Tumgik
#one gives me repeated medical trauma and the other takes my money
broomswept-thoughts · 2 years
Text
What are the things I want to work hard on? I think right now I’m too unfocused and also anxious about overworking and losing track of my health, but I think if I focus on what I want to work hard on and nothing else, then I think it can alleviate this problem.
1. Research at the NIH
2. Medical school applications (actual apps but also volunteering)
3. Exercise and health
Okay. What are the things that I would be willing to give up?
1. Spending time on youtube and instagram and reddit constantly
2. Spending time always having fun on the weekends
3. Some times for reading, doing music, dancing
4. Spending time socializing often
What are my dreams? What are my goals? Are these the things that will make me happy? I’m becoming anxious and afraid because I wonder if my goals will make me happy enough to make the sacrifices worth it. I think I’m afraid because the sacrifices to my time and health that I made in freshman year give me a lot of regret when I think about how I got hospitalized in the end. Was working so hard at school worth it if I got a chronic illness? No. I don’t think it is. And I think that gives me fear and trauma that I’ll repeat the same mistake and give up something meaningful like my health for academic success.
I think another fear I have is not socializing enough and being left out over time. I think that is really lonely and scary. But I guess what’s important is prioritizing and valuing what smaller time I have with people I really care about, in the end. I guess sacrificing being in a group for time doing better at work and taking care of my physical body is not something that’s impossible for me. But I think taking out that sadness in the form of procrastinating on youtube and not focusing on what I have to do is going to make that sacrifice not worth it.
What are my goals? What do I want to do? I want to be a researcher, because I like talking and thinking about science, and I want to do work that can build the blocks to help someone heal and recover from illnesses that were incurable. Hearing about pancreatic cancer through my relatives makes me so sad by how harsh cancer is. But not just cancer; things like ALS or diabetes or dementia too, are so hard to watch. I want to be a researcher and also earn enough money to support my parents well so that they can live wherever they want and have a peaceful life once they retire. I don’t know how soon I will reach that goal time-wise, but I wish it to be soon. I want to do this in the context of academic medicine, which is already competitive as is. So I want to do my best in research even now, and build up what I can.
What are the things I’m scared of losing? I’m scared of losing my health and the hobbies that make me happy like music. I want to be able to work hard and have time to do what I really like or want to accomplish, like learning Japanese more fully and starting to learn Korean to enjoy kpop songs more. What are these secondary goals?
1. Work back in 5 minutes of flute practice each day
2. Become more fluent in Japanese
3. Learn Korean to an intermediate level so I can at least understand what people are saying broadly
4. Read before sleeping and during lunch. Don’t try to compete with others on reading, read because you have time and want to learn.
I don’t think these are such impossible goals. I don’t want them to be, because I want to do my best but also be a person too. I think working hard is so difficult because I’ve tied it to endless sacrifice and pain as a sign of hard work. But that’s not necessarily true. I think hard work means being concentrated and 100% present in what is happening when you’re doing work. I think it means prioritizing, but that doesn’t mean you have to ignore it forever or cast it aside as a sign or symbol of hard work. I can work hard at being healthy, and even if no one praises me now, it will pay off in the long-run (and short-term too) so that I can support myself and do my best. I think the only unforgivable thing is procrastinating constantly and all the time. I think that will not help me because it’s a form of anxiety. If I want to procrastinate, then I should instead use that time to work on the secondary goals that I have if not my primary goals. In this way, each moment in my life will become more filled with meaning. I think I used to be afraid of being busy all the time. But maybe that’s okay. I don’t think that’s what made me sick. I think what made me sick was hating myself and feeling like I have to work as a form of punishment and self-harm, and that taking care of myself was a sign of laziness. I didn’t prioritize my physical health enough. I think it’s hard to prioritize physical health if you’ve been filled with self-loathing in the past, but I want to hope that I’m different now. When people tell me to work harder, I don’t think they mean hurt yourself (necessarily), but rather that I should concentrate and be more present in what I am doing. Or, whatever they mean, I am going to interpret it that way.
I think I can still do things that I enjoy like listen to music and not podcasts all the time. But I think procrastinating constantly will not help me. If I have a goal or if I want to distract myself for 10 minutes, then I think it’s fine. But everyday, all the time? I’m glad I binge-watched the Stray Kids survival show since it’s making me think harder about all of this. It also made me happy when I’ve been feeling depressed and slow recently. I don’t know, is it procrastination? I think procrastination, or what I’ll focus on first, is more the mindless scrolling on reddit and instagram that I do. I want to cut that out more. I want to stop looking through r4rasian even when I know I’m not going to tlak seriously with anyone on there ever again. I want to stop scrolling endlessly through instagram when I’m just bored. I think I can remove these a bit.
1 note · View note
Text
The Sommelier (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 3
A certain redheaded tabloid journalist tracks y/n down at work. Y/n finds out how persistent she is when she makes her an offer she just can’t refuse. 
Trigger warnings: Christianity, stalking, survivor’s guilt
You made it out alive, and that was more than could be said for some. 
Your consolation prize was a ghastly scar on your hand that you kept bandaged up as to not scare small children. You did get some worker’s comp after all; enough to pay for your medical bills and a little extra to make up for the lost workdays. All things considered, you were the lucky one. Four people lost their lives that day and three more were injured far worse than you. You should have felt grateful to be alive.
But somehow that was even worse. You got a couple stitches and some time off. It wasn’t worth four people’s lives. 
Your therapist explained it to you very gently. You were experiencing a phenomenon known as "survivor's guilt". She encouraged you to join a support group, get outside and familiarize yourself with your new experiences. 
This was good advice and all, but yours was the newest, hottest crime. You couldn't go anywhere without being hounded by reporters looking for whatever details you had somehow left out. Dr. Bloom encouraged you to take some time off work until the media circus died down, but you had bills to pay.
"I feel like there should be some rule about re-opening a restaurant within a week of it being an active crime scene." Charissa observed as she wiped down a table. "If anything, it's a health hazard."
"Are you serious?" You scoffed. You'd been tasked with refilling the salt shakers. Appropriate, because there was plenty of salt to go around. "Demand for this place has never been higher. Everyone wants to see if the blood is still on the carpet."
"Hooray for capitalism." She rolled her eyes. "Are you gonna be okay, [F/N]?"
"'Okay' is a very relative term." You forced a laugh. "I think I can make it through the shift if that's what you're asking."
"Aren't you behind the bar all evening?" She asked.
"Yeah, but that means I'm trapped." You folded your arms. "First thing you see when you walk in is the waitress who survived the- what are they calling him?"
"The Baltimore Butcher." She answered with a voice full of vitriol. "Do you think they ever consider the ramifications of giving literal murderers these weird superhero names? Like, no wonder we get copycats, they treat these guys like celebrities."
"Holy shit, right?!" You slammed the salt shaker down on the table. "Y'know, last night on the news, they used the creep's graduation photo and kept saying that he was a good Christian young man with a lot of prospects."
Charissa stuck out her tongue in disgust. "I saw that. And how he was 'corrupted' by crack cocaine. Once again, blaming a drug that was used to villainize poor Black neighborhoods in the 80's as some kind of corrupting agent."
You nodded furiously. "Instead of understanding that Christianity is a violent imperialist religion that lets violent white men absolve themselves of any guilt."
"And they knew it wasn't crack." Charissa added. "I heard that shit was completely uncut. You know he spent a lot on it."
"And I will say this until the day I am put in the goddamn ground," you tensed up. "The only reason the fucker escaped is because he is white."
"Hey y'all." Another waitress walked in for her shift. "What are we talking about?"
"Cocaine." Charissa answered. “Also white privilege.” 
"Great." She said dismissively. "Hey [F/N], can I scoop up that bar shift? I could really use the tips."
"Madison!" Charissa scolded. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"What?" Madison shrugged and glanced at you. "I didn't get any paid time off. I need the money."
"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Charissa scowled. "Are you seriously joking about her trauma?!"
"It's fine, she can have it." You rolled your eyes, then turned them to Madison. "Just know you're the reason I have survivor's guilt."
"Well now I feel bad." Madison frowned.
"Good." You and Charissa said in unison.
It was sort of comforting to get back to the script. Almost nostalgic. It provided the illusion of normalcy in an incredibly abnormal new reality. 
You approached the first table in Madison’s block, hoping for a new beginning. A young woman with fiery red hair sat alone by the window. 
“Hi!” You greeted, with a smile as genuine as you could muster. “My name is [F/N], I’ll be your waiter tonight.” 
The woman smiled back. “Evening.” 
You couldn’t tell what, but something was off. Perhaps you were trying too hard to force normalcy. Or maybe it was the borderline predatory way the woman was looking at you; like a shark following a trail of blood. Either way, the vibes were rancid. 
“Can I start you off with a drink or is water okay?” You ask. 
“Could I possibly trouble you for a glass of chardonnay?” She asked, lowering her eyebrows. 
“Of course.” You nodded and reached for your pen. 
“Actually,” She corrected herself. “If you could bring a bottle and two glasses, I’m expecting company.” 
“Absolutely.” You scribble the order down on your notepad. “Do you have a preference?” 
She thought for a moment. “Oh, dealer’s choice. Whatever you prefer.” 
You soon returned to her booth with a bottle of your favorite chardonnay and two stemmed glasses. You poured a small bit in one glass to let her taste. 
“You have wonderful tastes.” She complimented, filling her glass. “It’s very delicious.” 
You rocked on your heels. “Would you like to place your order now, or do you want to wait until after your guest arrives?” 
“Actually,” she repeated, filling the other glass. “My guest is already here.” 
She slid the glass across the table and gestured to the other seat. 
You felt stupid, but there was no way to avoid this. You couldn't just not do your job. She cornered you by the confinements of your profession.
"I really can't, I'm on the clock." You said, apologetically. The wine beckoned you. "I'm sorry, maybe another time."
"Oh, bummer." The woman placed her chin in her hand and pouted. "Well, I'm sure there's something that would make your boss look the other way."
She glanced down at your bandaged hand, then met your eyes. "The bandages are a dead giveaway, [F/N] [L/N]."
You then noticed a wire sticking from her pocket. Undoubtedly some kind of recording device. You looked at the ground. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave."
"But who will drink all this wine?" She asked, raising her glass.
"Ma'am." Your voice hardened as you tried to bite back an overwhelming rage. "Please leave the restaurant. I'm not going to ask you again."
Your manager, Matthew, passed by. "What's going on here?"
"This waitress is being very rude." The woman complained. "I ordered chardonnay, and she brought me chablis."
"Chablis is a type of chardonnay." You corrected. Even you found it strange that this was the hill you were willing to die on. "She asked for my preference, and I prefer the unoaked varieties."
Matthew looked confused. "Well, she's right."
You gestured to her pocket and he caught on immediately. He narrowed his eyes. "Ma'am, please leave the premises or I'll be forced to call the police."
The woman stood up, rummaged through her pockets and slapped a handful of bills down on the table. She then proceeded to drink both glasses of wine and walk away.
Matthew looked at you apologetically as he collected the bills. "Are you sure you want to be here tonight? I can call in someone to cover for you."
You shook your head and grabbed the bottle by its neck. "No, it's okay. I appreciate the concern but I really just want things to go back to normal."
"Hey!" A woman from the adjacent table called out. You prepared to immediately recant your statement about not going home.
"We like chablis." The woman said, gesturing to herself and her friend.
Her friend joined in. "And if that nosy reporter lady isn't gonna drink it..."
You glanced at Matthew, who shrugged. "Sure. It's yours."
The women exchanged delighted looks as you placed the bottle on their table. Matthew handed you a couple of clean glasses and you began to pour.
"For this wine, I suggest any of our wonderful seafood dishes." You explained, your cheeks stinging with a smile. "It also pairs quite nicely with chicken and game bird."
"Thank you." One of the women said. "If you don't mind, we'd like to take a look at the menu, please."
"Of course." You nodded. "Just flag me down whenever you're ready."
"This is why I put you behind the bar, by the way." Matthew gently scolded you as you collected the soiled glasses.
"Didn't you hear?" You said. "Madison needs the money because we can't all have paid time off."
"You should have come to me first." He sighed. "She has no right to say those things to you."
"Never stopped her before." You shrugged.
"I'll talk with her after the dinner rush." He said. "Just... try not to get cornered tonight, okay?"
"I'll do my best." You answered, flatly. “Because that’s definitely something I can control.” 
The rest of your shift went smoothly, or, as smoothly as could be expected given the circumstances. The nosy reporter was right, your bandage was a dead giveaway. You had to dodge a couple of questions, but most people had enough decorum to know the wound--metaphorical and literal--was still fresh. 
You said goodbye to Matthew and Charissa, collected your things and walked out to your car. You put the key in the ignition, only to find your gas tank was completely empty. You had just filled it that morning. 
You bit back a scream and fought the urge to slam your head against the steering wheel. Throwing the door open, you mentally prepared yourself to either make a long trek to the nearest gas station, or beat someone up.
“Looking for this?” A smug voice said over the cicadas. 
You turned around and saw the nosy reporter from before holding up a canister. A deep, blistering fury overtook your face as you slammed the car door. “You siphoned my fucking gas?” 
 “It’s not like you left me with much choice, [F/N].” She crossed her arms. “You’ll get it back once you answer my questions.” 
You threw your head back in disbelief. “You’re Freddie Lounds, aren’t you?” 
“I see I’m not the only one who does my research.” She said, looking a bit impressed. “How’d you know?” 
“It’s the first thing that comes up when you search ‘unethical crime journalists Baltimore’.” You answered. “There’s a whole flair dedicated to you on the subreddit for murder survivors.” 
Freddie seemed proud of herself. “Need a ride?” 
“I’d rather drive off a cliff.” You said, honestly, before turning around to leave. 
“Where are you going?” She walked after you. 
“To get more fucking gas, you evil bitch.” You shouted back. “Are you gonna follow me to the BP too?” 
“Look, I heard what you were saying to your friend.” She called out. “About white privilege.”
“Yeah,” You rolled your eyes. “It’s the same privilege that allows you to siphon a stranger’s gas and sit in a parking lot all night without getting arrested.”
“And I agree with you.” She hurried to your side, her chunky platform boots clacking against the asphalt. “They did you dirty and they’re shooting themselves in the foot by not listening to you.” 
You turned around and threw up your arms. “Why didn’t you just lead with that?”
“I invited you to sit down over a bottle of wine, did I not?” Freddie chuckled. 
“Cornering me at work is not a gesture of goodwill.” You huffed. “And I actually do want to put my story out there, but all you’re accomplishing by stalking me is guaranteeing you won’t be the one to do it.” 
“Are you really in a position to be that selective?” Freddie smirked and placed all her weight on one hip. 
You groaned. “What?” 
“The Baltimore Butcher is still out there, and you won’t be the hot new victim forever.” She grinned sadistically. “Soon enough, him or some other psycho is going to strike, and your fifteen minutes of fame are up.” 
“Good. Then I can go back to living my life.” You said. 
“But what if his next victim is a Christian?” Freddie grabbed your shoulder. “What if the next person who narrowly avoids getting their throat slashed decides to go on record and say that he doesn’t represent ‘real Christianity’?” 
You went quiet. You hadn’t considered it, but the thought of anyone downplaying his faith as a motivation made your blood boil. You looked into the man’s eyes and saw a person driven to kill for his god. A god he shared with the crusaders, conquistadors and slavers. 
“...but it does. Christians colonized half the planet for--” 
You stopped yourself when you saw Freddie’s smile. 
“You want to get on your soapbox, now’s your chance.” She bit her lip. “Take control of the conversation while you still can.” 
“Fine.” You spat. “I get off work tomorrow at four.” 
Freddie shoved the gas can into your hands. “I’ll see you then.” 
146 notes · View notes
isimpoveryou · 2 years
Text
hi guysss. pls pls pls if anyone of you are from indonesia or anywhere i just want to urge you to read this article. i know if your not indo you are probably confused but this arcticle is about 3 kids probably 10 or younger who got SA by their own father and the mother is trying to report everything about what happen to their kids but the police but the police doesnt even believed it. SO PLS PLS HELP THIS BLOW OUT EVERYWHERE
Tumblr media
english translation:
WARNING: This article contains explicit content that can trigger emotional and mental stress for readers. We recommend that you do not continue reading it. We recommend that this article be read by the Indonesian police.
if you wrote it,” he said, “what would change?”
“We rely on the police. We reported it. So what? The perpetrator is still free.”
Lydia reported the rape of her three children, all of whom were under 10 years old. The alleged perpetrators are her ex-husband, their own biological father, a state civil servant who has a position in a regional government office.
The police investigated his complaint, but the process was strongly suspected of being fraught with manipulation and conflict of interest. Only two months since he made the complaint, the police have stopped the investigation.
Not only did she not get justice, Lydia was even accused of having a vengeful motive for reporting her ex-husband. He was also attacked as a person with a mental disorder. This attack was allegedly used to delegitimize his report and any evidence he collected alone to support his quest for justice.
Lydia isn't her real name. A single mother, after a divorce, her three children came with her. They live in East Luwu, a border district in South Sulawesi, a 12-hour drive from Makassar City.
Even though she is divorced, her ex-husband still wants to be involved in co-parenting. Her ex-husband is free to pick up his three children when they come home from school and give him pocket money or toys.
The situation seemed normal until Lydia realized the hidden truth: While helping her daughter take a bath, she found several bruises on her son's thigh.
The child reasoned, the bruises were due to falling while playing catch. Lydia advised them to be careful. However, not only bruises, but the behavior of the children changed drastically, preferring to be silent, often hitting them. Lazy to eat. Frequent dizziness and vomiting.
On one night in early October 2019, while Lydia was washing the dishes, her youngest child screamed that her sister was complaining of vaginal pain. Lydia immediately approached her eldest child, hugged her from behind while rubbing her shoulders.
"Son, what did you say earlier?" said Lydia.
"No, Mamak," replied the eldest son.
He coaxed, “I love you so much. Too bad. If there is a problem, tell Mamak. I became a helper and protector ta. Don't you dare to cook with Mamak?"
"Say, son. If a child is sick, Mamak doesn't know. Does it hurt, kid?"
The eldest was silent for a long time. Then cry without tears. Lydia was shocked, panicked. The eldest, in a low voice as if choking, said: "Mamak... my father na anu pepe' . " Mamak, daddy did something to my pussy, he said.
Lydia cried, leaning on the back of the sofa, “Don't play games, kid. Don't play around."
"Yes, Mama. Yes."
He asked his two children, "Is this true, son?"
"Yes, Mama. I also had my butt crushed,” said his son.
"Me too Mamak," replied the youngest child.
She grabbed her three children, crying together. His head seemed to explode, wanting to scream. While trying to get up to go to the bathroom, to let go of tears, he fell. His legs felt bone loss.
The kids helped him inching his way. He slid over to the sofa. He raved. And began to realize when his children scolded, "Why ki, Mamak?"
He slowly released his emotions. Then examined the children, found wounds in the vagina and anus. On the night that seemed to go by slowly and long, he looked at his son sleeping. Confusion. Fatigue. He couldn't sleep until morning.
In the second week of October 2019, with her three children, Lydia went to the office of the Integrated Service Center for Women and Children Empowerment, East Luwu Social Service. In this unit, ideally, a person who complains of a violent case can get protection.
The Head of the Service Center Division, Firawati, received Lydia in a small partitioned room. Meanwhile, her three children are in the game facility in the unit. Lydia told Firawati about the chronology of her child's confession to being sexually abused by her own father. Firawati admitted that she knew the alleged perpetrator because she was "a fellow state civil servant."
Instead of prioritizing a safe room for Lydia and her three children, Firawati instead contacted the alleged perpetrator, reporting that there was a complaint regarding an alleged molestation case, so Lydia's ex-husband came to the Service Center office.
Firawati argued that the reason for bringing the alleged perpetrators together with the three children was to prove whether they were traumatized when they met their father. Firawati also argued that her actions were with Lydia's permission. "Right, fellow ASN. I want confirmation," he said.
"Do you know? All the children hunt to their father. Instead, his mother was abandoned. Even the children find it difficult to leave their father when called by their mother," said Firawati.
Lydia, when I repeated the claim of Firawati's story, listened to it and gaped.
“How could he talk like that? The first day I reported and asked for assistance to the police, but Firawati immediately called the [suspected] perpetrator when I came with the children,” said Lydia.
“After he called, he told me that I was teaching the children to slander the [suspected] perpetrator.”
"If I ever meet Firawati again, I want to see how she lies."
Not only were Lydia and her three children in a vulnerable situation when the alleged perpetrator came to them, her ex-husband immediately lashed out at Lydia for teaching her three children to complain, babbling that Lydia was incompetent to take care of the future of her three children.
The complaint provided no protection for Lydia, instead she was cornered, sent home to wait for further news.
The next day, Lydia and her three children were asked to come back to Firawati's office. From this process, the three children were psychologically examined by an officer from Puspaga, an acronym for the Family Learning Center, a work unit at the Integrated Service Center for the Empowerment of Women and Children. It was later discovered that the officer did not qualify as a child psychologist.
The examination resulted in a claim that Lydia's three children "showed no signs of trauma" and said "the relationship with the parents is quite considerate and harmonious" and that they are "in good physical and mental condition."
Firawati's act of bringing the three children together with their father--to check whether they were traumatized or not--and reinforced by a psychological examination that Lydia's children did not show any signs of trauma was later used by the East Luwu police to stop the investigation.
Handling at Polres Luwu Timur: 'I was forced by the police to sign the BAP'
Hoping to be accompanied by officers from the Integrated Service Center for the Empowerment of Women and Children, Lydia was finally alone when she reported the alleged sexual abuse case to the East Luwu Police. (Firawati from the Service Center reasoned that at that time she was in a meeting with the regional parliament, while other assistants were preparing to move their office.)
The police received Lydia's report on October 9, 2019. A female police officer took her three children to a health center for a post-mortem, without any assistance. Then, the three were questioned by uniformed investigators, without being accompanied by Lydia, legal counsel, social workers or psychologists.
Lydia was asked to sign the examination report (BAP) but was forbidden to read it first.
Five days later, the East Luwu Police notified the progress of the investigation results, reported that the report had been received and would be investigated by Aipda Kasman.
Lydia went to the police station to ask about the results of the post-mortem for her three children. At the same time, he also gave her a pair of pink panties that had blood on them on her own initiative.
On Friday, October 18, the police reported the results of the post-mortem from the Puskesmas and according to one investigator claimed “nothing was found.” On the same day, Lydia was interrogated by investigators without being accompanied by legal counsel.
“I was only asked about everyday problems. Then, the investigator said it would be continued. He will fill in the other part because he will pray Friday,” he said.
“I was asked to sign at the bottom of the report. I said I would sign later after this was continued. However, the investigators forced me. And I signed. Because it's noon and I want to go home to make food for the children."
"Well, I think now, I'm so stupid why I signed," said Lydia.
The following week, the East Luwu Police informed the development of the case; that investigators have interrogated Lydia, the alleged rapist, and three of the victim's children; have medically examined three child victims along with the results of visum et repertum; and the next plan is that the three children will be examined medically and psychologically at the South Sulawesi Police's Medical and Health Division (Biddokkes) in Makassar.
Victim's Mother's Mental Health Condition Used to Delegitimize Rape Reports
On October 28, one of Lydia's children complained of rectal pain. Lydia photographed some of the wounds. And, again on her own initiative on November 1, Lydia brought one pair of underwear with green liquid and one leggings with blood on it to the East Luwu Police.
A day later, police investigators contacted him if there would be an examination at the South Sulawesi Regional Police Biddokkes on November 6. At that time Lydia received threats from her ex-husband, the alleged rapist. The threat was that the alleged perpetrator would stop the monthly income for their three children if Lydia continued the examination process to Makassar.
Lydia with her three children, accompanied by one of her siblings, went to Bhayangkara Hospital Makassar. Here Lydia and her three children are taken to the waiting room of the mental clinic. His brother who brought him was also checked.
Inside the examination room were two doctors, an investigator, and a staff member of the East Luwu Women and Children Empowerment Center for Integrated Services.
During the examination of her three children, Lydia recorded secretly through a cellphone camera. His eldest child was seen on the lap of a Service Center staff who was sitting on a sofa. There was an investigator, a woman and a doctor in the examination room. The doctor then asked Lydia to leave the room.
During the examination of Lydia and her brother, they were asked about the family's mental health condition. Her brother was asked about Lydia's psychological condition since childhood and when she got married, did any family members have a history of mental disorders? When it was Lydia's turn, two doctors asked if they had any “disorders” before divorcing their ex-husband, as well as the condition of their household. The interview with Lydia only lasted 15 minutes.
The results of this psychiatric examination were published on November 11. Lydia is said to have "systematic delusional symptoms that suggest persistent delusional disorder."
