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#if she ends up sick again or with an accident or Something next week too. im gonna b like Hmmmmm

translatemunson · 14 days

Text

we play dumb but we know exactly what we’re doing • ttfd

chapter two of the tortured firefighters department

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, no descriptions of reader, banter (because i love it), mentions of food, bobby almost adopting brains, proofread by my bye-lingual ass (let me know if i forgot anything)

Your sneakers made funny noises while you walked up the stairs to the communal room — the mezzanine with a view for the ground floor — at the 118 firehouse. The fresh baked brownies — that you baked the night before, just in time to put it on the blue tupperware and take with you for your shift — jiggled as you approached the top of the stairs.

You checked the garage again, looking for Chimney’s ambulance, when you found the loft empty. Well, not that empty.

“Good afternoon, Captain Nash.” You greeted the man. As a dispatcher, your voice was your most recognizable mark, only giving out your name when necessary. And in your job, it was your responsibility to know the names of the captains. You wished Captain Nash was just an occasional contact, but lately he has been the one on the other end of the comms.

“Afternoon, dispatcher.” He was preparing some lunch for his team. “How can I help you?”

“Is Chimney around? I have something for him. Actually, it is for Maddie and baby Jee.” You motioned to the tupperware.

“He’s gonna be back soon, got stuck in traffic after delivering a civilian to the hospital. But if you are in a hurry, I can give it to him.” The captain was busy with the pans on the stove and chopping vegetables for a salad, you supposed.

“Just left my shift, I can wait. I don’t trust firefighters with carbs and sweets, no offense.” You pulled one of the chairs and took a seat, still watching the man moving effortlessly in the kitchen. “She called in sick and I need to deliver these to her before I have a kid on my doormat demanding more than just brownies.”

“None taken. Can I get you some coffee while you wait?”

“Tell me where to find a cup and I’ll get it myself, don’t wanna delay your lunch.”

“Second cabinet on the left.”

“Thanks, Cap.”

You stood up and walked into the kitchen. You have to admit: they were definitely eating well because it had all the appliances necessary for any recipe, and the smell was divine. Even the coffee had a unique aroma. Who could you talk to in order to get half of what they had in the firehouse?

“It’s the least I can do for the mastermind behind the calls after that huge traffic jam downtown last week.” He smiled. “How did you manage to divert the teams and the civilians so fast?”

“Just like ants follow patterns, so do the LA drivers. GPS apps can give up the fastest options based on their data, but it takes too much time when it comes to rescuing someone.” You explained as you walked back to your seat. “Glad no one was badly injured that day.”

“I’ve never got to an accident scene so fast. You’re really good with predictions.”

“I think my future could be bright if I used my superpowers for fortune telling and betting,” you joked. “I should be the one thanking you for all your work. And your team.”

“Bring us some of those,” he was clearly talking about the brownies, “any time.”

“Will do.”

As you finished your cup of coffee, you saw the ambulance entering the garage. Chim and Henrietta, his paramedic partner, left the vehicle and went straight for their lockers. A few more minutes wouldn’t kill you.

“Wanna stay and have lunch with us?” Captains Nash offered.

“Maybe another time. Thanks.”

It didn’t take long for Chim to show up upstairs. He looked surprised to see you in the 118 kitchen. You stood up and gave him the tupperware. “I told Maddie how many brownies I got her, so don’t fuck it up,” you warned him.

“Your package is safe and sound with me, Brains. Are you in a hurry?”

“Kinda. I have an important meeting with my bed.”

“Fair enough.” He patted your shoulder, acting like the big brother Maddie warned you about.

“See you soon, Chim. Thanks for the coffee, Cap!”

They waved goodbye, and you looked forward to spending the rest of your day sleeping. No calls, no traffic, no thesis: just you, your recently washed bed covers and fluffy pillows. The only thing in your way was a few miles to your apartment.

“I thought I’d hear you before seeing you again, Brains.”

It was scary how, after one meeting, you could recognize his voice anywhere.

“Guess it’s your lucky day, Buckley. Don’t get too happy, I’m already leaving.” You turned around to face him. The black firefighter uniform fitted him very well, even better than the white polo shirt and jeans he wore to the dinner.

“Is everything alright?” He tilted his head slightly, and kept his voice low.

“Yeah, just dropping off something for Maddie. Busy day?”

“Small domestic incident with light injuries, and a foundation problem.”

“So just a normal day in LA.” You knew about the banned Q-word, it was kinda a thing with every single 9-1-1 worker, including dispatchers. “Saved any cats from trees lately?”

“Ha-ha, you’re funny.” His voice was warm, but his face was dead serious. You were playing hot and cold, again and again. “Did moving go well?”

“My arms are sore, but it’s finally over. Thanks for asking.”

“You could start working out to help next time you move. Or if you decide to join the firefighters.”

Both are definitely bad ideas. Why would you need to add another activity into your packed agenda? You turned around and followed your way to your car. “I’ll leave the muscles for you, Buckley.”

“See ya, Brains!” He shouted on your back.

“Bye!” You motioned your hand in a goodbye, but didn’t look him in the eye.

Unbeknown to you, the rest of the crew was watching you both and placing bets on how long until one of you realized the banter was just the first step of something bigger.

author's note: first of all, thank you for all the love on the chapter one!!!! i think it was the first time a first chapter gets so much love, likes and attention on its first week! again: you can share some thoughts and request scenes and blurbs for this series anytime, feel free to be creative! see y'all next week

#evan buckley fanfic #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x you #9 1 1 abc #9 1 1 fanfiction #evan buck buckely #buck fanfiction #evan buckley imagine #effie writes

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livwritesstuff · 3 months

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So you know how parents always have that *one* story about a time where their kid scared them beyond this universe — like their kid could be a daredevil and constantly trying their patience but this particular story is the most harrowing, scariest situation they’ve been in. (This may not be universal but I’m hoping I’m explaining it right lol)

What do you think would be Steve and Ed’s stories for each of the girls?

tw: hospitals, illness, car accidents, in general proceed w/caution if sensitive to children sustaining injuries/illnesses

When Moe was about six months old, she got sick – really sick, hospital-trip sick. All Steve really remembers is that one minute her appetite wasn’t what it usually was, and the next her temperature had spiked to 104 and something about her breathing was not normal and they were on their way to the ER.

They'd ended up staying for three days, Steve didn't sleep the entire time, and because it was before Moe's adoption was finalized, they had all kinds of DFS paperwork to fill out in addition to the mountain of documents the hospital had given them. Steve remembers having to coordinate with Ed dropping everything off at the DFS office and thinking for the first time ever in their years of fostering kids how stupid it was that he was expected to focus on following DFS procedure instead of being there for his baby girl.

The scariest moment with Hazel was the time they lost her.

They’d been at the New England Aquarium with all three girls on a Saturday afternoon – ridiculous, in both Steve and Eddie's opinion, and honestly they weren't even able to enjoy outings like these because they’re still in the stage where they spend the entire time anxiously keeping track of the girls (who were having the time of their lives, obviously – that's why they're suffering through it).

So when Steve did a headcount like he usually does every so often and came up with two, his heart flipped over. He checked again, and again only counted two.

Triple-checks. Two.

In real-time, they hadn't lost sight of Hazel for more than ten seconds, but it was the longest ten seconds Steve had ever lived by a mile, and he’d spent the whole time thinking that it had to be the worst-case for a situation like this because it was Hazel. If Moe or Robbie got separated from them, they would have no problem marching up to the first person in an NEA shirt they could find and demanding help finding their dads. Hazel, though, is quiet and shy and usually stuck to them like glue. She won’t talk to strangers in the best of moments, so there was no chance she’d find it in herself to try during a bad one.

Turns out, Hazel had been so mesmerized by the jellyfish that even after they all moved on to the next display, Hazel just had to turn back to get one more look, and Eddie had his head screwed on tight enough that day to think of checking there first.

Later, Steve reneged on their plan to take the girls to Boston Pride (which would have been in a few weeks) because it had been scary enough losing track of Hazel in an enclosed space where there were only so many places she could wander off to. The idea of it happening in the dead center of the city, with all those crowds of people, with infinite directions for her to go…no chance. They’d try again next year.

Between all three girls, the scariest moment by goddamn lightyears was Robbie.

When Robbie was fifteen – a high school freshman but placed in the senior-level band class – the school took their music classes (band, orchestra, chorus) to Disney World for the performing arts workshops they offer in the spring.

The student-adult ratio on trips like these is pretty terrible and, in Steve's opinion, there is too much unsupervised independent time for a group of high school students.

Way too much.

A few days into the trip, one kid – a senior with a fake ID who Robbie was friends with through band – managed to commandeer a car and convince a group of kids to blow off curfew and secretly explore the city.

Three hours and half a liquor-store’s worth of alcohol later, Steve got a call from one of the chaperones telling him that his fifteen-year-old was unresponsive in a hospital in Florida.

Planning their last family vacation had taken three entire months of planning and indecision and research.

It took less than five minutes for Steve to get flights booked for the next plane bound for Orlando.

“Maybe if she hadn’t gone on the trip in the first place…” Moe trailed off innocently as she watched her dads pack – she's anything but innocent though. Moe had been pissed to all hell that Robbie got to go to Disney World and she didn’t. She’d spent weeks trying to weasel her way onto the trip to no avail, and she’d been sulking the entire four days Robbie had been gone.

“Not another word,” Eddie warned her, his tone icier than perhaps he’s ever heard directed at one of his kids. Moe opens her mouth to retort, but he cuts her off, "So fuckin' serious, Moe. Not the time."

Robbie had been in pretty rough shape when they finally arrived which was horrible to see – especially for Steve, who had always connected the way Robbie was similar to Eddie with the way Eddie almost died, so seeing her unconscious in a hospital bed, light brown curls strewn out over the sterile-white sheets and tangled amongst all kinds of tubes and wires was pretty much a nightmare come to life.

He was actually thankful for Eddie’s threats to find the idiot driving the car and murder him because he seemed pretty serious about it and making sure he didn't do that gave Steve something to focus on other than counting the hours Robbie had been in the hospital all alone.

#not a happy one folks #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson #tw: illness #tw: car accident #tw: hospital

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oncewhenalongtimeago · 10 months

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Always an Angel, Never the God Pt 2

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Runaway!Reader

Words: 3119

After a few months alone in the sky, you find yourself with an unlikely roommate.

Tags: Gender neutral/intended Female, Runaway Reader, Angst, Unrequited love, Requited love, Heartbreak, grief

You grind your teeth, eyes watering as a heavy booted foot pushes you down further into the wooden ship floor. The ship rocks angrily as does your dragon, struggling against the barbed netting.

“Who are you? A new vigilante?” The leading trapper, Erik son of Erik or something, asked, bending down above you. He had, coincidentally, been the one to shoot you down.

“Where is your… hideout?” He leaned down into your ear at your silence, speaking in a raspy whisper. You got the vague impression he was trying to be intimidating, though the end results were more in favor of making you blush.

You were thankful for the hard wood covering your face and, therefore, your embarrassment. Of your belongings, you were only able to manage a mask and had taken to running around ensconced in furs with nothing but a dagger to your name.

You’d recon you looked much like a wild animal, straddling your nadder bare of a saddle. You had not done too well on your own. It was hard. You had always been a team player if by team player you meant a leech on society. At least, you had been told so.

So of course you had, unwittingly, stumbled onto dragon trapping territory. Extreme sport dragon trapping territory. It didn’t help that you and your nadder hadn’t been on the same page, you two being unable to sync in the way you’d seen the other riders with their dragons, which left a bitter taste in your mouth.

He’d go left when you were trying for right, and when you finally decided to just go with it, he would change his mind and throw you for a complete loop. It was safe to say that even if you got out of this mess you never wanted to step foot on his back again.

You breathed a silent sigh of relief just as the trapper let out an annoyed one, stepping off of you in favor of yelling at his men for damaging their goods. Meaning, your nadder. Was he really yours, though? He did try and make a break for it without you.

While debating whether or not you should try at the ropes shackling your arms together, you grunt frustratedly, noticing a new tear in your garb.

After running away and getting captured, you had not expected to be kidnapped again by some insane-looking madman in a mask. Though you did look like two of a kind, so it was fitting.

Your nadder had its wings torn irreparably, so, unfortunately, you had to retire him early.

You found small comfort in that it hadn’t abandoned you on the ship that one final time, though the irony that it had led you here was not lost on you.

He visited sometimes. He took to life in the sanctuary very well.

You didn’t, a borderline prisoner before you’d been able to win over the trust of the resident feral gorgon. Sort of. She was a woman who let you see her face, more on accident than anything else. You hadn’t let her see you or hear yours. However you weren’t inclined to speak of her nicely, least of all in your head, after the number of weeks you spent trapped in a cave at her behest.

Finally, you’d been let out. Let out enough to walk more than just the short stretch of stone and greenish ice that made up your prison. The endless turquoise was beginning to make you sick.

Recently, you found a real friend in the sanctuary, and this dragon, it was truly yours. Affectionately named, fed and groomed, you two were almost inseparable. It was the kind of friendship with a dragon you’d completely missed out on on Berk.

It was hard to maintain given your captive status, but that was alright.

There probably wasn’t any social profit involved in being a vigilante, which is why you assumed the crazy dragon lady had taken to speaking at you in her spare time. About the dragons, what they ate, what she had to do. Pointedly she gave away nothing of their true secrets, not that you wanted them, nor anything of her vigilant-ing. Not verbally, though the influx of injuries both on her and the dragons spoke volumes.

She did give away her name.

You groan, rubbing your eyes under your mask as you cradle the thing to your face with the other.

“You’re quite attached to your mask,” Valka said amusedly, shifting the logs roasting in the fire with a stick, pushing them back and forth as you sat in silence. You hardly ever spoke a word, nowadays.

Her dragon, the stormcutter, stared at you with large eyes through the licking flames.

Neither of you mentioned that the only real reason you’d been able to keep your mask so long was that she’d been kind enough to let you. An allowance you’d been given on a whim. One you clung to with all the nervous energy of Fishlegs to his dragon cards.

“... I’d rather not be,” You grumble, voice raspy from disuse, “It’s stuffy.”

