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coreastories · 4 years

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Three Hours For Chicken

Companion to Corea News: Royal Panic! The queen was lost--and found-- in Seoul

The queen of Corea wants chicken, and she goes after what she wants, even if the chicken is in Seoul and she lives in Busan.

“Not arrive together anywhere?”

“Queens Day is for the queen. The focus is on her. The king can watch and visit, but everyone is supposed to see the queen, not the king.”

Seung-ah made notes. Separate cars. No. Separate times of arrival. This wouldn’t be too difficult, just complicated. She had to prepare for two scenarios: if the king followed tradition, and if he dismissed it and escorted the queen everywhere.

Lady Noh was saying, “Ah my head,” so perhaps the old woman was also thinking the same thing. Their king and queen were the opposite of predictable.

Seung-ah could soon hand this over to the Royal Household and the logistics would be their problem. She just had to sign off on everything first, with Lady Noh’s advice and approval, because everything about the Queens Day was under the domain of Public Affairs.

Her note-taking was interrupted by a text message. Only four people were set to come up on her screen with a pop-up.

Hey Seung-ah. Can you come to the study, please? Conf.

Tae-eul. The queen. “Conf.” stood for confidential, which meant not to say anything if Seung-ah was with anyone. So she pretended to be preoccupied with the arrangements and bowed to leave Lady Noh.

It was 7pm. Tae-eul probably wanted to eat together. And probably didn’t want Lady Noh’s currently overzealous guarding of what Tae-eul ate.

When she arrived at the king’s private study, she found Tae-eul pacing on the rug.

“Ma-- Tae-eul, what is it?” Seung-ah was still learning to use the queen’s name when they were alone as the queen requested. It helped that Seung-ah now used it in her head when she thought of Tae-eul. “Did you ask for dinner already?”

“Can we take your car?”

“What?”

“I want to eat banban.”

“Banban?”

“It’s chicken. Half plain. Half seasoned. And a hundred percent making my mouth water.”

“All right, I’ll ask for--”

“No, we’ll take your car.”

“Mwo?”

Tae-eul sighed. “I already told Jangmi. Just get your car over here.” Tae-eul pointed outside the French windows. “But don’t say anything. Even to Jangmi if you see him when you get your car.” Tae-eul tapped her ear.

Mollified that Jangmi knew even if the rest of the Royal Guard wasn’t supposed to, Seung-ah did as she was asked. Then she got a funny feeling in her stomach when the queen came out of the French windows and went to the car at what seemed like a very specific angle from the wall, got in, and promptly laid down in the backseat.

“What-- what are you doing? Are you feeling ill?”

“Yep. But I’m fine. Just don’t say anything. Jangmi is meeting us there.”

“Meeting us where?”

Tae-eul didn’t answer.

The palace gate staff knew Seung-ah’s cars, knew her face, and let her pass through without inspection. About a hundred meters from the gate, Tae-eul popped up in the backseat like a rabbit nosing the air.

Seung-ah’s stomach roiled. It was no longer a funny feeling. It was more of a realization now.

“Tae-eul. Did you use me to sneak out of the palace?”

“Yes.”

“Is Jangmi really meeting us?”

“No.”

“Does Jangmi really know?”

“No.”

“I’m turning the car.”

“Oh no, please,” Tae-eul rubbed her hands together in apology and pleading. “I just need some time away. Please? I would have gone with the king, but he’s in Seoul. That’s it. I can meet him there. No harm done.”

“WHAT?!” Seung-ah shrieked. “We’re going to Seoul?!”

“Yes.”

“It’s three hours away by train!”

There was a pause in which Seung-ah’s hope that they weren’t really going to Seoul soared. Then the queen grabbed that hope and tossed it to the ground. “Oh. Right.”

“What do you mean oh right?! Did you forget the distance to Seoul?!”

“Calm down. It’s only three hours.”

Only three hours! Seung-ah wasn’t religious but called out to God just then. She swallowed. Her mouth was dry. She supposed she could clutch at the reasoning that the queen wanted to go to the king.

“Let me tell Jo Yeo--”

“Later. We’ll tell him later when we get there.”

“Are you trying to get me killed?”

Tae-eul snickered. “Yeong won’t kill you. He loves you.”

“Stop that! What about the king?”

“Don’t worry about him.”

Seung-ah snorted. “At least tell Jangmi then. Have mercy on Jangmi.”

“He’s fine. He’s asleep. He took medicine for his toothache.”

Seung-ah groaned.

“I’m sorry. I just… I need to go to Seoul. The chicken place at Misa Lake Park.”

Seung-ah groaned again. All right. She would tell Yeong when they arrived in Seoul or way sooner than that. Hopefully, the king and queen’s room remained undisturbed by palace staff or Jangmi stayed asleep, whichever would get them past this with the least fuss.

She looked at Tae-eul through the rearview mirror. The queen wore a Nova Shirt, a Cabello pullover, and a Harris Tweed wool blazer Seung-ah loved. The total cost of the ensemble was over a million won, not counting the jeans and shoes. Not the cheapest in the queen’s wardrobe, but not that expensive either. Not by Seung-ah’s standards. And the queen looked deceptively casual, so they could probably get on the train without attracting attention.

Tae-eul chose that moment to squeeze her way to the passenger seat through the center console and Seung-ah concentrated on not killing them both and not cursing out her queen. Seriously.

Tae-eul settled in with her seatbelt on and Seung-ah took deep breaths.

Then Tae-eul turned to her and said, “So what are we talking about on the three hours on the train? Did you and Yeong go past any bases yet?”

Seung-ah stopped breathing. She felt her face go searing hot. “Stop that. Let me drive. Maybe you should get back to the back seat. But I’ll stop the car so you can get in there using the door like a normal person.”

Tae-eul just flapped her hand in dismissal. “Do you know Yeong is ticklish in his ankles?”

“Mwo?” She was saying that so much tonight.

Tae-eul laughed. “Yeah. I saw it at the gym. They were doing judo and Jangmi was about to grab Yeong’s ankles but Yeong dodged--danced away, really. That was weird. So I whispered to Jangmi to keep going for Yeong’s ankles, and I told him to touch it, not grab it.” Tae-eul curled in on herself, giggling. “I’ll show you the video later. I think getting kicked in the face is why Jangmi has a toothache.”

Seung-ah laughed despite her nerves at this insanity she was currently dragged into. The queen’s laughter was infectious like that. Yeong was ticklish in the ankle. Hmmm. But poor Jangmi was kicked in the face. “Poor Jangmi.”

“I know, I’ll make it up to him.”

To Seung-ah’s horror, tears spilled from Tae-eul’s eyes.

Shit. What the hell. So she said, “Yeong likes to be kissed on the neck.”

Tae-eul wiped her eyes and perked up. “Really?”

Seung-ah was relieved. She grinned. “Yeah. He sorta shivers and goes soft in my arms when I do that.”

“Awwww.”

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“Status.”

“Good and quiet here, Captain.”

“You sure?”

“Her Majesty is in her bedroom. Lady Noh is in hers. Time is 2100. I’ll update you again at 2200.”

“All right.”

Captain Jo hung up and Jangmi sighed in relief. But his cheek felt like it still had a phone against it. Oh man, it was swollen. Wasn’t the medicine supposed to be anti-inflammatory?

He rooted through his medicine bag for other meds. What he took earlier had stopped the pain and knocked him out but apparently wasn’t good for much else.

When he turned back around to face his bedroom’s bank of monitors that came with being Unbreakable Sword to the queen, a court maid was waving to the camera.

Jangmi swallowed his new pill dry and flew out of his room.

He got there in under a minute but the court maid had already multiplied into three and Lady Noh was there.

“What is it?” Without waiting for an answer, he entered the king and queen’s chamber. No queen. Ahhh shit fuck balls.

“Is the queen in the kitchen?” he asked the maids. They shook their heads.

Lady Noh said, “I already called the Control Tower. Her Majesty isn’t in the palace and the grounds. She was seen going to the study a little before seven, and then Seung-ah went there as well. Could they have been together? But Seung-ah was seen going home alone.”

He dialed Seung-ah’s number. She didn’t answer. Probably asleep. Shit. He called another number. “Go to Myeong Seung-ah’s house then call me when you have her.”

With a cold pit in his stomach, he called the captain next.

“Captain. I don’t have the queen. We haven’t had eyes on her since seven. We’re retrieving Myeong Seung-ah. She’s the last to have seen her.”

The captain was quiet for three seconds. Jangmi didn’t breathe. Then Captain Jo Yeong spoke in his quietest, sternest voice. “I’ll try to get Seung-ah on the phone and let you know. Do your job. There’s protocol.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jangmi made a gesture for the maids to leave, and Lady Noh swept them away. Jangmi dialed 8877. The voice on the line only said, “Yes?”

“Crimson Pheasant. Two hours. Myeong Seung-ah, Royal Public Affairs Office.”

“Confirming receipt.” The line went dead.

He hoped Seung-ah wasn’t in the bath or anything, because as the last person to have seen the queen, the Royal Guard and the Corean Armed Forces were about to break down her door.

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“I should tell Yeong now. Look, Jangmi and Yeong both called and you didn’t let me answer it.”

“Sure, go ahead. I don’t want them to worry.”

Seung-ah stared at Tae-eul. “I know you’re my queen but you’re an idiot right now. If you didn’t want them to worry, you shouldn’t have gone to Seoul in the first place.”

Tae-eul didn’t reply. The server had arrived just then, so Tae-eul only probably heard, “Here’s your chicken.” Seung-ah rolled her eyes and sent a quick text to Yeong.

And then, because Seung-ah had been hungry for dinner since six pm, and the chicken was right there all beautifully golden, she also ate her share of the fricken chicken. Could be her fricken last meal, anyway.

There was a loud hum outside, overhead, and then a whoosh and thunderclap that had nothing to do with the clear skies. She had an idea what that was. Yep. Probably her last meal.

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Gon was a little surprised that he actually managed not to panic. He was getting better. His life with Tae-eul wouldn’t be quiet, but it wouldn’t be doomed either. He had an assurance about that, and he was getting better in his faith and trust in that assurance.

Jangmi had arrived by chopper, and he hadn’t straightened since. He was still bent at the waist, reporting to Gon.

“Her Majesty had a headache so she went to bed around three pm. We didn’t disturb her. She hadn’t come out until 6:42pm when she was seen going to the study. We can’t reach her because she left her phone on her bed. We couldn’t reach Myeong Seung-ah either and she’s not home.”

“Jangmi, please straighten up. I’m not blaming you. She probably went somewhere with Seung-ah. You need to add another camera in the patio of my study. There’s a blind spot.”

Yeong looked at him. Yeong knew Gon had used that blind spot before. Before Gon could call out Yeong for glaring at him, Jangmi straightened and Gon recoiled at the sight of his face. “What happened to you? Did the queen do that to you?”

At the same time, Yeong said, “Did I do that to you?”

“No, no, Captain, you kicked me here.” Jangmi touched the opposite cheek. The one that wasn’t twice its size. Then he touched the swollen cheek gingerly. “This is a toothache.”

Gon was torn between amusement and sympathy. He turned his snort of laughter into a grimace. He was about to ask if Jangmi had taken medicine when Yeong made one of those showy, smooth movements, taking his phone out of his coat pocket and checking it.

“Pyeha. We have the queen. She’s with Seung-ah. They’re at Chika Chika by Misa Lake Park. The car is ready.”

Gon sighed in relief and exasperation. Chika Chika. As in chicken. Misa Lake Park, as in Hanam-si. Tae-eul went to Seoul for chicken? “You two. With me. Now. The others can follow.”

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Chika Chika was deserted, thankfully. Not that Gon wouldn’t have gone in even if it was full of customers. He saw Tae-eul from the tall windows, and saw her see him and her face soften in greeting and happiness at seeing him.

He would never get tired of that. If he had felt any anger at all, which he hadn’t--not really-- it would have evaporated right then. He was standing by her table in a few strides. Seung-ah looked at him pleadingly, so he smiled at her in assurance. The poor woman sagged in relief. She deserved a raise.

“Are you done eating?” he asked Tae-eul.

Tae-eul wiped her mouth, drank water, and then got up in a too-bouncy way that made him wince. But she was fine. She was fine. He took her hand and he let her pull him to the railing by the lakeside. He saw Yeong and Jangmi on their phones coordinating with everyone.

They deserved a raise, too. Though he had made certain years ago that the Royal Guard would be rolling in money so they couldn’t be bought. Maybe he could give them something else.

They arrived at the railing and he watched Tae-eul take deep breaths of the night air.

“Pyeha. Mama.”

They turned to Seung-ah. She was holding her phone up. “Let’s do this. For something sweet in the morning. People were asleep in their beds, you know.”

He saw Tae-eul smile so he smiled and that was the photo done. Seung-ah left them alone. He put his arm around Tae-eul and felt his smile grow when she leaned into his side.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t look that much sorry.”

She smiled wider. “The banban was really good.”

“Yeah? You didn’t even get me takeaway.”

“I forgot, I’m sorry.”

“Did you really forget the distance between Busan and Seoul?”

“Did the air force really fire warning shots?”