On November 15, a physical examination letter for the three children was issued by the Forensic Biddokkes team of the South Sulawesi Police, which stated that there were no abnormalities or signs of physical violence against Lydia's three children.
The East Luwu Police then issued a letter notifying the progress of the investigation results on December 19. This letter refers to the investigation process and the trial on December 4. The letter contains the police's decision to stop the investigation process dated December 10, 2019, without any details on the consideration of termination.
"So the time span for reporting and stopping the investigation is only 63 days. This is very fast and we think it makes no sense. Moreover, this is a case of sexual violence where the victim is a child, why is the process rushed?” said Rezky Pratiwi, Head of the Division of Women, Children and Disabilities of the Makassar Legal Aid Institute.
Go to Makassar City to Get More Competent Access to Justice
At the end of December 2019, Lydia drove her own car with her three children from East Luwu to Makassar City. The journey took him 12 hours. This long and windy journey brought Lydia to the Makassar City Integrated Service Center for the Empowerment of Women and Children, where she hoped that justice would be granted to the victims.
Different from the handling in East Luwu, Lydia was given a referral to report her case to LBH Makassar. From here, LBH Makassar, through the Coalition for Legal Aid Advocacy for Sexual Violence against Children, became its legal advisor when the case was terminated by the East Luwu Police.
The Makassar City Service Center also provides psychological assistance to Lydia's three children. In his psychological report, through observation and interview methods, the three children “were not traumatized but were anxious” and all three of them consistently told and strengthened each other's stories of being sexually abused by their fathers.
Their story of being sexually assaulted, possibly more than one suspect, is consistent with what one victim told her mother when the investigation was being handled by the East Luwu Police. The victim's story is reinforced in the photos and videos that Lydia keeps, which depicts the physical abuse of her three children.
The police at the East Luwu Police and the South Sulawesi Police ignored the stories and evidence.
"At the Makassar City Service Center, child psychologists who examine children believe that sexual violence has occurred," said Rezky Pratiwi from LBH Makassar.
Pratiwi said that the East Luwu Police investigation process was "procedurally flawed" from the first post-mortem to the taking of information for each child.
Children should be accompanied by their parents as well as legal assistants, social workers or other assistants as mandated in Law 11 of 2012 concerning the Juvenile Criminal Justice System, he said.
"So the East Luwu resort police are very unprofessional," he said.
“The police are instead focusing on [Lydia's] mother, who is said to have other motives. The victim's mother was examined by a psychiatrist whose procedure was not proper. Information on children was not investigated and other witnesses were not examined to find new clues. For example, information from neighbors or people who know them,” said Pratiwi.
Polda Sulsel Supports Investigation Stopped
On December 26, 2019, LBH Makassar together with Lydia visited the South Sulawesi Regional Police and asked for a special case to stop the investigation at the East Luwu Police. Attached to the letter were photographs of the wounds to the anus and vagina of the three children.
Furthermore, on 10 and 13 February 2020, the legal team sent a letter to file a case, but there was no response. On February 19, the Head of Public Relations of the South Sulawesi Police, Kombes Pol. Ibrahim Tompo, even told the media that they had "conducted an internal case" and that the termination of the investigation was legal and according to procedure.
Then, on March 5, the South Sulawesi Police team informed LBH Makassar that a special case would be held on March 6, at 13.00, at the Polda office.
The sudden news made the legal advisors completely unprepared.
"The time is very short for preparation," said Rezky Pratiwi from LBH Makassar. "The child psychologist who accompanied the victim from the start was unable to attend because of the clash of activities."
On April 14, the results of the case study stated that the South Sulawesi Regional Police recommended that the East Luwu Resort Police continue to stop the investigation process into the sexual abuse report.
Urge Police Headquarters to Continue Investigation
On the second floor of the East Luwu Police Office, connected by a ladder, there is a room where Aipda Kasman, the investigator who handles the case of Lydia's children, works. Kasman boasts of his work, “We have done a post-mortem to forensics. Until there are results from his mother's psychiatrist."
"Can I read the copy?" ask me.
"I can't convey that because that's what we're holding," he smirks.
The so-called psychiatrist's results from the Bhayangkara Makassar Hospital, which are kept secret, are apparently considered "truth" by many people in East Luwu. That his mother is "crazy", is not a case of alleged rape that people talk about and remember. "We know about the case, but it's her crazy mother," one resident told me. "That's why the case is not continued."
During the interview session with Kasman, the investigator immediately sat nervously when I handed him the tape. He wanted to speak more openly after being allowed by his superior, East Luwu Criminal Investigation Unit Head, Iptu Eli Kendek.
“If it is stated that we are maladministration or administrative defects, that is the perception of LBH Makassar. But we still adhere to professional principles. We act according to the rules, according to the law,” he started the excuse.
"We have also clarified to all institutions that LBH Makassar has written to," he claimed.
LBH Makassar has sent a letter of complaint to a number of institutions in July 2020, including the National Police Commissioner, the Ombudsman, the Head of the South Sulawesi Women's Empowerment and Child Protection Service, the Luwu Regent, the Director of General Crimes at the National Police Headquarters Criminal Investigation Unit, and Komnas Perempuan.
To these institutions, Kasman claims, the East Luwu Police have clarified and "everything is safe."
Komnas Perempuan, in a letter of recommendation sent to Police Headquarters, Polda Sulsel, and Polres Luwu Timur, dated 22 September 2020, instead asked to resume the investigation of the criminal case.
The process, Komnas Perempuan wrote, "must fully involve parents, legal counsel, and social assistance for victims, provide safe house facilities, counseling, and other special facilities for women." Next, "The police need to coordinate with the Makassar City Women's Empowerment and Child Protection Service to facilitate these special needs."
This recommendation was precisely what the East Luwu Police did not do when handling complaints about the molestation case against Lydia's three children.
According to Rezky Pratiwi from LBH Makassar, the police and the East Luwu Service Center took sides with the alleged perpetrator. “If there is a child's testimony, it should start from there. First, dig up the supporting evidence.”
"It looks very biased. In other cases of sexual violence that we assist, the police are usually silenced. If this is the case, an administrative termination will be made.”
On one cold morning ride, Lydia sped off. Past the bend, overtook some trucks. Since the incident of sexual violence against her children, she has left her future home and preparation for old age.
He wanted to sell the house because he wanted to burn the bad memories. His children didn't want to see the house. The children refused and cried when Lydia asked to visit the house.
Lydia, gave me access to watch several videos on her cellphone that showed traces of the alleged violence of the alleged rapist. Some of the footage shows the injuries on the bodies of the children which made it difficult for me to see them through.
A few weeks after the abuse, her children complained of pain. At a puskesmas in East Luwu, Lydia asked for a referral letter to take her children to a hospital.
In the letter of reference was written a diagnosis of internal thrombosed hemorrhoids + child abuse. Damage to the anus due to forced intercourse.
Other diagnoses of abdominal and pelvic pain. Damage to the vaginal organs due to rape.
The next diagnosis is vaginitis or inflammation of the vagina and constipation or difficult bowel movements.
At the referral hospital, the children demonstrated what their father did after the doctor asked what caused the injuries to the anus and vagina.
The initial diagnosis, photo documentation and video recordings, as well as the results of the examination to the hospital were ignored by East Luwu Police investigators. The police did not take these violent findings seriously.
"If the police post-mortem results say that there were no injuries and nothing happened," said Lydia, "why did the police refuse when I wanted to give this photo and video? They said just keep it, there's no need for that."
“Then how come my child's buttocks and vagina are injured until they are swollen white like white flesh?
“Why do my children cry in pain every time they want to urinate and defecate? Why do my children say their father is a bad person and don't want to see him again now?”
“If the perpetrator is indeed innocent, why doesn't he come looking for his son, asking for clarification from the children?
"If people say this is slander, why are the children slandering their father like that?"
“If that question is not answered, will the police help find the answer?
No, right.*
25 notes · View notes
blankdblank · 3 years
Text
Poke pt 2 - Attack on NY
Tumblr media
“Kneel!” The word echoed through the world and to the open of the sky a swarm of Chitauri flooded the skies over the city of New York.
All around Stark Tower to the explosion of yellow mist a body racing up from the ground in a beam of light stirred elated gasps and cries from those down below as Venom leapt from your back to the nearest glider craft to devour the creature on top of it. 93 stories above at the top of the tower the confused raven haired Prince watched as the powerful duo and a young teen in a spider emblazoned red and blue body suit diverted as many creatures as possible between blasts from the Avengers.
“Mr Stark, she’s really not that bad you know!” The teen shouted in Stark’s repeated shout to have the duo leave this job to the ‘professionals’ only making her send a small swarm of caterpillars who wriggled their way against his better efforts inside his suit to make him land and have to get them out.
Clouds of bees soon blocked out the city below forcing the creatures just one direction, up. But not just them as now the armed Princes dueled and you avoided another arrow that Clint below fired off to the rapidly swerving hover crafts that the swarms buffered.
All of a sudden Nat was on one of them and a sudden bullet had you shriek out and grab at her knee in a panicked try to catch yourself in the collapse of your stairs that had her groan and strain to keep steady as you muttered, “Damnit Widow! So help me call off your pistol man or I will crash this ship.”
Her head turned to follow your glare at the metal armed masked man and she said, “He’s not one of ours,” to a stunned and uncertain tone.
“Oh you got to be fucking kidding me!” you said slamming a hand into the ground to grip a groove there as she used her free hand to help you onto the craft she turned sharply to avoid being in the view of the man below who raced to get back into line. “Alien portal in the sky let’s shoot at the teenager.”
“Teenager?” Nat asked in a glance at you behind her asking, “How old are you?!”
“Well I was fourteen the last time you aimed your pistol at me. Fifteen that star spangled moron dislocated my shoulder the first time. And Stark’s been the one with the oldest grudge, not that he could hit the broad side of the barn without blowing up the county!” you shouted the end of the last sentence flying past the Billionaire who flew by in a try to lure another swarm of aliens into a trap. “Oh ya I’m dangerous, why sell the bombs to other countries when you can blow it up yourself.” Her brow ticked up and you said in a huff, “My Therapist said it was good for me to vent. Or I clench my jaw and give myself migraines, which lead to insomnia and nothing good comes when I don’t sleep. I’m eighteen. Not that it really matters. Oh well, happy flying, off to see the Wizard.” You said and leapt off the craft. Just in time she turned to swerve from hitting another glider. Off of which she shot the rider in a split second grab of her gun while you raced up another staircase of glimmering bees.
Finally your foot hit the open helipad of the tower and another shriek left you in your body’s collapse to all fours in the sharp sting of the bullet that went through a gap in the armor on your thigh and sent the blonde Prince through the glass wall as the bullet lodged in his shoulder. Sudden rage had the raven haired Prince turn to fire off his scepter behind you at the building where the shot came from scattering those bees a moment to not take the hit. A diversion that covered your race over to the machine powering the open portal that allowed more Chitauri through. Down from a swing at your side Spiderman sped asking, “You ok, Bumble? Heard you shriek twice.”
“Other than the crazed metal armed gunman shooting at me, just peachy Peter.”
“Oh, well that’s um,” after a moment he stammered out, “Who’s Peter?”
“Convincing, very convincing. Just steer clear if that suit of yours isn’t bullet proof. Apparently aliens aren’t reason enough to wait in line to kill me today.” You said sliding to a stop as he swung off to help Nat on her glider at her call to take out more riders. Meanwhile Venom had used his webbing and a clever swing around another to fling one up and blow up seven more a mile above your heads that in a quick glimpse of the machine you bobbed and weaved to avoid falling debris.
“What are you doing?!” the green clad Prince shouted as he strode out of the inside after another check of his brother’s condition. Past the bubble barrier you stepped at the flickering blue pulse around the tesseract powering the portal machine for a pause worthy sight at its allowing you inside the field against Dr Selvig’s programming. Though Loki wouldn’t be fast enough as in a growing pulse of glittering yellow light your hands rose to circle the inner orb where the conductor above the tesseract rested sparking up brilliantly between your palms. And in a sudden jolt like a fired slingshot your bees shot upwards around the Avengers, Spidey and Venom sending all the whales and riders up into range of the portal again. That with the triggered implosion of the conductor between your glowing palms sucked them back into the portal.
Open mouthed the Prince watched helpless as the machine let off a blue pulse that knocked you into the air timed moments before the machine around the glowing cube exploded. And your adopted brother sped on his webbing as fast as he could with Spidey after him at the smoking trail following your body’s being fired off to the center of Central Park.
“I’m a Nurse!” muffled in your ears to the sound of dirt shifting and into the pit you had created in a woman and two firemen behind her slid to dig out and check the sporadic vitals of the young woman a kit was tossed down to aid. Tourniquet for your leg and a neck brace helped to keep the unconscious patient from the pit. Down at the edge Venom and Spidey used their webbing to hoist the board now holding the strapped down savior of the city who War Machine and Iron Man hovered above in their drop down to see where the girl had landed.
Tony said, “We have a medical wing in Stark Tower, she can be taken there.”
To which Venom stated, “In an aim to kill or imprison our Little One yourself no doubt.”
Tony said, “There’s a gunman on the loose, my tower is the safest place for Queen Bee at the moment.”
Venom said, “We will not go to Stark Tower. We do not trust you with our sister.”
To which Tony scoffed and the larger of the firemen stated, “St Herman it is. Next of kin beats money Mr Stark.”
And the duo simply flew overhead as Spidey remained fixed at your side holding your hand, “You’re gonna be okay Bumble. We’re right here,” Inside him and Venom climbed into the waiting Ambulance that had just arrived, with him hushedly talking to you even when you were taken into the hospital. Blankets were brought over by him as Venom helped to remove your layers and armor while leaving your mask on to protect your identity.
The slowing of the thunderously fast heartbeat replayed on the monitor was the music that flooded the room. Soon accompanied by orders from the attending Trauma Surgeon Dr Christine Palmer who took notice of the gunshot graze wounds and the broken Chitauri arrow lodged in your shoulder blade they rolled you into a private room with blinds drawn so the people from off the streets with more minor injuries couldn’t see your condition. Venom refused to leave and ended up in a gown and mask off to the side while the people in the halls caught sight of Spiderman pacing there in panic, soon joined by the Avengers who all grouped around him.
“She’s got an arrow in her back,” eyes shifted to Clint who swallowed dryly to Spidey’s adding, “Two bullet graze wounds and they put a neck brace on her but she couldn’t straighten her leg.”
“She’ll be fine kid. been trying to kill her for years now. She’s resilient.”
“Like children are,” Nat said turning her head, “On the hover craft she said she’s only 18. We’ve been trying to kill her for years. She’s 18.” Then she went to lean against the wall crossing her arms letting those words sink in.
“She knows my name, how does she know my name?” Spidey asks himself.
And Loki in Thor’s grip to support himself in his staggered limp from an earlier stab to his thigh heavily bruised here for his own checkup said rather casually, “Perhaps she heard about it in the halls, as school children do.”
And Peter scoffs, “No upper class men know my name.” Then he paused and asked, “What if she is? What if she’s like really cool and wanted to be my friend and I blew her off?!”
And coolly Loki said being pushed to an exam room, “Unless you pushed her off a roof I am certain those bonds will recover.” A Nurse came over to the green clad Prince with a cut on his nose and stated, “Your efforts are futile, these wounds are superficial at the least. My brother was stabbed and then shot with a projectile however,” in a hissing inhale he flinched to the sting of the alcohol swab being tapped to the cut on his nose. “Thank you,” he grit out and listened to his brother being wrangled to another bed where the second surgeon helped the bullet already wiggling it’s way out of his shoulder free to a metal tin and cleaned the wound that on its own began to scab over.
Thor stated in their move to clean the wound on his bloody thigh, “Our people are strong you should focus your efforts in the mortals.” A press of a swab to a tiny cut behind his ear by a nurse however had him trying to squirm off the bed to get away.
Meanwhile through the wall one of the nurses said in her try to pull splinters from the back of your legs and at the least fractured forearm from the crash through a tree’s branches in your crash landing, “They’re wiggling out on their own.” The surgeon glanced away from the arrow her long grippers released and she said, “The splinters.”
Another glance over the numerous wounds sealing on their own and in the silence they swore they could hear the faint sounds of bones resetting their own fractures. Enough to make their skin crawl until the flinch triggering thunk of the arrow that forced itself out of your upper back for a gradually scabbing wound for them to gawk at a few moments then get back to sanitizing your other wounds. “Ok, let’s wash these wounds to be certain we got it all and get a portable x-ray in here.” At her order the portable X-ray machine was brought over to hover and scan all across your body except for your head due to your mask.
“Stay still Little One.”
Venom hissed and you groaned as the Doctor eased the X-ray machine away stating, “Good news, Miss Misique,” her voice awkwardly in a forced sense of calm when stating your code name to make this seem like she’d treated a super powered being before. “Your fractures are healing and with a few bandages and some bed rest you can be back up on your feet again.”
“Oh that’s nice, I do have a novel I’ve been meaning to finish for about two years now.” With a careful hand she helped you to sit up as Venom did from the other side as your hair rippled to glimmering yellow again and in the open of your eyes their shimmering sea of an altered shade expanded to hide their true purple shade. “Good, thought I might get some resistance with that.”
“We just had aliens fall out of the sky. I’m good for a week.” Making her smirk and help you down as Venom kept the gown you were in closed across your bruised and scraped back with sporadic bandages taped across it.  “Thank you.”
“The Avengers are here as well waiting for you.”
And you sighed heavily eyeing the hall they turned you down to get back to your intensive care room, “So much for rest.”
“They seemed concerned, the small red and blue one especially with the spider on his chest.”
“Spider-Man, newest recruit looks like.”
You said and at your room when you moved for your clothes the Nurse said, “You need to rest,”
“You need the bed. I’ll be fine. No need to waste more attention on me. Thank you though all the same.” Reluctantly they stepped out to let you get dressed saying for the bill they knew where to mail it like any other who wished to contact you. And within minutes other Nurses in the hall watched the group stiffen at your stiff stroll out at Venom’s side after he’d handed over the gown and little cap they gave him to a Nurse who said she would take them.
“Bumble! You’re walking!” Peter said excitedly.
With a nod you exhaled flexing your sore scabbed fingers in the snap of the strap of your left glove into place around your wrist. “I’ll be fine. Off home now, I have a bowl of chili cheese tots and a pizza and a stack of movies calling my name.”
Natasha asked, “You sure you should be up? We could call your parents to get you.”
“They don’t have land lines in graveyards or trust me I’d be living on that line.” Around the group you strolled as she lifted off the wall eyeing the arrow you had grabbed from the table you slid into the pocket on the side of your thigh with the face mask full of the bloody splinters to not leave any blood samples here if possible to be traced by Stark. Who you saw send a drone back to check the rooms in the hall you had left.
Stark said, “So, baby bee, who lets you out of the hive at all hours of the night?”
To his harsh tone Rhodey whacked his arm he waved a hand to focus merely on the answer. “I’m not the one who destroys half the city every time I suit up there Sparky.”
“Sparky, cute. Answer the question.”
“I’m an orphan,” you said turning your head to catch his gaze, “Like you.”
“Now that’s just cold,” he said to your back as you continued walking on facing forward again.
“No depending on if you managed to track down where Star Boy ran off to it’s cold or just fighting fair. Since you only give a damn about yourself and your toys.” He scoffed and you said in another glance up at him, “Or did I miss the day you took that shielding tech to coat the rest of the city around your precious tower just in case of attack?” He was silent a moment and you said, “Thought so. But no, you go ahead and keep building bombs for that suit of yours and I’ll keep using my ‘little hive’ you keep mocking in the press to protect the city you keep blowing up while spouting that I’m the evil one.”
“You kill criminals, just because they are bad guys doesn’t make it better leave it to the government.”
“Like you did when you became Iron Man?”
Rhodey chuckled and at Stark’s glance his way he said in a chuckle, “She’s got a point.”
Tony said louder this time, “Who takes care of you?! Who lets you do this?! Who trained you to do this?!”
And in a other turn you said to his face, “Perhaps you should get to know Black Widow a bit better. We are sisters in arms after all. She can answer that, though unlike her I’m not perfect, I killed them after they put me in the Soldier’s Tomb. I left them lined in rows in the Red Room.”
That had the trained assassin cover her mouth and had Tony turn and ask, Soldier’s Tomb? Red Room? Can we not talk in code?” He asked at your step through the door Venom opened for you.
“Bumble!” However the grip of his hand around your middle to Peter’s near tackle of you out of the doorway had Tony’s body at the bullet that bounced off his armored suit turn to face the metal armed assassin who cocked his gun again.
“I am gonna tear off that bastard’s arm and beat him to death with it.”
“Language!” Steve said.
To which you fired back shoving the door open you strolled through already with a baton in hand, “Oh fuck off, Propaganda Man.” In your other hand when you released the door you grabbed your other baton, now with the other you dropped at your side saying, “Let’s see what you got Star Boy.” Out of your jacket you shrugged and from his hand the gun moved to be holstered on the harness he unsnapped to drop on the ground behind him. “I’m warning you, I won’t pull my punches for trying my patience.”
And in the removal of his facial mask he said in thick Russian, “You will submit to your orders, White Dove.”
And at that you laughed aloud with an amused squeak at the end while Steve muttered the name of his previously assumed dead friend.
“They did not send the Winter Soldier after little me. I must have really pissed them off.” You crossed from the walkway to the parking lot where you faced one another as he squared up ready to fight, “And just think how pissed they be when I bring you down like the others they’ve sent after me.”
Loki hummed curiously to the amused tone in your voice he understood thanks to the Allspeak, “She seems amused to be hunted.”
Nat muttered, “She shouldn’t be. Not if they sent him.”
Steve turned to her, “You knew they were using Bucky?! All this time and you said nothing?!”
“That’s not Bucky anymore. No one is the same after. Not after what they did to make them obedient.”
His try to walk out and cut the fight off had Thor restrain him with a grip of his shoulder stating, “There are rules of engagement they have agreed to hand to hand combat you must respect that.”
Steve tried to fight only to find himself magically bound in a glowing green set of chains thanks to Loki who watched as Bucky advanced in the first blow. Barely visible to the mortals around them his fist jut out and with ease your head eased to the left and the dance began. Blow after blow missed with leg raises from him that were the only form of contact with your body shoved away quite effortlessly by your tiny self who even with the mask seemed to not break a sweat in the several minute stand off as the older assassin grew more enraged. Bruce lowly asked in your boot shoving his next kick away to spin him around, “He’s had the Super Serum, right?” His eyes trailing the growing crowd of spectators on the other side of the glowing barrier your hovering wall of bees provided in case he did draw one of his remaining weapons.
To which Nat answered, “So has she,”
“What?!” Tony and Steve asked in unison.
Nat, “I heard they wanted to try it in a girl, he was the only male who survived the serum, I didn’t think they’d give it to an actual child, I thought they’d wait till she was grown. But that would make her impossible to suspect, the White Dove Project. All my intel said it was marked a failure, not that she was rogue. I guess they grew impatient when I didn’t come back.”
“Tell me what the Red Room is!” Tony demanded as in his try to sneak a spare blow in a standing split your leg rose to tangle around his arm to drop backwards using his arm for support and in one move jerk his legs out. A hold you flipped out of as he fell to his back and for a few minutes was a flailing turtle of sorts until he swept a kick you hopped away from enabling him room to whip himself up in an arch of his legs and back to start a series of missed punches and tries to reach the arms you tucked behind your back between kicks you dished out to his chest and shoulder sending him back several feet to have him rush back again. A slow path to find his weakness as you avoided and paid attention before your oncoming barrage to send him painfully to the ground in an unlikely yield or his death.
Tony said in a glare at the woman analyzing your speed and strength clearly surpassing the Super Serum users around her who were fully grown showing your growth spurts and aging meant increased power, stamina and speed, “Nat!”
“It’s where they sterilize the girls they train, make us perfect. No chance to have a weakness.” And his jaw fell slack as she said, “Soldier’s Tomb is what they use for the serum. Only they survived going inside it.”
Tony muttered, “Just great, let’s dope up a kid then let it loose through puberty.”
A clear growl of frustration came from Bucky in the kick you gave to his back that sent him flying for the second blatant attack following a wince inducing roundhouse kick to his face when he tried to bend to get an attack at your legs for a try to throw you off. Sudden and hard his foot charged after yours and in a smooth plant of his foot and weight. His intention was a sudden left hook that with a raised palm his fist was caught mid air for a stunning halt of his attack that jeers and cheers to stunned gasps and even a strained squeak of an exhale from him was the response before your pivot and fling of the assassin hard into the lot again. It was clear this was your finishing blow as you charged and with a strained finger reach from Steve he set off a smoke charge from Tony’s arm control nearly into his thigh that freed his arm from the flickering chain enabling him to hurl his shield at his endangered friend. “Buck!”