“Oh,” Valka looked at you, amused and maybe a little surprised to hear you speak at last, before going back to tend to her fires, “I was starting to think you couldn’t speak.”

“Funny.” You said, lifting a sharpened stick off the ground, spearing it through a slimy, gutted fish from the basket beside you. Your nose wrinkled as you heard the sharp point break skin. No amount of faux stoicism could make it seem pleasant to you.

“I have a few questions,” You grimace under your mask as she asserts herself. She can ask them all she wants, but there’s no guarantee you’ll answer.

You might, probably, as keeping secrets hasn’t always been your strong suit. She’s certainly been trying to open you up for a while. You’ve not given her any leeway before though, no reason to give her any now.

“How did you tame your dragon?” She asked, pushing a particularly thick dragon searching for morsels. Valka guides its head gently away with her spare hand before any of the other dragons crowding around them get any ideas.

You wait for a moment, still wondering whether you should follow along. Eventually, you decide to answer.

“Wasn’t me. Someone else back home did it,” You huff, “I just followed along.”

“...But not very well,” Valka hums. It’s obvious she doesn’t believe you. Unfortunately for her, that is not your problem.

She pulls a small trout off her own stick, tossing it to a crowd of young dragons, who you knew had acquired a taste for the cooked, through no fault of your own.

You should feel offended, but you know she’s right. You lean away from a wandering dragon snout as it searches you for morsels. The stormcutter, after a look from Valka, shoos it away with a large wing.

“Where are you from?”

You feel the embers from the fire as they rise, the furs of your coat becoming nearly unbearable, your skin heated up rapidly. You wrinkle your brow with annoyance as you feel a drop of sweat slide down the side of your face.

“Where are you from?” You retort pointedly.

She studies you cautiously, as if she could glean your intentions from your body language. And she very well could. Or the heat was getting to you, the wells you’d spent in solitude had finally done some real damage to your psyche, and you were hallucinating.

“Berk,” She says. You sit back, surprised, “And you?”

“...None of your business.” You wonder how long it had been since she had left. You pray she would not know you.

Valka raised her eyebrow.

“I’m serious.” You ground your heel into the dirt. It was a touchy subject, still.

“Berk, too. …Stop looking at me like that.”

Valka leaned back against the ice wall where you rested, looking out over the empty ocean as dragons flooded to and fro the sanctuary. You squinted far into the distance, as if you thought you might be able to see through it if you tried hard enough.

Your hair tugged wildly by the winds out from behind your mask as you sat, one leg extended and the other bent as you leaned back against one arm.

You probably looked as you felt, weary and unkempt after a long flight over the seas with your dragon, who clambered among the icy spike-lined wall with clawed hands. You felt refreshed yet somehow at odds with yourself still.

You cared little for your bedraggled demeanor the same way you hadn’t cared for much at all in a while. It might have made a cool picture had you not slipped and fallen onto your face on the ice just a few minutes prior. Whether you had broken your nose or not on your mask had yet to be uncovered. All that mattered was that Valka hadn’t seen.

Dragons crowed. Through the cracks in the walls of the sanctuary, the wind would whistle through if it hit the right angle. Louder than anything else were the sounds of the waves crashing against rock.

But between you and Valka, it was silent. A contemplative silence, the kind of silence you shared with others after a long thought or a hard day’s work. That’s how you knew she was going to break it.

“Why did you leave?”

You are annoyed at the prospect but are no less expectant. After the moment passes, you are not surprised. However, it feels as if you are the one who should be asking.

“Why did I leave?” You ask, “Does it matter?”

A loose chunk of ice falls off the side of the sanctuary as a large titan scrambles violently down the side, chasing after a bright yellow baby. You spot a shape through the fog, distant and blurry enough to resemble a bird though there are no birds here. You pointedly do not think of your small hut, even less of green eyes, and tiny, fading freckles.

Valka tilted her head in your direction, reaching a hand out to scratch Cloudjumper under his chin as he lowered himself towards her, “It mattered to you.”

You open your mouth, but you are only able to choke on your breath. No one has ever said something like that to you, not in a long while. You don’t understand why it’s hitting you so hard. Maybe it’s the isolation.

You blame the burning of your eyes on the biting wind.

“Why did you leave?” You ask in return, once you’ve taken time for yourself, though you have an idea. You can’t keep your voice from sounding a little bit scratchy.

You unhook your dagger from your belt, trying not to seem so attentive. Instead, you take to carving random shapes into the ice. A gronkle. A nadder.

“I was taken.” She sighs, quieter now. Lost off in memory as you both often are.

The nadder’s spikes are much too long. The gronkle looks more like a sandwich than a dragon.

“Taken?” You prompt and you begin on the outline of a fury. The result is shallow and scratchy.

It’s one of your own designs, not the same as the one Berk uses. Astrid liked the other one better, not yours, so that was the one Hiccup went with.

“I didn’t leave,” She insisted, almost as if she was trying to convince herself of the fact, “I had a son, and a husband.”

You’ve seen her by the fires, while trying to sneak out of this hellish ice maze. She talks to herself then. On particularly paranoid days, she’s slept by you, in the same caverns, so you’ve heard it. She talks in her sleep and says things she would never say awake, or had you been around. It’s all so very unsettling.

“Really?” You remarked with false astonishment. The facade is flimsy, but you figured you’d give her the benefit of the doubt. The grace to assume that you’d no idea what she was on about.

With prompting, you might have seen it earlier. In her slim form, the one she kept hidden under thick furs and thicker armor. You squint. They have the same eye color. The same hair. They both have higher cheekbones, though her son more resembles his father in that aspect. That is all.

Valka shoots you a reprimanding look. Cloudjumper, now creeping down the wall behind you, taps you on the back of your head with its tail at her behest.

Valka was of the air. Though he had the same flighty tendencies, he was very grounded, like his father, though he might either be proud or loath to admit it. He loved flying, yes, but he loved inventing and processing and routine just as much, if not more.

He did when you were close. Of course he did, he spent his whole life on it. You couldn’t really say you knew him anymore.

You didn’t pin Valka as the type to enjoy the same in any sort of manner. But that suited you just as well. You found that as time went by and as you were granted more freedoms, you appreciated it. It made it easier for you to forget. To ignore.

In the end they, you and she, she and you, were one and the same.

“But what does it matter, if you never went back?” You grumble, pushing your dragon’s head away as it nudges you towards the cliff, crooning for more flying time.

You guessed that was why she clung so viciously to the safety of her sanctuary. Why she hated other people so much, why she’d had no faith in the humanity of other people, why she’d held you here so strictly. If things could have been different, then what did she give it all up for?

Though you’d never had something else. Not even the option. You’d never been given it. Valka hadn’t been given it either, but there was a sure difference between something being there and not.

The atmosphere is silent again, tainted with some darker undertones. If you’d had to put a name to it, you might have called it grief.

“I want to leave.”

Valka doesn’t look surprised at your request. And indeed, it’s been no secret that you wanted to leave. Maybe she was glad for it, or maybe she was sad at the news.

After all, you settled into each other's presence long ago. You had a good sort of companionship.

And from that companionship, you learned a lot without even trying, just by watching. Eventually she took notice and she took an active part in teaching you the truths she learned during all her years in self-imposed isolation.

You two weren’t incredibly close but you could tell Valka was grateful for the company, grateful to have someone maybe even a little bit like her, even if most of it was spent in silence.

You still left the Drago fighting for her. It wasn’t your fight, it was hers, and you made that clear.

Neither of you brought up Berk. Ever.

You were content to just come and go as you pleased, for a while. Nonetheless, despite your freedom, you felt restricted to the small world of the Sanctuary and the empty skies around it. There was no place for you on the ground or by the seas, where hunters and trappers swarmed by the thousands and Drago’s armies grew by the day.

You spent so much time learning from her and yet it felt like no time at all. Which was why you were shocked when you’d truly learned how much had come and gone in full.

You were out slinking in the shadows, seeking shelter from a storm on the same small rocky outcropping of island that had a shipful of trappers stranded, in a rage and a panic as they attempted to recover their assets. The winds had been too rough to fly, so you had no choice but to wait and listen.

You didn’t believe it at first. It had been…

Months.

You wondered if he’d been married, yet.

Years.

The idea hurt, not as much as you’d thought it would, still not as little as you’d hoped.

Under clear skies, you found an inn, untouched by everything except grass and trees.

You asked, “What day is it?”

The large man, a burly viking scrubbing down a wooden cup with a torn old rag, had looked down at you skeptically from behind a beaten pine and stone counter.

Two years. It had been nearly two years since you left Berk. Just as Valka’s attachments kept her at the Sanctuary, you needed to go. To run.

Since you had heard it, spoken it, the urge to run, to fly hadn’t abated at all, going from a wispy thought at the back of your mind to a full blown need. Your dragon too had become antsy, maybe feeding off of your nervous energy. Eager to take off, to fly new skies.

“Are you sure?” Valka asked searchingly. You two were stationed over a heavily planted cliff over a large main pool which consisted of the main cavern within the Sanctuary, once again in front of a fire, eating your own meals as the dragons below ate and exchanged fish.

You were already packed, your mask secured as it had been for all two years you had been in this place stuck between confinement and dwelling. You almost regretted it, not telling her your name, but you couldn’t bear yourself to her knowing who she was, not truly. Not until you’d washed yourself of that particular weight.

“Yes,” One day you would, if you ever saw her again. Once you were released from the heartache and pain of your own making, “I am. Thank you.”

You started out into the pale foggy sky, mounted your beast as smooth as you’d ever done, which is to say, not smooth at all. You’d only ever managed it right when Valka was watching, anyhow. It was odd how that worked, maybe the peer pressure was finally starting to kick in.

As you took off and the sanctuary became smaller and smaller both to your eyes and your mind, as the tight bundle of chains in your chest dropped and the world opened up to you once more, you felt light, and free.

Once again, there was no one to watch you and no one to hurt for besides your and your dragon. Endless opportunity. Thousands of ways to keep going.

You wondered what your face looked like.

You couldn’t wait to see it again.

#hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #how to train your dragon #httyd #x reader #fanfiction #httyd imagine #httyd fanficiton

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jujutsukatsuki · 2 years

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Y/n sat on her couch wrapped in a hoodie, a hoodie that a few months ago was locked away in her boyfriend’s closet that was broken into and stolen by her. A hoodie now that comforted her since their break up.

She sobbed and stared at the picture of them that sat on the mantle above the fireplace.

She got up and grabbed the photo in her hands, she gazed at his annoyed face as she held the camera up. Her smile was big, eyes closed holding up a peace sign as she was taking the picture. She sniffled before setting the picture back on the mantle. Y/n made her way around the living room back to the cozy couch.

Three weeks. That's how long it had been. Since she felt his touch, his gaze, his love.

The doorbell buzzed pulling her from her thoughts. She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, she looked through the peephole and saw the black spikes she spent much of her time running her hands through.

She opened the door to Megumi covered in blood, holding his arm.

“Hi.” He said softly before he collapsed. She grabbed him and struggled to carry him to the couch.

Her mind flashbacked to the night she ended it.

Megumi was laying down on the couch, a small gash on his stomach. She sighed as she stitched him up, thank god for the degree in nursing. She thought to herself.

“Megumi-” She started

“I know.” He snapped.

Y/n scoffed and ‘accidently’ poked him in the wrong spot with the needle, just enough to be a warning

“Oops.” Her voice was laced with venom as she glared at the wincing man.

She finished up and pulled away to put the medical kit away.

“I'm done.” She said to him

“I'm done with the risks, i'm done with the calls from gojo that you fucked up and got hurt. This time it's a small gash, next time you're bleeding out. I'm done.” She hissed.

“Y/n, you don’t understand. You don’t get it!” Megumi fought as he stood, his 6’1 height towering over her. His voice was gruff as he spoke.

“I don’t want to get it, I don’t want to understand. You are not fireproof Megumi, you can die. And I will not continue to sit here and wait at this door like a damn dog for the day you don’t come home. I’m done.” Her voice cracked as she looked up at him.

“Please.” He whispered and reached out for her.

“Get out.” Her voice was just above a whisper as she spoke.

“Y/n-”

“No. Get out!” She screamed.

And just like that, he was gone. Until today.

Megumi laid on the couch, it was hours later by now, Y/n called in sick to work to care for him. She had stitched his wounds and cleaned the blood up. She changed his clothes for him, into something he had left there months ago.

She ran her fingers through his hair. She missed him, that was certain, she still loved him, yet another fact.

She took a deep breath and pulled her hand back.

“Please.” His voice was soft as he gently grabbed her wrist and guided it back to his hair.

“Please, what can I do to make you love me again?” He whispered.

“Megumi, I told you, I can’t do this again. Please, don’t make me do this again.” She whispered softly

“Baby please, please don’t leave me, I can’t do this without you.” A stray tear ran down his cheek.

“You need to promise, promise that you’ll come back to me, every day. No more calls from gojo, no more showing up at my door, a bloody mess. Please.” She closed her eyes as tears ran down her cheeks.

“Hey-” He whispered and cupped her cheek “When have I ever let you down?” He smiled gently before pulling her close and kissing her forehead.

“I love you Gumi.”

“I know.” He smiled against her forehead “I love you too.”

