor, up the wall, and is pinned to the ceiling. You all start shouting for him to wake up. He does and immediately starts to panic. He's thrown against the far wall and falls to the floor.

With every ounce of courage you have, you jump the salt line and swing the poking stick wildly as you run to Specs. You try to help him up, but you can't swing and lift at the same time. Luckily, Tucker followed you and lifts his friend up and over his shoulder. The three of you make your way back to the circle where Tucker sets Specs down. The China cabinet shakes and the broken glass rattles.

"Leave them alone!" Elise yells. A chair raises behind Elise. It charged forward and you shove her out of the way just in time for it to hit you in the face.

You open your eyes and it's the dining room, but darker. You look around and see misty figures. It's your parents, sister, Elise, and her two assistants.

"(Y/N)!" A voice calls, far in the distance. You stand up and walk through the house. The voice continues to call for you. You climb the stairs and walk to Sebastian's room. You open the door to be met with a lady in a black wedding dress. Her hands reach for your throat, but something shoves her aside. Sebastian stands in her place and grabs your hand. Together, you two run down the stairs and out of the house.

"The garage," you say as the two of you reach the lawn. The lady in black appears in the doorway of the house. Sebastian looks for the spare key and fumbles it into the lock.

"What now?" Sebastian asks as he locks the door behind him.

"Remember when I was a kid and you were in college you showed me how to make a flame thrower?"

"With the aerosol spray can and a lighter? Yeah, but what are you going to do?"

"Burn her," you say with determination as you grab cans of spray paint off a shelf. Sebastian grabs the lighters from a drawer and tosses you one. Sebatian unlocks the door as you hide. As the lady enters, Sebastian sends flames in her direction. She tries to back up, but you step out of your hiding spot and spark up your makeshift flamethrower. She vanishes and you both put out your flames. You look at each other and laugh. Sebastian holds his arms out for a hug, which you gladly accept.

"We miss you, you know?"

"I know. I've been watching. Mom kept talking to me. I heard her, but the lady in black wouldn't let me communicate."

"Well, now you can."

"No, Cesario, I don't think I can."

You smile almost melancholic at the nickname. You read Twelfth Night when you were in your first semester of college and hated it. You can't understand Shakespeare to save your life. You decided to watch it instead and you developed a crush on Johnny Young, the guy that was playing Viola/Cesario in the production. Since then, Sebastian has called you Cesario as a joke. You miss that.

Elise smiles warmly as you come into view, holding Sebastian close to your side. You look down to where your father is holding your head in his lap, your mom is crying into your chest, and your sister is staring at you, fear etched on her delicate features.

"Hello, Sebastian. (Y/N)," Elise greets. Everyone looks to the direction Elise is looking.

"Where are we?" You ask.

"I call it The Further."

"Is it the afterlife?"

"Something like that, I suppose. I know seeing your brother again has been good for you, but you need to get back into your body," Elise says. You nod in understanding as dark figures shift in the shadows. You turn towards Sebastian and grab his hands.

"I love you, Seb. I miss you every single day. Nothing will ever change that. I wish I was there to stop the shooter from getting to you, but you were a hero. All the kids were fine. Physically anyway. Emotionally they're all traumatized," you say, tears cascading down your cheeks. Sebastian chuckles at your last statement and wipes the tears away.

"I'm glad they're relatively okay. I love you, too. Make sure mom, dad, and Liv know I love them as well?" Sebastian asks. You nod and give him one last hug before walking to your body. There's a flash of light that engulfs you.

Your eyes flutter open to see your family hovering over you. You sit up an hug your mom.

"He loves you guys," you say into your mom's shoulder. "He saved me too. He pushed the woman in black away and he taught me how to make a flamethrower."

"You did that when you were little. You burned down my rose bush," your dad says through his tears.

"We used them on the lady in black."

"Makes sense to me," Olivia says hugging you.

"My son," your dad whispers as his arms wrap around you.

A little while later, you walk into th bathroom to find a shirtless Specs picking glass from his back. Ot at last attempting to.