Out of reflex the weary assassin caught the shield and groaned to your sharp pained squeak in the muffled cracks you heard of fractures spreading through your forearm and finger bones. The sound of that didn’t worry others as open mouthed everyone saw your fist cave in the shield that in a stagger back with a bite of your lip it hovered in a cloud of yellow mist. The force of the blow that broke Bucky’s fleshy arm dead in the center and flung him backwards in an awkward tumble ending on a sloppy knee top grimacing stance. His tear filled eyes watched as you shouted, “Steven Gingerbread Rogers! What the fuck?! He was doing fine before you interfered!”
Wide eyed the open mouthed first Avenger in a stunned squeak of a whisper replied, “You dented my shield?” Then looked from his friend to you again as you tried to hold back the tremble of the arm you wished you could remove to Loki’s doubling of the chains now entangling him once again tighter this time. “Gingerbread?” He squeaked to the Prince sealing the new lock on the chains then watched as you sent off the shield far into the distance out of anger.
From Tony’s shoulder a set of drones charged after it to prevent it being stolen to Rhodey’s comment of, “I think she heard your puberty comment.”
To the extension of glimmering lines of a brace that formed around your fingers to your elbow the same spread along Bucky’s that had him glance at that then to you again. Sharply you inhaled then muttered, “Fine. They want Star Boy they get Star Boy.” A couple steps closer you moved locking your eyes on his that rippled a flash of glittering yellow that overtook his iris’ and you said, “So, Bucky, I’m going to show you who they’ve made you forget.” Silence fell as confusion took hold at what you were doing until you blinked and turned leaving the kneeling assassin to shake his head as you turned to rejoin Venom at the group who wanted to scoop you up and carry you off right away seeing how tired and in pain you were.
To Nat you said, “Get the man a therapist, I erased his command words from his memory and unlocked everything else.” And your eyes shifted to Tony, “Get ready for the test of a lifetime on those defenses of yours. I just stole Hydra’s golden goose for your star spangled buddy.” And you said to Steve, “You interfere in my fight again you won’t live to regret it. Don’t let Stark rub off on you.” Venom as you spoke walked closer. Just a lift of your foot and his palm took hold of it lifting you against his chest to spring off the ground and swing you back off to Queens. “I’ll leave the press to you Sparky. Just how you like it. See ya Monday, Spidey.”
“Bye Bumble! See you then!” And to himself the teen muttered, “Monday, what’s Monday?” Behind you Peter said after his few paced steps and drew out his phone as it chimed with a reminder, “I’m gonna head back home now. I’ve got plans with my friend and a lego Palpatine.”
Stark nodded in his spring off and watched as Steve was freed to race over as Nat softly conferenced with Clint at her side and Rhodey asked Bruce, “How much force can Vibranium take again?” That had the Scientist let out a puff of air for the unimaginable force it would have taken to dent the shield as Bucky was helped up and shouts from Steve had them ushering him off to the Tower Medical Wing to have his injuries looked over. “It doesn’t like, wear out? It is old…”
When Steve was within earshot of the golden haired Prince Thor he heard the Prince say, “The very next time you see the Lady you owe her your sincerest efforts to remedy the insult you issued upon her honor.”
Steve, “Her what?! She was-,”
“Facing off against a formidable foe in one on one combat. The rules of which you are in breech. It was dishonorable to have provided a shield to him and not to her as well. You are heavily in her debts young Steven.”
Steve shook his head and helped the still confused Bucky who was taking in the city around him as if he’d woken up for the first time in decades now fully seeing it outside of its prior haze. “Let’s get you to the tower Buck.”
Loki glanced at his brother, “Tell me again why you wish to remain here?”
Thor stated, “Father had shared Midgard bears bonds of the soul for every creature upon it. I have met mine and I wish for you to discover your own. Even Mother bore curiosity as for whom her favored child might be bonded to.”
To which Loki replied as they settled inside the second car Tony had called to fit the whole group, “Mother may be curious however Father will never accept a Midgardian Princess.”
“That depends entirely upon the maiden and you know it. Have faith you shall find quite the incredible rush and bond in locating your Mate.” He said scooting over to allow Bruce to sit with the brothers while Clint and Nat rode with the reunited besties and Tony and Rhodey flew overhead. With a smile Thor turned to ask Bruce, “How did you come across your Mate, Banner?”
“Oh, um, we worked in the same lab, I went green and almost killed her. I went back to apologize after and it sort of clicked. Bit odd, at first, but we stay in touch.”
Loki, “You did not marry?”
Bruce replied, “She has a wife. And well, I go green. She wants babies, not a very safe choice anyways. Especially with this new team starting up.”
 *
Down in the usual back way from this part of town to your street you snuck into the same abandoned building to change out of your costume with Eddie’s careful help after Venom hid himself again. “Let’s get you changed,”
“He threw him the fucking shield!” you whimpered in your shrug out of your long sleeved shirt soon dropped on top of the coat and batons Venom had collected on your way out of the lot. “Who would do that? At worst I shatter my arm, best? What’s the positive he takes the shield and bludgeons me to death with it?!”
“I don’t get it,” he said careful to remove the armored pads as you moved the brace you had made underneath it. “No benefits other than his buddy doesn’t get his ass beat any worse by you.”
“I hope Stark has strong controls on his drones I sent his shield halfway to Florida if they don’t cut off my bees.”
“Love to see him get that dent out. Wasn’t even your dominant hand, could have punched a hole through it with the other one.” From his back he eased off his large blue flannel shirt he guided around your tank top to help hide your bruises and scrapes, more importantly your braced arm after you’d tucked your bell bottom jeans over most of your boots. Braids were next to be let down to have your walls of raven unruly curls help the disguise along with your favorite bolero hat he settled lovingly on your head then hoisted up the duffel bag of spare clothes and the costume and ticked his head to the side in a loop of his hand onto your back. “Tots and pizza await.”
It would be a long ride home from here to Queens on the subway. And the whole while you listened and chatted with others about the aliens and now viral video of the fight between Misique and her latest attacker that had most amused by the notion she had been going easy on Iron Man and his crew all this time.
Like always when you were roughed up it was his place you stayed at that had the neighbors talking at first until they started to hear his blatant use of the word ‘Sister’ around the block and made it clear he was just adopting a fellow vagabond. You still lived apart but he kept the round couch loaded with pillows and blankets at your refusal to make him buy another bed just for you. “In your nest baby bird,” he said with a chuckle and watched you ease off your boots and go to painfully plop into the mess of blankets, amongst them the heated blanket he plugged in and switched on so you could cocoon away your pain.
“Now if they could make one that massages without feeling like someone’s dragging stones across your skin it would be perfect.”
“We could get one of those water tank massagers, like at the mall.” That had you giggle and watch his path to heat up the oven and return with a pair of drink pouches he added the straws to and handed you one and tapped his to. “Bottoms up, you got the last grape,” that had you groan and he chuckled in his plop back into his favorite chaise lounge, “I don’t know why they put so many fruit punches in the big boxes. Might as well just load up on the smaller grape and cherry boxes.”
After your sip you said, “But they only ever have one box of grape. They’re gonna stop selling it soon, always do when I like something.”
He switched on the tv and from the image of Stark talking to the press at a conference inside his still smoking tower with a crater on his former helipad where you had been blow off it he changed the channel to an action film marathon. “This is the fourth one, right?” He asked in Venom’s ease out from the side of his head at the film.
You answered, “Gotta be the third he blew up that car in the start of the fourth and cried about it the last half.” He chuckled and again took notice of your hand traveling to the pouch that held the small box, no bigger than an eraser in matte grey a couple of inches across and barely half an inch high that had a single button in the center of it in a pale mint.
“You should give your Mate a poke.” He said showing he lifted his own button to give his worried ex a tickle to let her know that he was safe, fully aware as always when he was on the news it could get deadly with Stark after him and you.
“Doesn’t even know me,” you said easing the box out that rested in the curves of your fingers to allow a smooth of your thumb around the button it dipped onto and gave it a result free tap, at least on your end.
 *
And in the Stark Tower elevator Loki’s brows furrowed and he practically growled to those around him, “Which one of you just poked me?”
They shook their heads and Bruce asked, “You sure it was a poke?”
“I am not ignorant of the meaning-,”
Bruce lifted his hand, “N, no, not what I meant. Our Mate boxes, you can either poke or tickle your Mate. We didn’t poke you, had to be them.”
Nat said as the doors opened and she walked past him, “Congrats.” Heading for her computer to delve more into things to plan ahead as the old friends were already settled in the medical Wing and Rhodey was tasked with showing the Princes their new apartments here in the tower.
“Who would choose to poke their soul mate?” Loki asked exiting the elevator.
And Clint asked with an amused grin, “Would you prefer to be tickled?”
“Certainly not!”
 *
“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Eddie chuckled making you groan and stash the button in its pouch you set back on the couch beside you where you had left it.
“I just poked a complete stranger. It’s right up there with waving at a stranger who you thought was waving at you but wasn’t.”
That had him chuckle and reply, “Oh it will be fine.”
“I’m going to sound weird if I have to describe myself.”
“You will not,”
“I talk with an accent when I’m not killing people and I have a practically non-existent date life. I’m going to seem like I am putting all my eggs in my Mate’s basket.”
“Well we’ll just have to find you a few dates then. And what about that Jeremy guy?”
“The one who hooked up with his cousin’s girlfriend while he was supposed to be with me at the movies?”
“Yes, you have that moron and that other guy who asked you to the dance your freshmen year. So you’re just waiting for a more mature partner.”
“Now I sound like a sugar baby.” You said taking another sip of your drink making him give you a challenging glance.
“There’s a million people on this death trap of a state we can find you a couple guys to have shakes with.”
“Why don’t we find you a nice lady out of this death trap first?” That had him chortle and you said, “You have not been on Twitter in a while there’s tons of women who have the hots for Venom.”
“Whoa, what?” You nodded and he said, “That will be a topic we get back to in a very long time. I don’t need to date. I have a baby sister to look after.”
He said on his way up to answer the beeping oven now ready for what he aimed to cook first. And he simply shook his head to the grip of a bag of tater tops from his freezer as you said, “Which the ladies will love. So much better than a puppy, an actual living person makes you super domestic. Just post a picture of you in an apron and that cozy tan sweater you hardly wear and you’ll have them flocking in for cuddles and suppers in.”
“What we have here is a cupid stand-off. Let’s just let fate take its course.” The chime from your pocket had his head turn after adding the tray of tots to the oven he twisted the stegosaurus shaped timer you had bought him and set it down watching as you scrolled through the messages from the classmates you had shared your number with. “Something big? Your school phone, right?”
“They’re sharing with the local Viking that two real life Asgardian Princes are on earth.” With the easy slide of the screen up to reveal the keys you grimaced through the pain of typing back excited messages to video clips from the internet that you couldn’t wait to hear more about them one handedly. “We can only wonder at what Stark has in store for them.”
“Hey, why don’t you date that Spidey kid. You know who he is. Seems a bit jumpy but it could work, shared secrets and all that.”
You shook your head, “Peter’s a good kid, and a girl his year hasn’t made her move yet. Waited through his whole debacle with that Vulture guy who tried to break into Stark’s warehouse last year. Ruined his chance with the guy’s daughter. He should have something simple, plus if he found out who either of me are then he’d be hurt. He doesn’t kill people.”
Your eyes sank and then rose at his lean over and tap on your arm that had you smile as he said, “Hey, I love you. Stingers and all.”
“I love you too, man eater.” That had him laugh and sit up again and turn to face the screen as you continued to pretend through texts to be enthralled with every detail you heard. Food soon had your attention at the table loaded with trays and plates you both devoured to full your aching muscles and bones while you relaxed a bit at being able to bend your still stiff fractured but no longer broken fingers while your forearm was mending its lingering fractures under the brace made of linked bee shaped metal pieces.
.
Painfully under his pile of covers sprawled across his body he laid out eventually as you did across the round couch in your nest of pillows and blankets only to have your eyes open an hour to sunrise at the muffled explosion.
“I’m not going they can’t make me.” You muttered making the groggy Eddie chuckle and roll over as you did ignoring whatever it was going on outside your painful bubble. An alert from your printer hooked up to a mounted tablet had you groan and hunch yourself onto your knees to accept the printed sheet a glowing mechanical bee that woke up beside the printer in its usual job of passing you the news when you were here. “Not even twelve hours,” you muttered and then groaned in a lean over the side of the couch you pulled a laptop out from underneath it you powered up once open and linked up to your database. Across the screen following the blips of disturbances your eyes followed the names of the prison inmates who were still remaining in the prison that had just been blasted open by someone according to the footage who was stealing the vulture guy.
“What is it?” Eddie called from the other room.
“Prison break. I got it.” You replied with a sigh and to the type of a few keys you were in the security footage system and through the internet and electrical systems your swarms flew and around the prisoners they latched into every alarm system was set off to have every cop on duty to apprehend them.
The Vulture guy however had you get a bit more creative and send a glowing bee to latch onto his leg and set off a ping that had Stark up out of bed and suiting up to follow the ping in his system that one of his inventions had been taken. Confusion didn’t come close to the frustration that somehow his nemesis had broken into his system and back out again without a trace that he could manage to find. Enough to spoil the press conference after he called to state the city was safe again as you laid back down to the dim of your eyes and hair and got some more sleep until your and Eddie’s bellies decided it was time to get up again to make breakfast.
.
Halfway through your omelet you grumbled around a mouthful of food in another glance at the printer that went off, “no.”
Eddie smirked as he cut off another slice of his own stack of pancakes he added the slice of omelet to and shoved it between his lips while you swallowed and accepted the sheet from the mechanical bee that chirped gladly as you said, “Thank you, Buster.”
In his flight back Eddie asked, “What is it?”
“Post office, I have a package.”
“Ooh,” he said and you both smiled widely saying, “Super suit!” Both of you hurried to eat and he helped you pull your armor on you layered with a t shirt and flannel from him as your sweater was being washed to be covered by your usual jacket that had been soaked and hung to dry overnight you had to patch up some holes. Out the covered alleyway you both hurried and sprung against the groan worthy strain of your muscles. As he swung from lamppost to lamppost you raced and slid across the stairs and ladders you usually used of glowing bees overhead to waves and shouts from below. Peter along the way having foiled a car thief swung up to your side asking, “I thought the news said you were on bed rest?!”
To which you called back, “We have mail! Got to go fetch it!” Winning chuckles from those down below to his own chuckle.
“Ooh,” he said hearing a smoke alarm a couple blocks over and said, “See ya later, Bumble, bye Venom!” Swinging off to see how he could be of use as you both slid down the slide you made to the front of an old post office you had for your mail for Misique and Venom.
Inside the owners lit up with smiles as you spoke to them in their native Greek and signed for the large trunk that Venom hoisted on his shoulder and you took the bag of mail for yourselves and headed out past the surprised duo who entered behind you on your way out. The younger of which snapped a quick picture of you three for their social page you both waved for since your mask covered all but your eyes and the teen seemed to be bothered by Venom’s twisted tongue extended from his mouth he traded for a wide smile.
The way back was smooth and once safe back in his place you eyes the trunk from Wakanda, the King T’Chaka who owed you according to his own self after you had helped with the poaching problem in the continent and replenished more than twenty dying breeds of animals in your last summer trip there. You had run into them by chance in their own tries to aid in the problem and complimented by their tech yours had kept the reserve boundaries secure and lush with plentiful populations of animals to dwell happily there since you had left.
Out of the box you used the usual password they had given to you on the spinning dial lock the case lit up in its opening. Trays inside and a bottom drawer that sprung out of the side you squeaked wiggling out of your layers and usual armor to accept the honeycomb zigzag bracelets in rose gold that snapped in place on your left wrist for elegant decorations paired with a ring for both your middle fingers.
Folded to perfection in small squares you eyed the matte grey pants to the suit with pale yellow honeycomb patterns etched across it you lifted and stepped into. And eased up to cover your chest and arms that rippled closer to your skin you layered with the stunning bright yellow sleeveless hooded jacket with black wing designs across the back just like a yellow jacket’s. Already close to squeaking a wiggle of your fingers had the suit bond together as one piece and then ripple out higher to coat your neck fully that would match the new mask laid in one of the trays you lifted and eased to snap into place over your face. Securely with the metal woven section that would weave between your usual braids to keep the mask in place unlike your current ribbon secured style you had to repaint soon anyways.
Using the booklet of instructions you learned to control the mask so that if you wanted your mouth could be exposed to eat and drink, which had been a trouble when you had visited last as well as how to have the whole suit hide back in the bracelets entirely to be stealthy in your getaway. All based on your wish to be more modest compared to the pinup suits most of the female heroes wore in comics a belly panel disguised your bust. With zigzag patterns and honeycombs around a subtle two by two inch tall shimmering pale golden crown the panel stretched from your collarbone to the v belt to cinch at your waist. Not baggy or in a poof but almost like a chest plate, seen only detached at the belly from the side with your jacket removed. Details with coloring to match the leaf accents on the sloped skirt panels under the jacket that hung from that belt to mid thigh where they connected to there that in the front facing slit worked as both pockets and cover for another set of holsters for more weapons to carry around more comfortably.
“I have so many pockets!” You said dipping your hands into the hidden pockets in the skirt panels bouncing from foot to foot making Eddie chuckle. Loudly you gasped at the slip of your hands into the front panels sides across your belly, “It’s a pouch!” Many more pockets and holsters were down the inner flaps of your jacket you started to add your ridiculous supply of weapons to it and their usual spots across your legs and back while making use of the pockets for some more of your throwing wasp shaped daggers.
Off the table along the wall a unique ring sounded from your bee communicator Buster. Who flew over and hovered in front of trying both of you as from its back two folded bars popped up to form the holographic screen between them to the light of its eyes in a bright green to show you were being displayed on the other end. Venom when it flew over popped out to cover Eddie’s face to hide Eddie’s identity and you turned to see who was calling your private line from your short list of allies.
Shuri and her father’s faces popped up on the screen with a group of teen guards in training behind them, both who smiled widely at your elated squeak and statement in Xhosa of, “I love you guys so much! I’ve got so many pockets now!!”
T’Chaka laughed with his daughter and said, “Well after hearing your love of pockets we could not resist allowing Shuri to work her magic on the design.”
“Shuri I could just kiss you it’s more than I could have ever imagined!” You said giving yourself a hug making her chuckle again, “Huge virtual hug your way!”
“Thank you, and one for you as well.”
Her father asked, “We were also wondering. Did you get your box for your Mate?”
“Ooh, yes,” you said moving around the bee to grab your pouch that matched hers in a burnt orange box with a hazel button similarly hues to those of the guards behind her of the same age. The lot of you pressed your buttons to check if you were soul mates at the agreed upon thought shared when you had first met. “No pokes?”
“No,” rippled around the room and T’Chaka chuckled saying, “Fair start to the search for your young selves.” Then said, “And in consolation for not being there to offer our congratulations for your step into adulthood we have made certain to gift you a car as well.”
That had you gasp and say, “You did not get me a car!”
“The yellow keychain in the top tray.” Down you bent to collect the small box the size of a lemon you slid the top out to bring out the miniature car that you squeaked at the sight of the adorable miniature coupe sports car in a holographic pale gold and black paint scheme.
“Oh my gosh! I love it! I’m probably gonna be crushed by it but I love it!”
Shuri chuckled and explained how to control the expansion features and explained where the miniature holographic run through of the safety features on the car including the vibranium exterior to match your suit. T’Chaka said in the conclusion of that, “For your efforts to aid the recovery of our endangered species and the depleted forests of our continent this pales in comparison. Yet it is what we are able to accumulate to offer in return. Perhaps when you visit us again we might be able to discover more to share.”
“Thank you, again, really.”
“And you are well after the alien invasion?”
“Oh ya, fractured a few bones and got blasted across the city. Still sore, but I’m good. Still don’t know what the two Princes from the planet of Asgard are up to. But I’ll figure that out soon enough I’m fairly close to their newest Avengers member I can weasel it out of him with a few loose questions.”
“Very good, well we shall let you enjoy your new suit, car, stun blaster and daggers. We shall pass on news of the Princes and invasion we had been monitoring online.”
“I have a blaster and daggers too?” You said in an excited squeak and dropped to the fold of the screen as they ended the call to let you search the open trays to find the giggle worthy sight of the taser like gun you put in the clear holster for it on your hip under the jacket that would recharge itself and fire out tiny charged pellets you could easily make more of by use of the diagram they sent you. Soon added by the spare daggers you added to the inner liner holsters of your jacket and across your back underneath it.
Much like Spider Man had his own official YouTube account you had yours and with a video once you braided your hair and lit up you used to broadcast your new suit to spread the word. Keeping the source of which mum to simply a friend in gratitude of your aid in recovering animal and nature reserves. A gift that had Stark seething as he glared at the video on a play back on one of his holographic screens in his lab to discover what it might be made of and the spare layers and flaps could be hiding. Then got upset even more at seeing Spidey’s account complimenting the new outfit and saying he couldn’t wait to see it in action on one of your usual runs together.
From in front of you to its resting home again the hovering bee moved and chirped with glee to a second well earned bit of praise as you retracted the suit and mask containing all your weapons to easier fold the old suit and armor into the trunk Eddie helped you to carry over to your apartment.
“Come on, let’s celebrate with a film,” he said offering his hand you accepted to walk down with him to his garage to climb onto the back of his Harley for the drive to the mall.
The entire time you sat back against the back rest with fingers smoothing across the mistletoe decorated silver oval locket with a mirror and symbol of the Goddess Frigg inside of your mother’s with the twin silver owl face rings with sapphire eyes the killers had taken from your parents. Small things that meant the world to you as you felt your loose flannel and long braid whipping around to the wind that danced across your bared legs in the stretch of your sore legs in the sun thanks to your denim shorts and wedge booties to fit your usual style after having changed from your clothes from the day prior. Thoughts on them were painful but as you had crossed into adulthood the aching need for them didn’t seem to wane and as you recalled the small bit of years you had with them you hoped they fared better in the afterlife than you had found yourself, even with your new armor to help protect you from whatever was coming. And now that aliens had dropped from the freaking sky that could be a whole hell of a lot.