*was posted originally on my old blog @/indigowcrds, reposting to this blog*

#megumi #megumi x you #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fushiguro x reader smut #megumi fushiguro smut #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi smut #megumi x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu megumi

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voidpacifist · 2 years

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strap in, assholes, I've thought of another Deaf Steve AU for your consideration

(ps the steddie on this one is very brief, I haven't thought that part out too thoroughly just yet)

this takes place in like, early to mid 2000s

so in this universe, there's no catastrophe, no major physical traumas, no sickness, etc. steve is simply born without his hearing

his parents are not only rich, but are also super super concerned with appearances and because they're negligent assholes about it, they get steve fitted for hearing aids as soon as he's old enough to realistically begin talking

the hearing aids really don't do much for him, but the harringtons don't wanna worry about more surgeries or medical stays or being held back from their business trips/work holidays. you catch my drift. they forego the cochlear avenue but still hold out hope that steve will be "normal enough" with the "help" of a pair of hearing aids

and because the hearing aids only give him back so much, his oral language skills develop differently and at a much slower pace. it's not that he doesn't have the intellectual capacity — he absolutely does, the setting he's in just doesn't accommodate his needs

I imagine by the age of three or four, a nanny starts staying with him during the long weeks that his parents are gone. I also imagine that one of these nannies knows Sign and sees steve drifting without any communication that's suited to him, so they take it upon themselves to teach him

this goes on for years until one day, there's a phone call or an in person message or something that indicates that mr and mrs harrington have been in a traveling accident. this leaves steve parentless

he's immediately put into foster care, and from there, things go downhill. he gets into fights at school, becomes distant at each new place he stays at, and continues to isolate himself. he develops a very stubbornly independent approach to things, teaching himself to sign, speaking up for himself even if he can't hear how alien he sounds to the other students or adults at school

he keeps going from home to home until he lands at the home of tim and marissa buckley. marissa teaches a special ed class at a local middle school, and tim is a general contractor. they have three kids — a girl named robin, who's a year younger than steve, and twins dexter and benjamin

and steve is shocked by the patience of the parents, and also shocked by the fact that mrs buckley seems keen on connecting with him. the rest of the family is also learning Sign, but steve latches onto marissa the quickest because she reminds him of his nanny

tim ends up being the one who takes steve to most of his audiology appointments, or just other places he needs to be, and though tim doesn't know as much Sign as his wife, he still tries to cue steve in on conversations. just small talk about school or what steve likes to do or just "boyish" banter

dex and ben don't interact with steve much outside of bugging him to play like,,fucking kickball in the backyard, but they still form a tentative bond

robin is the hardest nut of the bunch to crack, and steves not too determined about actually becoming friends with her. in fact, most of the time, he's just waiting for the other shoe to drop with these people so he can be spat out again to the next family until he's kicked out of the system for good

even when he's getting his act together, he's still just waiting for it to happen. soon like four months have gone by and there's still no sign of the buckleys kicking him out or announcing that another family would be "better equipped" for him

here's a fun fact though: middle school kids are really fucking mean. and robins one of the only openly gay people in her grade. steves heard rumors that she's been bullied, but then he sees it happening in real time and he just. is seeing absolute red about it

he seeks out the fucker who graffiti'd her locker and lo and behold, gets into another fight at school

he's so Sure that this is the breaking point, but after his suspension is declared, marissa and tim sit him down not to scold him, but to wrap his knuckles and tell him how proud they are that he stood up for robin

and speaking of robin, steve's cool status with her just tripled easily. they start to become so close that at school, gossip starts that they're an item. one day someone flat out asks and robin, while signing, just says, "oh no! he's actually my big brother."

(if steve cries about that later by himself, that's his business)

there's still one dilemma steve has yet to get over though, and that's passing eighth grade. the constant moving and fighting has finally caught up to him, and he's forced to sign up for peer tutoring

this whipsmart, firecracker of a seventh grader, nancy wheeler, not only agrees to learn Sign, but also to help steve pass his classes

he's so fucking in love with nancy its not even funny. but the more they hang out, the less he wants to be with her and the more he wants to just be friends with her. plus, he doesn't miss the way robin ogles nancy when she thinks neither of them will notice

may/june rolls around and steve ends up with solid Bs in most, if not all, of his classes. he's on track to staying on track and the buckleys are ecstatic about it. marissa and tim find a cake at the grocery and have it say, "congratulations steve!" on it in big, loopy writing. they sign it to him as soon as he gets home from his last day of school for the year

after the weekend comes and goes and the celebration dies down, the two sit steve down and his initial thoughts are, "oh shit, my stay here is over." which majorly sucks, because the buckleys are the first family he's stayed with in a while that he's actually enjoyed staying with and getting to know

he's bonded with robin. he's bonded with ben and dex. he thinks maybe the same about marissa and tim. and he really really really doesn't wanna lose that. because not only has he come to think of them in a sort of pseudo-family sense, but they also have done and continue to do so much to accommodate steve and try to help him thrive and have resources as a young, deaf kid

so you can imagine how elated he is and how surreal it feels when they ask him flat out how he'd feel about being steve buckley. about officially being their son

years go by, until steve is in his senior year. he and robin have frequented several jobs together already, and this is the first year they've let go of their overprotective sibling instincts with one another and have gone to separate venues of work

steve ends up working part time at the library, while robin ends up at the video store

and one of steve's classmates from school (who he's 99% sure is redoing senior year) comes in pretty often. they don't talk at first, but every night, steve comes home and vents to robin about this really pretty classmate of his who plays in a thrash metal band and has far too many overdue fees

(and, if we're considering the library au, maybe steve pays off those fees and eddie ends up asking him out)

((like, he takes the time to learn as much basic Sign as he can within like a week of time, and the pulls steve aside after the library closes for the evening and just flat out asks))

robin is cautiously optimistic about this new guy that steve has a thing for, but she also knows eddie from drama club, so she not only has a good radar for the kind of person he is, but also knows exactly where to find him if he fucks things up with her big brother

cause listen — steves not immune to having experienced not-so-good encounters with a hearing partner. she's seen the way he or his deafness have been treated like a burden or a commodity, and she's very much hoping that's not the case with eddie

spoiler alert: eddie's very visibly autistic, so he knows what it's like to have been treated in a similar fashion. he has no plans to be that kind of an asshat to steve (and he very much is not)

but yeah long story short, give me deaf steve with a healthy sense of family and a willingness to be cared for thank you and goodbye

#steve #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington au #deaf steve harrington #stranger things au #platonic stobin #steve buckley but because he and robin are siblings #i will die on that sad little unpopulated hill who cares man #steddie #steve x eddie #just a bit of steddie for the soul <3

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skinwalker-bratz · 9 months

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My experiences from shifting to a realistic creepypasta reality.

i'm gonna tell you guys about my shifting experience to a REALISTIC creepypasta reality. Remember that you have to at least be 14 or 16 to read this because there are very messed up and disgusting stuff in this post, and most things look like it came from a the boys episode so DON'T READ IT if you're too sensitive to this stuff.

And a reminder that english is not my first language

One day me and smile dog made a bet about something i don't remember much, but he lost and i made him dress like paw patrol for a week.

once I had a mission in an abandoned factory and I hadn't to kill anyone just rob an item there, but there was criminals in there and an innocent man, so I decided to save him, which was extremely hard for me but he ended running from me frightened because of me... and he ran to a avenue where a truck ran over him.

one day masky made me mad, so I sneaked into Toby's room and extracted his cum on the floor and put it in masky's coffee.

I had a crush on Dr smiley once so I decided to write him a letter confessing to him. but the letter ended up in Slenderman's hands and later he told me he felt the same.

During a phase of my childhood when I was 7 years old, I had a kitten, and one day my cat had disappeared and I had been very sad, so my mother had prepared a meat soup to cheer me up, and when I had finished eating she showed me a piece of my cat's head and said: "was it good?". And then she laughed.

When i was a normal human in my 14s i had an encounter with a zalgo's prophet on Omegle's and they said that they were coming to me, so i thought that if i acted weird in my webcam they wouldn't come. So i started to do wild animal noises and pissed myself.

The prophet or zalgo's proxy, didn't came to get me so it worked.

one day I was in my real form, when I saw a girl with black hair wearing a white sweatshirt that I thought was Jeff, so I started following her, until she turned to me and screamed: "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" and threw pepper spray on my face.

I've already eaten a piece of Jack when he had an accident and was on the operating table, so they removed a piece of meat from his ribs that was very damaged and hanging and left it on a tray next to him. I was passing in the corridor and when I looked inside the operating room I saw the piece of meat on the tray and that Dr. smiley had gone out to get something, I sneaked in, took the piece and ate it and left the room.

I don't know what came over me, but at least it was good.

I found out that he regenerates, so this accident was no big deal.

One day I'd been bullied by everyone in the mansion, so i "accidentally" dropped some drug in the soup i was making and the people there ended up eating it, and everyone, except the ghosts, went high. And i got punished for it.

One day I made pasta (not a Creepypasta) as dinner and everyone who ate got sick and almost shit themselves. And again I've got punished and gone to the mansion's dungeon.

One day the proxy trio humiliated me in front of everyone, and i wanted revenge so i posted anonymously a hentai of them three in the mansion's web, and everyone who had phones saw it.

I dated Jack for a while there, and he started to like me to the point where he revealed his face to me. When he did that I realized he was so ugly that I almost cried when I kissed him. After about two weeks I broke up with him.

during my first Christmas in the mansion I saw offenderman using the Christmas turkey to do things u know what... but I was too shy to tell anyone, so during the dinner everyone ate the turkey, except me.

During a mission me and some proxies were discussing a plan and soon we got to a part that involved opening degrees, so I made a joke telling masky to open my legs 180 degrees and I got punished for it.

Note: proxies have a higher ranking than other creepys or lone rangers as they're called there, so you can't disrespect them at all

I already made at least 3 people go to a mental institution.

One day i got to knew about Jeff's and Liu's parents, so while Liu was very drunk i called him on a caller ID and i did my best mom impression voice to say: "it's me Liu, your mother, and I'm coming back for you." While playing hell background noises.

when i was 8 i hated clowns with all my forces but one day i had the bad luck to laughing jack find me. i hated him too much but i was good in not showing it, so one day I've set fire on him and Lucky that my mother found out about my "friend" and got rid of him.

my mother was a witch in that reality.

One say i fell out of my bedroom's window and broke a few bones, and i was brought to the medical office of the mansion and explained what happened to me to nurse and and she just said: "skill issue".

Of course, these are the funniest and light stuff that happened to me. Going to this reality just messed with me, and I'm still scared of some things, but my mental state is fine there's nothing to worry about me.

#creepypasta #shifting #reality shifting #dr smiley #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #masky #ticci toby #slenderman #zalgo #nurse ann #smile dog #homicidal liu #weird

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golden-kingdom · 1 year

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And the Season Feels New to Me Because You're Here - Part 4

Written for the 12 Days of Rowaelin: First Holiday Season Together (@rowaelinscourt)

Summary: A month before Christmas, rich hotel heiress Aelin Ashryver Galathynius is running away from her future after a fight with her father and hides at a resort in the Staghorn Mountains. When she has a ski accident and hits her head, she loses her memory and nobody knows who she is. Rowan Whitethorn is a widower who owns a small inn in town and father to 6-year-old Thalia. When, after much insistence from his daughter, Rowan offers Aelin a place to stay, the two have to spend time together against their will. Rowan cannot stand spoiled and self-centered Aelin, and Aelin hates how cold and guarded Rowan is. Thalia thinks it would take a Christmas miracle for them to finally get along.

Inspired by Falling for Christmas (2022)

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Some language

Masterlist

Read it on AO3

December was well underway and Christmas was nearing every day. There had been more guests at the North Star this past week and Rowan had been busy making sure everyone was enjoying their stay. He desperately needed the good reviews. Aelin helped around as best as she could. He had even let her in charge of the reception desk a few times, and she found she liked interacting with more people.

But being busy with work every day didn’t stop Aelin from thinking about how she still had no memory of her past and how no one had come looking for her.

"You know, it’s been more than two weeks, and we haven’t heard anything from any of my family or friends yet," Aelin whispered sadly one evening. "I feel like unclaimed luggage at the airport."

"Don’t say that. I bet your family and your friends are worried sick about you. They’re probably out there looking for you right now," Rowan said with a reassuring voice. "Look, if it can help, I’ll call the police station tomorrow to see if they found out something."

But when he called the next day, the answer was the same as the other times: nothing. Aelin enjoyed staying at the lodge and spending time with Thalia and Rowan, but she longed for a place to call home. Rowan kept reminding her the doctor had said it was temporary and that anything could trigger a memory, but her hope declined every day.

To cheer her up, Thalia asked her to make a gingerbread house with her. The girl showed Aelin how to use icing to decorate the house. Her small hands weren’t steady, but it was cute how hard she tried. Aelin helped her, guiding her hands. Then, they added candies to the house, sticking it to the icing. In the end, they ended up eating more candies than what ended up on the house. Thalia was overexcited from eating all this sugar, and Aelin wasn’t much better. As they were sticking the house parts together, Aelin took some icing and put it on top of the girl’s nose who giggled. In retaliation, Thalia threw some gummies her way. The kitchen was a mess when Rowan arrived.

"I can explain," started Aelin, but Rowan just started laughing at how dishevelled they looked.

"Remind me to never let you eat sugar again," he said to Thalia. "And that goes for you too," he added, pointing to Aelin.

…

On the weekend, they all went sledding together on a nearby hill. Thalia was a bit scared when they got to the top, so Rowan decided to show her it wasn’t dangerous. He convinced Aelin to get on the sled with him and they slid down the hill. They went a little too fast and they fell down the luge into the snow.

Aelin ended up on top of Rowan, their bodies intertwined. She was laughing so hard she couldn’t get up. Rowan couldn’t help but look at her. Her cheeks and nose were red from the cold and her turquoise eyes were shining brightly as she tipped her head back, laughing again. When she finally stopped laughing, she looked at him and noticed their awkward proximity. She got up quickly, blushing.

They climbed back up the hill and Thalia decided she wanted to try after seeing how much fun they were having. She got on the sled with Rowan first, but when she came back up, she asked Aelin to go with her too. They slid down a few times until Thalia started complaining she was cold.

When they got back home, Thalia requested a hot chocolate with marshmallows. They sat down in the lounge, each of them enjoying their own cup of hot cocoa, and they put on Home Alone on the television. Thalia fell asleep as soon as movie started, too tired even to watch her favorite Christmas movie. Rowan took her in his arms, careful not to wake her up, and took her to her bedroom where he tucked her in bed and kissed the top of her head. When he came back, he found Aelin asleep on the couch too. He didn’t want to wake her, but he wasn’t about to carry her to her room like he had done with his daughter. He covered her body with a blanket and tucked a falling hair strand behind her hear delicately. He turned off the movie and headed to bed too.

