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pathologicalreid · 11 months ago

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for the fear of falling apart | part two

returning to Everett Lynch's case, you try to redefine normalcy with Spencer and JJ, but Grace Lynch has other plans for you

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst, hurt/comfort content warnings: gun violence, spoilers/references to: 9x6 "in the blood", 9x14 "200", 9x23 "angels", 9x24 "demons", 13x22 "believer", 14x1 "300", 14x15 "truth or dare". rewrite of 15x1 "under the skin", 15x2 "awakenings". a lot of dialogue is pulled directly from the show. hospitals/medical information. diana's alzheimers. marriage talk. roslyn's suicide. the parentification of jennifer jareau. mommy AND daddy issues. fear of drowning. word count: 7.48k a/n: it's two days late, but it's three times longer than part one. welcome to the abyss of my brain. it's scary in here.

Your name was being called. First, it felt far away, slowly coming closer and closer, lifting you to the surface as if you were being pulled. The sound was muffled until you broke through the barrier, a female voice clearly called your name, prompting your eyes to fly open, and there you were, sitting up on Penelope’s velvet couch, cocooned in a crocheted blanket with what was sure to be a remarkable bedhead.

Lifting your hand and placing it over your racing heart, you looked up at Penelope, the blue streak that you had redone for her last night prominent against her blonde hair. “Hey,” you said, widening your eyes and letting the blanket fall from your shoulders.

She crooked a brow at you suspiciously. For someone who wasn’t a profiler, she did have a knack for reading people, but you supposed it came with the territory. “My darling girl, you are always more than welcome to sleep on my couch, it’s a wonderful couch, I have spent my fair share of nights sleeping on it,” she rambled, sitting down next to you and taking your hands in hers. “You’re hiding,” she told you softly, “What are you hiding from?”

Penelope reached out to you, sweeping a messy strand of hair behind your ear as her big, brown eyes looked at you sympathetically. The gesture and the way she was speaking to you nearly approached being sisterly. At the idea of developing a supplemental sororal relationship with the technical analyst, you pulled away from her. You shook your head, “I’m not hiding,” you told her simply, leaving her with a half-truth as you stood up and began folding the blanket that had kept you warm overnight.

Nodding incredulously, she looked up at you, “If your Luddite boyfriend is blowing up my phone, then something has to be going on.” Her tone was urgent, but she stayed seated, giving you an advantage.

“Nothing’s wrong, Pen,” you reassured her, shaking your head and shrugging simultaneously.

Her face filled with doubt, glancing over at your cellphone as it buzzed on the coffee table, Spencer’s contact flashing on the touchscreen as you ignored the call. “Why didn’t you tell him you were staying with me last night?”

Pressing your lips in a thin white line, you briefly considered coming clean. You envisioned the truth coming out of you in puddles, everything you had been holding close to your chest for the last month pouring out like alphabet soup, but Penelope didn’t deserve that burden. “I just forgot,” you told her, watching the screen go dark.

Spencer was a worrier by the influence of his environment. Adamantly against getting a new phone, he couldn’t see your location at any given moment. His first course of action was usually calling your sister before resorting to Penelope, who not only has your location on her phone but also has access to your location in the bureau database. It wasn’t a fault of his, members of the BAU did have a tendency to disappear in the dead of the night.

She urged you to call him back as her phone started going off, her shoulders slumping forward, a tell-tale sign that the BAU was being pulled in on a case. If you were lucky, you would be able to slip through the cracks, claiming to put all of your focus into the case so that you didn’t need to have an in-depth conversation with your boyfriend. Or your sister, for that matter.

“Where are we headed?” You asked, rolling up your sleeves and crossing your arms in front of your stomach.

Penelope frowned at the tiny screen in front of her, “Baltimore,” she said hesitantly, “Uh, we gotta go. I’ll drive? You can call Spencer on the way,” she suggested before bolting into the bathroom.

You ended up avoiding the call to Spencer yet again, claiming you’d see him at the office anyway, and instead opening yourself up to a barrage of questions.

Was there cheating? Are you pregnant? Were you pregnant? Did he propose? Did you say no? Did you say yes?

The two of you parted as she went to prepare files and you waltzed into the bullpen, clocking the vase of flowers on your desk immediately. They, of course, weren’t just flowers, but a carefully calculated decision made to try and get into your good graces. This was the fifth vase that had been delivered in the last month.

First, there were honeysuckles, a symbol of devoted affection. Red carnations told you that his heart ached for you. A bouquet of daisies because he truly loved you. Last week, white lilies were left on your desk, a symbol of pure love.

Now, a bunch of apple blossoms sat on your desk, telling you that he preferred you before anyone else. How poignant.

Your eyes burned as you looked around the bullpen, hoping he was around so you could return the flowers to him, but the only people you saw were Emily and Rossi, sequestered in her office in the middle of what seemed to be a tense discussion. Choosing to ignore the flowers, you walked over to your desk, tucking your go-bag underneath and starting to power up your computer.

“Hey, Y/N?” Emily called from her office, “Can you head to the file room and pull everything from the Lynch case?” She didn’t even wait for an answer before closing the door again.

Concerned, you turned around and started making your way to the file room. If Everett Lynch was back, that would explain the worried look on Penelope’s face when the case came in. Even more, that would explain why Emily and Rossi were hidden in her office. Every member of the team wanted to see Lynch locked up for what he’s done, but for Dave it was personal.

Opening the file room, you pulled open the drawer of active cases from the past three months, starting to strip the drawer of anything even remotely related to Everett Lynch. The revelation that Grace was his daughter took everyone by surprise, but Spencer still felt responsible for Luke getting knifed. You should talk to him about it, you thought to yourself, if he didn’t talk about it, he’d just continue to internalize it.

“I need to talk to you,” a voice said suddenly from behind you, jolting you away from your train of thought. Spinning on your heel, you looked at Spencer.

Alarmed, you huffed, “You scared me,” you informed him, clutching the files close to your chest as you studied his stature. He looked fine, his hair was a bit of a mess, but he was wearing the red cardigan that you had gotten him for Christmas last year. You didn’t even want to begin to consider the implications of his outfit choice.

He furrowed his brows at you, “I scared you? You disappeared last night without a word, and I scared you?” There wasn’t even a hint of anger in his voice, instead, his words dripped in sweet melancholy, and you couldn’t look away from him.

You thought about your sister, snatched from the nation’s capital in the middle of the night as vengeance for her work with the CIA. Spencer and Penelope, both taken from what should have been a secure FBI building by a cult that bore a decade-long grudge against the BAU. You had frightened him, probably tripping his overactive mind into believing you were destined to meet a similar fate – dying in a warehouse somewhere. Blinking absently, you shook your head at him, “I’m sorry,” you told him, and you meant it.

“You’re punishing me,” he accused, crossing his arms in front of his chest before quickly dropping them, being hypervigilant about his body language.

Skimming your tongue over the backs of your teeth nervously, you hesitantly met his gaze. He seemed to be convinced that you were punishing him for the events that had taken place last month, but you were inclined to believe that you were punishing yourself, he was caught in your crossfire. “It’s not a punishment, Spence,” you whispered, watching how his brown eyes shone under the fluorescent lights.

His shoulders dropped, disappointment plain on his face, “I missed you at the baby shower,” he confessed.

“Sprinkle,” you corrected.

“Semantics,” he retorted, and it almost brought a smile to your face.

You looked down at the files in your arms, not even realizing that you had been white-knuckling the classified information, “I was there,” you disputed. “I saw you. I brought the gift and put both of our names on it. What more could I have done?”

Rolling his eyes, he gave you a tilted look, “Standing together in the group photo would’ve been nice.”

In response, you straightened up your back, “Ah, you were too busy standing with my sister,” you quipped, bringing the conversation back to the root of the conflict.

“Will you come home tonight? Stay with me?” Your heart clenched at his question.

Hesitantly, you nodded, “I’ll be there,” you assured him, securing the last of the files before sneaking around him, skillfully avoiding the remainder of your team as you made your way to the roundtable room.

“I’m worried about Dave,” you whispered, looking at the other end of the couch at your boyfriend, the two of you dressed in pajamas, your old Georgetown sweatshirt frayed at the cuffs, but it remained your favorite.

The orange print of his Caltech t-shirt was peeling up on the edges, sometimes, at night, you’d pick at the emblem – it drove Spencer crazy, especially when he woke up in a pile of picked vinyl. His mug was carefully resting in his hands as the two of you had a nighttime cup of tea, something you used to do when you had just started dating, and that you decided to try to bring back – chamomile for you, lavender for him. “I talked to him tonight,” he told you, turning to face you, “He’s.. he’ll be fine. He has Krystall.”

And I have you, you thought to yourself, lifting your mug to your lips and taking a sip. Sometimes you felt special for getting this side of Spencer, the ratty college t-shirt and flannel pajama pants that he wore while lounging on the worn leather couch.

“Do you want to go to sleep?” He asked when you didn’t respond, leaning forward and setting his mug on the coffee table.

Shaking your head, you followed suit, setting your mug on a coaster next to his before crawling closer to him on the couch, taking him by surprise. “Not yet,” you whispered, sitting down next to him, relieved when he responded by putting an arm around you. “I’m not mad at you,” you told him, “I just needed time.”

His arm was warm and familiar over your shoulders, having the same effect as a weighted blanket, calming you down with a simple touch. “To think,” he said, “you keep saying that. Are you… do you need more time?”

You closed your eyes, leaning into him, “I don’t think so, but I’m,” you faltered, frowning, “I’m having a hard time talking to my sister.” It wasn’t a secret that there had been some sort of falling out between the Jareau sisters, but the reasoning behind the rift remained a mystery to most people.

“I am too,” he admitted, skimming his fingertips up and down your arm. “I keep recalling everything that happened, and I don’t fully understand how everything got so messed up.

Raising your eyebrows, you remained in the crook of his arm, “People say a lot of things with a gun to their head.”

What you hadn’t considered was that following her admission, your sister would avoid Spencer. When you decided to avoid both of them, you had no idea what you were taking from him. “What would your truth have been?”

“I’m afraid that everything surrounding me is destined to fall apart,” you admitted. “I was brought into my family in an attempt to rescue my parents’ marriage, but it didn’t work.” Your sister slit her wrists open when you were only four years old, but somehow your father had put her death on your shoulders. JJ left home as soon as she could, leaving you at twelve years old with your grief-stricken mother, who had spent the last several decades waiting for the day her daughters would all be reunited.

Spencer was quiet for a while before responding to you, “We should go to bed.”

He was probably right, the team was expected to be in early tomorrow morning. After leaving well past dark, the last thing you wanted to think about was going back in before the sun had a chance to rise. “Wait,” you said, “What’s your truth?”

Briefly, his eyes flickered, looking down the length of your body, “My truth is that I’m tired, we should go to sleep,” he told you, herding you toward your shared bedroom.

“Same time tomorrow?” You asked, walking through the bedroom and into the ensuite, grabbing your toothbrush off the counter.

Nodding, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, “I’ll be there.”

Maybe you should’ve taken it as a sign that you were unphased by the revelation of a crazy doctor with a fetish for skinning people. The world had strange ways of telling you that you needed to take a step back, for every sign you had been given, you took a step forward. That was how you ended up in the backseat of an SUV with your sister at the wheel and Spencer in the passenger seat.

Everett Lynch had invaded the BAU’s territory, coming in like an infestation in the district, and he was trying to break his daughter Grace out of jail. You heard through the phone that they were scrambling tactics, using the walkie-talkies in the U.S. Attorney building to prevent their own capture.

The car came to a screeching halt, and the three of you piled out, “There’s no time,” your sister said, looking around, “We’ll cover this one,” she informed Spencer, looking back at you as you adjusted the strap of your Kevlar.

“I’ll take the garage on Piedmont and 10th,” Spencer responded dutifully, nodding at the both of you before turning around and running to the parking garage two blocks over.

You and your sister started to make your way into the larger of the two parking garages, both of you pulling your firearms and pointing them down, keeping yourselves aware of your surroundings. There was movement in front of you, two bodies moving toward a white van with federal plates – the Lynch’s. “Everett Lynch,” you called out, “Drop your weapon and put your hands up, now!”

The man in front of you – the so-called Chameleon – scoffed in disbelief, “Take it easy. There’s no reason to gun down a daddy in front of his little girl, right?” You kept your Glock aimed at him, watching intently as he carefully set his gun on the ground. Sirens started going off in your head, a premonition of things to come.

“Alright,” JJ shouted, “Kick it over. Grace, you too. Drop your backpack and let me see your hands. Come on, now!”