"Need some help?" You ask. The man jumps and turns to you. He sheepishly nods ans his cheeks turn red. You take the tweezers from him and start pulling small glass shards from his back. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he says with a laugh, "I've had worse. Actually, no, not really, this is probably the worst."

"Well, a ghost threw you into a China cabinet, so I'm not surprised."

"Still a skeptic?"

"No, but I know not to mess with that stuff."

"Smart cookie, you are. Ow."

"Sorry," you say before chuckling. "I don't think I've ever hears a more pitiful 'ow' in my life."

"I don't see a point in screaming. It won't do any good."

"Could be quite pleasurable. Let me know I'm doing a good job," you joke. Specs turns around to face you.

"Is that an invitation, (Y/N)?" He asks quietly. He moves to your ear and whispers "because I may have to take you up on that."

Your breath catches for a moment before you make Specs turn back around. Your cheeks heat up as you start pulling glass from the taller man's shoulder blade.

"In your dreams."

"I can't wait."

You take the next twenty minutes or so to pull glass from his back. When you're certain you got it all, you leave Specs to clean up. Your mom provided towels and your father and sister ran down to the twenty four hour gas station to get bandages and pain killers. Tuck walks over with an ice pack wrapped in a towel and presses it gently to your head.

"He likes you. He's been talking about you since we met last week. He wanted to ask you on a date, but doesn't know how to ask. Or when to ask. Obviously, he couldn't during all of this mess," Tucker gestures vaguely around at the mess of shatter glass, a splintered chair, and blood.

"Well, he was right in that aspect," you say.

"You should've heard him the day we met," He says before pitching his voice up to mimic his friend. "Tuck, did you see (Y/N)? Do you think they'd say yes if I asked them out? They had th prettiest eyes I've-"

Tucker is cut off by the bathroom door opening and Specs walking out. Shock, hurt, and embarrassment on his. He opens his mouth to say something before shoving past you and Tucker.

"I think you messed up, there, buddy," you say as Tucker just nods and walks into the bathroom with the towels your mom gave him and his spare clothes.

"He'll get over it," he called as he closed the door. Feeling bad for Specs, you go to look for him and find him on the back porch steps. You grab a blanket from thr back of the couch and walk outside. You wrap the blanket around his shoulders. He flinched from the sudden coverage on his back.

"It's too cold for you to be out here shirtless and with wet hair."

"So?"

"So? So, you'll get sick and miss our date."

He turns his head so fast he almost gives himself whiplash. You give him a soft smile and he smiles back. His face turns serious as he looks back across the yard at the old swing and play fort. He stands and hold out his hand. You take it and you both walk across the yard. Specs climbs into the fort and turns back to you with a goofy smile. You follow him up and you both sit facing the house where you see your mom and Elise talking.

"How did your brother die?"

"Some kid decided that if he couldn't have his ex girlfriend, nobody could. She was in Sebastian's class and one of the other teachers warned him and told him who it was. His class hid the girl behind a bookshelf and when the kid tried to come in and found the door locked, he shot through the doorknob and walked in. Seb stood up for the class. He blocked the kid from them. The kid kept threatening him, but Seb held his ground. The police came in at about that time and it scared the kid and he pulled the trigger. He claimed it was an accident. He went in with thr intention to kill someone. There was no accident. Seb was rushed to the hospital and died three days later. He was a hero. At graduation that year, all the students gave my mom a single red rose. The ones in his class that day gave my mom these folders full of letters written from themselves, their friends, and their families. They gave us some good memories to look back on and kind words of support and encouragement. It was sweet."

Specs' thumb wipes a tear from your cheek. He pulls you into his side for a hug, which you gratefully accept and return. The sliding glass door opens.

"Hey, we got stuff for Specs," Livvy's voice carries through the night. Specs let's you go and turns to slide down the slide. You follow him again and you walk to the house. Specs takes a seat backwards in a chair. He winces as your mom takes the blanket off his shoulders, the fibers from the fluffy blanket sticking to the fluid oozing from the wounds.

