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lilcomfyfics · 3 years

Text

Fredrick Chilton x male reader

Warnings: hospital setting, mentions of abel gideon, unprofessional nurse making assumptions, loopy chilton

Summary: A long time friend of Dr. Chilton's gets a call after his run in with Abel Gideon. Is this the push they both needed?

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Dr. L/N was at his home when he received a phone call. Checking the caller ID, he instantly knew something was amiss. It was one of Fredrick's acquaintances who he had been briefly introduced to a couple months prior. With his anxiety already flaring up, he answers the phone only to be told the news that his long-time friend had been gutted by one of his former patients. The caller told him when and where he would be allowed to see him. Everything felt too quiet after the call ended. The nagging space was filled with pacing, the tapping of feet, pacing some more, attempting to read, and finally a sigh. How could he stay calm and patient in this situation? Really, he's doing everything he can to avoid thinking about how bad he's got it for Fredrick. The thought of losing him hurt him so much. Far more than any friend should feel. It downright broke his heart. Even calling him just his friend left a horrible taste in his mouth. There had always been this unspoken thing between them and this made that bag carefully holding all these feelings snap from the tension. They have been playing this game for long enough, the doctor decides as he grabs his keys to go see his long-time crush at the first opportunity.

There he was lying broken in his hospital bed. Looking far from the Dr. Chilton everyone knew and well, he wasn't known for being very likeable. Despite that fact, there were a few cards littered in his hospital room. More importantly, a very anxious man waiting was for him to regain consciousness. As soon as he had exited his house, the memories came flooding back. All those almost-kisses and lingering glances made his heart ache. On the way to the hospital, his mind drifted to the first time they met. Both in med school at the time, Fredrick thought y/n didn't notice his staring but he definitely did. He thought it was adorable and if he hadn't already been in a relationship he would have broken the ice first. Might have even asked him on a date on the spot. When they finally did speak, his girlfriend had arrived to interrupt the conversation which made Fredrick deflate right then and there. Neither had made any move in all these years and it was extremely frustrating on both ends. They'd get together for dinner sometimes and sometimes even end up cuddling on Chilton's couch. More than once they had been locked in a tension-filled moment and almost kissed each other but Fredrick always pulled away. He was always doing that, pushing him away when there was any chance he could be rejected. It was too much for his lonely heart to bear. This was his only friend after all. What if things got awkward? He would rather suffer crushing on him for eternity than lose his friendship. It's safe to say that y/n was gonna have to make the first move and after a scare like that? He can't wait another second.

Finally, green eyes blinked open with a groan. Everything that happened came rushing back to him. All of his emotions overwhelmed him and caused him to panic. As Fredrick is fighting a panic attack, his heart monitor picked up loudly. A nurse came in and checked on him. After being brought out of his panicked state, he finally noticed the other person in the room. His long-time crush was curled up in an uncomfortable chair and had slept through the commotion. Dr. Chilton's heart skipped a beat and the nurse followed his gaze. She wore a satisfied expression as if her suspicions had been confirmed. He shot her a glare, which she ignored, before informing him that his 'boyfriend' had been here the whole time.

"It's no wonder he slept through that, he's been waiting a long time. He's definitely going to kick himself when he realizes he wasn't awake for this." She jokes but Fredrick can't take his eyes off him.

The nurse left quietly after double-checking everything. Chilton relaxed a bit more and stared up at the plain ceiling. He really didn't want his friend to see him like this. His thoughts about being weak and pathetic came flooding in like an all too familiar tide. He clenched his jaw and dared to look at the sleeping man again. All the frustration washed away when he saw that the man had repositioned himself in his sleep. Fredrick could see his face much clearer now. The clear indications of exhaustion caught him by surprise. He pushed away even more thoughts that were just remnants of his upbringing and allowed himself to feel loved. Even if just for a moment, he allowed himself to feel cared about.

He remembered how entranced he was when he first met the man. They were in a lecture at university and the man had sat a row or two ahead. Dr. Chilton silently thanked whatever god was out there that he didn't notice him staring for weeks before gathering up the nerve to approach him. Bitterly, he's reminded that when he finally did get up the courage, his crush's girlfriend had appeared to steal him away. He shook those memories away, feeling better after reminding himself that he was the one who had his attention in the end. He was the one who would end up cuddling with him on his couch some nights. He was the one who got to see his handsome features up close. Even if he backed out of kissing him every time out of fear, his friend didn't seem to judge him. Truthfully they hadn't really talked about any of this and it made Fredrick unbelievably nervous. He felt like either way he was a burden. If there was something real between them then he's been holding it up with his anxieties. If it's all just imagined, he's made his best and only friend extremely uncomfortable. He sighed and winced at his injuries. How could he ever love him now anyway? He will undoubtedly have a very noticeable scar after this. Still, he recalled when he had no one else to celebrate with when he got the job as head of the BSHCI and he called this cutie. He sounded genuinely happy for him and immediately came over to celebrate. He'll never forget how amazing that day was.

Slowly uncurling himself and sighing, the man opens his eyes. Fredrick is staring at him like he's an expensive painting on the wall which causes him to blush. He's never looked at him like that so openly before. It caught him off guard. Maybe this really is the right time, the man thought hopefully.

"You're awake." the man remarked with a grin. "It's so like you to wake up the one time I was asleep." he teases.

Fredrick scoffed but stayed silent trying to cover up how much the action irritated his injury. This prompts the man to gently put his hand over Fredrick's and ask if he's alright. His heart monitor speeds up and as if on queue the nurse walks in. Seeing them holding hands, she's now completely certain her unprofessional assumptions were correct. Fredrick instinctively pushes the man away out of embarrassment. Sadly, he's far too used to it at this point to complain.

"Good to see you both awake for once." She joked, nodding toward the newly awoken man. "Now you can stop all that pacing, right? Your boyfriend is gonna be fine."

The remark made Fredrick simultaneously overjoyed and annoyed. He got butterflies but how dare this nurse be so unprofessional! She can't just make assumptions like that! Yet they both waited for the other to object and neither spoke up.

Only after the nurse left were they able to meet each other's eyes. Both unsure but hopeful as they tried to read the other's face. The man broke the silence but neither would break the stare.

"There's something I need to tell you." Fredrick tried everything to smother the concoction of emotions he felt at hearing that. "When I got the call and heard about everything, it broke my heart to think I almost lost you. I'm sorry if this changes things between us but I can't pretend anymore. I love you, Freddy."

Happy tears threatened to run down the broken man's cheeks as he tried to comprehend what he was hearing. Was he dreaming? It had to be the pain medicine, right? If that wasn't, the way his own confession slipped out effortlessly definitely was. He even admitted to having feelings for him before they ever spoke.

"Oh, was that what all the staring was about?" the man snickered causing the injured man to jolt more than he should have.

"YOU KNEW?!" Chilton exclaims in horror.

He just laughs lightly in response which causes Chilton to huff with his own little smile. They fall into a comfortable silence. Both hopeful with a weight lifted off their shoulders. They had questions and concerns about their future together but those could wait for now. With his hand holding Fredrick's, all his worries melted away. They would get through this, together.

#nbc hannibal #fredrick chilton #chilton x reader #x male reader #oneshot

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turtle-steverogers · 3 years

Note

she is very long so. enjoy😌

- Steve n Bucky going to the bodega down the street from their apartment. it’s open till like 4am and they go at all hours. sometimes they’ll go separately but they always go together when they go in between 12-4 am and no one who works there questions why

- they get a cat that they treat her like their child. it’s Alpine ofc😌 steve loves her so much but he knows it’s Bucky’s Cat and he’s fine with it

- you know how some siblings or partners or friends can communicate with their eyes and basically have telepathy? they totally have that and it annoys the shit out of every single person they meetjdksndks. someone will be talking to them and they will just make eye contact with each other bc it reminded them of an earlier convo they had or they both got annoyed by the other person or it reminds them of an inside joke or something and it just irritates EVERYONE. no one is able to intercept it and it’s just a thing that no matter what - even though they don’t mean to - you’ll feel a little left out when you’re with steveandbucky. it just comes with the gig. i like to imagine that depending on if it’s an au or not, its either really obvious or not. like in an au then yes it’s obvious they can have non verbal conversations, but if it’s not an au then it’s not entirely obvious bc they’re enhanced humans and they know how to hide their secret conversations. but everyone they talk to is essentially an enhanced human or has special abilities so it’s obvious to them and they catch them in the act LOL. if they’re interacting with regular people then it’s not very obvious though

- DATE NIGHT!!! yes they’re old yes they have date night. when they go out it’s usually to places in their neighborhood, but a lot of the time they like to stay in bc. they’re old men <3 steve is better at cooking and bucky is better at baking bc you can get creative with cooking and steve likes that more. he enjoys baking a lot too but he thinks bucky’s stuff tastes better. whenever they stay home though there’s ALWAYS a movie. always. they alternate choosing but there is always a movie to watch. bucky usually falls asleep nearing the end and steve plays with his hair😌 he rolls his eyes cause it happens every time but he actually likes when it happens bc he can braid strands of hair together

- pet names oh my god. so many pet names. every single one. mainly from bucky. steve uses them but maybe like two. he favors sweetie and buck and that’s it really. sometimes he uses hon. bucky though oh my god. every single pet name under the sun. so many variations of doll you wouldn’t believe - baby doll ofc, dolly, stevie doll. sweetheart. sweetness. blondie. pretty boy. hot stuff. stevie. baby. hon. honey. sunshine. angel. it’s just so many. and it’s like very sickening insane twisted etc but hot at the same time. most people are like jeez barnes do you ever shut up… but most of these people secretly think it’s a little hot theyre thinking damn where is that affection for me…. i need me a bucky barnes :| steve is the only smitten kitten outwardly even if he huffs and puffs sometimes but it’s obvious he enjoys it. like they are so annoyingjdkssn for real they aren’t a pda couple really but the petnames….. so many. so so so many it’s sickeningly sweet but bucky dgaf! steve is his sweetheart his dolly his baby his angel so he’s going to call him these things!

- steve knows his body is what is considered “perfect” but he still is insecure about it around most people and bucky knows this so when steve lounges at home in bucky’s boxer briefs and his own tee shirt or he kicks off his pants when he’s too hot at night in bed bucky is reminded of just how much steve loves him and feels comfortable around him which is something he always strives for - to make steve comfortable. not baby him because steve bitches at anyone that does that to him but to make him feel comfortable

- and on the subject of feeling comfortable i imagine that they always check in with one another but it’s very subconscious they hardly realize they do it. like steve will bitch at bucky to pick up his shoes from their doorway or to clean his hair from the shower drain but the next second he will ask him if his back still hurts from being kicked by sam and from where steve AND alpine scratched him (in very different ways)

- steve is the sweater husband and bucky is the sweatshirt husband. they trade off a lot but that’s just how their closets look

- steve takes a liking to crop tops 😌 but ONLY around the house bc again he’s really truly only comfortable around bucky. he wears em with boxer briefs or sweatpants but you can guarantee that the briefs and sweats usually just end up on the floor 9 out of 10 times

- hair ties everywhere. they can be found on the floor in the laundry in their bed in the couch on top of the fridge on their fire escape. they are literally everywhere. steve just picks them up and puts them in the bathroom but they always make their way back. he doesn’t say anything to bucky until he finds alpine chewing one and she ends up smacking herself in the face with the hairtie

- their fridge is always full with leftovers and food from sam or clint’s or whoever’s house or takeout. they always eat it all but they get and make a lot of food so the fridge is always full

- subconsciously bucky always has a hand on the back of steve’s neck. like it’s not ENTIRELY a possessive thing but he used to do it a lot when steve was small because it was easy and it was comfortable. for him and just for him and steve. it was like swinging an arm around steve’s shoulders or putting a hand on his shoulder. it was just natural and easy so he did it. a part of him back then prewar did it possessively too, but he always tampered that down bc steve wasn’t his. now he does it without shame

- steve really likes tofu and vegan meat, non dairy milk like almond and soy, and overall a lot of non dairy vegan foods, and a lot of fruits. he gets made fun of for a lot specifically about the vegan stuff but his reasoning is that there’s so much food accessible for people with allergies in the future that he wished existed a hundred years ago so he’s going to try it and stick with it if he likes it. people shut up after that

- he also tips a little more than he needs to everywhere he goes. everywhere. like it’s cool when steve rogers walks in to a restaurant bc he’s a superhero or whatever but its REALLY cool because he leaves a generous tip and that’s what really makes peoples day

- before they get legally married they are still very much married. like “i packed you lunch, meet me at the restaurant instead of me going to pick you up bc it’ll take longer, i got takeout let’s bitch together while we watch shitty reality tv, let’s bitch at EACH OTHER through the phone in public, let’s send each other ugly pictures of each other or funny texts while we’re right next to each other, i’m out with a group and you’re not there and i say multiple times ‘i miss steve/bucky’, let’s yell at each other from opposite ends of the apartment instead of getting up to see each other, steve i’m going to fuck you on the couch bc our room is too far, etc.” they are just very much married without the documents and legalities and it’s very obvious

okay all of these were ABSOLUTELY wonderful and im really going to restrain my urge to respond to each and every one but that might be futile

-okay YES they definitely go to that bodega at all hours, and usually it's for normal things when they go separately: milk, cereal, toilet paper. but when they go in the middle of the night, they almost always purchase some like odd assortment of candies and deli meat. also, they're always in their pajamas. like bucky's in plaid pj pants and a star wars sweatshirt, and steve is in like 5" shorts and a huge crewneck and they're both in slides and they definitely only speak russian to each other when they're in there after hours

-yes alpine! they also have a dog, that is more steve than bucky's!! his name is norman in my headcanon (and a couple of my fics) and he is best boy

-okay i need more of this in my general stucky life: steve and bucky being like,,, best friends as well as lovers and being so seamlessly close. like yeah, they definitely talk with their eyes, or just one glance, or half-sentences ("hey, did you ever get to--" "yup, on the way home. it was so--" "yeah, good. glad to hear") and they know exactly what the other is saying.

-yes to the date nights!!! and when they stay in to watch movies, they make Tons of popcorn. and they Have to make separate batches, because steve will Only eat his with like half a bottle of that powdered white cheddar on his

-YES we share the same fucking headcanon for petnames on god

Steve: love you, buck:)

Bucky: love you, pumpkin

-Steve definitely has body dysmorphia, probably even post serum (I have lots of thoughts on this, that might be a different post) and yeah, Bucky definitely knows its Big that he feels comfortable enough to be exposed around him (and he's even more honored that steve lets him be intimate with him, because that's really hard for steve, too)

-yeah! and easy check ins like "ur stomach still bothering you from last night?" "oh, no it was just a little bug turns out" or like "my head hurts:(" "i have meds in my bag. you want?" "yeah, just two" or like subtly checking on injuries, yeah

-yeah the sweater versus sweatshirt tracks tbh i picture steve in a lot of crewnecks so yeah

-STEVE IN CROP TOPS STEVE IN CROP TOPS and i raise you they're often ones he's cropped himself and he's also painted on! or bleach painted!! and theyre so cool and bucky never wants to make a big deal out of it, but he's so proud of steve for expressing himself like that

-ALPINE SMACKING HERSELF ALKFJALSDKFJA also steve always has a hairtie on HIS wrist in case bucky forgets one for himself

-they also always have Steve Staple Foods cuz i headcanon steve as a picky eater (adhd!steve + serum enhancements, it's down to a formula) so they have a lot of Kraft mac and cheese and easy heat up meals and lunch meats around for when he's having bad food days

-OMG and steve absolutely MELTS i raise you, too, bucky will especially hold the back of his neck when he needs to get steve to Chill Out. so like if he sees him stressing he'll put his hand on the back of his neck and squeeze and literally feel the tension drain from him or like if steve is having a panic attack, he'll hold the back of his neck while they breathe together

-yes and also any time that steve is Choosing food for himself and feeling motivated to eat it, it's a win, so people learn to back off there, too

-yes! he tips generously, but never awkwardly or offensively. he's also super kind and patient to food service workers!