Putting her hands up, Grace let her backpack fall to the ground in a heap of fabric, you kept your gun trained on them as JJ lunged to the side, reaching over to pick up Everett’s gun from the ground. “Grace!” You shouted, watching the girl bring her hands down as she reached for something, “Put your hands back up!”

It was a split-second decision, but you watched as Grace lifted that gun in her hands, and you jumped. You knocked your sister over as three shots rang through the air, the first one grazed her arm. The next two lodged themselves in your side as the two of you fell to the ground, your body rolling along the ground as the father-daughter duo loaded themselves in the van before driving off.

JJ grabbed her weapon and shot after them, hoping to blow out one of their tires or at the very least slow them down, but with only one good arm, her aim was off. She scrambled to her feet, “Come on, Y/N,” she huffed, not checking behind her before running out of the parking garage.

You wanted nothing more than to follow her. Being angry wasn’t worth it anymore, you couldn’t freeze out your older sister anymore. You tried to breathe, you tried to call after her, but when you opened your mouth, the only thing that came out was blood.

For your entire life, you had followed her. When asked what you wanted to be when you grew up, you’d tell them you wanted to be like your big sister. You wanted to follow her, but you couldn’t move.

You followed her from East Allegheny to Washington D.C. You had followed her into this very parking garage. Now, all you could think about was following Roslyn, bleeding out on the cold hard floor, alone.

“Y/N, what’s your location?” Spencer’s voice rang through your radio.

You had never been shot before. You had always thought it would be cold to be shot, but instead, your whole body felt like it had been set on fire.

“Y/N, do you copy?”

The wetness of the blood should have made it cold.

“Y/N?”

Your fire was slowly fading, the blaze that had gone up so quickly began to ebb as you stopped feeling anything at all. The tapping of shoes echoed through the parking garage as you lay on the cement.

“No,” that all too familiar voice said, “Y/N is down, she’s been hit. We need an ambulance now,” Spencer called into the radio, he was out of breath as he looked down at you.

He studied your appearance, clocking the entry wounds on your side and moving his fingers in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. An odd, choked noise escaped your throat as the pressure on your side stoked the fire.

Spencer’s fingers trembled even as he maintained pressure on your side, “I know, I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He took a deep breath, “here, turn- turn your head,” he instructed gently, using his free hand to coax your face to the side. You choked and came to the horrifying realization that he was trying to stop you from aspirating on your own blood. “Get it all out, baby,” he cajoled as blood spurted from your mouth, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

That would have to be enough. It wasn’t enough for you to hope anymore. You had spent so long with the Anger and Resentment from your Pandora’s Box that you completely failed to notice how Hope had slipped through the cracks, lost in a sea of emotions.

“Do you hear that? That’s the ambulance,” he told you, an unspoken plea in his voice.

But you couldn’t hear the sirens, pretty soon, you couldn’t hear anything at all.

The EMTs had all kinds of things to say, none of them were even remotely comforting. The bullets had entered through the thin opening of your Kevlar, a sort of Achilles heel where you couldn’t be protected. He should have double-checked, he should have paused to adjust the straps before running to the other parking garage.

He watched the doctors shock you in the emergency room, looking on in horror as your heart stopped beating. “Are you her husband?” One of the nurses had asked.

Spencer’s mouth had gone completely dry, “I’m- almost,” he answered, earning a sympathetic look from the nurse as she proceeded to ask him questions about next of kin and extraordinary measures. One of the bullets had pierced your lungs, causing catastrophic bleeding.

The nurse guided him to a surgical waiting room, but no one came out to him with updates, leaving him to sit. Someone brought his go-bag by, letting him change into clothes that weren’t blood-soaked.

He sat in a pile of limbs on the hospital’s couch, picking at the crusted blood that he hadn’t quite managed to wash off, and he wondered if he could ask one of the nurses for a surgical scrub brush, wondering if that would get the last flecks of blood from the ridges of his fingernails.

“Spencer,” JJ called out, rushing through the hallway, Will trailing close behind her.

Her arm was wrapped with gauze, probably stitched up before someone told her what had happened to her little sister. “Hey,” Spencer said, standing up as they approached, wiping his clammy hands on his slacks.

JJ held her hands out, “What have you heard? Anything?”

“It’s gonna be a while,” he said, repeating the only words that he had been told. They had taken you to the OR an hour ago, and all they had to do was wait it out.

The clinical white walls of the hospital were enough to make Spencer stir crazy, when Will offered to get him a cup of coffee, he was almost aggressive in his rejection. The sunlight reflected off the drywall as your surgery continued to test his patience.

Eventually, your mother called JJ back, and your sister walked away in order to explain the situation under the guise of privacy, leaving Spencer alone. “Dr. Reid?” Someone said, maintaining the reverent tones of the hospital that were beginning to make him want to pull his hair out.

“Yes,” he said, standing up in front of the nurse.

The nurse gave him a gentle smile, and he braced himself for the worst. “Ms. Jareau is out of surgery,” she informed him.

You had been in there for nearly six hours. “She…” he faltered, “Can I see her?” He asked, looking past the nurse as if he could see all the way into your recovery room from where he stood.

Nodding, the nurse continued to smile at him, “I can take you to her now if you’d like. She’s still under sedation,” she advised, gesturing for Spencer to follow her through the winding hallways of the hospital.

“Is she going to be okay?” He asked, checking to make sure he had his phone in his pocket so he could text JJ if he needed to.

The nurse’s smile tightened, “We won’t be able to know if she’s sustained any neurological damage until she wakes up.”

He frowned slightly, bracing himself for an answer that he wouldn’t like, “Could she hear me if I talk to her?” He asked, stopping in his tracks as the nurse stopped outside of a room – your room.

“It’s unlikely,” the nurse answered.

That made sense to him, there weren’t any studies that could prove that people could hear external stimuli while comatose. At least, there wasn’t enough for the medical community to reach a consensus. “Thank you,” Spencer said, nodding at the nurse as she turned away, letting him know that the doctor would be by to talk to him soon.

Your skin was pallid, a sickly sheen covering your skin as tubes and wires worked together to monitor you and keep your body going. Spencer set your patient bag in the corner of the room before dragging a chair over to your bedside, cringing at the sound the chair made against the linoleum before taking a seat next to you.

The steady beeping of your heart monitor quickly became the only thing preventing him from falling apart entirely. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, keeping his voice down so that no one else would hear him. “I keep going over it in my head and I don’t know how I didn’t realize you were missing sooner,” he spoke to your silent body, chest rising and falling with even breaths. “I’m so sorry,” he echoed, “You should’ve… you should’ve been my priority. Before Grace. Before Lynch. Before any of it.”

He inhaled shakily, glancing over at your vital monitor, taking comfort in the consistency of the numbers, “I should’ve put you first and now I- I can’t take it back,” he said, eyes burning with emotion. “I know things between the two of us have been kind of weird lately… ever since the pawn shop, I mean. I just,” he paused for a moment, giving himself grace, “I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know if she meant it and if she did, what does that mean? When you didn’t bring it up after the wedding I didn’t either because I just didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”

Somewhere along the way, the two of you had gotten lost. In the midst of not talking about the pawn shop, you had stopped talking altogether. “Now, all of a sudden, none of it even matters. All that matters is that I need you to wake up because I need to have more time with you,” he sniffled, the first hot tears rolling down his cheeks. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it,” he whispered.

“Please don’t leave me,” he begged, thinking of all of those nights the two of you had stayed up talking about the future. Your dream wedding. Your children’s names. He needed it. More of it. More of you.

Mindful of you, he laid his arms on the armrest of your hospital bed, lowering his head and watching the consistent rise and fall of your chest, listening to the whistling of your nostrils as he waited for the doctor to come.

The doctor seemed confident that you would wake up, it was just a question of when. He sent JJ, who had gone home to change into fresh clothing, an update once the doctor left.

Every once in a while, your nose would twitch or your finger would tap on the hospital bedding, and he would allow himself to get his hopes up. It never lasted long, once the fluke ended, he went back to thinking about the situation realistically. You were still having blood transfused, there was a tube in your chest depositing fluids into a bag at your bedside, and even if you did wake up, there was a long road to recovery with an injury like this.

He was terrified that you’d wake up alone and in excruciating pain, so he refused to move, having any paperwork brought directly to him in your room. Nearly every fifteen minutes, he smoothed out the blanket that rested on top of you, careful when putting his hands near your body, even though you couldn’t tell whether or not your blanket was wrinkled. Spencer thought of it as tucking you in, keeping you safe, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was too little too late.

You didn’t make it to the beach as often as you’d like. Spencer hated the beach, and you weren’t interested in swimming in the ocean so much as you wanted to go and people-watch. Families on vacation. Marriage proposals.

The first time you had ever gone to the ocean, you were three years old. JJ and Roslyn hadn’t been in years, but it was all new to you. JJ wanted to bring you to the water, and Roslyn hadn’t even wanted to go on the trip. The water hadn’t scared you then, the endless abyss of blue had seemed more inviting than anything you had ever seen before.

Now, you lay on the sand, all of it cold beneath your skin, the rest of the beach seemingly abandoned. Try as you might, you couldn’t move anything. You wanted to lift your arm to brush hair out of your face. You wanted to sit up. You wanted to go home.

You couldn’t even see the water from where you lay, you opened your mouth, hoping to call for help, but were surprised when the only thing that came out of your mouth was a dark, black sludge. It spurted from your mouth as it ran down your cheeks, staining the white sand of the beach beneath you. You were drowning on dry land, and there was nothing you could do.

Nothing but open your eyes.

The ominous white sky of the beach turned into white walls, as you fluttered your eyes open, the ocean made way for you, parting so that you could return to yourself. Laid in a hospital bed, trying to remember how to breathe, and meeting Spencer’s stare.

“Hi love,” he whispered, gently placing one hand on top of yours, drawing circles on the back of your hand with the pad of his thumb, careful not to knock your pulse oximeter off.

Your brows pinched together as you looked over at him, he looked tired, waiting for you to say something. Your chest felt tight as you looked at him, hundreds of thoughts bubbling to the surface, but only one bubble popped, “I had a nightmare.”

Spencer nodded slowly, messy curls falling over his forehead, “It’s okay, angel. You’re awake now. It can’t hurt you.”

It can’t hurt you. It can’t hurt you. It can’t hurt you.

You watched as Spencer reached over and pushed the call button on your bed. Each moment you spent awake became increasingly painful, signified by the slow rise of your heart rate, the pain only exacerbated when your breathing quickened. Alarm grew, “Shh, hey,” Spencer consoled you, reaching his hand out and smoothing your hair back, looking to the door and hoping someone would come in and help you.

They did, pushing pain medications through your IV and watching your heart rate stabilize before giving you something to help you calm down. Spencer probably knew what they all were, making mental notes to keep track of everything as he kept his hand in yours. Your pain level dwindled from a nine to a six, leveling out in the middle ground.

You settled back into the pillows, cringing as a nurse moved your bed so that you were sitting up slightly, nodding softly at the things that she told you about rest. She checked your vitals, before leaving the two of you alone, silence swirling around the two of you as you constructed a bubble to keep yourselves warm.

“I should’ve found you sooner,” he whispered, looking over at you, a distressed look in his eyes.

Moving at a turtle’s pace, you shook your head, “You saved my life.”

It’s okay. I’ve got you, he had told you in the parking garage, and he did. He still had you, even now. If they had let him, Spencer might’ve waited for you outside the operating room, just to be in the vicinity of you.

“Don’t go anywhere,” you murmured, eyes opening and closing slowly. Your eyelids felt sticky like there was still tape residue on them from your operation, but you didn’t dare move. You didn’t dare agitate any wound on your body. “Is JJ okay?” You asked, your voice tight. Checking in on your sister took all of your strength.

Spencer kept his hand in yours, moving his free hand to wipe at tears that had spilled over your lower lashline. “She’s fine, just a graze,” he reassured you, “I’ll call her when you go back to sleep.”

You swallowed thickly, wondering if you were allowed to have any water, “I missed you,” you breathed, fighting to keep your eyes open. “I wanna talk to you,” you sniffled.

“You should sleep, my sweet girl,” he answered, not wanting you to get into a hefty conversation in your condition. “We have all the time in the world to talk when you wake up.”

Except you didn’t. You had thought there was time for you to be angry, but then you had been shot. As much as you hated the idea of being someone who had a near-death experience and suddenly let bygones be bygones, alienating those close to you seemed exhausting. You took a deep breath, thankful for the nasal cannula on your face, “I’ve been so distant,” you admitted.

