#tw: depressive thoughts

[fraugwinska]

If it’s okay, can you do Alastor x Reader where Alastor catches you relapsing after a fight with him? If it’s too much, you don’t have to do it. Just wanted some comfort for what I’m going through. You’re also a very good writer! Keep up the great work! xx

Hey anon - I hope you are doing well. I couldn't let this one sit too long in my inbox... Whatever you are going through: I hope this will help you with a bit of comfort. (I do hope I didn't misinterpret your ask...) I send you the biggest hug, my dearest! <3 TW:Self Harm,Depression,Angst - Minors DNI - 1.3k words

You were doing so well. So, so well.

Arguments with Alastor occurred from time to time, but you had done so well in not letting them become full-blown fights. His rationale and your restraint had always managed to hold the worst at bay and settle any troubles with a few deep breaths, calm words and a compromise. It was something you were hugely proud of, something you had never been able to do before, and with him - you finally seemed to manage.

But now, after a tirade of harsh words, hurtful remarks and slammed doors you are alone in your room, curled up in a bed that feels much too big and streaks of cold tears on your cheeks. Immediately after you stormed out Alastor's radio tower you regretted your tone, regretted what you said, the way you got irrationally upset and how you provoked him - just to hurt him. You were unfair, cruel even, and the worst part was you didn't mean a single thing you said in the heat of the argument. Of course, Alastor said some choice words to you too, nasty things said in cold calmness, but only in reaction to your emotionally charged onslaught. And it didn't change the fact that you had done him wrong, over a fucking triviality that spun out of control.

It doesn't change the fact that the feelings and thoughts you feared slowly return, thoughts of your inadequacy, your worthlessness, your shortcomings all coming back into your head in one big punch of guilt and insecurity. Spiraling, you feel yourself getting more and more tense, like a pressure cooker without a valve, ready to burst. Your chest hurts - no, everything hurts: Your chest, your arms, your head, your heart.

You had done so well.

But you are desperate, panicked - you've pushed the one person away that was able to ground you, the only one that could make you feel safe and strong enough to withstand this urge, this need to hurt, to release. You bury your nails in your thigh, but it is far from enough. He must hate you now, and could you blame him? No, no you couldn't, and you push yourself off the bed, almost frantic.

Release, release, release - where is it? The shame you hid when you first moved into the hotel, the valve you had used so often to momentarily drain yourself from this burdening pain, the tool you had to use because you weren't reborn in hell with the fortune of sharp talons.

The loose floorboard creaks under your erratic steps. Ah. There. Hidden under your feet, untouched for so long. You start to cry again as you kneel down, lifting the panel. You feel like a failure.

Sorry, I am so sorry, your head chants as you reach for it with trembling hands, please just let it be a little less, just a tiny, little...

"Darling..."

You freeze. His voice is quiet, tune- and toneless echoing from behind you. It sends a new shiver through your tense, quivering body. Your hand hovers over the small object but you can't move it away, eyes squeezed shut in defeat. Your brain races, thinking of anything to say but coming up empty.

"My sweetling, whatever you're looking for under there...", he continues slowly, softly, each step of his dressing shoes against the parquet resounding painfully loud in your ears. You're so mortified by him catching you in the act that the tight coil in you seems ready to snap. "...will not do you any good."

He halts when when he is next to you, kneeling down. You feel his shoulder brush your back as he lays a clawed hand on yours and gently pulls it away from the hole in the floor. Your shoulders begin to shake with ragged sobs and his tender touch on your cheek prompts you to tilt your head, face hot, and to look him into his eyes that seem both understanding and sad.

"Harming yourself will only make you hate yourself more than you regrettably already do."

You try to breathe, but fail miserably, choking on the air around you. How could you justify what you were about to do, how could you hurt him again like this, with this action, with this thoughts, after everything you both have worked for? You had done so well - Why didn't you have it more under control, like you should?

"I'm sorry, A-Alastor... I'm sorry, s-so sorry, please..."

He pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around you in a tight, steady embrace. One hand comes up, stroking your hair in tender movements, shushing you quietly as he lets you sob into his shoulder. The longer he holds you the easier it gets to draw deep breathes, until you finally manage to draw in the air that your body lacked so much. With each rise and fall of your chest, you feel a tiny bit of the panic fade, as if his soothing static draws it out in humble waves, soft and soothing around and inside you.

"I know, darling...", Alastor murmurs, kissing the top of your head and tightening his hold, "It's all long forgiven already."

A shattered sigh escapes you. How could he do all this for you? Accept you, with all the flaws and mistakes and shortcomings? How can he forgive you with such gentle ease? And still care for you, despite and including it all, why? How?

"Please don't hate me..."

He only loosens his grip when you stop trembling, carefully taking your chin between his claws, prompting you to break the chain of self-degrading thoughts and silencing the whispers in your head as he locks his eyes on yours.

"I could never, darling, even if I tried. But you need to understand: You are fighting the most vicious and cruel enemy there is, my love.", his face is void of the smirk he often wore, the one he doesn't use to tease or ridicule, or mock, it's his serious smile. The one he wears when he's about to be blunt. "Yourself."

A sudden rush of fresh tears cloud your vision. He's right, you know he is - you have always been your own worst enemy. Never giving yourself a fighting chance, the help and care you didn't feel you deserve. It felt so tiring, hopeless, in these moments where you fell victim to your weakness and turned it all onto yourself.

"I'm... so weak."

"We all have our battles. And this happens to be one you exhausted yourself to win on your own. However...", he offers you a sweet smile, taking your hand, "...it's a battle you don't have to fight alone anymore."

He takes your face into one of his large hands - the warmth of his palm is soothing against the rawed skin of your cold cheek as you instinctively lean into it, chasing the gentleness of the touch. The smile he gives you is more serious than you've ever seen before, and he lifts his other hand, waving his fingers for a split second in the corner of your eyes - the loose floorboard squeaks as it magically sets itself back into its place and seals itself with the flooring, eliminating the option of taking it off again. Alastor sighs, tilting his head to recapture your gaze.

"Whatever angry words are exchanged and however vexed we might be with each other... please, my love, let me hold you together in my arms when you threaten to fall apart like this."

How long he held you in his arms that night, settled in your bed instead of his as you usually did - you didn't know. How many soothing touches he planted on your body – you didn't count. All that mattered were the soft kisses that he pressed on your cheeks, the way he held your hand, fingers entwined with yours, and the soothing words he repeated to you, over and over like a mantra.

"You are doing well, my love."

[papiliomame]

Demon of Whispering

Without supportsystem and experiencing hate from his family, friends and town towards his ghost-half while keeping it secret, Danny decided to run away. Too bad, his inner demon will always follow him wherever he goes...

Inspired by the works of Teo Skaffa and the videogame "Fran Bow" by Killmonday Games AB.

[skepticalkoi-catastrophe]

At Your Warmest

Pairing: ProHero! Shoto x Reader

Genre: Mutual Friendship, Platonic Love

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Mentions of Depressive Symptoms, Mentions of trauma (Physical/Emotional/Mental)

Word count: 293

♡ (12:45pm) - One step forward, ten steps back. You rot in bed, sinking deeper into the cooling memory foam mattress. The steady hum of your rotating standing fan and dumpling steamer humidifier on your nightstand run at matching intervals.

Your window is slightly cracked for air circulation. Blinds only allow a singular sliver of golden light to cut you in half.

Just enough to be able to breathe despite the crushing weight of your heart and mind.

Eating full meals had become a chore, so you've been settling for apple slices cut in the shape of rabbits courtesy of the Air Condition hero.

He had grown so much since your days at UA. The smile on his lips had taken years for him to earn. To show that his resilience wasn't in vain. He endured. That was something you didn't know if you could anymore.

You were puffy eyed as he placed the last rabbit onto your small plate. Ten in total completion.

"Thank you." You exhaled, snuggling next to the extra large dumpling plushie he'd gotten you for Christmas. "I think these are your best ones yet."

He could see your eyes were bloodshot. The blankets had dried overnight, but he knew. He knew just how much hurt you carry. It had gotten bad again.

He wishes to take your pain. To know that your health was a tightrope walker made him crumble inside. You are strong, but it is your own version of strength tailored to you.

Shoto kneaded your shoulder softly. The warm blood beneath your several layers of skin under his palms were his reminders that you live. That same hand guides itself to your forarm to help you sit up.

"You flatter me, y/n."

If you enjoyed it, please comment, like, and reblog!

[ominous-faechild]

MODERN EXISTENCE

CHAPTER 1: MORE OF THE SAME

CHARACTERS: ✦ Beck Molleur ✦ Dahlia Molleur

story intro moodboard table of contents < last chapter next chapter >

(if it's possible for you to read and listen to lyrical music at the same time, please listen to the music provided ❤️)

NOTE: this story is centered on two characters in a codependent, toxic marriage. Exact content warnings about the relationship will not be given for plot reasons, so if you have ANY possible worries about that subject matter, I beg of you to be cautious before reading this story. Thank you.

Most topics are implied—haunting the narrative rather than being displayed openly—and this story depicts how one can be trapped in that sort of relationship. It has portrayals of depression, self-hatred, and implied abuse... although I would still like and encourage you to read it.

Countless images flashed through Beck's mind.

Flooded streets, loose wreckage of destroyed buildings, and rows and rows of suffering people.

It was always like this. Beck was constantly tormented by these kinds of visions. Visions of pain, destruction, and death. Anything and everything going wrong around the world was stuck in his mind, constantly playing again and again and again.

Whether he closed his eyes or had them open, tried going about his day normally or not, he was tormented by visions of misery.

Still, Beck now had his eyes closed, cheek pressed up against the back of a couch, and noise-cancelling headphones over his ears playing soft, calming music.

With his senses stifled, it was easier to focus on the visions. It was easier to see what he shouldn’t be able to see, hear what he shouldn’t be able to hear, and move what he shouldn’t be able to reach.

The soft music coming from his headphones calmed Beck. He’d seen so much suffering in his life that he’d long-since grown almost numb to it, but… that didn’t mean he was okay with it.

He still wanted to help.

So, when he could, when things were “a little too bad”, Beck made an effort to use his powers for good. He’d make small changes where he could—fill in a pothole that’d been untouched for years, trip up someone on the attack, make a stray noise to draw someone’s attention near danger, or manipulate information that could otherwise destroy people’s lives—and try to help people.

… for once in his life.

“Sometimes I for-get… the world doesn’t want me…”

A whole roof had been torn off its building by the vicious winds of a hurricane. It tore through the air, flying toward another home—and suddenly steered away, crashing into the street instead.