-this last point is so perfect i cant. like yeah, back to steve and bucky just being,,,, the best of friends. ugly selfies galore, shoving their feet in each other's face, flicking each others ears. and yes, all the fucking gossiping. on the phone gossip, venting, fun gossip from around work. they talk about it all. and it's so great for them

thank you again for stopping by! your thoughts are impeccable!

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #stucky headcanons #long post #domestic anon

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98prilla · 4 years

Text

Medicate

Thomas decides to try anxiety medication, working together with Virgil to find the one that works

AO3

….

I myself am on anxiety medication, and it is so helpful. I kinda hate the "Thomas takes medication and it hurts Virgil" trope, because that's not what the medication is meant to do, and if it does hurt you, then it's either the wrong dose or the wrong medication. This is mostly based off my own experiences trying to find the one that works.

….

“Hey.” He says, popping onto his place on the stairs, eyebrow raised as he looks around and sees no one else, just Thomas. “Sup?” He asks, nervousness creeping into him at Thomas's silence.

“I… wanted to talk to you about something. But I don’t want you to freak out and run away. I won’t do this if you don’t want me to.” Thomas says seriously, and his heart is racing now as he forces a deep breath in.

“Ok. Ok. Whatever it is, I won’t run, ok? Just… tell me now and explain after, otherwise, well, anxiety.” Thomas takes a deep breath, nodding once to steel himself.

“I want to start anxiety medication.” Static roars in his ears. He’s been too much, of course he has, and now Thomas is going to get rid of him just like he always should have.

“il. Virgil. Breathe. In for four… hold for seven… out for eight.” He slowly gets ahold of himself, following Thomas's voice out and back to reality until he blinks and his vision clears.

“sorry. I… whatever it was, I’m sorry." His voice is a whisper, but Thomas hears, coming closer and kneeling at the base of the stairs.

“no. It’s not like that, Virgil. I’ve been researching a lot. This isn’t to get rid of you. It won’t get rid of you. I want it to help. The both of us." He uncurls slightly, reassured at Thomas’s vehemence, curiosity peeking through. Thomas sees this and continues at his small nod.

“You work so hard, Virgil. And I appreciate it, I do. But we both know you go overboard sometimes. I’m not blaming you, I know you can’t help it, that we, can’t help it. But that isn’t healthy. Not being able to sleep, not being able to eat, heart racing and stomach churning constantly, isn’t healthy.” He nods again. He knows this. He can’t stop how he is, but he knows his habits are unhealthy. “That's what the meds are for. Not to get rid of you, not to impair your purpose, just… just to take the edge off. To give you space to breathe. To just… be. Help us relax, help us not overblow things, and if it is doing more than that, if it is hurting you, then it isn’t doing its job right, ok? If we do this, I need you on board. If you feel wrong or bad or sick, then either the dose or the med isn’t right for us, and we’ll try something else. The goal is not to get rid of you, Virg. It’s to help you.”

He’s silent for a moment, taking it all in, processing the information, before taking a deep breath, pushing back his hair.

“ok.”

“Ok?”

“Yeah. Ok. A few years ago I woulda laughed in your face, but I… I trust you, Thomas. Yeah, I’m freaked out and scared half to death but that’s part of the problem, isn’t it? I’m scared and guarded and overwhelmed all the time. I’m so… tired.” He bites his lip, looking down, feeling the tension thrumming in his shoulders, the slightly too fast beat of his heart, how even now his mind is screaming danger, and feels the weight of the world atop him. “I’m tired Thomas. So if you think this will help, ok. Let’s try it.”

“Thank you, virg. For hearing me out. I’m proud of you.” He hides his smile by rolling his eyes, looking up at Thomas.

“yeah, well, don’t go soft on me now, Thomas.” A small salute, and he's gone, leaving Thomas chuckling to himself on the staircase.

…

He pops into the living room with little fanfare, flopping onto the couch with a low sigh, faceplanting into the cushions. He can hear the scratch of Princey’s pencil against paper, Logan turning pages in a book, Patton humming softly to himself, but his hair prickles.

“It’s rude to stare, y’know.” He says, voice muffled by the cushion, but still loud enough they all hear.

“You’re not even looking at us! How do you know we’re staring?” Roman asks, and he rolls his eyes, flipping over so his head is against the arm rest, hugging a pillow to his stomach.

“Logan reads faster than that, he was barely turning pages. Patton only hums like that when he’s nervous and trying to pretend he’s not focused on the thing that he is focused on, and you kept stopping writing every few seconds before picking up again, erasing whatever you just wrote.” Roman gapes at him, Logan adjusts his glasses and Patton whispers ‘wow’.

“You got all that from listening?” Princey squeaks and he smirks.

“Amazing what you notice when you shut your mouth, Princey.” Roman splutters, making him laugh, Logan shaking his head fondly.

“so kiddo… how’d it go?” Patton asks softly, slipping onto the end of the couch, and Virgil looks up at him in surprise.

“You knew?”

“We did. Thomas approached all of us first, so we would be prepared to help, whatever the outcome of the conversation was. Based on your demeanor, I would assume it went well?” Logan asks, and he sighs, sitting up, hugging the pillow closer.

“Y’know, usually I’m not a fan of people talking behind my back, but I’ll let it slide this time.” He comments, smiling slightly as Patton slides across the couch, sitting so their sides are touching.

“We get it, doom and gloom, how did it go?” Roman asks, throwing up his hands in faux exasperation.

“good, I guess. We talked, and I’m still… anxious, obviously, about it, about what could go wrong, but Thomas said that if it affects me… badly… he’ll stop. That it isn’t supposed to get rid of me, so we’re gonna try.”

“Thomas is correct. The medication is not supposed to impair you, rather it is supposed to help you better distinguish what is urgent and what is not. If it is doing anything other than that, it is not only harming you, but harming Thomas as well. I will be making daily observations, about your mood, physical state, mental state, sleep and food intake, to help monitor the effects of the medication and make sure that it is not causing you harm.”

“Oh Logan. You do care.” He snarks playfully, catching Logan’s stifled smile.

“Of course he does. We all do, Virg. We’ll all be keeping an eye out, ok?” Roman, soft and serious as he catches his eye.

“thanks, princey.” Patton simply shifts closer, waiting for his nodded permission before resting his head on his shoulder in silent support.

…

The first medication goes poorly.

Things are fine, at first. It takes two to three weeks to kick in, after all, though Virgil starts noticing changes by the end of week one.

He feels strange. Odd. Off. Sometimes, the world seems to tilt under his feet, and he finds himself losing his balance, stumbling over his own feet, running into doors and walls, misjudging their distance. He writes it off as a result of not getting enough sleep, which is true. He’s sleeping less than normal, almost not at all, going through episodes of heightened energy before crashing.

The crux of it all is when he’s been awake for five days straight, unable to turn off his mind, twitchy and sure that Thomas is being watched, being followed. He jumps at a hand on his shoulder, heart speeding, already on the edge of panic, eyeshadow dark and breathing rapid.

“Virgil. We need to speak to Thomas.” His heart rate spikes further, and he pushes Logan away, shaking his head, hands shaking.

“No. no, no, no. I can’t, I’m busy, they’re watching, I can’t go out there or they’ll see. They can’t see.”

“I promise nothing will happen to you. They can’t get you if I’m there. I will keep you safe.” Hesitantly, he nods. Logan is smart, Logan can outsmart them, trick them, maybe he can get them to go away.

“Thomas. This one isn’t working.” Logan states as they rise up. He is pressed against the wall, eyes darting wildly, breathing erratic and wrong, pressure building in his chest. Thomas looks up at him, eyes wide, and he stumbles back further.

“Virgil?” He shakes his head, panic taking over him. Because that isn’t Thomas. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows, that isn’t Thomas, someone has taken Thomas and replaced him, this isn’t his host, his friend, and Thomas is in danger, and he didn’t notice and how could he fail like this, fail Thomas, like this?

Then the world goes black.

…

They take a month. The medication needs to get out of Thomas’s system, and he needs to wean himself off it. He is paranoid and stressed and when it finally stops, he sleeps for nearly three days straight. During it all, the others take turns staying with him, never leaving him alone, constantly talking him down from his ever present fear and panic, wiping himself out with panic attacks day after day. It’s the worst experience of his entire life.

…

“Hey.” He appears of his own accord on the stairs, Thomas looking up from the couch, concern in his eyes. He hadn’t appeared since he’d passed out, though the others had, to give Thomas updates. He’d admitted he hadn’t been feeling quite right either, but hadn’t really noticed how bad he himself was getting until Virgil.

“Virgil, are you ok? I’m so sorry, I-“ He holds up a hand, gathering his thoughts and stopping Thomas’s rambling.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to apologize. It wasn’t your fault. We knew there was a chance it wasn’t gonna go well. Stuff like this, doesn’t usually work on the first try. But I think… I think we should try again.” Thomas blinks in surprise, looking at him carefully, trying to asses his words.

“You do? I thought you’d be entirely against it now.” He shrugs, looking away.

“Sure, that one didn’t go well, to say the least, but… I don’t want that to stop you. Stop us. It’ll still help, once we find the right one.” Thomas smiles softly, nodding.

“ok. Ok, let’s do it. I’ll set up another appointment.”

…

He doesn’t notice the changes, this time.

They are gradual. Slow.

He finds the ever present tension leaking out of his shoulders.

He finds it easier to breath. His chest feels lighter, open, not tight and taut and suffocating.

He doesn’t panic, when the waiter asks Thomas to order. When a stranger bumps into Thomas on the street. When he fumbles over his words on a phone call.

He’s sleeping. He finds himself drifting farther and farther from his usual 3am bedtime and noon wake up, until he’s forgoing his usual tumblr scrolling, phone set aside by ten. The first time he wakes up at nine, well rested and light, is when he realizes that this… this is working.

He cries that day. He sits on the couch and cries, letting Patton pull him close and hold him, letting himself lean into the touch, and for once it doesn’t feel too much, it feels nice and good, and he cries harder as Patton shushes him, rubbing his back.

“you ok, kiddo?” Patton asks, when his cries die down into sniffles, slipping off Patton’s lap, but not going far, letting the fatherly side keep an arm around his shoulders, gently rubbing circles with his thumb.

“I didn’t realize… I didn’t realize I wasn’t supposed to feel like that, all the time. I didn’t realize I wasn’t supposed to be afraid all the time. I… I just…” He swipes at his eyes, letting out a shuddering sigh.

“it’s ok, Virg. I’m just glad it helps. I’m so glad you’re doing better, I’m so glad this is working. You’re sleeping more. You’re smiling more. You’re laughing, Virgil, and it just makes me so, so, so, happy. You don’t look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders anymore. You don’t slouch as much, you’re more confident, you’re more open to touch, you come to us when you’re worked up, you’re not constantly second guessing yourself, and it’s beautiful, Virgil. It’s beautiful, to watch you grow like this. To watch you be able to let go of some of that.” He stares at Patton, mind spinning out, because he’d noticed some of that, but not all of it.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“You aren’t supposed to. It’s not changing who you are, Virg. It’s just… letting you be who you are without all of the fear. It’s slow and steady progress. And I’m so proud of you, kiddo.”

He buries his face against Patton’s side, laughing and crying all at once, because he loves this feeling, loves feeling like this, loves… loves himself.

For the first time ever, he isn’t afraid.

And Patton is right.

It’s beautiful.

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lulaypp · 3 years

Text

Note: While this is meant as a mini follow-up of my Three Dark Walls And A Collar, it can be read seperately.

Warnings: Panic, Flashbacks, Mentioned Nightmares, Referrenced Torture, Injuries

----

Nightmares were common for them. Far from pleasant, but definitely not a rarity.

Jason bit his lip as he panted, his chest sore as he tried to control his rapid breaths. The night light by his bed softly illuminated the room enough to stave off part of his panic as he fumbled to untangle himself from his sheets.

It had been a week after Black Mask had caught him. Dick and Alfred had deemed Jason well enough to leave the med bay but not the manor, which was fine by him. At least he got to stay in his own room without people crowding around him all day long. But as peaceful as the solitude was, it made nightmares a bit harder to wrangle down. Even so, it was nothing he wasn't used to. He had been living alone with his nightmares for years.

But it would be easier without the rain and flapping branches outside, a storm brewing quick and heavy.

His breaths and heartrate were still running fast by the time he settled under the blanket again. His healing ribs were protesting at his movements and curled up position, but he stubbornly tucked his knees to his chest. He kept his eyes on his dim nightlight, trying to ignore the non-existent smell of mud, the shadow that clung to the far walls and the solid pressure on his neck.

The rain pattered heavily onto the window and he could almost hear the sound of the drops hitting the earth and grass despite being indoors and far too high up. Nearby tree branches rapped against each other and onto the brick walls as the wind swept them back and forth. If the pitch is heightened up a notch and the sound sharpened, it could almost sound like-

Jason sucked in a breath, blinking away images of a glass wall standing far too close and pulled the sheets tighter around him. It frustrated him to no end that the effects of his short-lived captivity still lingered in his mind, randomly throwing him to little fits of panic. He understood that it was natural and normal, even for his insane family of vigilantes and ex-assassins-in-training, but it always bugged him.

He could hardly stand any sort of sharp clicking anymore. He discovered that the hard way after he was helping Dick looking over a case and he had been idly fiddling with a retractable pen. He had been putting it back together after dismantling it when there was a strong pressure on his neck and the pen’s clicks grew louder. On hindsight, he felt rather foolish for accidentally triggering himself, but at least he knew that now and avoided all computers and clicking stationaries.

In the privacy of his bedroom, he allowed himself a soft whimper, trying to will himself back to sleep yet attempting to stay away from it with equal measure. He was exhausted, but he was tired of nightmares. At the most, if he got tired in the morning, he'll get a nap once the storm blows over. Maybe Damian would be generous enough to be a pillow.

Thunder split the tapping at his window and he jumped, burrowing further into his thick blanket. His chest was throbbing horribly and the injuries littering his arms were aching. His still-kind-of-broken fingers screamed from where he was clutching at the sheets, but he didn't let up his tight grip.

His neck hadn't yet healed. It probably had suffered the worst damage, along with his throat. The collar had left burns from where the metal had charged volts straight onto his skin and his trachea had been mangled after suffering repeated strangling pressure. It wasn't as bad now, but Alfred had insisted to leave it bandage-wrapped to help the healing process. No one mentioned the fact that it also deterred Jason from accidentally clawing at the burns and scratches, be it during his nightmares, panic attacks or absentmindedly. He didn't quite appreciate having something around his neck, but he understood the benefits.

His sight was blurring slightly and he hoped that it was sleep finally coming to take him again. Until he realised that it was just his breathing running out of control. Air was shallowly entering his lungs at a quick pace, his neck turning fiery.

He squeezed his eyes shut and slowly worked himself back from near-hyperventilation. The noise outside was really starting to get into him. He doubted he could get any sleep right now. Especially not a decent one.