"You okay?" You ask, concerned. Specs nods and rests his forehead on the back of the chair. Livvy pulls you to the side to start cleaning up. Tucker and your dad pick up thr cabinet as you sweep the glass and Livvy picks up the broken chair.

"Can't belive (Y/N) broke this with their head," Livvy laughs.

"Yeah, and they've got a pretty good bruise to show for it," your dad replies.

"It's not that bad is it?" You ask as you sweep the glass into the dustpan.

"Well, it's not great," Livvy says. You set the broom and dustpan aside and make your way to the bathroom. You're looking at your forehead when the door opens.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," Specs jokes. You smile as you make eye contact in the mirror.

"You alright?"

"Are you? You have a bruise on your head. You should be checked for a concussion," he says. You turn toward him and he grabs both sides of your head. He places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I like your shirt," you say, pulling at his Star Wars t-shirt.

"Star Wars fan?"

"Nope. Never seen a single movie."

"Okay, well, that's what we will be doing for our date."

"Watching Star Wars?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

Specs leans closer to you and you loom up at him. Your eyes flutter closed. You can feel his breath fan over your face. A knock sounds at the door, breaking you two apart.

"(Y/N), you in there?" Your mom's voice calls. "I want to look at your head, darling."

"Yeah, mom. I'm in here," you answer. You barely open the door and slip through. Your mom checks you over and you agree to go to the hospital.

You and your dad walk out with Elise, Tucker, and Specs. You manage to pull Specs behind a tree as your dad and Elise talk and Tucker loads the van.

"Give me your phone," you say, holding out your hand. He does so and you put your number in. You two talk a few more minutes.

"Specs, let's go," Tucker yells at the tree. You bid him goodbye and he starts to walk away. You and your father walk to the car. Before Tucker can drive away the side door of the van opens. Specs jogs across the yard to you, spins you around, and crashes his lips into yours. You kiss him back just as he pulls away.

"See you Saturday," he smiles and pecks your lips one more time before running back to the van. You watch the van drive down the street as the sun begins to rise.

"Got yourself a boyfriend, huh, (Y/N)," your dad teases.

"Shut up," you say as you get into the car.

[purplesaline]

Meet Parker

Previously known as Cloak! As this little lad will be staying with me for some training until we find him his forever home I've chosen his grown up name.

The kennel that I work with to help breed and raise these puppies is LestWeForget Collies and every one of their puppies recieves an Official paperwork name associated with the Canadian Military. Lance's name is officially Operation Lance, after a peacekeeping operation in Rwanda. His grandmother's name was Vimy, after Vimy Ridge. She was the kennel's foundation dog and she died a couple years ago. This was the first litter since she died and I thought giving this litter a theme that had to do with Vimy Ridge would be a touching tribute.

We're also very aware that the Canadian treatment of it's soldiers hasn't been equitable and members of marginalized groups often suffered despite their service and sacrifices. They were far too often overlooked for the same honours and recognition that cishet white soldiers recieved.

So the theme for this litter is Underhonoured Canadian Soldiers of Vimy Ridge.

Parker is a little bit off the beaten track as a choice. His namesake is Ellanore Parker, clearly not a soldier.

She was a nurse though, and one who was injured and permanently disabled from severe gas poisoning while treating soldiers injured during the battle for Vimy Ridge. While I believe being a nurse would be more than enough to include her on this list, Ellanore was included for a different reason. She was queer.

Ellanore Parker and Murney Pugh met while serving at a hospital near Sailsbury Plains in England. The couple were inseparable throughout the war and were stationed together throughout France. Ellanore experienced severe gas poisoning while tending to soldiers at Vimy Ridge and would suffer for the rest of her life with respiratory issues. At her side through all of this was Murney, who became her caretaker and life partner after the war. They lived together for their entire lives and self-identified as partners on two separate census documents. Ellanore was an avid writer and when she passed away Murney donated her poetry to the Royal B.C. Museum. These poems beautifully detail their love, life, and experience as queer in a world that would not accept their love. The couple are buried together in Victoria, B.C.