“And I won-der where… all of my friends are…”

Hundreds of miles away, cars were bottlenecked at an aging bridge… one that had long-since been shut down for repairs. Not that it’d ever been repaired—but still. It was supposed to be closed.

People were desperate to escape the hurricane, though.

They risked the bridge, and if it hadn’t been for Beck watching over it? It would’ve cracked under the weight of their cars, plunging them all into the hungry waters below.

“But then I remember… I’d pushed them all a-way…”

So much destruction, so much panic, so much chaos—and Beck did his best to help everyone he could in small ways.

To avoid detection.

For plausible deniability.

Few people believed in magic, so what else were they going to believe? That a god walking among them—one they’d otherwise blame for their misfortune—was looking out for them? Or that the wind moved just in time? That the bridge was just a little sturdier than the architects and scientists believed? That Their God, whichever one or ones they believed in, was looking out for them?

Yes. Far better for people to assume those than the truth.

They’d all agreed on that thousands of years ago.

“So where am I? Who am I?” the song continued, melancholic.

“And what will I do… when I don’t ev-en have me?”

The couch shifted under Beck, tilting him to the side, as something landed on his shoulder.

Beck flinched, mind abruptly returning to his body.

Snapping his eyes open, Beck quickly turned to look at what had disturbed him—

A pair of bright green eyes—on the most beautiful face he’d ever seen—met his.

Despite her soft smile, Dahlia's eyebrows were furrowed slightly in concern as she stared at him expectantly.

“Who will I be?” the song continued.

Dahlia was a woman Beck knew well, though her face had changed countless times over the years. Now, she wore one of a brown woman with angular features and a mane of long, curly brown hair. She sat against the couch with one knee, her hand still on his shoulder, and the scent of her lilac perfume washing over him.

Beck swallowed, then cleared his throat awkwardly as he looked away to stare down at the cushion creased under Dahlia's knee. Every fabric of his being screamed against it, but Beck hesitantly grabbed the earpads of his headphones to slowly take them off.

“Where will I g—?” the song lamented, before getting cut off for overpowering silence.

“Beck?” Dahlia's voice interrupted, warm and gentle. “Everything okay?”

A wave of relief flooded over him.

Relaxing and smiling weakly, Beck hesitantly looked back up to meet her eyes.

“Yeah,” he said awkwardly, “just… was working on some stuff.”

Dahlia's soft smile grew faintly teasing. Then, she shifted to sit in his lap, her knees propped up against the cushions outside of his legs. Her hand moved from Beck's shoulder to his cheek as the other went to the backrest over his shoulder.

“Oh, yeah?” Dahlia asked, her tease leaking into her voice. “Like what?”

Beck felt his face flush as he pressed his cheek into her hand.

Letting out a slow, shaky breath, he turned his face away as he placed his headphones to the side and awkwardly wrapped his arm around her. It pulled her close as he stared hard at the headphones, still faintly emitting sound.

“Just… helping out around the hurricane,” Beck said, his voice subtly thick. “You know… without making it too obvious.”

He let out a small, pained laugh, then closed his eyes as he sank his cheek completely into her hand.

Beck's exhaustion leaked into his voice as he added: “not that anyone would question it, anyways. They just thank whatever god they believe in… or consider it ‘miraculous’ and move on…”

The entire couch shifted as Dahlia moved.

Beck tensed slightly, his breath catching in his throat. He quickly opened his eyes and turned his head to once again look at Dahlia.

His wife shifted to fully sit in his lap, leaning her forearms into his chest, cupping her hands around his cheeks, and meeting his eyes with a warm, loving smile.

“Awe, that’s sweet of you, Beck,” she said, voice slightly teasing still.

Then her eyes closed, and she leaned forward.

Beck took a deep breath before following her example.

Dahlia's hands dropped from his cheeks to rub against his chest as she kissed him gently, then slowly deepened it.

Beck struggled to breathe, but carefully kissed her back. Wrapping his arms around her lower back, he lifted her just enough to cross his legs under her and pull her close.

Dahlia paused the kiss—and Beck opened his eyes, though hers remained shut—to speak lightly against his lips.

“Did you know that?” she asked.

He swallowed awkwardly, looking down, not knowing how to answer.

She didn’t give him the time to figure it out. Instead, she quickly went back to kissing him, moving her hands up his chest and to his cheeks, where she rubbed his jaw with her thumbs.

Taking a slow, unsteady breath through his nose, Beck pulled her even closer and tried to just enjoy the kiss.

I love you, Ver, he wanted to say.

But he bit it back, giving her the moment to do whatever she wanted.

Instead, Dahlia pulled away after kissing him for a few more seconds. Her hands moved from his cheeks to his chest again as he met his eyes with another warm smile.

Beck was too caught up in watching every subtle shift in her expression to recognize his own relief.

“I reserved a restaurant for us to eat at tonight,” Dahlia said, a slight, sly smile on her lips. “Bistro Minuit is your favorite, right?”

Face flushing again—hotter this time—Beck hesitantly tore his eyes from hers to stare at the floor, past her hip. At the same time, he moved a hand from her lower back to place it over one of hers on his chest.

“Yeah,” Beck said awkwardly, his voice thick.

Then he gave a weak, dry chuckle, closing his eyes.

“It’s still open?” he asked, his voice weakly amused. “With how fast time goes by—”

“Uxi,” Dahlia interrupted gently. One of her hands—the one not trapped under his—moved to cup itself around his cheek again.

Beck froze, his breath catching in his throat as he quickly returned his eyes to hers.

But Dahlia still had her warm, slightly-teasing smile on her lips.

Her tease leaked into her voice as she answered: “of course it’s still open. I just told you I made reservations, didn’t I?”

Beck's heart twisted, but Dahlia's face was still soft, easygoing.

“—And, besides, I make sure of these things, you know that,” she finished warmly.

She seems fine. Nothing to worry about.

Beck forced a weak smile in return, but then sighed heavily as he closed his eyes and sank his cheek into her hand again. At the same time, he moved his hand from the one on his chest to cup it over hers on his cheek, lovingly sandwiching it between his cheek and hand.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice thick, but level. “You’re right. Sorry, I’d… I’d like that.”

Feel free to share your thoughts below, regardless of what they are.

Unless, yknow, they're "wtf are you writing; stfu". Or "men can't be abused." Keep that kinda shit out.

This is a very heavy story, and will touch on heavy topics... even if only through implication.

(Also to those of you who recognize their names... 🙂)

story intro moodboard table of contents < last chapter next chapter >

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@honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa @thecomfywriter @an-indecisive-nerd

@seastarblue @rae-butter @mythicalmagical-monkeyman @corinneglass @friedmiu

@caffeinated-starsailor @overwhelmedfernfrond @write-with-will @theink-stainedfolk @industrialideafactory

@waflof @apenasumlug4r @thebookishkiwi @casualtriumphinfluencer @pluppsauthor

@homeforinsomniacs

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divider by @cafekitsune

[jackie-gremlin-ghost]

TW: Depression ahead

Bit of a vent here:

My Nana sadly passed away early this morning. She was 91 and had been sick for the past month. I was able to visit her on Friday, and it was hard. It all came to a head for me yesterday when I had a full blown meltdown in front of my mom over it.

I outright cried, “We’re all just gonna die anyway, so THERE’S NO POINT IN EVEN LIVING!”

I’m… not proud to admit that I had what I’ve decided to call a “Todd Mortenson Moment”; that feeling when you’re feeling too broken to live, but don’t wanna die, either.

Thankfully my mom was able to calm me down and keep me grounded…

I’m gonna be okay. Just feeling incredibly drained, even after sleeping for nearly 12 hours.

[bardic-tales]

I have the motivation to do nothing today. I just laid in bed, slept, and watched Youtube. I should do my 31 Day post, but the motivation isn't really there today. I will probably do two posts tomorrow.

On the plus side, it's amazing how animals are so in tune with their owners. My hip and legs have been hurting since yesterday. Really cold weather makes them hurt, and Skye decided to lay all the way on my hip, purring away when I was falling asleep.

Sucks when your pain won't let you just sit in a chair and type, let alone do anything else.

[thepromptswhisperer]

Help Prompts

1. A asks their crush B to help them with something (minor) as they hope to spend more time with them.

2. A’s help only makes everything so. much. worse. (Are they even helping? Or are they trying to sabotage B?)

3. A is taken aback when they see that B is suprised that they volunteered to help them with something. (It’s almost like nobody ever bothered helping/looking out for them.)

4. "No. Someone strong would accept help from others if needed."

5. A helped B with something, not expecting anything more than a little gratitude in return. B, however, has different plans.

6. A is bad at comforting others, but they still try to help in their own way.

7. A is frustrated. They badly want to help B, but they just… don’t want to hear it. (They do not need help – or so they say.)

8. "I’ll always try to help you. Even if it means spending all my money on a last minute flight to [your location]/kidnapping your neighbor’s dog so you can finally sleep through the night without any interruptions/etc."

9. To incentivize A to help them, B promises them a reward.

10. A agreed to help B with something. Yet, as it turns out, they don’t know how to be helpful in this very situation.

11. "That’s my good deed of the day/etc. done."

12. A always thought they’d be willing to do anything for B. Yet when the latter needs help with something, they hesitate. (Are they really ready to go that far?)

13. Usually, A would ask B for help. This time, however, they don’t feel like they can do that.

14. "Just shut up and let me help you."

15. A and B are both well aware of the latter’s desire to help everyone. (A finds it admirable./And A intends to use this knowledge to their advantage.)

16. A misinterprets B’s call for help. (e.g. thinks it isn’t as urgent as they make it out to be)

17. "Just talking to you already helps."

18. A is in a bad place and realizes they need help from others to cope with it all. (Yet, they cannot bring themselves to ask for it/they believe nobody would care enough for them to help.)

19. A feels awful for relying so much on B’s help.

20. A knows there’s only one solution to their problem: Accepting/Asking for help from their rival/enemy/etc. B.

21. "Fine. But you’ll owe me."

22. A loves doing things that make their loved ones‘ lives easier. B struggles to accept their gestures.

23. A always believed to have a great support system around them. But when they need help, nobody shows up (– well, nobody except the person they expected it from the least).