With his mind made up, he gathered his large, fluffy blanket more firmly around himself and shuffled out of bed. He gingerly rested his weight onto his injured ankle before slowly making his way to the door and out into the corridor, a headache slowly brewing the longer he stayed up. After a short pause at the top of the stairs to catch his breath and right his tilting vision, he carefully limped down and crossed multiple winding hallways before finally reaching the kitchen. Which was, unfortunately, occupied.

His headache was reaching a brain-pinching level and he had been too focused on not tripping over his blanket and his own feet that he didn't realise the other person, jumping when a deep voice greeted him.

"Jason? Are you supposed to be up?"

Jason blinked at the hazy figure approaching him. "Bruce? When did you get back?" As far as he was aware, Bruce was supposed to be on an outer space mission with Justice League and wasn't due back until a few days. Maybe Jason was actually asleep and dreaming.

He let Bruce push him onto one of the stools at the kitchen island. Bruce took a seat right beside him before answering, "Just over an hour ago. What are you doing up this late?"

Jason scowled, realising that he probably looked a little pathetic, childishly wrapping himself in his fluffy blanket. "'m not a kid." His throat decided now to remind him that talking was still not a wise thing to do. "'s'not like it is that late either."

"It is four in the morning and you are injured. You're not shouldn't walk around with a sprained ankle."

Just because that was true, didn't mean that Jason would agree, even if his leg did. "That was days back. Besides, it is not like you can judge how badly I'm hurt and what I can and not do just by staring at me for-"

"I read the reports, Jay. Damian told me what happened last week which is why I came back early."

"At least I'm not stupid enough to fling myself back onto the streets." Jason rolled his eyes, huffing as he leaned against the counter. He tried to ignore the blooming warmth bubbling inside him at the thought of Bruce coming back from space just because he was hurt. "I'm fine and old enough to take care of myself, old man."

Bruce's lips were pressed into an unhappy line but he let the silence reign over them. Jason had forgotten why had he thought going downstairs it was a good idea, regretting it now that his head and leg were throbbing.

Just as he was weighing the pros and cons of getting up to make himself tea, Bruce spoke up.

"Is there any reason why you decided to come down to the kitchen?"

Too tired to make up a lie or to deflect, Jason mumbled as he tried to make himself comfortable with his head on the counter top, legs tucked under himself and the blanket firmly covering him. "Couldn't sleep." The marble tile was cool against his forehead and he closed his eyes, burying his nose into his soft blanket.

He didn't see Bruce coming closer, but fingers were running lightly through his hair. While they were nice, it also meant that the man definitely noticed the supressed jump when a loud thunder cracked and rumbled. The sound made him aware of the noise again, the insistent pattering of rain drops.

The blanket around him shifted slightly before Bruce said, "C'mon. Let's get somewhere more comfortable."

Jason didn't quite feel like moving, finally finding a position comfortable enough that his ribs wouldn't protest, his back wouldn't hurt and he wouldn't fall off the small stool, so he stayed put. But the decision was made for him when he was ripped away from the counter. He blinked in surprise, taking a while to realise that Bruce was lifting him up before leaving the kitchen.

He wriggled in Bruce's arms. "Bruce, put me down. I'm an adult and heavier than you are. You don't get to carry me."

Bruce only held tighter the more Jason struggled. "Well maybe I don't get to carry you, but you get to be carried and seeing as I am the only one around..." Bruce was obviously hiding a teasing smile.

Jason huffed, resigned to the relative comfort, and closed his eyes. Just as he thought sleep might come to him, another lightning split the darkness of the hallway as thunder shook the windows they passed. He pressed his head into Bruce shoulder, heart running loud in his ears. Dirt was tacky on his tongue and bandages around his neck felt suffocating. His chest ached worse with the effort to keep his breathing even and his head was spinning. His fingers reached up to assure himself that the thing strangling him wasn't metal.

Something squeezing his shoulder startled him. It was Bruce's hand rubbing and lightly patting, the angle awkward from where it crept up from under Jason's shoulder. He felt momentarily embarrassed at the thought of Bruce noticing his spiralling panic but the feeling was gone when the thundering outside kicked up again.

"How was space?" He probably shouldn't be making small talk with his sore throat, but he really wanted something to overlap the storm.

Bruce must have caught up on that as he started talking. A lot for a man whose native languages were incoherent grunts and growls. "It wasn't really eventful. I don't really see why I was brought along since it was a negotiation mission and the Lanterns and Clark could have handled that on their own, but I assumed that they wanted me for the budget handling."

As Bruce went on about funding and budgets, Jason closed his eyes, paying little attention to the words but wholly to the voice and tone. He never thought he'd ever willingly listen to Bruce drone on about finances of all things, yet here he was feeling comforted by it.

By the time Bruce stopped, Jason was already in a half-asleep daze. He felt himself getting lowered and blinked slowly to take in his surroundings. It was darker now, but the blurry silhouette of Bruce pulled him back from any rising fear. The sound of the storm was also gone. Where were they?

His blanket was pulled away from his loosening grip and he was about to protest when it was adjusted to properly drape over him. "Where're we?" he mumbled. The surface under him didn't feel like a bed so it couldn't be his or Bruce's room. And the place lacked any windows. Not to mention that it had to be deep enough in the manor to block out the noise of thunder.

"Theatre room." Bruce was hovering somewhere in front of him, fingers running through his hair.

"Oh." That made sense. The theatre room was designed to be relatively soundproof.

His eyes were slipping close when a kiss was pressed to his forehead. Call it placebo, but he felt his headache starting to clear away from that one gesture. He let out a contented sigh, melting into the figurative warmth around him.

"Sleep, chum. I'll be right here." Bruce shifted closer, pulling off what felt like a makeshift hug while still keeping his carding fingers as he started humming a tune.

Jason heard himself mumbling something in response as he pressed into Bruce's shoulder, eyes closing and breaths evening out.

#Fanfiction #Batfam #Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #Red Hood #Batman #Fluff #Hurt/Comfort #Follow-ups/Sides #I wanted to have Jason shuffling about with a giant fluffy blanket after a nightmare #and at the same time I felt like giving 3 Dark Walls a sort of continuation just because I like it #put together and it turned into this.'#IT REALLY IS LONGER THAN I INTENDED #I'M KINDA SORRY BUT NOT SO MUCH #I honestly thought that it was just 1K at most #But it is apparently........... 2K #How?#But hey! at least it has comfort!#:D

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isayoldbean · 3 years

Text

okay there seems to be a degree of interest so here you go. the intro to an au i was gonna write before my anxiety meds murdered my writer brain. uhh for reference this fic is set in 2017, with their ages being the same as they would be in canon at that point (so like... 28ish i think?)

---

Setsuna had several regrets right now.

She wasn't sure what they were exactly, since she couldn't remember anything after the fifth drink, but she knew that whatever she had done, she had regretted it.

Actually scratch that, that fifth drink was definitely on the regret list. Drinks one through four weren't looking like such a great idea, either.

Everything hurt.

Am I... am I dead...?

No, that couldn't be it. She didn't have any first-hand experience with death, but she was reasonably sure it wouldn't involve quite this much pain. Even for somebody like her.

A bus, maybe. I got hit by a bus.

Possibly. But in that case she'd most likely be in the hospital. She didn't hear anything to make her think that was the case, though. Might as well just open her eyes and take a look.

Except as soon as she dragged her eyes open white hot glare like the sun radiating off the concrete in August, burning through her eyes and leaving charred husks behind in their sockets--okay, so no doing that for a while.

At least she got enough of a glimpse of her bedroom before she was overwhelemed to know that she made it home last night and had not, in fact, been hit by a bus. So there was that.

Ugh, I want to die, she thought, sinking further into her pillow. Work is going to be hell today.

Oh. Right. Work.

She should probably call in and let them know she'd be late today.

Except her body was just so heavy. It was almost like there was some external weight pressing down on her from above, pinning her in place. She couldn't move so far as an inch without something groaning in protest. Perhaps that was to be expected, since until a few moments ago it had seemed perfectly reasonable that she might have spent part of her evening wedged underneath 30 tons of public transport. And besides, she could barely remember her name right now, let alone what she might have done with her phone last night.

She sagged back into bed and the weight pressed down on her even more, filling her with warmth and soothing her malaise, even if just the slightest bit.

Surely it couldn't hurt to rest for just a few more minutes...

---

She had no idea how long she'd been out, but at least her head seemed a little clearer.

The pain was still excruciating, of course, but it had mercifully lowered itself to the point that she could tolerate it now. The strange pressure still persisted, but she supposed that would pass with a little more time, too.

Maybe now she would have the clarity to piece together what had happened last night.

She knew everything had started when Tsukuyomi showed up. Most things did, after all.

Honestly, she still didn't even know how Tsukuyomi had known they would be there. She certainly hadn't told her about it, and knowing how the others felt about her, she was sure none of them had either. And yet somehow the nuisance had figured it out, and suddenly there she was, gluing herself to Setsuna's side and not taking any hints that she was making her feel uncomfortable as hell. And that's when Setsuna had started drinking in earnest. The last thing she remembered was finally managing to peel herself away from Tsukuyomi's iron grip and letting everybody know she was going out to get some fresh air.

Not that there was really such a thing as fresh air on the Vegas Strip. But hey, she was drunk at the time.

Was she ever.

And now she was paying for it.

God, are there really people who do this all the time? For fun?

She didn't know if that was impressive or just sad.

Well, either way, that wasn't really the issue. The issue was that she had a killer hangover, and several hours of her life were apparently completely missing, and probably since she was at her house in her own bed she couldn't have done anything too terrible, but that didn't really eliminate all that much in the grand scheme of things and what if she got some really embarrassing tattoos or wound up appearing naked in some video that would go viral and her bare ass was going to be plastered all over the six o'clock news and oh god--

--Stop it. Take a deep breath, just like your therapist taught you. Okay. Now think it through logically. Tatsumiya probably knew exactly what she had gotten up to last night--she was weirdly prescient when it came to Setsuna's behavior, somehow. She was probably sleeping in the next room, so all she had to do was get up and ask her. And if for some reason they hadn't gone home together, her number was on speed dial. That would more than likely settle it. If not, then she could panic again--but Tatsumiya would be there to walk her through it, so she wouldn't risk spiralling quite so much.

But before any of that--none of this would be an issue if she didn't get a glass of water right now, because if she didn't then Tatsumiya would be discovering her dessicated remains in about five minutes.

She attempted to roll out of bed, but that strange heavy feeling held her in place yet again. She frowned. Seriously, what?

Maybe if she sat up, instead...

It was decidedly difficult, but she was at least making headway, even if her muscles were groaning in protest every step of the way.

Until it registered that the protesting she heard was most definitely not coming from her muscles. In fact, it wasn't coming from her at all.

--Oh.

Oh shit...!

Please don't be what I think it is--

With agonizing slowness, she traced a path down from the ceiling, to the wall, to the end of the bed, to the covers bunched at her waist, to--

--there, draped over the left side of her body, so obvious in its existence that she could only stare in disbelief that she had only just noticed it, was the smooth expanse of a girl's back.

She suddenly felt unbearably cold. Then unbearably hot. All of the blood in her body pulsed through her system at once--one single time, then twice, then a third time. Then it didn't seem to move at all for such a long period of time that Setsuna had decided that she was probably dead. Yes, her soul had leapt from her body, and she simply hadn't yet had time to process that she had died. A strange way to go and not at all how she'd pictured it happening, but if she was honest with herself, death from mortification was probably exactly the sort of thing she should have expected all along.

Only as soon as she had accepted that her life had ended, adrenaline reared its ugly head and sent her blood fizzing back through her body with such force that it practically knocked her out of bed.

That was when the ugly little gremlin known as panic sunk its teeth into her hindbrain.

Fight or flight engaged itself.

Flight won.

"SHIT SHIT SHIT--" She kicked and thrashed her way towards the edge of the bed, not really sure what she was doing or where she was trying to go, other than as far away from the naked woman in her bed as possible. Depth perception was a thing of the past, as was the concept of distance, and soon Setsuna felt herself lurch and become weightless as she slipped over the side of the bed and went sprawling into a heap on the floor.

The shock of the impact jarred a little bit of awareness back into her, and she stared back up at where she had just been with wide, disbelieving eyes.

There was a naked girl up there. In her bed.

All of the beds in the city of Las Vegas, and a naked girl wound up in hers.

This... wasn't something that should happen to somebody like her. No, this was firmly in the category of Things That Happen To Other People, And Probably Only Ever In Movies. Movies she'd never watched, at that. What was she supposed to do in this kind of situation, anyway?! She didn't know the protocol.

Oh man I'm so fucked.

Rustling sheets and incoherent mumbling refocused her attention away from her burgeoning anxiety attack and back to the reality that she was currently sharing space with another person. That she was about to have to interact with. While hungover and scared out of her mind.

We've been over this already. Stop. Take a deep breath.

If the shuffling noise she heard was any indication, the girl was moving closer to the edge of the bed. Closer to coming face to face with her. The moment of truth.

Take a deep--

A head poked over the side of the bed and peered down at her with soft, warm brown eyes, bleary from sleep and confusion.

Setsuna forgot about the breathing thing.

"Um. Hi," the girl said, a hesitant, sheepish smile creeping over her face in spite of the circumstances.

Then Setsuna forgot about everything else, too.

She was... really pretty.

Wow, I am extremely fucked.

#Negima #Setsuna Sakurazaki #Konoka Konoe #KonoSetsu #Tsukuyomi Iwai #i've forgotten my writing tag oh geez

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sideblogformindtrash · 4 years

Text

CW: mild NSFW(kissing, implied), implied nocon, Lots of swearing, stupid insults, prostitution(?), slave/pet whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, panic attacks, insinuation of physical abuse, hair pulling, deshumanization;

Sorry if this one is too convoluted, I runned out of meds and the abstinence of them is weird, I just feel my head like it’s full of cotton today. Also, this perspective is trick to write a bit, his world is a little different. Thanks to everyone who is reading these, by the way (◕ܫ◕✿)

Part of: Same as: one, two, three four and five

there is this one here as well I just forgot to link

order is wathever, although maybe reading five before this one would help.

That man touched his scars, running his fingers all over his back, pressing on the texture of the old whip marks. It took all he had not to turn around and kick his face. Instead, he turned and pulled the man into a kiss, forcing him to at least put his hands somewhere else.

Sometimes, he wished saliva could be venomous. That would be fun.

Snake. Pestilence. Venom, poison! the darkness cries. Well, he has a serpent-soul. It’s tiny, but furious, and hoards gold with the same intent as a dragon would. It’s hiding now. It doesn’t want to be touched especially not by the soul of that old fucker.

The old fucker was followed by a tower-like creature, always too big for the room he was in. It had tentacles that spread just around everything, in search for absolute order and control. On the tower top, it had a glowing, all seeing-eye. Funny how despite appearances, that eye was almost blind, and could not find the serpent.

“Sweetheart, you were wonderful today”

The man smiled, tiny white teeth, some bathed on gold, as he leans in and caresses his cheeks, pulling the dark strains of hair out of his sweaty face.

Impure. Impure. Mess. Sinner.

“I’m glad I made a good impression.” He chuckles “But you… You are wonderful, every single time, darling”.

Wonderful… Yeah. That man is about as interesting as a bottle of hot dog water… But judging by the creature that follows him, at least he is pleased for today. The man kissed his forehead and gets up on his feet, searching for his robes.

Why is it always these type of people? No one else seems to like him. Not even tolerate him. But people like the old fucker like to keep him around, like their own personal freak. He can interact with them just fine, he can manipulate them… But he can barely talk to normal people.

They are bad too. Just like you.

Just like you.

Darkness screams… No. Shut up. I’m not this. I refuse to be like him.