…

Rowan woke up to someone crying. Worried, he went to Thalia’s room, but found the girl sound asleep. He heard the sound again and realized it came from downstairs. He went down the stairs and found Aelin stirring in her sleep. She was weeping and mumbling incoherent things. Rowan approached her, kneeling down in front of the couch, and softly shook her shoulder to wake her up from her nightmare.

"Celaena, wake up," he whispered.

She startled awake, looking around in panic.

"Shh, it’s okay. It was just a dream," he said, rubbing her shoulder in a comforting way.

When she realized where she was, she started relaxing.

"Just breathe. You’re safe," Rowan reassured her.

She breathed in and out a few times and sat up on the sofa.

"Did I wake you up? I’m sorry," she whispered in the dark of the room.

"Don’t worry about it. Are you okay?" he asked her softly.

"Yeah, I think so... It just seemed so real."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"It’s dumb," she brushed it off.

"It’s not dumb if it got you so upset," he insisted.

"I just… I was dreaming I was lost and I called for help, but no one came. It’s like no one could hear me. Everyone just kept passing by me and ignoring me. I felt so alone," she said in a small voice.

He nodded his head in understanding.

"Can I get you something warm to drink? I do that with Thalia when she has a bad dream."

"No, it’s alright," she replied. A minute passed and then she added: "But could you maybe stay for a little while? Just until I fall back asleep. I don’t wanna be alone."

"Of course," he replied.

Rowan sat down on the other couch and Aelin laid back down. He waited until her breathing was even and he was sure she was asleep to go back upstairs to his room.

…

Thalia was spending the night over at a friend’s house. She was really excited to have a sleepover for the first time. She had hesitated between two PJs for a while, wanting it to be perfect. Aelin had helped and she ended up choosing a pink one with unicorns on it. She took her three dolls with her in her bag, not wanting to leave one behind. She gave a hug to Aelin and left with her father.

When Rowan came back home, Aelin was waiting for him in the lobby.

"It’s a really nice evening. We should go ice skating," she said.

"Do you know even know how to skate?" he asked, not so sure it was a good idea.

"I’m not sure but it can’t be that hard," she replied.

Rowan gave a look that said otherwise.

"Oh, come on, grumpy face, it will be fun!" she insisted.

"Alright, but if you hurt yourself, it’s not my fault."

After Rowan found Aelin some skates that would fit her, they walked over to an outdoor ice skating rink. It was close to the lodge, and like Aelin had said, the weather was pleasant that evening. They were alone when they got there. Rowan helped Aelin put on her skates, making sure they were tied correctly, and then they were off on the ice. Aelin took a few confident steps in her skates.

"See, there’s no problem. I know exactly what I’m doing," she said.

Just as she was saying that she lost her balance and would have fallen on her butt if Rowan hadn’t grabbed her by the arm.

"Come on, I’ll teach you how to skate," he said, not letting go of her arm.

They went a few times around the rink like that, and Aelin started to feel more stable on her skates. Rowan let go of her arm, but still stayed close in case she lost her balance. Eventually, Aelin was able to skate properly on her own. She was still a bit clumsy, but her feet glided on the ice. She felt happy and free for the first time in a while. She had a bright grin on her face.

When their feet started getting sore, they headed back to the North Star. Along the way, Aelin stopped. Rowan was wondering what was wrong until he saw her climb over a small fence that led to a field covered in untouched snow.

"What are you doing?" asked Rowan, apprehensive.

"Making a snow angel. Come!" she replied as she landed on the other side.

"We can’t trespass on private property like that, Celaena," he warned her, but she just kept going.

"Oh please, who's gonna stop us?" she mocked him.

"The police," he replied seriously.

"Where’s your adventurous spirit?" she said.

Rowan sighed, resignation on his face, and climbed over the fence, joining her in the white field. Aelin let herself fall to ground unceremoniously and laid down in the snow. She moved her arms and legs to create the shape of an angel, giggling.

"Come on, it’s fun!" she exclaimed.

Rowan carefully laid down a few feet away.

"I can’t believe I let you convince me to do this," he said as he started making an angel of his own.

Aelin looked at him, glee in her eyes.

"It’s fun, right? Come on, you can admit it."

"Yeah, I’m having the time of my life," he replied sarcastically, but Aelin noticed the small smile on his lips.

"You smiled! I saw it, so there’s no denying it," she said.

They laid there for a few minutes, looking at the stars in silence. It started snowing so they got up and climbed back the fence. As they were walking, Aelin was trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue. Rowan laughed at her childlike behavior.

"You’re worse than Thalia," he said, but his tone was affectionate.

He looked at her and thought she really did look like an angel right now.

"You have a snowflake on your eyelashes," he said, stopping. He softly removed it with his fingers. Their breaths were freezing in the cold, fog coming out of their mouths. Aelin licked her lips and Rowan unconsciously followed the movement. When he noticed what he was doing, he cleared his throat and took a step back. They resumed walking in an awkward silence.

…

Elide had invited Aelin to go shop in town, just the two of them. The other woman picked her up in her car and they drove downtown. They made their way through the main street, strolling and chatting along the way. They realized they had a lot in common.

Aelin made them stop at a store when she spotted something she liked in the window. It was a chronograph man’s watch. The bracelet was made of brown leather and the dial was off-white. Around it, the metal was silver. It was simple yet elegant. She thought it would look perfect on Rowan’s wrist.

There was only one small problem: she didn’t have any money. Rowan had given her some money for the day, but she wasn’t going to use his own money to buy him a gift. She looked at the watch, torn. Elide noticed her dilemma and offered to lend her some money to buy it. Aelin refused at first but Elide insisted that it would make her happy and that she could repay her whenever she had access to her bank account again, so she accepted. The salesperson wrapped the small dark blue box in Christmas paper and handed it to Aelin who put it in her coat’s pocket.

After they were done shopping, the two women stopped at a cafe. They sat at a table near the window, Aelin with a sugary mocha with whipped cream and Elide with a simple latte.

"You know, I was really surprised when I heard you were married to Lorcan," said Aelin, taking a sip.

"Because of the height difference?" replied Elide with a smirk.

"No," Aelin chuckled. "Because you’re so nice and he’s… I don’t mean to be rude, but he’s not very friendly."

Elide laughed earnestly at that.

"He’s an asshole, you can say it," the small woman replied.

Aelin almost choked on her drink.

"When I met him, we didn’t get along at all. But I got to know him better with time and I saw his softer side. He doesn’t often show it, but he really cares about the people he loves. For example, he helps Rowan out a lot with the lodge. Gods know the man needs all the help he can get these days," Elide said.

"What do you mean?" asked Aelin.

"Well, I don’t know if I should be saying that, but Rowan’s been struggling lately. The lodge needs a lot of reparations and there aren’t enough guests to pay for it. He only has enough to make it to the end of each month," explained the dark-haired woman.

"I wasn’t aware of that. I knew he had less guests this year, but I didn’t know he was struggling financially."

"He doesn’t like talking about it. If it was up to him, he would be doing everything on his own. He doesn’t like asking for help or complaining. But the truth is that he might have to sell the North Star soon if things don’t turn around," Elide admitted sadly.

"But the North Star means so much to him! It was his and Lyria’s dream," Aelin exclaimed.

"He told you about Lyria? I’m surprised he never talks about her."

"He only said it had been hard since she passed… And Thalia told me she died when she was born. Did you know her?"

"Yes, I did. It’s so heartbreaking what happened to her. It completely destroyed Rowan," she said her voice full of sorrow.

Aelin nodded, saddened for Rowan. He had been through so much and he still couldn’t catch a break.

"He hasn’t been the same ever since," Elide added.

After they were done with their drinks, Elide drove Aelin back to the lodge. She thought about everything she had learned in her bed that night, tossing and turning.

…

The next morning, Aelin was still thinking about it as she ate her breakfast. Rowan looked at her with questions in his eyes.

"It’s not like you to be so quiet, what’s wrong?" he asked.

"I’m just thinking about how this place has come to mean a lot to me and I wouldn’t want you to lose it."

"Elide told you then," he sighed.

"She didn’t say much, just that you might have to sell the lodge if things don’t get better," she explained quickly.

"It’s not your problem, don’t worry about it," he replied.

"But I care! I wish there was a way I could help," she said, feeling useless about it.

Rowan put his fork down and looked her in the eyes.

"Actually, I might be happy to sell it," he admitted

"You don’t mean that!" she replied.

"I’m tired of struggling with the place, of everything breaking down, of wondering how I’ll make it to the end of the month…"

"You cannot give up on the North Star. You have so many memories here," she said, her voice breaking.

"This place reminds me of what happened all the time," he explained. "Honestly, I’d be happy to let go of some of those memories."

She looked at him, sorrow in her blue eyes. She was about to argue but Rowan cut her off.

"What do you even know about memories anyway? You don’t even remember your own name," he added, in a cold voice.

Aelin gasped. She could feel tears pooling in her eyes. She didn’t want him to see how much he hurt her so she left and went to her room.

…

After putting Thalia to sleep that night, Rowan went to the lounge and found Aelin sitting by the fireside, admiring the snow falling outside. He sat on the couch next to her. She ignored him, focusing on the view through the window.

"I’m truly sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean for it to come out like this. Ever since you got here, things have changed," he said.

"In a good way I mean.," he quickly added. "But I’m afraid to make new memories."

He looked at the floor and ran his hand over his face, gathering courage for what he was about to say.

"Lyria…" he started. "She died because of me. I was too busy with the lodge and couldn’t drive her to her doctor appointment. She had an accident. She was 39 weeks pregnant. They were only able to save Thalia."

Aelin finally looked at him, taking in his distraught face.

"I’m so sorry, Rowan," Aelin whispered. "But it wasn’t your fault. Sometimes bad things just happen. Even if you had been with her in the car, what would have it changed? Thalia might have lost her two parents that day. I know it has been hard, but you did your best after what happened."

She took his hand in hers and squeezed it softly. He squeezed it back. They just stayed there, watching the fire burning in silence.

After a while, Rowan looked at the clock on the wall and realized how late it was.

"We should probably head to bed."

"Yeah, you’re right. Good night, Rowan," Aelin said, letting go of his hand.

"Good night, Celaena."

Rowan got up from the sofa and started walking away.

"Rowan…" Aelin called after him.

He turned around, waiting for her to continue.

"I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like you before. Because if I had, I would definitely remember it," she said before turning around and heading upstairs to her room before he had the chance to say anything.

Tag list:

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@morganofthewildfire

@leiawritesstories

@fireheart-violet

@autumnbabylon

Tell me if you want to be added or removed!

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cryst4lwitch · 9 months

Note

Angsty Anon with a new idea!

And this time with Cassandra accidentally getting poisoned! (I love her. I promise)

Flies are apparently repelled by specific scents. The components of cinnamon are also apparently toxic to flies.

Cassandra, deciding to raid the kitchen for tea for whatever reason, stumbles upon a box of unopened tea bags, (probably something bought from the Duke) and even though it smells a bit off to her, decides to try it.

Ideas thought of before disaster considering the tea she makes contains cinnamon.

She finds her tea off-putting and decides to dump the rest after finishing a cup of it. And give or take about an hour later, and she's sick.

She starts off with a headache. Which isn't much of a concern but that's until she gets a stomach ache to go with it.

But she’s a Dimitrescu for Miranda's sake. She is not going to be taken out by minor inconveniences.

Even if she keeps having to vomit at least twice in an hour. Thankfully, her family is busy going about their day to worry about her.

And she can manage the headache, stomach ache, and nausea on her own until the next day when she starts feeling drowsy and manages to somehow find herself with a high fever.

But, she's stubborn and is the queen at denying she's sick.

Unfortunately, her denial can only last for so long when she swarms herself into a wall by accident due to her sickness screwing over her sense of direction and she simply just crashed into the nearest light source.

To make matters worse, her nose starts bleeding out of nowhere and she doesn't even know how to explain to Daniela, who finds her kneeled over a trashcan filled with bloodied tissues, what's going on because she doesn't either.

Halfway through the week and Cassandra is getting progressively worse but also thanking whatever is out there that her mother has been so busy that she hasn't noticed. She can barely keep anything down. The fever broke but only to come back in a few hours, her headache and stomach ache refuse to leave, she's still tossing her guts out, and those nose bleeds are becoming more frequent.

Not like she allows that to stop her. After swearing Daniela to secrecy ("because Bela doesn't need to know and Mother doesn't need to worry. It will go away.") Cassandra tries to go about her day but Bela is the one to catch her after Cassandra nearly tumbles down the stairs because swarming takes too much energy out of her now.

Bela, unfortunately, knows something is up and does tell Cassandra she looks horrible and should probably get some more sleep. And sends Daniela to keep an eye on their sister.

The end of the week is when it all goes to shit. Cassandra doesn't know why she isn't getting better. But does think she is well enough to join her sisters in the library to watch a thunderstorm. Until the flashes of lightning feel like they're blinding her, and the thunder makes her head pound.

So there is some concern there.

However, the concern turns into fear when she's trying to make it back to her room to try sleep the sickness off (Bela's compromise for not telling their mother), but then the ground sways under her, and her legs gives out as her stomach turns and she vomits.

And if she was in her right mind, she would be worried of her mother’s reaction to vomiting in the hallway, or at least worried about the fact she threw up blood and not the contents of her stomach. But she's not in her right mind and everything is blurry and darkness is threatening to take over.

She feels herself being pulled to her feet and someone is screaming and the voice sounds awfully familiar but she can't place it, and she's honestly just so tired. But something rises up in the back of her throat and she's launching herself forward and to the floor only to vomit blood again that's so dark it almost looks black. She tries to weakly prop herself up on her arm and get up, but she loses the last of her strength and everything goes dark.

What's actually happening is Bela and Daniela are pulling Cassandra up and Daniela is screaming for their mother because Cassandra's losing consciousness and her eyes have rolled into the back of her head and oh shit, she's on the floor and throwing up again and that is far too dark to be blood. Bela, luckily, grabs Cassandra before she can crash face first into the floor after failing to get up, and turns her sister over and gently taps at her face to wake her back up but it isn't working. Daniela is crying and suddenly on the ground besdies Bela and manages to shake Cassandra semi-awake as Bela is desperately trying to put a plan together while trying not to lose her shit.