[she-karev]

Breakdown (Andrew DeLuca x Alex Karev’s Sister PTSD Imagine)

Age Rating: 18+

Chapters: One of Two

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Andrew DeLuca x Amber Karev (Alex Karev’s Sister)

Canon Episode: Season 17 Episode 10

TRIGGER WARNING: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Flashback, Nightmare, Depression

Mental Health Resources: https://www.ptsd.va.gov/, https://adaa.org/understanding-anxiety/posttraumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/resources, https://www.nami.org/, https://www.aacap.org/, https://www.dbsalliance.org/, https://afsp.org/

AN: Hey guys so I felt angsty and wanted to showcase doctors that suffered from PTSD during the pandemic. PTSD from this trauma is very real and it makes it clear that healthcare workers deserved better back then. So I wanted to show that with my main character, Amber Karev, who realistically would crumble at the pandemic and her relationship problems as well as her childhood trauma. I want to show that asking for help is nothing to be ashamed of, it’s okay not to be okay.

Summary: Amber has nightmares and flashbacks from being overwhelmed by the pandemic with her struggles being noted by her best friend, Jackson Avery, and her boyfriend, Andrew DeLuca, who try to help her. She makes a mistake that almost harmed a patient causing Jackson to step in and help. Later he tells her that she is slipping at work and tries to encourage her to get help but Amber refuses citing that she will get over it.

Words: 4724

“Push one of Epi!” Amber feels the ribs under her hands break as she applies CPR to her dying covid patient who is crashing. The exertion is making the resident breathe hard under her mask that feels hot against her mouth with the goggles around her eyes tight enough to leave bruises. Amber ignores her own feelings of being suffocated to focus on saving the elderly woman under her care.

“Epi is in.” Amber sees the monitor is still flatlining despite combined Epi and CPR. The sound is deafening to her as she has heard it for the last two months from her time in the covid ward. It is a ringing in her ears that is a constant reminder of the death and suffering that is spreading worldwide.

She looks back down at the patient who changed before her eyes. Instead of an old woman under her fist it is her oldest brother, Alex. The sight makes her want to stop but applying CPR is integrated in her and is instinct to never stop. She closes her eyes to shake the image away while pressing down his chest with all her might.

Amber opens her eyes to find Jackson Avery on the bed instead. The sound of the monitor flatline raises Amber’s heartrate as her breathing begins to thin feeling like the air is not getting in her lungs. Every blink she takes the person on the bed shifts to Jo, and then April, and then Carina and finally Andrew DeLuca who is still lying there no matter how much she blinks or closes her eyes.

Instead of the warm and lively man that she loves she sees a pale imitation that is cold to the touch. Amber stops breathing as she registers this before her hands stop compressions. She wants to keep going, make sure he’s alive but her shock is making her freeze in place.

It is like she is dying in that room along with Andrew except unlike him, her heart is beating in her chest like a jackrabbit. The pain in her chest feels like her heart is trying to beat out of her body. Normally she would react to this by clutching her chest by right now except her limbs feel like their made of concrete.

The only sound that is heard in this dimming patient room is the monitor flatlining. Amber can’t discern anything else except the flatline that starts to ring in her ears. She stands there frozen with the nurse not even lifting a finger to help Andrew who is dying in front of their eyes. Instead the nurse speaks to Amber in a neutral tone. The words from the nurse are muffled to Amber due to the ringing in her ears. However she can discern what the nurse is saying, even muffled these are words she has heard so many times it is every doctors unofficial mantra.

“Time of death…”

May 18th, 2020

Amber wakes up with a gasp desperate to breathe. Instead of the hospital she is in bed with Andrew beside her sleeping. She looks at him relieved to hear his light snoring that indicates it was a nightmare. Her heart is still beating fast, she rubs her own chest desperate for relief. Amber inhales deeply and exhales slowly until her chest soothes the constrictions that followed her from her dream.

Once her heart rate decreases to normal limits, Amber notices her shirt sticking to her chest and back. She swipes her forehead and feels a layer of sweat that is covering her entire body. Amber groans at this disgusting fluid before checking her phone to find that she only slept for three hours. After her back-to-back shifts yesterday, she tried to fall asleep but found it difficult to keep her eyes closed. Instead, she spent two hours tossing and turning until she finally felt tired.

Now she is fully awake again in the middle of the night because of another nightmare. For the past few weeks she has been plagued with dreams of being in the covid ward and losing a patient. This, however, was the first time her patients were her loved ones and it’s what made her decide that sleep will only make things worse, and she needs to keep busy, so her boyfriend doesn’t get concerned once again and watch her like she’s going to break like glass.

Ever since Andrew was discharged and she moved back into his apartment, Amber has tried her best to take care of him while he’s recovering. She helps him with wound care, PT, cook’s meals for him and makes sure he remembers to take his medication. All of this was relatively easy except for when she sleeps in the same bed as him.

The nightmares started the night she came home, and it’s gotten worse since. She has thrown herself into work and Andrew’s post op care to appear stable and active. However, he was quick to figure this out two weeks ago when a dream of her brother attacking her during his psychotic episode made her wake up screaming and he held her in his arms while she cried.

Every night since he begs her to go to sleep with the help of melatonin. Amber tries to lay by his side and sleep peacefully but the most she gets is four hours before a nightmare wakes her up in a pit of sweat and anxiety. Even when Andrew is lying down and holding her Amber does math in her head to stay awake until his breaths evened out and she could sit up without waking him.

Amber sighs at this lack of sleep but knows she’s not gonna go back down so she opts to go for a run before heading into work. She finds running in the park to be relaxing as it’s the one place besides home she can breathe without a mask. Amber grabs her workout clothes from the drawers and quickly changes inside the bathroom before exiting to put on her shoes.

The sound of the bathroom door closing wakes up Andrew in bed. He groans tiredly before sitting up waking up his dog Jazz as well who slept in bed with them again. Amber is in her workout clothes putting her hair up in a ponytail before sitting on the couch to put her running shoes on.

“Good morning.”

Amber responds numbly without looking up, “Morning, sorry to wake you I wanted to go out for a run before work.”

Andrew turns on his phone at his bedside table, “It’s 3:30 in the morning your shift doesn’t start for another 4 hours.”

“So?” Amber asks snappishly, “The hospital is too overrun, they need all the help they can get so I’m going in early.”

Andrew sighs at this rubbing his eyes, “You finished a double shift 6 hours ago, Did you have another nightmare?”

“God not this again.” Amber remarks annoyed, “Yes I slept, I had a great dream last night where my boyfriend wasn’t nagging me about my sleeping schedule any other questions or do you want to attach me to a lie detector test too?”

DeLuca sighs at this insult but keeps calm, “Amber I am not the bad guy here I am just trying to help that’s all. I know you’ve been through a lot and you work to numb the pain and I get that. I get it but there’s a limit to how many hours you pull before exhaustion gets to you even in the middle of a pandemic.”

Amber scoffs dismissively, “You know why don’t you tell that to the thousands of people that are dying in our hospital each day? Tell them a resident can’t work to save lives because she would rather lay back in bed and keep her boyfriend company, I’m sure they would understand.”

Andrew’s face falls at that but Amber is unmoved walking to the door, “I’ll see you at work.” The door slams closed with that statement causing Andrew to groan and collapse on the bed in frustration.

Four Hours Later

“MVC and abdominal pain coming in 2 minutes out.” Jackson announces at the ambulance bay where Amber is already gowned up and waiting, “I can page Parker if you want to nod off and drink this very expensive coffee I got you.”

Avery is carrying a cup of coffee that he hands out to Amber who rolls her eyes. She knows that her best friend is taking shifts when she does because he’s looking after her. Amber is annoyed at this overprotectiveness that has increased after Amber came back to work following Andrew’s attack. She finds people babysitting her to be insulting and degrading but takes the coffee as the caffeine calls to her.

“You’re lucky I like caffeine.” She sips the coffee that makes her gag, “What is that?”

“Vanilla brown sugar latte, it’s my favorite, it’s sweet.”

“It’s disgusting.” Amber throws the coffee away hurting Jackson, “How do you have a six-pack drinking that swill? And I don’t need to sleep I’m great so you can back off and go back to your pretty little plastics floor where nothing bad ever happens.”

“Wow and here I was hoping a good latte would make you less cranky.” Jackson teases before noticing his friend closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again and shaking her tired head causing him to worry, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I know what you’re doing.” Jackson raises an eyebrow confused, “You’re mothering me or babying me and it’s pissing me off.”

Jackson is startled by this outburst, “What are you talking about?”

“You’re a world class surgeon and you’re coincidentally working at the pit when I am, not to mention the covid ward, the check in desk, the testing tent, this is stalking.”

“Amber despite what your ego is telling you my entire world does not revolve around you.” Jackson states sternly, “Every world class surgeon in this building is going where they’re needed because specialties and surgeries are on pause. It’s not stalking it’s having our wires crossed, now are you gonna accuse me of boiling your bunny or are we gonna save lives?”

Amber turns to the ambulance coming in and rushes over with Jackson where the paramedics open the back door. There is a heavy-set black man on the gurney groaning in pain.

“What do we got?” Jackson asks the paramedic who explains.

“Paul Wilkins, 45-year-old male with new onset right side abdominal pain.” Amber helps Jackson wheel him inside the building, “No meds, no past medical history, allergic to Zofran.”

“Okay you got this Karev?” Jackson asks Amber.

“I’ll run tests and give him Phenergan for the nausea.”

Jackson pulls back, “Okay I’ll take the MVC page me if you-”

“I’m fine Dr. Avery.” Amber proclaims causing him to leave her with the patient and paramedic “Paul your our first patient today so you get the luxury package, bed 1.”

She and the paramedic lift the groaning patient on the bed before Vic Hughes and Travis Montgomery come in uniform wheeling a black woman who is on a gurney. Amber groans but approaches the firefighters ready to take in the new patient.

“What do we got?”

“Irene Davis, 35, complains of severe abdominal pain.” Vic outlines, “She has a history of MS and an Rx for steroids.”

“Any numbness or tremors on scene?”

“No, she didn’t show symptoms beyond the abdomen.” Travis answers, “Although she was complaining the whole ride over and insisted on not going to a hospital.”

“Because that worked out so well for my sister.” Irene bitterly states, “Came in for a hysterectomy and went out with terminal cancer.”

“I’m so sorry Irene but we need to check you out and make sure there’s nothing serious.” Amber points to a room, “Get her to trauma 1 and I’ll page general for a consult, is there anyone we can call for you? Family or friends?”

Irene chuckles, “That won’t be necessary, my brother-in-law works here, and he’ll come marching in when he gets whiff that I’m here.”

“That’s good.”

“You say that, but you’ve never met my brother.”