He pressed his lips together and looked at her as sternly as he could, when he knew his eyes were soft for her, this side of her he was seeing for the first time.

She laughingly sighed. “I knew I was in Busan but I also thought I was in Seoul, that driving here would only take about 10 to 20 minutes. Can you believe it?”

“I can believe it. They say that happens.”

“It’s crazy. You should have seen Seung-ah’s face.” Tae-eul laughed. Gon couldn’t help grinning back. He loved that she was happy. She looked so beautiful when she laughed or smiled this way.

He tightened his arm around her. “I was already on my way back to you. You just beat me here.”

“I didn’t come for you. I came for the chicken.”

They laughed.

“You’re insane. Are you all right now?”

She snuggled against him, nodded, and squeezed his waist. “Let’s go home. I want to go to bed.”

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“Crimson Pheasant Code Green. 2300. Pheasant and Dragon taking off for Busan 2300.”

Jangmi hung up with the Royal Armed Forces palace switchboard and nodded at Yeong. That was the end of it. Yeong nodded back. “You need to get to a dentist, hoobae.”

“They can’t do anything until that swelling goes down anyway,” said Seung-ah, joining them on the bench. “Try this, Jangmi.” She rummaged in her purse and gave Jangmi a whole bottle of pills.

“You have that in your purse?” Yeong asked dubiously.

“Of course.”

“You all right?”

“Yeah. I’ve had time to recover. The worst was when I realized the queen intended to go to Seoul and we were already outside the palace.”

“I think we need to get more of that chicken,” Jangmi said.

“What’s the difference between that chicken and the chicken in Busan and in the palace?” Yeong asked, truly mystified.

Seung-ah tilted her head in that way she did when she was thinking or about to make an observation. She had no idea Yeong tilted her head that exact same way when he kissed her.

“I think there’s a hint of some sort of caramel in the coating. Then it opens up to this--”

“OH!”

Yeong and Seung-ah both jumped at Jangmi’s exclamation.

“Oh no. Noona. They probably broke down your door.”

“MWO?!”

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#CoreaNews #CoreaFiction #Tae-eul brain fog #ehehehehe #poor jangmi #the king eternal monarch #the king: eternal monarch #TKEM fan fic #leeeul couple #mineun

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shikagemaru · 3 years

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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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echo-bleu · 4 years

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let them turn into a river

I've said I wouldn't write any more codas. Yet here I am. This works through some of my thoughts about Alex this season, which may not be everyone's cup of tea.

This also fills two prompts I got: "being given an unexpected hug, and stiffening, then melting into it" by @daffietjuh and "Alex has a breakdown over something mundane like what type of tuna to buy" (I think the original prompt was by @meneatyoghurt, and @rensbaratheon gave it to me).

[PTSD flashbacks, panic attack, mentions of abuse, discussion of possible dub-con (2x06)]

I'm fine. I'm completely fine, Alex repeats to himself as he wanders down the supermarket aisle in search of pasta.

It's not untrue, not exactly. He's certainly functioning a lot better than he was when he first got back from overseas, and his leg is doing rather well these days, even if it's now twinging in pain from the long day he's had. It's just that...he's had nothing but long, exhausting days in what feels like months. It's just that he's really, really tired.

And now he's in the store on a Saturday evening at eleven pm because the really, really nice guy he was hoping to try dating isn't willing to put up with his baggage. Alex can't blame Forrest. He wouldn't put up with it if he had a choice. He spent hours just staring at the bottom of his glass after Forrest left, until Maria slammed a bottle in front of him to get his attention and invited herself to lunch tomorrow.

“It's been a while since we really talked, Alex. I almost feel like you're the one avoiding me now.” The little progress Alex has made−according to his therapist, anyway−on setting his boundaries and asserting what he wants must have evaporated sometime during that night, because he didn't manage to say no.

Which means he needs to figure out what to cook. It's going to have to be meatball pasta, Alex decides. It's the only thing he can think of right now that's suitable for a guest but doesn't require a lot of preparation, and he has no wish to spend hours in the kitchen. He grabs his usual brand of pasta, grateful that he knows where it is by heart, and moves down the aisle to the sauce area.

The whole section of tomato sauce cans stares back at him.

Alex takes a step back to encompass the whole thing with his gaze, curses as the move twists his prosthesis enough for a sharp spike of pain to travel up his leg, and closes his eyes to center himself. Breathe. Everything's fine.

There are cans and boxes and bottles. Tomato sauce and pulp and juice. Several brands of each, with added flavoring and different sizes. How can there be dozens of different options? Alex is just looking for something to put in meatball pasta, it shouldn't be complicated.

He peers at the labels again, trying to wake up his brain enough to decide. But there's prices to think of, and ecology−what's better again, metal cans or cartons?−and so many different types and some of them are written in fucking Italian and he cannot choose. He stays frozen, two feet away from the shelves, vaguely rocking on his heels.

He can't breathe.

He can't breathe and he can't read the labels anymore because everything is suddenly out of focus. Fuck. He blinks, and inspires−and chokes, and wheezes, and shit, this shouldn't be so hard, why is he having a fucking panic attack in the middle of the deserted supermarket at 11 pm?

But he is, and thinking about how this should be simple, and why is he such a failure, is definitely not helping. He reaches out, tries to grab a can at random, and only succeeds in miscalculating and knocking several cans off the shelf. The noise they make hitting the floor is deafening.

Alex flinches, hard, and falls backward when it triggers another spike of pain up his leg and back. He hits the shelves at his back, probably knocking more things over−but he doesn't hear them fall over the buzzing in his ears. He feels the pain, though. The pain and the lack of air and the blackening at the edge of his vision.

Breathe.

He closes his eyes tight, letting himself fall on his ass on the floor and curl up. With his left knee under his chin, his right leg extended, he digs his nails into his palms. I can't do this. I can't.

He can't have Maria over, and pretend everything is fine. He can't talk to her about her relationship with Michael and about his own failed date. He can't look at her and forget about her kissing him, about the mess of limbs and emotions that followed, about how he can't feel anything but disgust toward himself ever since.

He can't.

Today has been a roller-coaster already. The elation he felt at the paintball park is long forgotten, replaced by wave upon wave of shame. At everything, at the mirror of himself he glimpsed in his father's eyes, at the way he froze with Maria, at the uncontrollably fear that gripped his gut when Forrest leaned in for a kiss, when he'd thought−he doesn't know what he'd thought. Only that in that moment, he felt a hand around his neck clearer than he has in months.

He feels it still, as he gasps for air. He spent every second in the hospital, from the moment his father first lost his temper, waiting for the hand to close around him. And yet he couldn't stop himself from catching his dad when he stumbled, even as he expected him to lash out. Why can't he even fucking put a stop to that? Let go of this monster for good, cut him out of his life?

Because he's a coward, that's why. He presses his back into the shelves until it hurts so much he gasps out. Pain. Focus. Breathe.

He's a fucking coward, so of course he's not good enough for someone like Forrest. Just like he'll never be good enough for Michael.

Michael. His mouth on him, again, after months of fantasizing about that. His warmth, his unique scent, his breathing−but they're not alone, and it's too much, too fucking much, that's not what he wants. Alex's skin crawls like that day, and he scrapes his nails at his palms, like he wants to rip it off.

No, no. No. He can't think about that again. He's in the middle of a fucking supermarket, for God's sake! He can't go down that hole.

Get a fucking grip.

Tomato sauce. That's what he needs. Nothing else. He can put everything aside, like how he's going to have to spend hours alone with Maria in his house tomorrow. After being touched by her that way. After watching her touch Michael that way.

He can't even get a handle on his thoughts long enough to remember the tricks his therapist gave him to get out of a panic attack. Counting. Right. One. Two.

No. Counting backward, or in threes, or the brain just takes over. But where to start? Twenty? Is that enough? A hundred? This is too much. How do you count in threes anyway?

Fuck.

Vaguely, he realizes the hand tightening on his throat is his own, his body desperately clawing at itself to breathe. Did his father mix his meds on purpose today? He wouldn't put it past him. But what would his purpose be?

Alex hates it. Being put in this position, the only son in town who is supposed to care for his ailing father. He avoids his childhood home as much as he can, but he's still the contact listed for him at the hospital. He hates watching Jesse Manes struggle to move around and feeling empathy he doesn't want, how somehow this is one more thing that brings them closer instead of separating them. Dammit. His dad in this position because he tried to kill Kyle, after torturing aliens−people−for decades. Alex shouldn't be feeling empathy for this man. He should have watched him fall on his face today, and not even moved a muscle.

Like his father watched him fall too many times after his injury.

Manes men don't show weakness.

Why couldn't he? Why is he such a coward that he can't separate the need to keep his father close, to monitor his actions and find out more about Project Shepard, from his own feelings?

Why can't he let the shadow of his father's abuse behind?

Making out with a hot guy in public is only made hotter when it pisses off all the bigots and the homophobes.

Alex wants to retch in shame.

“Alex!”

Alex can't tell where the voice comes from, but he feels someone coming close and that's what pulls him out of his panic. Reality brutally refocuses. He goes right from foggy, breathless dissociation to cold hypervigilance. He stills, releasing his left leg to be able to use it to swipe at someone's legs, and looks up very slowly.

It's Kyle, crouching down in front of him, frowning in worry. He may have called his name several times already, Alex doesn't know. He's surrounded by fallen cans of tomato, and one of them has burst and send red sauce flying everywhere.

Alex flinches away when Kyle tries to touch him. Breathing burns his lungs, but he forces the air in. Pain doesn't matter. Pain is good, right now, making him focus.

“Alex, what happened?” Kyle asks, like he's speaking to a small child. Or maybe Alex is imagining that. Everything is slow, unreal, his body unfeeling except for the pain.

He tries to make his mouth move to answer, but he can't. He shakes his head in frustration.

“Okay, okay, I won't touch you, alright? It's okay, there's no threat here. Do you know where you are?”

Alex nods, and dips his head, avoiding Kyle's eyes. Coming back to reality just means more shame. He's sitting in the middle of a supermarket, pants stained with tomato, panting and−for God's sake−crying. He's ridiculous.

“Good, you're with me,” Kyle continues. “Was it only a panic attack, or is there something medically wrong with you?”

Alex just stares at him, uncomprehending. He can't put the words together enough to make them make sense.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Kyle reformulates.

Alex shakes his head, and wills his hands to stop trembling.

Without taking his eyes off him for more than a second at a time, Kyle starts to pick up the intact cans of tomato off the floor. Giving him space, Alex understands. When he crouches down again, Alex feels stronger, more anchored, even if his whole body feels like cotton candy.

“Think you can get up now?” Kyle asks.

“Yeah,” Alex rasps out. He holds out a hand, though, rather than try to stand up by himself in the mess of tomato sauce. He wouldn't trust his leg with that on a good day.

Kyle scouts over, puts Alex's arm around his shoulders, and hoists him up.

“What about−” Alex gestures to the mess, and his own dropped groceries.

“I'll tell a clerk, it's okay. Let's just get you home, alright?”

“'Kay,” Alex murmurs. He doesn't have the brain space to think about it beyond his embarrassment, anyway.

Kyle lets him lean on him all the way to the checkout counter, and quietly explains what happened to the wide-eyed girl sitting behind it. Alex doesn't listen to her answer, his focus still shot. He stares vaguely at a the packs of gum behind her instead.

“Let's go,” Kyle prompts him to move again.

Alex wants to make it out under his own power, or some variation thereof. He takes his arm back, but he stumbles at the first step, and he has to catch himself roughly on the counter. Rather than make a big deal about it, Kyle simply hooks his arm into his, providing discrete support.

Sometimes Alex wants to hate him for how considerate he is. Right now he doesn't even have it in him to be anything but thankful, though.

The store is just two blocks from Alex's house, so he came here on foot, but there's no way he's making it back. His leg aches something fierce, and his steps are uneven, awkward.

Kyle guides him to his car in the parking lot without a comment, and takes the time to make sure Alex is comfortable in the passenger seat before he drives the thirty seconds to his home. There seems to be no end to Alex's shame tonight, and yet Kyle somehow manages to make it as painless as the situation can be−physically and emotionally. He gets Alex into the most comfortable armchair in his living room, pants and prosthesis off, with minimum fuss and as much privacy as possible.

“Thank you,” Alex murmurs when Kyle finally sits down on the couch across from him.

“I can go, if you tell me you're going to be okay,” Kyle says. “But I can also stay.”

Alex bites his lip. No, he doesn't really want to be left alone with his thoughts. “Not the night,” he says. “But maybe for a minute?” He doesn't like how whiny his voice sounds, but he's exhausted. He curls up in the armchair, propping his right leg on the arm rest and tucking his left foot under him.

“Okay,” Kyle nods, though it's almost midnight. Alex feels bad for asking that of him, but he did offer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“There isn't much to talk about,” Alex shrugs. “I'm sorry. I was just...tired.”

Kyle raises his eyebrows. “You're allowed not to talk about it, but please don't downplay it, Alex. This wasn't you being tired.”

“No, you're right. This was me freaking out over what tomato sauce to buy. But mostly, it's been a long day. Long week. Long...everything.”

