yeah yeah times new roman is the standard or whatever but have you ever considered that serif fonts suck and should be illegal wherever i am forever with no exceptions?

Vicious

Part IX

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, all characters are adults.

Words: 1574.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V |  Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

________

You didn't know what else to say, feeling ashamed. Who cared about your family circumstances? Definitely not Steve Rogers, a man you met just a couple of weeks ago and who knew nothing about you. Why did you say something like that in the first place?

You didn't wanna look at his face and see him feeling guilty because he didn't know how to comfort you. You didn't need to be comforted. You didn't need anything at all. It was just a simple cold, right?

Despite that, you suddenly started talking from beneath your blankets, "I have a younger brother. When he was born, we found out he was having severe asthma. His childhood was terrible, he had constantly been sick, I remember him being in and out the hospital all the time. Of course, because of his condition, my parents spent most of the time with him. He was just a little sick kid."

You hated yourself for talking, for showing something to Steve he shouldn't have known because he wasn't your friend, but you couldn't force yourself to stop.

"On the other hand, I am lucky to have good health. I didn't really got very sick, so, well, I didn't need help like my brother. So, I'm used to taking of myself. I'm a big girl, I don't need my mom to dance around me just because I have a cold."

Of course, you didn’t. You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, and even of Steve didn't show up, you'd be alright by yourself. You'd just take your acetaminophen, and then everything would be ok.

You kept silent, staring at the inside of the blanket and wishing Steve would just disappear, leaving you to your misery. You didn’t see his face, and you were glad you didn't. What he must think about you? That you were craving for his attention like a spoiled kid? Shit, it was so embarrassing. You were an adult, for goodness sake!

"I don't know about you, but when I had a flu sachet, it would make me fall asleep really quick. And when I was feeling sleepy, I would start thinking about the things I loved most because I hoped I would see them in a dream." Instead of feeling ever more ashamed, you listened to Steve's soft voice and thought you were lucky it was him being here with you now. "It actually worked, and I have been having my best dreams when I was asleep, sick. What are the things you love most?"

Surprised, you looked up at him and saw the most gentle expression on a face of a guy you had ever met. Why did he look at you like that? Why was there no pity on his face? Why was it making you cry like you were a ten year old kid? Before he could see anything, you hid beneath the blanket again and kept silent for a couple of moments to calm down.

"I love lemon pies my grandma used to make me, and her garden. She had tomatoes and cabbage and strawberries that smelled like summer. I loved watering them nearly every day because I thought I was a little forest witch who lived in her pretty cottage in the woods."

You didn't know why you were telling him this, but Steve has a strange effect on you. Or was it cold? You had no idea, but it didn’t really matter. All you were thinking about was the way fresh tomatoes smell when you'd leaned down to water them, and the sound of bees flying above strawberry's flowers. Your grandma was taking care of her cabbage - a very capricious guest in her garden - and you could hear her working, cursing grandpa for making the patches too wide in that funny voice of hers. Then she'd stood up, wiped the sweat with the back of her hand, and called you to come back to the cottage because if was time for dinner. You'd run to wash your hands in a barrel of water near the big apple tree when grandma didn't see, and soon you were sitting with her, eating her famous cabbage soup and then having a piece of a lemon pie because you worked so well today.

You could almost feel the taste on the tip of your tongue.

By the time you woke up, Steve was long gone: it was the middle of the night, and instead of him you saw a thermos with a still warm chicken soup on a chair, waiting for you. He sent you a message that you could call him at any time of the day - or night - and that he wanted you to have a bit more sleep to get better. After you had a few more sips of his soup, you fell asleep again, feeling warm and fuzzy.

_______

The weekend went fast. It was the first time in several years you spent so much time in bed. Steve kept appearing at your door from time to time with a new bags of food despite you telling him you had your own, but he always insisted you should it something fresh and warm. Surprisingly, he wasn't the only one at your door: Thor suddenly showed up with his whole team, bringing you notes for the upcoming exams they collected altogether, apparently. Loki sent you a message if you needed anything, and Peter left contacted you on Instagram, leaving you links to games you could play so you wouldn't feel bored. Even Bucky gave you a call, asking if he could come and give you a few packs of Neo Citran for your cold, but you kindly refused: Steve literally brought you a yearly supply of this.

It was strange. Of course, when you were in high school, your friends grew worried about you when you had been sick, but there was nothing else to it. Wasn't it always like this? Nobody came to see you. Nobody brought you soup or gave you meds or anything. Despite feeling embarrassed, you realized you actually liked it when somebody was close to you like that. It was comforting seeing Steve popping up and not having to worry about how pretty you looked: he laughed when he saw you getting all shy because you were in your pyjamas. He said he definitely didn't expect you laying on your bed in an evening gown.

Before you realized it, you were already getting better. It was just a cold, really. Soon your throat was no longer sore, and while you were still sneezing, your temperature dropped down to normal, so on Monday you were ready to come back to school as planned. Funny enough, you no longer cared if you passed your exams, having 100%. You didn’t talk about it with Steve, but Peter was laughing like crazy about that when you told him.

Funny. They no longer looked so scary to you. They were just a couple of boys, weren't they? Regardless all those scary rumors and stuff, they were just guys. Maybe they were weird and stupid and a little bit scary because you didn't know them, they were still alright. Thor said it to you, didn't he?

Monday was Bucky's day, so, once you were done dressing, he nocked at your door: you were feeling a bit shy, watching him in that leather jacket and torn jeans he kept wearing the whole year around, apparently. Barnes looked like a teenage girl's dream. He smelled like cigarettes - although he said he was trying to quit - and pinewood. Just like Thor, he liked to skip classes he didn't enjoy much, but he was smart enough to pass the exams. Funny enough, he had a motorcycle.

Again, you wondered how come girls weren't coming from a city on a bus just to go see him.

"Are you sure you’re feeling better?" He asked you softly. "You can stay home today."

"No, no, I'm perfectly alright, thank you! How are you?" Smiling, you closed the door and hid the key in your bag.

"I'm good, thank you."

He didn't speak much, but as you walked in silence, you thought it was comforting - not talking at all and feeling good about it. While Bucky looked like a scary biker, in fact, his calm and friendly demeanor only helped you relax around him. Besides, it was funny how students seemed to give him way whenever they saw him, and you thought if Steve was the King, then Bucky was the Knight.

Before you went into the your classroom, he suddenly stopped you, "Listen, I wanted to say I have your stuff."

You blinked, "What stuff?"

You didn't give him any of your stuff. Actually, after Steve gathered you all in the student council room, you only met Bucky this morning for the first time.

"The stuff those freaks took. Your... your clothes, I mean." He muttered under his breath, and you gaped at him.

Your underwear. He found your bra and panties those guys took from your room.

"Wait... how?" Staring at Bucky who, apparently, was feeling a bit embarrassed talking about it, you thought how on Earth he got those things.

There was only one way he could, right?

"Bucky, was it you who beat those guys?"

It took him a couple of seconds to turn his face to you and then sigh, "Yes, it was me."

_________

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I thought my mind is angst free but le nope, here I am. Hazel, my precious ray of sunshine, may I ask for some angst torture with Sanji and Zoro (not poly, lmao) and fem s/o who hid severe medical condition from them. One day it suddenly gets much worse and Chopper is not available; boys can't do nothing much than watching her fading away in their arms and begging her to not go where they can't follow (ah yes, lotr reference). But happy ending plz, if possible T^T Thank you UwU

Some Angst for Bas! :Hellmo: I tried not to angst it up too much, and they ended up about double as long as I intended. I hope you like them and thank you for your insane patience! Sending you love! 

Having an S/O who hides a severe medical condition HC - Sanji, Zoro 

2nd person. Female reader. tw: illness, mentions of illness, light angst 

Sanji 

Sanji is quite observant. He keeps an eye on his lover, and he knows you better than you sometimes know yourself. So he definitely knows something is up: the visits to chopper, the sudden breaks you need to take in the middle of chores and training. But you never talk about it and he respects your privacy. 

No matter how much he wants to help you, no matter how much he really wishes you would open up to him about whatever is going on, he knows that you want to tackle this by yourself. 

That does not mean he lets you do everything by yourself all the time. He finds many ways to help you around, disguising it under his gentleman attitude. 

He cooks you special dishes that are filled to the brim with all kinds of vitamins and other nutritional elements that will help you keep healthy and strong, even though he has absolutely no idea what part of your health is the one that is stopping you. 

He carries everything that might be too heavy for you, not wanting to over stress you. Even if you’re plenty strong, he will just say that it’s a men’s duty to carry his lady’s stuff. 

Even when you're training, he will bring refreshments, make sure you take plenty of breaks, draw you a nice bath after and massage any aching muscles if you will allow him. 

Sanji is near you when you have the worst episode of your illness you’ve ever had. You feel weak, everything hurting, and you just collapse in the middle of the deck. Sanji would catch you right before you fall, worriedly asking you what you need, but he realizes you’re already unconscious and cannot reply. 

Chopper is out with some other crewmates to get supplies, so Sanji is immediately panicking, torn in between leaving you on the ship to go get Chopper as fast as possible and staying with you in hopes the others will return soon. He eventually settles for the first, deciding that your chances are best when Chopper is involved. 

He picks you up and carries you to your bed so at least you’re in a comfortable spot, but when he turns to leave, there’s a soft tug at his sleeve and he can hear you very faintly whispering to stay. Your eyes are barely open and you’re wincing with every little sound and movement around you. He kneels down next to the bed, tears now falling freely as he begs you to stay with him and not to give up. Chopper will be there soon. 

You have fallen unconscious again when Chopper returns. Sanji races outside the moment he hears them arrive and drags Chopper over to the room, explaining as quickly as he can. He insists on staying with you as Chopper looks after you. 

Luckily, Chopper is already aware of your situation, and he’s able to help you swiftly. 

You wake up not that much later, still in loads of pain, Sanji holding your hand as tight as he can without adding to the pain.

“Please y/n…. let me help next time”

Zoro

Zoro notices something is off rather fast… but much like Sanji, he is not one to pry. You tell him you’re fine, he will believe you.. up until a certain point that is. 

For the most time, you can just dismiss him by telling him there is nothing seriously wrong, trying not to worry him, and assure him that you can handle it. After all, Zoro won’t needlessly hurt your pride by being overbearing or smothering you when it’s unnecessary. 

He’s still picking up on some cues. Just because Zoro is pretty routine-oriënted, he will notice it when things are out of place or not going like they should. On days where he notices you’re struggling, he will pull you with him for an extra nap, bother Sanji for some extra healthy food… the small things that let you know that he cares, he just doesn’t want you to be bothered or feel bad that he’s helping.

He’s training when he hears a loud crash, and even though it’s not that rare for things to fall and break on the ship, he has to do a double take, seeing as the only ones on the ship are you, Usopp and him. The latter usually just spends time tinkering away, and wasn’t supposed to emerge from his room until an emergency happened or the others returned. Weights are swiftly dropped as he shouts down from the crow’s nest. 

“Y/n? Everything all right there?” 

When there is no response, he rushes to where you are supposed to be. He knows you’re not one to joke, especially since you very well know how overbearing he can get when there’s serious danger involved. 

He finds you on the floor, a little scrape bleeding from the fall, but otherwise you seem unharmed. 

He almost lets out a sigh in relief when he notices tears silently streaming over your face. Your expression is contorted, laced with pain and he feels his heart sink all the way into his shoes when he rushes over, easily picking you up and cradling you, his actions a little more rough than intended, only because he just wants to make sure you’re helped as soon as possible. 

You let out a yelp as he picks you up. It’s loud, but not as intense as he’s used to from you. You’re visibly weak and he curses himself mentally for not saying anything earlier today or staying with you when he noticed today was another one of your ‘off days’. 

“Y/n, what’s wrong? What can I do?” 

You open your mouth a couple of times, but find that even talking has become hard, if not excruciating, and you can barely choke out “Chopper”. 

Zoro holds you as close as he can without crushing you or causing you any more pain, and yells out to Usopp to hold the fort. He needs to get you to the doctor, ASAP.

His sense of direction is not really helping, but fortunately, the rest of the crew doesn’t take too long to hear of a ‘green haired man frantically looking for his crew while practically running in circles’. 

The rest of the crew finds you guys relatively fast, but by then you’re slipping in and out of consciousness. Zoro had been cursing about them getting away, and simultaneously kept talking to you, panic apparent in his voice as your answers are incoherent or altogether absent. 

Chopper, as the only one aware of you condition, manages to help you faster than any other doctor would be able to, but you’re going to need some extra medicine and rest for letting it come this far. 

Once he gets the ok, Zoro carries you back to the ship, ignoring all your protests. He will see it as his personal responsibility to make sure you rest and get your meds in time. 

He kisses your forehead as he puts you down on your bed to rest once you’re back at the ship.

“Sorry y/n, some burdens cannot be carried alone. I will help, even if you don’t want me to.”

Allergies

Requested by mytasteinmusic on Ao3

The humans were throwing food. Why? Well, Kahpi sighed, it was anyone’s guess really. For whatever reason, they were making some sort of game out of it. One human would grab a small piece of food and toss it high up into the air and another human would attempt to catch it in their mouths and eat it. For the cleaning team’s sake, she was glad all the foods that were being thrown seemed to be fairly self-contained and held together well even after being thrown. The foods in question started out as colorful candies the humans had brought along with them from Earth. They had been searched and scanned for possible allergens and dangers they could pose to other races that would be on the ship. Kahpi, as head Food Safety Inspector, had overseen the process herself. Some human food could, after all, cause anything from slight to severe damage and trauma to digestive and respiratory tracts of different species that also worked on the ship. This meant that foods that were only safe for human consumption had to be stored and prepared separately from other food supplies, or if they were exceptionally dangerous, banned altogether. The colorful candies being thrown around now, for instance, were safe to be on the ship, but under the multi-colored exteriors was a concoction that contained theobromine and caffeine. The humans called it chocolate. They loved the stuff and used it in a wide array of foods. It was safe for them in modest amounts, and as long as they kept it to themselves, they were allowed to have it. Once the colorful candies were all consumed, and dropped pieces taken care of, the humans moved on to throwing other foods. Pretty much whatever they had in their meal: diced fruit, ripped bits of bread crusts, chunks of vegetables, etc.

Kahpi kept her eyes on their antics as she also made her rounds in the ship’s cafeteria. As boisterous as they could be, their games were no reason for her to fall behind in her own duties. It was, as the saying goes, not her spilled bucket of eesaling to guard. If they wanted to goof off on their own time, that wasn’t her business. As long as it didn’t cause harm to anyone else. Usually by sharing their food with other races without clearance or supervision, they were fine. In any case, it seemed that their food throwing gag was starting to die down. They returned to eating their meals normally, laughing and joking around loudly with each other as was the norm. Kahpi was thankful that few of the crewmembers that regularly spent their time with the humans were not of races that could boast similar skill of great aim and power while throwing. That would help deter others to pick up the food-throwing in the future. Just as Kahpi was wrapping up and about to leave, she overheard a disturbance from the humans. They all started speaking or shouting at once. “Dude! What the- what’s happening to your face?” “Oh my gosh!“ "What’s going on? I think I’m going to throw up!” “Carlton, you’re breaking out!” Kahpi looked over to the humans were now starting to rise from their seats, onsets of panic starting to creep into their body language. “Are you allergic to something?” “I don’t think so?” “What is it? What have you eaten?” “I don’t know, I’ve never had allergies before!” “Oh frewan, some of the m&ms had peanuts! Are you allergic to nuts?” “I don’t know! I used to eat peanut butter all the time as a kid!” “Could it be the nuts?” “I don’t know, I don’t know what else it could have been!” “Chris, you have allergies, right? What do we do?!” Alarmed by the humans’ reaction, Kahpi, as well as several others that were in the cafeteria, approached cautiously to see if any aid could be given. Whatever could spook a group of humans so badly must be dealt with quickly and conclusively. As she approached, one of the humans, Chris, ran off and disappeared down a nearby corridor. She paused. Was he fleeing? And if so, what from? Should she flee as well? The other humans weren’t running, at least not yet. Instead, they were gathering around Human Carlton, who, now that Kahpi had gotten closer and could see more clearly, did not look like he was well. His skin, usually the color of a richly tanned deygbah hide, looked splotchy and red. His eyes were unusually watery and swollen. In fact, everything about him was starting to look just a little bit swollen in parts. Kahpi’s second stomach dropped. Carlton was going to die! “Come on guys, back up a bit, give him some room!” Human Macy, the newest human to the crew, had everyone shuffle back so Carlton could lie down. Kahpi was just about to bolt down one of the corridors nearby that she knew would lead her to the med bay, in her panic forgetting that she had her comm device, when Chris returned from where he’d run off to, carrying a short cylindrical container tightly in his fist. Everyone parted in the small gathering crowd to let him in. He slid on his knees and stopped right next to Carlton who was now lying on his back. With a pull at the wider, blue-colored end, Chris plunged the device into his companion’s thigh. Kahpi could hear a small click and Chris held the device firmly in place for a few tiks. As he pulled the device away, Chris looked up and his eyes met with Kahpi’s. “Get a medic here now,” He said calmly but with an intensity that snapped Kaphi out of her trance. Within a few moortiks, Medics Jeebarul and Minti were loading Carlton onto a stretcher and taking him back to the med bay, Chris and Kahpi were allowed to follow. Later, after a discussion with the humans, medics, and the captain, Kahpi learned that it was indeed a food allergy that had caused this whole mess. The colorful candies that had been okayed for human consumption were to blame, particularly the ones that contained an Earth food called “peanuts.” Alarmed at the news, Kahpi pulled up the files she had access to on the humans. Compared to other species on the ship, and throughout the entire galaxy for that matter, humans had a relatively short list of known allergens. Of the humans on the ship, her records only stated that Humans Chris and Ricardo had allergies. Shellfish and animal dander, respectively. Worried that she had failed in her duty of food safety, she scanned Carlton’s files over and over. “I don’t understand,” her voice trembled slightly as the captain frowned at her, “There’s nothing here. No known allergens.” The captain’s fins pulled back tightly against his face. “Then what happened? What was all that?” Chris, who had returned from helping the medics get Carlton settled, responded, “We’re pretty sure it was the peanuts. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” “But my records-” “Say that he doesn’t have a peanut allergy, yeah,” Chris interrupted, “but that just means he hasn’t been tested for it. He’s had no need to. He didn’t know. He didn’t use to be allergic to peanuts, but now as an adult, he is. Somehow, he hasn’t eaten anything with peanuts or peanut oil or whatever for years, so unluckily, he had no idea he was allergic.” He paused. “Or maybe it was lucky? I mean, we had an epipen on hand and he’s okay now, and now he knows so… I guess it was kind of lucky?” “What do you mean he wasn’t allergic before?” Kahpi sputtered. “That doesn’t make sense! How is he allergic now?” Chris shrugged. “It happens sometimes. You can develop an allergy to something later in life that used to be okay. No one really knows why.” Both Kahpi and the captain stared at him for a moment. The captain was the first to regain composure. “Well, I suppose it was fortunate that the medics had a supply of these… ‘epi-pens’ stocked.” He hesitated a moment in thought and then nodded to the cylinder that was still in Chris’ hand. “I suppose we better request more of those, just in case. What exactly do they do?” Chris lifted the ‘epipen’ up for better observation. “It’s got a dose of epinephrine in it. It’s adrenaline, so it constricts blood vessels and speeds up the heart so blood pressure rises and it helps relax muscles in your airway so you can breathe again.” They both stared at him. After an uncomfortable silence, Chris added, “It’s not very fun. But it keeps you alive until doctors can help.” The captain had a few more questions, both for Chris and for the medics when they came back out. All the while, Kahpi had time to try to ponder on and digest all the new information and implications this would bring to her job. Allergens were a thing among many species, yes. That’s why she had the job she had. However, few, if any that she could think of right now, had allergies that were caused by foods FROM THEIR OWN PLANET OF ORIGIN! Not only that, but some allergens were safe to eat for one human, but not another?! Where is the reason for that? What evolutionary purpose could that possibly serve for a species? Or was it just some weird fluke, one of so so many, that humans just came with? She buried her face in her hands. Well, this whole thing was going to throw a bit more complications to her job now. Apparently even human food wasn’t always safe for humans. Go. Flargin’. Figure.