And by some saving grace, Alcina rounds the corner to see Daniela falling apart while holding Cassandra, Bela returning with an armful of blankets, and Cassandra laying mostly unconscious in Daniela's arms.

Their mother takes Cassandra into her arms and tells the girls to go drain the nearest maid but bring her the blood.

But then Alcina feels a change. She feels warmth against her shoulder and pulling Cassandra back slightly reveals three things.

One. Alcina's dress is stained with her daughter's blood and Cassandra has her blood on the side of her face.

Two. Sudden burst of cold air is not the only thing that can bring harm to the girls.

Three. Cassandra is going to die very, very, soon and none of them have any idea how to save her.

THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD I ATE THIS UPPPPP

#cassandra dimitrescu #angsty anon going through all these again my resident evil hyperfixation is sparking again

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faewritesfanfic · 10 months

Text

Eden Overthinks

It was a Saturday, and Bailey and Eden were in an old crypt in the woods, looking for antiques to sell to the museum. Kore was in the woods nearby, foraging for food for the coming week.

Between the hunters, and the traps, this was probably the least dangerous part of the week for all of them.

"Okay, what's got you in a mood?" Bailey asked Eden as the wild youth smashed a truly much too large spider to death with a rock. "What have you got to be upset about? I know for a fact you had a fantastic week. The whole orphanage knows."

Eden grunted a non-commital response as he bashed the spider one more time for good measure. The week had not, in fact, been fantastic. It had been un-fucking-believable. The week had started with Kore climbing into his bed half naked, asking him to take her virginity. Every fear he'd had about breaking her had been assuaged as she rallied time and again to keep up with him in all aspects. Sexually she was eager to experiment with new ways of pleasing him when her sex drive failed to match up to his. If she had a problem with his possessiveness, she didn't show it. Kore had failed to react at all when Eden picked up and moved the person sitting next to her in English so he could take the spot. She was openly affectionate, holding his hand in public, and kissing him on the cheek when they would part ways. Kore didn't seem to notice the people staring, the people watching and wondering how a freak like him got a girl like her.

It was unbelievable.

"I think Kore is playing a trick on me." Eden grumbled at last, putting down the rock and picking up his flashlight.

"What do you mean?" Bailey asked as they started to move. While Eden held the flashlight, Bailey used a long stick to check in front of them for traps for loose ground. "Did something happen?"

Eden frowned as he considered his response. Yeah, a lot had happened. None of it seemed real.

The flashlight caught on a branching path and illuminated a burial chamber. Bailey's stick caught on a trip wire, a volley of darts shooting through the air in front of the boys as they held their breath.

"Kore called me her boyfriend." Eden said at last as they cautiously entered the room. Rings and trinkets lined the walls, but Eden left those to Bailey as he went to inspect the sarcophagus at the end of the room.

"How's that a trick?" Bailey asked, shoving ancient treasures into a backpack he had stolen from a sleeping tourist on a bus. "You have a strange way of bragging. You know that, right?"

Eden glared at Bailey, but they were both still for a moment as Eden reached down and pried the sarcophagus lid open. "Just a corpse." Eden announced as he ran his flashlight over the contents. Once they had opened a coffin and a pale thing with too many legs had jumped out and tried to attach itself to Bailey's face. They hoped to never encounter one again. "Anyway, I'm not bragging."

"Oh, yeah, you're totally not bragging." Bailey snorted, rummaging through the sarcophagus for anything potentially valuable. "Oh, look at me! I'm Eden! The girl I've liked since I was ten likes me back, and we have really loud sex every night tha--"

Eden jabbed Bailey in the ribs, causing the smaller orphan to yelp and shatter a few bones into dust accidently.

"Oiy!" Bailey snapped, shaking his hands to get the old dead guy off. "What was that for?!"

"There's no way this is real!" Eden snapped back, his expression sullen and bitter.

He knew it was the truth. There was no way Kore really wanted him. She deserved the world, and someone who could give it to her. Whatever game she was playing, she would tire of it soon. Eden just wanted to enjoy the time he had with her while he could.

"No way what's real?" Bailey demanded. "The sex, the relationship, what? Cuz it looks real to everyone who has to watch you two."

"None of it! None of it is real!" Eden shot back, feeling sick to say it. He liked the lie. He liked the world where Kore really cared about him, and he got to be with her, and things were just good. Everything else in his life had been such a struggle that he just wanted this one thing to be easy.

But it wasn't.

"So, you're telling me that Kore, our Kore, climbed into bed with you and started acting like you were dating for, what? Shits and giggles?" Bailey asked, his tone dangerously flat.

Eden's mouth goes dry, and he understands why Bailey slams his fist into his jaw.

"I deserved that." Eden groans as he spits blood. He seems to still have all his teeth, but his cheek was cut open in his mouth.

"Yeah you fucking did!" Bailey spits, wringing his sore hand. "That's Kore you're talking about! No one says shit like that about her. If anyone else had said that you would have ripped them apart!"

He was right. Eden would never have let anyone else disparage Kore like that. "It just... doesn't make sense." Eden mumbles. He slumps down against the sarcophagus, head hung in shame.

Bailey drops to the ground next to Eden, still nursing his hand. "What doesn't make sense about it?"

"Just, everythi--"

"No, no." Bailey stopped Eden. "You're being stupid. I know there's no fixing stupid, but fuck it, I'm gonna try. So explain it to me. What about Kore wanting to be with you doesn't make sense?"

Bailey could be such a smug little asshole. "She could be with anyone she wants!" Eden snapped.

"She wants to be with you." Bailey countered calmly. "Next."

Eden pursed his lips and glowered at Bailey, not sure if he wanted to play this game. "She's asexual."

"And?" Bailey arches a brow, as if to tell Eden to tread carefully. Bailey himself identified as an aromantic asexual. "She still wants to be with you. What do you think that means?"

"That..." It really was hard to parse these out when Eden had to explain them. "I'm her best friend and I'm safe to check with?"

"Do I need to hit you again?" Bailey growls.

"No." Eden sighs. "I guess I just can't imagine why she would want to be with me. She could do so much better than me."

"I know. It's freaky." Bailey says. "No one has any idea what she sees in you."

"How is this helping?" Eden demands.

"Well obvious she sees something in you worth loving!" Bailey says with a shrug. "If you're not sure what it is, maybe you should ask her?"

The idea hung in the air for a moment. "Oh." Eden finally says.

Really, that was the end of the discussion. It seemed like such a simple solution to Eden. All he had to do was ask Kore why she cared about him. It was easy.

So why was it so terrifying?

#degrees of lewdity #eden the hunter #bailey the caretaker #kore the gardener #alternate universe #fanfic

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wackybuddiemewbs · 2 years

Text

More WIPpeting because why not? It's Wednesday, after all!

Title has it. It's WIP Wednesday again, and this fic that's not a fic is eating away all of my remaining brain cells. We are at 470k something words and -470% percent of my sanity. Assuming I ever had it. Anyway. Here's to more shenanigan! You can find the moodboard here, and the last two installments for that arc are here and here.

The Worm in the Man III

“So the guy seriously tore down a door?” Chimney gapes.

They all gathered in Chimney’s office to go over the latest findings. And after Buck recounted some of what they found at the gym, Hen is left wondering just what kinds of odd people end up in their city. And how many of them end up in freak accidents that may land them here for identification.

“One swing, and it was out of its hinges,” Buck confirms.

“The wonders of the capacity of the human body,” Chim hums, his eyes drifting off as he surely paints a very pretty picture of that inside his head. And Hen can only hope that he won’t listen to the impulse to draw a comic about that, no matter how beautifully drawn it may be.

It’s rude, and we have to set an example, right?

“More like what steroids can make you do,” Hen huffs, making her disdain no secret. That is no wonder, it’s a damn shame. And it shouldn’t be happening anymore, but God knows it does.

“It was kind of impressive, I’ll have to admit,” Buck ponders, shrugging his shoulders.

“And you didn’t film it for us to enjoy,” Chimney pouts.

Buck holds up his hands. “Sorry, next time he does it, I sure will.”

“That’d be greatly appreciated.”

“So, did you have any luck on the flesh yet?” Buck asks, looking at Hen.

“The bones are cleaned and ready for you to reassemble,” she answers. “The tests confirm what you pointed out after testing the tapeworms: That guy took a mad mix of anabolic steroids. And just so we’re clear on the range: That cocktail he’s been taking would’ve killed medium-sized mammals on the spot.”

How that man managed to stay alive under that regimen is something that Hen can’t determine from the tissue. So she can only assume one thing: It was his sheer will to keep going.

“You’re saying he was shredded.” Chimney flexes his arm muscles for emphasis, which makes Hen’s eyes go for another round the clock motion. She loves Chimney, there is no denying that, but sometimes he tempts her in wanting to tear down a door, too.

“I’m saying he lived a very unhealthy life, just to look like he was healthy,” Hen lets him know. “Or shredded.”

She has seen plenty of those people. Old school friends, girls who glowered at anything that might have contained any kind of fat or carb that couldn’t be accounted for. Hen also saw her fair share of classmates who were so busy working out that they didn’t even realize that this was hardly normal anymore. And it infuriates her to know that there is a whole industry out there that profits off of making people feel miserable and at war with their own bodies. Being healthy suddenly evolved into a status symbol – and, towards that end, into something to make unhealthy or sick people feel bad about for lacking.

“Yeah no, that’s not healthy at all,” Buck confirms. “Essentially, he was underweight.”

“But he still weighed 220 pounds, which is more or less average, right?” Eddie questions.

“Yes, but at one percent body fat and very little hydration levels. His body didn’t get the time to properly regenerate from all those massive changes. Normal is to lose one to two pounds per week if you seek to lose weight and do a moderate to high workout. Jimmy doubled that, at least. The guy hardly ate, and what he ate doesn’t really count as a healthy diet. He was severely malnutritioned and dehydrated by the time he died,” Hen sighs, pushing her glasses further up her nose. “And all of that to fit a certain body image.”

All of that to fit in, to be seen, and not to be regarded as some headless, lazy lump everyone has every right to stomp on for the sole sake of being a certain way. Tell you what, Hen looked inside a great many people throughout her career.

And in the end, safe for some genetic abnormalities, we all look the same underneath the skin. Imagine that!

“And to get his picture hung up on the wall of fame, let’s not forget,” Chim huffs.

“How could we possibly forget about that?” Buck joins in, gesturing with his hands.

“Well, at least we now have a name. James ‘Jimmy’ Granger was a software engineer. He worked for a small company, though he mostly worked from home. Most of his colleagues don’t even know that guy’s face,” Eddie lets them know, reading off of the report he got sent. “Which may also explain why he wasn’t reported missing very fast.”

“The wonders of working remote,” Chimney points out. “That guy probably just never switched on the camera during his transition. Or even before that.”

“The neighbors said that he didn’t go out much,” Eddie continues. “Things shifted about five to six months ago.”

“So when he started frequenting the gym,” Hen concludes.

“Yup,” Eddie confirms. “He never brought someone back with him, that the neighbors know of, at least. They describe him as very kind and helpful. Jimmy set up most of the software and hardware for the people living in the house, as they are mostly elderly.”

“So who’d murder a sweet software engineer like that?” Hen asks, which, she knows, is always the question they have to ask around here.

But it never ceases to make her mad. There are so many good and kind people who are ripped out of their lives. For nothing, really. To inherit that house, to get that money, to settle this quarrel, or pay off that debt. While she has seen enough of that to know this to be fact, it baffles her just how little it takes for some people to take another human being’s life. Though perhaps it’s better not to know, past a certain point.

“Well, maybe someone at the gym was pretty pissed off that he got the prize instead of them,” Eddie ponders.

Hen gapes at him. “There’s seriously a prize for that?”

She knows she shouldn’t be surprised, but Hen still finds herself greatly irritated already.

“Annually.” Buck nods. “They get 10,000 dollars and get to be poster boys and girls for the gym’s very own protein powder.”

“People like that piss me off,” Hen grunts, leaning back in her seat. “They make people like Jimmy feel inadequate, only to get them to buy their products, book the courses, and completely overexert themselves. To the point that Jimmy here must have been in constant pain. I found traces of pain medicine added to the mix.”

That young, sweet software engineer was suffering, he was aching, and he still pushed on. He was being helpful and kind. And all he got was more pain and things that made him sick. And now he is dead. All just to reflect the body standards that are around these days. Because He knows those images are constantly shifting. Because the goal of those body ideals is that they remain unachievable. That’s the point – and perhaps the only truth in it all. The perfect body doesn’t exist.

Because, as our Buckaroo would like to remind us, that’s all just arbitrary bullshit without any scientific backup.

“Small wonder he was in pain,” Buck agrees, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Judging by his knees and feet, he ran way too much and without being properly educated as to how to run without causing injury. Also, bad footwear. Those people at the gym are extremely careless when it comes to their customers, is all I can say.”

“Yeah, look at that!” Chim says, showing some ads on the big screen. “Maximum Leg Press, if your legs don’t burn, you’re not doing it right. X Fit, for those who think CrossFit is too easy. ColLateral Damage, the lateral muscle exercise to get your neck strong and your chest even stronger…”

Hen leans her head back. “This whole thing makes me mad, but the bad advertising makes it impossibly worse.”

At least they could bother to be creative, damn it.

“All of those exercises are risky, even more so when they are executed by people who are not properly educated in carrying them out,” Buck points out, gesturing at the screen. “To me, it’s a miracle that there haven’t been more injuries at that gym.”

“None that we know of yet, though I think the gym has a vested interest not to have that info become public,” Eddie argues.

Buck shrugs. “True again.”

“Video footage confirms that Jimmy was last at the gym when he won the competition, which was two weeks ago,” Eddie continues. “Makes me wonder whether one of the other athletes wanted to be the cover boy and wanted Jimmy gone.”

“Well, I’ll have my fun sorting through the colorful parade Buck promised me,” Hen grunts, making her displeasure absolutely no secret. “Which is to say: I’m not looking forward to that at all.”

“You’re doing the Lord’s work,” Chim teases.

Buck puckers his lips. “I thought the Christian boss man didn’t approve of condoms?”

“The Christian boss man?” Eddie gawks, clearly upset at that choice of words.