Amber chuckles lightly, “I have two brothers, so I share the feeling trust me. Okay get her inside and a doctor will be with you shortly.” The firefighters take Irene to trauma 1 leaving Amber to go to the station to page Jo. She is about to return to her patients when a familiar song stops her in place.

Avril Lavigne’s Complicated plays from the nurse’s phone while she is charting. Amber’s feet stop moving, they feel like cinderblocks stopping her in place with an unblinking catatonic face. When this song is recognized by Amber the next sound she hears is ringing in her ears and her surroundings are incoherent to her as her mind takes her to the moment she first listened to this song.

2002

A nine-year-old Amber Karev is sitting at the table of her house working on her homework. While she is writing her English paper, her CD player is attached to her headphones that she is wearing. The music blaring in her ears is Complicated by Avril Lavigne.

She is peacefully doing her schoolwork while her brother Alex is at college and her other brother Aaron is hanging out with his friends. A loud clank startles her causing her to remove her headphones and put them around the back of her neck.

“Why are you here?!” Amber can discern is as Helen having another episode making the young girl’s fear skyrocket, “Get out! Get out or I’ll kill you, I swear to God, I’ll kill you!”

The little girl quickly grabs the home phone before going inside a closet out of view from her frantic mother who keeps tearing the house apart. She crouches in a dark corner in the back of the small space before dialing Aaron’s number.

While she does this Helen grabs the pans and throws them around screaming nonsense just five feet from Amber who hopes her schizophrenic mother doesn’t open the door and try to kill her again. The phone against her ear is answered with her teenage brother on the other end.

“Hey kid what’s up?” Amber is too afraid to make a sound and give herself away so she holds the phone out to the door that is a weak barrier for their mothers frantic actions.

Helen is throwing cups out of the shelves, “Come out here now! Come out here so I can kill you!”

Amber holds the phone to her ear as her brother responds calmly but with a veil of panic, “All right I’m leaving right now, just stay in there, don’t open the door, and don’t make a sound. I’ll be there as soon as I can I promise.”

Her brother hangs up leaving Amber all alone in the closet where she follows his instructions and keeps quiet like her life depends on it. Even through the screaming and glass breaking the little Karev keeps herself curled up inside the closet while her life is in danger from the person who is supposed to protect it.

Present

“Amber.”

The resident snaps out of her flashback at the call of her name and turns to find it coming from Jackson who is tending to Paul Wilkins instead of her. He doesn’t look bothered however he looks worried for Amber. For a solid minute he saw her standing by the station frozen looking on like a statue. He called her out twice until she finally responded to his relief but his concern for her escalates after this catatonic episode.

Amber approaches them normal trying to ignore her flashback, “Did general come by?”

“Not yet. Trauma took my MVC to the OR so I’m stepping in.” Jackson answers before doing a physical test on the abdomen causing the patient to groan in pain, “I know it hurts but I’m almost done. We’re gonna do a CBC and kidney panel to see what the source is, it’s most likely anemia which is very treatable don’t worry. Karev, can you do the workup while I get a CT for bed 5? And make him more comfortable while the labs are running?”

“I got it thanks.” Jackson leaves her with a nurse. She quickly does the blood draw and helps him to the restroom where he pees in a cup for her. Amber hands the bag to an intern to hand to the labs. She yawns as her exhaustion starts to creep up on her but she persists and turns to the nurse while Paul is too busy curled up in bed holding his stomach that makes him groan in pain.

“Okay Taylor let’s give Mr. Wilkins something for the nausea while his blood work is being done.” She briefly closes her eyes while giving orders, “Give him 4 mg of Zofran and I’ll be back once the results are in. Page me if anything changes thanks.”

Amber walks away groaning tiredly as she heads to the trauma room to check on Irene. She is inside the hall when a realization stops her in place. Amber remembers the paramedic telling them that Mr. Wilkins is allergic to Zofran…the same medicine that she just prescribed for his nausea. Amber gasps at this before running out and bursting the doors open back to the pit. The PPE she is wearing doesn’t stop her from running at full speed back to bed 1 where the nurse is about to insert something into Paul Wilkins IV.

“Stop!” Taylor stops in place looking up at the panicking resident, “Taylor are you giving Mr. Wilkins-”

“Phenergan?” Amber turns to Jackson who stands six feet behind her looking at the nurse and patient calmly, “I told nurse Taylor we were out of Zofran and to use Phenergan instead. That’s what you were gonna say right? Before I came over.”

Amber pauses at that explanation before looking at Paul who is responding to the medication. She knows Jackson was with her when the paramedics told them about Paul’s allergy and as a result saved her from making a mistake that could have killed the patient. Amber swallows the lump in her throat before nodding and following his lead.

“Right, I was gonna say that.”

“…Right.” Jackson says coldly with a stern face that Amber discerns as disappointment. It makes her guilt grow and sees she’s not gonna get away Scot free from her friend. Amber leaves for her previous destination. Jackson sighs as he watches her walk away with his disappointment shifting to worry.

Later

Jackson is outside the ambulance bay leaning back against the building with his mask off breathing in the air he and everyone else has taken for granted. Normally it would be a hard day working in a pandemic that would warrant his brooding but now it’s added by his friends declining mental state.

Ever since Amber came back to work after Andrew’s attack, Jackson noticed that she was snapping at coworkers more, working at the covid ward beyond the limits for residents, easily startled by random events and dragging her feet at work that affects her performance. He keeps his distance because he was certain she was just reacting like a doctor working during covid. But after Paul Wilkins he knows now it’s more than that, he knows now that Amber is teetering at the edge and needs to be pulled back before she falls.

“Hey.” Amber appears six feet in front of him with her mask off and a remorseful expression.

“Hey.” Jackson keeps a blank face knowing he needs to be upfront with Amber and help her when she’s not helping herself, “We need to talk.”

Amber inhales looking down in shame, “I know I figured we would after what happened with Mr. Wilkins, what I did with Mr. Wilkins that was…that was unacceptable. I was there when the paramedics told me he was allergic to Zofran, and I prescribed it anyway. I came back from a double shift last night and I haven’t gotten sleep since. I’m tired and my mind is in a fog but that is no excuse I know that.” Jackson sighs at this with a stern look that effects Amber, “Are you angry?”

“I’m not angry.” Jackson says pulling himself off the wall to stand up right in front of Amber with arms crossed at his chest, “Truly I’m not, I was but now I’m worried about you.”

“And I appreciate that, and I so appreciate what you did for me this morning. You came through huge for me and if you hadn’t…” Amber’s face darkens at that scenario running through her head, “I would never have forgiven myself.”

“I know that.” Jackson says with a frown, “Why do you think I was keeping an eye on you all day?”

“Well lucky me that you decided to baby me today.” Amber half teases that Jackson doesn’t find amusing causing her to become serious again, “Jackson, you know me, you know I’m not that kind of doctor. I swear this is the first and last time something like this happens from me.”

“It’s not.” Jackson states making Amber look confused, “It’s not the first time this has happened. The reason you don’t know this is because I have been watching you closely and cleaning up your messes.”

Amber is taken back by this new information. For so long she has prided herself on her analytical skills and her ability to double-check her work. So, to hear her boss tell her that she has unknown skeletons in her closet makes her pause for a moment before prying for elaboration.

“What? What are you talking about?”

Jackson almost wants to stop; he almost wants to spare his friend the pain of finding out how she looks to others. But he knows he can’t watch her 24/7 and next time there won’t be an attending to stop her from making a fatal error like with Mr. Wilkins.

“Ever since DeLuca was discharged you haven’t been 100 percent at work.” Amber furrows her eyebrows in confusion, “You look exhausted, you’re dragging your feet. I chalked it up to exhaustion and taking care of DeLuca at home and burn out but then you started slipping at work.”

Amber scoffs at that, “When have I ever made mistakes like today? Tell me.”

“You want the list? I correct your EMR’s, put patient notes on the right charts, order rapid tests when you doze off.”

“Okay that’s just paperwork.” Amber defends herself, “That is not malpractice that’s normal. I mean you can’t tell me you didn’t make mistakes like that when you were a resident, and you weren’t in a pandemic then. I screw up some red tape once or twice big deal.”

“It happens all the time.” Jackson informs her in a low voice, so they don’t attract attention, “And it’s been getting worse. You prescribed Zofran you forgot a patient was allergic to after you had an episode and stared off into space for a minute. It was like your brain was somewhere else, like you were caught in a flashback.” Amber pales at that reminder causing Jackson to ask cautiously, “What did you see before you prescribed Mr. Wilkins the Zofran?”

Amber shakes her head not wanting to be pulled back into that dark hole, “I’m tired that’s it; it comes with the job I’ll get over it I always do.”

“Amber…” Jackson sighs gathering the courage to make his point to his friend looking at her in sympathy, “I think you need help; more help that any of us realize and I’m sorry for not seeing that until now, but I have and I’m here to tell you…you’re not okay.”

Amber shakes her head at that suggestion immediately as her face shifts to frustration, “I already have a live-in boyfriend pointing out all of my flaws I don’t need you doing it too.”

“Amber-”

“And you know what I am a big girl Jackson I don’t need an overpaid babysitter attached to my hip.” Amber snaps at Jackson who rubs his eyes as he knew this wasn’t gonna go smoothly, “I can take care of myself I have done it my whole life. I’m not some side piece for you to control like April and Maggie, my entire life doesn’t depend on your hero complex and another thing-”

“If I didn’t give half as much crap about you and babysit you a patient would be dead right now because your too exhausted to remember important medical information.” Jackson reminds her in a low harsh tone accompanied by a furious glare that appeared when Amber insulted April. This dark progression stops Amber’s rant, and she looks at her friend silently as he continues.

“I am trying to save you before you self-sabotage yourself until you get your license taken away. You and I both saw it with Jo when she came to work drunk and again with DeLuca when he became manic. It’s happening again only this time you’re the one who is getting worse, and I can’t stand by and watch you deny what is right in front of you and kill patients as a result. You would do the same for me and don’t even try to deny it.”

Amber is frozen by this for a moment before Jackson rubs his jaw and his fury shifts to concern and empathy, “I’m being your friend right now, I am helping you because you need it. You helped me when my mom was sick and when I was going through a question in faith and the universe. You were my ear and my shoulder to lean on so I am telling you I will return the favor. This pain you’re feeling you can’t keep it bottled up forever because eventually it’s gonna blow up and you won’t come back from it. I just…I just want you to tell me what you’re feeling so I can help you, please talk to me.”