Pt 3
All –
@sherala007​, @mariannetora​​, @jesgisborne​, @knitastically​, @catthefearless​​, @theincaprincess​, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000​​, @alishlieb​​,
Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​
X Loki - @pastelhexmaniac
15 notes · View notes
sincerelyravens · 3 years
Text
sobbe hunger games au be like:
since this probably will never end up as an actual story
sander is from district 2 (speciality is masonry). his father is a peacekeeper and his mother is one of the most skilled in her field. despite being raised to fight, to win the games, sander never wanted to kill. he would take a paintbrush for a spear over any day and he was outcasted from his war-loving district. when sander is 14, his name is drawn but no one volunteers for him. it’s unheard of in the entire history of district 2—especially for someone so young—but it’s what happens. his father was frozen, his mother wailed, his little sister begged him not to go, and sander was sent off to the capitol. 
the previous victors, their mentors, focused their sights on cornelia, the female volunteer. cornelia promised that she would make sander’s death easy. the other careers mocked him behind his back, but sander paid them no heed as he circled around the trap making, didn’t give his all to the showing of the judges—walking out with a 6. no one expected sander to survive his games.
but no one expected him to come out and be crowned the victor. 
once the countdown sounded—signaling the start of the games, sander raced off. his agility allowed him to reach the cornucopia first, grabbing hold of a bag and fleeing the upcoming massacre. in the midst of it, someone came at him with an ax, swinging, and sander’s body moved for him, pulling the knife from his bag and stabbing him. as the person fell to the floor, sander seized the ax—and the knife—and raced to the forest. it wasn’t his only kill—he killed the girl from district 12, the boy from district 6, the girl from district 1, and a few others he wasn’t sure of. when there was three tributes left, cornelia found him in the forest, having grown bored to let him die on his own. they fought for five minutes until the gamekeepers summoned mutts. while sander sought safety in a tree, cornelia fled, being killed—leaving only sander and one other person. in the end, the final kill wasn’t even his to take—the last tribute succumbed to a leg injury. 
the trauma from the games stay with him—as they always do. in his dreams, he sees everyone he killed—everyone he didn’t—and he sees them every night. when sander returned, the younger fighters looked up to him but those in his years didn’t—he was still an outcast.
but his new victor status came with new opportunities—and burdens. during his victory tour at the capital, sander snuck on the roof of the president’s mansion and met senne de smet, probably the only normal capital citizen without the fancy or grotesque makeup or fascination with the games—and somehow, beneath the night sky, sander made a friend. in addition, he was finally able to paint like he always wanted to, sticking a suitcase full of paints and canvases to take back to district 2... and they sold. but, one night, president snow made it clear that he wanted one more thing from sander. he introduced him to a rich family—with a daughter his age—and threatened his little sister’s life in the span of three seconds. and, every year with a new game and a new set of tributes to mentor, sander was forced to keep up the rumor of his conquests. 
and it continued... year after year. his nightly duties continued (though the people he was with increased once he turned 18). the gossip spread about the broken hearts trailing behind him. even after senne fell in love with a victor from district 10, a girl named zoë, the same old routine with the same old saying—an oxymoron truly—may the odds be ever in your favor. sometimes, sander thought about ending it all, stripping the president and the capital of their prized toy... and he got as far as his hotel roof before he couldn’t—he thought of his parents and his sister—who loved him, senne—his best friend since the night they met, and zoë—who had become his friend and confidant during the games even as their own tributes competited against each other. so, he stepped off the ledge, headed back inside, back to the same old thing.
until sander saw him.
robbe ijzermans. district 4. 
he was six weeks from aging out—six weeks away from freedom when his name was pulled. despite coming from a district that focused on fishing, he looked more like a fox than anything else with long brown hair pulled back into a bun and wild brown eyes and freckles. he was easily the most beautiful man that sander had ever seen before. when sander turned away from the screen, he found alexandra—his mentor partner—looking at him with a sad look in her face before she said, “Don’t fall for a dead boy, Sander. It never works out.” 
the girl who was reaped with him was a black-haired girl, noor bauwens, about the same age who shook as she walked up to the stand. as they were escorted off the stage, robbe reached over and wrapped the girl in a hug. before the train had left district 4, caesar flickerman had already spun a tale of childhood lovers fighting to survive in the hunger games and the district 4 mentors confirmed it once they arrived (they also cut off his hair, which sander really thought was a tragedy). and they did look like a couple. robbe would always reach out for noor’s hand, hold her close—before the parade, in the hotel elevator, in the training arena. whenever the footage of the training center came on, sander always found himself watching. he told senne and zoë that he was just watching the competition, but he could tell that they didn’t believe him.
when the games had begun, robbe and noor had stuck together, somehow managing to evade the blood bath, racing from the cornucopia with two backpacks and rope wrapped around them. every night, sander found himself rooted on the screen, trying to find out what happened to robbe as well as his own tributes. caesar flickerman kept his attention on the favorite couple of the games. but, overnight, noor had gotten injured in an ambush and robbe had managed to kill them all. even with medical supplies that the sponsors sent over, noor wasn’t getting any better. even through a screen, robbe looked upset and wrought with inner turmoil—like someone who was losing the love of his life. one night, noor breathed out, “you can’t do this anymore, robbe. you need to fight.” and robbe had shaken his head, saying, “i’ve got you, noor.” then he handed her some food and water, making sure she ate it all, before ushering her to sleep. as noor closed her eyes, robbe repeated the phrase. it was only a few minutes later that the cannon sounded off, signaling her death. 
after collecting his things, robbe fled their hideout so the game keepers could take her away. by this time, both of sander’s tributes were dead but he still found himself glued to the screen, unable to turn his eyes away for a second. he lost sleep, but he didn’t care. even alexandra was beside him, curious to find out about him. 
in the end... robbe won, practically holding his pierced stomach together to keep him alive, as the helicopters descended to pick him up. caesar flickerman talked about his heroism for staying with noor, for fighting his way home, but even with the cameras, sander could see how robbe looked whenever they brought up noor but caesar remained oblivious. before they had all gone home, until the victory tour in the winter, sander went up to the roof for a smoke and one last glance at the capital skyline—and he found robbe sitting on the ledge with his legs over the side. when sander had announced his presence, he had jumped but let sander sit down beside him. they had been quiet for a few minutes before robbe asked, “does it go away?” before elaborating, “the nightmares.” 
sander didn’t lie. “no.” he was quiet before he added, “there’s no cameras up here.” robbe had stared at him for a few moments. 
for about ten minutes, they were quiet before robbe breathed out: “everyone thinks i lost my girlfriend, even everyone at home—except maybe one person—but that’s not true.” sander had glanced over at him, the cigarette in his fingertips. “we were never like that. we played it for the cameras, thought it would get us good sponsorships on top of our scores... and it did. but i didn’t lose my girlfriend in that arena... i lost one of my best friends.” he let out a breath and rubbed at his eyes. “sorry, i don’t know why i said that. you don’t even know me.”
“i know you.” sander had interrupted. robbe had looked up. “i know you,” he repeated before reaching out his hand and saying. “sander driesen. district 2.”
for six months, robbe disappeared. 
then came the victory tour and he was charted off to every district like they all were. finally, he arrived back at the capital, back at the president’s mansion, until he bumped right into sander in the midst of talking about paintings with one of the capital people. the two had exchanged muted greetings before the customer was interested in buying his painting—and his sister was interested in something else. as sander felt her making her move, felt himself succumb to the nightly activities (that president snow had told him about), he found himself looking for robbe and found him over with senne and zoë, who were both talking with him.
after sneaking out of the girl’s room, sander went back to his designated room and bumped into robbe in the lobby, carrying a bunch of supplies and cameras in his hands. sander had laughed, helping him carry them to his room. once they were inside, they started talking about the past six months—about how robbe was adjusting. sander had mentioned about how the capital takes some getting used to but promised to show robbe all of the good spots. even in the darkness of the apartment, sander could spot the flush on robbe’s cheeks before he said that he would like to go. 
the next day, sander took robbe around the capital in search for new things for robbe to take home—now that he had an virtually unlimited supply of money at his disposal. everywhere they went, heads would turn to see where they were going, and sander wished they would all go away. sander bought some new art supplies and robbe found some more electronics that he could salvage. sander teased him for being a techie from the fishing district 4 and robbe had blushed, saying that it helps calm his mind. 
when they arrived back at robbe’s apartment, arms full of shopping bags, robbe invited sander in for a drink to thank him for the tour and, somehow, sander had pinned robbe against the refrigerator and kissed the daylights out of him—and robbe kissed him back. kissing robbe felt different than anyone else he had kissed before and sander never wanted to stop—but unfortunately, his phone rang with one of his “clients” who had a sultry voice and wanted his last night before they all left. sander wanted to snap, say that he was busy, but the thought of his little sister being killed—or worse, reaped on purpose—tore him away from robbe with a mumbled “i’m sorry.” 
for the next games, robbe and sander had run into each other in the elevator and had talked mindlessly before robbe got off on his floor and motioned sander to follow. alexandra had looked at him with wide eyes as sander followed in suit. safely in his apartment, robbe asked why he left and why he didn’t reach out. when robbe asked if he was another one of sander’s conquests that he strung around the capital, sander couldn’t helping kissing that thought off his lips. sander told robbe of snow’s threat and how he doesn’t want robbe to be caught in the crossfires and how, if sander could have his way, robbe would be the only one. robbe closes his eyes and kisses him again, pulling him in the direction of his bedroom, and that’s how their life together begins. 
when the games weren’t going on, his mornings and afternoons were completely owned by robbe. if the games were going on, the tv would be on in the background or they’d be out with sponsors, trying to help their tributes in any way that they could. when one of their tributes died or the nightmares got too much, they would hold each other as the sobs overwhelmed them. but, his nights, were mostly reserved for others in the capital—but robbe never left sander’s mind... not even for a second. whenever they called, robbe would press a kiss to his forehead and mumble out an “it’s okay” like he could read the thoughts in sander’s mind.
if snow ever knew, he never said but sander always prepared like he had known the entire time. snow was smart like that. thankfully, robbe didn’t get the same treatment that sander had gotten. instead, with his engineering mind, he was tasked with helping build the arenas, which took it’s own toll on a more permanent basis, and—as much as sander hated his evening work at the capital—he gathered more support for his paintings so he could come to the capital more often, hold robbe a little tighter. 
when it all got too much, the hatred of their situation and the nightmares they wouldn’t wish on anyone else, they had each other to hold onto, to kiss away the nightmares in the rare nights that they were allowed to be together—and, when they heard of a rebellion that would stop the nightmares from happening to someone else, the thought to join the fight, to rebel against the twisted system, was instantaneous. 
74 notes · View notes
shy-magpie · 3 years
Text
RQG 160
Live blog under the cut! Gee hitting stuff I wrote only 1 year ago, look at the momentum!
Ben and Alex are having fun with being the two people least distressed at the idea of Zolf in danger. On the other hand Ben did make him a beefy boy; so on some level he does care about making sure he lives.
"not again"?
I swear to god he tried to blow Zolf's head off and missed by the mercy of the dice. Multi guns on the trap emphasized because "Mr She Can't One Shot Me" is not playing with an amateur.
Is Azu going to do the fling open the window bit?
Oh good Zolf isn't going indulge Earhardt
I love how Alex doesn't pull the blow but doesn't twist the knife. Like it would undermine the whole plot point if he tried to pretend Earhardt just needed a day to dry out and a bath, but he didn't go into it or even talk about it on an emotional level. Just gave us the facts, she is underweight because she hasn't been taking care of herself.
"do you touch it" Alex trying to scare us and the players
Azu is giving substantial alms to the whole floor on principle. Nope the whole building.
Alex is the best, clarifies a few things for the listener even though he clearly knows that Helen knows it.
Zolf channels all 7 Positive Energies (drawn from Hope) at the whole building as they go.
I believe that is what the kids call "direct action". Especially nice that Helen remembered to have Azu tell the temple to do more long term stuff.
And I think I will pause it at this transition point because it one of those days and I can't get 5 minutes uninterrupted to listen even though I thought I had over an hour clear. Will resume 13 minutes in.
Lets try that again!
That's my boy! No hesitation about deferring to Skraak as an expert.
"Locusts", "you'll see why", what are you doing Alex?
Zolf sets Earhardt up in his room and assists Azu in looking her over. The Positive Energy did most of the work but since RQ is good people they get that even if all the physical side is dealt with she's still going to need some time and help.  Side note: so far neatly avoiding my (for want of a milder word) triggers, of course she's barely spoken but still its nice to be at "natural level of distress at a beloved NPC in a bad condition" and not "is this where I tap out or is the best way out through?". Helps of course that RQ is full of people who are aware of mental health issues & aren't going to excuse abuse but aren't going to write anyone off either. There are bad people in RQG but its their choices, (repeated choices over time) that makes them bad, no one is born evil or evil because of something that happened to them.
"The Heart Beats Faster", I love that Zolf & Azu bonded over those books. Its just so *nice* they have something other than the end of the world in common.
Zolf is going to try to get Earhardt the same food she served aboard her ship.
The Kobolds are great and I love the image of them swarming over the ship
Cel is distressed at the unsorted parts but it sounds like they get to it as a separate step in the process
Oh Cel with a focus for their energy, we've never seen that. I wonder how the others react, I know it can throw people off to see the flip side of ADHD after getting used to the idea of scatter brained.
Hamid has to babysit since the Kobolds are still sticking close to him. Hopefully they've moved past expecting him to go Shoin on them and are now on the "we're only safe under the protection of our benevolent overlord" stage. Resilient sons of guns, its been like a week since they were drugged slaves yet the post trauma speed run doesn't feel forced. Not sure if its worth making a separate post to put in small words things like "when you expect people in power to be dangerous & unpredictable, you feel intensely if not problematically grateful for respect & even temper". On the other hand I have a list as long as my arm of posts I keep meaning to write on tricky bits that RQ does well.
Break
Zolf has perked up now that he has a project #relatable
I love the little tangent on elementals.
"adjust accordingly" I think that means you can do it but you will pay for it.
Tumblespark is such a great name.
The party is just good people ya know? Azu is sitting vigil with Earhardt in Zolf's room, (which he didn't hesitate to give up) while the others get her ship airworthy.
Huh, thought Alex would want to take the opportunity with the Kobolds doing engineering again to poke at their past. Probably trying to keep the emotional energy balanced, he is uncanny at that.
Someone took the notes on his pacing seriously and is making it clear they can't run themselves ragged if they wanted to.
Zolf *bap* take care of yourself. Oh, Azu, be fair why don't you? Yes him choosing what to do with his money includes choosing to spend it on team stuff, but didn't he burn his armor in the lightening strike? And its not like indulging in, IDK, fancy beard oil, good spices or something would kill him.
Zolf is in fact a brooding hero in the chicken sense
Wow Pathfinder without tweaks handles withdrawal with some sensitivity? Or is Alex being creative in his interpretation.
Oh Alex, oh Earhardt, see what I mean about not pulling the punch but not twisting the knife.
Ok Hamid doing the mending while watching the Kobolds is such an image
Oh Zolf, thats a good thought.
Oh Earhardt
Zolf is trying, bless him. Honest to god that someone is trying, does help. Oh Zolf, see this honesty about emotion even when it isn't pretty or simple is why I trust them with stuff like this.
A Meritocrat? Oh Earhardt one last run. There is no bow to tie on it; seriously bless RQ especially Alex & Ben for getting that.
Azu is so damn good at this, respecting the choices of the crew is the exact line to take
Yeah but Zolf would have left the room, he took the "walk away" lesson a bit too well.
Research? Fairy tales, medical, missed the third. Yeah Ben it was killing a Meritocrat or bringing back the dead and we've had an undead arc.
Leave Apophis for last would ya
Bit direct Zolf, but yes I think that would help.
I love how "you chose to do this" is a recurring topic of conversation.
Well shoot all that prep and they don't touch on what I was worried about. Still learning not to grit my teeth when I could take simple measures takes practice so not like it went to waste.
Its my week! I got a great episode with so much character bits, and Casper for my week! (ETA as in the week my name got listed in the patreon thank yous)
9 notes · View notes
Thanks // Jay Halstead x Reader // Pt 4
Tumblr media
Description: Jay reaches out when he needs it
Warnings: Emotional Whump
Pairing: Jay x Reader (Eventual), Reader x Mouse!Platonic, Jay x Mouse!Platonic
Words: 1620
A/N: No worries, our favorite best friend will be back in the next part. I’m on a roll, the muse assisting to keep the creative juices flowing!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
You checked in with the ED, knowing Jay got discharged later that day despite his doctors wanting him to at least stay the night for observation. He was stubborn, you were learning. Though, you’d be surprised if he wasn’t. You felt bad though, knowing he was going to be on desk duty for a while. It seemed as if he’d been through it before, knowing the routine pretty well. 
It took a couple days for your phone to ring, an unknown number flashing on the screen. You’d just gotten home from work, tossing your bag on the couch. Honestly, you’d just been looking forward to a bath, some TV, and a glass of wine before bed. 
“Y/N,” you told whoever was on the phone as you answered it. 
“Hey, hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” Jay answered, a smile quickly forming on your face.
“No, I just got home. What’s up?” You walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and the bottle of wine out of the refrigerator. 
“I don’t want you to have to move your schedule around on my part to visit Mouse, so I’ll just tag along whenever you go.” There was something more to it, though. You could tell by the uneasiness in his voice, stopping yourself from opening the wine just yet. 
“Yeah, that’s fine. I usually go on Mondays and Thursdays. You okay, Jay?” you finally asked.
“Honestly.” You heard him sigh on the other end of the line. “I’ve been better. Just a little stir-crazy you know? On medical leave for a little bit, and I really don’t want to take a taxi anywhere.” He chuckled nervously. “And Hailey’s at work, which makes sense. And so is everybody else. And Will is still pissed off that I got shot. I know he just worries but…”
“You’re rambling, Jay. Do you want me to come over? We could order a pizza, watch a movie? Just until somebody gets off work,” you offered, knowing it was going to be a 50/50 shot that he’d take you up on the offer. 
“You sure? I’m not always the greatest company.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll pick up a pizza on the way. Just text me your address,” you assured him, putting the wine back in the refrigerator, glass in the cabinet. There went your plans for the night, but spending it with Jay seemed like a better option. 
You were at Jay’s apartment less than an hour later, pizza box in one hand, pack of beer in the other. You weren’t sure if he was on pain meds or not, but figured it wouldn’t be a long shot that he was more of a beer guy than a wine guy. Making quick work of the stairs, you knocked on the door. 
“It’s open!” you heard him call out, letting yourself in. “Thanks for coming.”
“Of course,” you assured again, setting the pizza down on the coffee table in front of him. His lap was covered with a blanket, a pair of crutches right next to the couch. It was a well kept place, not overly fancy, but not a shit-hole either. Being a detective must have meant he made some pretty decent money. “You want one?” you then asked, holding up the six pack.
“Maybe later. The kitchen is right over there, if you could put it in the fridge. You’re more than welcome to have one though.” You followed the direction of his pointed finger, placing the pack in the fridge before going back into the living room. Quickly, you kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your jacket before joining him on the couch. 
He’d turned on a documentary, eyes fixed on the screen except when he reached out to grab a slice of pizza. You knew better than to push it, knowing there was something more just under the surface. There had to be a reason he’d called you and not somebody else. It reminded you of sitting with Mouse, though you knew Jay was more than capable of expressing whatever was on his mind. 
The documentary came to an end, Jay flipping through channels before settling on the hockey game. You’d propped your feet up on the table, leaning back onto the couch. 
“You gonna be okay?” you asked him softly, Jay looking at you finally. 
“Eventually,” he agreed with a nod. “I just...I don’t like being cooped up, you know? Gives me too much time to think.”
“I get it. But I’m here to listen if you want to talk. Not as a doctor, but as your friend,” you reminded him, Jay nodding again. 
“I’m going to get one of those beers. You want one?” he asked, uncovering himself and grabbing his crutches. You tried not to look, didn’t want to make it seem like all you were going to focus on was his leg -- or lack thereof. But you noticed the white bandaging on the remaining section, shorts covering most of it.
“Yeah. I’ll take one,” you agreed before he walked over to the fridge. He had it all down pat, how to get around and grab what he needed to. That’s what thirteen years of being an amputee would do to a person. He handed off the bottle before sitting back down and covering back up. 
He didn’t drink the beer though. He’d popped the top off, held onto it for a few minutes before discarding it on the table. 
“It’s the same every time,” he finally said, your brow furrowing as you tried to understand. The two of you looked at each other as he continued to talk. “The first time I got shot on the job was a through and through on my right shoulder. That’s what got me into the unit I’m in now. It’s a running joke. You get shot, you get to choose your unit. The second time was after my dad died. Grazed my side, but no lasting damage. The third time I almost died. Right shoulder again, hit an artery though. The doctor said I should have died. That it was a miracle. And it’s the same every time. The ‘pop’ of the gun, the searing pain.”
“I can’t pretend to understand what it’s like,” you reminded him.
“I know. It was different, though, in Afghanistan. Here, I know I could get shot. Over there, it was just a question of when. A few grazes, nothing major. I mean, there was a firefight every day. But here, it’s the same every time.” He was repeating himself, that was the first thing you noticed before the shift in body language, hands gripping the blanket a little tighter, the stiffness in his shoulders and jaw. 
“Jay.” You put on the psychiatrist voice, the soft and soothing voice. You didn’t move to touch him, staying firmly where you were. “You’re not there.”
“I know. I know. I just- God, what’s wrong with me?” he confirmed, shaking his head as if it was an etch-a-sketch trying to get rid of the picture. 
“Nothing’s wrong with you. Like I said the other day, trauma can bring things up that we try to push away. It’s completely normal, a natural response. But the only way to work through it is to talk about it. Not to push it away.”
“Now you’re sounding like my last therapist,” he joked with a small laugh, despite the tears brimming in his eyes, running a shaking hand over his face. 
“It is what I do for a living. But you do need to talk about it, Jay. To anybody, doesn’t have to be me. Doesn’t have to be a professional. A friend, a coworker, just someone.” This time, you reached out, letting your hand rest on his arm, rubbing circles on the flesh with your thumb. 
“Mouse and I didn’t get to come home together. He was still in a coma, clinging to life in Germany. I got to come back though, knowing most of our team was dead or dying. And I walked away like this. It took a while. Will was in New York partying. My dad never liked that I joined the military. And my mom...she was really sick. So, I suffered alone for a long time. I learned to compartmentalize, to deal with the nightmares and flashbacks. Not in the healthiest way at first, a lot of drinking. A lot of drinking.” He nodded. “And when Mouse did get to come home, I threw myself into making sure he was okay. He was what brought me back time and time again.”
“You have a support system now, Jay. Your brother cares about you, that much is obvious, though he may not always understand. Your team is there. You were talking about your partner Hailey. I’m sure she’d listen and support you. There’s always Mouse, though he may not give the clearest advice at times.” You both laughed at that. “And you have me. You’re not in this alone anymore, Jay.”
“Thanks for coming over. It means a lot. Can we talk about something a little less morbid than about how fucked up my head is?” 
The rest of the night was spent talking about his job, your job, how you grew up on military bases. It was the same type of conversations you would have with Mouse. It was normal, familiar. And that’s what he needed, letting him lead the conversation. As the night continued on, the sun long gone over the horizon and moon in the sky, there was one thing you became sure of. Whatever drew you to volunteer knew that you needed these two men in your life as much as they needed you. 
Tag List: @yzas-stuff @gemmafountainloves @ceiliesla @corebore123 @annaallicce @fullwattpadmusictree @bethii1 @thevelvetseries @mich-lynne3 @itmejado @music-is-my-escape71 @not-onlyedmlyrics @supergirl000983 @mandybug39 @okiegirl24 @haileymatthewss @httphiddlestan @capmanranger @ahhh0ahhh @bookgiver @daenerys-targaryes @galacticsmoon @beachfan412 @wearesodrica @danielacastellon @genericcaner @halsteadsway @theskytraveler @miranda0102 @amyarondottir @onechicago18 @lovecatystuff @doramstr @itsdesiree86 @raveenasblog
144 notes · View notes
Photo
Tumblr media
Advice from a Professional Doctor, Asher Nitin.
Ignore all the portrayals of life in medical school by your pre-med lecturers. If they begin a med school narrative with, “My nephew is a doctor and he told me…,” instantly disregard it. His nephew did not tell him that. He told him much more. Those are merely the parts he wants to remember. If it isn’t a recently-graduated doctor telling you what life in med school is like, it isn’t going to be anything like what they will tell you. So what is it like instead? Grey’s anatomy? House, M.D.?
Neither. Med school is more like Scrubs and The Knick than it is like Grey’s Anatomy and House, M.D. Unlike Grey’s Anatomy, you and your fellow medical students will not be that good looking. You will not sleep with each other as much. You will not cry over your patients (you’ll have a hard time remembering their full name). And you will not monkey around with barely-tested experimental procedures. Ever. If you do, it’ll probably be the last thing you do because good-bye medical school. Unlike House, all medicine will be diagnostic. Your professors will only appear to be brilliant (it’s really just decades of specialized knowledge and experience; with their subject and with your type). Diagnosis will be algorithmic, and even that algorithm won’t be your own. But you will still get a kick out of it. Like Scrubs and The Knick, your medical school will be your life. You will eat, sleep and dream medicine. Your entire social circle will consist of your colleagues. Your family will be the one stable point in your life. You’ll date your colleagues.
Speaking of dating, your sexy does not go up when you become a doctor. I mean this practically. Theoretically, I’m told doctors are hot. I can see why. They undeniably have inherent value: social standing, (the promise of) money, proof of intelligence (actually, no) and actual power over life (more than you know). But practically speaking (especially if you’re male) your dating life will not get better as a medical student. That is because the demands of medical school will swamp you. You will come home tired. Your pool of prospective partners will mostly consist of your medical colleagues. So while your newfound status as a doctor might have value in non-medical circles, it will mean nothing because you will almost never frequent those circles. But within the circle you’re in, your status as a medical student means nothing, because so what? Everyone is one too. “But Asher!” you say, frantically gesturing at me to pause, “I’ll be smart and date outside of medical school.” No, dummy. You’ll be a dummy if you do that because…
The more friends you have outside of med school the harder it is to excel. Med school is about an ethos. You’re not just part of a course. You’re part of a community. This is now your primary identity. All your self worth are now belong with us, bi*ch. There is this neurological phenomenon seen in people trying to study. When you’re focused on something, if you break off and engage with something unrelated, your brain takes up to twenty minutes to fully refocus on the original task once you return to it. In life as well, broadly speaking, I’ve observed a similar phenomenon. I’ve known three students in med school whose circle of friends mostly lay outside of med school. One hung out with mostly dancers and choreographers. One was a socialite. One hung out with the sons of politicians. They all were (and still are as of now) the worst doctors I have ever seen. This is because they constantly take breaks from the ethos of medical life. They miss out on the rhythm of life in the world of medicine. So you should know that…
You will leave most of your old friends behind, and you won’t even mind. Of all the various professions, I’m told, physicians tend to default the most on school reunions. That is partly because they don’t have the time, but also because they don’t care. It isn’t that we become arrogant or unsocial. It is that the act of medical education deeply changes you. It makes you more functionally intelligent. It makes you less prone to fake drama. It makes you calmer in crisis. All these after-effects will permanently drive a wedge between you and many of the people you used to know. This is a surprising side-effect no one anticipates; least of all your elders. And that is an amusing paradox. They anticipate your becoming a doctor because they know medical school is elevation. They don’t realize the side effect of this elevation is you will now talk down to them.