Hen chuckles softly, then tells Buck, “That’s the Catholic Church, and those guys should have no say on the down below business of anyone ever.”

“Well, historically, controlling sexuality and sexual practices was a way of exerting power, particularly over women, social outcasts, deviants. And with the institution of the church having a vested interest to maintain their power…,” explains, but she cuts him short, “As I was saying, they have no business in the down below business. God said so. So no, Lord’s work certainly does not lie in that colorful latex parade.”

“He works in mysterious ways,” Chim continues anyway.

“And sometimes they smell of fake cherry,” Buck laughs.

Chimney picks up one of the bags with the condoms and opens it for a quick inhale. “That’s supposed to be cherry? I shall be damned.”

“Stop sniffing them!” Hen cries out.

Which certainly confirms one truth she’s known since she was a young girl: Men are disgusting.

“Well, I’m gonna leave you guys to that. I’ll be talking to the parents. They live in Florida and only arrived today,” Eddie sighs.

Buck opens his mouth to say something, but Eddie carries on before he can, “Buck, you don’t have to come with. I think it’s more important that we get that skull reassembled, see what may have killed him.”

“… Okay,” Buck answers slowly. “On it.”

Hen tilts her head. She can tell that there is something up in that exchange. While Buck’s emotions work in mysterious ways, too, he is terribly bad at keeping his emotions off his face. And there is something underneath that confusion that leaves her wondering what that may be about.

“Okay, great, catch you later,” Eddie says hurriedly. “Call me if you find anything.”

“Sure, bye.”

“Bye.”

With that, he flies out the door.

Hen gets up to settle down next to Buck. “Everything alright? You have that frowny face going on.”

And Buck frowning means Buck thinking. And Buck thinking means he usually goes places. And Buck going places can lead down roads you don’t want to travel, ever.

“Yeah, sure, it’s just… I don’t know… I guess I should be focusing on this, is all,” Buck mutters, still looking at the spot where Eddie just stood.

“You two had a disagreement?” she asks.

“None that I know of. I just… doesn’t matter,” Buck mumbles, lost in thought.” The skull needs reassembly, that’s correct. So let’s focus on that.”

Hen makes a mental note to touch up on that later, but she also knows there is hardly any getting through to Buck when his eyes are set on a target. And that target is now putting that skull back together.

“How did the conference go, by the way?” Chimney asks.

Right, there was something else she was more than pissed about. But everything in time.

“Apparently, Denny has a teacher who’s a complete moron,” she pouts, exasperated. “No way our son is no good in biology. One of his mothers is a pathologist. That man does not know what he’s talking about. And I let him know that.”

“Wait, did you get expelled from parent conference day?” Chimney teases.

“No. You can’t get expelled from parent conference day,” she retorts.

“Oh, so you did,” he laughs.

“I did not.”

“Did, too.”

Hen glowers at him.

“Well, maybe they are covering something in biology right now that’s not human anatomy, which is the subject Denny would have an advantage in, with one of his mothers being one of the country’s best pathologist,” Buck points out.

“Damn, I sure hope I won’t slip on the slime you’re oozing there, Buckaroo,” Chimney laughs, gesturing at the floor.

“What? For pointing out the facts?” Hen narrows her eyes at him.

Chimney bows his head, scratches the back of his head, acting innocently.

“Well, back on topic here: That is why we got those subjects covered with his lovely babysitter who’s all into bugs and slime and flora and fauna,” Hen continues.

Buck grins at her. “It’s me. I’m the lovely guy.”

“Cute,” Chim teases, patting his head. Buck swats his hand away, prompting him to ruffle up his hair even more. Buck makes a shrieking sound as he fends Chimney off, but then breaks out laughing. Hen shakes her head with a soft smile.

Yes, men might be a disgusting, but moments like that let her have a little faith in anyone beside her most wonderful son. Buck and Chimney came a long way. And knowing both their histories at least to a certain degree, Hen will always find it a beautiful thing that the two found a “brother from another mother” in each other, as they will tell anyone who asks.

“I know I’m cute,” Buck grins, trying to ease his messed-up hair back. He then turns to Hen with a mild look. “Well, it’s still possible the guy has to base his teachings on books from twenty years ago. That may explain some discrepancy? Just bouncing some ideas.”

“My son does not deserve a C in biology, period,” she declares. That teacher is clearly out of his mind. Denny has always been an excellent student. Biology was never an issue. So to her, it seems more likely that there is something wrong with the person who just started teaching him when Denny didn’t have any issues before.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Chim huffs. Hen chooses to ignore the sarcastic undertone.

“Which is why I have to figure out how to make that man understand the wrongs of his ways,” Hen lets them know. She made up her mind in the parking lot of the school already – she won’t let that stand.

“If someone can do it, it’s surely you who will unhinge the board of education,” Chimney laughs.

“I don’t need to overthrow the damn empire, I just know that my son is better than what the teacher is giving him, and I won’t stand for that,” she points out.

Buck tilts his head. “Did the teacher say anything about how he acts in class?”

“My son is an angel.”

“Right.”

“And there were no complaints in any other classes,” Hen adds.

What is he trying to get at, hm?

“Maybe he likes that teacher about as much as one of his mothers does,” Chimney snorts.

“You’re saying I’m a bad influence for my son?” Hen glowers at him.

Chimney takes a step back, holding up his hands in surrender. “I never would.”

Hen crosses her arms over her chest. “Good, I better never hear that coming out of your mouth again. And now I’m going to do what scientists do… and wade through used condoms.”

“Hallelujah!”

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

“I see it’s coming all together?”

“You really think that the hundredth time is going to make this joke funny?” Buck huffs as Chimney makes his way inside the bone room where Buck is lining up the skull fragments laid out on the table with the rest of the bones.

“It’s a classic.”

“Starting to feel your true age, I take?”

Chimney chuckles as he punches him in the arm slightly, rounding the table.

“Well, reassembling the skull won’t be that hard. It wasn’t completely broken apart. My trouble is with the remaining bones. A lot got chewed on by the animals, which will make it harder to determine what damage was done antemortem and postmortem. Also, the bones are not in great shape, generally speaking,” Buck ponders, gesturing at the table.

“Well, after they were dog chew, small wonder.”

“That’s not it. I’ve had victims like that before, but the bones took a lot of damage for that only small critter fed on the victim. He landed on rather soft ground, too…”

Chimney tilts his head to the side. “You have that thinky face on again. Do share with the class, otherwise I feel left out.”

“It’s just…,” Buck mutters, picking up one of the bones, testing it with his gloved hands. “They shouldn’t have the amount of damage. The scratches are deeper than they should be. Daisy’s teeth sunk in much deeper than they would for a dog her size. I could only determine the kind based on the jaw outline.”

“Maybe she just got really strong jaws,” Chimney jokes, clicking his teeth.

“No, that’s not really it. Something is up with those bones. They are too prone to damage to…,” Buck says, then stops. “Hold on a sec.”

Chimney watches as Buck walks straight over to the shelves containing human remains behind them. He checks the labels, then pulls out one of the plastic boxes.

“Ugh, Buckaroo. We are working on that lad here, c’mon, focus,” Chimney argues, gesturing at the table. Because he has seen Buck completely lose track of the original task and go on with something else just because his mind commanded him to.

“I just need to confirm something,” the younger man answers. He takes out a femur from the box and then picks up the victim’s femur with the other.

“Weird flex for a workout, even for our lot,” Chimney comments.

“The victim’s bones are lighter than they should be,” Buck says.

Chim frowns. “What now?”

“I took out a bone that comes from someone about Jimmy’s physique. Jimmy’s bone is much lighter,” Buck replies. “Look.”

While Chimney is not the bone guy – pun totally intended – he will have to see for himself. So he grabs some gloves and puts them on with a snap. Buck hands the bones over, his mind already rushing a thousand miles ahead by the second. Chimney tests the weight and indeed they are indeed different.

“What the hell?” he mutters under his breath.

Buck picks up another set of bones for comparison. “Same thing here. This is not just some anomaly on the femur. This is a recurring pattern.”

“How would his bones be lighter, though?” Chimney asks, handing the bones back over to Buck. He watches as his friend places them both back on the table and the box with utmost care.

“They are not as dense as they should be,” Buck ponders, still lost in thought.

“The frowny face is intensifying.”

Buck puts the bones back down. And if the saying was true that the brain was all about gears, people could hear them turn inside the man’s head a mile away. Maybe even more.

A few moments later, Buck’s head shoots up. “Wait, I think I know why.”

“That was fast,” Chimney huffs. Though he has since grown accustomed to the fact that Buck is someone whose brain makes three turns in the time it takes normal brains to make one. Sometimes, it means he’s too many steps ahead. But at the very least, it gets you up to speed fast. That much is for sure.

“Jimmy had osteoporosis,” Buck states.

Chimney blinks. “Why would a kid his age have osteoporosis?”

Last time he checked, that was more of an old-people-disease, right?

“There’s many causes, but steroids can greatly contribute to it, so that might be a possible explanation,” Buck tells him pensively. “Though the timeline is still somewhat off. Hen said that he likely only started about five months ago, with the steroids. But for osteoporosis at this level, it would have to be much longer than that.”

“That poor kid. He just wanted to lose some weight, and now he’s been food for the critters for days without anyone noticing him gone,” Chimney sighs, looking back at the bones laid out on the table.

Much like Buck, he sees faces when he looks at a skull. Part of the job, after all. Now Chimney has also seen pictures, of the few there are from before Jimmy’s transition. And they all confirm that this guy had a nice and kind face matching his personality. And such a nice, kind face was then eaten off by the critters after someone left him there to die and rot. It is their daily business to deal with that, surely, but Chimney won’t ever get accustomed to that. He doesn’t want to either. Because that would mean acceptance, and this not acceptable by any means.

“Yeah, because the people at the gym do such a great job caring about their clients,” Buck huffs, gritting his teeth.

“You’re also pissed off, huh?”

“Jimmy could’ve done with a few pounds less and a bit of exercise, to take pressure off his bones and strengthen his muscles, more so if he had some genetic predisposition for osteoporosis. But he was in good health before he started to get jacked-up. He was a regular kid. And from what Eddie told us, quite brilliant at his job. And now that young man is dead. Just because people decided that his body didn’t fit in with the rest. Yes, that pisses me off, a lot.”

Buck moves back to the shelf to return the bones he compared to Jimmy’s, his facial expression hardening with every step. He and Chimney always shared in that notion. In fact, everyone at the lab does. But Chim saw since the early beginnings of Buck working for the Jeffersonian that this guy refuses to get used to people disregarding human life, whatever shape or form it has.

Because to Buck, that’s all just window dressing. For Chimney, it’s the other way around. For him, the bones are the way to get a face. And the face is not just something on top of a bone. For him, truth lies in a person’s face. For Buck, truth always lies underneath it.

Chimney has worked with forensic anthropologists before, duh, but working with Buck has changed his way of working entirely. Not just because the guy is a big oddball. But because Buck has a view on what is around him that Chim never saw with anyone else he worked alongside with.

And sure, no two people look at the world the exact same way, he knows that much. But Buck’s view on the world has always been a peculiar one. Chimney can still remember the earlier times of Buck working for the Jeffersonian. He thought the guy was a goner within a week, which he was correct about, until Bobby brought him back. Though truth was that he was disappointed when he heard Buck had been fired.

Most of the time, when the science folks hear of what Chim does, they roll their eyes at him, at best. Once they understand what he can actually do, once he’s proven it, Chimney is sure to have their attention and respect, but it’s always a process of getting there.

That wasn’t so with Buck. On his first day, Buck came to his office and gushed about that online gallery walk Chimney had done to present his digital art. He wanted to know all about it. How he does it, what his method is. Chimney never would’ve called it a method but a technique. Though he understood that for Buck, his art was science, a way of sense-making. To him, it was real science without the label on it.

And then Buck kept asking questions for about an hour, nonstop. He wanted to know if that type of reconstruction was something he could do, if there was a program of his design to analyze bones under these circumstances and those other circumstances. He didn’t just ask what Chimney could currently do, but Buck instantly started scratching at what else he might do with his method.

Chimney didn’t need Buck’s approval or praise. That’s not it. He’d since learned his value to the Jeffersonian, all the more thanks to Bobby and Hen. But it really is as Buck said before, about the bones from Tibet. How it makes a difference how you approach an object. How it changes through your perception, through the knowledge you have of where it comes from. Because it creates pictures in your head, ready or not. And Buck came without any pictures, any filters, it’d seem, safe for his sheer excitement for Chim’s work, his method, and the possibilities ahead, some of which still need another three laps before they can be realized.

So he was genuinely relieved when Buck returned and has remained with the Jeffersonian since. Because also thanks to Buck, Chimney found new ways of looking at that which is before him, of learning new techniques, creating entirely new methods. By learning to see things like Buck, he finds new ways to look at the world around him, look at the victims, and see something that’s underneath the skin, right down to the bone.

And while he knows Buck and he will always look at the world differently, Chimney always has the feeling that when it comes to looking at human remains, they get each other on a level most others don’t. And he wouldn’t ever want to miss that, even less so since that same guy grew to be such a close friend of his.

But he is also a giant pain in the ass. So it’s always a give and take in the end.

“People are brutal when it comes to body images,” Chimney ponders, looking back at the bones, looking back at the remains of Jimmy Granger, of a guy with a kind face, and even kinder face, whose life ended way too fast and not at all on the high note it was supposed to.

He’s seen plenty of that during his art studies. Searching for the perfect body type for portraits, for photo projects. A fellow student did a wonderful project on different body types that he helped create the website for. Though those are very often the exception. Instead, they get a weird high from watching obese people on TV getting beaten down for having the audacity to have a different body type, or maybe even lead a lifestyle that’s not 100% healthy.

Most people can’t look beyond what’s programmed into their brains to consider as beautiful – both by nature and nurture. Because sure, we find particular beauty in symmetry. That’s coded into our DNA, as Buck loves to remind whoever dares to ask. But we are also taught what’s beautiful, what’s ugly, what’s norm, what isn’t.

And Chimney always found that when a subject likens itself to be the free arts, the place for free spirits to thrive, it seems awfully delimiting to only focus on what’s the norm.