smol hc: Being the only RK models, CyberLife used some of Markus's base code in Connor's program. Emotions & empathy for social integration, and also some caretaking protocols in case emergency repairs/first aid are needed on the job (IE reactivating the Traci at the Eden Club, or diagnosing & "treating" Hank's ethylic coma LOL). I love the idea of Con getting to take care of Markus for once if he gets injured doing Rebel Leader Things™

🥺 Anon. I love this HC so much. Connor having some caretaker protocols is...yes. Absolutely. The jury is out and they find the defendant correct.

___

When Markus limped into his office, practically hopping on one foot every other step, all he wanted to do was bulldoze through his paperwork so he could go home and forget today ever happened. He’d taken a pretty hard hit earlier when a counter protester at their rally thought it was just a capital idea to hurl a brick into the crowd. Much more surprising than the sudden brick to the knee, though, was the (almost terrifying in it’s rapidness) reaction from the crowd. The guy was immediately apprehended and cursed out by human supporters and androids alike. It was wild. His bodyguards barely had to do any work. Markus swore he heard a human yell that thirium shots were on them after this, amidst a chorus of responding cheers. Nothing brings people together like a communal ass whoopin’? Apparently??

God he really hoped that human didn’t drink any thirium. Markus still had nightmares about Leo accidentally mixing up his blue raspberry jello shot with his drink, nevermind the fact that thirium consumables smelled like laundry detergent and poison as purposeful deterrents.  

“Are you sure you don’t want to go see the technician?” said Simon who, as his designated babysitter while North and Josh handled the fallout of the rally, followed into his office after him. 

“Naaahh,” Markus drawled, waving the hand that was grasping a pen as if he could wave away the problem altogether. Not for the first time he wished the government would catch up with the rest of the world and just go paperless. Reading over and signing these tedious documents would be a lot less painful to do if they would just let him download it into his mind like a sensible person would. “I barely feel it, plus my Regenerative Program has already kicked in. By the time I get to the med bay it’ll probably be all fixed.”

“Uh huh,” Simon unconvinced at him. “How long till you’re repaired.”

Markus pulled up the damage report in his HUD. “About six…”  he stared at the readings for a moment longer and, much to Simon’s chagrin, went back to doing his paperwork.

“...six what?”

“Bahhh,” Markus waved his hand again unhelpfully. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to make this sound better. Hopefully, his innate charm would cover for his trash convincing. “Ya know…”

“No. I do not know. What is it? Six minutes?”

Markus grunted.

“Hours!?”

Markus slumped lower in his chair. “Mmmhumph.”

“....Markus,” Simon started in a low warning voice. “If it’s days so help me I’m going to take out your other knee - ”

The door slammed open, startling Simon out of his threat, which was definitely about to escalate to more than Markus’ other knee once he found out it was six weeks. 

“Connor!”

“Good morning Simon,” Connor greeted briskly, expression stormy as he made a beeline for Markus like the man possesses on a mission that he usually was. He was swinging a rather large, rather ominous looking tool box with a red medical cross painted on it. Markus didn’t even stop doing his paperwork. He knew the drill by now. “I heard about what happened and came as fast as I could.”

“Wow, the news has only been out for an hou - wait. Weren’t you in Ohio?”

“Yes. I would have been here sooner but traffic was heavier than usual and the family driving the Escalade was surprisingly insistent on going the speed limit. A majority of police officers won't cite drivers for going between 1-5 miles per hour over,” Connor rolled his eyes and scoffed, like he didn’t follow some laws down to the letter while blatantly disregarding others at any given time. 

“Wha - did you hitchhike all the way here!?”

“Oh no of course not! There is a 46% chance of violent or criminal conduct committed against people who hitchhike.”

“Then how - ”

“I was sitting on top of the aforementioned Escalade.”

Markus gave him his best ‘why are you like this’ stare while Simon gaped in perplexion. “You didn’t need to car surf just to come all the way down here, hon.”

“After hearing about the state you were in, with all my love in the world I violently disagree.”

Markus sighed like a man whose knee wasn’t sparking and twitching at this very moment. And...hm. Maybe it did ache. A teeny bit. Whatever. He was still of the opinion that rubbing some dirt on it and a little stretching was enough to get him through the rest of the day.

“Well, maybe you can help me convince him to go to the technician,” said Simon.

“No need.” Without preamble, Connor plopped the heavy med(?) box on the floor and gently lifted Markus’ leg, hiking up his pants up to the thigh. As he examined it, intense as any jeweler examining a rare diamond, he hooked the back of a nearby stool with his foot and pulled it over, resting the leg on it. Markus neither struggled nor visually reacted; just kept stringently doing his paperwork like nothing was going on.

When Connor pulled out a collapsible creeper seat and rolled under Markus’ leg as if he were a mechanic working on a car, Simon went from passive observer to concernedly going around the desk to see what all the RK800 was doing.

“H-hey wait a second! Connor - it’s a pretty serious wound, maybe we should let the professionals handle it!”

Connor rolled slightly from under Markus with a large drill in his hand and an unimpressed look on his face. Surprisingly, Simon was not reassured by this in the slightest. “I assure you Simon that I am fully equipped with the latest caretaking protocols now could you please pass me that monkey wrench.”

“What seriously- UHH! I mean...” Realizing how insulting that sounded, Simon hurried to hand Connor the tool, clearing his throat. “I didn’t realize you had such uh...versatile programing.”

“It’s the same base code used in mine, actually,” Markus added, using his free hand to pat Connor’s soothingly when he heard him grumbling things like “I can do more than kill things” and “No one has been irreparably maimed in my Knitting Circle”. Damn right honey, Markus thought, Greta and Patrica have had nothing but nice things to say about you’re wool socks.

“Oh riiiiiight. You two are from the same model line, I…” Markus could practically Jedi Sense Simon about to say ‘I forget that sometimes’, so he looked up at the PL600 and shook his head firmly with glaring eyes. Simon, sheepish, held up his hands placatingly and held his tongue.

“The code...has been streamlined to cater more towards field and emergency repairs,” Connor admitted reluctantly, but then quickly added, “but combined with my own personal research outside of my programming, it is no less effective.”

Eager to keep his foot out of his mouth, Simon merely nodded in agreement. He couldn’t, however, keep the growing alarm showing from his face as Connor pulled more and more absurd tools out of his box (the electric saw was particularly disconcerting), and started contorting around Markus so that he wasn’t interfering with his work in ways that at first, seemed normal, but were steadily becoming more on par with a cirque du soleil act. That alarm changed into bewilderment when he tilted Markus’ chair back, put a car jack under his desk so that it tilted forward at the perfect writing level, put a pillow behind his head and a fizzy thirium drink (complete with a fun crazy straw) in his mouth. His standard office setup now suddenly a mini spa. 

When Connor started working a polisher to his knee Markus practically melted back into the chair. Oh that sneaky bastard. He knew Markus wouldn’t be able to get anything done by administering the android equivalent of a deep tissue massage. 

Bewilderment now firmly settled on amusement, and thoroughly reassured that his friend/boss was in good hands, Simon started to take his leave. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it Connor. If you need back up to make sure this guy takes it easy we’re all on stand by.”

Connor nodded. “I will escort him home for further recuperation as soon as I have finalized his repairs.”

Markus, eyes closed as he happily sipped at his Particle-Colada, grunted in response to Simon’s farewell. He was a little annoyed that everyone was treating him like a toddler over his small injury, and a little more annoyed that Simon had felt the need to hover around Connor, as if he were bracing for the RK800 to do something violent, before trusting his good intentions. Granted, Markus (begrudgingly) could admit that Connor’s methods certainly weren’t...standard caretaker protocols, and that his bedside manner was well...much like the android himself; aggressive, confusing, and, most importantly, well-meaning.

“‘Can’t go home,” Markus murmured around his straw, very convincingly and not at all like he was about to ascend to a higher plane. “Still got work to do.”

“Hmm. Do you now?” With a fond, humoring, smile, Connor cranked up the power on the polisher. Markus swore his soul was straight vibin’.

Yea, actually. Maybe work could wait till tomorrow.

Date Night

Saru x chubby!Reader

Summary: You are a medical officer on the USS Discovery and you haven’t had a date night with your boyfriend in over a month (takes place season 2, post-Obol for Charon)

You knew something was wrong when Tracey came over to your work station with a sympathetic smile. She was clutching a PADD to her chest and her footsteps were purposeful but lacked their normal sense of urgency. She watched quietly as you healed a cut on Linus’ hand and laughed at a few of the Saurian’s jokes, waiting for you to have a moment alone because she knew how angry you were about to get. 

Once you had sent Linus off with a wave and a warning to be more careful, Tracey wordlessly hands you the PADD and prepares herself for the aftermath.

You met Saru on your first day on the USS Discovery. He had made it a point to meet every member of the crew over which he would be second in command. It was sweet, professional, considering Captain Lorca never gave two shits about anyone who wasn’t his bridge crew. You were busy setting up your work station in the med bay when you saw him meander his way over to you. He was tall, but compared to you he was a giant, and you had to tilt your head up just to make eye contact with those stunning eyes. He gave you a slight smile, introduced himself, and asked some practiced questions about your position, your history in Starfleet, etc. After you had given your answers and were suitably smitten with his kind eyes and giant, gentle hands, he had moved on to introduce himself to Hugh before you could make that vital first personal connection. You had tried not to look too heartbroken, of course, he was just being polite and was eager to meet everyone on the ship. You never even got a chance to ask him anything about himself, you were just assuming that he would be perfect boyfriend material. How stupid of you. 

But you kept running into each other in the halls and the cafeteria. It seems you made quite an impression on the Kelpien because he always chose take his meals by your side and, on the extremely rare occasions where he took a day off, he would try to align his breaks with yours. You tried not to get too excited, really, but he ended being just as tender and darling as you had expected after that first meeting. 

And apparently he thought you were just as enthralling, because after all that business with traveling to another universe and ending a war was said and done, he had nervously approached you about joining him for some shore leave in Paris.

“I would love to, my friend,” you had said.

“Oh,” he had mumbled.

“Something wrong?”

“I was hoping we would be going as... more than friends.” It was sweet and corny and you’re pretty sure he got the line from Tilly. But you were elated that you could finally call the Kelpien yours.

But you haven’t had a date night in over a month. Your shifts haven’t been lining up lately. You always seem to have nightly rounds and he is always working during the day, taking nights off at your aggressive insistence. It’s certainly not appropriate for either of you to take some shore leave during an inter-galactic crisis. But... your days off haven’t lined up in months either, which is what you find strange. You tried to line them up with his, but at some point in the last month he just decided not to take any days off at all. It was strange. And hurtful.

At first you had been angry about it, particularly at Pike for keeping you away from each other and working your boyfriend to the bone. But in the last two weeks your self-conscious mind started to wander... Maybe he was avoiding you. He was practically a co-captain at this point so he had to have some control over the scheduling. And it’s not like you were dating him for the special. treatment but, you wanted special treatment. You just wanted to spend one night cuddled with your boyfriend, talking to him in person instead of over your PADD or communicators. But the universe didn’t seem to want that for you.

Or maybe he didn’t want that for you.

Tracey had expected you to vent angrily to her about how much you missed your boyfriend, like you had every other time. But this time you just sadly shook your head and went back to work. 

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” she says after a while, trying to coax something, anything from you.

“It’s alright.”

“I’m sure it’s just a run of bad luck, Starfleet bureaucracy and all that--”

“Tracey he is Starfleet bureaucracy.” You take a deep breath, trying to reign in your emotions. “Do you think... Do you think he’s avoiding me?”

“Oh, (Y/N), no. Why would you think that?”

“I just... I don’t know. I just feel like I’m not a priority for him anymore. I’ve tried to rearrange my shifts for him but now he’s just not taking breaks altogether. Do you think I’ve done something wrong?” Tracey gives you a sympathetic look but her eyes tell you that she’s at a loss.

“Let’s get a snack.”

“It’s not my break yet--” She grabs your hand and pulls you out of med bay. 

Tracey plops a hot fudge sundae in front of you. You quietly pick up a spoon and do your very best not to cry into your ice cream. During your walk to the cafeteria you had quietly told her more about how you were feeling. How much you missed cuddling with him, how you missed spending nights in his quarters surrounded by plants because your bed was too small for him, how you just missed him. 

“He’s a better cuddler than you’d think,” you sadly giggle. Tracey smiles hopefully, but you continue to sniffle and stir your fudge. 

“I don’t know, Trace. Maybe... Maybe he’s just bored with me and he’s too nice to tell me.”

“Oh (Y/N), I’m sure that’s not it.”

“Yeah, well, it’s something. He used to bend over backwards to spend time with me and now it’s like I have a plague.” You look down at yourself then back at the sundae then back at your thicker legs and chubby stomach.

“(Y/N) stop,” Tracey knows what you’re thinking before you can even vocalize it. “You’re beautiful. It has nothing to do with that.”

“He used to think so too,” you mumbled. “Y’know, this all started after his vahar’ai. Maybe that changed the way he thinks about me?” You look up at her with watery, helpless eyes. “I just don’t know,” you cry out right at the moment the doors slide open and in walks in the man of hour. The minute he walked in, arms swaying and uniform perfectly pressed -- God, he looked great in that uniform, no stop, you’re mad at him -- he spotted you. He beamed his “I’m happy to see you but also I’m at work” smile and strolled over, not yet noticing the red rings around your eyes.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Pollard. (Y/N),” your name is said with such tenderness that you almost forget about your earlier anger and sadness. It’s horrible. You’re in so deep you might as well have drowned in him.

“Good afternoon, commander,” Tracey says. You open your mouth to respond but the words vanish from your throat and are replaced by a thick, heavy knot. No, no, you should be angry. You should be furious. The man you love and was certain loved you back has been ignoring you and that is not going to fly.

You stand up and maneuver your way out of the cafeteria quickly, before the sobs threatening to leak past lips finally emerge. You miss the completely devastated look on Saru’s face, the way his arms fall meekly to his sides and just dangle there, the wrecked look in his eyes.

You had expected Saru to give you some time alone before coming to find you. But as soon as the doors to your quarters had closed there was a loud banging on them. Not the gentle tone of the doorbell. A banging. Followed by Saru calling out to you. You sniff but tell the computer to open the doors because you’re not quite ready to look at him yet. 

Saru has other plans.

As soon as he is inside and the doors have closed, he is crouched in front of your sniffling form sitting on the bed. Saru very rarely rests on his knees, he likes to be able rise up and run at a moment’s notice. That was the old Saru, the fear-fueled Saru, your Saru. But you are a little flattered that this is so important to him that he is willing to risk being vulnerable on his knees before you.

“My darling.” His hands reach out to touch you but you shake your head and he stills. His eyes look lost.

“(Y/N), what happened? What can I do?” You furiously wipe at your eyes but the tears keep coming. Between your sniffling you barely begin to air what has been bothering you this last month.

“I just... I just miss you. And I never get to see you, you’re always so busy and you never take any breaks or days off just for us to be together. And I just... I want to know what happened? If I did something to make you so unhappy, if you’re mad at me or disgusted by me or--” Saru is a kind man but he is not always so outwardly emotional. Emotions make you vulnerable, susceptible for predators to feed upon your every weakness. It too weeks for Saru to fully grow accustomed to the idea that you did not need him to be the big-strong-Kelpien, that you would love some affection and genuineness from him. He is still shy when it comes to initiating kisses and hugs with you, but not today. 

Before you can continue, he has is mouth over yours, trying to pore all the adoration and reverence he has for you into it. One of his hands comes up gentle hold your thigh while the other cups the back of your head just under the neck, just where your ganglia would have been had you been Kelpien. He loves having a hand there when you’re cuddling and there have even been a few instances where his hand made its way up to that spot while the ship was in danger. You have yet to verify your theory, but you assume it must be a custom from home, a way of saying, you’re safe with me. 