Amber looks taken back by this heartwarming confession. Her best friend had been there for her time and time again whether it’s relationship or professional problems. Even when she was mad at him for leaving unexpectedly, she knew he would be in her corner. And she knows he wants to hear her honest response to his offer.

Amber inhales deeply taking a moment to gather her thoughts, “I feel…I feel off.”  

Jackson looks at her in sympathy over this morose statement as she continues, “One minute I feel like there’s no hope left, no love, no happiness just…nothing. And then the next minute I feel like screaming at the world and never stopping. Even when my boyfriend makes me a gourmet dinner it’s like ash in my mouth. I get mad at him for every little thing, it’s like I live on anger because there’s no hope left. It-It’s like I hate everything and everyone until I hit a wall, and I don’t feel hate or anything at all. I can’t sleep at night because I always have nightmares that feel so real I am afraid I’ll never wake up. It feels like…it feels like all of the worst feelings of everyone in the world has somehow entered my body and I can’t get it out.”

Jackson sighs at this feeling sad for his friend who has so much more turmoil than he even realized. It’s taking everything in him not to break protocol and hug her. She looks broken and small like a lost child and for the first time he can see her walls breaking down and her true feelings coming out.

Amber inhales to regain her composure and barriers, “But I’ll get over it and deal with it my own way that includes working.”

Jackson frowns at this while Amber puts her mask on, “I gotta get back in there, excuse me.”

Amber goes back inside without objection from her friend who looks grim at this confession. He knew she was in rough shape but not to this extent. He wants to help but he doesn’t know how to help with this. Instead, he stands there feeling just as hopeless as Amber just told him she feels.

Next Chapter Here

[scrpcntfathcr]

another thing for @narcisme because I will write all the things with my wife🥀

The fire crackled softly in the dimly lit drawing room, casting long flickering shadows across the ornate walls. It was the only sound within the room aside from the low, tired breaths of the aristocrat.

A crystal glass of firewhisky rested untouched in Lucius' hand, his fingers tightening around it as he stared into the embers, deep in thought. Most recently he had been taking comfort in his alcohol reserves, admittedly, more than he should. The very idea- the ACTION, made him sick.

By Merlin- was he turning into his father?

His jaw tensed, his expression unreadable, yet beneath it all, there was a simmering storm of frustration, grief, and the unspoken weight of failure pressing down upon him.

The silence of the manor felt heavier than usual. Since the loss of their unborn child, the air had been thick with unspoken words, shared glances heavy with meaning, and the echo of a future that had slipped through their grasp.

It was not only Narcissa’s sorrow that haunted him—it was his own FEAR, the gnawing realization that their legacy— HIS LEGACY, remained fragile.

With the hope— the success— stripped away from him upon the loss; it was a different kind of DREAD.

Failure.

It was unacceptable.

When he heard the soft footsteps behind him, he already knew it was her. A sinking feeling entered his gut, she must have woken to his absence.

He turned slightly, catching sight of Narcissa standing near the doorway. She looked pale, more delicate than usual, her grief worn like an invisible cloak. His chest tightened at the sight of her. He loved her, even if it was difficult to say.

❝Narcissa...❞ He murmured her name, his voice low, measured, as if he feared shattering something between them. He set down his glass, now moving to address her properly, his steps filled with purpose and yet displaying his slight intoxication.

❝You should be resting.❞ His concern was genuine, yet there was an edge to it—his own helplessness manifesting as quiet frustration.

He had scoured ancient texts, sought out rare ingredients, even spoken to healers and apothecarists' whose discretion he trusted. And still yet, nothing had prevented this loss.

It wasn’t enough. HE WASN'T ENOUGH.

Lucius stood before his wife, his hands reaching for hers and taking them, squeezing them within the prison of his large palms. There was a desperation in his touch. His brow contorted, ❝I have been thinking,❞ he continued after a pause, stepping even closer to her; the alcohol apparent on his breath.

❝There are still options. More powerful elixirs— rituals that have been lost to time— I refuse to accept that this—❞ He stopped, hesitating as the word failure lingering unspoken. ❝—that this will define our future.❞ His grey eyes locked onto hers, searching, demanding.

❝We will not let this be the end of it.❞

There was anguish behind his composed exterior, the weight of his lineage pressing down on him, suffocating like a vice.

But there was also something else—a rare flicker of vulnerability, masked as determination. He was grasping for control in a situation that had robbed them of it, clinging to the one thing that mattered above all: securing the Malfoy bloodline.

[skxllz]

(I'm listening to thick skull by paramore ft julien baker as I write this)

tw; depression, depressive episode, psychotic break

raindrops pelted bluntly against the glass of the window, splattering like the cold blood of a dead animal.

“ have you ever felt... sad? ”

marko looked up at you from the book he held - the diary. your diary. he had swiped it from your vanity when he first entered your room. now, he was lying on the futon across the room; just lined up right from your bed. “ what? ” the blonde asked, confusion lacing his tone. his brows were even knitted together.

“ sad. ” your voice held an empty undertone to it while you sat upon your window's sil, a perfect spot to sit and watch the show fall in the winter. but as of right now, you were busy watching the rain splat against the ground, the gloominess of the weather fitting the foggy look behind your eyes perfectly. “ have you ever been sad, ‘ko? ”

marko slowly turned his head to looked at you, then. his neck was craned backwards, so to him, you looked as if you were upside down. his arms lowered to rest the open diary against his chest. “ where is this coming from, babe? ”

you had been a little off the entire time he was here, but he didn't think anything of it. you often had mood swings, sudden emotional changes - he thought, maybe, it was one of those nights.

he was right, but very wrong.

you had run out of medication the day prior.

“ I feel as if I want to jump out the window. ” you spoke coldly, eyes fleeting between the ground and your shaky hands. “ I just... I don't want to be sad anymore. It's like a permanent epiphany. ” your lips had begun to quiver, finger tips curling inwards, until the dull ends of your nails were digging into your palm.

instantly, marko rolled off of the couch, only to stride quickly over to you until he was kneeled by your side.

he went to speak, but you did before he could, “ I feel as if I'm realizing, all the time, I'll never get better. ” a shaky inhale was taken, while you stared down at your bare feet. your toes were turning purple from the cold; such bad blood circulation you had. “ these thoughts will never go away, they'll always be here. I'll always be here; struggling to accept that I'm not worthy of living, or— ”

“ baby- angel. ” your teary eyes turned onto marko as he grabbed your hand closest to him. his expression bores pain and concern; those usual happy, gleaming eyes of his holding nothing but hurt now. “ stop, ” the blonde spoke softly, the usual playfulness of his tone gone. it weighed down with raw wariness. his other hand -that had been pinned to his knee- reached up to cup over the chilly back of your hand. you felt so cold...

“ firstly, you know I hate when you talk about yourself that way. ” you didn't say anything to that. instead, you avoided eye contact- but marko forced you to look at him again by squeezing your wrist. his hues were stern; but not a scary stern, more concerned. “ secondly, you're not unworthy of living. you're the most precious thing in this world- to me. to david, dwayne, paul. even michael. ”

a beat of silence passes, before marko continues speaking, “ which leaves me wondering why you'd think such a thing, let alone say it out loud. ”

you were quiet, not wanting to speak anymore. your thoughts were everywhere- so were you. It was terrifying, so terrifying. what if he'd hate you? what if he currently does, and is just dealing with you? so many possibilities- so, so many.

“ y/n. ” blinking, your mind cleared just enough... just enough to look up, and see your mate sitting directly in front of you. he squeezed himself into the other side of the windowsill. even though he looked cramped, even though it was humorous, you still didn't crack not even a smile.

“ don't get caught up in your head again.. ” marko whispered, now taking ahold of your other hand. he squeezed them both.

it was such a small gesture, but your favorite source of comfort. you loved hand holding; he knew this. marko was trying to ground you.

“ .. that's hard... ” you mumbled back, eyes darting, “ so very hard. I'm scared, marko. ” you still couldn't look directly into his eyes. he noticed, but didn't comment on it.

“ babydoll, ” his frame shifted so that he could become more comfortable. then, he learned down, pressing a kiss to the back of each of your hands. “ I'm here.. ” each of his thumbs locked over your fingers, only to gently massage them; slowly working downwards. “ I'll always he here. I won't go anywhere - not while you're like this. ”

“ but- ” you panicked almost immediately. more tears stung your eyes as you bolted forward; knees tucking under your behind. “ you'll still leave? ” a sniffle broke through. “ even after I'm better? ”

marko frowned, his eyes widening. he had realized his mistake. “ no! ” he was quick, moving his arms to wrap around your waist. your body trembled, but he still moved to lift you until you were in his lap. “ no, never. ”

lifting your legs, you maneuvered them over his thighs, only to wrap them around his waist. he glanced down momentarily- but then his gaze was right back on your tear stained, blotchy cheeks. “ angel... ” you slowly, but finally lifted your head to look up at him. a smile managed it's way onto his lips. “ I'll never leave. not in your darkest moments, not in your lightest. I'll always be around. we'll always be here for you. ”

slight disbelief lingered in your eyes, he could see it. but... he knew, as well, you were thinking it over. “ do you promise? ” your voice came out as quiet as a mouse, an edge to it- but, thankfully he could hear you.

marko grinned. “ I promise. ” he held out a pinky towards you; other arm keeping a secure hold. “ pinky promise. ”

you sniffled once more, but managed your own small smile.

lifting your hand, you hooked your pinky with his. “ pinky promise. ”

“ good girl.. ” marko kissed your forehead tenderly, letting his eyes fall shut.

“ there's no need to ever feel scared, princess... your family will always be by your side to scare those monsters away. ”

[diyasgarden]

all this lucy dacus talk made me realize that you could write an prologue or prequel kind of post to your graceland too tashi blurb to the song please stay

Oh anon. Your mind is insane, this actually fits perfectly. You can consider this to be about you, Tashi, and the time leading up to events of this blurb. This deals with depression, please read at your own discretion.

The books on your shelf that you never read / The hunting knife you kept by your bed / The flowers you dried and tied up with twine / Suspended from the ceiling

It's disturbing how little has actually changed. The sun rises and sets like always. Students go to class. The tennis team continues to play. Even her room looks the same. From the outside, everything is fine. Everything is normal. You feel guilty for thinking like this, but is it not the truth? The world is still spinning. It has moved on, but it's left Tashi behind.