“Those people at the gym keep pressuring perfectly healthy people to bust their body fat to come close to ideals set out by magazines and websites making it seem like this is healthy. It’s not. Women don’t need thigh gaps,” Buck grumbles. “Men don’t need a six pack. The strongest men on the planet don’t look like Jay, trust me.”

“Well, he still tore down that door,” Chimney jokes.

“That, he did,” Buck sighs. He picks up the skull for inspection again.

“Jimmy was helpful and polite. And he went to those people for support. But in the end, all they cared about was to boost their stupid business. Jimmy deserved better than to have his picture on a wall to tell him that only with one percent body fat he’s of value to anyone else,” Buck continues, his grimace tightening. “People don’t need to optimize their bodies to be… valuable.”

He puts the skull back down and moves along the table. It always looks like a chase when Buck is in that mood. Like he is closing in on the target.

“Yeah, there’s a whole industry profiting off of making people feel miserable, only to present them with some magic powder that can make them look like what they are told is the only way to look,” Chim snorts.

Buck stops in his tracks, the motions closer. “Huh.”

“What? Said something that got you thinking?”

“Not really,” Buck replies bluntly. “I just noticed a scaphoid fracture.”

Chimney grins at him, choosing to ignore the underlying criticism out of goodwill. “Let’s pretend I didn’t know which bone that is.”

“It’s part of the base of the wrist,” Buck says, picking said bone up to show it to him. “Here.”

“What’s odd about it? If he fell down before he died, that may explain it, right?” Chim argues. He’s run countless scenarios of just that kind before.

“That injury is older, though. It already started to heal. See, there’s traces of remodeling on the bone. I’d say he sustained the injury a month prior to his death,” Buck explains, gesturing at the bone. “He didn’t have it treated, though. It wasn’t immobilized as it should’ve been. So he went on training without a splint or brace regardless.”

Chim furrows his eyebrows at that. “Doesn’t that… hurt?”

“It does. But judging by the gym’s teachings, it just shows you that the workout works, so he may have thought it’s all part of the process. Or just ignored it to run that extra mile.”

“Those guys should run an extra mile into a lake.”

“I agree,” Buck huffs. “He didn’t sustain any more injuries to his hands when he died. He fell down face-first.”

“Ouch.”

“He definitely broke his nose in the process,” Buck mutters. “Though Jimmy may have been unconscious or dead by the time already. It’s hard to tell. But it would explain why he wouldn’t shield his face before impact.”

Buck looks back at the screen for any more signs on the bones he missed. Because there is always more to learn, as he keeps reminding everyone, till the day he dies, surely.

“What strikes me is how stiff he was when he fell,” Buck continues. “If he had a heart attack or something to that effect, he’d normally go down slower, maybe even go to his knees first, and then collapse forward.”

“You’re not wrong there,” Chimney agrees. “That’s not the usual pattern for a fall. I can run some scenarios, if that helps.”

Buck nods his head. “That’d be great. I’d say it’s best to focus on scenarios of him having been shoved or him receiving a hit to anywhere but the head. Since I find no markings on the skull, the impact would’ve had to be on some of the bones the animals already took. And of course scenarios of him simply collapsing, for comparison.”

“Alright, will do,” Chimney agrees. “I’ll see what kind of body type or possible weapons that’d give us, if someone else was indeed involved.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, hi there,” Eddie’s voice rings out as he peeks his head inside the bone room.

“Hi,” Buck replies, eyes set on the bones.

“I’ll see you later, then,” Chimney says, tapping him on the shoulder, but Eddie is moving into his path. “Maybe you could hang on a bit longer. I might have something for you to take a look at.”

“Oh, sure. I wasn’t in a hurry as Buck has not yet unleashed the tapeworms again.”

“How are the parents?” Buck questions.

“They are devastated, of course. That’s not what you want to hear about your son. He really was a good kid. He paid for them to fulfill their dream of having a small shop down in Florida. They never had much, but they still paid for his tuition and all, so he could get proper education. Jimmy made for a decent living as a software engineer, but he gave most of it to them. He only took enough to pay for the rent and food and such. The rest went all to fulfilling his parents’ dreams.”

“Which makes it all the more infuriating that their son is dead, and it may very well be thanks to the changes he wanted to surprise them with – and the people who didn’t teach him how to do that properly,” Buck grumbles, still not bothering to look at anyone other than Jimmy, really.

Because that’s Buck’s focus – always.

“The parents said they noticed that he was rather distant the past couple of months. He didn’t wanna video chat, only called,” Eddie continues. “Looks like he wanted to surprise them with his transformation.”

“I don’t yet know what exactly killed him. There’s no obvious injury that’d serve as the final blow – at least on the bones that we have here,” Buck tells him. “I can tell you Jimmy fell pretty hard two weeks before he died.”

“Which he left untreated,” Chim adds.

“Yeah, he didn’t see his doc at all. I called the practice earlier. Obviously, they can’t tell us much. But I was told he hasn’t checked in for about half a year,” Eddie replies.

“Which would match the time of him starting the training,” Chimney ponders. “Seems like he knew his doc wouldn’t be pleased with that.”

“Chim will run scenarios for us to determine possible ways in which Jimmy may have fallen,” Buck informs him. “That may give us a clue about how he actually died.”

Chimney grins at Eddie. “Because I’m amazing like that.”

“So you think it’s possible it wasn’t murder at all?” Eddie asks.

“It’s possible that Jimmy simply died from the side effects of his massive workout routine. But it’s also possible that something happened prior to the event that brought him to the point. Or that he was killed – and we just don’t know because those bones were carried away by the animals. It’s hard to tell,” Buck answers.

“Hm. I’ve checked in with Jimmy’s boss as well. There didn’t seem to be any beef with anyone. Since he mostly worked remote, hardly anyone knew him.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you went to the office,” Buck says, his eyes still firmly planted on the bone, but Chimney can tell that he’d like to look Eddie in the eye right now. Hen noted it earlier already, and Chim can long since see it. Something is at odds here.

“It was basically on the way from the FBI to here, you know, after talking to the parents,” Eddie answers.

Chim tilts his head. He can’t say he is particularly good at reading people. He’ll gladly leave that to the agent. But there is something on his face that he can’t miss – because that’s his perspective. There is a curl on his lip that makes his features look tight, like they are closing in on themselves.

“Okay, sure.” Buck purses his lips. “So what’s the next move, investigation-wise?”

Chimney can tell that the wheels are turning inside the young man’s head, which is not always a good thing, especially if he tries to make sense of a situation. Buck is ridiculously smart, but he is not people-smart, by his own admission. And his method is always to get to the bottom of it. Though some people don’t appreciate that one bit.

“I wanna check out the gym some more,” Eddie explains. “If someone envied Jimmy for winning the big prize, someone may have overheard him arguing with someone. Or we find the one who did.”

“I still find it hard to believe that someone would kill someone for a few grand,” Chim sighs. It gets him every time, reading the reports. How often it’s petty things like money, jealousy, or just because a guy thought he deserved to have power over a woman because he has a dick and most certainly doesn’t know how to use it correctly.

“Sadly, for many people, morality ends where the money begins,” Eddie exhales.

Buck twists the skull he took back into his hand, not looking up for even just a second. “And for Jimmy, that’s where his life ended.”

“You said you had something for me, too?” Chimney asks Eddie, frowning. Because this sounded more like something he’d only need Buck for. Not that he minds, but he does have better to do than just hang around – at least when he is not himself choosing when to hang around.

“Oh yeah, that’s right. The parents gave us a permit to search Jimmy’s private laptop. I thought that maybe you could have a look. As far as we can tell, he was pretty high on the security standards,” Eddie explains.

Chimney nods with a grin, pleased. “Nice. That should keep me preoccupied for a while.”

“Okay, that means we’re all set here,” Eddie says, clapping his hands together. There is determination now, Chimney can tell as much. But the moment his eyes dart towards Buck, the determination shifts to something else he can’t quite place.

“So you want me to come with,” Buck says, asks, really, but he seemingly doesn’t want to sound surprised.

“Maybe someone shoved Jimmy prior to his death for the wrist injury. You might be able to figure out who’d fit the profile, right?”

Buck shrugs. “It depends.”

“Then yeah, you should come along,” Eddie says, nodding his head.

Buck licks his lips, looks at him for a long moment, then looks down again. “Alright, then.”

Chimney keeps studying his friend as he takes off the gloves. His brows are furrowed, his lips pursed, there is a crease that normally only reveals itself when he is thinking too hard. Chim can tell that much because to him, the face is the way to what lies underneath, but right now, he is not exactly sure what he is looking at.

Though knowing Buck, it’s only a matter of time till they will find out. Because where Buck likes to only look at the facts, only just the bones, his friends look at the world from their own angles, and from their angle, Buck is always there, sometimes at the center, sometimes at the periphery. But he is always there. Because they changed each other’s way of looking at the world. And that means he is part of their perception as much as they are part of his.

We keep an eye on each other, simple as that.

“See you later, Chim,” Buck says, grabbing his jacket.

“See ya.”

We always make sure of it, don’t we?

#buddie #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #evan buckley x eddie diza #eddie diaz x evan buckley #fanfic #in smol #buddie fanfic #buddie au #wip wednesday

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lovejosephquinn · 1 year

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Warning: DV Mention...

Okay story time based on my mood, I figured it out. This is really personal shit so if you aren't interested please keep scrolling, it's a shit thing for me to talk about even years on, it haunts me in my sleep still and I just need to get it out.

So about 8 years ago I suffered a really shitty physical and mentally abusive relationship, for almost 2 years I went out of my head thinking and believing that I was the problem.

It started off as mental abuse, something I've always been against but got myself into. It started off well, but people grew concerned when I was literally being bought expensive things for no reason at all and taken out at least 2 nights a week, controlled on what I wore, what I ate and what I did with my friends.

He got kicked out of his mum's house and I took him into MY parents house without even asking, keeping him there for the week as I didn't want to see him go without. I didn't know where he lived, he lied to me about that for a year and a half, then I found out when he lied about the address he had on his ID which he left over at mine by accident, he made excuses but he eventually took me there. It took me a year to even meet his mum. She never knew I existed.

So all of this time I was getting cheated on by my ex boyfriend with several different women, one who he eventually had a 6 month affair on, then when I caught him out he told me that I was insane. It sent me mental always looking through his phone (which I have never done with any other previous relationship) just to see if there was something else I could find.

Eventually it became physically abusive. The first night it happened was after a night out with him and his friend, we were walking back to my house and because I wouldn't have sex with him out in a public area, he dragged me into a dark alley and made me do it. When I cried after he pushed me into a thorn bush right next to us and took a picture of my scratched up arms, posting it on social media, making out that I fell in it myself and when my mum questioned me, he didn't let me answer, he told her I was way too drunk and again, fell in.

It got worse. He got me pregnant, I found out when I was about 13 weeks and although I wanted to keep it since I'm against termination, he threatened that he would take it out of me himself if I didn't do something about it, punched my stomach and I miscarried.

I seeked help. I was diagnosed with severe anxiety and offered medication but I declined, because I knew I was stronger than that. I ended up lying to him constantly, not telling him where I was because I didn't want him to kick off. Sleeping with other people when I was with him just so I could feel something happy at the time. I broke another person's heart because of him.

He went on holiday with his friends and I couldn't get a hold of him one night, his friend answered his phone eventually and another girl was in bed with him. I overdosed that night. He told me good and that I'm not worthy of being alive.

He still proceeded to buy me everything, call me a gold digger and psychopath to his friends yet he was the one doing all this. I'm not materialistic in any way, shape or form. My parents and friends hated him, one of my friends AND my stepdad once tried to swing for him when he upset me but yet I'd always stick up for him because I loved him...

I'd had enough eventually. Going back and fourth, up and down and in constant circles of depression and anxiety and fed up of it all. I ended things for good after almost 2 years of it. I got out. Which I'm glad I did because I don't think I'd of been here much longer.

My point is, was that I saw him today when I was out, randomly for the first time in years and to tell you the truth, my stomach felt sick to the core. I was shaking, cold sweats and every memory of what happened to me when I was only the mere age of 20 struck through me.

I'm better now anxiety wise, a lot better than I was anyway.

But I still have awful panic attacks that lead to me not being able to breathe and being sick, I still get nightmares where I wake up in a sweat. I still am afraid to this day.

(Sorry to offload all of this.)

#personal post #sorry lol

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residents-of-the-darkforest · 2 years

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Dark Forest Resident: Patchspring

Aliases / Nicknames: N/A

Gender: molly

Sexuality: heterosexual

Family: N/A

Other Relations: unnamed apprentice

Clan: Whisperclan

Rank: elder

Characteristics: klls to have silence in her den in the last moons of her life

Number of Victims: 4

Number of Murders: 4

Murder Method: drowning, catmint overdose, suffocation

Known Victims: Frondkit, Hawkkit, Heatherkit, Bluekit

Cause of Death: deathberries

Cautionary Tale: N/A

Story:

Patchspring was a respectful warrior, but she had no friends or family. Born a rogue, she was brought into the Clan and later lost her foster mother to greencough.

She was always quite a solitary cat and when she retired, she was happy to finally have a den all to herself. It was perfect, really. She got all the alone time she needed and didn’t have to do any work. Well, it was until she had to stay in the medicine den for a moon to recover from a sickness.

Cloudfang was such a weak cat, and her kits were born even weaker. Patchspring wouldn’t have cared if the kits didn’t have to stay in the medicine den with her.

Now having four unruly kits and a medicine cat in the den with her was far too much. She had to do something! After all, she deserved a good rest before her time to join Starclan.

Poor Bluekit, suffocated in her sleep, her windpipe crushed. Everyone grieved, but the kit was young. They’d get over it.

Except it backfired on Patchspring, and now Cloudfang spent all her time in the medicine den, fussing over her remaining kits. HawkKit was next. He was more difficult now that he was older, but he was easy enough to convince him to follow her outside camp in the middle of the night.

Tossing the small kit into the creek, she held his head under easily until he stopped thrashing. He was found on patrol the next day, and it was assumed the adventurous kit had snuck out to explore.