“So, do you remember I said I had a gift for you?”

His snake gingerly puts its head out from the hiding spot, sliding up his body and rolling around his arms.

“How could I forget? You are always so good to me” Pay my bills old fucker. “And your gifts are the best”.

“I hope you like this one. It’s a bit different than the gifts I usually give you. A bit ragged as well… But still a very nice item” He moves out the door. Orfeu assumes it’s on the small office he has connected to the bedroom, but no, he leaves the chambers, closing the door, tower-like monster following. The room looks much more empty without that thing roaming around.

He gets into the bathroom to wash up and get dressed. So many mirror, so many expensive stuff, he thinks to himself, stealing a bit of cologne.

Monter.

Demon.

Impure.

Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up- He looks angrily at his own back. He can still feel fingers there, tracing those fucking scars. He wanted to cover them up with tattoos, like he did with some of the others, but a full back tattoo would be. Too. Expensive. He needs to eat. Food money.

He could try and seduce one of the old fucker… But he doubted he could. He and his little friends enjoyed seeing scars on his back…. A reminder that he was inferior maybe.

Inferior.

Show them. Beat them into the ground. Let the darkness come.

“Shut up” he whispers to the mirror. Okay, apply some makeup again, fix the hair… And good to go again. Reptilian eyes stare at him through the mirror, his shadow-like soul sliding in and out of existence.

He goes back to sit on the bed, a bit bored. Why is it taking so long? He just wants to get whatever it is and go back home. This place is disgusting.

Loud noises downstairs, shouting, stuff falling. Oh. The old fucker is fighting with his son, who is the human embodiment of stubbing your toes on a table, with the additional of having the haircut of an Alpaca.

Something heavy falling down, a muffled scream, steps on the stairway. Office door opens… Something hits the floor. Old fucker is back, with a nasty smile. His soul is disturbed and it doesn’t try to enter de bedroom this time. It stays back on the office.

“Hello again” he smiles, teeth just a bit too sharp.

“…Hm, sweet, tell me you have come to my parties before, haven’t you?”

Yeah of course. And stood by the corners while most of his guests stared at him like he was monster or a piece of meat, at least until the old fucker called him so he could show off his personal little freak.

Freak, freak, those people thought. Uncanny, go away.

Or alternatively, that they needed to have him, to control him, to show who really is the monster.

Joke was on them, because it was a great occasion to pickpocket, these parties.

“Of course I have darling. It’s such an honor to be there!”

The old fucker’s smile is unusual, something like someone making a commercial of toothpaste on gun-point.

Controlling, all-consuming, Danger danger.

“Well, you remember my little songbird?”

…Something the old fucker liked to display even more. The young man was put on a sort of pedestal on the beginning of those parties, and would sing and perform gracefully to the guests, before coming to sit and serve his master. By later hours he was tossed around all the guests, and when the party was over, there wasn’t much left of him anymore.

“Sure. The one with the long white hair” He saw him sometimes, walking around the house, always following the dumb ass son of the old fucker. They never really interacted. “Your son’s pet. What about him?”

“Oh no. It’s not my son’s anymore.”

He frowns, and the old fucker’s grim widens. He gesticulate for Orfeu to follow him into the office, where… The boy is there, shivering, covered in bruises and cuts. Ragged.

Fragile. Ice. Thin, thin ice.

…On no. Hell no. Please please no.

“-You…?”

Master grabs the boy’s hair and pulls him up, as he lets out a faint whimper. The boy’s soul… It’s keeling on the ground, but its arms, painfully long, too broken and mangled… They are strangling the boy right now. He can’t breathe right.

No.

Nononononononononononono.

“He is yours now, darling!”

Fear. Anxiety… Anger?

“Are you… giving me a person?”

Nope nope nope nope nope. Can’t interact. People don’t like me. He’ll be scared. He’ll be terrified. He will see me as monster. Won’t be able to help. No nononon.

…He bites his own cheek so much it draws blood. Calm the fuck down. Keep the façade.

“Oh, no darling” the man chuckles “It’s not a person, it’s a pet. Remember how you told me you wanted some company, but you can’t have animals at home? They are scared of you or something, you said. Well, this one is perfect, I’m sure. He won’t dare run away.”

The man comes closer, dragging the poor boy to his feet, with that nasty, nasty smile. That’s why his controlling tower-soul stood back, keeping those arms and tentacles wrapped around the boy’s soul.

“Little songbird here needs a home. He doesn’t sing anymore… So I don’t really have a use for it. He would be very happy to go with you, wouldn’t you?”

He pulls his hair again, so hard he lets out a whimper. The crooked soul mimics its owner to perfection, the tentacles of the old bastard all over it.

“-Y..Ah-“ he shrieks, shivers, raises his head so the tears don’t roll down.

“…He doesn’t talk much anymore. But then again, dogs don’t either” He sighs “I wanted him to be clean of fresh wounds when you took him, but my son got his hands on him somehow.”

Somehow. The soul shivers. The boy cries.

“Well… I know it’s a bit sudden, but it’s your choice after all. You want him? He can clean, cook, do some stuff for you.”

Say no say no say no say so you can’t do this wtf this is wrong and bad and you can’t take of him you can’t barely take care of yourself it will be worse if you don’t he will be killed or tortured that’s not fair it’s not his fault it wasn’t your fault he deserves better than you he won’t get any chance-

“Of course I want him.”

Panic panic – don’t. Don’t panic. Fuck this.

You wanted someone in the darkness for you, and no one ever came… So be the person. Be there.

“Good!” Old fucker says, too loud “Aren’t you happy, songbird? I won’t have to dispose of you after all”

The poor thing tries to answer but can’t. And he noticed how old fucker moves, about to smack the boy, so, on a swift movement, Orfeu falls to his knees and cups his hands around the boy’s face. Old fucker crosses his arm instead.

“It’s okay if he can’t answer. I’m a quiet guy, believe it or not!” he chuckles “Is just you… that makes me want to talk so much, dear! I’m only chatty around you, cause you have so many nice things to say…”

…Like bragging about his stocks and finances and complaining about being a failure of a father who raised a monster. The usual.

“Well… That’s good to know, I’m special to you!” old fucker smiles victoriously “If it does happen that the pet sings again, make sure to tell me, I’d like to hear”.

Yeah, sure. Like hell he would.

#whump #oc whump #pet whump #slave whump #whump writing #orfeu and haru

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swifteforeverandalways · 3 years

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Notes: so @lilmissriottbliss and I have both been watching a lot of Chicago Med and decided that the Chicago shows now officially take place in Emoverse! This is just a lil’ one shot of Kate being injured, Rhea and Toni taking her to Chicago Med, and everyone finding out Ethan was once SHIELD. If anyone has questions, toss them in my inbox!

“Hold on, just hold on,” Rhea Ripley muttered, half under her breath, as she ran down the street. Kate Kane was laying, half limp, in Rhea’s arms. It was supposed to be a normal trip, a vacation almost, to Chicago before WWE started touring again but it ended in disaster. Even on vacation, Kate brought her Batwoman suit and it ended with her stabbed.

“M fine,” Kate murmured weakly, even as blood steadily bled out of the wound.

“You aren’t fine, you got stabbed!” Toni snapped, her tone shaky. Kate tried to roll her eyes but winced instead as they burst into the Emergency Department at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center.

“Help! We need some help over here!” Rhea shouted. A nurse rushed up to them.

“What’s your name?” She asked.

“I’m Rhea, that’s Toni, and this is Kate. Please. You need to help her!” Rhea pleaded.

“Dr. Halstead, over here!” The nurse yelled. A tall, well built man with red hair rushed up.

“What happened?” He demanded.

“We Uh….we um….” Toni stumbled over the question so Rhea quickly butt in.

“We were at the park and Kate was climbing in a tree and fell,” Rhea quickly lied. Dr. Halstead looked unconvinced but still helped Kate onto a gurney. “Someone page Dr. Choi!” “Already on it!” A nurse yelled.

“You look really familiar,” Another nurse commented. “Kate!” Toni cried

“Listen, will you help my girlfriend or not!” Rhea snapped. A Korean man ran up and checked on Kate, making orders quickly.

“Get me a CBC, CMP, tox screen, and type and screen. STAT,” he commanded.

“Make sure the tubes are green and lavender,” Dr. Halstead said before adding a, “Or Raya will have my ass” under his breath. One of the nurses snorted.

“Looks like whatever stabbed her missed her lung by about a centimeter” Dr. Choi said.

“What the hell stabbed her?” Dr. Halstead asked. Toni paled. “She fell off a tree, I didn’t even look when we picked her up” Dr. Choi looked at the two women, frowning. Kate’s heartbeat went slow. “She’s stable” A nurse said, another snapping her finger. “I know you two! You’re wrestlers!”

“Bloody hell, can’t we go anywhere and not be recognized,” Toni grumbled.

“April, leave them alone,” Dr. Choi said with a smile.

“I’ll take the tubes down to the lab,” a new doctor said, walking up.

“Thanks Nat!”

The doctor walked off with the tubes in hand.

“Where can we wait?” Toni asked

“I’ll show you….I actually have a few questions for you two,” Dr. Choi said. Rhea nodded. Dr. Choi led them to a small room and shut the door behind them, crossing his arms and looking at the two. Rhea did the same, Toni sitting down.

“I’ve been a doctor for a very long time, and I know what kinds of injuries are caused by what. And I know that she didn’t fall out of a tree. So what happened?” Dr. Choi said. Rhea looked him in the eye. “I can’t tell you that”

“Why not? Was this a domestic dispute? Those injuries are more from a knife than falling from a tree”

"It wasn't a fight with us, and that's all I can say"

“Kate helps SHIELD,” Toni added.

“The agency that works with the Avengers?”

“Yes, her father runs Crows Security in Gotham,” Rhea said.

“That explains where I’ve seen her. Used to do medical for Shield”

“So trust us when we say, this wasn’t a dispute with us.”

He sighed. “Fine. But don’t be surprised if Chicago P.D gets involved” Toni nodded

“And we’ll let SHIELD know….why did you leave them?” Rhea asked. Dr. Choi’s jaw tightened. “That’s none of your business”

“Fine,” Rhea snapped, “But some agents will be coming here.”

“Then you can ask them” he left. “What a dick”

“We should call Bobbi and let her know.”

Rhea nodded. Toni pulled out her phone, dialing up the number.

“Hello?”

“Hi Bobbi, do you know a Dr. Choi?”

“Yeah, he used to work for SHIELD. Why?”

“Because Kate had a incident with a knife and I’m pretty sure him and Rhea are gonna hurt each other”

“I’ll be there ASAP”

“Thank you”

About fifteen minutes later, Bobbi Morse strode into the room with Jade on her heels.

“Ethan!” She greeted the doctor

“Bobbi. Jade,” Ethan nodded. Bobbi pulled him into a hug, Ethan awkwardly returning it.

“How have you been? It's been ages.”

“Good”

“Have you been going to therapy or are you still overworking yourself?”

“The second one” Will interrupted.

“Damn, he looks like he could be Romanroger’s kid,” Jade joked. Bobbi snorted, turning to Ethan. “I thought when you retired you said you’d take care of yourself.”

Ethan shrugged, looking away awkwardly. Bobbi sighed, noticing Rhea glaring.

“So why did he leave?” Toni asked Bobbi and Jade. Ethan glared.

“What, you said to ask them,” Toni said.

“Ethan used to be a field agent” Bobbi said

“Ooh,” Rhea and Toni nodded in understanding.

“Went down to medical after a mission, been a doctor ever since” Ethan added

“So what happened to Kate? Is she okay?” Jade asked.

“She was stabbed”

“We’re just waiting on the blood test results,” Will added before his phone buzzed with a text.

“Why is Saraya texting you in all caps?”

“Something about Nat saying we were being rude”

Ethan laughed. Will smacked him. “She might be tiny but she’s gonna kick my ass!”

Ethan laughed again. Will stared at Ethan. “Stop laughing!”

“To be fair, tiny people can be scary. One of our wrestlers…..” Toni shuddered, “Took out a guy.”

“With a broken nose”

There was a knock at the door. Will made a noise.

“Come in,” Ethan said. A small woman holding lab papers walked in, glaring at Will. “Hey Raya” She marched up to him and began poking him in the chest. “You. Do. Not. Get. To. Be. Rude. To. Wrestlers!”

“I apologized!”

“Still rude to be rude to them!”

Ethan silently walked out. “Actually it makes sense he's former SHIELD” Rhea noted.

“He never did say where he was before coming here,” Will mused.

“Was he in the Budapest mission?” Jade asked Bobbi, who nodded.

“Thought I recognized him. What happened?”

Bobbi let out a long breath.

“He got shot in the knee, guy came close to killing him, retired from field work not long after”

“Damn,” Jade shook her head.

“He was a good agent”

Bobbi nodded. “He was”

“A bit. Not much, Jemma did a lot more as did Lincoln”

“Lincoln was smart enough to work in med shit?”

“Had a medical degree and everything”

“We sure he didn’t cheat?” “Jade!”

“What?” Jade grinned cheekily. Bobbi shook her head. “I was on Budapest, hell of a two day mission”

Will frowned as there was another knock on the door. A man who looked similar too but a little bit older than Will, and with darker hair, walked in with Natalie behind him.

“This is Detective Halstead”

“Jay Halstead,” Jay extended his hand, “I understand this involved SHIELD?”

“Yes, we can’t exactly say that out loud” Jay nodded

“What happened to the perp?”

“I might have punched him out and left for CPD to deal with” Rhea flexed. “These aren’t just for TV”

Toni laughed slightly, nuzzling her face against Rhea’s shoulder.

“Wow” Jay said

“So will Kate make it?” Toni asked.

“Well she’s in surgery right but we have the best surgeons in the state”

“Not to mention her blood type is O pos, which we have a good amount of, and the rest of her results look normal,” Saraya added. Rhea breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Anyway, I need to get back to the lab,” Saraya said, handing the lab papers to Will.

“Love you” She mock glared. Natalie laughed, pulling her into a hug.

“Where’s Ethan at?”

“He walked out.”

Saraya sighed. Natalie bumped her shoulder gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing much, just thinking about my application to join Shield”

“You applied for SHIELD?”

“Yup. Didn’t get in because of an underlying heart condition”

“Underlying heart condition?” Will frowned.

“Arrhythmia” Saraya said. Will let out a breath.

“Now that I think about it, it was a blessing in disguise. I was able to finish my MLS program”

Will wrapped her into a hard hug. Saraya hugged him back, laughing. “April’s missing too so I assume I know where Ethan is”

“God I was such a bitch to him” Rhea whined.

“Eh, you were worried about Kate. If it had been me injured, Jade would’ve killed him,” Bobbi shrugged. Jade stuck her tongue out.

“Jade’s a bit overprotective,” Bobbi explained, noticing the confused looks on Will, Natalie, and Saraya’s faces. Toni coughed. “Bit?”

“Not my fault I don’t want my wife killed,” Jade shrugged.

“Ethan’s having a panic attack!” April ran down the hall.

“I’ll page Dr. Charles,” Will said but Bobbi grabbed his arm.

“Let me go” She ran after April. In the break room, Ethan was sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees.

“Ethan” Bobbi knelt down and grabbed his hands.

“Leave me alone,” Ethan muttered.

“Not happening” Bobbi sat in front of Ethan, “I know you’re scared, but do you remember what you told me? Back when I was having these?”

Ethan looked up

“That you were safe at SHIELD,” he said.

“Exactly. So you’re safe here”

“How do you know?” Ethan whispered.