When you final separate you are at a loss for words, in part because you are out of breath and also because you don’t quite know what to say. Saru watches your face carefully, scanning your lost eyes for any sign of hatred or abhorrence towards him.

“How could you think that--” he starts to ask.

“How could I think that? Seriously?” You scooch away from him slightly. “You have been ignoring me, you only message me once or twice a day at this point. This is the first time I’ve actually seen you in weeks.” You cross your arms and scowl at him, effectively quelling any possibility for a kiss like that to reoccur -- even though it did knock your socks off.

“I... I...”

“So have you been ignoring me? Or am I crazy and has this all been in my mind and are you about to leave me because of my craziness?”

“I would not leave you for that.” He gives you a small, weak smile. “And... I’m ashamed to admit it but I have been avoiding you.” Your scowl falls, you can’t keep it up any more. A pathetic sob leaves you and your hand flies up to cover your mouth. 

Saru looks down in shame, unable to look at you in this state. It’s unbearable for him to see you like this, to know that he is the cause, that he had promised to protect you from pain and suffering.

“(Y/N) please, you have to know that it has nothing to do with you.” He desperately wants to hold you, rub circles into your back, sit you on his lap and curl around you.

“Then what is it?” You snap. His eyes are beginning to fill with tears as a hand goes to the back of his neck.

“I’m afraid,” he whimpers. Your eyes widen and you fight with your need to go to and comfort him.

“Of what?”

“I have been going through some changes,” he pauses to gage your reaction, “You know that. But I have been feeling things I have never felt before. I... I’m more aggressive, more argumentative. I broke a PADD a few days ago because I was annoyed, I didn’t even realize I was doing it.” He avoids your eyes, embarrassed. You hang onto every word.

“I’m becoming a new person. And I was worried that this new person,” he gestures to himself, “Is not someone you want to be with.” Oh. Oh. Oh, Saru.

“I did not mean to worry you or to make you feel as though I don’t love you because I do.” You let him grab your hands and he grips them tightly as if they are his tether to the mortal world. “I love you so, so much. I could not bear the thought of losing you or hurting you or--” It’s your turn to catch him in a kiss. He breathes a long sigh of release through his nose as your lips mold perfectly to his. Your hands wriggle their way out of his and cup his head, a privilege reserved only for you. After a few moments you pull away but your hands remain in place. He holds your right hand to him and leans in, grateful that you are still here, that you still love him.

“Why didn’t you just talk to me?” You give him a weak smile.

“I just needed to know what was going on,” he sighs. “I needed to know that I was safe for you to be around, that I had a handle on myself.”

“Well the next time you need to, you come to me,” you command and give his face a slight pat. “You scared me.” 

Guilt and more tears flood his eyes in an instant. He lurches forward and wraps his arms around you, something he has wanted to do the moment he entered your quarters. You lean your head against his shoulder and a hand comes up to rest behind your neck. His other arm wraps around your waist and gives it a comforting squeeze. He starts to whisper small devotions of love and promises to never keep you in the dark again. You melt against him, loving how secure his long arms make you feel. Tentatively, you move one of your own hands from between your bodies and up to the back of his head. Your fingers grace over the skin at the base of his skull where his neck meets it, gaging his reaction. When he continues to whisper and cuddle, you rest your entire palm there. He stills for a moment but it feels like forever as you wait. Will he push you away? Will he lecture you on the basics of Kelpien etiquette?

He pulls you tighter against him. Really, he’s squeezing you. And nuzzling his nose against the top of your head which is new and delightful and perfect.

“I’m going to request a day off each week,” he whispers.

“Really,” you say in mock disbelief. “A whole day?”

“For you, I would take entire years off.”

did [DIAMOND BELLEVUE] chase one of seven sins seven miles down the coast? originally from [NEW YORK CITY], the [22] [CISFEMALE] is a [SUPERMODEL] and has lived in the key for [THREE MONTHS]. [SHE] is suppose to call [THE MEADOWS] home, but there is always temptation lurking between the streets and the ocean that keeps [HER] from heading back. sinners and saints take many forms, but they look like [ZENDAYA] and on their way to make decisions, good and bad, they always seem to sway to the beat of [DRUNK WITH MY FRIENDS BY ASHNIKKO].

Trigger Warnings: eating disorder, bipolar disorder, NAS, drugs, alcohol, underage drugs, underage drinking

- B A S I C -

Full Name: Diamond Nathalia Bellevue Nickname(s): Dime, Dia, Di Age: 22 Occupation: Supermodel, but she also runs her own online beauty and fashion shop. Birthday: December 15th Aries: Sagittarius Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Neighborhood: The Meadows

- F A M I L Y -

Father: Winston Bellevue Mother: Betty Bellevue Siblings: Four older siblings (all adopted) Children: She has a 13-month-old son, named Dante.

- B I O -

She is originally from New York City. Diamond was born to a teenaged drug addict and was willingly put up for adoption the second she was born, only to be adopted a few short months later by Winston and Betty Bellevue - an older couple in their late forties who hailed from London, England. They had just moved to the Upper Eastside of Manhattan a few years prior, along with their four other adopted children. Her father was one of the top cosmetic surgeons in the state of New York, while her mother was a leading patent attorney, so they were often kept quite busy with work. Despite that, their work didn't stop them from being really attentive parents to their children. Dime had a great relationship with her parents, and though her siblings were significantly older than she was, she was still quite close to each and every one of them. That said, there were still some clashing personalities and views of opinion from time to time among the family - they weren't perfect, after all - but overall, everyone got along fine. There weren't any disputes that didn't go unforgiven for too long, which was nice. She had a very serious habit of shutting out her family, or even withdrawing completely for a while, as her work or mental state allowed it to happen...but her family eventually reeled her back in and she was grateful to them for that. They really were her rock, at the end of the day.

Despite being adopted by a wonderful and loving family, that did not erase the damage done to her by her addict birth mother. Dime was born with NAS (Neonatal Abstinence Syndrome) and this is believed to be the leading cause of her overall mental illness and eating disorder and later on, her own drug addiction later down the road.

When she was just toddler she was diagnosed with ARFID - she'd always had an aversion to food, starting from infancy and that never changed as she grew older. It worried her parents, because there were many times when she just wouldn't eat anything for days - refused all kinds of food - and it would end up with her in the hospital, being force-fed through a feeding tube, lest she starve. Her childhood diagnosis of ARFID has since turned into a full blown and rather serious eating disorder that she is still constantly battling to this day. When she turned seven, she was officially diagnosed with Bipolar, which she had apparently inherited from her birth mother also. The diagnose did not come as a huge shock to her family, since Diamond had always had very extreme mood swings - one minute she would be incredibly social and rambunctiously hyper, talking people's ears off and the next she would go very quiet and closed off and sink into a very noticeable depression. So by the time she was in middle school, she was taking meds and seeing therapists frequently, which was...tiresome to say the least. Despite her rather poor mental and physical health, Diamond still led a pretty normal life in Manhattan. She was a major hobbyist, even as a child, and so she was always bouncing from one activity to another, easily bored with things once she'd mastered it. She was always wanting to try and learn new things. Dime took up dancing, vocal lessons, piano and violin lessons, and dabbled in painting, scrapbooking, journaling, photography, needlework...you name it, she's very likely tried it at least once. Her interests in dancing, painting and photography were still strong, especially dancing. At the age of five her parents put her in her first dance class and she fell in love with it. She learned ballet first but quickly grew to love contemporary hip-hop the best and delved right into it. She still danced today, and could have gotten a full ride to Juilliard if it weren't for her modeling career taking off as quickly as it had. She was first introduced to modeling at the age of nine, when she was scouted while in the mall with her mother, and after getting both her parents' consent, Dime was allowed to be signed on to the agency and soon she began work as a child model. Child modeling soon turned into full-time as soon as she turned sixteen and by the age of nineteen she was at the top of her stardom. With her parents’ naively trusting that she would be well looked after, Diamond moved out of her parents’ home at sixteen, once she began making really good money off her modeling, and into an apartment with several other young models - five others, to be precise. So it was crowded, with it being only a three bedroom place, but they managed. The apartment building was full of other models who lived in various apartments, women and men alike, and soon these people because her ‘crowd’.

They partied together, slept together and fasted together. Fights were also not an uncommon occurrence among the models, since the industry was known to be quite competitive and brutally cutthroat. Within her first year of living with the other models, she became heavily addicted to narcotics and alcohol - it was ridiculously easy for her to get addicted, too, since she was predisposed to it from her birth. Sadly, in her new social circle, drugs and alcohol ran rampant at parties, even to the underaged.

It didn’t take long before she stopped taking her meds altogether and stopped going to therapy sessions, and instead Diamond submersed herself deep into her new life. Outside of modeling, when she wasn’t working, she often spent her nights out with her fellow models - partying, drinking, doing drugs and having a lot of fun and a lot of sex and she grew further and further away from her family. A family that she still loved with all of her being but whom she rarely saw anymore. She let the lifestyle pretty much consume her life, to the point where her world became a permanent sort of blur; she was rarely sober. Just shy of turning 20, Diamond met an older man named Ivan, who worked as an up and coming actor. He lived in Los Angeles but had been in New York shooting a film. The two had ended up bumping into each other at a party and had hit it off and began dating shortly thereafter. It would prove to be a very short-lived relationship - lasting only a few months, just long enough for Ivan's film to finish and for Diamond to fall pregnant. Unsurprisingly, Ivan flipped the hell out when she told him the news and he immediately fled back to California with his tail between his legs, wanting nothing to do with the baby. Deep down, Diamond couldn't really blame him - his career was just getting off the ground, same as hers and becoming a parent was a total derailment of his plans. As a young working woman herself, Diamond understood that...but she was no less pleased about it. After four years of living on her own, away from her parents, Diamond returns home - not really knowing what else to do, now that she was knocked up. Thankfully, her family welcomed her back with open arms. No one was anymore thrilled with the news of her pregnancy than she or Ivan were, especially given her obvious addiction to drugs, but they were far more supportive with her decision to keep the baby. However, her parents had insisted that she go to rehab and get clean and get back on her meds, first - for the sake of both her and their unborn grandchild - and though she initially fought them on it, Dime had agreed to go in the end. She ended up spending three months in rehab, getting clean and sober and getting back onto her meds and starting up therapy once again. It was an arduous process, but one she wouldn’t regret. When she welcomed her son, Dante - with a clear mind and a heart filled with nothing but love for the infant boy that she cradled in her arms - she’d felt immense relief that she had listened and had gone through the program. A year later and still clean and living with her parents in Upper Eastside Manhattan, while raising her son and still working full-time as a pretty well known supermodel, Dime made the rash decision to buy a beach house down in Key West, Florida. For her, her son and her family when they needed a place away from hustle and bustle of the city. She loved New York City, it was her home and where she worked, but she didn't want to raise her son there, at least not solely. Their Manhattan residence would always be there as their primary home, but a vacation house in the Keys sounded rather nice.

- W A N T E D   C O N N E C T I O N S -

OLDEST (ADOPTED) SIBLINGS - She is the youngest of five, and all of the Bellevue children are adopted so ANY ethnicity will work. (age ranges: 26-40)

BEST FRIEND(S)

Casual Friend(s)

Bad Influences

CLUB / BAR HOPPING BUDDIES - people she can rely on to always be up for going out drinking / dancing with

DANCING OR WORKOUT BUDDIES - She loves to go dancing (she’s a trained dancer) and working out, either at the gym or going on hikes and long walks, so it would be fun to have someone she can go with.

Fellow Models that she’s possibly worked with in the past.

PHOTOGRAPHERS

Rivals / Enemies / Frenemies

Neighbors of Silverwood Terrace

Babysitter / Nanny / Daycare - for Dante

LOVE INTERESTS AND / FLINGS & ONE-NIGHTERS - She’s got a thing for older men, so it would be fun to explore that a bit, in either a serious or casual fashion.

day 10: fairytale

prompt from: flufftober pairing: felix x ace notes: a soulmate au that went from fluff to angst with a happy ending. not even going to tag this as flufftober bc i failed ;w; warnings: implied violence, child abuse mention, death mention word count: 2760

Felix had always been unsure about a lot of things in his life. Throughout the years, he’d wondered if he’d ever fit in with the other kids, been worried that his grades weren’t good enough to get into the university he wanted, and eventually doubted his skills even as an established architect.

But there was one thing he was absolutely sure of, something that he’d known without question for as long as he could remember:

His soulmate was an asshole.

He was woken up in the middle of the night, again, from a sharp pain in his jaw reminiscent of what he thought getting sucker punched in the face must feel like. He blinked awake and rubbed at the spot, knowing it wouldn’t be any use, praying that this was a one-off—

Pain shot up his spine from his lower back, akin to getting slammed against something, before there was a sharp jab to his stomach that made him choke on a pained gasp.

Felix gritted his teeth and wondered how the hell his soulmate was even still alive after three decades of similar treatment.

It had started when he was just a kid, occasionally feeling phantom pains of a skinned knee or a bump on his forehead; typical mishaps from a lively child. His parents had been overjoyed that he had such a strong connection to his soulmate, telling him most people didn’t feel anything until adulthood, and that his soulmate had to be a very special girl.

But then the sensations progressed to kicks and punches and broken bones, forcing Felix to sometimes skip school and lay in bed while his parents’ worried whispers carried through the door, concerns of abuse and questions of “who could do that to a child?” floating in the air.

Luckily the episodes were few and far between and it became just another one of Felix’s quirks for his peers to resent him for.

When puberty hit and some of his male classmates started complaining about strange cramps in their abdomen, Felix was elated to notice that he felt nothing.

And then one day, he felt the very obvious agony of getting kicked in the nuts, doubling over mid-class and causing some of the girls to glance at him in sympathy.

His soulmate was male, and he didn’t know how to feel about that.

On one hand, he knew he’d never meet him. On the other, he questioned if the universe knew something he didn’t, for the first time considering whether the obvious path of eventually marrying a nice girl from a reputable family and popping out some kids to continue the Richter legacy was right for him.

He never told his anyone about his soulmate’s gender, even going as far as to avoid dating altogether. He wanted to bring up his doubts to his parents, but he didn’t have the courage, and then one fateful summer they were gone.

The loss of his parents made him shove himself back on what he knew they’d considered the “right” path, immersing himself in his studies, forcing himself to practice small talk, and even getting a girlfriend. She was even sympathetic to the occasional days where he just laid in bed and cursed his soulmate for getting into trouble again, petting his hair and reassuring him it’d be over soon. All in all, he’d pieced his life together the best he could, and living with the pain became just another annoyance.

But then it got so much worse.

For an entire year straight, his soulmate seemed to get into fights several times a day, Felix helpless to stop the agony over feeling a rib crack or getting hit over the head with a blunt object. He constantly woke up screaming in pain and had to excuse himself from countless business meetings, his entire life revolving around the pain. His only relief were the strong painkillers and sleep medications the doctors prescribed him, but even they weren’t always enough.

He understood why his girlfriend decided to leave, and he was surprised he didn’t feel anything, maybe because he was too high on the meds to really register anything that wasn’t the pain.

Then, out of the blue, it stopped.

Felix took some time to fully realize it, cautious to get off the meds and then dealing with the withdrawal of them. He wondered if his soulmate had died, and instead of feeling the immense relief the thought should have brought him, he found himself crying.

So he resorted to the dumbest thing he could come up with.

He didn’t know what brought the idea on, never having thought to get revenge for the countless hours of pain his soulmate had caused him, but he had to know.

And that’s why he kicked his bedside table as hard as he could, which made him curse and grab at his foot because he hadn’t realized actual pain was worse than phantom pain!

He laid on the bed clutching his foot for what had to be half an hour. The pain subsided to a dull throb but there was nothing in retaliation, no fist to the face or kick to the ribs like he was used to, and the absence of pain somehow hurt even more. He felt alone in a way he hadn’t since when his parents disappeared, choking out a sob—

“Ow!”

—until pain flared up his uninjured leg and he grasped his foot on reflex.

A laugh bubbled up in his throat through the tears, disbelief over the fact that of course the idiot had used the other foot and now they were both basically immobilized for the next couple of hours.

But whoever the bastard was, at least he was still alive, and Felix knew he wasn’t alone.

Life got so much better after that small incident. Maybe his soulmate realized there was an actual human being sharing his pain, or maybe he’d had a close call after the year of violence that made him somewhat change his ways.

Felix had a business partner now, Lauren, who was way too supportive of his predicament. Even if she would chuckle at him when he was cussing out his troublemaker soulmate while ramming his elbow into the wall to get his point across to the idiot, she never blamed him for having to take a day off or having to step out of a business meeting when it got too much.

And he told her more than he’d ever told anyone, from his soulmate’s gender to the worry he felt after the pain had suddenly stopped, and to their current back-and-forth that was almost playful.

So of course she’d notice when he suddenly blushed furiously as they were sitting on a plane on their way to a conference.

“What’s he doing now?” Lauren asked curiously.

“Apparently a goddamn tiger or something,” Felix hissed through gritted teeth, pinching his arm hard and trying to ignore the sharp sting of nails raking down his back. “Who claws at someone’s back like that?”

Lauren burst into laughter and slapped him on the shoulder, and their combined efforts luckily seemed enough to snap his soulmate out of it and get his partner to stop before Felix imploded from embarrassment.

Felix had never felt anything like that before, the only thing having made it through their bond being immense pain.

In retrospect, he should have realized it was because he was getting closer to his soulmate.

The conference in Las Vegas had been Lauren’s idea, and Felix scrunched his face up in disgust as soon as he took in the gaudy faux luxury of the hotel they were staying in.

“Did they pick this place to kill our inspiration? Or get ideas flowing out of spite?” Felix commented, regarding the ridiculous fake gold fountain in the lobby.