Spencer hesitated, not sure if you needed to get into this while so vulnerable, “I don’t know if she meant it,” he breathed.

“I don’t need to know,” you told him, surprising yourself as much as him with your admission. “JJ is… She’s one of the most important people in my life, but so are you. Maybe even more so.”

He frowned, “You can’t possibly mean that.”

You closed your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, “JJ’s my sister, we share the same family, but I chose you, Spence. I will continue to do so,” you told him, deciding against adding until the day that I die. Watching him as he looked at you with tear-filled eyes, “Oh,” you sighed, “please don’t cry. I never meant to hurt you.”

Waving off your concern, he wiped at his eyes before taking one of your hands in both of his, “I love you so much, but I don’t want you to forget your anger.”

“Huh?” You hummed groggily.

“You’ve been mad for months,” he whispered, the strokes of his thumb on the back of your hand putting you to sleep. “It doesn’t need to fade away in the blink of an eye.”

You let your eyes slip shut once again, “I’ll still give you a hard time.”

He laughed slightly at that, “Good.”

“Spence?” You breathed.

“Yeah, baby?”

Humming, you settled back into the bed, “I don’t think I’ll be able to make our tea date tonight.”

When you woke up again, a familiar blonde was sitting at the foot of your bed, hunched in a plastic hospital chair while Spencer remained at your bedside, hands still intertwined, but sweaty now. “Jennifer,” he said, getting the attention of your sister.

She jumped up from the chair and sat on the edge of your bed, in your periphery, you saw Spencer retreat, ambling into the hallway to talk to Emily. Letting him go, you turned your attention to your sister, “Hey, Jayg,” you greeted, words coming easier now than they did before, the swelling of your throat had gone down.

Her finely chiseled eyebrows pinched together on her face, “I thought you were right behind me,” she admitted miserably, looking at your torso.

“It’s alright now, though,” you tried to reassure her. You had lost half of your blood volume, much of it on the parking garage floor, but you were here now, that had to mean something.

She shook her head in abject self-disappointment, “I should have protected you,” she insisted, scrunching up her nose as she fought back tears.

You were too tired to fight emotions, water falling from your tear ducts as the two of you tried to mend what had previously been torn apart. “You don’t need to protect me,” you insisted. The decision to take the hit had been entirely your own, driven by a need to protect her.

“I always have though,” she reminded you, “When Roz died, dad left, and mom checked out, I took care of you.”

When you were a child, you thought that having your pre-teen sister do everything for you was the way things worked. It didn’t last long, things unraveled from there, but you always had JJ. “I’m all grown up now,” you reminded her. You didn’t need her protection in your early thirties in the same way you needed them as a child.

JJ took a shaky breath, cupping your cheek with her hand affectionately, the way a mother would to their child, “You’re always going to be my little sister.”

You looked at her, seven years your senior, and you sighed, “Do you know why I did it?” You asked her, studying the sad look in her eyes.

She smoothed your hair back, grabbed a cup of water from your bedside, and brought the straw to your lips, “Why, Ducky?”

The childhood nickname chimed in your ears, one of the only things that you retained from your eldest sister. You smiled at her, “Your boys.” The answer came easily to you, “You have Will and your tiny people, and I just thought… I couldn’t let you leave them.”

“But I almost lost you,” she countered, it wasn’t aggressive, it was almost like she was trying to make you see the value in your own life. The people in your life didn’t make you valuable, you had value as an individual.

Shrugging, you looked at her sympathetically, “Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’, “You’re stuck with me.”

She gave you a sisterly, knowing look, “Your heart stopped. Twice.”

You concurred, “Yeah, because you’re just that stuck with me.” You insisted, watching as Spencer answered a phone call in the hallway. “Did you call them?” You asked her, giving her a quick glance as you craned your neck to keep an eye on your boyfriend.

“Mom’s on a flight in tomorrow morning, but dad hasn’t responded to my voicemail,” she informed you, she didn’t look surprised, and you didn’t feel it.

Where your father was concerned, some things were better left unsaid, but you wouldn’t necessarily mind if he never responded to your sister’s calls. There was no reason to drag him and his new wife from their cushy life in Florida. Spencer reentered the room as JJ’s phone started ringing – Will – and the two of them traded off, amicably splitting time with you.

Greeting him with a content smile on your face, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your hairline, “I have to go,” he told you reluctantly.

You tried not to let any disappointment show on your face, “Why? What’s wrong?” You asked, studying his face for any sign of what his phone call had been about.

“That was Brookfield on the phone,” Spencer said, checking all of the monitors that surrounded you.

The grim look on his face made sense to you. Moving his mother into Brookfield had been the right choice for everyone, but her condition was never going to get better. Last time he had gone to visit, Diana hadn’t even recognized him, and you spent the rest of the day holding him, letting him know it was alright. “You have to go,” you echoed his earlier sentiment, nodding reassuringly.

He hesitated to leave you, sitting on the edge of your bed that had been previously occupied by your sister, “But you- you’re…”

You shook your head in dismissal, “Sometimes everything happens all at once, but you have to go.” If Brookfield was telling him to get down there, then he needed to go.

The next several hours passed slowly, Emily gave you an update on the case – the reader’s digest version, avoiding any gnarly details in an attempt to protect you. Will brought you and JJ dinner, eating the meal with them and your nephews, you were grateful to not have to eat the hospital cafeteria food. Slowly, the day came to an end, you sent JJ home when visiting hours ended, letting her know that you didn’t need to be protected while you were in a hospital.

You fell asleep not long after one of your nurses lowered the volume on your vital monitor, the dark peace of the hospital lulling you into a sense of safety. There hadn’t been word from Spencer, and you worried about him and his mother.

A tapping sound dragged you from what was thankfully a dreamless sleep, you recognized the sound of the footsteps, those shoes made a similar sound on the hardwood floor of your apartment, “You’re noisy when you wear your fancy shoes,” you mumbled drowsily, opening your tired eyes and tilting your head in the direction of the sound.

“Hey,” Spencer whispered, “Go back to sleep,” he told you gently, slowly making his way around your hospital bed and to the fold-out chair next to your bed.

You hummed, following him with your eyes as they adjusted in the dark, “No, you woke me up. Now you have to talk to me,” you told him, reaching over to switch on a lamp, cringing at the way the light burned your eyes.

Unprompted, he inspected your vital monitor before reaching out to adjust your nasal cannula, “Where’s JJ?” He asked, cupping your cheek affectionately before taking his seat.

Reaching out for your cup of water, you smiled to yourself when Spencer moved it closer to you, “I made her go home. Our mom will be here in the morning, and she’ll need all the rest she can get.” There was also the fact that Michael had been freaked out by seeing you in a hospital, so he needed some extra love from his parents tonight. “Wait,” you said, “How did you get in here? Visiting hours are over.”

“I might have told a small lie about you needing security,” he admitted sheepishly, but beneath it, he was smug. You didn’t fault him on it, you probably wanted him here just as much as he wanted to be here, if not more.

Smiling in the dim lamplight, you inclined your head toward him, “Did you misrepresent the bureau?”

He rolled his eyes, “I’d do it again if it meant I get to spend the night with you.” Helping you put your water cup back on your tray, Spencer took your hand in his, “How are you doing?”

You were exhausted, not in the sense that you wanted to sleep, although that probably couldn’t hurt, but in the sense that your entire body ached. There was a pinch in your side that wouldn’t ease up, and you didn’t feel comfortable with asking for more pain medication. Part of you was afraid that in the process of being shot, you developed a fear of drowning. You almost died today. Huge strides had been made in an attempt to repair your relationship with Spencer and with your sister. None of these thoughts escaped your lips, you just looked at him sympathetically, “How’s your mom?”

All he gave you was a tight smile, squeezing your hand tightly, “She’s ah… she’s alright,” he told you, your chest tightening at the emotion in his voice. “They’re calling it an awakening,” he continued, sounding unsure of himself.

“Terminal lucidity,” you breathed, a term you had only read about briefly when Diana was first diagnosed. The two of you had made many cross-country calls, trading information while Spencer stayed with her in Las Vegas.

He nodded, “Yeah… they don’t know how long it…”

How long she had left. How long she would remain lucid. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he answered quickly, too quickly for your liking.

You wiggled your fingers in his hand, getting his attention, “I want you to go back tomorrow,” you ordered him. It wasn’t something you were willing to budge on, insisting that he go back to Brookfield tomorrow to spend more time with his mother.

“She asked about you,” he admitted, leaning back in the chair, keeping your hands intertwined, “She wondered why we never got married. I told her it was never the right time. Do you know what she said to that?”

Watching intently as he shared the story with you, you shook your head, “What did she say?”

He chuckled lightly, “She said that might’ve been the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard me say.”

You smiled as he recounted the story for you, mimicking the hand gestures that you were sure his mother had used. “Obviously she’s never seen your Dirty Harry impression,” you reminded him, trying not to giggle at the memory.

“The right time will never come if we keep waiting around for it,” he told you, reciting the words of wisdom that his mother had imparted upon him.

Your breathing hitched in the dark of the night, “Spence?”

He nodded, “Yeah, baby?”

“Are you going to ask me to marry you?” You asked him hesitantly, wondering if that was what he was getting at.

Spencer shook his head, “Not tonight, angel.” He looked around the hospital room, cards and balloons and flowers had made their way in through the afternoon and evening. Penelope had even brought your apple blossoms from your desk. His flower language seemed so inconsequential now. “Go to sleep,” he whispered, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Will you tell me a story?” You whispered, settling yourself back into the flat hospital pillows, resigning yourself to the end of the marriage conversation.

He hummed, dimming the lamplight, “Which one?” There were a few stories that he had memorized specifically for you. When work or life or nightmares got to be too much, he would recall them for you.

“Can we do Portrait of a Lady again?” You raised your eyebrows, smiling impishly.

He rolled his eyes sardonically, “Your love for Henry James should be studied in a lab.”

You waved him off, “Okay, and? It’s story time.”

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space-cowgirllll · 9 months ago

Text

Die With A Smile

Outbreak Day with ex-girlfriend Abby?

a/n: idk what lady gaga and bruno put in this song fr. I should have been studying for an Ochem exam but here we are lol.

"Government officials met today to discuss the recent spikes in hospitalizations all across the globe over the past week, with talks of setting up government run quarantine zones in all major cities."

You perk up from your spot on the couch, trading the carton of ice cream in your hands for the TV remote. The local newswoman's voice fills the quiet space as the volume increases. You immediately recognize the hospital in the background.

"Hospital staff everywhere are overwhelmed with the influx of patients coming in with symptoms of this mysterious virus. For the time being it is highly recommended that any travel plans be postponed. International flights have started being cancelled, leaving hundred of people stranded. The CDC advises everyone to remain calm and continue to follow your city's imposed emergency curfews as they work towards finding the cause."

The face-mask you'd slathered on earlier hardens as she lists off the symptoms to look out for: sudden mood changes, muscle spasms, and slurred speech. You can't wrap your mind around a simple virus causing all this. Your stomach sinks in realization, this is definitely more serious than anybody was letting on.

Without even thinking you reach for your phone, quickly scrolling through your contact list until you land on the one person you've been avoiding. Abby, your ex girlfriend of six months. Your finger hovers over her number, wondering if this was worth breaking three months of no contact when loud screams come from the television. You look up just in time to see the blast of an explosion before the screen goes blank. Static stares back you.

Your finger mashes down on the touchscreen with zero hesitation as you run to the sink, hands desperately scrubbing at your face while you wait for her to answer. You don't even stop to consider you might be blocked.

Please pick up, please pick up, please.

"Hello?" Abby's panicked voice sounds through the phone.

"Oh my god Abs. Are you okay?" You ramble. "I just saw the news and I- there was an explosion."

"I had to home to change. " Her voice is shaky, turn signal clicks faintly in the background. "I was still close enough to- OH MY GOD!" The sound of tires screeching drown out Abby's curses. A loud boom sounds off outside, this one feels closer. "I'm....to...you" Is the last thing you hear before the line goes dead.

You throw the phone across the room, a string of curses leaving your mouth. The open window of your living room lets you hear the chaos outside before you can see it. Helicopters fly overhead and sirens sound off in the near distance. One by one, porch lights come on as your neighbors step out of their homes, confusion etched on their faces.

The sound of a door slamming open catches everyone's attention. Out of the corner of your eye you see the outlines of two people moving towards the road. Your neighbor, Claire, yells as her husband chases after her. His movements far too quick and erratic for someone his age.