“Because you have friends here. You’re alive”

Ethan licked his lips. April leaned down and hugged his head to her chest.

“I’m here for you,” she whispered. Ethan held onto her and took deep breaths. “I’m such a idiot for talking about Budapest”

“Sometimes it feels good to talk about traumas, sometimes I feel better when I talk about….you-know-who,” Bobbi said. Ethan nodded, April kissing his head. “I’m guessing you’re his girlfriend”

April held out her hand. “Fiancée, actually.”

“Nice job Ethan”

Ethan chuckled slightly.

“Alright let’s get up” April eased him off the ground. Ethan smiled at her, hugging her tightly.

“Thank you Bobbi”

“Anytime,” Bobbi smiled.

#Chicago med #rhea ripley #bobbi morse #jade okaia #Kate Kane #Toni storm #Ethan Choi #mockingprincess #BatNightStorm #my writing

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sampauwelsschrijft · 4 years

Text

Antidepressants are so weird.

Like, you forget to take them one day and the next day you’re this anxious mess and you’re constantly dissociating and your brain is so slow and you’re just in this constant state of panicking without reason while you feel like you’re floating and also you have no idea what the fuck is going on 100% of the time.

But also, that feeling when you start taking them for the first time? It’s so strange.

I remember the first time I started taking meds for my anxiety was when I was in high school and I remember just feeling so calm while walking to school the next monday? I was usually so anxious in the morning, especially on mondays, and I had literally not known it any other way for my whole life, but suddenly I realized I was not stressing out at all.

And then the side effects started kicking in and I was so fucking tired during the last class of the day and it was terrible because I had a very busy week and I was up late working on group projects every night.

But at the same time, it was great that I was taking the meds that week because, like I said, I was up late working on group projects in other peoples houses and eating at their place and I was socializing and masking my autism the whole day every day for a week and I never once had a panic attack and I had only one meltdown in that whole week.

And than the side effects went away and I felt so weird without the anxiety that I had known for whole my life? Like, obviously it was still there, but so much less? Before I started taking the antidepressants, I had panic attacks almost every week, but suddenly I could go literal months without panic attacks. And the suicidal thoughts I had also known for a very long time... just gone.

The same happened when I started taking new meds two months ago. The first week was terrible, I was really tired and I had these two days were I had so much executive dysfunction that I couldn’t even get up to make tea, but than the side effects went away and suddenly I felt so much calmer than before and I felt like I had so much more time in a day? And than I started going on walks and last week I even went to buy popcorn alone and that’s a really big accomplishement for me.

But the strangest thing is probably other peoples reactions when they hear I’m on antidepressants.

My grandma is great at that, saying things like ‘you don’t need meds, you just need to get over it’ in such a sweet voice and she really means it like advice. (No shade to her, she’s a great grandma and she’s really sweet and she really means it well, she just doesn’t understand it.) But it’s so weird to me, because, like, you won’t tell someone who’s taking medication for a phyisical condition that they need to stop taking their meds and get over it, right? So what’s the difference with me taking meds for a mental condition I’ve been struggling with my whole life? I’ve never been so happy as in the two years since I started taking antidepressants. I’ve been doing so many thing I would have never seen myself doing.

My grandma made it sound like ‘it’s just my age’, she literally said she ‘felt the same way when she was my age but she just got over it and than she got her drivers license even though she was scared of driving’, and I was just like, I’ve literally never seen you drive a car in my twenty years of existence but that’s great for you I guess?

And the excuse she gives me as to why I shouldn’t take my meds is because medication is always dangerous and it has side effects? And like, yes, I know, but panic attacks aren’t fun either? Suicidal thoughts are dangerous too? Meltdowns are dangerous when you have them at the wrong time or around the wrong people? And really... feeling scared and stressed without any reason every second of the day is just... terrible, and if taking pills is going to help me with that, I will take those pills.

The weirdest thing is that, while she’s saying that to me, she’s also constantly reminding my grandpa that he needs to take his pills, and I just wonder what makes her think the two are so diffenent?

Again, my grandma is a wonderful lady and I really don’t want you to think bad of her, but I just don’t understand why she finds it so hard to understand that mental illnesses are a serious thing?

Another dude once asked me why I don’t take my antidepressents only on the days I need them, like how I take my asthma medication only when I know I’m going to do sports or have a lot of allergies that day... and I’m just like... that’s not how it works? Not all medication is something you can just take whenever? A lot of medication, not just antidepressants, need time to start working, and you also just can’t stop with them out of nowhere, because that’s going to give you withdrawel symptoms?

And he’s reason for asking that was that he believed antidepressants make you a different person and, just, how? Are you trying to say my anxiety and depressive episodes are my personality or something? In my experience, antidepressants have actually helped me be more like myself. When I’m not constantly stuck in my own head, I have time and motivation to do the things I like and be myself, and when I’m not constantly anxious about what other people might think of me, I stop masking my autism.

These kind of people aren’t the weirdest ones though, one of my high school teachers has taken that price.

In my last year of high school, we had a trip to Berlin, so we had to fill in this form about our medical conditions/ medical history and allergies and the medication we take and stuff like that. I filt out the form completely normally. I stated my allergies, I wrote that I had light asthma and might have difficulties riding a bike because of it, and I guess I must have written about my scoliosis and the jaw surgery I had had that summer (or maybe the summer before that, idk, my memory doesn’t really do timelines to be honest), and I wrote that I was autistic and had anxiety and that I sometimes had depressive episodes because I had had a depression when I was 14. And than I just wrote that I took medication for my asthma and antidepressants for my anxiety. And maybe I wrote down some other stuff, I really don’t remember how detailed the form had to be.

A few weeks went by, until the teachers started doing their paperwork for the Berlin trip and the teacher that was organizing it all started going trough the medical forms and read that I took antidepressants... and suddenly she just started treating me differently.

Like, at that point it wasn’t really a secret anymore that I had anxiety and was in the process of getting diagnosed with autism, all the teachers were supposed to know it, but I guess after reading that I actually took medication for it, this teacher started realizing how serious it was?

She began skipping me whenever we had to read aloud in class and she started being extra nice to me and even giving me better grades, because, idk, she felt bad for me or something?

And than, during the actual Berlin trip, she was constantly keeping her eyes on me. It was weird, because we were all 17/18 or even 19 at that point and the teachers mostly just let us do whatever, but this teacher just constantly came talking to me while I was just having fun with my friends. There was even this point where we were at a fair and this teacher saw me standing somewhere alone and started almost babying me thinking my friends had abandoned me, and I was literally just like... my friend is right there buying food for us? Why do you instantly think I’ve been abandoned when you see me alone? My friend is actually helping me and buying food for me right now? Like... what?

And than she almost seemed sad when she actually saw my friend handing me popcorn. Like, lady, how big is your saviour complex?

Well, anyway, I guess all this post is trying to say is that 1) forgetting to take your antidepressants makes you feel weird and like you don’t even exist, and 2) people react weird to mental illness

#actuallyautistic #autism #autisme #anxiety #antidepressants #persoonlijk #mental health #mental illness #depression

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berkmansimagines · 4 years

Text

Hurt

A/N: I decided to mix things up and not name a fic after a Taylor Swift song this time!

Summary: After you get injured in a car accident, your father Barry confronts the driver who caused it.

Barry rushes through the entrance to the Emergency Room, looking around for anyone who could help him. He’s been in panic mode ever since he got the call from your boyfriend’s mom, Claudia. She’s a nurse at the hospital and saw you two arrive in the ambulance. You and Steve were hit by someone in a Tesla who ran a red light.

The moment Barry heard the words ‘car accident’ he thought he was having a heart attack. He couldn’t breathe or even think straight. Your father needed to know you were okay. He raced to the hospital as fast as he could.

Barry spots a nurse sitting behind the front desk and hurries towards her.

“Hi, uh, I’m looking for my daughter Y/N Berkman. She was in a car accident,” Barry explains.

“One moment please,” the nurse doesn’t look up from her paperwork.

“But I-”

“Sir, please take a seat,” the nurse says impatiently.

Barry glares at her. He’s anxious and upset, but he’s not going to yell at this overworked nurse. He takes a deep breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he reluctantly nods.

Barry steps back and sits down in the first open chair he sees. He hasn’t stopped moving since he found out about the accident. Even now he can’t sit still. He’s hunched over, squeezing his hands together and restlessly tapping his foot on the ground.

Tension builds inside Barry with each passing moment. He tries thinking back to the last conversation he had with you. You were leaving for your date with Steve. Barry was on the couch, going over a script that Mr. Cousineau gave him. A monologue for his next acting class. You said a quick “I love you” when you went out the door but your father was so focused on his script that he didn’t even look up. What if that is the last time he ever sees you? Barry mentally kicks himself for being such a piece of shit. He should’ve said “I love you” back or given you a hug or...

Barry’s snapped out of his thoughts by some guy in his early 20s complaining loudly on the phone. He’s wearing designer clothes and looks like a trust fund kid. There’s some dry blood next to the stitches on his forehead.

“I’m so pissed. The Tesla got totaled,” he whines as he walks right past Barry.

Barry’s eyebrows perk up. Steve’s mom told him that you were hit by someone driving a Tesla. His eyes narrow in on the man heading towards the exit. He tries listening to the stranger’s phone call.

“Yeah... two teenagers were in the other car. I don’t care about them! I'm more worried about my Tesla. Like I didn’t think some cheap used Toyota could cause so much damage.”

That confirms it for Barry. He knew that Steve’s car was an old Toyota. Steve bought it cheap and fixed it up himself. Barry made your boyfriend get everything checked out and show him all the paperwork before he even allowed you to go inside the car.

The guy on the phone is the definitely one that hit you and Steve. Barry’s so furious he can hear Kill Bill type sirens go off in his head. He rises to his feet.

“Yeah I just requested an Uber. I’ll be there soon. Don’t start doing shots without me,” the guy laughs before hanging up the phone.

The trust fund kid walks out of the Emergency Room. Barry follows. As soon as the guy steps outside the hospital, he pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He stops to light one up as Barry approaches.

“HEY!” your father shouts to the man to get his attention.

“Who the hell are you?” he asks while taking a drag of his cigarette.

“My daughter was in the car you hit,” Barry says tensely.

“They should’ve watched where they were going,” the guy shrugs and shakes his head. He’s showing no remorse.

“You hit them after you ran a red light,” Barry coolly replies, almost getting in the guy’s face.

“Hey back off man,” the guy warns Barry, giving him a light shove.

Barry eyes widen. As the guy moves his hand away, Barry catches a glimpse of his hospital wristband. He spots a name- Hugh Sinclair. A name is enough for Barry to track him down. He clenches his fist and gives Hugh a cold look.

“Or what?” your father asks in a low, serious tone. He takes a small step closer to the man who hit you.

“EXCUSE ME!”

Barry looks back and sees the nurse that blew him off earlier. She’s trying to get his attention now.

“You were looking for Y/N Berkman, right? You can see her now,” the nurse tells Barry.

Barry nods. He gives Hugh one last glare before following the nurse back inside the hospital. Your father goes to the room number the nurse gave him and meets a doctor outside the door. The doctor just finished examining you. During the accident you had broken your arm and suffered from a minor concussion. They want to keep you at the hospital overnight for observation but you’re going to be okay.

When Barry finishes speaking with your doctor, he rushes into your hospital room. His face drops when he sees you propped up in the bed with a cast on your arm and bruises on your face.

“Y/N,” he breathes.

Just by the look in your father’s eyes you can tell that he’s anxious, worried and upset. You hate seeing him like this. You don’t even know what to say so you just start apologizing.

“I’m so sorry, dad. Steve was driving and it all happened so fast. We didn’t even see it coming and…”

Barry suddenly pulls you into a big hug. Your dad isn’t mad at you, he’s just relieved that you’re okay. That’s the only thing that matters to him.

“None of this was your fault,” Barry says softly.

After a few moments you pull away from Barry and lie back. Barry grabs a chair from the corner of the room and moves it right next to your bed. He sits down beside you.

“I’m sorry for making you worry,” you cross your arms and look down at your lap.

“Kid, I’m always going to worry about you. I think it’s like part of the dad code,” your father nods.

You look up and give Barry a small smile. Growing up in the foster system, you didn’t have this type of support. It was nice to know somebody cared.

“Thanks dad.”

Barry rests his hand on your cast. The doctor said you’d be wearing it for the next few weeks.

“Does it hurt?” he asks.

You shake your head.

“It’s not too bad anymore. The pain meds they gave me helped. I was thinking about doing the Loser/Lover thing to my cast like in It. I remember watching that with Steve when we first started dating,” you smile at the memory, and then nervously ask, “Is he going to be okay?”

“I, uh, think so. When I talked to Claudia, she said that he was in surgery… but she sounded optimistic,” Barry tells you.

“Okay,” you quietly reply, “What do you think will happen to the guy who hit us?”

“I… I don’t know,” Barry avoids eye contact as he answers. Your father had a couple ideas of what he wanted to do to the guy who did this to you.

“I heard some of the nurses talking. They said he’s rich and really well connected,” you sigh. Because of his wealth, you’re afraid that he’s not going to face any repercussions for what he did.

“You don’t need to worry about that right now,” Barry tries.

You study your father’s face, trying to get a read on it. Was Barry planning on going after him? You want to ask him about it but you’re growing tired again, a side effect from the strong pain meds you’re on.

“Dad…” you yawn, “Can you stay here tonight? I… I don’t want to be alone.”

“Y/N, I’m not going anywhere,” Barry reassures you.

It’s not too long before you drift off to sleep. Barry checks out the clock on the wall. It’s getting late but he’s wide awake, wired from everything that happened tonight.

He is still angry at Hugh. Just thinking about how that douchebag is partying right now makes his blood boil. Part of him just wants to look up where this guy lives and take care of it…. But he couldn’t do that. Not tonight. Barry told you that he’d stay with you and that’s what he’s going to do.

Instead your father watches you sleep, making sure you’re okay.

#barry berkman #barry berkman imagine #barry berkman x reader #barry hbo imagine #barry hbo #barry berkman x teen!daughter #barry berkman daughter!reader #bill hader imagine #barry berkman daughter imagine #barry berkman daughter #bbtd

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shikagemaru · 3 years

Text

Been having an identity crisis recently. There's It a whole lot of things adding up to that. Call it a rant and ignore it if you want. There's only like 3 of you guys anyway.

I would put a readmore here if I knew how to do that on mobile (thanks for sucking, only social media app I feel at all comfortable with)

•It really doesn't help that the past 7 years of my life have been completely stagnant. Since I haven't been able to work my wife and I have had basically no freedom of our own.