“Your work?” Kyle asks.

“Not really. Not mostly. I've been, uh, taking on side projects, researching Project Shepard and Caulfield, helping you guys. And...my superiors were on base yesterday. My boss. And my boss's boss. And for about half-an-hour, I thought they were here to arrest me.”

“What?”

“It turns out that it was unrelated, but people are asking questions. Not my team, but I'm just a Captain, I still have to answer to people. And recently, I've had to cover up a shit-ton of things. Things that I could be court-martialed for and spend my life in prison several times over. You know this, you did the same.”

“Well, I'm risking my medical license for sure, maybe being sued by the hospital, but probably not jail,” Kyle says. “I didn't...honestly, I don't think any of us realized what you did for us.”

“For them,” Alex corrects him. “You're an outsider to them as much as I am. Tied up by shitty legacies and unwanted feelings for people who don't want us back.”

“You're right,” Kyle sighs. “I told Liz, before the surgery, I told Liz once that was over, I was done. But we all know it's not true.”

Alex gives him a commiserating smile. “In any case, Michael, Max and Isobel risk much worse just by being alive. I'm okay with doing my part. I have to admit that I started seriously questioning that when I learned that Liz decided to go ahead with the heart transplant when she thought you wouldn't be able to keep Max alive, because I had to pull in a lot of favors to get you that theater. That's when people started asking questions.”

“Wait, she didn't tell you beforehand? I thought she told you, or I would have.”

“I don't know if you've noticed, but Liz tends to get tunnel vision,” Alex shrugs. “Rosa told me.”

“Not Michael?”

“Nah, he was wrapped up in his family. We didn't talk.”

“What's going on with you two, anyway?” Kyle asks. “At Caulfield, you were basically flirting the whole way there, and now he's with Maria?”

Alex swallows. “Our...timelines didn't align,” he says. “My family destroyed his. I can't blame him for keeping me at arm's length.”

“That's bullshit, Alex. You're not your family.”

“And yet I brought so much pain into his life,” he sighs.

“So you're just giving up?”

“He's made it clear over and over that I'm not the one he wants. So yeah, I'm giving up.”

Kyle tilts his head. “There's something you're not telling me.”

Fuck. Either Kyle has become even more observant than he was or Alex is still so rattled that he's letting things through. Probably the second option.

Alex ponders it for a moment. He hasn't talked to anyone about that night. He hasn't seen his therapist in months, not since the nightmares and flashbacks Caulfield brought back up abated, and he doesn't exactly have a host of other friends to discuss things with. It's been a weight on his shoulders that doesn't live, that permeates everything. But then...this is Kyle. Is he really someone Alex want to talk about this with?

Actually, yes, he decides. Kyle has something of a unique perspective.

“We had a threesome,” he mutters. It's even more awkward coming out of his mouth than it is when he thinks the word.

“I'm sorry, what did you just say?” Kyle has his mouth hanging open. He's heard perfectly well.

“Michael, Maria and me,” Alex says. “After, uh, Maria and I went to see this boot maker, and he attacked us, stabbed me and went after Maria. She knocked him out and he's in custody,” Alex add hurriedly when he sees Kyle's expression become murderous.

“He stabbed you,” Kyle states.

“Just a little,” Alex shrugs. It's healed just fine, it will probably barely scar. “I'm fine.”

“You got stabbed, and instead of, I don't know, calling me, you had sex with your ex and your best friend. Your female best friend.”

“She initiated it, it's not like we came onto her or anything,” Alex raises his hands.

Kyle blinks. “Yeah, that's not what I'm worried about, Alex.”

“Then what are you worried about?”

Kyle works his jaw several times, trying to find his words. “Let's put it like this. Why are you telling me about it?”

“I...don't know,” Alex shrugs. It weights on his mind, and it needs to get out.

“How did it feel?”

Alex swallows. “Not great. I didn't...I didn't enjoy it. I thought−” he trails off.

“What did you think?” Kyle prompts him.

“We were coming off an adrenaline rush, and being with other people, with them, it felt...safe. I didn't want to leave. When Maria started to−I thought I wanted Michael enough that it would be okay, that I could handle it.”

“'Handle it',” Kyle repeats. “Alex, are you even hearing yourself right now? What would you say if one of your partners said they could 'handle' sex with you?”

“I'd back off right away,” Alex sighs. “But it wasn't like that, we were all consenting.”

“You'd just been attacked. You were injured. I'm assuming you'd been on your leg for a long time. Am I getting the right picture here?”

Alex shrugs. He can't deny it, but it doesn't feel right. Maria and Michael didn't make him have sex with them, he did it of his own free will. Sure, he should have left, but he hasn't been known for making the best decisions for himself, right?

His hands are shaking again.

“I could have left,” he says, his voice trembling. “I didn't want to, but I should have.”

“Okay,” Kyle says, physically backing off. “Don't spiral out again, it's okay.”

“I tried to go on a date, today,” Alex says after a few deep breaths.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. The guy is great. I just...he tried to kiss me, and I couldn't.”

Kyle frowns. “Why−oh, in public?”

“Yeah.”

“Does he know about your father?”

“No,” Alex shrugs. “Does it matter? We all have our bad coming out stories.”

“Your father is a little more than that, Alex,” Kyle raises an eyebrow, like Alex doesn't know that.

“It doesn't change anything. He's not ready to date someone who's not out and proud.”

“Except you are, Alex. You are out and proud. And honestly, with what you've been through, it's amazing how open you are. So maybe you don't wear glitter or dye your hair blue−”

Alex snickers.

“What?”

“Forrest has blue hair,” he says.

“The guy?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well, my point stands. You're not in the closet, you just have baggage. Heavy baggage, maybe, but it's not the same.”

Alex tilts his head. Kyle is not wrong, even if he hadn't thought of it that way.

“You think I'd look good in glitter?” he asks, because he needs to stop getting in too deep with his emotions.

“Alex, you'd look good in sack. Glitter, rainbows, crazy hair colors? You'd definitely pull them off. Green would look good on you. Or purple.”

“I think I'll stick to black, thank you,” Alex laughs. “But maybe I'll think of getting my ears pierced again. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You suddenly seem to be awfully interested in queer fashion.”

Kyle actually blushes. “Um, I...I might have taken to hanging out at Planet 7,” he mumbles.

“You?” Alex asks in shock.

“I wanted to get away from Liz. And anything alien. Actually aliens, I mean. Not that it worked.”

Alex frowns. “Michael was there?”

“No,” Kyle shakes his head. “Not him. Fuck, I shouldn't have told you that.”

It takes Alex a few moments to catch up. “It can't be Max, so...Isobel? Really?”

“I didn't mean to...out her or anything.”

“It's okay, I'm not going to go shout it from the rooftops,” Alex says, because Kyle really looks worried. “Though you should definitely be careful who you tell.”

“I will.”

“What about you?” Alex asks.

“What?”

“Are you trying to tell me you're not as straight as you thought?”

Kyle hides his face in his hands. “I don't know, maybe? I don't...I'm really not sure. I never thought about men that way, but when I see the couples there, or the people who hook up...I don't know.”

“It's okay,” Alex smiles. “It's okay not to know. You don't need to have a word that fits right away.”

“Thanks,” Kyle nods.

“Anytime.”

“I was so horrible to you in high school, this would be a perfect opportunity for payback. Just goes to show what a good man you are.”

All the levity that this conversation has brought Alex goes right down the gutter, leaving him ice cold. “I'm not a good man,” he says through gritted teeth.

“You are. You're a good friend, Alex. A good person. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Alex sighs and lets it go. It's not a conversation for one in the morning. “You should go home,” he says.

“Are you sure you'll be okay?”

Alex stands up slowly, wishing he had his second crutch for the trip over to his bedroom. “Look, I'll call my therapist, okay? I promise.”

“You do that,” Kyle says, standing up as well. Then, before Alex can completely process it, he opens his arms and closes them around him, careful not to make him lose his balance. Alex stiffens, unused to the contact, but it feels good. Safe. He relaxes slowly, bit by bit, and awkwardly pats Kyle's back with his free hand. “We'll grab a beer sometime this week, okay?”

“Sure,” Alex nods in Kyle's shoulder. “Would be nice.”

“I'll text you tomorrow.”

Kyle lets him go and fishes out his keys from his pocket, turning to leave.

“Hey, Kyle?” Alex calls after him quietly.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for tonight.”

“You're very welcome,” Kyle smiles sweetly.

Despite his exhaustion, Alex doesn't fall asleep for hours, and when it does, it's to restless slumber, full of vague nightmares. He drags himself out of bed at nine, two hours past his usual wake-up time, and spends the morning trying to force his aching body into submission with a mix of PT exercises and yoga, that turns too easily into a punishment. A hundred push-ups, for being so weak. The voice in his head is his father's.

As he stares at his counter come eleven, an hour before Maria is supposed to be there, he remembers something. He still doesn't have tomato sauce. Or pasta, for that matter, since he never got to pay for his groceries last night.

“Fuck this,” he murmurs to himself, almost smirking at the joke that is his life. There is nothing he wants less than to spend the day with Maria. He doesn't have anything to cook her, and the Crashdown is closed on Sundays.

No. He's not going to do this.

He eyes his phone, thinking of coming up with some bullshit excuse to Maria. He can think of a dozen that would work well enough off the top of his head, though she's sure to give him hell for it later. At the thought of even seeing her later, Alex grimaces.

No. He sticks his phone in his back pocket and grabs his wallet, his keys and his crutch.

Right before he leaves, on a whim, he grabs a pen and a pad of sticky notes and writes SORRY. HAD SOMETHING TO DO. in capital letters. He sticks the note on his front door and sets the alarm.

Maybe this is his breaking point.

Forrest looks truly surprised when Alex shows up on his doorstep. He had to look up the actual address, since Forrest doesn't actually live in the barn where they met, and the Longs have several properties in the same area. He wouldn't want to knock on an random door and run into Wyatt.

“Hi,” Alex says.

“Is that voice in your head already gone?” Forrest asks.

“Not exactly. I just...thought you should hold all the cards.”

Forrest stares at him for a moment, thinking. “Alright,” he says. “Come in, then.”

The house is really more of a cabin, small and wooden all around. The inside is very different from Jim Valenti's cabin, though, and it screams Forrest. It seems this man really is what he shows to the outside, an open book.

The opposite of Alex, in a way.

“Sit down,” Forrest says. “I was just making coffee, you want some?”

“Sure. Black, please.”

Alex sits down on a comfortable couch covered with a patterned comforter while Forrest pours them both mugs in the tiny kitchen area.

“So, what did you want to say?”

Alex takes a deep inspiration. Despite his coming here being a heat of the moment thing, he's tried to practice his words in his car. He's not good with words, but it all comes down to what Kyle said last night.

“You asked me about my PTSD triggers, yesterday,” he says.

“Yes,” Forrest agrees carefully.

“You know, the funny thing is that no one's ever asked me that before. Beside my therapist, I mean. Most of my friends don't know I have PTSD, and the one who does usually doesn't need to ask.”

“Alien guy?” Forrest asks curiously.

“No. My relationship with Michael is more complicated. He has his own issues.”

“Okay. So you want to tell me about your triggers?”

“How they relate to what we talked about,” Alex says. “Being closeted. It's not that I don't want to come out. Sure, I wasn't out in the Air Force during DADT and that was hell, but here...I haven't been in the closet in this town since early high school. Everyone who knows me here knows I'm gay, and I'm fine with that.”

“Then what is it?” Forrest asks.

Alex bites his lip, then takes the plunge. “The last time I really pissed off a homophobe, it didn't end well for the guy I was with.”

“What do you mean? Did you get assaulted?”

“Yeah, you could say that. He went at my...boyfriend's hand with a hammer.”

Forrest covers his mouth with his hand in shock.

“I was seventeen,” Alex continues. “It was my father.”

“Fuck, Alex, I−”

Alex waves it off. “Don't apologize. I just...I wanted you to know. I'm not in the closet. But ever since that day, I haven't been able to be with someone and feel completely safe.”

“Of course,” Forrest murmurs. “Was your father generally abusive? Or did he snap?”

“He didn't start hitting me until he figured out I was gay, but he basically raised us−me and my brothers−as if we were in basic training,” Alex says. “After the...accident, he made me enlist, and I didn't come back to Roswell until a few months ago.”

“That's, wow, that's a lot. I thought my family was bad.”

“There's no comparison to make,” Alex shrugs. “You're brave enough to be proud of who you are in spite of them. I...I'm trying to get there. But it's hard.”

“I get that,” Forrest nods. “I understand it better now. Something didn't quite make sense about you.”

Alex thinks of Michael, of aliens and the secret lab and his classified work. He thinks of his father in the hospital, and being unable to just let him fall. He thinks of last night in the supermarket. “I don't make a lot of sense,” he says. “Which is why I completely get that you don't want to try something with me. I just wanted you to know.”

Forrest pauses and looks him up and down. “You know, maybe...I've put my standards very high, because I've been burned too many times, but so far you met everyone of them easily, except for this one. Maybe it's unrealistic. Maybe I shouldn't let you go, just because you're not quite ready to kiss me in public.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I like you Alex. I really like you, and I'm guessing the fact that you came all the way out here means you feel the same. So maybe those standards were just me closing myself off from opportunities. Maybe I should give this a chance.”