Everyone watches in shock as he catches up to her, mouth attacking the side of her neck, effectively silencing her screams. The sight is gory. You stand frozen as some of the braver ones try to help, only to be met with a similar fate before he runs off into the middle of the road, searching for his next victim. Chaos quickly ensues, people run off back to their homes, garages pop open as some try to make a quick escape. You stagger back, knocking into the side table beside the couch. A picture frame falls over, shattering loudly on wood floor.

To your absolute horror, his head snaps to your window. For the first time, you're able to catch a glimpse of him up close. Gone was the sweet old man who would help you with yard work in those first few months after Abby moved out. The skin of his face is molted, almost as if something was eating away at it. Once sparkling blue eyes are completely glazed over. The bloodthirsty look on his face sends you reeling.

His mouth parts open letting out a loud screech, ready to lunge through the thin window screen when a familiar black truck slams into him. Abby hops out, mouth moving quickly as she shouts something at you. Between the ringing in your ears and the loud screams outside you don't register what she says. Your eyes blink rapidly, hoping the sight of your elderly neighbor under her front tire is just your imagination. In your peripheral you see the front door swing open, Abby's keychain hanging from the lock.

Strong hands grip you by the shoulders, shaking you out of your stupor. "Baby what are you doing? We have to go!"

Her woodsy scent envelopes you as she scoops you up and carries you out bridal style before tossing you in the passenger seat. Fingers clench into the leather as the truck reverses, disturbing the once perfect lawn. Your flowerbeds and mailbox becoming casualties in the process too.

You peel your eyes off the dash, looking out the window as she flies through residential neighborhoods. More and more people are starting to trickle out from the safety of their homes. Some running with only the clothes on their backs, others quickly shoving personal belongings in their vehicles.

Your voice is shaky when you finally speak up. "What's going on Abigail?"

She exhales heavily, looking exhausted. "I don't know."

"Are they all like that?"

Her jaw clenches. "The ones I've been treating are in the early stages of their symptoms, but beds are full. We've been told to turn people away to recover at home." She huffs. "I don't even wanna know how many of them are out there running around like that."

You hesitantly rub her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, slowly pulling back when she tenses. Her throat clears and the skin of her knuckles turns white as she tightens her grip on the wheel.

"So what are we doing?"

You're shocked when she shrugs her shoulders. Abby always had a plan. You wrack your brain, trying to think of something.

"My parent's cabin up north! We could go there." You suggest. "Y'know until everything settles down."

She makes a sharp right, following the signs pointing her to the nearest on ramp. Her fist slams against the wheel when you pull up to the main highway just five minutes later. It seems like everyone had the same idea. Cars are honking, people are screaming. Nobody is moving. The thought of sitting in bumper to bumper traffic right now doesn't sound like a smart idea.

"My apartment's in the city." Abby suddenly states. "They were setting up barricades when I left for work this morning. Flyers talking about a quarantine zone."

She doesn't wait for your approval, sending the truck speeding towards her place. The closer you get to the city, the more erratic Abby's driving becomes. It's clear your little suburban bubble was late to the news of the outbreak. Downtown Seattle is absolute madness. Everywhere you look there's something happening. Those infected chase people up and down the streets, tackling the ones too slow to outrun them. Shops that you can remember being there your whole life are now ablaze.

You grip onto the handle above your head watching wide eyed as Abby plows through debris in the street. Bile rises in your throat when you realize she most likely driving over the dead bodies left behind.

The truck slows to a crawl. Concrete barricades were placed closer together here, making it impossible to get through. She silently curses at the fact that you're gonna have to leave the safety of the car and make the rest of the journey on foot. She grabs your face between her hand, forcing you to look her in the eye.

"Get ready to run baby."

Your hand is on the handle when something crashes into your door. A scream gets caught in your throat as the infected bangs on the glass of your window before setting it's sights on the blonde. She's halfway out of the truck when she gets tackled to the ground. Her hands shoot out using all her strength to keep it from attacking her

"Abby!"

She screams at you to run. Her arms are getting tired of holding this ridiculously strong freak back. Her hold is quickly slipping. Accepting her fate she screws her eyes shut bracing for the inevitable. A loud whack and she doesn't realize there's no longer any weight holding her down until your panicked voice is in her ear.

"Holy fuck! Are you okay?"

You crouch beside her, a bloody metal pipe in your hands. Keeping a watchful eye on the body laying just inches from hers. She slaps your hand away, wincing when she gets up on her own.

"Why would you do that?!" She whisper yells, unsure whether to kiss you for saving her or punching you for putting yourself in danger. "I told you to run!"

"I could never just leave you like that. You're welcome." You say through labored breaths. With a roll of her eyes she grabs your hand, sprinting in the direction of her building.

You're thankful it's a short run from the car to her place. The two of you able to successfully hide from any other infected. It doesn't take long for either of you to realize that their vision sucks.

The stairs up to her place are a feat of its own. You huff and puff up to the nineteenth floor, legs on fire when you finally walk through the door.

Her apartment is spotless, because of course it is. Floor to ceiling windows give you a clear view of what seems to be the end of the world.

"Oh my god." You stand in the middle of her room, watching in horror as explosions go off in my the distance. The ground beneath you shakes as they get closer and closer.

Abby shakes her head in disbelief clearly putting two and two together.

"It's so heavily populated here. They don't see the point in trying to separate the healthy from the infected." She whispers. Tears well in her eyes watching a plane purposefully fly into the ground off in the distance. The large blast setting fire to everything around it. There are more right behind it. "We're so fucked."

You watch as the fight leave her body. Your throat locks up, unable to scream at her. Wobbly legs pace back and forth in the small space trying to think of something that might work. Deep down you know it's pointless. There's no way you'd make it out of the city alive. Soft sobs wrack your body at the realization that this really is the end.

Her shoulders slump as she sits on the bed. She gnaws on her lower lip to keep from crying too loud. "Can I hold you?"

You nod, legs feeling like jelly. Abby reaches for you, pulling you up towards the headboard. The two of you lay beside each other breathing heavily with your hands intertwined. Tears stream down her face and onto the pillow under her head.

She reaches over and kisses you, her shaking hand plays with the baby hairs on the nape of your neck. "My biggest regret was letting you go."

You watch face as she continues talking, lips moving against yours. "I had to stop myself from driving past the house every single day." She laughs. "Would have sat outside your door until you took me back."

"I wish you would have." You admit through a watery smile.

"I never stopped loving you. I just want you to know that." She whispers, lips moving to kiss your temple.

"I should have never left." Your lips meet the skin of neck tasting the salty tears that have pooled there. "I love you too Abby. So much it hurts."

"I can't believe this is what it took for us to realize how stupid we were." She mumbles into your hair. Your face burrows into the crook of her neck. "I'm so sorry baby."

"I'm glad you came for me." You tell her, but you know she doesn't hear it.

The walls start shaking, sending everything tumbling to the floor. You're no longer able to hear anything over the sound of a loud engine approaching. Her arms tighten around you, the two of you curl into each other.

There's a jarring beeping in your ear just as it all goes black.

You shoot up in bed, heart in your throat. The sound of your heavy breathing almost drowns out the harsh beeping of your alarm. Reaching over you rip the cord from the wall sitting in silence for a moment while your heartbeat returns to normal.

The sun is shining outside, laughter from the kids across the street flows in through the small opening of your window. A lawnmower goes off in the distance.

Shaking hands fist the cool cotton of your sheets. The soft material grounding you. You look around the small room. Everything looks just as you left it. There's an empty bottle of wine on the dresser and you roll your eyes at yourself.

That explains it.

You're okay.

It was all a dream.

You jump out of bed, rushing to the bathroom before taking the stairs two at a time almost snapping an ankle. The entryway table shakes when you snatch the keys from on top of it. The warm August breeze that hits you when you walk outside makes you feel renewed.

The quiet neighborhood looks as it always does. A couple of people are out watering their lawns while some head out for church. Claire sits on her front porch drinking a cup of coffee, giving you a little wave when she spots you pulling out of your driveway and it's a miracle you don't burst into tears. Using muscle memory you quickly punch in the number you know by heart, waiting with bated breath for an answer. "Hello?"Your shoulders drop in relief at the sound of her voice. She's okay.

"Where are you?"

"At home," she pauses "why?"

"Perfect." You hang up before she can reply. Tossing the phone on the passenger seat you press your foot down on the gas.

You make it to Abby's apartment building in record time, parking haphazardly by the curb. There's a ninety nine percent chance you'll come back to a parking ticket stuck to your windshield but you don't care.

There's a moment on the elevator ride up to the nineteenth floor where you second guess yourself. Aware of how ridiculous you look in mix matched pajamas going to try and win your ex girlfriend back. You steel your nerves reminding yourself of how horrible those last few seconds of your nightmare were. If she kicks you out you can at least say you tried.

Abby answers the door looking mouth watering in a black tank top and gray shorts, her messy hair pulled back in a low bun. "Alright, how many traffic laws did you break on your way over here?"

"You don't wanna know." You pant, throwing yourself into her arms.

She catches you with a soft grunt, hesitating for a second before wrapping her arms around you. The familiar scent of pine engulfs you.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?" Her teasing tone makes your face heat up. "I don't think random house visits on a Sunday at 8 AM fall under no contact." She quips.

"I love you!" The words are out before you can stop yourself. "I love you and I don't want to go another day without letting you know that walking away from you was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I regret it every single day."

Abby leans back against the door with her hands still on your hips. There's a tiny grin on her face watching you spill your guts, you’re too worked up to notice. "I know we're both at the peak of our careers. I know we're busy, and there will be days we don't even get to see each other, but I'm tired of living like this. I miss you."

You sniffle pathetically into her chest. "The world could end tomorrow and I don't want to regret never telling you how I felt." Thumbs wipe gently at your tears. "And if you don't feel the same way I underst- mmph!"

Her lips meet yours in a soft kiss, hands wandering under your shirt to caress the soft skin of your back. Neither of you make a move to deepen it, content to take it slow.

Abby pulls back first. Her eyes shine with unshed tears as she stares down at you. It suddenly hits you how much you've missed her. She brings her forehead to rest against yours.

"Took you long enough baby."

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson angst #abby anderson x female reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x you

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

Text

Rush Hour

Hey hey! This weekend (Jan 25-26) I’m going to be playing drabble roulette! I’ve curated a list of characters and prompts and I’m spinning the wheel!

Character: Bucky Barnes

Prompt: a shopping mall, crowded and loud .

Warnings: this drabble includes deceit and dark elements, along with social anxiety. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+. Please reblog and leave some feedback.

You’re lost. You didn’t even want to come in the first place. The mall is a circus of lights and noise and strangers.

You spin in the sea of shoppers that fill the food court. The smell of food competes in your nose; the strong undercurrent of cinnamon at war with the soy sauce radiating from the noodle kiosk. You clasp onto the sides of your cable knit sweater and stumble as you’re nearly run over by a mother and her stroller.

You excuse yourself as you step out of her way and receive only a sneer in return. You’re trying to stay out of the way but everywhere you turn, there’s a person or a table or a garbage can overflowing with wrappers.

You back yourself against one of the tall chair along the curved table across from the popular chain coffee booth. You flick your thumb against the loop on your dyed jeans and try to catch your breath. There’s a map just on the other side of the dining area.

You peer around as you try to plot a path through. Just do it. You set your arms straight and march forward between the tables. You sweep around as a man with a tray steps ahead of you and continue down the other side. You make a stunted zigzag across the food court toward the beacon of the touch screen map.

You stop short as a group of middle-aged women butt in and tap it first. The squabble over where to go first as the search bar waits for input. You bounce on your feet impatiently. You take out your phone to text Melody. She’s likely at Sephora, you just need to figure out where that is.

You key in your message, ‘where are you?’

You just asked her to wait while you used the bathroom. That’s it. She couldn’t even do that. She’s too obsessed with taking pictures in all the wall mirrors and trying on everything, even things you can’t afford.

You wouldn’t be there if your cousin wasn’t getting married. If she didn’t insist on a colour-code. It’s too much. Too fussy. Why can’t you just wear the same old blue dress you always do. It’s not ugly. Simple. Does the trick.

She doesn’t answer. Not right away. You lower your phone and look up. The women continue to titter before the screen, zooming out on the mask and gasping as they try to figure out where to go. Another argument ensues.

You’re once more nudged by a passing a shopper. They snarl at you to watch out and you shrink down as you look at your phone again. You can look up the map on the mall website. You’re not very good with maps. The touchscreen will at least tell you where you are. Can they just go find the department store and move?