•2 years ago I was put in jail because a pair of psychopaths decided to go from 70 to 0 on the highway in front of us, and get out to try attacking us. I tried backing up to go around but obviously the car behind me was too close and the highway was at speed in the right lane. So I had to go around on the grass while these 2 crazy assholes were approaching while shouting threats. One was coming for my wife's window. So I did what I had to and bumped one of them. He wouldn't move and our safety was more important than him being hurt a little. There was a high speed chase through our community, and while we're on the phone with the police these two are trying to force us off the road. The cops even see one of them hanging out the window shouting threats at us. We pull into a mcdonalds parking lot and after talking to them for a bit the cops arrest me because he said I "ran him over" on purpose. He was so uninjured that he refused medical care at the scene, but he kept telling people I ran him over. They were also both arrested btw. I was held without food or mpving air for over 13 hours and I have a history of heat stroke and hypoglycemia (it's bot exactly that, but it's like living outside of a big city and tellinf people you're from there instead of the local podunk you actually live in). Long story short it was torturous, and then I got put in actual jail. They didn't care that I have a long list of disabilities. When I was released I had to wear an anklr monitor while taking weekly drug tests. The numbers on the drug test kept reading that I was using weed even though I wasn't. It was insanely stressful as the numbers didn't change from one week to another. My fear was that because I was rapidly losing weight from stress that the thc being held onto in the fat was being detected. NOPE. turns out one of my DAILY meds was testing false positive. "Shouldn't they know about the false positive drug and account for it?" Youd think. But when they scanned my medication bottles that one came out blurred and they never entered it into their system. In case there are any lingering feelings that I was guilty, the court case more than handled that. The prosecutor was the kind of scumbag that, before my trial, tried prosecuting this guy's mother-in-law for assaulting him when she tried taking her grandkid out of his arms because he was using the baby to shield himself when the family confronted him about having a fake medical license and it ruining all their lives. It turns out I was put through hell and all he was seeking was "anger management counciling" because he believed that I, the guy protecting his wife, had road rage issues. One listen to the 911 calls would have straightened thst up. My lawyer kicked his ass just a little more than I did on the stand. Long story concluded, thanks for the ptsd. The nightmares have been lovely. So is panicking whenever a door closes kinda loud.

•Last year I was able to self diagnose myself with autism. For those who don't know, the vast majority of autistic people self diagnose, largely due to "experts" on average not being well educated on what autism is outside of the stereotypical cases. Most women aren't diagnosed until adults. Most "high functioning" (which is an awful description when you lesrn that it was created by a literal nazi to separate autistic people into "kill these ones" and "don't kill these ones" categories) people aren't diagnosed until adulthood. And by then actually getting the diagnosis is a challenge. And frequently it involves exercising privelege to get the right people involved.

So knowing what I know now a lot of my life suddenly makes sense. People accusing me of being manipulative when I literally don't know what it is that makes them think that? Severe miscommunications? Obsessing over specific topics to the point where people want to avoid me? Always being "the weird one" and as a result being a social outcast from day 1? Despite being considered very intelligent, I've been super easily manipulated by people my whole life. I can barely ever tell a person no, even if I know I should. Hell. There have been entire relationships I've had with people where I thought we were friends and they didn't think the same thing. Learning who or even how to trust becomes a challenge.

Yeah, it all makes sense now. I want to say "i don't know how they didn't see it", but I do. The 90s was shit for mental health. Since they knew I had tourettes (thanks for that, universe) and adhd, my obsessive tendencies were labeled ocd. Actual adult relationships have gone entirely to shit because of miscommunication. People seem to think I mean one thing when I mean another entirely. People think I'm angry when I'm not. I've basically been told never to be passionate about a topic.

How does a person handle that? It doesn't unfuck relationships with people. Once someone thinks you're lying and manipulating that's it. Nothing you can ever say will ever dissuade them. It doesn't matter that they were the ones that misunderstood. Somehow it becomes the fault of the autistic person. And good luck if you're ever autistic and have a panic attack. So I'm trying not to care about that. It's hard. It's especially hard knowing that things didn't have to, and may not have gone the way they did if i had known about it earlier. I wish I could rebuild certsin relationships. My wife and I used to fight, but since we realized that both of us have these triggers because we're both autistic, we resolve almost every misunderstanding like a walk in the park. But that doesn't work with people you haven't spoken to in years. Even if a lot of it was frankly their fault.

•And the latest fuckery? I have no idea what gender I am. If I had the power to shapeshift I'd probably change on a daily or hourly basis. I had an alt account years ago where I posted fanfiction. Some people in the community assumed they knew my gender and pronouned me as such in the comments. That was the first time I had ever experienced gender euphoria. I was....upset, when someone corrected them. Would have been nice if they asked me first. I enjoyed the confusion quite a lot actually. And since I have a terrible time coming up with names for things (my screen name is from 20 years ago and I never figured out a new one) so I don't know where I would start building up a new persona. And for what? To get the rush of people not knowing which pronouns to use? I hate it. I want it. I don't know if I can ever come out as trans. People think trans means m2f and f2m, and it doesn't really matter to the public consciousness that there's more to it than that. I want to scream at people that I'm trans, but i don't know what I even want my body to look like. If I woke up tomorrow and I was suddenly transformed would I be happy? I have no idea. No? Yes?

I don't know who I am or how to even identify. I'm a disabled, autistic, lgbtq ethnic minority with no financial freedom, and my 40s are approaching. Life is a challenge. Sometimes I wish I could just Danny Phantom it up. And by sometimes I mean daily.

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entitycradle · 3 years

Text

A Tree Without Wind

Content warnings: mention of, discussion of, threats of, and plans to commit suicide. Panic attacks, disassociation, and paranoia are described, sometimes in detail. An eating disorder is alluded to. Characters are horny for each other but there’s nothing sexually explicit.

I promise the ending is hopeful. I genuinely am not trying to trick you, I know what this sort of thing is like, I want to respect your capacity while still being truthful to the experience and allowing tension in the story. If you’re in the right place for it, click that button.

A TREE WITHOUT WIND

I was nine years old the first time Phoenix told me he was going to kill himself. Is that too brutal? Sorry. It's where this starts. We were outside, in the morning before it got too hot, kicking around a ball in the scrubby grass. We used the long shadow of the I34Q tower to make the rules--you can't use your hands if you're in the sun, that sorta thing. It was fun because the boundaries of the shadow were always moving with the shape of the tower, and because the tower was a little scary. Phoenix lost a game and just said it, frustrated, "I'm gonna kill myself." I laughed.

When I was that age I loved looking at the shadow of the tower, because it made so much more sense than the real thing. You'd look at the dark, fuzzy stain on the ground and you could imagine it was some sort of antenna, or house, or marker. But then you'd look at the structure itself and your eyes would glaze over trying to figure it out. Unevenly rotating, stacked polyhedral structures, dark gray but covered with a rainbow film like an oil slick. Irregular pieces would be transferred between different sections with no apparent pattern. It smelled like someone you'd never met. The tower was doing something but no one was ever clear on what. That's how it is with I34Q stuff, I think.

I'm stalling. It was some stupid shit, he must've picked it up from some awful caster or something. As a kid Phoenix liked that sorta thing. He'd watch videos of mean people cursing and laughing and he'd laugh with them. I preferred my cartoons, or the I34Q casts, as weird as they were. Later I repeated what he said when I found out my dad was making squash for dinner, "I'm gonna kill myself," and my mom told me off pretty hard. Kept me from saying it again, at least in school and at home. Phoenix kept at it though.

- = -

Phoenix and I got put in the same dormitory when we went to T-school. Do they call it T-school in other places? It's the thing where 4Q tanks (as in I34Q) come and take a bunch of eleven-year-old kids to stay at "training" facilities. No one I've asked knows what T-school is actually for, same as the towers, same as all the 4Q stuff like I said before. An organic shape attached to the ground heads a classroom, gibbering except for the occasional english sentence (Phoenix said he also recognized some Cantonese). Mrs. Lough, who apparently also lives in the facility, tries to teach "formalist english," which is like english but the rules contradict themselves. You take notes on the behavior of a tank filled with inky fluid for four hours a week. One day a three-legged machine packs up your stuff and shepherds you to the gate.

I was ejected a year and a half after Phoenix. I went home on the bus and met him at burger king that afternoon. I caught a glimpse of him from outside. His hair was in long, tight braids. I felt self-conscious about the uncontrollable smile growing on my face. "Aco!" he said through a grin as I opened the glass door. A green poster advertised a meal made from "water beads," an I34Q plant thing.

"Dang," I said, grinning as I sat down. "Dang."

"You make it out? Fuck you to 4Q?" He'd stopped eating to greet me. His grin looked as uncontrollable as mine. Phoenix's nose was wide and flat, also like mine.

"Fork you, 4Q." I still felt nervous about cursing. I was fourteen. "How ya doing, Phoenix?"

"I'm good, I'm good. High school is interesting."

"Oh, man..."

"It's actually like, fucking nice to understand what's happening. But now there are actual smart kids and you actually get punished when you, y'know, mouth off. I'm like, I gotta get around to--" He swiped with his hand, bent his neck, and made a cracking sound with his mouth. I laughed. "Don't worry, I'll show you around. Maybe we'll have a class together."

- = -

We did have a class together. High school with Phoenix was fun, because I got to have a proper crush on him. Pining, sexuality, youthful obsession, yards and yards of it. It was weird, we kinda drifted--Phoenix hung out with kids that I was afraid of, I hung out with kids who played too many videogames. As our familiarity waned, I started seeing him differently. A foreign, adult desire began to penetrate me, replacing childish affection. It took me a while to realize that's what was happening.

It was a shame our familiarity waned, though, because Phoenix was really struggling, and I didn't see it. His friends were mean, when they weren't outright abusive. Not a lot of people liked him. I learned later that he started hurting himself when he was sixteen. Little cigarette burns, and then cuts. He got put on meds at seventeen--the wrong meds, for a year. He went to a psych ward when he was nineteen. His family did not have the money to pay for an extended stay. I still don't know exactly how that worked out. I do know he went into debt after his second stay two years later.

I wasn't doing too well myself, after I hit twenty-two. Something in me broke I guess. So when Phoenix told me he was going to travel to the Santitos digger and throw himself off a cliff, it didn't take me very long to ask if I could go with him.

- = -

"I... I didn't..." He paused for a long time. Ten seconds of silence feels unbearably long in a conversation, and I was quiet for fifteen. My teeth held each other tightly as his thoughts whirled. "I didn't..." He looked me in the eyes. There was an intensity to both our gazes. He'd stuck his jaw out, just a little. "I guess I did. I was, kinda, hoping you'd say that."

"Fuck," I said, looking away and down. "Fuck." I put a hand over my eyes, gripping my face as tears came.

"I'm gonna die," he said, beginning to smile and looking up. I felt the discomfort I'd felt since we were nine.

"Yeah, I wanna go, I wanna go," I said, pulling my hand away midway through and looking back at him with a force I didn't recognize.

He looked back at me and said, "I'm gonna die, and you're gonna die with me."

- = -

The Santitos digger is in northern California, in the Redwood national park. People have figured out the basic idea of what the digger is doing, unlike the towers or the T-schools: the digger is making a big hole. I'd heard that in some places it had dug more than a mile, almost straight down. Don't ask me how the digger would've done that. Don't ask me why it's called Santitos, either, since it's pretty big and not very saintly. Maybe it was the name of a town. Getting to the digger from Prince George County was about fifty hours.

"I figure we could do it in three days if we really fuck-you-pushed-it. But I'm planning on five." I craned my neck to look at Phoenix's cracked phone screen, where he'd pulled up the route.

Gas is expensive because 4Q takes most of it. Basically no one flies. Even in Phoenix's hybrid, it would be a thousand dollars to get to the west coast. But it's not like we'd need the money afterwards.

"We'll eat along the way," he continued. I bit my thumbnail. "I'm not picky, we'll just stop at wherever they won't run us out of town."

We'd sleep in the car. It was April, so temperature wouldn't be a concern. I packed a change of clothes, a water bottle, my meds, and a box cutter I'd stolen from my last job.

The next morning, he pulled his blue, dented '38 prius in front of my apartment building. I saw the car arrive out the window. There was an anxious pit in my stomach that deepened when I opened my front door. I didn't want anyone to see me. This is it, I thought, this is it, this is it. I repeated that phrase down the stairs. My landlord could fucking charge rent to my corpse, I could give a shit. This is it, I thought. That final T stretched to enrobe me. The sky was gray and wet. The sensation wasn't enough to rip me from my inwards reverie. I was about to get in the back of the car when Phoenix spoke. "That ain't it."

He was leaning out the window, regarding me coolly. "Morning. Shall we go?" I walked around the car and got in the front seat.

- = -

Virginia is beautiful once you get into the mountains, forested and rolling. I told Phoenix, "Once I read the Appalachians are millions of years old, and used to be taller than the Himalayas."

"No shit. Was there like an Everest? Where's the old Everest?"

"I don't know, I never heard anything about that. But yeah the continental plates looked totally different. And then things changed and the rain and wind and plants broke them down."

"Hah. Fucking awful. Just being broken down like that. I mean, it's better than what 4Q did to Everest."

I was quiet for a moment. "That's... the worst thing they did, right?"

"I dunno, dude, I think taking kids from their families is worse."

"No, right, right. But like... Everest was like... like everyone knew about Everest. When I was really little I had this big book about mountains and I read the bit on Everest so many times. And now it's like... they made it about them. And people lived in the Himalayas before 4Q came! It forced everyone out and carved a bunch of nonsense into it. A forever reminder that we're below them."

"Hah, literally. Hmmm. I still wouldn't say worst, but, I get what you mean. I'm so numb to it. It's good some people still care." Phoenix shrugged. "I mean I dunno. It doesn't matter much to me, at this point. But from an outside perspective it's good."

That first evening was alright. I drove Phoenix into a beautiful sunset. You hear the phrase "rode off into the sunset" and you think, what a nice ending, but it's not really an ending. If you're the cowboy you keep riding, and eventually the sky darkens and you have to set up camp and eat and sleep and wake up the next morning and eat and go riding again. A feeling of dread and desperation fills me when I think of surviving alone like that. Maybe I'd get used to it. The trip to Santitos was an attempt to write a story with a proper ending.

We didn't stop until we crossed into Illinois. We parked on the shoulder of a country road. I used the light in the car to look at the atlas we'd bought for when we didn't have cell service, and laughed. "We've been in five states today. Pretty good. Keep it up and we'll have visited every state by June."

"What the--?" Phoenix snorted, laughing. "You mean if we visit five states a day. Asshole."

I always giggled when he snorted and called me an asshole. "Hey, I'm just saying."

"Fucking dumb. Doesn't even work. You'd have to wake up in a different state than you fell asleep in." He caught my eye. The smile felt intimate, mutual. Born of sleepy exhaustion from a shared journey. I looked at the divot between his nose and upper lip.

I realized something. "Shit, I forgot to bring a blanket."

"Poor baby. You cold?"

"Hmm. I guess not really."

"Oh, you know what I do have..." He leaned towards me and reached toward the back seat. I watched his shirt stretch over his chest. Phoenix retrieved a big gray sweater. "Feel free to stretch it out."

My fingertips touched the back of his hands as I took the bundle. I did that on purpose. His skin was warmer than I expected, as skin always is. We tipped our seats back. Not the most comfortable, though the sweater would help, hopefully. I checked out Phoenix to see him on his side, looking at me and smiling. I let my own smile relax into me as I watched his eyes. His irises were a rich, beautiful brown. His skin was the color of cardboard in your childhood memories. I loved the way his smile wasn't symmetrical, wider on one side than the other. I carefully resisted scanning my gaze down his body. I actually saw his eyes flick down my form, instantaneously. His eyelids half-lowered, and then, horribly, what seemed to be a great tide of sadness overtook him. I watched him hold it back. I watched his smile mix with growing grief and fear, then bow to neutrality. He covered his gaze with his eyelids, breathed in, breathed out. "All right," he whispered, then opened his eyes. The gaze was gone. "Time to sleep." He sat up and turned off the light.

The sweater had a very particular, subtle smell to it. I guess it was his smell. I was desperately horny, yet blasted to pieces. A heady mix.

"I think I could fall in love with you, if things were a little different." He broke the silence, fifteen minutes later. "I probably would. But I'd cling to you like a fucking baby. And you're here, right?" He paused. For a response? I didn't give him one in time. "That's what I mean, codependent hell. I'd only be alive for you, and you'd only be alive for me, and then the second anything goes wrong we'd be right back here except I'd, fucking, direct all my shittiness at you... and you'd blame yourself."