Alex smiles.

#roswell new mexico #alex manes #kyle valenti #forest long #forlex #2x08 coda #anti malexa #trying to tag appropriately #tell me if i miss something #rnm s2 #rnm fanfiction #mine #echo's fanfiction

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pocmuzings · 3 years

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um... kassie for the ship headcanon meme hehe

this is my wife btw . . . doing this to me . . ok . . hot . . will do . u know i’d do anything for u . .

1. Who makes the first move and how? i honestly think it was pretty even steven here ? they both bickered a lot at their photo shoot , working together . i feel like cassie was SO frustrated with him and his easy charm / cockiness that she probably kissed him first just to shut him up

2. Who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better? cassie has always had severe insecurities and issues there . i think just being in the same space as kyle always soothes her ? like he’ll make a dumb joke , or say smth dumb n sarcastic or poke fun at her lightly at it’ll kinda help her get out of her head ? she also loves taking baths , or just lying in bed together .

3. Who is the most romantic? i feel like it’s cassie with the smaller things . she remembers the birthdays and she’ll see a cologne she think would be nice on kyle . but kylie is romantic in a lot of different ways , too . he’ll do things like clean the dishes or cook dinner if cassie seems particularly stressed . he’ll help organise her calendar . he’ll be more practical with how he helps her out at times ?

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves? both of them dfjkfjn but probably mainly cassie . she sees kyle anywhere and shes like PURR

5. Who says ‘I love you’ first? absolutely cassie and then she probably sprinted away in pure fear bc shes like ‘why did u say that why why why ‘

6. Who would they ask if they ever had a threesome? tyler ? max ? those would be cassies pick . honestly it wouldn’t surprise me if kyle has Asked the q so they’d probably just get some random hot model they work together with some time

7. What do they get up to on a night out? a LOT of shots and a LOT of dancing and it gets very messy bc they’ll be in vip areas and having bottle service . it’ll end with a quickie in the bathroom , or her lipstick all over kyle’s neck and mouth and them probably getting kicked out for being too rowdy

8. What do they like in bed? they’re both pretty experimental ? cassie likes tying kyle up every now and then and like . . kinda being in control there when she can ? but she’s a definite switch and likes when he ties her up , or they’re in a kitchen with food getting messy . cassie likes when shes doing something and kyle just spins her from behind , or he’ll be the one to grab her and just be insatiable about her . she likes spontaneous sex and she’ll never say no to a quickie . both of them are Experienced players in the sex game so they’ve probably both tried everything once , and probably leave a lot of bruises on each other and hickies .

9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other? honestly at any shoot if like . . cassie’s outfit has fallen apart in front of kyle , or she feels like the shoot isn’t going well and he’s there ? she gets mortified . also the first time she said ‘ i love you ‘ was pretty embarrassing to her bc kyle was probably 1000% taken aback . kyle doesn’t really get embarrassed ?!?!? like he just is like . .yeah i did that . anyways fjnfdjk

10. What two songs, two books and two luxury items do they take to a desert island? IM SKIPPING THIS Q ITS TOO HARD

11. What do they hide from one another? kyle definitely hides the amount of girls he’s slept with in their industry ? bc its a lot i feel ? and he knows cassie gets jealous and mad insecure . so he probably tries not to bring that up really often but cassie usually KNOWS ANYWAYS . cassie mainly hides like if shes had a bad day or isnt doing too hot , bc she hates inconveniencing kyle but then that starts a fight bc hes like ?? just tell me ? ?

12. What first changes when it starts getting serious? less work trips . less spending time apart . less kissing other people / sleeping with other people ( actually . .NO kissing other ppl and sleeping with other ppl ) . they’re both NOT monogamists at all so its a struggle but thats the sign that they wanna make things serious ? that they’re commiting to each other ?

13. When do they realise they should get together? HONESTLY I DON’T KNOW ? i think its when cassie was with gale and then . . kyle came back and things got really messy and cassie and gale broke up . kyle and cassie tried the whole friends thing but they both knew they were in love with each other ? like they’d never tried just being FRIENDS first so i think thats what really cemented it and their feelings and surety ?

14. When one has a cold, what does the other do? kyle probably laughs and calls her adorable and kisses her nose bc shes so whiny when shes sick . but he’ll bring her home 300 medicines and soups . cassie has to literally force him to take time off work and then she’ll take the day off to make sure he properly rests dkjfkjnfjk

15. When they watch a film what do they choose and why? they probably pick anything random bc honestly they get distracted and never finish it :-)

16. When the zombie apocalypse comes, how do they cope together? KYLE TO THE RESCUE ! i think cassie would make a great scavenger and find lil helpful things but kyle would be v stoic and protective and he’d be the Muscle of it all .

17. When they find a time machine, where do they go? absolutely back to high school them . they were so happy and stupid and soft back then . they were goofy and in love without even knowing it .

18. When they fight, how do they make up? sex . a lot of sex . yelling and then sex . sex and then yelling . it’s always a bit messy , but one of them will always finally give in and come back with their tail between their legs and apologise .

19. Where do they go on their first date? honestly they never really did dates but i feel one of their many dates is probably to paris , a fancy restaurant there where they’re known really well by all staff .

20. Where do they go on holiday? EVERYWHERE! they both travel a bunch so they’ll go to their favourite places . cassie wants to see kyle’s home but she knows kyle hates his dad so that may not happen fjkfnfj . milan . . greece ( if they really wanna a getaway ) . hawaii . any island or tropical place ! or france bc fashion !

21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another? cassie is always nervous about like paparazzi and stuff when they go out in red carpets and stuff bc they say a lot of dumb shit to rile them up ??? also cassie gets nervous before bringing kyle to her mums grave . i definitely know kyle would be nervous and not ok with cassie meeting his parents . .

22. Where does their first kiss happen? i think it happened on shoot ? they had to kiss for a shoot i think and it was Grating and Annoying and kyle was being so smug , and then they . . kissed more backstage sdjknfnkjfkjn

23. Where is their favourite place to be together? probably nice 5 star hotel rooms bc they can live their life and not worry too much abt clean up and stuff fkjnfnkfnf cliche but anywhere theyre together . . theyre happy . .

24. Where do they first have sex? probably in a limo , all rushed and heated , hand prints all over the leather , their bodies , and the windows.

25. Why do they fight? bc they’re both really stubborn and too similar . they fight bc one is jealous of the other . they fight bc of their body count . or bc of their coworkers or the types of shoots they do ( a la sexy ) . they fight when one is away too much . honestly its mainly cassie i think cassie gets riled up very easily . kyle gets mad when CASSIE is being unreasonable which is 3000% of the time . cassie is just always lowkey scared kyle will leave her again dkjfjk

26. Why do they need to have a serious chat? probably if kyle went home and then came back and was acting v distant or short with cassie ? then she’d be like ok we r talking . honestly . probably talk to each other about their dumb jealousy issues if it got too out of hand . i know kyle monitors cassie taking her meds so if she tried to go off them unsolicited he’d be like baby no .

27. Why do their friends get annoyed with them? bc they bicker and then fuck all the time JKFDJNFJKF

28. Why do they get jealous? bc they’ve both . . slept with everyone ! they’re both hoes !

29. Why do they fall a little bit more in love? bc they were horribly destined to be together and everytime they see each other they’re ALL the other one sees . they can’t keep their eyes ( or hands ) off each other . they fall more in love everytime they spend a second of time together and learn more of each other in any manner or form .

30. Why does it work (or not work) between them? it doesn’t work . . it CAN’T work . but somehow it does . from all their jealousies and insecurities . from all the kinda - cheating , and the fighting , and the leaving each other , and the other issues . . from EVERYTHING . . they’re just too epic to not have worked , u know ? they are soul mates in a way . they always always found their way back to each other . they’re inseparable . they will never stop loving each other , no matter what . good , bad , ugly , beautiful .

#ship: kassie #ARE U HAPPY PS I LOVE U SO MUCH HOLD MY HAND RIGHT NOW!#frgilebones

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meganharperr-blog · 4 years

Text

COVID-19 Day 3

Why did I start on day 3 you might ask? Well day 1 was reserved for crying, self pity, deep bouts of depression, restless anxiety, and a shit ton of edibles. Day 2 was consumed by coming up with a plan. So let’s back track to what I can remember about those days and the questions I have been asked:

1. What made you get tested? Did you have symptoms? I very honestly get routine tests. If I am exposed to larger groups of people than my norm, I get tested. If I have a bunch of makeup gigs, I get tested. I get tested for my clients and customers. It is my moral obligation and civil duty to make sure I am 100% healthy to perform justifiably in all the fields I conduct business…which is a vast amount of service based income. I am a makeup artist, and Esthetician, and a Bartender. I either have my hands physically on someone or I am serving masses of people at a given time. Now doing all of this I have become insanely hyper aware of sanitation. In my studio I have Clorox wipes at arms reach, I sanitize with Barbicide and I am Barbicide certified, all sheets and blankets get washed after every client, and if you have had your makeup done by me before you know I wont use the same brush twice and it must be sanitized in-between clients. This has all been second nature to me for years. So when I had a bunch of photoshoots and clients on the books I knew it was time to get tested for peace of mind. Only a week and 1/2 after my last COVID test. The only thing I can even consider a symptom would be the night before I had a headache. I took Advil and it went away no problem. I was also on my cycle and having cramps…or could they have been “body pains”? Shit idk. All I know is I made a joke about having COVID on my way to my rapid testing…

2. Have you heard that the rapid tests are not as accurate? When I got my results back in 15 min and it was my first ever positive I was shocked. I did not trust it right away and pretty much everyone in my circle said get a second opinion. So I got 2 more. One was another rapid test. The other would get back to me in 3 days. I mentally claimed it was a false positive.

My brain: “shiiiit. There aint no way. No way in hell girl. You careful as shit. You got all these blessings coming your way. Business is booming. Opportunities are rising. Aint no slowing down for 2 weeks right now.”

I of course made my partner come with me and get a rapid test as well as the test that would take 3 days to get back to us. While waiting for the results I wanted to get vitamins and snacks and what ever else I may need if this does become my reality. We get to Publix and my heart sinks into my asshole and I’m like…. SHOULD I EVEN GO IN THERE?! The anxiety started building right then and there. I thought to myself “Just keep your mask on, Social distance, you know wtf goin on just be safe” … as we get into the store I wasn’t feeling it. I saw older people around me and I just didn’t feel right and in that moment my phone started to ring. I bursted into tears and couldn’t even stay in the store. I just knew it. It was legit..

The lady on the phone was so nice. She asked if it was what I expected to hear and I honestly said “no”. Because I just knew I didn’t have it. I knew how careful I had been.I am not a perfect person by any means but I see y'all reckless ass Mfer’s out there and we are not the sameeeee man shit nawwww this couldn't happen to me. But it did.

3. How did you get it? OMFG IDK! I have exhausted my brain with this question. How could this happen to me? Shit did I drop my mask at some point? Did I get too close to someone outside at ( insert bar name here ) when I went to have a drink on Saturday night? But it was outside?

Googles : “Can you catch COVID outside? “

“Can you catch COVID with a mask on?”

“Can you catch COVID from it being on your clothing?”

“Can you catch COVID from a toilet seat?”

I mean you name it I Googled it. And the unfortunate answer was yes to all of the above. I got tested on the 4th. So I know I got it sometime after that. I of course contacted everyone I came in contact with….which was horrible! I felt freaking terrible!!! I swear it was worse than narrowing down an STD culprit. It’s like shit… you get an STD…you hit up your top 5, or top 10…look idk your life like that…and have everyone get tested. Let’s be real though you got it narrowed down and think you probably know who did you dirty….Get the results back and boom its over with. Take the meds move on with your life no-one has to know. COVID on the other hand can fucking KILL YEW, PEOPLE YOU CARE ABOUT, GRANDMAS THAT THEY CARE ABOUT, CHILDREN WITH PRE-EXISTING ISSUES, IT CAN KILL PEOPLE. So you gotta back track back track. Make sure all bases are covered especially when you work multiple outlets which is mad important these days. THE MORAL of all this is… idk. Idk how I got it. I am mad careful. I be judging you on social media for being out and reckless without a mask on. I get tested frequently. I have hand sanitizer in every bag I own, in my car, and all over my home. I AM A NEAT FREAK and a GERMY! I am careful. To say the least..but not perfect I am sure after working 10 hours in a mask I have let it fall for a few min! I am sure on my bike I have dropped it out of pure exhaustion. I know I have tried hard, but I am still human and this is all new. So y’all non-maskers out there think you on to something…in reality you could have it too and not even know. Psh. Anyways. Next question…

4. Does your partner have it too? No. Somehow no. This is where we had to start coming up with a plan. We work together so this puts us both out of work. LUCKILY we have been saving incase of a shut down and we also have back up savings for a home we *hope* to purchase next year so that plan was solid…. But how to keep him healthy? Just because I do not have symptoms does not mean his body will react the same way. I need to make sure he does not get infected as well. We are going to continue to get him tested for the next several days to monitor that. He is quarantining and I am in what is called “isolation”for a minimum of 14 days. We try our best to stay in different rooms. We have a tiny apartment with one bathroom, so I am just constantly sanitizing right now. Everything I touch or may have touched gets a Clorox wipe. We both wear masks 24/7 in the house. Even if he goes outside to walk the dog, I am keeping a mask on. I have learned so much in the past 48 hours about contracting the virus that I do not even want to risk a drop of my saliva in this house. I am doing disposable masks every day. I luckily have plenty of masks and gloves from working on clients. If I cook I wash my hands, sanitize, then put on gloves. We eat in separate rooms or at the edge of the room so it feels like we are eating together. We are really trying our best and that is some shit they do not prepare you for. Your partner has to be careful around you. They cannot touch you or even come near you and sometimes have to remind you of that. Try to do chores in separate rooms. Try to not get your feelings hurt because its not that they don’t want to be around you, but it is dangerous and they cannot be. So my poor lil feelings keep getting hurt, but I’m a tough gal it’ll be alright I just want to make sure he stays healthy.