You finally find a PDF of the map and spread your fingers to expand. You don’t know where any of these stores are. You check the date in the corner. This is from before the renovations. Ugh.

You flip back to the conversation with your sister and send a single question mark. Get off your damn Snap and answer. Please. Your nose tingles as your panic swells. You just want to get out of here. You’re going to cry if people don’t stop!

“Excuse me,” the low timbre makes you flinch and you back away from the man who stands next to you.

You make yourself as small as you can. “I’m in your way, I’m sorry.”

“Hm? No, I... I was passing by and you... you look lost. Not to be nosy.” You make yourself look at him, not wanting to be rude. He’s a stranger but he seems helpful. And his eyes are so blue.

You frown. Is it that obvious that you’re entirely clueless. You shrug, then nod, the drop your chin in defeat. “A little,” you confess.

“It’s a zoo in here,” he says. “What’re you looking for?”

“Um,” you hesitate and wet your lips. You peer around. “I don’t know. My sister... hasn’t answered.”

“Ah, you know, the lump I walked in with went and disappeared too. Said he was grabbing a pretzel but I can’t find him either,” he sniffs and grips his hips in displeasure. “Hate these places.”

“Me too,” you murmur as you glance down at his leather gloves. It’s not that cold out but you don’t mention it.

“Marnie, no. Not that way,” one of the older women squalls and taps the screen furiously.

“Ahem,” the man beside you clears his throat, “she’s waiting for her turn. She’s been waiting.”

“Excuse you. We have every right to use this map,” a woman faces him with bluster. “So wait your turn.”

“It’s up that corridor and to the left,” he points.

“Aren’t you rude?” Another squawks.

“I’m helping,” he utters dully. “Hey, uh,” he turns to you, “how about we go find another map? Think they might’ve broke this one anyway.”

“We did not--”

“Have a good day, ladies,” he gestures you away. You eagerly accept the escape. You don’t like confrontation.

“There’s one down at the popcorn place,” he says. “I just passed it before Sam ran off.”

“Sam? It that... a friend?” You wonder.

“Sure, you can call him that. You said you’re here with your sister?” He guides you away from the lunchtime rush.

“Yeah. I gotta... get a dress for a wedding. Something pink.”

“Pink, ah. You’re favourite colour?”

“Not really.”

“Ah, right. Big wedding? Doesn’t sound like it’s yours.”

“No, my cousin,” you explain.

“Right,” he nods.

“You probably don’t care.”

“What makes you think I don’t?” He asks.

“Well... you don’t know me.”

“I guess not,” he stops at the map and faces you, “I’m Bucky.”

“Oh, uh...” you introduce yourself.

You look at him dumbly, unsure how to proceed. He coughs behind his gloved fist and his brows flick. “So, did your sister answer yet?”

“Oh, yeah, well...” you check your phone. “I don’t wanna waste any more of your time so I’ll just use this map and figure it out.”

“Not wasting my time,” he assures. “But if you’re trying to get me to go away, noted.”

“No, I... no, I’m not. I just...” your phone vibrates and you cringe. You check the screen. “She’s at Therese’s?”

You turn and tap the screen, typing on the large keyboard. You tap the magnifying glass and the map generates. You hover your finger over the marker that shows where you are then along the highlighted route.

“That’s all the way on the other side,” he says.

“Yeah...” you drone.

“I don’t mind showing you. I came from that way.”

“No, oh, no. I can’t.”

“I might run into my buddy,” he shrugs. “You know, lotta people stare when I’m wandering on my own... so you’d be doing me a favour.”

“I guess... I owe you.”

His lips curve, just a little, and his cheeks dimple under his dark beard. “Down here then loop around. Won’t have to go back through the food court.”

You follow him. Your own sense of direction would have you circling for hours. He takes you past the game shop and the organic food place you’ve never been too. You turn down the next corridor, it’s mostly empty.

“So,” he begins, “you get a plus one to the wedding?”

“Um, no, I don’t think--”

As you pass by one of the hallways marked for employees only, he elbows you and you stagger sideways. You’re thrown off balance and hit the wall. He’s so fast you have no time to react. He grips the back of your neck and covers your mouth as he drags you down the hall.

Your soles bounce off the floor as you flail your arms helplessly. What is he doing? He pinches your nape until your eyes water.

He shoves you against a door and twists the handle. The metal cracks in his grip and the lock gives to his brute force. He hauls you inside and flips you around against the inside of the door.

“Doll,” he growls through the dark. “You’re gonna wanna be real quiet for me.”

He keeps his hand on your mouth, the leather sticking to your lips, and he shifts around. You can’t see much in the tight closet. He closes something around your wrist and you squeak. He hushes you and presses his palm flush to your nose.

“Hands behind your back for me,” he growls.

You wriggle and he pushes your head into the door until it throbs.

“Now.”

You obey. He reaches behind you and another loop closes around your other wrist. Like a magnet, your hands are wrenched together and lock into place. How did he do that?

He’s silent as he peels his hand back only to quickly smother you with the other. You feel something cool spread over your lips and insert between your teeth, locking your jaw in place. You quake and kick out.

He grabs your shoulders and puts them straight. He hisses, “one more time and that’s it.”

You snivel and stop. He bends and another weight secures your ankles. Ensnared, he leaves you against the wall and backs away. Your tears overflow as you blink into the dim.

The rustle of fabric and the scuff of his boots undercut the tension. He comes back to you and moves you. He angles you around blindly and lifts you. He forces you into something. You don’t know what it is, only that you’re stuffed down into it, bent up into the confined. Something falls over you, light but enough to bury you further in darkness.

He wheels you around and the motion makes you dizzy. He opens the door and pushes you out into the light. You peer up at him between the crumpled paper and cans, frightened and restrained, from within the rolling garbage bin.

His hair is pulled back into a low pony beneath a grey ballcap that matches his janitor’s shirt. He keeps his eyes ahead of him as he pushes you, casually turning out into the mall corridor. He doesn’t flinch as other shoppers pass by, unable to see you beneath the rubbish.

“Now, doll, don’t you be thinking of trying anything...” he mutters as he keeps his eyes ahead of him. “Those cuffs can only get tighter.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #drabble #drabble roulette #winter soldier #captain america #falcon and the winter soldier #marvel #mcu #avengers

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specialmedicalcentre · 8 months ago

Text

Kezia's Anesthesia

The operating table was harder than she thought it would be. They look padded in the photos, Kezia thought.

She sat on the end of the black vinyl table, legs uncomfortably hanging over the edge. It was smaller than she imagined it would be, too. How was she going to fit? The gown they put her in was loosely draped over her, and she was acutely aware of it being open in the back. All she wore were her panties. The room smelled of…plastic? Maybe rubber. Everything felt alien to her.

"We're almost ready, Kezia," Nurse Farah touched her gently on the shoulder. "How are you doing?" She smiled. It was hard to see anything besides her eyes, as she was dressed for surgery with a mask and pink cap on.

Kezia shrugged her shoulders. "Okay, I guess." She tried to smile back, and her lip quivered a little. Her heart was pounding.

"Dr. Kim will be here any moment, and then we'll get started."

Kezia watched Nurse Farah continue to bustle around the room, getting things ready. She was gathering things that Kezia had no idea about. Despite the fact that it was all supposed to be for her comfort, Kezia felt nothing but anxiety at everything she saw. Wires, tubes, bags…ideas swirled in her head.

The other nurse - Kezia didn't know her name - turned on a machine up on a stand that had wires attached to it. It beeped and the nurse started typing things into it. She saw her name flash by.

Kezia L.; F, 25; 55kg; non-paced; Adult w/EKG…

She took a deep breath, and her body erupted in goosebumps.

"Yasmin?" Nurse Farah called quietly to the second nurse, and now Kezia knew her name. "Set up for SpO2 and BIS as well."

Nurse Yasmin nodded as she pressed buttons on the machine. "Got it, ok." Subtly, and for the briefest moment, Nurse Yasmin glanced over at Kezia.

Kezia was lost in her thoughts, watching Nurse Farah arranging a long, clear tube, when the door to the OR opened with a sudden sound. She turned to see a compact, slender woman enter dressed in green scrubs. Kezia was struck by how she immediately seemed to command the room. She strode right over to the table.

"Hello, Kezia," she said, but obviously didn't extend her gloved hand. "I'm Dr. Kim, and I'll be your anesthesiologist today. Ready to take a nap?" Her curt grin barely showed behind her mask. She had beautiful eyes; light brown, with long eyelashes.

"Hi." Kezia said. She had trouble getting anything else out. "…I…" She stammered.

"Don't be nervous, Kezia, we'll take great care of you. It'll be easy - all you have to do is sleep." Dr. Kim turned to Nurse Farah, briefly. "We ready?"

Farah nodded. "All set, Doctor."

"Great, let's go."

The room seemed to shift into action at Dr. Kim's word. Nurse Yasmin begain collecting wires and hoses near the machines and Nurse Farah came to Kezia. "Let's get you laying down, honey. Just scootch back a little…there, that's it. Now lay back - here, your head goes right on this cushion." Kezia, guided by Farah, found herself laying back on the operating table, her legs still dangling. The vinyl was a cold shock against her backside, which was bare except for her panties. She stirred in response. "Oh, is it cold?" Farah smiled. "It'll warm up quickly. Now your legs, here we go."

Before Kezia could respond, the nurse deftly adjusted something, and two padded legrests were swung into place. Oh, that's how that works, Kezia realized. They jutted out in slightly angled directions from the table, and were the same color as the table vinyl. Farah helped Kezia lift her legs and get them onto the rests. Soon Kezia was laid out flat, her legs slightly spread on the padded legrests. She was surprised - it wasn't as uncomfortable as it had been. Maybe it was meant to lie on, not sit on?

As Kezia was getting settled into place, Dr. Kim moved to the wall behind her where a touchscreen allowed her to bring up Kezia's case. "Okay, Kezia, so you're here because of persistent cholecystitis, is that right?"

Kezia was busying herself with trying to settle into position. She unsuccessfully tried to look up behind her, over her right shoulder. "Um…what?"

"You're having gall-bladder surgery today, is that right?" Dr. Kim clarified.

"Y-yes, that's right." Kezia spoke to the ceiling, unable to turn her head to see Dr. Kim. Her head was cradled in a weird little foam cushion. She felt awkward.

Kezia heard Dr. Kim tapping on the screen. "And how are you feeling today? Any discomfort, any issues?"

Kezia tried to think clearly. "No, but…I had pain yesterday. None today."

To the side, Kezia saw Nurse Yasmin approach her with a blue something in her hands. She spoke softly. "Hi, Kezia, I'm just going to put this cap on to keep your hair secure, ok? It might feel a bit crinkly." Yasmin stretched the elastic headband of the bouffant cap over Kezia's hair as Kezia shifted her head to let her fix it in place. The material crinkled audibly as she lowered her head back on the contoured head cushion. The look on Kezia's face caught Yasmin's attention. She smiled down at Kezia. "Oh, that’s just the cap making that sound, sweetie. You won't notice after a while."

The cap started out cool against Kezia's forehead but began to warm right away.

Dr. Kim continued. "Abdominal pain? Or, somewhere else? Any trouble breathing? " Her questions were rapid.

"No…uh, abdominal. Like, here," she touched her left side, under her breast. And no, breathing is…ok." Almost unconsciously, Kezia took a deep breath for effect. The cap crinkled in her ears.

"Mmm-hmm. Okay, no allergies to meds I can see…" Dr. Kim trailed off. "You've recently complained of intestinal discomfort, any diarrhea recently?"

Kezia blushed. God. "Oh. Ah, yesterday. Yeah, some…diarrhea." She didn't know where this was going, and she couldn't help blushing.

"Farah," Dr. Kim spoke in a different tone. "I think we should prep for flatus bag if we can do that."

As Farah spoke, Kezia turned her head to the left to see her. "Ok. Want to start without first?"

"Yes, that's fine." Kezia had no idea what they were talking about.

"Kezia," Dr. Kim leaned in enough for Kezia to see her directly overhead. "Do you have any questions for me?"

Kezia tried to clear her throat, and all she managed was a squeak. "I've…never…you know, gone under before. The, the mask, it's kinda - I dunno." Kezia heard the nurses moving around. "…needles make me really nervous." She managed, finally. Her heart was pounding, and she could swear they could hear it in her voice.

"I understand." Dr. Kim nodded, and looked up briefly at the nurses. We'll take this one step at a time, ok?" Kezia felt herself nodding. "Let’s start with something easy — let's get the pulseox on you so I can see your oxygen levels." Again, Dr. Kim looked up.