It was better, now. The remaining two kits and their mother moved back to the nursery, and aside from the shy medicine cat, Patchspring was finally alone again.

For the first week, things were great--until the kits were allowed to enter the medicine den without any good reason at all! Constantly talking, asking for stories, running around. She barely got any sleep now, and nearing the end of her life, she decided this just wouldn’t do.

Frondkit and Heatherkit happened to overdose on catmint. It was a tragedy, really. When Frondkit looked up at her while she was on the brink of death, Patchspring felt a pang of regret. These kits had such a great future ahead of them.

Didn’t FrondKit want to be a medicine cat?

When the kits went still, their bodies cooling, Patchspring pulled some deathberries from the medicine shelf. It was difficult to stay quiet while grabbing them, having to knock multiple herbs out of the way to reach them at the back of the shelf.

She curled up around the kits and stuffed the deathberries into her half-eaten mouse.

Patchspring was found dead not long after, along with the kits. Her clanmates assumed that she was overcome with grief at the tragic accident with the kits, and poisoned herself.

In the dark forest, she avoids all kits and spends most of her time alone on the edges of the forest.

Additional information:

--She gets along well with Shrikepollen (and Mud Tail)

--submission by @wills-woodland-warriors

#suicide #suicide tw #child death #child murder #wc #warriors #warriorcats #warrior cats #wcoc #wc oc #warriorsoc #warriors oc #warriorcatsoc #warrior cats oc #dark forest #place of no stars #dark forest character #dark forest resident

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cybermeep · 11 hours

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“YEAH, IM HALLUCINATING. IM HALLUCINATING AND IM WRONG, IM LIKE, ON DRUGS. THERES SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME, I THINK. DEFINITELY.”

“YEAH.”

dialogue spoken aloud to myself as i waited for a ride home… i might have been hallucinating. i don’t know. proceeded to list aloud different ways to die & did a marge simpson impression on pure accident at first. proceeded to say the two lyrics which i think about constantly, “IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME?” & that whole continuation on the opposite of flowers track, and the “WHO’S GONNA TAKE YOU HOME TONIGHT? WHO’S GONNA TAKE YOU HOME?” from true trans soul rebel in said raspy voice. my attempt at humoring myself to not look awkward which only makes me look more awkward but being on my phone feels weird cause it just does. i should be enjoying the nature & whatnot, or something . before i left i wished for the usual, which is for no one to die. yknow, the normal things. (when i say wish for no one to die, i mean, like, not soon. obviously everyone dies someday, but not today. that would be really bad. and not next week either. or next month. just wait and be cautious pretty please. all of you be careful & dont get run over by a car or on train tracks OR on rail roads or on anything. be safe. (do you see how these tangents get off track so easily?))

anyway, stand outside in the rain… a really nice part of nature. everyone always is pissed about rain… i like it…. maybe thats because of the association game (its not a game, its simply how my mind works. jarring, i know) ive played for the entirety of my life, but who knows. It is genuinely a nice display. walk along neighborhood.. i enjoy living at the end of a street next to little marshlands. it makes me happy.

of course, visited the robins nest— saw all their cute little faces… theyre so sweet.. rosaline (rosalyn? it may have been spelt that way) obviously saw me & chirped loudly. i don’t stay, of course not… she wants me gone, and i respect her boundaries :-)! did hold my phone up to her again, though. argued with her as she chirped, although it wasn’t actually an argument. was joking on that part. simply conversed, and said this

“I WON’T HURT YOUR BABIES! IF I WOULDN’T HURT I….. IE…… IE… EEE….. DE……… DE-DE-DE-DE-DE DEE, I COULDN’T HURT THEM!”

improvised on a verbal slip up. yes, thats what i said verbatim. i would not lie about that, although that would be funny. still held up my phone. looks like this.

[FOR A SECOND I THOUGHT THIS DRAFT WAS GONE SINCE I WENT TO GO EDIT THE IMAGE. HOLY FUCK. THANK GOD ITS HERE. ANYWAY.]

something like this. homophobic dog added for comedic effect. i would give you my reasoning on why i do this, but then i sound even more insane talking about metaphysical states. strange and Offputting but not in the way people like & in a ‘god i hope he gets run over’ way. Maybe. Maybe someone enjoys it. Tell me via caesar cipher, maybe…. off topic again

after this exchange, then i went to explore the wetlands. like a friend showing something they own to a facetime compatriot (something i used to do, when i did those), i.. i mean, i did that. specifically, i noticed the pair of mallards which are nearby had their eggs hatch… baby ducklings swimming in the water… it was so cute, i genuinely thought i was going to be sick. has happened before, so its not off the table. the getting sick part due to minuscule things. i squealed a bit, embarrassing to type to an audience, but i wont lie either. overjoyed. didn’t get any of pictures of them, but thats okay. did end up getting sick in the sense i got a headache after the encounter. saw a tufted titmouse, too.. it was very pretty.

ummm i don’t really know if i have much else extravagant, it rained earlier and i was overjoyed to see it pour outside, my legs kicked & whatnot. paid for friends & compatriots items because i simply wanted to. told an observation to my mother which isnt really a coincidence anymore and seems to be a pattern i think. i have good memory & all i ask is why, genuinely, but who knows. i mean, why do i sit here & write under the same pseudonym…. I could so easily change my handle & everything im known for, go off the face of the earth…

but i, uh, don’t do that. even though logistically it would make sense if i did. it would also make sense if i stopped posting & abandoned this platform, but i don’t do that either. i’ve made friends here, after all! i guess everyone does something which might not be expected of them or is perplexing… apart of living!

any good things to end this on? not really. nothing wise or mysterious, or something. will wear the fish collar tomorrow, since its the seniors’ (i.e a good chunk of my friends which i actually have a connection with) last day. considered the re-animator shirt, which would be funny, but feels weird. fish collar & wacky outfit is best, in my opinion. might wear one of the suits i own to graduation if its outside, still gotta know the time… we gotta start talking to people in ciphers, man…

#cybers tangents #took an hour to write. why do i do this?#<- knows the answer

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jodilin65 · 2 months

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I woke up for a few minutes with a tickle in my throat which caused a coughing fit but I don’t think this had anything to do with sleep apnea. Then thunder woke me up after a little over 6.5 hours of sleep. Tom said the loud thunder actually started an hour before I was woken up.

I was tired but it could have been worse. I wonder if I would have felt worse without the mouthguard. I’m pondering whether, had I not woken up coughing and if the storm hadn’t disturbed my sleep, an extra hour or two of rest might have left me feeling refreshed.

My jaw was a little sore when I got up and I briefly considered skipping a night with the mouthguard but I don’t want to be tired again tomorrow if this thing is really helping me. I want to get on with the testing and find out for sure. It looks like there aren’t going to be any storms for the next week so I should get enough days of testing.

Shortly before midnight last night, I knew my sleep was doomed when I checked the hourly weather. Usually, they push storm times out to be later than first expected but they didn’t push the time out but increased the likelihood instead.

Again I wonder how bad this summer is going to be. A thought ran through my mind; if there is anything up there actually cursing my sleep, then if the mouthguard is helpful, it’s going to throw more storms at me and other things to fuck with my sleep.

Ray said hi to Tom the other day and he was the one to speak first. Maybe he’s sexist, although to be fair, Ray didn’t see me when he was hosing his place down. His back was toward me when I said hello.

A nurse will pay me to come to the house to take my vitals, go over medications, and make sure everything’s nice and safe. It’s a one-time thing. Not sure if it’s because I’m older or just part of my insurance plan.

Getting really sick of having to call other countries to get help in my own country. Had to call the insurance company to make sure I really was eligible for them to pay me $100 to come out to the house. After dealing with yet another hard-to-understand accent, I scheduled an appointment for the 26th. Of course, she too, will be a foreigner.

When I was a kid I hardly saw foreigners and now it seems like every other person isn’t from here. If they could just adopt our accent it wouldn’t be so bad although the more people we have coming over here, the more it still hogs our resources and takes jobs from the people from here.

Even though the GYN I saw is also not from here (at least I don’t think she is even though she barely had an accent) I liked her better than Dr. D and would like to switch to seeing her. Dr. T was much gentler, told me everything she was doing, and it didn’t hurt as much. She said I definitely have moderate to severe atrophy but didn’t feel anything else going on. She did, however, see a yellow discharge. As soon as she said that my mind immediately went to a bacterial infection since yeast is usually white and that’s what she said she thought it was. She took a swab and even a urine sample which I had no problem providing to see if the WBCs that I told her had been elevated in past samples were still up there or not.

When we got back I ate and tried to nap but couldn’t. I’m in a great mood, just tired. I’m glad this appointment is over and that I went after all if I really have an infection or something I need treatment for. As I told her, I haven’t felt any burning for a few weeks now. We never discussed an estrogen-based cream which I’m hesitant to use anyway. A fingertip full of Replens or something similar should do the trick as long as I’m consistent.

Tom got a text message when we got home saying that amoxicillin had been called into the pharmacy but then it was canceled. I guess they decided it would be best to wait for the results of the tests rather than jump the gun and assume anything.

Passed an accident on the way down, as usual. I still can’t believe how common accidents are here. Someone got rear-ended and the person was on a stretcher being loaded into an ambulance. The back corner of their car had a lot of damage.

That’s two appointments in a row I was tired for so hopefully I’ll be more awake when I see the ENT on the 23rd.

We still have to make the appointment for the eye specialist which I’m guessing will be male and foreign. Another thing I noticed early on is that most of the doctors are male here unlike in Cali and I wonder if that has anything to do with this not being a great place to live. At least the cost of living is lower and the weather is warmer. Not as warm as I’d like in the winter but it’s definitely an improvement over NorCal.

Dr. D isn’t sick and didn’t have an accident. She’s having a baby. She must be a high-risk pregnancy to take that much time off unless she just wants to spend the first few months of its life with it. Nothing against her but I hope to see Dr. T the next time I need to go. Dr. D just wasn’t as friendly or gentle. Loved the nails and sparkly eyeshadow Dr. T had on as well. I could tell that like me, she has a thing for bright colors and shiny things. The most important thing is finding out exactly what I have and treating it. More than likely, the Norovirus did end up infecting me after all. I wonder if the dream I had a few weeks ago about being swept out to sea had anything to do with today’s appointment.

Arizona reverting to the Draconian laws of 160 years ago doesn’t shock, sadden or anger me as these things would when they first started happening. Again, if you don’t want your rights taken away then don’t vote Republican! The people got what they voted for. Sure, there are some people that think like I do but I seem to be becoming more and more of a minority.

Damn, it’s windy out there! Can’t imagine why since the storm passed hours ago. Still don’t see any rain or storms predicted through the 20th but I know these things can creep up on us. I love listening to the wind and wind chimes. We got tornado warnings on our phones earlier in the day, too.

Not all news is bad. OJ croaked from cancer! Here’s where I hope the two-time murderer is being tortured in hell if such a place exists. I don’t know if it does but I know he was guilty as fuck. Just the way he ran was confession enough and I don’t doubt for a minute that like Michael Jackson, he didn’t get off because he was rich, famous, and innocent. He got off because he was black and the judge knew that if he convicted the bastard, the LA riots of 1992 would repeat themselves all over again. So he only got off to spare innocent people from being hurt.

Remembering that it’s CampNano month, I checked into the Nano site and it’s just so sad because I miss Aly so damn much. Her account is still there of course. All my projects from 2011 forward are there too, but I can’t see myself returning because it’s just not the same without her. On the 17th, she would have been 43.

In better news, throw asparagus tips in the oven for 5 minutes at 425° and it’s great! I sprayed it with oil first and I’m really coming to like this olive/avocado oil, too.

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planstransamanacanalpanema · 2 months

Text

Positive things from this week:

I'm usually extremely passive. Not like, almost to a fault but like actually to a fault. I never want to hurt someone's feelings by standing up for myself, but also when I do stand up for myself I have a tendency to run with that confidence too heavily and I can get kind of mean about things. I also, for some reason, have this abject fear of authority and will often lie to cover up mistakes because I'm afraid the indefinable worst will happen if I admit fault.

So, in the last week, I've been a bit more aggressive about making contact with people who can fix my problems. I messaged my doctors office after they wrote a prescription for the wrong med (and yes, that is something I would have just gone along with in the past). I've been calling my landlords office weekly to get my mailbox fixed instead of contacting them once and then never being able to access my mail again (I had to replace my mail key, but they gave me the wrong one and it's the only one they have. In the past I would have called once and then maybe after a month been like "hey, can I get my mail please?" I still don't have access to my mailbox after 4 weeks, but I'm still trying at least). I accidentally dented my dad's truck, but I told him the truth and he was very gracious about it, and helped me brainstorm ideas on how to fix it (I'd been trying to come up with ways to pretend like I was surprised to see the dent, like it'd been an accident, but decided I was braver than that). I had a coworker very clearly decide to make up a policy that meant she couldn't do something she we extremely clearly able to do, so I sent a message to our manager asking for clarification on the policy that will be cc'd to everyone, instead of just being pissed off about it and complaining and name dropping. I also spent the whole shift with her actively avoiding doing things, which meant I was in charge of everything (we work in an emergency department, so the things we have to prioritize can absolutely mean the difference between life and death) I was busy doing and EKG, and she ignored the overhead page to do another EKG on a very sick patient. I ended up getting both, and she didn't help, but I was able to ask for help and delegate out a few tasks to get everything done, instead of stressing and trying to do it all myself and then being pissed off and gossipy for the rest of the night.

And then, I saw someone I thought was cute on a dating site and sent a message. Recently I've been putting myself down a lot and likely would have just said he was too good for me and let it slide. Anyways, first dates next week :)

And yeah, a lot of this sounds very childish, and it is. Gossip isn't cool and lying isn't cool and a lot of the things I do are things I know I should be ashamed of, and I am. But the problem is that shame doesn't really fix these things, and figuring out how to get out of habits like that can be really hard, even if you know what you're doing is wrong, and especially if you dont know what to do instead. And its even harder when we dont talk about it either. But hey, any time is a good time to start working on yourself, and I'm proud that I'm a little better off this week than I was last week.

#growing up #progress #personal #journal

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