Your most important subject in pre-med is physics. Look, pre-med isn’t really about information continuity. The organisms you will dissect in pre-med will be phylogenetically disconnected from med school. You dissect a plant stem, a plant root, an earthworm, a cockroach, a frog, and then… a human being? See? You won’t be seamlessly connecting domains of knowledge. Pre-med isn’t even about building a conceptual base. Many things you learn in pre-med biology will be repeated in so much greater detail in med school that your prior knowledge will only partially help. Pre-med is about picking up mental skills you will need. Let’s talk about those.
You need to learn to form a train of thought fast. The great thing about learning to solve problems in physics is that you learn to solve problems in general. You learn to quickly identify variables and constants. Sometimes there will be constants in the problem that would normally be variables in real life. You learn to work with those too. Physics allows you to become mentally agile with concepts. If you get fluid mechanics, you can handle the physiology of hypovolemic shock. If you get lever mechanisms (in different orders), you can handle applied anatomy in orthopedics. If you get optics, you can handle a lot of neurology and ophthalmology. In my experience, the students who have the hardest time in med school are the ones who didn’t learn to think on their feet within a fixed framework of time.
You hate memorizing? Actually, you don’t. It’s all about the context. Literally none of us salivated at the prospect of memorizing taxonomies. We hated it and struggled over it and were glad when we were done with it. That was because it was something we knew we would never use. In med school, you will do a lot of memorizing. But you will enjoy it (or at least you can, if you choose; I’m a huge nerd). Many doctors will tell you how easily drug classifications embed themselves in their brains. This is despite the fact that the latter are more complex than zoology taxonomy charts or botanical floral formulas. The difference is that your knowledge of drug classification will impact what you will say to your aunt when she confronts you over her persistent back pain over Christmas dinner (poor posture, it’s always poor posture; she sits like a potato). So you will memorize a lot. It won’t be anything like memorizing was before. Rest easy. You will find it easy to like it.
Your persona does not matter. Caring for people and being compassionate and wanting to cure disease are the least important things in medicine. You need to be able to meaningfully link vast amounts of information to come to a correct diagnosis as per established algorithms. You need to perform surgical procedures within a reasonable amount of time with a decent degree of success. All else is secondary. When most of your non-doctor relatives tell you that a doctor’s personality matters, they’re doing something called argument from ignorance. You see, the world of medicine is so big and so complex that most of it is technically incomprehensible to the general public. So they latch on to the few aspects of a doctor’s life they are mentally capable of understanding (and commenting upon; remember their first reaction to meeting someone with an education superior to theirs is to give them tips). So they will talk about a doctor’s personality because it is the only part they can presume to have some expertise on. Even that they do not. Don’t ever do stupid things like falling in love with your patients or building deep and personal relationships with your patients. You will never last in medicine. This is not because the emotional trauma of losing them will wreck you. This is because you will go bankrupt fighting lawsuits accusing you of patient preference. You will feel the pressure in the things non-doctors will say behind a good doctors back. “He’s so boring at parties, he can only talk work stuff.” If that is your destiny, so be it. Own it. They find you boring? So what? You were not put on this earth to entertain the illiterate at parties. You were sent here to be a lifesaver; not to have a personality that appeals to the lowest common denominator.
I’m telling you it does not matter. The practice of medicine is life on the edge of reality. All personalities are welcome because medical school is a personality in itself.
The materialists among us are taught the value of wisdom and the ascetics among us learn to knot a Double-Windsor.
The atheists among us will pray frantically and the religious among us will find no time for church on Sunday.
The loudmouthed learn to whisper in the NICU and the soft-spoken learn to yell, “Stat!” in the ER.
The type-A personalities among us learn to break the news of a patient’s passing to his relatives and the type-B personalities among us learn to argue medico-legal cases.
The clumsy among us learn to suture wounds and the nimble learn to administer CPR.
Materialists. Ascetics. Atheists. Theists. Loudmouthed. Soft-spoken. Type-A. Type-B. Clumsy. Nimble.
In medical school, we all meet in the middle.
PS: Photo not mine. Credits to the rightfully owner. 
11 notes · View notes
Text
Complete Butterfly Outline
Howdy friends.  The following is the complete chapter by chapter outline for Butterfly.  Now that the fic is finished and some people want to see it, I figured there was no harm in sharing.  Maybe this will help some of you better your own outline process.  Note that not everything that appears here made it into the fic, and some things that did don’t appear in this outline.  Some events are also in different order due to me changing my mind during the actual writing.  Feel free to ask me questions about those discrepancies or anything else.  Please enjoy!
Butterfly
The first over-night trip off campus since the training camp is supposed to be a break from anxiety.  But between concerns of history repeating itself, a major research project, and a bleak introduction to chaos theory, Izuku has too much on his mind to properly enjoy the fresh air.  But those worries are a light breeze compared to the thunderstorm that accompanies what he finds on the outskirts of town.  Or rather, what finds him.
1. Chaos Theory -thankful -comic book assignments -sound of thunder -butterfly effect -field trip
2. Yakku -bus ride -small town hero work -interject about butterfly -Cheat-A demonstration -talk with all might
3. Small time -community engagement -reports of stolen food -first day tour and fun, photos with fans -heat lightning -second day early morning patrols -groups: Sero, Toruu, Deku with hero -different route than normal -bullies, can’t threaten with quirk, but has his body -investigate diner -dead bodies
4. Let’s Talk About Anything Else -deku falls back on a table -kitchen covered in blood and black feathers -body: slash across stomach and eyes, other exposed shoulder blades -three form a perimeter while hero investigates -backup arrives, kids dismissed -hug -might have gotten there sooner had they taken a different road -statements and debriefs -return to hotel, can’t eat -hang out in room, read to pass time -talk about comic projects -nightfall’s, others return -Momo makes plushies -animal jokes -can’t sleep
5. The First Rung of the Spiral -third day, more patrols -stolen food in the night -seminar “That was... definitely higher than in practice.”  “Oh good, it wasn’t just me.” -feels like a warm hug, full body feeling of when all might ruffles his hair -“this is mine.  This is me.” -izuku gets through but get sick afterwards from anxiety -secret lake, something in the distance, canceled -watahashi - cross bridge -hibiki - echo -takuya - open also -dead deer -sleep on bus by All might, anxiety subsides
6. Nothing is Okay -week passes -Tsuyu dreams of drowning, talks to Deku -anxiety returns with a vengeance -occasional intense back pain -counseling with hound dog, recommends something from home -pissed that they didn’t receive immediate grief counseling -speak with recovery girl about pain, nothing physically wrong -prescribes a sleep aid, anxiety meds left open -return to dorm to find his leftovers missing
7. Part of the Job -training: escort -dread and erased quirk -deku’s team loses fake civilian -takes it hard -stays later to talk to Aizawa -more complaints about missing food -Mineta brings thank you gift, gourmet popcorn -pain hasn’t stopped -return for movie night: Justice League: Crisis on Two Earths -brief talk with iida -if we were to meet ourselves, we wouldn’t recognize ourselves -“saying the same thing over and over isn’t exactly helping either.” -deku can’t sleep, returns to his own bed
8. Yakku’s Finest -small town investigation inconclusive, murderer remains at large but reports of stolen food have stopped -diner money left untouched but larder picked clean -blood set, attacked in the night -quirk discussion, vague, strained relationship, -teleported in from somewhere, teleported away -DNA testing to be done on feathers “Did you ever go to investigate the houses with stolen food?  When was the last instance reported?”  “Four days after the murder.”  “How far back can your quirk see?”  “One day.”  “How many days has it been?”
9. Dread -awake from pain -reading news updates -school forum rumors about stolen food
10. The Mind Killer -earthquake rescue training -keep notes on others to make up credit -dread not as bad -still has brace, sleepy and sick from concussion -pretends to be better -argument after almost throwing up -getting late -all might was never able to find his all star Superman trade reading online -picnic table with mirio, suneater, and eri -babysitters -talk about projects, mirio did shadow cat and suneater did animal man -brings up Superman’s suneater -all might approaches, chastises him for staring at a screen while he has a concussion, offers Superman trade instead -discuss the fall -what’s one more scar? -“why didn’t you tell me?” -“I don’t know” -“you could have been killed.” -dread tells him he only cares for one for all -phone call -mom going out of town -izuku lies -banging down the hall -getting closer -deku hides behind door -thing hesitates in his room, goes to door -wing claw and eye reveal -calls for help, thing vanishes -no evidence -“I felt it breathe on me.” -most don’t believe him
11. Ache -hospital -nothing wrong -can’t enjoy getting the brace off -another little scar -recoverygirl argues with nurse -all might arrives with stuff -tells izuku to call his mom -confesses to illness -schedule specialist appointment -nothing on cameras -explain Midoriyas condition -compare notes with Jakku -all might calls Gran Torino about izuku’s symptoms -aoyama thinks about Midoriya during earthquake simulation -others ask about the seizure but he doesn’t have answers -put together a card and nice dinner to welcome him back -try to make food himself -update from Aizawa : Midoriya coming back, tired, don’t bother him -izuku breezes past everyone, uraraka follows -has an attack on the stairs -never happened before -retreats to room, leaving uraraka behind
12. From the Outside -bakugo dreams of the sludge villain -sees deku in the crowd, yelling sorry -wakes up, goes to bathroom -finds a black feather, thinks it’s a prank -realizes he would have done the same thing back in middle school -destroys it (invisibitch) -thinks he’s being merciful -izuku keeps thinking he sees the creature out of the corner of his eyes -pain comes randomly -can’t sleep -anticipation of pain keeps him awake -rubbing against ribs -move up appointment -talk with midnight -fanmail activity -“I am the American father waiting on the porch with a shotgun for whatever pathetic excuse for a date is gonna try and take my little angels to the prom.” -wants to hug him, he hates hugs -“I can only do so much” “so much is better than nothing” -rumors of people suddenly unable to use their quirks -might be an illness or one for all hurting him -gives in to anxiety medication -needs to get in contact with a specialist for nerve damage -takes up hound dogs suggestion of something from home
13. Nostalgia For The Future -deku goes home for a plushie, brings todoroki -mom isn’t home -todoroki likes his house, feels small but full -nothing about his dad -“would being his son make his obsession more or less weird?” -declares intent to become a hoarder -confesses to dream about losing his quirk and father hurting him for it -Despite recent trauma, deku hasn’t dreamt at all -swaps a book from all might for one of mom’s -nerve specialist, dendrite -rash -“as a fan I was impressed, but the doctor in me couldn’t help but cringe”. “See?  He gets it.” -neurotoxin as anesthetic (but why) -all might watches procedure -“the scene brings to mind ritual sacrifices from old movies” -maybe attacked during procedure, mess with vitals and life support -chemical evidence that izuku’s brain is firing off pain response -common fixation in young empaths, recreate perceived trauma in themselves -“was there?”  “...I could see bones poking out...” -basic testing comes up negative -“When you hear hoofbeats, think of horses not zebras”. Here we have a zebra -someone is using an empathy quirk on him -someone ate his leftovers -old all might plushie pats bunny -he was so done.  So done, that as he laid down to make a futile effort at sleep, it crossed his mind that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to never wake up. -izuku did wake up; to see Mini-him standing on the ground with a hole in his chest and a slash across his eyes. -wake up to bunny plushy with tears that mirror original victims
14. The Rolling Thing With Wings -Aoyama saw it this time -“Midoriya’s villain is real”, -something is for sure on campus -Aizawa and other teachers immediately go out and search -cold rain -lights catch black feathered mass that rolls away -Aizawa can’t get a good look -thing tries to flee but keeps getting cut off -uses dread quirk, flattens teachers -finally sees it, it cancels his quirk before he can -vanishes -hound dog smells izuku -back to dorm, all might and students comforting izuku -plushie remains the same but camera footage shows nothing -Aizawa and izuku compare dread effects -realizes it may go after his mom
15. Bittersweet Release -Inko arrives at mustafu train station early in the morning -phone call from Aizawa telling her not to go home -wait to be escorted by heroes -calls izuku, he confesses to what’s been going on -doesn’t want to risk putting her in the line of fire -kids spend the nights in the dorm shelter -“The villain was able to hover right over Midoriya’s bed while he slept.  Any one of those nights he could have killed him.  And since we didn’t have any evidence, we assumed he was having nightmares like everyone else.  Do you understand the gravity of what your inaction could have brought on?” -discussion of feelings with hound dog -apologies for doubt -rejoin students -news, villain warning issued -connections to missing food -anyone paying attention could figure out victim is izuku -harsh criticism of UA -izuku elects to take responsibility -hound dog leaves for meeting
16. Table Scraps -hound dog comes in late, cloth tied around mouth in place of muzzle -villain smelled like Midoriya, that close -teachers check security, limited evidence, suggest a quirk that can reverse/move outside of time -connection to missing food -Noumu theory is proposed due to multiple quirks and black appearance -all for one still in prison, twice? -similar to Yakku, get in contact -pathfinder shows map of trails -only found perimeter -entered town to chase the bus -villain seemed to stop existing -one missing quirk: night vision -meanwhile, pro heroes patrolling near apartment -“oh please.  All mights had a kid at UA since my parents were in school.” -spot a figure go up the stairs and enter with a key/silhouette in the window -nobody from the family is supposed to be nearby -go inside and confront the middle school-aged boy, mass under shirt -find him wandering the house, ignoring them -introduce themselves -he goes to sit on the main bed, eating, heroes angry -“waiting” “for who?” “My family” -“my house” -“NO”
17. Voight-Kompff -stitches out -out running for the first time in weeks -one for all makes him feel whole, pictures the previous users welcoming him back into their embrace -breath deeper -“this is mine.  This is me.” -“izuku wasn’t a spiteful person.  Not at all.  He got angry at villains for hurting people, yes, but he couldn’t recall at time where it felt personal.  So it came as a bit of a shock when he found himself pondering if the villain’s wings were hollow, like in birds.  They would break easier that way.” -“hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.  But knowing his luck, he’d treat it like an inevitable.” -full cowl practice interrupted -“once it’s gone I can be with mom.” -medical exam with officers present -increase in students asking for sleep aids -izuku called back again, this time with teachers -karma for complaining about uraraka -gives back minihim -2 heroes murdered in his apartment the previous evening -it isn’t the artificial dread, it’s real -Like before: no security footage, food stolen, wiped search history, this time it seems clothes and personals were also stolen -“quirkless virus” show similar symptoms as victims of all for one -some have different quirks than before, usually minor -most are regular civilians, no hero, cop, or medical staff until murders -murder of diner owners still unclear -pattern, no pain on nights food is stolen -stealth quirks, likely to make another attack -DNA of feathers came back -same as izuku
18. Powder Keg -toga told to investigate league contact -warehouse trashed, dead everywhere -“Oh, yeah, no, they’re dead.  And whoever did it was super sloppy.” “Hang on, Dabs, I’m getting another call.” -answers dead guy’s phone -“how did I ever survive without the preserve jars?” -rumors of someone who broke into UA by themselves, after Izuku -elects to investigate -Superman presentation -outside heroes on campus -Outfield, izuku debates talking to him -unsure if they know the dna connection -calls mom, asks about family -we didn’t want you to feel like you were being replaced -class exercise, warned not to push it -izuku does something during exercise that spooks outfield -sleep in shelter past three nights -villain warning issued -other students don’t know about Izuku’s DNA -sleep in shifts -all might stays close -tries to text mom good night, signal can’t get through the concrete -eri is there, tries to cheer him up “Zawa said there’s a bad guy after you.” “She’s your biggest fan.”  “She might have to fight Kota for that.” -tells her she should go somewhere else since the bad guy is targeting him -she’s having none of it -later, eri and all might asleep on either side of him -keeps an eye on the door -hears sato’s phone buzz, he waves him off to signal his shift is over -lays back, tries to relax -sudden tightness in chest, opens eyes to see the other one standing on the ceiling directly above him
19. Fish in a Barrel -Aizawa realizes its a set up -the other one tries to stab him with the wing spike, eyes glowing red to erase his quick -rolls to cover eri and calls to the others -hits him in the head, disabling quirk -takes out lights -everyone tries to go for him, easily thrown back -slashed across multiple chests -the other tries to go for the door, todoroki freezes it -the other burns and breaks it down, vanishes -chase with bakugo, find toga -“my dad could breath fire” -teacher question how it could have gotten in with so many standing guard -it must have come in with them -mislead the heroes -comfort eri -wounds tended to -Tooru seriously hurt, crying, outlined by blood -idea floated to move izuku somewhere else -toga found wounded at the edge of campus
20. Walk Without Rhythm -“you’re sending me away?” -talk about moving izuku to protect the others -say goodbye outside, the want to lure it -switch trains last minute -dread fades -Aizawa says goodbye -appearance change -tooru wake up in hospital with parents -They met all might, other kids here and awake -tiger comes in with brace, izuku broke his shoulder -all might went back to help -discuss, don’t think the nomu was intentionally hurting them -tell that to midoriya -what are they doing with him -encounters old bullies who act like fans -Aizawa back with the others, discuss -public place.  Hundreds of people. Broad. Fucking. Daylight. -pathfinder there, nomu was inside for hours, quirk that displaces itself -nomu is intelligent, understands aizawa -only superfans and former students know him -izuku mentioned his father was as much of a fan -toga unresponsive -maybe move him to another safe house, evidence that the other is locating quirks through police records, he’s gotten through most defenses -victims have minor records -mom moved around too, discouraged from contacting her -better to hide, all might’s house -end of the day, tired and sweaty -brush appearance change out of his hair, hug -it’s the first time all day he’s felt like a person -“I’m sorry I left you behind”
21. All in All -izuku stays up late to call his dad -argue about timing -“sorry I didn’t call.  I wasn’t sure of your schedule in this mess and I didn’t want to bug you. “Sure” -mostly unaware of what’s happening, mom told them to talk -changes the subject to the Jakku seminar, tries to relate to quirk hurting him -thinks his dad only likes him for his quirk -“you can’t keep crying like this every time you’re stressed.  Youre sixteen, way to old to be crying like this.  You’re a hero.  Villains aren’t going to wait for you to get yourself together.” -“look, if you’re not gonna be invested in the conversation, maybe you should hang up, and we can talk later, ‘Kay?” -Skype call with Toga -managed to talk to it briefly, voice changer -the villain didn’t like her, in denial -said he would fix it -crusty and gross, waste of a healing factor -deku-kun is here, isn’t he? -tells jokes to distract from Dad -all might’s in specialty housing for tall quirks, modestly decorated with comic merch and newspapers -device to hide his life signs -fanart from Young Izuku on the fridge, bought the magnets just to put it up -old classmates posting about him online, he’s a cool hero -forum trolls, could probably take them -“I thought you were supposed to be discouraging me from picking fights with villain’s every other month.” “Oh hey look at that, you made a quip” -talk about feelings ⁃ is my rambling annoying, endearing -“it’s okay to still be upset, you know.  You don’t have to move on right away.” -year newspaper -butterfly returns to U.A., breaks window, noises, squeezes through naked -students pretend to sleep, half in costume -it passes over them
22. Idle Imprisonment -day 2, report comes in, three critically wounded policemen not far from u.a. -izuku does class work ⁃ all Might pins points on a map, far off -day 3, more reports of missing and mismatched quirks: tracking and radar -day four: 4 civilians and 1 hero murdered, several others injured -feathers through the eyes -mt lady back in action -izuku can’t take it, wants to go out and confront butterfly -massive argument with all might, hides in room again -“cabin fever!?” -all might figures he’ll try to sneak out, overhears him struggle, his windows don’t open
23. It Matters -later that night, all might offers dinner, goes to watch tv -izuku slinks out and eats with him on the couch -“think I don’t know how it feels?  To be stuck inside safe while the thing that hurt you is running free to do more harm?” -“I miss it sometimes, but I get to spend more time with you” “I’m not worth it.” -“if it hadn’t hurt me, I might not have met you.  Either my time limit didn’t force me to hear you out or I might not have come back to mustafu at all.” -back and forth about izuku’s worth, “are you trying to convince me to be happy or regretful” -“ok, lets try this: what do you hate about me?” -“I hate that you don’t trust me.”  “And you constantly treat me like a little kid!  Hate that too!”  “You are a kid!” -“I want you to tell me one thing you don’t like about me.  As a person.”  “Why?”  “If I have to be honest about how I feel so do you.  You only ever say nice things.  You act like there’s nothing wrong with me but there is.  If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to keep guessing.”  “...  back in the shelter, after the villain attack...  that was the only time I’ve ever heard you truly laugh.” “...  that’s it?” -“I, I’m not a fan of how you talk about that video of my debut.” “But, But It was a great rescue-“  “It was awful,” he snapped.  Midoriya recoiled.  Good.  “It was so awful.  Hundreds of people died.  Most of the people I pulled to safety didn’t pull through.  I hear them screaming still in my dreams.  I hated every second of that night.  And I hate that you love it.”   -“That shot one shot, the one people plaster everywhere, of me coming over the ridge carrying a dozen people?  Half of them were already dead.” -“How did you even see that anyway?”  “Mom said the news was running a special for the twenty-five year anniversary...  I watched it with my dad...”  “and you would have been what?  Two, three?” -talk about debut -tells him about Nana and his childhood -hid from villain’s like this “I loved her like my mother.” “Did she love you as a son.” -“it doesn’t matter.” It does. -talks about how izuku is great -never initiated a hug before, what else could he do besides pull him closer? -“I hate yelling at you.  You’ve had too much of that in your life.  I just want you to be happy.” -“and I’m going to keep you here until you realize how much you matter” -caught between child and adult, wonder what he’d be like had he never influenced him -will the scars on his arm grow with him? -he wanted to just keep holding him, to make up for all the times he should have but didn’t. -carries him to bed -“I can walk.” “I want to carry you.” -he’s going to be okay.  He’ll grow up.  Conquer the world with his smile.  Be the unshakable pillar the world needs, all Might had no doubt.  But not tonight.  Someday, but not tonight.  Tonight, he is a small terrified child, separated from his family, and on the run from an unknown horror.  Tonight, he deserves a moment to be scared and sad, and be comforted. -life sign hider gone -prays he stays just this small forever -he’s like a son to him -he stays for a while after he falls asleep, just to be sure
24. The Other One -all might dreams of his death at the hands of all for one/wolfram -wakes up to alarm, needs to eat -izuku inspired him to keep living, gets up to check on him -remembers the dream theory, goes to check his fridge -closes it, butterfly is right there -smells him before he sees him -running down a list of ways to get a hit in, major blood vessel in the temple -“Hello” silence, “are you all might?” Ask about fighting the ‘same’ villain Beat him with the help of his student Butterfly gets angry, the other one -“he’s almost shocked to here a human voice come out of it...  a young voice.” Other what -comes into the light, more scar than skin -talks him down, reaches out to touch him -doesnt believe -same shoes, faded and frayed and falling apart, but the same -never one to talk down hostage/suicide -says his name -butterfly stunned, cries at the kind touch -hug -same eyes -he’s izuku again
Reveal post - https://lckhr.tumblr.com/post/175255988293/okay-villaindeku-is-so-popular-right-now-but
I want to add to this real quick because I just dug up my original notes I wrote at 2 am last summer when I first thought of this fic and it reminded me of some stuff. The world of My Hero Academia is set up in such a way that whatever bullshit power you can think of will probably fit.  A lot of superhero universes have that, but something about MHA makes it so much more pronounced.  Combine that with the idea of All for One, a quirk that lets the user wield an unknown number of powers, and there is some serious potential to absolutely abuse the setting. The idea was to create a lone villain that could perfectly counter everything thrown at it, to the point where it feels like a supernatural monster.  Security?  Quirk that prevents cameras and sensors from recording its image.  Evidence?  Quirk that rewinds time on displaced objects.  Witnesses?  Quirk that prevents people who are already asleep from waking up.