“Be nice,” Lauren chastised, and Felix relented, deciding the least he could do for her was not complain about the trip every five minutes.

But then they met up with the rest of the group of international architects and were dragged to a casino for “optional but recommended team-building” and Felix was just about ready to bash his face against the nearest slot machine over being forced to socialize.

Lauren pulled him aside to let a group of security guards escort a patron out of the establishment, Felix sparing an envious glance at the stranger and wishing he could take his place so he didn’t have to put up with any awful group activities.

“Gentlemen, we can talk about this, sì? I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding—” the man feebly tried to address one of the guards.

“Keep moving!”

And then the man got shoved forward and stumbled to the ground, and Felix’s entire world stopped turning as he realized he felt both the push against his shoulder and his knee hitting the hideous marble floor in time with what was happening in front of him.

“Stop!” he was yelling before he even realized, his feet carrying him towards the scene.

“Felix!?” Lauren called behind him, but he didn’t even turn around. He had to know—

“Sir, please go back to your group. This doesn’t concern you,” one of the guards said while another one yanked his maybe-soulmate to his feet, a harsh grip on his arm that made him wince—

And Felix felt the pain like it was his own, hissing out a curse and clutching at his arm through his suit, and from the way the guard’s eyes widened in surprise and Lauren gasped behind him, nobody had any doubt as to what was going on.

The pain disappeared when the guard released his hold on the man they were about to throw out, his soulmate, Felix couldn’t believe it—

“Apologies, sir. We didn’t know he was with you,” one of the guards said, clearing the way between him and who was supposedly the love of his life.

“Oh honey, there you are,” the man lied so convincingly even Felix almost believed him, casually walking towards him. “I was just trying to tell the lovely gentlemen over here about our—honeymoon,” he settled on, a pleasant smile on his face even while flighty brown eyes glanced around as if looking for an escape.

Felix’s head was swimming, and he knew he should say something so the security wouldn’t get suspicious, but he was too busy taking in the fact that his soulmate was right in front of him, not seeming at all phased by the revelation that had Felix shook to the core.

Luckily, Lauren was an absolute lifesaver.

“Why don’t you two lovebirds go get some air!” she encouraged, giving Felix one of her now familiar shoulder slaps.

And that seemed to give his soulmate pause, a hand coming up to touch his own shoulder while his eyes widened slowly in surprise.

“You’re right,” Felix offered Lauren, before turning back to his soulmate. “Come on… ‘darling’.”

He didn’t have to grab the man’s hand to get him to follow him out of the casino, but he did, trying to tell himself it was only to sell the lie better. That still didn’t explain why he felt remorse when he let go.

“Okay, how did you do it?” his soulmate demanded, immediately crossing his arms over his chest and putting some space between them.

And it wasn’t like Felix expected love confessions or a heated make-out session or even any chemistry, but he sure as hell wasn’t prepared for an accusation.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” the man responded. “I appreciate you covering for me, but how did you make me feel it when your friend smacked you?”

“You know how,” Felix insisted, his own impatience surfacing. This wasn’t how he’d imagined their first meeting going at all.

“Yeah, sure buddy,” the man laughed dryly. “Do you know what the odds are? There’s seven billion people—”

“What were you doing in 2014?” Felix interrupted.

“I’m sorry?”

“I felt you getting beat up almost every single day. What the hell were you doing?” Felix accused.

The wariness melted away from the man’s features, replaced by recognition.

“I was in jail,” he said. “In Panama. It, uh, wasn’t the friendliest of places to be.”

Well, that explained a lot, and wasn’t really surprising considering the display Felix saw inside the casino.

“It was fucking torture,” Felix pointed out, and his soulmate winced.

“You’re telling me,” he said quietly, averting his eyes.

“And when it stopped, I was so scared that you’d died,” Felix confessed, not wanting his soulmate to think he was still angry at him.

The man looked back up at him, surprise clear on his features.

“I always thought you hoped I’d died,” he said. “And that you were just… checking. Even after that.”

“Why would I want you dead?” Felix scoffed, a little offended.

“There’s a considerable amount of people who do,” his soulmate shrugged with a sheepish grin. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you’ve been stuck with me as your… you know. Probably thought I was some hot chick,” he grinned but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“After all the times you’ve been kicked in the nuts over the years?” Felix snorted.

“Shit, sorry—yeah, you’re the unluckiest guy alive,” the man chuckled. “I’ve basically put you through hell.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Felix argued. “I was… uh, in a bad place. Several. And it always helped to know that I wasn’t alone.”

“Is that why you started bumping into shit? To get my attention?” the man smirked, and Felix didn’t have the heart to tell him it was because he wasn’t constantly bedridden and in pain and could finally afford to be careless.

“Maybe,” Felix smiled back. “It always felt kind of like… flirting.”

“That’s kinda fucked up, but I’ll take it,” his soulmate joked.

There was a beat of silence as the man regarded him curiously, and Felix took the opportunity to finally properly look at who he’d been sharing a bond with for the past forty years.

The man looked older than him but not by much, grey hair and tanned skin combined with the lively accent giving him an exotic edge that Felix couldn’t quite place. He was handsome, symmetrical features and a sharp jawline with a well-trimmed beard, and even though his long nose was crooked from having been broken one too many times, Felix was mesmerized.

He was shorter than Felix by a couple of centimeters, but had broad shoulders and a nice build that Felix couldn’t help but think would fit perfectly in his arms.

He barely even spared a thought to the tacky clothes the man was wearing, the deep purple button-up with a questionable card print or black sating lounge slacks never something he would personally choose to wear. Still, he wouldn’t mind them strewn on his bedroom floor while they were busy with… other things.

Felix didn’t even realize he’d been leaning closer until a hesitant but oh-so-warm hand effortlessly came up to rest on his shoulder.

“Geez, if I’d have known you were this hot I would’ve done something sooner,” the man purred approvingly, dark chocolate eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiled.

“Like what?” Felix was able to ask even while his head was swimming from the compliment, daring to lift a hand to rest on the man’s hip.

“I don’t know. Carve my phone number into my skin or something.”

“That sounds painful,” Felix offered, even though he shared the sentiment.

“Worth it,” the man grinned. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

“Felix,” he said, trying to ignore how the praise made his neck heat up. “Yours?”

“Ace,” his soulmate, Ace, grinned even wider than before, and Felix looked down at his tacky shirt again.

“Like in the card, or…?”

“Yup!” Ace beamed. “And I know yours means ‘lucky’, which is the most hilarious coincidence I’ve ever heard.”

Felix bit back a comment about destiny, instead voicing the question he hoped was on both of their minds.

“Where do you want to go from here?”

“Well, that’s up to you,” Ace said, giving him a mischievous smile. “You wanna be my lucky charm while you’re here, baby?”

Felix wanted to correct him and say “forever”, but his rational side knew it was way too early to tell. And since he was an expert at repressing his feeling at this point, he had no trouble giving a small smile and offering a casual answer.

“Sure.”

…And that’s where his self-restraint ended, because when Ace smiled happily and wrapped his hands around his neck, Felix found himself immediately going in for a kiss.

The approving moan against his lips told him everything he needed to know.

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 55 – Crisis

“Hmph... So it was more than pure luck that you took out Aris.”

Kornel mumbled through ground teeth, his voice seething, his face kissing the dirt.

Or rather, he was trying to get his behind back up, during which he inevitably got his mouth plastered to the ground.

Kornel was more than eager to wage himself against Takio. He was not alone, and Helga officiated that he is welcome to beat the snot out of the purple-haired sniper, so he played a bull met with a red flag as he chased after Takio.

To his utmost humiliation, Kornel has lost his count on the number of times he was forced to wipe the floor with his body.

He chastised himself that he should not have assumed Takio would be helpless in hand-to-hand combat, based on the pair of guns he was clutching.

Which was not the main reason why he was at disadvantage.

“Damn it, just what kind of drug has he been on since his departure from the Union? He’s too strong!”

Kornel did not stand a chance against Takio, perfectly equipped with agility in motion and action, precision in shooting, and qualified close combat skills supported by his bladed guns.

Because of which Kornel could not dare to lunge towards Takio, even after completely getting on his feet, to instead glare at the sniper poised on his feet.

However, Takio was not poised at heart, as he stared back at Kornel.

Their battle was as good as settled, but that was not the case with Helga.

‘Just what is her power? I could not land a single attack on her.’

In consideration of the situation, he took much more care than we could ever muster to pull the triggers, recalibrate his steps, and swing his guns.

All of which Helga reacted to cleanly.

She even twisted her body before he could point or lift his guns to fire.

Given that Takio’s responses were much faster, nevertheless, Helga could not avoid getting slashed on skin by his bullets from time to time.

Notwithstanding, the fact that she was in all unscathed was enough to render him wary of her.

‘And unlike this guy, she’s prudent, grounded, taking her time to put herself against me and pushing and pulling at me just about right to keep me rooted in this zone. It’s a wonder I had no idea such agent existed during my time at the Uni... Ugh!’

And in the meantime, he had to stop or shoo away modified civilians from engaging in battle royale or being a hindrance-slash-nuisance for him.

Of course, Helga and Kornel did not give him time to teach a lesson to the meddlers, which involved the biggest problem for Takio.

‘Is it just me, or does she see every movement I’d make in advance? Though my speed does not allow her to leave a mark upon me, somehow it feels like she can predict every coordination I will make.’

Everything about her – her blue eyes blazing with artificial glow, the direction her shoulders and knees would take, and the weight and air stirred by her body whenever she moves – was all pre-calculated to where Takio would prepare an attack, evade an impact, or devise a counter.

‘I would have suffered at least dozens of slaps and thwacks if I didn’t happen to have grown much faster and stronger.’

Even with Takio’s somewhat-recognition, Helga did not deem her standing better than that of Takio.

Just like how he internally pointed out, she could not connect a single attack to Takio’s body, and she could see that Takio has more than improved in terms of combat capabilities and specs.

And she did not have to meet his fists with hers or strike up a deathly waltz of kicks to realize that she was now no match for Takio.

She could not guarantee whether she could stand against him, even with Kornel and the rest of very few remaining combatants of Union by her side.

‘The fact that he did not manage to diagnose my power is serving as a shield for us. Along with these modified humans. Which is more than good for us.’

She knew that otherwise she and Kornel would have already hit the road to the afterlife.

‘Not to mention apparently he did not even use his powers to maximum. Considering how Aris and her gang were the type that enhances powers through meds and employs a variety of equipment, he must be leaving his pills for the next stage. Which I didn’t even get a glimpse of. Damn it, just where is that man when we need him?!’

With the battle caught in the tense, unpleasant balance, Helga was naturally reminded of her accomplice.

An accomplice she told to stand by, since it would be preferable for their foes to learn about his betrayal as late as possible.

An accomplice who should be watching what was going on.

But how come he is nowhere to be seen?!

Kornel gaped at Helga with crumpled forehead, packed with inches-deep creases, his mind probably in synchronization with Helga’s mind.

“Guess we don’t have a choice. We’d be basically admitting that you are way out of our league, but we’re in no situation to place our pride above our purpose.”

Helga’s fiery eyes flashed in sinister blue, and Takio automatically grasped his guns, only to withdraw them in bafflement the next moment.

“Kraaaah!!!”

A modified citizen stampeded towards Helga with his mouth wide open, whom she grabbed and flung towards Takio.

Out of gut reaction, Takio stretched out his bare hands to safely pluck the man out of air and gently push him away, and as soon as he straightened himself with pow and wham Kornel and Helga punched his chest and kicked at his abdomen, respectively.

He raised his arms in defense before he could suffer legitimate blows, but as a result his balance was toppled, which Kornel and Helga were not satisfied with.

“Krgh!”

“Krah!”

The two Union agents were now fervently ripping away and pitching the nearby civilians, and Takio was in frenzy to save them and thwart Helga and Kornel’s blitzes.

“Ah-ah-ah! I wouldn’t move if I were you, unless you want this fella’s head cannonballing towards the sky.”

To top it off, whenever he attempted to fight back when the opportunity was given, they snatched one of the modified people as hostage to still him.

“Goddamn it...!”

Now no longer upper-handed in the battle, Takio furiously grit his teeth.

*****

Meanwhile, in the area off-limits

“This gear is much more useful than I had presumed.”

Deneb snickered, having accomplished a feat of staying alive against the head of the Kertia clan and faring pretty well.

Rael could not even move his lips to his taunting comment.

Without his Grandia, he could not flaunt his art of stealth or go all out against Deneb.

And since Deneb was to be captured, not butchered, he could not even exercise proper assaults.

Nonetheless, the dilemma lay with Deneb, not him.

Whenever he targeted Deneb’s shoulders, back, or waist with his bare hands, the Illiness responded each time, to very narrowly swivel and curl his body to nullify Rael’s thrusts and slices of hand.

Yet given that Rael is the fastest of all nobles, his clan being the genesis of assassins among mankind, nobody would have denied that what Deneb managed to pull off was worthy of a boast, the reason being the gear he was using – extrasensitive thermal detector.

Rael could make out from its title that the gear could detect his location by locking upon his body temperature; he supposed the gear in fact did more than picking up body temperature, since with the gear Deneb could react right at the moment when Rael was about to move.

Short in knowledge in terms of machinery, Rael did not even hope to dissect in his head what exactly the gear could do.

After all, what truly mattered at the moment was to figure out how to defeat Deneb.

‘If only I had skills in ranged melee, like Regis.’

He knew he could try out an adjustment he practiced at Yuhyung’s lab when he put out the fire.

Too bad Deneb was seemingly wary of Rael’s potential ranged attack, for he had not moved a bit from his in-a-way-battleground, with Yuhyung at the background.

No matter how deadly Rael was with his aim, he did not know and did not want to find out if Yuhyung’s human body could stand through the aftermath of his attack.

He would have been grateful if Yuhyung would step aside, but the man was impeccably frozen, after a series of shrieks and shouts into his device.

And Deneb added much more to his trouble.

“Humans are not so useless, after all. I’m so glad I could get enlightened before it was too late, unlike you.”

Unlike you.

Rael wobbled at his spot, his determination wavering at the brief statement.

Swirling just enough to stay safe from Deneb’s attacks, Rael did not even feel like parrying.

His head was too complicated – too distraught for the job.

‘Just what do I have to be... In order to be like me?’

With his soul weapon absent, with a number of conditions he could not fix at the moment, with the battle not making any progress unlike his prior experiences, and with his body and mind too fatigued, Rael could not collect his mind together.

Each time he endeavored to piece together the thoughts drifting within him, the memories struck him hard and corrupted his will.

I have never been recognized by the patriarchs of my clan.

I have never prevailed superb with a task for the QuadraNet Project, other than escorting Yuhyung.

I could not even keep my soul weapon safe.

I could not even realize we were hosting and housing an enemy with lethal goal.

And I could not stop this from happening.

As he thought of have-not’s and could-not’s, Rael eventually stopped moving.

His body growing heavy with cuts and bruises, to ultimately roll over dirt, Rael plunged deeper into the swamp of despair.

Maybe I was never meant to be a head of my clan.

Maybe I never should have thirsted after the title of the head of the Kertias.

Maybe I don’t deserve to be dubbed the son of Rayga Kertia. Or the brother of Razark Kertia.

Maybe this is where I should give up on Grandia for good. I have done nothing correctly ever since my return to Lukedonia.

Rael’s knees were glued to the ground, and he stopped altogether.

Not missing his chance, Deneb drove his pointed hand towards Rael’s heart.

*****

Somewhere in the far ocean

Splash!!!!

As many souls were flustered and jeopardized by the circumstances they could surely handle but could not, a watery thud broke through the salty surface and whisked up a bloody mist.

The werewolf’s eyes were already half-lidded as she was wrapped and dragged by the foams and saltwater.

‘No... I can’t let this... End here...’

Much to her devastation, her body did not cooperate.

Raising her hands towards the surface of water she was so sure she could rise through if she tries just a little bit more, Lunark sunk deeper and deeper into the endless dark and blue of the nether region down below.

(next chapter)

Sorry I posted this past the usual time I upload my fic. I was supposed to post this after attending something for a bit, but I had no idea so much time has passed. I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again in the future. :’(

There is trouble everywhere - but in order to take a leap into the sky, one must first crouch. And I promise the crisis won’t last long. :)

Alrighty. Time to type up my surgery and recovery experience. 

When I got my pacemaker two years ago, I spent a year (almost exactly) drawing a comic called Change of Pace, which helped me kinda process what happened to me. You can read the comic here if you’re interested. It’s largely all true, aside from the love story part. Tsk.

I don’t think I’m going to be drawing out this experience. It was completely different. I’ve been expecting a surgery of this nature since I was nineteen, when I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. So, in a way, this stint in the hospital was harder, more personal. The pacemaker was an emergency. The colon resection was some time coming. Not as much trauma, really. Not as much confusion about what was happening and why. But I still feel like telling the story, purging it from my mind. 

I was scheduled for surgery on Monday, the 18th of November. I took off work that Friday so I could have my pre-op bloodwork done and I also took off Sunday so I could start the colon prep. If you don’t know what a colon prep is, God bless you. You basically drink a crap ton (lol) of laxative and spend all night pooping until you poop clear. The easiest version is the Miralax version. If you have to have a colonoscopy, ask for the Miralax. I promise, you don’t want the Go-Lightly.

The day before prep, my friend took me climbing in Memphis to keep my mind off of things. We also went to IKEA. It was helpfully distracting. I had Swedish meatballs. 

I was meant to “technically” start the prep at midnight Saturday by not eating anything until surgery on Monday. Beginning to drink the Miralax sometime around noon on Sunday. I didn’t get that far. 

I got righteously sick Saturday night. My back was killing me and I was very nauseous and dizzy. I knew what was going on even before I started throwing up. I had a bowel obstruction. The second one in my life. I’d had one once before in March and jeeze. It hurt like a son of a bitch. I’m not sure if every bowel obstruction feels the same way, but mine certainly did. If you find yourself having these symptoms, please go to the ER. Bowel obstructions are no joke. You can go septic, which is incredibly dangerous. 