You tell me you love me, like it'll be the last time / Like you're playing out, the end of a storyline / I say I love you too, because it's true / What else am I supposed to do? / Maybe bar the door when you move to leave

Sometimes it feels as if she's planned everything out already, and that scares you the most. You'll watch her slip away and you won't be able to do anything about it. How many times can you say "I love you too" before it's not enough to keep her alive anymore? Was it ever enough to keep her alive? You don't let yourself think about the question. It reminds you of how little you can actually do.

I think you mean what you say / When you say you wanna die / I think you mean what you say / When you say you want to stay alive

You can't shake the feeling that you'll lose her. She's a dead girl walking. A body without a soul. She holds some hope that her recovery will go fine and that she'll have her career back. It's so genuine and desperate, like a child's prayers. And you try to cling onto it as well, but you're too scared about what will happen if it doesn't. The Tashi you know would never want to die, but you don't think this is her anyway.

Quit your job / Cut your hair / Get a dog / Change your name / Change your mind / Change your ways / Give them time / Go back to school, go back to sleep / Tell the secret you can't keep / Begin, be done / Break a vow, make a new one / Call me if you need a friend, or never talk to me again / But please stay

You don't care what she does. She could do anything. Drop out of Stanford. Find a new passion completely. At this point she could leave your life completely and it'd be okay. As long as she stays. That's what you want. For her to stay. You'd give anything to guarantee that.

[theangrypomeranian]

me right now

[nyastri]

Small self-indulgent fic. Might delete but we’ll see.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Hyrule & Legend (Linked Universe) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Baggage, References to Depression, Hyrule Needs a Hug, Good Sibling Legend Summary:

Hyrule didn't feel like eating. Or talking. Or doing anything, really. Fortunately, Legend is there to notice.

[thrill-seeker-vn]

Hi, everyone.

--tw for discussing mental health, death. Just a general life update and an explanation for why I was gone. Under the cut.--

I don't really know how to write something like this, but I just wanted to give a little update on my life.

I'm so sorry for the radio silence the past few months. I understand that it might seem that I've abandoned this project, and I understand many of you may feel a bit... I don't really know the word for it, but you might feel annoyed (?) by my not answering, ignoring tags, and not replying to asks.

I wanted to apologize for that. I do not want my following words to feel like an excuse, but I do want to apologize for that. And I want to thank the people who sent me asks checking in on me, even when I didn't have the strength to reply.

These past few months have been incredibly difficult for me. I have distanced myself from my social medias as I didn't want to see people seeing me go through that kind of time, but all I really accomplished was isolating myself.

I lost a few people in my life that were really important to me. I've always struggled with a feeling of It happened in a time that a lot of things were really on my ass, to say, and I had to deal with the loss as I dealt with the other stresses in my life. My mental health came to an all-time low.

After coming back to this for several days, I think although I expressed my thoughts strangely in this, it's important for me to express them. I am grateful to friends and family who intervened and brought me out of my isolation. I am grateful to everyone who checked in on me, including the kind people in my inbox.

The past few days, I have been rethinking about the kind of person I want to be, and slowly getting used to being happy again.

A couple people have asked if I am still working on my if. Thank you for sticking with me! I want to return to my creative passions, which may mean trying to restructure my IF now that I have different tastes-- not meaning that I am giving up on Thrill Seeker, but as it is structured so heavily around mental health, I do want to take it slow and be a bit more honest with myself. I don't want to feel as if I'm self-inserting in my writing, or that I'm driving away from the plot, or that I'm not giving it the right kind of attention the sensitive topics need, either. I am going to slowly chug along in my creative passions again. I want to slowly and gradually return back to Tumblr and back to my writing.

Thank you to everyone who has read this far, to all those who have checked in on me, even when I didn't have the strength to respond. I hope you are all having a lovely week.

[she-karev]

Breakdown (Andrew DeLuca x Alex Karev’s Sister PTSD Imagine)

Previous Chapter Here

Age Rating: 18+

Chapters: Two of Two

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Andrew DeLuca x Amber Karev (Alex Karev’s Sister)

Canon Episode: Season 17 Episode 10

TRIGGER WARNING: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Panic Attack, Flashback, Depression

Mental Health Resources: https://www.ptsd.va.gov/, https://adaa.org/understanding-anxiety/posttraumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/resources, https://www.nami.org/, https://www.aacap.org/, https://www.dbsalliance.org/, https://afsp.org/

AN: I do NOT enjoy hurting my characters, let me make that clear and I certainly don’t enjoy hurting my head canon ships but I write not just for entertainment but to also send a message. Realistically someone with Amber’s traumatic childhood, relationship problems, and anxiety can crumble one day when it becomes too much to bear. I wanted to show that even the strongest person can ask for help when they feel it’s too much to overcome alone. Like and reblog below and let me know what you think.

Summary: Amber Karev reaches a breaking point and confides in Andrew her dark thoughts. When he fails to get her to seek help he encourages her to talk to someone about her problems. She confides in her friend Jackson Avery her struggles who helps her see that there is no shame in admitting you need help. That night she and Andrew have a heartbreaking goodbye when she leaves to stay at her brother, Alex’s, while she takes time off work to go to therapy.

Words: 5852

May 18th, 2020

Amber quickly walks inside the pit where she sees Paul Wilkins lying in bed sleeping. She sees him alone with no nurse or resident on sight and decides to see what’s going on. She keeps a respectable distance from the large man before speaking to him.

“Mr. Wilkins?” The man wakes up and sits up looking at the young resident, “Hi I don’t know if you remember me I-”

“Your one of my doctors ain’t you?” Paul asks causing Amber to nod.

“Yes I’m Dr. Karev. Did a nurse follow up with you? Was there a resident to tell you what your results showed what caused the pain?”

“Nope, I’ve been here by myself about half an hour, nobody told me anything.”

Amber nods apologetically, “I’m sorry about that our staff is scrambled all over trying to keep things steady but that is no excuse.”

“Nah it’s fine doc.” Paul dismisses nonchalantly, “It ain’t like you don’t got an excuse. And I’m just a youngish man who gets takeout deliveries cause there isn’t anything else to pass the time. Did you get my results back?”

“We did.” Amber goes over the labs on her tablet, “Your labs show that your anemic, that means your iron deficient and it’s what caused your nausea. The good news is that this is very treatable with oral iron supplements, the bad news is your gonna have to say goodbye to greasy takeout food and opt for a homemade salad instead.”

Paul chuckles, “My wife is gonna be happy to hear that. Her job is on pause, and she took up making a rooftop vegetable garden. Answer me this, have you ever tried radish from a dirty pot on a rooftop?”

Amber grins amused, “No I have not.”

“We’ll you can thank the lord for that blessing.” Amber chuckles before writing down on her tablet.

“So, the nausea is under control, and you should make a full recovery and be discharged soon. We’ll give you a rapid test and if your positive your gonna have to quarantine in a private room for the next two weeks and call us if your symptoms worsen. I’m gonna send your pharmacy a prescription for oral Phenergan for the nausea and oral iron supplements to get your iron levels under control. Is there anyone you can call to pick you up and drive you home?”

“Yeah, my wife she’s home with our girls but uh…” Amber raises an eyebrow at that pause, “I don’t know how to zoom her. My girls help me and I don’t know how.”

Amber grins at that before opening the facetime app on her tablet and handing it to Paul, “You just put down your wife’s number in and if she answers she should pop up.”

Paul does as told and waits while the tablet rings before his wife answers and her face pops up at the other end, “Hi baby.”

“Paul!” His wife exclaims worried, “Oh my god I was so worried about you, are you okay?”

“I’m fine I just need to eat less burgers that’s all. My doctor here can explain, say hi to doc.” Paul turns the tablet to face Amber who waves at his wife.

“Hi Mrs. Wilkins, I’m Dr. Karev, I’m your husbands’ doctor. So, your husband is anemic, that’s what caused the nausea and pain. Now this is very treatable with oral iron supplements and a more rigid diet moving forward, do you think you can help make sure he follows?”

“Oh, I will even if I have to shove lettuce down his throat.”

Paul chuckles, “Yep that’s Janice for you, never takes no for an answer.”

“Daddy!” Amber sees two little girls grabbing the phone and facing the resident who blanches at the sight of her patient’s kids. Kid’s that she almost left without a father if Jackson hadn’t corrected her error to the nurse.

Paul doesn’t notice her skin paling under her PPE and instead faces the tablet with renewed energy, “Hey babies! Don’t worry, daddy’s coming home soon thanks to this nice doctor lady. Say thank you to the doctor.”

Paul turns the tablet with Amber facing the two adorable little girls who smile widely at her making her heart sting, “Thank you doctor!”

Amber swallows the lump in her throat before smiling at the children behind her mask, “Your very welcome.” Paul turns the tablet to face him and Amber clears her throat before speking calmly, “Um I just sent your prescription in, it should be ready tonight. A nurse will discharge you, I have to be somewhere, if you have any questions have a nurse page me.”

Paul nods to Amber’s relief as she walks away from the pit. She doesn’t know where she is going but she can’t be in the pit face to face with a patient she almost harmed. The N95 mask she is wearing feels like a stove in her face, and she registers her breathing is becoming increasingly erratic.

Amber feels relief when she sees an empty family room that she quickly enters and shuts the door behind her. The comfortable couch and armchair are barely registered in her brain that feels like it’s spinning inside her skull. The panicking resident rips her face shield off her face along with her N95. But the air in her hot face is not enough for her to breathe in through her nose or her mouth that is hyperventilating. She leans forward against a wall, pressing her forehead against her clasping fists trying to control her breathing.

“Calm down, Karev, calm down.” Amber recites to herself but her voice does little to make herself relax. Her chest feels like it’s being squeezed inside and once again her feet feel like their planted on the ground.

The overlapping sounds from nurses and doctors outside the room are becoming muffled like they’re slowly moving a thousand miles away. Instead of the usual hospital chatter and equipment being moved all her hears is a ringing in her ear that she registers as her breathing gets shorter isn’t a ringing at all, it’s a flatline tone.

April 1st 2020

Amber looks down at her patient Ian Talbert who is lying in bed waiting for the release of death that comes to men his age who contract covid. The young resident has never felt so helpless, so insignificant, less like a doctor and more as a witness of death.

The 64-year-old actuary just offered the depressed resident a parting gift, his deceased daughters army dog tags. At first, she refused out of respect but reluctantly took them at Ian’s insistence that there was no one else to take them from him. Hearing Ian say there was nobody in his life to keep him company in his last moments makes the youngest Karev take action even if it kills her emotionally. She holds his hand with the dog tags and sits down in the chair next to him.

“I’m here. I am not going anywhere.” Amber promises holding his hand as he tears up from her kindness.