25. Butterfly: Origin -“as hard as he tried throughout his life, Toshinori knew he could never be Superman.” -“He wants to hurt your boy/ but he is my boy” -all might feeds him, too thin, still heavy -talks him into taking a bath while he makes him a warm meal -Texts his izuku to be silent and contact Naomasa -stolen possessions with his clothes, folding quirk, , flattening, sticker quirk -cries at the red shoes -butterfly comes back out, reveals wings -all might makes him a cutout shirt and sling for vestigial wings -its a cold night,hairdryer, hopefully izuku sees the opportunity -“he’s so gentle.  The boys arms are thinner than his.  It’s wrong.  He feels like any pressure greater than a brush will shatter bones.  He could break his fingers with a pinch.  But maybe he should.  This is a villain.  It tried to kill my boy.  But he is my boy.” -“did you ever fly?” “Once” -“it’s okay, you didn’t know.” -getting scolded for hurting himself is universal -so is being a chatterbox -considers Christmas present in the closet -tells him to lay down on the couch and watch tv -butterfly asks about one for all, consent -admits to killing Mirio -all might asks about all for one, vague backstory -noticed something was wrong after usj -“he said there was a time where there wasn’t a single child in Japan born without his permission.” “It was a mercy killing at that point.” -more time in a day, imprisoned for seemingly twice as long -drawn to yakku by picture of lodge that looks like apartments -“I heard someone say my name” -lie, offered to trade quirk, got in a drunken fight -has both parents quirks, implied to have killed Dad -wanted to scare his izuku into going home, no one was there, took it out -has mom’s quirk, “someone else lives there now.” -tried to find mom, “once he’s gone, I can be with mom.” -“I’m only hurting me. I’m not worth it -inter-dimensional quirk, -Inching closer to all might -you didn’t say that, the other you did -all might confronts him on his crimes, defense is that they started it -“you’re not right” -puts head in all might’s lap and moves his hand to his head -found izuku, jealous of his life, not sure what to do -realizes that izuku has one for all -“WHY” -describes the sludge villain incident -compare outcomes -butterfly gets upset, prepares to strike -all might says sorry
26. Bizarro -izuku listening in the whole time -attacks butterfly as he’s about to strike -wounds all might in the chest -butterfly screams accusations -brutal fight, bitten ear -izuku stands up to dread -ripped vestigial wings clean off -fight, flees at approach of heroes -wind and rain enter through broken window, mess up all mights hero shrine -izuku still feels like he has grime on his hands from the wing -its me -hospital, all might severely injured but stable -sneaks into room -stabbed where his lung used to be -“Did I ever apologize for saying you couldn’t be a hero?” -apologizes through tears for saying izuku can’t be a hero -sad hugs -tells nurse that he’s his son
27. Same -thinks butterfly is holding him -Aizawa says nurses told him all might was with his son, calls it inappropriate -hesitant to leave all might -please don’t take him from me -all might holds onto him for as long as he can -Aizawa wants to call them over dramatic, but this feels warranted -it’s me, i know -news from kids perspective -Sero -escorted everywhere, never alone -no way to tell what’s going on -wake up, check the news -need to confront butterfly -meeting in a moving vehicle -Pathfinder there, special sunglasses -how many were killed, lie -Butterfly’s notes, crinkled and overfilled, izuku can read them -addresses, quirks? -safe places, food,  Trying to find home -plan A, swan dive -he was trying to get me to kill myself -plan b, kidnap to other dimension and kill, pose as the same one having been tortured -what’s plan c? -more missing quirks and murders, offensive capabilities -pathfinder attacked, quirk stolen -team of heroes go over what they know about him -analysis of wing he ripped off -rapid nerve death, theorize that his healing quirk is killing him -why hasn’t it? Quirk preventing organ failure -once the body runs out of fat, it goes for muscle -after muscle, it goes for cardiac muscles -that’s what the dread is, empathy -perpetually on the brink of a heart attack -means they might be able to go all out against him -uses inter dimensional quirk to conceal movement -ask izuku what he could mean by the right quirk -memory alteration, body swap -all might Skyped in “You’ve been trying to clean up the mess the other you made, let me do the same.” -you didn’t fail, the other you did -how to restrict movement, only ever does it outside -shelters never built in his world -set a trap, need a place that doesn’t exist in butterfly’s world
28. The Net -go through the tunnels to the main shelter under the school -can’t discuss the plan Bakugou tries to ignore him and unpack his stuff Izuku flinches from contact -says goodbye to classmates I love you all, thanks for being my friend...  you have no idea what it’s meant to me -don’t talk like that, it makes it sound like you’re not coming back! -hugs -midnight cries -talk with Bakugou -shapeshifter butterfly -it’s a forced smile.  “Forced” is the only way to describe it yet if feels like it isn’t enough. -new bunker at UA -limited air conditioning -pathfinder walks him through messing with his quirk -i got your letter -did you know them?  They were good people -didn’t mean to be so harsh, people get hurt when you aren’t good enough -step outside briefly, the world is so much more vibrant without his quirk in the way -“it’s a tomb” “yeah.  Let’s make sure it’s not yours” -obvious trap, he won’t be enough -need bait -all might about to be discharged -agrees to stay as the casualties of the trap will be sent to the same location -inko enters, told to wait for her son there -got stolen stuff back -izukus first all might toy -talk with all might, maybe izuku’s Dad, left around the time he was quirkless -I want to push him forward, but also want to shield him from the world -welcome to parenthood -asked for blood drawn
29. You Shoot It -dream of deer in the woods, all turn to look at him together, one missing a face -toga disguised as izuku’s mom, distract him long enough to ceil the doors -no sign of butterfly -concern -butterfly enters by bending the door, an army of bugs -Izuku watches from another room, he’s a last resort -toga tries to convince him to stop fighting, can’t -something off -tries to stab him, nothing -turn around -cut to Aizawa -Bakugou seizing, that’s not Deku -“suit up” -strangled -fight -Cementoss seals the door -upgraded -pain sharing, metal feathers, ribbon skin, black bone, fero blood, wing spears, teeth bombs, throw feathers, telekinesis, fire breath -attacks do nothing -it’s an illusion -turn around, butterfly strikes while looking at him reveals partially healed form, antlers Flee out the room, fighters overrun by cockroaches Erasure is his most powerful quirk Izuku flanks him and kicks him in the skull, blocked by antlers -antlers become bendy and grab him Butterfly tries to go for izuku’s eyes using mom’s quirk -other heroes quickly tossed aside -chase down izuku through the maze -fold hole in the wall -punch in the jaw, teeth explode -izuku nearly overpowered -held down completely -strangled
-Aizawa and the class rush to the entrance, blocked off -must be a fail safe, butterfly was meant to break in -break down the doors -what if butterfly manages to escape -mina’s acid, strong punching, laser, explosions Aoyama asks for braces or someone to hold him while he blasts the ground -anger he doesn’t have the right quirk -knows his is the only one that can disable butterfly -they have to take the risk
-held down completely, erasure flickers -Pathfinder hits him with a baton and tries to choke him, distracting him -only one eye -izuku breaks free with 100% -smashes Butterfly’s eyesocket with his knuckle -blood splashes in his face as he flees -scream behind him -arm strained, can’t tell if it’s broken -pathfinder’s fate unknown -brief visions, body swap quirk Realize butterfly has been holding back because he wants a healthy body Test how much
-aizawa run through the maze -find pathfinder -hear screaming
-leap though illusion and snap off one of butterfly’s wings -tear membrane with own feather, cut between broken bones -it tries to crawl back to him -illusion breaks, revealing deer skull -flee, openly crying, bleeding tears -lock hands, izuku breaks others fingers, -wings burst from his back, heroes hold back wings -powers through pain and dread Leaps up and smashes the floor to pieces -butterfly screaming at him Jump at each other -Spears izuku in the back Break through the ceiling -Aizawa erases his quirks -restored appearance fades, more decayed than ever -izuku kicks and breaks his neck
30. YU SHOOT ITT -izuku was fading -a round face, a thin face, green eyes both -something shiny bobbing in and out of sight -butterfly stream of conscious -reuse lines from before -senses izuku in the other room -force shared pain and empathy as he’s dying -izuku screams in agony -felt his stomach split again.  A candle to a forest fire.  Pathetic. “This is mine.  This is me.” -shared perspective -why do you deserve to be happy and i don’t -you kill people, tired to get me to kill myself -but before, i didn’t do anything wrong -why did it all go so bad? -gets up, floats with his quirk -barely copies normal movement -Floats to the door -Aizawa stops him -hard to breath -feels his mom and all might comforting him -that’s really mom -force the connection harder -stop screaming i wanna hear what mom’s saying Aizawa cuts him off again, he cries Feels his bones sink -“do you think if I die in this world, I can still be with my mom?” -goes down struggling -“it’s not fair”
31. At Rest, At Last -izuku flatlines but is revived -undo the latches on his costume Taken back for surgery Sit in the hall and cry for hours -a defibrillator is for a different kind of heart attack -so that’s what it was?  A heart attack? Doctor rushes by with an ice box Explain to aizawa that izuku flatlined -butterfly is dead, new despair -took his stomach for izuku -inko and all might go to see butterfly -inko wants to see him, takes a moment to recognize him -that’s her baby -screams -hugs and apologies -all might would have gone to stay with him -they both despair but are thankful for their son -“he was barely five years old, and he was ready to accept that his family didn’t want him.” -goes back to izuku -his hand is bigger than hers, when did that happen?
-final casualty count, pathfinder dead (?) along with several police officers -doctor recounts the autopsy -butterfly was dead on his feet, practically killed him -barely enough muscle to hold his own head up, let alone stand -“in my unprofessional opinion, this was a mercy killing.” -Aizawa looks at the body, that’s midoriya -Aizawa wants to try and bring him back with eri, Might not work, Might traumatize her -argue, all Might says he was too far gone, they wouldn’t be able to shield him from criminal charges, record like his would net him the death penalty anyway, stuck in a cage again, all that hate and fear in his heart left to fester in a padded cell for the rest of his life -thinks he would come after izuku again, what do you think that screaming was?  He was trying to take him down with him. -not hurting anyone else, not hurting himself -“He said he wanted, more than anything, to rest/stop fighting/for the pain to stop, and now, he has.” -“Aizawa-kun. ..  Please let him rest.” -Aizawa leaves before he can break down
-toshi looks over butterfly -“an innocent butterfly, drowned in mud and crushed under the boot of the world.” -not innocent, but he felt someone should be there to see him off -Apologizes -runs hand through his hair, shushes him even though he’ll be silent for quite a while -hesitant to leave him -that’s my boy...  That could have been my boy -bodyswap lingers in his mind -kisses his hairline, touch of cold lingers -goes to wash his hands and face before returning to izuku -wakes up later -“he’s dead” “I know.”
32. All Those Moments -
-aizawa drives back to ua with midnight -she tries to joke with aoyama about makeup, he’s not having it -won’t go into details about butterfly -mic greats them at the gate, hug -comes back to dorms to welcome party “Midoriya’s villain is dead.” -they cheer -Bakugou pulls him aside to try and get answers -people who’s job it is to save lives should never celebrate the death of another human being, be relieved, be thankful, but do not celebrate -don’t cheer for death -cries while holding eri -mic and midnight ask him what’s wrong -he was just a Kid
-do you want to be buried or cremated, inko can’t stop thinking about that phrase -3 services in three days -mass wake for officers -izuku makes rounds, “your child/spouse/parent” saved my life -inko almost couldn’t get out of the car -izuku said he had to come -pathfinder funeral, mention the teens and neji -he saved my life, i want to be worthy -crematorium, limited service in his home town -service in jakku -speak briefly to stripes -ask to speak at the wake, doesn’t have the best luck with speeches -mom asks why, he didn’t really know him -Jakku heroes offer him a job, we’ll save you a spot says he never wants to come back here -pass a boarded up diner -I’m his mother, i should be here -never spoke with butterfly, never in the same room when he was alive -cold gripping horror at burying her own son -service ends in slow motion -no words exchanged -silent for the whole long drive home -dotes on izuku at home -not home, couldn’t bare the thought of sleeping where someone died -all might rented a place/or all might’s apartment -he carries around his all might and blankie -makes him food, watches tv -cuddle in her bed like when he was small -her sweet baby boy grew up to face unfathomable horror -wants to promise no one will hurt him again, they both know she can’t
-villain graveyard -“Izuku Midoriya, 16 years old, at rest at last tailored clothes around his wings, buried is his shoes -izuku goes to butterfly, stares His bones wouldn’t burn He suffered 16 years old, seventeen in a few months, he’ll grow.  Live. Make sure he keeps living ⁃ Took midoriya to view the body before it was buried.  Stared, said nothing -all might dusts of the grave, leaves a few flowers and food -still conflicted, butterfly was worse case scenario, uses it as motivation to protect his boy -he longs for some sign.  Waits for some great vision that the boy is well in the end.  A butterfly wing broken wings that still flies.  One on the tombstone.  It’s the dead of winter.  Him coming to him in a dream, face full and bright and back bare of those fowl wings that shackled him to the earth, and promising him that he’s not in pain anymore.  But it never comes.  Butterfly died in agony, after years of torture, alone. -“Toshinori wasn’t a religious man, but he still hoped that, if something did become of young butterfly in the en`d, that he at least got to rest.” -he might be moving into the same new building as the Midoriyas -picks up Izuku from first therapy session, not much to say -you’re my boy aren’t you? -don’t want to say anything that makes him spiral further Do you remember what happened before this all started? -we talked about Superman, you said your name was inspired by all Star Superman -and... -rumors about being his son, “I don’t mind” -cry, hug and a kiss on top of his head -sixteen years old, he’s my son -return home -izuku stares out the window Take him to the tokoyaki stand Sit on the beach wall -cuddle like they did the night before butterfly attacked -izuku crawls up his sleeve and presses his forehead -yeah.  Yeah you’re mine.
⁃ When Butterfly was around, he never had nightmares.  Now that he’s dead, Izuku has nothing but. -izuku can’t sleep, -home doesn’t feel like home anymore -people died here, in this world, and the other one -has nightmares when he’s awake too, they’re memories -likes All Might’s thin arms, likes to be carried, better than those too big that held him like a pet while the bones in his back pulled away from the rest of his body. -checking himself in the mirror, scars on his chest fading fast, no evidence if he covers it up -asked the doctors to remove his scars when he went back to get his stitches out, just the ones from Butterfly, back to what he was before -regrets it -looked butterfly in the face, up close, in the eyes, and though: that’s not me.  It can’t be -looks at himself now, his own face in the mirror, and thinks: that’s not me.  It can’t be -too thick, skin to smooth, hand in his hair to search for antlers -I’m me, aren’t I? -text from friends, excited to have him back -compulsion to go outside, he does -it’s cold out without a shirt, starting to snow -I could just go -wants to run, from what? -doesn’t want to face the others How can he just go back to normal? -if i don’t say something now, i never will -wake up mom, I’m ready to talk about it now -sees all might in the kitchen again, mom too -visions of the other ones life
-Bakugou s body, swollen and broken -desperation to find a school that will take him -walk past the gates -sell blood -luxury apartment -All for one, first quirk are the cherub wings, small, but his -not the only one, testing multiple quirks, isn’t sure when he becomes the favorite -wings are painful coming in, all for one holds him -gave in eventually -can’t see all of the wings in the mirror, shine green in the light -lakies make fun of his failure, requests quirk to stop crying -creates copy of all for one -usj, something wrong, gets erasure -flees out the window, can’t get home, returns willingly -tested on with mutation quirks as punishment, cries when he discovers minor telekinesis -isn’t there for Kamino allegory, acts desperate to save Sensei, erases immortality quirk -tries to go home again, authorities mistake him for villain, programmed to attack -he finds Dad.  Dad, who hadn’t so much as touched him in a decade, picks him up and holds him like its nothing.  He kisses his head and calls him baby and tells him everything is going to be alright because he’s here now.  And it was for a while.  He fed him and bathed him.  He sleeps tucked close to his chest like when he was little, even if the wings took up a lot of space.  He has to comfort his father when he cries for mom, since he can’t cry anymore.  He and takes him to the doctor.  They don’t know how to help him.  He says he wants everything but moms quirk to go.  Dad doesn’t understand why he has it.  He doesn’t listen.  He never does.   At least you aren’t quirkless anymore Steals dad’s quirk to teach him a lesson about being quirkless Dad only came back for mom.  He said so.  He was missing for over a year and only came back after mom went missing.  He blames him.  He burns off the tips of his wings. -they think he’s a villain -Kills mirio -trades quirks for money, later just food -chase anything related to mom -wanders to Jakku, ua goes there around this time of year and he saw an ad for a lodge that looked kind of like home -hears his own name -demands the bridge quirk guy trade him, had enough -kills.  Jumps.  Sees himself, up on a stage in a hero costume from his dreams, smiling among deafening cheers.  And he shares his dread. -sees both of himself, locking eyes in the ambulance, round face, thin face, green eyes both, watching and feeling each other die
-run back inside -wake up mom and all might -i don’t think I’m me anymore -stuck with all this anger and hatred and fear -can’t tell the difference -all might says he feels guiltily instead of angry -but i am angry -writes as he talks -it’s like one glass of water being poured into another glass of water -hard to tell where the first ends and the second begins and you can’t separate them -did he take something from you -don’t know -“after all that, do you still think you made the right choice?”  “Never came into question.” -has his whole life ahead of him -going to die eventually -takes out notebook -“Butterfly” crosses it out, rights his own name -lies between the two people who love him most -all might’s hand on his chest, holding him -other arm curling mini him to his chest -mom has his blankie -izuku has his all might plushie -tomorrow, he goes back to all his friends at the best hero school in the country -people like him, he has fans -almost too good to be true -this is all butterfly wanted -all i ever wanted -more than i could have ever asked for No one stalking me, no one chasing me -I’m home -do i deserve it though? -have to make decisions, could spiral -have to go back out into the world and keep living -for now, he let himself feel happy -the two sides agree to feel happy -“this is mine.  This is me.  And there’s nothing I can do about it.” -and for now, I’ll let it make me happy -this is mine, this is me -deep under guilty happiness, lies dread he knew could only come from himself. -this dread could only be his own.  Maybe it was always. -it’s mine.  It’s me. -whoever i am, I’m alive -no matter what i do, whoever i am, I’m me.  I’m me.
129 notes · View notes
Text
The Start of Something New 2
The second chapter is up, you can read it here.
Part one; Chapter one
---
There is a knock on Rex’s door promptly at 1800 hours.
It is as he goes to answer the door that he realizes he is nervous. He has to laugh at himself. Of all the things he experienced in his life and faced head on, this is the most nervous he has ever been.
Rex channels his nervous energy into opening the door. “Hey Ben,” he greets when he sees the auburn haired man waiting to be invited in. “Please come on in.”
“I bought these for you,” Ben says as he hesitantly holds out flowers, a bouquet of pink stargazer lilies.
Rex smiles as he accepts the flowers from Ben. “These are so beautiful.” He brings the flowers to his face and inhales their glorious scent. “Please make yourself comfortable while I go put these in some water.”
Rex watches as Ben removes his coat and hangs it by the door before heading to his kitchen to find a vase for his flowers.
“How was your day?” Rex asks with his head in a cabinet.
“It was alright,” Ben states. “I spent the afternoon with my brother, thankfully not talking about his wedding.”
“Is he your only sibling?” Rex asks as he fills the vase he found with water.
“Yes. Though I am quite close with one of his friends, and I think of her as a younger sister. What about you?”
“It is just Cody and I.” Rex places his flowers in the vase, then places the vase in the center of his island.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Ben says as he hands Rex a bottle of wine. “It is a berry moscato and should pair well with dinner. “
Rex gives Ben a soft smile and gently scolds him, “I said you didn’t need to bring anything.”
“I know, I just hated the idea of coming here empty handed.”
“Dinner should be ready soon. Please take a seat while I check on it.”
Ben takes a seat at the island as Rex checks on dinner. “How was your day?” Ben asks.
“Not too bad, it just got a whole lot better, if I am being honest.” Rex flashes Ben a flirtatious smile. Rex grabs two plate settings and sets out to serve two portions of food. “I hope you are hungry,” Rex states as he places one of the plate settings in front of Ben.
“It smells and looks delicious,” Ben claims.
“You don’t need to wait for me, dig in. I am going to get two glasses for the wine.”
As Rex pours wine into two glasses he cannot help but hear the pleased moans escaping Ben’s mouth at the taste of the food.
“Did you add any spices to this?” Ben questions when Rex sits across from him.
“The only thing I really seasoned was the chicken. And I seasoned it with fresh basil, thyme, oregano, rosemary, and mint.”
“It is really good. I love how all of the flavors work together. And the chicken flavor seasoned the vegetables really well too.” Ben smiles at Rex, “Where did you learn to cook?”
“My parents mainly.”
“I think you could have made it as a cook,” Ben admits.
“Technically I am one; I cook at the firehouse.”
“Is that an experience you like?”
“Yes and no,” Rex starts. “The thing about cooking at the firehouse is that we always need to be prepared for a call, so it’s better to make something that is quick and easy or can be eaten in a hurry. So, it is mostly sandwiches or the like. I have recently encouraged everyone to start bringing in stuff from home, so we can just heat it up when we have downtime. Yesterday, Jesse brought in a big pot of chili that he made, it was so good.”
Ben gives Rex a small smile. “Do you enjoy being a firefighter?”
“I love it,” Rex replies.
“How long have you been a firefighter?”
“About three years. Earlier this year, I received that rank of captain for all of my hard work,” Rex states proudly.
“Did you always want to do this?” Ben asks curiously.
Rex lets out a small sigh, “No. I wanted to have a career in the military.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I enlisted after high school and served for three years. My career was looking bright, I received the rank of captain and was happy, before I got discharged,” Rex explains.
“What happened?”
“I was injured on a campaign and deemed unfit for duty,” Rex gives the short version of events.
“Rex, I know you probably don’t want to worry me but I am curious. I want to know everything about you. So, can you tell me what happened,” Ben says after a moment.
Rex sighs and gives a curt nod. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before he begins.
“It was midday and we were trying to siege an outpost in the middle of nowhere. I was with a small squad when a battle broke out. At some point during the battle, I was shot. But adrenaline was pumping through me that I didn’t notice until after the skirmish was won. Pain surged through my body and I passed out.
“When I came to one of my men was by my side. He was pale and I knew from the look in his eyes that it didn’t look good, that I might not make it out alive. He told me that I was shot several times in the chest and shoulder. He had his hands pressed on my chest wound to stop the bleeding. I can still recall the smell of iron in the air and how blood stained his hands were as he called for a medic.
“The medic performed an emergency surgery right there in the middle of a battlefield. He removed two bullets from my chest which were mere centimeters from my heart. He requested an emergency evacuation and rushed me back to base, where I could receive better medical attention. When I reached base, I was rushed into another surgery due to complications.  
“A day later, I was scheduled for another surgery, this time for my shoulder. The bone was shattered and the ligaments torn. The medics fixed it up as best as they could but doubted that it would ever heal properly, even with physical therapy.
“They informed my commanding officer of my medical condition. He came down to check on me himself. He advised me that I needed to pass evaluations, in order to go back to the frontlines. I failed every evaluation and was deemed unfit for service. They discharged me as a result. When I came back home I had to undergo a couple more surgeries and lots of physical therapy.”
Rex can see the pity that Ben holds for him in his gaze. It is one of the reasons he doesn’t talk about his time in the military.
“You must be stronger to overcome such trauma,” Ben states into his now empty plate.
“I suppose you can say that. To me it was more patience than anything.”
“If you don’t mind my asking how old were you?” Ben questions.
“I was 20.” Rex looks at Ben and clears his throat until the other man meets his gaze. “Not to be rude or anything but can we please talk about something else?”
“Of course.” Ben gives Rex a small smile, “My apologies if I made you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t. I just think it is a heavy topic for a first date.”
“Is that what this is?” Ben asks teasingly, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
“Yeah, I thought it was obvious. We have a homemade dinner and wine.”
Ben laughs. “When did you decide to open the coffee shop?”
A smile takes over Rex’s features. “About a year ago. Cody came up with the idea actually.”
“So, why open a coffee shop if you are a successful fireman?”
“Believe it or not, the firehouse is underfunded. We have fund-raised but never raised enough money. Cody proposed opening a coffee shop where the profits and proceeds can go to getting equipment needed for the firehouse. Since opening the coffee shop we have been able to get another engine.”
“Cody seems like a wise man.”
“He is,” Rex smiles proud of his older brother. “If it weren’t for him the firehouse would only have one engine and one rescue. We have a greater response time now with the other engine.”
“That is great. I take it you and Cody are close to have decided to open a business together.”
“We are. He is not only my brother but my best friend. We have done so much together and have always been there when the other needs them. We have gone through a lot of hard times which only brought us closer together.”
“That sounds like a nice relationship. My brother and I are close but not as close as you and Cody. My brother and I are often at odds; we disagree about so much.”
“Well that is brothers for you. You may not always see eye to eye on things, you may annoy the shit out of each other, but you always have each other's backs.”