Nausea, feeling like you’re going to pass out, vomiting bile, severely upset stomach, cold sweats, and my back was aching something awful. I assume it was because my stomach was cramping so badly, my back muscles were spasming.  

I live with my mother. Have done since I’ve been getting sick so regularly. I woke her up and she took me to the hospital. 

The first time I had a bowel obstruction, I thought something was wrong with my heart. (The cold sweats, the nausea.) They rushed me to the back immediately. This time, I knew it was an obstruction, not my heart, and I said as much. They don’t tend to be in as much of a hurry when you don’t mention your heart. Didn’t realize that. I’m also not entirely sure they were convinced I did have a bowel obstruction. I’m sure plenty of people walk into an ER saying random stuff for random reasons, but yeah. I was very slowly processed. I remember them taking my blood pressure and because it wasn’t high at all, I imagine they thought I was full of shit. Figuratively, not literally. Because I was, literally. Whatever. 

My blood pressure normally runs very low. I can also take a lot of pain, because I’m on a first name basis with pain. They didn’t take my pain seriously because my blood pressure wasn’t high, I guess. Not my fault I’m a badass.

I sat in the waiting room until I started vomiting bile again. I also pooped all over myself in the processes. Which I didn’t think you could do if you were obstructed, but you live and you learn! 

That’s when they got in a hurry. I was making a huge mess. 

They got me a paper gown and I cleaned myself up as best as I could before the CAT scan, which proved I was, in fact, obstructed. 

So there I was, in the ER, very very early on the Sunday morning before my surgery Monday. I was admitted and my doctor contacted. Since the surgery was so close at hand, they agreed it was best to wait until the scheduled time to do the surgery. I’d stopped vomiting so there was no need for an NG tube this time. Those things suck.

Got admitted. Got a room. Tried to sleep. My surgeon came in and we talked. Got everything situated. At one point my mother told me there was a girl down the hall who’d just had a colon resection if I wanted to talk to her. She was sitting int he hallway with her sisters, eating her dinner. Poor thing had been in the hospital for almost a month. 

I spoke with her a bit. I’m not entirely sure what happened. Whether it was nerves or if I was hurting, but I almost passed out in the hallway. I hadn’t experienced anything of that nature since I had my pacemaker put in. The whole point of the pacemaker was to prevent me from passing out altogether. But I didn’t pass out so...I suppose that means it’s working?

I also pooped on myself that night while I slept. First time that’d ever happened. It was then I knew that I’d literally gone as long as I could before I needed surgery. I couldn’t wait any more. I’d been so stressed out over in the idea that I maybe didn’t need the surgery. That I was being pitiful and my case wasn’t that bad. I could tough it out if I really wanted. I realized what a dumbass I was for thinking those thoughts, but hindsight is 20/20. 

Monday dawned and surgery rolled around. Took forever. I was basically watching the clock tick the minutes by until transport fetched me. I was wheeled down to pre-op where they gave me a hair net. I don’t remember getting a hair net for the pacemaker surgery. 

I signed some paperwork and a lady told me she was going to get me ready. She said she was going to give me a nerve block in my stomach. I was like, “Cool, right on.” Until I saw the needle. 

Holy fuck. That needle. 

“You’re going to give me that when I’m asleep, right?”

“I’m going to give you some ‘I don’t care’ juice.” 

“Oh, thank God. I probably won’t remember this then.” 

“Probably not.” 

In went the ‘I don’t care’ juice. I got really dizzy. 

They swabbed my belly with iodine. 

They prepped the needle. 

I was still very much awake. 

I said, “Guys...” Because at this point there were several people standing over me. Like five. “...I’m still cognizant.” 

Yeah, I used the word cognizant. That’s how fucking cognizant I was. 

Not sure if they heard me. Or if they replied. I was really dizzy. 

In went the needle. 

And ow. OW. 

In went the needle again. One stick on each side of my belly. 

The ‘I don’t care’ juice must have been working in some way because while I remember the pain, I don’t remember the panic. I certainly would have panicked if I didn’t have that juice pumping through me. So that was a thing. 

I fell asleep soon thereafter. Couldn’t have been like...a minute earlier? Really? 

I remember waking up in recovery with the pacemaker. I remember the pressure, the nurse asking me questions. I remember being wheeled back to my room. I don’t remember jack shit about recovery after the colon resection. I don’t remember being wheeled back to my room. I apparently asked for my mom, but I don’t remember doing that either. 

I do remember, however, turning over on my side. Because ouch. But I did it anyway and kept doing it because I’m a determined asshole. Monday night was very hazy. I was high as fuck, probably. 

Tuesday: Not a good day. I was in a lot of pain. They gave me hydros, but the hydros weren’t touching it. Felt like I was taking Tylenol. And I have a very very VERY low tolerance for pain meds. They wouldn’t give me any morphine because my blood pressure was too low. (Again, badass?? Maybe?? IDK man my blood pressure just runs really low.) Which makes sense, because that’s dangerous, but I was in agony. I begged for morphine. I pleaded with the nurse to give me morphine. She would not. 

My mother got angry. I’m not one to complain. And my threshold for pain is admittedly pretty stout. I was hurting and no one was doing anything to help. My mother got ANGRY. 

I think they must’ve finally given me some morphine, but I don’t remember. Morphine also didn’t help. Didn’t even make a dent in the pain I was feeling. They kept giving me hydros every couple of hours to no avail. I remember I asked for a heating pad for my back. Barely. The nurse did give me one, but said I could only have it for an hour? Very fuzzy.

The tech forgot to...do something with my catheter because my urine got everywhere. The nurse that found me like that called the floor manager. I hated to, but I did report that my pain wasn’t kept in check. I was hurting so badly I actually reported one of the nurses. The one that wouldn’t give me morphine. I felt horrible about it, but I was also nearly in tears I hurt so bad. 

Hell, the pain was so intense at one point my mother called my family. Like, they thought something was wrong. Very very wrong. The doctor called for some kind of scan while I was in bed. They put a board behind my back. I was writhing, I remember. My family gathered in the hospital to see me in case I had to go back to surgery. In case I wasn’t going to do well. 

It was scary.

The next set of nurses figured out the problem when the scan revealed nothing out of the ordinary. My back was spasming. Horribly. When I sat up and they felt of me, they were shocked to find my back riddled with knots. It felt like knuckles underneath my skin. The new nurses got me some hella icy hot with pain killer and rubbed me down. 

It helped tremendously. My back stopped freaking out, which gave my abdominal muscles time to rest.

At last, I wasn’t hurting. At last, I slept. 

Wednesday and Thursday were spent trying to keep my back under control. At one point I vomited all over my bed due to acid reflux. I paged the nurse to ask for some acid reflux medicine and puked all over the place while I was on the call with her lol.

I never once had any issue with my incision. My entire trouble, the whole time, was from my back. And nausea. And lemme tell ya. Vomiting with a six inch incision on your abdomen? OW.

Getting up and walking? Easy enough. Getting up and going to the bathroom? No problem. Spongebath? Piece of cake. But God my back. 

I managed to poop for the doctors. Fantastic. 

And finally, finally, I got to have food. 

I went from about 5:00PM Saturday to 12:00PM Friday without having anything to eat or drink. I had an IV, and I could eat ice chips if I desperately needed to wet my mouth, but yeah. I hardly had any ice chips. Weird to imagine you can go that long without food and be alright. 

I proved I could eat GI soft food on Saturday and they let me go home.

Got my staples removed the following Tuesday. Had some steri strips applied. Just waiting for them to fall off on their own. 

And here I am. Just lounging, waiting to get my strength back. It’s much easier to draw after this surgery than the pacemaker one. Thank God. I’m slow moving and my stomach hurts a bit when my contents shift, but other than that I’m doing swimmingly. I can’t lift anything over ten pounds until the new year. Not sure when I’ll be able to drive, either. I’ll find out soon. 

This surgery was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Mentally and physically. Mentally because I’ve been struggling with Crohn’s since I was a teenager. I’m 32 now. Half my life I’ve been at war with my own body, drowning in the pain it leashes on itself. It’s been a long road. I hope this spells the end of it. Or at least, the rest of the journey is all downhill.

I’ve lost a lot of weight. I’m trying not to think about it too much. I’ll gain it back. Just takes time.

OC-Tober Day 23: Revenge

OCs: Rebecca Renard, Amber (who still needs a last name...)

Fandom: Grimm

Pairings: Platonic Rebecca and Amber, bit of Sean/Rebecca at the end

Warnings: Some violence/whump. Also, this one got long.

@oc-growth-and-development

-

Amber’s stomach turns as she steps into the hospital room. Rebecca’s eyes are closed, but she can’t possibly be asleep; she’s covered in cuts and bruises, and she flinches every time she shifts. Most likely, it just hurts too much to open her eyes; one is terribly swollen, and the other has a jagged scratch across the lid.

Rebecca stiffens suddenly, turning her head toward Amber, and Amber clears her throat. 

“It’s me.”

Instantly, the tension leaves her body, and she nods to Amber, though she still doesn’t look at her. “Hey. I promise, it looks worse than it is. They gave me some-” A sharp inhale that belies every one of her words, even as she tries to finish. “Pain meds. I’m okay,” she adds, and Amber wants to laugh at how ridiculously Rebecca this is: to try to comfort everyone else, even when she can hardly move. 

“Who did this?” She asks, aiming for gentle and not quite hitting the mark.

Rebecca frowns. “It doesn’t matter-”

“Who?”

Silence, for so long that Amber wonders if Rebecca’s going to feign sleep. Finally, she replies, “A couple of Shakals. Didn’t… Recognize them.”

No matter; there aren’t that many Shakals on campus. Hardly known for their intellectual endeavors, after all. She’ll find them. “They know you’re a Grimm?”

Rebecca manages a weak nod. “Knew about me. Knew my...Rule. About killing.” 

Fury burns through Amber at the thought of these monsters hearing about a Grimm that wouldn’t kill, and turning that into an opportunity to-to what? Punish her? Send a message? Or were they just having a little afternoon fun? Was this their version of skydiving? Their way of getting a few cheap thrills, and-

A tear trickles down Rebecca’s cheek, and Amber swallows her rage. The ones who hurt her best friend will pay the price, but not right now. Right now, her job is to help.

“Hey.” She moves to Rebecca’s side, squeezing her arm, carefully avoiding any injuries. “It’s going to be okay. Doctors will get you all fixed up, and you’ll be good as new. Just try to get some rest, okay?”

Rebecca hums. “Think the meds are kicking in,” she murmurs. “Doesn’t hurt so bad now.” 

“Good.” 

They lapse into silence, and Amber takes the opportunity to study Rebecca. She’s not wincing when she moves, now; maybe the meds really are kicking in. And she really does look like she’s going to be fine, but she might have a scar or two. 

She waits until she hears soft snoring coming from the bed before she slips out of the room, making her way to the elevator. She stops short near the nurses’ station, blinking uncertainly. A young man in some kind of cop uniform stands, flashing his badge at the nurse. 

“Excuse me. I’m Officer Renard, with Medford P.D. Could you tell me where Rebecca Gold is?” 

The harried nurse consults her clipboard, frowns, and looks at another one. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I did with my…” She trails off, and the officer shifts on his feet. 

Amber clears her throat. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop,” she announces, and both the nurse and the cop turn to her, “but I just left her room. 232,” she adds, and Officer Renard smiles.

“Thank you, Miss-?”

“Amber’s fine.” For a second, she considers walking back with him, but then she pauses, looking him over. He’s not quite her type-she’s always gone for the dorky kind above all-but he’s definitely Rebecca’s. And, well, her best friend really deserves a pick-me-up, after everything she’s been through. “She just got to sleep,” she adds instead, “so she may be a little out of it.” 

He frowns, obviously not thrilled with the idea of waking her up when she finally got to sleep (a point in his favor, then). “Can you tell me anything about what happened?” He asks, and she shrugs. 

“Couple of jerks beat her up. I don’t know who.” Not yet, anyway. “And everyone who knows Rebecca loves her, so it’s not like she has enemies.” Okay, that one might be stretching the truth just a little bit, but everyone who knows really knows Rebecca does love her. Besides, what is she going to do? Tell this random cop that Rebecca’s from a secret line of serial killers who hunt shapeshifters? 

Nah, she’s good. 

He nods, then glances back in the direction of the room. “I should go talk to her. See what she knows.” 

“Fair warning, she was kind of loopy when I talked to her, so stuff might not make sense.”

He thanks her, and they part ways, him heading toward Rebecca’s room, and her headed toward the parking lot. 

Time to find some Shakals. 

-

They’re not even trying to hide. It’s a couple of guys from the baseball team, chilling out by the field, laughing and shoving each other. Their knuckles are bruised and scabbed, and one has a distinct scratch along his cheek. (Apparently, Rebecca didn’t go down without a fight after all, she thinks with a smile.) 

She keeps to the shadows of the bleachers until she’s almost upon them, and they’re well within hearing range. 

“Pathetic!” One laughs, shoving the other. “The other Grimms should have her head.”

The other cracks up, as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Nah, she’s not worth the effort.” 

Her rage is reborn, and she steps out of the shadows, looking them over. “Hey! You the guys who beat up the Grimm?”

They have the nerve to grin, and one even tosses a wink her way. “Yeah, baby. That’s us. What do you think?”

She glances around, just to make sure no one else is close, before woging. Not halfway, not the hidden woge, but the kind the world can see, just to make her point clear. It takes them a few seconds too long to realize she’s striking, and by then, it’s too late. The terror that flickers in their eyes is altogether satisfying, and she wants to laugh at their pitiful attempts to fight back. 

Every kick and punch lands, and soon, they’re flat on their backs, looking up at her helplessly. Good. 

“You felt safe going after her because you know she doesn’t kill Wesen. And that moral code is one that I greatly admire in her, but let me make it perfectly clear-” She takes a step toward them, and they both flinch. “I don’t share it. So you’re going to leave her alone, and tell all your little friends to do the same thing. And if you tell anyone else about her?” She grins, all teeth. “I’ll find you.”

With that, she leaves them alone to contemplate their life choices. She has a friend to check on.

(Officer Renard eventually identifies them. When he arrests them, Amber is there, and she gives them one final warning look: they won’t say anything. 

Evidently, they don’t, because Renard-Sean, as he insists she calls him-never finds out about Rebecca. But as soon as she’s out of the hospital, he takes her to dinner, and deep down, Amber knows that neither one of them is ever going to look back. 

She smiles.) 

Don't tell mom the dog-sitter's dead.

TL;DR at the bottom.

This didn't happen to me, it happened to my sister.

My sister moved up to SC from FL about a year ago, but she still visits us periodically. We're a big and close family. Shortly after Thanksgiving, she flew down with her husband and son for one such visit. She has 3 geriatric dogs, so she got a house/dog sitter.

MS (my sister) went through the basics of how they can only be fed at certain times. They get let out at certain times. They need to be in their crates from X hour to Z hour. Most importantly, they don't get treats. They get vitamins in place of treats, but those vitamins have to be given only twice a day. No people food. Very strict diets. They're all happy and healthy, but only because MS is so strict with their regime.

This lady she got to watch her dogs had stellar reviews on the site she was found through. She's a stay-at-home mom who does this as a side thing for extra cash. I feel like I can end it here, you all can guess where this is going.

MS left for Florida for a week. The first 5 days, everything is going well. DS (dog sitter) texts MS regularly or video calls. She shows MS pictures and gives her regular updates of when she comes and goes to MS's house. MS just bought that house, btw. She's been working her butt off to finally be able to afford it. She puts so much into making that a nice home for her family.

MS has some health problems herself. She's got a ton of prescription medication in her medicine cabinet. She brought enough for the week, but left the rest at home. Stuff for epilepsy, asthma, and allergies. But she's also got a ton of pain killers from when she had my nephew not that long ago. She's paranoid about becoming addicted, so she kept the pills for safety, but never used them. It's a full bottle.

On top of that, she's been a collector of rare beer for about 15 years now. Beer that's not even sold anymore because they were promotional from micro breweries. Beer she can't get anymore because she doesn't live in Florida. Those bottles, she keeps as mostly decoration in her kitchen.

On the 6th day of her vacation, DS stops all communication altogether. MS texts, calls, emails. Nothing. Radio silence. She's got a bad feeling, but she doesn't want to kill the mood because she doesn't get to see her family very often anymore.

Day 7, she gets on a late flight back to SC. The plane gets there around 2 in the morning. They drive an hour to their rural town. They get home. The front door is wide open. The lawn looks like someone in a truck (which DS happened to drive) just tried to go drifting over grass and a tree before vacating the premises super quick.

MS goes to handle my nephew who is groggy and screaming. It's been a rough day. She's thinking the worst. That someone robbed the house while this poor lady was there. MS's husband (BiL) goes inside to survey the damages. It's all clear, MS and Nephew go inside too.

The back door is wide open. The couch looks like it exploded. The rug in the living room and the couch, and pretty much every square foot on the bottom floor is covered in the kind of pee and poop that can only be made from 3 geriatric furry buttholes.

The dogs are, thankfully, still in the backyard. But they're shivering and filthy. There are broken beer bottles everywhere. Some have been stuffed deep in the trash to hide the evidence. Some have been refilled with water and put back with their tops precariously situated on top so they might look like they haven't been touched.

82 bottles, each growler sized (roughly 64 oz) - gone. The medicine cabinet is like one of those Western ghost town's with a tumbleweed bouncing through. MS is already thinking this DS threw herself a party. No way in heck could someone 5'6'', 170 lbs, drink that much beer and take that many pills and not be dead.

MS called the cops. Obviously. The police get there to figure this must be a break in. They take a bunch of pictures, take an account of all the bottles and drugs that were missing. MS cleans what she can, but gets to sleep because thankfully the upstairs hasn't been touched.

One day later, the police find DS. MS has assumed she's dead and abducted, so the police were looking for her and her car. They found the truck run off the side of a highway, with this lady about two miles up, tweaking OUT OF HER MIND walking along the side of the road, screaming at nothing.