Kezia heard Nurse Farah. "Yas, go ahead and start." Nurse Yasmin was standing to Kezia's right side; behind her was an array of machines and readouts, all with wires and tubes attached.

"Kezia," Yasmin reached behind her, picking up a small something with a wire attached. Touching Kezia's hand, she said "I'm going to put this on your finger, ok? It doesn't hurt - just a little squeeze." Kezia held up her hand at Yasmin's gentle touch, and a white plastic clip squeezed her finger. It glowed with a weird red light. Just as she lowered her hand, a soft beeping sound came from somewhere to her right - it was in time with her pounding heart. And it sounded fast.

"98, HR 85." Yasmin said.

"Mm-hmm, thank you." Dr. Kim responded. Kezia heard her tapping on the touchscreen. "Can you also prep IV, please?"

Yasmin appeared to look over at Farah, who was on Kezia's other, left side. She looked back down at Kezia. "Kezia, sweetie, I'm going to get you set up with an IV. It'll be quick, ok?" Kezia nodded. "Okay. First I'm going to…"

"Gown first." Nurse Farah gently interrupted. "Kezia, let me get your arms out of this, okay, honey? That'll make tings easier. Here we go." Nurse Farah helped slip the gown off Kezia's arms, deftly unclipping and replacing the pulseox monitor. Instinctively, Kezia drew her hands in to cover her breasts. "Here, let's cover you for a bit." Nurse Farah arranged the gown as a sort of sheet, covering up Kezia's chest and leaving her arms free. "There we are."

Nurse Yasmin smiled; she had turned away from the table to grab a small tray. "Okay, right! First, just let me put this one here…" Awkwardly, Nurse Yasmin wrapped a soft blue strap around Kezia's right arm, tightening it uncomfortably. "Just want to find a vein, sweetie." She palpated Kezia's forearm a bit. Despite her fear, Kezia couldn't help but watch. "Great," Yasmin said, seemingly satisfied. "Now, I'm just going to swab you with alcohol first. A little cold." Yasmin pressed firmly on the skin of Kezia's arm, wiping several times. In her other hand, she held a long tube that Kezia couldn't see. "Okay, Kezia, just a little pinch now, okay? Here we go. Deep breath."

Kezia tried to look at the ceiling. There was a light there, and some other things hanging over the table…"Ow!" She yelped. She was surprised to find that she almost felt she was about to cry. There was a sharp pain and a longer, searing burn as Yasmin inserted the IV cannula.

"All done." Still pressing down on the site, Yasmin started to apply medical tape, securing a short tube to Kezia's arm. She covered the IV site with a clear bandage and connected a clear tube to it that dangled off the table. "Just leave this still, sweetie." Yasmin unstrapped the blue tourniquet from Kezia's arm and turned away, busying herself with something else. Kezia stared at the IV site, where a clear tube exited the tape, and several other thicker tubes of different colors dangled.

Nurse Farah saw her staring. "All good, Kezia?"

Kezia looked to her left, where Farah was standing. She had a blue package in her hand. "It's…it's my first IV. So weird."

Farah smiled. "I'm sure a lot of this is new, honey. You're doing great. Isn't she, Dr. Kim?" Farah looked up to the anesthesiologist, who was still tapping away on the digital chart.

"She certainly is." Dr. Kim didn't sound as enthusiastic as Nurse Farah, Kezia thought. Maybe she was in a hurry. "Farah, BP, please."

Farah moved toward Kezia. "Right here. Okay, Kezia, let me put this on you." She unrolled the package in her hand to reveal a bright blue long blood pressure duff attached to a hose. "You know this, right? Just a BP cuff. Here, lift your arm for me, honey." Farah deftly slipped the cuff under Kezia's arm and, pulling it snug, flattened the cuff to the velcro strip. She smoothed it firmly on Kezia's arm and routed the hose underneath. "There; just relax and let the cuff do the work." She smiled again. The cuff was a distinct feeling on her arm; odd, but not unfamiliar. She felt it brush against her breast. "Yas, could you…" Farah trailed off.

"Hmm?" Yasmin looked across Kezia at Farah. "Oh! Of course." Turning to the bright screen behind her, Yas touched part of it and the cuff stirred into life. With a distinct whirring from somewhere, Kezia felt the cuff tighten around her arm. She couldn't fight the urge to lift her arm up.

"Oh, honey, just relax it, ok?" Farah gently guided Kezia's arm back down onto the table as the cuff continued to inflate. "There."

"Mmph." Kezia grunted involuntarily. She could hear the velcro straining as the cuff reached its limit.

"Too tight?" Farah asked. Kezia nodded, staring at the distended cuff. Her arm felt swollen. "It might be the first time, honey. But you're a healthy girl and that should relax over time." The cuff began to deflate, in steps, clicking and hissing as it released her. She felt the blood rush back into her arm as something on her right beeeeeped. For the first time, Kezia saw her pulse jumping on the screen, a little blue line pulsing with every blip of the monitor. Below that line a pair of big numbers appeared.

"131/90." Farah said, out loud, to the room.

Kezia heard Dr. Kim from behind her. She was sitting down, now; her voice was closer to Kezia's head. "Let's give her a bit. Kezia, try to relax. Deep breaths. You're doing great. Farah, let's get the EKG going. Resp as well, please."

"On the way." Farah said, curtly. "Okay, Kezia, now we're going to get you set up on the EKG. Ever have one of those?" Kezia shook her head, her anxiety building. With the BP cuff, the IV, and the pulseox, she already felt like a medical experiment. She couldn't imagine any more. "Well, I'm going to place some stickers on your chest so we can see what your heart is doing. Okay? Just a few little pads. Now…I'm going to have to remove this for now, honey." Farah motioned to the hospital gown that was still partially covering Kezia's chest.

"Umm…why?" Kezia was getting a stomachache.

"Honey, the EKG goes on your chest. Don't worry, now, it's just for a minute, okay?" Farah touched Kezia on her bare shoulder.

"O…okay." Kezia managed. Farah gently lifted the gown, bundling it up as she lifted it off Kezia's body. Kezia felt the air of the OR wash over her chest and abdomen; as her toplessness flashed into view, she closed her eyes. She still had on the panties she dressed in this morning, but she felt completely exposed.

"Yas," Farah asked. "Can you hand me the EKG, please?" Kezia opened her eyes. Yasmin dangled a loose set of wires across Kezia's body. At the end of each wire was a white square patch. "These are the electrodes, honey." Farah held one up for Kezia to see: a soft square sticker with a wire snapped onto it. Kezia watched as Farah peeled the backing off one. "Here," she said. "I'm going to stick this one down on your shoulder." She pressed the electrode to the skin of Kezia's shoulder, just above the BP cuff. It was cold, almost as if it was wet - but it wasn't. It stuck there, Farah rubbing it down in brisk circles. It felt weird, and Kezia was keenly aware of the wire pulling against her skin as Farah arranged the rest of them.

In about a minute, Kezia had electrodes all across her chest, under her breast, and just above her pantyline. They felt like extra layers of skin, and she felt the cold wires draped across her body. She was almost too terrified to speak. "There we go, Kezia, you look great. See? You can watch your heart beat." Farah pointed across her body to the vitals monitor, where Yas was pressing buttons. Kezia saw three green lines jumping and pulsing across the screen; they made little spikes as the electronic sounds of her pulse echoed in the room.

It was fascinating. Just to punctuate the moment, the bp cuff whirred into life again, startling Kezia.

"It's okay, honey - it's going to do this every five minutes." Kezia audibly moaned as the cuff squeezed her. After an eternity, another beeeeep.

"There we go. 127/85." Farah said, the distinct sound of satisfaction in her voice. "Coming down."

"Good," Dr. Kim spoke up from behind Kezia. "How's her EKG?"

Farah rattled off numbers that made Kezia dizzy to listen to. “HR 82. No PVCs, looks good. ST segment normal, QT…360.”

"Ok, I think we're ready to go." Dr. Kim said, finally.

Kezia breathed carefully, feeling the electrodes tug at her skin all over. She was acutely aware of her body and the things that they had attached to her. "Am…I ok, Farah?" Her voice caught in her throat. She was embarrassed that a tear fell from the corner of her eye; she felt it roll back behind her neck, lost in the rustling plastic of the bouffant cap.

Farah leaned over and touched her arm, right where the BP cuff ended. Her hand was warm. "You're doing great. We're almost there." She winked, then looked across Kezia at Yasmin. "Hand me the BIS, would you, Yas?"

Nurse Yasmin produced another thing connected to a wire; this one looked like a long piece of thick tape with lines and shapes all over it. Farah peeled off the backing, and Kezia realized it was another thing they were going to stick on her. "What's that?" She asked. She held her body very still.

Farah held it up for her to see. "This is called the BIS sensor, honey. It tells us how deep you're sleeping." She moved towards Kezia's face. "I'm just going to press this riiiiight on your forehead." And she did, rubbing it lightly just above Kezia's brow. She could feel it when she wrinkled her nose, and the weirdness combined with the rustling of the bouffant cap, which was starting to feel warm and humid against the skin of her scalp.

Something beeped. "BIS 99." Farah said.

"Okay, Kezia," Dr. Kim spoke from Kezia's blind spot. "We're going to start with sedation now. Are you ready?"

Kezia could see Farah smiling at her. She took a deep breath, and after a moment's delay, she answered. "Okay…I'm ready."

"I'm going to put a mask over your nose and mouth, and this will just be some oxygen for now, ok?" Kezia saw Dr. Kim's hand lowering a black mask with a surprisingly thick hose attached. There was an overwhelming scent of rubber, and then the mask was on her before she could think of protesting. The edge was a soft seal against her face and a cool breeze seemed to fill her nose and mouth. It was utterly alien, and she could feel everything attached to her body. Just as a test, she wiggled her fingers and tensed her muscles. She felt the cuff, the electrodes, the wires…

"Breathe normally, honey," Farah said, watching the monitors. "Resps 20. Deep and slow, Kezia. You got this."

Kezia tried to slow her breathing. Something beeped to her right, and her cuff inflated again. "129/85." Farah said, when it was done.

"Still ok." Dr. Kim said. "Kezia, now we're going to put some medication into your IV, ok? Just something to make you feel relaxed. You might feel warm up your arm as it goes in." At her right, Kezia could see over the edge of the mask that Yasmin had a syringe of something. She felt the nurse press against her IV site, and then there was a burning feeling - but just for a moment. Her arm felt warm.

"It's warm." Kezia said, under the mask, but it came out almost unintelligible. Now her chest was warm, too.

"You're doing great, Kezia." Dr. Kim said. "BP, please." There was a beep and her cuff inflated again. Kezia felt weird, detached. The cuff wasn't as tight as it shoudl have been. She started to feel heavy.

"123/75." Someone said.

"That's the midazolam, we'll watch that. Fent is next. How are you doing, Kezia?" Was that Dr. Kim talking?

"…kaaaay. Mmm." The mask started to smell sweet. That was weird.

"Fent going in." Maybe that was Yasmin. Kezia felt a brisk cold rush in her arm, then her head spun. "Getting a BP." Whirr. Squeeze. Beeeep. "115/68 now."

"Ok, let's watch that. Should come up a bit." Then something she didn't really catch. "…okay, you can cath her now."

"Kezia, honey, I'm just going to remove your panties now, ok?" Farah was right at her left ear. Kezia felt like she was on the table with her, she sounded so close. "We need to put in a catheter to make you comfortable, ok?"

Kezia wasn't sure how to argue, she felt light-headed and she couldn't really focus. But she wanted to scream. She thought she shook her head but she wasn't sure. "ohhh…no, naaaa…" she trailed off.

"Just relax, Kezia, deep breaths." Dr. Kim was still there? Kezia felt the mask press a little firmer. Kezia's eyes swirled around the room.

From somewhere way below her, Kezia heard Farah. "Okay, Yas, Foley please? Thanks. Watch her legs." Louder, she said, "I'm removing them, honey, here we go." Kezia felt the cool room air on her crotch, and her panties slipping down her legs. She couldn't fight. Her legs were lifted slightly, the nurses bending them at the knees.

There was a shuffle of sensations connected only by the place they were occurring, just in the region of Kezia's pelvis. Cool wipes, soft fabric, gloved hands…then the abrupt piercing weirdness of something going inside her.

"Aaaaaa." Was all Kezia could manage.

"Almost there, Kezia, you're doing great." More quietly, "…okay, balloon up, we're in."

Kezia felt like she was peeing, and she moaned softly in sedated panic. The cuff again, and a beep.