[x]

Ellanore June Parker was born in Ireland ca. 1879. She graduated from Winnipeg General Hospital and in 1910 joined the first contingent of the Canadian Army Medical Corps as a nursing sister. As a First Lieutenant she went to France in January 1915 and served with the 2nd Canadian General Hospital near Dieppe.

At a brief interlude at the Canadian Hospital at Netherhaven on Salisbury Plain she met her lifelong friend and companion, Murney Pugh. Sister Parker served with the First Canadian Division at the Battle of Mons and also treated the first gas cases from Vimy and the Somme, inhaling some of the gas in the process. Because Sister Parker had a susceptible chest, the gas laid her low. When the war ended she was returned to Canada as a patient in a hospital ship and was not expected to pull through. Over the years she had several attacks of pneumonia as a result of the gas, each time being given up for lost by doctors. Sister Parker was awarded the British General Service Medal, the Victory Medal and the Mons Star.

Ellanore Parker and Murney Pugh went to California in 1919 and here Ellanore Parker put to use her talent as a writer. She contributed over a long period, mostly from her bed, to the editorial page of the Los Angeles Times. She also had two books of wartime experiences written as fiction, The Flower of the Land and The Land Lay Waiting, published. Murney Pugh, her nurse and amanuensis, did the copying and editing.

In 1948 they came to Victoria where they lived at 2493 Eastdowne Road. Miss Parker also was involved in inventing and she designed a water cannon which was used in London during the Blitz, and a magnetic detector which was the forerunner of radar. She was a member of the Red Chevrons Association, the Canadian Overseas Nursing Sisters' Association and the John O'London Literary Association. Ellanore Parker died on 10 October 1965 aged 86.

[x]

[effloradox]

Would you be up for writing anymore stuff with Eddie? The last fic was really sweet

I’m really vibing with Eddie rn so yes! I like this one as platonic but it could be romantic too if you squint

Today had just not been your day. You'd had to stay late at work to cover after one of your colleagues called in sick, leaving you drained and exhausted. It had only managed to get worse when you finally got out of work to pouring rain and a no-show from your bus. You'd waited in the rain for forty minutes according to your watch and you'd just about given up hope of getting home before midnight. The rain felt like it was seeping into your bones and you were starting to get worried that you'd get sick if you stayed out in the cold for much longer. Feeling around the pockets of your jacket, you wondered if you had enough change to make a call.

In what must be the first bit of good luck you find a rogue dime hidden amongst all the cents in your various pockets and it means you have just enough for a call. It's not a hard decision to choose who to call. Not many people would be up this late, and even fewer of them have their own mode of transport. You run over to the payphone just outside your work, slotting the coins in and dialling the number you're had memorised for years. It only rings twice before someone picks up on the other end.

"Hello?" The familiar sound of Wayne's voice fills your ear and it finally feels like you might have some chance of getting home without catching pneumonia.

"Hi Mr Munson, is Eddie there?"

"Kid I've told you a hundred times, it's Wayne. He's in his room, I'll go get him." You can't help but smile at his gruff tone, obliging his request before he goes to get Eddie.

"Thanks Wayne." There's a small beat of silence as Wayne puts the phone on the table and you can faintly hear his exchange with Eddie.

"(Y/N)?"

"Hey Eds."

"Everything okay?"

"My bus didn't show. Could you come pick me up?"

"Shit yeah, I'll leave now."

"Thanks Eds. See you soon." You place the phone back on the receiver, sticking to the sheltered part of the building until you spot a familiar van driving closer. It stops a few metres in front of you and Eddie jumps out, leaving the key in the ignition.

"Why didn't you call sooner? Your shift finished ages ago. You must be fucking freezing. Here, take my jacket." Eddie shrugs himself out of his leather jacket in an instant, draping it over your shoulders. The residule heat slowly seeps into your back, and you smile at him as the two of you quickly get into the van. A wave of affection hits you as you feel the warmth coming from the dashboard as you realise that he managed to get the heating to work for the first time in weeks so you wouldn't be cold.

"Thanks for coming getting me Eddie."

"Anytime. C'mon, let's get you home."