Rex gives Ben a quick smile and holds up his glass of wine, which has remained untouched until now. “How about a toast?”
Ben returns Rex’s smile and holds up his half-filled glass, “You can do the honors, dear Rex.”
Rex smiles bigger at the endearment before he comes up with the perfect toast. “To the start of something new.”
“To the start of something new,” Ben repeats.
Their glasses clink and they both take sips of the wine. Smiles dance across their faces when they place the glasses back down on the island.
“I am going to clean up in here and then we can go into the living room to chat and have some pavlova. Does that sound like a plan?”
“Yes,” Ben responds. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You are a guest, please relax.”
“As your guest, I insist on helping you clean up.”
Not wanting to argue and ruin this, Rex reluctantly agrees. The two begin clearing the island and washing the dishes.
Rex allows a comfortable silence to fall between them as they complete the task. He allows his mind to wander.
If Rex is being honest with himself, he thought Ben would have left after he found out about Rex’s past. After all, it is still something that haunts his dreams; it is still something he needs to deal with everyday. Most people do not want to be with someone from the military for that reason, because it puts a strain on the relationship. Rex only hopes that he didn’t ruin this budding relationship with Ben.
Rex is pulled from his thoughts when Ben lightly bumps his hip against Rex’s. It is something so casual and so domestic that Rex cannot help but smile.
I definitely didn't ruin this. 
3 notes · View notes
radioactive-synth · 3 years
Photo
Tumblr media
#FOOCtober2020 - Oct  9 - Loadout and Living Space OR Grudge 
Vaughn has some unresolved business with his long-dead father. 
a big thank you for @theartofblossoming for proofreading this drabble for me!
"Why you have done this to me?"
He could not comprehend this.
Years later, and he still could not find an explanation for the abuse that he'd suffered. Emotional trauma, unseen wounds that still bled, low self-esteem, you name it, he has it.
But he cannot say he had a horrible childhood. A loving mother, a caring uncle and a cousin that was as close to him as a brother.
"I had a more decent living than others."
Even when the war started and the resources were less and less, he always ate well, wore good clothes and had access to higher education.
"Thanks to your payroll."
'He has a lot of money, that's why I can't say anything', was his habitual response to his cousin's oft repeated question on why he did not tell the truth. 'I'm too young to work, and mom's payroll cannot cover all our necessities'.
Ryan Hudson. For twenty two years, he was known as Ryan Hudson-Zander. Born of Séan and Maryanne Hudson, he was their eldest son. Being young parents, Séan and Maryanne did not know how to properly show affection to their first son. Séan was mostly away on his army duties, whilst Maryanne worked as a nurse. Eight years later, their second son, Michael, was born.
'You see, our old man needed him to be perfect, so he could be my role model', his uncle had said. 'And he was. But he was not perfect.'
"It was not my fault that you never received love."
Being put under a lot of pressure, Ryan needed to meet the expectations his father had of him. The world was changing, and they could not afford to let emotions take over their judgement. He finished military school and entered the ranks easily. He was already a Master Sergeant even before his brother had finished military school, too. Just like his father wanted.
'It's hard to believe that they were brothers', his mom said. 'One was cold and calculated, the other warm and gentle. How did I even fallen in love with the wrong one?'
Ryan had met Olivia long before she had finished her own studies. They had liked each other and dated before Ryan asked her to marry him. Olivia's father, Theodore Zander, was a kind, but unphased man. He was not impressed by the young American soldier, but he couldn't help but notice how his daughter was head over heels for him. He only agreed to let them marry if Ryan would take her last name.
'Papa thought that the Hudson name was too American, so he wanted me to keep our last name after marriage. And for what offspring we had, to also be Zander. That was his only requirement.'
"You never deserved the Zander name."
Even before they had their own child, Olivia showed that she had maternal instincts. Michael and Miriam had their first and only child, Vincent Nathaniel Hudson. Even before the kid formed his first word, his aunt was more present in raising him than his own mother. Whilst Michael was away doing his duty, he had no idea that his wife used his sister-in-law to take care of their son for a long time.
'I always dreamed of having my own children. Taking care of your cousin... that made me wish to have you. The day I found out I was pregnant, it was one of the happiest days of my life. I can't remember how he reacted, but I know your uncle was more happy than Ryan was.'
"Did you even want me?"
On the thirteenth of February, 2045, he was born. His father and uncle received some time off to come and visit Olivia at the hospital.
'Michael was happier than him. He had come to visit with your cousin, who was almost three years old. Vinnie said that you were as small as a toy and asked if I would keep you', Olivia laughed at the memory.
His father did not give any sign of affection. Olivia thought that the war troubled him but that could not be the reason. His uncle was an army medic, who retired a few years later and was still the same warm, kind person he always knew. His duty meant that he needed to face the horrors of the war and yet Michael's heart never changed.
"What war wounds had you received?"
As a young child, Vaughn had always tried to get Ryan's attention and affection by trying to initiate hugs, asking him questions, or just hanging around, yet his father considered him 'an inconvenience', to put it mildly. The only times Ryan ever spoke to his son were in a neutral or cold tone. He never raised his voice nor his hand toward his son... unless his wife was at work.
'Why do you always need to get on my nerves, boy?'
Vaughn still shudders at the memories of being taken up and then thrown on the couch, then told to sit still if he wanted to move on his own again.
"I was just a child, how could have you done that?"
'I can't forgive myself for what you endured, my baby. You didn't deserve any of that', his mom had said. 
'You can't take the blame for another person's actions, mána'.
No. He never blamed her, or felt any remorse towards his mom. Yet she never got rid of the guilt that gnawed at her for years.
"It was my fault that I was silent."
'Michael was so much better. I know how much he cared for us.'
That was true. Michael Hudson always cared for the Zander family. He was best friends with Olivia and loved Vaughn just as much as he loved his own son.
'There were times when I wished I had called Michael 'Dad'.', he had told Nick and Hancock.
"I miss you, uncle Michael."
Years had passed, yet no sign of improvement was shown from Ryan. But as Vaughn got taller and heavier, Ryan could no longer throw him away yet the insults never stopped.
"Only to destroy me emotionally."
'You look just like him!', he heard other people say, comparing him to his father but they stopped saying that after the 'incident' with the blade.
"You pushed me to do this."
'I can't believe you did that, Vonnie! What you were thinking?' Vincent had asked after seeing the deep cut on his cousin's cheek.
"I found it hard to look in a mirror because of you."
'I do not want to be him! I'm tired of people telling me I look like him! Not anymore!', Vaughn cried out.
'There are other ways to be your own person. Now let's see what we can do with that cut, then later we'll look in the mirror, alright?'
Ronin bun and beard. Yes, he had worn the same style ever since he was 14 years old. His cousin was right. He was always right.
'What are you trying to achieve with your hair? This is not how men should look!' his father commented. When he had tried to cut Vaughn's hair, he had ended up with a broken hand, just hours before he needed to leave on duty. No-one had known the truth besides his cousin, who was feeling so proud of him.
"I never wanted to be like you."
Vaughn figured out what he wanted to do when he grew up.
'A Doctor! So I can help people.'
'You are breaking the Hudson tradition! Why the hell d'you want to play doctor?'
"I am a Zander. Not a Hudson."
Vaughn never had any problems at school, as far as lessons were concerned. He was the perfect student, or as some bullies liked to say, the 'teachers's pet'.
'At some point, you will be taken away. Don't think you will stay like a parasite until you finish school.'
"You wished your own son to sign up for certain death."
But the army never came for him. Olivia had faked his medical documents, making him unfit for drafting due to 'bad eye-sight and other health issues'.
"Your dream never came true."
He had graduated med school and got a job as a family doctor in a small clinic.
"But mine became true."
'Have you ever seen a girl in your life or what?', his father asked.
"You never allowed me to love who I wanted."
He had met Thomas at the Library. Two years older than him, Thomas was a very gentle man, smart and fun loving. He was mesmerized by the charm Thomas had. But it was not to be for the long term.
‘You seem to meet that boy more often than your group of friends. Better not be what I think it is, or you will be dead.’
He needed to break up for both their safety. He could not stop crying for two weeks.
“But now I am free to love who I want.”
-------
His hands were grabbed by each of his husbands'. He didn’t look, but smiled slightly at the gesture.
'You are free to do more than to love who you want.'
'He wounded you, but you are better than him. You need to remember what you have achieved.'
'And the people that surround you.'
They were right. They were always right. He had lost his family because of the bombs, but found a new one. He had reunited with his mom. And now, not only does he lives his dream as a doctor, but he is in charge of a growing group of people that defend the innocents. But most importantly, he was married to two wonderful men, and together, they raise their adopted son, Oliver.
'You were wrong about everything. I am not a Hudson, I am not worthless, I am not a parasite. People appreciate and respect me, because I help them. I earned their respect with my actions, not with my rank. And yet, I have a higher rank than you ever had. I am married, we have a son, we have a big house and a castle. I have a big family, that love and respect me. You never thought that I would have any of these, but I do. You hurt me, and I will never forgive you.’
His husbands had let go of his hands and he had slid his power fist, ‘Ares’, onto his right arm.
‘You don’t deserve to have your name remembered on a stone. You don’t deserve to be buried next to your brother. You had done nothing to deserve anything you had. Not the Zander name. Not even the Hudson name. You were the worst husband. The worst father. The worst uncle. The worst brother. Eíthe na kápseis stin kólasi, árrostos bástardos.’
He stepped closer, and hit the power fist on the tombstone, shattering it into pieces with just one blow.
He could not remember what he had said, nor in what language he had yelled but what the other two knew that he was letting out all the pent up rage he had felt over the years. It would not erase the memories but at least, he could move on.
They only sat a few meters away from him, and kept an eye out. Minutes passed, and his knees gave up. He was breathing heavily and the other two got closer cautiously. They each put one of their hands on his back. The reaction they got was a sob, followed by crying. They also kneeled beside him and wrapped their arms around him, as best they could.
‘We are here, love. It’s ok now. You are ok now.’
They couldn’t remember how much had passed, until he finally calmed down. He raised his head just slightly toward the nearby tombstone.
‘I am… so-sorry, uncle. I am sorry that you had to see that.’
26 notes · View notes
too-gay-for-marvel · 4 years
Text
i want to come home pt.5
a/n: i’ve written it out and this will have 6 parts, so one more after this. i’ll have a full emotional thanks for the last part, so get prepared. also, @thatkgrl was RIGHT and Y/N’s revival is based off of Mass Effect 2, though my “science” is based on NOTHING factual. i have nothing to give you for getting it right except my undying love. anyway, here we go! almost there!
Word Count: 1357
Warnings: semi-medical jargon, death explanations
Pairing: Natasha x Reader
(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6)
Tumblr media
“You sitting down?” Tony asked, even though he was looking directly at Natasha and he could see she wasn’t sitting.
“Stark-”
“-Okay,” Tony said as he held his hands up in defeat. “Then hold onto your butt.”
Still sitting, Tony pulled up a hologram of you. It showed your blood flow, your organs, your muscle and skeletal structures. None of your skin, but that was the least of Natasha’s worries. Up on the right side of your head was a date; the day you had officially become a SHIELD agent.
“As you can see, this is our dear Agent Romanoff,” Tony said, pointing to your hologram.
“Before the mission.”
“Before the mission,” Tony repeated with a nod. He moved his hand - and the hologram - to the side before pulling up a second image.
It was still you, but Natasha could see the changes. The colour of your organs was different, your heart was shaped differently, your blood flow looked quicker. There were anomalies on parts of your skeleton and musculature. In the same spot as the other hologram was a date; over three months after your death.
“After,” Tony said simply.
“After,” Natasha mumbled to herself, her eyes glued on your holograms.
“Technical cause of death is crush syndrome,” Tony continued, pulling up a third hologram that was obviously from your death.
Natasha didn’t look at it.
“Muscle breakdown, shattered bones, blood loss, trauma. I could go on,” Tony said with a wave of his hand, as if this was the morning news.
Natasha wanted to slap him.
“When I started working on her, the body had started to decompose.”
“When was she-,” Natasha stopped, cleared her throat, and started again. “-When was she recovered?” She asked, still avoiding looking at your broken body. Instead her eyes were trained on Tony and his forced nonchalance.
“Around…,” Tony pursed his lips and looked up to the ceiling, “three weeks after she died?” Tony finished on a question, looking back at Natasha. “Give or take a few days?”
You had been left in that collapsed building. For three weeks. Alone for three weeks. She had seen the pictures of the building, and you had been left there? No one had tried to get to you?
No one had told her?
“You didn’t know, Nat,” Tony said softly. He reached his hand out as if to try and comfort her, but let it fall back into his lap.
“No,” Natasha whispered, “I didn’t.”
And that was the problem.
“She’s okay now,” Tony said, voice still hushed, but he had the common decency to pull your after-death hologram down.
“Tell me how,” Natasha said, no hesitation in her voice. Maybe she was going to hate what she was about to hear. Maybe it would make her feel better. She wouldn’t know until she heard it.
“A lot of money,” Tony admitted as if he hadn’t just tried to comfort her over her dead wife. “And my genius intellect.”
“Tony.”
“Long version or short?” Tony asked as he zoomed in on the newest hologram.
“Short,” Natasha decided, “you can talk my ear off later.”
“It’s a lot of science,” Tony said simply, “but we reinforced her skeletal structure with cybernetic implants,” he pointed to the anomalies on your bones. “Fixed the muscles,” showed your newly enriched muscular system. “And injected new liquid in the veins. To get the blood pumping again.”
Tony was right. It was a lot of science.
“So,” Natasha started, but she wasn’t sure where she was going with it. “Nothing drastic?”
“Most drastic thing is her heart,” Tony said as he zoomed in on the chest of the hologram. “Vibranium shell around an arc reactor.”
“Like you.”
“You know me,” Tony said with a shrug. “Had to leave my mark somehow.”
“But she’s okay?” Natasha asked.
You had admitted time after time that you were okay, but she didn’t believe it. Not after you had panicked and stormed out not even an hour ago. You weren’t okay, but she needed to know your body wouldn’t give up.
She couldn’t handle you dying again.
“She’s okay, Nat,” Tony reassured, and this time he didn’t falter as he reached over and grabbed hers, giving it a squeeze. He may not have been good at comfort, but his own way was more than enough.
“I need to talk to her,” Natasha mumbled, more to herself than to anyone in particular.
She squeezed Tony’s hand once before letting go and making her way out of his lab. There was no telling where you were, but she would find you. If there was one thing Natasha Romanoff was good at, it was finding people who didn’t want to be found.
Until she ran into Maria.
“Romanoff,” Maria said curtly, “you have a new mission.”
“Can it wait?” Natasha asked even though she already knew the answer.
“Shower off and get to the hangar,” Maria continued, not even answering her question. “Take-off is in an hour.”
An hour wasn’t enough time. She couldn’t get to you and talk to you and be in the hangar in an hour. If she went to you, she would delay the mission and get reprimanded. If she went to the hangar, she wouldn’t get to talk to you.
Actually…
Without sparing a second thought, Natasha rushed to the showers and got ready. It wouldn’t take her an hour to get to the hangars, she was nothing if not punctual. But she could relax in the shower for just a minute more than normal, trying to think of how she was going to bring things up to you.
Maybe you would have mercy on her and just understand what she wanted to say.
She made it to the hangar with 15 minutes to spare; more than enough time to tie up a few loose ends. Even though she was suited up and ready, she hadn’t put her phone away yet. After having a family, she learned the value of keeping her phone on her.
The phone rang once, twice, almost three times before being answered.
“Hi, Mrs. Romanoff,” your babysitter, Emily, said. “Everything okay?”
“Just wanted to talk to Mase for a minute.”
“Let me get her, one sec.”
Natasha could hear Emily walking around the house, calling for Mason. She didn’t know why, but the sounds brought a smile to her face. There was just something so domestic, so normal about hearing your babysitter talk with your daughter. 
“Momma?”
“Hey, baby,” Natasha said with a smile as she sat down on one of the benches in the hangar. The perfect spot to keep an eye on the entrance and the jet.
“You and mommy are late,” Mason accused, but she didn’t sound genuinely upset.
“I have to stay at work for a bit.”
“But mommy is coming home, right?”
“Of course she is,” Natasha answered quickly, not wanting Mason to worry. Neither you nor Natasha took missions at the same time as the other for this very purpose.
“Okay, good,” Mason said. “Wanna know what I did at school today?” And just like that the conversation turned to Mason’s arts and crafts at school. It was all a bunch of weird stuff, in Natasha’s opinion. They made hand print turkeys, but it wasn’t Thanksgiving. Hell, it wasn’t even fall.
“Nat.”
She looked up to see Steve nodding toward the jet, and Natasha nodded once in confirmation. This part of missions was always the hardest. She was just lucky she had a kid that understood. Well, the best a five year old could.
“It’s time to go, baby,” Natasha said softly.
“Okay, momma,” Mason replied with just a hint of sadness. “Bring home chocolate?”
“I always do,” Natasha chuckled. “I love you, solnyshka.”
“I love you, momma!”
Mason sent a kiss through the phone and Natasha returned it before ending the call and slipping her phone in her bag. She threw it over her shoulder as she made her way to the jet, already getting herself into mission mode. No time for worrying.
You could handle Mason for a few days, right?
225 notes · View notes
saphinc · 4 years
Photo
Tumblr media
a guide to working in a group home !!
i absolutely love my job and the things i’ve learned from it. if you’re looking for a unique job for your next character , try this! it could also help if your character is living in / has lived in a group home! but take it with a grain of salt , because this is one house , in one company , in one state in one country! and lastly , my inbox is always open for questions! because there’s a lot i couldn’t fit in here.
terminology !
behaviors : problematic / unhealthy things that individuals do (ex: stealing, verbally abusing others, isolating )
skills : healthy things we encourage them to do , that they have expressed / signed off as something they want to work on (ex: cooking, walking, eating )
dbt : stands for dialectical behavioral therapy. this is group therapy where therapists teach individuals coping skills and distress tolerance. every client we have has to graduate dbt class and be in individual therapy , it’s in the contract.
charting : when members of the staff team write out a complete summary of each client during / at the end of their shift.
s.o. house : mental health group home for sex offenders. two of the three homes in my cluster are s.o. homes. they aren’t allowed to be around my clients.
dsp / ps / pd : direct support professional / program supervisor / program director ( more on these later ).
elope : when a client runs away or sneaks out and we don’t know where they are.
cluster : the group of houses under a pd’s direction. usually 3-5 houses.
prn : as needed medication , something that is not prescribed such as tylenol.
some quick etiquette : we call the people living in our group home with mental health, clients or individuals when we’re referring to them. when speaking to them or amongst each other we’ll call them by their initials.
general info !
when i say group home , it is literally a house. in the middle of a normal neighborhood. we’re the only group home on our block.
there are so many types ok. i work at a home for vulnerable adults with mental health. some of my co-workers come from homes with only nonverbal clients , from hospice homes , from homes with individuals with traumatic brain injuries or physical disabilities working to recover or having no one else to help them.
i have four clients that live in my group home. that is the max for my house ; others can hold more. they filter in and out. one of my clients has been in this group home for seven years. one just moved in last december.
they each have their own bedroom. they get to choose the paint for their walls and can decorate it however they want.
funding sucks. the pay sucks , most of our furniture & appliances are outdated. we have to buy the cheapest food possible to meet our budget , and the house is not in great condition. we get by , but the mental health field doesn’t have a lot of money.
our goal overall , for each client , is to get them out of here. we support them when they can’t support themselves , lift them up , help them learn coping skills & life skills until they’re equipped for independence and can move out.
my home is a 24 hour awake group home. we have to have a staff there , awake , 24 hours a day. other houses in our cluster have staff there all times of the day, but they can sleep during that time ( they pay is different of course ).
job structure !
alright , i can’t repeat it enough: this is just my company. i don’t know what the structure is like in others!
i’m at the lowest level , the least paid , but the most interaction and contact with clients : the direct support professional / mental health caretaker! i love it and wouldn’t want to take on any of the other jobs.
some of my jobs include : cooking for clients , cleaning the home , driving them places , sitting in on their therapy , mediating conflicts , teaching them coping skills , talking them through stressful times , helping them find resources. i am with them every second of my shift. they know me and the other dsps the best.
technically , there are SUPPOSED to be two dsps in the house at all times , but my house is really understaffed so we have three dsps , one for each shift , and the program supervisor is on sight with one of the dsps most of the time. the ps does: anything involving our clients’ finances , cleaning up biohazard things ,
above me, my boss, is the program supervisor. my direct boss. i don’t know how it works in other group homes but i work very closely with my ps. like i said , it might just because we’re understaffed and she’s with us all day everyday.
above them is the program director. my boss’s boss. i highly do not recommend this job. if your character has it , they are probably a very grumpy and broke person with no life outside of work. my pd is on call 24 hours a day and gets paid on salary. so , yeah. 0/10.
next is the area director , the ad. they are the boss of all the pds in a particular area. i’m not positive but i think there are four pds with their own clusters , under my area director. they usually do the hiring and communicate with the pd to negotiate , mediate and give permission for certain things.
and finally , the regional director. the regional director is in charge of 3-5 different area directors. they’re busy. we RARELY see them or hear from them. not quite sure what they do to be honest.
i do NOT know if there’s anything between this position and ceo. i have met the regional director only twice. and that’s just because the area director was on maternity leave + our house is high behavioral / violent.
the job !
we go through TONS of training. primarily first aid , self defense / holds / , 4-8 hour seminars on each disorder in our homes and de-escalation. we get certifications of this and every year we have to renew them and go through the entire trainings again..
my job is to mediate , caretake and entertain but i also have to track. u need an EXCELLENT memory for this job. and hey , i have a horrible memory so i use about half a stack of post it notes per day. it’s possible!
that being said , we track everything. the more descriptive the better. we write down notable things they said , what they were doing at what times , what prns they take during shift , what their mood is , what they eat. everything. we write it down and track it in the computer. the pd review the notes everyday.
individuals !
ok so my clients mainly come from two places: the hospital or jail. usually they are admitted into a group home program as a last resort because their families can’t take care of them or understand them.
when clients move out, it is usually to two places: the hospital or their own place. you can work with a client for months and they’ll end up losing it & being kicked out of the program / arrested. we like the other option better.
there are such a wide variety of disorders in the homes. my clients range from a constant state of psychosis from their schizophrenia , to an autistic epileptic with an intellectual disability , to a narcissistic kleptomaniac.
my clients have done terrible things in the past. when you learn of these things , you might look at them differently. a lot of staff quit after finding certain things out ( clients’ past crimes or traumas ) or seeing certain behaviors ( violence , eloping ). but here’s the thing: they are sick. there’s a reason they’re with us / in the hospital instead of jail. they did these things when their state of mind was NOT right. it is so important to separate them from what they’ve done or endured. we can’t be biased in this profession.
dynamics  !
there’s drama between clients. oh , there is. i have two clients who are very close. they team up on the other clients by intimidating them or straight up bullying them. we as staff have to interfere with this behavior and protect the clients from each other. but yeah. there’s drama.
they’ll hurt each other. they hurt us. my boss was shanked once. it happens.
i mentioned this earlier but we don’t ( and can’t ) hold this against them. we can’t hold grudges because it is their mental health that makes them act out and that’s why they are receiving our help.
we do get compensated for injuries and broken property ( glasses, etc )
we can and do call the police on our clients. they can and do call the police on us. one time a client called the cops on us because we were making fish for dinner. the police are very familiar with our house.
there are very strict boundaries between staff and clients , but some of us are with them all day every day. it’s natural that connections will form. but technically , we are not supposed to. but it always hurts when one of them graduates or leaves the program. it’s a really emotionally draining job in that way.
health !
we’re the first to get hit with pandemics. those long-term housing facilities you hear about getting covid ? yeah. that’s us.
group homes have lost their minds over the virus. i could write a whole guide on that alone , and the differences in another. what you should know is we take health risks VERY seriously. these are vulnerable adults. they will be the first to die of these diseases.
i won’t sugarcoat it ; most of my clients are not clean. they do not take care of themselves in terms of grooming or hygeine. this is for a couple reasons
the main being that this is their mental health. they either can’t / won’t get out of bed , are paranoid / afraid of it , or just hate us as staff and refuse to do anything we suggest no matter how good it might be for them.
the second ? we can’t drag them into the bathroom and make them wash their hands or shower. they do what they want , all we can do is make frequent suggestions for their health. we cannot force them to do ANYTHING. more on this later.
there are group homes that need to do toileting and bathing for their clients. we don’t at mine because we’re not a home for disabilities , but that means it stinks all the time and we go through a lot of febreeze.
laws  !
it’s their house, not staff’s. we get to the house , clock in, start our shift and leave when it’s over. we do the cleaning , the cooking , the shopping. but it is their house. they are paying rent for it.
we can’t force them to do anything. we can’t make them eat , we can’t make them take their meds , we can’t make them go anywhere. they have the right to refuse anything they want. and some of them will push our buttons just to see what will happen. the truth is ? we don’t care. we get to go home at the end of the day. it doesn’t affect us if they do or don’t do something , they’ll reap the consequences ( ie. getting fired if they stop going to work , being visited by the doctor if they refuse meds etc )
they have more rights than us. part of the reason tracking is so important is to save our own asses. if my client gets sunburned while i’m working and i don’t note that i offered sunscreen and they refused? i can get in HUGE trouble because that is neglect. we’ve lost many employees this way.
some clients have more restrictions than others. one of my clients has phone restrictions due to impulsive behavior, so we have to monitor her calls. the others can take the phone into their rooms and be private no problem.
writing !
if you’re writing a character who works in a group home , there is one absolutely essentially trait that they need to have to be successful in their job at a group home: patience. mental health clients can be vindictive , manipulative and downright bullies but we can by NO means retaliate , lose our temper with them , or hold grudges in anyway. we are de-escalating and talking calmly , every moment of our shift. that is SUPER important.
i touched on this a bit earlier , but this job is draining. you got pushed around & treated like crap by your clients everyday , cook & clean for them , etc. the pay sucks and the hours are long. if your character works here ? they are probably very tired. it’s hard not to bring the work home. you really do get attached.