They take her in for whatever charges. Idk. Her husband bails her out and picks her up. According to her husband, this has happened before. DS has a drug and alcohol problem.

At first, she's messaging my sister, super apologetic, saying she'll reimburse MS and please don't press charges. MS quotes her the price of the rug, a new couch, and the vet bills because her dogs had somehow gained access to 9 containers of doggie vitamins and one of them was having liver failure. (The dog is fine now, but she's an old yorkie so who knows. Also, MS buys in bulk from a wholesaler, hence 9 containers). The total was somewhere around $800. MS didn't bother with the beers, the meds, the lawn, cleaning the house. She could have. Heck, I would have.

On top of that, MS demanded DS never dog sit again and she had to refund MS for her dog sitting. MS works in advertising. I won't say what kind, but basically if she saw/sees DS advertising herself as a dog sitter ever again, she has the means to drag this lady until all she sees is mud for the rest of her life.

DS insists she'd gonna pay it back, but that MS has to wait until they get their taxes back. Ok. So MS waits. Late February, she texts DS asking where her money is. DS immediately starts saying how she didn't do anything wrong, MS is a bad dog owner and her dogs are miserable, none of the stuff MS says DS did was actually done. MS has all the old texts of DS admitting to all of it sooo....?

This goes on for a while. Eventually, DS starts saying how "as a courtesy" she has a friend who owns a furniture store, she will give MS a credit of $200 for a new couch. And she has an old rug she doesn't want anymore that MS can have.

Erm... what?

She payed MS about $500, but and insists she'll get the coupon to MS soon. March goes by. Nothing.

Around March 20th, MS marches her happy butt to the small claims court and files. Then she snaps pictures of everything. Then she sends DS the message. "As a courtesy, I'm letting you know that I just filed this at the small claims court."

Then the fun starts. This lady goes OFF on MS. She says she's going to sue for slander and undue distress and harassment and blah blah blah blah blah. MS saves all of it, including the fun bits where DS threatens her family and calls her the C-word 20-dozen times.

Today is what? April 6th? Tuesday was the court date. Things move fast in a small town, idk. This lady shows up looking like she just got run through by a garbage disposal. She gives the judge her sob-story, talking about how she did nothing but give MS and her animals the best care, that MS is making all this up.

Yeah. MS has the OG cop with her. She's got pictures of all the damage, the vet bills, the bottles, proof that she was out of town, police reports of both the "break-in" as well as DS's DWI the following day. DS tries to spin it with that one law about how you can't serve alcohol to a known alcoholic. That obviously gets thrown right tf out.

DS then tries to appeal to Judge and MS's sense of humanity. She tells them how her husband just left her and is suing her for full custody (good!) and that if she can't dog-sit how is she supposed to support herself or ever get her kids back (tough cookies!). The judge takes my sister's side, for obvious reason, come tf on.

DS is homeless now, living with her parents. She can't see her kids, who btw don't want to see her. Apparently she was a drunk who ran her hubby's credit all the way down, she was abusive to her kids, and because of her heavy alcohol abuse - one of her kids has FAS. DS has 60 days to pay the remaining $300 or she faces jail time (idk how much time, sorry). Her husband filed for divorce already. Oh, and she lost her license thanks to that DWI.

As a former addict myself and someone who's been through a DWI, I want to sympathize. That's a lot of stuff to go through. MS gave her chance after chance, but at some point, you have to take responsibility for your actions. It really seems like this lady has just been using her husband as a crutch while she tries to get better, only to backslide hard. It's rough, I know. I hope she gets the help she needs.

MS's dogs are doing well. She got a replacement couch on Amazon for like $75 and a nice fluffy rug for even less. DS eventually coughed up that coupon. It didn't even work. It was for something like 20% off with a purchase of $500 or more, so um...no thanks.

TL;DR: World's poopiest dog-sitter trashes my sister's house after going on a bender. Claims she didn't do that, while also promising to pay for the damages. Never pays. Gets taken to court. Loses her home, job, kids, and marriage.

(source) story by (/u/anoukdaae)

Adolescents and Mental Health

The years during adolescence present many complex problems that are often times very specific to that window of time in their life. Whether it be something as minuscule as schoolwork, school drama, boy or girl problems--These small issues can be the origin of deeper and darker underlying feelings and problems.

That being said, there are many more elements that play a role in what affects a teenager’s mental state than there would have been thirty years ago. Social media, the excessively greater amount of schoolwork, and the many problems globally that directly affect our generation. With this though, many parents may find it difficult to grasp a complete understanding of what could possibly be going through their child’s brain, especially when they don’t fully experience any anxiety, depression, etc. themselves. “What could you possibly be anxious about? Nothing is happening!” or “What could you possibly be depressed about? You are so lucky to have what you have!” These are frequent questions, which seems reasonable to ask from a parent’s point of view, but from the child, it’s like nails on a chalkboard. Here’s why:

For me, I ran into my worst struggles March of 2020. As COVID-19 began to take effect rapidly in our hometown, I found myself isolated (as I should have been--stay safe!). The complete switch in routine slapped me across the face. I coped with my issues my whole childhood by surrounding myself with my friends. As I am a very people-oriented kid that likes to keep himself busy at all times, the Zoom calls, texting, and social media got monotonous and lost its charm very quickly. During my time alone, I began to come to terms with my sexuality, and chose to publicly come out as gay, knowing it would be a good time to do so while I don’t have to be out and about and around my peers for long. Shortly after that, I began to have some eating issues that hit me in full swing. I stopped  eating almost entirely, hated the way my body looked, and began passing out almost every other day. Once I tried to get that under control, my general anxiety took complete ownership of my being for a good month. I would sit in my room and shake, I would drive around and cry in the dark for hours, and I would pull all-nighters obsessively cleaning my room. Although I have these very real problems that took control of me and my life, they stemmed from minuscule things. It stemmed from different experiences I had in high school. I was bullied, I had friends that were demeaning towards me, and I had problems with girls throughout those four years. Each of those things seem small to me now, but they were very powerful at the time, and the traces of those feelings I felt then never truly left, and in fact, just built up to become a monster of sorts.

Now, this is where the role as a parent comes in. I had gotten in a fight with my parents one night about a month ago, and I went to my room and isolated myself from the situation altogether. I could hear them talking about me from my room, and I couldn’t take it. One of my biggest fears in life is disappointing my friends and my family, so it was hard for me to listen to. I went out into our living room and let it go. I yelled until my throat hurt. I spilled everything I had been feeling the past month and it was completely unrelated to the argument, but it came out. Because it was so out of the blue, my parents were quick to question it’s validity and it made me feel like my problems weren’t real because they weren’t real to them since I had done my best to keep it hidden out of their sight.

If you are a parent reading this and you feel or know that your child may be going through a mental instability, you have options as to how to help them.

1. LISTEN

     This is the first thing I can’t stress enough. If your child brings something up to you. Whether they’re upset about something small, whether they are seeking medical help, or if they want to tell you about some serious inner conflicts they are experiencing, you have to listen. Don’t interrupt them. Don’t disregard what they say. Don’t say anything to make their problems seem smaller or less valid. When this happens, it truly feels like there is nobody that can assist them in getting the help they need, because nine times out of ten, there is a reason they are choosing to tell you.

2. BE ATTENTIVE

     The signs of mental illness come in many different forms, and sometimes they aren’t just going to jump out at you for you to see. Sometimes they go through periods of overworking themselves, or doing the exact opposite and have no motivation to do anything at all. Sometimes they don’t sleep at all, or sometimes they don’t STOP sleeping. Pay attention to what they say, or if you notice any signs of substance abuse or self harm. There can be mood swings, sudden emotional outbursts (such as the one I mentioned with my parents), or constant states of feeling panicked or anxious. As I had said, not everything will be apparent or in plain sight, but if you make a point to look for these signs, it may be helpful in having a conversation later on, which brings me to my next point.

3. HAVE THE CONVERSATION

     If your child hasn’t made it a point to talk to you first, but you have noticed some behaviors that worry you, or even if it’s just a conversation you want to have so they know that they are safe to come to you, don’t be afraid to sit them down and talk to them. Mental health, especially in teenagers, has an odd stigma around it, because the majority of us are trained to suppress and forget, when in reality, that is the most toxic and unhealthy behavior to become accustomed to. Make sure that you express to your child that their feelings and emotions matter, and just because they may be battling the negative ones, doesn’t mean they are any weaker than anyone else.

4. DO NOT REFUSE TO HELP

     I cannot stress this enough: if your child comes to you expressing that they want to seek medical help, whether it be put on meds, to see a therapist, or request a change in your home that may be a better healing environment, do not shut it down. By all means, take time to think about it, but do not refuse to help. As teenagers, we can’t just go see a therapist on our own, get our own prescription meds, or change the dynamic of our families. It has to be a group effort, whether parents like the idea of it or not. It seems scary and concerning to go through the motions of getting your child medical help, but that’s exactly what it is: help. The alternative of assisting them is having a child that feels like a hostage within their own mind, and as a parent, I genuinely would hope that you would prefer a happier child that is healing over the opposite.

There are more positive steps you could take as a parent in helping your child, but most of them are specific to the individual situation they may be going through, and that is up to the parents to take those steps on their own. 

One thing I can say to any teenagers that may be reading this, mentally healthy or not, be kind to one another. As cliche as it often sounds, you never know what somebody else is going through. We all come from different walks of life, with differing personalities and different thought processes. Many issues begin from the way we treat each other. This doesn’t mean you have to be walking on eggshells with the people you choose to surround yourself with, but it does mean that as a friend and peer, you need to listen, you need to be attentive, and you need to be there for them. That is what’s important. Wanting to improve your mental health doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make you small. It doesn’t make you helpless.

That being said, there is so much more that needs to be done. Conversations about mental health need to be normalized, especially in teenagers. Remove the stigma, be there for those around you, and be kind to one another.

TS TS

Virgil had been going through tics all his life whether or not it was more noticable now he was seventeen was a different story, as a kid he had always had very small and barely motor tics but now he was seventeen they included twitches of the head, arms, the scrunching up of the eyes or the face, rarely he would become paralysed and end up falling somewhere and he would just lay on the ground until he could stand again which usually took around ten minutes but on bad days it was longer, the only good thing about the paralysis one was that he didn’t twitch when it happened, he made involuntary noises and he often said random things but up until this point he had been very alone, no wanted to hand out with him because he didn’t fit into friend groups the only thing that helped him feel better was that when he was sixteen (last year) he had been officially diagnosed with tourette's syndrome, and at first it had been heartbreaking and he had looked at the news as debilitating which it really was but he soon began to look at it in a different light as his dads really encouraged him to embrace it and they didn’t ridicule him or stare and they somehow never seemed embarrassed but one of the most helpful things they did was to do with his coprolalia which made him swear and say inappropriate phrases and they didn’t happen often but when they did he always hated it they happened a lot when he was stressed which was becoming a lot more since exam season was coming up and he was always stressed about his grades. His dads never ever ridiculed him and they even laughed with him and the times Virgil wasn’t laughing, they would comfort him.

Virgil wasn’t on meds because they did nothing for him and he had met some awful people on his way to where he was but now he was joining a new high school as they had just moved to a new town, he didn’t mind they moved often but his dad Patton was certain they would be staying here for as long as they could and his Pa Logan had agreed and Virgil was perfectly content with it as this house was one of the better ones and the town seemed to be too.

He had to get two buses to school though which was a pain, because he wasn’t very good at suppressing his tics and even if he was he didn’t want to because it hurt and when he stopped suppressing them a lot more came out and the silence he had made didn’t compensate for the tics that came out.

It was on a Tuesday that his life changed a bit more that he would’ve thought, he was sat on the bus trying to muffle his vocal tics which was working somewhat, it was fair to say that today wasn't a particularly good tic day but he had had worse, his physical tics however were not doing well, his head kept twitching to the side and his hand and arms kept stretching, he kept kicking his leg out in front of him, luckily no one was sat in front of him. He kept taking deep breaths which worked for about twenty seconds before the slight flailing came back,

Before he could think about how to stop them though someone sat next to him and he immediately panicked and that didn’t help at all and right after the person sat down Virgil’s right arm shot out and punched this person in the arm, but they didn’t say anything, they turned with a smile and held their hand out,

“Greetings! I am Roman, Who might you be?” He seemed to be in the best mood even though he had just been harshly punched for no apparent reason,

“I’m -lemon!- Virgil,” He shook Roman’s hand before looking down but it didn’t last long as his head jerked to the side and his eyes screwed shut before relaxing for a few seconds, then his arms began to flail a bit but this stranger- Roman- didn’t seem to mind at all, in fact, he seemed to be ignoring the tics altogether which, in Virgil’s opinion was brilliant!

“Do you go to Golden Oak?” Roman once again was smiling as he ignored Virgil’s ticing he thought it the nicest thing to do and the boy seemed very self conscious and nervous about his tics so Roman decided not to bring it up,

“Yeah -lemon!- do you?” Virgil’s arms id some weird flinging thing, his leg kicked a couple times and his head jerked right and then left a few times before flinging back and then finally relaxing again,

“I sure do! It is one of the most magnificent schools i have been to! And I absolutely adore that you will be attending it too! Oh! Do you have your schedule yet?” Roman was basically glowing,

“Yeah,” Virgil pulled out his schedule and passed it to Roman who scanned it quickly and then beamed,

“We have every class together except for biology, i do Spanish, and art because I’m in drama!” Virgil was, honestly, relieved because this Roman dude seemed really nice but he supposed it was time to explain himself,

“Cool, I feel -F-fu- that I should ex-fuck- explain myself, I have tourettes -Pancakes!- and i do a lot of -Lemon!- ticking, I don’t think about -Pancakes!- or lemons as much as I say it,” Virgil’s head jerked a little and both his legs swung and kicked, his gloved right hand punched his chest as he squeaked,

“I guessed that was the case! And don’t worry about it! Last year I wrote three different papers on tourettes!” Roman seemed so nice and Virgil couldn’t help but smile back, since being diagnosed he had learned to laugh at life and he would often laugh at his ticks because they were awkward and the best way to dismiss that was by laughing about and sometimes his tics were funny but sometimes they were just exhausting, especially in classes.

Roman and Virgil made small talk until the next stop where they needed to wait for a different bus,

“Lemon! Fuck! Pancakes!” Virgil’s vocal tics could just be let g for now because the only ones getting on this bus were Roman and Virgil and if Virgil was very lucky not many people or none would be on the bus, while they waited Roman began to speak,

“If you don’t mind me asking, and you can totally say no, but would you like to...be friends?” Roman sounded remarkably smaller and a little sacred and Virgil wasn’t going to deny him, in all honesty, Virgil would love to be Roman’s friend,

“Lemons! I would like -f-fu- that,” Virgil suppressed his swearing tics as much as possible but most times he couldn’t stop, plus it hurt to suppress tics. Roman visibly brightened and then without warning hugged Virgil before backing off a little, it was short and sweet, and in all honesty Virgil enjoyed it,

“Do you think -pancakes!- that you could sit -lemons!- sit with-” Virgil stopped being able to talk as his jerked and his arms flailed too much to keep talking as he just couldn’t get the words out, so he waited it out, it lasted five whole minutes but he was fine, Roman seemed worried though,

“Virgil? Are you okay?” He seemed hesitant to ask but his worry outweighed his hesitancy,

“Yeah -cats!- I’m fine,” Virgil breathed deeply as he tried to focus, he kept making noises obviously, he did that most of the time and every now and then his gloved hand would come up and punch his chest or his rams would fly up or out or back,

“What were you going to say?” Roman tried to fix the conversation,

“Could you -Lemons!- sit with me at -lime!- Lunch?” Virgil looked at Roman for a while but his head jerked and he broke eye contact, Roman smiled and nodded very enthusiastically, the truth was Roman didn’t have any real friends sure he had ‘friends’ but a lot of them were toxic and none of them really liked him, they liked the mask he put on but Virgil seemed to like him so far and if he decided he didn’t like the real Roman, the mask could always come back up.

“Of course! I would love to dearest Virgil!” Roman gestured wildly with his hands and Virgil could already tell, he was one of the most extroverted kids, but he didn’t mind because Roman seemed like a true friend, he couldn’t help but let a gummy smile crossed his face as he watched Roman prance around lamenting words of endearment.

The bus pulled up two minutes later it was packed full today and that did not bode well, Roman got on first, leaving Virgil to follow him as his head jerked and his hands made random gestures, Roman choose a seat near the back and thank god that the only four seats that weren’t taken were the two behind and the two in front but there were people sitting across from them and diagonally to them, Roman let Virgil have the window seat so that his ticking didn’t run the risk of hitting anyone except himself and Roman which Roman was absolutely fine with.

Virgil began to talk to Roman, this time he started the conversation,

“What do you -Lemons!- know about tourettes?” He had to admit he was curious, because Roman could be misinformed or he could simply not know the right things for Virgil’s kind of tics or he could simply just not know things but there was also a chance that he did know these things,

“Well, I know about a lot of different types of tics, I know about and vaguely understand coprolalia, I understand what tic attacks are and I know some random bits of information that probably won’t ever be useful but I know them,” Roman seemed really interested inn tourettes and he seemed dedicated to his papers because that was a lot of information to retain and to understand it, even vaguely was impressive,

“I’m surprised most -pancakes! Fuck! Shit! Cunt!-” Virgil’s head jerked wildly again and his legs swung forward, kicking the chair in front quite hard as his arm punched in Roman’s direction hitting him in the shoulder, but he didn’t react, unlike those around them, people were staring with looks of disgust but Virgil had a mantra for times like this,

Those that mind, don’t matter and those that matter, don’t mind.