5. Can you breathe? So this brings us to day 3. We have a plan. It has been working. I have my little cleaning things I am doing in one room, he has his in another…and I am pretty much in Go Mode. Before all of this I had a Cleaning Babe coming to help me with things so I had a list for her. I just embodied her and did the list myself plus some major decluttering. I have a ton of clothes to donate (that I am letting sit bagged up for 14 days just to be cautious before donating…some shit I read idk…might get anxious and throw it all away…tbd) so while I am going to town cleaning out my abyss I start to get really short of breath and kinda lethargic. I laid down on the bed to catch my breath for several minutes then took a little break from cleaning. This is the first time I have felt any type of crazy. I still have a lot of anxiety about the days to come. Will it get worse? Will I start to feel like actual hell on earth? Will I be able to keep my partner safe? Shit idk but I am trying really hard. They simply do not tell you about the anxiety that you will have. It is normal. You are going to be generally overwhelmed if you are a good person. Just stay good. and Stay aware.... and Stay tuned. I may not write every single day. But I will keep you updated. If you have any helpful stuff for me to read, please send it my way! If you have any questions feel free to ask. If you have been in this situation with a live in positive and negative… what’s your advice? My DM’s and PM’s are open.

#covid covid19 livingwithcovid

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detroitbecomeyandere · 5 years

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Hello🖐️🖐️🖐️. I reaaaaally like your blog. Can I have yanderes treating s/o with arrhythmia. It's a heart disease and it causes irregular heartbeat. Most of the time arrhythmia isn't serious, but it can result in passing out, and other times it can cause stroke or heart failure. I can't really stress, since I will have horrible chest pain and short breath, oh also can't drink coffee since it fucks my heart up. Sorry, if its too self-indulgent.

Connor

Insanely overprotective as soon as he founds out about your condition

As a result, you can do almost nothing or he’ll worry it’s too ‘strenuous’

He’ll give you your medication at the same time every day on the dot, regardless of what you’re doing or even when he’s out

Not a lot of bedroom fun because he’s too scared to overstimulate you

Lots of cuddles to make up for it though

Hank

Admittedly, he doesn’t know two shits about medical practices

At least once a day, however, he’ll ask you how you’re feeling

Just to make sure

Very lowkey terrified that one day something well accidentally trigger a stroke and you’ll drop dead

If at any point you say you’re doing anything less than fine, he locks you in the bedroom for a week to monitor your health

Markus

Being a home healthcare android definitely comes in handy for things like this

Out of everyone, he’s probably the least overprotective as he has the proper protocols to read your vitals

It’s kind of interesting to see the stark contrast of him rallying androids to protest for freedom with a single speech only to turn around and gently remind you to take your meds with food

While you have limited freedom when you’re in his company, you’re always sealed away safely in your room when he has to leave

He doesn’t trust anyone to look after your health but himself

Gavin

Honestly cannot comprehend that you can’t drink coffee

Coffee

If anyone is going to give you chest pains it’s going to be this asshole

He doesn’t mean to get so overly excited when talking to you or touching you, but it’s a habit nonetheless

Asks a bunch of questions in regards to things you can and cannot do

“Can I still smoke on the balcony?” “Can you ever top?” “Can you watch scary movies?” “If you pass out am I supposed to electrocute you or something?”

He thinks listening to your pulse is kind of cool

Kara

Motherly instinct into overdrive

Worse than Connor probably

If she could, she would keep you tucked into bed while she takes care of everything so absolutely nothing can stress you out

Unfortunately for her, you’re a sneaky little fucker, always trying to escape the second she takes her eye off you

Of course, trying to run and subsequently getting caught only makes you stress even more

Eventually, she just has Luther stand guard in your room 24/7

Nines

Your health is not his concern

As long as you’re still breathing, you’re fine (even if it's irregular)

He actually uses your shortness of breath as a tell that you’ve been up to something

Even though he likes to taunt you about your heart, how it’s weaker than a human’s already fragile organ, he would most certainly rip out his own thirium pump should something ever happen to you

If you pass out while having sex, he’ll keep going anyways

-Mod Barbie

#yandere #yandere!dbh #yandere!dbh x reader #detroit become yandere #dbh connor #dbh hank #dbh markus #dbh gavin #dbh kara #dbh rk900 #headcannon #headcannons #mod barbie #Anonymous

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flightysquip · 4 years

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also time for some mental health babbling

this isn’t a rant or a complaint. this is genuinely me curious.

so like

not that there are a ton of depictions of bipolar disorder in media (*that actually focus on treatment or humanizing the character or whatever, that isn’t just shorthand for Evil Or Slutty Person) but most of them i can think of off the top of my head (and i’ve been guilty of this myself in my writing in the past), when they name a medication, immediately go to lithium

which, like, i get it in a sense. it’s an easy shorthand for bipolar treatment (i would guess a similarity would be ‘depressed person always prescribed prozac’ but my knowledge of antidepressants is not the strongest, the only experience i have with antidepressants was celexa and resulted in hospitalization). and, like, it also sounds hardcore and medieval as fuck (well, that’s at least my reaction when i hear it mentioned), so it probably makes it easier to justify the inevitable ‘bipolar person stops taking their meds’ storyline that will inevitably pop up. those are just sorta my guesses.

my question is

does anyone’s doctor, when they’re first starting treatment for bipolar (and i’m talking bipolar 1 specifically), actually jump immediately to lithium?

my experiences are limited, of course, and i’m just talking about myself personally. and i’m sure factors like family history and severity and all of that come into play, maybe affects of other drugs on the patient or whatever. i don’t know. i really don’t. i was initially diagnosed by a, like, a standard MD or whatever, like, a primary care doctor (i just mean she wasn’t a psychiatric doctor). I made an appointment, went in because i thought i had depression, she did her assessment, diagnosis, and started discussing treatment options. she DID mention lithium, but not in a “this is a possible route we could go” way but as a sort of, like, potential escalation if other meds didn’t work. she also stated that she’d rather not go this route because taking lithium requires routine bloodwork and, I think her exact words were that it was a much more ‘high maintenance course of treatment’ than lamictal or some of the other options (i mean, obviously with lamictal you have to worry about the infamous “rash”, but no blood work was required, no concerns about it damaging your liver or anything in the same way that you have to monitor with lithium--again from my understanding with what she communicated that day).

she also started me on a really low dose, too, and built me up. it wasn’t just ‘here’s a mindnumbing dose of this medication you’ve never taken, go on your way’. i guess i can understand why this isn’t as explored in media though--it’s not really sexy or exciting, the little microadjustments and all that.

anyway, when i was eventually hospitalized (and taken off the celexa that i’d been prescribed to help with anxiety lol), once again the doctors in the psych facility did assessments and discussed treatment plans and all of that. and i had another med added in addition to removing the celexa and keeping the lamictal. and once again, lithium was discussed, as a sort of “if these meds don’t work, we have other options up to and including this form of treatment” and once again i was given the “we would rather not go that route” talk (i’m not saying this means lithium is bad btw! i have no experience taking it, and different meds work for different people. i just mean it’s a little ??? that almost all media i’ve consumed that features bipolar/manic-depressive patients, lithium is usually so casually namedropped). side note, the whole experience of being committed involved a lot of assessments of other possible diagnoses because, like, bipolar holds a lot of similarities to other disorders (shoutout to my bpd and adhd sibs!)

and when i was released from the hospital and starting seeing a psychiatrist, once again we touched on treatment options, diagnosis, etc etc. once again i went through some mild adjustments and communication about treatment options and so on. and, like, i guess the reason i bring that up is, i’ve had multiple different levels of assessment (general practitioner, crisis/emergency psychiatric care, specialized week by week psychiatrist), and a fair discussion of meds and options, i’ve never been prescribed lithium or even had it seriously considered. and, though again this is all anecdotal of course, i have a fair amount of friends/associates/familywhatever you want to call them who have bipolar disorder too, and i think maybe one of them has disclosed taking lithium (shit this makes it sound like i spend all my time sitting around talking about meds and symptoms with anyone who discloses their mental illness to me lmao fuck i’m obnoxious!).

you know what med universally gets brought up though across the board? lamictal (my uncle even got that infamous rash, so i know it’s not actually a scare tactic!). this isn’t me saying this should be the new shorthand medication in shows with bipolar characters. but it’s just funny to me, i guess, that my personal experience doesn’t have a running narrative of “evil personality warping lithium!!!!” instead it’s “so hey i’m having my dose adjusted on this developed-as-an-antiseizure-med and hey does this look like a cluster of pimples or is it a rash because apparently if i get a rash i gotta hurry my ass to the doctor or i’ll die”

and i don’t know if maybe experiences with psychiatric care are just radically different elsewhere in the country, or if hollywood is just being hollywood, if it’s just out of date information or if my experiences are abnormal or what. i mean, i guess it’s more, like, some variety would be nice, maybe? not just in meds either, but all aspects. some variety would be cool.

#i'll put a readmore because no one cares and it's very incoherent but i'm just Thinking #mental illness shitposting and musings about medication in media depictions #also oversharing tbh #sidenote that's not relevant if anyone ever has any questions about bp or wants advice or whatever my askbox is open #not that i'm good with advice at all as far as personal care because i'm a huuuge hypocrite #but if you think you may exhibit symptoms or if you're trying to write a bp character or anything i'd be happy to talk to you

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chebleedsink · 5 years

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Narcissus’ Shadow

Do you ever find yourself covering for someone just because you feel bad for them, just quietly keeping to the shadowlands that they create for you? Maybe because they’re not all bad all the time, and in fact they can wonderful when they want to be? Because generally speaking, they treat most everyone (aside from yourself) really well. Maybe because you know their damage and toxic behaviors started in childhood, where they couldn’t choose to walk away from it? Or maybe because you know how alone and awful they feel on the inside all the time? Maybe because you’re empathetic enough that you not only can imagine, but can physically, mentally, or emotionally feel what it’s like to be them?

I know I do. It’s become second nature to me. I tend to side with the villains and “bad guys” in movies often too, for the same reasons. Really horrible people that do really horrible things, usually weren’t born that way, and they often had really horrible things happen to them first. Reminding myself that they are the hero in their own story isn’t a far stretch at all. I am even pretty certain that if I was ever held hostage, there would be a real possibility that I would develop Stolkholm syndrome if I saw the slightest trace of humanity left in my captor. I always think, “if only someone would love them unconditionally and hold some space for them, just give them the opportunity to change, they might not be villains anymore.” I’m sure the odds would be in favor of that being true some of the time, but some people are so caught up in their roles they play, that they can’t even see themselves for their behavior. Some people can see it, but can’t or won’t change it. Many of them just blame outside causes, while refusing to take any kind of responsibility for fixing things. They don’t want to be fixed. It’s not their problem.

I’m painfully aware that conditions like Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, (and less commonly Psychopathy, and Sociopathy), at any point of their wide spectrums, wreak havoc in peoples lives, affecting not just the person suffering with them, but often everyone that comes in contact with them. Alongside generalized anxiety and depressive disorders, these extremely destructive personality disorders like NPD and BPD are taking the spotlight. Dare I say that our society currently supports and encourages the traits, behaviors, characteristics, and tendencies that are indicators of these disorders? Some people have figured out how to put these behaviors to good use, and they use them to unapologetically advocate for animal welfare, or starving children, environmental issues or other human right’s issues. Unfortunately though, that is probably the exception to the rule, and even when directing their attention at these just causes, they are still trampling the people that get in their way underfoot without a second thought.

So many people are either suffering from these disorders directly or indirectly, and so much mental and emotional damage is caused because of them. Someone with several of these traits wouldn’t even have to be considered disordered or even on the spectrum, (and they certainly don’t need to have been clinically diagnosed), in order to hurt the people around them. They are just as toxic in their own way. To know that highly empathetic people have turned into these people due to emotional numbing after feeling too many extreme emotions, as well as knowing people who were previously abused by this same type of person also become these people, is truly heart-breaking. It’s such a cruel cycle to see.