37 notes · View notes
pynkhues · 4 years
Note
Love your analysis on Beth’s playing a role to control Dean—but now I’m curious about your thoughts on the ottoman haha
Oh my gosh, thank you for taking the bait and asking, haha. I’ve been thinking about the ottoman all week, because it felt like such a strange and very specific thing for the writers to bring up again in the context of Dean, Judith and Beth in 3.11 after Beth had made the joke about it to Rio in the bar back in 3.08. And hey! I get a lot of asks about writing and about critical creative theory, and how to develop both those skills, and I always give the advice to start by asking why.
So let’s ask why together, because let me tell you: if something in a story feels strange, and it’s specific, and especially if it’s repeated, it usually means the writers want you to notice. And if they want you to notice, that in turn means it’s either a) an important plot point (which, err, I don’t think the ottoman is, haha, unless somebody stashed some money in the thing), or b) it’s important symbolically (and sometimes both! The flashforwards on Breaking Bad in particular did that really well).
So yeah, I’ve been thinking a lot about the ottoman, and these two, seemingly flippant references to it, and ultimately it’s reminded me of a post I never actually wrote (classic Sophie, haha), about Beth and Judith in 2.09 and 3.02, and that kind of made a feedback loop in my head and - -
Look.
Basically I think it’s a symbolic rejection of Beth’s old life / Judith’s life; an important character beat for Beth, and an indicator that she’s more than what she was with Rio, and that she won’t ever be more than that with Dean, but that’s a lot. So.
Let’s break that down a bit.   
Mommy Dearest
While motherhood is a central theme of this show, I am perpetually fascinated by the fact that the only mother to the main characters we really know is Dean’s mother, Judith, something that does actually feel like a deliberate choice.
After all, I could write a whole fresh essay about how it seems that Beth, Annie and Ruby each function as mothers themselves in ways that reflect a multigenerational trauma, and, ergo, a damaged mother in their own childhoods – we learnt in 2.08 after all that Beth and Annie’s mother was bedridden with depression, if nothing else, and Ruby’s mother was widowed when Ruby was just a young teenager (to say nothing of the trauma Ruby must’ve faced herself losing her father at that age) – but actually…that’s as much as we do know about them.
Dean though.
Well. 
We actually know probably more about his family and his history than we do about any other character on the show. We know his parents were John and Judith. We know that his father created Boland Motors and that Dean inherited the business from him. We know that John cheated on Judith throughout his career, and that Judith briefly tried to go back to work herself as a shop girl before feeling forced back home.
We know that Judith sacrificed everything – her career, her autonomy, her body, her happiness – to give Dean the illusion of a perfect family. While Dean might not know all the details himself, he’s certainly picked some of the expectations of that up through his parents, because ultimately, he expects Beth to do the same. And she did! And still does, in many, many ways.
There are a lot of examples of this, but the biggest one, of course, is the arc across 2.07 through to 2.10, which culminates with Dean holding their children ransom at Judith’s house, blackballing Beth into caving, and then flat out not caring about her inner life at all in 2.10.
That entire arc hinges on a lot of things, but one of the most integral conversations within that is the one Beth and Judith have at Emma’s birthday party in 2.09.
A conversation that’s pretty sublimely paralleled in 3.02.
2.09 vs 3.02
Beth and Judith’s conversations at Emma’s birthday party in 2.09 and then in the Boland kitchen in 3.02 are in fact two scenes that are also in conversation with each other. They’re different, but they’re the same. They’re circling the same information, while offering new takes, bantering old jokes that pivot into new jabs. They’re great, and I know they’re nobody who watches this show’s favourite scenes, but I actually love both of them a lot, and I think they’re really important – not just for Beth as a character, but for the show’s themes overall.
The scene in 2.09 falls on the back of Dean having taken the kids, and Beth’s grief arc around that. She only gets the invite to Emma’s birthday party because Dean’s put her in a position where she has to ask for it, and within the first 20 seconds of Beth and Judith exchange while they’re cutting up Emma’s birthday cake, we get this absolute gem:
Beth: [Dean]’s a good dad.
Judith: So was John. Not much of a husband though.
Judith goes on to confirm  that John cheated (with enough women she “stopped counting”), just like she now knows Dean did, but that’s not the point, and it’s not the thrust of the conversation.
The throughline is that men might cheat, and you can leave them, but as a mother, your responsibility is to them. You have to sacrifice your own needs to give them the best life you can.
In both Ruby and Annie’s cases, these are moral sacrifices to create financial gains for those children. Ruby’s in a loving marriage and needs to pay for her daughter’s medication, so that’s all literal with her. For Annie, it’s not quite as literal, but explores a parallel morality by way of her empathy – she feels no moral guilt about robberies, but she feels moral guilt by way of Marion and Nancy, in order to provide for her son.
Beth’s not like them.
She enjoys crime. She empathises with others, but isn’t a bleeding heart like Annie.
All of Beth’s sacrifices are felt personally.
She dims her own light, her own passions, her personality, her needs, her ambitions, to fuel the light of Dean’s, or for their children.  
It’s a conversation she has again with Judith in 3.02.
Judith’s been helping out more since Beth went to work. It leads to a few confrontations across the episode, but the one between the two of them in the kitchen after dinner is pivotal. I could actually transcribe the whole conversation here, because it’s honestly awesome, revealing dialogue, but instead I’m going to break it down into three little blocks.
a) The first in that it tells us how much Dean diminishes and doesn’t think about his mother.
Beth apologises for the fight which Dean ignores, and Judith asks a simple question:
“Did Dean ever tell you that I worked?”
No, Beth replies, simply, effortlessly.
A telling thing for a couple who have been together for over 20 years.
b) It builds to Judith telling Beth about having Dean, and then –
Judith: Everyone’s fawning over this new baby boy, while I’m just…nothing. Empty. Flesh and hormones over ice.
Beth pours them both a drink.
Confides that she had post-partum depression too.
c) But that’s not what Judith is saying. Judith’s not empathising with Beth, she’s telling her to go home.
Beth: Your happiness was important too.
(beat)
Judith: How much does the card shop pay?
Beth: You shouldn’t have quit.
Judith: And you should be home for dinner if you don’t want the kids saying grace…what a lie, huh? That we can have it all.
This scene is sharp, and it’s designed as a narrative weapon against Beth, who is desperately trying to keep her family above water, and actually gives Beth the triple duty in terms of protective responsibilities.
She’s trying to provide for her children, of course, and trying to justify her own purpose outside of motherhood to her mother-in-law, while also concealing from Judith how much Dean has failed their family in every way.
Judith gave up everything for Dean, so what can Beth do except placate her?
The thing is, these two conversations have very, very different results. 
In 2.09, Judith’s conversation with Beth was a key part of Beth ultimately quitting both crime and Rio, and trying to revert back to the woman she was – the woman Judith would always be. 
3.02 had a very different outcome.
Beth didn’t quit.
She doubled down.
Not only that, it directly pivoted into a scene where Beth, Ruby and Annie were criming, fucked a part of it up, and Beth’s instant response is “What would Rio do?” trying him into that overall arc.
The Ottoman
Which brings us, finally, to the ottoman!
It’s an offhand joke in 3.08, right? Beth’s dressed up, and she and Rio are in one of their games of eternal bargaining after she robbed him and he replied by stealing literally everything she owned. She’s trying to earn it back, he says he has something for her, she jokes, “My ottoman?”
It’s not serious. She’s not serious, which already loads the term, but Rio’s response is equally light, equally dismantling.
No.
The thing he has for her is Boomer.
And sure, there’s a lot to unpack in that, but what’s important here is that Rio treated the ottoman as something as frivolous as Beth treated it. They were on the same page – in maybe one of the few moments they were all season.
He knew as well as she did that the ottoman wasn’t something she needed.
The scene in 3.11 is really different.
Beth’s literally dressed down, on the toilet, in the robe she wore when she broke up with Rio in 2.09. Dean barges in, tells her no one will give him money to buy the hot tub place, then instantly breaks into a diatribe about how his mother wants to give them his ottoman.
Beth: We don’t have a couch!
Dean: I told her that.
Beth: Good.
Dean: The ottoman will be here tomorrow.
[Beth sighs]
Dean: I know, I’m sorry.
[beat]
Dean: I just don’t want [Rio] involved again.
The scene serves the purpose of, once again, emasculating Dean – showing that he can’t get out from under his mother’s thumb in the same narrative beat that it tells us as an audience that Dean can’t wriggle out from beneath Rio’s either – at least not as long as he’s with Beth.
In turn, the ottoman as an object holds a lot of narrative weight.
It’s something Beth and Rio can joke about, and something that labours on Beth and Dean’s marriage.
On a deeper level, the ottoman is something that holds a purpose, yes, but needs other items to be complete.
On its own, an ottoman is a joke. With a couch, it’s a living room.
Beth wants the couch – she wants the career – she wants the functionality and purpose of it. She wants to build her home herself, not scrape around for leftovers, nor rely on superficial or frivolous function in the way that she did before she robbed Fine & Frugal.
Beth is a character bursting with purpose, utility, passion. She wants to build this new life, not accessorise it, and Rio knows it, and Dean can never offer it to her, and that matters to her, particularly as she tries to untangle her future from Judith’s.
What I’m getting at is that I think Beth made a very different decision in 3,02 than she did in 2.09. She decided she was going to do this. She was going to be less of an ornament in her own life, and it would take her away from her children but hopefully give her more function to provide for them, and notably for herself too, and I think the narrative symbol of the ottoman is that the domestic goddess / Judith image isn’t her anymore, at least not exclusively. It’s not what she needs, and Rio knows that, and can laugh with her as she makes a joke of it, while Dean knows it, but will never fully support or empower her in disentangling from it. 
63 notes · View notes
osleyakomwonkru · 4 years
Text
The Octavia Blake Guide to Surviving Lockdown (and What Comes Next)
So it’s been six weeks in isolation. I think? Time has long since become irrelevant. The world is stressed. I’m stressed. Not so much about the coronavirus itself, but everything else surrounding the situation. The isolation. The uncertainty. Society losing its shit. What the world will look like when it is all over, because everything will change whether we want it to or not.
You know, all that fun stuff our favourite characters on The 100 deal with each episode.
Which brings me to this post. What Would Octavia Blake Do?
I mean, she’s got the experience. Sixteen years of isolation in a single room, followed by a year of isolation in another room, then about six months on the ground, followed by six years locked under the ground... she knows better than anyone how to survive these sorts of trying times.
So here we have it - famous Octavia quotes and how to apply them to our current situation. Mostly serious, part irreverent, all of it a homage to the fact that stories matter and can help us figure out how to deal with this messy thing called life.
Tumblr media
“A warrior doesn’t worry about what she can’t control.”
This is a mantra I repeat to myself many times a day. Sometimes I believe it. It’s hard. But it really is the only way to keep yourself sane these days. The world has turned upside down, but you can’t control it. You can only control yourself.
I can’t control that 75% of my income earning potential vanished overnight. I can control how I budget the remaining 25%, credit cards and looking into new income streams.
I can’t control that I’m stuck in a country I was supposed to leave this week for however long this continues to go on. I can try and learn to love it again, because we’re going to be spending more time together.
So what else can I do to keep myself healthy and sane? Let’s look at what Octavia does.
Train. One of the first things I started doing as soon as the lockdown started in mid-March was set up an exercise plan. Now, I don’t typically “exercise” in my normal life. I just walk everywhere I need to go and call that good enough. But now that I’m not really doing that, I have to find a way to do so indoors. I started out with three half-hour Zumba sessions per day, and now I’ve worked my way into more specific and targeted workout sessions. YouTube is a godsend. Every type of exercise you could think of, in any time length you want, you can find there. I’m doing abs, arms, more squats than I’ve ever done in my life, kickboxing, etc.
Read. See all those books on your shelves collecting dust? Yeah, read them now. I haven’t been following this advice as much as I should, but I’m making an effort to get better. I have so many unread books and I really should read them. If you’re one of those strange people who don’t have unread books, embrace the opportunities that sites like Project Gutenberg provide and read all the classics online for free. Octavia loves the classics.
Eat healthy. I hadn’t eaten at home for six months before this all started, so I had to refill my pantry and remember how to cook. Keeping your body healthy is important. Get your fruits and vegetables. Also ensure a protein source. Don’t go full on prepper, don’t hoard, but if shit hits the fan and you want to avoid the Dark Year happening in real life, make sure you have a few jars of peanut butter and/or a few packs of beef jerky stashed away for a rainy day. Your neighbours will thank you.
Tumblr media
“Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim.” (Get knocked down, get back up)
At the beginning of this year, no one could have predicted what the state of the world is right now. People made plans. People started putting their plans into action.
Enter coronavirus.
Everything changes.
I actually had a plan for this year. I was going to leave here this week, go back to Canada for six months, then move to Spain. Well... I don’t know what’s going to happen now. And because of the uncertainty, I can’t know. This has made me so mad, because for the first time in years I had a strategy for the changes I wanted to make in my life, and now they’d all been shot to sunshine.
Some days you have to just scream. (Or cry and spend the day eating quesadillas in a blanket fort. True story.) But then after that happens, you have to brush yourself off, get up again and keep going.
Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim.
I’m not making any plans further than today. I know that’s an exercise in futility right now. All I can do is focus on what I can control (see above point) and continue to focus on that and what I can do for myself until there are things that I can do in the world again.
Moral of the story: Yes, there are going to be shitty days. You’ve probably already had a bunch of them. But you have to pick yourself up again and keep going when they’re over. You might feel like you want to give up. Heaven knows Octavia’s felt like that a lot of times. But she still kept going. If she stubbornly fought through a cliff dive with a stab wound and a quicksand pool of Orbeez, we can handle some uncertainty and delayed life plans.
Tumblr media
“The sword doesn’t care what you meant, it just cuts.”
Time to step onto a soapbox for a bit.
Some world leaders and governments have done admirably with dealing with this crisis. Some have done okay. Some have done so fucking awful at their jobs and continue to spout nonsense from their podiums that it is going to cause real people to die. (Not naming any names, but I’m sure you know what I mean.)
Octavia is the only character on this show who understands that when you’re in a tough situation, what your intentions are doesn’t matter, it is only the results that do. This is applicable to our situation today in a twofold manner.
Point One: We can only control our own actions. That means being a responsible citizen, following public health guidelines. Stay home. If you have to go out, practice social distancing and any other recommendations set out by your public health authority. You might say you’re young and healthy, you’re not concerned about if you get the virus, but it is not about you. You could be asymptomatic and not know it. You might not mean to get someone else sick - someone who is more vulnerable - but it could still happen if you don’t behave responsibly. So take ownership of your actions and do what you can to minimize the spread.
Which brings us to Point Two: You can’t control other’s actions, but you can hold them accountable for them. Which in this situation mostly means your country’s leaders. Do not forget how they responded to this crisis. Remember. Remember when it is time to vote. Did they do a good job or did they do a bad job? How many people lived or died because of what they said? Did they follow the advice of medical experts? And so on. This isn’t a time for party politics, this is a time for “can we rely on this leader to do what’s right for the people of this country when we’re in a crisis?” If the answer is no, vote for somebody else.
The same applies to non-governmental leaders - leaders of business and charities and everything else that you can think of. Remember who stepped up and helped people when and how they needed it. Remember who didn’t. Remember who actively made lives worse. Budget your money accordingly.
Tumblr media
“Kom folau oso na gyon op.” (From the ashes we will rise)
This will pass.
When, we don’t know. How, we don’t know. But all we can do is work on ourselves and make ourselves as strong as we can for whatever the future brings us. 
Some people are optimists, believing that this will usher in a new world where more people understand the challenges that others have always faced with things like mental health or physical disabilities and issues of accessibility and so on. Where more people will be aware of the dangers of climate change. Where people who are now coming together online and building hope and change will continue to do so in person when we can leave our homes and meet up with others again.
Some people are pessimists, believing the world will collapse and we’ll enter into a post-apocalyptic scenario like The 100 or any of the other dozens of post-apocalyptic media offerings out there. Where it’ll be every person for themselves and panic and destruction will reign supreme.
You don’t have to speculate on the different scenarios. That’s not helpful right now. All you can do is work on yourself and make yourself ready for whatever the future will throw at us, and do your part in making a positive one.
This could be the point of lockdown where you’re starting to move out of the panic phase of ensuring survival, and are able to move into higher-level brain function again. If you’re not, that’s okay, it could still take some time. If you’re struggling, don’t be afraid to ask for help. There are people out there who can help. Just remember that this is a process, a process of so many different emotions, sometimes on a loop, sometimes all at once in a flurry of chaos, and that’s okay.
Take care of yourself. Survive. Find a new normal.
Octavia’s journey in season six was about shedding the pain and trauma of her old life, and finding a new one to believe in. Until she did that, she didn’t have to worry about the greater plot nonsense that was going on. That’s our journey now too. The world is changing. How, we don’t know yet. But take this time to make yourself strong for whatever is to come, because whichever scenario wins out, a strong you will always be beneficial.
Ste yuj. (Stay strong.) Because humanity is resilient. And from the ashes, we will rise.
44 notes · View notes
yourseat · 3 years
Text
amidst all of these
"Let it go, let it roll down on your shoulder" 
 Growing up, I was that kid that was shy to the bones. I don't exactly know why, but back then I already wasn't confident enough or even had high self-esteem. Though I must admit, there has been events in my childhood that caused medical trauma which I believed has stayed with me as the years passed by. I have a wonderful family. It is not perfect, but that's what made it beautiful. Never in my life I have been neglected and all my needs are well taken care of. I never really cared about money or the stuff I got, it's just that I was raised to appreciate even the smallest of things and to never take for granted the life I have. I grew up to be compassionate and always ready to be a helping hand. 
 "Don't you know the hardest part is over" 
"You're stronger than what you think" is the line that I repeat to myself over and over again but my agony never seems to end. I knew there were something wrong from the beginning because the way I feel things are a bit different from others. My emotions are always too extreme. When I officially start high school, I thought it was a new beginning for me; it was but my beginnings are a bit different. I definitely learned a lot of things and it made me who I am now. But then again, the process of getting there was exhausting. I thought I will be better but I was not making any progress. The voices in my head only got louder and I try to fight them every single day of my life. Even the smallest of things make me crumble in fear. You see, I always lived in fear. It has become a sick habit that I can't seem to erase. 
That's when I started to suspect that something's wrong with me because I can't bring myself to do even the menial things. 
Waiting in line? Paying my jeepney fare? Walking on a corridor? Introducing myself? Saying my orders at a fast-food restaurant? You name it. I always always feel fear while doing these things. 
I also remembered telling my high school self: "You can do this. You HAVE to go through all of these so you can be stronger in the next years of your life" I stuck by my own words and try to rationalize and compromise with the voices in my head. I tried and it seemed to work. 
 "Let it in Let your clarity define you  In the end  We will only just remember how it feels" 
Just when I thought I am slowly beginning to gain mental strength, I am rapidly losing myself. I wasn't aware that it was consuming all of me. But I stood my ground and just trusted the "process". I tried reaching out for help. I open up to my friends and family, I seek comfort in music and food, and I even make goals for myself because they said it can help me push through and have something to look forward to. But then again, the voices in my head doesn't want to stop. 
"Our lives are made, In these small hours These little wonders These twists and turns of fate" 
Indeed, life is full of twists and turns. I used to believe in "fate" for I have learned that a certain thing or event is most likely bound to happen beyond your control. But no, I have learned that you really make your own fate and destiny. This time, I am the one what will happen to my "tomorrow" I can still recall the times where I thought I was getting better but my mind is getting tired of reassuring myself while I am still constantly fight for my battles. I tried opening up once more to my father and all he said was "Mas tatagan mo pa kasi". That thought resonated with me because what if I'm really not really putting all my efforts on being stronger and mentally stable? What if "kulang" pa? 
I wasn't allowing myself to give up because all I know is that my family is working hard for me to have a "future". I tried to sucked it all in while still living on fear EVERYDAY in my life. But the hardest part is that I am aware that my thoughts are irrational, but I can't convince myself otherwise. Again, I thought this was just a "phase" that once I experienced it, I WILL get through it — that's what they all said to me and I believed it. I always tell myself that I am too young to experience all of these and I will waste my youth worrying every day. 
“Time falls away  But these small hours  These small hours still remain” 
You see, I am slowly forgetting things. My memories. It’s like my memories are being deleted one by one. I tried to remember them, but it is slowly fading on by one. It’s like I don’t even know who I am; like I’m starting to forget everything. But deep down inside I know, that even the small hours I’ve spent in this world, I was contented therefore it will remain on me forever. 
“Let it slide Let your troubles fall behind you Let it shine Until you feel it all around you” 
 Yes, I was struggling but I was still hopeful. I told myself that I do not have the right to complain to my parents because their pain is truthfully greater than mine. They have endured so much more for this family and I simply can not tell them that I drown in anxiety everyday and that I need help. I respect and value my parents so much because they truly are the bravest and most strong-willed persons I will ever meet. I am not a perfect child nor a perfect person; I make mistakes like everyone does but the only difference is, I beat myself into every single mistake I make. It makes me crumble to pieces every time. Some will say that I am a perfectionist and say it is a negative trait of mine that I shouldn’t impose on everybody. While that is true, but I just can’t help it because my mind can not afford to handle failure. My mind is already restless so I can’t handle any more slip-ups. 
“And I don't mind If it's me you need to turn to  We'll get by It's the heart that really matters in the end” 
Now, I think about how I made myself become like this. But then again, can you really blame me? I am vigorously fighting with all my irrational fears and worries without even knowing how to properly handle them. I can still vividly remember that every time the voices in my head got louder and my anxiety is through the roof, I will grip my hair so tight in hopes that it will stop and it will keep me grounded. That is also the time that I never knew that you can scream silently. Everything around me feels extreme and that one wrong move, I will explode like a ticking bomb. But after everything that is happening to me, I stood my ground and still offer the warmest smile and hugs for everyone because it is one of my subtle ways to try and keep them from the agony that this life could offer. I am still able to give so much love to everyone until I noticed that I ran out of it for myself. In other words, I am spent. I became an empty vessel floating around bodies of water. I became a body without soul. I lost all meanings. 
“All of my regret Will wash away somehow” 
Sure, there are a ton of things that I regret not doing, but most especially, I am not a good child to my parents. I did everything well except that. I do not blame anyone but me. My family did nothing wrong but they are constantly punished for things that God knows what for. I became the person that no longer has interest in doing things. It hurts me even to move a bone. This is where I learned to differentiate the words “empty” and “nothing”. Being empty means there was something, until it was gone. Feeling nothing is just a seemingly unending vast space. It is completely nothing. Nada. Zero. I learned how to become numb because I simply won’t let myself feel anymore in order to protect me from anything. I learned how to disregard any feelings that I have and became completely void. Believe me, I tried to retrieve myself back but it was to no avail. I still failed to do so. 
“But I can not forget The way I feel right now” 
I may fail to recall emotions or feelings, but I most certainly won’t forget the way I feel right now, as ironic as it may sound. 
“Time falls away but These small hours, these little wonders Still remain” 
I may fade away, but deep down I know in my self that amidst all of these, I was happy. 
 “I was here for a moment, and then I was gone.  I wish you all a long and happy life”
 ― Alice Sebold, The Lovely Bones
2 notes · View notes