I was quiet. "Ain't... ain't being codependent better than dying?"

"Hah! But that's what I'm saying, it doesn't change anything, it just leads us back here."

I fumbled for something. "Yeah but if it could... like stave it off..."

"Why is that good? The world is fucked, Acoatl, totally and truly fucked. Things don't get better from here, for me, for people. Should I beg? Stay here in misery out of some misplaced sense of morality? We're doing the only thing that makes sense."

I stayed quiet, not unconvinced. Sleep came, eventually, uncomfortably, anxiously.

- = -

The International Astronomical Union provisionally called it 8I/2034 Q1. I had to look that up. The eighth interstellar comet discovered, identified in 2034. I don't know what Q1 means. The name was briefly changed to 8I/Pasarati, for the research group that had discovered it, but by that time I34Q was clearly accelerating non-gravitationally and on an Earthbound trajectory. 8I/Pasarati is still in orbit, technically. You can see it through a telescope, it's like five miles across. But I34Q is the name for all of it, the craft that came to the surface, the life it brought with it, the structures it built, the war, all the consequences. No one can make any sense of it, except the one thing everyone knows: something else controls the world now.

- = -

I just barely remember waking up to switch seats in the morning, and then desiring nothing more than to return to sleep. Eventually Phoenix nudged me awake. "Hey." We were parked somewhere in Missouri. I'd slept all the way through the night and Phoenix's turn to drive. At least twelve hours, depending on when I actually fell asleep last night. I'd missed the big arch in St. Louis.

Phoenix was curt and reserved as I drove. I thought he was still thinking about last night, or angry at me for leaving him alone on his drive. Then he tilted his head back and began to gag. "My... heart..." Tears streamed down him face.

"Phoenix." I glanced back and forth between him and the road. There were abandoned cars on the shoulder; I couldn't pull over. "Phoenix, Phoenix, um."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, stop." He bent, heaved, and emitted a yowling, harsh retch. Nothing else left his mouth. "My heart..." He was breathing hard. A panic attack, I realized, stupidly too late.

"Do we have..." Panic attacks can be interrupted with certain intense sensations. The general goal is to increase awareness of the environment, focus the mind on the current moment rather than the future or past. Holding an ice cube can help. There were no ice cubes. I reached into the back seat for my water bottle, which would at least be cool. A truck behind us laid on the horn. I swerved back into my lane. "Sorry." Phoenix dry heaved again. It was a uniquely distressing sound.

I searched for the hazards, feeling useless. Far too much time passed before I found them and started slowing down. A different truck laid on a different horn. I was able to slip in a gap on the shoulder between an abandoned pickup and a rusting minivan.

I led Phoenix onto the tall grass beyond the asphalt, where he collapsed onto all fours. His torso flexed as he heaved. I put a hand on his back. "Phoenix, look at the trees." There were bushy, broken trees lining the sides of the highway, a vibrant green against the blue and white sky. "The, listen to the road." No, the road was stressing me the fuck out. "Listen to the grass waving, feel it." Stalks crumpled in his fists. I twisted my head and saw the tip of an I34Q tower peeking up over the treeline. "Look, a tower, just like when we were kids." Over the next few minutes, his breathing slowed, his heaving stopped. But the tears stayed. He sobbed away the panic. I read somewhere that tears actually contain different chemicals depending on the emotion causing them. Something to do with hormones I think.

He apologized to me. I would've done the same thing. I've done the same thing. So I got it, but felt indignant at having understood--he didn't need to apologize!

We got back on the road and listened to static on the radio. Sometimes the edge of a station would pass by, and we'd get fuzzy country, or christian rock. I changed it whenever there was a sermon. Sermons always come back to 4Q and they're always awful. The 4Q broadcasts are actually better than sermons about 4Q. They're kind of like static, anyway, totally unintelligible. We encountered more of them than I expected. Maybe static itself is a 4Q broadcast. I don't think that's right, I think static is like cosmic background radiation. But maybe 4Q has changed it somehow, like it used to be white noise and now it's blue noise, a different random distribution but still random.

"I'm off my meds," he said, as we rolled into darkness. The moon was a crescent, low on the western horizon. He spoke flatly and calmly. "I didn't even bring them with me. I thought you should know."

I hesitated. I wanted to voice this diplomatically. But then, we'd be dead in four days, anyway. "Is that why you had the attack?"

"No. I panic even on meds." That made sense. I remembered a few times in the past year when he'd canceled an event with little notice, or left early. "But I'm not a person right now, and that's definitely because I'm off my meds."

"You're not a person right now?"

"Yeah. It's called depersonalization. Also derealization, which is when nothing is real. Or that's how it feels, as I'm told. It's pretty freaky if I'm honest. You don't get the same emotional reaction from stuff. It feels like you're watching from somewhere else." He wasn't looking at me. He was looking down. "You're not you. You're not even real." He whispered. "Pretty freaky."

"Can I--do you--"

"Ahh, I'm coming out of it. Some of it is just recognizing that you're in it." He drew a knee up to his chest and shook his head. "Uhh, could you. Could you hold my hand. Touch helps."

I gripped the wheel with my left hand and held his palm with my right. It was warm and sweaty. I wish I could say that was okay. I felt miserable. I wanted to feel happy, holding his hand, comforting him. I didn't.

Sleep came quicker that night, though still uncomfortable, still anxious.

- = -

I slept late, again. I hadn't touched the chicken sandwich I'd gotten from a drive-thru last night. It had awful 4Q stuff on it anyway. I hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours, so I was pretty hungry, but I had no actual desire to eat. I'd deal with it later.

My own panic attack must've seemed similarly unbidden to Phoenix, though I felt it coming about an hour beforehand, and tried to stave it off. We were on I-80, driving through the hypnotizing flatness of Nebraska. Every ten or fifteen minutes I kept seeing this scarlet structure. It was like a giant, bloody caricature of a water tower, a skinny, triangular column maybe ten feet across and at least two hundred feet tall, supporting an enormous squashed sphere more than twice as wide as the column was tall. I'd watch it rise from the horizon, far too big. I'd never seen them before but guessed they must be 4Q. I started thinking we were somehow traveling in a loop, that my sense of direction was faulty and we were passing the same structure in the same field over and over again. Then I started thinking about how crazy that sounded. But I couldn't stop the thought.

I wanted to pull over but I couldn't stop anywhere in view of the structure, because it was watching me. Of course it wasn't, but I couldn't stop the thought that it was. Hell, maybe it was. Maybe only the mad can decode the purpose of I34Q stuff. I felt how hard I was breathing and glanced over at Phoenix, wondering why he hadn't said anything. He was staring down. He was probably disassociating again, I realized later, but at the time all I knew was that I was alone.

I get angry at myself after my attacks. I feel so stupid. Phoenix apologized to me that night, which made me feel even stupider. I couldn't wait to get to the Santitos digger.

- = -

The next day was bad. Quiet, lonely, and frustrated. A further reminder of the reasons. I saw patches of 4Q purple grass climbing up the Rockies. We both took long shifts and entered Redwood park just after midnight.

- = -

I read a story once about a man that was falling in the dark. He was falling so far that he would die instantly when he hit the ground. He realized that his brain wouldn't have time to process the impact, or even the few moments before. And he couldn't see the ground. He couldn't see anything. All that was left in the world was him and his death. I wondered if Phoenix had read the same story, and was hoping for a similar effect, coming here at night. Of course, we got it wrong. There were clouds, burgundy with light pollution, and every few minutes a star would gaze through; an unearthly glow was cast up from distant pieces of the digger.

Some parts of the digger looked like the towers, spinning and shifting. Some parts looked like exposed microelectronics, cables sutured to shiny terminals of minute complexity. Some parts were just made of asphalt blocks, cream-, gray-, and lime-colored pebbles tightly embedded in dark tar. Distant redwoods, many damaged by fire, ringed the horizon. The Santitos digger was less an object and more a place.

I felt wordlessly close to Phoenix as we scrambled over asphalt, looking for a pit. We touched each other frequently in our effort, to assist, to communicate. We'd have to give each other boosts, lift each other up, look for alternate routes. This place was not made for people.

Finally we came upon a deep canyon. I had half a mind to walk off the edge immediately. But both Phoenix and I stopped to regard it.

I couldn't tell if the rumors were true. You could only see maybe a hundred yards down before the walls of the abyss disappeared into ink. Or, not ink--not blackness, either. People are black. This was something else. The most prominent features were the semi-perceivable red blotches left on my optic nerve after gazing at one of the digger's glowing sectors. The unknowable told me nothing. It just revealed the flaws of my being. Maybe we would achieve our effect after all.

"This is it," I said, elliptically. The beginning is the end. If you take out the 'h' that phrase is a palindrome. "That was the first thing I said out of the door before I got into your car on Saturday. If you take out the 'h' the phrase is a palindrome. The beginning is the end. This is elliptical. This is it."

"That ain't it." He was regarding me coolly.

I laughed.

He was angry. "Are you fucking kidding me? The point of this thing, the whole fucking point is you do it in your right mind. You're letting your madness make the decision for you. You have to make the decision!"

I found that extremely funny. I laughed harder.

"Shut up! Fuck!"

"What's a right mind?" I asked, still grinning. "There's no such thing anymore. Even when it was a thing, all it meant was the most socially-acceptable, capital-promoting mind. Now? The world doesn't fit us anymore. The human condition is inconvenient to its purpose. 4Q can't even train us. The right mind is a dead one. You want a right mind, go ahead." I gestured at the abyss. That's what I did.

He stepped forward. He stepped forward. A foot hung above the end.

I don't know what I would've done if he had lowered that foot, changing his balance, tipping him forward. Jumping in after him wouldn't have felt right. Maybe I'd have gone back to those red eyes in Nebraska and begged for them to torture me. Maybe his idiosyncrasies would have been repelled by the unknowable, flowing away from his body and into me, and I'd be lost forever in a derealized paranoia. Maybe I'd have gotten in the car and driven back home.

His foot remained, hanging, the edge a gallows. "Suicide is about pain. It's the ultimate response to ongoing distress. I never wanted you to be normal. I just didn't want you to be in pain. In a twisted way, I guess I thought, if this was your way of dealing with pain, I wasn't going to stop you. That is your right. I feel like that has to be your right." His balance was incredible. He remained still, a tree without wind. "But you can be abnormal, you can be a bad fit for the world, you can be utterly broken, and you can still live without pain." We're both crying. Tears descend into the pit.

| ' , |

I do think madness is the right way to understand I34Q. I feel this mysteriously. I wonder what it would be like if I tried going to T-school while embracing my altered states, living in them. I suspect Phoenix would have more success, being more comfortable with unreality. Not that either of us would participate in whatever hegemony 4Q perpetuates. More that we'd figure out what it wanted, and how to resist. I've been thinking about this a lot. Maybe other people are, too. We need to find each other.

Phoenix and I wandered north. We found this incredible queer community in Oregon, with actual traditions and mechanisms to deal with communal trauma. I can't say anything about the world, the world is unknowable. But I think there's hope for us.

Phoenix and I are together, now, in a way I can't quite name. We did finally make love. That was beautiful. But we don't live together. I make love to other people, sometimes, and he does the same. Sometimes I'll go a week or two without seeing him, without notice. Sometimes I'll go a few days without even thinking about him. I love him, and I tell him that, and he says the same to me, though both of us have admitted that we don't know what that means.

We still panic. I still get paranoid. Phoenix disassociates. He's been using the state to make art. I think about I34Q and write down what I think. I'm pretty good at eating regularly, even if I don't feel like it. I don't know if we're living without pain. I think maybe that's a pretty tall order. But I don't want to kill myself anymore. So I think that's pretty good.

[Ed.: have this little treat. It takes me about the length of this playlist to read the story.]

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5VD5lJJqNUJsITPj3Rg8Sn?si=d262096479104d4f

#fiction #short fiction #science fiction #aliens #madness #suicide #panic attack #disassociation #paranoia #eating disorder #hopeful ending

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sdottkrames · 4 years

Text

Doors That Were Previously Closed (Bros)

@comfortember Prompt 23: Exhaustion

Summary:

Bruce was starting to freak out. Was Peter sick? Had something happened on patrol- some injury he was hiding or some poison he’d been exposed to? It wouldn’t be the first time.

Tony’s gonna kill me! he thought

Bruce knew how much Peter meant to Tony and he was pretty sure not even the hulk would be able to keep him safe if something happened to the boy. He was /this close/ to forcing Peter in the med bay for some tests when he suddenly let out a loud snore.

Notes: Finally caught up a little bit, so I’ll be posting one a day again! Only 4 more left after this, which is insane!!! Thanks for all your love and support, as always.

Read on AO3: Here

Peter looked at his schedule for the week and groaned.

He had a million projects or exams due, and on the day that he didn’t have Academic Decathalon after school to train for their upcoming meet, he was scheduled for his internship with Tony. And that wasn’t even counting Spider-Man duties.

“Tony, I’m going to actually die this week. Can I, like, fake my death and then come back in a week and a half with everything done?” Peter said after complaining to his mentor about his busy week.

Tony just chuckled. “I’d much prefer you alive, even if the death is fake.” His tone was light, but Peter knew Tony’d had a hard time during the five years he was gone, and could hear the strain behind the words. “How about during internship time, we just take it easy. I gotta finish up a prototype for SI, but it’s almost done, anyway, and shouldn’t take us working together more than a half hour. We’ll finish that and then how about I quiz you for that decathlon meet, or work with you on one of those millions of projects.”

Peter sighed, gratefully. “Yeah, that’d be great.” Gratitude for his mentor filled Peter and gave him the strength to believe he could make it through the week. “Thanks, Tony, you’re the best! I love you.”

“I love you, too, kiddo.” Tony’s voice was soft and mushy, and Peter secretly loved that he got to hear it like that. He grinned to himself as he hung up, then took a deep breath, turned on his “focus” playlist, and got to work.

***

TS: Hey kid, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m gonna have to rain check on lab day this week. SI meeting that I absolutely can’t get out of, “even for Peter.”

Peter stared at his phone, disappointment on his face. He’d worked so hard that week, and had been looking forward to a relaxing day with Tony, and having some help studying. He really needed to go over his notes to be ready for the meet- AcaDeca had taken a back burner for Spider-Man, and he’d been wanting to put forth a more concentrated effort to help his team.

Now he wasn’t so sure he could do that. But before he could wallow too long in his thoughts, his phone pinged with a text from Tony.

TS: But before you get all mopey, Underoos, Bruce agreed to take my place and study with you tonight. And I’ll get out of my meeting before you know it!

TS: And don’t forget to breathe. I know he’s “Bruce BANNER!” But he’s still just a guy. Don’t freak out. You’ll do great.

TS: love ya kid

Peter was left staring at his phone again, this time not in disappointment but in disbelief for two reasons. 1. It was scary how well Tony knew him. He probably should be used to it by now (they’d both reached the point of handing each other tools without needing to ask for them) but it still surprised and touched him whenever it happened. And 2. BRUCE BANNER?!

He took Tony’s advice and just breathed. Tonight was going to be awesome.

***

“Hey Dr. Banner!” Peter said as he bounced into Bruce’s lab in the compound. “Thanks again for helping me with my chemistry notes. Tony said he was forced to go to a meeting with Pepper, so I really appreciate you agreeing to help me!”

Bruce looked up, an easy smile on his face. “Of course, Peter. I’m glad I could help.”