I know all of this, I know mental illness is not the mentally ill’s fault, I know it’s not fair to blame their damage on themselves, but I also know that many of these same people have been given opportunities to better themselves and they often choose not to. Again, with these types of disorders, those who are inflicted with them often can’t or won’t acknowledge that they need help, nor will they acknowledge the damage they cause. They very rarely see therapists for these particular issues, because to them, they aren’t their issues. Some of them can’t even feel bad about the things they do (due to a lack of empathy), even though they may have learned to act like they do. Some of them see reality completely backwards, where they honestly believe that everything they do to others, is actually what’s being done to them. Some of them are so good at fooling even themselves, and they have adapted so well to hiding, that they believe they are the empaths being abused in their various relationships. Empaths feel other peoples’ emotions, whereas narcissists, sociopaths, and psychopaths fake other peoples’ emotions. Sometimes it’s near impossible to tell the difference.

Aside from complete avoidance, how do you even begin to deal with these types of people in a healthy or productive way? Even worse, some of those people are just dipping a toe in and out of the spectrums of those disorders, and you can still see some hope for them. Hope that the switch won’t flip all the way, that they won’t be completely lost to it. Hope that they’ll come back around, or that meds and therapy could help. That hope is miserable. It destroys more people than the disorders themselves ever could. But for some of us, if there’s hope, we’ll still put ourselves in front of the train in the hope that we can help, in the hope that we can all be saved. Too often though, we are just hit by the train, and surviving and recovering from that train-wreck is a long and painful journey. Some of us never recover.

Even after spending the last 5 years cutting these types of people out of my life, there are some I can’t escape. It’s just not an option. So, to maintain the “peace”, I find myself still covering for them. I find myself treading water in the wake of their explosive fits and moods, just concentrating on the damage control to follow and on not drowning. And I am so tired of it, I hate it, I am done with it. It doesn't fix anything, and I'm pretty sure it always just perpetuates more problems than it solves, yet I still do it all the time.

Why? Why continue covering up their bad behavior behind the scenes? Why bite my tongue? Because I don't want to upset anyone, and they're already having a hard time, and if I don't have anything nice to say..., and it wouldn't make a difference anyway (-in fact it just causes more problems), and we have mutual friends, and they monitor my Facebook posts and have actually told me not to air my dirty laundry on social media (even though they do so regularly), besides, they’re not really that bad all the time, the list goes on.

I was so angry and upset the other night and I wanted nothing more than to vent on fb, mostly because writing is how I work through things, and because there are always a few people online to commiserate with who have gone through similar experiences, but once again, I didn't, because of all of the above reasons.

The next morning I thought I'd have calmed down a bit, but I hadn't. My brain was literally screaming at me to stop covering for him. Because it's not fair. And I know that. And I've literally put up with it for a decade. That's a long time to put myself on the quiet chair for someone else's sake. Two days later, and my brain won’t let it go.

I have spent years trying to be a better person, always improving myself, working through my baggage so I don’t have to keep carrying it around, generally just trying to be a decent human being really. My brain is demanding that I break this pattern of sweeping other people’s trash under my rug. And I really want to, but I still feel like I shouldn’t. I’ve been well-trained.

Honestly, I just wish I didn't always feel so bad for them, like I'd be kicking a downed horse if I ever called them out. But what do you do when the horse is always down? And when they’re actually up, between minute moments of calmness, they're extremely reactive and aggressively defensive, they’re kicking and biting you or things around you, they’re shitting everywhere, they’re loud, they’re stomping mud through the house, breaking things, leaving the barn door open, always threatening to run away, and you're afraid that anything you say to them, any way you say it, whether he's calm or otherwise, might set him off or upset him even more causing an even worse tantrum. You’re stuck in close proximity, but could you just avoid the horse? Maybe that way you'd feel less tempted to kick it? Oh, but wait... avoiding the horse just upsets the horse too?

Even worse, what do you do when those people have spent so much time convincing other people that they aren't like that at all? When they've convinced you that you're the only reason they behave like that? When they've actually convinced you that you're the one behaving that way, not them? When they claim to be the emotionally fragile one that you keep attacking?

Gaslighting is no joke, and even if you know it's happening, it's so easy to get sucked back into. It's like quicksand. The harder you fight against it, the more you panic when it's being flung at you, the deeper it pulls you in. I've learned the best reaction is to not react, and to stay calm, but that is not easy to do when your brain is screaming "Oh my gods! He's doing it again!!! Panic!!! Fight or Run!!!!.....Wait, maybe it is me and I am really the abusive crazy one!?!? No!!! Fight Back!!! Explain to him how he's twisting everything around!!!! Maybe it is my fault, I never should have said anything…Did I really do those things?.. But that’s what I was just saying…. Maybe I just don’t remember…" Before you know it, it's sucked you back under, because there's no point in arguing with someone who knows exactly how to gaslight you. You will never win that fight.

Fatigue is setting in. I’m exhausted with this person, with these people. I am tired of watching them say one thing, while they are actually doing the total opposite. I'm so tired of watching them play the victim and the pity me cards on social media, when behind the scenes it's so obvious that even though they are mostly responsible for their own suffering, they have zero self-accountability. I'm tired of double standards, especially the one where they expect to be thanked and appreciated for every single thing they do, every time they do it, even though they don't do the same, and in fact they rarely even notice (and certainly don't acknowledge) even half of the things that someone else does.

I am beyond tired of these people bragging about their greatness, and how much they do for other people, when it's all just for show and personal gain under the guise of philanthropy. I'm tired of them complaining about how hard they have it when they have been given so many handouts in life, especially when they've literally shoved other people out of the way to get where they are. I’m tired of their sense of entitlement that they claim to not have.

I am tired of the type of people who constantly make other people feel like an inconvenience, especially when it's their turn to repay a favor or a debt, or to hold up their end of a bargain or partnership. Especially, when they willingly made a deal or agreed to something (which they most likely never expected to be held accountable for.) I’m tired of people who talk over or belittle other people as an attempt to publicly shame or dominate them. I’m tired of them always stepping into the spotlight when it’s someone else’s turn.

I'm tired of people who try to hold others hostage with power-plays, and by manipulating emotions. I'm tired of damaged people getting away with damaging other people just because they're damaged. I'm tired of inconsiderate people. I'm tired of hypocrites. I'm tired of constantly volatile, hyper-defensive people who don't take responsibility for anything. I'm tired of people who try to shift the blame from themselves to everyone or anyone else they possibly can.

I'm tired of cleaning up other people's messes, literally and metaphorically, of all types, shapes and sizes. Even more than the actual "cleaning" part, I'm tired of being expected to do the job. I’m just as tired of expecting myself to do the job. I’m tired of people doing a half-assed job because the “job” isn’t their choice of what they want to do, and I’m tired of people putting in the least amount of effort possible. I’m tired of people who have no clue how to be a team-player.

I'm tired of people who give or do things for others as a way to put people in debt to them, or to be able to take credit for their successes later on. I am tired of "those" people who say, "but you don't see things from my side", or "you never listen to me". You know, the ones that when they say that, it's such a pile of crap and it's painfully obvious that they only see their own side of anything. The same people may be able to repeat back exactly what you said, but they didn't "hear" a word of it. I'm tired of talking to and fighting with brick walls.

I'm really, really tired of the people who use "I'm sorry" angrily, as a way to excuse their behavior, shift the blame, to clear their own conscience and to justify them doing the same thing over again for an unlimited amount of times. I'm tired of two-faced people. And I am so tired of people who claim to be the world's victim, when they're really the ones victimizing people. I'm tired of the people who accuse others of doing exactly what they themselves are doing.

I'm tired of keeping it to myself for someone else's sake. I'm tired of not bitching about it. I'm tired of keeping other people's ugly sides hidden, and I'm tired of keeping their images polished for some nonsensical reason.

You want to act high and mighty and tell me not to do something you just did (the 10x's worse, extreme version of) the day before?

Fuck you.

You want to tell me your shitty behavior is my fault?

Fuck you.

You want to act like you're so misunderstood, down-trodden, wounded and abused by me, when I was the one that excused and put up with your toxicity, abuse, and neglect for years.

Fuck you.

You want to try to poke me where it hurts, salt the wounds repeatedly, then try to cover it back up with sugar, just because you can?

Fuck you.

I'm tired. And I'm done. Just because someone does good things too, does not mean that you should put up with their shit. Just because you love someone as a person, doesn’t mean you have to let them hurt you. Just because you still feel some sort of hope for someone’s well-being, doesn’t make it your job to protect or help save them. Being a victim, being under too much stress, being mentally unwell is not a justified reason to pass the abuse. When it comes to physical abuse, these things are much more obvious, but emotional and mental abuse are equally damaging, you just can’t see the marks left on the outside.

I cannot wait until this page in my life turns to a fresh leaf, where I can just breathe again. Where I have space and where I can put some distance between myself and the things that hurt me the most. I know growth is painful, but I’m ready to take my hand off of the remnants of this fire. Although I often hate myself for the decisions that led to my situation, I count my blessings that I was at least able to remove myself from the pits of the original blaze, even if I did I let it burn me for way too long. I was left with so many scars, but I turned those scars into red-flags and memorials for life-lessons learned. I don’t ever want to forget those warning signs.

I currently have an amazing, loving, kind, considerate and self-aware partner in my life, the kind of person that I started thinking didn’t really exist. They’re not perfect, (no one is), but they don’t pretend to be, and they hold themselves accountable, and they do the work. Not only have they set a new standard in my life, but they have given me a whole new type of hope to focus on; the hope that I will continue to rise above my ingrained patterns of constantly choosing toxic people to surround myself with, and that I can make better choices, without feeling guilty about not sacrificing myself to save someone else.

My brain is still grumbling that I’m still covering. That I didn’t even mention who I was talking about or the details of the last argument, or the things he said, or the toxic things he does on a daily basis, or the way he really acts when no one else is around. Perhaps I’ll save that for another post. I feel that the vagueness of this post may just be more useful for anyone reading that may have needed to read this today.

If you’ve read this far, I’m assuming you probably can relate. You’ve probably felt these stingers once, or twice, perhaps more times than you’d like to count. You might be trapped at the moment, without a clear path to escape, but when the time comes, as soon as the opportunity arises, don’t think twice about getting out. Don’t feel bad. Don’t feel guilty. Don’t feel like you’ve failed. Don’t convince yourself that maybe you should just try one more time, because you probably shouldn’t. Don’t cover for them if you don’t have to, or if it’s safe not to. You owe it to yourself.

Don’t believe them when they tell you it’s all your fault, and that if you would just behave differently things would be better. Don’t believe them when they say they’ll change. These types of people rarely change without meds and therapy, and if you already feel tired, or done, or you’ve been covering longer than you’d like to admit, chances are the jokes on you. Don’t believe them when they say it’s all in your head. Don’t believe anything they tell you to try to convince you that there isn’t anything wrong with them, or if they argue there is something wrong with them that you just need to accept because it’s not going to change. If they repeat your argument back to you as their own response, if you hear your own words or emotions being turned around and parroted back, or being used completely out of context, run my friend, run and don’t look back.

Should we still hold space for these people? Afterall, they are just human beings, right? They are just as deserving of love and acceptance as anyone else, even if they are toxic, even if they can’t love or accept us. I think we should hold space, and we should still love them unconditionally as human beings, however, we should hold their space as far away from ourselves as possible, and we should love them from great distances. My heart still bleeds for them, I can’t imagine what an awful existence many of them live, and I still wish I could help, but I’m so much wiser now. I know better. And every day, I get a little braver. One day, I’ll stop covering.

#npdsurvivor #personality disorder #gaslighting #stop covering #npd #toxic people #blog #empath #toxic relationships #bpd #emotional abuse #covert #cognitive distortions #mental health #narcissistic #narcissist

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lovecanbesostrange · 5 years

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Here’s another post about Grey’s Anatomy, and yes of course I’m again talking about Jo Karev. Sorry followers who don’t watch this show, but my Jo feels run me over like a truck twice a year...

I’m kinda amazed that she’s been on the show for seven seasons now, with Alex for kinda six of those (they were broken up all of S13, so technically five) and there hasn’t been a pregnancy yet. So everytime anything happens to Jo/Alex now, my mind just goes there. We’ve had jokes and hints about this since S10, but it never happened. And I know one of the loudest pro-voices for this storyline is Camilla herself.

[wow this turned into something... have a cut for easier scrolling]

The good thing is, with the latest development regarding Jo’s mom I feel for the first time a Jolex baby can actually benefit Jo as a character. The baby not just being this sorta goal of the romantic realtionship and building a wholesome family, but exploring all of Jo’s messed up experiences with “family”. Even back in S10 Alex mentioned having kids one day and it was always sort of a given these two would one day have a family of their own. (Because Alex will be an amazing dad and he should be. Ha, imagine that, two people being on the same page of one-day-we-gonna-have-kids from the start, what an unusual idea.)

Still, I am afraid the writers will throw this at us for the finale. While Jo has to fight her way out of depression we will get one of those looking-at-the-stick scenes as an emotional cliffhanger. I really don’t want that right now. So much no to that. I want the depression arc to be as separate from relationship drama as possible. Please. Just this once.