“I don’t blame you.” Ian states to a guilty Amber who closes her tearful eyes and looks down in shame, “I’m gonna see my daughter. Do you believe that?”

Amber sniffles and looks back up at her friend with tears in her eyes still holding his weakening hand.

“I didn’t give it much thought until this happened.” Amber admits, “But yeah, I want to believe there’s something good for you after all this pain. I really want to believe it.”

Ian’s breathing gets shallower, and he lays in bed looking up at the ceiling waiting for the release of death. Amber is still by his side holding his hand making sure he is not alone, it’s the only thing she can do at a time like this.

“Everything I have…is yours.” Ian proclaims.

A few moments pass before Ian stops breathing and lays still in bed with his eyes wide open. Amber looks and sees the monitors flatline without the sound. She looks back at Ian and let’s go of his limping hand to close his eyes. Her lip quivers as her eyes fill with tears before she sobs by the bed, saddened by what the world has come to and how many good people it’s lost in the process.

Present

“Amber!” The familiar sound of Andrew causes her to gasp and open her eyes. No longer is she leaning against her fists, instead she is sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. She registers that her knees are drawn up to her chest and her hair is stinging in pain.

Amber realizes she was pulling her own hair and possibly rocking back and forth like a child while lost in the flashback. She also looks at her boyfriend in front of her who looks frightened out of his mind no doubt she looked like she was losing it, and the thought fills her with shame.

Amber swallows the lump in her throat before asking, “What happened?”

“You went white, you were pulling your hair, and you were hyperventilating.” His voice is strained as if seeing her in that state broke his heart, “And when I touched you, you screamed.”

“I…what?” Amber feels her throat sore and realizes he is right as she speaks raspy, “Damn it…who heard?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Andrew dismisses needing to focus on the main issue, “Amber I have tried to be patient and back off like you wanted because every time I even ask you if you’re okay you lash out, but I can’t stand idly by not anymore. You need to see a therapist, right now as soon as possible.”

Amber shakes her head on autopilot, “No I’m f-

“You’re not fine.” Andrew insists sternly, “You had a full-on flashback, you weren’t here you were somewhere else, and I know it wasn’t the first time today. The nurses said they saw you stare off into space at the pit. That is not a symptom of a person who is fine you and I both know that.”

“Andrew, I don’t want to talk about this!” Amber exclaims in frustration before standing up and keeping a distance between them, “What part of that don’t you understand? I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to talk to some stranger about my fucked-up life, I don’t want to be another crazy person in my family like my mom!”

Andrew closes his eyes at that realizing this goes deeper than burnout as Amber keeps denying what is wrong, “I am trying to move on and rise on my own time in my own way. And yeah, maybe I missed some sleep, and my mind takes me to the worst moments of my life but guess what, not all of us can get stabbed and walk away five minutes later like nothing happened. We’re all not that lucky!”

Andrew widens his eyes at that low blow his girlfriend achieved. He would feel angry five months ago except back then he didn’t lash out at the woman he loves when he was having a mental breakdown. It was this moment he realized how hopeless Amber felt then and that knowledge makes his guilt grow even more and makes him more determined to persist like she did and help her like she tried to help him.

“…I’m not lucky Amber.” Andrew starts calmly, “A lucky person wouldn’t get stabbed, a lucky person wouldn’t drive the love of his life away, a lucky person wouldn't inherit his estranged father’s mental illness. I am far from the luckiest guy alive, and I was traumatized after what happened. I spent the first two weeks after my surgery waking up from nightmares and looked over my shoulder afraid someone was gonna come and finish the job. I was a freaking mess and the reason you don’t know this was because I didn’t want to burden you so soon after you miraculously decided to give us another chance.”

Amber stands there frozen with a remorseful face as Andrew continues with a strained voice, “I didn’t want to trigger you again and lose you again because I love you. And the reason I was so perfect in your book was because I had myself invested in my mental health by then. I take my meds; I go to therapy, and it helps me process what happened to me and move forward. I am trying to help you do the same because…because I can’t watch you ignore what is wrong like I did with my father I can’t. Just talk to me please. Just tell me what’s going on. I’m here for you okay? I want to help.”

Amber sniffles at this confession. A part of her wants to tell him…but a nagging feeling in her brain is reminding her of every fight they had when he was manic. It is playing the time he told her she would end up like her abusive father. It is playing the time he compared her to her neglectful mother. It played the weeks he ghosted her after his public breakdown. All of these horrible memories make her feel like she’s swimming in a blackhole before she coldly responds.

“You can’t help Andrew.” Amber replies numbly, “Nobody can help because you can’t fix me any better than when I tried to fix you. You hurt me and you lashed out at me and nothing I did got through to you so why do you think now would be any different?”

“Amber I’m trying to help.” Andrew pleads but it falls on deaf ears.

“You want to help me?” Andrew sees the hurt in her eyes as her voice is low and shaky, “Make the pandemic go away, make it so my mom actually got better when I needed her, make it so my brother didn’t inherit this illness. Make it so everyone I love in my life didn’t go crazy and hurt me in every way possible. Can you do that?!”

Andrew frowns at this inquiry that makes him silent with melancholy, “Yeah that’s what I thought. You can’t make this better because nothing ever gets better. Not the world, not the hospital, not our patients, not me. Everything is falling apart, and everyone is dying, and nobody knows how to fix it.”

Andrew stands there silent for a moment as he processes her depressing statement that is plaguing everyone. But he sees this isn’t just burnout or even depression, this is Amber falling apart after so many years of bottling up her pain. He knows he alone can’t help her…but he knows she needs someone to turn to even if it’s not him and wants to encourage her to do so.

He nods with a hard line on his face, “Your right I can’t fix the world and everything that is wrong with your life…but that doesn’t mean you have to let this helplessness and hopelessness take hold of you and never let go. I almost let it and if it wasn’t for Carina, Bailey and Webber I would be in the same place you are right now. Unwilling to help myself because the truth is too scary to face. I was lucky to have people that didn’t give up on me. And you have that too even if this thing your feeling can’t let you see it.”

Amber looks at Andrew with tear glistened eyes, “If you don’t want to talk to me that’s fine, I know after everything I put you through, I am the last person you feel safe to be vulnerable with. But please talk to someone else, someone you feel safe with, like Alex or Jackson who were there for you when I wasn’t. Talk to them before it eats you alive.”

Amber stands there for a moment looking broken beyond repair at this insistence. Even when she tries to push him away he is still trying to help her at her lowest. This gesture would melt her heart…except now her heart feels like it’s not working. It feels like everything inside of her is dying, it feels like all of the pain and misery has made her feel everything and nothing. Unable to bear him seeing this, Amber quickly leaves the room.

She walks toward the pit looking to work to escape this feeling, to escape all that is wrong. Except something stops her dead in her tracks just as she enters the mostly empty ER. Paul Wilkins is still in bed, except this time his wife is by his side. They are both talking and keeping their distance but the love between them is clear to the resident.

It’s clear to her that this scene in front of her wouldn’t be happening. It’s clear to her that Paul could be dead because his doctor prescribed him medication, she forgot he was allergic to because she was tired and stressed.

It’s clear that if her friend hadn’t been checking on her and correcting her little mistakes that almost culminated in a massive one, she would be fired or worse. It’s clear to her that Andrew was right about her needing to talk to someone before she lets this despair, she’s experiencing kill one of her patients. It’s clear she needs to talk to someone before it’s too late.

Later

Jackson looks out the window of the attendings lounge lost in thought as the pitter patter of rain falls from the dark sky. It seems like fitting weather for the day he’s had. First, he tried to talk to Amber about her obvious mental decline and then he had to work with a mother and daughter suffering from covid who both had to be put on a vent when ventilators were in shortage now.

Luckily his and Maggie’s quick thinking were able to convert one vent into a double tubing that can be used for both of them at the same time. It is a solution that can help trauma patients and covid patients use desperately needed vents without fear of a shortage.

However, his sorrow is still present as he has one problem remaining with his best friend who left to work despite what transpired with Paul Wilkins. It’s a problem that has him seriously contemplating on reporting her to Bailey and forcing her to get help or get fired. This decision is stalled by the door being burst open and slammed shut. Jackson turns to find Amber entering the room looking more disheveled than when she left him.

Amber is gripping the table chair by the top looking down at her feet with a struggle on her face that worries Jackson. It’s a look he’s never seen on her, it’s a look of distress that has never been shown in this confident and collected resident, until today. Jackson moves to face Amber across the table sitting down in the chair six feet away from her. He keeps a neutral face that he hopes allows her to feel safe enough to finally admit she needs help.

Amber sniffles and looks up to face Jackson with tear glistened eyes before speaking in a small voice, “Ask me again.”

Jackson furrows his eyebrows confused that Amber catches causing her to elaborate, “Ask me what I saw…when I was blacking out before I prescribed Mr. Wilkins the Zofran. Ask me what caused me to forget vital patient information.”

“…What did you see before you prescribed Mr. Wilkins the Zofran?”

Amber swallows and takes a moment before responding in a raspy voice, “A nurse was playing a song, Complicated by Avril Lavigne. It triggered me I think and my mind took me somewhere else, somewhere that felt like I was living a memory all over again. I was nine years old; I was listening to that song and then…and then my mom came bursting in off her meds again. She thought there was an intruder, and she was threatening to kill them. I instantly knew she was gonna attack me because it was just me there but the damn schizophrenia would make her see a monster instead of her own daughter. Her illness would kill me, and she wouldn’t even know it until after.”

Jackson looks at her in sympathy while she continues with tears streaming down her eyes sniffling, “I grabbed the phone and hid in the closet like Alex and Aaron told me to do when mom has an episode. I hid in the closet and called Aaron, he heard mom screaming so he said he would be there as fast as he could and to keep quiet and keep hiding so I did…I hid in that closet for half an hour, listening to my mom’s screams and rants that got worse when she started throwing stuff around. I didn’t move, I didn’t make a peep because I was afraid if I so much as breathed out loud Helen would know, and I would be at her mercy without my brothers there to protect me. So I stayed still, I stayed quiet and ever since that day when I hear that song…I am reminded of that awful moment in that closet. But today was the first time I ever had a flashback like that, and do you want to know what the worst part of it is?” Jackson shakes his head listening attentively as his friend shares her struggles with him, “These past few months I felt like that scared little girl in the closet again.”