Bruce had met many, many people in the course of his work as both a scientist and an avenger, but none of them ever really made him smile like Peter Parker did. The boy was just always happy. He talked a mile a minute, but Bruce found it more endearing than stressful, unlike other people. And the hero worship in the kid’s eyes did wonders for his self esteem. Especially since Peter looked at Bruce that way, not The Hulk.

“So, it’s just for academic decathlon. We have a meet coming up soon and I need to review the chemistry questions,” Peter said.

“Not a problem. I need to finish this first, though, if you don’t mind.”

Peter nodded and began pulling stuff out of his backpack, sitting in the chair Bruce had pulled over for the kid.

Once Bruce finished his project, he looked over at the young boy who had been patiently waiting for him. But Peter wasn’t looking through flash cards like Bruce had expected. The kid was staring at the wall.

Is this normal for him? Some sort of spider thing? He thought. Peter snapped out of it as soon as Bruce called his name, so he didn’t bring it up.

Bruce took the cards and began quizzing Peter. The kid was smart, and Bruce was very impressed. His lightning answers were almost always correct, and though Bruce had to explain a few things for some questions, Peter absorbed it quickly.

About an hour in, Bruce began to notice more things that were off about Peter. His words began to slur a little, he would need Bruce to reask the question, or forget something that he very clearly knew.

Bruce was starting to freak out. Was Peter sick? Had something happened on patrol- some injury he was hiding or some poison he’d been exposed to? It wouldn’t be the first time.

Tony’s gonna kill me!

Bruce knew how much Peter meant to Tony and he was pretty sure not even the hulk would be able to keep him safe if something happened to the boy. He was this close to forcing Peter in the med bay for some tests when he suddenly let out a loud snore.

Bruce looked up in shock. He’d evidently been zoning out in panic, staring at the cards, and suddenly all of Peter’s symptoms made sense. Bruce mentally kicked himself for not putting two and two together. The kid had had a rough week, after all, of course he‘d be exhausted.

Some doctor! He thought ruefully, but ultimately decided to consider it a side affect of the superhero life

He packed up Peter’s cards and then stared at the sleeping boy, unsure what to do. Peter didn’t look comfortable, his neck leaned forward at an awkward angle, his legs crossed and sure to fall asleep.

Sighing to himself, he gently slide his arms under Peter’s and lifted him up. Peter was incredibly light thanks to his spider DNA, and Bruce had no trouble carrying him thanks to the gamma radiation in his DNA. As he lifted the sleeping boy off the chair, Peter whimpered slightly, and then wrapped his legs around Bruce’s middle, nuzzling into Bruce’s neck.

“Okay, then, kiddo,” he murmured. “This is fine.”

He carried his precious cargo to the elevator and up to the common area, deciding to let Peter nap while he made a snack and watched a movie. However, it quickly became apparent that Peter had other plans.

As Bruce tried to put Peter down on the couch, his shirt was very nearly ripped off his body by Peter’s sticky fingers.

“Pete, you gotta let me go, kid.” There was no apparent change. “C’mon. Let go. Give me back my shirt.” After a few more murmured pleas with no luck, Bruce accepted his fate and laid down on the couch, clingy Spider and all.

But for all his discomfort, Bruce had to admit that he really did love Peter, and he didn’t mind the innocent physical affection, which was fairly rare for him. That door had been closed for years by his big green alter ego to ensure everyone's safety. He found himself relaxing under Peter’s weight, the kid’s steady breathing making it easier for him to breathe, too. He found himself more relaxed than he’d been in months. (It’s honestly amazing what some physical touch can do when you’re touch starved).

Bruce was very nearly asleep when the door opened and caused him to nearly jump off the couch. Luckily, he didn’t, and Peter continued sleeping peacefully.

“Hey,” Tony called from where he was kicking off his shoes by the front door. “Is he asleep?” Before Bruce could answer, Tony walked over, and a knowing grin spread across face when he saw Bruce’s current predicament. “Kid get sticky on ya?”

Bruce nodded, patting said kid’s back gently.

“Yeah, he does that.”

Bruce could tell Tony wasn't just talking about the sticky super powers. Peter had a way of working his way into everyone’s heart.

“Yeah, he does,” he whispered.

Tony put a blanket over the cuddly spider and his unfortunate victim, and then the two adults settled in to finish the movie, Peter still firmly attacked to Bruce’s shirt. But Bruce didn’t mind.

#comfortember #comfortember 2020 #mine #science bros!!

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imaginesmai · 5 years

Text

Tony Stark - Heartbeat

This was requested by an anon forever ago, I hope you like it! For this fic, reader has powers similar to Wanda, only that the ‘electicity’ usually burns what its touching.

Plot: Tony has a heart attack, and you’re the only one around.

You loved Tony to death. His burning passion for everything he did. The dimples and wrinkles on his cheeks, when he was really happy. Even his self-sacrificing complex he kept on the back pocket for dangerous missions.

You loved Tony to death, and that meant you noticed little things about him.

Tony flexed his left hand a lot. You had noticed that he did it more when he was tired or stressed, mostly when you found him at three in the morning still working on the lab. You usually took it as a sign to be a little more upbeat than usual, quietly steering Tony’s thoughts away from whatever was bothering him. Going out for ice-cream, to the cinema, or watching a movie at home.

Tony’s fingers curled and uncurled, his mouth set in a hard line. You didn’t point it out – you had learned the first time that mentioning it just made Tony quieter and more sullen – but you watched out of the corner of your eye. However, he still let you grip his hand when it got too bad, lacing your fingers together and kissing his knuckles, dragging him away from his workshop.

You started to get more worried when Tony raised his other hand to his chest, rubbing at it as if in pain. It was Saturday night, you were alone in the tower and you were sure that, if that had been something common or normal in Tony, you would have noticed earlier.

You were finally going to bite the bullet and ask, knowing fully well that he might close into himself more, but FRIDAY beat you to it.

“Sir, you are exhibiting the early sings of-“

“Quiet, FRI” Tony sighed.

“Boss, it might be of your-“

“FRIDAY. Quiet”

The AI fell silent, and you hesitantly turned away, focusing back on the computer. Tony and you were trying to finish the last project before summer, when you could finally be free for a few weeks and enjoy the sand and beach in Malibu. He had been very excited about the vacations, and the sooner you finished the project, the sooner you could go.

“You okay, Tony?” you asked not looking at him, though wrinkles of worry appeared in your forehead.

He hummed in response, and you went back to the comfortable silence. You regretted it when, a minute later, you heard a groan and the distinct sound of someone collapsing to the floor. You whirled around, heart jumping to your throat as you saw Tony sprawled on the hard floor of the lab, his face slack and flushed.

“Tony!” you cried, your voice breaking as you rushed to your partner’s side. “Oh my – Tony!”

“Boss happens to be having a heart attack” FRIDAY informed, her accent thick as her words rushed together. “I’ve already alerted medical”

“I-I can’t breathe”

“What do I do? FRIDAY? H-hold on, Tony, just – FRIDAY?” you hiccupped, gripping frantically at Tony’s shoulders. Your hand made it to his forehead, where sweat was starting to show, and you ran a shaky finger over there. But Tony had dropped his eyes, and wasn’t breathing.

Tony wasn’t breathing.

“You will need to perform CPR”

You knew how to give CPR. It was one of the three badges you had earned when you were a teenager, in Girl Scouts, before you had bored yourself out. But the instructions were for normal people – people who hadn’t been on a terrible accident when they were eighteen, and couldn’t make things combust with red energy in seconds.

Your breathing started to pick up, because as much as Tony had tried to make you see that you weren’t a dangerous freak, but a beautiful human, you still feared what you could do when you lose control. And, by the corner of your eye, you could see things near you starting to float.

“I can’t” you gasped, nearly hyperventilating. “I could hurt him. What – what if I hurt him?”

“It is common for ribs to break during CPR”

“There’s a difference between broken and disintegrated!” you cried out. Tony was no longer a clear sight in front of you, tears in your eyes.

“He’s already dying, Mss Y/N” FRIDAY urged. For a AI, there was certain worry on his voice, and you swore she was judging you.

You whimpered, but you got in the position you remembered. The veins in your hands were glowing red, and you tried to will the power to get back into your body, not into Tony’s system.

“Now!” FRIDAY barked.

You thought of the tempo you were supposed to tick to – staying alive, staying alive, please for the love of all that is good, stay alive Tony – and started to push. At first, you did it with care, but as the desperation grow, so did your compressions.

You heard Tony’s rib snap on the third compression, and FRIDAY had to keep you from pressing his chest harder. His lips had become a disgusting shade of blue that you wanted to forget, open as if he was trying to call your name but couldn’t.

Tears blurring your vision, you resumed your task. It felt like you were barely pressing down, but with each downward thrust, you could almost feel Tony’s heart beat one more time. Once more. One more. You were panting around your sobs, crying so hard that you couldn’t draw in a real breath.

You broke another rib, and Tony’s veins started to glow.

“Sixty seconds until the medics arrive” FRIDAY encouraged.

And for sixty seconds, with tears dripping down your face and onto your hands, you kept Tony’s heart beating.

“Please, please, you can’t do this to me” you chanted with every push.

You could hear the med-team as the elevator ascended as it finally reached your floor.

“Tony, don’t you dare to die on me!” you cried out. “Please, don’t – leave me”

One more beat. One more. One more.

Someone knelt on the other side of Tony’s body. Hands fitted right next to your own. The person was pushing with you, in the same rhythm, ready to take over. Another set of hands tried to gently shove you away.

You knew you could stop now, yet your hands didn’t move. You just had to hold on until the medics arrived and they were there, but you were the only thing keeping Tony’s heart beating and you couldn’t stop because Tony would die.

“It’s okay, madam, we’ll take over now” the second medic said.

The good man took your wrists and pulled them away, not even commenting when Tony’s shirt came out slightly burned with hands shapes. The other doctor, a young man whose mouth was set in a determined line, kept up the CPR. You could count the beats of Tony’s heart, pumping one more time.

You backed up and sat with your knew pulled up to your chest, watching in numb horror as the EMT’s brought out the defibrillators and shocker Tony. They shoved him on a back board and onto the gurney they had brough, and ran him back into the elevator.

By then, most of the things in the lab were floating in the air, some of them burned and others on fire. You watched as a pile of paper dissolved to a pile of ashes, and the couch slowly acquired a black stain that would be hard to remove.

After the loud the scream that left your lips, all the things fell to the ground.

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

The doctors had come out and pulled Rhodey aside, because apparently, you were in no state of taking in those news. You had been siting in the same blue chair for hours then, Rhodey and occasionally Happy by your side, a comforting hand on your shoulder. Still, you could hear the whole conversation because they weren’t exactly being discreet; and you were awfully aware of everything that surrounded you.

They told him that there was little to be done. The damage from Afghanistan was too severe. He would be alright for now, but they had no way of knowing if and when another heart attack would happen. Rhodey had gone in a talked to Tony, who was awake and recovering, for a while, then came back and told you he wanted to see you.

Until then, you had refused the offer. You were too afraid to see the burns on his chest, the fearful look on his eyes, or the sour words on his tongue. Your stomach bunched up in nerves when Rhodey literally forced you up and threw you on Tony’s room.

As soon as you were at the threshold, you could hear Tony’s heart beating. It soothed you, if only a little. You took a deep breath and kept going.

“Hey gorgeous” Tony smiled.

You muttered a quick hello, cautiously sitting in the seat next to Tony’s bed. The chair was just as uncomfortable as the previous one, if not worst. You folded your hands on your lap when Tony made an attempt to touch them, and you watched as his smile fell.

“That was a surprisingly un-peppy hello” Tony observed mildly. “Sad I didn’t kick the bucket so you could get the inheritance as the willow?”

“That’s not funny” you snapped without thinking. Again, you moved your arms to cross them over your chair and slumped into the chair, scowling at the floor.

“Just trying to lighten the mood, Y/N” Tony held up one hand placatingly. “What do you say about a kiss to make it better?”

You didn’t say anything, neither attempted to move from your place. Just tightened your arms around yourself and kept looking at the ground. The steady beat of Tony’s heartbeat was the only thing preventing you from bolting out of the window in a fit of panic.

“Baby, come one, you’re… well, I was going to say you’re killing me, but that seems rather tactless given the situation” Tony continued.

Tears filled your eyes, and your lip quivered. It was hard, seeing the man you had learned to see a future with laying on the ground, not breathing and with his heart stopped. Even more, watching as his veins became red with your power and his ribs cracked under your fingers.

You risked a glance forwards, just to see his chest. It was covered by the gown he had been given, but you could make out the healing pads under it. Not daring to having Tony seeing you cry, you casted your eyes down once more.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Tony asked, but stopped as soon as he tried to sit up. A strangled gasp of pain escaping him, and you reached him to help him lay down.

The movement allowed you to see some of his veins black, darkened because of your powers running through them. You flinched, unconsciously pushing yourself farther form Tony as if your mere proximity was hurting the man.

“Hey, hey, hey” Tony wheezed. “Just give me a second, don’t go. Please”

Teeth clenched so hard your jaw hurt, you stayed stock still while Tony got his breathing back under control. Then, he motioned you to come closer. He didn’t give you a choice when he seized your wrist and tugged you closer, forcing you to sit on the side of the hospital bed.

You held yourself stiffly, careful not to even bush against Tony. When Tony tried to shift your grip from your wrist to your hand, you pulled away.

“Y/N” Tony asked, sounding hurt. There was something about his brown, cute eyes, that made you want to spill everything. “Why won’t you touch me?”

“I don’t want to hurt you again” you finally whispered, bottom lip trembling as your vision blurred.

“What – because of the, the burns?” Tony blinked surprised. “I’m a mechanic, I’ve gotten enough burns on my own. They will heal, it’s okay”

You shook your head, and drew an uneven breath.

“I… could have killed you. I could feel it breaking into your skin, your t-shirt melting under my hands. And I was barely even pushing, but I broke two ribs and – and almost burnt you alive!” you paused, took another ragged breath, the next sentence spilling out before you could stop it. “And I know you told me to brace my powers. But, you’re not some random criminal I didn’t want to hurt. You’re… you’re my Tony”

The corner of Tony’s mouth quirked up, and he repeated the words slowly. He felt like his heart, from second time in less than 24 hours, was going to burst. Of love, of affection, admiration, and everything he felt for you. He loved you so much, the he would go through thousands heart attacks if it was for hearing you calling him ‘Your Tony’.

You sniffled, and Tony broke out of his daydream.

“Baby, look at me” you stared resolutely down, ad the pale blue blanket. “Come on, Y/N. Look at me, please”

Finally, you met his eyes, soft and full of love.

“You saved me” his voice was firm and honest. Unquestionable. “You saved me, thank you.”

“Don’t do that again” you commanded, your voice shakier than you would like. You swiped a hand across your face, banishing the last of your tears.

“Whatever you say” Tony agreed, smiling. He raised a hand as if to grasp your cheek, but he couldn’t quite reach without stretching his sensitive burned skin. He changed tactics, and pulled you to him from where he was gripping your wrist.

You moved slowly, afraid of hurting him, but he urged you closer with an impatient look. Tony made you lay on bed beside him, legs dangling over the bed because it was drastically small and face inches away from his. From there, you could see the wrinkles on his faces, the brightness of his eyes and the pure smile he was giving you.

Tony Stark was full of scars, from head to toe, starting from the shrapnel in his heart and finishing in the slight burn on his chest. And you loved each one of them.

“My Y/N” he pulled your hand towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles

“I-I can’t breath” & “Don’t you dare to die on me!” From my prompt list Angst

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