And also, here is the thing I have been tag-vomitting for years. WHY ON EARTH DID ALEX AND JO NEVER EVEN TALK ABOUT FOSTER KIDS? Why did I have to watch Owen suddenly foster a baby, that came with a teenage mom, so Amelia had somebody to care for as well and for a time the four became this patchwork thing? (Don’t get me wrong, the Amelia part of that storyline actually held my interest!)

The show has advocated for adoption and I’m glad about it. But we have these two characters who both spent time in the foster system and agree that it sucked. (For Alex it was a short, but hard time and he ended up in juvie, but also never lost contact with his mom over it. And Jo said fuck that shit with 16 to rather live in a stolen car.) When Owen got Leo he was overwhelmed that he got a baby and not a somewhat older kid, but I think that was for the best. Owen dealing with a kid who already developed trust issues and acted out? Only on his very best days maybe...But that is exactly something I can see Alex and Jo relate to.

So, here is an easy way to milk Jo-and-Alex-becoming-parents for some extra drama for the next two seasons!

In S16 we get a patient, around 12/14 years old or something (child actors, huge problem for longer storylines) I don’t have a preference towards a boy or a girl, so let me use Taylor as an unisex name here (which would fit with Alex and Jo anyway). There is no parent in the mix, just an overworked social worker (a good person, but stretched thin). The kid needs some big surgery. Alex as the peds surgeon is the lead of course, but throw in Avery and Maggie for consults, monitoring, possible complications.

Maybe this even is a pro-bono case or some charity stunt, we get a commentary about appaling healthcare out of this. Yes, good. Because who even thinks about foster kids? And Taylor is not nice to anybody. Because Taylor feels like this is a stunt and who cares about them and how many foster homes has it been since entering at the age of 6. (More social commentary? One parent is dead and the other in jail, Taylor doesn’t even know where, because the prison system is also terrible. Grey’s can check so many boxes at once.)

We have had rude/unruly kids as patients before and it was mostly solved by the end of an end with one stern talking or a good speech. But Taylor is not here for that. And damn, there are insults flying around. But the other doctors are annoyed outside and go all “oh, Taylor has it rough, we can’t be that mad; but I kinda want to slap that kid sometimes, though not really, just... you know”. Alex gets some as well, but he just insults Taylor back, because he’s Alex. Which is also why he sometimes has to hide his smile, because damn, the kid has some good burns.

The residents get ordered to do a test and they don’t want to go in, so two of them play rock-paper-scissors. Jo sees this and is “OMFG!”, dismissed them and does this herself. Taylor makes fun of her, because people in dark blue scrubs don’t do these kind of things, so she must have drawn the short straw or something. And she is just “actually other people did that, I’m here cause I want to”. (Please remember that Jo - when she was allowed to have medical storylines - did advocate for homeless people and even though she can be judgy herself, used to have this very soft side.)

The social worker stops by, it’s a huge concern of how Taylor will be able to follow up during the recovery time. Meds need to be taken for a while etc. Responsible foster parents are needed here. Taylor has missed school, changed schools, is suspected of starting a fire at one of the homes (wasn’t their fault though, but the new troubly kid gets kicked out first)... tough to fit. The doctors are sorry about this, but someone makes another careless comment like “if Taylor could try harder” (in the way Grey’s likes to use one person to say something dumb so others can put things into perspective, happens so often). Alex is the one to go off about it.

Jo and Alex are at home and they trade stories about foster homes. Real ones. And they just look at each other for a moment. Both have a copy of the requirements about fostering already, it’s totally crazy for sure, how could they, but also... well... (the worst part about this that the loft is probably a big obstacle, living with no walls? oh no, saying goodbye to one of the cutest sets for another generic house?!)

There’s already five episodes worth of development! And Taylor moving in with the Karevs isn’t all easy-peasy. Oh no, Taylor needs to test the limits. (Oh, I totally would want one of those cliche moments of vulnerable honesty in the hospital, where Jo is once again doing some minor test and talks to Taylor only to find out about a hobby or special interest. And the next scene she just slips in a book about it or something. No big words about it.)

And here is the best part, because S17 comes with new built-in drama. Because oops, now it does happen, Jo finds out she’s pregnant. They didn’t try, but Alex and Jo are happy. And Taylor is afraid that well, that’s it. Who keeps the foster kid around with a biological baby on the way? Alex and Jo are a bit dense about this, because to them that is not even a question, they finally live on the other side of this thing and would never view Taylor as the consolation prize that loses meaning. Some very heartfelt scenes and then a talk about adoption (that could involve finding the prison-parent who I guess would have to give up the rights in a legal way???? who knows, I don’t because I don’t plan on writing a fanfic that would require research into this..... I’m going by tv-drama 101 here)

And so Taylor becomes a Karev. Alex was born as Alex Evans, but Jimmy was a terrible father so he took his mother’s maiden name. Jo never had the name of someone who loves her until she could share it with Alex. So the tradition should keep going. Karev is a special name, okay?

WHY CAN’T I HAVE THIS ON THE SHOW?

(I could also write about how much I want for Vicki to return, but I guess there’s an actual chance for that. I had a scenario in my head that would involve Alexandra to seek out Jo, and I saw somebody on tumblr is writing that, but in a very different way. lol)

#Grey's Anatomy #Jo Wilson #Jo Karev #Alex Karev #Jolex #there's like the summary for a fanfic in this oops #ramblings

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years

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Coldflash - “Far from Helpful” (Rated PG13)

After a blast meant for Leonard Snart knocks Barry out cold and wipes his memory, Len follows the team back to STAR Labs to make sure he's alright. Of course, not being entirely welcome, he has to sneak in. But after one small slip of the tongue, Len might find himself watching over Barry permanently. (2359 words)

Written for @sparroet

Notes: This is the first iteration of the story I wrote for @coldflashweeks Valentine’s exchange 2019 prompt - Barry suffers a permanent injury that affects his work as Flash and Len helps him to work out where to go next. Warning for a serious injury involving blood.

Read on AO3.

“Hey, Red. I’m telling ya, we have to stop meeting like this,” Len says in a low voice, gruff from barking orders that didn’t matter worth dick since no one listened to him anyway. If they had, maybe Barry wouldn’t be lying on a gurney down in the med center of STAR Labs, slipping in and out of consciousness.

Maybe he wouldn’t have had the ever-loving shit beat out of him … again. Even the fights Barry does win usually end up with him getting bashed in the head or kicked in the stomach.

Just because he has the power to super heal doesn’t erase the fact that Barry Allen gets beat up a lot.

Len is also a bit worse for the wear – a gash on his right cheek that might require stitches, a blackened left eye, an arm he’d thought was broken wrapped tight in an ACE bandage. But that’s nothing compared to what happened to Barry – slammed in the gut by a high-intensity photon blast that was meant for Len and thrown over two hundred feet straight up. Had Barry come back down the way he went, Len might have been able to break his fall, plus his whole body in the process. But Barry had traveled, and Len abandoned the fight, abandoned his team, to go on the search. Halfway out of town, Len found Barry skewered on an iron fence post, the spear-like tip protruding from his chest and covered in blood. When Len saw him - bent impossibly backward with arms and legs limp - his heart stopped.

He thought his boy was dead this time for sure.

Then along came Cisco and Caitlin, and boy, do they have a convenient sense of timing. They had nothing to do with Len finding Barry, but they sure did rush in and scoop him up as if he was theirs and theirs alone. They barely gave Len a thank you, barely looked him in the eyes.

When it comes to him, Len has discovered, even when he’s fighting on their side, they don’t consider him on their side.

Perhaps that’s the way it should stay.

Caitlin did take a second to check out Len’s arm and wrap it up, but that was a consolation prize. A token.

The literal least they could do.

But it was also a message. In their eyes, it made them square. Now Len’s job was over, and it would be best for everyone if he stepped back and left Barry alone.

Right. Like that was going to happen.

Caitlin and Cisco packed Barry up in their ‘Flash-mobile’ and left Len alone out in the middle of nowhere, probably all sorts of assured that he wouldn’t make it back to STAR Labs anytime soon.

And, as usual, they were wrong.

Not only was he fifteen minutes behind them the whole time thanks to his newest acquisition – a beat-up old Indian motorcycle he’d spied quietly rusting in an otherwise vacant driveway on his way out of town – but he’d managed to let himself into STAR Labs super slick and steal away into Barry’s room the second the Wonder Twins ducked out. Sure they’ll be watching Barry like a hawk so of course they’ll find him, but now that he’s in, he’d like to see them try and kick him out.

Len gives Barry a once over, head shaking with disgust and disappointment.

And guilt.

Barry looks okay. Aside from a few scratches, he’s the same as always … on the outside. From what Len could make out while Caitlin and Cisco were talking, the blast scrambled Barry’s brain like an omelet, hence his constant waking up and knocking out. From the times they were able to talk to him, Barry didn’t know his name, didn’t know where he was, who they were, or that he was The Flash. They hooked him up to a dozen or so machines monitoring his brain waves, his temporal lobes and whatnot, but when he finally comes to for longer than a minute, they have no idea what he’ll remember.

Or if the memories he’s lost will ever come back.

They also can’t tell with absolute certainty if Barry is still a meta. The blast doesn’t appear to have eliminated his power to heal, but it slowed it to a crawl. Hence why he’s down here while the net that is the Speed Force sews him back together, albeit at an infuriating rate.

And why it hasn’t worked on his brain? That’s another mystery altogether.

Len moves sections of Barry’s blankets aside to assess the damage for himself. Large hematomas mar Barry’s skin like a battle-scarred landscape. Len’s gaze falls on the blood-stained bandages covering the hole in Barry’s chest and sucks a breath in through his teeth. By rights, any man who sustained an injury like that should be dead. Since that blast was aimed at Len, that means he should be dead right now – dead and gone while a still young and vibrant Barry Allen mourns for all of fifteen minutes the twisted, dysfunctional non-relationship they have, one where Barry constantly reminds Len that there’s good in him as if that means something, and Len spends his nights seething because the good Len wants inside of him is Barry.

“Jesus Christ, you know, you gotta stop taking the blows that I’m supposed to take. When it’s my time, it’s my time. Nothing you can do is going to change that, Red, no matter how good you think I am.”

“Wh-why … do you keep calling me … Red?” a gravelly voice struggles with as Barry turns his head to look Len’s way.

Len shrugs, taking a seat in the chair beside Barry so he won’t have to move anymore. “It’s just a nickname I have for you. That’s all.”

Barry relaxes back into his pillow now that the object of his attention has conveniently moved into view. Eyelids narrowed, he stares at Len, soaking in the particulars of the man in front of him. “Who ... who are you?”

“Who do you think I am?”

“I … I don’t know, but … you seem so familiar.”

“I should. I’m your husband,” Len teases without thinking, sarcasm stepping in when the alternative means revealing too much at an inconvenient time. Why not? It breaks the tension. Barry is more than likely not going to remember this conversation. Besides, Len is dying to see the look on the kid’s face as he tries to comprehend that this tired, filthy, broken old man is his spouse.

And Barry doesn’t disappoint. His head jerks back a hair. His eyes widen. His jaw works around wordless questions.

In short, he looks thoroughly confused by life.

“You … you are?”

“Yup.”

“But … but the doctors that were in here … they didn’t tell me.”

Len pats Barry’s hand. “They don’t like me. I sometimes think they’d like to forget I exist.”

“Oh …” Barry’s eyes dart back and forth, scanning his brain for any nugget of a sliver of a memory of him being married to the man sitting in the chair next to him. Several long seconds tick by. Len watches Barry’s face with an intense curiosity and mild amusement, waiting for his inevitable surrender back into unconsciousness that will herald the end of this charade. Then Len will sit and guard over Barry for as long as he can before his obnoxious wardens return. But Barry doesn’t surrender to sleep. He smiles, an unexpected realization overwhelming him that adds color to his pale cheeks and light to his blank-slate eyes. “Oh … my God! We’re … we’re married?” Barry laughs before Len has a chance to answer. “Wh-what … what lottery did I win to get you?”

A vision of the fight they were in not two hours ago rolls through Len’s brain, how Barry got hit, then flew so hard he blinked out of sight like a cartoon character.

“Let’s just say I swept you off your feet.”

“I thought … I thought it was a dream …” Barry continues. “I didn’t think it could be real.”

Len chuckles, assuming Barry is thinking of that same take-off moment, until he keeps going.

And then Len’s heart stops a second, longer time.

“We met in a theater … didn’t we?”

“I guess you can say that.”

“We had a wedding on the beach … and our honeymoon … camping at the Grand Canyon …” A spark twinkles in Barry’s eyes that Len has never seen. It’s not the lightning that lives inside him, that erupts to mirror his emotions. It’s different – just as supernatural, but more inexplicable. It sends chills down Len’s spine, and that’s something that doesn’t happen too often.

“Ho---honeymoon?” Len’s legs go numb. He turns at the waist, looking for a place to sit until it dawns on him that he’s sitting already.

“Yeah.” Barry’s smile grows and takes a bashful twist. “You and me in a two-person tent on the South Rim, drinking champagne and watching the sun set …”

Voices echo in the hallway. Urgent voices. More than just Cisco and Caitlin. It sounds like Joe might be with them, along with a few other members of the CCPD. Len doesn’t hear what they say, but he has his suspicions that they’re talking about him.