"122/83. Looks great. BIS 71."

"Okay, last of the meds now, Kezia, you'll be sleeping soon." Someone touched her gently on the forehead, almost like they were brushing her eyelids. Were her eyes closed or open? She couldn't really tell.

"Prop going in - go slow, Yasmin." Kezia's ears started to ring, and she felt her cheeks flushing. She breathed slowly, methodically. The machines beeped and whirred, the cuff squeezed, and her pee ran down a tube and into a bag.

As she was winking out, she thought she heard one last thing. "…sanitary…rectal tube…okay, roll her…"

=====

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#medicalerotica #medicalfetish #medfetish #medfet #blood pressure #cardiophilia #hospital #ekg #female patient #stress test #foley catheter #catheter #anesthesia #operating table #specialmedicalcentre

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squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame · 3 months ago

Text

First date at McDonald's

Character: Thanos X fem!reader

Summary: Thanos takes you on a "first date" at McDonald's

Warnings: none🦑🦑

It was supposed to be a simple date. A typical first date where you both get to know each other outside the chaos of the game. But with Thanos, or rather Choi Su-Bong, it was always a little more… unconventional.

You stepped into the brightly lit McDonald's, the scent of fries and burgers filling the air. Thanos had insisted on coming here, despite you trying to suggest somewhere fancier. He had a way of making even the simplest places seem grand, and tonight, this fast food joint was no exception.

“You really want to eat here?” you asked, glancing around at the brightly colored décor. Thanos only nodded, a small, amused smile playing on his lips.

“There’s something about McDonald’s,” he said, sliding into a booth. “It’s simple, but comforting. Plus, I haven’t had a proper meal like this in a while.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his reasoning. There was something oddly charming about how he took the mundane and made it seem significant. You slid into the booth across from him, the booth itself much smaller than his broad frame, making him look even more imposing.

“So, what are we ordering?” you asked, leaning back and casually scanning the menu above the counter.

“Anything you want,” he said. “I’m paying tonight.”

You chuckled, finding comfort in the way he was so direct. It felt real. “Alright, I’ll have a Big Mac with fries,” you said, smiling when his eyes lit up at the mention of fries.

“Same,” Thanos said simply, “and a Coke. Can’t go wrong with the classics.

”After placing your order, you sat back and exchanged some small talk, laughing about little things. Thanos was surprisingly witty, often making lighthearted comments that broke the ice between you two. The tension from the game still lingered in his eyes, but here, in this ordinary place, you could see another side of him—soft, almost normal.

“Tell me something,” you said, leaning forward a little. “What’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve done recently?”

He paused, looking thoughtful. “Let’s see… Oh, I spent twenty minutes trying to figure out how to use a self-order kiosk,” he admitted with a smirk. “I thought it was broken at first, but it turns out I just didn’t know how to use the touch screen properly.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You? The mastermind of the game, struggling with a touchscreen? That’s rich.”

“Hey, there’s no shame in not knowing how to order fries,” he said, his deep voice a mixture of amusement and mock offense.

Just as the conversation turned back to something else, the food arrived—steaming, greasy, and utterly perfect for the moment. Thanos looked at the tray, then at you, before saying, “You know, some things are better enjoyed in the simplest ways.”

You took a bite of your Big Mac, nodding in agreement. “I think I’m starting to see what you mean.”

For the rest of the night, you two chatted about life, the game, and everything in between. You learned that, despite the exterior of the tough, ruthless player, Thanos was just as human as anyone. A little lost, a little uncertain, but still searching for something. Even if that something was a quiet dinner at McDonald's.

As the meal came to a close, Thanos leaned back in his seat, his hand resting on the edge of the table, a quiet, content smile on his face.

“Next time,” he said softly, “I’ll take you somewhere you really want to go.”

You smiled, not needing anything fancy. “I think this was perfect.”

And for that one evening, you both forgot about the rest of the world, lost in a small moment that felt like home.

🦑🦑🦑

#squid game headcanons #squid game 2 #squid game netflix #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game imagines #squid game x y/n #thanos x you #thanos headcanons #thanos squid game #thanos x reader #thanos x y/n #thanos #choi subong

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sthavoc · 1 year ago

Text

🎶 📷∫ *.۰𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐘𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐒 | ENZO VOGRINCIC

𖥔 ࣪˖ pairing: enzo x actress!reader

𖥔 ࣪˖ summary: after the event enzo and you attended, the both of you had agreed to hang out. today is the day. part 2 to this.

𖥔 ࣪˖ warnings: just fluff

𖥔 ࣪˖ note: it was asked for a pt2 so here y’all go! also working on another req currently, yay!!<3 hope I didn’t miss any grammar mistakes

Enzo and you had been texting back, and forth for the past two days. Those two days have consisted of you smiling at your phone and letting loose a giggle at whatever silly joke Enzo would text. You had brought up how you guys agreed to hang out, and he mentioned that today he was free, which worked for you because to your advantage, so were you.

Te mando mi dirección? - you

Sí, sí. Pasó por tu casa más o menos como a las 12:00, y de ahí nos vamos.” - Enzo

Bueno, dale. - you

After you send your location, you receive another ding from your phone followed by Enzo’s response. Which said “Gracias, linda.” The little nickname had stuck with you ever since the event, and you were not going to lie and say that you didn’t like it because you did.

You left your phone on your coffee table and walked over to your closet, ready to try and pick something out. You hoped it wouldn’t take you that long to pick an outfit. Of course, you wanted to look presentable, but you also didn’t want to be overdressed for the occasion. After all it was just a small hang out as friends.

You shouldn’t be thinking so hard on an outfit. You thought.

You ended up choosing a pair of baggy jeans and a simple shirt. Your hand reached for your phone to check if Enzo had sent anything in the meantime but your texts were cleared.

You had been done with your hair and faint makeup when you heard your phone ring, and you saw how Enzo’s contact popped up.

“Hello?” You spoke into the other line.

“Hola nena, eh, estoy afuera ya.” Enzo’s voice comes from the other line making you remove your phone from your ear and check the time.

“Oh! Okay, okay. Ya voy.” You state before you hang up the call, and quickly clasp your bag and phone before you close the door of your room, and hurry downstairs.

“I’ll see you later preciosa.” You give your cat a small rub on the bottom of her chin making her purr, before you grab your keys and walk towards the door locking it.

You checked your phone and answered a couple of texts as you walked towards the front where Enzo waited. You could see him standing there looking at his phone. He wore a hoodie and a jacket over it with a pair of glasses and black jeans, getting a glimpse of his camera as well. You were not going to deny he looked good.

“Hola.” You greet him with a smile as he puts his phone away, and you can see a smile instantly spreading across his face.

“Hola, bonita.” He kisses your cheek greeting you. “Lista?”

“Mhm.” your response was followed by a nod while the two of you began to walk towards your car, unlocking it. “¿En dónde queda la disquera?” You unlock your car allowing the two of you in.

“Te mando la ubicación.” Enzo typed the location on his phone before he sent it to you making your phone ringed.

You opened the location, which immediately opened in your touchscreen from the Bluetooth connection from your phone. You clicked start as you began to drive away.

“¿Te gustaría poner algún tipo de música?” You turned to look at both sides before you got on the road.

“Eh, bueno.” You gave Enzo your cable while he plugged it in, selecting a song. The speakers on your car began to play Lucky by Radiohead.

“Oh, ¿escuchas Radiohead?” You glanced at him but kept your eyes on the road.

“Sí es mi banda favorita.” Enzo words followed a smile as he turned to look at you. “¿Tú escuchas Radiohead?”

“Sí pero no mucho.” You reply turning right as indicated on the map.

It said that you would reach your destination around 12:40. It was currently 12:27.

“¿Que te gusta escuchar a vos?” Enzo decides to ask, out of conversation. He honestly wanted to know more about you, and your taste in music.

“Pues-” you sigh “Pues me gusta escuchar un poco de todo. Pero los artistas que más escucho son, Harry Styles, The smiths, Pixies, Arctic Monkeys, eh Taylor swift, G-eazy.” You tapped your thumb on the staring wheel trying to remember some of your top artist.

“¿G-eazy?” Confusion filled Enzo’s voice. “¿Es una banda?”

You giggled at how clueless he was about who G-eazy was. “No, es un artista muy popular últimamente. Bueno siempre lo ha sido. Lo fue en el año 2014 pero la gente lo trajo de vuelta.”

“Ah, ya, ya.” He nods.

“Te pongo una si quieres.” You turned to look at him, and he nodded giving you his phone. “Te voy a poner una popular.” You came to a red light and quickly typed on his keyboard the name of the song before you tapped on it.

Tumblr Girls started playing. It was honestly a vibe with the atmosphere, with the windows down and the wind sending your free strands of hair everywhere. Enzo’s hair was going everywhere but not as much as yours.

“Bonito ritmo.” Enzo moves his head to the beat of the song as he kept his eyes on the road. “Me gusta.”

“Verdad.” You smiled before you glanced at the map and noticed you guys weren’t that far from your destination. Like two more minutes away. “Ya casi llegamos.” You mentioned.

Enzo only nodded as he looked out the window still vibing to the rhythm, before he spoke. “Me da vibras de verano, no se.”

“¡Sí! Por eso se hizo viral de nuevo. A la gente le gusta la vibra que transmite su música. Esa vibra de verano, y pues, porque les da nostalgia a los años como el 2014 o ‘16.” You explained as Enzo payed attention.

He seemed so interested in whatever you had to say about the artist. He honestly just liked the sound of your voice. Anything you were saying at the moment sounded so interesting coming from you.

“Wow, pues sí las da.” Enzo released a small laugh making you smile. He has such a pretty laugh you thought.

“Bueno pues creo que aquí me parqueo.” You glimpse at the free spot that was not too far from the record store. Your eyes skimmed at the store and you could already see some of the vinyls.

The both of you got out of your car after you locked it, and walked together into the store. Your eyes looked around the shop amazed, at the posters that covered the walls and even some records, hanging on the walls. You caught a glimpse of Enzo taking pictures of the background.

Until he got an idea and turned to look at you. You gave him an amazed smile as you realized he was taking a picture of you.

“Acordate que te iba a tomar fotos.” He reminds you of when you mentioned of him taking a few shots of you.

“Sí me acuerdo.” You giggled.

You walked over to the many types of vinyls. You scanned the genres until you came across Mazzy Star’s So Tonight That I See record. You turned to look at Enzo who only stared at you. “¿Me tomas una foto? yo tapándome la cara con el disco. Siempre me he querido tomar alguna foto así.” You smiled.

Enzo only smiled as he got ready to take the picture after you positioned the vinyl, and covering your face. “Listo nena.”

“Gracias.” You smiled putting back the vinyl in its place before you got an idea and turned to look at Enzo with a smirk. “Déjame tomarte una.”

“No, no. No te preocupes.” He shook his head and hand at the same time.

“Ay ándale. Es tu cámara, y te quiero tomar una.” You insisted, pulling him closer as you walked backwards before he gave you a smile.

“Bueno , dale.” He remove the strap off his neck, handing you his cámara as you smiled excitedly. “Pero que no salga mal.”

“Ay, para nada.” You frowned jokingly. There was no way this man would come out back in his picture. “Bueno. Uno, dos, y-” you dragged the last syllable as you waited to get the perfect angle and moment. “Tres.” You clicked the button hearing the click sound of the cámara capturing the picture. “De seguro saliste bien.” You give him back his camera, followed by a smile which he returned.

“Gracias.” He places the strap that held onto his camera around his neck again, while the two of you continue to walk around the store.

You reached another end of the records finding one of Lana Del Rey’s album. You immediately grabbed it, deciding you were taking it home. Enzo followed behind you, but you had no idea he had just taken another picture of you since you were distracted with the vinyls. You spotted another one from The Neighbourhood which was the album Hard To Imagine The Neighbourhood Ever Changing, you just had to get it.

“¿Artistas favoritos?” Enzo questions as he looked at the records in your hands.

“Mhm. Siempre que trato de encontrarlos no están.” You glimpsed at them before looking at Enzo.

The two of you continued to walk around the whole store trying to find more vinyls, but you didn’t find any wanted, apart from the ones you had already previously picked. Enzo proceeded to take pictures of anything interesting he spotted.

“Bueno pues voy a ir a pagar. Me puedes esperar afuera si quieres.” You searched into your bag and took hold of your wallet as you walked towards the cashier.

“Bueno.” Enzo nodded as he walked towards the entrance of the store and you towards the cashier.

While you paid, Enzo waited right outside the shop while he took a few glimpses of his phone. He was quick to put it away after he saw you walking out of the store with a bag, which he assumed had your new albums.