He repeated it a couple times in his head before speaking again,

“Most people don’t -shit!- don’t understand, even -lemons!- vaguely,” Virgil had an air of confidence but his eyes told a different story, they had an undertone of frustration and anger but a set sadness and fear were buried under that, Roman could see it all but decided not to point it out,

“Well, what can I say?-” Virgil cut him off

“Except you’re welcome!” He had a bright smile plastered on his face at the brilliant reference and Roman covered his mouth ad he gasped quietly,

“You...Like Disney??!!” He seemed very excited and Virgil felt so full of joy in that moment, more joy than he had felt in the last year, sure he had experienced joy but not like this. Virgil nodded causing his head to jerk down five times before he could look back up again,

“Well what about Mulan? Let’s talk” and so the rest of their journey consisted of ignoring the snarls and looks of disgust and the not-so-silent whispers passing around the bus about Virgil, and consequently Roman as the two spoke about every Disney film and the characters and eventually they were talking about Harry potter, the books versus the movies, so far Virgil’s argument for the books seemed to be winning, but before they could continue the bus stopped at the school and Virgil got all anxious again,

“Fuck! Shit! Fuck off!” The people were now just talking about him as he followed Roman to the exit but they didn’t make it that far, they were stopped by someone and Virgil instantly knew what was coming before they even opened their mouth nd it seemed so did Roman,

Virgil held his jacket close as he slung his backpack on his shoulder,

“What is wrong with you?” This was one of the times when Virgil wished this man had some curiosity in his voice but he didn’t, all it held was malice. Roman caught the question before Virgil could answer, as his head was jerking too much, but he managed to control his arms because they were holding his jacket very tightly, his shoulder kept jerking back though, and it would hurt the next day because t always did but that was the least of his problems right now,

“Let me answer that. There is simply nothing wrong with him, he is a fine friend and i don’t believe there is anything wrong with him. Unless you do?” Roman’s voice had an undertone of danger but this dude seemed to miss it,

“Yeah, I do! Look right now, even when we’re talking he can’t focus on us! And he keeps saying weird shit! What’s wrong with him?” The man’s insults weren’t anything that Virgil hadn’t heard before but they still hurt no matter how many times he heard them,

“Like I said, nothing is wrong with him, now excuse us, we have to get going,” Roman pushed past the man and Virgil stuck close, once they were off the bus Roman let out and angry sigh and Virgil thought he was mad at him for being an embarrassment but it didn’t happen,

“I was about to punch that guy,” Roman sounded angry but he wasn’t really, not anymore. Virgil’s head jerked a couple times and there were some weird noises and the word lemons but other than that he seemed to have calmed down a little now that they were off the bus,

“C’mon we’ll be late,” Roman took Virgil by the hand, gently, and led them to their first class, Math.

-

It turned out that they weren’t late at all, in fact, they were the first there beside the teacher, who smiled kindly, having already met Virgil she ignored the tics which now were just noises and the scrunching of the eyes and face, which weren’t really that bothersome unless he was reading, good thing they weren’t in English.

“Is there a seating plan?” Roman spun around, Miss Kathleen (she made sure they called her by her first name) was Roman’s favourite teacher, she was by far the most understanding and she was really funny, but she was like a mother to everyone but she wouldn’t tolerate bullying and she could really be strict if the situation called for it. Roman idolised her because she was just so great!

“Oh, well there is but since you are here early and you’re one of my favourites I’ll let you pick your seat and who sits beside you,” She smiled again and Roman beamed back before grabbing Virgil's hand again and leading him to the back, left corner, next to the window, which Virgil was very grateful for, after they had their books out (Virgil getting a completely new set of books to work from) Roman began talking,

“I think this is like one of the only classes with a seating plan so I’ll sit next to you in the other ones!” Roman was radiating happiness,

“Yeah, that would -Lemons! Fuck!- be nice,” Virgil’s head went back to jerking and his legs swung out, as his shoulders jerked back every once and a while and his arms would either come up to hit Roman or to hit himself. Today was going to be a long day.

-

Five classes and a break later, it was lunchtime, now Virgil didn’t have any complaints about the five classes he had been through, sure he got some weird looks and people who told him to ‘shhh’ but he ignored them because,

Those that mind don’t matter, and those that matter don’t mind

He was sat alone at one of the far away lunch tables he waited for Roman despite not being sure he would even turn up, he was wrong though because not even two minutes later Roman bounded over to the table Virgil was sat at, his legs swinging and his eyes scrunching up, as his arm punched his chest, he squeaked too, Virgil thought his tics were the worst thing but Roman thought they made Virgil cute and oddly attractive,

Roman sat down having just come from biology and Spanish the two were talking about what the lesson had been like and Roman was asking Virgil if he had been okay,

“So, did anyone give you trouble?” Roman sounded so protective and Virgil almost wanted to tell him that the biology teacher, despite being a biology teacher, was an ignorant dick, but he decided against and told Roman about his seat,

“I have to sit next to -fuck! Lemon, pancakes- to some kid who -lemon- thinks I’m a -lemon, lemon, lemon- freak and treats me like -fuck! Shit!- an experiment, I've had worse though,” He punched himself in the chest before his arm shot out to the side and the his elbows jerked back, his head jerked left then right then left again and his face scrunched up, all before he started eating,

“I mean, if you want I could take his whole face out?” Roman seemed dead serious and that just made it ten times funnier and Virgil threw his head back in a true, full body laugh, and the best part? It was a tic free moment. Roman joined in but then as they both calmed down someone walked over to their table and they seemed to have such an air of confidence that wasn’t fake at all and that was a little worrying, to say the least,

“Hey Roman, why aren’t you sitting with us today?” This kid wasn’t even acknowledging Virgil, like at all, but that was okay because Virgil didn’t really want to be noticed, so he just continued to eat his lunch,

“Well, I just thought I would sit here for today, y’know for some...Variety? Yes that’s the word!” Roman waved his hands around and smiled brightly though Virgil could see through the smile and it wasn’t like the one he had seen only minutes ago, but he decided to bring it up later,

The girl hummed, “Okay, well, if you don’t want to sit alone, then you can always come join us,” The girl took one last look at Roman before she tried to walk away but Roman butt in,

“What do you mean alone?” His tone was ludicrous but he was always that little bit extra,

“Well, you’re sat by yourself, or at least this kid that your sat with probably doesn’t talk much so it must feel like you’re alone,” She snickered,

“Well for your information, we happen to be having the most wondrous conversations and I like his company more than yours,” Roman seemed mad but Virgil didn’t really believe that Roman was mad,

“Geez, okay dude, no need to be so harsh,”

“Irony,” Virgil couldn’t help himself, he found irony so funny and stupid at the same time, kinda like tumblr humour, not the point!  

“What did you say to me?” The kid seemed genuinely curious but there was an underlying tone of danger that, while it went unnoticed by Roman, was not missed by Virgil, and you see Virgil wasn’t a violent person but he would and could fight if he had to and the weird thing was, when he got angry at someone or when someone he loved was being threatened his tics went away and it was amazing but it was also strange and it upset Virgil that it couldn’t be explained, but hey ho what can you do but get on with life,

“Irony,” Virgil repeated himself,

“What do you mean, irony?”

“Your response was ironic,” Virgil stood up from the table and turned to look at the girl who had come over,

“How dare you?!” She was mad but Virgil wasn’t sure if she would start a fight of not, hopefully she wouldn’t but you could never be sure with some people,

“What?” Virgil cocked his head to the side slightly and at this point there was a small crowd growing, Roman was still seated,

“You realise that you can’t speak to me like that?” She took three steps closer to Virgil, he didn’t step back like sh expected, he wasn’t afraid of her,

He held his ground.

They glared at each other for a second before she clenched her right fist and took a swing at Virgil’s face, she hit her target but she left herself wide open and Virgil swung his foot to kick her in the back of the knee, as she tripped, Virgil took a swing at her side just o throw her off balance a little more,

Now Virgil with only a bloody nose and this girl with a sore knee and a sure to bruise side, she tried to tackle him again but he just aimlessly dodged her and after that she was sure she wouldn’t miss again and she was right, she didn’t, she brought her fist up to Virgil’s eye and she hit him right in the left eye, he stumbled back a little but before he could be hit he elbowed her in the back before falling to the ground when something hit him in the back of the head,

He turned to see that it was another boy presumably this girls boyfriend but at this point Virgil’s vision was blurry and his head was throbbing he could only see out of one eye and he could taste his blood on his tongue, but he wasn’t done yet,

He wouldn’t lose this time.

Virgil stood up and stepped into a fighting position his eye already bruising up, the boy looked at him and laughed,

It was funny how he stopped laughing when Virgil brought his leg up in a very straight line and kicked the guy in the nose, he brought his feet back into an apprehensive stance as taekwondo was turning out to be useful he would thank his pa later for suggesting he take classes,

“How dare you?!” The boy recovered faster than the girl did and that surprised Virgil but he liked a challenge,

Virgil smiled a little as he strafed right to avoid the punches that were swung his way and then the boy decided he had had enough of being beaten he began to use brute force never leaving room for Virgil to attack back he was on the defense for the near future and he didn’t like it, his arms had been raised into an x position in front of his chest and his face to avoid a lot of pain but he had no room to attack, his arms become sore, absolutely sure to bruise heavily and he was sure he could keep it up,

Until he heard a snap.

He felt more than heard it but as soon as it happened he felt his arm become limp and it burned with pain he wanted to scream but he knew that wasn’t a good idea so he just let his tears fall silently instead of screaming or saying anything he gritted his teeth and just as the boy pulled away as he thought he had won, Virgil hugged his arm to his chest as he ducked under his arms but before he could do anything else a voice was heard over all the chanting in the crowd,

“What is going on here?!” It sounded like the head teacher but Virgil wasn’t sure, in seconds though he was leaned against the table,

Roman ha moved him.

And he was now sitting in front of Virgil asking him questions but Virgil couldn’t hear him over the blood rushing to his ears and the gasping noises he was making certainly didn’t help, the group started to dissipate but not everyone left a few pairs and the odd trio were still hanging around but Virgil couldn’t focus on anything else apart from the pain he felt,

“Vi….il….infirmary...c’mon….” That was most definitely Roman’s voice and there were shouts and murmurs in the background but as it happened Virgil wasn’t sure what was happening he wasn’t even sure how he was moving or if he was doing it himself, spoiler alert he wasn’t, He felt warmth around him though and that was somewhat comforting he would feel incredibly comfortable right now if it wasn’t for the pain he felt everywhere.

-^-

Okay so I know that was a lot and I know i don’t know a lot about tourettes I don’t have tourette's but I tried to research as much as possible and it may not be correct but I tried really hard and f you would like to massage me any feedback you might have don’t be shy I would love to hear what you think and where I may have gotten things wrong and if you want and if I get enough feedback about what is wrong and what id right then I will update it an we can work together to make to more correct and to read smoother and to sound better. I hope you enjoyed regardless of any mistakes and who knows maybe I’ll make a part two depending on how this is received who knows you might all hate it a lot but maybe some people will like it, well no matter what I enjoyed writing it and learning I love you all and of you read all of this note thanks you’re all pretty great human beings and I appreciate you,

@the-crazed-band-kid @nobodygotarrested

You both seemed very excited for this but then I don’t like it and it’s not very good but you said you would give me honest to god feedback so please tell me the good bits and the horrifically awful bits, if it’s incorrect or insults you in any way I will take it down,

Love you all

- Harry

For the cuddling prompt: 6 + kabby

post season 2 hiatus period, because I don’t quite have it in me to write anything that occurs in the bunker. also, i intended for this to be a drabble but apparently I am physically incapable of doing so, here’s 2000 words.

It’s after the fifth time that he finds Abby sleeping in a hospital bed that he finally takes matters into his own hands.

Meaning: he throws them up in exasperation and writes down the keycode to his room, then presses the slip of paper into Abby’s hands.

She looks down at it, then lifts her head and raises an eyebrow at him.

“What is this?”

“Abby, you can’t keep falling asleep in here.” She tilts her head at him, her eyes narrowing a bit, and he quickly presses on before she can start an argument about his choice of words. He gestures towards the paper in her hand. “My room is just down the hall. You can at least stumble in there and sleep on a real bed for a few hours before I walk you to your room.”

She shakes her head, though he catches a moment of hesitation before she does.

“Marcus, I appreciate this, but I’m fine.”

She reaches out to try and hand him back the slip of paper, but he just shakes his head and stops her hand with his own.

“Abby, at least consider the offer.” He lays his fingers flat against hers, then folds hers over the piece of paper in her hand. “Please?”

She bites her lip and looks up at him, and he’s briefly struck still by the flood of sensation between them – her eyes meeting his, the movement of her biting her lips, the feel of his fingertips against her skin. He wants to look everywhere and nowhere at once.

Abby breaks off her stare and takes a deep breath before she nods, her hand going to the pocket of her jacket.

“Ok.”

He blinks rapidly, then smiles at her.

“You’ll use it?”

She purses her lips to the side and angles her head back and forth.

“I’ll consider it.”

To his great and extremely gratified surprise, Abby actually does use his room to take naps throughout the day and on nights when they both have the third shift.

Less surprising is the fact that she refuses to take the bed. He always walks in to find her sleeping while sitting up on his couch, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle; or else, curled up tightly at one end of it, her feet tucked in between the cushions.

Whenever he walks in and sees her, he always has an agonizingly long internal argument about whether or not he should wake her up. On the one hand, she never really looks that much more comfortable than she might on a hospitable bed; on the other hand, he’s just happy to see her actually getting rest.

Most of the time, he opts for draping a blanket over her for about an hour or so while he works at his desk or gets ready for bed. He tells himself it’s so she can get just a little bit more rest, that it has nothing to do with her presence in his room or the softness of the light hitting her face.

He believes himself about half of the time.

He stops by the med bay one night and sees Lincoln in the far corner cleaning off surgical tools, an engineer named Davis sleeping in the bed nearest to the door.

Lincoln turns off the water and grabs a small towel, dries off his hands as he walks to Marcus.

“What happened?” Marcus asks, nodding towards Davis.

“A bad fall off one of the new towers they’re building. He punctured a lung when he shattered his ribcage.” He gestures towards Abby’s desk. “He’s fine now, but I sent Abby off shift early because she was exhausted.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“And she listened to you?”

Lincoln hums deep in his throat, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Octavia may have suggested she’d call you in from guard duty and have you carry Abby to bed if she wound up falling asleep in here.” He grins at the look on Marcus’ face. “It was an empty threat, but it worked.”

Marcus tilts his head.

“Was it really an empty threat, though?”

Lincoln chuckles, a small, low sound that Marcus mostly only hears when he’s talking to Octavia.

“Mostly empty, then.”

He’s looking at the guard rotation schedule as he enters his room and takes off his weapon, trying to figure out changes for the next few nights since flu season is hitting them particularly hard.

He sits down on the edge of his bed, mumbling to himself over what changes might make the most sense, and nearly yells out loud when he feels the blanket shift behind him.

He whips around, his hand instinctively going for a weapon that isn’t there, his eyes darting back and forth as he scans the room for a potential threat.

What he finds instead is Abby curled up underneath his sheets, her face half-hidden by the cascade of hair fanning out around her.

Which is a different kind of threat altogether.

He stares at her for a long moment, taking in the way she curls in on herself as she sleeps, despite the wide expanse of the bed around her. She looks smaller in sleep, so different from how much space she occupies in her day to day life.  One hand is tucked up underneath her pillow, the other stretched out across the bed.

She lets out a soft groan, and there’s enough of her face peeking out through the curtain of her hair that he can see her mouth slightly turn down in a frown and a furrow appear between her brows. Her fingers, too, start to twitch – like she’s reaching out for something she can’t quite grasp.

He sets down the sheet in his hands and gently runs his fingertips over each one of her fingers, stilling their motion. Then, he reaches over and brushes the hair back from her face, tucking it back behind her ear, letting his touch linger along the curve of it. Her mouth relaxes slightly, though the furrow between her brows remains. He reaches up and gently sweeps the backs of his knuckles against her forehead, smoothing out the worried lines, tracing his thumb across the arch of her brows.

She breathes in deeply, the worry in her expression disappearing completely. He knows he should withdraw his hand – that he’s managed to allay any nightmarish fears haunting her dreams, that already the lingering touches he’s given to comfort her are dangerously close to the line he’s forced himself to stand behind – but he’s tired and she’s beautiful, and all his walled-in desire seems foolish in the soft quiet of his room.

So instead he lays his palm flat against her cheek – just for a moment, just to know what it feels like in his waking hours instead of in his want-filled dreams.  

He means to move away when he realizes it’s even softer than he’s imagined – the velvet smoothness of flowers in spring that he’s never even known except for in fading photographs. But then she turns her face into his hand and breathes out a sigh, her mouth turning up into an almost-smile, and he freezes as her eyes flutter open.

“Marcus?”

Her eyes are blurry with sleep, but there’s a warmth to them, a tenderness, that makes his heart stutter and his thumb trace a line across the edge of her cheekbone.

“Hey.” He tips his head down, meaning to apologize, but then swallows back his words when Abby brings her hand up to cover his, her mouth turned in towards his wrist so that her words feel imprinted into his skin.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

Her words shudder at the end, and she draws in a shaky breath as she closes her eyes.

Her drops down to his knees, cups her face in both his hands – wants to do whatever he can to draw her out of the quiet sadness of her dreams.

“Abby, it was just a dream.” He thinks now might be a time to drop a kiss on her forehead, comforting and kind. He thinks if he felt any less for her, he could and leave it at that.

But he doesn’t think he could leave it at that.

So instead he tips his head forward and rests his forehead against hers for a moment.

“Hey,” he says softly, waiting for her eyes to open and meet his. “It’s ok.” He moves one hand down from her face to wrap his fingers around hers.

She looks down and shifts her hand so that their fingers are in intertwined, then glances back up at him before she nods. Then, after a long, quiet moment, she shifts backwards in the bed. Their hands are still wrapped up in one another, arms stretched out along the length of the covers.

“Can you…” She presses her lips tightly together, her voice edged with uncertainty. She takes a short, quick breath then tugs him towards her. “Please?”

He hesitates for just a moment – she’s half asleep and still clearly affected by whatever dream she was just lost in, and he doesn’t want to take advantage of either of those situations.