Amber gasps a breath before grabbing a napkin from the kitchenette to wipe her eyes before explaining to Jackson facing the sink instead of him, “Growing up in that house, in my family…I felt helpless and weak. I put on this tough front like I can handle anything, but it was just that, a front. I didn’t want anyone to see that I was scared, scared of my mom and her crazy and then again with Aaron. You spend a part of your childhood in and out of foster care you learn to close off a part of yourself to survive. I have done that all of my life; I fought tooth and nail to survive…but I always felt like nothing I did mattered. And that feeling…it’s gotten worse since the day we learned we were in a pandemic.”

Jackson stands up with a solemn expression standing six feet next to Amber so she can know he’s still there. He always knew Amber was tough but seeing her breakdown and admit underneath it all is a scared girl has him feeling bad for her as she needed help for so long, but nobody has given it to her or even saw that she needed it.

Amber wipes her tears with the napkin, “Do you know why I became a doctor? I wanted to use the part of my brain that was healthy, the part of that was strong and decisive, the part that my mother’s illness wouldn’t touch. I wanted to feel like I was in control, like I mattered but now…” Amber shudders unable to finish.

Jackson can tell where she was going and finishes for her, “Now it feels like the career you choose to escape your hell from is just another one taking you back to your childhood.”

Amber whimpers as she nods confirming his theory causing her to blow her nose on the napkin before continuing, “I thought it was something I could get used to, something I could fight against until it ended. It’s why I’m working so hard till I’m bone tired, because it’s the only thing I know how to do in a crisis…but then I made a mistake that almost killed someone. I almost became the kind of doctor Andrew’s dad was the night he killed four patients…I almost became the kind of doctor that killed my father. The only difference is that unlike my father that man would have been missed by his family and I would have been the reason that wife lost her loving husband and why those kids lost their great dad. He could have died and not because of a virus I couldn’t control but because of something I could. He could have died because I was too weak to do the job I was entrusted with.”

“Amber look at me, look at me.” Amber sniffles and turns to face him and she grips the sink, “You are not weak, you are the least weak person I know. Mr. Wilkins could have died because of the Zofran you prescribed yes but he didn’t. He didn’t because you have people who could see you are understandably crumbling at all this death and illness surrounding us. And you realized your mistake, you remembered what the paramedics told you and you ran like hell to stop it. Shane Ross refused to sleep and talk to anyone about his problems. He didn’t help himself and it caused him to hallucinate and take your father in for a botched surgery that caused organ failure. Webber had to physically tell him what was happening right in front of him to get him to step down. He went down a rabbit hole and pushed everyone away and alienated anyone who tried to reach out. He refused to acknowledge what was wrong and stop himself from burning out and hurting patients in the process, that is the difference between the two of you. You stopped and you took a breath and came here to talk to someone who could help. I’ve learned from my nature walks that sometimes the best thing to do is to just stand still and let your feelings and your pain be known to you so you can know what is causing it to begin with.”

Amber presses her lips together as his words hit her and cause more tears to form in her eyes, “You stopped and stood still before you could go down the same path as Ross and Vincenzo DeLuca and have everything you worked hard to gain be taken away from you because you didn’t admit you weren’t okay. You did the hardest thing a person can do and that is not weakness. You are working in a hospital during a pandemic, and it can cause anyone to feel dejected and it’s especially hard for a person like you who knows the feeling of helplessness too well. What you are doing right now, admitting the problem in front of you after a lifetime of keeping your guard up, is not weakness, it is an act of incredible strength. And I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of you than at this very moment.”

Amber shakes her head at that and replies numb, “I don’t feel strong.”

Jackson nods understanding that and decides to get to the next step Amber needs to take, “Don’t worry, you only have to be strong enough to do one more thing.”

Amber sniffles knowing the words that need to come out, it takes all her strength the muster the three words she has never said in her life, “…I need help.”

Amber exhales after saying these words feeling like a weight is being listed off her shoulders. She begins to sob at this admission of needing professional help knowing this will not be an easy journey but it’s one she must take in order to feel like her best self once again.

That Night

Andrew opens the door to his apartment feeling the need to shower and sleep as soon as he comes in. He exhales in exhaustion from work and his relationship. He hasn’t seen Amber since she walked out after refusing to talk to him. DeLuca doesn’t know where Amber is and hopes she took his advice and talked to someone about her struggles.

He enters the living room where he pauses at a shocking sight. He sees Amber sitting on the couch looking up at him sadly with two of her suitcases by her side packed. Andrew would normally think this is Amber leaving Andrew out of disdain for his insistence that she seek therapy. But seeing the sorrowful look on her face tells him a different story, it tells him this isn’t being done out of anger but out of seeking help for herself like he wanted.

Andrew moves to sit on the couch next to Amber and waits until she’s comfortable enough to speak to him, “…I’m not okay. I thought I was but I’m not okay. I know how to push through the pain and try to ignore it but…it’s too much death to ignore and it’s breaking me down. It feels like everything around me is just a constant reminder that I’m not good enough and I just feel helpless all over again. I felt helpless and weak growing up and I worked so hard to be strong and successful but now…now it’s like it was all for nothing, like I am nothing and it’s not going away.”

Andrew sighs at this holding her hand to let her know he is not going anywhere again, “It’s not going away and I…I know it’s gonna take a lot more than just surviving to get through it. I know I need to rest and actually face this thing and treat it like it’s a disease before I let it consume me. This thing…it’s been there since I was a kid and it’s gotten worse since March. It’s gotten worse to the point where I prescribed Zofran to a patient a paramedic told me he was allergic to. I almost let my trauma kill a man, if it wasn’t for Jackson, I would never forgive myself. And if it wasn’t for Jackson, I wouldn’t admit what you two saw before me. I need help. And that’s why I can’t stay here while I do. This apartment…it’s filled with horrible memories of one of the many times I felt like I was unworthy of love and felt like everyone I loved went crazy because I was in the same room as them.”

Amber sniffles and wipes a tear away causing Andrew anguish as he knows he caused her to feel that way along with her mom and brother. It causes him to have tears glisten in his eyes feeling responsible for hurting the woman he loves.

Amber faces him with a red rimmed eyes, “I know you didn’t mean it, I know it was the illness that caused you to act like that. All of this isn’t your fault, you were just a very tiny part of my long torturous life that piled on my psyche until this point.”

“But I was still a part of it.” Andrew says out of shame and regret, “I’m sorry, I wish I was a person to mend your pain instead of causing it. I want to be that person.”

“You were.” Amber admits truthfully, “You still are I just…I love you so much and right now I need some space for a little bit to figure out how to fix myself by myself. I need to do that otherwise I’m gonna rely on you or my family or my friends to feel better and that can’t be an option for me right now with everything going on. I need to figure out how to not feel like I’m dying inside.”

Andrew nods understanding this more than anyone as he has been there before and hopes Amber can heal like he’s trying to, “I’m gonna go to my brothers for a few weeks. It’s a safe place I think will be perfect for me while I take time off to sort myself out”

Andrew nods holding her hand tighter, “I know how hard this is, believe me and I wish I could say it’s gonna be easy but it’s not. It’s gonna be hard in the beginning but eventually you’re gonna finally move past your reluctance and whatever it is that’s making you feel like you are less important than you actually are. Trust me when I say, it’s gonna get better and I’ll be right here to help and right here when you get back. I promise, I’m not gonna stop loving you when you get help. I promise you I am not leaving this time, I’m here for good, I swear.”

Amber feels slightly better at that story looking at Andrew with love, “I know that. I love you too I just…I need space from you and everything else so I can focus on myself and get better. I need to stop fighting and just stand still. I need to do that for myself, I need to help myself.”

Andrew nods understanding her need to get her priorities straight like he did. He sees a little of the smart, strong and resilient woman he fell in love with right now even if she doesn’t. He leans forward and kisses her gently.

She reciprocates this kiss with a tear down her cheek as their lips touch. Amber touches the back of his neck bringing him closer as they stop kissing and instead lean against each other’s foreheads closing their eyes as they take in this last moment between them before Amber goes.

Andrew doesn’t feel sad but rather relief that the woman he loves is taking the time to heal and hopefully come back to him better like he did when his friends and family made him see that it was okay to admit your not okay.

He makes this known to Amber caressing her cheek and looking into her tearful eyes, “Your gonna be okay, I know it. I love you so much.”

“I love you.” Amber whispers back giving him another tender kiss before standing up and grabbing her suitcase with Andrew carrying the other. They walk out of the apartment to Amber’s car where they load the bags into the trunk before getting inside.

Amber is in the passenger seat with Andrew behind the wheel. Before he starts the engine, he looks over to find Amber looking down at her hands twiddling with her fingers. Andrew can tell she is scared to start this chapter just like he was when his sister drove him to the treatment center.

He looks at his girlfriend in sympathy and holds her shaking hands as a gesture of comfort. She appreciates this as she holds his hand with both of hers that shake less. Amber takes a moment to close her eyes and concentrate on her breathing.

She inhales and exhales slowly a few times before opening her eyes and looking at Andrew still holding his hand. Amber sniffles before nodding to let him know she’s okay. He nods back, giving her hands one good squeeze before letting go to start the car. Andrew begins to drive down the road with Amber looking out the window watching the landscape pass as she lets her breath out and closes her eyes to rest before she reaches her destination.

[mysteriouswolf]

Hey, I usually don't make posts like this but I just need some advice.

TW: Vent- IF THAT STUFF TRIGGERS YOU, PLEASE DON'T READ THIS!! TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES!!!

So I've dealt with horrific anxiety and depression my whole life, this isn't anything new. But I can just- I can feel myself slipping again. Slipping faster than I can handle. I just hate myself so goddamn much- it's like I can't take myself anymore. Now I have a lot of issues with my mom, but I have to see her everyday, but because of the things she's said to me before "you're a disappointment, you're a fucking bitch, etc" multiple times, screaming, I can't get them out of my head. I believe them so much I don't know how to stop. And with exams coming up I can't focus in class for review and I keep having horrific anxiety attacks. Does anyone just have any advice on stuff that can help, or even just something I can do to make things a bit more manageable?

It sucks too, because my mom isn't doing anything specific right now, but because of all she's done (I'm not going to get into it- emotional abuse, etc) I just hate her sometimes so much. Like, I love her cause she's my mom, but I hate her. I want to tell her what she's done to me, and make her feel bad, and I hate that I think that because I don't want to be a bad person. I don't want to be like that. Why do I keep thinking about it if I'm a good person? I just...it just hurts.

And just so everyone knows, I'm not going to self harm, kill myself, or anything like that. I promise. I know how bad that stuff is, and I have people that I'm promising myself to stay here for. I'll be okay. It's just a rough period right now.