“Gracias por recomendarme la tienda.” You smiled, unlocking the car and allowing the both of you in.

“No hay de que, linda.” Enzo gave you a smile as he closed his door and reached for his seatbelt. “De verdad que me la pasé muy bien con vos.”

“Y yo contigo. Eres muy divertido Enzo.” You smiled as you changed your gear shift from parking to driving.

Enzo was really a sweetheart and an amazing person. He had such a pure soul and he made you feel calm with just his presence. This man was definitely going to become one of your closest friends.

#enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic fic #enzo vogrincic blurb #enzo vogrincic imagine #enzo vogrincic one shot #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic x you

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seeingteacupsindragons · 1 month ago

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Headcanons about how things would go if Stan and Xeno somehow hadn’t found the time to tie the knot until after all this moon bullshit:

Xeno asks Senku to be his best man, on account of Stan is busy doing something else in the wedding

Senku, being Japanese, has no idea what the fuck a best man even does or what it means (wedding parties aren’t really a thing in Japan, and given what else we know of Taiju and Yuzuriha’s wedding, he wouldn’t have been Taiju’s best man)

Stan asks Ryusui on account of the same reason, who either already knows or does not actually care because ‘best man’ is the most important role in the wedding other than the couple, obviously, and he Desires This

Ryusui and/or Francois explains what this means to Senku

Senku and Xeno absolutely refuse to look each other in the eye but Senku accepts

They spend the entire pre-wedding period throwing zingers at each other and silently agreeing to avoid any and all eye contact whenever things are emotional and sincere

This means Senku has to plan a bachelor party for Xeno which is the funniest possible thing because like what do you even plan for this man? Why are you expecting Senku to plan a social event?

Stan got lucky. Ryusui will plan a banger bachelor party and also he has Francois

Stan’s party eventually involves some kind of target competition and nice drinks and food and chilling out and maybe some plane joyrides. Xeno’s not allowed to come, but Ryusui may have asked him for input on what Stan would like, as he is Stan’s best friend as well as his fiancé

Stan’s not allowed to come to Xeno’s, either, and Senku desperately asks Stan for help, who makes fun of him before helping because he wants Xeno to have a good time

Senku makes Sai build some kind of Civ game for the bachelor party. Suika and Chrome and Sai and maybe Chelsea and such come. Senku makes a giant table-sized touchscreen for the game, and he can reuse it! Practical! It’s a good time and much quieter

Rest of the wedding party: Suika and Chrome for Xeno, maybe Chelsea or Kaseki or something if they need another person. Probably Charlotte and Maya for Stan, maybe Kohaku? Stan is significantly less social and charismatic than Xeno is; harder to pick people for him, especially as he spends so much of his existence in canon as a rock

“But what about Gen” okay firstly that would require picking one of them for Gen to be closer to, and also Gen should probably be the officiant or reception MC or something because he would be good at that

Yuzuriha gets to sew custom suits for the occasion. She’s more excited about this than they are, but Xeno has lots of opinions. Stan only has a few

Ryusui tries to convince Stan to write heartful personalized vows. Gen gives up on this particular venture immediately. While I would like something along the lines about how he promised the Marines to always live by Semper Fidelis, he swore that to Xeno long before anyone else, I don’t think he’d actually say that

Xeno, however, is both a blabbermouth and a showoff. So yeah those vows are gettin’ long

Stan’s vows end up just being “I can” in response to Xeno’s ridiculously long vows

Xeno gets to dip Stan during their wedding kiss for the sole reason of “I think they both deserve it”

Senku’s best man speech is awkward and halting because he is fundamentally incapable of showing his emotions openly even when they are blatantly obvious. He absolutely does not want to be doing a speech about this. Isn’t the fact that he agreed to this charade enough? The entire thing ends up being about Xeno as a man of science. It’s fine

Ryusui’s speech keeps getting derailed because let’s be real, Xeno is the only one who really knows Stan really, really well. Ryusui would be doing his best to talk Stan’s skills up and about half of it ends up being about Stan’s vicious chase for Xeno across South America

The reception gets immensely better once all the traditions involving the mortifying ordeal of being known and actually talking about it are over. There are fireworks and those balloons full of confetti to shoot down at Taiju and Yuzuriha’s and skywriting and they plan it for a meteor shower or a lunar eclipse or something so everyone can go outside and watch

#Dr. STONE #dcst #StanXeno

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collapsedsquid · 5 months ago

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The first thing I discovered is that The Economist was right. The Big Mac never changed. But the “restaurant experience” varied widely over time. Often, as I had hoped, reflecting bigger trends. It feels like what used to be fast food has been getting slower, while the number of order errors I experience has risen. Originally, a kid took your order and typed it into a terminal before heading back to the line to assemble it. Today, you order by touchscreen or microphone, you pick up a closed bag and you return to your table and a surreal combination. When I started reviewing, they’d get an order wrong about once a year. Today there’s a much higher failure rate. A decade ago you’d have taken the order back to get it corrected. Today, the system is so comprehensively mechanised that it can’t handle the human intervention of complaint. You just eat your McFlurry with the BBQ sauce supplied and lose the will to live. Last year, the American Dialect Society chose “enshittification” as its Word of the Year. I’m not surprised. I have watched it develop.

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mikerickson · 8 months ago

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I worked as a poll worker for the first time yesterday

After the primaries in the summer, our County recognized that they had a poll worker shortage leading into the election this year and started putting out advertisements to bring new people in. I realized that I didn't know literally a single person in my life that had been a poll worker before and that it was something I had always taken for granted. With this looming shortage however, I decided to step up and do my civic duty because why not? After a three hour in-person training session and a two hour online training session, I was ready to go.

More under the cut because honestly some of these interactions with voters are kinda depressing:

I had only signed up to do a half-day shift from 5:15 AM to 1:00 PM because I figured I'd be wiped out and exhausted if I did a whole day. Well turns out that my replacement who was supposed to take up the evening shift never showed up, so I ended up staying. I got to the polling location (a local high school) at 5:00 AM and left at 9:30 PM, effectively working a 16.5 hour day with only a 1 hour lunch break. I'll get a $300 check in two weeks, which, hey, beats jury duty!

By law our polling center was supposed to open to the public at 6:00 AM sharp, but we were scrambling and not ready yet when the vote-before-work crowd started banging on the door. Very stressful start to the morning and we immediately had a big line that didn't dwindle down until about 7:30 AM. I unironically wish I had gotten there even earlier.

Our polling location had four districts, and each district had four workers (two to man the check-in table, one to operate the voting booths and ballot scanners, and one to float/rotate out every so often). I was paired with a man and a woman both in their seventies and a woman maybe in her mid forties, but they were all clearly uncomfortable with technology. Two of the other districts were also staffed by old people who just gave up at the first sign of a problem with a touch screen or a printer jam. I'm talking just a complete lack of problem-solving capabilities. I ended up running triple duty checking people in, making sure voters were set up in their booths properly, and doing on-the-fly tech support and troubleshooting. It felt rewarding multitasking and hearing, "get Mike over here, he'll fix it" over and over, but I kinda wish I didn't have to?

We only had two voters make a scene over the course of the entire day. During the morning rush right after opening a woman raised her voice asking why there was a line and stressing out that she had to leave to go to work soon (she stuck it out in line and then bolted out of there). Later around lunch time a guy at one of the other districts' tables shouted something like, "oh, so my dad can vote here but I can't?" He stormed out in a pissy mood shortly after, but I never got the full story of what was going on there.

I had one man who had recently moved and hadn't updated his registration with the board of elections, so his address didn't match what was on file. I explained that he could still vote if he did a provisional ballot, which is basically like a mail-in ballot that you put in a special envelope and leave at the polling station instead of taking it to a drop-off box. Apparently that was a step too far and he just said, "forget it..." and left. Seemed odd to me that he 1) physically drove to a voting location to vote and 2) waited in line to sign in, but that filling out a single sheet of paper was no longer worth it.

Once we were fully set up and getting into the flow of things most of the delays and reasons for lines were the voters taking too long inside the booths. It was basically a giant touchscreen monitor to select your choices, then you review everything one last time before printing a physical ballot. I had multiple people enter the booth and then wait about five minutes before calling for help saying they didn't know what to do. Also the second page/backside of the ballot was for the local Board of Education candidates, and this was really tripping up a lot of people. Also a staggering amount of people just did not see the giant "NEXT" arrow at the bottom right hand side of the screen. Poll workers are not allowed to enter the booth with them, so I had to do a lot of blind troubleshooting from the other side of the curtain.

Lots of men coming in with their wives and girlfriends and just waiting by the wall while the women voted but they didn't.

There was a smattering of young people, but not many. I did have to turn one girl away who recently turned 18 because New Jersey is not a same-day voter registration state. She was visibly bummed out and I felt bad about that.

Our oldest voter of the day was this ancient Polish woman who didn't speak a lick of English. Her daughter, who must've been in her eighties herself, had to sign a special permission slip to enter the booth with her mother to help. They were in there for a good 15 minutes, but luckily this was during a calm period of the day.

In terms of voter attire, we only had two Harris shirts and one Harris/Walz hat we had to ask people to cover up because that's not allowed within 100 feet of the polling station. Lots of Puerto Rico flags, and one guy had this obnoxious shirt of a coquí painted like the flag that I loved. Also had one man come in wearing a very sharp suit with the loudest red tie I've ever seen in my life who proudly shouted, "Let's make voting great again!" as he left after he finished.

One older Hispanic lady (I think she was Puerto Rican) had very broken English and had to do a provisional ballot for some reason. She was so worried she was going to do it wrong, but I walked her through it with my very broken Spanish and after about 20 minutes she was good to go. She was extremely thankful and gave me a hug.

I had one woman, maybe in her mid-forties, call me over to help when she was inside the booth. She asked, "why are there so many names?" I asked what she meant, and she started listing the down-ballot candidates in the other rows below President and Vice President. She said, "what is 'Senate'? What does that mean?" I explained to her that there were other contests to vote for, and after a telling pause she responded, "...okay..." Not entirely sure I got through to her.

One woman took her very young daughter into the booth with her and a few minutes later called me over. Her screen displayed a "USB device disconnected" error. I looked down and saw that the printer had been turned off. I asked how that happened and the little girl started laughing. Her mother was mortified, but I got them sorted out.

We had one teenager who we had to help insert her ballot into the scanner because her hands were shaking so violently. It was her first time voting and she was extremely nervous. I hope she's doing okay today.

Towards the end of the night this contractor with filthy hands comes in and he's clearly exhausted but wanted to vote anyway. We were shooting the breeze while he signed his voting authority and I said, "I bet I got you beat though, I woke up at 4:30 this morning." He looks up at me and deadpans, "I've been up since 3:30." I yielded and he laughed with me.

Our second-to-last voter of the day was some early-twenties guy who moseyed on in at 7:55 PM (polls legally close at 8:00 PM sharp) and said, "I heard this was going on today." Somehow he was registered and was able to get in and out in no time, but that was just such a casual remark to make that it floored me.

Our absolute last voter of the day was a woman who was on her cellphone the entire time trying to coax her husband - who was in his own car about two blocks away from the sounds of it - to hurry on over before we closed. I could hear him hemming and hawing over it, making some excuse. He didn't make it.

Closing the polls was equally as confusing and stressful as opening them was because there are a lot of very detailed ballot reports to print and specific zip ties with specific barcodes and serial numbers to close up the machines. We were missing a certain lock for the ballot bag that we was preventing all sixteen of us from leaving (no one can leave until all districts at the polling location are ready). Eventually I (because of course it was me) found it in a trash can; someone had thrown it out for some reason but no one owned up to doing it.

As we were leaving and all saying goodbye, some of the other poll workers joked, "see you guys in four years!" I pointed out that there are elections every year, and that in fact New Jersey has a gubernatorial election next year, and some of them basically said, "I didn't know that."

Overall a stressful but memorable day. Today I was talking to some co-workers that voted at different locations within my County (so using the same equipment I was trained on), and they were telling me stories of waiting between 45 minutes to two and a half hours at most. My location never got a line that bad, which maybe had to do with the location I got assigned, but it's also just as possible that me and one other guy around my age (shout out to Giovanni working District 27!) held our shit down and prevented that from happening.

It was a very long day that wiped me out. In a vacuum I don't know that I would want to do it again, but after seeing the incompetence of the standard ilk of poll workers and learning what was happening at other locations, I really feel like I need to. I'd rather these things be run by people like me than not.

#life #election #long post

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