She must realize that – or else just grow impatient with his hesitation – because she blinks the sleep back from her eyes and meets his gaze firmly in a way that knocks right against his heart.

“Marcus?”

His name is hushed in the dimness of his room, intimate and warm and overwhelming. She presses her fingers into the dips between his knuckles and tugs once more. The look in her eyes somehow both commanding and vulnerable, and whatever last vestiges of hesitation he had disappears.

He toes off his boots and climbs into the bed, shifting underneath the sheets until he’s pressed up close next to her. She lifts her head and rests it on his shoulder, keeping her fingers wrapped in his as she brings their interlocked hands up to rest on his chest. He wraps his other arm around her shoulders, molding his palm against its contours as he drops his head down to rest his cheek against the crown of her head.

She’s small and soft in his arms, molded perfectly against him. He’s too tired to pretend that he hasn’t dreamed this exact moment a hundred different times, so instead he lets himself fall into the moment, tries to memorize the feel of her hair against his cheek, the weight of her hand on his chest, the press of her body against his.

Abby sighs, breathes him in as she tugs herself closer to him.

“You were lost in a snowstorm and I couldn’t find you,” she says quietly, a faint edge of disquiet still in her voice. “Somehow I knew…I could feel that you were just out of reach.”

He glances down at her – sees her eyes closed, her brows drawn together – and shakes his head, his cheek brushing up against her forehead.

“It was just a dream, Abby.” He turns his head, his voice hushed, his lips ghosting against her skin. “I’m right here.”

She nods and burrows into the slope of his neck, her fingers drawing small circles in the center of his chest, perfectly in sync with the movements of his fingertips against the slant of her shoulder.

“Thank you, Marcus,” she murmurs, sleep crawling in at the edges of her words.

“For what?”

“Being here.” She breathes out a quiet laugh, her next words slurred with sleep. “And for giving me your room key code and your couch and your bed.” She brushes her wool coat toes against the soles of his feet. “And your warmest socks.”

He chuckles.

“However long you want them, they’re yours.”

He can feel the shape of her smile against his skin, a quick upturn that stays pressed on her lips even as her breathing evens out and her body relaxes against him.

Before his own eyes flutter closed and sleep pulls him under, he feels her hand shift across his chest and flatten itself on top of his heart.

He covers it with his own, his thumb brushing over the contours of her fingers. 

The last thought that crosses his mind before he drifts off to sleep is –

That’s yours, too.

Prompt me a cuddle fic!

Stripes of Auburn, Eye of Sapphire

Prologue Pt. I

Read on Ao3 | Read on FFN |  Masterlist

Some disclaimers to go by: - While this starts off as a sort of retelling, the story becomes quite canon divergent at a certain point. The only true retelling – to my standards, that is – is just the prologue when all the characters are introduced as in canon. - With that said, regardless of this narrative diverging from canon, there are heavy, full on spoilers for Masamune and Shingen’s route. Don’t say I didn’t warn you! - While MC’s name is Mai Mizusaki, it’s not truly my intention to portray her exactly as how her character is in the manga version. Only took her name by default to be honest, there’s not really too much into it. - I also made the decision to extend the wormhole’s apparition from three to six months, but this is only to my personal benefit and consideration. To be honest, I just think three months is just a very short span of time for everything that happens.

Mai

A gleeful smile clings to her lips, turning to the starry sky in sheer delight, free and careless as a bird. It has taken so long and almost taken too much of her, but finally, finally, her efforts bore fruit.

She’d just gotten her dream job! She’s really, really going to be a fashion designer! Good riddance, matte-gray cubicle! Good riddance, piles upon piles of resumes! Cheers and so long to all those suckers who’d strongly believed she wouldn’t make it!

I bet grandma is so proud of me now…

With a full and unabashed grin, her first resolution is to get all her partying out of her system in the next couple of days, with some of her friends currently staying or either visiting Kyoto. It surely won’t be easy to get used to the hurries and constant activity of such a big city at first—that, she’s pretty much sure of, as for being a small town girl—but regardless, that’s far from being one of the biggest challenges she’s faced.

And she does like some good challenges. Where’s the thrill and excitement of life, otherwise?

It’s been some time since Mai hasn’t felt as proud of herself as of then, and her feet are glad to show that, leading her into a stroll through the streets of Kyoto. Recalling something, she brings a magazine from her purse, titled ‘A Traveler’s Guide To Japan’s Hottest Warlords’. The cheesy title makes her chuckle in amusement once again, knowing the most basic reason she in fact got that has been for the whole silliness of it. However, Kyoto’s truly a hub of historical activity, and that guide promised to have plenty of information on good sightseeing spots.

Stopping at a red street light, Mai flicks through the pages, honey-colored eyes falling upon some—supposedly so—familiar names. ‘The Peerless Warrior – Yukimura Sanada’, reads the top of the page. Who this guy was famous for, again? Much to her family’s concern, she’d crammed for Japanese history last. And to point that out, for a so-called guide on ‘Hottest warlords’, having that one as an introduction is just about a tad bit disappointing.

But just this once, she actually didn’t get that book for some eye candy, and so Mai opts out on scrolling some more. Quick enough, there’s another name that rings a bell.

‘The One-Eyed Dragon – Masamune Date”

That one, she’s more familiar with, and there’s been quite a bunch of historical dramas made about him as well. Ah, ‘The One-Eyed Dragon’… Mai can’t help but savor that name, feeling too nice when rolled over the tip of her tongue. And that eye patch as portrayed on the picture? Well, well, apparently she has finally gotten to the real deal of that magazine, something about the intensity depicted in that one single eye making her bite her lower lip in excitement. It’s really too bad he’s not from Kyoto, though, or else she’d be visiting every single museum or sightseeing made about him.

With a certain itching, Mai drops the evident eye candy displayed all over the magazine for the time being. “Mmh, let’s see. Where’s the closest place I can visit?” She mumbles to herself.

Apparently there is one nearby—a stone monument to Honno-ji, carved at the ancient temple’s original location. Next to the map of the site, there’s a full page dedicated to the most famous man tied to that location; the notorious ‘Devil King of the 6th Heaven’, Nobunaga Oda.

And that is a man Mai can clearly remember. After all, and if she recalls it right, he almost unified all of Japan under his rule. That’s not something to go by unnoticed. Along the pages, it reads, “In the year 1582, betrayed by Mitsuhide Akechi, Nobunaga committed suicide amidst the fiery wreckage of Honno-ji.”

… Or as Mai recalls it better, “In 1582, Nobunaga’s ambitions burned in a coup!”

Amused after noticing she still remembers her past old mnemonics, her feet guide her across the map leading to where Honno-ji once stood. However, her face winces with disappointment as she makes it to the place.

So… this is it? Really? It’s just a simple, somber monument—and pretty small as well.

“So much for ‘the best sightseeing spots of Kyoto’, huh?” Her lips purse into a frown, wondering if the almighty Nobunaga Oda would be as disappointed as she is as of then. Regardless, Mai stands there for some more time, trying her best to picture how the famous temple would have been.

Not much later, another visitor joins her at the monument; a young man with thin glasses and a tad bit messy brunette hair. The fact of him wearing a lab coat in public clearly makes him stand out. Is he a doctor? Nah, probably not, Mai assumes, looking too young and probably just about her age, instead assuming he most likely is a med-school student.

Standing silently beside her, his eyes are fixed on the monument stone, his expression too serious, almost contemplative—Mai can’t help it when her eyes drift to him instead. In her defense, he clearly is more intriguing than a chunk of rock, after all.

Her thoughts vanish in the next second after a drop of rainwater falls on her nose, blinking and turning to the sky. All so very sudden, dark gray clouds are looming over them, making Mai frown in concern. Where did those clouds come from? It was a clear sky just moments ago!

“Oh, no…” Without any advice whatsoever, the clouds abruptly break open and the tiny drops give way to a downpour.

Her companion doesn’t seem to be surprised, however. “Talk about poor timing,” His voice drifts over before the storm roars over and muffles it down.

“’Clear skies, all day and night’, it said. Stupid weather report,” Mai opts out for a small chit chat, already glancing around them for the closest shelter, growing annoyed.

The man’s glasses glint as a thunder breaks through, giving her a somewhat worried once-over. “Are you alright? You have an umbrella?” His serious expression doesn’t waver, yet he seems as polite as for asking.

“Well, yeah, but back at my hotel,” Mai grunts, anticipating the immediate struggle of removing her wet bangs off her face, getting soaked within seconds.

Her gaze drifts from past the man’s shoulder to his face, yet only for a split second before the two of them come to a startle—a fierce lightning bolt striking through and coming down before their very faces. Mai can’t help but screech, but the sound is muffled as they’re left to watch the stone monument in front of them shatter into pieces. What the heck!?

She’s forced to blink past the thick downpour and the blinding light from the bolt, never having seen such a thing that close before. The man’s arm makes way to seemingly push her back, “Careful, miss—!” His voice is tinged with panic and Mai can only watch in a blur as her companion struggles to get a hold on her.

Overcome with fright as she is, she tries grabbing his offered hand but, for some reason, it warps and bends into a thick, overwhelming darkness, eventually disappearing. Dizziness overtakes all her senses, squeezing her eyes shut to fight the feeling of gagging and pass out altogether, heart hammering its way out of her chest.

What the hell is happening?

For what it could be a brief moment or days later, the dizziness finally recedes, but as Mai dares drifting her eyes open, her sight gets obscured once more with streams of billowing hot smoke. Her limbs shake violently, weak and sick to the core, and a heavy cough makes its way up her throat, sheer confusion getting a stronger hold of her. One moment it was just raining and then, there’s not even a hint of humidity around her.

She blinks harder to adjust her sights, but her sense of smell wasn’t deceiving her in the first place. Where am I? How did I get in here? Her heartbeat pounds in her ears, adrenaline flushing through her veins—for the hot smoke can only mean one thing…

This place is on fire!

With an urgency that could only attribute to the most basic human sense of survival, she covers her mouth and leaps on, a shot of adrenaline numbing the shaking of her legs and arms. Looking through the suffocating smoke to catch a glimpse of the lab coat from her last living companion, the man isn’t anywhere to be seen. There’s no shattered monument either, or even the cold concrete under her scraped knees.

Instead, her eyes lay over the most unbelievable sight—a man, dressed in a suit of ancient Japanese armor.

Her eyes almost bulge out and her breath catches on her mouth, taking too long to process what she’s seeing. The man seems to have passed out on the middle of the floor, but to make everything even worse, barely a second later, the thick smoke gives way to the silhouette of another man, this one appearing to hold some kind of walking stick.

It doesn’t take much longer for her brain to put two and two together, and not even the roaring noise of the roof falling apart makes Mai drift her eyes away from the newcomer. It’s not a walking stick, it’s a sword!

Sparks from the flaming paper wall illuminate the sharp edge of the metal blade, rising and pointing in direction of the fainted man. “Hey, you, look out!” Mai’s tongue is faster than her brain, crying at the armored man clearly about to be butchered.

Mai’s heart and breath stops, struggling not to fall herself into sheer panic—and justifiably so—but for some miraculous reason that shout seems to work, the figure with the menacing sword going still. A second later and apparently without a second thought, the figure turns and flees from the scene.

Without giving herself a moment to question her eyes, Mai crouches beside the unconscious man, shaking him urgently. Her efforts make way to a brief success, eyes drifting open lazily.

“W-who are you?” It’s the first he wonders, his voice gruff yet apparently stressing himself to give way to a tint of demand.

“No time for introductions. Come on, we have to get out of here!” They’re on a building on fire, literally about to fall apart at any moment, and with a man undoubtedly out to kill that one. If there’s a time for questions, that’s clearly not the one. “Take my hand!”

Apparently holding onto the same urgency as her yet still struggling with an understandable dizziness, he complies and takes Mai’s hand. As she hauls him to his feet, the next moment they’re running for their lives through the blazing fire. A column roars at her right as it falls apart before her eyes, clutching the man’s hand harder and sharply tugging him closer to keep him from facing a cloud of debris flying straight to them. She forces her feet to keep running despite the smoke threatening to burn her lungs, sheer adrenaline pumping through her veins.

It’s a miracle, but they manage to make it through, almost tripping with a set of stairs but finding a way out to the open regardless. Her legs are screaming in pain, knees and elbows skinned, thighs with burns in some places, with one sandal left behind. Thankfully so, the real sting hasn’t arrived just yet, leaving Mai to spare herself a moment to stare at the building they’ve left behind, panting hard.

At first sight, it looks out to be a… temple—or was, most precisely, considering the fact of it then being engulfed by uncontrollable flames, the whole structure already falling apart. Mai blinks again past the smoke and debris, her brain refusing to cooperate and process what her eyes are witnessing.

I must be dreaming. This has to be a dream…

Beside her, her companion seems to be slowly coming to his senses, panting slightly and coughing away the remains of the hot smoke. “Someone tried to do away with me while I slept? Audacious, but foolish…” He growls, clearly aggravated. “Killing my guards and getting that close to me is another matter.”

Mai gives him a brief once-over to check up on visible injuries before returning to the burning scene on display, getting hard to tear her gaze away from such a horrible sight. “… Woman, let go of me.”

A tug at her hand makes her realize she was still gripping him for dear life, her knuckles white. “Oh, right. Sorry.” She lets him go without hesitation, forcing her own fingers to pry themselves open.

The man she’d rescued then turns to look her over thoughtfully. “You saved my life.” He says with clear surprise in his voice, straightening his back, his chest still rising and falling as he slowly seems to be regaining his breathing. “You may be some woman the monks snuck in for amusement, but I owe you my thanks regardless...”

The innuendo isn’t lost in her, meeting the man’s eyes. “Oh, really? I must have missed all the amused monks in the massive fire we just escaped from. I don’t even know how I got in here,” Mai frowns, adrenaline slowly yet surely wearing down after getting some clearer air into her system. However, that also gives way to an impending rush of questions after questions.

Who exactly has she just saved? Why is he dressed like a star in a poor samurai drama? And why does he speak like one too? But his eyes look proud and brutal and, most importantly, all too genuine in his demeanor. To make it worse, she can tell by a mere brief look at his clothes that they are, in fact, authentic—and just as much as that sword hanging on his belt.

Suspicion narrows the stranger’s eyes as he acknowledges her. “What are you staring at?” He muses, brows knitting in a frown. “You surely know who I am…”

“I really don’t…” Mai doesn’t actually know what else to say, blinking in confusion. “Should I, though?”

The man seems taken aback by the admission, tilting his head back. “You saved me without knowing who I am? Not expecting a reward or favor?” He doesn’t seem to be letting that surprising—for him, that is—fact take over, an amused smirk clinging to his face. “So be it. I shall tell you my name.”

Leaning closer to her, a glint of pride and something more dangerous crosses his eyes, brighter than the reflection of the blazing fire dancing across his dirty face. “I am the man who will rule over all under the sun—“

Mai’s heart skips a beat, something akin to danger coursing through her. Abort, abort, abort! Her brain seems to shout. “Actually, you really don’t need to tell me,” She blurts out, unconsciously taking a step back and procuring herself some distance from that devious look in that man’s face.

As if he just took a slap in the cheek, the stranger blinks once. “What?” Mai’s aware she’s being pretty much rude, but her instincts are stronger, getting the feeling she most certainly will not going to like whatever it is he has to say.

Then again, his stunned look doesn’t last for long, a long, amused laugh echoing its way far into the night. “You’re a curious one, woman. No one has spoken so imprudently to me before…”  Mai doesn’t feel up to join his sudden mirth, however, not finding anything about the situation funny in the slightest.

And, wow, that wicked smile could really kill a kitten.

“You intrigue me, which is almost as worthy of praise as saving my life.” He looks inclined to admit, the pride in his eyes also reaching his lips, quirking up into a grin. “I am the Lord of Azuchi Castle and Daimyo of Owari, Nobunaga Oda.”

A moment goes by, then two and then three, until her brain finally makes a connection. Her eyes go wide and mouth hangs open, jaw falling to the very floor. “Wait, what.” It’s all she can mumble, removing some bangs off her face as if that mere action would make her sense of hearing some more clearer. Did he just really say his name is Nobunaga Oda? Nah, I don’t buy it.

But as she returns to glance at her surroundings, her honey eyes turn towards the gate of the burning temple. The sign on the gate hasn’t yet fallen victim of the blazing fire and wreckage, engraved with a name she’s just read moments—or is it hours? Or days?—ago, deeming it unmistakable:

‘Honno-ji’.

Her shoulders slump down, limbs threatening to stop keeping her standing—if she wasn’t truly shocked at the horrible sight of a temple being engulfed in flames, she can certainly assure she is then.

With her brain still struggling to make any sense of the situation, Mai opts on for keeping herself together and just go through the basics of it. “Um, pardon me for asking something as strange as this but… what year is it?”

Thankfully so, he doesn’t seem to be taking too much into it. “It is 1582. Why?”

Memories of a sentence she’d just read not so long ago make a resurface. “In the year 1582, betrayed by Mitsuhide Akechi, Nobunaga committed suicide amidst the fiery wreckage of Honno-ji.”

As if that recalling had just hurt her eyes, she shakes her head sharply. I’ve got to be dreaming this. There’s absolutely no way this can’t be a dream. Following her most rational thought, she raises her hand to her cheek and pinches it hard. Okay, that hurt. There goes the dream theory…

But does that possibly mean she’s back in time to the night Nobunaga Oda died?

The aforementioned man looks amused once again, the wickedness in his eyes gleaming even brighter. “Why are you pinching yourself for? I’ve given my name. It’s only fair to hear yours.”

Pushing the situation even further, he closes the distance between them, taking Mai’s chin in his hand and forcing her to meet his eyes. “Tell me your name.” The self-proclaimed Nobunaga Oda all but demands, undoubtedly savoring the way he intends to corner her—if the near devilish look in his face is anything to go by.

She gulps hard, knowing there’s no use with denying him such a thing.

“M-Mai, it’s Mai. Mai Mizusaki…”