“Shoot!” Len hisses, wishing the oncoming invasion could take a powder for about five minutes so that Barry can finish telling him about that honeymoon. From the shade of red Barry’s cheeks have become, it must have been good. But it would probably be a good idea if he retreats to his favorite air vent for the time being. “Look, kid, I’m going to have to …” He springs out of his seat but Barry grabs his hand with a speed that confirms that yes, he definitely still is a meta.

“Wait, what are you doing? Where are you going?”

“I need to bow out for a minute. But don’t worry. I won’t go too far.”

“Go? What … no! Don’t … don’t leave! Please?”

The voices become louder, accompanied by hurried footsteps, and Len curses under his breath. Before this little adventure began, weren’t they all allies? On a temporary basis, but playing on the same team? “Barry, I’m sorry, but I have to.”

“Why!?”

Len looks into Barry’s pleading eyes and sighs. Yup, leave it to him to take a joke too far, and now here he is - married to The Flash and sixty seconds away from being locked behind bars.

“Remember those doctors I said don’t like me?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, they’re coming back, and from the sounds of it, they’re bringing the police.”

“But, why does that matter?” Barry scans the room, searching frantically for help. “You’re ... you’re my husband!”

“They may not see it that way.”

“I’ll make them see! Just … wait here and we’ll get this straightened out. Please? Please stay?”

Len opens his mouth, but even though he has to, he can’t say no. He shakes his head, taking a step away, and Barry goes into full blown panic mode.

“They said I could have whatever I wanted! Have whoever I want in here with me! Whatever would make me comfortable! If you’re my husband, then I want you! We’ll tell them that I’m … I’m not staying here without you! I’ll … I’ll get up and leave!” Barry plants his hands on the mattress pad beneath him and tries to sit up. “I swear!”

“Shhh, easy now, kid. Don’t get carried away.” Len puts his hands on Barry’s shoulders and in an instance feels him relax, which makes Len want to punch himself in the throat. He did this – him and his frickin’ inability to not make a joke out of everything. Maybe he and Barry don’t always meet on the same side of the law, but he’d never want anything bad for Barry.

Which is why he keeps his distance on the day to day. If Leonard Snart is anything, he’s bad for Barry.

But for some reason, Barry seems to believe wholeheartedly that he’s married to Leonard Snart. And not just believes it, but has memories of it. But where those memories came from, Len doesn’t know. He didn’t say enough to plant any subliminal thoughts in Barry’s mind, nothing as detailed as a wedding on the beach, or a honeymoon. Where did that all come from? Could it be a side-effect of the memory wipe? Cisco specifically said ‘scrambled Barry’s brains like an omelet’. Those were his exact words. Barry’s mind manufacturing a wedding that never happened sounds like the kind of thing a scrambled brain might do.

Or is there a chance that those thoughts were there in Barry’s mind already? Fantasies hidden that the accident unlocked?

Does Barry, on some level, have feelings for Len that venture outside of the hero-villain dynamic they’ve so masterfully cultivated?

As much as Len would like to investigate that possibility, he can’t. They have a situation here that he doesn’t have an easy fix for.

But maybe he doesn’t want one.

Len knows that this can’t go anywhere but downhill, for him and for Barry. But he also knows he can’t back out on Barry now. Not with those eyes staring at him as if he’s the only thing keeping Barry tethered to planet earth.

No one’s ever looked at him that way, with that level of need. Not even his sister.

It’s also not lost on him that this is the longest Barry has managed to stay awake since he arrived at STAR Labs. That in itself is a reason for Len to stay.

What Len doesn’t know is how the hell he’s going to pull this off.

Make a plan. Execute the plan. Expect the plan to go off the rails. Throw away the plan.

Welp. He seems right about on par.

He squeezes Barry’s hand gently. To his own surprise, he leans forward and gives him a kiss on the forehead.

“All right, Red,” he whispers. “I’ll stay. We’ll … figure this out.”

#coldflash #barry allen #leonard snart #the flash #Captain Cold #frankie writes

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thecraftybear · 5 years

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Summary of the last week:

Had a really stupid accident which indicated I can no longer handle my usual amount of beer. My nose looked bad already, now it looks badass.

"Now you'll have to learn to code", said @loirgris when she saw my face afterwards. Because it's a thuggish flavor of badass and might impact my chances of finding a better job in personal contact with the customer. "Unless some postapocalyptic pub is looking for a bartender, in which case you're as good as hired."

Got prescribed extra brain meds. They're heavy-duty enough to seriously unbalance my metabolism and toxic af, so maybe I'll finally learn to stick to schedule and dosage like I should.

This also means I'll be incapable of handling even a small amount of alcohol or usual painkillers, and I'll have to closely monitor hydration and caffeine intake. Goodbye, my little vices.

Also, goodbye, my career as a craft beer expert. Or at least my cred. Even if I get off these new meds one day, I'll be forced to keep my knowledge strictly theoretical until then. And that's no fun, so I'll probably drop out of the loop and just plain give up.

Considering my aforementioned accident, it might've been unavoidable anyway, and it's not the first time I have to give up on something I love. I'll handle it, I guess. I mostly regret the money I invested in that hobby (part of which now stares back at me from the aging bottles in my cupboard).

I have at least a week off work to let the nose heal up a bit. Gives me time to consider what direction I want to take in my life from now on.

Which leads me to the realization I Don't Know Shit And All The Skills I've Acquired So Far Are Now Obsolete.

Maybe it really is a good moment to learn to code. Or something.

Side note: considering some of the above points, I'm seriously considering changing my Tumblr handle. Hard to be a Beer Bear without beer.

#bear with me #TMI #big changes #too big really #i hate my brain #but I have to start caring for it

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randomfandomsbro · 6 years

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Save You, Save Me (Doc/Rook)

INSPIRED BY THIS AMAZING ART BY @afrenchdisaster Art piece in question: https://afrenchdisaster.tumblr.com/post/178454880296/hostage-secured-hang-on-just-a-little-longer

This was an inspired piece and I was asked to write a Doc/Rook thing anyways

Contains all of the feels, but mostly hurt and comfort and sadness

I actually cried once but it’s probably bc I was listening to really depressing music while I wrote it c’:

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

Doc was methodical in his work, making sure the hostage and his teamates were alive and well. Rook was also methodical, his mind clear on the objective of protecting the hostage and his significant other. Rooks lips curled into a small smile as he set down the bag with armor plates in it, immediately locking eyes with Doc. Doc scowled slightly, but you could tell he wanted to smile. He always looked grumpy though, it kept everyone on their toes.

"Care for some plates?", Rook asked and looked up just as Doc stepped over.

"Ah, yes, I do think I will take a plate!", Doc returned the smile briefly as he bent down to grab a plate, securing it into his vest.

"Good, don't need you getting hurt now do we? We're useless without our medic!", the younger man faked a pout as Doc shook his head.

"I can take care of myself, just worry about yourself..", Doc pursed his lips and turned to place down a deployable shield to keep the hostage safe.

"Will do..I'll be back, though, so look forward to seeing me again!", he laughed out loud and stood, leaving to help reinforce the perimeter with his other teamates.

After a minute or two of reinforcing, the real fight began, wave upon wave of terrorists flocked to them. Rook and the others scrambled to defend while Doc did his best to help those who had been hurt, especially the hostage, who was in tears. The older male may be a medic, but he was also good as soothing a scary situation, he knew the hostage must have been scared beyond anything. Rook bit back a smile and they prepared for the final wave, it was always the hardest. Doc checked in with them one last time, seconds before they knew they would come, and as he passed by Rook he gave his hand a gentle brush.

"Stay on your toes, we have this..", Doc's voice grounded him, he hadn't even noticed he was feeling tense.

"You too...", was all Rook could say before they heard a breaching charge go off.

Shit, it was closer than he expected. Rook charged down the hall while Doc ran to the hostage, staying in a corner to watch the two doors that led to the room the hostage was held in. It was all a blur to Rook as he killed the men coming down the hall, the suicide bomber included. Though the bomber exploded which blew him back and onto the floor, he had effectively cleared his section. He was dizzy, but otherwise okay as the world around him slowed even more when he saw the terrorist charge into the room with Doc and the hostage. He heard shots and he heard Doc yell as well as the terrorsist, but what concerned him is what he couldn't see.

He shook off as much of the dizziness as he could manage and stood, leaning against the wall to move into the room. His heart stopped and the blood drained from his face when he saw Doc. He was just standing there, panting, staring at the dead terrorist before his eyes slowly moved up and met Rook's own. Rook could tell he knew, he had been hit at least twice, one to go through the plate and the second to go through him. Doc coughed and blood splattered onto the floor, down his lips and onto his already reddening uniform.

"Gustave..", Rook spoke his name so slow it felt like an eternity, he stared like a terrified child, quickly moving to him.

"J-Jul... Julien...", he coughed again, before trying to reach out to Rook. His eyes fell closed and he slumped backwards, but Rook caught him.

"Hostage secured! We need evac soon! please!", Rook yelled at anyone and everyone, using his hand to keep pressure on the wound that was slowly draining the life from the man he loved.

"Gus...Please hang on a little longer..Please! Evac is on the way!", Rook begged to deaf ears, Doc lay in his arms unconsious, his breathing slow and at least steady.

Rook was panicking, though he never took his hand and the pressure off the area, he checked and saw that the injury didn't have an exit point. Doc only got stiller and his breathing slightly shallower, at which point Rook was almost ready to cry. Just in time, the evac helicopter had thankfully arrived. They loaded Doc first on a stretcher, then allowed the others to file in, Rook never took his eyes off Doc for a second. The team flying was equipped to stabilize Doc with oxygen and a blood transfusion, but he would need more to be completely okay.

Hours ticked by, literal hours, as Rook sat outside of the med bay. He was exhausted, but he wouldn't budge for one second, he just stared at the heavy doors. Eventually a man stepped out with a weary smile, motioning that Rook could follow him. The distance was thankfully short to the room they kept Doc in, and Rook was surprised to see him sitting up, looking at him. Doc had a soft smile, one that made Rook's heart melt as he stumbled to get to his bedside.

"Y-You're okay..I'm so happy...You're okay..", he stuttered out as he wrapped his arms around the wounded man, only to feel him wince and gently return the embrace.

"I'm alright, Julien..But please be gentle, I am still hurting..", Doc's voice was soft and hoarse, his fingers ran gently through Rook's hair.

"I'm sorry.. I didn't protect you.. I couldn't protect you..", he broke down, beginning to cry as he couldn't find more ways to say he was sorry.

"Hush, hush.. You cannot always be there to protect me.. I am supposed to defend myself too.. I was just helping the hostage and looked up.. I thought it was you, but it wasn't.", he frowned slightly, shifting so that Rook could sit on the side of the bed.

Rook climbed onto the bed and laid down, pulling Doc to lay his head on his chest, holding him protectively. It was his time to be the comfort, he began to run his own finger's through Gustave's hair, careful not to make him uncomfortable. He listened quietly to the heart monitor that gave out a steady rhythm. He would never forgive himself for what had happened, he promised himself he would work twice as hard if it meant Gustave's safety.

"Julien..", Doc mumbled tiredly, lifting head to look up for just a second, but he was to tired to keep his head up.

"Yes, mon amour?", Rook looked down, pausing his movements.

"Thank you for keeping pressure on my wound.. I would have bled out if you didn't.. I wouldn't have gotten to see you smile again and that hurts me..", Doc choked out and shook his head, trying to hold back his own tears.

"Gustave.. Do not cry.. You are alive, you made it.. I'm here and you're here... We're both here... You'll get better and we'll be a team again.", Rook soothed him quietly and kept him close, not wanting to ever leave him again.

"Julien.. I don't care how grumpy or upset I seem... Please... Please always do that stupid smile.. Promise..", he looked up once again, his eyes peircing into Rook's, neither of them looking away.

"I promise, Gustave, you will always have my stupid smile, no matter what.", Rook nodded, putting on the very smile Doc adored, he watched as a small smile graced Doc's own lips.

"Good..", Doc yawned, it was late and the medications were taking over him. He was out within minutes, his face peaceful, a nice thing to see.

"Sleep well, mon amour, I will always be here..", Rook mumbled softly, shifting off the bed so that Doc was laying like he should.

He checked out of the med bay and walked back to his quarters, his steps heavy with exhaustion. He opened and closed the door as quietly as he could so as not to wake the other GIGN operators, then stripped off his uniform and climbed into bed. He gave a loud sigh before settling in, hugging a pillow when he wanted to be hugging Gustave. Tomorrow would be a better day, he promised himself. He settled down and closed his eyes, slowing his breathing until he fell into slumber.

Tomorrow would be a better day.

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Special thanks to afrenchdisaster for giving me permission to write a little drabble/story based of of it, but when I saw it I knew I wanted to write about it since I had a request for Doc/Rook anyways

#doc x rook #rook x doc #gustave doc kateb #julien rook nizan #gustave kateb #julien nizan #one shot #this hurt me to write honestly #but its okay because they are okay

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